I'm so...over this.
This...
this...
thing. That is my life.
Because you know what. It doesn't matter what I look like. Put some makeup on anyone and they'll look like a million bucks. Remove the eyeliner and blush and you have a regular old person. A person who ages. A person with blemishes. A person who will eventually age in a million and a half ways. Beauty is subjective and beauty is fleeting.
I wish people understood that.
I don't like it when you call me "beautiful" because that means nothing to me. It means that you are looking at me as an object, not as a person. You are viewing the shell of me. You are viewing the facade that I have built, that God has molded, as a preface to the person, as a shield to my real person. It's a thick shell. And calling me "beautiful" "gorgeous" "hot"--that shows how little you have even attempted to chisel your way through it.
I had a conversation once. No. That's not true. I've had this conversation several times. With different people. Where they elaborate on their use of the term after an outburst of mine.... A memorable one was this person who, for the first time, revealed (or so I thought) that they had been slowly chiseling away at my shield, and had actually gotten through. A later conversation with another person showed that it shouldn't have taken two years for that to happen. Beauty, in that sense, is something that is internal. The latter saw how I was with a child...and only then did that person see my true self. because who can honestly keep a shield up around a child?
I like to think of myself as a beautiful person. Inside, not necessarily out. Because, honestly, when I am in the raw bitter moments that only a few people have seen me in, I don't consider myself a physically pretty person. But inside...hopefully that light shines through.
So don't call me beautiful. Don't tell me I'm pretty. Don't comment on my physical characteristics, because that's so superficial it disgusts me. Talk to me about things that matter. Have conversations about your passions, because that is what gets me. What you love I love, what I love, hopefully you'll love. Talking is hard...but it's magical. And that's the only complement I can ask for. View my intelligence. View my opinions. Actually see who I am...and maybe, just maybe, I'll let you in. Until then, consider the Great Wall secure.
Go watch Chuck. It's a funny show. I love nerds....big sigh. He can help fix my computer any day.
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Distance: the time space continuum.
What is this...this...thing. I really wish someone could tell me.
Oh wait. They already have.
It's feeling. It's scary. It's going with the flow. It's allowing the breath to reside within my body and actually experience something.
Or so I'm told.
What started off as a simple debacle of a night turned into...this. This thing. It's new. I'm not sure how I feel about it. But it's nice.
Dear GOD it's finally happened. A new chapter.
What is distance? Distance is space. Space that can easily be transcended. Some distance is easier to transcend than others, but all in all, space is time. Time on a plane, train, street, whatever. Some times people can't get past the space that looms ahead. But sometimes, surprisingly, people come along that see distance for what it is, that being time.
The last time, distance was seen as a problem. Something that could not be changed. The distance between this concrete jungle and the looming deserts was too much. Looking back, the space didn't exist materially, but existed mentally. The space was created between hearts, minds, souls. The space grew and grew, sometimes it was overlooked, most times it was the ominous rift between us. While I prepared and prepared, fought and fought, I still wound up head over heels, faceplant, yard sale, whatever you want to call it, infatuated. At one point in time, I actually thought it was love. But what is LOVE. Does it even exist? There's the undying love I feel for my family, there's the simple love from children, and there's the love I feel for my good, no, great friends. But...what is "Love" in the All American just like the movies mumbo jumbo of life? I'm not sure that it actually exists. In fact, I'm fairly certain that it's all a product of Hollywood, made to make our lives, Missed Connections, and whatever other shit that we feed and buy into every day profitable. I digress. Distance, space, time--he wasn't ready. Wouldn't ever be. I actually want to say that the maturity gap, that space, was more of a factor than anything. Here I am, the 70 year old man who drinks gin and tonics and drinks woody dry red wine inside the body of a 20 year old. Every once in awhile, I'll have my moment of "age" but that only happens when I am...fully aware of its existence. Other than that, I'm an old soul. I wanted an old soul to match my own...apparently, that old soul didn't...doesn't...exist in the body of that particular 25 year old. On my merry way.
But then again, Mr. Big, Mcdreamy, whatever comes back doesn't he? Well this time, with a few carefully phrased (courtesy of the one and only IV due to my unnatural frenzy of hysteria) messages, I curtly asked him to refrain from contact. Mr Big no more. It was like the movies. And I hate the movies.
Except for Dan in Real Life. That was hilarious.
This time. There's actually a "this time." Different person. Who would have thought that would ever happen? Certainly not I. This was...is...not in the plan. This is not in the plan of my celibate single adoptive mother illness curing future. This time, distance is literally just time. Distance is seen as space. Distance is not the factor. That's ridiculous. Of course, when distance is taken away, there's the many other factors that are involved. I think I just pick...I think I am just THROWN into complicated situations. That is why I am "complicated." In more ways than just the facebook sense. Transcend distance, meet age, meet responsibilities, meet family, meet life, meet more complications than just space, than just time. Nope. I asked for it, didn't I?
Being the skeptic that I am, I assumed that everything in this matter was orchestrated. An attempt to play me at my own damn game. Well, haha, like I would be fooled. I'm not one to be duped. Then I get a "You grew up so quickly in so many ways...it's like...you came to this part and said NOPE NO WAY, stop right there!" It's so true. While I may act like a 70 year old man, when it comes to connecting with other people, dropping the guard, and letting someone else in...I'm basically 12 years old. Somehow that's supposed to make sense. Somehow, I'm supposed to work. Well, God, I don't really know if that all works that way. I'm pretty sure I can be a mother. But a girlfriend? Yea, right. And that is the true irony of my life.
