I can't get into a routine. I started working at Backwoods Equipment Co. on August 2, and since then my world keeps performing somersaults, leaving me to just grip the sides with my knees, and hold on while it tumbles. Not unlike riding that damn mechanical bull in New Orleans - damn you, Jack Daniel!
I have experienced so many changes over the past weeks, and I really want a routine. Something like this would be great: Work out, go to work, have lunch, go home, play with Foster, read, go to bed.
Rinse. Repeat.
But it hasn't been that way, and I am still very hopeful that it will happen. I feel like I'm merely riding out an unending storm, hunkered down while the wind and rain howl and beat at my back. Like the Irish proverb says, I'm really hoping to have a gentle wind at my back, and the sun on my face soon. However, I have guests in town the next two weeks, and after dropping this past weekend's guest off at the airport, my apartment is still a mess (not his fault). I haven't finished moving in yet, and it's really bugging me. Pictures are still unhung; clothes are still not put away; it still smells like an empty apartment, even though I filled a few candle orders last weekend. (My other other other job, lol).
But, if you know me at all you know that I never really settle in/down/for anything. Sooo . . . we'll see how long I feel like I'm slipping, until I feel like I'm gripping and climbing. I have the feeling that this won't last forever - it never does for me. While I'm still gripping the world with clenched knees and fists, riding out the never-ending storm, I'm still trying to decide whether always being unsettled is a good thing or not.
Monday, October 25, 2010
Friday, October 22, 2010
Help! I'm Slipping!
I made a mistake this morning - one I knew was coming for a few days, and I'm powerless to stop myself. My motto has always been this:
"I'd rather look back and think 'I can't believe I did that' as opposed to 'Gee, I wonder what would have happened if . . .'".
But sometimes it's so ridiculous to just jump in and do whatever you want, willy nilly. I used to have no regard for the consequences, and it seems like all I'm facing these days are consequences of seeminly innocuous past happenings.
I made the mistake of looking at Bob's photo today. At first it was a passing glance as I was going to delete some old files. Then I stopped and looked; then I fell, like Alice in a nightmarish wonderland, wondering what on earth happened, falling down the rabbit hole and into the Sepia-toned past. Searching around, I realized that the brutality of the ending is what has kept this wound open.
I need a reason, and that will give me closure. And looking into my heart right now, I see that it doesn't know time. It knows beats and moments, moments which correlate with my memories of those great moments that I'm now bleeding over. It knows when to speed up, and when to even out into a smooth cadence. It knows when it's hurt, and when to just let go for a moment.
My heart knows all these things, but doesn't know why it doesn't feel these radical impulses and glowing feelings anymore. It probably wonders why it hasn't pounded in delight recently.
For my heart, I'm sorry. I have no answers.
"I'd rather look back and think 'I can't believe I did that' as opposed to 'Gee, I wonder what would have happened if . . .'".
But sometimes it's so ridiculous to just jump in and do whatever you want, willy nilly. I used to have no regard for the consequences, and it seems like all I'm facing these days are consequences of seeminly innocuous past happenings.
I made the mistake of looking at Bob's photo today. At first it was a passing glance as I was going to delete some old files. Then I stopped and looked; then I fell, like Alice in a nightmarish wonderland, wondering what on earth happened, falling down the rabbit hole and into the Sepia-toned past. Searching around, I realized that the brutality of the ending is what has kept this wound open.
I need a reason, and that will give me closure. And looking into my heart right now, I see that it doesn't know time. It knows beats and moments, moments which correlate with my memories of those great moments that I'm now bleeding over. It knows when to speed up, and when to even out into a smooth cadence. It knows when it's hurt, and when to just let go for a moment.
My heart knows all these things, but doesn't know why it doesn't feel these radical impulses and glowing feelings anymore. It probably wonders why it hasn't pounded in delight recently.
For my heart, I'm sorry. I have no answers.
Tuesday, October 19, 2010
Pfft! Was that you or me?
You've farted yourself awake. I know you have. Sometimes it's funny; sometimes it's shocking; other times it's terrifying. Think of the repercussions!
1.) You've been married or with a partner for a while, or you're shameless. You not only wake yourself up, but if by some small miracle your partner manages to sleep through it - you throw them an elbow and in a stage whisper, ask "Did you HEAR that?"
2.) You're sleeping alone, and it jerks you awake. You think it was just a dream, but feel oddly relieved. You nestle your head back into the pillow, feeling lighter, and fall back into peaceful slumber.
3.) Oh, and there's that other time . . . absolute terror. It's happened to me twice in my life (that I can recall). The first time happened when I was dating a guy named Mark who lived downtown in a gorgeous apartment. He had a huge, comfy bed, and apparently I was super relaxed. I jerked awake and watched him intently for a couple of seconds, checking for signs of false slumber. There were none. I was safe.
The second time was with a more recent relationship, and again he slept through it, but I was mortified, thinking all sorts of things ranging from "Omigod I think I shook the bed" to "How on earth did he sleep through that?!" to "Oh God, I hope it was just gas . . . "
Now that you've had your chuckles, consider this: Bob farted himself awake. Now, go with me on this as we review the facts together:
He gave me his garage door opener, saying "I want you to feel like this is your home".
