Saturday, January 28, 2012

What Am I Waiting On...

I was perusing Youtube last night and came across this sensual, smooth and sexy video from Marlon Palmer and a very gorgeous Amber Rose looking woman. It got me to wondering, what it was I am really waiting on with this whole sex thing?

I'm a virgin. I'm not sure if you've picked up on that or not, but yep. I think the misconception about me is that I either represent all virgins (not the case) or I fall into the stereotype of the "virgin friend" (certainly not the case). I find myself the recipient of a lot of late night calls from friends asking for advice on love, life, and yep, sex. I know a lot. I haven't done anything, but I tend to know little things that make the big moment a great experience for others. Small things like candle light (some girls are too self-conscious for full light but love the thrill of being seen), a playlist of long jazz tracks (so not only are there no lyrics to get tangled up in, the risk of "Can't Nobody Love You Like Jesus" popping up is very slim), or even simple things like massages with warm oil (Sweet almond <3) are suggestions I've made to my girls (and yes, even my boys).

One of the boys broached the subject of the type of lover I go for as he's never heard me make mention of my own sex life. I had to break it to him gently that A) I don't have a sex life and B) I hadn't really given much thought to it as I'm waiting on a certain someone or something.

But that video up there? It sums up everything I'm waiting on. There's a slow sensuality to it. A playful seriousness. A little spice/excitement/voyeurism with the camera. There's respect (he's not rushing it), and there's equal admiration as both of them just take their time to enjoy each other. Not to say it doesn't get hot, but whereas I feel most people think a bomb is what needs to go down, I think a smoldering fire is the way to get things done. Plus that song? Geez... it's perfect. It has a classic R&B/Soul feel, it's not overly sexual a la "You Remind Me Of My Jeep" (nor as crass and unintentionally hilarious). It kind of promotes the same smoldering sexy that I go for.

So to answer the question, what I'm waiting on is someone who understands the nuances of my sensuality. Someone who'll appreciate my slowness and not mistake it for stalling but understand it as a fascination or admiration of their form. Someone patient and knowledgeable, one who doesn't mind teaching and being taught. I'm waiting on a kind heart, someone who doesn't rush and wants to get to know me as a person first. Someone smart enough to know the traditional game of seduction, but still throw in new age game in there. I'm waiting for a counterpart, someone worth my effort who'll put in equal work. Someone serious, but not enough to not have some fun with.

I'm waiting on me, too. Waiting to become comfortable enough with my scars, physical and otherwise, to truly let someone in enough to trust them with my body. I have kind of a teenage boy's fear of getting naked and someone either pointing and laughing or becoming completely disgusted. I know the likelihood of that happening is slim, but because I'm not yet fully comfortable I can't really rule that out. I'm waiting on a relationship with someone, not just a casual "nice shoes...wanna have sex?" sort of fling; I'm waiting on hand holding, cuddling, and talking about everything and nothing at the same time. I'm waiting on a person willing to know me, not just know my body.

In short, I'm waiting on the right person and the right time. At 21 apparently that's refreshing. Not sure if it'll be the same if I reach 45 this way, but... Whereas before I didn't think there was hope for me, in that way, I'm not convinced that I'm up to the challenge. It's just about finding that guy who's right up to it with me and willing to put in the work.

Thursday, January 19, 2012

The Plight of the Superwoman

Everyone has that friend. The one who's doing it all with very little sweat, tears or fanfare. The one with all their stuff together, ducks in a row, and they just make it all look so easy you wonder why you couldn't do it. We all know that superwoman, and some of us are that superwoman.

I've been the "superwoman" friend as long as I could remember having friends. I was the one with the assignment done the week it was assigned (or pulled an A from thin air an hour before class). I was the one with all the relationship answers, despite lacking my own relationship to test it out in. I was the one with the quiet, modest plan in life to be a super glamorous, highly respected high school English teacher, simply because, of all the things I could do, molding young people's minds was the one that stuck out the most.

I am a superwoman. Not by choice, rather by circumstance so I am often tired and under-appreciated, or rather feel that way because I don't take time to rest and appreciate myself. The plight of the superwoman is in her quiet nature; because she is so sure and steady, people take her minute motions and gestures for granted, and as such, she starts to take herself for granted. 