For now, que sera, sera. That is supposed to be my motto. I'm supposed to have transcended this "former me" of schedules, rigidity, and walls...but of course, Big had to come back and force me to build another layer. But I actually don't know if I did...I mean...I fought fought FOUGHT tooth and nail to prevent the layer from forming on my already iron clad mindheartsoul. I really, truly did. I just hope it worked.
In the end, what is distance? Distance, in a material earthly sense, is negligible. It's the distance of the mind heart soul that makes all the difference. Distance in maturity. Distance in life experiences. For everything else, we have public transportation. So what's going to win this time? There are some huge distances...it'll be interesting to see how big of a distance they become.
Yea, that's right. It. Will.
Future tense.
I'm going to do as my friend, the wise oh so wise yogi non yogi himself tells me to do. I'm going to shut up and breathe.
Now I just need to stop fighting my brain. My brain always trumps my heart. So hopefully, soon, I can stop thinking, start feeling, and just BE here, now. Because distance is mental. Distance is not physical.
So much easier said than done.
Oh wait. They already have.
It's feeling. It's scary. It's going with the flow. It's allowing the breath to reside within my body and actually experience something.
Or so I'm told.
What started off as a simple debacle of a night turned into...this. This thing. It's new. I'm not sure how I feel about it. But it's nice.
Dear GOD it's finally happened. A new chapter.
What is distance? Distance is space. Space that can easily be transcended. Some distance is easier to transcend than others, but all in all, space is time. Time on a plane, train, street, whatever. Some times people can't get past the space that looms ahead. But sometimes, surprisingly, people come along that see distance for what it is, that being time.
The last time, distance was seen as a problem. Something that could not be changed. The distance between this concrete jungle and the looming deserts was too much. Looking back, the space didn't exist materially, but existed mentally. The space was created between hearts, minds, souls. The space grew and grew, sometimes it was overlooked, most times it was the ominous rift between us. While I prepared and prepared, fought and fought, I still wound up head over heels, faceplant, yard sale, whatever you want to call it, infatuated. At one point in time, I actually thought it was love. But what is LOVE. Does it even exist? There's the undying love I feel for my family, there's the simple love from children, and there's the love I feel for my good, no, great friends. But...what is "Love" in the All American just like the movies mumbo jumbo of life? I'm not sure that it actually exists. In fact, I'm fairly certain that it's all a product of Hollywood, made to make our lives, Missed Connections, and whatever other shit that we feed and buy into every day profitable. I digress. Distance, space, time--he wasn't ready. Wouldn't ever be. I actually want to say that the maturity gap, that space, was more of a factor than anything. Here I am, the 70 year old man who drinks gin and tonics and drinks woody dry red wine inside the body of a 20 year old. Every once in awhile, I'll have my moment of "age" but that only happens when I am...fully aware of its existence. Other than that, I'm an old soul. I wanted an old soul to match my own...apparently, that old soul didn't...doesn't...exist in the body of that particular 25 year old. On my merry way.
But then again, Mr. Big, Mcdreamy, whatever comes back doesn't he? Well this time, with a few carefully phrased (courtesy of the one and only IV due to my unnatural frenzy of hysteria) messages, I curtly asked him to refrain from contact. Mr Big no more. It was like the movies. And I hate the movies.
Except for Dan in Real Life. That was hilarious.
This time. There's actually a "this time." Different person. Who would have thought that would ever happen? Certainly not I. This was...is...not in the plan. This is not in the plan of my celibate single adoptive mother illness curing future. This time, distance is literally just time. Distance is seen as space. Distance is not the factor. That's ridiculous. Of course, when distance is taken away, there's the many other factors that are involved. I think I just pick...I think I am just THROWN into complicated situations. That is why I am "complicated." In more ways than just the facebook sense. Transcend distance, meet age, meet responsibilities, meet family, meet life, meet more complications than just space, than just time. Nope. I asked for it, didn't I?
Being the skeptic that I am, I assumed that everything in this matter was orchestrated. An attempt to play me at my own damn game. Well, haha, like I would be fooled. I'm not one to be duped. Then I get a "You grew up so quickly in so many ways...it's like...you came to this part and said NOPE NO WAY, stop right there!" It's so true. While I may act like a 70 year old man, when it comes to connecting with other people, dropping the guard, and letting someone else in...I'm basically 12 years old. Somehow that's supposed to make sense. Somehow, I'm supposed to work. Well, God, I don't really know if that all works that way. I'm pretty sure I can be a mother. But a girlfriend? Yea, right. And that is the true irony of my life.
For now, que sera, sera. That is supposed to be my motto. I'm supposed to have transcended this "former me" of schedules, rigidity, and walls...but of course, Big had to come back and force me to build another layer. But I actually don't know if I did...I mean...I fought fought FOUGHT tooth and nail to prevent the layer from forming on my already iron clad mindheartsoul. I really, truly did. I just hope it worked.
