Tuesday, July 29, 2008


I hate writing a new blog after a particularly well received blog post. I feel sometimes that I might crumble under the pressure. However, I was reminded yesterday, that some people are interested in keeping up with my moods. SO....here you go:

My first full day off work was a bust. I suppose. I sat on the couch in the living room for about five hours arranging my music library and watching Sportsnight. I also ate some soggy leftovers and a bag of microwave popcorn. Enough happened to make me realize that this sucks. I've got to get out. I know, I should volunteer! Or I might go to Chicago. ;)

Having nothing to do reminds me of all the crap still stuck in my brain. In other words: it depresses me. The silence...even the lack of silence...through the long hours of nothingness, screams in my ears, and all those memories and pictures of days past come flooding back. So, I did what any sane person would do. I stopped trying fight it, and I just looked at the pictures I had loaded on my computer. I wish I had taken more pictures. I mean, of the normal every day things. I wish I had more pictures of me on the tube, or just people on the tube. I wish I had taken more pictures of all the little English houses, carbon copies of each other, little chimneys sprouting out of the roofs, stretched out across the horizon. However, I spent most of the time with my gloved hands tucked deep into the pockets of my coat.

I am entering into a new phase of this whole business. The miserable ache is gone. I'm now left with a faint, very faint, hint of the pain that was drowning me. It doesn't feel final though. It feels in be-tween, however. I don't know why. Just...like a shifting...nothing final. I was thinking about the pain, you know, the blinding pain part, and I actually kind of missed it. It seemed to have a little more direction than this...a greater purpose. I'm sure there's purpose in the transitions. I'm positive. It's just not as much...fun.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

The Spark

On my way to my car this evening, before my night class, I had a strange experience. I was strolling to my car door, minding my own business, when I noticed a loud rustling in the grass. I looked up just in time to see one of the many stray cats that roam around behind my place grab a bird in its teeth. The bird struggled, cried, puffed it's feathers, but it couldn't get away, and I just watched. I was stunned. I had locked eyes with the cat, and my first reaction was to shout and wave my hands, but the cat just looked at me. It's eyes were cold, the bird in it's mouth, struggling...not wanting to give up, and it just stared at me, as if to say, "this is how it's supposed to be. This is life," and for a minute I believed it. I accepted that that was life.

I had been having this conversation in my head earlier in the day. Life is pain and struggling. That's just what it is. It's hard, and it's not fair, and there's not a whole lot we can do to change it. This bird, caught in the jaws of a slinky alley cat, began to accept this as well. He was a part of the circle of everything, and his time was up. His chest had stopped puffing, and his cries had subsided.

As I turned to my car door, my keys shaking in my hand, I couldn't get the image of the beautiful chest of this bird out of my head. It wasn't an ordinary bird. Its breast had flecks of red and gold mixed with black, and it's cries, while made in agony, were almost beautiful. In a split second I let out an emphatic, "no!" I turned, picked up the closest thing I could find (there was a brick and a stick, and I chose the stick because I imagined I could throw it further). I tossed the stick towards the cat, its eyes locked on mine...and it dropped the bird.

Without wasting a moment, the bird beat it's wings and flew away. The cat ran in the opposite direction. It was remarkable. I don't know if the bird made it very far. Perhaps it made it home to bleed to death, but I try to find comfort in the fact that it had those moments of freedom. That it got away instead of completely surrendering to the clenches of the cat's jaw.

I say it all the time: life is hard. That's just the way it is, and I feel a sense of satisfaction in my contentment with that fact. What surprised me about today, was the power behind that small part of me that refused to believe in that as the final answer. It was a spark of hope, not just for the bird that, like me, had begun to stop struggling against the fate of the drudgery of life. The instant the bird regained its freedom, it began to sing again. Sometimes the only thing we need is for someone to come along to throw a stick at the despair that is holding us tightly in its jaw. Sometimes we need to do the throwing. (However, I would definitely go with a stick rather than a brick. We don't want to risk killing the bird in the process of rescuing it)

Tuesday, July 22, 2008


I pulled into my driveway late this morning on an unplanned trip back home to pick up some things for class. I was listening to a somewhat melancholy Death Cab song, against the recommendation of my good friend Vanessa Fargo ("Quit listening to that depressing shit."). I sat still for a few moments just staring off into the distance, listening to the music, and a little creature caught my eye. However, it wasn't actually a creature. It was the remnants of a creature, the skin of a Cicada, left behind on the railing along the steps to my back door. It wasn't entirely apparent that it was just the skin from my car, but upon closer inspection, I could see the split right down the back from whence the fresh, new Cicada had emerged. I wondered if it was painful. I imagine that it must be. I imagine that it must be incredibly uncomfortable flying around in an old dying layer of skin. It must also be a bit disarming when the suit begins to split and the insect inside has to peel it's new skin away from the old skin in order to climb out.

