S.O.S

What I am to you, is not what you mean to me . . .

These are lyrics, but really, they could be my words. I wish they didn't ring so true, but sadly, they tell truths, many, many. Tonight I met up with a friend for a beer. I tried to think it was just friends having a carbonated elixer, but after the man I visited became my patient and I his therapist, I realized that we misread each other. He pined about how badly he wants a girlfriend, someone to punctuate the Saturdays and Sundays of his rigidly scheduled weeks. He knew I had a dinner date, but not with whom. And after feeling good to have been mildly sought after by him yet again, I felt bad for knowingly departing to see the boy I've been spending all of my weekends with. I headed to his home where he made dinner for us. He played guitar for an audience of one, albeit in a posture that acknowledged the wall as his audience rather than my shrinking self. It was late, but we both missed each other and retreated to his familiar, dimly lit room. Talking nose to nose and then not at all, in words unspoken, we found solace in the comfort and ease and excitement of our two faces. And then it became "later than we thought it was." I interpreted these words as a signal to depart sooner than later. Unsettled, I mentioned my interpretation of the false invitation to go. Frustrated and feeling misunderstood, my sweet special friend felt aggravated by my tangling of his words. Why, I wonder, is it, that communication gets in the way of communication? I gathered my things, including my scarf and under utilized dinner ingredients, said goodnight and bid my fair, yet weighted adieu. Tonight, right now, I feel so very sad, so thoroughly confused and yet somehow empowered. Do I need now to make my move? To force him to realize that I could potentially cease being around at late hours, or even at all? Do we break our hearts in premature attempts to save the beating vessel, or do we wait and hope and pray that time will tell, will heal and maybe even surprise us with delights of love? I do not know. And I wish I did. I am at a loss. Imagining my days without him hurts my heart. It makes my already sore, pilates stressed muscles ache more. The notion of his presence no longer being a part of my reality, offers me little comfort, but instead dread. So, tonight, hoping that soon I will tell you of great sacrifice on his part and triumphant overriding of emotion and reason, I will instead ask of your advice, your thoughts and your strength to get through whatever it is this night represents. Life is short, love should be simple. That's the good stuff. The early eve man reminded me of just that; that companionship mends wounds and makes for time well spent. I only wish that my current flame knew that someone else was not just seeking my companionship and humor and wit and familiarity, but that he also knew that people who love us are the best cure for myriad ailments. I want to be his prescription for success. I guess, however, that I better start taking my vitamins first.

MexiCAN't Wait!

Tonight I am off to Mexico with a girl who I'm guessing is my sister from a different mister, we were separated at birth I'm quite sure. Who else finishes each other's sentences without such strong genetic ties? Who else can translate a simple stare into complete experiences, detailed dilemmas and insightful inside jokes that other people just "don't get?" Hmmm. I must question my mom more about this sibling scenario. Either way, we're out of this city for a few days, to catch up on, even redefine R&R. Rest and Relaxation and Rejuvenation and sure some Rock n' Roll thrown in for good measure, we two need this break from our day to days so very much. Will you miss us? We'll miss you, and say salud! to you and yours while we sip a tasty margarita or two.

Sometimes vacations offer timely shifts in scenery, breaks from routines and the occasional moment for reflection. I hope to reflect, reevaluate and really wrangle my self and my senses on this trip. When I come back, I hope to have had my presence missed, but more so, I hope to have found myself to be more present, with myself. Here's to leaving it all behind and then coming back to find . . .

Adios

Chirp

"When you awaken, then you are obligated to think about what to do with all of that glorious energy in the morning, right? You know, when you want to just knock the hell out of what's holding you back from being truly happy or getting what you want out of life. That's the bad energy at work. All you need is the nerve, to find the nerve to do what you really want to do, right? The problem is that it may come natural to you, but it does not always come easy. So, maybe now you've got a clue about what's been on my mind. I think it is still considered an Olympic event nowadays: wrestling. I hear it's Tibet vs. China . . . after Tibet's Independence Day . . . of course. Grappling. I feel someone grabbing my elbow."

