Growing apart...to grow together.

I am very close with my family. So, Monday, I am flying home for some bonding. Only my sister and I can bond on a level unexplainable. I can't wait. I love her children more than all of the grilled cheese on wheat (my favorite food) on God's great earth so I am stoked to say the least. Recently my sisters family has been going through some though situations. Since I am on summer break I have decided to go home for a few weeks to lend my hand, heart, patience, and shoulder to her. It's funny growing up we went through these stages...first when she was born I hated her! Who was this alien looking creature here to take over my parents attention? But soon as she grew, she grew on me and I loved helping take of her. Then as we went through elementary school she was my best friend. We did everything together, had to have the same colors of everything. If I ordered chicken fingers with a baked potato and salad with Ranch dressing, she ordered the same. If I wanted mint chocolate chip ice cream, so did she. If I wore braids in my hair, She wanted to wear braids in hers. To sidestep my copy-cat ways (or perhaps just to be mean), I would often insist that she order her meal in the restaurant first. Or, I would order something, she would order the same and I would then change my mind and order something else.
Like most older siblings, I could be cruel. When we got to high school we were totally opposites. I was the preppy athlete, she was the sloppy skater wanna be. We Clashed!! I would ignore her in the hallways all the time, she would yell, "Hey SIS!", I hated her. I wish she would just go away and never come back again. I was so embarrassed by her. Maybe I was this way because she always looked up to me, and I liked that. My own sister made me feel so special and popular. What I realize now is that we had to become our own people, and grow apart to again grew back together.
Anyway, the day I left for college she rode in my car with me, and we followed my parents. I had no idea what I was going to talk to her about for 2 and half hours. I hated her. She hated me. But something crazy happened in that car ride. I don't quite remember what or how it started, but we just started talking, and singing and laughing. God works in mysterious ways! As we arrived on campus she said, "I hope your ready for this!", and I replied, "Bring it on!"....we unpacked and then went to eat. Most awkward meal of my life. My dad was crying, my mom was quite and not really eating, my sister and I just staring at each other, knowing we were both thinking just say something! The meal ended and I was left alone. I started praying for all the obvious things a 18 year old would pray for in a new place knowing no one. A few hour later the phone rang....my sister. I was so relived! From that day on we talked everyday, sometimes 3 times. Again we needed space to grow apart, to grow together!
She is my best friend. She has always been there for me even when I treated her like my greatest nemesis. Unlike my sister, I have a stubborn grip on optimism and the belief that, if you are nice to people, they will treat you in kind. My sister is more of a realist and, as a result, tends to get hurt a lot less than me. This brings me to the only reason I am dreading our visit. The reasons I am going there run deep, and I will remain them to her privacy. But our conversations will run deep, and I may get frustrated and hurt. I ask god for the strength to see her side, and understand what she has been going through for the past 8 years, and in turn give her the strength and enlightenment that she needs, and is seeking from me.
So, as much as I want and need to spend time with my sister and let her be with someone who loves her unconditionally and makes her laugh like nobody's business, I am afraid. I want so badly to tell her how I have been feeling because I know that she, more than anyone else in this world, wants me to guide her. At the same time, however, I know my sister will not sugar coat the situation and any guidance I provide may get burnt in her burning fire.
Bottom Line goes without saying.....I have been graduated from college for 5 years now, and moved away from home for 5 years now. We were growing apart only by distance, and growing together by sisterhood, age, and wisdom. So let growing apart, let us grow together on this visit home. Love you sister!

