Unfurl

If you're feeling happy, don't read this. Do yourself a favor and wait for tomorrow's.

I try not to post when I'm feeling emotionally hyper-sensitive (which happens roughly once a month...um, yeah). However then I realized that was defeating the whole purpose of having a personal blog.

So, I figured that if you're gonna read about all the absurdities in my life...well, be warned, you'll read about my inner demons as well!

Thanks to Jon's recent post for reminding me of all the courage and trust in honesty.

Photography: Kyoto Bamboo by Steven Miller

Can’t get you out of my head, I can’t.

It drives me nuts sometimes.

You know. I’m trying, really trying hard here. But when I suddenly realize I’ve been successful, much more successful than thought possible… I’m seized with these moments of wholly irrational fear.

I don’t want you gone.

What I wanted was something that was never really there at all.

It’s always a secret. I always felt like a goddamn secret, like hush-hush this is dangerous ground to be treading on. Let’s pretend we’re not seeing what we see.

Oh, let’s.

Let’s safely act generic because that feels so special, right.

Right, it takes some kind of special to read through these mixed signs. Just smoke signals for the sentimental sweetheart, I guess. I’m alone in this, as I’ve always been. While my heart is an open book for you to read whenever you pleased. You wrote once, the day you surprised me with flowers, that I seem to easily step over whatever barriers you’ve put up. I didn’t even know there were barriers to overcome then. Now though, I can clearly see the new ones placed between us…

I see them. It frustrates me to see those words of yours, but I’m letting it go. Letting them stand there. And not feel disappointed yet again, not realizing that I had again involuntarily expected more. I’m not pushing forward for you anymore.

I end my seduction in this.

So, stop haunting me in my dreams...

Sometimes, the darkness of night still reminds me of you, but believe me, I’m working on changing that. It takes some getting used to. Time to shake off that feeling, a shadow of your warmth.

I got new sunglasses yesterday. So I can throw my favorite old ones, the ones you picked out…away.

They finally broke.

And I was set free to choose new ones.

On Regretting Not

Photography: Broken by FluidG4

In less than a week, my blog will have reached 7 months.

That’s 7 months since I finally realized, to the FULL extent, just how bad my heart was going to ache starting in May.

Even then, suffering that broken heart was worse than I imagined.

Crushes come and go like summer rain. But when I recognize that I’ve started to really like someone, it comes to the point where either I tell the guy...or I’ll burst. It’s hellishly nerve-racking and I’ve only done it twice, once in high school and once last year. Both led to experiences I don’t regret and memories I cherish.

Last Fall, when I realized that I had unexpectedly fallen for a boy, I knew (1) nothing could’ve stopped me from liking him the more I got to know him and (2) we were going to end…even before we began, even while I was falling in over my head.

You see, it’s always easier for me to confess or admit to my feelings than to try to hold back otherwise I’m left feeling awkwardly uncomfortable. Apparently that’s what happens when you wear your heart on your sleeve.

And I don’t know of any other heart.

All too often “what if’s” lead to regret...it means I saw and knew yet didn’t act.

Regret is for when you don’t learn your lesson properly the first time around. It’s for repeating mistakes. See, if you make a mistake and gain something from that experience…then, well, there is nothing for you to regret, is there?

And I refuse to regret the choices I make.

Knowing that I wouldn’t have it any other way gives me confidence to make mistakes, to hit or miss on my own terms.

That’s why taking time to really think before taking any action (be it minor or major) is so valuable to me. It’s why I make sure I’ve more or less formed my own opinion before asking for advice. This does not, by any means at all, make me intolerant of new change or unable consider other possibilities. It simply means that I’ll be able to better differentiate between my Intuition and my Rationale.

So this marks my 118th post, and I don’t regret a single word I’ve published here.

My archives are witness to many lessons learned the hard way.

Confessions are Contagious

[To K of our Monosyllabic Trio]

I see you, and I see in your experience...myself.

My past no longer hurts me, but your present makes me feel the exact same hurt all over again.

It pains me like no other to see my friends suffer.

The whole "I don't completely not hate you for not realizing my friend is the best thing that will ever happen to you" sarcastic sparring is all joking fluff, as you well know. I can barely do one push-up, but believe me, my dear, next time I see him...there's no holding back, no giving him the benefit of the doubt for your sake. I'm revving to cut that boy to the bone with glacial stares and sharper words for what he's doing to you.

Did you know? Like you, I'm struggling not to write about the one subject I'd rather not.

I just delay publishing it.
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[Two Weeks Ago]

Tunnel Vision Syndrome

I’m not a big fan of this self-imposed tunnel vision thing you’ve got going on here, missy.
It is NOT self-imposed if I can’t help it. There’s a reason I’ve got it still.
Yeah, keep tryin’ to tell yourself that.

How do you do it?

Teach me, I need to learn how to emulate this skill of yours. How the hell can you so casually drop the bomb on me like that? It’s happened before, so I oughta be able to handle it right?

