Say Thanks to our Troops
November 23, 2009
November 22, 2009
Discouraged by Love - Rumi
Are you fleeing from Love because of a single humiliation?
What do you know of Love except the name?
Love has a hundred forms of pride and disdain,
and is gained by a hundred means of persuasion.
Since Love is loyal, it purchases one who is loyal:
it has no interest in a disloyal companion.
The human being resembles a tree; its root is a covenant with God:
that root must be cherished with all one's might.
A weak covenant is a rotten root, without grace or fruit.
Though the boughs and leaves of the date palm are green,
greenness brings no benefit if the root is corrupt.
If a branch is without green leaves, yet has a good root,
a hundred leaves will put forth their hands in the end.
What do you know of Love except the name?
Love has a hundred forms of pride and disdain,
and is gained by a hundred means of persuasion.
Since Love is loyal, it purchases one who is loyal:
it has no interest in a disloyal companion.
The human being resembles a tree; its root is a covenant with God:
that root must be cherished with all one's might.
A weak covenant is a rotten root, without grace or fruit.
Though the boughs and leaves of the date palm are green,
greenness brings no benefit if the root is corrupt.
If a branch is without green leaves, yet has a good root,
a hundred leaves will put forth their hands in the end.
Let These Be Your Desires - Kahlil Gibran
Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself
But if your love and must needs have desires,
Let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook
That sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart
And give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer
For the beloved in your heart
And a song of praise upon your lips.
But if your love and must needs have desires,
Let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook
That sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart
And give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer
For the beloved in your heart
And a song of praise upon your lips.
November 21, 2009
Making a Deal with God
It doesn't hurt me. Do you want to feel how it feels?Do you want to know, Know that it doesn't hurt me? Do you want to hear about the deal that I'm making? YOU It's you and me. And if I only could, I'd make a deal with God, And I'd get him to swap our places, Be running up that road, Be running up that hill, Be running up that building. If I only could You don't want to hurt me, But see how deep the bullet lies. Unaware, I'm tearing you asunder. There is thunder in our hearts. Is there so much hate for the ones who love? Tell me we both matter, don't we? You, It's you and me, It's you and me Who won't be unhappy. And if I only could, I'd make a deal with God, And I'd get him to swap our places Be running up that road, Be running up that hill, Be running up that building. If I only could YOU It's you and me, It's you and me who won't be unhappy. Come on baby, Come on darling Let me steal this moment from you now Come on angel, Come on, come on darlin' Let's exchange the experience... And if I only could I'd make a deal with God And I'd get him to swap our places Be running up that road Be running up that hill With no problem ~ kate bush ~ [baby you won't ever know what you left behind] |
Complicate Me
Because I can't just keep it simple; because if there is a can of worms somewhere, you can bet I will open it; because if there are thoughts I have that have gone unexpressed I will indeed spill them eventually; because I can never just let things rest, I HAVE to poke the sleeping alligator.
After the bizarre events of the last few months, I really thought I was going to go on strike and just give up on men for awhile. In fact, most of my friends have advised me as such and I thought that was a good idea....for about 24 hours.
Then I got real with myself.
I am not the kind of woman who goes on strike from men for very long, even if it seems like a good idea. It's just not me. There is something to be said for having some time and space to oneself, but that is when I find someone simple who won't complicate me. I know a few guys that I see from time to time who fit that description so that covers it.
Then, there is the guy I've taken to calling "Afghaniman."
Have you ever met someone that you tuned into so well that it was almost a little scary? Someone who seemed so compatible especially physically, that you were drawn to so powerfully that it was almost impossible to control? This is scary stuff coming out of my mouth because I'm powerfully drawn to several people and my sex drive is probably worse than a typical 18 year old boy. But that is another attractive quality about this man: my intense physicality doesn't scare him; in fact, he seems to enjoy it! That is RARE!
In the past my physical intensity has scared men away. Some men mistakenly think I am in love with them because I am powerfully drawn to them physically; others are just not up to the challenge of a woman like me who, in addition to being a physical person in general, is an intensely physical woman who is in her sexual prime. There has hardly been a day that's gone by in the past year that I could say I felt sexually satisfied. I could count those times on MAYBE two hands. Maybe.
So, to meet a man who seems not only CAPABLE of that challenge, but who is EAGER for it, who welcomes it...WELL that is a man worth my time. That man is priceless.
And now Afghaniman is back from Afghanistan.....
This is a shitty time in my life to get involved in any way with someone new. I'm a little twisted up from the past weeks and though I'm hoping my head will get straightened out pretty quickly, I don't feel great dragging someone new into that complicated mess. I also don't think it's smart to allow myself to get tied up in someone else's stuff.
I don't care.
If we can work something out and the stars align properly and whatever else, I'll forge ahead with this anyway because I FUCKING WANT TO. Because he is unique and worthwhile. Because I want to have the experience of him. Because I am seizing the day and grabbing opportunity as it presents itself. Because I FUCKING WANT TO. There. How's that?
Otherwise, I'm untangling my life and trying to make things less complicated.
But YOU....YOU are welcome into my life; I want you to complicate me....
After the bizarre events of the last few months, I really thought I was going to go on strike and just give up on men for awhile. In fact, most of my friends have advised me as such and I thought that was a good idea....for about 24 hours.
Then I got real with myself.
I am not the kind of woman who goes on strike from men for very long, even if it seems like a good idea. It's just not me. There is something to be said for having some time and space to oneself, but that is when I find someone simple who won't complicate me. I know a few guys that I see from time to time who fit that description so that covers it.
Then, there is the guy I've taken to calling "Afghaniman."
Have you ever met someone that you tuned into so well that it was almost a little scary? Someone who seemed so compatible especially physically, that you were drawn to so powerfully that it was almost impossible to control? This is scary stuff coming out of my mouth because I'm powerfully drawn to several people and my sex drive is probably worse than a typical 18 year old boy. But that is another attractive quality about this man: my intense physicality doesn't scare him; in fact, he seems to enjoy it! That is RARE!
In the past my physical intensity has scared men away. Some men mistakenly think I am in love with them because I am powerfully drawn to them physically; others are just not up to the challenge of a woman like me who, in addition to being a physical person in general, is an intensely physical woman who is in her sexual prime. There has hardly been a day that's gone by in the past year that I could say I felt sexually satisfied. I could count those times on MAYBE two hands. Maybe.
