6:26 pm: Commence live-blogging of my night with plastic cups, wine, and maybe a Xanax because my neck still hurts and I can't seem to release its tension. I just purchased $63 of wine. No, I will not drink it all by myself in one night. See how I did that? Added that qualifier__ in one night. Amazing!
So here's what's going on. I'm dating myself. I've done this before; it's a great way to prepare myself for something/one. Not that I'm actively doing that. Slyly. Because the sky's cloudy. It's peppered with flecks of sunlight but I see lightning, too. Do I ever not speak in metaphors? I mean, seriously.a
For the record, I'm drinking out of a yellow plastic cup from Mama Kwan's in Kill Devil Hills, NC. Mama Kwan's is in Kill Devil Hills, that is. Not me. I'm in fucking blustery Northeast wherever.
Last night, I went to see Girlyman. Probably one of the most amazing Girly shows I've seen- and I've seen them, easily, 12 times. This is the fourth time I've seen them where I saw them last night, and I love it there because it's so incredibly small & therefore intimate. Love love love.
When I left, I realized I didn't want to talk to anyone. I was suppose to meet my friends, out. I didn't. I do that a lot. I went home instead and couldn't care less.
6:32 pm: My plastic cup is empty. I don't really wish I could say that my heart is empty. Because it's not. It's alive.
6:34 pm: Glass half-full; just killed the Blue Fish ... Riesling, I think. It was mostly killed from that night last week. The hot one. I don't think I drank any of it, then.
When I went to refill my glass NO MY CUP MY PLASTIC CUP, I found my black & white cat on top of the refrigerator. Convinced she was trying to steal my food. Asshole.
6:43 pm: I'm fine all day, I think of you at night. I. Love. Girlyman. When they played "Hey Rose" last night, which I totally quoted after aforementioned hotness of nights, Ty said: "This is my don't-knock-it-till-you-try- it song." KNEW IT. So appropo.
6:50 pm: Okay, let's talk about Vermont for a minute. "Everything's Easy" sometimes makes my heart jump a little, nothing major anymore. But I always think of Great Lakes when I hear this song. Obviously. I think it's really fucking great that I don't miss her. I also think it's really fucking great that I learned a lot from that relationship-- things that I will carry with me for a very long time.
What I find "not great" is the fact that my heart is so goddamn brittle. I don't particularly want to love anyone but that's almost a lie but anyway. Trust is a huge, huge thing for me now. I don't know how to trust anyone with my body, with my heart, with my anything. So I build these awesomely towering walls and push people off whenever they get too close to the top. I've done that a lot since, um, April. I don't really want to let anyone in. Okay, so that's a lie, too, but the truth: I don't want to let just anyone in.
What I also find "not great" is how I still want to punch that cunt directly in her lying psychotic face. Let it go, woman. Let it the fuck go.
6:58 pm: My plastic cup hath emptied itself. Again. I hope the next victim is cold enough for consumption.
7:10 pm: I finished the last bit of the Blue Fish-- which was actually a Pinot Grigio. Just opened the Yellow Tail Riesling. I think I preferred the Pinot.
Here's something I have some feelings about- this song: "Sleeping to Dream." It was played recently, after a night that I would like to call the Missed Opportunity of 2009 that Later Turned Into the Great Night of Holy Shit You Kiss Like You Mean It of a Few Days Later 2009. SO about that.
I have a lot of feelings about this, obvs, because I'm not suppose to have feelings about it, so of course I have feelings about it. That's how I roll, friends. That "not suppose to have feelings" part comes from a conversation that one or both parties may have muddied in the week that has passed due to wine and rationalization, however, it was said: No Feelings. Well guess what.
