Date

I ended up going on that date. It is a long story but I contacted him and he gave me another shot. I felt very lucky.

We went to the Wilde Roast Cafe on the first snow of the year. He hugged me hello. He smelled good. The booth was cozy, the lighting dim and the atmosphere quiet. We shared salads and wine and pizza and dessert. He asked me to sit on his side of the booth and he fed me chocolate cake while we watched horse drawn carriages go by the river. He told me that I talk too much. I laughed at that. I've grown, I guess. He told me his favorite place on Earth is Vegas and the he loves shopping for clothing. He noticed that my fingernails matched my ring which all matched my green dress. He kissed me. We went to Honey for further drinks and I told him I was going to try a special concoction from the bar and for some reason he changed the Vodka in it. It was a little odd. We couch danced a bit and he put his arm around me. He told me that I had beautiful eyes... that he liked the shape. He dropped me off at my car and we hugged and he kissed me again. He told me that he was going to write me a poem.

The next day he wrote me and asked me on a second date. I did not respond. I spent Sunday cuddling on the couch with Kevin. I went over early and made him breakfast. We watched football. We went on a walk in the snow all bundled up. He could barely move his head because of his silly, puffy hood attached to his coat... I called him a super hero. We watched Limitless and ordered Chinese. We went to sleep quietly and he kissed my shoulder. My heart ached with love. I almost told him that I loved him but I held back.

The next day I wrote the Doc back and told him we would not be going out again. It was the correct decision. He would not change my heart. He was not for me.

Winter has barely begun and I'm already freezing my ass of and dying for a long vacation. I know, I am moving to Hawaii shortly. The problem is that my boss told me yesterday that her goal is to have me running an entire email and social media department for all of our companies. She said we can do it. She said that we are going to make my dreams come true. Shit. Why do I have to love working for her so much? I am tempted to stay longer and save more money and get more experience in the travel business and volunteer around town doing massage and then move in September. But I can't do that because it seems like I am then giving up or changing my plans for Kevin. That's not what I would be doing, is it? But somehow it feels like it. I still want to move to Hawaii but I feel like I need more money and experience. Or is that just me justifying my fears and letting them change my plans? I don't think so, but then again, what do I really know about myself.

Life is complicated.

By the way, I am quite delightfully happy right now. These are pretty good dilemmas.

brunch

I am a complete idiot. I had a brunch date scheduled with a seemingly very cool, smart and interesting man. I cancelled. I awoke in Kevin's bed and thought that it was somehow unfair to everyone if I went on this date. I sent my would-be date a message, closing the door to any possibility of a future date. The second I hit send, I felt an overwhelming desire to push un-send, go back 2 minutes, change the course of my actions.

I wanted to go on that date but I was afraid of the complications that could come from it. I was afraid of hurting Kevin. I was afraid of liking this other guy and feeling torn. Those were all very real and possible fears, but so what. Kevin is still unwilling/incapable of telling me that he loves me. If he cannot do that now, I am a fool to believe that he will ever be able to do that. It's fine if I am seeing him during this time to pass the time and enjoy myself, but I am an utter fool to shut myself off from life's other possibilities. I keep making excuses for Kevin, but the truth is that he is incapable of grasping what love is. He is incapable of taking life by the balls. He is incapable of loving me the way that I want and deserve. I am easily and stupidly manipulated by men like him and I am so very tired of allowing myself to stay when I should run.

So, here I sit. We had a great time this weekend, and yet I'm feeling depressed and lonely. I am alone in my bed. He is alone in his bed. I am living in bags once again. This is not where I should be putting my heart. I should have enjoyed coffee and brunch. For some reason, this feels like an enormous mistake -- the type that will hang around my head for the rest of my years. Such a simple act, such a silly notion. I wish I could take this entire day back.

Vegas

I leave for Vegas tomorrow morning. I will be working hard and long but it will be nice to get away for a few days. I'm hoping there will be a smidgen of time to spend outdoors in sunshine. The weather isn't looking all that fabulous, but the 60's will do right about now.

I've started doing hot yoga on a regular basis. There's a beautiful studio right by me and the classes are great. I cannot explain how good it feels to be in that 105 heat, sweating out all of frustrations and wrongs and just letting myself sink into it. Yoga has been a bit of a life saver. I also did quite a bit of running over the past couple weeks but my legs are aching so the yoga is an excellent supplement as I try to give them a bit of a rest.

I'm still seeing Kevin. There was a night where we saved a cat that we didn't really save, we danced in his living room for a good hour and we laughed unbelievably long. On Halloween we handed out candy. Well, I guess I handed out the candy and then we laughed and laughed and laughed. I spent the night. He said he got back off the dating web site. He said we could date each other exclusively and see where it goes. What the fuck? Can we really go back to the beginning? He no longer calls me darling or looks at me lovingly. He hasn't told me that he loves me and wants me. So what the hell am I doing, you ask? It's never going to work if he is not committed and if he does not love me. If we don't have that, all the laughter in the world is not going to make us a happy couple. I don't have a clue what I am doing except trying to convince myself that he does love me and is just struggling to express it.I'm convincing myself that his issues can be overcome by my love and our connection. But if that were true, he would have never let me walk out the door. I'm fucking doomed to heartache in this situation. It's a choice I've made. Sometimes we do bullshit things when we chose to ignore our brains. I'm doing that and I've reconciled myself to it for the time being. What can I say... I want to dance with him again.

November is cold. I am feeling anxious to get the fuck out. It's almost 4 months exactly until the license test in Hawaii. That seems really far away and way too close.

Vegas, here I come. Maybe while I'm there things will become a hell of a lot clearer and I will meet someone who will change the course of my career or personal life or my entire life. Wouldn't that be spectacular?

I need some new music. This old stuff is just not fucking doing it.

Uptown is beautiful in the fall. Yesterday I ran around Lake Calhoun as the sun was setting and the leaves were shimmering. I came home and made couscous and drank wine. Lovely. I hate it here. My friend is great, she is, but whenever she is here it is non-stop talking about herself. I can't even walk in the door and it begins. It's a billion degrees in the living room. The dog ate my headphones and now the handle off of my glorious water bottle. I am tired and lonely. Saturday I am going out with Kevin. Last night we texted back and forth. I feel confused by this situation. What am I doing? What am I really doing with this life of mine? I was listening to the Ben Folds song "The Luckiest." Do you know that song? God, it's gorgeous. I want that so badly. I don't want to sound needy and co-dependent. But honestly, I am better when I am loving. I was made for it and I can't escape it. I am an independent, smart and perfectly capable woman. But I want companionship. I want to love someone.

February

I am planning my move. I am really planning. It cannot come quick enough.

Some days I am happy and strong. This morning I sang in the car and I felt good. Right now, not so much. I hate the swinging of emotions. I am a grown woman. You would think I would be faster to recover. Well, ok, I deserve some credit. It has only been about 2 weeks and my world was sort of turned upside down yet again. The sad truth is that what bothers me the most is that there could be such a fast (4 weeks is fast in my opinion) shift in how he felt about me. It bothers me that I can't get inside his head and know how he's feeling or thinking. Does he sort of regret it? Is he jealous at all, seeing me back on the dating web site? Did he post the picture I took of him to get under my skin? Does he wish he could have me back for a moment or is he just excited to continue his quest for the perfect, passionate love. None of this matters, I suppose. I have this odd desire to proposition him. I'd like to ask him to hang with me for the next few months... no attachment. I won't stay at his place ever. I won't even expect there to be sex or anything. Let's just be friends and go to shows and have dinner. I just need a friend in my remaining time. Ridiculous and unrealistic, right? I would just end up dragging out the hurt more, right? I really would like to play him some Elliott Smith and see him in his blue hat... I'd like to wear the orange one and have him tell me that he wants to give it to me because it looks perfect there on my head. It's stupid to think these thoughts.

I am moving tonight. I am moving to Uptown. I have mixed feelings. It feels sort of lonely and cold all of a sudden, to leave the 2 people who have been keeping me occupied... the 2 people who feel like my family. But I'm out the door right now and I'm going to pack up my shit and try to start a new life yet again.

Chopin

There are times for Chopin and there are times for Hass. I am at that time. I am at that place. I am trying to wade my way through the doubts and the sorrow and I am trying to believe that I have a soul worth knowing. I am trying to believe that people see something good, and not just sadness, when they see me. I'm trying to believe that I have touched people in some way that stays with them in a positive way. I am trying to tell myself that my love has not been for nothing. I am trying to tell myself that it is not wrong to keep giving away my heart. I am trying to tell myself that there is love left to give and love left to be received. I am trying to tell myself that I should not be so serious but it's ok to be serious. I am trying to tell myself that the last two years are not an indication of who I am or what I deserve. I am trying to tell myself that what is ahead is beautiful... there will be sunrises and music and the sound of the ocean. I will find peace and purpose and my heart is not broken. I am not broken. But I am so very sad for the people that I have known and loved and lost. I want to hug Kevin so tight and touch his hair and look in his eyes and tell him that he is worthy and lovely and he should be happy to be. I want to kiss his face and touch his hand and I want him to feel worthy and comfortable and close. I want to find Brian and hug him and kiss him on the cheek until a light flickers and we can smile at the magic. I want to see him smile the way he used to smile. I want to find the girl that I massaged this past weekend and touch her hand and let her know that she is beautiful. I want to hug my father and tell him that he is the kindest, most wonderful man. I want to tell him to let go of his sadness, to let go of all those things that hurt him. I want to tell him to embrace the beauty that surrounds him. I want to hug my mother and tell her to let the silence fill in. I want to tell her to be quiet in her mind and let the good overtake the guilt. I want to hug my friends and tell them how wonderful they've been to me and how sorry I am for my ups and for my downs. I want to scream at the top of my lungs. I want to be quiet. I want to lay in bed, a body next to mine and feel warm. I want to feel breath upon my neck and the excitement of breakfast in the morning. I want to wash all of the sadness away. I want to let the hope in. I want to play Chopin and read Hass all day and all night.