In the end, what is distance? Distance, in a material earthly sense, is negligible. It's the distance of the mind heart soul that makes all the difference. Distance in maturity. Distance in life experiences. For everything else, we have public transportation. So what's going to win this time? There are some huge distances...it'll be interesting to see how big of a distance they become.
Yea, that's right. It. Will.
Future tense.
I'm going to do as my friend, the wise oh so wise yogi non yogi himself tells me to do. I'm going to shut up and breathe.
Now I just need to stop fighting my brain. My brain always trumps my heart. So hopefully, soon, I can stop thinking, start feeling, and just BE here, now. Because distance is mental. Distance is not physical.
So much easier said than done.
Thursday, September 13, 2007
Yoga to the People
I want to take a moment to introduce you to something.
Life.
There's this little place that resonates in the heart of Little Old New York called Yoga to the People. It's a donation based yoga studio that is right in the East Village, Saint Marks to be exact. Donation based. Instead of paying all of these ridiculous prices for these pretentious studios of Manhattan, you just go and have the opportunity to be.
The teachers are random, students varying, and everyone is there for the chance for an hour to themselves. BE SELFISH!
The past year, this studio has taught me so much. The past few weeks, I have discovered a place within me that I thought would never come back. Happiness. I've realized that I'm ok with the person that I am because no matter what people say, it only matters that I'm good on the inside. People can love me and people can hate me...all that I can do is give them everything I am. The people in this studio have this quality that amazes me...inner beauty. They all look out for each other and don't judge!
So to cut this short, just go. Check it out for yourself. I want everyone to have the chance to experience life! New York is full of superficiality...throw that to the side, come in, breathe, sweat, and live!
yogatothepeople.com
Make your own judgments about it.
Life.
There's this little place that resonates in the heart of Little Old New York called Yoga to the People. It's a donation based yoga studio that is right in the East Village, Saint Marks to be exact. Donation based. Instead of paying all of these ridiculous prices for these pretentious studios of Manhattan, you just go and have the opportunity to be.
The teachers are random, students varying, and everyone is there for the chance for an hour to themselves. BE SELFISH!
The past year, this studio has taught me so much. The past few weeks, I have discovered a place within me that I thought would never come back. Happiness. I've realized that I'm ok with the person that I am because no matter what people say, it only matters that I'm good on the inside. People can love me and people can hate me...all that I can do is give them everything I am. The people in this studio have this quality that amazes me...inner beauty. They all look out for each other and don't judge!
So to cut this short, just go. Check it out for yourself. I want everyone to have the chance to experience life! New York is full of superficiality...throw that to the side, come in, breathe, sweat, and live!
yogatothepeople.com
Make your own judgments about it.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
Que sera, sera...
I am not a risk taker when it comes to "feelings" or "love."
I'd much rather bottle up my copious amounts of emotions and expend my energy on more efficient things such as school, work, yoga, and other people. I give all of myself to prevent myself from feeling and having to take risks.
I am an ambitious person. My high levels of motivation got me to NYC. Nothing stands in my way. Ever.
Well, sometimes life likes to give you a sharp kick in the ass.
I am undergoing a transformation in which I am adopting the "Que sera, sera" lifestyle and actually just being rather than doing. In order to let my life happen as it has been predetermined, I had to take a risk. While adopting my new lifestyle, I discovered that I don't always have control over my emotions, and sometimes I need to let it out. I also discovered that I can no longer participate in my own game, because life is NOT a game, it is an experience.
As my roommate then said, "Isn't it better to love, than not love at all?"
I question this statement. Is it better? With love comes pain and rejection. I mean, you can hope for the best, but life isn't THAT great.
So I wrote a letter. I actually swallowed my pride and took a risk. Because I was taking myself out of the game for good. Unless I was given a reason otherwise. I mean, sure, I've done my part in rebounding, but rebounds are supposed to work, not send you deeper into "that." After weeks of thinking, I had found myself making compromises--future compromises, but compromises none the less. When job searching abroad, I found myself looking for two jobs instead of one. Now, this is completely uncharacteristic of the very selfish ambitious me. And this is (and will be) my demise. At the end of this letter, I wrote that if unanswered I'd understand and take that as the answer.
Well, I guess I lied. I don't understand. Actually, it sort of hurts. Really hurts. Two years of the game of tug of war meaning nothing? I guess I'll just never figure it out.
But I'm done trying. I'm done trying to figure things out. Some things aren't meant to be figured out, they're just meant to be, they're meant to learn from.
So I'm learning.
I mean, Lord, fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me; fool me several times, kill me.
Part of my que sera is to stop trying to figure things out. There is meaning in everything, but it will show it's face in time. No more unfigureoutability.
In a few minutes I'm taking the final stand. Complete deletion. Complete erasure. No more stalkage, no more messages, no more text messages. Over. Done. Dusted hands off.
A huge saga coming to an end (with the help of some serious operant conditioning).
I'm scared to death.
But I know that this is for a reason. I will remain independent, I will have allowed myself to feel, and I will be able to FINALLY move on with my life. Hey, who knows, maybe I'll give some poor guy a chance.
Even though I'm a man crusher as Ilan so lovingly puts it.
The ultimate rejection. This is the only time...ever. It sort of feels good. To know that I am human. A reality check. I can be as conceited as I want, I can be a 7 on a bad day on the scale of Ralph, but there is at least one person who doesn't want to partake in my life. That's fine with me. At least it will be.
