My so-called love life

An end and a beginning

2010-06-13T04:09:00.000-07:00

This will be my last post on this blog. I know this story continues, but a new chapter has started and it’s time to archive these thoughts for a time in which I need to remember the journey that brought me to this point in life and love.

I started this blog when I made a break from serial monogamy and attempted to get out and understand what dating and courtship was all about. I think I failed for the most part until just recently. I fell into crushes, into intense friendships that held the promise for so much more but never delivered, into quick-fix high-chemistry hook-ups that most times turned into something more than they should have been. All this in search of a partner, a companion, and an ever-further and more and more unbelievable idea of a man that blended all the pieces I’d found in separate people up until that point. In recent years I know I stopped believing he existed. I stuck to my pattern of picking people for a certain beautiful quality they put forth, be it patience or compassion or simply the sort of hug that made me feel everything would be o.k. But I held back the core pieces of my heart, my deep desire to find a partner who shared my faith, my desperate wish to find someone who I admired but wasn’t intimidated by, who had ambition but little ego, who saw the world and sought to serve it as I try to. And in the process, I let go of romance. I stopped being excited by little favors for someone dear or being touched by a song that so perfectly captures love at its best. And I stopped writing here, because all the little jaunts and dates and back and forth started to seem so silly if they weren’t leading up to something real.

And then of course, I found him. And he may not be the one – it’s still early after all. But the promise of all these things I had let go of as they replace themselves in my life so effortlessly – mix tapes and love letters and care packages and sweet texts with no fear of overstepping boundaries or being the only one that is this excited. It’s all come rushing back, but in such new, vibrant colors that I find myself literally doing a happy dance, or smiling widely to myself at odd moments, or simply unable to calm my rushing heart before I sleep. I find myself immersed in innocence and honesty that I was sure couldn’t exist in a relationship starting just as I entered my 4^th decade on this earth. And this person, this unbelievably radiant person is a cliché to the max in that he is everything I ever wanted, period. Every bit of strength alongside humility, music without pretence, family with depth and imperfection, travel for the sake of knowing a place, service for the sake of returning the most glorious gift we know we have received, justice and equality for all, honesty, openness and more to be discovered each day. It is almost too much for me to possibly believe I could deserve it, or command a return interest. And yet I do, and that is a reflection in part of growth and the product of experience. But I think it is more about grace, about understanding what love is and can really be, of making peace with not being the one in control. Because once I passed the innocence and beautiful awkwardness of first loves I entered a long period of logic as I tried to control my heart, tried to mature enough to steer it wisely, to learn from my past, to not lead myself or others astray.

Now I know that with love logic can be cast aside – not as a brash conceit to potential but with the knowledge that if you let it guide your search it shows you’re not yet ready to find what you have always hoped existed and have finally grown into.

For memory's sake...

2009-12-08T09:22:00.000-08:00

My cousin stumbled upon this note I left her in January of 2007, the night I met the french man. She send it with giggles via email today. Coincidentally, I also heard from the french man today with an update on his life and his new love. It's been almost two years since we met, and in so many ways our relationship was the last time I had that feeling of knowing, of certainty. It didn't last - but I remember it so fondly, and it will forever be one of the great romances of my life. And it all started with big blue eyes catching mine and a night that began with this note slipped under a hotel door in the wee hours of the morning.

(written in lip liner on stationary from the U.S. Grant Hotel, unfortunately can't get the attachment to load...)

"Your crazy cousin went to gallavant about w/ a dashing young frenchman. Back at 8:30.
-meg"

And here we are.

2009-08-02T21:31:00.000-07:00

I tend to think I'm good at analyzing other people - why they are how they are and why they make the choices they make. Unfortunately, I don't think I'm very good at doing this for myself. Maybe at one point I was, but lately it seems like every discovery I make about myself has no valid explanation behind it. Suddenly I feel too old to be dealing with my weaknesses - that to succumb to frustration or fatigue is just immature. That it doesn't honor the path I've been taking in recent years to confront moments of total lonliness, fear or abject confusion. It always passes, but in the midst of it I try briefly (before running full steam in the opposite direction, towards the beacon of hope that is day to day bliss) to figure out why it's so easy for me to return to my pitfalls if even the littlest confrontation comes up.

funny that

2009-01-29T12:32:00.000-08:00

I find it strange that in the midst of doing exactly what your heart has always desired to do, or that which puts you right where you are often at your best - you are forced to confront your greatest faults. I guess it makes sense - what good would success or growth be if they didn't force you to take into account your shortcomings (and dare you dream, overcome them?) along the way? But that's the thing about true flaws - when you gather the rare courage to acknowledge them, it's almost inconceivable that they could ever be overcome - they're just so daunting. So you put them out of your mind to get through your day, until one day there they are bright and smiling on your doorstep - the only things that stand between you and the rest of your life.

Sweet Loki

2008-10-09T17:45:00.000-07:00

Loki was not a dog, he was a presence. A massive body of long fur and drooly lips, he could always find his place in the middle of his people. Like his mama he never joined our family - he simply claimed the spot that we now realize was waiting for him all the time. And as we went about our lives and celebrations he was there, laying amongst our feet, picking up the tasty morsels we dropped as we prepared dinner, letting one of the kids stick their finger in his eye - because for Loki, "everything was love."

He was the first son in his family - he taught his parents to be both patient and proud, basked in their togetherness and shared their affection. When Dexter arrived he knew life was different, but he wasn't - and thus he stood by through sleepless nights, watched over the Speedy Gonzalez of growing babies with his own sense of pride (and occasionally became your every-day dog who barks in the middle of the night and wakes the baby).

Perhaps his only true claim to his namesake (the Norse god of mischief), was his ability to become something other than what he seemed. For this was not just a dog at your feet, nor a pet. This was man's best friend, and for his perfect portrayal of this role - he will be missed.

Where I've gone

2008-10-09T07:45:00.001-07:00

Hi there, you can find me here now mostly. Separate blog world, hope you'll visit!

Recovery

2008-08-19T16:58:00.000-07:00

Late last summer, in an untimely reminder of my lack of computer savvy, I crashed my old hard drive. It's horrifying when you realize how much of your life has been locked up inside what you thought to be an impenetrable metal box, and even moreso when you realize how simple it is to prevent such implosions of data-drowned micro-chips. Licking my wounds I found solace in my shiny and new Macbook Pro, and set aside my old computer (lovingly referred to as the behemoth) for a time in which I had 2 grand to direct to the pockets of the most deserving of computer geeks who recover lost data.

My life and luck being charmed as it is, just such a guy showed up in my living room a few weeks ago to address my very cracked blackberry pearl (let's hope my life has more resilience than the electronics that manage it) and I feebly mentioned my forlorn and dusty old lap top.

"Let me see it," he commanded - a wry smile alluding to the immense pleasure he clearly found in taking on seemingly impossible electronic tasks. I handed it over, admonishing him (and doing my best to keep my hopes at bay) that the 14-year old in charge of the service shop last year hadn't even been able to get it to boot. Of course before he could tell me that I was well under the spell of the Macbook Pro's brushed finish, practical weightlessness and sleek profile. Still, being reprimanded by a guy nearly half my age (and likely making twice my salary) for ignoring the flashing lights of "YOUR HARD DRIVE IS READY TO SELF-DESTRUCT" had left it's mark, and I didn't want my friend to be overly optimistic.

I unpacked the behemoth, handed it to my friend and tottered off to admire my new blackberry face plate (it had been cracked since I dropped it in gravel on day 2 of ownership). He plugged it in and on came the lights and the flashes I'd done my best to forget - the bright blue reminder that where my writing and pictures and years of data had once been, was now the simplest of color schemes and a screen that looked just like the first word processors we used in middle school.

But...my friend's face lit up - and even I had to admit that upon last plug in it hadn't even booted, so this could be progress. He quickly pocketed the hard drive, headed home to his motherboard and promised to call with what he was sure would be a full recovery of my data.

OH BOY OH BOY OH BOY OH BOY!

Words cannot express. Not only did he recover it - but in the exact same form I left it. No scrambling, nothing missing - just files and files of years and years of ponderings, papers and most importantly, photos. Trips and family and holidays and friends - all back, safe and sound, on the shiny screen of my Macbook Pro. Oh, and my new external hard drive.

changing it up

2008-07-31T21:58:00.000-07:00

Man, I look at my blog archives and I really used to write here. Oh, how I miss that! I don't know what it is about this year that writing has not been the medium with which I pour forth all that's been swirling around inside. I've tried not to be too hard on myself, but at the same time I know that writing is a discipline, and all the various benefits (the catharsis, the processing, the support from those who choose to read your words) are the result of such work. Perhaps it's that I'm not ready to process it all, that this year has been about reaching out and identifying the tools I'll need to work through it, when I'm ready. It's definitely involved a fair amount of holding others up in their times of struggle - perhaps the best therapy there can be when you're in the midst of your own.

I have been doing a lot of writing in my head - especially in preparation for my departure for Kenya (mid September!) and will get a new blog to chronicle that experience up soon. I know that I will need to write about this. I pray that I'll have the stamina to process it all on the page - because it is by far the biggest thing I've done yet (and the scariest, and most exciting!). I want to be present in the whole experience, and I know writing will be key.

I have found my voice off the page in a more literal sense this year, and after sending a pretty lame garage band recording (voice/guitar only) of a Coldplay song to some friends, my dear friend Phil returned the following to me. Since I've offered so little by way of words on the page lately, here's a bit of my actual voice. Thanks to those of you who still visit this space, share your own words and are keeping your stories going on your own blogs. I treasure this community and look forward to sharing my next steps with you!

boomp3.com

overflow

2008-07-23T23:16:00.000-07:00

I was sitting at dinner tonight having a heavy discussion with my dad when I was struck with an image. I saw a delicate pottery bowl with a beautiful glaze reminiscent of a blue tile-bottomed pool. In the bowl, which was deeper than a normal bowl, was crystal clear water. If the bowl was set down and still, the reflection from the glaze would make it hard to see the liquid therein - it would be just one fluid piece of mass. But if you were to pick up the bowl and try to walk with it, the water would start to move around the interior, banking against its perfectly smooth sides, gaining momentum with each step as it would slosh forward, then back, then forward again. At any moment it would threaten to break over the side of the dish, to make its presence known on the ground or surroundings outside of the glazed haven it comes from.

How then to keep such liquid still? How then to prepare the world for its inevitable overflow? How then to prepare yourself?

grace and glory

2008-07-11T00:24:00.001-07:00

You're in the midst of moments full of fear,
the unknown looms in a way you never imagined you'd be afraid of.

The necessity of leaving, of stepping away from the first real comfort you can remember.
The special moments you know you'll miss - the distance you're departure is sure to create.

These thoughts weigh heavy on your heart, your eyes droop with the tears of saying goodbye, even though goodbye is weeks, neigh months, away.

It's all in preparation, all in advance notice, all in protection of your fragile heart.

How to leave those you love, and who love you the most?

Then it hits you - the glorious reality of it all. You are loved! You are surrounded by those whose lives matter to you, whose joy matters to you. Distance means nothing in relation to this.

And as your adventure opens up before you, you are struck with the sheer magnitude of it all. How is it that you should be fortunate enough to be walking into the life you are about to take on?

There are no words, there is nothing that can capture the enormity of having turned dreams into reality.

But knowing you go with the wings of those you love behind you, this is the most glorious thing of all.

temporary

2008-06-29T01:26:00.000-07:00

these walls carry the proof of where I've been
joined together by a door added after the fact
I had a vision of what it would look like so many months ago
And now here I sit, the lines in rust and green,
ready to let it go

So much of my life this year has been temporary
A stop for a moment before stepping into the unknown
Surrounding myself with those I love the most
But in the end having to move away,
I can't imagine the day

When these walls cease to bear where I've been
When they're blank or covered up with someone else's things
To drive away with the burden of past and the blank slate of tomorrow
with my life staying here, while I go there

In the end I know the truth isn't temporary
Its veins run deep in the lives of those I love
No matter where I go there is home in each of them
Only this I know, only this I know

need

2008-06-02T10:40:00.000-07:00

I wrote the following post yesterday. It was one of those days where I cried big sloppy tears for feelings I couldn't ignore one minute longer. In the morning I cried silently, working away at my desk, and felt better by the afternoon. Last night, I cried loudly, I gave myself permission to really grieve for all these things that have happened in the last year - both my own experiences and those I have born witness to both here and abroad. Today I feel so much better - but I'm giving myself permission to post about the reality of yesterday as a tribute to the 2 year anniversary of this blog. Many people don't understand blogging - they don't get baring your soul to strangers (or loved ones who might read, for that matter). I can't say I totally understand it either. I don't even know who reads this anymore that I might censor my words for if I realized they'd see them. The point is, I'm making peace with my yesterdays, with letting them be, on the page. Two years of yesterdays marked today. It's been a blessing, to say the least.

June 2, 2008
I have far more love in my life than many people I'm sure (and if ever there were cause to quantify, I'm sure far less than others). The point is that it's there, it's present in family and friends and the romantic affection of a few - more than I recognize and certainly more than I know how to draw on when I need it most.

This past year has, in many ways, kicked my heart's ass. As above, I feel I have to post the necessary disclaimer: it has been kicked far less than many others. The pain I know pales in comparison to many, it would be disrespectful to compare it to the loss and the grief that others have experienced in their own hurts. But to me it is real, it is pronounced, it is disorienting. It has bubbled up in a redefinition of family, first by those around me, and then by myself as I tried to make sense of an absolutely new familial landscape. It has been in once again having fallen in love, and then, with an explanation that feels far from valid or to reflect the strength of the love I hope to give and someday receive, having fallen out of it. It has been in the wanting to turn to my pillars of strength during these times, and seeing them withered in the paralysis of their own hurts and life's challenges. It is the ultimate feeling of at times being without the strength of the most important ties of a lover/partner and family.