Wait, I have feelings about suppose. Is it supposed or suppose? I feel confused. Let's talk. I mean it. Not in that "we need to talk" doomsday way, but: let's talk. Let's lay it on the table with our hands (do you remember reaching for my hand?) and our words (we have plenty of those but mine tangle away whenever you're around but you talk a lot, especially after some wine, and I think that fucking rules I am sooo ordering a pizza in like 10 minutes). OH JESUS CHRIST GUESS WHAT JUST CAME ON MY iTUNES. I don't know why it's so hard to consider this
But back to my feelings about SLEEPING TO DREAM. I really liked waking up next to you. I liked waking up in those 2ish hours of sleep from near-daybreak to dawn when our arms were smashed together, sticking together actually, and I didn't want to peel away and you know what I don't think you did, either. Because you didn't.
7:17 pm: RT @TheDailyLove: If you want to move forward, forgive yourself, forgive them, accept that it happened, and learn from it & move. No moping.
Also: love Catie Curtis' "Strange."
7:31 pm: I want you. Yes, you. You know exactly who you are.
It's 7:44 pm and I'm drunk. DAMMIT! So. Want. Her. In. My. Bed. Right. Now. And may be drunk enough (hah not really) to text that.
8:02 pm: BBM from me to K --> Godfuckingdammit I **** **r
K responds: I know
I just ordered a pizza
HI DEEJ!!!!
8:14 pm: Eagles/Cowboys on the teevee behind me. Gino just Fbook im'd me re: my crush.
Let's talk about My Crush. She is beautiful. Singularly beautiful. She is such a ridiculously cool woman. We have a lot in common. We're compatible. I think she's wicked hot. I don't exactly know how she feels about me. I try super-hard to have zero expectations, and I do mostly okay with that, but listen, about those feelings: I cannot lie, here. I have feelings.
8:59 pm: Okay, everyone. I have consumed some pizza and decided that DEEJ and I are getting married, so I hope no one is offended by that. If you are, you better fucking speak up.
But, okay, truth: I cannot marry Deej when I so obviously want someone else. Deej, I adore you. And if things cease to exist between me & the Obscure Object, you know, we will fucking run away and be amazing together. :-)
I should stop drinking wine now because my stomach hurts already. WOW amateur.
But anyway, about those Feelings That I Said I Don't Have. I lied.
I was just told that if I didn't have feelings, I'd be a cold-hearted bitch. Which is for sure the truth, but the person that told me that doesn't know what I'm talking about, so...
Dear You:
I find you to be completely fucking amazing. I know you don't like hearing that- you seem to not know how to take compliments- but you are beautiful. Every inch of you: beautiful.
The parts of you that you don't like: beautiful.
I could, and will, luxuriate there all day/night/ever.
I wish you were here now.
Listen, seriously, I know I said I don't want feelings involved but I think you know I already have them. And I don't feel like hiding them. But I do because I'm doing this thing where I sit back and be "cool" while you process or do whateverthefuck it is but hang on my bff is here and she is kidnapping me so I have to go.
Showing posts with label popcultureremix. Show all posts
Showing posts with label popcultureremix. Show all posts
Saturday, January 09, 2010
Wednesday, August 06, 2008
I wrote down a dream in invisible ink
...it never was mine I'm beginning to think
Tonight I went to see OTR for the first time, and so loved every moment (except for the part when I came home and searched through my iTunes for a good 20 minutes trying to find my favorite song of the night, and came up empty-handed, and then Googled like a fool, and still came up empty). And then I was moronic and bought their new cd on iTunes without first checking with emusic ... and of course emusic has the new cd, which I could have gotten along with 20 other songs in about a week, for $10 total. But, no. I was impatient and acted without researching, a typical move of mine signifying one of my tragic downfalls. Granted, this oversight probably won't kill me. But it does affect my bank account, and after my ten minutes of panic this afternoon that spawned from my procrastination skills and registering for a 500-level class toward my MA that I am not thrilled with but had no choice and then coughed out $1200 (which'll be reimbursed, say, February) to cement my seat in said unthrilling course, I am a little antsy about money. And that'll pass after my next check is automatically deposited. So. Whatever.
OTR's lead singer sounds, when speaking, unnervingly similar to Margo Timmins. Their singing voices are totally different, which I always find odd, how people sound one way when they speak, and another way when they sing. I'm always fascinated by people with British speaking accents who have almost no noticeable accent when singing.