I hate being a silly girl sometimes, but I guess this is the one time I allowed myself to BE a girl.
This semester has been and will be crazy and busy. I'm avoiding fashion week like the plague because I need to detox...the Cavalli party is NOT detox. I'm beginning training to be a yoga teacher. Ha, right? Yoga teacher? WTF? I was as surprised as you when Greg approached me, but it's something that I will always be able to bring with me, wherever God sends me.
So.
Do your practice, and all is coming: Namaste.
Take that to heart. Because for once, I'm going to take my own advice, grow up, and just go with the flow. Life is an experience that I need to allow in. And good things will come with the bad. But all of it has a purpose.
Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be.
I'd much rather bottle up my copious amounts of emotions and expend my energy on more efficient things such as school, work, yoga, and other people. I give all of myself to prevent myself from feeling and having to take risks.
I am an ambitious person. My high levels of motivation got me to NYC. Nothing stands in my way. Ever.
Well, sometimes life likes to give you a sharp kick in the ass.
I am undergoing a transformation in which I am adopting the "Que sera, sera" lifestyle and actually just being rather than doing. In order to let my life happen as it has been predetermined, I had to take a risk. While adopting my new lifestyle, I discovered that I don't always have control over my emotions, and sometimes I need to let it out. I also discovered that I can no longer participate in my own game, because life is NOT a game, it is an experience.
As my roommate then said, "Isn't it better to love, than not love at all?"
I question this statement. Is it better? With love comes pain and rejection. I mean, you can hope for the best, but life isn't THAT great.
So I wrote a letter. I actually swallowed my pride and took a risk. Because I was taking myself out of the game for good. Unless I was given a reason otherwise. I mean, sure, I've done my part in rebounding, but rebounds are supposed to work, not send you deeper into "that." After weeks of thinking, I had found myself making compromises--future compromises, but compromises none the less. When job searching abroad, I found myself looking for two jobs instead of one. Now, this is completely uncharacteristic of the very selfish ambitious me. And this is (and will be) my demise. At the end of this letter, I wrote that if unanswered I'd understand and take that as the answer.
Well, I guess I lied. I don't understand. Actually, it sort of hurts. Really hurts. Two years of the game of tug of war meaning nothing? I guess I'll just never figure it out.
But I'm done trying. I'm done trying to figure things out. Some things aren't meant to be figured out, they're just meant to be, they're meant to learn from.
So I'm learning.
I mean, Lord, fool me once, shame on you; fool me twice, shame on me; fool me several times, kill me.
Part of my que sera is to stop trying to figure things out. There is meaning in everything, but it will show it's face in time. No more unfigureoutability.
In a few minutes I'm taking the final stand. Complete deletion. Complete erasure. No more stalkage, no more messages, no more text messages. Over. Done. Dusted hands off.
A huge saga coming to an end (with the help of some serious operant conditioning).
I'm scared to death.
But I know that this is for a reason. I will remain independent, I will have allowed myself to feel, and I will be able to FINALLY move on with my life. Hey, who knows, maybe I'll give some poor guy a chance.
Even though I'm a man crusher as Ilan so lovingly puts it.
The ultimate rejection. This is the only time...ever. It sort of feels good. To know that I am human. A reality check. I can be as conceited as I want, I can be a 7 on a bad day on the scale of Ralph, but there is at least one person who doesn't want to partake in my life. That's fine with me. At least it will be.
I hate being a silly girl sometimes, but I guess this is the one time I allowed myself to BE a girl.
This semester has been and will be crazy and busy. I'm avoiding fashion week like the plague because I need to detox...the Cavalli party is NOT detox. I'm beginning training to be a yoga teacher. Ha, right? Yoga teacher? WTF? I was as surprised as you when Greg approached me, but it's something that I will always be able to bring with me, wherever God sends me.
So.
Do your practice, and all is coming: Namaste.
Take that to heart. Because for once, I'm going to take my own advice, grow up, and just go with the flow. Life is an experience that I need to allow in. And good things will come with the bad. But all of it has a purpose.
Que sera, sera. Whatever will be, will be.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Back in the saddle again....
Out where a friend is a friend...
Except so totally not.
Friendships. Everyone has a different definition...every time I try to define it for myself and other people, I get some smart ass retort about how, "Well, this is what our 'friendship' is to me...." Honey, that's not friendship, that's sex. I aint no hoe bitch! Yes, I can be quite ghetto. This is what I pay 45K per year for!
School began today. But let's preface that with a little explanation of why I've been MIA/going completely nuts for two weeks.
Before I left for NY, I spent quite a bit of time A) Crying, B) Saying goodbye, C)apologizing, D)thinking. Thinking about how EVERY year, the first two weeks back is always something completely unexpected and incomparable to the rest of the year....In fact, I pretty much know that I won't be continuing the way I've been living: I am a student who will be working hard. Yes. YES.
But. Until today I was a single woman in NYC with nothing better to do. I would get up and read in Tompkins until one of the last yoga classes, then I would go to yoga, come home, and chat with the person subletting my apartment. That's another story entirely. I walked into my apartment to hell. Mold, flies, garbage, dirty dishes, food, my room filled ceiling to floor with boxes. That was fucking fantastic. If you know me, you know my little...clean...thing....and this was basically my hell. Anyway, this (omitting many many of the details) led to me partying like a rockstar with the owners of rockstars at various places around this lovely city. Reno-->NYC=culture SHOCK. Steak, Italian, Vodka, Cristal...gratis...it has been one hell of a trip.