So I've looked elsewhere for comfort, sometimes demanding it from those who have no responsibility to provide it, or else taking it in bits and pieces, knowing full well the temporary security such offerings provide. Such things, invariably, come to an end. What remains amidst the fractured ties, the mini-flings, the hot-prospect projects, is friendship. There is no lack of wealth therein. And yet in my attempts to escape my grief, I have called on my friends almost exclusively for fun and light heartedness - for small adventures and days of laughing till my stomach aches, rather than the assuredness I desperately seek that if and when the shit hits the fan, I won't be alone. I have rarely let myself cry to them, or even in front of them, the shame of such fractures somehow too great to let the cat out of the bag. Of all my flaws, I think this is perhaps the worst - to not be able to let your guard down to those who have the strength, love and the confidence in you when you need it most.

the little things

2008-05-27T13:12:00.000-07:00

A friend returned from Hawaii last week and brought me an assortment of my favorite pikake scented lotions and body oils. I dabbed a bit of the perfume oil on each wrist this morning and every time I answer the phone I catch the faint scent of the islands in summer. It's such a simple thing, and yet it reminds me of those moments in which you find yourself on a beach in the evening, nothing but stars above and waves in front, and you marvel that somehow you ended up in this perfect piece of the world. I've had those moments, I'll have more and sometimes I just need a little reminder.

not knowing the next

2008-05-22T17:33:00.001-07:00

Twenty eight appears to be the year when adulthood takes its firmest hold yet. Sure, you've supported yourself for a number of years, you've made some big steps, you've been to a few weddings etc. But now your peers are having babies, and people's master's degrees and law degree's have some dust on their frames already. You're actually in this thing called "grown up." I think I'm mostly o.k. with this, especially since I'm finally taking some steps toward living a grown up life I can be comfortable in, but it never ceases to amaze me how little I really expect from it all. I look at friends and family who are having babies, and there's this sense of just knowing that this was what this stage in life called for. No question - this is the time, this is what is meant to be done. I have such a hard time relating, because when I look at my future I don't have any must-be-dones or this-will-be-the-times. I can't imagine being pregnant, don't know when that fits into my life, or if it does at all. I can't imagine running a household, or having enough money to fill one with real furniture. I live my life in the context of an individual, a shared home with only a room to fill and a single meal to prepare at the end of the evening (unless I'm cooking for my roommate too, of course).

It's not that I'm worried about this - I'm really not. It's just that it seems so different than so many people who have this clear progression of what life looks like in their heads. College, grad-school, marriage, kids, move, buy house, buy new car, take big trip, get promoted, buy new house etc. etc. etc. I just don't see any of it. I just keep making decisions as they are presented, doing my best to stay in tune with a gut-feeling of what is right for me and what is not, and trying to trust that there's a direction to it all. In my brief meeting with a career counselor I can't afford, I told her about the steps I've taken career wise, and she asked me how much money I'd like to ultimately make. ?????? Haven't given it a second thought. Would like to make more than I do now, that's for sure, but I don't really think about what a future income could mean other than knowing I want to be able to give my hypothetical kids the same opportunities that I've had. Given that this seems 99% impossible with the way of the economy and cost of living, I kind of just push the whole thing from my head and go back to my happy place of "follow your gut and it all works out."

I think to a certain extent I'm taking the same approach to love. I have a vague idea of what Mr. Right might be like, but no real concrete vision. So I base my attraction and interactions with men on the moment - is it there, or is it not? Can we laugh together right now? Do I want him to hold my hand, or more? Instant connections are nice and all - but it seems so shallow in the scheme of things. Wouldn't some sort of expectation be a better bet? And you know what? I'm not even talking about a vision of the person, but the vision of the life as a whole - it's just so damn vague. I don't really know what type of a relationship I aspire to because I can't really imagine myself in one. I don't know where I want to live because I can't really imagine a job that I will do that I might find in said place. I can't really imagine a job I might do because I have yet to find one that didn't make me want to shoot myself well over half the time.

So I plod "forward" but where am I going?

It's strange to be more or less at peace with who I am right now, but to have moments where I almost completely can discredit my entire thought process solely by looking at what others are doing and how much more they seem to have figured out than I do. Though if I'm honest with myself, it's not really about figuring anything out - it's about a sense of peace or understanding that some seem to either have, or don't. And I don't want to dismiss what they have figured out to make my path seem more mighty or prudent - just as I don't want to dismiss myself entirely in order to acknowledge their contentment with their own lives.

It's a funny and fine line, one that wandered a bit throughout this post but leaves me with plenty of food for thought.

just an ordinary day

2008-05-20T13:16:00.000-07:00

...Dexter asking about me before his nap, my mom flying to Russia to move my brother and his family home after 15 years, my dad calling to confirm plans a few weeks down the road that will take me back to my musical roots, a new friend whose divorce just finalized, a visitor from England, an email (finally) from Kenya, a friend with a new spot post cancer that needs a biopsy, seeing a dear friend prove that Hollywood can make dreams come true, climbing tonight, the eternal to-do and stopping midpoint to wonder at it all...

oh happy day

2008-05-15T15:43:00.000-07:00

So since I seem to be sticking to the blogging habit of 'only write when you're exceptionally blue or anxious' lately, I thought I'd throw out a sunshine post, just to mix things up! This gorgeous, camera-phone captured plate was my lunch today, as my roommate (the vegan chef) brought a lovely meal to our work place today. Under my new favorite greens (mache, I adore thee), is a large samosa with a potato, pea and cumin filling. This lays atop a chick pea curry, with a side of coconut milk, cilantro and lime juice chutney. There is some spicy/salty pickling spices sprinkled for garnish, which led to me understanding for the first time why Indian food is so spicy. Because...hot stuff makes you sweat! And when it's hot, sweat can cool you off! And guess what folks, it's 93 degrees out, so bring on the sweat!

Apologies I don't have a picture of our dessert - homemade spiced tapioca and ginger orange sorbet with candied kaffir lime pieces on top.

Today, it doesn't even remotely suck to be me!

this post is bananas

2008-05-09T13:15:00.000-07:00

Instead of posting the incredibly depressing and sulky post I stashed away in my draft folder yesterday (next to many, many more of the same billing), I decided to ponder some potential messages the universe seems to be sending me in the last few days. First off, I've been absolutely swamped with worry about career path and fear that I'm just so far off where I'm meant to be, that I might have missed my chance to do something incredible (or at least...interesting). Everywhere I turn I see someone with a fascinating job - sure, it might not be a good fit for me - but I see why it's a fit for them, and the work it took them to get there, and the sweet relief of a life well-lived playing out in their daily actions (while I stagnate at my computer, furiously resenting any and everyone who hasn't consigned themselves to a similar fate). And with every great green venture I encounter (with happy little workers behind it's growing success), I think of when I was a happy little do-gooder myself, with aspirations to start organizations, go abroad and take some risks. Yes, I am making good on a few of these things in short order, but in such a whack order and time table I've lost site of the straight energy and drive that I feel necessary to make them work. So, though there is a light at the end of this relative pit-stop of stagnation's tunnel, the downtime is taking a terrible toll on my confidence that when I get to that light, I'll be able to get back into the right mode to make it work.

Back when I graduated from college and was fresh off my senior project and volunteer work focusing on the banana plantations in Costa Rica, I believed I could do what I was setting out to do. I didn't question I could make it happen, that my career would be great in some way - whether by impact, or experience, or ideally - both. But then I started on a path of gaining experience as it was presented to me - taking advantage of opportunities that were for all extents and purposes great, because they were there for the taking. And a few years went by, and some learning happened, and some jaded happened, and some energy was expelled while my path looped and twisted and gradually made itself known to me again. So I took some flying leaps to grab onto it, trying to forgive myself for taking so long to do so and see the value in the experiences I'd had and gained while meandering for a bit. But now, even as I wait for the next steps to swing into high gear, I see all these people around me whose paths were a little straighter and more direct, and they're just in a better space emotionally than I appear to be. So I've been trying to learn from them, and cut out the bullshit that always gets in my way, even when I appear to be headed in the right direction.

A few weeks ago my sister-in-law sent me a link to this book. It brought back all sorts of memories about the time in which bananas were a big part of my focus, and how in studying their production my eyes opened to a whole host of world and consumer issues that I internalized and remain with me to this day. I intended to build a career around them - and I'm finally starting to do so with my studies this fall, but it's taken so much longer than I thought. Back then I had business ideas, ideas that I know now were just a smidge ahead of their time, but had they been acted on, would be playing to full effect in today's market and consumer arena. Then a few days ago Shauna had a post about this the most phallic of fruits, and my ears started twitching once again. Later that same night I was indulging in live t.v. at the penthouse I house sit at sometimes, and caught a Disney kids segment on...wait for it...bananas. I mean, since when are bananas fodder for quality prime time children's entertainment?

My world is suddenly raining bananas, and I can't tell what the message is. For me, bananas are in someway where it all started. But in this year of waiting for a scholarship which will finally allow me to pursue the path they put me on, I am more and more worried that somehow the past few years and a host of bad habits might interfere with the potential first laid out. I see all these people who seem to have already made their mark and created something amazing. True visionaries who don't seem to have put up with years staring at a computer screen letting their brain atrophy. So, are all these signs just a reminder to finish what I started, to trust the path and finally, make it happen?

I need to know I'm not past my prime. I need to know that I can be about action, not just ideas and a convoluted path in the hopes of one day making something good come of all my passion.

the heart hurts

2008-05-02T00:11:00.000-07:00

I am never more present in my life than when I am in love. It's as if the tendrils of truth that make up my person unfurl one by one as I meet and fall for someone new. Lately, however, I have begun to question these most cherished moments of falling. I've started to tell myself that they were not the real deal, that I will know it when I see it but I couldn't possibly be where I am today, more or less alone, if they were in fact real...for what type of person would have let them go? I dwell on this more than I should.

Still, while romantic love continues to befuddle me in its complex application in my life (I swear, this blog hasn't even scratched the surface of the crazy that is me and men), I will say I am learning more about love amongst friends and family these days than I'm sure I ever have. Perhaps learning is too strong of a word - that would imply I've come to an understanding about it all. An understanding beyond the necessity for constant grace, openness, honesty and from time to time complete and utter humility in order to truly love, and be loved by, those around you. I would like to say that I work on this daily, but I'm not sure I'm at a place with myself where I can truly offer this to those I love. I do know I try. I try so hard when confronted with someone else's pain or struggle. The compassion switch in me electrifies and I pull out each and every experience and understanding I can provide in the desperate hopes of alleviating the heartache. If I could paint a picture, it would show me literally taking a scoop out of my heart and presenting it, palms open, to whoever it is that I love so dearly allowing me to bear witness to their brokenness.

But can I ever really bear witness when I am so very bad at showing my own brokenness? I can remember only a handful of times when I allowed myself to truly wilt in the trust of someone who loves me, pushing aside my assumption of their judgment or pity long enough to bask in their compassion and grace. It is a fine line to let those whose opinions mean the most to you catch you when crumble. But I know now that this is the essence of love. And I would never hold it against someone I love that they from time to time fall apart - it makes them more human and radiant and dear, if anything.

I don't know how this ties in to the beginning of this post. Perhaps my detachment from romantic love stems from my need to more fully understand the fundamentals of love as a whole. Thank God for the gracious beings sharing their stories around me as I take a temporary hiatus from my own heart. I'll get back to it someday, I'm sure.

extreme highs...

2008-04-29T15:23:00.000-07:00

...are always followed by extreme lows in my life. So right now, I'm caught up in a sashay of emotional dodging - avoiding the things I just don't have the strength to deal with. Instead, I'm shopping like crazy - not spending much money, but indulging in the high of amazing deals and the immediate gratification that accompanies them. I'm starting new things, but not following through on those that preceded. I'm surfing the web, but not catching up on emails. I'm providing physical comfort, but no emotional attachment. There is joy interwoven throughout in the depth of friendships and relationships that weather whatever highs or lows I experience. But in general, I think I'm coming to terms with being a bit more on "hold" than I'd like to be. Hmm.

as she ponders

2008-04-21T12:01:00.000-07:00

"I think I met you at the wrong time, Megan. I knew what you were when I first saw you, but I didn’t know what to do about it. And anyway, you weren’t ready for me."

My best friend from my freshman year of college started his most recent email to me that way. The statement preceded a lengthy (and darling) introduction as to his fiance - namely the quirks that he adores and has committed to spend his life with. I was, of course, still stuck on that first paragraph. What does that mean, "I knew what you were when I first saw you?" My last email to him had been a whirlwind catch up on my life and romances - in a word, chaos - and I think he meant it to be grounding. And it is, I suppose, the idea that someone could know you so well so early - because he did.

He was the kind of friend that could calm whatever storm I drudged up. While others put on literal pounds with the freshman fifteen, I put on emotional weight that first year of college. I ended my high school relationship, bounced around as the bell of the (later determined to-be) mostly gay conducting ball, was charmed by a less-than-honest Canadian, entered my second cycle of clinical depression, nearly failed my first and last college math class and somehow came out on the other side with a rocker boyfriend who adored C.S. Lewis as much as I did, and made up for all the flailing I'd done throughout the year.

But my best friend, well he'd expected to be the knight at the end of that tunnel of a year, and while he managed fine seeing me flip flop about throughout - he knew the real deal when he saw it in the end. When my relationship started, he took his distance and I'd say our recent string of emails is the closest we've been to the magic of that friendship since.

