I'm giving myself until spring to get over this, then I need to move on. And by "spring" I mean the official spring solstice, in many ways the holiest day of the year, and by "this" I mean I need to let go of a whole lot of anger and resentment and regret and everything to do with the whole foods saga.
I was suspended just days after the winter solstice, and fired the day before new years eve, so if this ends on the first day of spring, this will have been one complete season of my life.
And winter is traditionally the season of death and rebirth...which is what this winter has been for me, absolutely.
So it will be quite fitting if this period in my life takes exactly one season.
And my relationship with emerson fitted neatly into one season, fall, so that works too.
Fall has always been my favorite season, and so many parts of that relationship were pure pleasure, even though it ended badly. And I started dating him just days before my 30th birthday, and my birthday is always an important day for me.
And 30 should have ended my saturn return, I believe.
But spring. Spring will be something new.
I've really been working on myself this winter, seeing myself through something very dark born out of my own heart.
Come spring, I'm going to be ready for gardens, for sunshine, for dancing, for art, and for trust again, maybe.
Winter 2008-2009 I think I will always remember as the time I really got to know myself. Was always alone with myself. And it was scary and I cried a lot and always woke up in a panic, but look, now I sleep through the night again. I've accepted a lot of things. I've learned how to be grateful, that none of this is by any means the end of the world. That I am so so so thankful that this is the worst I've had to deal with, really I'm very lucky.
I've lost a lot of friends, but the ones I still have, are amazing. awe-inspiring. my family is amazing and awe-inspiring.
Spring is going to bring a lot more art work.
I still wake up thinking about him every single fucking day. Three more weeks, then that has to stop.
I think on the first day of spring I need to perform some sort of ritual. I don't know what yet, but I either need to set a bunch of things on fire or throw things off a cliff into the ocean.
When I got divorced almost three years ago a lot of people told me I needed to take the time to deal with it, even if it was hard, and I didn't.
I'm doing it now.
And I'm going to be at least a reasonably functional version of liz again, soon.
Showing posts with label dating. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dating. Show all posts
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
Friday, February 13, 2009
valentines eve & other weird painful shit: Part #2: Shame
Tonight I was confronted with a lot of weird painfully deeply difficult to process things that take me back to my deepest darkest parts, the stuff that keeps me up at night. All night.
So I saw emerson tonight. That happened.
Earlier, I met b. at the Smith Art Museum, because it was Northampton Arts Night Out, and when the Smith Museum is free (as it should always be, of course) and Lauren Greenfield's Thin & Girl Culture was at the Smith Museum
That was really good, but weird and hard for me, because it was a lot of photos of women with eating disorders, and eating disorder stuff is still oh so indescribably hard for me to deal with, and I'm not sure how much I'm going to be able to write about it tonight. Still the hardest thing for me to talk about/deal with/acknowledge in anyway/think about.
Even though the year when I regularly weighed under 100 pounds was when I was 14, so 16 years ago now.
I've been living pretty much as normal and appearing normal for 16 years. weird.
To be clear, I can talk about it, in a very specific way, a way that I've created, a language I've created, where I can mention certain controlled truths, and act like I'm dealing with it, but that actually never really even scratches the surface. Of what I've done. Of what I've felt. Of how I still live.
I certainly don't talk about it in the present tense. It's 10:50pm and all I've eaten all day is a single yogurt. I'm fighting with myself with what I'll eat next. Since I've been fired, I can at least on some level see that I'm exercising compulsively (now 205 situps a day plus all this other stuff) but I can't stop. I love when people buy me dinner, because then I'm allowed to eat whatever I want without following my rules.
I eat plenty, and I maintain a normal weight, mostly, but the amount of rules, involved, I know it's not normal, whatever that is, because I can't find the words to talk about. I would never, ever tell anyone what I really think when it comes to eating.
I eroticize it, I play games, I deny myself things...I think this why I want to just go live on a farm because I figure if I was really in touch with food and the sources of my food than all this nonsense my intellectual mind knows is silly and ridiculous would go away.
Gardening helps. That's why I do it. Inpatient eating disorder units should have gardens. And animals. Really.
The show we saw tonight had all these photos of girls being forced to eat cookies, but what if they had to raise chickens and then kill and eat them? Or just gather eggs? That seems like something that would have shaken me out of my self obsession as a teenager. In a good way. And eating disorders are always a self obsession. not that you can stop it just because you know this.
Send all anorexics to sustainable farms and see what happens. seriously.
Food I create myself has less guilt. Food I cook myself does too.
Something about labor, hands, work, touch....
So seeing those photographs...I was almost in tears by the time I left that exhibit. I was choking in my throat.
Not in a bad way. I was really glad I saw it. But it wasn't easy. I think a lot of the point of my own work is that I'm trying so hard to conceive of a language in which to talk about these things.
I need to talk about them. It's part of why I am an artist.
Someone should. And that show tonight, that all from an observer's perspective, because most of those girls photographed are too fucked up to make their own art.
I want to be the voice from the inside, the one who was just that bad, but survived anyway. And I will survive what is happening to me now.
So it was an intense evening in my soul already...
And then I was walking alone down main street in the cold back to my car and standing at the light at the main intersection waiting to cross, and I look over my shoulder behind me for some reason I still can't figure out (ali says I was looking for him) and I see first one member of his band, then the next, and I knew what was coming but it happened so fast, then him, come around the corner, and I didn't know what to do, so I looked away, but I'm pretty sure he saw me, and looked away too, and walked past me.
And then I felt like crying again and I still do.
Both of these are things I'm ashamed of.
That I've treated and still treat my body this way. That I loved him and trusted him and that he treated me this way.
Shame.
That ties this whole night together.
And a lot of my recent life.
In the recent past I've been on my knees in front of one person while someone who likes me sincerely called me on the phone to make plans with me. And have been at the computer at 1am eating leftover homemade curry and dirty instant messaging two different people with the same first same name at the same time.
Shame.
What's going on here?
Starving myself/loving the wrong people. A lot to think about.
And it's almost valentines day...and I take holidays, even stupid ones seriously, because I love ceremony.
It's gonna be a long night.
Thanks sweet jesus that K. made me a 21 love songs mix for valentines day that arrived unexpectedly in the mail this morning, along with this month's cosmo (An Orgasm Almost Killed Her: we are not kidding)(actual headline).
and I'm gonna listened to that truly excellent mix and write my heart out and drink cheap white wine and eat a chicken sandwich from the food the guy who doesn't eat much left behind.
good for me. I am embracing having an appetite. I think I'll make curried chicken salad.
Fuck shame. So what I loved him and I was wrong. He should be ashamed, and he is, cause he can't even look me in the face. Fuck that.
I've got a lot more to write on this subject, I think. Stay tuned.
So I saw emerson tonight. That happened.
Earlier, I met b. at the Smith Art Museum, because it was Northampton Arts Night Out, and when the Smith Museum is free (as it should always be, of course) and Lauren Greenfield's Thin & Girl Culture was at the Smith Museum
That was really good, but weird and hard for me, because it was a lot of photos of women with eating disorders, and eating disorder stuff is still oh so indescribably hard for me to deal with, and I'm not sure how much I'm going to be able to write about it tonight. Still the hardest thing for me to talk about/deal with/acknowledge in anyway/think about.
Even though the year when I regularly weighed under 100 pounds was when I was 14, so 16 years ago now.
I've been living pretty much as normal and appearing normal for 16 years. weird.
To be clear, I can talk about it, in a very specific way, a way that I've created, a language I've created, where I can mention certain controlled truths, and act like I'm dealing with it, but that actually never really even scratches the surface. Of what I've done. Of what I've felt. Of how I still live.
I certainly don't talk about it in the present tense. It's 10:50pm and all I've eaten all day is a single yogurt. I'm fighting with myself with what I'll eat next. Since I've been fired, I can at least on some level see that I'm exercising compulsively (now 205 situps a day plus all this other stuff) but I can't stop. I love when people buy me dinner, because then I'm allowed to eat whatever I want without following my rules.
I eat plenty, and I maintain a normal weight, mostly, but the amount of rules, involved, I know it's not normal, whatever that is, because I can't find the words to talk about. I would never, ever tell anyone what I really think when it comes to eating.
