How Easily it All Comes Back........Like it Was Yesterday!

This morning, I was driving down S.R. 65....the sun was shining on my head making my hair sparkle as if it were made of gold and my eyes were fiercely green staring back at me in the rearview mirror. I’m usually so busy looking at all the beauty the world has to offer around me, that I don’t always find it looking back at me in my own reflection. I’m not saying that because I’m egotistical, but strawberry blonde hair, really looks amazing in sunlight….I’d say that even if it wasn’t my hair I was observing…..and well, ya’ll know my stance on eyes from my recent post dedicated to them.

The other cool thing about my journey to work today was something I saw that made a flood of memories rush over me. Today I saw an old blue Chevy Camero, similar to the one in the photo above. I used to date this guy Danny when I was a sophomore/junior in High School. He was a few years older than myself, graduated and while dating him he purchased this fabulous car. He loved it, we washed it together in the front yard at his house every Saturday or Sunday each week. He decked it out with speakers and what was at the time a state of the art compact disk player…..it was a kick-ass car. While I was dating good ole Danny boy he got a DUI. (Hey, I never said I dated the most upstanding citizens!) So here he was with this great car and he couldn’t drive it. I however had just gotten my driver’s license and had no car as luck would have it. So I was his chauffeur when we were together, but he also let me have it when we weren’t together. It was just for a little while, but that car was technically and temporarily mine for the driving.

It was late spring / early summer….I was driving for the first time on public roads LEGALLY alone. I learned to drive when I was 12. When you grow up on a farm and own hundreds of acres of land, rules of the road and of the State of Ohio don’t actually apply to you. I learned to drive on a 4 speed 1978 Ford F150 that was painted camouflage and had a custom made rack on the front to carry people….don’t ask! So driving this 1980’s model Camero was like the sweetest ride my sixteen year old girl brain could possibly imagine.

There aren’t too many feelings that can top that warmish air coming in the window, tousling my hair around, the sound of Ozzy Osborne’s “Mamma I’m coming Home” blasting on those huge speakers in the hatchback trunk, gray cloth interior, big thick ribbed floor mats, windows shaking, tinted glass, and an engine that would roar forward with just the slightest touch of the gas pedal. That car gripped the road with the simplest of ease, its exhaust vibrating, engine humming, it really was hypnotic.

In the end....things didn’t work out with Danny…he cheated on me with a 30 year old woman he worked with and got her knocked up, broke up with me, broke my heart in the process, BUT he did leave me with so many great memories…..memories of Cameros and happy times spent together. I hope he’s happy wherever he is. Regardless of his many faults, he loved me, and I loved him and well, there’s just no expiration date on affection.

A Depressive? Me? Really?

Charles Dickens once said:

“A wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature
is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other.”

Last night while having yet another discussion with the significant other, I was trying to explain to him that the way that I feel most connected to someone is mentally. I mean, for me communication, perpetual sharing of ideas and thoughts, that’s where I find the most fulfillment in the entire world. Now I’m not sure what that says about me, but damn-it, I’m a people person, I can’t help who I am. I don’t want to be someone who just talks about a bunch of blah….blah….blah...the kind of crap that once the conversation ends, it's as if it never occurred in the first place.

I want to talk about things that interest me, educate me….things that make me feel alive. I don’t feel connected to someone while talking about being out of milk, or whether or not today should be laundry day. I don’t feel connection in the mundane talk that so many people throw out at you these days. Gone are the days when people talked about personal philosophy, futuristic ideas, inventions, innovations and the like. Granted I know that there is a time to talk about the necessary evils of life like laundry, and groceries, and routine daily living things, but there's GOT to be time for the other, there's GOT to be passionate conversations where both parties feel engaged....am I the only one who feels this?

One thing was said that totally shocked me and made me crinkle my forehead in dismay as soon as the words escaped his lips: “Heather, people who talk about their feelings are depressed!” Can you believe that? I’m still floored in that observation. I mean YES, I’ve been a bit blue lately, I mean who wouldn’t be under these conditions, BUT everybody who expresses emotion of any sort isn’t depressed!!! How on earth can I convey who I am to someone who thinks the very act of conveyance makes me a depressive? A brick comes down from the wall keeping the lines of communication closed, and then another one goes back up. I know what beating your head against a wall feels like now. At this point metaphorically speaking my skull is now concave.