play..don't let him get you

Take a risk every day, even if it's small. Get home a different way, take a new path; you'll see new things. Sometimes when my friends and I go out, we make a dare for the night. I'm not revealing what we've dared one another, so don't ask. I've begun to dare myself lately. Be bolder. Do what scares you. Do what's hard. The Devil throws these challenges at us, to test us I believe. To test our character, our strengths, our person. Do not let him get you!
I went to the beach this morning and I was cranky. What's wrong with me? I should be happy. I just married the man that makes me smile everyday, I have agreat job, a beautiful new house. I was restless. I don't play enough. I need to change that. When is the last time you really played? So I got up, walked to the water, got wet, then decided to build a drippy droopy sand castle. I dug a moat and built a bridge. I'd forgotten that when you dig in the sand, deep enough, you hit a layer of shellso rock before you hit water. I loved relearning that. I was building a sand castle by myself, for no reason at all. For play. Who does that? I did.
A fifth grade girl named Margaret joined me to help. "Wow, fifth grade. When I was in fifth, we were learning cursive.""Golly, I learned that in like second grade." She was chewing grape gum and offered me a piece. "Well, don't feel bad, times are different now." We talked about her school and how she just got her ears pierced. "Not at Claire's. Their biggest selling accessory is infection." I began to blink. Was I hearing things? "That's what my mom says." She then told me her mother's cancer was in remission and how her friend Debbie is getting a second hole in her ear. "But she's allowed because she is handicapped."
Our conversation reminded me of how much I have to be thankful for. I was also glad, for the first time in my life, that I had short weakass nails... all the better to play in the sand with. A moat is a good time. Go play.

a nod to sunscreen and flossing

I'm drunk on Patron that's been filtered through a watermelon and subsequently mixed over a frozen margarita. I had to disclose this, so what's to follow will make sense to someone. This all came after I drove home from Atlanta, after having dinner and drinks with my girlfriends I had not seen in 3 weeks. Conversation started about "What we wish we knew then, that we do now"...... I was sitting here wondering what would I say, if I could, to my younger self. You know, if we went for drinks at a Mexican joint (this place, Rosa Mexicano, Atlantic Station, is hardly a joint), and I began a sentence with, "Okay, there's something you should know..." what would follow? See, it's easy to tent a blanket of "don't take life so seriously" on it, but that's like telling someone to "just relax". The words are there, we hear them, but they don't make us feel any differently. It's too easy. It's lazy advice. If I could I would only say be like Job, he was always faithful no matter what was thrown at him, and was just a great guy. People looked at Job when he was wealthy and healthy and said he was a righteous man, and likewise did the Lord.

StraIGHT Up...MeLiSsA

So now that I am married...I guess I am move on from Journal Writing, Prayer Journals, MySpace Blog, and just write on a blog....I mean it is 2008 right. So to open it just a little bit about me and then I swear they will be more interesting and upbeat. I really love some of my old stuff so that may find its way back here, more elaborated.