So, to meet a man who seems not only CAPABLE of that challenge, but who is EAGER for it, who welcomes it...WELL that is a man worth my time. That man is priceless.
And now Afghaniman is back from Afghanistan.....
This is a shitty time in my life to get involved in any way with someone new. I'm a little twisted up from the past weeks and though I'm hoping my head will get straightened out pretty quickly, I don't feel great dragging someone new into that complicated mess. I also don't think it's smart to allow myself to get tied up in someone else's stuff.
I don't care.
If we can work something out and the stars align properly and whatever else, I'll forge ahead with this anyway because I FUCKING WANT TO. Because he is unique and worthwhile. Because I want to have the experience of him. Because I am seizing the day and grabbing opportunity as it presents itself. Because I FUCKING WANT TO. There. How's that?
Otherwise, I'm untangling my life and trying to make things less complicated.
But YOU....YOU are welcome into my life; I want you to complicate me....
HUNGRY FOR YOU
In touch with the ground
I'm on the hunt I'm after you
Smell like I sound I'm lost in a crowd.
And I'm hungry like the wolf.
Straddle the line in discord and rhyme
I'm on the hunt I'm after you.
Mouth is alive with juices like wine
And I'm hungry like the wolf
~Duran Duran~
BACK in the driver's seat, I feel weak no more. Instead, I am feeling feisty and strong, like a hunter ready to pounce.
I do not hunt idly or without a target in mind. I make slow, steady progress toward a goal, which is YOU.
Nothing will satisfy this hunger until I have you. I can try to tame it, try to control it, try to distract it, but in the end it will overtake everything and everyone else I meet. YOU are the target of my deepest desires.
My gait is slow, my approach is patient; I will wait until you are within striking distance and then I will POUNCE, taking you down with a singular focus, letting everything else fade to black as I take you as my own....even if only for a brief moment in time....
Funny Kids
My daughter's words this morning when she spied the Victoria's Secret catalog peeking out of the pile of mail:
"Why is it called 'Victoria's SECRET'? It's no secret, Mom. You can see everything!"
Out of the mouths of babes...
"Why is it called 'Victoria's SECRET'? It's no secret, Mom. You can see everything!"
Out of the mouths of babes...
David
I'm in the dark, I'd like to read his mind
But I'm frightened of the things I might find
Oh, there must be something he's thinking of
to tear him away
When I tell him that I'm falling in love
why does he say...
Hush hush,
keep it down now,
voices carry
I try so hard not to get upset
Because I know all the trouble I'll get
Oh, he tells me tears are something to hide
and something to fear
And I try so hard to keep it inside
so no one can hear
Hush hush,
keep it down now,
voices carry
He wants me, but only part of the time
He wants me, if he can keep me in line
Hush hush,
keep it down now,
voices carry
Voices carry
Hush hush,
voices carry
Til Tuesday ~ Voices Carry
But I'm frightened of the things I might find
Oh, there must be something he's thinking of
to tear him away
When I tell him that I'm falling in love
why does he say...
Hush hush,
keep it down now,
voices carry
I try so hard not to get upset
Because I know all the trouble I'll get
Oh, he tells me tears are something to hide
and something to fear
And I try so hard to keep it inside
so no one can hear
Hush hush,
keep it down now,
voices carry
He wants me, but only part of the time
He wants me, if he can keep me in line
Hush hush,
keep it down now,
voices carry
Voices carry
Hush hush,
voices carry
Til Tuesday ~ Voices Carry
Burn for You
YOU
you know who you are...
my singular pleasure, my lingering fantasy,
start the heat rising
be near me.
come close, close to me
let me fill my body with
the sweet aroma of your presence...
press your mouth on me,
hard, harder.
burn for me, baby.
want me.
my passion for you knows no boundaries.
impale me,
ruin me for anyone else.
i am open, i am yours.
take from me whatever you want.
to you i submit.
to you i surrender.
perhaps...
why this fantasy won't die...
only you can open me.
i trust you.
make me freefall.
I know you'll catch me.
you know who you are...
my singular pleasure, my lingering fantasy,
start the heat rising
be near me.
come close, close to me
let me fill my body with
the sweet aroma of your presence...
press your mouth on me,
hard, harder.
burn for me, baby.
want me.
my passion for you knows no boundaries.
impale me,
ruin me for anyone else.
i am open, i am yours.
take from me whatever you want.
to you i submit.
to you i surrender.
perhaps...
why this fantasy won't die...
only you can open me.
i trust you.
make me freefall.
I know you'll catch me.
November 19, 2009
Reflections on 'Becoming the Memory'
"Do you think you've ever touched a person's life? Their Soul? Their Essence?
"Becoming the Memory"
Do you think that as a lover, they remember you the way you touch their body, your warm embrace, your passion?
Can they remember the way you smell when lying next to them in bed after hours of sintilating sex?
Will they remember that you adored them outside of the bedroom, you told them they were beautiful, that they made you laugh more than anyone you've met before?
If so, they will remember letting you go just as much, as time passes by, regretting for the rest of their lives, a 'unison' disappears like a thief into the night,
But your memory remains, pure and unbroken, this is the greatest gift you can leave for a former lover.
Afterall, if we are not born into their memory, did we even exist at all?"
~from my Blogger friend YourPassionUK~
MY REPLY:
I am breathless reading this. Usually, my thinking is the other way around....remembering those who have left an impression on me. I forget that perhaps I have left my own impression on others. We never really know how others perceive us, do we? What a gift it would be, to hear from lovers of the past and know you were still in their thoughts, even just sometimes.... I wish I knew that I meant SOMETHING to someone. Men hold tight to that information don't they?
"Becoming the Memory"
Do you think that as a lover, they remember you the way you touch their body, your warm embrace, your passion?
Can they remember the way you smell when lying next to them in bed after hours of sintilating sex?
Will they remember that you adored them outside of the bedroom, you told them they were beautiful, that they made you laugh more than anyone you've met before?
If so, they will remember letting you go just as much, as time passes by, regretting for the rest of their lives, a 'unison' disappears like a thief into the night,
But your memory remains, pure and unbroken, this is the greatest gift you can leave for a former lover.