I know. I am an idiot. I should never have bought anything that Kev told me. I should never have moved in with him. I should never have stayed. I feel like a total and complete fool. I am so very lucky that he had the balls (or maybe no balls) to cut things off when he did. I don't even really know how much I loved him. I may have just loved his persona and the idea that he could possibly find me to be the love of his life. But it is all over which is so good. I no longer have to help him walk or have him tell me to fuck off or make fun of me for not putting the toilet paper on the roll the correct way. I've been looking back at my blogs and I wanted to be happy, but I was not. In fact, almost every weekend I would dread the point where he would be super drunk and I would feel responsible. I don't know if he ever touched me when he was sober. His kisses were few and far between. His love was never really love. He didn't really have any goals or desires. He never really showed himself to most people or even to me most of the time.

I miss him. I miss his hugs and his darlings and the way he would compliment me and do my laundry and hold me at night. But last night I slept damn good.

I am afraid that I will not meet someone again. I am afraid that I will not be held like that or kissed like that or share dreams and music like that. But it's just fear, right? If I am open to it, it will come. There are other people out there who will appreciate me more and really love me. There have to be. And this time, I won't be so ignorant and easy with my heart. This time I will be smart. I will be smarter than smart. It's not that I am going to hold back and shut myself off.... that would be a sign of being broken, that would be Kevin. I am going to continue to put myself out there, but this time I will be way fucking smarter about it.

I want to tell Kevin "fuck you" but I can't. As much of a shit as he is, I still have this crazy desire to not destroy what we had or any relationship that we could have. Is that entirely insane? I think so. I know it is. But I can't help myself from feeling endeared to him and his sadness. I cannot seem to let go of this desire to call him or text him and ask him why. I know, right? It's ridiculous. Nothing good will come of me talking to him. Nothing. He made up his mind. And even if he didn't, I shouldn't want to be there anyway. But a part of me does. I cannot wait until that dies, because for now I feel achy and so very sad. I am so tired of feeling sad. I hate this pathetic person that I become. I feel like everyone sees it when they look at me. I cannot stand it.

I don't want to cry for him. I don't want to hope that he will reach out to me. I hate these rough nights with the train humming by and the loneliness of this basement seeping in.

Tiny miracles

Life sure can be harsh and blunt. And then little, strange and life altering miracles will happen. Today, I had one of those miracles, a small magical moment, happen to me.

My mind has been in a horrible state, fluctuating between the pain of losing someone I love and the knowledge that I should have never loved him. I am well aware of the destructive nature of our relationship and yet letting go of him and this idea that we were perfect for one another is impossibly difficult. Had he not been an alcoholic, had he not been incapable of opening up, had he not been looking for a savior, we would have had the most amazing love that one can imagine. We had all the same passions. We would both revel in music and the way the sunlight hit the trees or the mountains. We both believed in love and living in the peace of the ocean. He became my best friend and he told me that I was one of his. We loved. We laughed. We held each other in the dark of the night. But it was never to be. He was never ready to love or be loved. It was not me. It was not me. No matter my past, no matter my hurt, I can and will open myself and my heart fully to anyone who makes me laugh and makes me feel loved, for even the briefest  moment. That may be an enormous flaw of mine but I don't really want to change. I really don't want to stop giving everything that I am and loving from the depths of my being. That makes me feel happy, no matter how much it is rips my heart out. Eventually that naivety of mine, that risk, gives back in the most amazing ways.

And so here I sit, hurt and questioning and feeling lost. But today I experienced a few things that keep me from wanting to wander into the abyss. Today I have hope in the world. I believe in some spiritual thing that I've never believed in. Or maybe it's not that I didn't believe it. Maybe it's just that I merely felt like an idiot to express it. I don't think I would have fell immediately in love with massage if it had not been for some sort of belief in the healing power of touch and human connection.

I massaged this young woman with a beautifully freckled face and a lovely glow. She had a problem with a lumbar disc but felt most of her pain in her mid-upper back. I could tell by the way she described her pain, that she wanted some sort of comfort more than she needed physical rehabilitation. Maybe it's not true of everyone, but I find that you can get a sense of this quite easily. I massaged her back for a long time. She wanted her arms massaged as well and I did that. I tried to stay focused on helping her, but I must admit that I was slightly lost in my own sadness and loss. I was not thinking about particulars but I was feeling hurt to the core, just wondering what it is that I did wrong, wondering why my love was not enough, wondering if I will ever experience love and affection again.

To finish off the massage, I decided to give her something soothing. I don't really know if it was for her or for me. I had her lay on her back and I massaged her neck and scalp, finishing by holding her head lightly and stroking her hair. When I stood up and gently said that we were done, she opened her eyes slowly and began to sob. Her face just scrunched up and the tears came. This is the first time I've experience this. I touched her arm and said, "it's ok, honey. It's ok, You have to take care of yourself." She looked at me so kindly and said, "so do you." I'm sure my face showed the utter emotion that ran through my body. It was as if she could see into my soul. I wondered if I had sent her my sadness. I wondered if it was mere coincidence. I felt utterly baffled and touched and moved in a way that is inexplicable.

I don't want to analyze that moment too much. All I know is that it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. Since I've been working at this clinic, every single weekend I am moved in a way I never knew possible. But today it was personal and it was something that I think I needed. That human connection of touch is so profound. I am so lucky to have found this work at this time in my life. I am so lucky to have met that girl today. I am so very lucky. Being able to care for people in this way is personally healing and the  most spiritual and rewarding thing I've done in my life. I don't know that I would have made it through the day without that lovely, red-headed girl.

Same old story.

TUESDAY POST

Saturday night my love told me that he does not love me anymore. At some point in the last couple months, he stopped wanting to kiss me or hold my hand. He stopped loving me. How? Tell me how, please. How do you go from one moment being entirely passionate and telling someone how amazing and sexy and wonderful they are to nothing. Fuck. My heart is once again in a million fucking pieces. But this time is different. Because this time I loved him with every inch of my being. Sure, I was disappointed in his drinking and his seeming desire to live a seedy life and then die. But fuck, I loved him. I would often just look at his arm or his face and be enamored by it. That sounds fucking crazy. I wanted to kiss him all the time. I wanted to lay next to him and feel his arms around me.

In hindsight, I knew he was over me. In hindsight I was unhappy because it was clear I could not make him happy. He had no intention of being happy. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck me. I don't remember anymore how losing Brian hurt but I feel like this is far worse. I almost feel like this is something I cannot come back from. Hope has left the fucking building. And the people around me are sure that this is for the best. That's kind and loving of them to say, but I feel like I've been broken for the last time, god damn it. How much more can one person take. I am strong. I am crazy strong. But this is devastation. It would be one thing if he loved me and he just didn't think we could work. But he pretty much just told me that I am un-fucking-loveable. He pretty much told me that I am undesirable. He just told me I am everything that I feared I was.

And then to top it off, I am kicked out of the place that I love living... pretty much my fairytale Minneapolis home. My bike is there. My stereo is there. My lovely food and my favorite pans are all there. And here I am in my friend's basement with my computer and my fucking clothes. I am 34 years old and I have built nothing of consequence.

He told me that I am a quality human being and it would be great if we could be friends. It's not me, it's him. Fuck him.

Last night I was there and we drank a bunch of wine and acted all normal like nothing was happening. I had told him I would be sleeping on the couch. At bed time, I put my water bottle next to the couch. He moved it into the bedroom. Fuck him. So I slept there a safe and empty distance between us. And then at some point in the morning, I just started talking. I don't fucking know why. I called him a worthless piece of shit and then apologized. And then I talked and talked and fucking talked about how I felt. I rambled really. I was still in a wine coma. I was fucking retarded. My alarm went off. It went off later than I meant for it to go off. He was listening to me. I wanted him to be at the time but now I fucking regret every word. I am not crazy. I am not fucking crazy.

After that I was on the porch trying to get some work done and I just started to cry. I could not help it. I could not stop it. I went and laid on the couch and cried. I pulled myself together but he was watching me. We both got ready. I packed up some shit in my car. He watched me, his face so hollow and sad looking. At some point we were both ready to leave. I was standing on the porch. He came out and hugged me and said he had to go. "I'm sorry," he said as he backed away. "So am I," I said as I took a drag of my smoke. He went through the door. I went through the other door and that is that.

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WEDNESDAY

The range of thoughts and emotions that rush through your body when you are losing your best friend and your life for the second time in a matter of 2 years is unbelievable. Am I revising history? Did I really love Kevin Boehlke: a 42 year old who has never committed to anyone, who has been in jail countless times, who has no real desires except to live somewhere warm until he dies young? Could he have ever, ever, ever made me happy? He feels like he's lived more life than most and I feel like I am just beginning.

