Free thoughts in free verse

It was something you said.

It was the way you said it.

It was that you said it at all.

It was something you didn't say.

It was the way you didn't say it.

It was the way you walked away.

It was that in the moment after a slow, spine-tingling build, you let me drop, naked and covered in my own sweat and newfound shame for letting you have me without having all of me (even the bad bits, the misfits, the misplaced and misused good intentions).

It was in the moments that you sweet talked me into glorious submission, my mind set only on the thing in front of us because it was passion, it was rage, it was closeness, understanding, warmth. It was warmth.

It was the thought of being in someone's arms whose arms were in mine.

It was being in the moment and forgetting about all the moments that come after this.

It was the way we fought, quarreled like Street Fighters. You, Dhalsim, with the ability to stretch out your arms and push me away with a hard blow, and me, Blanka, with the ability to use my rage to hurt anyone who gets too close to hurt me. 

It was the way that despite our bitter and unexpected fighting, I wanted to get close and want still to be closer.

It's my inability to have just a taste and not eat the whole dish. I want your entire dish, even if it's a bit meatier than I'm accustomed to.

If I have any fault in my pursuit, it is not that I don't own my faults or that I can't account for them; it is that I want more from people than I know with what to do.

My defense to being hurt is to hurt. Even if I don't understand the fight, my dukes go up in a plea of self-preservation.

I don't want to hurt or be hurt anymore.

I'm tired from this battle.

The worst part is: nobody won.

It's the way that I don't know what to do next.

It's the way I'm drunk on your words, the promise of your touch, the warmth of your body and mine burning together in my bed.

It's the way that I never know if you'll be kind or aloof when we speak.

It's the way that you keep me at a distance that makes me want to run distances.

What does it take to break down the barriers?

What does it take to not only make amends, but to make them strong?

How do you strengthen what's been badly wounded? Can you? Can we? I want to, please.

I want you.

It's the way that I hate you, and the way that I don't. Not at all. Even when I do, it doesn't feel like I expect it to.

How can I make amends strongly with you?

I'm sorry. ❤️ 

Come back inside.

Kiss me on the head and it'll all be alright.

How to get free

A friend sent me a snapchat this evening asking "How do I forgive when he never apologized?". It hurt to read the sentiments of my own heart from someone else's experience. How do so many of us end up hurt and scarred from unhealthy relationships? We acknowledge their destructive nature in our lives, but instead of feeling free from their clutches, we feel angry that we were hurt, bitter that we didn't win, depressed that someone else got the best of us. I don't want to not forgive because someone else isn't sorry. I don't want to not move forward because the memory of and resentment toward someone else is holding me back. Forgiveness isn't something we give to others because they deserve it; it is something we give because we deserve it. I am constantly learning and growing and realizing that I can more easily move forward the less baggage I carry. It's time to unload the burdens of other people's bad choices and mistreatments so that we can finally be free.

A meal

Today was a good day to be alive.
It was love and nutrient rich.
Today, I was hungry.

I sniffed the scent out of all the roses
And walked with gravel beneath my feet.
Leaves between my fingers tickled even my soul.

I sweated out the impurities within my body
And my mind.
I breathed in fresh air and exhaled the old.

I felt the warmth of the constant sun on my skin
Its rays fed me vitamin D from a golden spoon.
I grew stronger with each glistening gulp.

Today was a good day to be alive.
It was love and nutrient rich.
Today, I ate well.

I could no sooner choose a favorite star in the heavens

Since I was young, my dad taught me to be fascinated with the world. I was brought into the world by two scientists (i.e. nerds) who got me interested in science, exploring, and asking questions. When my mom died, my once happy familial connections died, as well. My siblings and I scattered emotionally, unable to grasp the love of two parents, not just one. It wasn't until I was in high school that my dad made any real attempts to be a father again. We had a long way to go in terms of healing our relationship, but we managed to bond over similar interests, such as Josh Groban's music, and astronomy. My dad has, to this day, only ever cried once over a gift, and that was the massive telescope my stepmother bought him one year for Christmas. It was like he had received all the answers to the universe's most perplexing questions in a fat, white tube that, through its lens, blasted him into the next galaxy. When we talked about the stars, he took me with him into that outer space.

