If You Only Knew

How many photobooth photos are KILLED in the making of this super secret, not that great blog that nobody reads but me.

I love oranges, but I'm sort of allergic to them. It's so Romeo & Juliet except no one dies but the oranges and let's face it, they had it coming.

I've been thinking a lot about the idea of obligation lately.I abhor the idea of obligation, but my identity is pretty wound up with my concept of duty. What does this mean?

Thank the Lord for the People I Have Found

This is a text message I got last night from my little sister:


I just caught [redacted] trying to get Quincy to hold a drink umbrella while wearing a shawl. He was playing Island of Dr. Moreau with Quincy and Preston. Logically, Quincy was the doctor and Preston was the beast. Just so you know. Also, I think I smell like dishwater.

I'm not sure I could have asked for a better sister. I don't think I could have hand-picked a more charming, loving, funny husband for her. I am glad to know them, and a better, more joyful person for it.

I Will Find You, or You Will Find Me

Today is the winter solstice and last night there was a full lunar eclipse. Apparently, this hasn't happened in almost 800 years. I predict good, or at the very least, interesting, things will happen.

Last night, Cash was laying on top of me. That's my cat, by the way. Well, he WAS my husband's cat and it took a very long time for Cash to adjust to living with just me.

Anyway, I digress. I was laying on my side and Cash was laying on the top of my side and I said, "I love you, Cash." Because I do, obviously. And he started purring. Hand to God. Like he knew what I was saying to him and how NICE it was and he was just HAPPY about it.

A Losing Season

I don't care if I seem ungrateful right now. I am tired. Sure, my clitoris is intact and my life is really great. But I'm tired This week is going to be a long one. I tried to prepare by buying protein bars and diet coke. Since this week is full of suck, I got to thinking about 2011 and what I hope it holds for me. So I'm making a To Do in 2011 list to inspire me not to kill anyone at the mall.


To Do in 2011

1. Roast a chicken
2. Crochet an amigurmi rabbit
3. Give an excellent speech at Kelly's wedding without crying
4. Pay down my debt
5. Go on a vacation with friends, maybe to Key West.

This is my tentative list. In the interim, I'm just hoping to get to work on time tomorrow.

I Scaled A Street Called St. You

Tonight is the fancy Christmas party for my day job. I will be wearing a quite nice dress and going alone. I essentially love being alone. I love the silence and the autonomy. I am a singular person. I am a single person.

At this time last year, my heart was frantic. With grief and fear, mostly. But also wonder. I don't think I was cold one moment last year. My body and mind were abuzz with...change, I guess. This year is slower. I feel the cold more. I am more a part of the world than I was.

I will not sing a hateful song

Today is a Constantines kind of day. I feel really good. I stayed in last night (my one night off a week) and did, like, human stuff. I got rid of all the boxes from moving and I made dinner (it wasn't that good) and did laundry and watched tv. And I washed my face before I went to bed. It felt really good to live like a normal person. Or, what I imagine normal people's lives to be like. It seems...peaceful.

A Very, Very Wild Thing

My therapist has a nickname for the part of my personality that is, shall we say, a thug. That nickname is Tough Girl. It's apt, and thankfully she has to call me that less and less.

The thing about me, is that I had to be tough to make it this far. I'm not going to get all saga-y on you, but hey, I've been in the trenches and the reason I'm here now writing this subpar navel-gazing blog is because I had part of my personality to retreat into.

It still surprises me how vulnerable I feel sometimes. It is, for the most part, a very foreign sensation to me. And while it makes me uncomfortable and fidgety and like all of my skin has been stripped off me...I'm also really glad that I can feel it. That I am able.

Giving It Up

A lot of people I come into contact with talk about this concept of "giving it up to god." Like, taking a decision or a problem, and just giving it up to the Lord.

That's all fine and well, I guess. It's not exactly something I'm going to subscribe to. But recently, I have decided there is virtue in just giving some things up. Not up to God, because come on guys you know me. But just...letting it go. I work 65 hours a week and my apartment will always be a mess. I'm giving up worrying about it. I am letting go of my neurotic need to have everything be perfect in my life. Because, in case you are just tuning in, it's not. And I can accept a messy apartment, but Lord help me if I get any more wrinkles.