Here it goes...............
When I write something brilliant, I actually kiss the screen (okay, sometimes I lick it). There is nothing I derive more pleasure from than writing. Okay, seex and food so don't count. My job. Touching bark, grass stains, campfires, fireflies, swings.Blender foamed hot chocolate with real marshmallows.Lit fireplaces, playing board games, smartwool socks. Manicures, a great blow out, the perfect outfit in its bag waiting for the evening, shoes still boxed. Losing the used to be's, train rides, strangers, quilting, my nephews. My legs after I exfoliate, grapefruit lotion in summer, rose oil in winter, memories of climbing into bed with my parents. Tea sandwiches, cucumber ice water, lavender eye mask, Egyptian cotton robe, slippers. Singing in the car, cream cheese frosting, convertibles, bing cherries, lemonade stands, awnings, rosemary, vegetable gardens, sprinklers, jelly jars, Italian signs, linen. Driving for ice cream, ballgames and frankfurters, picnics, upstate to watch the leaves. Jersey tomatoes, vodka sauce. Finding things in common, soup, movie hopping, wine tastings. Witty slang, Starbucks with Todd and Kristen, when Danny takes out his balls, girls nights, im chats with Pete. Recipes with Mom, Phone calls from old friends you thought were gone, Artichokes with drawn butter( The best in Utah), Room service, well-done French fries, blueberry picking, doing nothing.Returning home after a week away, speaking to Monroes' belly and kissing her bald spot.High thread count sheets, gerbas by the bed, naps, the smell of beer can roasted chicken.Laughing until it pisses everybody off, tasting menus, dinner parties, thoughtful gifts. Wine. Personalized stationery, calligraphy, piano bars, children's books, finger painting, Lego's.Fresh cut fruit in a bowl in my fridge, watching lifetime movies, my bed.Christmas music year-round (my favorite: baby it's cold outside), old-fashioned grilled cheese sandwiches, Parlors. Spicy nachos from the movie theatre, girlie movies, Evo's, the Fall.B eing sore from too much seex, having faceburn from his stubble after a day of kissing. Chicken pot pie, Champagne, Christmas time. Cooking for people who love to eat, butterscotch pudding, cookbooks, honey. Silver stars, Garters, Nervenkitt Jewelry, my teeth, thanksgiving, ribbons in my hair. MONROE. Blender drinks, tall drinking glasses, rectangular plates, garnish, mini hamburgers, playing Cranium, cookouts, clambakes on the ocean, cokctail hour, banana curls, letters, when he calls, listening to songs on repeat, meatballs, my humus, staring, compliments, pixie dust, sleeping bags, acoustic guitar, crying, breathing, sitting on the floor in a meeting, being able not to care and saying it, caring, a new toothbrush, boat rides, skinny dipping, fishing, being able to keep adding to this list, being me.

Ready or Not.........

Here I am! All my life stories, experiences, and interactions! ready or not.....here I come!

Anxiety Sucks

I've noticed that the more news I hear the more I tend to worry. Really, it's hard to keep up with what we're supposed to be worrying about. should we worry about the plain-vanilla flu or Bird Flu? Should we worry about a recession, A Depression, a global financial meltdown? Is there a child predator in our neighborhood or a crazed kidnapper lurking in our city? Is that pain in my side some rare disease? Perhaps the one I saw advertised on TV just last night. Perhaps I should ask my doctor..... Or perhaps, I remind myself that statistically our children have never been safer, we have never been healthier and our nation has never been wealthier. It is, by almost all measures, the best of times. So perhaps what I should do is turn off the TV, shut down the computer, ignore the alarmist headlines and do what I can: Go for a hike, buckle up, buckle up my children, eat well...most of the time, lend a helping hand, get some sleep, express gratitude. Perhaps then I'll see that we are, in fact, doing just fine.

Dear C, and Mean drunk

I'm not an affectionate drunk but a hostile one. It begins sweet and loving then corners demanding throughout the night. I'm a demanding drunk. Tell me you love me. Let me show you how I love you. It's too in your face. And shit, sometimes I just cry. But mostly, I've never been called a bad drunk, have never hurt anyone, except myself once in a bad skipping accident which landed me in the emergency room. I received a text message today from a male friend, at 9:10 am, asking, "What does it mean when a girlfriend is nicest to you when she is drunk? Would appreciate your honest opinion." Well now. I'd pull up my sleeves and take this on, thriving, as I do, over relationship questions.

Before I share my advice, give him yours because he needs it. Oh, and I know as much about them as you do. Nothing.

Not that I need to, now that the boy has gotten an earful, but as promised, here was my take on it--it's along the lines of what everyone else has said:

It means she pretty much sucks the rest of the time, so keep her liquored up. Well, it's never that simple, or we never let it be, but that's essentially what you're saying. That really, you don't like how she treats you while she's sober. Maybe it's her guard, insecurity, but whatever the reason and whatever we analyze it to be, it doesn't change the fact that you prefer her when she's drunk, because it's then that she's actually nice. That should tell you a little something about how you feel about her.