I can't help but feel like I will never connect with someone the way I felt connected to him. Wait a fucking second. He didn't even like to look in my eyes. He barely ever kissed me except out of lust... it never felt out of love, at least not after a couple months in. When he told me he loved me for the first time with a grand gesture of roses on the floor, it wasn't even original. He did it the same way that he had for some other woman.

And yet, I have never felt more gutteral reactions to a person. He called me "darling, dearest, love of my life." He called me love. He told me to hurry because he missed me so much. He told me that he would always have my back. After we had already split he told me he would do anything for me. He wrote me a letter last night that said he has never felt like this over a break up in his life. He can't eat. He is so sorry that he is douche. He loves me but just not in the right way. Part of me hopes that he will never love someone in the "right way." How could I not have been enough? And yet, I worry about him and don't want him to be unhappy. I can't seem to make sense of anything right now.

I went to look at an apartment today. It's in Longfellow right by Lake Hiawatha. It is big and has a deck and a porch. It's pretty dumpy. They would let me stay 6 months. All utilities are included in rent and they are nice 50-something couple. I was excited about it when I was driving there but when I left it was fucking depressing. It's not even half as wonderful as where I was living.

I could stay in this basement and save money, but be this fucking child. I could move in with my friend who is an emotional wreck. I could keep looking for places. But the thing is, I am itching like crazy to get the fuck out as fast as possible. I need to do something. I am afraid that if I stay here, I will wither away. I can't stand the thought of seeing Kevin out and happy... I feel like I have to avoid him which means avoiding everything that I love: music, sushi and the city. And honestly, he's the only person I would have to do those things with anyway.

My marketing career is still bullshit and headed no where.

I have a few very good friends but my circle is small and separated and they are busy with their families and lives. That is wonderful but I don't fit within that world. I don't fit.

It's time for me to put up or shut up. I need to get the fuck out of this and soon. On Sunday night at 4 in the morning I walked the streets and stared at the light rail and wished to god it could just take me away.

I don't know if Hawaii is the right place, but it seems like a good jumping off point. It seems like a good place to become one with who I am and find some sort of niche in the world. I love massaging people... it makes me feel relaxed and centered and useful in this fucked up world. I can make that happen at the very least. I can lay my head on the sand in the sunshine and maybe I can find a little peace.

Or maybe I should head to Costa Rica and learn Mayan abdominal massage. Or maybe I should take off to Thailand and learn Thai body work. There are a lot of options. I am going to pick one and do it. 3 more weeks of normal classes. Foot surgery in November. CPR classes in late November. Massage certification testing after that.

I could buy my 1-way ticket for January and be gone. Can I do it? I don't think I have a choice and that's not a bad thing.

cabinets

I have a deep and gutteral longing for my kittens. I just want their fuzzy little faces against my cheek. I want to sit with them and watch football and eat peanut butter toast. I sent Brian an email to arrange a visitation, this after having sent him a text about how much his son looks like him, how cute he is, and not getting a response. He emailed me back quickly & said I can see Shiva and Audrey any time. In the email he warned of a messy house because of a big project & he included pictures of the kitchen. He has started installing the cabinets we bought about 3 months before we parted. The cabinets look beautiful and clean against the mossy green paint, which has always been my favorite. Oh, how I love wood against that color green. It's exactly as I imagined. I'm so fucking proud of him for doing it.Instant flow of tears.They've been building up over the last few days and today I cannot control myself.

My boyfriend is an alcoholic and determined to drink himself to death. I'm thinking about leaving.

I have to have foot surgery sometime soon. I'm glad, really, because there's a large possiblity that I will regain some movement and be back to normal activities. I ran on a treadmill last night because its gotten to the point where I can't run on roads without suffering for days after. Hell, I can barely walk normal these days. I ache every day and every night. There's no way this surgery could rmake things any worse. But it's going to cost me. I don't have much money as it is and I hate to give a huge portion of it away like that. But that's life, right? It's just a whole bunch of shit intertwined with the good stuff. How could you appreciate the good without the shit.

Last night was the first time I've been to the gym in ages. It felt really fucking great. I felt motivated. I didn't like seeing myself in the mirror. I have lost a lot of my tone... way too many breakfasts and cookies and days without lifting. The 2 hours flew by and I felt rejuvenated. I think I'm going to go do some hot yoga tonight if my foot will allow it.

I need to shake this sadness. It's not useful. It's not likeable. It's not getting me anywhere good. I probably should not see my kittens. How silly is it that it's been a year and almost 10 months and my heart still aches this badly? Bullshit.

more of the ranting.

God damn it. This is one of those days, one of those moments. They are few and far between these days, in all honesty. But they come crashing in unexpectedly and it really infuriates me. All of a sudden I had this incredibly clear recollection of sitting in Venice eating cannoli with Brian and from there it went to sitting on the rooftop in Venice drinking wine with the church behind us. At the time that was the best fucking night of my life in many ways. 4 friends enjoying wine and food in the moonlight of Venice. Perfection. Fuck them. And then my mind quickly moved from that to the name Elgin Plainview. Elgin Plainview. Elgin Plainview. If you recognize it, it's because it's on a sign in Wisconsin. Two town names on a sign should mean nothing. But I saw them once and told Brian that's what we would name our kid. It wasn't a big deal, really, but I can't erase it from my brain. I also cannot erase this feeling of vertigo... I still don't feel quite grounded and maybe I never will. So, although I am quite happy with life in general, I feel awful today. I just want to go lay in bed and sleep and sleep and sleep. I don't want the responsibility of school and work and a relationship. I feel utterly inept. 

In an attempt to lift my spirits, I am going to bore you with details from my life. Last weekend was absolutely delightful. K and I went to Pepin for dinner and stayed overnight. It was beautiful. Then we woke up and stopped in Stockholm, where we feasted on pastries and eggs and Mimosas surrounded by lush vegetation and with great old-timey music coming from the kitchen. I felt like I was in some quaint beach town and not in nowhere Wisconsin. That same day we went to Valleyfair and got our thrill on, although we both agreed that skydiving sort of killed some of the thrill. Steel Venom still gets the heart pumping -- I dig the corkscrew part. We went to Cantebury and bet on some horses. It was my first time and I rather enjoyed it. We were sure we were going to win, but we did not. ILikeChocolateMilk is not my favorite horse. We finished the day off with a big dinner at Nye's before retiring to our porch. Sunday evening was spent around a campfire  with K's boys, discussing politics and religion until 2 in the morning (probably my favorite part of the weekend) before retiring to the futon for some… well, I guess I can be ladylike and not mention that. And although there was bit of rockiness one day of the weekend (my fault), I felt complete love for my life and for Kevin. 

Last night K went out and I stayed at home and rode my bike before baking peach cobbler and oatmeal raisin cookies while sipping wine. This week I've had a small glass of wine each day and worked out every day. I feel healthier than I've felt in some time. I slept hard and long every night until last night. My legs are aching badly today – my left hip, my swollen toe and my rigid, unstretchable right leg.

This attitude today is dangerous. I'm supposed to go spend the evening with K’s friends. I like them fine enough, a lot actually, but he will be playing horseshoes and I will be left with women. I'm not good with that sort of situation. I'm much better left alone with the men where quiet is tolerated. Plus,  I’m just feeling ornery and bitchy and I’m going to be awful company. He’s going to hate me. 

Tomorrow I have to work at the clinic and then he is going to the Gopher game, so really we will have no time to enjoy a good meal together this weekend. And that pisses me off deep down inside. It shouldn’t. I’m pissed at myself for being pissed.

I’m loving girl music lately. Jessica Lea Mayfield is to die for. Lucinda Williams continues to haunt me. And I can’thelp but love the overly popular and glorious Adele. Davina and the Vagabonds are this great little jazz band that I saw at the Dakota last month. They are playing again tomorrow night and I’m thinking I would love to go. Her voice is awesome.

Pocket by Davina and The Vagabonds on Rhapsody. Check it out!

Listening to Call Me by Jessica Lea Mayfield on Rhapsody. Check it out!

romanticizing

Damn, I suck at posting these days. I wrote this dull, dreary post yesterday but then decided not drag you into the dull depths of my girly crabbiness. You are very welcome. Is it Friday yet? I want it to be Friday. And yet I don't because the weekend means that I am just that much closer to school and winter and all that horrendous crap that keeps me from being the joy filled person that I aim to be. I am not exactly succeeding right now either, but it's nice to be able to blame it on the bitter chills and loads of work instead of the fact that I'm just searching for that stupid thing we call "meaning." I know, "meaning" is a silly thing to be looking for... it's such a silly human concept. So whatever...

Have you heard the call of the cycadas this year? Isn't it glorious when you can sit outside in the heat, on a porch, with a drink and a smoke and listen to that beautiful mating music. It's awfully romantic if you ask me. Then again, I can romanticize most things. For instance, right now I'm thinking about how I'm going to hop on my bike in the last humid, heat of the summer and ride by myself towards the lakes. After my body is worn, I will return home and grill something up -- probably habanero brats and sweet potatoes. I will pour a pineapple rum drink of some sort and I will sweat on the porch and listen to the cycadas for probably the last time this summer. Ridiculously romantic.