I've been discovering quite a bit about myself. For one, I could quit school right now and live a fabulous life of parties, models, Cristal, celebrities, fashion shows, free meals, and more...easy as pie. But. I don't want to. I never in a million years thought that I would have this kind of power...but, not to be completely conceited, I do. I some how have the ability, as Ilan has noticed, to look at a man and be offered the world. I have had the Hamptons, yachts, cocaine,Justin Timberlake, bodies, sex, dinners, meals, trips, Italy all offered to me in just two weeks. Little miss innocent being thrown into a lifestyle that only appears on movies. But I keep saying no. NO.NO.NO. No to Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll. Nope. All I wanted to do was go back to school and LEARN something. Really. There's a world I could enter into...and I have the gall to say NO?
All I want is chivalry. A guy to buy me flowers, open my doors, and hug me when I'm sad. I don't need Cristal. I don't need the Hamptons. I don't need drugs or parties or celebrities. I need an old soul to match my own. Throwing this old soul into this crazy world...it's fun and all, but I'm just too intelligent for this shit.
What do I want? My brain is going a mile a minute because I have no idea. All I know is that I don't want that. I want comfort. Stability. Compatibility. Not booze and drugs.
Today was one of those days where everything goes wrong, and all I wanted was someone to hug me and say, it's ok. But no. I came home to awkward silence and a cold cold egotistical person. You thought I was cold. This was verging on malice. Vindictive. When my mom finally called me I actually talked to her for a half hour without yelling at her, because I just wanted someone ANYONE to tell me,"It's ok, I'll pray for you. Everything will be alright."
I've learned a lot the last two weeks. I reaffirmed some of the traits I was afraid I had lost, I grew up, and I realized that I can't just sit here devoid of emotion my entire life.
Ilan's old coworker, who works for Prada, has been dating his gf for 5 years. She's the 'one.' But right now, they're trying to fix their "boring" relationship by sleeping with other people. When I informed this boy of my sexual experience (or lack thereof)he was quite taken a back. Apparently I exude sex. I beg to differ.
I mean, honestly...is this what the world is coming to?
I tried to explain love to Ilan the other day. Not that I have a fucking clue. But...the way in which we all so freely say I love you. I mean, we're waiting for the subway, and I said "Ilan, I love you, you know?" And honestly,I love him...not in a bf/gf way but in the "I would do anything for you and will always be there for you" kind of way. There's such a big difference between the two:one you use so sparsely and so carefully, the other we throw around. But a love like mine with Ilan is just...deep. Strictly platonic. I mean, we both like men. He then said," Well, then, I guess...in the American way...I love you too!" Truly a moment.
So, anyway. School officially began. Nothing is going my way and my classes are ridiculously hard, but I will keep on trucking. I'm looking forward to Bobst dates with Ilan and Kait, more the whole Jaimie has a fabulous Bobst bag aspect(teddy grahams, peanut butter, wheat thins, licorice, tea, water.)
We'll see what happens. My mind is moving a mile a minute where sometimes I'm in love with the idea, and sometimes I'm in love with the man. So I'll have to focus that energy on my school work. I just don't know...but will I ever? I'm done. Done with the game, done with trying...I'm just going to live life.
Que sera, sera. Que sera.
Except so totally not.
Friendships. Everyone has a different definition...every time I try to define it for myself and other people, I get some smart ass retort about how, "Well, this is what our 'friendship' is to me...." Honey, that's not friendship, that's sex. I aint no hoe bitch! Yes, I can be quite ghetto. This is what I pay 45K per year for!
School began today. But let's preface that with a little explanation of why I've been MIA/going completely nuts for two weeks.
Before I left for NY, I spent quite a bit of time A) Crying, B) Saying goodbye, C)apologizing, D)thinking. Thinking about how EVERY year, the first two weeks back is always something completely unexpected and incomparable to the rest of the year....In fact, I pretty much know that I won't be continuing the way I've been living: I am a student who will be working hard. Yes. YES.
But. Until today I was a single woman in NYC with nothing better to do. I would get up and read in Tompkins until one of the last yoga classes, then I would go to yoga, come home, and chat with the person subletting my apartment. That's another story entirely. I walked into my apartment to hell. Mold, flies, garbage, dirty dishes, food, my room filled ceiling to floor with boxes. That was fucking fantastic. If you know me, you know my little...clean...thing....and this was basically my hell. Anyway, this (omitting many many of the details) led to me partying like a rockstar with the owners of rockstars at various places around this lovely city. Reno-->NYC=culture SHOCK. Steak, Italian, Vodka, Cristal...gratis...it has been one hell of a trip.
I've been discovering quite a bit about myself. For one, I could quit school right now and live a fabulous life of parties, models, Cristal, celebrities, fashion shows, free meals, and more...easy as pie. But. I don't want to. I never in a million years thought that I would have this kind of power...but, not to be completely conceited, I do. I some how have the ability, as Ilan has noticed, to look at a man and be offered the world. I have had the Hamptons, yachts, cocaine,Justin Timberlake, bodies, sex, dinners, meals, trips, Italy all offered to me in just two weeks. Little miss innocent being thrown into a lifestyle that only appears on movies. But I keep saying no. NO.NO.NO. No to Sex, Drugs, and Rock and Roll. Nope. All I wanted to do was go back to school and LEARN something. Really. There's a world I could enter into...and I have the gall to say NO?
