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Good god, there is already blasted Xmas musak playing in the supermarket. The chameleonesque holidays take on fresh tinges of color and form each year and are swayed by: relationships, state of mental health, my students, the weather. How am I supposed to get in the 'spirit' when it's still sixty degrees out??
Only two and a half weeks of school left. I am losing two of my boys: my shadows, my watchdogs. God, I invest too much. I wouldn't be doing my job, truly, if I didn't. But my heart breaks every single time they leave the program. Successfully.
Caught in the midst of an age crisis. And not the typical one you may suspect. True, I am in my final year of my 20s. However, it daunts me less being single, childless, and almost thirty than it does that all the "men" that I find attractive are several years younger than me. This is most peculiar for me. Am I that desperately clinging to my ideal of "perfection" that it is skewing my judgment? The ex was close to perfect in so many superficial ways, are there not others like him out there (with slightly fewer mental problems)?
In need of a new outlet. It's terrifying that between work and school I scarcely have time to have another outlet, but I NEED one. It's virtually impossible to meet people and I need a way to do so, badly. I am stuck. Thus, I am thinking of acquiring a second job. YIKES. The extra money wouldn't suck, and I don't do well with downtime, anyhow, so I think I could deal. I KNOW I could; I've done it before. I just don't know what kind of part-time, evenings-only secondary occupation may be available in the new year...
Why is so challenging to reach out to others when I am in need? Because it looks weak? Because I don't allow myself to invest enough trust in anyone to feel insured that they would potentially be there if I needed them? What constitutes 'need', anyhow? I think I am most apt to hide behind my staunchly built facade of strength and self-reliance; to reach out means letting others behind the wall. Even tremulous cracks in the exterior could precipitate a terrifying wreck internally! If I can't use others as outlets, and my own will is faltering, what then?
This notion has been tickling about my neurons and synapses over the past few days so today, I put it into action. No 20something has more love for the culture of 80s pop rock and fashion than this woman; thus, I have decided to summon my most committed 80s warriors for a highly stylized photo shoot in January. Already, I have organized 14 models, 5 photographers, and 4 stylists. Man, this is going to be fun! I even snagged the interest of my resident 80s rock dj friend who is going to provide soundtrack for us for the whole day!
UGH. I've been intentionally NOT cyber-stalking the ex since I have been in a successful state of remission now for about six whole months (whew!). Then of course, the damned tiny world I occupy, made smaller even by the world wide web, squeezed me into proximity with his digital likeness without my being aptly prepared for such a disturbance of heart. I lost my breath momentarily, but didn't immediately run for the Jack. And while I briefly perused the contents placed before me, I didn't go on a searching rampage. Hopefully, I can maintain this sincere lack of interest.
Exhaustion this heady only results from staying up too late on a school night to imbibe with old acquaintances over a backdrop of Aha and Blondie...
And tonight, the merriment continues. In seductive, slippery maneuvers of hand, thigh, tongue. We sully countertops, near-shag carpeting, burgundy and ink-stained sheets; this wet pouring of self, this conjoined beast of purpose. Dive right in, oh this sizzle!, this lusty encounter, tinged with tomorrow.
So in the morning, I will slide from your embrace; coax you outside. And wait again. Knowing that this will be the last time.
Yearning for the open road would be an understatement: a pat on the head of a psychotically drooling canine, begging for nourishment. I wonder if this desire was ingrained in me by days of trucking with Pop in elementary school, or appreciation for someone else's romanticizing the notion (I do not mean Kerouac). The five weeks of my summer vacation, next June/July era, may well see my shooting off in the Liberty in search of more impassioned sunsets and cheaper beers. Often, I fantasize about a partner in crime for such endeavors. But organizing two schedules is virtually impossible.
Timidly pressing the 'submit' button at the end of each and every semester, when that final project has been completed, releases the most ecstatic euphoria with the slowest, calmest resonating peace. I'm being hyperbolic (maybe a touch), but damn, it's a fine feeling to be finished!
To celebrate our interns this semester, we all convened at the nearest dive bar, grubbed on artery-clogging fare and swilled drinks with names capable of eliciting a blush from even the crusty bartenders present! What an amazing group of colleagues have I. I couldn't ask for a better work situation, truly.
I admit it. I'm a social networking site voyeur. This has become something of a recent pastime and now I can't help myself. Every time I have a free hour or so, this is my choice of killing minutes. Fortunately, as my suspicions confirmed, Jenn is much more of an online stalker than I could ever be, so I don't feel weird about it. Everyone else's lives look so much more vivid, fascinating and filled with joy in pics they post than mine could ever be. I think this preoccupation is okay, for now; I could be out smoking instead...
