It was somewhere between 7:00AM and 2:00PM and I was lying in the bed of a girl I had met the week before.
Simultaneously exhausted and unable to sleep right away, I kept adjusting myself on her mattress in an attempt to get comfortable. I am completely unsure of how much I slept in that span of time. I would feel like I had dozed off for only five minutes before waking back up and tossing and turning for another twenty. Somewhere in that fog of half-sleep I had an incredibly clear vision. It came with a focus and lucidity that punctured the hazy bliss of the past twelve hours. The vision was of my ex-girlfriend. The one I spent every hour of eight months trying to convince that we should get back together. The one every good friend of mine fought their impulses to tell me was no good and a waste of time. The one who couldn't understand why I liked her so much. The one that was a tumor on my brain, a static infatuation and a hopeless grasp for sanity.
The image I had of her was sly. She was standing in front of a dark grey, nondescript brick wall. Her posture conveyed an untrustworthiness that I could feel. What I remember above all else were the details of her face. She was ugly. Ugly in a way that I never noticed, but had to (just had to) have been there all along. Her smile was stained and black with a permanent chasm in her lip where a cigarette would usually sit. Her hair was frayed and pulled back, giving her face a taut, sinister look. Her height had always attracted me, the way it rose so close yet stayed under my gaze, but in that moment I saw her demeanor as cold and repelling. She looked a foreigner; a vagabond in the palace of a king; she knew she didn't belong. In that moment she freed herself from my heart, as she had been dreaming to do. This, now, was my dream.
Monday, July 11, 2011
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Milan Kundera quotes, part 1
"I beg you, friend, be happy. I have the vague sense that on your capacity to be happy hangs our only hope."
from the novel Slowness.
from the novel Slowness.
Wednesday, June 1, 2011
essays on love, part 2
We were both very tired. In between the heavy blinks and yawns I felt that we'd been together several years, sharing this apartment, cat and that one framed poster she had on her wall. It was closer to living with someone than I could've imagined possible in the six hours we'd spent alone. Our bodies would have sighed under sheets together, and her whispered 'goodnight' would have sent me rolling over the edge into blissful slumber. I felt at ease, in a new, exciting way. That part of me that has no concept of sustainability just wanted to sit on that couch and watch TV forever.
Instead we realized how late it was around 2:00. While I fumbled with my shoes for as long as possible she moved herself to stand in front of me. We kissed that first date kiss that bursts with a range of emotions: shyness, aggression, confidence, gratitude and melancholy. We walked to the door and the faraway, ethereal world I had misplaced where I lived without her 99% of the time. It felt like fear of being alone that turned us to each other one more time. A deep kiss and a sincere hug that had me believing after I'd left that some of me was still in her arms. As I drove home in a state of transient elation, I dreamed of possible futures to come where I would be welcomed into her world again.
Instead we realized how late it was around 2:00. While I fumbled with my shoes for as long as possible she moved herself to stand in front of me. We kissed that first date kiss that bursts with a range of emotions: shyness, aggression, confidence, gratitude and melancholy. We walked to the door and the faraway, ethereal world I had misplaced where I lived without her 99% of the time. It felt like fear of being alone that turned us to each other one more time. A deep kiss and a sincere hug that had me believing after I'd left that some of me was still in her arms. As I drove home in a state of transient elation, I dreamed of possible futures to come where I would be welcomed into her world again.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
essays on love, part 1
We had planned a pink and brown wedding. We certainly planned a lot of things, and I swear that I never just blindingly nodded my head to her dreams. They were my dreams too. I can safely say that the hardest thing I've ever done was break up with her. Insert joke about it being better to have "loved and lost". Insert heartfelt, nauseatingly optimistic assertion that "what doesn't kill you makes you stronger". Now cross them out and try looking your mistakes in the face. Embrace them, thank them, and love them in the way you never loved your ex-girlfriend. While you still have that love inside you it's obvious that no one has received it.
Where we started is fantastically familiar territory for me, now. The weeks after our first kiss were a barren tundra of unrequited love, begging me with empty promises of satisfaction from strife-ridden devotion. But alas! She was not so scared of my total abandonment of reason. She too believed in song lyrics and christmas decorations. She believed my blind optimism that yes, indeed, love could conquer all. Love could even conquer my own doubts. And let me tell you, dear reader: it can.
From there we spent several blissful years attached to each other's hip. Together we learned a great deal about growing up. Renting an apartment, buying groceries, playing bills, abandoning our friends; sacrificing so many things that we wanted in favor of what the other wanted. We breathed in compromise, unaware of an alternative. Hand in hand we stepped ourselves into the recently discovered shoes of adulthood. We lived together, in so many senses of the word that I felt more at peace when I was with her than when I was alone. We practically became halves of one whole, scarcely able to function independently.
And then we found them: the careers we'd been searching for. So much of our time that was once occupied by whatever jobs we could find in order to make the month's rent was now occupied by the opportunity of a promising future. Career paths. Attractive coworkers. That strange look on someone's face when you mentioned your fiancee and the naggingly suspicious tone when they asked, "how old are you again?"
While the "straw" of a crush which broke the camel's back was exactly the one which I pursued not days after our tear-streaked, tumultuous break-up, there was more to my change of feelings than a pretty face. For the first time since before we'd met, I realized the potential to shape my own future, free from anyone's controlling hand. I started to see just how big the world was. An inkling of life's possibilities was inside me and I could only stare our commitment in the eyes for so long until turning away.