Some of my fondest memories are of the early freezing mornings in autumn spent in the front yard with my dad, watching meteor showers through that white telescope. It was a little thing that brought two people who were light years apart together under the same sky. My dad would leave me notes about upcoming meteor showers, and just this week, he texted me about the annual Perseid meteor shower, which was supposed to happen last night. I walked outside and peered up at the sky, hoping for some glimpse of a fond memory to shoot through the blackness, but none came. I found the little dipper and Orion's belt, pet the black cat whom I've now claimed for my own, and walked back inside. I pulled up a live webcast of the sky, turned off the lights, and fell asleep beside the stars.

It is now quarter to 2, and I am perched outside on my front stoop, drinking a hard cider, breathing in the aroma of a burning citronella candle, petting the cat, and writing this post while stealing glimpses of the sky. I imagine that each star, blinking faintly at me through the city's muggy gray darkness, peers down at me like a proud parent, sending me light and love and marveling at how much I've grown.

I'd like to look at the stars with my dad again. For old time's sake, I'd like to peer through the lens on a cold night, breathe in the chill in the air, and send light and love back to the stars that brought me closer to my long lost father.

 Me and my dad, 4 or 5 years ago

 

Me and my dad, back when I had a Ninja Turtles camera :)

It is my hope that you'll love yourself.

I posted this blurb in response to an article on LearnVest.com, written by Amanda Chatel entitled "How I Do Paris on the Cheap". The writer traveled to Paris on a whim to move on from a break-up, and this was my two cents:

This article is perfect. I am writing this response from my hotel in Ireland, where I came on holiday after breaking up with a guy and choosing Ireland on a whim. I am traveling solo in all ways, and am even driving myself through the country seeing life-changing sights and challenging myself. Do what you're afraid of, if even just to prove to yourself that you can. Stand on cliffs, brave the winds and weather of a new climate. Be uncomfortable. Find comfort in adventure. And if you're nursing a broken heart, go somewhere new, meet new people, be unsure of everything and you will find so much of yourself in seeming unfamiliarity.
-Amanda

It is so reassuring that I'm not the only one who acts intuitively, but why do so many of us have to hurt? I know men hurt, too, but lately, it has been impossible to ignore all of the women in my world nursing broken hearts, feeling down about themselves, sometimes even verbally affirming that they have no worth or making crude comments about their beauty or lack thereof. WHEN DID THIS BECOME THE NORM?

Women have always been bombarded with propaganda to convince us that we're simply not good enough as we are, on our own, etc. Once a single woman hits her late 20s and early 30s, it suddenly becomes priority for those around her, a mission, to find her a mate. It's simply frowned upon for a woman to be single, wasting her precious time and precious eggs on years devoted to a career that won't cuddle her at night and provide stability. FUCK THIS, this whole demented mentality. I do not, have not, and would not define my worth based on my marital status. I have never depended on a man for anything, let alone my own self-worth, and I find it sad that in some ways, this has probably limited my success with relationships. I had an ex who told me it offended him the first couple times we went out that I insisted on paying for myself. The fact that I work three jobs and take pride in being able to make my own way in the world offends a man who feels it is his institutional duty to provide a cup of coffee or a glass of wine for me? WHAT?!

And for the matter of women afraid to be seen without make-up? I go out into the world without make-up frequently. I would even say almost always. Wearing make-up has, for so many women (myself included at points in my life), become a crutch. We become embarrassed to be seen without it because we're afraid of how we'll be viewed. We're afraid to be less beautiful than the women painted up and catching the eyes of men. If you won't like me without make-up, you won't like me any more with it. Throughout my years on stage, the idea of image has become permanently encoded in my DNA. I understand its value and its detriment; I, however, do not let it stop me from being who I am with or without my best face forward. Without make-up, I am still charming, I am still smart, I am still funny, I am still talented, and believe it or not, I have come to find out that without make-up, I am still desirable. There is nothing any cosmetic can offer me that I can't and must first cultivate within myself.

I am who I am because of my experiences, my determination, my passions, my ambition, my sense of humor. I love myself for myself, as I am. Like anyone, there are days when I feel less than beautiful and moments certainly when mascara makes me look more like I'm part of the living world, but I don't rely on it to give me personality, confidence, or a fighting chance at wrangling a man if I so desired.