After that, I will continue reading The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Universe. Have you read it? I've been meaning to for quite some time. So far, so good. I will be taking a towel with me at all times from this point forward. Last week I read a short, murder mystery novel. That is typically not my speed but it was fun ripping through it and feeling entertained. I feel like I'm getting smarter already.

Did I mention that I passed my comprehensive massage therapy exam. It was close but I am done with that. What a relief. Now I just need some clients who won't cancel on me at the last minute. My rates are $60/hr or $80/90 minutes if you come to my place. Add $15 and I'll come to you. Spread the word.

Well, it's about that time for me to head out and begin the night as I outlined it. I hear it's hot out there. Perfect.

2 posts in 1 day? Is she bored already?

No, I'm not bored. I'm just proud. I'm proud that today after work I came home, laced up the running shoes and managed a 9.55 mile run. It's been quite awhile, folks. Sure, I've been running but the runs have been short and painful and often result in walking. I know -- it's awful. In fact, I've actually only ran like 2 times a week for the last couple months. I blame summer hours and school and my fucking hallux rigidis (there's a name for ugly ass big toe problem). My knees hurt, my feet hurt, and my hips keep me from sleeping. But today I went out there and I ran like I haven't run in months. I was gliding and sailing across the path with a smile on my face. My breathing was steady and I was enjoying the the tightness in my abdomen and the sun soaking into my skin. The beautiful Chris Bathgate played on and I had no need for anything else but that moment. That is what a run is supposed to be. It was a beautiful, beautiful thing. I arrived home to a concerned boyfriend. Where had I been for so long? Perfection. Tonight we will get sushi and most likely drink some lychee martinis. Right now I am on the porch with wet hair, tight calves and the haunting sounds of Two-headed Boy filling my ears. Boredom has not visited me in quite some time. Life is superb.

Friday Update.

Can you believe that I am almost done with school? Holy shit. I have 7 clinic shifts and 7 days of class left and then I am free. Yes, free. Holy fuck. I need clients. I'm not quitting my day job or anything, let's not get crazy, but I do have some student loans to pay off. Shit, I hate owing money. Luckily I have been paying quite a bit as I go, but still, that school was damn expensive. And now I need to figure out how to pay that off and simultaneously get some experience so that when I move to Hawaii someone will hire me. Oh yes, Hawaii is still in the plans. But before that, I am headed to Colorado.

No, I'm not going to live in Colorado. I just have a very exciting road trip planned for the end of next week. Well, unless air prices drop. If that happens, I may be hopping on that. The boyfriend and I are headed to the Rocky Mountain Folks Festival to hang out with all the hippies. I'm pretty excited. Can you believe that I've never been to Colorado? We will be staying in a little cottage by a river and the mountains. We will have a hot tub and a grill. Glorious. That's just 2 days, though. We still need accomodations for the other 2. I think we will be spending a night in Omaha.Omaha... somewhere in middle America. In Colorado we may try to spend a night in downtown Boulder or in Estes Park. I'm leaning towards to park myself. I'm trying to convince Kevin that white water rafting would be awesome. He seems up for it, but I believe that he may be a bit nervous. Then again, he went skydiving with me and didn't appear nervous for a moment.

Kevin makes me happy, even though there are things that concern me.

I saw Brian last weekend for the first time in 8 months. Last night he was in my dreams looking like the old Brian and not this new Brian. When I actually saw him he got choked up. I told him I had a boyfriend and was living with him. That must have been a bit shocking. We talked about work and life. He's surviving. I'm sad to say that I don't know that he ever goes too far beyond that, although he has every ability and characteristic to live a fantastically happy life. I sort of miss him. I guess I miss him like you would miss any person who was a part of the majority of your life and knows you well. I see his face and it reminds me of my life. Without it I feel so separated from that. I'm not saying that's a bad thing. It's good to be free of that heaviness of heart. I saw pictures and video of his kid. That still baffles my fucking head.

Life is good to me right now. I spend a lot of time eating and cooking and seeing music. And now I have time to workout on my terms and read and maybe turn on the television some day... hmmm, maybe that one can wait. But of course there are things that I am sacrificing, like the opportunity to have a family. I am trying to come to terms with the idea of that. I will never be a Mom. Is that cool with me? It just may be. I may have just found someone who makes that all ok. Sometimes I don't think so, of course. Like when my Mom continually sends me stupid ass comments like, "I am so angry with Brian for ruining your lives and the chance for you to be Mom" after I've told her multiple times that that is bullshit and to shut the hell up. WTF, Mom? So maybe I don't want to be one of those. And when we sit on the porch and watch people go by and laugh so hard I cry and get sushi and go to bed at night and he kisses my shoulder, I think that maybe a life in the sun, possibly starting up a little restaurant in the hills of Maui, living and exploring with this man, could be more than I ever hoped for. It's hard to say, I guess. I'm just going with the flow. I'm just living life and keeping the possiblities open. After all, almost anything is possible these days.

By the way, I am indulging in way too much music lately. Right now I'm listening to Beirut. They keep growing on me. I'm also in love with Dan Auerbach and the songWhen The Night Comes. The Rural Alberta Advantage and Band of Horses are still on heavy rotation at our house. And last night I introduced Kevin to The Kooks since they are coming shortly.It's going to be a show filled fall which makes me quite happy.

So that's it for now. I'm hoping to have more time, energy and creative flow in the upcoming months but I cannot promise anything. The food blog, excersize blog, music blog is still enticing me, but maybe I just need to make a end-goal Hawaii blog. I don't know. At this moment I'm excited about an early exit from work, a bike ride, and weekend of absolutely no studying.

cows

I think that beauty and love are the only important things in this world. Call me stupid and naive and fucked in the head and I will probably agree. Fucking beauty and love, what the hell do they get you but loss and longing. But there they are. I believe that's all that anyone is really fighting for. Wait, that's a fucking piece of shit lie. People pretend that's what they are fighting for, but in reality all they are fighting for is survival and power. What? You are some self-actualized, brilliant person who would give of yourself for the good of this planet or at the very least some individual that you've chosen as your luck. Ha! You are fucking delusional. You are just as simple and base as the next guy who is out there beating the shit out of another person for a little food. It may be on some "higher" level. You may be fighting for an idea or a place or something that seems entirely intellectual or good... oh yes, you are fighting for good over evil. Double fucking ha. Those ideas and that goodness is all your way of dealing with the fact that you have too much time on your hands and too many things and too much ease to be able to just sit still. Deep inside you are positive that you have no control over anything and you want that control. You want the world to bend and kiss your feet. You want to be adored and respected, but more importantly you would like to be King. You want to rule all those things and piddly human beings that you see out on the street. "Dumb shit", ugly ass long grass, horribly cooked hamburger -- it's all a big old swatch of gooey, stinking shit throw on you doorstep. You need to clean it up by cleaning up the world. That's what you're thinking, right? You're think you rattle off words and phrases and magically remove that shit. But you are mistaken, my friends. That shit is just part of this fucking world. No matter how hard you try to clean the stench and bury it down, it's still there. It's your fucking shit. You are in no way different than the drugged out whore or the sex-crazed politician or the cow grazing in the farmland miles from your urban home. Wait, I take that back. At least the cow doesn't think himself better than you.

Some times it freaks me out how in touch with my body/mind I am. Seriously, man. Did I or did I not say that I was seriously PMSing? And of course that should be a fairly simple thing for most women to place, but I get emotional and am immediately willing to admit what the issue is.Yeah, I'm pretty damn cool that way. Kidding. But I am happy to be that in touch. I think it should make the men in my life happy too. You would think I might want to slap the shit out of my boyfriend when he asks me if I'm crabby because of this, but instead I just shrug and go, "yep" I hate it as much as you.

But anyway, this is boring stuff. I had a pretty laid back weekend really. It was good, though. I am sun kissed and decently rested.I met the boyfriend's parents. Man, I was scared of that but it ended up a pretty laid back and easy affair. His Dad talked quite a bit and his Mom just hugged me and introduced me to other's as "Kevin's latest girlfriend."Ha! Nice one. It's true, though. I am the latest. From what he tells me, though, I am kind of special. Do I believe that? I want to. I think I'm a pretty special gal. I mean, you should see how I've been cooking lately. Damn, I've gotten good. I don't like to be all cocky about this stuff because I know I'm just on a bit of a roll right now, but damn it is a good roll. Homemade salsas, guac, speck and eggs, fish tacos, sweet potatoes, and an amazing filet on pesto. That's just the beginning. Even the raisin oatmeal cookies did not last. I love cooking for the guy, what can I say. He is super appreciative and I've brought him over to the couscous and a bunch of other things. He calls my cooking unique and full of flavor. Mission accomplished. There aren't enough days to cook as much as I want.

I'm counting down the days. 5 weeks and I get another break from school. And come September, I will only be going 2 days a week -- one of which is for only 1.5. Can you believe that? I am almost done. I am almost done!!! And then what, you ask? Then I plan my exodus. Kevin and I are talking about how we want to sail the world. I like that idea a lot. So the only question is how do we make enough money to kick start this dream? Any suggestions or donations would be greatly appreciated.

pre-menstrual case of the crazies.