Perhaps that is what this stage I am in is all about. I'm draped in the hopes and dreams I built for two years of my adult life. Not only are they draped over me, but they are also sealed tightly to my skin. They are dying now. I say dying because they are not dead yet. The worst part of this entire process is having to live with the fact that I am still terribly in love with Liam. I am in hopeless love. I cannot turn it off. Therefore, as the skin of these past years begins to die and crack off of my skin, I experience excruciating pain. Sometimes I imagine these memories tearing away from my being in the most violent and bloody way possible. I picture my tissue and muscle ripping and bleeding. It's the only way I can explain the emotional pain because it doesn't feel emotional. It feels frighteningly physical. I wake up in the night drowning in this pain.

My only hope now is that one day, the rift that has begun down the back of this old skin will be wide enough for me to crawl out of it. I look forward to the day that I peel myself away from this moment in time, stretch my new skin, and leave behind the shell for someone to find, for someone to find hope.

I still cry. I'm still frightened of the days to come. I make terrible mistakes, and I feel the darkness growing around me, but I will not give up on the light...as easy to do as it may seem. The only way out is to keep walking. The darkness can't last forever.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

so...second post for the day

I've been in most of the day. I don't have all the money in world, so I can't go out all the time. I have also discovered that I have a job that requires me to put in time outside of the classroom. This leads to the topic of my blog: being lonely.

My last two breakups were very different from this breakup. Once I got through the miserable, I can't wake up without hurting parts, I was good to go. Enjoying life with my friends, having a grand old time. It's different now. I'm not waiting tables...which is good...grand even. I'm actually doing something I like...but when I was waiting tables, I was with my friends at night...working, and not working. Now I'm home...working (and making a lame job of it)...alone. Now I can't go out every night. Those days are pretty much over...and yeah, they had to end. A) it's not good for me, and B)it's expensive...and also C)I have actual responsibilities now. But, I'm LONELY. I just returned from a 6 month stint in another country...and yeah...sometimes I got lonely....but I was lonely less often than I wasn't lonely.

Now it feels like I have too much time to myself. I can't get the balance. I just think when I'm alone. I think, and I get sad...and I get scared...and I get frustrated. Is this my life? Is this the way my life will be? Will I have to come to terms with my loneliness? I suppose I will. I feel so hopeless sometimes. So....I don't know...destined for blahdom. I mean...not blah...success...but the kind of success and satisfaction that comes from being content with the pangs of things you lost along the way...forever. Kind of like how Jane Austen is depicted as feeling when reading one of her stories at the end of that Becoming Jane movie...which...wasn't fantastic...but it wasn't totally terrible. But, at the end...she and the guy both...had to give these silent shots in which they expressed acceptance of the lives they were forced into. God, will that be me? I mean...I know there's no answer...but it's terrifying. I NEVER wanted to go back to being single once I met Liam. I mean...I spent my single years not wanting to be single...I had fun...I had a lot of fun...but...okay, there were times when I was really happy. But there was always this hope, that just around the corner there was someone to share it all with. And well...I just don't think that's a given any more. Not everyone finds someone to share it with. Not everyone joins the world of couple-dom. I may not find anyone to share it with. It may just be me. The world made me think it was supposed to be a certain way...but it didn't make any promises. No one ever made me any promises.

I've realized that it's this fear that makes me bury myself in an almost entirely one-sided relationship. It's this fear that makes me sell all my stuff and move to England to be with a guy that could NEVER offer me the same level of sacrifice (granted...it was a huge level...but I felt like he was worth that...I just don't know if I felt that I was). And well...in the end...he just wasn't good enough. I asked a lot...yeah...and I don't think I'll ever be asking that much of myself or anyone else again...but he couldn't make ANY compromises. He didn't think he should have to. So. Maybe I don't know anything. Maybe I'm just flailing around trying to fit all the wrong puzzle pieces together...and all I get is a pile of sloppy puzzle pieces. I don't know where I'm trying to take that metaphor. Any ideas?