Too often in relationships we tend to focus on analyzing the other person's behavior, trying to decode their everything. So much so that we sometimes neglect focusing on how we feel, independent on how they feel for us. It's a fear, maybe, of being more vulnerable. Now maybe, as sad as this is, maybe she just feels lonesome and sad for herself when she'd drunk, so she needs more, gives more to get more, using alcohol and you as a crutch, a stand-in to make her feel upright and good about herself. But that might be a little too much analyzing, even for me. The key here is, I imagine your asking has very little to do with her feelings for you and more to do with how alcohol affects her temperament. And as I've stated, how you feel about her. So it says more about you, as does asking the advice of me, instead of just speaking with her outright about all of it. But perhaps that's a lesson for another time.

Long hair on men, eh

.The other night I watched one of the best movies I'd seen in a long time. Not Shawshank best, or Sense & Sensibility best, not even Tootsie best--more like Fried Green Tomatoes best. A total chick flick that left me crying that good cry. The perfect blend of quirky, crave, sass, and hormone treatment, Waitress is a ridiculously adorable film with snappy dialog and peculiar characters so endearing that it makes you want to up and leave the house in a bathrobe to make new friends. If you ask me, there aren't nearly enough over the top, I don't give a rat's testicle what you think of me people. (Do rats have testicles?) Sick, now all I can think of is that little silver ball inside an etch-a-sketch.

I want to go bake pies, to slice up a bunch of peaches on a brand new wooden block, to muddle berries and fold them into a drape of chocolate, and dammit, I want to meet more characters that tell it like it is, don't give a hoot what all you have to say about their business, people who say "what all." And then I want to sing to my babies and put on a yellow dress.

Aside from the strange on purpose people in the film, I found myself rooting for things I'm morally opposed. It's like those movies where you want the killer to get off on a technicality. You don't want them to get caught. You want their sick twisted bank robbery to go off without a snag. You want them to get away with the diamonds or the other woman's husband. Or you're psyched when Sawyer shoots Zeek in the head. Yeah, PSYCHED someone was killed.

What I learn when I watch these films is no matter how staunch my moral convictions, I begin to question them after movies like this. Maybe I can find my way across the line and somewhat understand, even side with, "the other woman." And while I love the ability of art to force me to reconsider things, one thing ain't changin': men who wear their hair down to the middle of their backs are not, ever, appealing.

Becoming a true women........

A good woman is proud of herself. She respects herself and others. She is aware of who she is. She neither seeks definition from the person she is with, or does she expect them to read her mind. She is quite capable of articulating her needs. A good woman is hopeful. She is strong enough to make all her dreams come true. She knows love, therefore she gives love. She recognizes that her love has great value and must be reciprocated. If her love is taken for granted, it soon disappears. A good woman has a dash of inspiration, a dabble of endurance. She knows that she will, at times, have to inspire others to reach the potential God gave them. A good woman knows her past, understands her present and moves toward the future. A good woman knows God. She knows that with God the world is her playground, but without God she will just be played. A good woman does not live in fear of the future because of her past. Instead, she understands that her life experiences are merely lessons, meant to bring her closer to self knowledge and unconditional self love.

Thinking of the New Year 2008

Loving Presence
Surround Yourself With Love
In our everyday life we are surrounded by a variety of people. Some of the people we deal with on a daily basis are a joy to be with, and their loving presence nurtures and encourages us. Others may have the opposite effect, draining us of our energy, making us feel tired and exhausted. Our well-being can be easily influenced by those around us, and if we can keep this in mind, we will have greater insights into the quality of our social interactions and their energetic effect on us.

Once we think more deeply about the people we interact with, it becomes easier for us to work toward filling our lives with people who help us cultivate healthy and positive relationships. Even though it might not always seem like we have much control over who we are with, we do. The power to step back from toxicity lies within us. All we have to do is take a few moments to reflect on how another person makes you feel. Assessing the people we spend the most time with allows us to see if they add something constructive to, or subtract from, our lives. Should a friend sap our strength, for example, we can simply set the intention to tell them how we feel or simply spend less time with them. We will find that the moment we are honest with ourselves about our own feelings, the more candid we can be with others about how they make us feel. While this may involve some drastic changes to our social life it can bring about a personal transformation that will truly empower us, since the decision to live our truth will infuse our lives with greater happiness.