Humans, what a bunch of amazing perplexing creatures we are. I’d like to think that the life we are given is a journey, one in which we are to learn everything we can, experience every emotion, forever be forging forward to new experiences and lessons learned along the way, and the mystery of the people along that road are all part of the journey to not only discovering them and who they are, but also as tools to our own self discovery….we learn about ourselves from others and vice versa, everyone is a teacher and a student all at the same time. So what happens when the person who you’ve chosen to travel that road with you just isn’t going in the same direction? Actually he’s not going in a different direction; he just wants to stay put where we started. Or should I say he wants ME to stay where I started. I would rather die then to stay exactly the same. Where’s the fun in that? Where is the L-I-F-E in that? Over and over he says “Heather, you are so different from when I met you!”
Let’s do a recap shall we of why I may be different:

1. I bought a house.
2. My parents got a divorce.
3. I lost my entire family foundation.
4. I lost members of my family who I can never again recapture as part of my life.
5. My father called me a whore, and attacked my mom and my sister. Resulting in me having to be involved in nasty court proceedings where my mom was the victim and my father a defendant.
6. I watched my mom be drug through the nastiest divorce and public humiliation I have ever witnessed.
7. All of my friends got married and became mothers, changing my relationships with them drastically.
8. Both my sister and brother lived with me at my home while their lives were falling apart….as many bad days as there were good ones in the house.
9. I went to college and got my degree. Expanded my mind and my views on everything in the process.
10. I had to undergo surgery…..there’s a part of me that I was born with, that is no longer inside of me….that’s a strange feeling…..I once was whole, and now a piece of me has been taken out.

Well, that’s just to name a few. My life is just different now, I can’t go back to the person I was before. I’m changed. I’m different and I can’t apologize for what is the result of the natural progression of life. I didn’t necessarily ask to have so many life changing events occur within the last five years, but I hardly think I’m no longer a good person as a result of them. So I guess the last few years, I’ve been wondering if I could spend the rest of my life with Keith after seeing him change his personality from “Mr. Sweet happy-go-lucky guy” to “Mr. I’m in a bad mood all time and refuse to spend time with you guy” and the whole time he’s been thinking that he might not be able to deal with me and the way I’ve become. Ironic isn’t it. I felt alone in the doubt department…guess I wasn’t so alone after all.

These Eyes of Mine

I truly believe that a person's eyes are the window to their soul. People communicate through them in a way that only people who are really looking can read and interpret.

I often find that people who lock eyes with you are people you are meant to meet, maybe silently, but there's communication even without words. And do you ever notice that when you lock eyes with a stranger, it feels very intimate? If you stare too long, it almost feels intrusive? The eyes don't lie. Even with the biggest smile upon thier face, a person's truth, their inner most thoughts are right there open to all who dare look within those big beautiful EYES!

I'm curious, see anything in mine?

{Taking A Deep Breath} First after a 12 Day Hiatus

{Taking a deep breath.}

This is the first day that I don’t feel like I live in a long hallway made up of gray painted cinder blocks that has no doors or windows and that appears to never have a beginning or end. That’s pretty bleak to say isn’t it? Regardless, its how I’ve been feeling.

Last night I didn’t dream. I slept and slept hard; so hard that my face had some interesting patterns pressed into my cheek when I finally got out of bed. In fact, I remember looking at my pillow to see if I could determine the source of them….I couldn’t. One time I woke up with my eye swollen shut….that’s a strange feeling….waking up to find that your eye WON’T open. Turns out spider bites in the night can cause some strange reactions…..

I wonder if it’s good or sad that one of the only things that has really made me happy today is the fact that I have left-over pizza in my refrigerator at home that I intend to have for dinner tonight. With only having a bagel for lunch, I’m feeling quite carnivorous…only Italian sausage and pepperoni will ease my fix. Add some banana peppers, extra cheese and viola my mouth is watering. Pizza is probably why I’m not on drugs, if it weren’t for pizza, I think I’d be wondering the streets of Lima whoring myself out for a “dime bag” or “eightball” or something of the like. {this will show you how big of a drug addict I am…I actually had to look up “dime bag” and “eightball” at http://www.cocaine.org/ to make sure I knew for sure what they meant before using them. I’m so naïve about some things it’s ridiculous.}

Today one of my best friends read my blog and emailed me that they too were going to see a Therapist, the day after I go to my appointment. It feels good to know that crazy comes in pairs. There’s safety in numbers.

I can’t wait to go swim tonight…..water is the most joyous liquid. After all it is vital in sustaining life. According to religion being baptized in holy water is the only way to obtain everlasting life, We ingest it, bathe in it, feed our lawns, wash our clothes with it……water washes things away. Water has the power to cut rock with it's gentle flow, it is cleansing. I guess that’s why when I swim, I feel the stress and buildup of the day, of my life, being gently exfoliated from the surface of my skin and then slowly sinks to the bottom of the pool. Pizza and swimming, I’m rather looking forward to five o’clock today.

Padded Rooms Are Just Around the Corner.....

Well, being crazy has its advantages. Last night I told Keith I thought I was losing my sanity. I told him the truth about things in a way only a crazy person could and I finally got some things out in the open that I felt bad saying in my head, so to say them out loud was a huge step. I know now that he thinks I’m not all there now as well.

I officially am going to talk to a professional on Tuesday, January 31, 2005 @ 4:00 p.m. Keith at first when I told him I was going to go talk to someone said that I was crazy for thinking a “QUACK” could help me…..”Crazy” seems to be getting thrown at me from all directions these days. By the end of last night’s conversations, Keith agreed going was a good idea, so either I presented one hell of a convincing argument or my ranting was that of a lunatic.

I’ve been having a reoccurring dream now for the last five nights in a row…..close your eyes and observe how everything is black….like a big dark movie screen….now imagine there are words scrolling across the screen, big white bold words…..scrolling from right to left ….over and over and over…..

IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!! IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!!

I wake up too many times throughout the night in a sweat, blankets kicked off, breathing heavily for a person who was just moments ago fast asleep. So if you weren’t convinced before that I’m nuts, that ought to do it, the final nail in the coffin of my sanity.

It’s times like these that I wish that I did drugs. If I could somehow alter my mood, or my mental state by popping a pill, smoking a joint, drinking a case of beer….I would so do it. Just to stop feeling…..to stop feeling all together. I understand why some people seek these things and become dependant on them now. I think I’d play the guitar a lot better if I were on drugs too….I mean some of the greatest guitar players of all time were on some serious drugs at the heights of their musical careers. I don’t want to avoid whatever it is that’s wrong with me though, I want to fix it, understand it, grow from knowing why I do the things I do…..so drugs will have to wait until I can find out why I feel the pull to do them. Nancy Reagan said….”Just Say No!” McGruff the Crime Dog said “Stop, Look & Listen” and Smokey the Bear says….”Only you can prevent forest fires!”….so many warnings….yet when it comes to love there is no cartoon character, puppet, or first lady to tell us in a catchy slogan what to avoid, and how to keep our hearts safe…we put such a high price on our lungs, or minds and our national forests, and all the while, our hearts are left completely unspoken for, breakable and unprotected.

{I apologize for using this picture twice...but it just was too fitting not to use again.....}

Half of a Whole That Isn't Quite Whole

Today Keith called me at work and told me that when we are together, he doesn’t feel that we are actually together. Which I totally agree with him….I’ve said even before everything blew up that I feel that “I’m half of a whole that isn’t quite whole”…..so yeah, I know what he means. Then he said… “Heather, can you honestly say that you are in love with me?” I told him that I loved him, but “No, I wasn’t In love with him.”….whatever that means. I mean, I love Keith, I do, he’s a good person, and he’s been with me for five years. He’s helped me through some pretty tough times and I’ve helped him through his own personal drama in the time we’ve shared our lives with each other. So where has the love gone? This elusive “in love” kind of love…where did it go? Was it ever there to begin with? Did we imagine it in the beginning? Is it something that ever REALLY comes back? Is “in love” something that one can work at recapturing?

Usually I’m fairly optimistic when it comes to the ability to love, but I guess I’ve never had to work at making my heart feel things. I mean, in the past I’m usually the one trying to STOP my heart from feeling the things it does for people it shouldn’t….not making it feel things for the people it should….. I'm just not the type of person who has trouble loving people. Loving them is always the easy part.....

One of my big problems now seems to be that everything feels forced, unnatural, strained…. Perhaps my views on love are that of fairytales……according to some people that I’ve spoken with, men aren’t capable of deep meaningful relationships with women. Everything that I’ve said that I feel is missing from my relationship with Keith, everything I feel that I need, apparently are almost impossible to find. BUT, I’ve met men and have dated men and have loved men who did possess these qualities. I know they are out there, I know in my heart these things aren’t myths. But over and over, I keep hearing that most men are not in touch with their feelings, they don’t know how to express themselves, they are not ever going to care about me the way I want them to. This to me is very, very depressing. If this is the case, if men aren’t capable of these things, then the theory of being “in love” is also fairytale material. How can anyone ever be in love without the elements that make it up? Has every love story in the history of man been just the delusions of an over-active imagination, the emotionally insane?

If I walk away from this five year relationship in search for something “more”…..am I the biggest fool there ever was? I realize that there is no “perfect relationship”, there is no “perfect man”…and I’m not looking for PERFECTION. I’m looking for CONNECTION…..mental, physical, emotional…..dream of them at night, think of them throughout the day, share each other’s hopes, dreams and thoughts…..laugh at the same things, would kiss each other’s toes kind of closeness. I want the kind of closeness that is unexplainable, irrational, but at the same time natural. I imagine this being like two magnets……they just can’t help but to attract the other, they could run from each other, but they would always feel the pull towards each other, they would always be only half of the equation without the other. Put them together and it takes a great deal of force to pull them apart, and not because the magnets are trying to stay together, they know nothing else but being together. Together, they are complete.

Does it make me a hopeless fool to think that I’d rather live out the rest of my days in search for this kind of love, even if it means being completely alone by society’s standards…than to spend my days in a love that is anything less than that? Alone is really just a frame of mind, not a state of existence. Does that make sense?

I just keep feeling that we have such a short time here, we only get one shot at this life, Let me ask you this, what’s scarier: Spending your days without a significant other or living a damn so/so existence going to work, coming home, paying bills, raising babies, eating, sleeping and dieing. I hate myself for saying this, but I want more, something more extraordinary that that. If I choose to take the “safe” route, will I forever be restless within my own skin; my mind becoming my own worst enemy and my imagination a torture device?