He asked me to spend every night with him, NOT the other way around (though of course I said yes - duh).
He said very serious things, such as "We have all the time in the world", and other things that still remain between us. Though I don't know why I feel the allegiance, and need to keep it that way.
He made me coffee in the morning.
His parents knew my name; I spoke with his dad on the phone; I had a candle making date with his dad.
I won't go on, because it's even making me uncomfortable, but the point is this: I wasn't the only one who fell hard and fell fast. But whereas I told myself 'Jess, you are always guarded - just push those walls down and jump in!', he did all those things and my theory is that he (metaphorically) farted himself awake.
He looked around, caught himself, but maybe he checked and there was more there than he had hoped for. Gents, here's a hint: If you fart yourself awake, just go with it still. You'll be marked, regardless.
1.) You've been married or with a partner for a while, or you're shameless. You not only wake yourself up, but if by some small miracle your partner manages to sleep through it - you throw them an elbow and in a stage whisper, ask "Did you HEAR that?"
2.) You're sleeping alone, and it jerks you awake. You think it was just a dream, but feel oddly relieved. You nestle your head back into the pillow, feeling lighter, and fall back into peaceful slumber.
3.) Oh, and there's that other time . . . absolute terror. It's happened to me twice in my life (that I can recall). The first time happened when I was dating a guy named Mark who lived downtown in a gorgeous apartment. He had a huge, comfy bed, and apparently I was super relaxed. I jerked awake and watched him intently for a couple of seconds, checking for signs of false slumber. There were none. I was safe.
The second time was with a more recent relationship, and again he slept through it, but I was mortified, thinking all sorts of things ranging from "Omigod I think I shook the bed" to "How on earth did he sleep through that?!" to "Oh God, I hope it was just gas . . . "
Now that you've had your chuckles, consider this: Bob farted himself awake. Now, go with me on this as we review the facts together:
He gave me his garage door opener, saying "I want you to feel like this is your home".
He asked me to spend every night with him, NOT the other way around (though of course I said yes - duh).
He said very serious things, such as "We have all the time in the world", and other things that still remain between us. Though I don't know why I feel the allegiance, and need to keep it that way.
He made me coffee in the morning.
His parents knew my name; I spoke with his dad on the phone; I had a candle making date with his dad.
I won't go on, because it's even making me uncomfortable, but the point is this: I wasn't the only one who fell hard and fell fast. But whereas I told myself 'Jess, you are always guarded - just push those walls down and jump in!', he did all those things and my theory is that he (metaphorically) farted himself awake.
He looked around, caught himself, but maybe he checked and there was more there than he had hoped for. Gents, here's a hint: If you fart yourself awake, just go with it still. You'll be marked, regardless.
I know when to shut up & listen
Believe it or not, I know when to shut up. And when to listen to people wiser than myself. Today I got an earful from one of those wonderful people, and what she had to say was both exciting and terrifying.
And I don't know what to do with it. But I did hear her, and internalize her thoughts and her advice. Now, what do I do with it?
And I don't know what to do with it. But I did hear her, and internalize her thoughts and her advice. Now, what do I do with it?
Monday, October 18, 2010
Ooh, and another thing!
The whole point of my earlier blog got lost in my ramblings. As I was talking to Emali about the whole ugly episode, she said something that struck serious gold, and I'd like to share it with you now.
So many times in the past, I hear people blather on and on, and on again about "I'm going to do things for myself" and "really work on me". Well what the hell does that mean, anyway?
Seriously. Take time off from what? Who on earth means that much to someone that they need to "take time off" from dating afterward in order to get themselves "right" again?
Okay, I've been humbled. I had said those things before, those things that people say when they feel the need to work on themselves. I was lying every time. But do you know what I realized just about 10 days ago?
I'm taking time away from having a relationship. I fell too fast. What's missing, that that happened so quickly, and hurt me so much?
I'm taking time off. And I'm rediscovering what I love about myself; dusting off the things that make me happy. I didn't say I'm taking time off from dating, though. I think an integral part of discovering myself is meeting new people, and seeing what new friends have to offer.
But I'm not expecting anything, and not planning for anything, except where I am going and what I want from life. "Life" is such a big word. What do I want for tonight? Or tomorrow?
There's real beauty in that, and I guess I feel a little freedom - for as long as it lasts because after all, I'm human, and I'm fallible.
So many times in the past, I hear people blather on and on, and on again about "I'm going to do things for myself" and "really work on me". Well what the hell does that mean, anyway?
Seriously. Take time off from what? Who on earth means that much to someone that they need to "take time off" from dating afterward in order to get themselves "right" again?
Okay, I've been humbled. I had said those things before, those things that people say when they feel the need to work on themselves. I was lying every time. But do you know what I realized just about 10 days ago?
I'm taking time away from having a relationship. I fell too fast. What's missing, that that happened so quickly, and hurt me so much?