When we surround ourselves with positive people, we clear away the negativity that exists around us and create more room to welcome nurturing energy. Doing this not only enriches our lives but also envelopes us in a supportive and healing space that fosters greater growth, understanding, and love of ourselves as well as those we care about.

Peace & Blessings,

Melissa

Check out my slideshow.......I'm getting married!!

Looking Back Before Moving Ahead

As the New Year approaches, our minds turn to what lies ahead. It's a time to set goals for the next 365 days, to challenge ourselves to adopt a better attitude, do away with bad habits and set ourselves back on the never-ending path to self improvement on the whole. But while New Year's resolutions should infuse us with hope and empowerment, all that self examination can draw our attention to our shortcomings and put uncomfortable emphasis on the goals we have not yet met. Before you set a plan for the future, take a hard look at the past. Acknowledge all the goals you have achieved and the person you've become. We could all stand to improve on ourselves -- it's an essential part of our humanity -- but don't lose sight of how far you've had to come to get where you are!

Rules.....

In a relationship I try to follow these rules:

I will try my hardest not to overreact, as I tend to do in life.
I will only deal with one issue at a time, without introducing topics or incidents from the past, as hard as it might seem.
I will never attack any of his vulnerabilities, or hurt him in order to have the last word by being sarcastic or calling him names.
I will always respect and keep the trust with which he has entrusted me.
I will try to avoid sweeping generalizations like you always and you never.
Before I start in I will ask myself what exactly is bothering me and what do I expect and want him to do about it. I will offer compromise and think about possible outcomes that would be acceptable.
I will try to remember that the idea is not to win but to be kind and come to a solution we can both live with.
Most of all, I will try to improve my listening skills. I will try to be careful not to interrupt him and to genuinely hear his concerns and feelings.
I will accept responsibility for a problem that I might have with him, realizing that we have a problem, not just you have a problem.
I will always be loyal to him and our relationship first and foremost.
I will always make sure that his needs are being met as long as they are communicated to me.
I will continually work on letting go of the past to heal my heart and mind.
I will never, ever, fight with him in front of our children (god-willing)
Instead of telling him that I am pissed or angry, I will replace it with the more telling emotions of fear, hurt, or frustration.

In the meanwhile, I'll try to work on my issue of Insecurity. My issue, the need to feel love.

In my relationship Ive been very independent yet dependent. I have my own friends. Im active with them. I have a support network of family and friends who are always available to listen. Ive got my own interests of photography, my work, anything creative, and when that all falls short, I use the energy to take care of the person Im with. Look up recipes they might like, plan fun dates, or fun surprise gift ideas. Im nurturing and understanding, sensitive and emotionally available. I get dependent (or needy) when I feel insecure. If were fighting or not having seex, I get so crazed to fix things I think because Im not getting my way, and I end up acting out to try to get my way. Or I try to make him feel bad, punish him so he feels as frustrated as I do, because then I think I might get the love and adoration Im seeking, but through fear.

I wanted to be my ex's sole attention even when he wasnt with me, I wanted him to miss me and think of me often. I hated when he would say he wanted to do something else like go play golf. Me me me. I wanted adoration. And I punished him when he didnt give it enough. And it was never enough, eventually. And we know how that turned out. And now, I see myself repeating the same thing. Less so though because I trust him. I dont get jealous if he wants to hang with his friends. I do care though that he doesnt necessarily want alone time with me as much as I do.

I have a problem with recency. Only focusing on the past 3 days, fixate on that, and then try to run instead of looking at the universal picture, the us we have been, the he that he has been and Im ready to throw it away.

