The Next Chapter

testing. is this thing on?

 

Con te partirò

When I’m alone
I dream of the horizon
and words fail;
yes, I know there is no light
in a room where the sun is absent,
if you are not here with me.
At the windows
show everyone my heart
which you set alight;
enclose within me
the light you
encountered on the street.

Time to say goodbye.

I’ll go with you
to countries I never
saw and shared with you,
now, yes, I shall experience them.
I’ll go with you
on ships across seas
which, I know,
no, no, exist no longer;
it’s time to say goodbye.

…with you I shall experience them.

When you are far away
I dream of the horizon
and words fail,
and, yes, I know
that you are with me;
you, my moon, are here with me,
my sun, you are here with me
with me, with me, with me.

Time to say goodbye.

I’ll go with you
to countries I never
saw and shared with you,
now, yes, I shall experience them.
I’ll go with you
on ships across seas
which, I know,
no, no, exist no longer,

…with you I shall experience them again.

I’ll go with you
on ships across seas
which, I know,
no, no, exist no longer,
with you I shall experience them again.
I’ll go with you.

You and me.

 

The End

When my month was over and I moved back into the house I shared with Dexter, we talked – and both agreed when wanted to make our relationship work. That lasted about three days when I realized I wasn’t supposed to be with Dexter. I had outgrown our relationship. And I decided to it was time to move on and move out.

The day I moved out, five of my best friends showed up along with my parents to help me. The wagons literally circled. And since I didn’t have a place to live, a friend who I had known less than a year gave me her condo and moved in with her boyfriend while I looked for a place. Being on my own those first few months wasn’t easy. It was like detox. I slept on the couch for three months just so I could have the feeling of the couch on my back. When you’ve fallen asleep for three years being spooned every night, a bed all to yourself can feel vacuous. Then when my friend and her boyfriend broke up and she needed to move back into the condo, I moved from friend to friend’s house, benefiting from the hospitality of those who generously extended it to me.

I started creating the life I wanted. And I stopped worrying about what anyone else thought. I stopped getting caught up in myself. What I didn’t like about my life I changed. Anytime I got a little down, I found someone who needed my help. I don’t really get down very much anymore.

Nothing in life is free. You have to earn it. And in order to earn, you have to be willing to receive nothing in return. And be content with that. It’s never about you and yet you have all the power.

Every challenge, every hardship has a purpose. It’s impossible to understand anything in the process of change – like trying to get your bearings in the middle of a cyclone. But if you’re constantly embracing change, doing those things that scare the shit out of you or make you uncomfortable, it helps to have faith and knowledge in something greater than you can possibly conceive.

So here’s to the next chapter. It scares the shit out of me.

 

Jonathan Livingston Seagull

The day I met you, when I first came onto the project, was the day after I gave back my engagement ring – a thoroughly not fun time in my life. And I thought, “Who is this guy?” – who dresses funny and has a laid-back resolve that seems atypical in city where bravado runs deep. And there you were, able to get in front of a group with such insouciance and speak with the nuance of a maestro or a prophet. You’re almost a walking contradiction. How can you have so much confidence, and yet be so gentle and at times embrace your emotions like you do but then not express them?

Most times you don’t make sense to me – your logic seems to flip mine upside down. But that’s what I love about you. And for some reason, I feel like whatever you need, I need to help.

So thanks for inspiring me. Whenever I fear doing something, I do it – because a while back I made a pack with myself that every time I feel fear, I have to do it. And it started one day back in the lab when you told me “you just gotta get up there and do it.”

In the purest sense of the word love – I love you. I don’t expect anything from you, except for you to be you. Black socks at the gym, and funny hats, and say what you feel when you feel it and not know what a scallop is but know that if you wanted to, you could lead a nation. The sun does shine out of your ass, but I’ll be sure to turn you upside down so it shines on the rest of the world.

PS – Notice it was a “Glorious #1 Bestseller“?

 

This is Me: I am an Egg

Only one sperm will win the race. The rest will die.

PS – Women are most eager for sex during ovulation and immediately before the “shedding of the lining.”