I’m losing my mind. I’m completely losing my mind……WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME!!!!!!!???????? I’m thinking seriously about getting some professional help. At least then when my life falls to complete shit, I can say “well my therapist told me that this is what I need to do”…..ah, an escape route….I’m either brave, strong and optimistic or I’m non-committal, afraid, and fragile and not in touch with reality. The only thing I know for sure is….I’m lost…..I don’t know what to do, how to fix what is broken, in me or in my relationship, and the pressure is on, it’s now or never…..and I just want to lay down and go to sleep and not wake up until summer.

Is this what Rock Bottom Looks Like?

Most of you know that my childhood was a bit unorthodox. I mean, I’ve had a job and have been making my own money since I was five years old. My sisters and I basically raised ourselves since our parents were so busy running their business and in my lifetime, I’ve seen a lot of death. Not necessarily human death (which I have seen my fair share of), but lots of animal death. When raising animals you generally have fatalities either from sickness, old age or your occasional freak accident. I’ve assisted our veterinarian perform autopsies, pulled a stillborn baby from a mother deer’s womb before she became septic and died….and even before all of that, I worked for my dad skinning muskrats, raccoons etc in his fur shop each and every night during trapping season……let’s just say I’m not all that squeamish anymore….

In the 1980’s and Early 90’s we operated a small zoo in which we had Lions, Tigers, Cougars, and other meat eaters. One of the unpleasant aspects to owning big cats is the fact that the meat has to come from somewhere. Since many other local farmers knew we had cats, they would bring us their cows, pigs, etc that had died on their farms to dispose of. I guess it saved them from having to dig a hole or something….anyway today I was thinking about a memory from my past that I haven’t thought about in forever……

…..one day when I was like maybe eight or so we had gotten a delivery of a couple dead cows to butcher for the cats. My father had the two cows hanging from the backhoe bucket over the “gut pile” pit. They would cut the beasts open, removed the entrails, hide, and other non-edible parts and then bring the meat back up to the barn for the cats. I’m not sure exactly what all of us kids were doing back there, but my sisters and myself, as well as my cousins Jason and Aaron were there watching what was going on. Jason wanted to help and had gotten permission to do so since he was first a guy and second older than the rest of us. We stood back and watched as the guys prepared to start cutting. One of the cows’ bladders was exposed and full to the max of urine. It looked like a big water balloon hanging there and before my father could get the words, “whatever you do, don’t…..” out of his mouth, Jason stabbed the urine balloon with his knife and the sack exploded and completely drenched him with it’s contents. From head to toe, Jason was dripping wet with dead cow piss. The smell made the rest of us gag and become instantly ill. We would have laughed at his misfortune had we all not been near vomiting and running away before the smell got worse.

I feel like that today. I feel as though I’m a child, who’s eagerly done something having a completely different outcome in mind when going into it, but in the end, after the deed is done, finds herself standing there covered with waste, vile, putrid waste. Everything is quiet, except for the sound of my heart and the droplets falling to the ground all around me.

Don’t you hate that first moment of silence when things have gone wrong. Whether it’s an ending of a relationship, or breaking something that doesn’t belong to you, you just wish with all your heart and soul that you could just take it back, erase the moments leading up to it, roll back the hands of time…..but instead you just remain motionless in the silence of disbelief and denial and then comes the rush in of realization and accountability.

If I don’t shake this off soon, I’m afraid I’ll never rid myself of this feeling. It’s as if I’m covered by something nauseating. Something that has covered me so completely that it keeps me hidden beneath it... it being the barrier between me and every external thing this world has to offer ......I'm suffocating under it's weight. I just want to breathe again......

Contusions

This week has seemed like one long sleepwalk. A dream where you feel like you’re Alice in wonderland, confused, endangered, and running out of time.

I have a bruise on my knee. I was looking at it last night while lying on the couch, running my finger over it and feeling that the skin itself was soft and smooth but just below the surface was black and blue and bleeding. When I am fully dressed, not a single person knows it’s there, but I do. I know just where it is, and I sometimes push on it through my pants in order to feel the pain. Pain reminds me I’m still alive, hurt but alive. Damaged but still kicking.

How is it that one little 2” x 2” bruise can, if pushed just right, cause pain to your entire leg. Push on it long enough, it will grow, damaging all the cells around it. It’s that bruise that is my realization that this is real, this isn’t a dream, a nightmare, it’s everything I never wanted it to be……

Bruises: How many can one heart sustain before a clot is created, thrown and causes total shutdown of a system that used to function as perfect as the day you were born?

"Starting over"? Is that a fancy way of saying I want to ignore the past?

I wrote in this Journal just 19 days ago, that I was ready for whatever 2006 had to offer, it’s been 10 years since I struck out on my own in this world. I’ve done a lot in that time, looking back on it now, I’ve seen my weaving path of destruction and mistakes, but at the same time, I see myself, my honest attempts to follow my heart, even if it’s lead me astray a time or two or three or four…oh who’s am I kidding….more times than I dare count. Still, regret isn’t something I’m willing to concede to…..how can you regret what taught you so much? I’m going to try to keep this in mind as I embark on all that is yet to come…..the rocky road that I’m sure is ahead of me.

I can’t concede to regret and hope continues to encompass me. Some say "why?", I say "why not?"