But doesn’t mean that I’ll suddenly know how to reply in such a situation.

That I’ll be okay with you asking me if I’m seeing anybody else.

As my friend, you have the right to ask me anything you want about my life. As a former lover, as the guy who gave me up, broke my heart…you’ve lost the right to be in my love life. Yes, this includes asking me about it.

Why put me in the position where I don’t know how to say you can’t ask me this without straining our friendship?

Don’t refer to me, using old nicknames, as your anything. Don’t send me kisses.

No matter how cute, I didn’t want personal family photos sent to me of you holding a baby or sitting on a tiny tricycle with your toddler cousins.

That’s really unfair. Really.

We can joke, talk or whatever just like old times. Because you’re not near me. When I know I can’t see you. Touch and smell you. Because you can’t be here to hold me.

You forget these are new times for us…for me. I thought we already established that?

I’ve realized that it’s a good thing, how you can’t be here for me. I admit I’m still that bit afraid of our past history. That explosive chemistry, that giddy feeling. I don’t want to touch it. Don’t want it to touch me. I want you to stay in the Past because my getting to this Present was hard enough as it is.

I’m ready for you, to stop haunting me.

I can share our memories with friends if it helps them. I can even laugh about the past, good times are good times regardless…

But I’m doing better now. In my comfort zone, I can give back to you from this safe distance of afar. It allows me to safely ride out my Tunnel Vision Syndrome without you further confusing things.

I’m starting a new beginning for myself, and I refuse to let you pull me along, down.

While I do miss your company terribly… isn’t just terrible how glad I am that I won’t be seeing you for a very, very long time.

If even then.

It quite possibly might be the reason we’ve stayed friends.
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[Today, laughing my pants off at Deet's with the V of our Monosyllabic Trio]

Thanks for the Memories

It’s a really weird feeling.

I saw your ex-girlfriend today. Second time this week now and I’m pretty sure that it’s her.

Granted I’ve only known what she looks like from the pictures you showed me that one time last year. We never ran into her in person, but that’s probably because last year I always had tunnel vision. If we were walking somewhere together, people had to call out my name for me to notice them.

I get the feeling she knows who I am. The feeling’s not very…friendly.

I didn’t realize, or at least it didn’t sink in, that she still went here until you mentioned how you ran into her sometime last spring. I forgot you mentioned how she was staying here an extra year.

It’s weird that I see her now that you’re gone.

I have the urge to write you an email and tell you this…about how weird it is to know sordid details of her relationship with you, and yet not know her. I think you’d appreciate the amusing irony.

But I refuse. Because you finally got the hint this summer that I don’t like to hear about your ex. Ever. No matter how brief the mention, even if it’s all bad things, even when you’re unintentionally comparing how I had much more self-esteem, more independence, more maturity, more fun than her. I feel sorry that her insecurity in herself caused her to be so manipulative, caused her to cheat on you, caused her to say she still has feelings for you even after you guys broke up.

I felt sorry that your baggage with her spilled over into our pseudo-relationship last year, that I had to unknowingly battle all the wariness you had of me because of what she did to you.

And I feel it’s kinda funny how I couldn’t help but compare myself to her today.

Damn straight, it’s a pretty weird feeling.

Oddly, I’m not jealous at all. But I feel like I should be.

You told me recently how you haven’t found someone nearly as cool as me to hang out with, and I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t know what to say because I couldn’t return the same sentiment. I do miss you, but not in that way anymore.

You send me kisses while asking me about my dating life, and I have to wonder about your motivation for doing so. I tactfully evade answering your question about whether I’m meeting any nice guys with a joke about how my really kick-ass water bottle is the one attracting more attention from guys.

You broke my heart…is it any wonder that my heart chose to start in a new direction?

For the first time, it looks like my heart is one step ahead of my mind. Seems like my tunnel vision is totally mental.

Bygones really do become bygones.

Thanks for the memories.

In Transit

Helplessness

is a transitory condition...

The ability to stand and walk on one's own feet is the permament and common one.

-Erich Fromm-

Self-doubt is a frequent visitor to my life.
Although, not because of a lack of self-esteem. I think it stems more from an acknowledgement for the uncertainty of Life.
Of being only human.
I can and will confidently (or some might call it young bravado or what have you) walk my own path. Yet that doesn't mean I won't stubbornly question each decision every step of the way!
For looking back in regret is something I'd rather not suffer.
I much rather understand (and admit) that even if I could go back...be given the same situation in the same point in my life, I wouldn't have done it any other way. Probably couldn't have, either. I live to experience, and hopefully, I learn. So I strive to improve, and thus, I seek.
Ergo, I end up with some pretty freakin' ridiculously tough questions...and well, as you might imagine, some very unwelcome periods of self-doubt as well.
~~~

"You look different."
"Really?! What do you mean?"
"I saw you walking in front of me, and I thought, 'Is that Joanne? No, that's not her...wait! It is!"
I laugh. "Yoga must've really done something to me, huh? Do you know, I'm down to the same weight I was last Thanksgiving break when I got food poisoning. Remember that?"

[I lost 12 lbs in 3 days, it was NOT fun. Particularly strong in my memory is how I could only watch as my family merrily wolfed down sushi and other Japanese goodies at Narita Airport in Tokyo. Boy, was I sorely tested.]

"Yes, I do. But, wow! Your body shape has changed somewhat...it's different." She's in her fitness-trainer-mode now (meaning she's giving me the head-to-toe inspection), "You look very healthy."
"Well, thanks," I reply before admitting with a chuckle, "I'm also a LOT happier now!"
She nods. "It shows."