 

The City and Sex

indulge (verb):

1. to give free rein to
2. to take unrestrained pleasure in
3. to yield to the desire of

When I just need to “get away” for a few days, especially when my life feels chaotic, I find myself in New York.

The script is always the same. I arrive in Manhattan, get in a cab and think, “I love New York. I love the energy of the city. DC is so mundane and ‘blah.’

Next is the path of indulgence: dining at expensive restaurants, consuming alcohol at every meal, shopping that goes hand-in-hand with the act of walking, working out in some high intensity or “nouveau” fashion, getting pampered at the salon/spa, dancing, partaking in various forms of art…anything my heart desires. And by day 3, I’m ready to leave.

New York is so sumptuous. So rich. So consuming. Like sex – especially “casual” sex. The first bite always feels like a little slice of heaven. But by day 3, I’m always ready to go home to the “stillness” of DC. Manhattan, like sex, is a distraction – and when I visit, I want to be distracted. But indulging in both the city and casual sex is not fulfilling. In fact, the path to fulfillment is not moving toward the things I’m most attracted to, but embracing those things which are difficult.

 

The Right Thing

right (adj):

1. righteous, upright
2. being in accordance with what is just, good, or proper
3. conforming to facts or truth
4. correct
5. suitable appropriate

Sometimes I hate doing the “right” thing. Sometimes it’s fun to do the not-right thing. In kindergarten, my parents were brought in for an “emergency conference” to address my disciplinary issues. At some point during the day I had decided I wanted ice cream and there was a Baskin Robbins within walking distance of the school. Our teacher had left the room, so I got up and began my journey. Some of the other children asked me where I was going and I told them, so the entire class followed me. Apparently we got cut off in the hallway outside the main office. I don’t remember this. Afterward, my parents explained to me why this was “wrong” but I wasn’t chastised because – hey, it wasn’t my fault the other kids followed me and who doesn’t like ice cream after lunch on a warm afternoon?

The right thing for me to do now is stop my charade with the Scorpio. But it’s so fun:(  He plays the game so well.  He is a mastermind. And powerful. I love the allure of power. And I love to be the favorite.  What Scorpio wants, Scorpio gets and he wants me. Isn’t it nice to be wanted?

How does one discern boundaries without walking up to them? But isn’t that a very reactionary statement? Didn’t I vow to stop creating chaos in my life with this behavior? Doesn’t becoming more enlightened mean not learning via mistakes but recognizing the consequences beforehand?

 

Rest

rest:

1. a bodily state characterized by minimal functional and metabolic activities
2. freedom from activity or labor
3. peace of mind or spirit

For a year – from the moment I lost trust in Dexter to the moment I moved out – sleep had been my foe. It evaded me with the spasticity of a flying rapid bat. When I decided to move out for a month, I did so with the resolve of exhaustion. I was exhausted – from the first several months of crying on the couch in the darkest hours of the morning…to the hours I spent compulsively searching the internet for insight on strip clubs and what “really happens in the VIP room,” along with educating myself on the semantics of prenuptial agreements, as well as looking at every major jeweler’s website for an engagement ring that might trigger an ounce of enthusiasm for getting married…to the final months of insomnia I experienced from my guilt-ridden conscious.

When I woke that first morning in my temporary home, I felt rested. I had slept the best I’d slept in ages. It was a soul-seeping sleep. And that’s the thing about me and sleep. It’s a barometer for how I’m doing. When something is bothering me, or I don’t address an issue, it eats my alive. It depletes me – by depriving me of sleep.

But as soon as I started listening to that voice telling me things weren’t right, instead of denying it, I started sleeping like a champ. How I felt during my waking hours was a different story.

That first morning, I felt – icky. There’s no other word to describe it.

“What is this icky feeling? Change?

Am I afraid of being alone? Am I convinced that my life will be worse? Or can I not imagine a better life because I haven’t changed, and I can only imagine a life based on the past?

How do I disassociate a nice home, a “nice” life – with Dexter?

What do I miss? Home? Or Dexter? Or just having someone?”

The following night, again I slept like a champ. And the following morning, I felt – worse. It just sucked. Life sucked. And I probably would have cried but I felt so sucky that I didn’t have the energy for it.