From a Drip, to Drizzle to a Downpour

Sunday night is the night that life as I know it changed forever. Problems no longer in hiding, issues out in the open, betrayal, hurtful words said, emotional desperation and despair.

I’ve been called a whore even though I haven’t cheated, I’ve been told to leave and then to stay, I’ve been pushed, knocked down, interrogated, belittled, berated and torn. All of my relationships have been called into question, even though they are innocent in nature.

My friends have come to my rescue, my family offering their endless support, but at the end of the day, when everyone goes home, it’s just him and I left together alone. Everything I own is still packed in my car, incase I get told to “get the f*ck out again”…security, it’s really worth it’s weight in gold isn’t it?

I’m running on empty, my throat won’t allow the swallowing of food or water and I’m choking on my pride. My body aches, my heart is broken and my head is cloudy at best. The taste of vomit never leaves my throat, my tear duct is swollen, possibly infected, my nose is raw and my hope is at an all-time low.

Do I stay or do I go, do I run away or do I face the rough road ahead?

I won’t deny that I’m not perfect and that I haven’t failed in certain areas of my relationship, but mostly, my failures come from just being beaten down. How many times do you have to hear the word “No”, before you quit asking, how many times can you reach out and have your attempt swatted away before you stop reaching?

For those of you who have been there with me, I thank you, and I’m sorry you’ve had to see what you have. But mostly I thank you. I never said I was perfect, and I’ve always known that the risk I took to start this relationship were big ones, when we got ourselves into this crazy mess we knew that it could end disastrously….I just rather hoped it wouldn’t. I think that it lasting this long has been a testament to our dedication to give it a good effort; well I feel that I gave it my best right up until recently. Maybe I should have tried harder, longer, with more dedication, but honestly, after trying so hard for so long, I just didn’t have it left in me.

I can’t believe I’m here again. I can’t believe I’m here AGAIN!

"Table For One Please"

A few days ago I didn’t feel like eating the frozen dinner I packed. I decided to take myself out to lunch to do a little reading and find some joy in the midst of an average workday.

The hostess greeted me and said those famous words “How many?”…. “Table for one please” I replied. She smiled graciously and took me to my table.

I was generally excited to get sat down at Henry’s Restaurant, one of the premier eating establishments in little Ottawa, Ohio. I brought the book a friend had given me (“Demian” by Author and Nobel Prize for Literature Winner: Hermann Hesse) and immediately drew it from my purse and began to read. The waitress approached and said, “Is anyone else joining you?” I smiled at her and said, “nope it’s just me!” I then proceeded to place my order: water with lemon, traditional club sandwich on wheat with pickle and mayo on the side, hold the fries. She nodded and walked away from me. I put my focus back on reading....

Occasionally I would pause to think about something striking in what I was reading, and I would kind of stare off the page in contemplation, and it occurred to me that I was being observed. Several people over the course of my lunch hour were taking notice of me. Was I doing something extraordinary? Not that I’m aware of! Just then a waitress, not MY waitress walked up to me and said, “Couldn’t get anyone from the office to do lunch with?”…..I replied, “I wasn’t seeking company today, I find solace in quiet time spent alone!”…I think this stunned her because the look on her face made it appear that I had just viciously thrown something at her. She then said “Good book?” I smiled and nodded my head. I think it’s kind of a given when someone is reading something, on their lunch break no less that it should just be assumed that the book is good, for why else would the continue to read it? I believe “what are you reading” is a more authentic question to ask….. “good book?” is just something people ask when they don’t REALLY give a shit about your answer. Because they are already quite certain what your answer will be. Anyway…..

My food came, it was delicious, I hated putting my book down to take the toothpicks out of my sandwich. Again people looked at me…some with a general look of sympathy, or something similar to sympathy, others with curiosity. I can’t say for sure what they were thinking for I am not a mind reader, but I got the general feeling that they both felt sorry for me and fascinated by me at the same time. It’s like one minute they would look at me with the “poor girl eating all alone” look and the dreaded sympathy head tilt, and then their face would change, their head would straighten and the look became more of a “look at her, just sitting there quietly eating and reading”…anyway, I’m not a paranoid person, but on this particular occasion, I felt I was under a watchful eye and I’m not exactly sure why.

My waitress asked me three times after delivering my food if everything was okay. So seven times in one thirty-five minute lunch experience I was spoken to, I got at least twelve smiles from nervous looking patrons when I happened to look up from Demian’s pages and one bus boy asked me “can I take these out of your way?”….taking the conversation toll up from seven to eight…all this while simply dining alone. In the past eight years of working in Ottawa and countless times dining at Henry’s, I had never felt so attended to, or observed all in such a relatively short period of time.

I just don’t mind eating alone. I mean I do it purposely on occasion just to be by myself. Whether my time is also spent reading, or just staring off into space while I chew my food, really makes me no difference, yet I have heard stories of others who’d assume die a thousand deaths than to utter the words..... “table for one please”.

Walt Whitman....need I say more?