The C.Junkies connection made me think back to when she bought me/us tickets, spur of the moment, to see C.Junkies. I like spur of the moment, especially when it's something that amazing. I'd never seen C.J. before, but I'd loved them for fourish years, and they were one of my Top Bands That I Must See Live. [Currently dominating the list: EBTG.] And she knew that, that I really wanted to see C.J., or at the very least, she remembered me talking about how much I love them. The catch was, she'd made plans with a friend that night... but said she would go do her thing with him, then meet me at the concert.
I should have realized at that point that something was fucked up there. I'd come up for the weekend, and we had approximately 36 hours to spend together. And she was going out with a friend? While I was, what, sitting at home waiting for her to come home... after I'd driven 300+ miles to see her? My density astounds me, still.
So I went to the concert. More accurately, she dropped me off, I went inside, and she drove off to meet her friend. I proceeded to have a few beers, listen to the music, and completely enjoy myself- without her. Which is fine, because I believe in independence within relationships, but now that I really think about it, I don't so much believe in having a long distance relationship and traveling to see your girlfriend but she has other plans... that never involved you. Miraculously, she finds a way to occupy your time, which you appreciate, but while you're standing there wondering when she's joining you, the wheels start turning a little too fast, and maybe things stop connecting and making sense.
She never joined me, she never used the ticket she bought for herself. She picked me up when she was finished, not when I was finished. & I remember her being full of apologies and searching for reassurances. I must have given them to her, probably because I was definitely buzzed. I vaguely remember getting angry later in the night, but stuffing it down because it didn't seem worth it, somehow: I'd gotten to see one of my favorite bands, and truthfully, she wouldn't have enjoyed seeing them with me. So I don't even know if there's anything wrong with this. It still doesn't feel right.
I don't like doing everything by myself, but I've become intensely independent as of late. Tonight, for example, I had two tickets for OTR, and was completely undecided on whether to go alone or drag one of my friends with me (since none of them listen to OTR). I ended up taking my best friend, and she was very appreciative as always, but when I really thought about it, I realized that I would have been okay going by myself. Because I do everything by myself. There's nothing wrong with that, but I don't like feeling so unattached to the fact that I do, in fact, have a girlfriend. The balance is off; it's never been on.
I don't know what I'm looking for, because I'm not looking for anything, but I no longer know what to do with what I have.
Today, you stood so close to me that I could have leaned ever so slightly to the left and been tucked into the welcoming space between your extended arm and your warm torso. We spoke, we eye-contacted like bandits when we were one-on-one, and I was able to drink in the details of your profile. I felt the heat from your body when you were standing next to me, so close I didn't know how to react. But, the beauty.
On a totally unrelated note: Thank GOD Nekisa has finally been booted from Shear Genius.
Tonight I went to see OTR for the first time, and so loved every moment (except for the part when I came home and searched through my iTunes for a good 20 minutes trying to find my favorite song of the night, and came up empty-handed, and then Googled like a fool, and still came up empty). And then I was moronic and bought their new cd on iTunes without first checking with emusic ... and of course emusic has the new cd, which I could have gotten along with 20 other songs in about a week, for $10 total. But, no. I was impatient and acted without researching, a typical move of mine signifying one of my tragic downfalls. Granted, this oversight probably won't kill me. But it does affect my bank account, and after my ten minutes of panic this afternoon that spawned from my procrastination skills and registering for a 500-level class toward my MA that I am not thrilled with but had no choice and then coughed out $1200 (which'll be reimbursed, say, February) to cement my seat in said unthrilling course, I am a little antsy about money. And that'll pass after my next check is automatically deposited. So. Whatever.
OTR's lead singer sounds, when speaking, unnervingly similar to Margo Timmins. Their singing voices are totally different, which I always find odd, how people sound one way when they speak, and another way when they sing. I'm always fascinated by people with British speaking accents who have almost no noticeable accent when singing.
