‘I’m a pretty damn good shot’

Jason Mraz ‘I’m Yours’

That’s what he said to me…and I agree. I said I thought it was worth a shot to try this out to see what we have, and he told me exactly what I wanted him to, but truthfully.  He is leaving for Africa on Wednesday morning and I’m not sure if and when I will speak to him, but I am holding him up so high, hanging my hopes on this entirely.  I’ve been cautioned not to put all of my eggs in one basket, but I can’t help it. I said ‘what if?’ and so did he, and this time it is the best what if possible and not the kind that makes you wonder if you took the leap if you’d be happy forever. I think this could really work. He’s different, and I know I said it before but this time I am not blind.

When the little things are enough

Jason Mraz ‘Life is Wonderful’

Right now, are you happy with what you have? When it’s never enough, is it for the right reasons or is it pushing and shoving to the top to get what you want regardless of the cost? Right now I’m pretty content with what I have for myself, And I don’t want for much of the material possessions. I want to fall in love, I want to be more accomplished, I want to wake up and fall asleep smiling.

Perfect nonsense

A Perfect Circle ‘Sleeping Beauty’
Radiohead ‘Bulletproof…I Wish I Was’

Where does the end start and when do we go? What does the meaning of our effigies hold? Is it to start the burn, ignite the message, or just a way to say hello so bold? Close your eyes and wait for it all to spin out of control. Without you there is everthing and nothing, and start the whole thing over with the push of a button.

 

There and back again

Shinedown ‘If You Only Knew’

I leave for Vegas soon, and it seems like everyone is on the move. I’ll only be gone for four days, not sixty-six. Just when I get used to something, spoiled by the ideas I have, it’s gone. I’m just wondering now if he’s going to be in the same mindset when returning. I have no doubt I will–even if it’s not what it has been before, I have waited patiently my entire life for the men I put in my life to come back safely. Some of them didn’t, some of them never called, some of them fucked their debate team leader back at college, some of them dumped me at the Starbucks after a whirlwind romance. I am constant though, and I am still here, and I can’t wait to start waiting again. Make sense? Not to me either. I am trying not to get ahead of myself and be coy but I’m helpless again. At the end of every day I will watch the countdown grow smaller and just see what happens next.

You are so _____

Sick Puppies ‘Don’t Walk Away’

All of the modifiers for a woman who a man finds attractive: she’s gorgeous, beautiful, pretty, cute, sexy, adorable, etc etc blah blah…

What about a man? You can’t really call a man cute. A puppy is cute. A boy or a guy can be cute. But a man? He’s handsome or sexy, but you can’t really compliment him and tell him he’s beautiful. Hmm. I’m searching my brain for more flattering adjectives.

It’s not all looks though, and there is a whole package there of intelligence, wit, and charm…and if you’re lucky it’s all under a chiseled body to die for.

Start the clock

Theory of a Deadman ‘Out of My Head’

I want to fast forward. Im already over next month (and maybe even the month after) and it hasn’t even started yet. I foresee a lot of frustrating nights. I am not patient with myself or my own thoughts, always jumping to conclusions, but I have infinite patience with anyone else, so long as its worth my time. I am feeling a little anxious now wondering if my perception is skewed or right on track, because my first reaction is to start the clock and wait. I’m willing to do it.

She said “pump your brakes”

Aerosmith ‘Jaded’

I was up until 4am and I realized I was in trouble…smiling like an idiot and bummed when I finally had to go to bed.

My boss says if it important enough, I should make someone come to me. He said I’m too nice to do the chase myself. I just want to put it on record that he thought I was nice. Seriously.

If I died tomorrow I wouldn’t have many regrets so why change my m.o.? I am anxious and romantic and that’s got to be the worst combination, but I’m doing well keeping it all to myself so it shouldn’t affect any…now I don’t even know what to call it…any relationship in any sense of the word. Right now I just want to get on a plane. I’m not running from any problems because I am stuck with myself and the mess floating around in my head, and I am always genuine with everyone no matter what I feel.