The weirdest thing is in my relationship, I was the sleeping queen – HSH (her sleeping highness). And Dexter, who had the personality of a Wall Street banker – the type who would go to Vegas, drink and gamble non-stop, get an hour’s worth of sleep, take the red-eye home and show up at work that morning before 8A.M., actually slept with me. His friends all joked about it. The man who never slept, who never took naps, would sleep in on Sundays, make love all day and nap with me.

I don’t even recognize that girl. The girl who slept. In college I went 5 days straight without sleeping. But in my two most significant relationships, I slept.

Maybe it’s the only time I can be at rest. I don’t have to prove myself.

 

The First Night

Some posts I hate writing – the ones that I have to peel back the layers and get to my deep-ceded insecurities, doubts and fears.

On September 2nd, I moved out. Into a single room in a house not far from my place with Dexter. It was a bare room, with a bed, dresser, closet and small bathroom with a shower. It was austere – nothing like was I was used to. The walls were dolefully plain, the bed was lumpy, the bathroom was lacking in so many ways, and it was exactly what I needed. No distractions. Just me and my thoughts.

“I hope I learn something from this. It just feels strange and lonely. But I control the loneliness. And I won’t allow it to be a negative.

The question is…do I want to spend the rest of my life with Dexter? I need to use this time wisely…

Starvation feel good. Feels like control. It’s addictive. Like alcohol. Or Sex. I want to starve myself until I can’t feel anything.

My first night, in my new digs, and I’m proud of myself. It’s not easy. But it’s not unbearable. It feels like a journey. I hope at the end of the month I’ll have gained the clarity and perspective I’m looking for.

There was something when I met Dexter that drew me to him and that’s why I pursued like I did. In spite of his obnoxious, drunk, and cocky behavior. And his less than perfect body, with no hair on the top of his head and wrinkles that reveal a not so easy life. He’s got this amazing heart. I just feel like his heart isn’t in me.

I want him to care enough to fight for me. Maybe that’s my answer. Why do I always feel like he just tolerates me? Read the signs. He’s been giving them to you.

My first broken-heart?”

 

Timeless

timeless (adj): without beginning or end; everlasting; referring to or not affected by any particular time (enduring, lasting, abiding, permanent)

As I get older, the more I invest in that which is timeless. I focus on the fundamentals and gravitate to the classics. This includes music (that performed by an orchestra), clothing (a great fitting pair of jeans or the go-to little black dress), literature (anything written by Wharton, Whitman, Plato, Socrates and Aristotle), food (a perfectly pink filet or simple creme brulee), and movies.

Recently I watched “The Graduate” – set in the 1960s. The movie is pretty hilarious…and sobering…and titillating. I laughed out loud just as many times as I paused to empathize with the characters. At the beginning, Benjamin Braddock, played by Dustin Hoffman, who is a total deadpan stitch, is contemplating his future at his college graduation party:

Benjamin: I’m just…
Mr. Braddock: Worried?
Benjamin: Well…
Mr. Braddock: About what?
Benjamin: I guess about my future.
Mr. Braddock: What about it?
Benjamin: I don’t know… I want it to be…
Mr. Braddock: To be what?
Benjamin: [looks at his father] … Different.

What I think he fears is not being happy. Happiness is one of those nebulous concepts that is difficult to define. But then there is a scene, later in the film, that solidifies for me what happiness is about. Ben, while in bed with Mrs. Robinson, asks her what her major was in college and she wistfully responds ‘art.’ The iconic Mrs. Robinson seduces a 21-year old boy because she strayed from her passions – those things that invigorated and fueled her – and looked to a boy to fulfill them.

A material, superficial life lacks the basics – the classics. For me, these include:

• constant learning
• family
• physical movement
• art and the personal interpretation of life as beauty
• hard work
• relationships – trumping skills, experience and knowledge in any situation
• finding humor in mundane or challenging tasks or experiences
• sleep
• being proactive, versus reactive
• love, in the form of giving and helping others

When I deviate from these, I am not happy.

PS – I will always heart Jake Ryan. He is timeless. So is his red Porsche 944.