Cell-Fish

I have been walking the streets of Downtown St. Pete and sometimes count the number of people, in only one block, who were using their cell phones or bluetooth equivalent. It depended, of course, in which part of the city I was, but when you really look for it, it's gross. Kids in grammar school have cell phones now. "For emergencies," their parents warn.
"But I missed uncle Jack!" Certainly emergency worthy. We did manage this long without, which doesn't make it right. Not all technological advances are demon-spawn. Just look at the vibrator. No. Don't. That was too easy. But I think we use them to escape our lives. Our silences. Reflection, really. People bring them to the gym, prop them onto their elliptical machines beside their towel and bottled water. Work might call. A boy might call. It's gross.

Here's what else is gross. I have one and rarely return phone calls. I've actually become horrible about it. Now there's even more on my to-do list. Now there are phone calls I have to return! Honestly, I've stopped listening to them. I wait until the missed voicemails total eight (because I love a good even number), then I listen and return. I'm turned off by the phone and rely on it for all the wrong things. Honestly, I'm addicted to Monopoly. I play it on my phone, everywhere. And I'll use the phone to acquire emails, which I'll later forget I read, and they'll be lost and remain unanswered. I'm wondering how I'd do if I just gave it up. No cell phone. I'm Catholic, so I guess for Lent, though I know women have given up cheese and orgasms, certainly no cell phone use would prove what kind of woman I am.

The truth is, for the most part, cellular phones are as disrespectful as call-waiting. It means whatever you're doing is less important than whomever is calling. Nothing bothers me more than a date with girlfriends or the suitor who asks if I mind, while he/she checks the phone. And the worst bit is, I've been that date. I'm guilty too. Nothing spells disrespect like cell.

What I want in a Relationship.....

So we all know what we want in a relationship, right? Well I have had time to think about it and came up with yet another list........

o I love the way he tells a story
o Not commitment-phobic
o Nurturing, sensitive and gentle
o Well educated / intellectually stimulating
o Funny/witty smart humor (not at the expense of others' feelings)
o Hearty seexual appetite, but not so much so that he is willing to stray
o Successful and driven yet will always put family first: Family oriented but not to a fault… realizes that “our” family comes before either of our own families. Not a mamma's boy.
o Non-yeller, should know how to fight fair… not call me names or bring up insecurities.
o He has stones and knows how to throw them.
o He'll know to show up in the middle of the night if we're fighting on the phone. He wouldn't want us to spend any holidays apart.
o He doesn't smoke, EVER.
o He'll show up just because. He won't worry about pride. He'll want to be with me. Period.
o I shouldn't wonder and question what he thinks or feels: open communicator… A man who knows how to tell me things I don't want to hear. Should be a man who doesn't tiptoe around when he's afraid to say something. He should say, “fcuk what anyone else thinks…this is my woman.” Someone who adores me, thinks of me all the time, and doesn't show his love with words alone but with actions, too.
o Should love me just a smidge more: He must gush over me. I need to know that he adores me, thinks I'm a goddess, and that he would do anything in his power to ensure my happiness. He must put "the unit" first.
o He should call. He should know when to call. He shouldn't make me anxious, and he should know how to relieve it…but only if he means it. Shouldn't do it just to make me feel better temporarily. I shouldn't feel jealous or insecure, because I should feel it deep within my bones during those times, that he would never ever ruin us.
o It should be friendship, not games. If he isn't flooding me with love and showering me with affection, I should still enjoy his company. He should genuinely make me laugh out loud, since I don't do that often. I should feel a deep sense of connectivity.
o We'll have fights; he'll understand my drama. We'll continue on, us against the world. But always an us, a team of two.
o Picks me up for dates, plans things for us to do, makes reservations.
o Likes watching movies, eating, and drinking wine.
o Likes Riggs.
o He's introspective and not afraid of changing what he wants to.
o He's a whole person, who has things to teach me.