And so I turned. In an admission of failure rife with any underlying embracement of finding inner peace, I emerged from the cocoon of our engagement as a fully formed individual. I didn't need 'us' anymore. Finding love from then on would never be about finding a 'half' to pair perfectly with my own. The concept of yin and yang does not involve two complementary fractions. The happiness of love has nothing to do with submission, complication or pride. You'll know it when you get it but you'll know it even more when you give it.
Where we started is fantastically familiar territory for me, now. The weeks after our first kiss were a barren tundra of unrequited love, begging me with empty promises of satisfaction from strife-ridden devotion. But alas! She was not so scared of my total abandonment of reason. She too believed in song lyrics and christmas decorations. She believed my blind optimism that yes, indeed, love could conquer all. Love could even conquer my own doubts. And let me tell you, dear reader: it can.
From there we spent several blissful years attached to each other's hip. Together we learned a great deal about growing up. Renting an apartment, buying groceries, playing bills, abandoning our friends; sacrificing so many things that we wanted in favor of what the other wanted. We breathed in compromise, unaware of an alternative. Hand in hand we stepped ourselves into the recently discovered shoes of adulthood. We lived together, in so many senses of the word that I felt more at peace when I was with her than when I was alone. We practically became halves of one whole, scarcely able to function independently.
And then we found them: the careers we'd been searching for. So much of our time that was once occupied by whatever jobs we could find in order to make the month's rent was now occupied by the opportunity of a promising future. Career paths. Attractive coworkers. That strange look on someone's face when you mentioned your fiancee and the naggingly suspicious tone when they asked, "how old are you again?"
While the "straw" of a crush which broke the camel's back was exactly the one which I pursued not days after our tear-streaked, tumultuous break-up, there was more to my change of feelings than a pretty face. For the first time since before we'd met, I realized the potential to shape my own future, free from anyone's controlling hand. I started to see just how big the world was. An inkling of life's possibilities was inside me and I could only stare our commitment in the eyes for so long until turning away.
And so I turned. In an admission of failure rife with any underlying embracement of finding inner peace, I emerged from the cocoon of our engagement as a fully formed individual. I didn't need 'us' anymore. Finding love from then on would never be about finding a 'half' to pair perfectly with my own. The concept of yin and yang does not involve two complementary fractions. The happiness of love has nothing to do with submission, complication or pride. You'll know it when you get it but you'll know it even more when you give it.
Monday, March 14, 2011
dry heat
If I had a dial for my senses, right now I would turn them down.
The same biting sensations are returning, eliciting a tired weight at the back of my eyes. Under my skin burns a numb fire of fatigue, and while it begs to be stoked it won't simply run its course. The blind constant want to solve my own discomfort, when release just might really be the answer. But closing my eyes to the world would only subdue for a while the blaze behind my frustration. The knowledge that this is not right. This is not working. I am only looking up at the better before me that knows I've got it in my sights. No sense in stopping now, but it's not a heavy-handed trying: it's a weightless submission to the future that lets me fall softly into it. But the fire inside me won't let me rest. It won't stop my mind from tripping over its own thoughts. The ache is ever present and sometimes I'm not sure how to make it stop. And if I had a dial for my senses, right now I would turn them down.
The same biting sensations are returning, eliciting a tired weight at the back of my eyes. Under my skin burns a numb fire of fatigue, and while it begs to be stoked it won't simply run its course. The blind constant want to solve my own discomfort, when release just might really be the answer. But closing my eyes to the world would only subdue for a while the blaze behind my frustration. The knowledge that this is not right. This is not working. I am only looking up at the better before me that knows I've got it in my sights. No sense in stopping now, but it's not a heavy-handed trying: it's a weightless submission to the future that lets me fall softly into it. But the fire inside me won't let me rest. It won't stop my mind from tripping over its own thoughts. The ache is ever present and sometimes I'm not sure how to make it stop. And if I had a dial for my senses, right now I would turn them down.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
"Walden" quotes, part 1
"To be a philosopher is not merely to have subtle thoughts, nor even to found a school, but so to love wisdom as to live according to its dictates, a life of simplicity, independence, magnanimity, and trust."
Thursday, February 24, 2011
pensive
I really like the word "pensive", and think of it as a state of being I'd like to achieve. I also apply to it my own, expounded-upon, definition outside of being deep in thought. I add an element of patient excitement that makes me think that's simply how I view life. Every moment I have a sort of wondrous longing for what's coming next. Sometimes that leads to an impatient anxiousness, and the tightrope between paranoid and calm is one that I am always walking from one moment to the next. If this balance is to be the struggle of my life, than perhaps redefining such an enchanting word as "pensive" is the key to my happiness.
When a simple phone call could set in motion a series of events which would bring about an answer to the question I've been posing myself - not necessarily an answer to what I need - the momentary supersedes the long-term. The grounded awareness of strict and unadulterated desire stakes its claim over the impulses of action. My hindsight has developed twenty-four years of looking back all for the benefit of looking ahead to something that will eventually become a rearview thought; a page in my chapters of growing which humbly accept they're nowhere near the end, yet always the most important. My tomorrows ask of themselves not to be worried over. They tell me, "you have more to do today, we'll have our fun when you are ready." To that, I pensively embrace what's in front of me.
When a simple phone call could set in motion a series of events which would bring about an answer to the question I've been posing myself - not necessarily an answer to what I need - the momentary supersedes the long-term. The grounded awareness of strict and unadulterated desire stakes its claim over the impulses of action. My hindsight has developed twenty-four years of looking back all for the benefit of looking ahead to something that will eventually become a rearview thought; a page in my chapters of growing which humbly accept they're nowhere near the end, yet always the most important. My tomorrows ask of themselves not to be worried over. They tell me, "you have more to do today, we'll have our fun when you are ready." To that, I pensively embrace what's in front of me.
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