All I want is chivalry. A guy to buy me flowers, open my doors, and hug me when I'm sad. I don't need Cristal. I don't need the Hamptons. I don't need drugs or parties or celebrities. I need an old soul to match my own. Throwing this old soul into this crazy world...it's fun and all, but I'm just too intelligent for this shit.
What do I want? My brain is going a mile a minute because I have no idea. All I know is that I don't want that. I want comfort. Stability. Compatibility. Not booze and drugs.
Today was one of those days where everything goes wrong, and all I wanted was someone to hug me and say, it's ok. But no. I came home to awkward silence and a cold cold egotistical person. You thought I was cold. This was verging on malice. Vindictive. When my mom finally called me I actually talked to her for a half hour without yelling at her, because I just wanted someone ANYONE to tell me,"It's ok, I'll pray for you. Everything will be alright."
I've learned a lot the last two weeks. I reaffirmed some of the traits I was afraid I had lost, I grew up, and I realized that I can't just sit here devoid of emotion my entire life.
Ilan's old coworker, who works for Prada, has been dating his gf for 5 years. She's the 'one.' But right now, they're trying to fix their "boring" relationship by sleeping with other people. When I informed this boy of my sexual experience (or lack thereof)he was quite taken a back. Apparently I exude sex. I beg to differ.
I mean, honestly...is this what the world is coming to?
I tried to explain love to Ilan the other day. Not that I have a fucking clue. But...the way in which we all so freely say I love you. I mean, we're waiting for the subway, and I said "Ilan, I love you, you know?" And honestly,I love him...not in a bf/gf way but in the "I would do anything for you and will always be there for you" kind of way. There's such a big difference between the two:one you use so sparsely and so carefully, the other we throw around. But a love like mine with Ilan is just...deep. Strictly platonic. I mean, we both like men. He then said," Well, then, I guess...in the American way...I love you too!" Truly a moment.
So, anyway. School officially began. Nothing is going my way and my classes are ridiculously hard, but I will keep on trucking. I'm looking forward to Bobst dates with Ilan and Kait, more the whole Jaimie has a fabulous Bobst bag aspect(teddy grahams, peanut butter, wheat thins, licorice, tea, water.)
We'll see what happens. My mind is moving a mile a minute where sometimes I'm in love with the idea, and sometimes I'm in love with the man. So I'll have to focus that energy on my school work. I just don't know...but will I ever? I'm done. Done with the game, done with trying...I'm just going to live life.
Que sera, sera. Que sera.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
home.
Home. What is "home?" Is home where the heart is, where your family is, where you're currently living, where you've lived the longest, where? The answer is different for everyone, so I guess the answer lies within oneself. For me, home is where I feel...myself. Home is a place that I can go to and just feel comfortable in my own skin, confident with my personality, and sexy despite all of my flaws. It's a place I can go to feel the weight lift off of my shoulders, a place where I can FINALLY stop pretending. That place, I've realized today, is New York City.
I dreaded coming back. I didn't want to leave my family, I didn't want to leave the bonds I'd created, the memories I'd made, the experienced I'd come to know...but I did. One of my biggest characteristics is my ambition and drive--something that I won't let anyone take from me, but this summer, I wanted to let go of this immensely. But now that I'm back, I realize the void I've felt, the sadness within me.
Walking around today, seeing the familiar places, ignoring the idiots,judging the rest, and drinking coffee that wasn't Starbucks....I felt at home, I felt myself. Sitting in Tompkins reading, listening to a solo saxophone, and watching the frisbees and kids, I just felt comfortable. I felt comfort, confidence,and alive all at the same time. Relief washed over me and I felt alive.
But where do you draw the line between ambition and compromise?
I haven't figured this out yet. I have this thing where I can't possibly imagine myself making changes in my life for another person,mostly because every time I have it has back fired. But then I wonder if I just sabotage myself. I don't let anyone know what my motives are, so how should they know?? Should everyone just learn to read my mind--a mind that I keep quite under wraps? Yep. Guess so. I haven't found the balance,if you find it,let me know. For know I'll remain selfish and concentrate on myself. I'm twenty...I guess that's what a twenty year old living in New York City is supposed to do, eh?
The warmth will just have to wait. I am pretty closed up, but when people are able to read through this silly wall, I'm quite amazed. It also surprises me when someone notices those quirky things I do that I don't even notice. I mention this because someone has, which is so strange as this person is a stranger.
It's nice.
For now, I'm home, wandering, living, breathing, reading, and simply BEING in this concrete jungle. It's my home. I guess I'm sort of in love with NYC. It gets me. (And caffeinates me.) I'm so tired of moving. I'm so tired of living out of a suitcase. In a few days,I'll be able to unpack and actually make myself at home in my home. For now,I'll live with the relief that I feel. It's so damn satisfying.