I think that I need to go back to being alone. I'm listening to Carly Simon, Jeff Buckley Sia, and The Smiths. This is not a good sign. I have PMS. It's true. But there's no way around it. I fell for you and your seemingly passionate belief in love and honesty. I fell for the way you laughed and danced and kissed the hell out of me to the point where I couldn't breath... every single time.  When you told me the story of the Wizard of Oz the other day and you made your silly little move... circling me there in the yard...  I don't think I will ever forget that moment. Is it crazy that I loved you with every piece of me at that moment? Why is it that I couldn't say it. What is it about me that I am afraid that when I run my hands through your hair or touch your arm, or snuggle against you, you will find me to be too much? Why is it that I feel like you don't really want me as much as you want to want me? Why is that me? I hardly think it's you. Is it?

Please don't use that tone with me and tell me to fuck off. Don't call me a bitch and look at me as if I am the one who is broken. Don't get so fucking drunk that you can't remember . You should be the one place where I feel safe.

I want you to be strong. Sure, I am here for you when you feel weak. We all feel weak. But there is a line and that line you tow fucking scares the shit out of me. Someday you will be laying in a ditch or locked up in a cell or breathing through a tube because of this so-called "common sense." Remember what you told me, "drugs are for young people."

PMS. Yep, I've got it bad. It's gut wrenching and body numbing. I just want to crawl out of my skin. Everything aches. My legs will barely move me. My chest burns. My face feels tired and old. And I am so very upset with me for moving in to your place. And I am so very upset with myself for crying like that the other night. . And I am so very upset with myself for not running and for wanting to run and for feeling like shit today. I want you to say the right thing. You did stay up last night to hug me, or so you said. You looked so very tired and so very unhappy. Tonight I will take you out and I will act happy and I will try desperately to make you laugh. I will put on something that accentuates my lips and eyes, and the redness in my hair. I believe you like the redness. I will wear something that shows off a little leg and a little breast and I will hope that you feel somewhat lucky to be by my side. It's funny how it comes around this way.

Why am I dwelling, my dear? I can't pry that drink or that weed or that line from your past or from your future. It is all yours. And I can't really be much different myself. I fucking hate that you did a line and that you think that's ok. I fucking hate that you got so drunk that the words fuck off seemed so seriously, even intertwined with kinder/gentler words. If you end up not loving me, you end up not loving me. It's just time that we are possibly wasting. But I don't feel much like I'm wasting. But maybe I do.

That's enough of that. Good rant. Deep breath. Nice text. Date night.

11 years

Today would be my 11 year wedding anniversary if I were still married. Instead my ring sits in a box in need of care. I pull it out from time to time and swirl it around on my finger. It is quite beautiful still, although the luster is gone. I remember when I first bought it and we would get all giggly about the way it sparkled and threw off light on the side of the car. I also remember when I took it off and put it in that box for good. That was strange and wonderful and so very simple and sad. The ring is now a symbol of a dissolution of a relationship, of a committment, of a life. I should sell it and go on a trip.

I now sleep in bed with a man who has lived more life than I can imagine. I am surprised by him each day. I am surprised by how beautiful I find him in his silvery blue shirt. I study his arms and the gentle curves. I run my fingers along his abdomen, feeling his bones and the contours of his muscles, and the softness of his skin. He tells me the stories and I feel a sense of closeness and a sense that I will never be able to get close. 60+ women and he's only loved 2 and they are the only 2 to have ever left him. Does he only love the ones who leave? Add to that years of escapades and games and drunkenness and drugs and crazy sex and arrests and amazing friendships... compare that to me. I have so few stories, I often feel like a wooden box with a few intricate curves and colors that draw attention, but upon opening it you find nothing but emptiness and disappointment.

Last night I arrived home and all the clothing that I had left in my laundry basket in my own closet had been washed and folded. If only he knew that half of those things did not need to be washed -- they had just been thrown in there in the rush of the morning. I'm not telling him, so shush. The fact that he did it is amazing to me and I am not doing anything to discourage his amazingness. He also cleaned the bathroom and the kitchen and the floors. Sure, he also got to lay at the beach for a bit but took a huge portion of his evening to make "our" home clean. I'm still struggling with calling it that and taking it from him, but I am comfortable there.

I still struggle. Saturday there was drunken incident...let's just say he said some stupid shit. I cried. He apologized and said he did not know why it hurt me. I can't understand why he can't understand. He felt bad about himself the entire next day for how drunk he was. My anger quickly turned to desire to make him feel better. But ever since, I feel like things are on a cusp. At any moment he will tell me he doesn't really want me there or worse yet, he will just drift away and we will stop talking and kissing. I wonder if that is the inevitability of love?

This weekend, I want us to dance and sing and sleep close in a tent. I want to be on the water with him. I want us to laugh. I want to see him smile at me.

I feel sad today. It's not the kind of sadness of the past. It's the kind sadness that could be cured easily with a hug or some music and the sand between my toes. But it's sadness nonetheless. I am feeling unworthy. I am feeling like I'm not all that smart. But even more so, I'm feeling fat and ugly. Ugly, ugly, ugly. I know that it's not worth getting all worked up about appearances, but I feel so very unattractive lately. It's probably because my workout schedule has been pretty fucked since summer hours set in. It's also because my hair looks like a big, moppy mess. It's also because I just saw some pictures of me from last year and I look like a big, old chubbo. It's disgusting and depressing. Do I really look like that? But that's just a symptom of a greater self esteem problem that I have, which causes me to fear and not trust. And then I think, who gives a fuck, I don't need anyone. And then I think, yes I fucking do. I need a love. I need a couple great friends. And then I think, why the fuck do I need these things. I don't. And the cycle goes on and I get tired and I put it on a shelf and find something to make me laugh about.

 11 years ago today, we woke up early and went to Bachmanns to get flowers. We put them together into beautiful bouquets of hydrangea and purple roses. I put on an ugly green dress and combat boots and too much makeup. We went out on the water and said some of the most beautiful words I've ever heard. Friends and family watched. We listened to a silly song by Sugar Marie called Mermaid. I shoved cake in his face. We drank champagne. We were married. Sometimes it feels like it was the realest thing I've ever or will ever do. Sometimes it feels like the biggest sham.

I would like a cookie and a cigarette. I smoke too much now. I eat too much sugar now. I hate Brian & his forever and total absence from my life now. I love this new man but am afraid to let him in now.

Moving

I hate moving. I lie. I love moving. I just don't like the actual work that goes into moving. But alas, this was a fairly simple one considering how little I took with me. It's just me, clothes, some electronics, a little kitchenware, and a few pictures. I took a couple pieces of furniture but most of it lingers at my Dad's house, sad and dusty most likely never to be enjoyed again. My relationship with most of those belongings is over. I've moved on. And yet, to have a few of them surrounding me, makes me feel a bit of warmth mixed with a bit of sorrow.

I am living in this house where my clothing is safely tucked into the built in wooden drawers in the bathroom. My bike is leaning against the wall in the hall. The rooms are buttery yellow and my dark wood Asian cabinet looks like it has always been there. The porch is large and I sit hunkered down in my monkey pants, a knit orange hat and the sounds of The Rural Alberta Advantage and Beck as I sip my lychee cocktail. I sleep in a bed with a downy comforter and pillows surrounding me. In the refrigerator there are apples and grapes and Tupperware filled with couscous and pork that I cooked earlier in the week. My bookcase is waiting to be filled and I keep forgetting to throw my clothes down the laundry shoot. He plays tennis. I ride my bike. At night he waves to me as I creep in. In the morning, I kiss him as I creep out. I have not yet called it home but it feels like home, along with all those fears squirming in my belly. Will I say or do the wrong thing. Does he actually like me, and even crazier, love me. He put his arms around me while I was doing the dishes and I lost the air. I lost all proprioception. Somehow that's all it takes no matter what is happening... I can suddenly topple over the failures and stop questioning our weaknesses.

But this wasn't really supposed to be about him. This is about me and where I've been and where I'm going. Sometimes it is all a bit overwhelming. But I see Hawaii there in my future. The plan is Fall of 2012 if not sooner. I would like to get back to documenting this journey, but I seem to be busy living. I think that's probably a good thing. And now, before I'm ready, I have to get back to living. I have to rush off to school and study for a quiz. Yep, free time is still pretty hard to come by.

Ebbs and flows and the art of dealing with it.

Since last time I wrote, my company had lay-offs, my boss quit, 2 other co-workers quit, and I've been in various meetings where I've heard people say that we have 3 months to get our shit together or the whole e-commerce team is going to be out on our asses. I am being held responsible for the success or failure of social media efforts, of which I have very little experience and of which I enjoy but do not see as a way to increase short term ROI. You must play in the space, but that does not mean that every company can have success in it. In fact, most don't.

My work woes aside, things are relatively calm. Relatively. School is moving right along. I am working in a clinic on Saturday's and it continues to be zen-like. I enjoy the stroking of my ego. Sorry, it's the truth. I never get enough of hearing that I have magical hands. I had one nice gentleman tell my supervisor that he could feel that I cared. That's important to me. So important. I've always felt that I held up a wall around myself a bit... trying to be tough. But this career does not allow someone who is cold and shut-off to be a success. I mean, I can totally hide myself, but I have to be in tune with the other person. It's a fun experience.

