don't tell me anything at all

Choosing to stand and deliver is hard. And scary. I could have left or moved into my parent's attic or just disappeared. But I stayed and built a new life, got another job. I made new traditions. And sometimes I am fucking sad, and I don't wash my hair and yeah, my boots are beat to shit. But I have chosen to stand and deliver. With each month, the debt recedes and my life gets a little more real. I'm still the best. My will will launch a thousand ships, still and yet. I will take what's mine, in my own time.

like a ship at ocean, like a ship at sea

I know how most things will end, even if I am not sure how they will begin.

Just So You Know

My heart is broken and I am doing the best that I can.

Just So You Know

I don't know what you look like anymore.

Also? My purse smelled like my grammy's house last night and I thought maybe I was dying.

These Days

I don't much feel like a real person. I fall through the days, is all.

Things About You

There is this thing called the Johari Window. I am both ashamed and proud to say that the Johari Window is one of the very few things I remember clearly from college. It was created in 1955 by two social scientists as a way to explain interpersonal interactions to the people in them.

The Johari Window, like most windows, has four panes. They have fancyish names for the panes, but this is my breakdown:

Panel #1 - Things you know about yourself that everyone else knows, too.
Panel #2 - Things that you know about yourself that no one else knows.
Panel #3 - Things about you that you don't know about yourself, but that everyone else knows.
Panel #4 - Things about you that no one knows - not you, not anyone else.

Your Johari window evolves over time and depending on the person you are facing. It's my personal opinion that we have a Johari window for every person in our lives, from the most insignificant on up.

I love this construct. I adore it, and I think about it all the time. All of our mysteries laid out in four quadrants - it seems not only manageable but...rational. This is what we come down to. You have four boxes. The things in them - some of it is up to you, some of it you were born with, and most of it was inflicted on you like a wound. But there it is!

It's that fourth pane, though, that plagues me. Things about me that no one knows. I am sorrowful for these things.

I Crack Myself Up

So I was going through some very old e-mails today and I found one that I sent to my (now) ex-husband:


Hey handsome. I just wanted to let you know that I am here in Madrid
safely. It is a huge, busy city full of grafiti. Pretty awesome. I
am a little intimidated, but trying to mask it. I just paid 7 dollars
for a cup of coffee, too. Tried not to freak. Failed. Also had to
have Coca Light out of mini bar, as I was on the brink of death. Cold/
sinus infection/SARS almost gone. Camel toe count: 1, but a very
solid 1. Will keep track for you. Love you and miss you desperately
already.


Love,

A. Bug


Seriously, how funny am I? I am so funny I can barely stand it. It is worth nothing that in all the e-mails we exchanged while I was in Europe, he never said "love" once. That should bother me, right, but mostly I am just smiling.

The Heavy Dream

When I was a little girl, I had this dream I called the Heavy Dream. It came a lot, mostly in the middle of the night. I could hear it crawl in my room - a very crackly sound - and my heart would start to beat really, really fast. Then I would feel the heavy dream climb on top of me and it was this enormous invisible weigh that I (for some reason) associated with Disney films. Mostly Cinderella and Snow White. What I felt was extreme panic, but I guess I probably didn't have the word for that then. I was frantic and scared. And pinned. The Heavy Dream was exhausting and I dreaded it.

It wasn't until I started seeing a therapist that I realized the Heavy Dream was actually a panic attack and that I had been having them since..well, since I was a self-aware being. I still get them every once in a while. Sometimes at night, when the sound of my hair on my pillow makes me want to shave my goddamn head and burn down the entire building and maybe all the buildings. Sometimes, during the day at my desk, when music I love makes me feel disjointed and cracked out and things will never, ever be quiet again ever in the history of ever.

I am getting better at avoiding them. Good sleep, not too much caffeine, whole foods, taking those crazy pills on time. Even though I am a grown up and I know better, the Heavy Dream still scares me. I still dread it.