I dreaded coming back. I didn't want to leave my family, I didn't want to leave the bonds I'd created, the memories I'd made, the experienced I'd come to know...but I did. One of my biggest characteristics is my ambition and drive--something that I won't let anyone take from me, but this summer, I wanted to let go of this immensely. But now that I'm back, I realize the void I've felt, the sadness within me.
Walking around today, seeing the familiar places, ignoring the idiots,judging the rest, and drinking coffee that wasn't Starbucks....I felt at home, I felt myself. Sitting in Tompkins reading, listening to a solo saxophone, and watching the frisbees and kids, I just felt comfortable. I felt comfort, confidence,and alive all at the same time. Relief washed over me and I felt alive.
But where do you draw the line between ambition and compromise?
I haven't figured this out yet. I have this thing where I can't possibly imagine myself making changes in my life for another person,mostly because every time I have it has back fired. But then I wonder if I just sabotage myself. I don't let anyone know what my motives are, so how should they know?? Should everyone just learn to read my mind--a mind that I keep quite under wraps? Yep. Guess so. I haven't found the balance,if you find it,let me know. For know I'll remain selfish and concentrate on myself. I'm twenty...I guess that's what a twenty year old living in New York City is supposed to do, eh?
The warmth will just have to wait. I am pretty closed up, but when people are able to read through this silly wall, I'm quite amazed. It also surprises me when someone notices those quirky things I do that I don't even notice. I mention this because someone has, which is so strange as this person is a stranger.
It's nice.
For now, I'm home, wandering, living, breathing, reading, and simply BEING in this concrete jungle. It's my home. I guess I'm sort of in love with NYC. It gets me. (And caffeinates me.) I'm so tired of moving. I'm so tired of living out of a suitcase. In a few days,I'll be able to unpack and actually make myself at home in my home. For now,I'll live with the relief that I feel. It's so damn satisfying.
Monday, August 6, 2007
My heart just skipped a beat....
But it's still not the same. You know that feeling where your heart is going a mile a minute and you have butterflies all of the time....the wonderful feeling that I used to have...until it was ripped out of me, stomped all over, and vomited back in over and over and over.... Basically. Not to be dramatic, but it's sort of what it felt like. I suppose one could say that I'm a bit of a masochist, and I guess I am in a way, because I keep going back for more. But this time, it's just not the same. My heart may still skip a beat every once and awhile, but it will keep on beating a second later.
Chivalry died with romance. And with that "I said I'd never fall in love again, but then pop goes my heart..." I guess I'm waiting for my heart to go POP.
I can wait a little longer.
I think i just need to be busy again. I may be traveling like there is no tomorrow, but that doesn't make me busy.... My datebook may be full, but it's not full of the kind of stuff that helps me forget things. Only 15 more days!!
I just got back from a family filled weekend. Drove up to nor-cal and saw my Por Pors family: her brother's dying of cancer...and I think this is the first time I've actually met him. It's quite sad really, how old and frail he looked. But he still had his Mak family spunk. Not that kind of spunk. Her sister is quite old too...and it's so awkward that she doesn't actually speak English. that's so difficult!
Well anyway, I was completely against going on this trip, but I actually had an amazing time. Ate way too much though. It was my great-aunt's 80th birthday/her 58th wedding anniversary, so the party was quite the sight. In their million dollar home (with tennis courts) there was wine and food galore...and tons of family. When I walked in with my little cousin Jenna, I had a few too many relatives ask me when I had her....and if she was mine. I think five hours straightened them out...i didn't want to be the new family scandal! It was so good to see everyone...Aunty Vi was her usual drunk self and the rest of the family gave me a hard time about school and boys. My uncle George gave me a lecture that I wasn't allowed to get serious with anyone until i had a career. i'm pretty sure I'm sabotaging any chance of a relationship myself with that reason in mind....so he's proud of me. Aunty Vi on the other hand...well...to her marriage at 22 is old. Little does she know...22 is way too young.
Other than the constant pressure of doing well in school, making a name for myself, and meeting a respectable young man for the family (requirements including helping all relatives up and down stairs, opening doors for everyone including myself, and according to Aunty Vi, sending roses once a month. Ha. Didn't I already say that Chivalry is dead? This is going to be tough.) to torture upon the expectation of my promptly popping out babies, the weekend was fantastic. I love my little cousins...I'm always overwhelmed by the amount of love that they exhibit towards me. Some of them barely even know me, but immediately just love me and want to be around me. It's that kind of love that I miss. It sucks living so far away.
Which has brought me back to the realization that I always have: Family is the only consistency in your life. You turn your back on them and you have NOTHING. Friendships, relationships: they are all fleeting. Family is a type of love that is ingrained in your soul. I have built this...wall...around me my entire life. I don't let people in, I don't let ANYTHING in. It's actually been troubling me lately, because I have been hurt and in response to that i thickened my skin...but did I thicken it too much? I have found that I can't fell anything. I don't feel sadness or love or desire or infatuation or anger or hurt. Nothing. It's like I'm wandering around with no soul. I have convinced myself that I am happy, but am I? The only times in the last few months that I have been truly happy are when my little cousins are around or when I'm with a friend who just GETS me with no questions or judgments. Which is extremely rare in this town.