I am moving in with my boyfriend next weekend. Saturday. He cleaned out the closets for me. My grill and the majority of my clothes are there. Is it too soon? Should I be relishing in my aloneness and rent some ritzy downtown loft? I wanted to. But his place is cute and had a yard and is a mere 5 blocks from the Midtown Greenway and about 20 from the river. This morning I ran down the Greenway to the river and across the bridge on Lake Street into what I believe is St. Paul. Yesterday we road our bikes to the Ford Parkway Bridge in hopes of climbing it (he's done it many times in his past). Sadly, the ropes were gone so we couldn't but I am adoring being so close to so many things I love.

I'm scared shitless of this situation. He told me he loved me on his Birthday. He does NOT take these things lightly. His friends are pretty amazed that he, the loner, is moving in with me. In fact, I sort of broke it to them. He was worried the last couple weekends when I was unusually quiet with his friends. He thinks I am anti-social and unhappy. This worries me and my heart and chest begin to ache and I think I am not right for him. I cannot sit around with the girls and chatter. I don't really want to do that. I enjoy being with his friends but it takes me time. I have nothing to add to conversations about their history or their kids. I often feel that I have nothing to offer. The insecurities creep in and I wonder if I just need to hide away. He has been waiting far too long to find this love -- this unbelievable love. I do think that we could have that. I do. But I don't. I am broken. Sometimes I think that there's no coming back from that. It scares me. But I'm going to move in with him and plan this move to Hawaii and try to feel so much pressure to make things work. It's about being happy and letting go of the things I cannot control.

By now I have somewhat mastered the art of the ups and downs and ebbs and flows of life. I can jump from giggling uncontrollably to almost crying and back again in a heartbeat. I wonder if this is a good thing? I

48 hours

In 48 hours I will be on the sandy beaches of Mexico with a bunch of crazy people I barely know. I cannot wait to sink my toes into the sand and throw my face into thick saltiness of the ocean. Freedom. This is freedom. I keep trying to find the words to describe how I feel these days but they escape me. Lucky is an understatement.

When I saw Brian with Gina in the car... did I tell you this story? If not, it's just that I saw them in the car together and it was the first time I've seen her since November of 09 and the first time I've seen him in months. He did not look happy. She did not look happy. And it's not that that makes me happy. It doesn't. I don't wish them suffering. Suffering is a worthless and life wasting endeavor that no one deserves. But seeing them makes me realize how fucking, amazingly lucky I am to have escaped when I did. I sort of realized it before, but now I'm so very positive that my body feels like it is going to burst with fucking joy. Yes, that is how I feel. I'm sure I've said this before but it's just enescapable and all-encompassing.


School is good. I don't want to be stuck there for 3 months while the sun shines but I will suck it up and get it done.


Work is still awesome. I'm stressed this week because there is a ton to do. But even the stress is a million times better than past jobs. Last week for about the 20th time my boss told me that I am doing awesome. She also said she just trusts me. She trusts that I will get things done no questions asked. Wow. It feels fucking good to finally be treated with respect. I love it here.


Kevin. Kevin. Kevin. What to say about that? I am going to Mexico with him. We are planning to go to Hawaii in December. He tells me we will be spending the majority of our summer weekends out on his friend's boat on the St. Croix. These are the friends that we are going to Mexico for -- it's their wedding. And last week I got a real glimpse at them. At first it bothered me, the things they were saying about each other and their history, etc. But the way that they love each other, or more importantly the way that they love Kevin, is so very lovely. I want to be by this man's side whether we are on a boat, sitting on the front porch, or digging our feet into the sand. I think he feels similarly. If things were to blow up in 48 hours or 30 days or a year, my heart would break. Wow, I was going to say just the opposite to prove my toughness. But then I realized I would be totally lying. I feel really happy and really lucky and I don't want to see this come to an end any time in the near future. I do not need this man or any man or any person, but it sure it good to have a companion... someone to care for who really cares back. I do believe he cares back. I only wish I could open up and tell him some of these things. I'm just not there yet. I still feel a bit protective. I think that's natural. I think in a way it is smart.


Anyway, I am the sort of happy that I hope makes people a little sick to their stomachs. It should, really. If it doesn't well then lucky you, because that means you are happy too. And that's a good thing (that's something Kev would say). Ok, I better get back to work. So much to do before the trip. Can't contain myself. Can't fucking keep it underwraps. I need some good rocking out music and I need it now!
By the way, I'm going to Mexico. nah, nah, boo, boo. ;) (yes, I am 5)
 
FYI. Just because I'm all skippy, happy, joy, joy, does not mean I've lost my cynical hard edge. Fuck that. I've still got plenty of dark underneath it all. I can still kick some serious ass and am happy to do so.

down day

That's right, I'm feeling full of self loating and self pitty today. Kevin pretty much canceled our Easter plans. He is right to do it but I still feel so inadequate with this nothing of a family and my totally awkward, shy, and uncomfortable self. What do I have to offer? I don't have much for friends or family to share. I don't have much to give his friends and family.

And then my fucking Mother sends me a whole message about how she really hopes that I'm going to get married and  have kids, blah, blah, blah. So I told her that I'm not sure that's what I want anymore and it's definitely not something that is in consideration with Kevin. So then she comes back with this whole fucking thing about how she's so sad for me and I would be a good mother and how it's the best thing she ever did... Fuck her.What makes her think saying that shit is a good thing? Seriously. That woman has no tact... not ability to comprehend what has gone on in my head and heart to be where I'm at. Fuck me for letting her get to me.

Kevin left me a voicemail right when I usually finish lunch that said, "what the hell, you don't call, you don't write, you don't kiss me goodbye. yeah, call me." My heart sank a bit. He's right. I always kiss him goodbye when he's sleeping. This morning, I did not. Stupid, crabby me. I refuse to let my Mom or my past or what could've should've fuck up what could make me happy.

I love Band of Horses

My life is so music filled these days that I can't even begin to share everything. But I will try. This song by Band of Horses is a perfect example of why I fell in love with this band in the first place. This particular tune, Kitchen Evenings, is terribly sad. I won't lie, it reminds of Brian. But my sadness for him, my memory of him, it is changing and morphing into a sort of guilt for not loving him or wanting him in my life. It's also morphed into anger at him for having never loved or appreciated me. And maybe that isn't true. Maybe I'm twisting the history or the memory so that I can live with what has transpired. But that is ok, really, isn't it? It's ok to do what you need to do to get by. And now the song: http://p.rhap.com/Tra.38553289

Kitchen Evenings
Drive out with the sun in your eyes
You wasted my time
It's true, it's true

My god, don't you hold out your hand
I called off my plans
I counted on you, on you

And if you're ever left with any doubt
What you live with and what you'll do without
I'm only sorry that it took so long to figure out

(oooo oooo oooo)

Got lost in the places I've been
I should go out with my friends
I'd go tonight but I know you'll be there too, there too

For me, this bottle of wine
Is to slow down my mind
And forget the things that I knew, I knew

And if you're ever left with any doubt
What you live with and what you'll do without
I'm only sorry that it took so long to figure out

(oooo oooo oooo)

what's wrong

I was running around Wayzata high school at 5:50 a.m. and there were tons of lights on inside yet no students. A hummer sped through the lot by me. I thought to myself that this is everything that is wrong with the world.

happiness hit her.

Saturday I ran 8 miles. Yesterday I walked at least 8 miles. I slid down a hill of leaves towards the mighty Mississippi. I climbed back up a hill of mud. I have the scrapes to prove it. I saw a school of the largest fish I have ever seen. I believe he said they were carp. They were just there, at least 20 of them large and looming. I couldn't help but want to chase after them like a stupid child who doesn't understand the nature of fish and human. I did not attempt it, but I'm still thinking about it. When I sat on the ledge looking at the Ford Bridge, with Kevin on my side, I felt so unbelievably good. The sun was beating on me, my hands were chilly, and as I stumbled with his zippo he said, "you are so retarded." It was an entirely perfect, unforgettable moment.

From there the conversation meandered in so many ways, but my favorite part was when he started talking to the trees and I said I didn't know that he spoke tree and then he said he can't speak all tree, because some dialects are just too complicated. Later I found out he also speaks sock, although not argyle. I guessed correctly that it's because the argyles are a little too uppity and snobbish. What a bonus in a boyfriend, right? So I've now put him in charge of coaxing out all those pesky single socks that are keeping me from having any good pairs. I am looking forward to the results.

In 3 weeks I will be on Isla Mujeres in some massive house, where I intend to spend hours in the sun snorkeling and listening to music. I will be spending about 4 days with a group of people I don't really know but am told will embrace and love me.


Stop for a moment. Re-read that. I keep re-reading that. He tells me that he is damn lucky to have his group of friends and that they are soon to become mine. He says they will love me. He seems to think I deserve that. I get shivers and beautiful ache in my chest just typing those words. He is offering me a part of his life with those words. He has embraced the closest people to me without question. Anything could happen at this point, but I feel so damn lucky to have found him right now. He is somehow the most perfect mix of sweet, polite, loving, and sarcastic wit. He's had his issues. I've had mine. But together right now, we seem to be on some beautifully good path littered with laughter, music, dancing, food, conversation and the most amazing kisses I've ever, EVER experienced. He seems to understand something about love.