Afterall, if we are not born into their memory, did we even exist at all?"
~from my Blogger friend YourPassionUK~
MY REPLY:
I am breathless reading this. Usually, my thinking is the other way around....remembering those who have left an impression on me. I forget that perhaps I have left my own impression on others. We never really know how others perceive us, do we? What a gift it would be, to hear from lovers of the past and know you were still in their thoughts, even just sometimes.... I wish I knew that I meant SOMETHING to someone. Men hold tight to that information don't they?
November 17, 2009
Getting Closure
Tonight I've been feeling rather heroic in that I might have finally closed the door on this bullshit annoying crap with D. I don't even feel like using his name anymore because he shares the same name with someone who is much more spectacular than he is, so I'd rather not confuse the issue.
Generally speaking, feelings don't just turn off with a switch and my emotions are a testament to that fact. Just when I think I have a handle on something *BOOM* something happens and I am leaking emotions out from where I thought a door had closed. Tonight I did something that looks stupid on the surface, but in reality provided that kind of "closure" that people generally seek when a relationship ends; I read back over all of our emails, IMs and text messages - yes I kept them ALL.
But they actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
When you're in the middle of an argument and the emotions are running high, it's harder to get a larger perspective of things that are said.The upside of IM is that you have a transcript of all of it to review later when you're cooled down. As I read through Mr. Wonderful's messages, I realized what a complete and total TOOL he was. There were things he said to me that I am in AWE that I didn't hand him his ass and show him the door.
What this did for me, though, is show me that things were not the rose garden that I glamorized. Things never really are. We just dress our memories the way we would like them to be. I'm so glad I went back and opened up the reality of what actually WAS with him because it was moody, short-tempered, cynical, selfish and just plain rude sometimes. His moments of actual sincere kindness were hard to find. Maybe that's why I lived for them so much, because when they came they were like water to someone crawling through the desert.
At some point, I wrote a blog about difficult men, expounding on their merits. Now I realize that I was a total IDIOT. A difficult man is just DIFFICULT. Nothing more.
I think it's time to get honest with myself about D. and what exactly rocked me so hard about this guy. This is raw, so bear with me, but it needs exploration and exposition in order for me to just boot it's ugly ass out the door.
One of David's biggest fears was that I only wanted him for sex. He made the observation that we spent an AWFUL lot of time talking about sex, which we did. I made the observation that, for an aggressive, athletic, football-playing man, he was awfully prudish. That wasn't popular. But in reality, a large part of his fear was, in fact, true. I was totally enamored of his body, of his sex appeal, of the way he looked and unfortunately that was imbued with overwhelming desire that was decades old. I can still remember 16-year-old D., at six feet tall, wearing his football uniform. I claim no immunity from being swept away by the cliche, the hot-looking captain of the football team, straight-A student, and all-around nice guy. Yep, as a teenager he had it ALL. He could have had me at the drop of a hat, all he needed to do was say something.
In any case, piling all of that history on top of present-day insanity didn't do me any good at all in the "calming down" department. I could have possibly accompanied him on a "real" relationship, but part of me was still too hung up on fucking him, and part of me felt like I had won some sort of prize. That's sick, I know. I can only guess when there is that kind of longing and it happens in such a developmental stage of life, it becomes sort of a permanent feature of your life. It would explain why my heart did a little dance when I heard from him the first time. In fact, I don't think it was my heart that was dancing, I think the dancing was going on much lower down.
So I guess he WAS right. I wasn't really crazy about him after all, I just wanted to fuck him, and fuck him some more. And if we finished fucking, then I would be happy to fuck him again.
The unfortunate part of it is that I developed feelings for him. Strong ones. But how that all breaks down I have no idea, which feelings were sexual, which were loving. I don't know. All I know is I wasn't happy unless he was in my bed or I was in his. I enjoyed spending time with him, but really I just wanted to fuck him. And I wanted to retain the memory of having fucked him. He, in my mind, was always the one that got away. Sometimes I still close my eyes and hear my mind mutter, "I can't believe I fucked D." I had him so built up in my memory that I was in perpetual awe of him.
That's not love, that's raw, primal lust. D. was right, I wanted him so much because I was so attracted to him; unfortunately, I fell in love in the process. Lucky for me he was so nasty to me; it broke the spell he had me under. Maybe now that I no longer see him as exuding some golden glow, I will finally, finally be able to make an honest effort at moving forward.
Generally speaking, feelings don't just turn off with a switch and my emotions are a testament to that fact. Just when I think I have a handle on something *BOOM* something happens and I am leaking emotions out from where I thought a door had closed. Tonight I did something that looks stupid on the surface, but in reality provided that kind of "closure" that people generally seek when a relationship ends; I read back over all of our emails, IMs and text messages - yes I kept them ALL.
But they actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise.
When you're in the middle of an argument and the emotions are running high, it's harder to get a larger perspective of things that are said.The upside of IM is that you have a transcript of all of it to review later when you're cooled down. As I read through Mr. Wonderful's messages, I realized what a complete and total TOOL he was. There were things he said to me that I am in AWE that I didn't hand him his ass and show him the door.
What this did for me, though, is show me that things were not the rose garden that I glamorized. Things never really are. We just dress our memories the way we would like them to be. I'm so glad I went back and opened up the reality of what actually WAS with him because it was moody, short-tempered, cynical, selfish and just plain rude sometimes. His moments of actual sincere kindness were hard to find. Maybe that's why I lived for them so much, because when they came they were like water to someone crawling through the desert.
At some point, I wrote a blog about difficult men, expounding on their merits. Now I realize that I was a total IDIOT. A difficult man is just DIFFICULT. Nothing more.
I think it's time to get honest with myself about D. and what exactly rocked me so hard about this guy. This is raw, so bear with me, but it needs exploration and exposition in order for me to just boot it's ugly ass out the door.
One of David's biggest fears was that I only wanted him for sex. He made the observation that we spent an AWFUL lot of time talking about sex, which we did. I made the observation that, for an aggressive, athletic, football-playing man, he was awfully prudish. That wasn't popular. But in reality, a large part of his fear was, in fact, true. I was totally enamored of his body, of his sex appeal, of the way he looked and unfortunately that was imbued with overwhelming desire that was decades old. I can still remember 16-year-old D., at six feet tall, wearing his football uniform. I claim no immunity from being swept away by the cliche, the hot-looking captain of the football team, straight-A student, and all-around nice guy. Yep, as a teenager he had it ALL. He could have had me at the drop of a hat, all he needed to do was say something.