I suppose it should be flattering that a fairly major 90s punk rock sensation desires to fly halfway across the nation for the sole purpose of sleeping with me. I'm not posting a billboard about it or anything, but the cryptic messaging on public workspaces and in networking forums is slightly hilarious. If I was super into it, maybe I would be annoyed. As is, 'been there-done that', and again, I guess it should be an ego boost that a year later, he's still wanting more. If only carnal pleasure were enough to satiate my desperate need for closeness.
Oh the magnificence of the sunset! Today, I went for a drive until I found somewhere to park. Left the Jeep to wander through the brush in knee-high, red leather boots crunching fallen brambles and sunk into the damp foliage. Flask in palm, thrifty little camera tucked into the sleeve of my houndstooth, I began to absorb and bask in the day. The clouds exploded in cacophonous rainbow sheen; I documented as much as possible with wet shine glowing pinkly from my cheeks.
I may be the sole punk rock-hippie of whom I am presently aware.
It is not fair to pin one's hopes on someone with whom he/she is not even interested in pursuing a genuine relationship. Just because the holidays are fast approaching and loneliness prevails with more sting and poignance than it may on the average day, does not mean it is suddenly okay to target the one person who has shown affection in your general direction for the past six months. Focus on friends, family, the weather, commercialism, tact, anything BUT the fact that you are single AGAIN this year at Xmas. Without any feasible prospects. Flirting with disaster, per usual.
I am burdened with excess today. I am giggling with the kids--my closest hope to ever having personal offspring. I pepper them with my wit, rain down the knowledge I find important enough to have commemorated in ink beneath my rushing skin forevermore.
My cardiovascular system has healed much quicker than I possibly could have imagined! The increase of serotonin, stimulated blood flow, and tightening of certain curves all improves the psyche and state of affairs.
This evening? Take-out from Panera. Lounging, John Cusack. I convinced my favorite student that John is my boyfriend.
I'm truly/madly/deeply in passionate hatred with the vice grip others can occasionally have on my emotions. Some days, I exist in perfect symbiotic coherence with my environment and the world around me: as a single being. Other days, I spend more than a few minutes rolling around on the floor struggling to clasp my fingers around the slippery, deceitful beast anguish. And it's pointless to plot methods of escape when the only way to relinquish utter control is to give up this semblance of structure I have so very carefully devised for myself throughout the past heartwrenching year.
Many things which are broken can never be completely repaired.
So many idioms concerning how pain indulges growth/freedom/liberation of mind and soul, and while these may be true in passing, in the moment, pain is the medium of infuriated repeated slamming of closed fist into brick wall; blood trickling quickly in rivulets of agonized, strangled frustration. And pain.
And I can but watch. Listen. Shove my own tears so deeply down my throat that my guts wrench and contort. Bile threatening to spill across these lips, cracked with pursing together so tightly they throb.
To exult in my impending freedom from the constraints of academia (in both my personal and professional lives), I am embarking upon this wee writing endeavor. I need to write more frequently, anyhow. I'll be playing catch-up here for a few, however...
I need this break. Only now, I can no longer use the excuse of "too busy; composing eighty page dissertations" for why no one is texting or calling. I've been out of the loop for so long, who knows if I will ever be allowed to rejoin? What would I even have to offer to the masses?
Am I the only one who is confused, nay, BAFFLED, by the influx of ugly Xmas sweater parties that have cropped up all over the nation? What used to be a kitschy anomaly is now standard practice: if you don't have an invite to at least one ugly sweater party over the holiday season, you're scarcely worth living. EVERYONE knows SOMEONE who has an ugly sweater party. Or else you live in a cave.
While the mass shopping markets may manufacture these creatures in abundance, we found out that it is much more fulfilling to create your own!
Sorry, my darling Mama: you must still pin your hopes of ever becoming a grandparent on the twins. Amanda and I went out of town for some Mexican dining this evening and I told the shrieking babe donning Cindy Lou Who pigtails that I would kill it when it looked at me, wailing. (I wasn't entirely kidding.) Not that at this clip there are any concerns of my becoming 'with child', anyhow. To my knowledge, one must actually have a willing participant with whom to mate in order to successfully procreate...unless they've changed the rules one me once again...
Jack Scott's "My True Love" just graced my itunes and I was tossed into the most lovely flashback: after hiking north of Santa Monica this October, we cruised south on Pacific Coast Highway 1 in the Cadillac: windows down, the majestic Pacific rolling and crashing out the passenger side of the car, crooning off-key do-wop tunes to one another. At idyllic times such as that, there is nothing wrong in the world. No hunger, no pain, no deception, fear, or travesty. Simple existence suffices to bring face-aching smiles of complacency and gratitude to even this cynic's lips.