~~~
It's true.
Honestly, three months ago? I was only 6 lbs more but was also lugging around this hefty load of invisible baggage. Or, so I thought was invisible. For my more astute friends (and immediate family members, esp. my mom), some things showed despite my putting-up-of a brave front.
Although, it now seems to have been more of avoidance and denial than any thing brave. You know, just like how there are some things you can't run from. That you shouldn't run from. That remain there until you finally work up the gumption to confront it.
At last, I think I can fully understand why every single one of my friends (female and male alike) did not like my former...um, what do I call him when I can't simply say his name (as I do to friends who knew him)? Well, psuedo ex-boyfriend will have to do.
So lately, I've been riding this spurt of re-ignited self-love and renewed appreciation for all it's worth. Besides being in that honeymoon phase where I'm falling in love with my friends all over again after summer separation...for the FIRST time in my life, I really love, love, love my classes.
I know! Doesn't that sound weird?
And, I've got yoga at least twice a week worked conveniently into my schedule. I've been gauging my body's response, paying attention to what I eat because I truly care. I want to continue enjoying that feeling of doing something good for my body...mind and spirit.
Now don't get me wrong. I've still the usual run-of-the-mill worries, and some latent ones, if my dreams are any indication (what? being a pirate king's daughter?!).
But, I'm not as...anxious.
I worked hard to land on my feet. And here I am, finally seeing how I can use them to walk across new possibilities.
It's funny how I realized in yoga class today that hey!...they actually looked quite pretty!
(sometimes, I'm just so weird like that)

The Shoebox Syndrome

I'm sentimental. I'll keepsake. And, I'm no exception.

Culture will always influence me, but I do wonder... Perhaps certain clichés come about because of some fixed basic human nature? I mean, of all things to keep reminders in, haven't I too succumbed to the timeless allure of putting things away in The Shoebox?

Everyday, it sits there in the same old corner. On top of my childhood dresser. And, right below my bookshelves, which are these two wooden slabs spanning across the entire width of one wall. So that every morning when I fish around in my drawers for a t-shirt and every night when I peruse my wooden shelves for some bedtime reading, my peripheral vision catches it.

It's gotta be a bad sign I'm starting damn that corner, isn't it? I'm always tempted to throw shoebox out.

Fuck sentimentality. Even without it twenty years later, I'll still be a romantic! ...right?

Yet, whenever I've half a mind to follow through on such a threat, I'll open the shoebox to look at each item...because, you know, it is the last time. Not surprisingly, it's not long before I realize that I can't bring myself to toss it. Not yet, I'd say, not quite yet. So, I shut the lid to the shoebox and once again return it to its damned corner.

Did you know? I used to just apathetically accept the shoebox as a clichéd tradition of sorts. Then my own experience caused me to recognize its...usefulness. On the outside, the ordinary look of a scruffed-up shoebox belies the once significant (okay, still meaningul) pieces held within. While on inside, why it's crazy how every thing (except a poster he painted with a special note on the back) manages to fit! Memories that I don't want to replay yet don't want to lose.

If you're like me--that is, a fellow inmate to the human nature of relentless curiosity--then, you might be wondering what's in this shoebox...

Well, there's the two postcards from Europe, his letter (on a notepad I had bought him as a joke because of the header's punchline, "INDECISION IS THE KEY TO FLEXIBILITY") that accompanied the first and only time he gave me flowers, and his even longer letter (also using the same notepad) that explained his bag of parting gifts: Haribo Goldbӓren (German gummi bears I love), a jar of Nutella, his old carabiner (he rockclimbs), a piece of string (because of the time I made him play Cat's Cradle with me, lols), Huggies wipes (for hugs), whey protein (he's not the only one who likes to tease how my arm muscles are non-existent), Hershey kissables (for kisses), and a bubble set (he calls me Bubbles).

Yep, all those things, even the bag and tissue paper they came in, are in the shoebox.

I also put in a pair of sunglasses he chose for me and his sleeveless shirt I borrowed for rockclimbing the last time we saw each other. He called the next day to say that it made him very happy to realize that I had 'stolen' his shirt. He mentioned how it was getting too small for him anyways, so I probably won't be able to convince him to take it back come Spring. For the record, I honestly forgot his shirt was still in my tote bag. Of course, he doesn't believe me and insists I stole it, haha! Oh, boy.