I like

how quiet the winter is. It's such a private season. Everyone is bundled up, windows are closed. Even the sky is quiet when it's cold. In the wee hours, you can almost convince yourself that you are the only person on the Earth. It's a nice feeling.

I'm Worried

That I like being alone too much.

Also, that I'm listening to "Skinny Love" too much, but guys, I really like it. I really do.

I Don't Know

Why things that seem so easy for other people are so hard for me. I don't know what makes me different, but I know that I am.

Today, I Love

Bon Iver. In particular, "Skinny Love" and their cover of "Lovin's for Fools." Because it sure is.

I've decided to post a picture of myself every day. I guess because I'm vain. But also to give myself perspective. I'm a real person.

Oh, You

I have a Post-It note on my desk that says, "Deliver and this will pass." The purpose of this note is to inspire me to do what I have to do, to have faith that eventually the fog will clear and I will feel joyful/creative/clarity/something other than despair or inertia.

I am having a hard time delivering lately, both personally and professionally. I'm tired and confused. I don't understand why the world works the way that it does and I want someone to explain it to me. I want to be happier inhabiting my own flesh. I want to have less flesh. I want to comfort myself without alcohol, food, sex. I want to be a real person.

And I just don't know how. I reckon at some point I did, but then there were all these motions and I was going through them. And here I am. I don't know what to do about any of it.

I want someone to tell me everything is going to be okay. I once actually Googled, "Am I going to be okay?" but no satisfactory results came up. I wish that I could have faith that I will slay my demons. That I will deliver, and this will pass. But I feel really lost lately and quite frankly, I think I am I liar. I don't believe a word I say.

Okay

Someone is reading my blog, or else I don't have a good grip on how much I look at my OWN super secret blog - and it's kind of freaking me out. Confess! Are you the same person who signed me up for Marie Claire? GET OUT OF MY HEAD.

Four Years Ago Today

We were married. I miss you so much. I miss you every single day. Before I go to bed at night I say, "I miss you. I love you." to the empty room I sleep in. I hope that you can feel me with you at those moments.

I profoundly regret that our marriage did not work. I know that I played a role in that, and I am deeply sorry for the mistakes I made, the words I flung, the times I hurt you. I was the best wife I could be, and at times I was pretty great. Others, not so much.

I hope that you have found some measure of peace in your new life. I feel as though I have, but I can't deny that I continue to mourn our marriage. We were not good for each other, particularly near the end, but it is always sad when something ends. Something that was supposed to be great, but wasn't.

I wish things could have been different. I am grateful that I got to love someone as much as I loved you. If I had to marry someone and watch that marriage erupt in flames - I am really, really glad it was you.

Just So You Know

I am afraid to have sex with someone I actually like.

Just So You Know

I still feel like you belong to me.

Just So You Know

I miss you. So much.

I Know

That I am getting better because today? I can sing.

Just So You Know

I am waiting for you to tell me it's okay.

Give me the go ahead.

Just So You Know

My heart is totally and completely broken.

There is nothing you can do to me that hasn't already been done.

I am so profoundly lonely that I feel my face may break into a million tiny sad pieces.

I want someone to touch my hair. I want to feel skin on skin on skin on skin.

If you tell me it will get better, I will cut you.

It Darkles. It Tincts.

I am struggling with mourning someone who is not dead.

If my husband died- this is just a for instance, law enforcement officials-I could mourn him in completion. I would smell his clothes, rend my garments, claw at my face. I would know what to do. I could put him to rest in my heart.

But he's wandering this Earth, my corner of it, too. I can't mourn him to completion when he's out with his fucking girlfriend. I can't. He's still wearing the clothes I bought him - I can't sleep with them and then give them to the Goodwill or whatever.

I keep finding little artifacts of our marriage in my place. Because it used to be our place. And I just throw them away and move on, but really I don't. There are silhouettes of me stuck in those spots, and I cry cry cry. I cry so much. I cry all the time.

I feel dangerous. I feel...uncharitable. I see her out with him, and I just think, yeah, yeah. Bob your little head along to those songs. They are all about me.

Uncharitable, to say the least.

How can he still sing those songs about me without cutting himself open, putting his head in my lap, saying he is sorry.

But he does.

And I do what I have to do. Sometimes it feels good. Most of the time, it doesn't. I go through the motions, I fill my allotted space. But I am living on the edge of the razor, and either way I fall, you know I'm going to get cut.