I eroticize it, I play games, I deny myself things...I think this why I want to just go live on a farm because I figure if I was really in touch with food and the sources of my food than all this nonsense my intellectual mind knows is silly and ridiculous would go away.
Gardening helps. That's why I do it. Inpatient eating disorder units should have gardens. And animals. Really.
The show we saw tonight had all these photos of girls being forced to eat cookies, but what if they had to raise chickens and then kill and eat them? Or just gather eggs? That seems like something that would have shaken me out of my self obsession as a teenager. In a good way. And eating disorders are always a self obsession. not that you can stop it just because you know this.
Send all anorexics to sustainable farms and see what happens. seriously.
Food I create myself has less guilt. Food I cook myself does too.
Something about labor, hands, work, touch....
So seeing those photographs...I was almost in tears by the time I left that exhibit. I was choking in my throat.
Not in a bad way. I was really glad I saw it. But it wasn't easy. I think a lot of the point of my own work is that I'm trying so hard to conceive of a language in which to talk about these things.
I need to talk about them. It's part of why I am an artist.
Someone should. And that show tonight, that all from an observer's perspective, because most of those girls photographed are too fucked up to make their own art.
I want to be the voice from the inside, the one who was just that bad, but survived anyway. And I will survive what is happening to me now.
So it was an intense evening in my soul already...
And then I was walking alone down main street in the cold back to my car and standing at the light at the main intersection waiting to cross, and I look over my shoulder behind me for some reason I still can't figure out (ali says I was looking for him) and I see first one member of his band, then the next, and I knew what was coming but it happened so fast, then him, come around the corner, and I didn't know what to do, so I looked away, but I'm pretty sure he saw me, and looked away too, and walked past me.
And then I felt like crying again and I still do.
Both of these are things I'm ashamed of.
That I've treated and still treat my body this way. That I loved him and trusted him and that he treated me this way.
Shame.
That ties this whole night together.
And a lot of my recent life.
In the recent past I've been on my knees in front of one person while someone who likes me sincerely called me on the phone to make plans with me. And have been at the computer at 1am eating leftover homemade curry and dirty instant messaging two different people with the same first same name at the same time.
Shame.
What's going on here?
Starving myself/loving the wrong people. A lot to think about.
And it's almost valentines day...and I take holidays, even stupid ones seriously, because I love ceremony.
It's gonna be a long night.
Thanks sweet jesus that K. made me a 21 love songs mix for valentines day that arrived unexpectedly in the mail this morning, along with this month's cosmo (An Orgasm Almost Killed Her: we are not kidding)(actual headline).
and I'm gonna listened to that truly excellent mix and write my heart out and drink cheap white wine and eat a chicken sandwich from the food the guy who doesn't eat much left behind.
good for me. I am embracing having an appetite. I think I'll make curried chicken salad.
Fuck shame. So what I loved him and I was wrong. He should be ashamed, and he is, cause he can't even look me in the face. Fuck that.
I've got a lot more to write on this subject, I think. Stay tuned.
(valentines)(food)(the inbetween bit)
(one other thing: my ideal valentines date, and which I've had with various partners for at least most of the last eleven years, is to cook a really special gorgeous romantic dinner at home with my love...I think the guy tomorrow wouldn't understand the food/sex/love/touch thing that matters to me so much...that's part of the problem...when I cooked him dinner for the first time this week, he didn't finish his plate and I was the only one eating butter...that sort of thing doesn't make me want to fuck you)
(I don't want to go to a restaurant, I want my valentines date to lick butter off my fingers and fuck me up against the kitchen wall while we are still cooking, pots and pans all on the stove and knives and cutting boards everywhere, everything smelling delicious)
(at least I know this)
(Iwrote this about myself the other day)
(You should message me if:
If you are open to adventure.
If you are by nature a sensual person, and the way life tastes, sounds, smells, sounds, and feels matters to you.
If you think food is incredibly sexy, and you agree that cooking an elaborate, messy, and indulgent meal is an excellent form of foreplay. And if you like to eat, because I like to cook, and I like people who truly appreciate food.
If you like dancing and getting sweaty.
If you want to go a dive bar for a bunch of hours and play the jukebox and act ridiculous.
If you smell and taste good, because I always notice that about a person.
If doing whiskey shots and eating cake in bed sounds like fun to you.
and you should like music, doesn't matter what kind because I like a lot.)
(of course, I know who all things are true about)
(I don't want to go to a restaurant, I want my valentines date to lick butter off my fingers and fuck me up against the kitchen wall while we are still cooking, pots and pans all on the stove and knives and cutting boards everywhere, everything smelling delicious)
(at least I know this)
(Iwrote this about myself the other day)
(You should message me if:
If you are open to adventure.
If you are by nature a sensual person, and the way life tastes, sounds, smells, sounds, and feels matters to you.
If you think food is incredibly sexy, and you agree that cooking an elaborate, messy, and indulgent meal is an excellent form of foreplay. And if you like to eat, because I like to cook, and I like people who truly appreciate food.
If you like dancing and getting sweaty.
If you want to go a dive bar for a bunch of hours and play the jukebox and act ridiculous.
If you smell and taste good, because I always notice that about a person.
If doing whiskey shots and eating cake in bed sounds like fun to you.
and you should like music, doesn't matter what kind because I like a lot.)
(of course, I know who all things are true about)
valentines eve & other weird painful shit: Part #1
So valentines eve 2009. First valentines day since 1998 when I was 19 that I haven't been in a committed long term relationship with someone I was in love with on valentines day. That's eleven years, people.
So there's that. Not that I'll be alone at all, I have a date, a really nice date planned to go to see "Coraline" and eat sushi at osaka, with someone I like ok, who is handsome and smart and funny and seems to really like me and the way I think and who pays attention to my art, etc. perfect on paper, but on the other hand , as ali and jocelyn and I were just joking, I'm just not that into him? Get it? I could let him know that by suggesting we see, "He's Just Not That Into You" instead of "Coraline." But he planned this date, and it's a great date, it's all stuff I love to do, so what is my problem? That it feels like we are really "dating" now and one thing I do know is that I don't want that. Not with one person. My poor little heart can't handle it yet.
I'm turning into one of those boys I've dated who's terrified of the word "Girlfriend." I just don't want to be anybody's girlfriend, except maybe one person's and that's the wrong person.
And valentines day is of course complicated because ever since I broke up with emerson, well I guess not since we broke up, we broke up in november, and I thought for while we'd certainly get back together haha now we'll never even speak again, I guess since he got me fired at christmas, I 've been on a dating spree that I can't entirely understand or explain to myself or anyone else. Mostly people from the internet, a few from real life. Right now I am currently have a specifically nondating sex/friendship thing with three people, and dating two other people, making plans to meet at least two new people next week, plus two people I've met in person I'm avoiding, plus a handful of people I only email. Hmmm.
Very emotionally confusing, especially considering I've never really dated casually before, only ever gone from one serious relationship to the next.
And the only person who moves me at all is the one most specifically nonromantic. But maybe that's exactly the reason I'm moved, because that situation is safe. It's definitely the only situation where I'm having sex because I really want to, which is sad I guess.
I had a good conversation with a & k about what this means about what I really want, and whether or not it's ok for me to want the things I seem to want.
Am I a slut, a whore, am I really messed up emotionally, am I really sexually confused, am I normal?
When I describe it to myself, I just say that all I want is to feel something. And that I can't. That's here is an empty space in my chest and I'm just trying to fill it with something.
That the only reason that I can handle all this is that emerson left me so emotionally removed from myself and everything else that I can just jump from one person to the next and not feel a real connection.
I feel guilty about my date tomorrow, I feel like he wants something different and I'm not being honest.
I'm confused, because the me I used to be would have been so happy about this situation and the me I am right now feels nothing.
I mostly want to be alone these days, that's when I usually feel the best with a few exception.
I guess emerson gave me that, an appreciation of my own company that I didn't have when I was clinging to him for everything.
Although I never am alone, this week I had exactly one night to spend alone in my apartment.
But then why am I dating all these people?
I think I really really really need the attention, I'm craving it so much, just tell me I'm beautiful, sexy, special, that you want me, that I'm not the worthless creature that he threw away and wrecked and didn't even bother turn around to look back at.
