Saturday, August 22, 2009

lasso the ranch

This breeze, this
Fall drenched warmth
And lazy sky, gives
Way to better days;
To relief of wear, and
From bruised egos and
Marrow stung in bones;
Soaked thoughts dry
Lazily, clipped on
Slacked clothlines in
My mind,
dancing slight in the wind,
Swaying to the rustle
Of leaves againts leaves;
And me, content
Stretched out in the shade,
Watching lucid flights
Of insects and shadows
On pavement,
In the moment-
Learning, again, to
Let go
With grace.
It is, what
It is, what
It is...
A day to trump
All days, content
In breeze and heart.

What a well deserved couple hours of nothingness this has been, lounging on my front porch, drinking a diet coke and laughing at the comedy of errors we have so cordially labeled as 'life'. this constant back and forth of these tides make lazy days like this welcome, and cherished.

It is a push and pull, an adaptation, and revelation, all of this is; zen as it may be to have to acknowledge bad to appreciate good. It is so important that the heart be tested. Otherwise, we would never know the resilience and recovery of it.

"When life demands more of people than they demand of life-as is ordinarily the case- what results is a resentment of life that is almost as deep-seated as the fear of death. Indeed, the resentment of life and fear of death are virtually synonymous. Doest it follow, then, that the more people ask of living, the less their fear of dying?"

-tom robbins, even cowgirls get the blues

in honor of lazy days and content in silence, I think we should all demand the most out of life to squeltch the fear of death. And for me, today, it's letting myself bask in the wonderful world of being air-dried on a clothesline, dancing in the wind.


Thursday, August 20, 2009

what i thought about all last night, after a bottle and a half of wine and no forgiveness for the inability to judge temperaments of old friends

a shock to the system.
like a hot penny
burning through ice cubes,
or sunburnt skin
under aloe gel, i
don't know how
this is supposed
to be easy, or
gracious didn't come
through my pitiful
attempt at
accordance; the
tears were hard
to talk through.
you are like
thanksgiving leftovers
at christmas; or
flamboyancy in the closet.
i literally have
no more words for this


Sunday, August 16, 2009

thanks, bonanza jellybean

"Yes, they grew even as millions of young americans under social pressure and upon the instruction of their elders, struggled to cease growing; which is to say, struggled to grow up, an excruciatingly difficult goal since it runs contrary to the most central laws of nature - the laws of change and renewal - yet a goal miraculously attained by everyone in our culture except for a few misfits."

-tom robbins, even cowgirls get the blues

Decide to be a misfit, as a tribute to the laws of change.


Wednesday, August 12, 2009

moving out, moving on

Start over, you
So easy to
When blame is laid
Like brick on brick;
Wash your hands,
Clean your skin,
Cause the scent of me
Is cemented in
And no matter the day you
Decide to taste, to
Know what happened,
What took place was
You grew up and out those
Clothes, while
I trudged on, my
Ego bruised; I
Wish, I
Wish, I wish I might
Have this dish of
Forward sight and
Not once or
Twice or fifteen times
Trust words once said
To make me smile.

Words burn like paper. I'm packing, cutting my losses of clothing, well worn shoes, and old love notes just the same. Well, maybe not just the same. My shoes don't go into the trash with such a fervent urgency. Its not that I don't want these things anymore; the boots I wore so long the suede is loved off the toes and heels; my favorite underwear so fondly known as my "sassy pants"; words written to me out of love, hate, and insecurities...

The funny thing is that I have kept letters I have never sent to people I have loved. And harder than any shoe or ratty t-shirt I own, those were the hardest to throw out, because they were such beautiful gifts that showed how much I loved those who otherwise don't believe it anymore. Not that it makes a difference after you calculate in pasts, but still. Those letters were proof by my own hand that I truly thought these wings could be mended.

Maybe I need to mend my own wings. I'm not superman. Hell, if I was a superhere id be the great jager bomb or something. I can't save people, and moreover- who was ever asking me to save them in the first place?

I would love to say the process was liberating. But all it did was make me sad that these men will never understand how great I once thought they were. Now, after years of separation, silence, and anger, who knows who they are?

Just a thought.