He no longer needs me to be anything beyond the simplicity of the person he knew and recognized so early on. I need more than anything to be recognized as that very girl, because I'm still not ready for "him," whoever "he" might be, though I'm inching closer, every day. It's damn refreshing and delightful, to say the least.

some things never change

2008-04-03T23:01:00.000-07:00

In the midst of putting together my formal application for school in Kenya (I have a scholarship, but must now gain admittance to the grad program), I came across the following in a past reference from a college professor:

"We’ve spent many hours in my office discussing both the state of the universe and the thesis of her papers. She has so many good ideas that sometimes she has difficulty settling on one. In other words, she has excellent academic ability and creativity, but still needs to work on organization, and mostly, on her confidence in herself. Her confidence in her paper-writing ability has grown, but she’s not quite there yet. She’s good but she doesn’t always believe it."

"...she has excellent academic ability and creativity, but still needs to work on organization..." I feel like this summarizes my entire life, in one succinct little nutshell. Oh, and confidence, don't get me started.

on gained awareness

2008-03-31T13:23:00.000-07:00

Say, for example, you're holding your nephew as you get him ready for bed. You're in the kitchen, the electric kettle is on, the glass bottle in hand ready to warm it up. You're walking between the sink and the fridge, talking to him, giving him a heads up that it's almost time for bed...we're going to sing some songs, have a bottle and call it a night (he likes to be prepared). Say that in the midst of this activity you surreptitiously pass a little gas, assuming that it will be lost in the shuffle and heck, he's only 19 months old, how big of a deal might that be?

A noticeable one, to be sure.

life is good

2008-03-27T16:10:00.000-07:00

On tonight's menu:

Artisan cheeses with truffle infused honey and a balsamic fig reduction
Citrus and Avocado Arugala Salad
Fresh blue cheese and potato gnocchi
Creme puffs with fresh strawberry filling

Oh, and copious amounts of wine.

my math is all wrong

2008-03-21T09:29:00.000-07:00

Last night we went to Millenium in the city for a glorious round of vegan delights, organic wine and muddled mint cocktails in celebration of my mom's 65 years on this planet. A smorgasbord of indulgence - from the chantrelle fois gras to the chocolate stout ice cream, DO NOT MISS THIS RESTAURANT when you next venture to SF (ooh, and take me). My mom was delighted, and one of my dearest friends wrote her an outstanding poem celebrating all the things that make her wonderful - and thankfully, the funny parts didn't result in her peeing her pants with laughter.

Afterwards, the younger generation went on for drinks at a speak easy down the street, where the pomegranate martinis sent me over the edge. And by over the edge I mean pulling a Vanna White on the floor to ceiling bookcase that turned out to be filled with real, authentic books. Imagine! I was suddenly fascinated with calculus - and did my best encourage all the young SF-ites around me that calculus really is a lost art form. Or maybe I just regaled them with how I got a D- in it my freshman year of college, which was technically a passing grade, and thus I haven't had a thing to do with it since.*

On the way home I cranked up the Britney (I make no apologies, Gimme More has the best beat I know for the ride home car party) and made my roommate take us to Blondie's for pizza. Then I crawled into bed and marveled at how my room suddenly looked like I wasn't the only one getting into my bed (clothes and shoes strewn about) and prayed that I wouldn't still be tipsy in the morning.

I am.

*And by "calculus" I really mean "pre-calculus." Lame!

absence

2008-03-19T16:03:00.000-07:00

You should see my draft folder. Or the scraps of paper throughout my purse. Or the notebook in which I'm attempting to keep a running to-do list. For, in all, you'd find writing - and good, insightful writing at that. Somehow, it just doesn't make it to this here blog. I'm sorry for that. The truth is, if I take things back to the origins of this blog - to dating, the quest for love and figuring out all things related to the heart - well, I have more to write about now than ever. This might sound silly, but I literally have guys (o.k., graceful woman, perhaps I should call them MEN) coming out of my ears. From a long-term friend who still holds out hope, to a more casual friend whose hints about me being the "perfect woman" are getting more and more frequent, to the Frenchman and of course the more local beau (currently avoiding me following the Frenchman's visit), to a friend in Kenya who flirts over gmail about my impending move to Nairobi, and the new arrival of the most charming (but younger!) man I've ever met - I'm having trouble making sense of it all.

So you'd think I would be writing about it, for this is where all the emotion and angst of such things usually spills forth. Perhaps it's that nothing about all of this feels 'so-called' anymore, it all seems very, very real. The opportunities, the attention - the possibilities for heart ache (and not just my own), the variety! And more than that, the change in my perspective as more and more of my friends couple up - in good, healthy couplings at that, and I start to see how important it is to make good choices in who you "settle" down with (ha!). Still, If the universe is telling me anything amidst all this attention, I'd have to say it is to look at things in any way but in terms of settling, but to instead take advantage of the opportunity to get to know people and evaluate how I react to certain attention, with whom do I feel most at ease, most myself? Who is inspiring? Who is intimidating? To who (whom?) can I return the same level of affection being offered? It is hard to look at people and relationships for such pure educational gain - but given my impending departure for far off lands, settling down with anyone right now makes little to no sense (though no, that doesn't mean I'm counting anyone out!).

So I'll keep meandering through, enjoying the flattery of various suitors, and hopefully coming up with something to share while I attempt to not be so hard on myself for allowing the attention. I do have a sense that it's all a part of the journey that ends with me and my heart being ready to ultimately take that leap and focus on one person that I will invite into my life and the path I'm on. I know deep down this is what I want, but I kid you not in recent years there have been moments when it has been the most terrifying of prospects. I think I'm gradually growing out of that commitment phobia, but I suppose it never hurts to go out with a bang (and let's not take that out of context, shall we?).

working on it

2008-03-12T10:34:00.000-07:00

“Don’t just be an aging female … become a real woman!” - Maya Angelou

hope in all places

2008-03-11T11:56:00.000-07:00

"Before Kibaki and Raila made peace, we made peace on the ground," Osodo said. "They called Kofi Annan, but me, I didn't call Annan. I called my brothers."

READ. DISCUSS.

2008-02-28T13:22:00.000-08:00

I know many of you will have thoughts on this. I am anxious to hear what they are. I promise I'll weigh in too - just still processing and trying to form a coherent opinion...

Side bar-liscious

2008-02-21T08:52:00.000-08:00

To call me a lazy blogger recently would be an understatement - infrequent posting, even less frequent reading, and a woefully out of date sidebar that does little to reflect where I spend my internet time or the rest of my life!

I've been focusing a lot since moving to the Bay Area on making time in my life for the creative, and on setting aside time to educate myself about the things that matter to me, as it turns out passion is just not enough if you're hoping to immerse yourself in a new field or life direction. I often have a hard time keeping track of the various resources I find - whether it's a kick-ass site for craft projects that might give you that peaceful feeling of having created something when you have an hour or two to spare, or some of my favorite musicians and learning they were in town before (not the Monday after!) they do a show down the street. I've been coming across some amazing design sites in the field of environmental and socially responsible development (ding ding ding!) and starting to find voices I want to follow in Kenya and beyond.

I just wanted everything in one place where I could easily access it when I wanted to. Le duh: blog sidebar. So - take a look around - of course you'll still find many of my favorite bloggers (I didn't actually adjust the blog roll at all other than to consolidate it) but there's lots more now too. I know it's looooong - but all good things take some time to explore.

Enjoy!

random

2008-02-19T16:44:00.001-08:00

Can anyone else relate to that feeling you get when, in a moment of hypochondria, you diagnose yourself with some terminal illness but at least for right then, you're o.k. with it? I'm not sure what it is - whether it's having an overall good day, someone having just told you they love you or finally getting something long-put off done, but for a second you lose sight of the big picture and think, "If I found out right now, I could go peacefully if nature decided it was my time."

There is of course always the antithesis, found in a moment just as random, in which life suddenly seems breathtakingly short. When if handed a death sentence you would retch and reel, mourning instantly the experiences you'd lose in dying to soon, the people you'd miss - all that would be left.

The very presence of such emotion in the second moment tips me off that there is more to be lost than any moment of seemingly zen contentment could ever foreshadow.

***please be patient with my changing sidebar - I'm updating it with lots of wonderful new things but I'm slooooow so don't look yet!***

things come together

2008-02-16T00:24:00.000-08:00

The girls and I had some champagne tonight, and I'm currently experiencing the rush of inspiration a few glasses of bubbly so often produce. But, more importantly, I'm not fighting the urge to self-censor. I'm going to write the self-truth I've stumbled upon (champagne or no), and leave the post up even when I've awoken to a glorious day and realized that once again, I've left myself ultra vulnerable on an only semi-private blog.

So it all boils down to this: I got my heart broken once, and I haven't trusted myself since.

Of course it's more complicated than this - but the fundamental truth is that once I understood what it meant to offer up my heart and have someone be willing to say, "no, I don't think that this is the heart for me," I fundamentally stopped trusting whether I could do the same.

How so? Well, at that point I'd decided that two absolutely wonderful guys were not for me. Guys who had treated me with nothing but total devotion - and not pushovers either. Individuals, devoted friends, loving sons, inspiring people - at some point in each of their lives they'd decided that I was the girl for them. And at some point in mine, I'd decided that they were not the ones for me.

It's not that it was easy - I remember the anguish of knowing I was hurting someone who I'd so loved, who had been by my side and with whom I'd shared such joys. But even in that pain, I found something within to trust - I could make the decision and work through the angst because I knew what was right.

Then the tables turned.

I fell, head over heels, and knew that he was the one. I knew with every ounce of my physical being as I threw out old rules for purity and decided, at 21, that I was ready to marry a man who intended to devote his life to ministry. I knew beyond the impressions of friends and family, beyond any question of "are we the right fit?" or what his past said about who he was today. I just knew.

But less than a year later he labeled me an unknown, made the choice I'd made in years past to walk away, to separate, to pursue the possibilities beyond the person that had been so utterly and completely devoted to him. He decided and trusted himself to walk away.

How did his trust break my own? Why is it that all these years later I agonize over the possibility of any relationship ending - even the most casual? I am so afraid of letting go of the right thing, of not recognizing the person for me even when they're right under my nose. I know it's because I don't want to inflict that hurt any more. I learned what it felt like, the earth shattering recognition that I might not be enough. Why would I possibly pass that on to someone unless there was absolutely no other way?

I can't stand that it could be laziness, or simple doubt, or greed that would make me inflict that kind of pain, or make that judgement call.

Still - is anything worth giving up trust in oneself? It seems such a crying shame that at this stage in my life, I cant bring this basic quality along as I test the waters and tell myself I'm open to what is meant to be.

In absence of any of my men...

2008-02-14T11:25:00.000-08:00

So I promised an update awhile back, and it goes like this. The Frenchman remains in France, until next month when he will visit for a brief weekend (the first time I'll have seen him in 5 months). While absence has indeed made the heart grow fonder in many ways, it has also given way to a desire to be open to more local opportunities for companionship - and the one that has stuck, for now, is a lovely guy I met at a coffee shop in Monterey the weekend of my cousin's wedding. We've spent a number of weekends together doing everything I've hoped to do since returning to the Bay Area - exploring San Francisco, checking out local restaurants, going out with friends and generally having a grand old time. I have done what I can to not feel like a two-timing floosie, which primarily means I have told the Frenchman about my local beau, and vice-versa. This is incredibly unchartered territory for me - and while I'm not 100% comfortable with it, I also can't seem to totally reconcile myself to cutting myself off from either one, given the circumstances.

So, that said, as neither are completely local and I'll be having a wine, chocolate and Atonement-watching girl's night in honor of the happiest of hearts day - I thought I'd reminisce on some of the romance of valentine's past. I'd love to hear some of your best Valentine's memories (or perhaps they're currently in the making) too!

'95: The awkward
First high school boyfriend: This relationship was strange from the start - I've touched on how his lack of virginity at the tender age of 14 intimidated the hell out of me in a past post. While I'd had boyfriends in middle school, I was in unchartered high school territory, and I'm not sure I was truly aware of how to be myself in a relationship when I didn't feel we brought the same cards to the table. On Valentine's day, he brought me a silver teddybear necklace to school. I remember thinking, "Wow, he really likes me" and also, "wow, I'm so not a teddy bear type" all at once.

'97: The first to mean something
I still haven't finished telling the story of my first love - but Valentine's day '97 pretty much sums it up. He showed up at my house with homemade m&m chocolate chip cookies he'd made (his first name starts with an 'm' too). I gave him the soundtrack to the movie Kids - horribly unromantic now that I think of it, but great music. That night, we went to see Beck in concert with a group of my girlfriends from high school - he was happy to share me with my friends, but somehow it felt like the day was all about us.

(slight Valentine's detour to describe one of the more romantic days I've ever experienced)
'00: He just "got" me
For some reason, Valentine's 2000 escapes me - though in the scheme of my college relationship, it didn't bear as much significance because my boyfriend was fantastic at romance all around. When I returned from a choir tour in Italy in January that year, he'd cleaned my entire dorm room (as a busy R.A. and general slob, it had gotten overwhelming) and left me flowers hiding in various corners - in my mini-fridge, in the shower etc. A few months later, I awoke in the same room on my birthday to a home-cooked meal (I don't actually remember how he pulled off scrambled eggs in a dorm room - I think he drove all the way home and back to do it) and then was whisked away to a local park where he'd assembled my motley crew of friends for a morning surprise party, comlete with balloons and cake. Later that day we went to the newly opened Ghetty museum for the day, and he presented me with the nicest set of the Chronicles of Narnia available at the time. The sweetest part about the whole day - aside from how much he did to absolutely shower me with love from the get go - was that he couldn't actually afford the book set on his own, so he'd had his two best friends go in on it with him. I still think it's just the most telling sign that his best friends would help him buy something he knew his girlfriend would adore, because it meant that much to him to make the day perfect.

'03: A calm in the storm
My longest relationship ever started at the end of my college years and lasted almost three more. For any number of reasons, it got off to a rocky start, and yet to this day I can't wrap my head or heart around the tenderness that survived it all. Our second Valentine's we played it pretty low key and generic - he chose a restaurant, we ordered wine, had nice conversation - I wore a new red shirt. There was something about it though that stands out in my memory for the simplicity of the love we shared and how it came out that night. Ours was never the most romantic of stories (though our first date was salsa-dancing in Costa Rica). Still, after all this time when something really touches me deeply, especially in regards to family or music, it's him that I think of and want to share it with.

