Saturday, November 29, 2008

Words, At the Right Time

"Sometimes you'll read something or se something at the time in your life where those things have special significance." 

That's what my mom once said to me. She once told me a story about a co-worker who had recently lost his father. During this time he saw (or read, I can't remember) Field of Dreams. She explained that it was the right story at the right time and this confluence of events made the story extra special to him.

That story was sounding in my head as I lay on the floor sideways, ribs pressed to carpet and beanie-covered three day hair that was pressed against a pillow. Tears stained the pillow cover as I slowly cried. I had just read some chapters of Elizabeth Gilbert's book Eat, Pray, Love, and some of her words described emotions, thoughts and ideals I had but could not express. It's like I was experiencing all of these things without wearing lenses; I could see the general fuzzy shape, but none of the details, which distinguish one things from another. 

And there, as I lay reading about Gilbert's understanding and forgiveness of her ex-husband, her wise and perfect soul meeting her husband at a place where they could converse, that is when I decided to let him go. 

For reasons I still do not understand, I cared for him in a surprisingly serious manner. And, in all fairness, perhaps it was the nature of what we had, which was stretched and tortured (on my end) by weeks and months of idealism and the hope of seeing him, perhaps that's what reeled me in. In truth, I believe I will never know why I felt for him as I did, and in the end all I know is that my feelings were real because I felt them very deeply. 

But it was that brilliantly cold and sunny morning that I realized my time for justified anger was over and taht all I wanted and all I asked of God was to help me let him go. And I did. I wished him god luck, told him I'd always care for him and that I thanked him for the happiness and the pain that made me a better person. But mostly, that version of me that is more together, and cool and collected, wise and generous, that woman told me it was time to leave and time to move on with my own life. 

I started this blog entry by stating that sometimes we are presented with images or experiences or art or words that convey precisely the right thing at the right time. These moments are fantastic and life-affirming. 

Gilbert's book was like that for me; the right words at a time in my life when I needed to hear them.

I once saw a palm-reader/fortune teller who told me 2008 and 2009 would be good years for me. When she asked me to close my eyes and tell her what colors I saw, I told her that I saw navy and purple. After reading a book about a woman administering her own rescue, of finding and loving herself for exactly what she is, I sit here now, in a crowded airplane seat, purple irises in front of me and purple scarf wrapped around my neck. 

I believe there is no coincidence about this and it is not lost on me that the color purple connotes healing. I myself feel as though I have been on a journey of self-discovery and that I am finally becoming the woman I always wanted to be. One who is unapologetically and totally herself. And sometimes I wonder just how much that fortune teller really did see. 



Friday, November 28, 2008

Airport Confiscation

The blockheads at the airport took my $16 bottle of hairspray and my $4 tube of Listerine.

Which means, that I spent an extra $20 just to get home in time for Thanksgiving. Oh well. It was worth it when I set foot on Angeleno soil again and looked North into the glittering lights that colored the San Gabriel mountain range.

Saturday, November 22, 2008

New Apartment

Los Angeles, I'm a-comin'! 

In five days, some time around 10 pm I will be in my home state, graced by warm air, smog and the bustle of cars and city lights. I will be met with family who love me and a menagerie of animals I've been waiting for months to see. I will dine at My Taco and fill my bbq apetite at Barn Burner. 

And when I return, it will not be to Todd Village, my first adult apartment out of college, but to my first grown-women's-let's-make-smarter-decisions-apartment. 

It's a little bittersweet to be saying goodbye to Todd Village. It's cheesy but the rent is low and it's sufficed so far. There were a lot of memories made here though; ones of deep sadness and neglect, of soaring and souring hope and romanticism and nighttime sexual chemistry. 

Here's what I hope this next apartment will see: 

Steady romance
Lasting happiness
Good faith
Good people
Creative success
Healthy relationships
Faithful Love
Love, Love, Love, Love

This is my prayer

Friday, November 21, 2008

Shall I Tell You?

I will not be your sacrificial lamb

I will not be that which you look upon
And say with admiration
Ah, but look at her pain, isn't it beautiful?

I am not here for your entertainment
Or your salvation
Or your excuse

I am and forever will be
CEN

A force to be reckoned with

Saturday, November 15, 2008

A Writer's Life

I envy him sometimes. He gets to say he did it all; he was poor and he lived a poor writer's life and he got to be a travel journalist, living the life of a cool loner with a bad boy exterior. He got to travel on his motorcycle, be that guy that meets people and chills with them sporadically, turns strangers into housemates and bed buddies and friends. 

While I hate being poor, and my short foray into that this summer, for the month that I charged things to my credit card and lived on my savings was short and not that awful. I wasn 't cut out for being poor and I know that romanticism is but a dream; things look and smell and seem better than they are. Romanticism is when you wish you could be somewhere and when you get there you realize it ain't what you'd like it to be, or what it should be. 

But he gets to say he did it. He is living the writer's life. 