In any case, piling all of that history on top of present-day insanity didn't do me any good at all in the "calming down" department. I could have possibly accompanied him on a "real" relationship, but part of me was still too hung up on fucking him, and part of me felt like I had won some sort of prize. That's sick, I know. I can only guess when there is that kind of longing and it happens in such a developmental stage of life, it becomes sort of a permanent feature of your life. It would explain why my heart did a little dance when I heard from him the first time. In fact, I don't think it was my heart that was dancing, I think the dancing was going on much lower down.
So I guess he WAS right. I wasn't really crazy about him after all, I just wanted to fuck him, and fuck him some more. And if we finished fucking, then I would be happy to fuck him again.
The unfortunate part of it is that I developed feelings for him. Strong ones. But how that all breaks down I have no idea, which feelings were sexual, which were loving. I don't know. All I know is I wasn't happy unless he was in my bed or I was in his. I enjoyed spending time with him, but really I just wanted to fuck him. And I wanted to retain the memory of having fucked him. He, in my mind, was always the one that got away. Sometimes I still close my eyes and hear my mind mutter, "I can't believe I fucked D." I had him so built up in my memory that I was in perpetual awe of him.
That's not love, that's raw, primal lust. D. was right, I wanted him so much because I was so attracted to him; unfortunately, I fell in love in the process. Lucky for me he was so nasty to me; it broke the spell he had me under. Maybe now that I no longer see him as exuding some golden glow, I will finally, finally be able to make an honest effort at moving forward.
November 16, 2009
Why You Are an Asshole
What makes a man an asshole? There are so many assholes out there that it might be hard to narrow down their characteristics. But in my experience and the experience of authors/psychologists Barry Duncan and Joseph Rock, the following characteristics are things that most, if not all assholes have in common:
1. Insensitivity to their partners. It doesn't seem like much to ask to pay attention to what a woman likes and dislikes, and what makes her feel good or hurts her. These men don't.
2. Selfishness. The other key to a decent relationship is the ability to put the other person's needs, wants and desires first a reasonable proportion of the time. These men lack that ability.
3. Inability to take responsibility for themselves. When things go wrong between two people, both are at fault. These men either don't recognize their contributions or contend they can't help what they do. Then they figure out a way to blame you.
4. Making their partner's lives harder not easier. One reason people get into relationships is to have someone to share things with and lighten life's burdens. These men add to those burdens in many different ways.
5. Competition, not cooperation. Ideally, a relationship involves sharing and working together. These men compete as if winning and being right are more important than getting along.
6. The need to control. The best relationships occur between equals who deal with each other out of mutual respect and a division of responsibilities. These men need to call all the shots.
Well here's the big news flash - for me at least. Every exclusive relationship I've ever had has been with an ASSHOLE. What a relief! And here I thought it was just me.
Oh wait. Part of it IS me.
What I need now is:
a) to meet some men who are NOT assholes and
b) to stop choosing to spend so much time on men who ARE assholes.
Two extreme cases in point: my EX-HUSBAND and D.
I wish I understood the allure of the asshole. Are women such as a gender that we seek to CHANGE men like this? Do we revel in the idea of taming the wild stallion? I really have no aspirations like this, I'm just stuck in a horrible rut. As such, I've let some fantastic men walk out of my life. I've become a slave to some delusional idea of "soulmate" that I don't think exists. I resist turning to misandrony as a default after to many crushing disappointments, but it's becoming harder and harder. There is that old bumper sticker that says: "The more men I meet, the more I like my dogs." Well, given that even though I adore my dogs, they have pro bably taken years off my life just in worrying about them running away, and more recently with Champ eating lipstick, chocolate and other toxic substances (only to be totally fine later) - well, I STILL prefer my dogs at this point. Granted I'm not into the beast thing ---wouldn't that be an Appalachian Nightmare! - but they otherwise make me smile. Can't say that for any man lately.
Yes, I'm lumping all of you of the male gender into a herd and with good reason.
Prove me wrong. I dare you. Don't argue with me or try to lawyer your way through the logic; I've already come to my conclusion. I want to see physical evidence that men are NOT assholes. Actions speak louder than words.
I DARE SOMEONE TO PROVE ME WRONG!
1. Insensitivity to their partners. It doesn't seem like much to ask to pay attention to what a woman likes and dislikes, and what makes her feel good or hurts her. These men don't.
2. Selfishness. The other key to a decent relationship is the ability to put the other person's needs, wants and desires first a reasonable proportion of the time. These men lack that ability.
3. Inability to take responsibility for themselves. When things go wrong between two people, both are at fault. These men either don't recognize their contributions or contend they can't help what they do. Then they figure out a way to blame you.
4. Making their partner's lives harder not easier. One reason people get into relationships is to have someone to share things with and lighten life's burdens. These men add to those burdens in many different ways.
5. Competition, not cooperation. Ideally, a relationship involves sharing and working together. These men compete as if winning and being right are more important than getting along.
6. The need to control. The best relationships occur between equals who deal with each other out of mutual respect and a division of responsibilities. These men need to call all the shots.
Well here's the big news flash - for me at least. Every exclusive relationship I've ever had has been with an ASSHOLE. What a relief! And here I thought it was just me.
Oh wait. Part of it IS me.
What I need now is:
a) to meet some men who are NOT assholes and
b) to stop choosing to spend so much time on men who ARE assholes.
Two extreme cases in point: my EX-HUSBAND and D.
I wish I understood the allure of the asshole. Are women such as a gender that we seek to CHANGE men like this? Do we revel in the idea of taming the wild stallion? I really have no aspirations like this, I'm just stuck in a horrible rut. As such, I've let some fantastic men walk out of my life. I've become a slave to some delusional idea of "soulmate" that I don't think exists. I resist turning to misandrony as a default after to many crushing disappointments, but it's becoming harder and harder. There is that old bumper sticker that says: "The more men I meet, the more I like my dogs." Well, given that even though I adore my dogs, they have pro bably taken years off my life just in worrying about them running away, and more recently with Champ eating lipstick, chocolate and other toxic substances (only to be totally fine later) - well, I STILL prefer my dogs at this point. Granted I'm not into the beast thing ---wouldn't that be an Appalachian Nightmare! - but they otherwise make me smile. Can't say that for any man lately.