I saw him tonight of course. For the first time since the morning after that fateful store party, back on december 17th. Then I was suspended on the 23rd and I never saw him again, I saw the back of his head the one time I went back to the store to get the stuff from my locker, but this time I saw his face and I believe he saw me.
That's part #2. But of course it happened tonight. Valentines Eve. In a parallel universe of course, we end up not destroying each other and I wake up in his arms tomorrow.
So there's that. Not that I'll be alone at all, I have a date, a really nice date planned to go to see "Coraline" and eat sushi at osaka, with someone I like ok, who is handsome and smart and funny and seems to really like me and the way I think and who pays attention to my art, etc. perfect on paper, but on the other hand , as ali and jocelyn and I were just joking, I'm just not that into him? Get it? I could let him know that by suggesting we see, "He's Just Not That Into You" instead of "Coraline." But he planned this date, and it's a great date, it's all stuff I love to do, so what is my problem? That it feels like we are really "dating" now and one thing I do know is that I don't want that. Not with one person. My poor little heart can't handle it yet.
I'm turning into one of those boys I've dated who's terrified of the word "Girlfriend." I just don't want to be anybody's girlfriend, except maybe one person's and that's the wrong person.
And valentines day is of course complicated because ever since I broke up with emerson, well I guess not since we broke up, we broke up in november, and I thought for while we'd certainly get back together haha now we'll never even speak again, I guess since he got me fired at christmas, I 've been on a dating spree that I can't entirely understand or explain to myself or anyone else. Mostly people from the internet, a few from real life. Right now I am currently have a specifically nondating sex/friendship thing with three people, and dating two other people, making plans to meet at least two new people next week, plus two people I've met in person I'm avoiding, plus a handful of people I only email. Hmmm.
Very emotionally confusing, especially considering I've never really dated casually before, only ever gone from one serious relationship to the next.
And the only person who moves me at all is the one most specifically nonromantic. But maybe that's exactly the reason I'm moved, because that situation is safe. It's definitely the only situation where I'm having sex because I really want to, which is sad I guess.
I had a good conversation with a & k about what this means about what I really want, and whether or not it's ok for me to want the things I seem to want.
Am I a slut, a whore, am I really messed up emotionally, am I really sexually confused, am I normal?
When I describe it to myself, I just say that all I want is to feel something. And that I can't. That's here is an empty space in my chest and I'm just trying to fill it with something.
That the only reason that I can handle all this is that emerson left me so emotionally removed from myself and everything else that I can just jump from one person to the next and not feel a real connection.
I feel guilty about my date tomorrow, I feel like he wants something different and I'm not being honest.
I'm confused, because the me I used to be would have been so happy about this situation and the me I am right now feels nothing.
I mostly want to be alone these days, that's when I usually feel the best with a few exception.
I guess emerson gave me that, an appreciation of my own company that I didn't have when I was clinging to him for everything.
Although I never am alone, this week I had exactly one night to spend alone in my apartment.
But then why am I dating all these people?
I think I really really really need the attention, I'm craving it so much, just tell me I'm beautiful, sexy, special, that you want me, that I'm not the worthless creature that he threw away and wrecked and didn't even bother turn around to look back at.
I saw him tonight of course. For the first time since the morning after that fateful store party, back on december 17th. Then I was suspended on the 23rd and I never saw him again, I saw the back of his head the one time I went back to the store to get the stuff from my locker, but this time I saw his face and I believe he saw me.
That's part #2. But of course it happened tonight. Valentines Eve. In a parallel universe of course, we end up not destroying each other and I wake up in his arms tomorrow.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
in my space
It's weird, I like this guy, the one who came to visit today, we had a nice day, and spent some quiet time drinking coffee and reading at bart's and later sitting in the whately diner looking out at the beautiful snowy dusk eating french fries and talking about country music, and he had his own fries but was using my ketchup which I thought was cute, and we drove around in his truck in the snow which I love, and lately he's really felt like my friend, but every time he's here, as soon as he leaves I feel compelled to clean and clean the apartment and get rid of every trace of him.
When he left tonight I first took a long walk in the snow, because I needed fresh air so much...and when I got back to the apartment I meant to do some other stuff but like I had no choice in the matter I immediately started rinsing out ashtrays and picking up glasses and changed my sheets and lit candles and am about to take a shower. I was thinking of cooking something even though I'm not hungry just so the apartment won't smell like him anymore.
...and I'm listening to old ani difranco for some reason, which I almost never do anymore....I think it's going to be sleater-kinney next, too.
When I was with e., he'd also manage to trash my entire apartment every time he spent the night, but I'd kind of enjoy finding the reminders of his presence the next day. Same with when g. and I first started dating. The time he left my bed full of lucky charms I thought it was adorable.
But now it's like I want to erase any hint this guy was ever here, and just get my home back to the way it was when I woke up this morning.
Again, I do like him, so I don't know what this physical aversion to him in my personal space is about.
Maybe it has nothing to do with him and this all has something to do with the boundaries I need right now in life. Like I just don't want boys in my space and that's that.
I don't know, I still feel like if it was the right boy, I wouldn't mind if my sheets smelled like him, but maybe I'm wrong.
When he left tonight I first took a long walk in the snow, because I needed fresh air so much...and when I got back to the apartment I meant to do some other stuff but like I had no choice in the matter I immediately started rinsing out ashtrays and picking up glasses and changed my sheets and lit candles and am about to take a shower. I was thinking of cooking something even though I'm not hungry just so the apartment won't smell like him anymore.
...and I'm listening to old ani difranco for some reason, which I almost never do anymore....I think it's going to be sleater-kinney next, too.
When I was with e., he'd also manage to trash my entire apartment every time he spent the night, but I'd kind of enjoy finding the reminders of his presence the next day. Same with when g. and I first started dating. The time he left my bed full of lucky charms I thought it was adorable.
But now it's like I want to erase any hint this guy was ever here, and just get my home back to the way it was when I woke up this morning.
Again, I do like him, so I don't know what this physical aversion to him in my personal space is about.
Maybe it has nothing to do with him and this all has something to do with the boundaries I need right now in life. Like I just don't want boys in my space and that's that.
I don't know, I still feel like if it was the right boy, I wouldn't mind if my sheets smelled like him, but maybe I'm wrong.
Monday, January 26, 2009
Trainwreck (me & britney spears & courtney love)
Just a few random thoughts...lately a various assortment of sort of shitty things have happened to me (and oh believe me I fully realize that these are not shitty things on a truly horrible scale, I know that I am not dying or sick and not starving and not living in a war zone or a natural disaster, I know, I know, and I am incredibly grateful for all those things, I am I am I am)...but I still have experienced what one could call some sort of trauma, and the way people are now treating me is, um, interesting? weird? hurtful? funny?
(this going to all tie back into britney, don't worry)
(also this won't make a huge amount of sense, overall, so if you are looking for cohesion, stop reading)
But I made a terrible romantic decision and that caused me to lose my job, and before that he hurt me really badly both emotionally and physically, and since about mid-november I've been in a kind of downward spiral, way before I lost my job this happened, and that led to some other insane behavior and lots out of control drunken reckless behavior...
Hi britney! Hi courtney love! yes! trainwreck city!
I think it's true, no matter who you are, you get your heart broken publicly, it hurts the same way, and people treat you the same way, like it's catching, and just because someone fucked you over real real real bad, and you have the emotional awareness to be feeling it, then there is something wrong with you.
"just get over it", they say. "move on." and I know that to be true. but I'm not there yet.
For me, the fact that I get up and get dressed everyday, keep my house clean, feed the cat, feed myself, apply for jobs, paint some, write about art, all these things are a major victory. A lot of me just wants to lie in bed and cry.
But I get accused of dwelling in the past. I guess I am. But that was such a major betrayal. The whole thing, the violence, the betrayal, the effect it's had on my life, I'm not ready to move on. I can't yet.
I can't. I'm trying. I'm trying so hard...to let go of the anger, the hurt, oh I know these are unproductive emotions, I want then gone, I do I do.
But I still don't sleep. I still am having panic attacks. I still go over it in my head constantly. I still wake up so sad every single day. I never ever want to get out of bed in the morning. I'm trying but I don't. I'm still grateful for everything I have, but that doesn't mean I feel ok.