Granted, this shoebox only contains a portion of memories, but I think because there's a tangible representation, a physical presence...it's a lot harder than deleting voicemail and previous text messages. I keep our emails and old AIM logs, but have them moved to a separate folder on my computer. I figured, at least if it's out of sight...it'll be out of mind?

But these aren't the issues I have with the Shoebox. My problem is what my Shoebox Syndrome represents, which is saving the past. Saving = holding on + not letting go = not moving forward = bad*.

So, I've come to the same conclusion of no solution. Which means I'm waiting some more before coming to a decision.

Either way, I know there will come a time when I won't keep a box specifically for memories of him. Just as I know that whatever I decide, I'll be keeping the handwritten letters/postcards at least...BUT they'll be kept with a collection of handwritten stuff from other friends as well.
_____________________________________________________
*for all the advanced math I've taken, I always did enjoy writing proofs the most.

She's Steppin' Baby Steps

Because the other day I did claim it all starts in the little things.

So, I'll admit. Yours truly has been putting up the good fight (but unfortunately for bad reasons) against doing these things:

1. Changing the label to something with the word "Past" included and something more...ordinary than "Formerly 365." That way if I were again prompted to write as if the past were the present, my tag would serve as a warning reminder. Good idea, neh?
2. Removing (before, I only lightened the font color and moved it from my header to the bottom of my blog) completely the quote of his words, "Remember the super stutter when you self-combust with joy." It's just that I really like that sentence...*pouts*...despite it being a chain-reminder that unleashes memories exponentially.
3. Coming to a conclusion about The Shoebox Syndrome, which I'm currently afflicted with.

I've promised myself to post conclusions on my "syndrome" (and make abovementioned two blog corrections) sometime in the near future. Like, hopefully today. Er, I suppose tomorrow would be just as fine, no? Or, maybe it's a better idea to wait until the end of this week, at least?

I mean, there's a reason why it's called baby steps.

Ack, STOP!

Seriously, I oughta stop this moping (and whining). And just make the leap already! You'll agree, I can't say I'm making a fresh start if all evidence points that I'm still at the top of the cliff. I must start at the bottom of the mountain again, right? New starts should be honest and genuine.

Plus, I'd rather think taking leaps off a cliff will be more exhilarating anyhow.

That is, if a heart-attack isn't suffered in the process. *knock on wood*

_________________________________________________________
5 PM, same day: 2 down, 1 to go! Sweeet.

Because I Can Write On Other Topics, REALLY!!!

"Optimism is the madness of insisting that all is well when we are miserable." -Voltaire

Then such sweet, sweet madness I am.

Because reinforcing the knowledge that I am not helpless--knowing I can actively tackle WHAT's been causing me misery--gives me joy and a peace of mind. To be more accurate, I ought to say WHO's been...since I'm pointing this finger at a mirror. While finding it easy to cut everyone else slack, I too often give the person who needs it the most (me), the very least. It means that I'm perpetually competing with myself to be not only BETTER, but the BEST I can be this very moment for the very next. A daunting (and as you can imagine, at times annoying and tiresome) task inherent quirk tendency, but in the end--worth every shred of self-satisfaction.

To me, I've found restricting potential leads to a treacherous breeding ground for the wrong sort of regrets. As if there's such a thing as having the right sort of regrets? Or at least, better regrets? Ha, what an amusing paradox.

So anyhow, here's today's much-needed, long overdue (really wish I knew a catalyst to speed up these things up) epiphany for self:

ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN--WHEN YOU LET IT HAPPEN, THAT IS.

By refusing to dwell any longer on how my sentimental heart can’t seem to move on fast enough for the likes of my impatient mind, I am that less miserable. Instead, I am focusing on the fact that I can and have been moving on, albeit with MUCH frustration at the seemingly snail's pace. Whoops, there I go again! Basically, the fact remains: I am moving.

Where will all moving this lead me, I've no idea (hopefully less posts on the same old story of not moving on vs. maybe moving on vs. moving on, definitely been a topic overexhausted). Although, I do garner confidence in knowing that at least I'm traveling to a place better than before. Yippee for optimism! See how this feeds me hope? It pretty much fuels it. By remembering it's all behind me…well then, fear simply becomes this weak reason for my holding back (or, holding on). To remember to keep allowing myself breathing room (memo to self: remember to cut yourself some damn slack now and then!), there's growth...that means change is happening, and that’s...making progress!

Aww, now ain't THAT something? Seems like the Optimistic Diehard in me has resurfaced to light my life again.

Gotta admit it, though. I sure have missed her.

Bloggish Tinkerings

Wow. And, that has got to be one of the worst post titles ever*.

That is, if your eyes can recover from all the blinding white my blog has become.

See, I can't change the fact that half of my posts are on a boy I wish I'd think less about (thus making it the biggest, literally, tag in my cloud), but I can change the dark look of old. I can, and have...obviously.