O.k. - your turn...

a good thing

2008-02-08T11:29:00.000-08:00

So I've started working full-time at an adventure travel company that caters to very high-end clientèle. For the first time in a long time (Africa aside) I am learning something that is really interesting to me. I love travel, and it's neat to figure out how the industry works. At the same time, I'm coming up against my insecurities in major ways as I find the gung-ho girl that graduated college ready to take on the world has been a bit worn down-and-out by too few opportunities to capitalize on the things I'm really good at. I think there are opportunities for that here, but I am out of shape! I find myself getting a bit defensive, or overly offended when I get corrected - and I know I just need to keep taking deep breaths and remember I'm learning something totally new. Me and my pride will be o.k. if we can just remember this on a daily basis!

a definitive list...attempt

2008-02-07T00:02:00.000-08:00

I've had ideas about all sorts of things to write lately, and I'm choosing to go with potentially the worst one.

I think we all, in some way or another, have a "list" that defines our dream perfect partner. I have always tried to ignore said list, fearing it a bit idealistic, and the sort of thing that would set me up for failure. Still, as I've made my way through relationship after relationship, some sticking points and key ingredients seem to carryover. Some have taken a breather between partners, others I find consistently in anyone I find myself remotely attracted to.

I figure now's as good a time as any to acknowledge these things I like and have been drawn to in past partners, and some I have yet to find but covet for their potential.

1. Music - not just an appreciation, but a means by which to make it
2. Treasuring of family - both his and mine (imperfections accepted, not ignored)
3. A desire to see and experience the world outside our everyday lives
4. A motivated compassion - a willingness to respond to need, rather than judge it
5. The ability to say sorry and not lose his masculinity
6. Someone who is funnier than me, but still finds me interesting
7. A man of faith - not that of dogma but who'd be willing to hit his knees if life ever called for it - and who credits God with the good, and asks for guidance with the bad
8. Someone who can lead, but doesn't have to in order to feel strong
9. A man with confidence (nothing sexier), and a sense of humility to balance it out
10. Someone who recognizes his emotions and why he makes the choices he does
11. A guy who can build and fix stuff
12. Someone who can hold his own in a social situation, with new people and especially my friends
13. A man who knows how to really kiss, and likes it!
14. Someone at least one of my best friends proclaims, "this is the man you're meant to be with," because it's just that obvious and they see something different in us.
15. A man who believes in a true purpose for the life he was given.
16. Someone who skis, snowboards, surfs or all of the above - these things must be shared!

I'm sure I'm forgetting something in dream man version 1.0, but this feels like a good list to get out of my system. Maybe he's out there, maybe I've already fond him and don't yet know the significance of such things - or maybe my real dream man will blow all these things out of the water.

Anybody willing to share their own list?

VOTE

2008-02-04T11:03:00.000-08:00

Kanye West just left me a message telling me to vote, and thus I shall.

on being human

2008-01-21T21:31:00.000-08:00

Over and over, I have tried and failed
after which I took a step back
Smacked myself around with enlightenment
Gained some wisdom
And was lonely in it

People say I am hard on myself
and I am
Because I think somehow I should be above it
Should be better at being in it
Should know myself more by now

Every once in awhile I have a moment
where I let myself be human
And it's not quite as lonely
even though I'm in the dark

Honesty (with a bit of repetition thrown in)

2008-01-08T20:56:00.000-08:00

I am in the swell of my life cycle where the creative juices are flowing. Before I went to sleep on Sunday night I spent an hour or so setting goals, making plans, brainstorming jobs - trying to lay out a manageable plan for juggling all of life's components. But more than putting it down on paper, I sensed a shift in myself that I was moving back towards the me that gets things done, that makes connections and contributes in a meaningful way.

The challenge is, at some point, I start to reach limits with whatever new, or previously abandoned endeavor I take on. I may take a huge leap in the direction of a long put-off hobby (like singing) and suddenly make it a part of my weekly routine. But then, in the midst of it, I'll hit a wall and remember I don't have the voice to make music in the way I want to. I don't play guitar well enough to write songs that accommodate my limited range, or find a new venue for the maelstrom of thoughts making their own rhythm in my head. And then friends or family step in and say, "stop being so hard on yourself." And I say, "well it's hard not to - because I have reached this wall in absolutely everything I've ever taken on." A limit to my natural ability, to my dedication or willingness to work, or to the feasibility of making something a permanent reality. It's really hard to make this case - because when I'm in this upswing of energy doors open like crazy, and experiences are had, and I tell the story the best I can. People then think, "it's been done," while I retreat back into the more shadowy areas of myself and wonder how these journeys are to continue when I can't find it in me to take them any further?

I guess it's just hard when even in moments of inspiration and the taking of first steps, you can see the writing on the future wall that says, "you will go no further than just beyond what you can presently imagine."

annoyance

2008-01-07T11:42:00.001-08:00

Contrary to the title of this post, I am in a fantastic mood. Somehow last night I managed to pull all sorts of life's little loose strings into a comprehensive ball-o-good intentions that I actually think I can keep. I've got a plan for getting an assortment of things in shape - from my finances, body and day to day life to my overall mental health. I think I've finally found my way back to the generally positive state of mind I'm most comfortable operating in.

However, there is one MAJOR thing irking me on this beautiful morning in which the weather outside (bright, after major storms all weekend) mirrors the weather inside.

POLITICS.

Those of my readers who know me in real life may remember the Megan of yester-year who was political to the point of fanaticism. The night before the Iowa caucases I saw this terrifying picture of an elderly woman in Iowa with American flag contacts (she looked like a patriotic devil), and it struck me that that's how I used to come off to people. This wasn't due to my crazy patriotism, but rather how damn SERIOUSLY I took politics. I had joined a group of like-minded peers in a collective dream we had to reinvent the Democratic party into a political change agent that actually acted on its founding principles. Oh, the naivety of youth - the countless hours and literal YEARS I spent working on this and alienating my Republican friends (and ex-boyfriend!).

Then came the election of 2004, the spirit-crushing defeat of the anyone-but-Bush lame-play made by the Democrats. In the midst of a war in which Americans soldiers and every-day Iraqies were dying brutal deaths, we made a choice as a country to STAY THE COURSE. It felt like an affront to all things good and holy. An affront to making choices that are good for all people, not just those with the most money. An affront to our environment, the used and abused resource so taken for granted by the world's leading nation. An affront to the idea of my faith - whose supporters could practically single-handedly take responsibility for re-electing the most ill-qualified President of all time.

After this, I threw in the towel. I stuck with 2020 for a bit more - trying like hell to make a change - and finally accepting the writing on the wall that the Democrats have no interest in changing the course. They don't get the significance of investing in new ideas, in new leaders - in a long term vision. The party's leaders passed up the opportunity to support or capitalize on their true base - the next generation. Gradually my political fervor died, and has yet to return.

But still, even in the almost completely cooled last embers of my former faith in the political process, a spark is raised when I see how our country is reacting to the Iowa caucus. One SINGLE caucus and suddenly all future caucuses and primaries are dismissed - it's assumed that the decision has been made - we have our front runner. Suddenly I face my own state's primary with no sense that my vote will mean anything - because my candidate may have already conceded to the polls and given up. It is INFURIATING how quickly we hand our power over in this country. It is DISGUSTING to me how shamelessly we relinquish the power of our votes by letting the polls and the pundits call the shots.

History and political heartbreaks aside, I want to believe that my vote still counts.

going out on a limb

2007-12-31T17:27:00.000-08:00

It's almost too much to try and summarize this year, package it up so that come tomorrow morning I know what it all meant and where I'm supposed to go from here. I know it's been a ball buster (as if I had balls to bust) in more ways than one. I know I've lived deep, laughed often and learned more about love in all its forms than perhaps ever before. I know that at this moment, I'm kinda down about it all because for so much of this year I thought I was clarifying my direction in life - I've had so much affirmation that the choices I've made have been the right ones. I don't know if it's all the stuff that's come up in recent months, or if it's a winter-induced chemical imbalance, or perhaps it's just my turn to have some down time after starting 2007 with romance and adventures. Either way, I'm having a hard time keeping my optimism cap on these days, so perhaps my only resolution that I hope not to abandon immediately come the new year, is to keep putting myself out there. Keep trying new things, taking advantage of opportunities, pushing my limits.

On that note, here's the result of a bit of just such seizing the moment - the first time I figured out how to use my new macbook to do video, and the second time my singing partner and I met up. You can tell I don't know all the words by heart, that I'm kinda shy even when my only audience is a piece of metal, and that my uploading capabilities are woefully lacking (hence the abrupt cut off at the end...which does me huge favors as we royally bastardized the ending). Still - there it is, some moments to use my voice, to do something just because it feels good and I can.

Happy New Year!!!

the good with the bad

2007-12-18T23:40:00.000-08:00

Oh the thoughts I have had about love and relationships in the past six months. There have been many moments when such things have been the furthest thing from my mind, the luxury of these dwellings temporarily over ridden by actual crises or substantially more important things. But when it comes down to it, there is a tireless, pint-sized cupid running on pure adrenaline in my heart - hopeful, ever hopeful, that I'll finally figure this equation out.

Let me first say that there's no earthly reason why at 27 I should have love figured out. Sure, I've been in it, I'm "mature," I've seen some stuff. But shit, 27 is nothing in the scheme of things, and who am I to expect to have my little fingers wrapped around it at this point?

The funny thing is, I'm just starting to realize this. I have mistakenly taken my many years of serial monogamy as a crown of sorts. I have friends who come to me with questions about all things love and relationship wise, I have other friends who don't give it a second thought as to whether I will be one of the lucky ones who finds the right person, settles down and has a fabulous life with a real partner. The truth is - I don't really know jack when it comes to relationships. The little success I have had in them has been due in part to the benefits of youth and first loves, the character and strength of some of my partners and what I have come to understand in myself as an absolute unwillingness to admit failure, even when it's staring me in the face.

Consequently, I carry with me now the scars of love lived, lost and turned away - and the awkward awareness that even with all that lies in my past, I don't have the first clue what I'm looking for.

This has all been fairly startling to come to terms with, especially given the arrival of the Frenchman (aka, Mr. Wonderful) last January. My immediate attraction to him in the first few months of our relationship stemmed from a recognition that this, in fact, was the type of man I had been looking for (and held against past partners for not being). But if this is, in fact, the case - then why do I find myself so many months later thwarted by something as paltry as an ocean between us? Because let me tell you - if ever there was someone who was willing to make things work, regardless of the roadblocks - it's him. And if I've learned ANYTHING from my past relationships, or those around me (especially the ones I most admire), it's that in the end - if you want staying power - you need to find someone who is willing to WORK at things. And so this is what I've looked for, and now found, and I am the one unwilling to do my homework.

And it all makes no, and perfect, sense. I find in myself every cliche that heartbroken girls and trod upon guys draw up in defense of their hearts. And that is what this post was supposed to be about in the first place, but now I'm sleepy and it will have to wait until another time.

Where my boys at?

2007-12-17T11:44:00.000-08:00

I have always had guy friends. Since early high school, my boy-buds were my best buds. A few of these friendships turned into romances, and many at some point involved a one-way crush on one side or the other, but in the end I have a handful of guys that I simply couldn't live without. The trouble is, none of them are nearby anymore. While I've got some of my life long and closest girlfriends in the immediate vicinity (one in my house - how lucky am I!?) I don't have any accessible* guy friends up north. I've taken to loosely stalking a really cool guy I met on the airplane about a month ago because I am just dying for the rapport I have always been able to build with a few special guys. These are the guys who I can trade sob stories with, who I've nursed through break ups and who have returned the favor tenfold. The guys who remind me that settling shouldn't be an option - that good men are out there, respectful men with good taste and the desire to truly romance the women they love. They've reminded me that I'm not half bad when I needed it, and kept me busy when my Friday nights were boyfriend and date-free. I wish I could quantify why these relationships are so special - all I know is that right now I really, really miss them.

*My high school ex is up here and I still consider him one of my closest friends but his own romance has made it hard to connect as he's afraid his girlfriend won't like the idea of us hanging out.

Good things

2007-12-13T08:37:00.001-08:00

Something has changed for me this Christmas. It's due in large part to the fact I did most of my Christmas shopping in Africa, so I'm avoiding the insanity of finding that perfect something for all my perfect someones. This year I've actually started writing Christmas cards - and more importantly, updating my address book so that I can do the same next year. And I just have this feeling that the holidays really do represent more than the materialism we all get sucked up in. Maybe it's because the housing crisis is keeping everyone a bit more humbled (and I'm sure the fact I don't have a t.v. and don't see the incessant advertisements about the latest gadgets you NEED under your tree helps). It could be that I finally got the hell out of Orange County... Regardless, it just seems that the true spirit of a holiday meant to represent the ultimate gift is finally coming into focus for me on a greater level than it ever has.

The real reason, I know, is because I had to do a lot of growing up this year. I took in on the most base of levels the reality of what's out there in the world, and what's being done (or not done) to combat it. I lost the safety of "home" in a real way - it is now a place where I must face life's challenges and curve balls with the same strength as those around me - there's no more candy coating. I've been starting fresh all year - new places, new jobs, new understandings. So it fits that Christmas would change as well. That it's no less sweet, but that it become more a time to ask myself and the world around me what's going out - versus what's coming in.