The C.Junkies connection made me think back to when she bought me/us tickets, spur of the moment, to see C.Junkies. I like spur of the moment, especially when it's something that amazing. I'd never seen C.J. before, but I'd loved them for fourish years, and they were one of my Top Bands That I Must See Live. [Currently dominating the list: EBTG.] And she knew that, that I really wanted to see C.J., or at the very least, she remembered me talking about how much I love them. The catch was, she'd made plans with a friend that night... but said she would go do her thing with him, then meet me at the concert.
I should have realized at that point that something was fucked up there. I'd come up for the weekend, and we had approximately 36 hours to spend together. And she was going out with a friend? While I was, what, sitting at home waiting for her to come home... after I'd driven 300+ miles to see her? My density astounds me, still.
So I went to the concert. More accurately, she dropped me off, I went inside, and she drove off to meet her friend. I proceeded to have a few beers, listen to the music, and completely enjoy myself- without her. Which is fine, because I believe in independence within relationships, but now that I really think about it, I don't so much believe in having a long distance relationship and traveling to see your girlfriend but she has other plans... that never involved you. Miraculously, she finds a way to occupy your time, which you appreciate, but while you're standing there wondering when she's joining you, the wheels start turning a little too fast, and maybe things stop connecting and making sense.
She never joined me, she never used the ticket she bought for herself. She picked me up when she was finished, not when I was finished. & I remember her being full of apologies and searching for reassurances. I must have given them to her, probably because I was definitely buzzed. I vaguely remember getting angry later in the night, but stuffing it down because it didn't seem worth it, somehow: I'd gotten to see one of my favorite bands, and truthfully, she wouldn't have enjoyed seeing them with me. So I don't even know if there's anything wrong with this. It still doesn't feel right.
I don't like doing everything by myself, but I've become intensely independent as of late. Tonight, for example, I had two tickets for OTR, and was completely undecided on whether to go alone or drag one of my friends with me (since none of them listen to OTR). I ended up taking my best friend, and she was very appreciative as always, but when I really thought about it, I realized that I would have been okay going by myself. Because I do everything by myself. There's nothing wrong with that, but I don't like feeling so unattached to the fact that I do, in fact, have a girlfriend. The balance is off; it's never been on.
I don't know what I'm looking for, because I'm not looking for anything, but I no longer know what to do with what I have.
Today, you stood so close to me that I could have leaned ever so slightly to the left and been tucked into the welcoming space between your extended arm and your warm torso. We spoke, we eye-contacted like bandits when we were one-on-one, and I was able to drink in the details of your profile. I felt the heat from your body when you were standing next to me, so close I didn't know how to react. But, the beauty.
On a totally unrelated note: Thank GOD Nekisa has finally been booted from Shear Genius.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
if you could only see the way she __________ me
I realized several minutes ago that I'm not writing because I don't want to put this lingering story into words-- words spread across my computer screen, winding through the intense desire and mind-bending relative impossibility of a love so carefully/unconsciously grown, a love that rips through the most monotonous of every day tasks; the words will draw out the most shadowed recesses of my imagination (which is totally overactive despite this infatuation) and reveal entirely unfamiliar levels of yes/no.
I don't want to write it, because once I do, that'll be reality. The words, wound and bound. Black and white fiction. Fiction. When I write it, I'll have to face the reality that while the feelings are sometimes too real, the hypothetical and tangible situation is nonexistent (outside of the drawn-from-real-life seriously open-ended real-life experiences involving these feelings for this person). It'll be fiction, for real, but just fiction. & I guess there is a part of me that is unwilling to face that.
I was also browsing on Amazon earlier, ISO good reads (and what did I purchase? Cupcake, of course, because I need to know what CC is up to in NYC), and I got a little nervous that my eventual writing is going to be cliche. I don't want to be cliche. I don't want to write another typical lesbian love story. Uh uh, no sir, not my goal. But it's not as if I'm being proactive in any sense of the word. Me and my lofty goals of being a writer slam to the floor when I realize that in the language of a novella, I have to be real. I'm going to have to unearth the demons of unrequited love, because there is still a part of me that believes one writes best about the things one knows... intimately. So maybe it's not all fiction, for me. Fiction interspersed with the nonfiction of the heart.