Give me something to look forward to

Why is it that we live like that? from exciting moment to exciting moment? Since my breakup...I've felt trapped in a world without exciting moments. There was so much going on with Liam...either I was jetting off to London, or he was coming here...and I was going to get to show him around. We traveled so much. We traveled when I lived in London too...even if we didn't leave London. The city was infinitely fascinating. Every weekend, there was a different nook to be explored. An Underground trip to be mapped out. I spent about three hours sitting in one place Monday afternoon wondering what to do with myself...wondering how high my MLGW bill would be if I turned the air down just a little more to keep the sweat off the under side of my knees.

Then some days I get wrapped up in the daily tasks that make life livable. I get carried away in the kitchen, listening to NPR, cleaning up messes...yes...even cleaning out the litter box. Cleaning the shower this Sunday was fabulous...I listened to Showtunes on digital cable. It was so gay (not that there's anything wrong with being....into showtunes)....and by gay I mean...fabulous...FABULOUS. It's really the only way to clean...and listening to NPR is the only way to cook. I'm finally getting well. God, it feels good. I was sick for two freaking weeks. I almost had pinkeye at one point...it was INSANE.

What I'm saying is: It's not SO bad living...just living...and trying to figure out living. It's awesome having the opportunity to roam...and even awesomer having someone to roam with. But sometimes living requires cleaning...the little corners. Getting down on my hands and knees...finding joy in sucking up the ball of fur in the corner of the hallway.

Even though I'm looking forward to something...who knows what. Always....

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Thoughts on...Things

I've been sick for almost a week now, but luckily, I feel as if I'm coming out of it. Being sick really makes a person think...and usually in a more melancholy way...I'm also listening to some Patty Griffin...so I'm going to wax...sad....but also retrospective. (retrospective? is that the right word?)

A lot of people were concerned about Liam's visit to Memphis, and I won't lie, I was too...but I was adamant that I wanted him to come here. I described it as the wake for the funeral of our relationship. I figure, at the end of a relationship, everything...him and it...and you...has to kind of die...in order to be reincarnated into whatever it's all going to be in the future...or something. Anyway. He's been here for almost two weeks now, and he leaves on Friday evening. I've been sick for half of his visit...and that's been hard. Here's why: I feel like I should be savoring these moments with him...after I've had some distance...now that I see things more clearly...but I am unable to because of my illness...and when I start to regret that...I wonder to myself if it's really worth being sad about. I've learned some truths over the past two weeks. 1. Liam is over me, and...well...I'm actually kind of over him...meaning, I no longer want him back. and 2. Liam is immature and while he was a very attentive boyfriend, he never really loved me the way I loved him...and not that that's a bad thing...wait...well...I mean...there were things that I didn't like about the relationship, about him even, but I LOVED him, and that made it easy to overlook those things. But HE...he didn't overlook those things, I don't think. He decided he didn't really like me...and he doesn't really like me now...I mean, he does...just not all of me...and he lets that part affect his love for me...and well...I just don't think it's worth getting all sad about not being able to entertain someone that doesn't really like you. It's hard to be vulnerable. It's hard to show people who you are...in your darkest places...and when you get the courage to actually do that...it helps if they don't decide that the relationship isn't really worth it. I always felt like it was worth it, but I was the only one.

We always had these arguments in which I would point out things that I didn't like...things that he did that hurt me...always trying to acknowledge that the hurt was more than likely unintentional. And he would always get upset...and throw this brilliant argument back at me: "You make me feel like a terrible person, and I'm not a terrible person. I have a lot of friends and none of them think I'm a terrible person." Let's not completely dissect this...let's accept that we all realize that no one can make you feel anything...and let's focus on this "my friends don't think I'm terrible." We recently had an argument in which I just told him sometimes he was a real asshole...to which he argued, "none of my friends think I'm an asshole." Um...well done? I have loads of friends that think I can be a real bitch sometimes...but I'm pretty sure they still like me...and well, that's pretty much why they're my friends. That's the concept he doesn't get. That it is possible to be a jerk sometimes...to make big mistakes...to hurt people (accidentally)...and to still be loved. That's what love is...in a nutshell. Part of growing up for me was accepting that I can be a real bitch...wanting to change...and still loving myself in the process. And loving myself should always come first. So....what I'm saying is: I'm putting this regret nonsense behind my and I'm going to focus on that first part.