Ok, this is the bad part, here goes:
I AM SORRY THAT HE BROKE MY HEART WORSE THAN IT'S EVER BEEN BROKEN BEFORE AND I FELL APART AND THEN HE GAVE THEM MY LETTERS AND I GOT FIRED AND NOW I'M BROKE AND UNEMPLOYED AND REALLY FREAKED OUT AND LONELY BUT I HATE EVERYONE AND CAN'T TRUST AT ALL AND CAN'T LET ANYONE IN BUT KEEP TAKING THESE CRAZY RISKS IN ORDER TO HEAR SOMEONE SAY THAT I'M BEAUTIFUL BUT I MOSTLY HAVE AN OUT OF BODY THING GOING DURING SEX NOW AND I'M SORRY IF HE WASN'T VIOLENT ENOUGH TO MEET SOME PEOPLE'S STANDARDS BUT IT WAS VIOLENT ENOUGH FOR ME AND I KEEP DISCONNECTING AND I DON'T CARE WHO THINKS I'M LYING OR EXAGGERATING OR TRYING TO GET ATTENTION WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN HE AND I NO ONE SHOULD KNOW THE DETAILS OF EXCEPT HE AND I AND IT WAS REALLY FUCKING BAD AND I HAVE BEEN 13 AGAIN SINCE NOVEMBER 29. SO FUCK YOU EMERSON. AND COURTNEY. AND YOUR FRIENDS. AND EVERYONE WHO THINKS I AM TAKING IT TOO HARD. YEAH I WAS A SHITHEAD TOO. BUT YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO TAKE EVERYTHING. YOU FUCKING BASTARD YOU SLAM MY HEAD AGAINST A WALL AND CAUSE ME TO HAVE A SEMI-NERVOUS BREAKDOWN BECAUSE NO ONE HAS DONE THAT TO ME SINCE I WAS 13 YEARS OLD AND THEN YOU BLAME ME FOR IT WHICH I BELIEVE AND THEN I START TO COLLAPSE AND YOU TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THAT TO GET ME FIRED AND REMOVE ANY STABILITY OR REASON TO GET OUT OF BED AT ALL FROM MY LIFE JUST WHEN I NEED IT MOST.
ok, bad part over. But for everyone who keeps asking, this is where the Britney thing comes from, people watching while you go from everything to nothing, and both judging and enjoying it at the same time.
I know people are backing away from me in that "oh no trainwreck" kind of way.
Look how courtney love has been treated for more than ten years now, because maybe you act crazy when someone you love even tries to kill themselves. I've been there. And people want you to act normal. But nothing is anymore.
Falling apart publicly...it's interesting.
Driving to work the day I was suspended totally unexpectedly, I was listening to the new britney album, and really liking "circus" a lot, and already thinking about changing my facebook status to "all eyes on me in the center of the ring just like a circus." and then I was interviewed about my emotions and my sex life and then suspended, and I did change it to that, but then it was so much more funny and sad and ironic.
My final point: women should be allowed to be outrageous and hot and crazy and emotional and feel pain and act out without being raked over coals like this. Only girls ever seem to be left crying alone on the stairs and photographed at their worst and mocked and judged by everyone.
From the Mountain Goats, "I am going to make it through this year if it kills me."
I'm just really wounded right now. I'm doing what I can. That's all.
(this going to all tie back into britney, don't worry)
(also this won't make a huge amount of sense, overall, so if you are looking for cohesion, stop reading)
But I made a terrible romantic decision and that caused me to lose my job, and before that he hurt me really badly both emotionally and physically, and since about mid-november I've been in a kind of downward spiral, way before I lost my job this happened, and that led to some other insane behavior and lots out of control drunken reckless behavior...
Hi britney! Hi courtney love! yes! trainwreck city!
I think it's true, no matter who you are, you get your heart broken publicly, it hurts the same way, and people treat you the same way, like it's catching, and just because someone fucked you over real real real bad, and you have the emotional awareness to be feeling it, then there is something wrong with you.
"just get over it", they say. "move on." and I know that to be true. but I'm not there yet.
For me, the fact that I get up and get dressed everyday, keep my house clean, feed the cat, feed myself, apply for jobs, paint some, write about art, all these things are a major victory. A lot of me just wants to lie in bed and cry.
But I get accused of dwelling in the past. I guess I am. But that was such a major betrayal. The whole thing, the violence, the betrayal, the effect it's had on my life, I'm not ready to move on. I can't yet.
I can't. I'm trying. I'm trying so hard...to let go of the anger, the hurt, oh I know these are unproductive emotions, I want then gone, I do I do.
But I still don't sleep. I still am having panic attacks. I still go over it in my head constantly. I still wake up so sad every single day. I never ever want to get out of bed in the morning. I'm trying but I don't. I'm still grateful for everything I have, but that doesn't mean I feel ok.
Ok, this is the bad part, here goes:
I AM SORRY THAT HE BROKE MY HEART WORSE THAN IT'S EVER BEEN BROKEN BEFORE AND I FELL APART AND THEN HE GAVE THEM MY LETTERS AND I GOT FIRED AND NOW I'M BROKE AND UNEMPLOYED AND REALLY FREAKED OUT AND LONELY BUT I HATE EVERYONE AND CAN'T TRUST AT ALL AND CAN'T LET ANYONE IN BUT KEEP TAKING THESE CRAZY RISKS IN ORDER TO HEAR SOMEONE SAY THAT I'M BEAUTIFUL BUT I MOSTLY HAVE AN OUT OF BODY THING GOING DURING SEX NOW AND I'M SORRY IF HE WASN'T VIOLENT ENOUGH TO MEET SOME PEOPLE'S STANDARDS BUT IT WAS VIOLENT ENOUGH FOR ME AND I KEEP DISCONNECTING AND I DON'T CARE WHO THINKS I'M LYING OR EXAGGERATING OR TRYING TO GET ATTENTION WHAT HAPPENED BETWEEN HE AND I NO ONE SHOULD KNOW THE DETAILS OF EXCEPT HE AND I AND IT WAS REALLY FUCKING BAD AND I HAVE BEEN 13 AGAIN SINCE NOVEMBER 29. SO FUCK YOU EMERSON. AND COURTNEY. AND YOUR FRIENDS. AND EVERYONE WHO THINKS I AM TAKING IT TOO HARD. YEAH I WAS A SHITHEAD TOO. BUT YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO TAKE EVERYTHING. YOU FUCKING BASTARD YOU SLAM MY HEAD AGAINST A WALL AND CAUSE ME TO HAVE A SEMI-NERVOUS BREAKDOWN BECAUSE NO ONE HAS DONE THAT TO ME SINCE I WAS 13 YEARS OLD AND THEN YOU BLAME ME FOR IT WHICH I BELIEVE AND THEN I START TO COLLAPSE AND YOU TAKE ADVANTAGE OF THAT TO GET ME FIRED AND REMOVE ANY STABILITY OR REASON TO GET OUT OF BED AT ALL FROM MY LIFE JUST WHEN I NEED IT MOST.
ok, bad part over. But for everyone who keeps asking, this is where the Britney thing comes from, people watching while you go from everything to nothing, and both judging and enjoying it at the same time.
I know people are backing away from me in that "oh no trainwreck" kind of way.
Look how courtney love has been treated for more than ten years now, because maybe you act crazy when someone you love even tries to kill themselves. I've been there. And people want you to act normal. But nothing is anymore.
Falling apart publicly...it's interesting.
Driving to work the day I was suspended totally unexpectedly, I was listening to the new britney album, and really liking "circus" a lot, and already thinking about changing my facebook status to "all eyes on me in the center of the ring just like a circus." and then I was interviewed about my emotions and my sex life and then suspended, and I did change it to that, but then it was so much more funny and sad and ironic.
My final point: women should be allowed to be outrageous and hot and crazy and emotional and feel pain and act out without being raked over coals like this. Only girls ever seem to be left crying alone on the stairs and photographed at their worst and mocked and judged by everyone.
From the Mountain Goats, "I am going to make it through this year if it kills me."
I'm just really wounded right now. I'm doing what I can. That's all.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
heart broken, shattered, still cooking
All week I've been seriously freaking out about work and money and life and what on earth am I going to do. Right now things are getting really scary.
Emotionally as well as financially.