Whether any of this makes sense or not - here are some links to help your holiday season reflect all that is good in the world and give you the chance to share your holidays in a meaningful way with people around the globe:

World of Good - Shopping never felt so good
Ten Thousand Villages - Still time to order!
KIVA - Change a life on behalf of someone you love

Enjoy - and feel free to share your own resources for an outward, versus inward, focused holiday.

loss in action

2007-12-07T12:01:00.000-08:00

She's my friend, and she can't stop crying. She's had her heart broken, her worst fears realized and it caught her totally off guard. I don't know what to say, what to do, I'm tip-toeing around trying to respect her needs and not knowing what they are. And how can I not know? I KNOW that pain - I know the devastation of the relationship you've put EVERYTHING into falling apart. How did I get through it? My self-preservation mechanism went into full effect last night when she came home in tears - I'm so afraid of confronting THAT pain again - not even in myself, but the fact that it exists at all. It's almost worse when it's happening to someone you love. All I want to do is say "It will be o.k., you'll get through this," but it's too soon for that. The shock needs to subside first, and I don't know what to say in the meantime.

Voice

2007-12-04T11:10:00.001-08:00

No matter how lame I get with my blogging, I manage to stay up-to-date with Dooce, because she never fails to make me laugh - and laughter has been the most necessary of medicines lately. Last week she linked to an amazing website, the Daily Coyote, and it's writer's other blog, Vespa Vagabond. I am taken by what little of Shreve's journey that I've seen based on these two blogs, but recognize in her writing and way of life a willingness to embrace life in a way I hope to. One of her posts caught my eye and with her permission I'm sharing it with you:

Going Somewhere, Always
Between the head and the heart is the voice, and our voice reflects our choices: the way we reconcile what we think and what we feel; what we know and what we desire. Our voice reaches the world through the manner in which we live - sound is unnecessary; we show others who we are by the way we go through life, and touch everyone we meet with who we are in that moment.

I have been thinking about such things a lot lately - how I live my life, how I vocalize my choices and how I choose my very words. While I was in D.C., a friend and I had a discussion with someone who didn't talk much (well, not nearly as much as we did) and he explained that as a multi-linguist, he's come to have an appreciation for words that most people don't. In short, he doesn't like to waste them. I think actions are the same ways - how many things do we do that we don't even think about? Habits, reactions - the stuff that makes up our day to day lives, that fills the space?

I really haven't had the words or the actions to communicate what's been going on between my head and my heart the last six months, and perhaps that's why this spoke to me in such a way. Because I want to get back to (or find for the first time?) a place where the space between head and heart is an open book. I want my voice out there - not just in words, but in actions. Not just in actions, but in words.

Character study

2007-11-29T22:14:00.000-08:00

There was a girl on the train who had something stuck in her teeth. Aside from that, she was rather put together. She wore an outfit that managed to be hip without looking as if it was pulled straight from the pages of a magazine, and her boots were to die for. She boarded the train with an air of confidence, but if you stared at her long enough you'd catch her looking at her reflection in the window, worrying about how her limp hair detracted from the rest of her look. She carried no book, no paper and no ipod. Perhaps she meant to bring some sort of distraction along, but in her attempt to leave the house in a put together fashion she forgot her portable entertainment. So she spent the ride instead smoothing her skirt, glancing at her profile and smiling at the people whose gaze she accidentally caught in an attempt to focus her attention on anything but herself.

Belly laughing is good for the soul

2007-11-27T12:09:00.001-08:00

When I was in D.C. I made it a point to visit Arlington Cemetery and the Holocaust Museum - two places I'd missed on my first trip there. Needless to say, they are not the easiest places to be. That said, I find them so important in their tribute and memorial to those that have been lost - both willingly and by no choice of their own - to the throws of humanity's darkest side.

After leaving Arlington Cemetery we walked to the WWII memorial so I could take some pictures for my dad, and in so doing passed the following sign:

I don't know if it was the heaviness of Arlington or what, but this launched me into a fit of giggles to the point where I couldn't breathe.

"I don't know, IS there a bathroom to the left?"

"Do you REALLY have to go?"

"There MIGHT be a restroom over there, but you won't know until you try, right?"

I love when laughter shows up at just the right time.

return

2007-11-19T08:52:00.001-08:00

I had the great fortune of meeting a few of my favorite bloggers this past Friday on a combined work/vacation trip to D.C. Lemon Gloria and Grad School Reject (and Mrs. Grad School Reject - a special treat!) joined me at Cafe Saint-Ex in D.C. for a couple rounds. It was so neat to verify in person that these people whose thoughts and ponderings have so entertained me in the past year are even more charming in real life than on the computer screen. Even as I recognized the only reason we were meeting in the first place was due to our mutual love of blogging, I had to bashfully admit that lately my blogging habit has been mostly replaced by watching ABC online because it better accommodates the lack of mental capacity I find required to make cold calls all day.

The truth is, these days I do most of my blogging in my head. I carefully meditate with words and thoughts about all that is going on, promise to commit it all to memory so as to post it later, then fail to remember the substance I'd stumbled upon and face a blank screen. For awhile I was really upset with myself - I felt like I was letting myself and the people (few, but treasured!) who read this site down. I was telling GSR and LG about this - how even though I know I could post more frequently if I really set out to do so, posting for the sake of posting just doesn't appeal to me. I know there is little congruency to this site - sometimes It's an outlet for dark thoughts - sometimes for silly flirting stories, sometimes for pics or random observances. But any time I post something it's because it's something I genuinely want to share - sometimes not even want to, but need to. Need a place to vet something and know the experience isn't happening in a vacuum.

All this aside, I have also come to realize that whereas much of my processing and growth in the past few years has found its best outlet in the blog world (both in my own posts and in the opportunity to read and comment on others), right now I feel pressed by some bigger force to take such things into the world in different ways. I'm making a really concerted effort to get music back into my life - to put myself in a position to use it as an outlet and not just background noise. I'm trying to give myself artistic outlets - I bought a sewing machine and have been holding almost weekly "craft" nights with friends to CREATE whatever tickles our fancy. And I'm starting to cook again, and to read more - to move past writing infinite lists and to simply DO more.

It is nice to know that this space is here to process such things when I need to, that it will welcome me at any time, accept my lack of schedule and structure and still collect my wanderings. It is also nice to know that I owe myself more than I owe my blog - and right now that's what I'm trying to focus on. Thank you to those reading for sticking with me, and to GSR and LG (and James who I met last month here in Berkeley) for meeting up and expanding my blog reality just that much more by taking it off the page.

a fine layer

2007-11-07T08:25:00.000-08:00

This morning I awoke to window views of mist encircling my neighborhood as if a cloud had decided this would be its final resting place. My room, where I spend the first half of my day working, is all windows on one side with a glimpse of San Francisco out on the horizon. Our neighborhood is lovely; a combination of craftsman, old Victorian and little arched adobes. The yards, with whatever space they have, accommodate an assortment of trees - many of which have donned their fall coats and delight my eyes with brilliant auburn and crimson.

My room is on the third floor of our turn-of-the-century building. When I open my shades I am treated to a view of an assortment of roofs, the city skyline in the distance and anyone who might wander by and rifle through our recycling. It makes me feel at home here to let these views in - to observe life as it happens around me, and not just within me. The challenge of course, is that when it's sunny out I can't work in my room with the shades open because I'm almost blinded by the light. So it is only on these days of heavy mist or overcast that I can really take it all in, and take it in, I do.

Happy November 1st

2007-11-01T21:06:00.000-07:00

Quite possibly my favorite picture of me and my brother to date. Hope you all had an equally fun Halloween!

Future Cop-I-Am-Not

2007-10-28T21:21:00.000-07:00

So when I tell people I'm from Oakland, I am always quick to defend my hometown, "NO, I don't claim Blood or Crypts...YES, there are nice parts of Oakland...NO I did not carry a gun to school growing up." Tonight though, as I was waiting for my (GASP) Kentucky Fried Chicken in a fit of low blood sugar, I caught what I thought was a fight in front of the cash register out of the corner of my eye. Having spent a few months in South Africa where stories of robberies, carjackings and worse are pressed upon you every time you venture into the city (or any public place for that matter), I reacted quickly in a relatively new response of instant self preservation. As I saw a guy running toward me I pressed myself up against the soda machine and let him pass me by (the store has no tables - just a walk up counter and probably about 100 square feet of standing room). Only as I saw him run out of the store, pursued by another customer, did I realize that I had just made it that much easier for a ROBBER to get past me with the donation box for disadvantaged kids that was previously attached to the counter. I wish I had been more aware of what was going on (instead of so focused on getting the right balance of ice and diet coke in my cup) - if I had just stuck my foot out I'm sure I could have tripped him up. Then again, he was apparently brandishing scissors as a weapon, and there was a sort of desperation in his run as he clutched the box with a pile of ones and the jangle of coins in front of him. True crime Oakland: Watch your quarters and dimes!

a scrape that bleeds

2007-10-24T15:57:00.000-07:00

Last week I was tearing the thermostat off the wall trying to replace the batteries and get some damn heat up in here. Now, today is the third day in a row in which every window in the house is open trying to air out the heat that's collected in our sunny flat. Lest you think I could make it three sentences without acknowledging this is an analogy for my emotions these days, I'm here to disappoint you.

In truth, this is always been how my emotions role - sometimes hot, sometimes cold - somewhat extreme highs and hinting at debilitating lows - with sets of static emotion-free time in between. I've done a lot of work internally, with family, in therapy and through trial and error to get to know what to expect from my internal happy-meter - though of course it never fails to catch me off guard how far I have to go. Here's the thing about having had "issues" - you want to sign them away for ever. Family issues - check. Done the yelling, the crying, the forgiving the accepting. Boy issues? Check. Done the alone time, the together time, the walk away from unhealthy time, the hold out for what's good for me time. Work issues? Check. Done the hard time, the boring time, the putting in my time and the let it all go time. But on all fronts, if I'm scraped in just the right way, the blood flows as if no work has been done at all.

I know I'm impatient with myself. I know I don't always give myself the credit I deserve - or perhaps I pick apart the pieces of me that are closer to whole than those that aren't for fear of having to confront real imperfections. The problem with this is that ultimately it's avoidance. It's pretending that I am somewhere that I'm not, because I so badly want to be. I want to be o.k. with where I come from, what I've done, and where I'm going. Unfortunately, sometimes I am not o.k. But rather than acknowledge and deal with this, I pat myself on the back for the work I've done in the past, and deal with my emotions like the ever changing weather around me. They poke up now and then, in brief interactions with the people closest to me, inspired by the true-to-life dramas I watch on t.v. - sometimes in reaction to issues my friends and family are struggling with that don't even involve me. It's tricky - the fall out of wanting to be o.k. sometimes leads to inadvertently hurting yourself or those around you even more than you would if you could just be o.k. with being who you are, where you are - no matter how much you've worked in the past to be at a different point.

Acknowledging this lets the scab start to form, the heat to drop, the chill to thaw. Letting what is simply be - it's better for all involved, especially me.

hypocrite-I-am

2007-10-22T14:54:00.001-07:00

I do not like being teased, and while I wish I could blame this on the fact that all teasing carries some element of truth - it's more that I don't like anyone but myself to have a say in how silly/immature/lazy etc. etc. that I can be. For what is teasing if not to allude to, albeit in jest, some sort of shortcoming in the person being chided? Fundamentally, I don't think this is bad. None of us are perfect and the joy of any true relationship or friendship is the knowledge that someone has accepted you, flaws and all. For some reason, and as I write this I think it is the major desire I have to ignore my flaws all together, I have not been able to tolerate teasing lately. Not from one of my best friends, or a close family member, or my boyfriend - whose standard response when I say that I'm tired is something along the lines of, "again? Shocking." It is his teasing that gets me the most riled up these days, and he happens to be one of those people who revels in a good tease. He likes to see my feathers ruffled - to see me get antsy and defensive as I try to weasel my way out of what is very often a very true observation he has however circuitously made. For the most part, this makes me look at him as a mother might look at her child when he is being silly, but cute. Re-read that analogy and it spells T-R-O-U-B-L-E for a relationship. I can't for the life of me figure out why in the flirtation stage of a relationship (pre-relationship, if you will) teasing can be such a turn on - so fun! What changes when you're in a relationship and you can't laugh it off - you're left with the fact that this person is joking about who you really are (or at least how you act?). Thoughts, anyone?

Raising Auntie

2007-10-18T16:11:00.000-07:00

Life's a bit up in the air for me lately with some unexpected decisions regarding work and school and I'll be honest, things aren't working out like I thought they would when I left my job and started moving towards the unknown.

One thing that hasn't changed is how exciting it is to be living near my youngest nephew, and getting to see him every few days and be a part of his life. Of course I'm also learning a lot about how quickly kids can get themselves into trouble. Like last week, no more than three minutes into babysitting I found myself following him into the bathroom, and in my attempts to keep him from unrolling all the t.p. he lost his balance and grabbed the toilet seat (meaning fingers underneath the seat!!!) to steady himself. Just call me auntie hygiene. Then, a couple of days ago my sister-in-law was trying to find something suitable for Dexter to play with when they stopped by my place. After surveying what was available she was forced to settle on a candle holder filled with small bits of beach glass that Dexter enjoyed sifting through and learning the importance of "DON'T EAT THAT." Later that night I realized that Dexter has inherited a small nunzilla I bought for my brother's Christmas stocking a few years ago. It has sparks that fly out of its mouth when you wind it up. SUPER kid friendly.

So ya, life goes on and kids will be kids - and I'm just glad that I'm here while this one's still running around sticking his hands into toilets and playing with glass.

Blogging for something bigger than me

2007-10-15T09:41:00.000-07:00

I'm sorry guys - my posts have been few and far between and I've had so many thoughts on this, but most remain in the drafts folder, in partially written emails, in notes scribbled on gas receipts in my car. I am starting to figure out this quasi-depression I'm in - not a depression in the standard sense but the hiding from feeling the depth of what I've experienced in the last year. The willingness to ignore the truths I've discovered because I can't philosophically understand why they exist. It's getting harder and harder - I can't process such things on the page for some reason but every night my dreams unfold like one-act plays that speak directly to the 'ish' I can't seem to acknowledge during daylight. I wake up with insight I'm hiding from, only to stuff it down and go about my day, sans writing, sans reflection.