Yes, I'm lumping all of you of the male gender into a herd and with good reason.
Prove me wrong. I dare you. Don't argue with me or try to lawyer your way through the logic; I've already come to my conclusion. I want to see physical evidence that men are NOT assholes. Actions speak louder than words.
I DARE SOMEONE TO PROVE ME WRONG!
November 13, 2009
Unbidden Visions
There is something clearly VERY wrong with me that I cannot get over this man. WTF? We didn't spend that much time together. Why am I so wound around his finger? WTF? He could tell me to do just about anything and I'd do it. Well, I mean, sorta ;)
Something happened on a deeper level. That's all I can say to account for it. When I think about him, I can envision him in my larger life, as part of me, part of everything I do. I can picture us in years to come, still feeling happy together. WTF? Where is this coming from? I have never done that! In fact, I specialize in not looking ahead!!! I've been a "live in the moment" kind of woman over this last year or so. But I'll be doing something mundane, like dishes or something, and all of a sudden an unbidden image pops into my head, of him and me together doing something. I picture him being sick or, god forbid, in a hospital and I can see myself there. I picture myself sick and I can see him there. I picture being old and I see him there. I picture stupid shit, like raking leaves or just laying around watching tv and I see him there. I see him with my kids, I see him in my bed, in my house, in my car. I can picture him in every part of my life now and years from now. WTF? Where is this coming from?????
I must be hallucinating or need medication or something.
What the fuck is WRONG with me??????????????????
Something happened on a deeper level. That's all I can say to account for it. When I think about him, I can envision him in my larger life, as part of me, part of everything I do. I can picture us in years to come, still feeling happy together. WTF? Where is this coming from? I have never done that! In fact, I specialize in not looking ahead!!! I've been a "live in the moment" kind of woman over this last year or so. But I'll be doing something mundane, like dishes or something, and all of a sudden an unbidden image pops into my head, of him and me together doing something. I picture him being sick or, god forbid, in a hospital and I can see myself there. I picture myself sick and I can see him there. I picture being old and I see him there. I picture stupid shit, like raking leaves or just laying around watching tv and I see him there. I see him with my kids, I see him in my bed, in my house, in my car. I can picture him in every part of my life now and years from now. WTF? Where is this coming from?????
I must be hallucinating or need medication or something.
What the fuck is WRONG with me??????????????????
November 12, 2009
When Smart Women Get Stupid
What the fuck was I thinking sending this to D? OMG, I should be shot through the head for doing something this stupid. Like I haven't annoyed the shit out of him already.....It makes me so sad. What is wrong with me? Why can't I just get over this? I've been asked out on dates, friends I used to hook up with have been asking me when I'm coming out of hibernation, but I can't do it. I only want HIM. I don't want anyone else. I feel like I found someone so wonderful that I don't want anyone but him, like he's a missing part of me that I discovered. I can't believe I scared him off. It makes me feel totally unlovable, useless and retarded.
Then again, when I send him emails like this, it's no wonder. I mean, I really feel this way about him. But did I need to assault him with it? No wonder he ran for the hills....I am too exuberant. But I'm not like this all the time. I am not usually so ridiculous or overly dramatically poetic. I just fell so hard for him, I'm still so in love with him. When you meet someone whom you feel so connected to, who makes you feel so many things, it's hard to then just turn it OFF. Besides, it was all so confusing, first he's in, then he's out, then he's not sure, then he's out again, then in again. Then he says, well not now but maybe another time. I mean WTF???? Yet still I sit here pining for him. This is insane!!! I'd give anything, almost anything, to be able to move on and stop this hurting. Like from Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.....almost. I don't want to forget, though. I can't. Those few moments sustain me in some way. I wish I had words to explain how or why but I don't. I don't have anything.
I closed my eyes and jumped, I fell with the exhilaration of a thousand voices singing in joy, exhilaration in finding you, every minute I spent with you imbued with the joy of life. You to me are magic, you are the potential I see in myself and in you, awakening my inner knowledge and challenging me to be the best ME I can be. I could feel in you the pull to be more, the challenge to rise above myself and grow. I know this for certain, I feel it in the deepest place inside of me. I have let go of this, of you, so that you do not feel me strangling you to death for your beauty needs to flourish. I've made so many, many mistakes but through them I have learned that I want YOU and YOU ONLY, I want you so badly in my life. Everything about you feels like home. If only you could let me in to you, if you could only accept me, you would feel love flowing, unrestrained, every moment that you breathe, feel it pouring over you and into you, embracing you in all you do. I seek only to accept you and appreciate you for the man that you are; I have no plans for you, no desire to change you or fix you or make you into a copy of myself. You are complete the way you are, beautiful, amazing, and full of God's promise.
This is who I am, a lover of life, of experience, and I refuse to back away from the challenge and intensity of life. I also know myself well enough to know when to focus my energy and YOU draw everything that I am into a single, brilliant point of light. I don't care if it sounds stupid, I don't care if it makes no sense. I don't care who judges me or thinks I am crazy for falling in love so hard the way I have with you. This is my reality and every cell in my body is crying out for you. Nothing else matters to me without you here to share it; without you the luster and glow is gone from my life. But you are worth every ounce of pain, every tear, every moment of sadness I have spent missing you and gazing, empty, at the hole you've left in my life. It was all worth it just to be with you.
Eventually I will move on. But no one will ever replace you.
November 10, 2009
Playing With Fire
This weekend I put him to work. I made him clean out my garage. It's not as mean as it sounds. He had about 20 containers and boxes full of junk in there stacked into this defensive pyramid so that I couldn't fit my car in there no matter how I arranged them. With the holidays coming and undoubtedly more "stuff", I felt the time had come for him to take responsibility for his stuff. In any case, he did so, and in the process ended up cleaning and rearranging the entire garage, making sure I could get my car in there, which I thought was very nice. In return, I made him dinner, massive barbecue pork ribs, one of his favorites. So there we were, the four of us sitting down to dinner as a "family" which is something that hasn't happened in a long time. The kids took it in stride and didn't seem to have any issues one way or the other, either thinking this "meant" something or thinking it was dangerous having us together in the same room. I guess we've all come a long way.