I'm taking time off. And I'm rediscovering what I love about myself; dusting off the things that make me happy. I didn't say I'm taking time off from dating, though. I think an integral part of discovering myself is meeting new people, and seeing what new friends have to offer.
But I'm not expecting anything, and not planning for anything, except where I am going and what I want from life. "Life" is such a big word. What do I want for tonight? Or tomorrow?
There's real beauty in that, and I guess I feel a little freedom - for as long as it lasts because after all, I'm human, and I'm fallible.
Humor & The Sad Thing
I finally did it! I looked back on Bob's odd behavior, and tried to diagnose it with Emali, and I actually laughed at it! I laughed out loud, a lot. It really was the oddest "dump" I've ever had ( I know that sounds gross, but you know what I mean. POO)
But looking back at it, whatever happened wasn't my fault, and while there's a major tender spot there, some of it was downright funny. Such as?
He helped me move my super heavy, solid oak furniture in the pitch darkness. He put up my refugee dog and myself. He said, often "We have all the time in the world". (That one still hurts - I believed him.) He bent over backwards. He had a couple interesting slips of the tongue. I thought all of it was adorable, and took very little of it seriously.
But why do all these things to then dump me by silent treatment?! Oh well. I got a coffee mug out of it.
It's a pimpy coffee mug, too. And if he wants it back, he knows where to get it - with the cost of an explanation, while I sit, bemused like the Godfather. I may even stuff some cotton balls in my cheeks for effect - don't put it past me, my friends.
Even though it's now laughable, and I've gotten to the "big picture" of it all, I flipped through my e mail today, and there was a photo of him, wearing a tie I love. It hurt. And the sad thing is, my door really is open still. I'm not sure what the ratio of curiosity is to the fact that I care a lot about him - but I'm willing to rip off the band-aid in order to let him in again.
Meh. It is what it is.
But looking back at it, whatever happened wasn't my fault, and while there's a major tender spot there, some of it was downright funny. Such as?
He helped me move my super heavy, solid oak furniture in the pitch darkness. He put up my refugee dog and myself. He said, often "We have all the time in the world". (That one still hurts - I believed him.) He bent over backwards. He had a couple interesting slips of the tongue. I thought all of it was adorable, and took very little of it seriously.
But why do all these things to then dump me by silent treatment?! Oh well. I got a coffee mug out of it.
It's a pimpy coffee mug, too. And if he wants it back, he knows where to get it - with the cost of an explanation, while I sit, bemused like the Godfather. I may even stuff some cotton balls in my cheeks for effect - don't put it past me, my friends.
Even though it's now laughable, and I've gotten to the "big picture" of it all, I flipped through my e mail today, and there was a photo of him, wearing a tie I love. It hurt. And the sad thing is, my door really is open still. I'm not sure what the ratio of curiosity is to the fact that I care a lot about him - but I'm willing to rip off the band-aid in order to let him in again.
Meh. It is what it is.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Connections
I've been feeling very homesick these past few days. And I swear, this is the last time I'll mention it - it's because I got dumped.
Ok, to clarify: it wasn't a "boyfriend/girlfriend" relationship, but it was headed that way in my opinion. So I guess it's the abrupt end to the beautiful possibilities that has my head spun around so hard. Regardless, suddenly being lonely has friends & family coming out of the woodwork to comfort and entertain me. Problem is, they're mostly back home in Indiana.
This morning I was so homesick, tears kept threatening. But I swear I'm tired of crying. I need to connect with this city, and make it an anchor. I can't keep idealizing "home" as this 22-hour away place. I mean to say, it will always be home, but God I'm so wistful about it when I'm stressed.
I have resolved to connect more with Austin, and the people in it. The Long Center has some sort of writers' workshop; I have a membership to a kick-ass gym; I work downtown. What the hell am I crying about? (Don't worry, I won't re-cap for you).
I need to buck up, go out and meet people. While a large part of me wants to say that, and charge back to my apartment, I am going to meet a new friend at Town Lake for some dog walking and coffee. It's a brave new day for our little soldier. ;) Who even cares about tomorrow?
Ok, to clarify: it wasn't a "boyfriend/girlfriend" relationship, but it was headed that way in my opinion. So I guess it's the abrupt end to the beautiful possibilities that has my head spun around so hard. Regardless, suddenly being lonely has friends & family coming out of the woodwork to comfort and entertain me. Problem is, they're mostly back home in Indiana.
This morning I was so homesick, tears kept threatening. But I swear I'm tired of crying. I need to connect with this city, and make it an anchor. I can't keep idealizing "home" as this 22-hour away place. I mean to say, it will always be home, but God I'm so wistful about it when I'm stressed.
I have resolved to connect more with Austin, and the people in it. The Long Center has some sort of writers' workshop; I have a membership to a kick-ass gym; I work downtown. What the hell am I crying about? (Don't worry, I won't re-cap for you).
I need to buck up, go out and meet people. While a large part of me wants to say that, and charge back to my apartment, I am going to meet a new friend at Town Lake for some dog walking and coffee. It's a brave new day for our little soldier. ;) Who even cares about tomorrow?
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