So today I let that go for a moment and recognize something that's been on my heart since I came back from Africa. I may not be able to process that experience as a whole yet - but I can tell you this. I have never been more aware of waste than living in a village sheltered by lovely rolling hills, where children die because of a lack of education and income is non-existent. People don't have money to consume the stuff of health - solid nutritional food, milk, medication. But the local bar was always bustling, and the path I walked every morning strewn with the waste of nights spent away from home trying to drown out the reality of the lives being lived. I look now at the waste in my own community - some of which is the same: the remnants of each of our attempts to escape the life we find ourselves in - whether through copious amounts of cardboard coffee cups or the butts of the day's nicotine fixes. The difference here is we simply have so many more choices. We don't have to consume the crap we do - we have infinitely more resources than in developing nations - so why are we surrounded by an equal amount of crap? In Africa, the infrastructure wasn't developed so the trash lined the streets and overflowed from the few public trash cans. Here we hide our consumption - we throw it away in neat plastic bins and a man comes to collect it once a week and it's gone from our life. But it's NOT gone from our community, from our planet. It's covered in dirt and raked over in ever expanding landfills that we hide carefully from view (or build suburbs on). It's made me sick ever since I returned - the incredible amounts of crap we consume and throw away.

I'd like to see us all do something about it.

hunger

2007-10-05T09:35:00.000-07:00

I thank God for my metabolism because my response to boredom is to eat - and not just because I'm bored, but because being bored makes me HUNGRY. Seriously, I have just finished second breakfast and my stomach is growling. How does that work? I would honestly think that having eaten a bowl of oatmeal at 6:45 and an egg, meatless sausage patty (shut it - they're divine) and some sliced tomato about 20 minutes ago would mean my stomach is primed for happy camperville. But NO, I am hungry. And bored. And waiting to hear back if I got my dream job, and contemplating how I can work my way out of my current one without losing what might be my first commission whether I get the new job or not. Somehow, being in the Bay Area has thrown my ability to bullshit myself into doing the responsible thing into the great unknown. I think I could deal with my job this summer (albeit with a lot of pissing and moaning) because everything in my life was temporary. But now I'm here, where I've wanted to be, and I'm locked up in my room making cold calls. I have a feeling this isn't going to last very long...which is a good thing. But for now, I'm still starving.

coming to you from the hiz-zay...

2007-10-03T09:21:00.001-07:00

Hi there. It's been a lot longer than I like between posts - but then again, there's been a LOT going on. So, here's the run down on the last week, leading up to my first morning waking up in my new house in the heart of hippy-ville, Berkeley CA.

Last Thursday I got an email from Rotary notifying me of my scholarship placement. I will be headed to the University of Nairobi, Kenya next September for a year of masters studies. I am incredibly excited, but it was a bit bittersweet as I had my heart set on a program in South Africa that would allow me to be near the village I worked in a few months ago. I definitely subscribe to the "everything happens for a reason" mentality, however, so I'm looking forward to how this twist in my expectations plays out. And Kenya? Glorious. I can't wait.

This past weekend the Frenchman visited (third time in a month and a half - it's almost like a normal relationship!) and we went to a wedding in Lake Tahoe. It was very fun to attempt to translate the American wedding tradition to a foreigner - apparently things are done quite differently in France. The best man was someone I had a brief fling with after I graduated from college and for the duration of the wedding I felt like a character in Sex and the City - the Frenchman on my arm and a number of awkward glances to and from the best man. I finally bucked up and said hello near the end of the wedding and enjoyed some banter back and forth. He complimented my cheekbones (random) and all was well.

Yesterday I had an early morning meeting, then drove to the Bay Area to start unloading. I'd been at my new place about an hour when I met my first neighbor, and received my first housewarming gift. This is how you know you're in Berkeley, when you've been gifted with a bottle of illegal moonshine before you've even got your bed in the door.

In the afternoon, I grabbed a brief nap, rested the calves (this is my fourth residence on the third floor) and got ready to interview for the closest thing to my dream job I have yet to encounter. It's in the realm of sustainability consulting, and I am really excited about the potential. I was terrified my moving-induced stupor would get the best of me, but I feel pretty confident about the meeting and I'm keeping my fingers crossed I get good news in the next few weeks.

The last sign I'd officially arrived in the Bay Area occurred when I was leaving the interview en route to the famous Tonga Room at the Fairfield Hotel in San Francisco. I passed a rally in support of the release of the Jenna 6 - and I knew I was home. Moonshine, opportunities and the freedom of speech - that's what my hometown is all about.

This post is, like, 5 years out of date...

2007-09-24T22:55:00.001-07:00

Why I hate "The Bachelor":

1) Women willingly putting themselves in the position to be mocked.
2) There is virtually NO ethnic diversity, and when there is, the guy still goes for the blonds or "white" brunettes. It just screams to society that in America, the picture perfect marriage is never multi-racial.
3) This guy gets to make out with EVERYONE - he's got all the choice in the world, while these women have only one - and yet they ALL fall head over heels for him. I don't get it - you show up and suddenly you're in love?
4) Whereas in real life, when you make yourself vulnerable it sometimes leads to finding the right person, on The Bachelor, it just means a lot of viewers get to laugh at you, and the beeyatch on your right can sweep in and make her move.

I'm sure this is surprising given my history with AYMW (notice the new website), but I'd like to plead my case. At least with AYMW women (and one man and one couple!) had one-on-one time with Allan. Further, I think the vast majority of us didn't go into it thinking we were going to find our soul mate - it was for fun! I get taking a chance on finding love in an unconventional way (it seems to have worked for Allan and heck, I'm dating a guy who lives in France), but I don't like that being on a reality t.v. show now dictates to beautiful and intelligent (well, a few of them appear to be intelligent) women that if a hot, wealthy guy is standing in front of you, he's destined to be your soul mate. I know that's what we all dream for - but I guess any woman who hasn't learned by now that love is just not that simple deserves whatever grief The Bachelor gives her.

Yesterday

2007-09-18T09:08:00.001-07:00

The bad news: a crashed hard drive and countless lost photos and documents (in short, my history as recorded by me...)

The good news:

I suppose everything has a silver lining. Or in this case a lovely brushed silver finish.

This Blog'in Life

2007-09-10T13:06:00.001-07:00

I find it funny that I started this blog to keep my close (but locationally distant) friends in touch with my forays into the dating world after breaking my ties as a serial monogamist once and for all. Now, though a few dear friends still check in (hi Lia! Hi Eric! Hi Cat!), the people that most frequently pop up in my comment section are virtual strangers. I love that the basis of these relationships is this space where I share sometimes random/funny/deep thoughts and experiences - and the trade off sites where all of you do the same (up the random/funny/deep!). Anyway, lately I've been excited that a few of these friendships have started to transcend our blogs. I just got off the phone with Sarah who kindly offered to give me some insight into the field of Interior Design (I'm hoping to take some intro courses soon in my never-ending attempts to find a creative outlet and create my dream job). Also, in early October, just after I move to Berkeley, James will be dropping by during his whirlwind tour of California to visit friends. He will be the first official blog-friend that I meet in real life - fun! And Peter has become much more than a faithful reader and kick-ass writer - he's now an on-call editor when I need one (if you're ever tasked with creating a non-traditional cover letter, he's your man) and sharer of maximum-awesome music.

I continue to love each of you who read and share your thoughts as I wander through this blog'in life. I haven't been the best reader these days (am picking up though) but if any of you are ever in Cali - don't hesitate to look me up!

the missing piece

2007-09-08T01:15:00.000-07:00

As summer draws to a close I am forced to face facts: this hasn't been the best of times for me. I haven't been able to put my finger on it since I've been home, but there have just been too many mood swings, too many mornings when getting out of bed has had the same appeal as licking the drain after a garbage man's shower. My parents and boyfriend have taken the brunt of it - whether dealing with my moods or accepting once again that I just don't have the emotional energy to actively participate in the phone calls that keep us sane. During my time away from home the moods have lifted. I had a blast with friends in Portland (that post never did make it up but perhaps the pictures will eventually) and Southern California, and with the Frenchman in Alabama last week. Each time I return though I'm caught off guard at how quickly the dark hole of an unidentifiable oppressor seeps back in.

Tonight I figured it out, and while I wish I could say it was due to my own soul searching and insight, it was more the result of listening to one of my cousins bring me up to date on some recent events in her life. In the process of dealing with the sort of craziness that is only born of love and family, she's had to revisit some aspects of her past that she's never laid to rest. During this process (being guided by a therapist) she was asked to identify her "safe place." Listening to her story I realized that my anger and anxiety this summer is a direct result of having lost my own safe place.

My grandparents house is on the edge of a field and sits beneath the watchful eye of Jack's Peak. There has always been a magic to this house, whether it was the smell of rose pedals as we crushed them with the ancient mortal and pestal that Grandpa had dug up, or the feel of the orange shag rug beneath our feet as my cousins and I danced to "Sunrise, Sunset," played by invisible hands on the electric organ. The walls have absorbed decades of family songs, and bear the faintest traces of generations being lulled to sleep next to a crackling fire in the living room. For as long as I can remember I credited the family this house fostered as the greatest blessing in my life. I saw how special my grandparents legacy was, how with a quick stroke of an e minor chord, we'd all chime in on Grandpa's favorite song. I have always known that not everyone has been lucky enough to know or appreciate this magic.

When my parents decided to move into my grandparents house (at that point vacant for 11 years since their deaths) I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, we were leaving another home I'd loved, on the other, I would now come home to the place I'd always identified as home in my heart. My relationship with this house revolved around the core understanding that no matter where you go, you have a place to come home to where you can regain a sense of peace. I think I've needed that more than ever coming back from South Africa, and I just haven't found it. The memories are feeling more and more like exagerated assumptions and the ties I thought this house represented appear fragmented. It's too confusing and painful to explain in depth, but perhaps recognizing this loss is the first step in overcoming the powerful sadness that has accompanied all of the daily blessings this summer that I have not been able to focus my energies on. For in times of sadness, the blessings never go away. They're there, almost taunting you to get the hell out of your clouds and back into the reality of your life. If only you knew how to make that reality feel more like home and the safe place it used to represent.

To Zen, or not to Zen?

2007-09-06T14:15:00.000-07:00

Living at home has its perks. Take, for instance, the variety of reading materials I am offered each time I use the restroom. My mom has a little basket filled with magazines and quirky books (most at least three years old) right next to the toilet. Included in the selection are a special (collectors!) edition of People Magazine's "30 Years of Seeing Stars," The World's Shortest Stories (55 words each) and an assortment of Country Living magazines and Carmel Visitor guides.

Each time I get back from a trip I find a new addition in the basket (thank God, because I've pretty much made my way through everything else, and 3-year old Country Interior schemes can only hold my attention for so long). This week it was "The Little Zen Companion" which I have been enjoying for its wisdom, and sometimes, oddity. Because while I can get behind "When you meet a master swordsman, show him your sword. When you meet a man who is not a poet, do not show him your poem," by Lin-Chi, I'm just not sure what to make of this, "so much depends upon a red wheel barrow glazed with rain water beside the white chickens." Really? Does so much depend on said wheel barrow? This bit of zen mastery comes to us from William Carlos Williams - not your typical zen master from the sound of it (I could tell you more, but his Wiki entry is just too long to be bothered with).

"I have nothing to say, I am saying it, and that is poetry." - John Cage

Some thoughts on the south

2007-08-31T08:06:00.000-07:00

My week here in t-storm riddled Alabama is coming to a close. As I sipped on my world-famous bushwhacker last night I contemplated what I'd learned about the South in my short stay, and here's what I came up with.

1) People are nice here. Even the graffiti is nice here. We went to the monstrous Flora-Bama last night and the place is more or less decorated with magic marker and people's personal tags: "I heart Joe S. 4-ever!" and "Katie and Brian on their honeymoon, 7-2-03." I kid you not, the entire bathroom, the tables, the walls, even portions of the ceiling - full of this stuff and all of it NICE. Quaint memories or odes to friendship and young love - I even found this on the stall I chose to frequent in the ladies room, "Don't worry, the perfect man is out there. Be patient - good things await!" Who, after a tub of beers and margaritas retreats to the restroom and writes that? If we were in California the ink would go something like this, "Cheryl S. is a CUNT." or "Bobby isn't a good lay, he's GAY."

2) When a band is playing in a noisy bar, people listen. There was an amazing blues band last night and a full bar - and everyone listened. In Cali, everyone would just let the band be background noise as they got progressively drunk, noisy and inappropriate.

3) People like to make friends here. A couple that was sitting to our right was approached by a guy who appeared to be a close friend. I couldn't hear what they were saying (I was too busy listening to the band) but they seemed to be catching up, having a nice visit. When he walked away, however, he extended his hand to introduce himself to the two of them - so clearly they'd just met. It just gives me a nice, warm feeling inside to see people be friendly like this.

(Please note the awesomeness of a shirt that says, "Your mom was here.")

Google Talk Dooced Me

2007-08-30T16:11:00.000-07:00

Ok, I dooced myself. FORK!!!! I managed to i.m. my boss about some travel plans this fall thinking he was my friend with the same name. DUMB. He is now convinced I am all about mixing business with pleasure (and he was already upset because he'd forgotten I'd be in Alabama this week) and my future is rather uncertain (not that anything has been certain with this job since I took it!). I feel Lame with a CAPITAL L.