In fact, speaking of proactive, which I am not, I am sitting here with two browsers open, totaling four tabs and one additional browser window for Solitaire. I also just im'd a friend to point out that simplicity can be lame, "However, I think complexity is sometimes overrated." Which's pretty amusing considering all the talking I've been doing about how a relationship with el sótano would never work because anything between us is completely superficial. Total lack of depth (which, alright, I think I could appreciate for maybe a handful of months at this point because I am exhausted with Deep Connections that only serve to fuck with my mind). Tiresome. All this talk about relationships/love/bullshit is so tiresome. & not a priority, not anymore.
I thought I'd see the Obscure Object today, but I didn't, and part of me was relieved. I never know at which angle my stomach is going to jump, if we'll even acknowledge each other, if my smile/eyes will betray me, or if she'd even notice.
If I write it down, it can be real for someone else's eyes, and maybe, I think, that's real enough.
I don't want to write it, because once I do, that'll be reality. The words, wound and bound. Black and white fiction. Fiction. When I write it, I'll have to face the reality that while the feelings are sometimes too real, the hypothetical and tangible situation is nonexistent (outside of the drawn-from-real-life seriously open-ended real-life experiences involving these feelings for this person). It'll be fiction, for real, but just fiction. & I guess there is a part of me that is unwilling to face that.
I was also browsing on Amazon earlier, ISO good reads (and what did I purchase? Cupcake, of course, because I need to know what CC is up to in NYC), and I got a little nervous that my eventual writing is going to be cliche. I don't want to be cliche. I don't want to write another typical lesbian love story. Uh uh, no sir, not my goal. But it's not as if I'm being proactive in any sense of the word. Me and my lofty goals of being a writer slam to the floor when I realize that in the language of a novella, I have to be real. I'm going to have to unearth the demons of unrequited love, because there is still a part of me that believes one writes best about the things one knows... intimately. So maybe it's not all fiction, for me. Fiction interspersed with the nonfiction of the heart.
In fact, speaking of proactive, which I am not, I am sitting here with two browsers open, totaling four tabs and one additional browser window for Solitaire. I also just im'd a friend to point out that simplicity can be lame, "However, I think complexity is sometimes overrated." Which's pretty amusing considering all the talking I've been doing about how a relationship with el sótano would never work because anything between us is completely superficial. Total lack of depth (which, alright, I think I could appreciate for maybe a handful of months at this point because I am exhausted with Deep Connections that only serve to fuck with my mind). Tiresome. All this talk about relationships/love/bullshit is so tiresome. & not a priority, not anymore.
I thought I'd see the Obscure Object today, but I didn't, and part of me was relieved. I never know at which angle my stomach is going to jump, if we'll even acknowledge each other, if my smile/eyes will betray me, or if she'd even notice.
If I write it down, it can be real for someone else's eyes, and maybe, I think, that's real enough.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
stop (don't) the beat
I started to write about how I'm having trouble sleeping, which would have segued neatly into the repetitive thought patterns I'm having about A) ending my relationship, B) hating the neatly twisted, lingering what-if with el sótano, C) the impending doom of the beginning of the school year & how it's getting close, and D) the never ending fascination/wonder/tugging of the heartstrings surrounding the Obscure Object. .... and how one of my friends added fuel to the fire yesterday when she informed me that she'd overheard the Obscure Object talking about me. In a totally professional way, but, come on, she could have used 75+ other names/examples/ideas.
I almost just said WHY ME, but that would be a little pathetic, and I'm not playing that card.