I found the unfathomable black comforting when I wrote about suffering the darkest hours of heartache. Damn, those days were bleak. Granted, I still have aches now...but all the depressing black was really starting to irk me. In fact, MORE irk-ish(?!) with every passing day! No longer comforting, and more like a symbol of the past. So, I felt that if I were to continue to post in black...well, it'd sort of be like I'm still in mourning of my lost heart, you know?

So, I've decided August is the month.

Fresh start on my blog-layout. Because it all starts in the little things.
______________________________________________________________
*edit: it's the next day, August 3rd and jeez am I so very, very tempted to change the title. Must. resist. editing. urge. (this one time, at least)
*post-edit: it's August 7th, the title still drives me nuts, but has somehow grown (!!?) on me. And so, it stays...

Facebook Mirrors & Confessions

Wow. Just realized how losing 7 lbs has changed me from a year ago.

Looking at old pics of me tagged on Facebook, I realized I hadn't noticed the difference. Which explained why I was always surprised when other people said during the year that I lost weight and looked good. I look in the mirror everyday, and I always feel the same. This summer I've worked off another 5 lbs and toned up from yoga... I wonder when I see new pics of myself with friends if I'll have another surprised "wow" moment. Or if, I'll have to wait another year before I see a difference?

I've plateaued at 139 lbs (goal is 132). Damn, those last 7 really ARE the toughest, especially because I've always had a small tummy since the 6th grade when I stopped swimming competitively (and finished my growth spurt).

Reminded that I need to trim my hair. I've been abuliating about having bangs again for a MONTH now. I oughta just make the damn cut, so that I have some weeks to grow it out a bit if I don't like it. Really wanted to try something new, but am impatient at growing bangs out. Perhaps I'll be able to come to a compromise and try long bangs...? Eh, we'll see.

Ack! Okay, and I confess to looking at his Sweden pics. I was apprehensive of the aftermath feelings, but they were more sweet (surprisingly) than anything else. I don't want to label another entry in his name (because he is the #1 topic I post about, again due credit goes to my Tag Cloud), but...had to be honest, especially with myself. Grrr.

I also confess that I've been thinking of skipping out on my 6 AM yoga class tomorrow. *guilty eyes*

This is why I'm stuck on 139, hah.

That Dylan Ratigan...

Takes no bullshit.

My favorite question was when he asked, “By that [risk is being repriced] do you mean the market is riskier?”

Henry 'Hank' Paulson wasn’t a former Goldman Sachs CEO for nothing, and gave a good (and valid) response.

But jeez, this is why I love watching Dylan Ratigan in action.

I don’t watch much television. And during the school year, barely at all. Hell, I don’t even own a TV! When I do watch (which is always more during the summer), it mainly consists of Oprah re-runs and CNBC, the favorites being Closing Bell (Maria Bartiromo), Fast Money, and sometimes Morning Call. With the occasional Food Network, Travel Channel, HGTV, and Good Morning America.

Wow. Just realized I sound like my mother. Who, by the way, is sharp as a whip.

More so, it seems these days. After watching this morning's Whitehouse Summit on CNBC with her, I sighed with satisfaction, “Dylan Ratigan is one of my favorites.”

She surprised me by replying, “I don’t really like him, his face looks too hard.”

So some meaning gets lost in translation. But my guard was up… you see, I remember who else she claimed looked too ‘rough.’

“He must have some German background in him, somewhere.”

Aha, there we go. Guard is now FULLY up and buzzing.

My reaction was a careful, “Oh, really? Huh.”

Not the brightest response per se, but I maintained just enough nonchalance to get the subject dropped. If I got defensive, she’d seize the opportunity to poke me about him, you know who...my Formerly 365. Like the time I got all riled up when she called him less manly for not working while he was studying abroad. His driving ambitions is one of the things that always appealed to me. And, I heatedly pointed out to mom, I don’t work either except for having been a RA and doing volunteer work.

“But he’s male.”

Right, gotta love how modern yet in some ways still very traditional my mom is.

She, whose sixth sense is never far from the mark, has been trying several months now to confirm her suspicions that he is not simply a good friend of mine ("What do you mean he's coming by the house?" and "Why does he need to see you before he leaves for Europe, if it's just friends?").

It is utterly pointless for me to lie to my mom, I just can’t do it. That doesn’t mean, though, that over the years I haven’t learned how to deal with it. I have, and picked up quite a few other things as well.

I can honestly--and thus convincingly say--that we never dated and that he’ll never be my boyfriend. I know when I couldn’t stop laughing because she had said, “...going to an international school, he must’ve played a lot of girls,” allayed some of her worst fears (or maybe worried her more?). Anyhow, that we are just friends (now) is undeniable. It's my gold card that I hide behind, the golden line I use to keep my mom from digging up the past.

But who do you think I learned to pay attention to the small things from?

She noticed, and promptly verbalized, that I seemed to be happier after receiving his postcard. Carefully watching me when she asked if I kept in touch while he was in Europe, and oh, did he send an email? Really? What did he say? Ahh, hm.