Welcome to the shortest day of the year. The Colorado heavens threaten 'snow', but have yet to make good on these scanty promises. Even at my age, I can't get into any sort of "holiday spirit" when I can still walk outside to get the mail in shorts and a tank top. Stupid weather. I'm spending this week alone and am wondering if anyone would notice if I didn't show up for Xmas... I solely desire to sit around in my housecoat, downloading music and eating too much and do not wish to step outside of this house at all.
After a self-inflicted three-year hiatus from seeing a film in the theater, today I made my grand return. And it was glorious. Jake showed up late (and I abhor missing previews or going into a theater late!), so I suggested libations and chatter before partaking in the next showing. It was a lovely hour of playing catch-up to "half-full" martinis. The actual flick experience was well worth my wait to return. I am passionately fond of Aronofsky's work; he has yet to disappoint. To complete the viewing, however, next time, there will be overly buttered popcorn.
I SHOULD be: working out, buying my brothers presents for Xmas, meeting up with Hunter for toddies and sweets, flirting outrageously with hip men, doing my hair, cleaning the bathroom, wishing others 'happy holidays', driving home for the holiday, celebrating, networking, finding that second job, hanging up clothes, getting a pedicure, exchanging dvds that skip, trying on outfits for the January shoot, making myself generally useful to someone. Even if that someone is only little ole me.
Instead, I am: sipping spiked coffee, stalking celebrities on Twitter, procrastinating, lounging, avoiding, missing out on, thinking of taking a nap...
I am consistently astounded! I will never be too old to be amazed! Even on the brink of impending doom (yes, you read that correctly), things, they change. Gaining insight (too little, too late!) is empowering, even if there is absolutely nothing I can do with it at this particular juncture. Otherwise, I have the most incredible group of friends and acquaintances known to grace the face of this ridiculous planet and my screwed up, insane existence. UGH everything happens the way it's supposed to, tis true; therefore, who knows what the future may hold for any of us, truly?
I'm not sure why I think I need a significant other in my life to fill the occasional voids that I enter. Because I have THE coolest, sweetest, most attentive brothers that this world has ever seen. I cannot believe that they put together and purchased an "adventure" for me to fly (my favorite way to travel) into New Mexico for a day and night to see my favorite band take the stage (for the second time in three months). This is going to be my greatest adventure thus far; I can tell, 2011 is going to be a trip.
The heavy funk has settled into my lungs and is making me especially glad that I quit smoking six months ago (or else I would REALLY be suffering). I've been laid up watching reruns of "The Office" on dvd all day and could not be more content...except when I have to, you know, move or anything. I'm anxious, now, about taking the kids ice skating out of town the next two days during my shifts; I am not presently of the opinion that the outdoor chill will help to accelerate my recuperation.
At least we all get free hot chocolate.
The funk has descended upon me in full force. I simply could not get my body temperature up last night. After a couple hours of rolling around in a tightly wound ball, struggling for warmth, I finally had to get up and lie in a scalding bath for about half an hour. Needless to say, I didn't really get any sleep last night.
While the crisp mountain air only greatly exacerbated the throbbing pains in my chest and head, it was still well worth it to take the girls ice skating and watch them giggle like 'normal' teenagers again today.
As much as I needed a break, these last two days being reunited with my darling students has rejuvenated my soul in the most miraculous ways! Even though I can scarcely breathe and it feels as if a five ton leopard is lying atop my chest and sharpening its claws in my sweater, I feel alive again. I will never be able to completely put into words what those lovely children make me feel or how remarkable it is to find my "calling" in this wild and stupid existence. I love my life when it means that I am necessary.
Counting lovely things (this shall serve to make me feel better until I want to leave my bed again): my students, MCS, "The Office" on dvd, heating pads, the way in which the 'holiday spirit' actually seems to affect some (who compliment my coat or give me free lunch for no apparent reason), upcoming flight plans, my HLP coming home tonight, green tea, friends, bed.
I can't wait until I can breathe normally once more and be able to go outside and to work out and do normal things without wanting to keel over. Pretty soon I will be well.
I loathe tomorrow.
When the day is filled with promises unmet and a whole new year worth of disregarded plans and broken promises, I shirk into my winter skin and close the doors. The entire day is supposed to be of reflection, then absolute drunkenness and sucking face with someone--anyone--the nearest available. If I'm the only one home, there really won't be anyone available, will there?
If slinking beneath a snow-covered boulder were an utter possibility, I would seize upon it at once. As it is, I'm going to draw the shades and turn off my cell.
Who knew that sickness could be such a pivotal force in one's feeling positive or futile about the future? I did not, as a matter of fact. Otherwise, I would never have gotten sick in the first place. Feeling better today.
In the past twelve months, I have overcome the greatest heartbreak of my life and fallen a wee bit in love with ME, for once. I have maintained passion for my profession. I have discovered a possible new locale for transfer, if/when necessary. I have outstanding friends. This year has been filled with much learning and some happiness.
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