So how do we move on from a place of insecurity and fear? It starts with an understanding of who you are and your deep-seated qualities. What is your value? What do you like about yourself? Who are you AS yourself? Again, not to be confused with "I'm a mother, I'm a wife, I'm a girlfriend, etc.". Those are not identities. Those are roles you play that require the role of others to define you. WHO ARE YOU? I am an artist. I am a performer. I am a poet. I don't need to be anything but what I am. Make-up can't make me who I am. I can only use make-up to enhance the projection of who I am, not who I am in general. I can express my personality through make-up; not create a new personality. This is a prompt for you to explore the difference.

It breaks my heart that a friend at work, who is so beautiful and funny and a pleasure to be around, sees herself as overweight and accessory to unworthy men. I cannot hear any more women put themselves down. We cannot accept the attention of others who do not respect us because we're desirous of the attention. THE RIGHT PERSON WILL MAKE YOU A PRIORITY. The right person will respect you above all else. The right person will compliment you- regularly. The right person will not say hurtful things to you. The right person will appreciate you. For all that you are; if not, the right person will be willing to learn.

So, let this long and wordy post remind you that you have, at all times, the option to love yourself more than anyone else ever has and treat yourself with the respect you deserve. Do things you enjoy. If you are not around people who love and appreciate you, find new people. If you are not happy with yourself as you are, explore who you are RIGHT NOW (not who you were or who you want to be) and find ways to love THIS person. You are all that you have, so if you don't love you to the ends of the earth, who will?

Resetting the dial

You know what I want? I want to meet my future husband and have him know and tell me that night that he's going to marry me. You know that kind of love, where you just know? It's like an other worldly sense that happens for some couples and I'd really love a love story that begins that way. Or, a lasting love that starts from a really strong friendship. That could also be wonderful. But no more dating people just to date people. It puts me at risk emotionally, physically, and mentally, and it's time to clear it out and start over. I'm resetting the dial, as it were. Tonight I've been cleaning and purging things in my studio with reckless abandon and it feels SO GREAT! So, I'm doing that in all areas of my life right now. Paring down, cleaning out, refocusing, resetting, updoing, and getting happy. Blessings and good health, friends, for me and for you!

Sleepless and Insatiable

I absolutely cannot sleep. I have been kept up all night by everything I could possibly imagine. Things that have me anxious and excited and exhilarated. Everything in my world is getting swirled together in my brain, making multicolored marble patterns that are as lasting and real as a solid slab. I'm thinking of how I'll use my vacation time, where I'll go, who I'll have with me, where I'll be working, what I'll be studying, how close I'll be to graduation after the summer, what I'll do after school, how my troupe will do with our show this May, where we'll go on tour in the fall. Everything is changing. My boss getting a new job, new people and things coming into my life all at once, new landlords, a potential new relationship, a new haircut and color: these are the things of which Spring is made... newness, beauty, color, uncertainty. I gobble it all up hungrily and nervously knowing not what it will taste like on the way down, but knowing that I'M STARVING.

Dream it's over

Last night, I dreamt of my ex of nearly five years. He'd come back into my life, and we were together again. No longer naive, I knew how to ask for what I wanted, and no longer self-loathing, he was open to give it to me.

It was strange, waking up and missing him. Missing him so much I googled him. Yep... still beautiful. I wanted to message him, tell him I love him and that I always have.

But I didn't do this. Because it wasn't reality. What I felt in my dreams was the desire to love beyond my previous capacity to love. I'm smarter now. More experienced. So I used my smarts to analyze the facts: that Christopher is not in the country, and to the best of my knowledge, he's still with the girl he started dating a couple years after me. This is reality. I do love him, and I always will, in my way. But awake and no longer lined in the silver haze of dreams, I remember him, really remember our life together, and know that he wasn't who I dreamt of last night; I dreamt of the man I want. A man who is passionate, open, and able. Not the man I will always love, in my way, but the man I have yet to love.

I was here.

Two Drops

One of my favorite poems for years is with me tonight....
TWO DROPS
By Zbigniew Herbert
The forests were on fire
they however
wreathed their necks with their hands
like bouquets of roses
People ran to the shelters
he said his wife had hair
in whose depths one could hide
Covered by one blanket they whispered shameless words
the litany of those who love
When it got very bad
they leapt into each other's eyes
and shut them firmly
So firmly they did not feel the flames
when they came up to the eyelashes
To the end they were brave
To the end they were faithful
To the end they were similar
like two drops
stuck at the edge of a face
(translated by Czeslaw Milosz and Peter Dale Scott)

My heart said follow through

Watch "Annie Lennox - Waiting in Vain" on YouTube

Weddings are for cake and dancing. And love, too.