I can't sleep. I keep doing all these crazy things and taking these stupid risks just for the chance at sleep. Any distraction, any person, any body, just for some sleep.
This morning, I woke up with someone in my bed who I really wasn't sure if I wanted to be there, and got up by myself to clean up the aftermath of the night before and drink tea alone and sit at my computer at the kitchen table, where I ended up just torturing myself on the internet about that boy who recently broke my heart and got me fired, you know that one.
That made me really sad, and made me realize that I miss him really badly, so I was dealing with that, but...
Then eventually the guy from my bed (and I like this guy sincerely, I really do, but I don't know what is going on and I think I let him push me around too much because I'm so disconnected and frozen and shattered right now...that's a whole other post though) left my bed and my apartment, and right on cue a registered letter arrived from whole foods denying my appeal of my termination, which states as part of their evidence for why they should have fired me the fact that the boy gave them all of our emails back and forth for our whole relationships. And it does state officially that his roommate and my former friend made the complaint about me, and that is really the reason why now I'm totally broke and scared and freaking out. I kept trying to blame myself and give them the benefit of the doubt, but I guess I was wrong.
oh god he gave them our letters.
This official letter from whole foods actually states something about how on september 18, 2008, we know you were in "insert his name here"'s bedroom because of a facebook message to that effect.
That's the correct date too, of the first time we slept together, which makes me so so so so mad...no way whole foods should know that.
That came from a message he wrote, that first morning, that was so beautiful, and even post breakup, was something I treasured. Breakups are one thing, but now he's taken our love letters away from me.
I remember, it ended with, "you are beautiful like nothing else" and it gave me chills at the time. He said his bed smelled like me, and he was invigorated by that.
I wouldn't write about this here, ever, except he's ruined it all anyway.
I can just see those whole foods executive people reading those messages and it makes me want to crawl out of my skin.
I can't even speak.
One of the ways they say I lied was that they asked me in the investigation how I felt about the breakup and I said well you know, I'm getting over it, like you would say to anyone you didn't want to cry to, and they pointed out a facebook message I wrote him right after we broke up in which I said I was upset as PROOF that I lied.
How was I supposed to answer that question officially? How do I feel about the breakup? I don't know. I think what I actually said was that it wasn't the worst breakup I'd ever had, so I would live.
That is very very very true. Maybe they don't know how bad things can get. Probably they don't, because they don't even seem to be human. But once you've seen someone you love's blood all over the walls...well....even though I ended up getting fired, this still wasn't the worst breakup I've ever had.
Fuck fuck fuck you whole foods, for firing people for being humans and having feelings.
The letter from whole foods goes on for six pages of this stuff.
I can't even understand how it's possible to live with so much anger.,
And then I talked to my dad and he said my mom is mad at me because she still blames me for the whole thing simply for trusting that boy at all, my bad judgment=my fault, as if women don't date men who beat them and hurt them all the time, and I guess she read on facebook or this blog or somewhere that I went to vermont and that hot tub and thinks I'm spending money like crazy. Although vermont cost me nothing and I even got two free meals out of it. I am allowed to have friends, just because I'm unemployed am I supposed to turn down invitations that are fun if they cost no money?
All this makes me want to sit on the floor under a blanket forever.
oh god god I need a job right now. right this minute.
What kills me so much about this situation was right before that asshole had to sell me out, I was the most totally self sufficient I've ever been in the 30 years of my life...totally single, making a good salary, paying for everything myself. And he took that for no reason.
In order to cope I had to make myself a really nice dinner of scallops and cream and noodles (frozen scallops from trader joes I already had since I am still really freaked out about money) and exactly $4 of very well chosen vegetables from the co-op. Shallots, crimini mushrooms, baby bok choi, fingerling potatoes I already had, garlic, butter, white wine.
Every time that guy spends the night I feel like I have to reclaim the apartment, it smells like him, and objects are displaced and everything is chaos.
So I've been fixing it all night. And cooking helps. The smelling wrong thing bothers me the most.
The positive things about today (because I swear that I am going to remember the positive): my sweet kitten, who every time he sleeps in my bed also sleeps very close to me to look out for me (she usually sleeps in my bed, but when he's there she really makes sure she's close), that fact that when I finally escaped that house to take a walk, the sun came out it it was relatively warm (36! felt warm! that's how you know it's january in massachusetts), diane and david being there for me this afternoon, making a really satisfying mix tape, talking to my dad and having him be there for me and not judge, looking forward to learning to embroider with beth and sarah tomorrow, my lovely apartment that I am trying to hold on to despite being broke, wendy mailing me a king cake from new orleans, loving myself and my cat and my home and trying to fight to survive.
Emotionally as well as financially.
I can't sleep. I keep doing all these crazy things and taking these stupid risks just for the chance at sleep. Any distraction, any person, any body, just for some sleep.
This morning, I woke up with someone in my bed who I really wasn't sure if I wanted to be there, and got up by myself to clean up the aftermath of the night before and drink tea alone and sit at my computer at the kitchen table, where I ended up just torturing myself on the internet about that boy who recently broke my heart and got me fired, you know that one.
That made me really sad, and made me realize that I miss him really badly, so I was dealing with that, but...
Then eventually the guy from my bed (and I like this guy sincerely, I really do, but I don't know what is going on and I think I let him push me around too much because I'm so disconnected and frozen and shattered right now...that's a whole other post though) left my bed and my apartment, and right on cue a registered letter arrived from whole foods denying my appeal of my termination, which states as part of their evidence for why they should have fired me the fact that the boy gave them all of our emails back and forth for our whole relationships. And it does state officially that his roommate and my former friend made the complaint about me, and that is really the reason why now I'm totally broke and scared and freaking out. I kept trying to blame myself and give them the benefit of the doubt, but I guess I was wrong.
oh god he gave them our letters.
This official letter from whole foods actually states something about how on september 18, 2008, we know you were in "insert his name here"'s bedroom because of a facebook message to that effect.
That's the correct date too, of the first time we slept together, which makes me so so so so mad...no way whole foods should know that.
That came from a message he wrote, that first morning, that was so beautiful, and even post breakup, was something I treasured. Breakups are one thing, but now he's taken our love letters away from me.
I remember, it ended with, "you are beautiful like nothing else" and it gave me chills at the time. He said his bed smelled like me, and he was invigorated by that.
I wouldn't write about this here, ever, except he's ruined it all anyway.
I can just see those whole foods executive people reading those messages and it makes me want to crawl out of my skin.
I can't even speak.
One of the ways they say I lied was that they asked me in the investigation how I felt about the breakup and I said well you know, I'm getting over it, like you would say to anyone you didn't want to cry to, and they pointed out a facebook message I wrote him right after we broke up in which I said I was upset as PROOF that I lied.
How was I supposed to answer that question officially? How do I feel about the breakup? I don't know. I think what I actually said was that it wasn't the worst breakup I'd ever had, so I would live.
That is very very very true. Maybe they don't know how bad things can get. Probably they don't, because they don't even seem to be human. But once you've seen someone you love's blood all over the walls...well....even though I ended up getting fired, this still wasn't the worst breakup I've ever had.
Fuck fuck fuck you whole foods, for firing people for being humans and having feelings.
The letter from whole foods goes on for six pages of this stuff.
I can't even understand how it's possible to live with so much anger.,
And then I talked to my dad and he said my mom is mad at me because she still blames me for the whole thing simply for trusting that boy at all, my bad judgment=my fault, as if women don't date men who beat them and hurt them all the time, and I guess she read on facebook or this blog or somewhere that I went to vermont and that hot tub and thinks I'm spending money like crazy. Although vermont cost me nothing and I even got two free meals out of it. I am allowed to have friends, just because I'm unemployed am I supposed to turn down invitations that are fun if they cost no money?
All this makes me want to sit on the floor under a blanket forever.
oh god god I need a job right now. right this minute.
What kills me so much about this situation was right before that asshole had to sell me out, I was the most totally self sufficient I've ever been in the 30 years of my life...totally single, making a good salary, paying for everything myself. And he took that for no reason.
In order to cope I had to make myself a really nice dinner of scallops and cream and noodles (frozen scallops from trader joes I already had since I am still really freaked out about money) and exactly $4 of very well chosen vegetables from the co-op. Shallots, crimini mushrooms, baby bok choi, fingerling potatoes I already had, garlic, butter, white wine.