It did make me wonder, however, about the nature of marriage. So many of the people I know who got married when we did (1993) are either divorcing, are unhappy or are actively engaged in hidden pursuits 'on the side.' I suppose only time will bear out how our children will fare with this divorce as part of their history, but I can't help thinking about how any of this affects kids in general. How does staying together for the sake of the kids really benefit them? If the ex and I had stayed married, we could have been eating dinner as a family (for example) for the past two years. But at what cost?
I am certain that, without the divorce, he and I could never have gotten to the point where we are finally civil to one another. I've realized that this civility only comes to me after thrashing through a lot of pain and finally letting it go because it was no longer my concern. There are a lot of things that he does that piss me off, which is normal in any relationship; the key is that as an ex, those things are no longer really my concern. Unless his actions affect our children, what he does is no longer my concern. THAT is liberating!
The problem with staying married "for the kids" is that you can't really sever that connection to your spouse either mentally or emotionally because you are a) still married and b) still living under the same roof. I know people who do this and believe me, their concerns with their spouse are still deeply rooted. I can't say that anymore.
When the ex was ready to leave after dinner the other night, I could tell he was sort of hovering around as if he expected to kiss me. That was SO not going to happen and I gave off as many non-verbal signals as I could muster to let him know that. After he left, I did honestly find myself wondering, albeit briefly, if we did the right thing. Were we still a good couple? It had been such a good day....
Then I heard his engine start and saw his truck drive off and I felt the tension suddenly release from my body, and not happy, sexy tension, just plain, old, withering stress. I was flooded with relief.
Oh yes. We have SO done the right thing.
November 7, 2009
STUCK ON YOU
So, as I sit here and contemplate the universe, I realize....
I'm just not ever going to get over you, am I?
I'm just not ever going to get over you, am I?
November 5, 2009
Meeting the Marine
I remember the first time I kissed you, your mouth tasted sweet like coffee and cigarettes. We'd met at the coffee place near my house, even though it was a really long drive for you. And I was still late. You surprised me with your good looks, because I remember seeing another truck in the parking lot and thinking, "Don't be him, don't be him, don't be him!" Instead you came up behind me in line and touched my elbow. You weren't him, you were MUCH better!
We sat outside as the September air allowed, until the wind picked up and whipped my hair into your lit cigarette. We moved inside, to the very back of the cafe. As you talked and looked at my eyes, I remember stroking the hair on your arm. I had no idea we were opening something so huge at that very moment, for that is when I think it all passed between us and it was clear that SOMEthing was about to happen.
We stayed and talked for several hours, too long for people who had recently met, but that trend would continue throughout. We never ran out of things to say, and I remember you making me laugh so hard I almost snorted. I tried hard not to snort because that's just not an attractive noise!
When we finally HAD to leave, you walked me to my car. I watched you walk and admired your body from behind as you lit another cigarette and crossed the parking lot. I watched the way your shirt fell over your collar bone, the way your body looked in your pants, the way you held your head. When we got to the car, you stopped and stared into my eyes in that way that people do when they know they are about to kiss. Everything churned and burned up inside, knowing something amazing was coming. Your lips were so smooth, so full and you kissed me hard but nicely and without being sloppy. I could feel your hands pulling my back in, pressing me against you, my nipples hardening and likely poking into your shirt in an obvious way (I didn't "believe" in bras at that time). The kiss got deeper and deeper, pulling each other closer until there was nowhere left to go. I could feel you getting hard against my leg and I wanted so much to move my hands down your body and cup your ass, pressing you against me. That's when you cupped my ass and pressed me against you! Your hands were vigorous and exploring what they wanted. It was tempting to want to just throw you in the car but we agreed to meet the next day. And then it all began....
We sat outside as the September air allowed, until the wind picked up and whipped my hair into your lit cigarette. We moved inside, to the very back of the cafe. As you talked and looked at my eyes, I remember stroking the hair on your arm. I had no idea we were opening something so huge at that very moment, for that is when I think it all passed between us and it was clear that SOMEthing was about to happen.
We stayed and talked for several hours, too long for people who had recently met, but that trend would continue throughout. We never ran out of things to say, and I remember you making me laugh so hard I almost snorted. I tried hard not to snort because that's just not an attractive noise!
When we finally HAD to leave, you walked me to my car. I watched you walk and admired your body from behind as you lit another cigarette and crossed the parking lot. I watched the way your shirt fell over your collar bone, the way your body looked in your pants, the way you held your head. When we got to the car, you stopped and stared into my eyes in that way that people do when they know they are about to kiss. Everything churned and burned up inside, knowing something amazing was coming. Your lips were so smooth, so full and you kissed me hard but nicely and without being sloppy. I could feel your hands pulling my back in, pressing me against you, my nipples hardening and likely poking into your shirt in an obvious way (I didn't "believe" in bras at that time). The kiss got deeper and deeper, pulling each other closer until there was nowhere left to go. I could feel you getting hard against my leg and I wanted so much to move my hands down your body and cup your ass, pressing you against me. That's when you cupped my ass and pressed me against you! Your hands were vigorous and exploring what they wanted. It was tempting to want to just throw you in the car but we agreed to meet the next day. And then it all began....
November 4, 2009
When Things Fall Apart
After the harsh words have been said, the bell's been rung and can't be undone, after the silence and the anger and the sliver of hope has died down, there is an emptiness that just remains.
Then you discover it.
His shirt.
His books.
These must be wrapped and sent back. No midnight trip to his front porch with a wistful glance at his window; no pitiful note enclosed inside. Just the books and the shirt. No return address, either.
Next, there is the little matter of the digital footprint to take care of, the last remnant of connection.
The Facebook friend....
It gave me hope where none exists.
REMOVE FRIEND.
God that hurt. But it's done.
Yahoo Messenger, the Final Frontier....
I set myself to "permanently appear offline" to him. But I can still see him logging on and off, on and off, day after day. I can read his updates, including all the times he hits the personals pages and how much time he spends playing Mahjong. I can't take anymore, knowing he's sitting RIGHT THERE.....
