I dunno, y’know?

I’ve heard it said “don’t believe everything you think.” I learned over the last week that this is a truth to dig into. People I thought I knew, pfffft, I didn’t really know…and things I thought were true, mmmm, were totally off base. It’s all good, maybe even better than good, but I’d been walking around with a belief or an idea for a long while that I chose to challenge on my own…and boom! I found out I didn’t know diddly.

I’m a “vaguebooker,” I know, but bear with me. I’d been thinking something that was in conflict with my gut instinct…so I asked questions. I asked a lot of questions, and I laughed a lot. My instinct was correct. There was ease and happiness right smack dab where once there was not exactly a chasm, but there was definitely a rift.

I guess the vague takeaway is to challenge yourself to ponder “why do I think that” about a person, and then follow that up with “is that really true.” Sometimes you’ll find that you don’t really know what you think you know, y’know?

Nearly birthday time again

When I started this rad, rambling blog back on FreakinAsheville.com so long ago that I had dial-up internet, I was an angsty, wordy single mom looking for love, chocolate, and a place to pay me to write. As I creep up to another birthday, ummmmm, I’m still kinda in the same spot I was, what, 15 years ago, but I’ve certainly located the good chocolate about 7000 times over and I have speedy internet, so hey, that’s progress, right?!!

Yeah, yeah, I’ve accomplished a lot of things in that time, but some of those big things like true love and getting paid for words have remained evasive. I am cautiously optimistic as the biological odometer clicks over to a new year…you never know what good stuff lurks just around the corner.

Here’s what I’d like for my birthday in 2016:
1. If you’re a dude wildly in love with me, ‘fess up. That’d be super. Let’s make out until we have chapped faces.
2. Pay a creative person for their work. It doesn’t have to be me. Buy a book or a painting or some music from a local creative entrepreneur. Sprinkle a little love on their dreams.
3. Do something nice for a stranger. Doesn’t have to cost money. Offer a genuine compliment. Hold the door open. Let someone go in front of you in line at the grocery store. If you want to spend money, pay for a stranger’s meal or buy a gift card at whatever store you’re visiting and hand it off to someone on your way out.
4. Cake. Chocolate cake. SOOOOOO much chocolate cake that I feel obligated to eat chocolate cake three meals a day for a week.

That’s a good start. 😉

Frustrated

I am frustrated with people who want something for nothing…can I have your class for free? Can I have your book for free? Can I have your jewelry for free? Can I have all your time while I suck your soul dry? A balanced energy exchange is important. Can’t have something for nothing, folks. No. The answer is no.

I am frustrated with yellow jackets that fucking refuse to die (although they may well FINALLY be deceased after the THIRD can of spray on their nest today) and chase me all around the neighborhood. I am frustrated with household items breaking all over the place: dishwasher, weedeater, exploding tea kettle, and hey look, there’s a hole in the damn fire pit, too.

Frustrated with energy vampire former housemates that TOOK MY FUCKING BED while I was gone. Wanna have a crappy day? Fly across the country all jet lagged and so damned tired your body aches, open your bedroom door, and find your bed gone, frame and all.

I am frustrated by seemingly out-duding most dudes in my wake. Whoever is holding their cajones for ransom should just turn ’em over.

Obviously I’m a little pissy, a little moody. I recognize it. I could use a little love, a little TLC.

Sunday Afternoon Ramblings

If I’m neglecting my writing, it can usually be attributed to feeling like crap. I’ve felt like crap for a few weeks thanks to hellacious allergies. I am very possibly open to living in one of those bubble suits. Doc says take two different allergy meds each day for the next few weeks, and that slows the snotfest, but it gives me epic headaches. Damned if ya do, damned if ya don’t. Feeling better this weekend, so let’s ramble, shall we?

I’m off the dating site. Disabled my account because the flood of lewd messages was relentless, and I was also receiving tons of hostile messages about how women have ruined marriage, ruined family, ruined love. Whoa, please don’t get any of your crazy on me, thanks. The harmless “hi, how are you” types of messages were few and far between.

But.

I did wrangle one pretty terrific date and phone number out of the site before I disabled my account. It might jinx things to say he’s super promising as our second date fast approaches, but I had fun on our sushi date, and the conversation and laughter were easy. “Ease” is underrated in the dating world. I prefer ease. I don’t want to “make” anything work, force something; the magic is either there or it’s not. Ease. Magic. Yes.

Crafting my ass off in cameo land. It brings me joy to create them from dust, from nothing.