I know I probably can't have everything; there's a bit about compromise. I also know sometimes what we think we want isn't really what we want deep down. I have a strong sense he'll be creative, not necessarily for a living, and he'll have energy. He'll teach me things and ADD to the relationship.

Never doubt your instincts, but be aware of familiarity breeding unhealthy dependencies.

Exspectations

I know that as people change they grow apart and indeed we all have. Moving to Florida was a huge transition for both of us, and we were both very vulnerable. And we have both grown and changed in different ways.

We've all had that feeling that someone or something has let us down. It's a lousy feeling on both sides of that equation. Honestly I think it comes down to expectations - or more specifically managing those expectations. And we expected from each other what we knew in the past. We didn't expect to transition and change.

Have you ever asked yourself what makes you - YOU? I do. I look to myself, and try to figure out if I'm getting away from my core self - getting away from the things I value most, the things that I like most about myself. A half a thought away comes the other side of that - what don't I like - what is it going to take to change those things I don't like? And yes - I'm honest with myself even to realize that list is not a short one either. We have to choose to change. - Life is all about choice - and I believe that to be true above a lot of other things. Above all else? I'll get back to you on that one. Rethinking the idea of choice - about finding something that matters is inspiring to me. It also makes me want to get back in that old beater of a car and drive somewhere - anywhere! But choices do not have to come at the event of a geographical change - or even a change in a job. Choice is an every day reality. I am driving home from work using different routes. Why. Just because - that's the way I'm built. Sure I could go months driving the same way - and there was nothing wrong with THAT way - but sometimes I just wanted a different way - a choice.
I'm faced with choices now - sure the obvious one is a job, or maybe even a career - but then there are things that wrap into just that one choice, around it, before and after it. I've spent many days sitting down here on my patio trying to answer these questions.

The point of this is that choices have made you, you…and me, me. With choice comes change.

When you are faced with life choices - people typically classify this as making changes. But if you fall into the same habits as before - good or bad - then what changes have you made other than the environment that your in.


Ok so I guess that is all.

Likeness leads to liking

I have a beautiful stomach. It’s white and smooth and sinks concave, exposing a shallow bowl of skin, hollowed to my hipbones. I feel desire so strong, sometimes it masquerades as hunger; I can feel it there, warm and purring. I like watching it move, pulsing in pleasure. I smell my odor; the deodorant has worn thin and ineffective as I rub myself. I am seexually attracted to myself, to my stomach and odor, the way I breathe and quiver. But I’m sometimes not enough, so I evoke thoughts to help the pleasure along, like singing on a trip. Lately it’s a strong hand pressed into my back, practically marionette strings. I can’t see the hand; I only feel the warmth and strength in it, as though I could collapse my weight into the palm, and it would still catch me. I fantasize about safety. Even in my seexiest thoughts, I conjure security and crave for it to press into me.

There’s nothing as seexy to me as a man taking what he wants. That strong hand feels safe, protective, and upon thought and dissection, even selfish. But I understand about that, and give way to it, feeling safe, powerful, and good. I can get lost, even as I type this, eyes closed, in the thought of a man with his arms around me, his hands pressing me, pulling and pushing me in a kiss, all while I’m really very still and going nowhere at all, that kiss can be ecstasyA metroseexual does not kiss like that. A man with lust and passion kisses like that. And I’m afraid lust and passions have way too much mental real estate on my block.

Sweet is fine. Sweet is slow and steady and usually wins the race. Sweet is never fantastic. Now, here’s my admission. I draw and pull too much emphasis on lust and passion. I gravitate toward it like it’s all that matters. It governs my decisions; you’d think I had a penis. It makes impractical decisions, makes me want to wear a short skirt without panties to the supermarket. I don’t know how to get over its importance. Maybe I need to go shoe shopping, some track shoes for the big race on Saturday. I can hurdle this. I can.