I am a superwoman. When everyone leans on me I am a rock, I never falter. If they ask me the same question a thousand times my answer never changes. On my own, in the quiet between the dark and the dawn I have to still my own waters, be my own rock not because there's no one who will listen, but often those people who listen will somehow always turn the conversations back on themselves, or spout cliche'd -isms they've read on plaques and bumper stickers that never fully fit me. I have to find my own mold, in the quiet when I should be sleeping, I often find myself sorting through feelings, thinking or daydreaming of a day when I'll no longer be tired, when life will fall into place.

 I'm a superwoman, but I'm still a woman. I find I crave the things that used to scare me so. I don't know how to get out there to go get those things I really want, but have recognized my issues and am taking very small and short steps before making a running leap into the unknown. I'm insecure about my body and sometimes wonder if I'm unattractive to men my age as so few of them approach me. Wonder if now, like in middle and high school, my wit and advanced state of mind has me in the minority yet again. 

I'm a woman. I think a lot before I do anything. I work really hard and sleep a lot less. I'm always writing and creating things in my mind. I still like to color with Crayons and listen to offensive rap music in the same hour I'll listen to jazz and alternative. I cook barefoot while listening to soul music. I cry, sometimes for no reason but often compose myself in a few minutes. I sing love songs when I'm sad, and rock out when I clean. I'm complex and quiet, a tough combination, but my heart is full of love and care, just waiting for someone who'll care to listen to it's soft beating.

I'm a woman. I happen to do super things. And so, I'm a superwoman. I'm proud. I'm exhausted, but I'm so proud of me it rings vibrantly with energy enough to keep me going. That's more than a lot of women, super or otherwise, can say. And for now, it's more than enough.  

Monday, January 16, 2012

Honesty is Pandora's Box

I have a fast mind. It's a maze, and it's complex, but I figure things out relatively quickly. So from a very young age, I loved to lie as lying was just figuring out what people expected you to say, and saying it convincingly, most times before they even said anything. It wasn't getting away with things that made it such an unshakable bad habit, rather it was the thought that my words could change realities, my words could change perceptions, and it didn't have to be what was right or what was true. I was power tripping as a kid, and thus became known as a liar. 

Over time, my lies became manipulation. I would toy with my peer's lives and minds, the puppeteer feeling going to my head. I convinced a girl to break up with her boyfriend as they "weren't compatible". I convinced a guy that his best friend was "scheming behind his back". I even got a girl to completely drop my potential love interest, in hopes of getting with this guy I'd purposefully befriended for that very reason. By peppering the truth with a couple stretches, a few white lies, the world could be what I made it. And then I got played and lied to. Learned that lesson painfully. 

I learned that those traits were nothing to be proud of; liars are a dime a dozen and not all of them are any good. Girls who told the truth, girls who were honest despite any trepidation and fear, courageous girls, were valuable, or at least should be. I learned that being lied to hurt everything in a person. If they knew about it, it would change not only their perception of you, but of anyone following you. If they didn't know, it would jade the relationships and interactions of their future in ways you couldn't begin to grasp. And that made me stop being a liar, almost cold turkey.

The issue with that is, honesty is Pandora's box. People are constantly asking me to be honest with them. I'm a closed person who likes to think things through before I say them, mull over the ramifications and the benefits and then make a wise decision. The truth, just like biker shorts, ain't for everybody. 

My mother always said never ask for more than you can handle, and never ask questions you don't want the answers to. And she's been right on that just don't tell her I said it as people often ask for my brand of honesty and are shocked by what they hear. I'm muted in life...okay not muted but composed. I don't get riled up easily, and it takes a lot to shock me. I'm really observant and draw connections like there were dots between them leading the way. That right there is a recipe for disaster as some people's dots aren't really meant to be connected by outside forces but by themselves.

Me and W are yo-yoing continuously because of my formerly lackadaisical view of honesty as it pertains to my feelings. To make her feel more at ease, more secure with my friendship, I'd developed this veneer of not having deep feelings. Surface wise, it always seems like jealousy, bitterness or competition between us on my end, but under my still waters lies insecurity, uncertainty and a fear of not having anyone in my corner. Now that I'm evolving, that veneer is being painfully peeled back, exposing raw nerves to cold air.