To a Stranger

Passing stranger! you do not know
How longingly I look
upon you,

You must be he I was seeking,
Or she I was seeking
(It comes to me as a dream)

I have somewhere surely
Lived a life of joy
with you,

All is recall'd as we flit by each other,
Fluid, affectionate, chaste, matured,

You grew up with me,
Were a boy with
me or a girl with me,
I ate with you and slept with you,
your body has become
not yours only nor left my body mine only,

You give me the
pleasure of your eyes,
face, flesh as we pass,
You take of my beard,
breast, hands,in return,

I am not to speak to you,
I am to think of you
when I sit alone or wake at night, alone
I am to wait, I do not
doubt I am to meet you again
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.

Walt Whitman

Meaningless Conversations That Do Matter.....

In a day’s time, I talk to a lot of people. It’s my job to answer the phones at my office and so over the course of the day I can talk to as many as 50 different people if you count my most dreaded rivals the “telemarketers” and “toner pirates”.

People crack me up! Especially people who I talk to regularly who fast become my friends through our limited conversations on the telephone. I don’t know if it’s the sincerity to meet their needs, the pleasantness of my voice…I’m not sure what it is, but it seems that I have a unique ability to get total strangers to be at complete ease with me. Maybe other people’s phone etiquette has fallen to an all time low making my telephone personality one that seems to shine in comparison…who knows.

Some of my experience with this has proved to be unusual yet pleasant. One of our past clients used to have to call here on a regular basis when working on one of our projects. Overtime we developed a friendly association, it wasn’t long until we were joking and laughing for up to five to ten minutes before I actually transferred him over to who he actually needed to talk to. That was three years ago or more that I first came to know him. Now that project is complete, yet he still calls me just to check in, say hello and whatnot. I know a lot more about him than his company information and his job status. I know about his family, home life, personal things and thoughts. He’s actually went through a divorce in the time that I’ve known him and I think sometimes when he needs to hear a friendly voice, he thinks of me and calls. It’s really quite an honor to be that for someone.

My other source of conversational-ism that doesn’t make a definitive difference is….those hours upon hours-long conversations with Rachel. Once we get going, we could just go on for hours, each topic somehow leading to another…and another and before we can even manage to close a single thought we are fifteen topics and twice removed from where we started. Those are quite honestly the best conversations. Just random thoughts and expressions, all rolled into one big gabfest. To the naked ear, these conversations well, they don’t really amount to what some might think of as life changing or profound…..but they are the conversations of my life. Debating, sharing of ideas, hopes, dreams, laughter…..all things that are unique to the human spirit. I feel enlightened, fulfilled and blessed to have someone whom to share these things with.

The greatest thing about Rachel is, she never judges, always listens, offers her views and take on things, but always accepts that her ideas and views are possibly one of many. She’s a student of life who is open to new ideas and welcomes conflicting views as an opportunity to be enlightened by the new information. She will also openly tell you that she sometimes doesn’t know exactly where she stands on certain things. This to me shows humility that is all too rare in society where everyone has an opinion about everything. Too many people are obstinate and blind to the fact that life isn’t black and white and cut and dried. There are quite possibly many solutions to a single problem.

So I guess my point is, not everything on the outside appears to be meaningful (green wine glasses included) but the thing is, hidden within so many of life’s little inconspicuous things lies a truth that perhaps only one or two people truly know the value of.

Famous Greek Philosopher, Aristotle said: "What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies." ~ I think he's right.

Another Piece Broken......

Last night Keith shattered my favorite green wine glass that I wrote about only a few days ago. It's irreplaceable to my heart. Something as silly as a green piece of glass shouldn't make me feel like throwing myself into the depths of sadness, but for some reason, it seems as though it's another step in that direction. I heard the glass break and I knew, I just knew immediately what had been broken. Keith just picked it up, tossed it into the trash without a second thought about what that glass meant to me, and why should he? I suppose most people don't have emotional attachments to wine glasses, especially the garage sale variety, but I felt a great feeling of loss as I imagined it making its way to the bottom of the trash bag that it was effortlessly tossed into.

I watched Sleeping with the Enemy a few days ago...you know the movie where Julia Roberts fakes her own death to escape her abusive husband and then starts a new life somewhere else. It made me feel like running away from home. Changing my name and getting a new hairdo and just leaving my past behind me. This seems very unlike me considering I always have loved my life. I love my house, my dog, my little cheap car, frequenting the Lima YMCA, my hand-me-down furniture.....Ohio for that matter. It seems as though I'm restless in every aspect of my life and things like broken garage sale wine glasses are reminders that I want to run. Maybe it's the wintertime blues, maybe it's a transitional emotional phase, maybe since college is over I feel bored and unchallenged, maybe I just need a vacation from my life.

My 28th Birthday is next month, it's on a Thursday. I'm considering taking myself on a mini-break. Maybe take myself to a cabin in Southern Ohio (Hocking Hills)....all by my lonesome. Just me, a crackling fire, a good book, maybe a hot tub on the deck and my camera for exploring and hiking in the day time. I'm suddenly aware of my want to breathe fresh air. Feel the cold on my face and to make my legs and feet weary of countless hours of exploration. This makes me excited for my birthday.....it feels good to be excited about something.