I think happiness isn't a goal, it's that life is a journey, not a destination thing. But how could life be a destination? I'm not sure if I'd recognize happiness if it slapped me across the face. I wouldn't, actually, because I am happy, I just have piss-poor "luck in love" and continually end up with women who put on such tremendous airs to get me into their clutches, and then, then the pearly facade erodes and I'm left with a crippling pseudo-replica of whom I thought I was with. And then I get unhappy. Because it's not real. And things that are not real should be boundaried to staying in my head or on paper. So maybe I should not get into relationships until I've been dating someone for, oh I don't know, six years maybe. That should eradicate the possibility of discovering something, once latched into the Relationship, that is totally appalling and impossible to live with. But I guess not, because the Right People are forever evolving, changing, enhancing, and what you experience now is not what you will experience in eleven years. There is always more to learn, and room to grow.
I think, then, that I simply want to be with someone who takes advantage of the room we have in which to grow. Because me + stagnance = disaster.
El sótano told me, back before she started calling me a Liar and getting all fired up about supposed inconsistencies, that she wanted to A) be with me, B) do good by me, and C) have me rub off my better qualities on her so that she could grow as a person. She actually didn't say (C) in those words, because she doesn't speak like that, ever, but she gave me (and our mutual friend) the impression that she wanted to become a better person, and that she wanted to grow. The thing is, as rehashed in discussion yesterday with said mutual friend, while el sótano has the capacity to do these things (we all do, I truly believe that, but the WILL is an entirely different force to reckon with), she won't. Because she is emotionally stunted, and she always gives up before she achieves something intrapersonal and self-beneficial. I don't doubt that she would like to be faithful to me, but we all know she has a very hard time with this because she is not the type who does committment well. And that's fine, but being honest about that is key. She talks a good game, but it's game. And I am a really poor loser when it comes to games.
I've got to rid myself of the illusion of perfection floating before me. It's out of reach, it's probably a blown-up escapist fantasy, and I might not even want it if/when I conquer it. I need to pull a Kelly Taylor and choose me. Because that is probably the only real solution.
I almost just said WHY ME, but that would be a little pathetic, and I'm not playing that card.
I think happiness isn't a goal, it's that life is a journey, not a destination thing. But how could life be a destination? I'm not sure if I'd recognize happiness if it slapped me across the face. I wouldn't, actually, because I am happy, I just have piss-poor "luck in love" and continually end up with women who put on such tremendous airs to get me into their clutches, and then, then the pearly facade erodes and I'm left with a crippling pseudo-replica of whom I thought I was with. And then I get unhappy. Because it's not real. And things that are not real should be boundaried to staying in my head or on paper. So maybe I should not get into relationships until I've been dating someone for, oh I don't know, six years maybe. That should eradicate the possibility of discovering something, once latched into the Relationship, that is totally appalling and impossible to live with. But I guess not, because the Right People are forever evolving, changing, enhancing, and what you experience now is not what you will experience in eleven years. There is always more to learn, and room to grow.
I think, then, that I simply want to be with someone who takes advantage of the room we have in which to grow. Because me + stagnance = disaster.
El sótano told me, back before she started calling me a Liar and getting all fired up about supposed inconsistencies, that she wanted to A) be with me, B) do good by me, and C) have me rub off my better qualities on her so that she could grow as a person. She actually didn't say (C) in those words, because she doesn't speak like that, ever, but she gave me (and our mutual friend) the impression that she wanted to become a better person, and that she wanted to grow. The thing is, as rehashed in discussion yesterday with said mutual friend, while el sótano has the capacity to do these things (we all do, I truly believe that, but the WILL is an entirely different force to reckon with), she won't. Because she is emotionally stunted, and she always gives up before she achieves something intrapersonal and self-beneficial. I don't doubt that she would like to be faithful to me, but we all know she has a very hard time with this because she is not the type who does committment well. And that's fine, but being honest about that is key. She talks a good game, but it's game. And I am a really poor loser when it comes to games.
I've got to rid myself of the illusion of perfection floating before me. It's out of reach, it's probably a blown-up escapist fantasy, and I might not even want it if/when I conquer it. I need to pull a Kelly Taylor and choose me. Because that is probably the only real solution.
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