Because she understands who I am (sometimes better than myself), she knows and sees all those characteristics I find attractive in him. She’s comfortable with us being friends, but is constantly on the look-out that I haven’t fallen for him.

Because her mother's instinct knows it’d spell disaster for me, the daughter who is like her younger self in many, many ways.

Oh, the irony.

I ASK YOU

I’ll ask you this. Because I happen to do so much thinking of you.

Have you thought of me?

I miss you, I admit. Tremendously. But it doesn’t hurt as much anymore when I do. Instead I feel restless, like something’s...missing.

And, I wonder sometimes.

Well, okay. I wonder quite often—

…are you thinking about me?

Because I’ve slowly been doing less and less thinking of you.
Yet wonder how I can still miss you all the same.

So, I’ll ask you only when I’m wrapped snugly, within your arms, under your chin. When missing you is just a phrase. When we’re swaying slightly, to the flow of our breath. When your scent conquers every last bit of stubborn sense left in me.

I’ll ask you all of this and more, if you were to hold me again like our time together wasn’t running out. Like time didn’t matter.

Like nothing mattered, even though everything did, too much.
Like everything mattered, even if I didn't...at least, not enough.

I’d ask you.

If I believed we were to ever have such a bittersweet moment once more. Yes, I say I’d ask you this. But only because I know that moment when I can...will never again come to pass.

I lost my heart to you and watched...as you lost the very same heart I gave you.

And, I’d ask you why—except it no longer matters.

I don’t want to know that much.
I don’t need to know anymore.
And, I don’t care to know so urgently.

Why would I ask at all?

Why, indeed.

Chronically Late

It’s almost been a week since this surprising voicemail, I know.

Trust me, writing about what happened afterwards is definitely not the only thing I’ve been putting off these past couple of days. I’m pretty damn sure I'm pissing Zig off (the older-brother-like friend I used to be sweet on, mentioned here in Houdini's Act III) by having yet to respond to his two voicemails left this week. And, I’ve yet to respond to Olivia’s kind email, or yap it up with Holly as I promised last week.

I guess now it’d be a good time to stop procrastinating. To ‘fess up.

He actually called again the next day while I was taking a nap. And, I made the split-second decision to pick it up.

So, we chit-chatted. For FORTY MINUTES.

I’ve been mulling over it (as per usual), and was trying to figure out…yes, it seems to have taken the ENTIRE week…how I felt about it since my initial reaction was decidedly good, with only a tad(?) bad.

When I finally felt ready to write some semblance of coherent thought (and even possibly a tentative self-summation of the current situation).....

.....BAM! I received another postcard from him today.

SNAIL MAIL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As if you can't tell by the overuse of exclamation points, I LOVE snail mail. Which I gushed (and thanked him for) via email when his first postcard surprised me sometime late-June.

On the down side, I’m back to being unsure yet of how I feel. Interestingly, my efforts at moving on have made headway, but...something is still bothering me.

I'm not sure what exactly, but given my track record, it usually ain't something good. That much I'm at least sure of.

Blogs Don't Lie

Once again, I’ve made some more minor tweaks (notice the various quotes littered thru-out the sidebars?). And some major tweaks to the site. Most notably, scrolling link at the top displaying a number of my recent posts and…*drum rolls*…the tag cloud!!!!!

Tag Cloud, n.

1. one of the sweetest, neat-o widgets created. ever.
2. a personal favorite and new love of yours truly
3. organization of labels (tags) in alphabetical order with the more popular tags in larger font, respectively.

Isn’t it beautiful? *sighs in pure bliss* Much thanks to Frivolous Motion for freely providing such awesome code.

For someone who has near zip experience with HTML coding, it took some time and a bit of research, but mostly trial and error and a ton of both analytical/logical thinking to see how things might connect correctly. Let me say this, it totally ROCKS that these other coding geniuses create such cool widgets and stuff for Blogger and spread the joy with free code. All I usually need to do is make minor adjustments to suit my layout. Sometimes, it takes awhile, but the result is so worth it.

And, the Nerd Egotist in me feels so damn proud of herself.

Now of course, I’ve been doing some admiring of my new tag cloud, so I’d be a big, fat liar if I were to say I failed to notice how absurdly ginormous the tag, “Formerly 365" is.

Which means I post about him the most frequently. Which also means he’s in my thoughts far too much. Which is unnerving.

Sheesh, I ought to dub it the Tag Cloud of Truth.

Phone, No Can Do

Right before bed last night, I accidentally heard an old voicemail that didn’t get deleted.

Hearing his voice so suddenly and after so long, my heart quaked. Hit repeat. Yup, I am completely seduced by the way he said my name. Another repeat. And, I’m somewhat…ridiculously delighted it wasn’t deleted. Repeat, again. Because dear god, I still love how his voice sounds.

Then an arrow of clarity manages to slice through my silly cloud nine...

“This message was sent today at 3:23 PM.”

Holy SHIT.


Please stay on hold while I flip out.

Updated

I'm almost done revamping the site.