Mysterious Writings of my Own

While cleaning out some things in my office, I found a piece of paper that said the following:

If I gave you my heart, you'd break it.....

If I gave you my soul, you'd sell it......

If I gave you my world you'd set it ablaze.....

If I gave you my life, you'd take it.....

It was in my handwriting, but I don't remember writing it. I don't know who I scribbled these words for, or why. But it felt meaningful, so I thought here is where they should be.....atleast until the mystery presents it's answer to me.

What's with me and 3 a.m.?

It's 3:10 a.m. The house is silent except for my fingers hitting the keyboard.

I watched "Four Brothers" tonight.

I saw my brother who doesn't love me anymore....who I took in when he was at his worst.....who now no longer knows me nor wants to.

I got an e-mail that made me smile when I got home.

Tonight I realized, I may never know any other home besides the one I now inhabit.

I think I'm dehydrated. I should get some water, but my eyes feel too dry to move.

While watching an HBO presentation of Chris Rock in Washington D.C.....he said that you have two choices:

1. Be married and boring; OR
2. Single and Lonely

I wonder if anyone is truly happy with being either?

My good friend Melissa who has recently moved to Germany read my blog and emailed me after reading it. She says I sound generally discontented. I would have to agree with her. I don't know how to get past feeling as though I'm alone in the room when I'm not. I'm alone in my dreams, my aspirations, my imaginative ponderings. I don't understand a person who has no wild ideas about....well....about anything.

Tonight while talking to Rachel it occured to me that I probably annoy some people when i ponder things that most likely will never happen. Because it requires imagination to allow your mind to travel to unknown corners.....some people don't allow their minds to travel off the beaten path, where mine at times takes up residency there. I don't understand a person who hasn't read a book since assigned readings in high school, or those who cannot stay awake to see the ending of a movie. These things....well...to be honest, they baffle me. Whatever does the mind think of if it never travels beyond the normal everyday activity that is more routine than anything else, and why does it stay cemented where it is? Am I overly imaginative? Is the imaginary ponderings and stories within my head, my heart keeping me from living my "REAL" life? Or is my imagination's ideas about life just that much more entertaining than living with both feet in reality?

I played hide-and-go-seek so much when I was a kid....man we had the best games. Anyone who knows where I grew up, totally understands that our games of hide and go seek could easily have resulted in someone never being found...therefore we had to restrict the area to which one could legally hide. I became so good at hiding, sometimes the searcher would just give up on finding me. Are the joys in my life (books, movies, art, writing, music, learning) my new adult hiding places? Do people just give up when looking for me convinced they will never find me?

Sometimes I feel like that.....quiet, crouching, hidden....hearing my breath and heartbeat as if they were amplified times ten. Knowing that people are looking for me...knowing they are close, but never giving myself away.

I guess this means I'm fucked up right?

It’s 12:15 p.m. on a Thursday night…..I’m sipping a glass of wine out of my green wine glass that I bought at a garage sale….I adore the fact that it doesn’t match a single other item in this house. It’s unique and it reminds me that some things are better solo than in sets or pairs.

I recently returned home from my typical Thursday night activities, guitar and visiting afterwards with cousin/friend/guitar partner Rachel. Tonight we learned Pink Floyd’s “Wish you were Here”, so of course I had to play that a few hundred times during the commercial breaks of sex in the city reruns that I can’t help but to continue to watch…..

The wine is calming my normally overly active brain, and I’m actually considering going to bed, but I felt the need to write a little before I go….

Recently I wrote a post about strangers. This is what I had to say:

The thing with strangers is that you never know how long you will have them; you don’t know which conversation will be your last, and the excitement of knowing each other generally burns out before making that transition from stranger to friend.

Sure, some manage to plant roots and lock-in their existence in your life, and they take their role as an active participant in your story….but mostly……strangers in the end, return to being just that….strangers.

I don’t know exactly where I was going with that….I was just thinking about it again…..

Thinking about….how even our closest friends were once strangers….how lovers, our confidants…were once unknowns. What is it that causes the cross over? Willingness to allow someone into your life? Just the right combination of chemistry? What is it that takes us from strangers to life long friends? I mean I don’t remember ever meeting someone and telling myself, I’m going to be great friends with that person….it always just kind of evolves from introduction, to mutual respect, so sharing of thoughts, to connecting through laughs and storytelling, and then before I know it, I can’t imagine a life without them in it. It’s even more interesting to me how someone you didn’t know only a few months ago can be such a bright spot in a seemingly normal run-of-the-mill day.