When it rains, it poors (pun intended)

2007-08-29T15:03:00.000-07:00

Oh how different this summer has been than what I thought it would be. I knew that I would have some down time coming back from Africa - how can you do something that's been at the forefront of your mind and planning for months and not falter a little bit when suddenly it is over? This has simply laid the framework for a whole other round in the proverbial "what the hell am I doing with myself" saga I can't seem to get out of - no matter what I do. Let me add a disclaimer - I know this feeling is fleeting. I might get an email regarding a job or an organization I'm interested in tomorrow, and suddenly I will be back to flying high and knowing I'm on the right track. What I struggle with is having opened myself up to the options by quitting my job, following through on my trip and moving etc. etc. - I haven't yet freed myself from the fear of throwing it all away. I haven't yet managed to gain the unwaivering confidence that this too shall pass - even when I willingly go into a new situation and label it temporary. I confront over and over and over the same insecurities, the same selfish desires, the same. old. shit.

I wouldn't do it any differently. But I guess sometimes growing catches up with you - you take a first step thinking you're launching yourself into a whole new arena, when in fact its the first little step of many (too many to count) and you've no way to track how far it took you, and how far you've left to go.

On this front - please keep the job ideas/feedback coming (SarahLeigh - I need your email!) and bear with me as I continue to flounder about a bit and try and land in something other than a job that staves off the bills but not the boredom.

A challenge

2007-08-27T14:41:00.000-07:00

Ok - I have a challenge for my handful of devoted readers and favorite bloggers. My path towards finding a rewarding and manageable career continues to twist and turn. When I get down I lose the perspective I need to keep an open mind towards what I might do to support myself (and eventually, a family). While I have some long-term steps in place (grad school late next year), I am still searching for the job or tasks themselves that will make me feel like I'm doing what I am here to do, or at the very least using my skills and not wanting to shoot myself multiple times throughout the work day.

So, what do you think? What are your ideas? What jobs are out there? What sounds interesting to you? What balances wanting to help the world, but needing to live comfortably (and pay your bills!)? Any and all suggestions and insight welcome - I trust you guys!

Ok wait - I suppose I should throw some things out there to keep in mind:

1) I can't stand the site of blood (I'd be all over nursing if I could!)
2) I need to work with people in some way - working by myself drives me insane (or worse, to nap).
3) I want to feel some sort of international tie-in to my work if at all possible.
4) I'd love a flexible schedule - I fear spending your standard 8-9 hours a day at an office, sitting at a desk, just doesn't work for me.
5) I have a creative side that is just DYING to get out.

Let me know if I should throw some additional parameters out there - I don't want to be too limiting, but I am looking for my dream job afterall!

5 days in Foley

2007-08-23T23:24:00.000-07:00

So far the perks of having a darling French boyfriend have not yet included romantic strolls through the renowned city de l'amour. Nope, next stop for us is not Paris, but Foley. Alabama. That's right, the Southern Coast. A veritable dream for a Cali girl like myself...

I suppose I should withhold judgement until I go, perhaps I'm just starting to be swayed by the look of worry on every ones face when they have to ask me where I will be seeing Richard next, and Foley is my response. I don't think anyone has anything against the South, per se, but there does seem to be some concern regarding visiting the South in the summer. Or, as my mom pointed out, in the middle of hurricane season.

It won't be the first time I plan a trip to a weather-challenged local - I spent the fall of 2002 in Costa Rica during the four rainiest months of the year. That said, there were few, if any, hurricane warnings while I was there.

While we're living it up in Foley (I should explain - Richard will be there for work, I will be there for Richard, but working from the hotel for the week), we hope to find a theater showing Julie Delpy's new movie, "2 Days in Paris." I admit, I'm a bit nervous - both to see a movie that shoves the challenges of a cross cultural (and in our case, cross-continental) relationship in our face, as well as to partake in the reality of said movie later this year when my non-French speaking ass makes her way to Paris.

Wish me luck, dear readers, that I make it through the hurricanes, through the movie and eventually onto a plane that is headed to France to discover for myself what it's like to be in love in such a city. Until then, I'll think of you while I'm toasting my more immediate love reunion in the deep South:

"Enjoy sighting and photographing the many species of native wildlife. With an estuary nearby, you may spot a flycatcher, a hummingbird, a plover, or butterflies such as the Gulf Fritillary, Monarch, or Spicebush Swallowtail. This area earns its title as the “Golf” Coast with more than a dozen professionally designed golf courses." Ah...Foley.

Cuz I'm just a girl (blogger)

2007-08-21T21:39:00.000-07:00

If I had to classify myself in the blog world, I'd say I am on paper what I am in life - adventurous at heart but cautious in practice, a bit of a flirt, a very small amount rebel, sincere, sometimes witty, de vez en cuando boring (self criticism is so much easier in another language) and always, always looking for something I can't quite put my finger on. Many of the blogs I'm drawn to, and those by women especially, are the much the same (with added humor and/or insight!). I think it's the sincerity that is most important to me - both in my writing and in the blogs I read.

I bring this up because for a blogger like myself, there are an array of topics that are almost sure to be broached: love, heartbreak, family, frustrations at work, the importance of friends, what challenges us, and babies. Babies you say? But of course! What gal who is closer to thirty than she is to twenty doesn't have to address this at some point or another - whether she wants to or not?

As I read the horror stories of other single and/or childless women I tend to thank my lucky stars that I have been spared most of them. I have very few, if any, people in my life who greet me with such gems as, "Still haven't found Mr. Right?" Thanks to siblings who have blessed my parents with ten grand kids, there's no pressure from them to introduce more kidlets to the world. Enough of my friends are still childless that I don't face parties in which I'm the only one that's there for the cocktails and not Bongo the Clown. Still, baby talk does creep in in the scariest of ways from time to time. Social pressure might be bad, but biological pressure is a hell of a lot worse.

I was reminded today that regardless of whether I have found Mr. Right or not, my body may not accommodate starting a family once I finally get to a point where that's wanted or logical in any way. As much as I'd like to shout, "ya right! My mom was 37 when she had me!" it's true: your body makes this decision for you. Some women can get pregnant easily at any age, some women can't get pregnant at all, and some have a hell of a lot more chance in their twenties than they do in their thirties.

Which of the above categories do I fit into? Which do I want to fit into? In honesty, I haven't a clue. But as my future plans now include a grad program that has me graduating and ready to embark on an entirely new career at 30 - I suppose as reluctant as I am to start thinking about this, I probably should. It seems pretty premature given my naked ring finger, but it's harder and harder to ignore that whether I'm ready or not for what lays ahead, if I want to be prepared, I need to start planning. Ugh.

*Do yourself a favor and google images for "babies" - it's kind of terrifying what comes up. Also - I think the image that I chose will only be funny to people who know me in real life.

The playboy next door

2007-08-16T19:34:00.000-07:00

The room I'm staying in in my parents houses is right next to my dad's office. Each room has a door that enters our middle bathroom and are catty corner to each other, and there's another (albeit out of use) door right next to the bathroom connecting the two rooms. The multitude of doors, combined with the age of the house (50+ years) means there is very little soundproofing, and I frequently overhear my dad while he's in his office. Recent snippets have included:

"Because God knows, if things were different, I'd love to spend my life with you."

or,

"I never did get to see you naked all those years ago."

I admit, the first couple times I overheard such things I was a bit alarmed. But in truth, it's nothing to be worried about. My dad is actually writing a book, and being of poor eyesight and even poorer typing skills, he's using a software that lets him "talk" his book, rather than type it. It's entertaining, to say the least, and I admire his commitment to his writing and the process he's going through to pursue his ideas. When it comes right down to it, he's doing a much better job than I am, at the moment, of getting my ideas out there.

Today's pick-me-up

2007-08-14T22:38:00.000-07:00

It's like the classical/motown version of 'Flight of the Choncords' - do be a sport and watch until the end:

Back to Hippyland

2007-08-13T15:40:00.000-07:00

After a gorgeous week at the cabin during which only 9 of 13 of us got the stomach flu, I spent the day watching my nephew Dexter. I was called on to babysit so my brother and his wife could spend the morning at Highland hospital getting her Rabies' vaccination started. This is funny/terrifying for all sorts of reasons - the first being she was straight up bum rushed by a raccoon. Picture this - she's walking her dog, the dog corners a nearly grown baby raccoon and out of nowhere mama raccoon appears in mid-air propelling herself towards and eventually attaching herself to my sister-in-law's thigh. Interestingly enough, this did not happen at our mountain retreat (apparently the raccoons in that are have been "de-populated" by Fish and Game), but in their neighbor's front yard in Oakland. The scariest part is that though rabies is extremely unlikely, if you do get it you pretty much foam at the mouth a little, go stark raving mad and die - so the decision was made not to take any chances. For these reasons they ended up at Highland Hospital on Saturday morning - the Bay Area hospital notorious for it's (life)support over the years to the victims and perpetrators of gang warfare in East Oakland. Let's just count our blessings they didn't have to go in on a Friday or Saturday night.

After babysitting I met up with a few friends to brave the raccoon-infested streets and grab a drink nearby. We ended up at a Cato's Alehouse after my 28 year-old friend was turned away from the first place we stopped because he'd lost his ID. At Cato's we ordered cocktails - our first party foul given we were at a bar that specializes in beer, only to find out (but not really process until we tasted our drinks) that this bar uses Soju in lieu of hard liquor. With only a beer and wine license they've only recently found a way around serving hard liquor by offering Soju cocktails instead. My brother thinks this is allowed thanks to the petitions of Korean Immigrants who have ensured Soju's availability even without a liquor license for culturally relevant purposes. For the record, I support any cultural activities that result in a buzz, but I could do without the fiery hiccups this stuff gave me.

The highlight of the evening came in catching yet another bizarro snippet of conversation from a guy seated behind us. As our table reached a momentary lull in our conversation I heard his voice break the brief silence and say, "The meat always stays fresh because I know how to use a condom." Um...?

on a lighter note

2007-07-31T23:21:00.001-07:00

A few things I've heard from perfect strangers in passing lately:

"I'm hanging up. I love myself too much to be a part of this conversation any more."
(Said by a tall, bald guy walking past a Creperie in Berkeley.)

"Put that away. We don't buy toys at bookstores."
(Said by a young mom to her son at Powell's bookstore in Portland.)

"The only bush I trust is my own."
(O.k. I didn't hear this, I saw it on a bumper in Berkeley - it was just too good to pass up).

dropping the ball

2007-07-31T21:03:00.000-07:00

A few weeks ago when I wrote this I thought I'd put to rest some recent anxiety that has effectively squelched my ability to post as much as I'd like to. Unfortunately, I'm not quite past it, and while I'm constantly making notes of things I'd like to write about, or more often issues I want to try and dissect in my little blurbs - I just haven't had the energy to get much out. What I can say is that in recent weeks I've been confronting emotions that I like to think I'm better than - anger being the primary one. My mom and I were talking about anger recently and she thinks it's a very separate emotion than hurt - I find they often go hand in hand - anger's just easier to respond to when something hurtful happens.

Fortunately, life isn't lived in the blogosphere (or at least not in mine) - it's just processed here. So I know at some point I'll get back to doing just that. Until then, I'm going to my favorite place in the world next week and when I get back I'll do my best to continue romancing my history, reflect on all the growing up I've been trying to do this summer and recap my recent trip to Portland, Oregon - Kentucky Derby party and all.

Thanks for sticking with me - hope your own summer is treating you all well!

in case I can't type tomorrow

2007-07-24T22:16:00.000-07:00

Today I went to the gym for a lower body workout with my trainer.

I am leaving that first sentence in as a reminder to everyone the importance of saying what you're writing inside your head before committing it to the page.

Anyway, after said workout, I met up with my cousins and we went to a friend's house for a workout of a different kind. A workout that is one-part trendy and all-parts sexy - two things I tend to avoid (the first by choice, the second by the sheer reality of how I was made): pole dancing.

I've known this trend has been going around, and I haven't held it against people as I do the workouts that require three easy payments of $39.95 and come with fourteen free videos that so many suckers fall victim to. Still, I never thought it would be for me.

But hey, I'm in a new (albeit old) place, I need to get out of the house, I'm trying to get in shape - and I'm desperate for girl time. So red wine and pole dancing? Sign me up.

You know what? It was fun! I attempted to sit and watch and stoically drink my wine in the beginning, but after my cousin who has two metal rods fused to her entire spine (due to an insane case of scoliosis when she was in high school) started twirling around effortlessly, I had to give it a try. The great thing about pole dancing? If you have two left feet, it doesn't matter - you're feet aren't even on the ground! Sure, there are other things to hang you up - hand placement, the less-than-comfortable friction caused when tender skin meets cold metal under the entire weight of your body - but in the moments when you manage to spin around just so, you discover a grace you didn't know you had. Hell, it's more than grace - it's a sense that if a certain someone was in the room, it wouldn't matter in the least that you're wearing a sweaty sports bra and ugly running shorts.

I tell you this, I've never walked away from a weight machine with that feeling. Now I just need to see if I can handle the leg bruises that are sure to show up tomorrow, and the potential of what someone tonight referred to as "inner thigh callouses." Talk about killing the sexy.

Quite possibly the most boring post ever

2007-07-23T12:46:00.000-07:00

But I've got health insurance - yay!!!

"I hella heart Oakland"*

2007-07-19T23:45:00.000-07:00

For the past couple of weeks I've renewed my love affair with blogging, revisited my deep desire to break up with Work once and for all, and then watched it all come to a screeching halt in light of family drama that knocked the wind right out of me. Perhaps that's being too dramatic - but to be quite honest, no matter what the situation - no matter how long it has gone on, no matter how much it's to be expected - when something goes wrong in my family, it hits me to the core. Unfortunately, it hit me so hard that for the last few days I haven't wanted to write at all. This has SUCKED because for me, whenever I experience an excess of emotion - be it joy or sadness, confusion (can that be classified as an emotion?) or fear, I write. I don't write novels or poetry or deep thoughts (though I admit, I hope a few sneak in from time to time), I just pour whatever is churning around inside me onto the page in some form or another, and then I feel better. If it's happy stuff - I feel better for recognizing it, for taking the moment to commemorate a blessing. If it's bad stuff - well, it's a form of release. It's a process to get it out, reflect on it, and realize it's never as bad as I think - especially if I can in someway keep my head on straight about it - which writing seems to do.