 She's not really used to me telling her when she's hurt my feelings; she knew formerly as I would be really curt and sniping in my responses to her. Now I can recognize what's going on with me, and I'm not afraid of asking to take time out to figure it out. Now, I tell her sincerely what I feel with very little filter. She's kind of in a tough place in her life, trying to figure hers out just like I'm trying to figure mine, but she wants me to depend on her as I've always done not realizing that the actions she's taking now make it real difficult. I need something stable. I need something consistent. She can't give that right now. Telling her I don't feel safe , secure, or as trusting of her as I used to hurts her. It hurts me too. But it was something that needed to be said. 

And therein lies the rub with this honesty thing. It hurts both ways and nobody seems to recognize that. The person being honest feels, in most cases, sorely aware they are hurting someone they care about and exposing themselves to possible retribution, ridicule or rejection. The person receiving the honesty can misconstrue it as a critique, an insult and sometimes a purposeful aim to hurt them. 

Pandora didn't realize the ills she let into the world, and by the time she closed the lid, it was too late. You can't un-say things, or lie to cover up your honesty on some "JK" type thing. But...the great thing about that box is that it frees us of all those things we held inside, freeing us to be more ourselves and less our short-comings, hang-ups and pent up emotions. It frees us to live more sincerely, more nobly, and in a world full of liars, half-truthers, and people walking around with the baggage of being lied to, that is a hopeful thing. With every honest step we take forward, we're walking into a more hopeful and genuine future. 

Sunday, January 15, 2012

Sweet Sixteen...

I once read that life was like a cycle; as you grow older, you start reverting to the way you were as a baby. Martin Lawrence did a comedy special that featured the idea awhile ago, but I forget how true it is until it's in my face, how true it is.

Early 2000 I bought Destiny's Child's "The Writings on The Wall" album and played it out, and a song I kept playing was "Sweet Sixteen." At ten, I was pretty much as I am now, except a lot less complicated, and I wondered was that what sixteen was really like. Was sixteen the year I'd suddenly feel like I knew everything (even though honestly at ten I already felt that way)? Was there such a notion as moving too fast? I decided at ten, I wasn't going to go through all that crap voiced in the song, it wasn't going to be that hard for me.

I was sixteen five years ago and I don't remember much of it; I felt at the time that I was just existing, I wasn't an actual person. I felt that way pretty much between the ages of 13 and 18, that I wasn't a person, but more like an uncompleted blueprint. But at sixteen I thought I was in love with this guy, Andrew we'll call him, because he was nice to me. That was really all it took back then. And now that I look back on it, it happened just like the song said it would.

I was searching for some love where I felt there was none, searching for someone to see me as more than my potential, as more than my blueprint, and him being nice to me was enough. I wanted to be with him and wanted to be loved and was rushing so much that most of, if not all of, my high school experience was wrapped up in him. I was rushing, but back then? Couldn't tell me a damn thing about me or Andrew. But boy, did I learn.

Five years later, I would tell my sixteen year old self 'Baby, he ain't the one, YOU are.' Back then I thought I needed to be in love to feel valid. I'm working my way out of that feeling to this day. I compared it back then like Noah's Arc; I'm that one hybrid animal with no partner, and Noah's sounded the trumpet. Panicked, anxious, ready for the big picture that was the end of all those Disney movies and romantic comedies I grew up on; we'd roll off into the sunset, kissing, never to be seen again, but everyone assumes we're happy.

Five years. It seems like yesterday, and so far ago at the same time. I've gotten a little jaded since then, but that same sweet hopefulness lies under my fear and anxiety. It makes me tear up, thinking about the time I wasted, the time I am wasting, worried about things I can't control. I remember how helpless I felt back then, just waiting for any bit of attention to be thrown my way so I could come up with excuses to be more to people than I actually was. Now, I shirk away from close relationships, fearing the heartbreak, the 'what if' of it all. Back then? Couldn't tell me nothing.

If I could take anything from back then and instill it in me now, it would be that fearlessness, that carelessness with which I lived and loved. Back then there were no eggshells on which I could live my life; I was all out. Admittedly, I threw myself at the wrong types of dudes in search of that "one," not realizing that most of the girls I saw in high school weren't going to end up with the dude they were dating or were miserable with them but were afraid of being alone - just like me.