Adam J, wrote these words to me in a letter I received just yesterday. Sometimes I wonder how he knows me so well. How can another person feel my pulse race, how can he know that I am not alright, even miles away? Is it that obvious, I wonder? Either way, Adam always manages to instill questions in my ever prolific and imaginative mind and simultaneously quell the insecurities I rely upon. He continues with:

"And in order to win, you need to realize the powerlessness you might feel in any difficult situation, and admit that the reason you feel that way is because you are powerless. So, it's somehow about promoting a wrestling match between you and you. It's the raging battle within that takes your spirit and your sleep. And makes you sweat."

I cannot express to you, my few and far between readers, what these words mean to me. They speak to me on so very many levels. I will conclude with this wisdom, courtesy of a man who knows no limits of compassion and generosity.

"And so you do little things like play your guitar, which takes you away from all of that for a little while. And if you pay close attention you can figure out what I am listening to lately, can't you? (it's Clapton). You have a coffee with your best friend. You can also call your mother on Easter Sunday and ask if she still hears the squirrels running around in the attic - and I don't mean mentally! And you take stock in what is really happening around you, and try to fit it all in. You look for the rescue impulse everywhere. You lay out those personal expectations that fuel the impetus to change. Then you wait . . . for the big event."

This is my big event. This moment, this time, right now - is make or break. I am in love with someone, perhaps an idea of someone, who does not, or cannot reciprocate my sentiments. Tonight I sit, waiting for a phone call, wondering if the phantom doorbell ringing was actually his finger's pressing, and think to myself about deserving, about intention and about fate. I want so badly to be in love. But the love I should be seeking is the love of self and of life and of those who mirror my own profundities. So, I share these inspirational words with you, my loved ones, because it is the truth. We need to wrestle and get dirty with our demons. And then, we need to win, by way of want. So tonight I bid adieu to those feelings that corner my heart, that label my efforts and that seek to quell my creativity. A mouthful, I know, but thanks to Adam, tonight, I see how simple it can be.

Fly away to you. To you and to yours.

Lady in Red

Hi. So sorry I haven't been in touch. As a matter of fact, I've been out of touch, with more than just you. My horoscope warned me of drama this week, and foolishly, I felt it a premature forecast and wholly unparalleled to my current existence. Nevertheless, I was wrong, sorely, painfully mistaken. I don't intend to throw myself a pity party here, but I'm pretty sure that my heart started to break and suffer great pain this evening. It was the conversation that began with innocent questions, and ended with the suggestion that this should be discussed in person. And "in person" shouldn't hurt or be odd or strange or unwelcome, because "in person" means life and love and scents and senses . . . but somehow, right now, the idea is not welcome. He, this gem of a man I've had the luxury of spending days and hours and wee hours and categorically significantly insignificant moments with, has been thinking. And thinking, truth be told, is not what it's cracked up to be. If I think too much, I can imagine great horror, great success, sweet baby faces, off-white wedding gowns and funeral services. Thinking, can be one person's demise via projections and false notions of the future. But, hey, thinking about days ahead can also translate into finishings: goals accomplished, phrases uttered and time well spent - so call me crazy for thinking that I might have found my match. Big sigh.

It's not sadness, this emotion, or emoting, instead it's a check-in. My horoscope was simply reminding me to be true to the one thing I know to be right and wrong and unjust and fair - me. I wish I didn't previously recycle the words, in the hope they were incorrect, or I'd have posted them here. Nevertheless, I'll say this . . . I am, as you may be, like the dress featured above. We are tattered, we are aged, we have seen trials and tribulations and tights, and yet we will still become someone's bookmarked page on someone's wish list, ready to be given new life and readily available to help someone stand out in a crowded room . . . ready to independently shine on our own, in living color, vibrant and beautiful and stained but never damaged goods.

xoxoxox

Sorry, photo is coming soon. It's file was too big . . . soon, however, you'll be able to see, and even purchase her on my etsy shop . . . think vintage, classy, red frock - like us all . . .