Quite proud of the minor changes so far. And, I renamed (yet again) the blog to Laidback Buddhist--I promise I'll settle on one, um...eventually. Taking it all step by step, ha!

Interesting side note,
A certain annonymous commentator left some comments (for this post) pretending to be the guy I'm currently working out my old, unhealthy feelings for, the guy I'm trying to move on from. I know, life can be *so* RANDOM.

But that's not what struck me as interesting... Instead it surprised me was how it protective and immediately defensive I got of him. It was like, yeah I'll sometimes call him an asshole when I think he's acting like one (because I know he actually ISN'T one), but don't ever let me hear you call him that!

Even to myself, I feel a tad ridiculous, huh? Ah, well. I'm just like that, fiercely loyal to my friends.

Plus, a lot of my relationships (both female and male) are indeed, very complex, but I've found that it's the good and the bad that bring the friendship closer. Nobody's perfect. Haha, and most times my closest friends don't understand how I can be good friends with certain people (like him), but I just shrug and say, "My friendship is with that person, and our friendship is not with you." There are some things that can't be explained to a third person...and sometimes, I don't see the need to or perhaps, want to.

And, you'd be surprised, while many of my friends seem completely uncompatible on the surface, I think a lot of them have much more in common than they initially thought. It's whether you're willing to see it. Or, have someone else see that part of you. As Confucius said, "Everything has its beauty, but not everyone sees it."

But, I'll eventually devote a post to explaining the basis of our friendship to the complex ambiguities of our...non-relationship of a relationship. I haven't yet because I don't want to touch that until I'm ready...when I'm sure diving into exploring those feelings of the past won't make me want to go back to it, you know?

Time to sleep. I took a 5-hour medical exam today and boy, am I WIPED.

Said and Done

Well, I wrote this emotional rant last week.

Yes, about the person who’s mentioned in probably half my entries, if not more. But I never got around to posting it.

Then, the week passed with lots of self-reflection and less reflection on him. So suddenly, I didn’t want to post it anymore for I had already gotten the resentful feelings all out and didn’t want to be reminded of them. I want to keep believing that every step I take is continually one step forward.

Overall, I think I am doing better by the week, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t times when I wonder if I’m again getting ahead of myself. I must let go of my need to control outcomes...

Anyhow, today’s horoscope on my iGoogle homepage caught my eye: “although you might be rather distracted, it's crucial that you tie up as many loose ends as possible prior to the Moon's return to your sign this evening. You are on the edge of a whole new emotional cycle, yet your attachments to the past can continue to prevent you from moving forward.”

Hmm, pretty much bull's eye, huh?

And so I figured…well, what the hell, I’m not going to dwell on it any longer or attempt to ignore what the past me wrote. I’m just going to post the damn emotional rant as is. And, I’m going to send him that email reply I’ve been holding back on, too.

----------------------------------------
(Sunday - July, 8th 2007)

I’m not going back on what I said (Left Unsaid).

I meant those words, without judgment or malice. Though, I won’t deny it irks me. A lot more than I’d like it to and probably much more than it should. I don’t want to resent these things that you do anymore. It’s always so much effort. I want an easy-going, uncomplicated, unfettered friendship. But there’s no way I’d bring this up on my own.

WHAT'S DONE IS DONE...AND STAYS DONE.

Although I can’t help but think…is it so much to ask of you, as a goddamn friend. Is it so hard for you to even fucking remember? It might annoy me if a close friend forgot, but it’s never beneath me to forgive (especially since I naturally and easily forgive those close to me). Plus, I forget these things, too, you know. Guys aren’t the only one who can be clueless.

Now a gal’s starting to wonder…

How long is it going to take before you even realize? Don’t tell me you’re simply not going to mention it, that it’s going to be yet another thing left unaccountable. See, I don’t understand. Maybe I’m unable to understand. Maybe it’s all a façade and we’re not as close as I thought. But then the thought of all my belief in you going down the drain is such a disappointment. It seems such a waste of a friendship. So much so, I ought to demote your ‘status’ to acquaintance, ya think?

Unfortunately, I’m not that petty—I always strive to be as much of a tolerant and generous friend as possible. I may vent over things to myself, but I don’t freak out over minor things to others (usually). And, yet. It sure does sting that you wished some other girl on Facebook happy birthday 4 days before mine (yes, this is why it wrecks havoc on me to accidentally read other people’s messages on his wall and why I pinky-swore to stop looking at his profile completely). I know you're aware that my birthday is in the summer. I mean seriously, did you not see my birthday coming up!? And afterwards, did you not see the many well-wishes left on my wall? Seriously!?

I know, I know. It’s just some words, so what’s the BIG deal, right?

Exactly right. Then can someone please, please, please explain to me why I am so strung out about it. Even though I don’t want to hear the answer I already know. I don’t want to hear again and again that it’s because I still care more than I should, damn it. So maybe, just maybe, it isn’t beneath me to resent this action of yours after all. Maybe it’ll cut my longing for you to be a worthy part of my life…

You see, I can no longer be a masochist in my affection towards you. And, never have I remained a masochist in a friendship…with anyone.