I'd give my younger self a dose of my jadedness - not enough to hinder my outlook, but enough to make me realize not everyone was as genuine as I. I'd start coaching myself on how to be comfortable alone, how to find friends with like minds and hearts to depend on, to not search for love. I'd tell myself I was beautiful, because back then I had so much trouble believing it, so much so that to this day I can't look myself in the eyes and say it. I would tell myself that I was loved, if by nobody else than by myself and God.

Five years...has it been that long? Where has the time gone? What have I learned since then? When the song came up on my iPod, it still struck such a cord - I've learned so much, so many vital things, but I realize that if I was told back then, I wouldn't have listened anyway - I was hard-headed. Luckily, it didn't make for a soft behind or a hard heart as I've seen it turn out for others. Sixteen...if I had to do it over again, God knows, I'd never do it; the mistakes I'd made, I'd make them again, wishing for a different outlook.

I'm glad that sweet sixteen was a little bitter for me. I'm glad because it lead me to the now where it seems I'm a little ahead of the curve, finding myself and being kind to myself before I open up to others. I'm finally listening to my own intuition, to my own wants and not so much the pressures of the outside. I finally stopped looking for my damn keys. I'm finally blooming into the sweetness that eluded me back then; here's hoping five years from now I remember 21 just as I remember 16 - with fondness, and a whole lot of wisdom in my back pocket. But here's also hoping there are no regrets, there are no missed opportunities, and that whatever bitterness I face, I turn them to sweets now instead of in the future.

Saturday, January 14, 2012

My Keys...

I am that friend. You have one similar, or you might be that friend. The one with the intune advice, the one who doesn't look like they're listening but shock you by repeating what you've said, verbatim, and giving a solution in no time. That's me. And it weirds me out considering I always get asked about love and managing relationships.

I am single, as I'm sure you might've picked up on, but I get tasked with sorting through relationship drama and skirmishes like I'm paid to do so. My idealistic view of love, but my realistic view point of life puts me in this weird place where I don't know what I'm talking about, but I feel what I'm talking about. I don't like to say I know something when I don't (because then if I'm put on the spot and am wrong I get embarrassed) so I'm not going to say to my friends "Who's got two thumbs and is excellent at relationships? This girl!" But that never stops them from asking me how to show someone love, or rather, sort through that love.

I would guess that because they know my methodical approach to life, as well as my genuine want to be a good person, a demonstrative person, they'll ask my advice for things. For instance, I was on the phone with my homeboy about his girlfriend for nearly two hours the other day; they're having miscommunications and misunderstandings left and right - their slight age difference is making him feel shaky. I responded that they should have an open dialouge, a sit-down where no judgement is passed and they just say what they need to say to one another. I also let him know no woman, no person, can make or break him unless he lets them; if they were to break up, his heart will go on.

W puts me in the same place, sometimes admitting to channeling my mannerisms and ways while in her relationships which...weird, right? I feel like my copyrighted self has been infringed upon by that, especially when she gets to reap the benefits of being "me" while being her. I digress. For the most part I don't mind, but there's this fretful little seed in me that's sprouting with my position.

Let me be honest here; I don't really like being the logical one, the one with all the patience and all the time but none of the experience. I feel like it's not my place to give advice as I have no credentials to fall back on. If I had a laundry list of successful relationships and a ring on my finger, sure, ask away. The fact remains, it's just me though; just this small girl with a big heart and without a pair of hands to put it in.

I feel good for helping them, legitly, but at the same time I keep thinking "I would totally have this handled/This wouldn't be an issue with me." It's egotistical, but it makes that small, fretting seed in me feel better until I realize it's not the right kind of "better." I shouldn't say "if it were me" because...well, I don't really know what I'd be like. I can muse and posture on it all day, but the fact remains that I've never had to really do those sorts of things, compromise, talk it out, etc. with another person before.

The romantic in me is listless and waiting for a chance to prove itself. The nurturer in me is still content with just helping others. The me under it all is just tired of being the good angel on people's shoulders. The me under it all is over being everyone's super woman, and still walking away with empty hands and a wrinkled cape.