DELETE
It doesn't have the instant liberation I'd anticipated. Instead, it reduces me to tears. Almost. I swear to god I am not going to shed anymore tears over this man. There is a reason this didn't work out, no matter how much we did care for each other or how much I wanted him....and apparently our history together didn't help hold this together, either. Nothing I did or said made any difference. He just didn't care about me the way I did about him. There. I said it, acknowledged it. Now it's time to let go of it.
Anymore, people can't just break up and be done with it. There is so much lingering crap, most of it online, that has to be dealt with. As we create these nests for ourselves, we create something akin to a trap as we try to later extract ourselves from what we've woven together, both offline and online. Sometimes, I feel like the online presence is even harder to delete than the human.
Tonight was the final step for me, deleting him from messenger. It hurts not to see him listed there anymore.
Just another change as time marches forward. I am marching forward. Sometimes sad. But moving just the same.
Then you discover it.
His shirt.
His books.
These must be wrapped and sent back. No midnight trip to his front porch with a wistful glance at his window; no pitiful note enclosed inside. Just the books and the shirt. No return address, either.
Next, there is the little matter of the digital footprint to take care of, the last remnant of connection.
The Facebook friend....
It gave me hope where none exists.
REMOVE FRIEND.
God that hurt. But it's done.
Yahoo Messenger, the Final Frontier....
I set myself to "permanently appear offline" to him. But I can still see him logging on and off, on and off, day after day. I can read his updates, including all the times he hits the personals pages and how much time he spends playing Mahjong. I can't take anymore, knowing he's sitting RIGHT THERE.....
DELETE
It doesn't have the instant liberation I'd anticipated. Instead, it reduces me to tears. Almost. I swear to god I am not going to shed anymore tears over this man. There is a reason this didn't work out, no matter how much we did care for each other or how much I wanted him....and apparently our history together didn't help hold this together, either. Nothing I did or said made any difference. He just didn't care about me the way I did about him. There. I said it, acknowledged it. Now it's time to let go of it.
Anymore, people can't just break up and be done with it. There is so much lingering crap, most of it online, that has to be dealt with. As we create these nests for ourselves, we create something akin to a trap as we try to later extract ourselves from what we've woven together, both offline and online. Sometimes, I feel like the online presence is even harder to delete than the human.
Tonight was the final step for me, deleting him from messenger. It hurts not to see him listed there anymore.
Just another change as time marches forward. I am marching forward. Sometimes sad. But moving just the same.
Longing and Fulfillment
Life goes on, things have transpired. I have had a wonderful weekend with my children as we've celebrated Halloween. Friends and family were here and I had the opportunity to cook for everyone, which brightens me from the inside. I love to cook and I love to provide for the people I love, it makes me happy. I thrive on it! There was happiness and warmth in my kitchen, around my table, with wonderful smells coming from the pots and the oven. The fireplace crackled all day and all night, the house was lit with candles in every room, glowing and warm. The kids went back and forth trick or treating with their father which went well (for a change) and I admit that maybe my lighter attitude contributes to our relationship being less bitter and easier to deal with.
There is nothing I'm missing, my life feels full and I feel blessed. Yet I can't help feel from time to time that D. brought something beautiful to my life. I no longer have room to make something like that the center of my everything, not now that I've been through what I've been through and that I've found such enjoyment and pleasure from the gifts in my life, friends and family, especially my kids. Sometimes, though, I miss the unique happiness that he brought me. I feel like something true was there. But life doesn't need my help. If something true remained, I wouldn't need to push, it would have happened. So I take a deep breath of acceptance and sigh it out, moving forward not feeling empty, just a pocket of longing, not necessarily for what was but for what will never be.
There is nothing I'm missing, my life feels full and I feel blessed. Yet I can't help feel from time to time that D. brought something beautiful to my life. I no longer have room to make something like that the center of my everything, not now that I've been through what I've been through and that I've found such enjoyment and pleasure from the gifts in my life, friends and family, especially my kids. Sometimes, though, I miss the unique happiness that he brought me. I feel like something true was there. But life doesn't need my help. If something true remained, I wouldn't need to push, it would have happened. So I take a deep breath of acceptance and sigh it out, moving forward not feeling empty, just a pocket of longing, not necessarily for what was but for what will never be.
What I want right now....
is someone that will hold me.
What I want right now
is someone to wrap themselves around me.
What I want right now
is to feel close to someone, warm and safe, intimate and sweet.
What I want right now
is to end this everlasting search for sex and find someone who has a brain,
is to be with someone who asks as many questions about life as I do, who cares enough to listen to me talk endlessly about the things that matter to me,
who knows how to touch me and stroke my skin, to turn me on and make me happy without even removing one piece of my clothing
I want someone I can sleep next to, all day if need be, who is content in just being with me, happy just to hear me breathing, feeling my heartbeat against him.
I wonder if that has happened without my knowledge ever, that anyone ever laid next to me simply content to watch me sleep the way I have watched them, if anyone ever marveled over the sweetness of my face as I dreamed the way I have marveled over them?
I don't want to move, I don't want to dare disturb the universe at this moment. If you have your arms around me, content just to be near me, SHHH, please don't breathe. I am enjoying being with you and enjoying you enjoying me.
This is our moment in time.
Dispatches from Afghanistan
Another phone call from Afghanistan.
Brad got my email about his news item. He had no earthly idea that he had even been photographed, although he seems to have a vague memory of it. He says each day runs together and the only things that set them apart are war‘s oddities or, of course, death.
One of the things I love about Brad is his whacked out sense of humor. He doesn’t care about offending people, he just calls everything as he sees things and how he sees things is unique, unique but painfully astute. Being in Afghanistan is just highlighting that part of him.
He talks often about all the children he meets. In the first few weeks he was there, he was enamored of all these little kids following him and his fellow Marines around while they worked. Then he made several discoveries.
One day as he crossed a corn field, he saw a group of what looked like seven year old boys standing by the road waving to him. He approached them with an open mind, waving and saying hello. As he got closer, he could see they were smiling and apparently talking to him, still waving. When he was close enough to hear, this is what he heard, “As-salamu Fuck You!” Not exactly the traditional greeing “As-salamu alaikum” which means “Peace be upon you.’ Apparently, the presence of so many Americans in the area has colored the speech of the kids.