Promotion is a done deal at work, and my work schedule is changing, hallelujah. My only gripe about work was the schedule, so I’m thrilled to be moving into a schedule that is a better fit. The challenge right now is to train on my new role while still doing my old role; things feel a little overwhelming, but I am grateful for the opportunity. Once the dust settles, things will be awesome.

I could use a vacation. Send money 😉

I Also Think in Songs, By the Way

In the last post, I mentioned I dream in songs. I also frequently think in songs. Sitting here, gazing out the window, and boom, another song, clear as day:
“Got to get you out of my mind,
But I can’t escape from the feeling.
As I try to leave the memory behind
Without you, what’s left to believe in?
…
And I wonder
Do you ever feel the same?
In whispering darkness
Do you ever hear my name?”

This video is haunting, beautiful, strange…very “American Horror Story” long before there was such a thing.

Well, that was transparent as hell

I dream in songs all the time…like, all the time. Sometimes, the songs don’t make any sense at all to me when I wake, and sometimes they are super obvious. Last night, it was Duran Duran’s “Is There Anyone Out There,” one of my favorite songs from their first albums. I was singing in an empty stairwell at night in the rain:

“I never found out what made you leave.
And now the day’s over, just an hour to go.
Well I tried to phone last night but you never answered…
Just left me ringing on the line.”

Of course, in my dreams, I can carry a tune. What a transparent tune for all that’s been on my mind. I sang the whole song in my dream in an echoing stairwell, walked down a dark sidewalk alone in the rain, then woke up.

 

 

On Second Thought…and Thoughts on Who I Miss

…nah. Not a bad person on that date, just missing a key ingredient that I’ll call “fire.”

I don’t mean “spark” or “chemistry.” For me, spark and chemistry come from intelligence and humor. Smart and funny were present.

I mean fire. I mean a passion to just enjoy the hell out of life. My favorite people, lovers and friends, all want to raise a glass to that gorgeous sunset or sunrise, notice the details, enjoy the moment.  My tribe gets excited about whatever makes them happy.  Maybe I misunderstood, but I sure got the feeling that this person wouldn’t want to “waste” a special occasion on a new person, while I approach life with the idea that every day, every moment, is a special occasion.

So.  Next?

It’s no giant secret that I miss an ex of mine so fiercely that I can hardly stand people who aren’t him.  I know that’s a wound that time will heal eventually, but it is that perpetual elephant always lurking in the room.  I was so open and so brave in that relationship, and I thought we could get through anything together.  I believed in happily ever after.  I’ve wanted him back since the moment we parted ways.  I’ve worked on it, grieved, made peace with it 150 times over, but I miss him.  

Tell him? He knows.  Loving someone enough to let them go is gut wrenching.  If I am not his happy place, let it be known I loved him enough then and love him enough now to want him to be happy. I bow my head, make a wish to love like that again, and keep on keepin’ on.

the quest for smittenosity

fine. i did it.  i freakin’ created an online dating profile. i am not going to find a new romance walking around my house in my pajamas, and the men who flit around the edges of my life aren’t taking any action, so fuck it.  let’s do this thing.

it’s mostly gross. men tell me the vulgar things they want to do to assorted parts of my body. they invite me to sext.  it’s way beyond my comfort zone to be on the damn site to begin with, nevermind the inbox full of lewd comments.

there’s one with intriguing potential, and so far, only one…but will an online rapport translate into a real life connection? clearly it’s easier to be who you want to be online–so sayeth the one writing this post and blogging for over a decade, yo.  we can be anyone online, but then in real life, we are our awkward fumbling selves without a backspace button to undo our dorky mistakes.

i want mutual smittenosity. i am confident that “smittenosity” is a word, and i want it. i want someone to look forward to hanging out with me. i want the giddy eager good stuff: the easy laughter, the crazy kisses, the “cmon, please stay” persuasion.

those are all wants.  i don’t believe i “need” anyone to complete me. i’m not desperate, but there are beautiful moonlit nights that i wish i had someone around to smooch under the stars.

I wrote

This weekend was primarily a writer’s retreat for me.  The idea was to lock myself in a room with pen and paper and work on a story that’s been on my mind…the story in question has been interrupting my sleep with ideas, characters, so I had to give it some attention.

But that’s not what I wrote.

The words on a phone screen pushed me into a new direction, revisiting some feelings I’d shoved down deep.  I don’t know exactly how to explain it, but it was like certain feelings had been stitched up tight for years and the stitches blew out. Much of this was ugly and raw…infected feelings.  There were some sunny rays of light in all that dark mess, but I still haven’t quite corralled the beast I accidentally unleashed and I don’t wanna drag this monster home with me.