I asked myself a few days ago why I bother, asked myself 'What are you looking for Tes?' What is keeping this candle lit dispite a very short wick? I got my answer in a dream. In it, I was myself, not my dream self of model proportions, and I was in a place that was beautiful and peaceful. And there was a guy who was digging me for just being me, and we were comfortably together. Violins, cellos, the works ensued, and I felt beautiful with every cell in my little dream body. And I woke up feeling beautiful, and I went to work and had customers yell at me still feeling beautiful, and I still, after waking and walking for hours, feel as beautiful as I did in that dream.

And there is the answer, the thing I didn't know I was looking for but kept frantically searching for in the arms of other people, in the approval of other people. I want to feel beautiful, all the time. I want to be comfortable in my own skin with people, and trust them. I want to find love at my own pace and not feel so put upon to do so by my own zany perceptions of what people my age are doing. I was once told when you stop looking for your keys, you find all the other things you need to find first, and then, your keys.

So yes, I am that friend. The single, pretty one. The one who everyone thinks has all the answers. I'm also the friend who's lost her keys and has finally stopped looking for them. And it's feeling better and better every day.


Thursday, January 12, 2012

New Year's Check Up

Every year, about the same time I take stock of my life and how it's coming a long. I guess it's time for another life update... >,<  Sheesh, mmkay.

As of late I've been considering my life in my own terms. What would success be to me? What would love be for me? What could I see myself doing for the rest of my life, and where would I be doing it?

My life, so far, has been a whole lot of ships in the night; I've missed a lot of opportunities because I was fearful of other people's perceptions, not realizing that they'd think of me whatever they wanted, whether I did what they wanted me to or not. I'm now in that phase of taking advice (sporadically) but still doing what it is I want and need to do. 

What I need to do, is get the hello out of Texas. It's a lovely state, a great state, just not the one for me. Me being in Podunk, TX and having so much I want to do that I feel like I can't do here puts me in this odd spot; I want to go, but I'm afraid to start my life without a safety net i.e a fat savings account or my parents. I'm afraid that if I stay, I'll be stuck here forever wondering "What if?" for the rest of my life. So my decision is to go, once I get a comfortable amount in savings. I made a plan - it fell out of place, so now I'm on plan C; fix my new car, save as much as I can, and bounce once MaDukes and I are both stable and comfortable. I give it 8 months.

At first, I planned to move in with W, but I'm changing my mind about that. I think I want to live by myself as I've never lived completely by myself. I used to house-sit for my father and I stay alone sometimes here, but to have my own place, own furniture and own rent? Sounds awesome. I want to move somewhere where I'm free to just do me with no interruptions ... I want to move somewhere where I feel like I can find stuff I like to do like poetry meetings, painting classes, museums and hole-in-the-wall jazz clubs with a dash of city life. I was thinking maybe Raleigh...Richmond... Seattle...maybe even TDot. 

As for my ever-long pursuit of love and happiness...I found happiness, I'm finding happiness, in myself. I'm finding love in myself. Other people can't validate how I feel about myself, and the more time I spend actually exploring my own mind and heart, the more open to other people I feel. I'm not ready yet, to go out and be this explosive person that I am with my words and thoughts, but I feel like the time is coming. A few months ago I had a feeling my life was changing, and I could either indulge in it, or deny it, but it was still changing. Same situation here; I know it's coming to the time where I'll be myself, unafraid and unabashed by criticism...just not yet though. 

Success has changed to mimic what I think happiness is; success is loving more of your life...while accepting the parts that you don't love as much. I think I was born to be some sort of teacher, or to help people. Who needs more help than the nation's youth? No. Body. 

So what does your New Year's check up look like? Do you even do New Year's check ups? 

Sunday, January 8, 2012

Musing: Idealism

I'm inspired by someone I've never met. The idea of the person appeals to me, not gonna lie, but I'm having a bit of a conundrum with the connotations of such. I’m a person who enjoys getting to know people and what makes them work intimately, not just their surface. Does admiring the idea of a person, appreciating their qualities when not really knowing who they are, negate whatever feelings you may have? 

The dude in the previous video? His name's Laith. I think he's super dope, in the abstract of course. I found out he's an artist and his work is really impressive. Plus, he's kind of gorgeous - like Mississippi God Damn gorgeous. The guy seems smart and interesting and...I'm a bit infatuated, can’t even fake that.