A few random memories

Death Cab for Cutie ‘Your New Twin Sized Bed’

1. The night the Italian was finally gone and I went back to sleeping in my own bed, I cried. I was ashamed, so I cried harder. I wasn’t sad, I think it was the relief and the realization from years ago. I remembered being in a panic a few months into our relationship that he would never leave me, that I would have to do it. I just had, and all I thought was how I was swallowed up in a sea of covers and pillows. I ripped everything off the bed and slept more soundly than I had in months. Breathe in, breathe out. I even felt a little guilty, remembering how he screamed at me that I was a horrible bitch, a robot who couldn’t love anyone. No more tears, I was laughing now.
2. I’m spinning around and around, dancing and jumping around like a total wanker. It was the first day of the rest of my life. I didn’t have cancer anymore. I started counting the days I didn’t have to wear those crazy neon stripper wigs anymore, even if they were fun.
3. My brother and I are skipping down the Santa Monica pier. He tells me he loves the smell of the ocean, and now I think he sounded like such an adult. At the time, I told him it just smelled like seagull shit. Later I fell over the railing and scared a lot of people thinking I died. One of my favorite days.
4. I’m watching the sun set out the window while Dorian gets his camera set up. I am covered in fake blood and I tell him what a weirdo he is, but there I am, letting him take my photo. Later he would let me shower and take the famous pinup girl photos with his assistant, and if only I could find them…
5. I’m standing in front of the airport, bag in hand, when I see the car pull up. I am happiest when I have nowhere at all to be, and all the time I want. I am home for my Uncle’s wake, but it’s a celebration. This is the first time I do a shot of whiskey. It’s actually the first time I do a shot of anything, especially remembering I was 15. It burned going down.

ciao, bella

Oh good God, it’s official. I have to go to Italy. However irrational it may be, I can’t help myself.

Flashback

Regina Spektor ‘Samson’

This was not an empty day. It was full of some of the best memories ever, all the things I held dear came together all at once. I was sitting in the apartment in Soho, relieved to have escaped from everything. My tee-shirt and bare legs were speckled with paint, a glare from the window on my glasses. A knock on the door brought me out of a near trance. The bike messenger looking sheepish at the door when I realize I’m not wearing pants. I sign for the envelope, shut the door and retreat to the kitchen to tear open the crumpled manila. Inside is a tape, and I already know what’s on it.  The VCR pulls the tape in and begins whirring away, and the tv goes from black to flashback.

There he is, so young and handsome, my Cory. Fascinating I realize, how he is forever immortalized–all the videos and photos age and fade, but he is forever young like Dorian Gray. It was six years ago that day, and now?…nine. The tape plays on and he is lying there, camera in hand, trying to get my face out of his chest long enough to smile at the camera. His deep Southern voice drawls Happy Birthday, and that is when my tears start. I never knew him in the end the way I have known every other relationship at it’s end–dead already but fueled by the physical until it fizzles out completely. Instead we loved each other purely, and simply, and it was all so real and all so much a lifetime ago. Now the screen flickers and it is him, five days later, again with the camera in my face and I’m trying so hard to just smile but my eyes are all watery. He is following me around the room trying to get me to just turn around and face him, but I can’t. He is leaving that afternoon for Iraq, and it’s all a dream having him there with me for his RnR. He can tell I’m frustrated with him so he whispers and grabs my hand, pulls me in close and kisses me. I pause the tape there to see the way we smiled at each other, lips pressed against the others’, my arms thrown around his neck, the camera not missing the moment.

It was the last time he held me.

At the time, I wondered why I couldn’t replace the memories with better ones, ones that would make me forget those. Six years I repeated, trying to bury it even deeper, only for the memories to resurface like this. Instead, I realized there was no replacing him, there was just going in a different direction. I walked out to the kitchen, made tea, and ended up falling asleep watching what was supposed to be the rest of my life play out on a tiny tv in the middle of Soho.

Isn’t life crazy? The next day the paint was dry, so I wrapped the canvas and delivered it myself. When I got in my car to drive the five hours home I knew I had to let it go. Almost a decade later it is more of a bittersweet nostalgia than a wrenching pain, but not yet a sweet, fond memory. How many times did I think how I would have done anything to make it not so…all the blood, tears and sand I could have drowned in myself to bring him back to life. It doesn’t work that way and I am–as we all are–helpless to God, or fate, or the universe to have us wander for however long it takes to find happiness.