Monday, August 10, 2009

on the flip side

isn't it funny the things we love about someone in the beginning, are the same things we can't stand about them in the end? the way they may chew their food; the way they lightly snore at night right after they fall asleep; the way they frown when you tell them something that's the truth although they didn't want to hear it...

i have always found this perplexing. and what's even more so, is the fact that the things you initially hate about that significant other, somehow makes you more determined to be in a relationship with them. they're broke? let's help them get a job. they're a mean drunk? let's help them get sober. they're insecure? let's help them build some confidence...

broken wing syndrome. like whoa.

my friend anne was recently left to the wayside with her boyfriend of two years. we'll call him bill. so bill was a drifter, a smart and kind of shy guy with a very offbeat sense of humor, tall, and relatively handsome. good-looking enough to let the fact that he was 30 and working the foodrunning shift at the restaurant slide. so they had been dating for two years when i met both of them about six months ago upon my move to boston. i thought the pairing slightly strange, but whatever, you can't help who you fall in love with, right?

anne is one of the smartest people i have ever met in my travels. she goes to MIT, is young, and can finish a crossword in an hour without looking on the backside of the page to cheat, like me. she holds up a full time job serving the douches in harvard square in addition to being a full time student at one of the most prestigious schools in the country. she's very quiet but has a razor sharp wit when you least expect it, which makes her even more intriguing. and while her ability to laugh at others and herself is quick and hot, she's incredibly humble and one of the least superficial people i know. not to mention she's naturally gorgeous to boot. so that's always a plus.

so she comes into work one day about two weeks ago overbearingly quiet, and after a couple hours confesses to me that bill has broken up with her. i was shocked - i had just seen them out two nights before and everything seemed fine between them. but here's where it gets ridiculous. she was broken up with because of a compliment about her man's, ahem, member, which was taken in a very different way than how she meant it.

he accused her of only liking him for his body and walked out on her. it makes it so much more insulting considering the fact that she supported him during two stretches of unemployment and stayed with him for the simple fact that she enjoyed his company and truly loved who he was and not what he did. i couldn't help but think what an idiot he was for letting her go, and how lucky she was to be rid of him and his extra baggage.

we went back and forth that day, going over the things she loved and the things she hated about bill, only to come to the conclusion that somehow, those lines had crossed over themselves and flip-flopped. she used to love his quirky laugh, which now made her cringe at the thought of hearing it. she said she never minded the fact that he didn't have a stable job until recently, which she resented him for as he pretty much used her as a plateau for leverage. and i realized...

i have done the same thing with not one, not two, but all of the serious relationships i have been involved with. the same things i fall in love with, are the same reasons why i leave in the end. and vice-versa. every one of the men who have loved me for who i was, hated me for who i was by the time it was over. do i think it's a bad thing? how can it be. i'm still standing, and still happy with myself, and i still believe that i had all good intentions for the men that i loved in return.

do many of them talk to me anymore? not really. i still talk to scott, because he has indefinitely apologized for the way he treated me when we were together in college. i talk to eric every once in awhile but i can tell he resents me for choosing my career over being with him. duffy has written me off completely, and mike... well, i respect his reasons for the change of heart, although i don't agree with some of them. what can i do? we are all only human, and are here for the primary reason to learn through our mistakes.

i don't think i was an angel in these relationships. i don't think that i was the sole mender for their broken wings. but i contributed, no matter where they are in the world or their lives now, and that's all the thanks i can ask for, really. they all did the same for me, and shaped me into the person i have come to love.

anne and i are going out tomorrow night as a mourning process for our exes. we will be wearing some sassy new hats my mother got me from an estate sale with black mesh veils as a tribute to the regret of a loss of a feeling. because now, that's really all i can say that i have.

i'm old enough to know better, but young enough to laugh at all this. it's the only thing i got, and i'm the best at making a meal with leftovers. enjoy the things you love about someone while you do. hopefully, they won't turn around on you one day and freeze over the ability to appreciate both the bad and the good about the ones that you love.