Raising The Bar

Almost one week into the New Year, the day that this photo was snapped, and while not as sun filled, all certainly does look quite nice. Let's hope this pseudo warming trend continues. So today, it's Sunday and so far the forecast looks good. A productive walk with my fave pal, Pat, and some much needed down time of chatting, sipping and reminiscing, this 6th day of 2008 feels great. Last night I had the pleasure and gift of hearing a living legend play and interpret some songs of the past. Ramblin' Jack Elliot reminds me of a present day American griot. Singing his songs, as well as time tested tried and true tunes, this man truly turns the art of listening into a performance. His quintessential rambling not only sets the stage for each song, granting his audience a glimmer into his life an that of each song, he then finishes them off with appropriate educational exits. My company was another factor that set the stage for a delightful, starry filled, cloud scattered evening. I feel so lucky to have people in my life who reliably inspire, encourage and remind me just how lovely it is to simply breathe and be alive. Reveling in each other's plain existence, I can't help but thoroughly appreciate what a luxury it is to feel wanted and hopefully I succeed at returning the favor by giving that same tiny gift to those I love as well. And it is a gift, one that I often take for grated and overlook. But my date's presence is so very present and, in the words of one wise Debbie Harry, I am always touched by that presence, dear. For an energetic rock n' roll reference and lyrics that attest to such a statement, watch this.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YLdtrQ7vPOU&feature=related

Call Me . . . crazy

Oh my pretties - all four of you! How I've missed you. This blog, this silly little writing exercise of mine really does keep me grounded, connected and allow me feelings of fleeting creativity . . . hence, I share. Happy Happy two thousand Great! This one's gonna be good, I feel it in my bones, don't you?

This year around, I resolve not to make resolutions, but one idea and hope I do have for 2008 is to read more, and not just my weekly horoscope. Once upon a time I was a voracious reader, a real smarty, and somehow, without a syllabus and required thoughts on recent reading of the academic ilk, I have seriously sloughed off. Tis a shame indeed. In college I loved all I read, albeit intense and often morbidly depressing, I still used to pine for the days of free reading. And here I am at 27, five years out of the concrete confines and I've yet to read the classics; like Deborah Harry by Cathy Che and Chronicles - Volume One by Bob Dylan . . . and what about Slash's autobiography? Man alive do I have my work cut out! Truth be told I cannot wait. I also resolve not to resolve, but to try and dance more. In my kitchen with a pretend audience going crazy for my vocal talents and fluid moves. I hope to practice these gems for the boy who makes me wanna shake it up, and also seek to attend more venues where my friends and friends of friends gather together their compiled collections of classic vinyl. So move it, would ya?! I'm a gonna. Rob, you with me? Let's rip that dance floor to shreds, eh?

Here's to you and yours. And especially to Debbie, my own special rock n' roll fashion icon/
white polyester clad heroine.

xoxobg

Considering Devotion

I just cleaned out my hall closet. Purging feels so good - thoroughly, solidly good. I found four of my old journals. One is shiny with pictures of clouds on it and opens like a regular book. Another is an extremely peculiar and profound square shape with lined paper, covered in a thin layer of rust colored velvet. Then there is the matte vinyl, gilded and inscribed notebook that's sophisticated and built like an envelope, that locks with a secure flap to keep precious thoughts private. The final is an incomplete and simple black book that reads more like a sketch pad or a pamphlet. I have yet to excavate all four separate historical accounts, but one journal did get cracked briefly and to my surprise, what I read rings as true, if not more than it did in December of 1999, my nineteenth year.

Allow me to share the lovely text, A Cure for Self Loathing, written by Alice Hoffman.

The remedy, to be followed more or less: do not look in the mirror for three days and do not speak with anyone you suspect of agreeing with your current opinions of your self.

On the first day: wear blue, buy roses, fix something broken, polish furniture. Allow yourself a mistake, drink a mixture of lemon juice and water, cry all night, then shop for new pillowcases.

On the second day: make jam, visit an acquaintance unable to leave the house due to illness, sorrow or advancing years, fix a pot of tomato-rice soup and let simmer. Give your coats away to those who cannot stay warm. Forget what you could or couldn't or didn't do right. Run for two miles, paying attention only to the shape of leaves, the sound of birds, the idea of desire.

On the third day: paint your bedroom, absolve an old enemy, braid your hair or cut it all off. Think about November, imagine starts and clear skies, believe in possibilities and in hardship. Study signs, be grateful, consider devotion, moonlight and your own dreams. Early in the morning, at the hour when the grass is still damp and the sky above you is cracking open like an egg, walk a dog through your neighborhood. Then and there, while most people are still asleep in their beds, forgive yourself.

The photo was taken at Ocean Beach by my special friend, on his tiny phone, as we saw the great sun hide behind the sea and listened for the green flash.