And there's the rub; my infatuation doesn't lead to love as it used to when I was younger. I’m able to recognize when I’m getting caught up in the idea over a person over their substance and take a step back. I learned that to love someone you have to know them, and sometimes knowing them isn’t really idealic. They burp, fart, and scratch themselves just like you do – they’re actual people, not perfect caricatures of your desires. I don't know the guy, but I greatly appreciate what he does (I can't draw or paint to save my life) and respect the path he's chosen to travel in this big bad world; he’s got a dopeness about him that I envy a little. So when W posed me with the proposition of writing a love poem, as I haven't written one in at least a year, for this dope dude, I kind of froze.

I feel weird about it. Could I? Definitely; my infatuation leads to dreams running wild  of road trips under blue skies and cruising listening to some classic M.J and Motown tunes. But my love poems are deeply personal and real. They’re marred with my personal perceptions of actual people who I've touched, seen, maybe even held hands with. Writing for this person who represents an idea, albeit a very awesome one, seems foreign to me. Foreign and a little fraudulent. 

I'd feel better about it if I knew the guy and could be like, 'Yo, I like what you do, here's a poem." The fact remains that I don't and even if I did, I wouldn't know exactly what to say. I'd look at him and look at me and think “Tes, who the hell are you to even think...?" and get real discouraged; he'd never know it existed, much less read it. 

But...I'm entering this new phase in my life where I do things for me, and if I feel it then why  not? I like a few qualities of the guy that, from what I can tell, are genuine traits; he inspires me to take my art more seriously, to take love and living for myself more seriously, and through the video with Christina, that love doesn't always equal the happily ever after as I'd always thought. I feel like I'm learning from what he's putting out there. So...I'll try it. I might not like it. I may love it so much I post it for the world to see. All I know is, unless I write it, until I write it, I'll never know and denying writing is like denying part of myself.

And I've found that not doing it is not as much fun, not as exciting and not as refreshing as doing it; and I think I’m about ready to just do this instead of talking about it.

We find inspiration in the weirdest of places, don't we? 

Wednesday, January 4, 2012

Musing: Love Starts...

So I'm a Youtube junkie. When I'm tired of movies, tv, reality shows and the things people are supposed to do, written out and planned, I find Youtube. Literally, trillions of things you can find on there from ice melting, to conspiracy theories involving goats and our world leaders' fetishes for them.I wouldn't recommend the latter; sh*t's creepy.

In any case I happened upon this beautiful video while looking for some Alicia Keys tunes. And...I don't know if there are words for how it makes me feel. It's not going to stop me from trying though.

If I'd have watched that video a year ago, hell, even a week ago, I would've been just awash with envy and bitterness. I'd think 'What's she got that I don't got?' while silently picking apart all the things I feel are wrong with me in reference to her; my hair isn't curly like that, I'm not thin enough, my skin isn't clear enough, all the things that I feel are wrong with me, would've made me instantly dislike this person who I didn't even know. I'd roll my eyes and scoff while sinking deeper into this "woe is me" rut that would take a few days to get out of.

But now I just think that it's the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen. It makes me feel light inside, hopeful. It's not just the story of these two people who, given all the odds in the world, probably shouldn't have found each other, but did. It's not just the way she hugs him as if he's the dream she's never trying to wake from, or the gentle and tender way he pets her hair and rocks her. It's their faces. The joy. The happiness. The disbelief that this feeling washing over them is actual real, actually happening. The tears of relief. That moment is everything and confirmed to me that something in me had changed.

Dreamers like me are the ones who try to deny that tender spot in their heart; it's hard because that tender spot  makes up a majority of the whole muscle. We try to hide behind our cynicism, and in my case self-loathing, to put up the front that we don't get hurt by little slights and aren't taunted by little insecurities. We're the dreamers who deny their dreams when the realities of the world pound at our imagination's doors, letting us know that it's not real; that world of love and joy and infinite happiness isn't real.

And reality is right. Infinite happiness is a myth; nobody is happy all of the time. That couple there, Laith and Christina, can love each other entirely and still annoy the sh*t out of each other, and fight over petty things like an empty Lucky Charms box. I imagine they'd have to work at their relationship just like everyone else does. Everything you do that you find meaning in is worth working at, perfecting, even when other people say you've reached the mountaintop, it's you looking up and realizing there's further you can go; it's also realizing when to take a step back and admire how far you've come.