Okay, I can’t. I’m stuck all day in my head, lazy with seex and drunk on my thoughts, the rich spasms of my stomach as I climax over and over again. Maybe I just need a boyfriend. Playmates don’t bring you soup and movies when you’re sick—don’t ever learn your Starbuck’s pick, that you hate licorice and like your Tomato soup without noodles. Boyfriends fall asleep and wake up too early.

I worry that I’ve never fully loved a man solely based on who he is. I weigh how he treats me, and how he feels about me, and when I like that bit all right, I jump right into “I love you.” And once that gauntlet is thrown, there’s no rewind. But you meant, I love you… really as… I love everything about you that loves me. I love everything about you that looks like me. I love that you love that song, too. It’s catchy. It’s also kinda wicked witch talking to the prognostic mirror. We love the reflection, the “likeness leads to liking” thing. The birds of a feather two-bit. I don’t know what it is anymore to really truly even like someone.

Perhaps the only way I will fall in love is to fall in like first. And how boring is that. Put it right up on the table beside the sweet, will ya?

The Perks of living @ Bridgewater

I think I have a pretty high tolerance for such things, but enough is enough.

At 4:30 this morning I was jolted out of bed by a banshee-like shriek. The noise appeared to be coming from my air conditioner, and it sounded like the goddamn thing was letting out one last wail before it exploded right in the fucking apartment. Groggy but surprisingly spry, I darted out of bed over to the AC to shut it off, hoping to prevent a major catastrophe. I turned it off, but was not able to relax. The noise remained.

A look out the window proved that the unconscionably loud noise was not coming from my air conditioner, but rather from a hose, coming from truck, snaking underneath the proch of the complex next to mine. Apparently, building 1 needed some work done, so they called in Jenny Exhaust System Services to do the job.( Not sure if that is really the name of the compant but it sounds good for now.) At 4:30 in the morning. On a Wednesday.

Over the next hour, I am surprised that a homicide did not occur. First, I should try to further describe to you the nature of the noise. I've already used the words shrieking and wailing. I would also add to that list shrill, screeching, piercing, and I felt as if doesn't stop soon I was going to start ripping my fingernails out. If the drills that put together the carny stands for the October Festival sounded like dentist drills, the exhaust hose outside the my apartment sounded like a saliva sucker times roughly 15,000.

What was worse was its intermittence. Instead of a steady, loud, lasting commotion, the hose would suck for thirty seconds, then break for forty. Then it would suck for ten, break for ten. Not only that, there would sometimes be long stretches of silence, long enough that I'd start thinking, "OH YES! The good Lord has come to the rescue and the noise has stopped! It's still only 4:57 - I can still get a solid two hours of sleep!" But after four minutes of gorgeous comforting silence, that fucking hose would start up and shriek again. It was heartbreaking.

When I first looked at the window just after 4:30, all was dark. The buildings around me were unlit, and the only thing/people on the prpoerty were the damn stray black cats, before 5am (it's kinda eerie and dreamlike almost; these old cats, waddling around in the pre-dawn hours carrying heavy looking mice, coming from wherever, going to wherever. If I were high, it might freak me out more than a little bit).

When I checked out of the window again, this time at almost 5am, EVERY single apartment in my building had at least one light on. These assholes had woken the entire neighborhood. This gave me only a small amount of succor, knowing that I was not alone in my suffering. But more importantly, I thought, "You know, if I went out there and murdered these guys right now, the only witnesses would be the people they're keeping up with their racket. I could probably get away with it. I haven't murdered someone in like three years, but it's like riding a bicycle: once you go black, you never go back." Ultimately I decided against killing them, because that would require me putting on pants and actually walking outside (it was chilly out this morning).

So instead I sucke dup the fucking noise put on mp3 player, running shorts, a sports bra, and sneakers, left the apartment and went for a run, giving the drilling men a nasty look, the finger, and a very loud fart!