Yes, love. The world "love" dances around my mouth and on my tongue, but it's not the time for us to share that word yet. He said as much this weekend over cards and wine. I don't remember the words really except that we seem to agree. This relationship of ours is young. We both realize the preciousness of it all. Fragility is important to learn. But no matter the outcome, I am damn lucky I am where I am right now.

So that's what I'm doing these days. I'm moving forward and doing all the things I had planned to do. School is good. Work is good. Hawaii still seems to be a possibility. My friends are good. The summer is coming. I'm running still. I'm excited to get out biking. I've been getting to cook lately. This weekend I made lamb and it was unbelievably delicious. I'm planning my next skydiving adventure. I have a bunch of little errands I need to run. My phone is shit and needs to be fixed. I haven't had an oil change in at least a year. I should go to the bank and talk to them about the mortgage loan, since Brian won't return my messages. I'm trying to figure out what I'm going to read now that I'm going on a little vacation and should have some quality time. I am so thrilled to get to read.

So yeah, life is moving a long and I often find myself singing "happiness hit her like a train on the tracks."

Life couldn't get much better for me.

the fear of greatness

I started crying (a good cry) over what seems to be a real sense of happiness. It's really hard to believe in the good things that are happening in my life. I keep bracing myself for disaster. I'm prepared to hate my job, to struggle with school, and to have my heart broken right as I begin to trust again. In fact, if some combo of these things does not happen, I will be utterly confused by the universe. Sure, I deserve good things and I'm working hard, but I understand reality. My reality is not one of simplicity. I think that comes with the territory of being me and I've accepted it.

Work is good so far. It is far from perfect. People argue. The work is not very well defined. I have far too many meetings. But it's good. The people are nice and friendly and honest. They may argue but it's full of respect. My bosses are two of the keenest managers I have ever seen. Or at least that's how it seems right now. I keep pinching myself.

The harsher reality is that I may be sort of  falling for someone. I thoroughly enjoy spending time with him. The last 2 weekends have been so easy... so easy. And by easy, I mean good. I mean really fucking fun and good. He is not at all what I expected to want. He is everything I've wanted in a surprising package. I'm having a really fucking difficult time coping with it all -- his honesty, his willingness to bend and listen to me,  and just be. I'm having a hard time believing that he will banter and kiss and dance with me and be responsible. He danced with me, damn it. In the middle of his floor to good old timey music, he danced with me.

I'm pretty sure it won't last. I've been resisting up until this weekend. This weekend I put myself out there a bit too much. I know his reputation and I'm pretty sure I cannot come close to meeting his expectations. He has grandiose ideas about love. These are ideas that I want to believe in but feel are unrealistic and overly romantic. Then again, I had some pretty grandiose ideas about things like family and money which appear to be fading. Yet, still I'm feeling the fear. I think he must be too. It's a good kind of fear, though. Wow, it's pretty fucking unbelievable to be in a place where you have nothing left to lose and only good things to gain.

the storm

I ran again this morning. The ground is thawing. The streets are still slick but the dodging of dirty snow clumps has become a minor part of the process. My legs feel better. My breathing was controlled. I was listening to Blac Roc, the Black Keys backing up rap, thanks to one of my coolest classmates. It was dark and quiet and warm. I smiled as I slowly pounded up hill after hill, feeling the tightening of my thighs and my calves and my abdomen. Spring is coming. Life is changing. 

Life appears to be progressing. I feel like I can see picnics and campfires and sunny days ahead. Can it really be good? I find it difficult to trust in it. I work for it, but I do not know if I really believe in the possibilities I am working towards. 

A co-worker, well former as of tomorrow, told me today that I remind her of some book called "Jesus on a Bike" or something like that. This main character changed her life by a clear process of defining her dreams and pursuing them. And although in the end her life didn't look as grandiose as it had in her dreams, it was exactly what she wanted and needed. Cheesy, yes. But hell,  maybe this is me. I have a purpose and I know what that purpose is. It feels empowering and yet I'm scared. I afraid of giving up.  

I know that I want this simple life that revolves around the pleasures of love, friendship, food, nature, and music. I know that when I am running my hands through some one's hair or down their arm, I am at peace. I know that when I am smelling the ocean and eating fresh fruit, and laughing, I am beyond happy. I know that I want this sort of love and peace and balance in my life. There is no point in striving for some power position. There is no point in trying to hoard friends or belongings. That is not me. I am aware of it, so keenly aware, that it would probably destroy me if I turn my back on this reality now. Sure, I would enjoy having a family, but I don't think I can sacrifice these other things for that. It seems that I should be able to find a way to do both in some way. And although I have no idea if that is possible and I have no idea how to accomplish it, I do know that I am doing what I can to make a life that is worth living. I've taken steps that many people never take. 

I've made it out of 4 years that almost destroyed me. It hasn't really hit me yet. It's just starting to. This part of my life -- this horribly destructive job and my youth and my marriage, they are all over. I've made it out of the storm.

"And you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others. And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about."  -- Haruki Murakami

I hate luv

Why is it that I feel like such shit? Why do I let some super stupid made-up holiday that I've never celebrated remind me of what I have lost or what I will never have? I am missing him & I hate it. He never really loved me all that much or all that well, I suppose, or the years wouldn't have left me so very lonely and so very sad. I feel scarred and worn. This weekend was very good and yet, exhausting, It left me feeling slightly sick about myself and the things that I do. Who am I? What do I want? What do I deserve? I just want this to be over sometimes... sometimes the nightmare, the heaviness, it's catches up to me. And then I end up sitting here at my desk listening to these songs that I love and feeling absolutely convinced that I need to run as far as I can as fast as I can from everything and everyone.

Running on a Monday

I got me a new pair of running shoes this past weekend. Last night I laced them up and ran around the neighborhood. The ice is thawing rapidly and the sun was shining on my face. I didn't need gloves and my fleece coat kept me plenty warm. My legs ache still. I don't think they will ever feel normal again. My body is just too messed up. And still, the running is mine. The running is part of what defines me and grounds me.

I cannot stop listening to this Decemberists album. It takes my breath away.

What were the words I meant to say
Before She left
When I could see her breath lead 
Where she were going to

Maybe I should just let it be 
And maybe it will all come back to me
Seeing, oh, Janu Oh, January, go 

Vday

I haven’t seen Kevin since last Sunday and I sort of miss him, damn it. I sort of like that when I call him, he answers the phone with “Darling?” He says it in this sort of mischievous way that’s not really sappy but still is. It’s like last weekend when he was cooking and he asked me if he should rinse the pasta. I explained why he should and then he said, “whatever you say, darling.” He says it sort of snarky with just a hint of sweetness. I sort of dig that. And now I’m using the word “dig” just like he does. Argh. Whenever I’m self deprecating, he’ll say, “I sort of dig that about you.”

But you don’t want to hear all this sappy shit, do you?

Wait, one more. Just one, I promise. So you know how last weekend I told him that I couldn’t stand sleeping in a house filled with cigarette smoke? Well, I also told him that I hate how the smell seeps into my clothes and everything else. He didn’t say much about it but seemed cool and not too concerned. But then last night on the phone, out of nowhere he asks if I’m a witch (the second guy to ask me this, by the way). I joked a little with him, “maybe I am. Why do you want to know?” He proceeds to tell me that ever since our last conversation, he is completely aware of the smoke smell, in a way he never has been before. I’m thinking to myself that he’s crazy and just trying to be nice to me. But then again, I guess if no one ever said anything to him about it before, it may have just seemed normal. Awareness can do a lot. Mostly, I just think it’s sweet. Not only did he not get mad or annoyed with me for saying something, he felt some sort of empathy or something… and that is not normal, is it? Shouldn’t he be annoyed? Or is he just messing with me?

I know it’s wrong to not trust people in the way that I seemingly don’t trust people. Here I thought I was too naive and trusting. Instead, I’m realizing that I don’t trust anyone. I think there is a such thing as a healthy distrust but there’s also a point where it’s not healthy. I guess I just need to feel around for that line. Eventually I will find it.

So, Monday is Valentine’s Day. I don’t remember ever really celebrating it. I’m sure I did at some point, but not for years. So anyway, Kevin wants to hang out and have dinner. That sounds lovely. However, I just realized that I should probably have something little to give him. I don’t think it should be a card or anything… it needs to be unique in some way. It should be music related or book related or something. I want it to feel personal. Maybe I give him some of my favorite music, a Murakami book or 2, and something home baked – he likes sweets. Is that too much? Do I just make him a card with construction paper and buy a Walgreens box of chocolates? I want to do something that means something. I don’t really like these holidays when people do stuff just to do it. If you’re going to do it, do it right. This means I probably won’t do it. Oh no, that’s such a Brian thing. Forget that – I’m doing something. I’m just not sure what. Grrr.

My legs are aching badly this week. They feel swollen and angry. I have not been able to run at all really. My shoes are all torn up. My left foot is swollen and my right leg feels like it is about to rip with every stride. I cannot wait for the warmer weather of the weekend. I’m going to find a trail and I’m going to run outside and I’m going to be happy, damn it. I know, I need to go find some shoes. There’s just too much to do, to much to spend money on, and not enough time or money. I need new clothes for work. I have to dress up again. How will I do that? It will be fine, fine. That just means that I need to get back to my normal size and get out and buy some pants. My dress pants from 7 years ago aren’t going to cut it.