Sunday, August 9, 2009

whoops! a thousand apologies (minus 999.87 of them)

i stand corrected:

ver⋅ba⋅tim  [ver-bey-tim] Show IPA
Use verbatim in a Sentence
1. in exactly the same words; word for word: to repeat something verbatim.
2. corresponding word for word to the original source or text: a verbatim record of the proceedings.
3. skilled at recording or noting down speeches, proceedings, etc., with word-for-word accuracy: a verbatim stenographer.
1475–85; < ML verbātim, equiv. to verb(um) word + -ātim adv. suffix Unabridged
Based on the Random House Dictionary, © Random House, Inc. 2009.
Cite This Source | Link To verbatim

but i still think it's funny...
i'm just glad YOU aren't smiling.



Sunday, August 2, 2009

aww, look how cute you are with your big grown up words

ahem. this is dedicated to the women who need reassurance that ex-girlfriends are crazy. it's verbatum , cut and copied.

"who are you to talk about fucking someones boyfriend behind their back??? r u kidding me? ive seen first hand how you like to break apart relationships. you suck not only b/c you bash others for doing exactly what you yourself have been guilty of... you also tell yourself that your a better person for fitting into a size 2. i guess if it helps you sleep at night... fyi i fit in a size 2 also...but i didnt have to expel my dinner to do so. have fun with your unicorns you fucking freak!"

this is the best thing ever... to affect and be affected. i think it's worth a little abuse to get so far under someone's thick, dull skin that they feel it's worth them projecting everything bad they did onto another, just so they can build some sort of transparent decency around their bad decisions.

to all the psycho exes of the world...

for your information, if i stole him from you, then he lied about it to me. but i commend him on his second (less psychotic) choice. second of all, i left you alone. you have constantly tried to befriend me, and for what? so you can anger me with your lack of grammar and punctuation skills and your overbearing use of cliches (case in point: on the tip of my tounge? what the fuck is a tounge and why did you decide to use it so many times in your futile attempt at poetry?)? and lastly, i'm sure the literary term of sarcasm is way over your head, but the size two comment was a joke, sweetheart. i wouldn't have posted anything about it if i hadn't had several mutual acquaintences bring it to my attention and you tried to, once again, be my friend.

i don't give a shit what the fuck you look like, who the fuck you want the world to know you are, and how the fuck you think i live my life. it would be nice if you would do the same for me.

and i never tell myself i'm a good person, dumbass. haven't you ever read my emo bullshit poetry? i'm all about the realization of how i have ruined others. hypocrasy is inherent in human nature; you and i both fall victim to that, my dear. perfection is boring anyway. so as you aspire towards that, i'll chill back here with the sinners. pass the fucking jameson, please.

as far as the unicorn comment... i suggest you back the fuck up on that one. unicorns rule, and you evidently don't understand metaphors. it's funnier to me that you STILL read my shit current enough to know my latest bad blogs. it's adorable, really. now can we both agree to shut the fuck up please? i'm getting tired of you being around so much, especially since i DON'T GIVE A FLYING FUCK ABOUT YOUR LIFE.

do me the same favor and lets get on with our different paths.

by the way, how's the acting working out for you? any big shows there in atlanta? yeah, that's what i thought.


ps: you think i'm so horrible? what about the poem i wrote when i found out your grandfather died? it's called a windy twilight, in my archives, and you should be ashamed of yourself for making yourself believe i'm a soulless bitch just cause you don't have a grip on your jealousy. en-fucking-joy.

the service industry

"ok. sorry i'm being a dick. but obviously, being nice hasn't worked out."

i can honestly say that after all the hard-earned lessons i have put myself through, the only one to blame for having to read this statement via text message today is...


i have been serving tables longer than i have submersed myself in bad relationships, but i can't tell wich one makes me hate people more. i have constant faith that both parties will do me right in the end. the people i wait on, i expect 20% gratuity. 20%. i have been clued in over the progression of allowing people to take advantage of me that this number doesn't even exist. twenty percent as a grade on an essay test in college would lead to failure. having twenty percent of your working limbs means you're probably a paraplegic. paying twenty percent of your bills will lead to eviction.

this number doesn't work out in real life. but i hope for that as the maxium gratuity at the restaurants and bars i work at, and translate it as a good thing when a man has treated me with twenty percent respect in the past.

that is ridiculous, as is the fact that after all of these failed relationships i have seen through to the end, somehow i am still blamed for the fact that the other person was careless with their tip share. tip me badly on a check and i will remember your face the next time you come in to eat. i remember your face, and i don't appreciate the disrespect.

your allergies will soon be absolved.