I'm also going to focus on loving my cats. They're freakin cute...and awesome. and also my family and friends...cause theys all I gots.

Muddled thoughts. I know...but I feel like I might be getting somewhere. Finally.

Monday, July 7, 2008


I've blogged about this exact thing before...but it was in a different setting.

A couple of years ago, I came across a dead squirrel outside my old apartment on Mclean. It was bizarre, surreal, and engrossing. I couldn't stop looking at it. Well, I've found a new squirrel. It's along the walk from that curve in Zach Curlin, right in front of the school...not the college...but the kids school...I think that's what it is. I see kids there all the time. Anyway...this dead squirrel has been there for weeks now. In fact, I think that if I walked by, and it was gone, I'd be a little sad. I know...insane...but it's interesting. Sometimes I walk by, and I just glance at it, and sometimes I walk by and have a little moment of silence. It looks different every time. I can run the respective pictures in my mind of the 'body' and it would be like watching a stop motion film of a decomposing dead thing. It fascinates me. It's there...but it's not there. It was living once, and now it's not, and no one seems to want to be the one to move it out of the way. I mean, I'm not going to. It almost, at this point, seems unnatural to...like it would break up the continuity of the landscape...of the natural-ness...of things. It's teeth were very prominent this evening. It's eyes have been gone for some time, but it's teeth, naturally, are hanging on for dear life(?).

I have a hard time imagining myself a few months ago...in London...taking the tube places...going about my daily routine. I have a hard time picturing that as me...doing those things...walking those paths. I found a great deal of joy in very small things. Or maybe they weren't small. I found this short-cut on my walk home from the overland train through this field/park surrounded by houses. The wind would always hit my face at an angle, and make my nose run and my eyes water...but I liked the feel of it in my hair. I can't decide if I was unhappy or happy. I remember myself as happy. Maybe that's just my remorse. I fell in love with walking all over the city one day after working at the charity for the dame. I didn't feel like going home, and the city seemed to be bustling. The tunes on my ipod were particularly agreeable, so I just kept walking...enjoying myself...enjoying the sights, the history, the busyness of everything. I ran into one of the guys from the office, and he looked confused, asked me if I was lost, and then told me a little about the history of the area. It was a lovely area. There were many lovely areas.

I can't stay here forever. Someone...probably me...is going to have to move me along. It seems natural at the moment...I'm a part of the landscape, but I can't be forever. I know this. I feel this. If I don't, I'm just decomposing...nourishing the soil, sure...but flat, and lifeless all the while. It's comfortable...but frightening....surreal.

Sunday, July 6, 2008

Long Weekend

Well, thank goodness for the long weekend, otherwise, I would have had to call in sick to work, and I hate doing that. Some sort of bug, I don't know what, has made it's way into my apartment, and is feeding on my well being. I slept all day Thursday, sadly missing the IEI picnic. I was supposed to bring buns for the hot dogs. I was really stressed out about whether or not they would have buns.

I forced myself out on Friday, the fabulous fourth, and went to bed grumpy. Saturday, I thought, surely all that sleep had done me some good, but by the end of the day, my throat was killing me. And when I woke up this morning, my throat felt like it had swollen to the size of my head. This is the exact series of 'events' that Diana suffered about two weeks ago. So...I know where I got it. She went to the doctor's office, and they couldn't find anything treatable wrong with her...so...I'm going to sit this one out. Advil really really helps. Also...sleeping helps. Cheese and crackers are good.

So...my first fourth of July stateside in about two years, has been....interesting. I feel like I haven't been off work at all. Crappy crap craps.

I did, despite the evil spirits in my blood stream, end up enjoying myself...for the most part, on the fourth. I ate a lovely American flag cupcake, and lounged in Melissa F's front yard, waving to all the people, and at the end of it all, I got to set off bottle rockets and wave sparklers around. I never realized the joy that setting off tiny explosives could bring me.

There is a pause in the Wimbledon Nadal/Federererererrr final right now. Because of rain. Apparently Wimbledon will be getting a roof over some of the courts....next year. Over 100 years of tournament, and England still refuses to admit that it RAINS EVERY DAY IN ENGLAND.
Serena Williams has nice boobs.....what?