Every time that guy spends the night I feel like I have to reclaim the apartment, it smells like him, and objects are displaced and everything is chaos.
So I've been fixing it all night. And cooking helps. The smelling wrong thing bothers me the most.
The positive things about today (because I swear that I am going to remember the positive): my sweet kitten, who every time he sleeps in my bed also sleeps very close to me to look out for me (she usually sleeps in my bed, but when he's there she really makes sure she's close), that fact that when I finally escaped that house to take a walk, the sun came out it it was relatively warm (36! felt warm! that's how you know it's january in massachusetts), diane and david being there for me this afternoon, making a really satisfying mix tape, talking to my dad and having him be there for me and not judge, looking forward to learning to embroider with beth and sarah tomorrow, my lovely apartment that I am trying to hold on to despite being broke, wendy mailing me a king cake from new orleans, loving myself and my cat and my home and trying to fight to survive.
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Flirting with food
I've found in my recent adventures with internet dating, the only thing I can honest flirt about is food. The only time I can feel genuinely sexy when chatting on the internet is if I'm describing how and what I might cook for someone if I had them there in person.
I'm surprisingly addicted to this internet thing. Talking to people who DO NOT AND NEVER HAVE WORKED AT WHOLE FOODS is like a drug, I love it.
I had a surprisingly pleasant phone conversation last night with someone who offered to come over and let me cook for them while it snowed, and I said no (I cannot do the sex with total strangers more than once a week I think)
But I made myself a nice dinner with music and wine at midnight during the snowstorm.
I'm surprisingly addicted to this internet thing. Talking to people who DO NOT AND NEVER HAVE WORKED AT WHOLE FOODS is like a drug, I love it.
I had a surprisingly pleasant phone conversation last night with someone who offered to come over and let me cook for them while it snowed, and I said no (I cannot do the sex with total strangers more than once a week I think)
But I made myself a nice dinner with music and wine at midnight during the snowstorm.
oh no! more stupid dating stuff
Here's an interesting dilemma, why do I now feel rejected by random internet guy who imed me at 4am last night to say he's sorry but he doesn't really want to be committed to me?
like I want to magically be committed to random internet guy? Like oh god, what would be scarier than suddenly finding myself committed to this guy I met online who I don't know at all?
Why on earth would that hurt my feelings? I spent most of the first day he was here wondering when exactly he was going to leave. I HATE HATE HATE the subconscious girl part of my brain that gets attached to people if I sleep with them even if the point of sleeping with them was to sleep with someone I'm not attached to.
I got really mad at him for assuming that I even wanted to date him, but of course if it made me sad then he was right, which makes me even more annoyed.
(I promise I'll write a post about art (or at least about buffy) sometime soon as a break from all this stupid relationship nonsense. I think I was a lot more interesting when I was just in a longterm relationship and didn't have to think about this stuff so much).
like I want to magically be committed to random internet guy? Like oh god, what would be scarier than suddenly finding myself committed to this guy I met online who I don't know at all?
Why on earth would that hurt my feelings? I spent most of the first day he was here wondering when exactly he was going to leave. I HATE HATE HATE the subconscious girl part of my brain that gets attached to people if I sleep with them even if the point of sleeping with them was to sleep with someone I'm not attached to.
I got really mad at him for assuming that I even wanted to date him, but of course if it made me sad then he was right, which makes me even more annoyed.
(I promise I'll write a post about art (or at least about buffy) sometime soon as a break from all this stupid relationship nonsense. I think I was a lot more interesting when I was just in a longterm relationship and didn't have to think about this stuff so much).
adventures in bad decision making and/or stepping outside of my comfort zone
This week, tuesday night I think, I joined an online dating site totally against my better judgment out of a combination of curiosity and a genuine interest in finding some people somewhere on earth who do not and never have worked at whole foods, and do not know nor have slept with any of my friends. I made a profile and someone emailed me right away, and I messaged him back, but then got distracted by something else I was doing, and and let that conversation trail off.
On wednesday night what I was planning on doing didn't work out, (it's a bit of another story, but I was doing tuesday night and what I meant to be doing wednesday night-I'll try to get back to that at the end) so I emailed the guy from the previous night out of boredom and frustration with something else who decided after iming for about five minutes that he wanted to drive to my house from two hours away at 2am, which for some reason (I'm going to stop right that now-please feel free to insert "for some reason" in any part of the story as you see fit, my reasoning here is frequently unclear, even to me) I agreed to, then he stayed at my apartment through the next afternoon at which point I agreed to go to northern vermont to the top of a mountain with a complete stranger (bad decision making) and we did go to vermont to his friends' cabin (which in reality was this giant insane house in some ski resort for the ultra rich) and then I came home on friday and somehow managed to not be kidnapped or murdered.
(high point of the whole experience: outdoor hot tub at midnight in the snow)
(I texted two friends on the way to vermont and they were both like "why. are. you. doing. that. what. is. wrong. with. you.)
So it all worked out fine, except
1. I don't normally spent 36 hours with someone I'll probably never see again, and I don't necessarily want to see this person again, but it's not how my heart operates so I feel strange about it.
2. The entire time I felt like I was in a movie, and was playing a part, and I was definitely self editing and not being myself.
3. I just feel kind of depressed about the whole thing....one one hand I was trying to step outside of my comfort zone and take chances, but on the other hand, it made me tired, a bit, and I cannot say enough times how I was not being myself.
Most of the 36 hours this was going on I felt pretty neutral about the random internet guy himself, like I wasn't sure if I thought he was cute, or if we had enough in common, and I was pretty ok with him leaving at anytime, but I thought the experience itself was good for me, because I was spending time with someone new and it was distracting me from some other stuff I'd been worrying about, and vermont really was fun, and was an experience that I wouldn't have got to have otherwise
(standing in the snow in my underwear completely warm with my hair frozen and steam blowing everywhere)
but I was still kind of distanced the whole time but then when he left I felt sad.
But do I really want that guy back, or was it just the company I liked?
(the other thing, that I was doing tuesday and wanted to do wednesday, is this whole other story that involves these semi-romantic letters with this old friend. How I feel about those letters is a whole other complication in my heart.)
Another good thing about the whole experience: at one point (actually in the hot tub in the snow which would be a good scene if my life were indeed a movie) internet guy said, "you're very beautiful and you're smart and funny, and you don't put yourself out there as if you know this at all."
True. Something to think about.
On wednesday night what I was planning on doing didn't work out, (it's a bit of another story, but I was doing tuesday night and what I meant to be doing wednesday night-I'll try to get back to that at the end) so I emailed the guy from the previous night out of boredom and frustration with something else who decided after iming for about five minutes that he wanted to drive to my house from two hours away at 2am, which for some reason (I'm going to stop right that now-please feel free to insert "for some reason" in any part of the story as you see fit, my reasoning here is frequently unclear, even to me) I agreed to, then he stayed at my apartment through the next afternoon at which point I agreed to go to northern vermont to the top of a mountain with a complete stranger (bad decision making) and we did go to vermont to his friends' cabin (which in reality was this giant insane house in some ski resort for the ultra rich) and then I came home on friday and somehow managed to not be kidnapped or murdered.
(high point of the whole experience: outdoor hot tub at midnight in the snow)
(I texted two friends on the way to vermont and they were both like "why. are. you. doing. that. what. is. wrong. with. you.)
So it all worked out fine, except
1. I don't normally spent 36 hours with someone I'll probably never see again, and I don't necessarily want to see this person again, but it's not how my heart operates so I feel strange about it.
2. The entire time I felt like I was in a movie, and was playing a part, and I was definitely self editing and not being myself.
3. I just feel kind of depressed about the whole thing....one one hand I was trying to step outside of my comfort zone and take chances, but on the other hand, it made me tired, a bit, and I cannot say enough times how I was not being myself.
Most of the 36 hours this was going on I felt pretty neutral about the random internet guy himself, like I wasn't sure if I thought he was cute, or if we had enough in common, and I was pretty ok with him leaving at anytime, but I thought the experience itself was good for me, because I was spending time with someone new and it was distracting me from some other stuff I'd been worrying about, and vermont really was fun, and was an experience that I wouldn't have got to have otherwise
(standing in the snow in my underwear completely warm with my hair frozen and steam blowing everywhere)
but I was still kind of distanced the whole time but then when he left I felt sad.