There are times when I think, and I have to remember that it's all romanticism, but sometimes I feel like I wish I could roll in it. Roll in the poverty and press my fingers to the dirt of living to the bone and smear it under my eyes like a naval hand would smudge coal in preparation for war. In that way he gets to wear war paint, and I can really never say I did. 

Except when it comes to soul searching. That I can say I've reveled in. I've run from it like running from the rain and in the end it caught up to me and I had to wade through morass after morass. In that way I can say I might not have smudged war paint on in preparation but have scars to show for the battles I've waged and won. 

Thursday, November 13, 2008

The Things I've Carried

I have held onto many things during the short 22 years I've walked this earth. I've held onto the negative attitudes and ideas I've had regarding mens' personalities and their differences from women; I've held onto my negative attitudes about sex. I've held onto the pain that has come tethered to the experiences I've lived through. I've held onto my childish ways. I've held onto the crushing moments and the dark times in my life; to the criticism I've received and the tears I've shed. I've held onto the heartache I've endured and the missed opportunities. I've held all of these things much like I've held onto the silver fillagree cuff that I wear on my hands and that I've never permanently lost; the one that has remained with me through the years though I've neglected it, taken it off, and dropped it. 

I hold onto these and other things, one of those being hope. Sometimes I fear that my hope wears too thin and that I might lose it all together. Those times that I become scared I might learn to become cynical. But if hope really does keep people moving into happiness and dreams, the future and positivity, then I hope Hope will never leave me. I also hope Hope won't disappoint me either; won't leave me hanging on a string, feeling more crushed than before

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Various Thoughts of Cats, Sunlight, Security and Freedom

Nine days into November and I find myself in suspended motion, like my mind is still somewhere around the corner, sometime in October. I can't explain why, it just feels this way. 

Sometimes I find myself emotionally attached to a leaf or the way light hits a tree branch. I see the sunset and I can't help but feel at one with that certain stretch of pink that runs along orange right above the horizon. I feel these things so deep inside that it almost feels like mourning when they slip away bit by bit. It's like chasing the sunlight across the sky, only to be heading East into the shadows, away from the light. 

I also feel halved by my warring emotions regarding my family's Thanksgiving Day plans. While the one half of me would love nothing more than inviting mere acquaintances over at my parents', (I always thought holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas should be shared by big bolstering families and gatherings filled to the brim with friends), I also feel like I want this holiday to be a quiet one. My family, though normal on the outside has its idiosyncrasies.

No matter what the circumstances or the company, I am undoubtedly looking forward to seeing my dear friends Amelia and Jess Short. And above all, I am looking forward to finding two cats, nestled in bedding, paws and tails touching. I can't wait for the meowing and the purring and everything that my girls bring to my life. Hopefully, they will forgive me enough for moving away that they'll reward me with a cuddle sometime in the early morning hours, sometime between nighttime fog and morning sunshine. 

Sometimes I get a slightly panicky feeling right before I go to sleep and right when I wake up. I feel like every day without a pitch or a successful offer from a paper means I am slipping backward from writing. It's like having the nagging feeling in the back of your head that you've missed an important deadline, appointment or bill payment. You search and search and think you should be okay, but you still can't find what it is that makes you itch, uncomfortably. And the hardest part is to be in a place where complacency takes over because you're finally secure. Freedom is great but comes at a great price; it is no longer possible to always have a sense of security and for those of us who crave the material, it can be a hard way to live. By the same token, security seems like opportunity passes us by. 


Friday, November 7, 2008

There is a Season, Turn, Turn, Turn.....

Change inevitably comes but sometimes it comes in torrents, pouring down in torrential drops and sometimes it comes in slow motion, so slow it seems to stand still. 

But change inevitably comes and in this way the country and my own life have taken leaps and bounds, not simply dripping towards change like I've felt in the past. 

Last Friday started with a call that I'd received a free cruise. Not an entirely bad way to start a day. Friday was also Halloween and I celebrated it just right. 

Tuesday night rolls around and we find out that Obama is elected; a man who ran an entire campaign on the idea that our country needs to go through fundamental change in order to be the place it should be. Perhaps this call the change struck a chord in me, resounding the bell at my core. 

I got a prayer that was passed along from my friend Emily to women who've touched her life. The prayer said I should make a wish. That was the same day a special someone showed up at work, taking photographs. From that moment on I couldn't wait for him to come back for another shoot. 

He came back a few days later and I felt another spark. There might be possibly more, but being in this crush place again I realize some of the things I legitimately miss about S. But it doesn't matter how much I miss those particular things or if I never get them again; the whole package was wrong and I won't sacrifice the whole for the bits and pieces. 

No, this new guy; I like talking to him. He makes me happy when he comes in to work. If things don't work out the way I want them too, I only need to see this as an encouraging sign; I've met them outside the summer months, felt organic sparks with them and while they both of some issues, and we might never be an item, maybe I'm moving ever closer to someone who can be my match.