My best friend is getting married.

     This is a girl I've known since we were in diapers... as children... as opposed to being adults in diapers. That would be weird... maybe. Mary and I grew up in the same small town and knew the same small circumstances. No street lights; just stop signs and dirt roads. We used our imaginations. We were tomboys. We were taller than all the boys. Her childhood boyfriend was my big brother... and now, she's getting married. I'm excited for her. I'm excited because she's marrying a good guy, young in age and experience, but willing to rise to the occasion, willing to learn to be a husband. They compliment each other and encourage one another in their passions. They have a genuine companionship, and I'm glad, since I didn't see it coming. They first met at a doughnut shop where Daniel had been working when Mary got hired. Daniel had no intentions of dating anyone, and Mary had just gotten out of a bad relationship. I discouraged Mary from dating him because she said he could be kind of an Eeyore, and I assured her this would be a waste of her time. How wrong I can be. They both reluctantly began dating and found that despite initial impressions, there was love that ran deeper than either expected. It took everyone by surprise.

      I got the invitation in the mail yesterday, and it hit me: I am absolutely the last of my kind. The last of the single independents. All of my friends are married with babies here or on the way, and in new lives that have little in common with mine. It's not that I'm not the marrying type; I think I definitely could be. I'd like to be. The thing I have to consider now is, am I the last to the party because I've been pushing away real chances at love? Am I too headstrong, too stubborn? I want what I want for a reason, so my initial reaction is "no, no, I'm not. I'm selective". If I'm honest with myself, I know I'm not your average woman. I'm excessively passionate, and overtly aware that it will take a very specific man to love and appreciate me in all my little nuances for a lifetime. He's gotta have a champion's will to keep up with me. So, when the time is right, I hope he, too, will rise to the occasion.

the roaring twenties

It is again worth reiterating: he's just not that into you. Sometimes I want to tell the strong me to be quiet and cling to the foolish hope that I can take a man at his word when he says "I've been busy", "I've been meaning to call you", etc.

False. I must agree with that place in me that roars like a lion and says "trust yourself". I deserve more than excuses. I deserve actions. I deserve honesty and bluntness. I deserve to be pursued. And no guy, no matter how great he may seem or how well we may click, is worth my time if he can't give me more than mere scraps of his. Again I roar "trust yourself". Trust the longing in you to be loved and don't allow (read: disallowance must be a decision) any counterfeit affection to steal your attention. A man worth your time will make the effort, he will call when he says he will. He will want to spend time with you, time getting to know you. And anyone offering anything less can peddle his secondhand heart and scraps of time at someone else's door. "We don't want any."

Again I roar, "trust yourself". Even when you'd rather be wrong.

baby steps in leaps and bounds

So exciting... omgomgomg... I'm receiving letters from CAHSA to apply for graduation for the Spring semester. I want so badly to graduate by the Spring so that I can leave as soon as the semester is out if I wish. Ideally, it would be "hurry, give me my diploma, I have to catch the next flight". How amazing will it be to have the option to leave at a moment's notice... to sell my car, rent a truck, haul my junk, and start my new life... but I am leaping over my own thoughts in bounds. What matters now are the next several steps:

step 1) do my hw, pass
step 2) don't fuck up
step 3) plan nothing, but be prepared for anything
step 4) appreciate the time I have with the people I have here and love while I am here with them; take nothing for granted,
and...

step 5) do not be afraid. Go bravely into the world and make my dreams my reality.

Acceptions and Expectations

This month has been challenging. I've got a lot on my plate, and getting it all done (and done well) has stretched my limits, in a good way. I'm euphoric with the knowledge that it's almost over. All of it is almost done. It's like when I ran the half marathon last year- the hardest part of the whole race was the last mile... seeing the finish line hurts so much more than imagining what it will look like. I can see the finish line, and the exhaustion has set in. But I am going to finish. And like at the end of any race, you cross that finish line, look back and say "how in the fuck did I do that?" It's going to be glorious.

I celebrated Pride this weekend with my friends! My sister came to town with some of her friends for the festivities, and it was wonderful. I loved seeing so much diversity and love in one city at one time. I cannot abide ignorance and unloving personalities, of which there was virtually none at the festival. It was brilliant. Just colors and smiles and peace. We need more of this every day.