But do I really want that guy back, or was it just the company I liked?
(the other thing, that I was doing tuesday and wanted to do wednesday, is this whole other story that involves these semi-romantic letters with this old friend. How I feel about those letters is a whole other complication in my heart.)
Another good thing about the whole experience: at one point (actually in the hot tub in the snow which would be a good scene if my life were indeed a movie) internet guy said, "you're very beautiful and you're smart and funny, and you don't put yourself out there as if you know this at all."
True. Something to think about.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
hopeless romanticism brought to you by the snowstorm
I've been thinking about dating, about people, about relationships, and how sometimes I don't want to be alone and I wonder if my standards are too high, but then why can't I expect to be with someone whose just perfect?
Is perfect too much to ask?
Or should I just accept "well this is ok."
In the past couple of years, starting from "well this is ok," was pleasant but not mindblowing, at least not in the beginning, but then led to a lovely two year relationship and we are still friends.
Then I had something that did seem perfect and mindblowing, and we dated for like a month, had a horrible horrible messy heart breaking breakup and he got me fired and we'll probably never speak again.
So maybe I should be looking for people who AREN'T like me?
What do I mean by "like me"?
just how some with people you get this "this person is like me" feeling...it's both a visual and an emotional feeling, like you feel like the person would just fit into your life without any effort, not like they were exactly the same person and they couldn't bring anything to you, but like if you saw them in your room it would make sense and you knew you could play music and they'd probably like it and you could recommend books for them and it would probably work out and you wouldn't worry too much before cooking them dinner or suggesting an activity for the first time.
Someone who in your minds eye just "looks right," and that has nothing to do with attractiveness.
I can't explain it anymore than that.
I want to be open to people and not just hung up on this idea in my head, but on the other hand, I when I feel like I'm compromising I get bored and frustrated and spend my life daydreaming in my head.
I was feeling all of those "soulmate?" type feelings about my most recent completely horrible dating situation, and it just ended so so so badly that I really don't know what to think.
There's some other stuff going on to that I'll get to in the next post that's also part of the reason I'm thinking all this stuff.
I'm snowed in with a fresh french press of coffee, so what better time to contemplate these questions...plus being snowed in reminds me that I'd rather be snowed in with that person whose "just right."
I know, I know, I should go buy a copy of glamour or something. I'm sure there is a trashy women's magazine out there that can solve this problem for me.
(apologies for this "single girl" post-I'll get back less sex and the city content shortly, it's just been a weird couple of days, weeks, months, etc.)
Is perfect too much to ask?
Or should I just accept "well this is ok."
In the past couple of years, starting from "well this is ok," was pleasant but not mindblowing, at least not in the beginning, but then led to a lovely two year relationship and we are still friends.
Then I had something that did seem perfect and mindblowing, and we dated for like a month, had a horrible horrible messy heart breaking breakup and he got me fired and we'll probably never speak again.
So maybe I should be looking for people who AREN'T like me?
What do I mean by "like me"?
just how some with people you get this "this person is like me" feeling...it's both a visual and an emotional feeling, like you feel like the person would just fit into your life without any effort, not like they were exactly the same person and they couldn't bring anything to you, but like if you saw them in your room it would make sense and you knew you could play music and they'd probably like it and you could recommend books for them and it would probably work out and you wouldn't worry too much before cooking them dinner or suggesting an activity for the first time.
Someone who in your minds eye just "looks right," and that has nothing to do with attractiveness.
I can't explain it anymore than that.
I want to be open to people and not just hung up on this idea in my head, but on the other hand, I when I feel like I'm compromising I get bored and frustrated and spend my life daydreaming in my head.
I was feeling all of those "soulmate?" type feelings about my most recent completely horrible dating situation, and it just ended so so so badly that I really don't know what to think.
There's some other stuff going on to that I'll get to in the next post that's also part of the reason I'm thinking all this stuff.
I'm snowed in with a fresh french press of coffee, so what better time to contemplate these questions...plus being snowed in reminds me that I'd rather be snowed in with that person whose "just right."
I know, I know, I should go buy a copy of glamour or something. I'm sure there is a trashy women's magazine out there that can solve this problem for me.
(apologies for this "single girl" post-I'll get back less sex and the city content shortly, it's just been a weird couple of days, weeks, months, etc.)
Sunday, January 4, 2009
pop culture reference sunday!
I was recently fired from my job of three and a half years under totally ridiculous circumstances, and I haven't written about it much because I'm still in total shock and distress,
(whole foods related post traumatic stress disorder) but I did realize something totally hilarious today.
I was fired under very confusing circumstances, but it seems like two people I know, one my exboyfriend and one his best friend and roommate and formerly my very good friend, were at least on some level responsible.
I'm not blaming people. I wasn't really told why I was fired. But I've heard the rumors. And these people don't seem to want to deny them. I wish they would. It would be easier to be betrayed by a horrible corporation than by two of my best friends.
Very long story that should go in a separate post.
It's complicated because it's just a huge awkward mess involving lots of people who are friends, or sleeping together, and lots of drama and hating and ridiculousness.
However, especially since I don't think very many of my real life friends know about this blog, and I'm fairly sure none of the people involved do, this is actually a good forum to discuss it.
STAY TUNED FOR THE STORY OF HOW I WAS FIRED FROM WHOLE FOODS.
Anyway. Back to our original subject:
I realized at a moment of pure pop culture brilliance that the girl who may or may not have gotten me fired is exactly the character faith from buffy the vampire slayer. Because she does a lot of really bad shit and must be stopped from hurting people, but is still a sympathetic character because she's so crazy and fucked up that you can see how she has no choice but to do these things. She's evil in a sexy awesome kind of way, but you still know that buffy has to eventually stop her, even though she kind of understands her.
And I'm am buffy in the sense that obviously I make terrible relationship decisions (exboyfriend choosing to get me fired). But look at buffy...angel, riley, spike...
And the exboyfriend is angel after he lost his soul. Because he turned into a totally different person out of the blue, and went from someone I felt like I'd always want in my life on some level to someone who would get me fired out of spite.
Ok, I know this whole post is lame. I've had a rough week, and figuring out that buffy analogy really cheered me up.
Isn't that the point of having blog though, that I can share these totally pointless yet amusing to me observations?
(whole foods related post traumatic stress disorder) but I did realize something totally hilarious today.
I was fired under very confusing circumstances, but it seems like two people I know, one my exboyfriend and one his best friend and roommate and formerly my very good friend, were at least on some level responsible.
I'm not blaming people. I wasn't really told why I was fired. But I've heard the rumors. And these people don't seem to want to deny them. I wish they would. It would be easier to be betrayed by a horrible corporation than by two of my best friends.
Very long story that should go in a separate post.
It's complicated because it's just a huge awkward mess involving lots of people who are friends, or sleeping together, and lots of drama and hating and ridiculousness.
However, especially since I don't think very many of my real life friends know about this blog, and I'm fairly sure none of the people involved do, this is actually a good forum to discuss it.
STAY TUNED FOR THE STORY OF HOW I WAS FIRED FROM WHOLE FOODS.
Anyway. Back to our original subject:
I realized at a moment of pure pop culture brilliance that the girl who may or may not have gotten me fired is exactly the character faith from buffy the vampire slayer. Because she does a lot of really bad shit and must be stopped from hurting people, but is still a sympathetic character because she's so crazy and fucked up that you can see how she has no choice but to do these things. She's evil in a sexy awesome kind of way, but you still know that buffy has to eventually stop her, even though she kind of understands her.
And I'm am buffy in the sense that obviously I make terrible relationship decisions (exboyfriend choosing to get me fired). But look at buffy...angel, riley, spike...
And the exboyfriend is angel after he lost his soul. Because he turned into a totally different person out of the blue, and went from someone I felt like I'd always want in my life on some level to someone who would get me fired out of spite.
Ok, I know this whole post is lame. I've had a rough week, and figuring out that buffy analogy really cheered me up.
Isn't that the point of having blog though, that I can share these totally pointless yet amusing to me observations?