However whenever endeavoring into a new relationship, whatever it consists of, you run a risk of being hurt. If you become dependant on these relationships and they are taken away, you stand to lose emotionally…..you can sometimes later realize that the person you thought you knew, wasn’t the person they actually were at all….letting anyone into your life is a risk. I used to think I was open to any and all experiences, but as time progresses, I find that I’ve gotten more guarded with my heart. Taking it away before it gets too involved. Going only so far, and then putting on the breaks of my emotional capacity. I know it comes from a long, long line of broken hearts and total abuse of trust, BUT, it’s not intentional. So for anyone who is reading this (which is most likely nobody), New Year’s Resolution #1….take fear out of the intimacy equation. For the only thing I have to fear, is fear itself...or at least that's what I've heard. :)

Obession

Tonight I’m left pondering obsession. Not the cologne, but actual obsession. I sometimes say I’m obsessed with things, like buying old books, writing, watching movies, playing my guitar, etc., but honestly I’m only passionate about these things. They do not control me in away that is detrimental to my own free will. They only add to my essence instead of define my being.

My significant other is obsessed with hunting and fishing. I used to love fishing….sitting on a river bank, or leisurely lounging along side a pond, maybe smoking, maybe sunning myself, watching my little bobber float around….never keeping my catch, but letting them swim free to make their mistake again. It didn’t much matter to me if I caught the biggest fish or the most fish, or any fish at all…it was just my way of enjoying nature, playing a game with a species from a world that I envy. Swimming freely in the water, enjoying their aqua-playground that they call home. Just as they toy with my bobber from the world I call home. I adore animals and the only ones I have distaste for are mosquitoes, rats and mice. In the past five years, I’ve lost my willingness to use my pole and my love of animals has only grown more definitive. What does it say about me that my other half has caused such an outcome through touching my life with his obsession?

I don’t understand I guess how people’s lives become their obsession? Workaholics, Alcoholics, Drug Addicts…..their lives become their habit. Their habit becomes their lives. Addiction takes its toll. When we submerge ourselves into something so far that our head no longer breaks the surface, we lose sight of everything that once was there. Our obsession becomes the liquid that entombs us and everything that lies beyond seems murky and distant, and eventually out of reach, no longer useful in the new way of life. Addiction being the water, he being the fish, me with a pole in my hand, him not taking the bait.

I’m murky, I’m no longer useful, and I’m a remnant of days past. Once a vital part of a working relationship, I’m now just a bystander to a relationship sustained on autopilot. This being my truth, and the most honest that I can be with myself. I’m hesitant in saying this aloud. Even more hesitant in my want to post this.

What event could have changed the chain of events that have led me here? What route should I have chosen? Did I not give enough, or did I accept too little for too long? Is simple love really enough? How long is too long? What constitutes too little too late?

I’m not saying I’m at the end of my proverbial rope….nor am I doing more than simply recognizing my challenges within my own life…..I’m determined and steady in my course. I only hope that my labor in the pursuit of love will not go unnoticed and that in the end the harvest of my relationship will prove to be fruitful.

This Just In From Heather's News Desk....

On tonight's 11:00 news....one of the top stories was that the newest and most used slang phrase used in 2005 was......(insert drum roll here).......

"jump on the couch"

For those of you who aren't aware of the crazy shenanigans of that mad cat we like to call Tom Cruise....his slightly over zealous behavior on the Oprah show grabbed him the number one slang term of 2005. How do you like that....even when he's crazy he's raking in recognition.....all I can say is....must have been a slow news day if this is all we have to report on.....

Aren't there some guys trapped in a mine in West Virginia or something we can be reporting on? Massive flooding in Northern California, or wildfires in Texas? There has got to be something, anything but more Tom Cruise coverage!!

{and yes, that is my wreck of a desk you are looking at}

{and yes, I know it's not January 1st anymore!}

Middle of the Night....Fading Intoxicants....Another Year has Passed.

It's 3:00 a.m. on January 1st, 2006. I'm eating Fritos and drinking Mt. Dew....not fully sure why I can't sleep.

Tonight I went out with my friends...ate the worst steak I've even had the displeasure of purchasing....drank two beers and two coconut rum/pineapple/organge juice mixed drinks. I played games, laughed profusely and at Midnight was kissed by TWO men....too bad they were two of my friend's husbands. I am a couple, yet i'm always uncoupled. Keith was at home sleeping.....he didn't want to go to Michelle's with me because he was tired.

See when we first got together I always told myself that I wasn't going to be one of those women who MADE their husbands do things. I wouldn't drag him shopping and make him hold my purse, I wouldn't do those things that other women do to their men. I just didn't want to be like that. Now, five years into this relationship, I've found that this theory on being free to make your own choices hasn't turned out like I had hoped. See it was my belief, that by NOT MAKING him do things he didn't want to, he'd appreciate me more and ultimately then WANT to do things as a sign of appreciation. Boy was I wrong.....men just don't think like that....

So for the past two New Years in a row, I've been left to fend for myself as the ball drops....usually showered with the very much appreciated sympathy kisses from friends.....but yet, I know I'm alone. I'm a half of a whole that isn't quite whole.

BUT, it's 2006 and I am not afraid. I am not scared for what the future has in store for me this year. Whatever happens....well....it happens....and I'll make the best of it. Not thinking that everything to come will be bad....I'm certainly hoping for some good as well. Life is just unpredictable that way.

Well, I better go, Phoenix just woke up, she looks like she could use some attention......which is code for...I have to throw her outside before she pees on the floor!

GOOD NIGHT & HAPPY NEW YEAR.....!!