Romantically, the past several weeks have been very fruitful for me. I have been seeing a really great guy, and I'm pleased by where things are heading. It's nice to be seeing someone who cares about me and sees me for who I am. And he is serious about me doing well in school, which is perhaps due to the fact that he's a smarty pants doctor. Lol Anyway, I look forward to the future, for whatever it holds.

I cannot say where I am right now. It's a good place, I think. A place of growth, a place requiring patience and positivity. Spiritual endurance. It's going to be a challenge, and it's going to change me.

I accept.

All I want is the wind in my hair, to face the fear, but not feel scared.

I am a student of life. An apt pupil, I was taught lessons from an early age; my mother taught me to sew, my dad taught me to make treasure out of trash. I was on course for self-sufficiency. My stepmother taught me different lessons, which I am still unlearning. She taught me lessons of the mind & heart; she taught me inadequacy. She taught me self-loathing. She taught me judgement. She did teach me how to shave, so... thanks, for that. Now, at roughly a quarter of a century old, I've earned a 2-year college degree, & as I am in the process of applying to the university for my bachelor's degree, I'm forced to pause & recount all the lessons I've received...

I've learned, recently, that loving others does not mean hurting myself.
I've learned that the head & heart must act together.
Sometimes, waiting can be liberating. And even freeing.
I've learned that prioritizing is a priority.
Spontaneity should not mean recklessness. Be smart.
There is no timeline for graduation, marriage, child-rearing, nor the end of days.
Patience is a virtue for a reason. That doesn't mean be stagnant in the meantime.
Love... don't be afraid of what you desire most. BE VULNERABLE. I regret far more the feelings I've repressed than the feelings I've confessed. I want to relearn love.



A close friend of mine recently made observations about the way I interacted with a man in whom I am interested. Apparently, I commonly make jokes about my future gay husband (who else understands my love for musicals?), I mention ex-boyfriends, I discuss attractive men. OH... NO... That's not good. I know I often use humor to mask my emotions, simply because I don't want things in social settings to become too intense (because I know I'm intense, let's not beat around the bush). Most of the time, making jokes & poking fun allows me to feel free & unfettered. But now it's become clear... I shackle myself with my words, & make myself unavailable by way of my own mouth. I'm afraid of getting hurt in love, nonetheless by someone I'm certain wouldn't ever hurt me. I can logically see these things now, rationally set aside the fear from the heart, but why, when presented with an opportunity to let someone get close to me, do I ramble off nonsense jokes in an attempt to keep safe? I DON'T WANT TO BE SAFE ANYMORE! I want to be loved! I want to share life with someone, & who can share life with a recluse? A cat... a dog... a memory. But not a person.

And what's more, the men whom I do let break through my walls are all wrong for me. I let in unworthy prospects, maybe because I feel like I'll be less disappointed if I can't open up & let them in, or maybe because they're immediately in pursuit, whereas the man I desire is more focused on God than on getting into my pants. And when presented with a godly man, I put up my guard... mostly for his sake because I feel unworthy of him. How dumb is that... the type of man I've asked from God for years is the one I don't let in. Really, all I want is someone to run with me & love the God I love & love people & make me laugh. No, I won't marry a gay boyfriend (my man will have to come to accept the musicals; however, I am NO ONE'S beard!). No, I'm not ready for a deep marriage-worthy relationship just yet, but there's healing ahead, & with time, I can see myself becoming the woman I know I'm designed to be. Free, & unafraid to love. Fully.

it's only in your head you feel left out and looked down on.

Love ain't here and I keep trying to fill that loveless space up with a lot of things that aren't love. And it feels like everyone around me is falling in love, starting families, growing closer to God, & just putting it all together. I'm happy for my loved ones, but I'm wondering when I'll be ready to let go. When am I gonna give up the search and just get back to following my bliss? I was so satisfied being on my own for so long and then this year began and it's like, what the hell happened? Who's this imposter in my place? I'm not even ready for love. I wouldn't know what to do with my soulmate if he showed up today. I wouldn't know how to recognize the real thing. They've all told me it comes when you least expect it/aren't looking for it.... so to put a head to it... if I want love, I better get cozy with the idea that I may never get it, and I better get busy with loving life solo, maybe even enough for two people. So... here goes...