While watching this video, that's where I was - at that point looking at how far I've come. Bitterness to acceptance. Loathing to love. Look how far I've come from that girl so afraid to use her voice, so afraid to say the wrong thing, fearing being misunderstood. I've come to the point where I don't care about being understood necessarily, as I care more about being felt, heard, respected, and appreciated by others and by myself.

I'm feeling whimsical and disjointed so I'll try to wrap my mosaic thoughts into something intelligible. Once upon a time, I'd given up on dreams and faith and love. I thought that those things didn't exist in this hard, artificial world where everyone is made up and sucked in and cynical. And then I saw this video of these two people who fell in love and was struck with the feeling that I was wrong about it all. Because I disliked myself for so long I couldn't see the beauty and the love that was in me in order to see the beauty and the love that is pulsing from the world. Because I didn't truly love and accept myself I couldn't love and accept anything else. But now I do.

To Laith and Christina; whether you guys are still together or far apart, in the relationship sense not the distance sense, I want you to know that you've inspired me. Much love <3

Sunday, January 1, 2012

A hiatus...for Friends?

First and foremost :) happy new year. Thanks for sticking with me throughout this first year of putting myself out in the world, in the open for the world to hear; by reading, either silently or by commenting -hell, even just stopping by to check my playlist - you've encouraged me to explore myself further and further so from the bottom of my heart, thank you.

...welp, now that that's outta the way...

I'm going on a friend hiatus.

Me and W had a huge blow out where I felt lied to, cheated and pretty much stepped over. And she felt upset that by feeling lied to I was essentially calling her a liar. And yes, I did. And yep, it got ugly. And now I don't know where we are; we're sort of reconciling but it doesn't feel the same. I feel like I can't trust her as much as I used to, that I have to depend more on myself than I do her, which is great, but puts me in this weird, shifting place with her. From my end it feels like she's completely apathetic to my life and trials, which after a couple years I guess is natural, especially since she has her one life to live (no soap opera) and can't be forced to think about me and my little feelings all the time.

And so I dreamed up a friend hiatus; a time where I stop accepting, reciprocating or feeling any particular way about the people who aren't essential to me, which if I'm being honest, isn't that big a group anyway. Now it's going to be even more limited; a couple of the guys, my mom and dad, and possibly W - haven't really worked that one out yet.

You see the thing is, even though we're "reconciled" or made up, I still feel like I should hold back from her. I don't take too kindly to being hurt, as I'm sure I've told you, and so for her to hurt me, albeit unintentionally, with all she knows about me, just shakes up my little world. She's my person; if she could be so unsteady for me when all I really crave is stable relationships...what else is there to say or do? I love her, but every now and then folks need a break from each other, so I'm stepping back a few steps to access.

The friend hiatus is a mixed bag for me; I'm dealing with the inner pressure to be more, better, faster, so the relief of not having to carry these feelings for other people for awhile while I figure myself out is the blessing. The curse comes from realizing that it could do more harm than good as, as I've said earlier, I crave stable relationships because I feel so insecure on my own and get lonely very easily. Not to say I don't enjoy my own company, because Tes and Tes can come up with some awesome things for Tes to do on her own,'s hard to explain. Simply put, I crave what scares the sh*t out of me; I want to have these close relationships with people, but am terrified to put myself out there with many outside of my few close friends.

I have a lot on my mind; I'm considering driving clear across country until a voice (or Amber -my car) says "Drive no more!" and find a home. I'm not considering it actually, I'm going to do it, I just need to get a full savings account before I jump in and drive. I was thinking of moving in with W - still am - but with the shaky way I feel? I don't know. I'm considering diving head first, once I'm settled into my new home, back into school voraciously to pursue my teaching degree, realizing all too well that I'm needed in education field. I'm taking on more responsibility with bills, and life in general. So to not think of others for a change, to think of Tes first, relaxes my shoulders and fills my lungs with new air.

So, what do you think? Friend hiatus a good idea, or considering how I am, a bad one? What are you pursuing for the new year?

Love! <3