Saturday, December 6, 2008
Recipe: dinner to impress boyfriends
Steak:
some not too nice cut of steak, like new york strip
1 bottle of the cheapest red wine
2 cloves of minced garlic
1 cup chopped shallots
1 stick of butter
salt & pepper
fresh parsley
In a large skillet, cook shallots, garlic and parsley over med-high heat for about five minutes, add steak, cook another five minutes, add red wine, turn heat brief up to high, then simmer for about 20 minutes. Salt and pepper to taste. Remove steaks, reduce the rest of the liquid for sauce.
Potatoes:
1lb banana fingerling potatoes
1 cup gruyere
1 cup parmesan
1 stick of butter
1 clove garlic
1 cup 1/2 and 1/2
lots of salt and pepper
Boil potatoes. Drain. Mash with everything else, skins on.
Plate everything. Pour sauce from steak over both steak and potatoes. Serve with really good hot bread and butter.
It comes across kind of impressive, but it's easy, and not too expensive, because the slow cooking wine makes cheaper cuts of meat taste awesome.
Roasted brussel sprouts are good as a side with this.
some not too nice cut of steak, like new york strip
1 bottle of the cheapest red wine
2 cloves of minced garlic
1 cup chopped shallots
1 stick of butter
salt & pepper
fresh parsley
In a large skillet, cook shallots, garlic and parsley over med-high heat for about five minutes, add steak, cook another five minutes, add red wine, turn heat brief up to high, then simmer for about 20 minutes. Salt and pepper to taste. Remove steaks, reduce the rest of the liquid for sauce.
Potatoes:
1lb banana fingerling potatoes
1 cup gruyere
1 cup parmesan
1 stick of butter
1 clove garlic
1 cup 1/2 and 1/2
lots of salt and pepper
Boil potatoes. Drain. Mash with everything else, skins on.
Plate everything. Pour sauce from steak over both steak and potatoes. Serve with really good hot bread and butter.
It comes across kind of impressive, but it's easy, and not too expensive, because the slow cooking wine makes cheaper cuts of meat taste awesome.
Roasted brussel sprouts are good as a side with this.
honesty, and britney, and why things fail
Why is this so difficult, like in my last brief dating situation, there was so much talk of how similar we were, everything was based on that, but I wasn't dealing with any of the things I was hiding about me, even to myself when this was going on, like, I buy a huge amount of celebrity gossip magazines, that's what my work is about, so it's important, I really listening to britney spears albums, really, and britney has a lot to do with my multi-year underlying art project, so she can't be ignored with me, and I really like vegetables, and I don't even like donuts, but I do like going to the mall, and I like a lot of weird trashy crap as much as I like my more hipster acceptable neat vintage accessories, and I'm in general not the specialized version of myself I was trying to be. All the things I was presenting are true, but they are just a part of the whole, not the compete picture.
So I should have known something was wrong, the first time I want to buy a gossip magazine to cut up, and didn't, because I thought he wouldn't like it, even though he wasn't even there.
I'm not all cute 50's dresses, and bakelite silverware.
So I should have known something was wrong, the first time I want to buy a gossip magazine to cut up, and didn't, because I thought he wouldn't like it, even though he wasn't even there.
I'm not all cute 50's dresses, and bakelite silverware.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
communcation & heartbreak & my return
I haven’t used this blog at all since I moved, since the end of august, since right before everything happened...for all these reasons…huge amounts of life turmoil takes up a lot of time, quiet time like right now where I'm getting to sit alone in my house with a glass of wine and write at the kitchen table, with no one needing me or caring that I'm hanging out drinking and doing this. Right after I got this apartment I had also no internet for a long time, so I couldn't even if I wanted to, and there were a lot of things going on which were very private, and which didn’t belong on the internet. Both because they were very intense and personal, and because they were secret, too.
In moments of crisis I tend to not be very contemplative, I just move ahead very very fast, and don’t stop to think. I just don't breathe, I just push ahead. Not that this is a good thing, at all. But sometimes it's the only was I know to survive.
As I’ve been calming down, and spending a more reasonable amount of alone time, I've been just writing in my sketchbook a lot, more then I have in years, and I haven’t felt any need to write here.
First I was in a period where I was with people all the time, because I had nowhere to live, and was staying with friends, and life became constantly social. Any self reflection at all had to be done in these brief stolen moments, on breaks at work, trying to find private space, and so my sketchbook become really really important, like it was the only private space I had.
I think one of the memories I will always retain from september and early october of 2008 is me on the bench by the bike trail out back at work, writing, trying so hard to make sense of it all. It always seemed to be incredibly beautiful and clear and blue and gold and perfectly fall, and I was always so confused.
I think also, if you spend no time alone, you really really don't need a blog, because sometimes a person really needs to stop communicating and be alone.
This still has a lot to do with then stuff that’s private that’s been going on, because that’s what I really feel the need to write about. I was thinking that I wouldn’t do this anymore. Because in order to make it through the past few weeks, I've really needed to write constantly, and it's not anything I would ever want anyone to read. Except for some of the art stuff. Which also doesn't belong here, I don't think.
One of the reasons that I always did like to do this was my obsessive need to document things like objects I find and see, and meals and tastes I create, views from windows and the way light looks at certain times of day. And maybe some of that stuff is different from my more personal weird writing, and certainly separate from how I’m feeling.
Real importance of ordinary, tiny specific concrete details to any creative medium.
The other night, in the midst of a horrible, horrible, completely heartbreaking and soul shattering phone conversation, I was drunkenly ranting and raving about communication, and how it was fundamentally the thing my work was about. Even in the midst of all the ridiculousnesss and anger and sadness that was going on in the conversation, I recognized something I was saying as really really true and important.
"horrible, horrible, completely heartbreaking and soul shattering phone conversation" makes me embarrassed to write because it's so over the top, but it was bad enough to really shake me up, and although I've been sad ever since it happened, in some ways I've been better than I've been in a while, because it was bad enough to make me really pause and think about what I've been doing recently.
I've been thinking about communication ever since. rin and I talked about it last night. It is what my work is about.
In moments of crisis I tend to not be very contemplative, I just move ahead very very fast, and don’t stop to think. I just don't breathe, I just push ahead. Not that this is a good thing, at all. But sometimes it's the only was I know to survive.
As I’ve been calming down, and spending a more reasonable amount of alone time, I've been just writing in my sketchbook a lot, more then I have in years, and I haven’t felt any need to write here.
First I was in a period where I was with people all the time, because I had nowhere to live, and was staying with friends, and life became constantly social. Any self reflection at all had to be done in these brief stolen moments, on breaks at work, trying to find private space, and so my sketchbook become really really important, like it was the only private space I had.
I think one of the memories I will always retain from september and early october of 2008 is me on the bench by the bike trail out back at work, writing, trying so hard to make sense of it all. It always seemed to be incredibly beautiful and clear and blue and gold and perfectly fall, and I was always so confused.
I think also, if you spend no time alone, you really really don't need a blog, because sometimes a person really needs to stop communicating and be alone.
This still has a lot to do with then stuff that’s private that’s been going on, because that’s what I really feel the need to write about. I was thinking that I wouldn’t do this anymore. Because in order to make it through the past few weeks, I've really needed to write constantly, and it's not anything I would ever want anyone to read. Except for some of the art stuff. Which also doesn't belong here, I don't think.
One of the reasons that I always did like to do this was my obsessive need to document things like objects I find and see, and meals and tastes I create, views from windows and the way light looks at certain times of day. And maybe some of that stuff is different from my more personal weird writing, and certainly separate from how I’m feeling.
Real importance of ordinary, tiny specific concrete details to any creative medium.
The other night, in the midst of a horrible, horrible, completely heartbreaking and soul shattering phone conversation, I was drunkenly ranting and raving about communication, and how it was fundamentally the thing my work was about. Even in the midst of all the ridiculousnesss and anger and sadness that was going on in the conversation, I recognized something I was saying as really really true and important.
"horrible, horrible, completely heartbreaking and soul shattering phone conversation" makes me embarrassed to write because it's so over the top, but it was bad enough to really shake me up, and although I've been sad ever since it happened, in some ways I've been better than I've been in a while, because it was bad enough to make me really pause and think about what I've been doing recently.
I've been thinking about communication ever since. rin and I talked about it last night. It is what my work is about.
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