Brad says he stood there in shock for a minute, unable to figure out what to say. He had been given a mini-course in Pashtu but this bizarre bastardization of Arabic was not something anyone warned him about. He was trying to figure out if this was friendly or not. From the looks on the kids’ faces, it seemed they thought they were conveying something wonderful!
In Brad’s words:
“A wave of sadness washed over me and I couldn’t move or respond for what seemed like minutes but was probably just a few seconds. I felt so sorry for those kids, waving so friendly and nice, probably thinking they had learned some particularly useful phrase in English, all proud of themselves for being able to communicate with this weird-looking enemy. I don’t know. Maybe I’m giving them too much credit, maybe they really were saying ‘Fuck you’ to me. But I don’t think so. I think someone taught that to them, an American I’m sure, just to fuck around with them. That’s just not nice. It makes me so sad. These kids, they’re gonna grow up thinking about the old days when the Marines were walking around their neighborhood and thinking we were so friendly, because we are for the most part. Then they’re gonna realize someone taught them SHIT, that some jackass played a trick on them by teaching them something nasty. It just breaks my heart. It breaks my heart even more than when one of us gets hurt. I dunno. I guess I’m fucked up.”
When he got close enough to really talk to the boys, he realized how dirt poor they were, tattered dirty clothing, skin & hair looking like it hadn’t been washed. He tried to reason that there were a lot of dust storms, even in this relatively populated area, and that everything was so dry and dusty so maybe being dirty was just a daily thing. Still, he wondered about what they did for fun, what they played with. He reached into his rucksack and pulled out a fist full of pens, which they were given just for situations like this. The kids were delighted! They reached out their hands to take as many pens as he could give them. Then a most bizarre thought struck him: did they have any paper to write on? What were they going to do, write on each other?
Within half a minute, that’s exactly what they started to do. The pens were opened and the kids started drawing on themselves and each other. He just shook his head and walked off.
The next day, walking through the same area, Brad encountered the same group of boys, only THIS time they brought more friends. There were about 15 boys of various ages, and at the first sight of Brad they took off after him yelling “PEN!” in Arabic.
Brad’s sense of the absurd kicked in and as he fled as quickly as possible, given all the gear he had on, he couldn’t help but laugh. He laughed after he got in the Humvee, he laughed all the way back to base. The guys in his unit threw stuff at him while they rode in the Humvee, telling him to shut the fuck up, but he couldn’t stop laughing. Finally, when they got back to base, he stripped off layer after sandy layer of 40 pounds of gear. He half-heartedly cleaned his dusty body with a baby wipe, crawled into his sleeping bag, zipped it up around his head and cried.
Brad got my email about his news item. He had no earthly idea that he had even been photographed, although he seems to have a vague memory of it. He says each day runs together and the only things that set them apart are war‘s oddities or, of course, death.
One of the things I love about Brad is his whacked out sense of humor. He doesn’t care about offending people, he just calls everything as he sees things and how he sees things is unique, unique but painfully astute. Being in Afghanistan is just highlighting that part of him.
He talks often about all the children he meets. In the first few weeks he was there, he was enamored of all these little kids following him and his fellow Marines around while they worked. Then he made several discoveries.
One day as he crossed a corn field, he saw a group of what looked like seven year old boys standing by the road waving to him. He approached them with an open mind, waving and saying hello. As he got closer, he could see they were smiling and apparently talking to him, still waving. When he was close enough to hear, this is what he heard, “As-salamu Fuck You!” Not exactly the traditional greeing “As-salamu alaikum” which means “Peace be upon you.’ Apparently, the presence of so many Americans in the area has colored the speech of the kids.
Brad says he stood there in shock for a minute, unable to figure out what to say. He had been given a mini-course in Pashtu but this bizarre bastardization of Arabic was not something anyone warned him about. He was trying to figure out if this was friendly or not. From the looks on the kids’ faces, it seemed they thought they were conveying something wonderful!
In Brad’s words:
“A wave of sadness washed over me and I couldn’t move or respond for what seemed like minutes but was probably just a few seconds. I felt so sorry for those kids, waving so friendly and nice, probably thinking they had learned some particularly useful phrase in English, all proud of themselves for being able to communicate with this weird-looking enemy. I don’t know. Maybe I’m giving them too much credit, maybe they really were saying ‘Fuck you’ to me. But I don’t think so. I think someone taught that to them, an American I’m sure, just to fuck around with them. That’s just not nice. It makes me so sad. These kids, they’re gonna grow up thinking about the old days when the Marines were walking around their neighborhood and thinking we were so friendly, because we are for the most part. Then they’re gonna realize someone taught them SHIT, that some jackass played a trick on them by teaching them something nasty. It just breaks my heart. It breaks my heart even more than when one of us gets hurt. I dunno. I guess I’m fucked up.”
When he got close enough to really talk to the boys, he realized how dirt poor they were, tattered dirty clothing, skin & hair looking like it hadn’t been washed. He tried to reason that there were a lot of dust storms, even in this relatively populated area, and that everything was so dry and dusty so maybe being dirty was just a daily thing. Still, he wondered about what they did for fun, what they played with. He reached into his rucksack and pulled out a fist full of pens, which they were given just for situations like this. The kids were delighted! They reached out their hands to take as many pens as he could give them. Then a most bizarre thought struck him: did they have any paper to write on? What were they going to do, write on each other?
Within half a minute, that’s exactly what they started to do. The pens were opened and the kids started drawing on themselves and each other. He just shook his head and walked off.
The next day, walking through the same area, Brad encountered the same group of boys, only THIS time they brought more friends. There were about 15 boys of various ages, and at the first sight of Brad they took off after him yelling “PEN!” in Arabic.
Brad’s sense of the absurd kicked in and as he fled as quickly as possible, given all the gear he had on, he couldn’t help but laugh. He laughed after he got in the Humvee, he laughed all the way back to base. The guys in his unit threw stuff at him while they rode in the Humvee, telling him to shut the fuck up, but he couldn’t stop laughing. Finally, when they got back to base, he stripped off layer after sandy layer of 40 pounds of gear. He half-heartedly cleaned his dusty body with a baby wipe, crawled into his sleeping bag, zipped it up around his head and cried.
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