Yes, boy…she’s talking about you.

Two Brick Walls Nodding

This is the problem with being both the emotional feeler and the analytical thinker. On one hand, I feel too much and too deeply. On the other, I think too hard and too long... It pretty much sets the perfect stage for a never-ending battle between the two selves.

So then, when I somehow hit upon an epiphany worth mentioning in eloquent This-Fish style, the Nerd Egotist in me simply can't wait to share...er, boast.

I think you’re torturing yourself.
I think you’re right.
The whole point of playing devil’s advocate here is to have a DEBATE. So you can figure things out.
Well, I got tired of it.
You knew this would eventually happen…
Yeah, I knew.
Will you stop agreeing! What happened to the girl who won’t go down without a fight?
I told you, she got tired.
Then pick yourself up, you hear?
And, is it so easy…to just cut it like that?
It’s not only easier to, but better for you. The cleaner the cut, the less of a scar.
Whoa. Wait, please say that again.
I said. The cleaner the cut, the less of a scar.
Hot damn, you're absolutely brilliant!
Of course. Now put some gutsy spirit back into yourself. It’s boring to talk to someone who has lost her wits.
I haven’t lost my wits, mind you. I just…lost my heart.
You mean a broken, useless heart?
It can be fixed...I think.
You're better off building a new one.
No...not a new one.
Oh, now this is interesting. Dare I believe we're back to debating?
Only because you're wrong. I can't erase the scars, it'd negate the whole point of going through all that pain.
Point being?
That I'm better off using the experience to build a better, stronger heart.
Atta girl.

I struggled because I know that when I finally do say good-bye, it’s for good. And, on some level, I didn't want to...though it was obvious (even to myself) that I needed to.

So I s'pose this turned out to be a good epiphany after all.

Left Unsaid

Why didn’t you say anything?

I didn’t feel the need to. I mean, these things happen. And, there’s no point in going out of my way to remind every person who forgot that they forgot. If they care that they forgot, they probably already feel bad enough as it is. For me to then say something is rude and…honestly, kinda OCD-like, you know?

Don’t worry, I’m really bad at remembering, too, except for my VIPs and family members. Even then, I was a week late for Stephen’s (which he kindly rubbed in my face when he wished me happy bday, on time, haha the punk). B/c my friends cut me slack, I know to be tolerant of forgetfulness here and there.

Although, gotta say…you’ve set quite the record for belatedness...

I wonder. Now that I know what I’ll say if really asked....if I’ll ever get the chance to even say it, you know?

Truth Of The Matter Is...

…you can’t just passively hope that the time frame for moving on will somehow miraculously shorten. Because when reality reveals again and again that this is not the case, it fucks all sorts of shit up. All sorts.

…blindingly trusting both yourself and time to heal things is not the way to go. It’s also a form of avoidance. You need to know where you want to go, and then...purposefully trust yourself to put that first step forward. Otherwise, as time passes you by, you’ll just realize that your fears held you back. That they held you even tighter to the past you're trying to progress from.

…being able to give yourself to another person is a wonderful thing and a precious gift. But! Just because you gave a part of yourself away does not mean you’ve lost yourself completely. It’s a chance to rediscover yourself, stronger and better than before.

…when you make a decision and have all the intentions to stick with it, you best make sure that it’s not only because you know it’s the right decision. It’s one thing to need it, and another thing entirely to want it as well.

The HEART of the matter is…

The fact that I don’t want to let go of our close friendship really meant I didn’t really want to let go. Period.

Some things really are all or nothing.

So, I want it all.

And, it will have nothing to do with holding on to the past anymore.

Debatable Debacles

Yes. I am a nerd. This has already been established.

So really, it shouldn't come as a surprise that sometimes I like to play a little devil’s advocate with myself. This format of expressing thoughts is taken from This Fish, whose writing I adore. It helps me shift through the emotions a little more smoothly. Just a little, mind you.

And sometimes, if I’m lucky…I’ll hit upon an epiphany.


So, are you secretly wanting more?
Well, I've sent him the email where I admitted some things, guaranteeing we'll both step back.
This is a yes or no question.
Um…
Well?
Yes, damn it. Of course, I want more. But silliest thing is that I don’t even know what I want more of anymore.
Then why keep torturing yourself w/ such close communication?
It’s just called keeping in touch.
Okay, then. Who else do you ‘just keep in touch’ with daily and with over page-long emails?
Um. No one else. Ever.
Then why are you doing it, you idiot!?
Fine! I’m a masochist.
That’s an excuse. Old and lame.
Maybe so, but it’s forcing me to get used to thinking of him as just a good friend and not my lover anymore.
Or potential significant other?
Or potential significant other.
So, you mean if he found a hot Swedish girl, you’d be alright?
NO!
You’re pathetic.
Shutup. I’m honest.

Okay, so not quite the epiphany I had hoped for.