And the internet. The all conspiring hell that I have become addicted to. It constantly tells me far more that I want to know. The worst thing about private profiles is that I can't stalk people. The best thing about private profiles is that I can't stalk people. I find out information that I just don't need to know. I make assumptions about everything, and that then turns into disgust. And disgust is not being taken over by butterflies anymore. And the thing is, I'm not about to actually ask if my suspicions are true, because I'd rather not know for certain. But the fact that i have suspicions just sucks out my soul and leads me to harden my shell. Which is already way too hard. And the cycle of masochism continues that I will never be able to figure out.
For this week, I'm sticking with family. Jenna is here and her love is just...so pure. All I have to do is pick her up and curl her hair, and her heart is mine. Saturday I'm off on a trip for a few days with some family that is coming from Italy. I don't know them and haven't kept up with my italian...this could be interesting. It's good to get away from Reno though, even though I don't have that much longer...and I'll get to spend time with my italian family! Asians this week, Italians this weekend, and then back to Reno to finish off the cycle. Then its off to New York to unpack, figure out my life, and start sucking up to the right people. Ack! I also need to find a job...I'm thinking full time on the weekends and part time during the week. I am broke as a joke and I just bought a new pair of shoes....I needed them, ok? I do live in the city....
So little time, so little time, but my heart will keep on beating.
Chivalry died with romance. And with that "I said I'd never fall in love again, but then pop goes my heart..." I guess I'm waiting for my heart to go POP.
I can wait a little longer.
I think i just need to be busy again. I may be traveling like there is no tomorrow, but that doesn't make me busy.... My datebook may be full, but it's not full of the kind of stuff that helps me forget things. Only 15 more days!!
I just got back from a family filled weekend. Drove up to nor-cal and saw my Por Pors family: her brother's dying of cancer...and I think this is the first time I've actually met him. It's quite sad really, how old and frail he looked. But he still had his Mak family spunk. Not that kind of spunk. Her sister is quite old too...and it's so awkward that she doesn't actually speak English. that's so difficult!
Well anyway, I was completely against going on this trip, but I actually had an amazing time. Ate way too much though. It was my great-aunt's 80th birthday/her 58th wedding anniversary, so the party was quite the sight. In their million dollar home (with tennis courts) there was wine and food galore...and tons of family. When I walked in with my little cousin Jenna, I had a few too many relatives ask me when I had her....and if she was mine. I think five hours straightened them out...i didn't want to be the new family scandal! It was so good to see everyone...Aunty Vi was her usual drunk self and the rest of the family gave me a hard time about school and boys. My uncle George gave me a lecture that I wasn't allowed to get serious with anyone until i had a career. i'm pretty sure I'm sabotaging any chance of a relationship myself with that reason in mind....so he's proud of me. Aunty Vi on the other hand...well...to her marriage at 22 is old. Little does she know...22 is way too young.
Other than the constant pressure of doing well in school, making a name for myself, and meeting a respectable young man for the family (requirements including helping all relatives up and down stairs, opening doors for everyone including myself, and according to Aunty Vi, sending roses once a month. Ha. Didn't I already say that Chivalry is dead? This is going to be tough.) to torture upon the expectation of my promptly popping out babies, the weekend was fantastic. I love my little cousins...I'm always overwhelmed by the amount of love that they exhibit towards me. Some of them barely even know me, but immediately just love me and want to be around me. It's that kind of love that I miss. It sucks living so far away.
Which has brought me back to the realization that I always have: Family is the only consistency in your life. You turn your back on them and you have NOTHING. Friendships, relationships: they are all fleeting. Family is a type of love that is ingrained in your soul. I have built this...wall...around me my entire life. I don't let people in, I don't let ANYTHING in. It's actually been troubling me lately, because I have been hurt and in response to that i thickened my skin...but did I thicken it too much? I have found that I can't fell anything. I don't feel sadness or love or desire or infatuation or anger or hurt. Nothing. It's like I'm wandering around with no soul. I have convinced myself that I am happy, but am I? The only times in the last few months that I have been truly happy are when my little cousins are around or when I'm with a friend who just GETS me with no questions or judgments. Which is extremely rare in this town.
And the internet. The all conspiring hell that I have become addicted to. It constantly tells me far more that I want to know. The worst thing about private profiles is that I can't stalk people. The best thing about private profiles is that I can't stalk people. I find out information that I just don't need to know. I make assumptions about everything, and that then turns into disgust. And disgust is not being taken over by butterflies anymore. And the thing is, I'm not about to actually ask if my suspicions are true, because I'd rather not know for certain. But the fact that i have suspicions just sucks out my soul and leads me to harden my shell. Which is already way too hard. And the cycle of masochism continues that I will never be able to figure out.
For this week, I'm sticking with family. Jenna is here and her love is just...so pure. All I have to do is pick her up and curl her hair, and her heart is mine. Saturday I'm off on a trip for a few days with some family that is coming from Italy. I don't know them and haven't kept up with my italian...this could be interesting. It's good to get away from Reno though, even though I don't have that much longer...and I'll get to spend time with my italian family! Asians this week, Italians this weekend, and then back to Reno to finish off the cycle. Then its off to New York to unpack, figure out my life, and start sucking up to the right people. Ack! I also need to find a job...I'm thinking full time on the weekends and part time during the week. I am broke as a joke and I just bought a new pair of shoes....I needed them, ok? I do live in the city....
So little time, so little time, but my heart will keep on beating.
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