Because I have been a total pig and have not been running, I am fat. Ok, so I’m not fat but I’m feeling pretty fat. So, as of yesterday I’m on a little diet. It’s not really a diet as much as it is a small restriction. On this diet, I will not allow myself to eat any nut or nut butter or chocolate if I am not in the presence of other human beings. I think this, and this alone, should do wonders since that’s pretty much where I get all my calories these days – in nut binges. I am excited to start finding new things to eat in a binge. Kidding. I think this will get me more focused on eating meals again. I want to get back there. And with spring coming, I need to start training. I refuse to feel like total shit just running 6 miles or biking for an hour. This body needs a serious whooping. 

Craziness ensues

I I got a new job! Yay. And so the hellishness of the past 4 years, getting beat down over and over again is about to end. I'm not sure if I can hack it, this starting over. I'm scared. It's going to be intense. I will be working a lot of hours. I will be managing shit loads of emails and social media. But this is travel. This is something I'm totally passionate about. Not that I have any problem with books, but this is quite different. I'm pretty excited, with just the right amount of skepticism. I know that it's not going to be loads and load of fun. It's a job, after all. But at least I will be getting paid a decent wage and I won't have to put up with bitches bossing me around. Good riddance motherf'rs. I gots me a little attitude these days.

I'm still dating Kevin. This weekend we hung out Saturday and Sunday. He made delicious manicotti and I helped. He put in 4 different types of peppers including habeneros. Smart man. Sunday we went to his favorite place and had spicy bloody mary's and amazing pancakes. I shouldn't have had the bloody mary. I was exhausted by the time we were through. They do not mess around at that joint.

Sunday night I accompanied him to a super bowl party. I met his friends. It was quiet. His best friends ended up not being able to show.  I pretty much just laid on the LoveSac by myself the entire time. For awhile I did have an enormous, beautiful and sweet Great Dane on my lap. I also had a nice pillow fight with a little boy whose name they never told me. But by the end of the night, I was exhausted. How Kevin managed 4 or 5 beers, after the bloody mary's and vodka red bull, is beyond me. No wonder he felt like utter shit yesterday. I mean seriously, the man probably weighs 5 pounds more than me.

One of his friends told me that when he was younger, they used to be able to see his heart in his chest because he was so skinny. Wow. Gross.

This same friend was a bit inappropriate and dorky but having known Kevin for 25 years, it seemed somewhat sweet that he knew so much about me and that he said, "I hope you guys last. You seem to have a real connection." I'm not sure where that came from. Maybe he is one of the ones with money down. I forget.

Speaking of money down, we had a Super Bowl bet. I said that the game would go past 9:00 and he said "no way." In fact, I do believe that when I easily won that bet I was able to call him out for having said "in the history of Super Bowls, not one has gone past 9:00." His friends seemed to enjoy me bringing that one up. He was a good loser. He paid up and congratulated me.

After we got back, I explained to him that sleeping in a smoke-filled house was just not doing it for me and that I should probably go home. He did not argue with me. Instead he talked about the chairs on the porch where we would hopefully be spending a lot of time once the weather warms up. Then he told me to get the fuck out. Sweet.

So, here's the problem... I don't think I'm ready for commitment. I still have these dreams and pictures in my head that have me freaking the fuck out about this whole exclusivity thing. I don't want to hurt Kevin and I don't want to lie to him. I'm not ready for seriousness. I'm not ready to love. I want it, but I don't trust myself or anyone else yet. Maybe I never will be.

School is about to get insane. We are nearing the point where the homework and tests start piling on. I'm absolutely loving it. I did chair massages at Mayo clinic on Friday and left feeling spirited and full of goodness. However, I still do NOT know my muscles well and I still don't know what a trigger point feels like. It's got me shaking a bit. I need to take some time to really concentrate on learning this stuff. I feel like Kevin does not really understand why I need to spend so much time studying and going to classes. There's another concern with him. Anyway, I need to focus on my school work while I have some free time... before I start this new job and it will be a struggle just to get through each day and get my stuff turned in. Yep, life is about to get even more insane.

Bring it all on. 6.5 more months and this will all be done. 6.5 months and I can start the exodus.

Massage

I need a business name for my massage. I went to my Facebook friends in hopes of some great ideas. Instead I got mostly silly suggestions and a heck of a lot of inappropriate ideas. So I sent a quick email to Brian because he's creative and I trust his opinion. Within an hour he came back with the best list EVER. I had come up without about 10 myself but each one of his blew mine out of the water. So now it's down to:


Kinetic Therapeutic, Sport and Rehabilitative Massage
Balance PointTherapeutic Massage
Active BodyTherapeutic, Sport and Rehabilitative Massage
Body in MotionMassage

I'm leaning towards the first two.


See why I miss him? He knew to make it about fitness and well-being because that's my intent and passion. Plus, he's smarter than fucking smart. I ache from head to toe.

Steady

I'm going to stick with the facts. Friday night Kevin and I went out for dinner. We walked from his place to this cute little Mexican place in Seward. I had a chipotle, pineapple margarita with an awesome kick. [That margarita was my idea, by the way. Sure it was on their menu, but I made that drink up this past summer. Cross my heart. But whatever. ] The waiter was a gorgeous, young Mexican guy (late 20's) with an awesome ear piercing, a glimmer in his eye, and an intoxicating smile. He suggested I order the fajitas and so I followed his advice. Kevin was getting the tamales and informed me I could not order the same thing as him. Who does he think I am? I would never order the same thing. Doing that would be an insane waste of tasting opportunities. Sheesh. The fajitas came sizzling and the veggies were fresh and the shrimp plump and delicious. The guac was filled with onions and cilantro and garlic. Perfection. 

Kev and I sat at the bar, giggling like little kids. We were celebrating my possible new job (more on this later). He put his hand on my leg. He does that often. And when my hand wouldn't warm, he put it on his leg and put his other hand over it. He told me that he's told his friends a lot about me, except for the fact that I kicked his ass at Gin. His ego is still bruised and fragile from the upset. So he told his friends all about me and there's a bet on how long we will last. Kevin doesn't keep the girls around very long, or so he's told me. So the bet is that we won't last another month. He seems determined to prove that he can stay with me for longer than that. There's a show on February 22 and he's already pestering me relentlessly to accompany him. He also told me that I am required to go to his best friend's wedding in May. I keep joking with him about how he will be annoyed with me by then and all he says is that he still hasn't found anything that he doesn't like about me. Awe, he's a skilled sweet talker. One quick thing, I just realized that I don't know if this bet means I have to stay with him too. Why is he so sure I will stay with him?

Back to dinner. So, he's finished eating and I'm holding a fajita, on the verge of chowing down. I'm not sure what we're talking about when he says: "this may not be the best time to ask this but I was wondering if you will you go steady with me?" Ha! Steady. Are you fucking kidding me? I giggled and joked with him a bit about feeling like I was 12. This was entirely unexpected. Sure, he told me that he fell for me and he started to seem like he was questioning my availability, but in no way did I see this coming. I did not say "yes" immediately but asked him what that would mean. He said it meant 3 things: 1. We will no lie to each other 2. We will not cheat on each other 3. We will tell each other things that we should probably know. In other words, we are now exclusive. I was caught up in the romance and sweetness and said, "sure, I can do that." We looked at each other like dorky, uncomfortable kids. Then I said I had to call my bff and tell her. He said, "don't you want to go call your Mom?" I'm not sure if he was kidding. There was more laughter.

Not long after, some people at the restaurant were bringing loads of balloons up to the top floor and Kevin said that he had bought them for me to celebrate. Funny, man. He was teasing me. It became another theme throughout the evening. 

We walked back to his place. He reminded me of the rules of this agreement of ours. He also reminded me that I would get the new job because 1. I am good and 2. I asked for nothing. Screw him for judging me like that. We sat on the couch listening to amazing music and sipping wine. I saw pictures of all of his friends and him when he was young... same hair, same eyes, same skinny body. He told me stories. I listened and smiled as I curled up on his leather couch. We kissed. He held my hand and played with my ring. I left by midnight so that I could get up early the next morning. He sent me off with a bunch of music which included Colin Hay, Jack Johnson, Gogol Bordello, Josh Rouse, the Thievery Corporation and more. I'm especially enamored with Pete Yorn.

Kevin spent the weekend in Duluth and I spent mine in class asking myself what the fuck I'm doing. 

------------

And so here I sit, at my desk, with this gnawing in my gut. I don't want to be sad and lonely and insecure any more. I want to believe that good things can happen in my life. I want to believe that it's ok to drift around without being sure. I want to let go of the fears and be comfortable in my skin and in the not knowing. I want to believe that I deserve some peace. But instead, I keep myself so busy that when it slows, the pressure is enormous and I can barely breath. And I eat peanut butter in an emotional rebellion. And I want to keep dating guy after guy after guy, laughing at the total lack of connection. It's a cycle that I cannot seem to break.

For a long time, I thought that I understood love. I thought I was deeply in it and that it was something I could have again. And now, I'm not so sure that I even believe that it exists in any form worth being hurt for. That sounds dark and wrong, but I'm losing ground on this hope thing. When life keeps pelting you with fucking shit and blood, there's a point where you're an idiot to keep trying to stand.