This week, however, I haven't been able to do any of that. I've been so angry and so sad that I've just let the thoughts rage around in my head - sometimes bursting out in entirely the wrong manner (like when I broke into tears when I got my second veto from a health insurance company**, or rather, the computer program that decided in less than 30 seconds that I was not a candidate for Tonik - which is geared towards young healthy people. You know, like me). Or, going practically ballistic on my dad the one day I let him make us lunch (I've been heading up a healthy salad kick for us while my mom's been out of town) and instead of creating the perfect salad I'd dreamed up in my head with last night's salmon leftovers, he mixed them in with the salad he'd made three days before (this lettuce was not just tired, it was fucking fatigued), and ruined it. Kicking a gift horse in the mouth? You bet.

I know when I get like this, when I'm angry and sad for all the right reasons, but can't find anything but the wrong ways to get it all out, is when I need writing the most. It's taken me a few days, but I'm finally back at the page. THANK GOD.

*This is actually the subject of what will have to be my next post. I got kinda side-tracked here...

**Probably not a good thing when you're trying to explain to the insurance company that's just denied you how insignificant the low dose antidepressant you take (for which your application was denied) is in the scheme of things. "What, you can't understand me through the tears? I said I'm fine. What's my problem? WHAT'S YOUR PROBLEM!?!" No really, I'm fine.***

***Do NOT get me started on the fact that you are effectively denied coverage if you actually seek help and/or counseling during stressful times. Would this really be a healthier country if people chose not to see a counselor when marriages ended, or loved ones were lost? That's not necessarily why I went - but I sited "transitional life event" (that makes it sound like I had a sex-change doesn't it?) and apparently, you're not allowed to have had one of those within the last year to join the Tonik gang. Funny, as one of their slogans is, "Not that we've tried, but you can't walk off a broken ankle." Well you can't always walk off a broken heart either, asshats.

where I find myself

2007-07-15T00:01:00.000-07:00

There's a white sign with a red border on the side of the road. If you turn off from the east you have to cross double yellow lines, and pray for the patience of the car behind you to wait as you make your turn.

The edge of the road is lined with blackberry brambles, and from time to time you'll see a deer or a wild turkey making their way through the brush. About a hundred feet in you'll see a stack of mail boxes, the only clue that some 30 people live on this property.

Turn right and you'll pass the lumber yard office, boxed in by American trucks and hauling equipment. Up the drive you'll find the house where your sister was married, where hundreds of eggs are hidden each Spring, where you used to find garden snakes in the little metal sprinkler well on the side of the big lawn.

Up the hill is a small ring of apartments and an old oak that succumbed yesterday to the honeybees who made its' inside their home. The honeybees will be saved as their numbers are dwindling and they play a critical role in the life of the fields and orchards that sustain our valleys. This little apartment community gathered yesterday to mourn the loss of this tree, and my six year old cousin burst into tears today as he saw it laying on its' side and he reminisced about all the times he explored its branches and swung beneath its leaves.

To the left of the apartments is a horse corral and beyond its fences the field my grandfather could have bought some fifty years ago, but simply never got around to. It houses the oaks that I treasure, whose branches my generation conquered and made our own.

Make a loop around the old tree and head back to the highway and take the only right offered to you. At the top of an oak-lined driveway is the business grandpa built. The labors of a Polish immigrant whose parents encouraged him to leave his language behind and embrace his new country when he was just a boy. The business his sons still run, and which four of his grandchildren now earn their living from.

Pull into the old carport. Hear the sound your shoes make as you cross the cement and step up to the walkway between the old house and the apartment that's housed friends and family throughout the years. Catch the faint smell of Grandma's roses as they mix with the oaks on the breeze, and pass under the grape vines you took so much pleasure in when you were a child.

Open the door that has no lock, hear the latch click behind you - the same sound it has made your whole life. Step into the house and you're home.

romancing my history: a small tangent

2007-07-12T23:24:00.000-07:00

I don't know many people who credit middle school as the best years of their life, and I am no exception. Aside from my first flirtation with romance, some great T.P.ing stories and two of my best friends to this day, I left middle school with little more than a heavily bruised psyche and a desperate need for a change of pace. I convinced my parents to send me to a private school in another city (one that required driving through the Oakland ghetto to get to - it kept things interesting) and was surprised to find that many of my new classmates were people I'd met my first half of kindergarten before my family moved cities and I changed schools mid-year. I don't know if that distant connection helped me get to know people, or if it was my determination to start afresh, or perhaps it was the wicked cool plaid flannel vest and baggy jeans I'd cajoled my mom into buying before school started, but I found myself part of a tight group of friends from the get go. While we weren't the most popular kids, we were basically friends with everyone, with plenty to do, places to go, and people to crush on. Things were going great, so naturally, I got a boyfriend.

He was gorgeous. I saw him at a spirit rally and set my sites on learning everything about him. It turned out he was good friends with the two guys I'd become closest too (a shared hatred of algebra made for quick bonds and creative note passing) and suddenly we were an item (high school didn't seem to be that different to middle school in this way). But oh, there was a catch. I soon learned from his buddies (quickly becoming my closest confidants - man that can make things tricky in high school) that my new man was just that, a bonafide MAN, whose virginity had been lost the year before to a beautiful older girl. Oh, what a dilemma. I had the biggest crush on this guy, but I had yet to even fully make out with anyone (the majority of my kisses still having been done in the company of numerous girlfriends, for verifications sake, I suppose?) and now I found myself in the big league. This is not to say that he put any pressure on me - sex was nowhere near on the table, and looking back I cannot imagine the patience he had with me as I dealt with this news. The effect it had on me was to stifle any urge I might have to start acting on the ever-present high school hormones we were all juggling, as I desperately feared that I wouldn't add up, that I didn't know what I was doing, that I would be sub-par in my kissing. It is entertaining to think what a big deal this was at that time. For, just as in middle school, our makeouts (or lack thereof), were still everybody's business.

I don't even remember how long this went on for - but it was a number of months - probably close to six, in which we spent lots of time together, got to know each others' families, went snowboarding, smuggled beers up to my cabin with our friends, snuck out in the middle of the night and hung out all the time after school. And all the while, I wouldn't put out. Like, at all.

Oh how badly I feel about this now! I feel for him for putting up with it, and for me and the fear of that contact that I had. It all stemmed from insecurity - from my inexperience with how simple kissing can be, with how basic physical contact works. As soon as his history was introduced to me, I was completely unable to progress naturally in getting to know and be comfortable with him, I simply set all physicality to the side.

I had to tell this part of my relationship history, which in all its awkwardness and immaturity actually had a few moments of true sweetness - but which more importantly paved the way for my first great romance that would eventually unfold. Had I not had to face the consequences of the tension, insecurity and doubt I did in trying to make something work when I had an impenetrable wall I couldn't even define surrounding me, I don't think I would have known how to take such a wall down when I realized I was in love with his best friend two years later.

falling slowly, and slower still

2007-07-11T00:13:00.000-07:00

(Please play before continuing with this post - sometimes life just needs a soundtrack, just ask Cameron Crowe)

Every so often in the midst of life returning to wharp speed and the inevitable heart breaks and joys that ensue, you have to take a moment to think of where you've been. And when you've been half way across the world, immersed in the reality of lives so far from your own comprehension that you still can't wrap your head (or your heart) around where the differences end and the shared humanity begins, you really need to take these moments. They'll catch you off guard - the emotions, the longing, the guilt - so you just try and take it all in as it comes. You attempt to ascribe some sort of definition based on the life you find yourself back in - be it in your relationships, in the lyrics of a song that showed up at just the right time, or in the picture you've framed so you see it first thing in the morning and remember where you were. In this mess of emotions you realize there is no sorting it all out afterall, so it's time to start sharing.

You need to start sharing.

"Raise your hopeful voice you have a choice"

the first of a few

2007-07-10T10:00:00.000-07:00

I'm going to try and tell my romantic history. First, because I have one - and every day I realize that far too few women truly do. Second, because I cannot yet figure out how the romance of my past affects the reality of my today - and no matter that the people of past romances are now dear friends or lost lovers, I find myself thinking back on the purity of young love, of gifts born of creativity as funds were simply not available and expectations of more worldly items not yet dreamed up. I'm starting to rediscover that creativity on my own as I try and make a cross-continental relationship work - but it's amazing how rusty I am, when years ago such sweet-nothings came to me as effortlessly as saying "I love you." Still, I'm having fun dreaming up new ideas, and I thought it would be fun to reminisce and share some of the romantic things that have been part of my history in an effort to get these juices flowing once again.

"Let's start at the very beginning, a very good place to start..."

The scene: 6th Grade camping trip.
Me: glasses, braces, more than one jumpsuit and a very flat chest.
Him: A mop of dirty blond hair bleached on top from spending the summer sailing, a crooked grin and a blue and yellow old-school baseball jacket.

He asked one of my friends to ask me out (we'd never spoken), and after she pointed him out across the campsite I gave my response, "o.k." Thus started my first relationship, which would lead to my first kiss (in front of 6 of my closest girlfriends, just seconds before my dad pulled up in the old Colt to pick me up from school), the first kiss that made me swoon (he dipped me after the cool boys in shop class asked us to kiss in front of them) and my first true break up - which I really don't remember, to be honest. Even at the tender age of 11 though, I was beginning to understand what attraction was all about - what it meant to excite someone of the opposite sex just by being you (all pre-pubescent and bracefaced that you were).

But our story didn't end there. Fast forward to 8th grade - there have been a few boyfriends in between, my first FRENCH kiss (in front of some of the same girls), a number of disastrous middle-school girlfriend dramas and my sixth grade boyfriend and I found ourselves sharing a class and getting to know each other as real people for the first time. The year progressed, the attraction returned - but we were shy, and two of my girlfriends liked him too, so we sat on our feelings until the end of the year. But then we found ourselves at the eighth grade dance, the night upon which all of middle school came down to. I was dressed in the most ridiculous ruffled shirt my mom had bought me, (which happened to be see through - though she convinced me it was o.k. because it had a busy print and I'd bought a pretty bra in a coordinating color from the Victoria Secret catalog to go underneath - I promise I was the unlikeliest candidate to suddenly show up as a little whore-monger at the graduation dance). He was there, we both knew this night meant something to us, the end of an era we entered into together three years before, though it was only starting to make sense to us now.

The night went on, the last dance started. He grabbed me, took me to the dance floor and the moment was ours. There was no definition, nothing happened after this night, but in that moment, my heart leapt and I understood that some moments exist purely for the romance they bring.

Classic

2007-07-09T10:43:00.001-07:00

Cherry tipped me off to Corbis awhile back in one of his posts. Corbis is a stock image catalog where you can download various pictures for print/internet/media publications. I'm putting together a demo for my new job, and thought I'd check it out.

On my last search I entered "Man computer" and then, "Man using computer." Both returned the same results.

Fantastic Friday

2007-07-06T00:09:00.000-07:00

"I've got the world on a string, I'm sitting on a rainbow..."

If I were just a bit cooler, I would be showing you the following in a pdf copy of the actual letter I received tonight. I'm not (cool), so I'm retyping paragraph one (with a few geographical redactions) because I'm in no state to take on a scanner:

"Dear Megan,

Congratulations! The Rotary Ambassadorial Scholarship Committee for District [****], with the approval of District Governor [redacted], is pleased to award you an Ambassadorial Scholarship for the academic year 2008/2009. Through your hard work and dedication, you have earned this scholarship.

The selection of this year's Scholars was not easy. The committee felt that you would be an excellent representative for the United States and Rotary as you continue your education and become a part of Rotary's program to further international understanding and promote world peace."

I'll stop there, because that is pretty much all you need to know in terms of exactly how big and fat the afore mentioned rainbow I am currently sitting on is. Whenever I feel as if I can't be blessed anymore than I have, something comes along and blows me out of the water. This is by far the most exciting thing that has ever happened to me. Not only have I managed to earn support for a year of study in an African country (just which country I won't know until December - EGADS December!?!) BUT the scholarship is all about representing the ideals of Rotary - which as they say above is to promote international understanding and world peace. What an honor to do this on behalf of my country at this time in history. I am so thankful that opportunities like this exist - they give me hope, not only in my own dreams - but in the idea that as a community, as a country, as a world - we can make a difference.

Congratulations. That word has never been so sweet.

retreat

2007-07-03T23:41:00.000-07:00

There's a moment when the static of life falls away and the soul you cover up on a daily basis is raw and exposed to you, its owner. Its the energy that attracts people to you, that causes them to walk away after meeting you feeling as if a golden ticket has been passed into their hands, and yet for you it is always a bit too far off to recognize. You glimpse it sometimes through the gifts of others - a beautiful song, a well-told story, a generous heart - you're reminded of that strength inside you, the blood that courses through your veins only. The ancestry and chromosomes that combined to make you: complex, daunting, spectacular. And in that moment, perhaps brought on by fatigue, the throwing up of your hands to the chaos around you, or sometimes at the end of something - a dear friend's life even - you find that core that everyone else sees so easily. You let the tears fall, you raise a glass, you retreat to a beautiful room you've created to explore the music that swirles inside you and so rarely has a chance to come out in its purest form.

I rarely see you at these moments, rarely have a chance to hear those notes unobscured by your anxiety and self doubt. Unlike you, I always know they're there -and I find myself burdened by the resentment of such infrequent access.

Then I start to think about how I must be the same. A different chemical composition, sure - but capable of at least as much. And of course just as likely to let the static cover it all up, force others or worse, randomness - from the most infrequent of moments to the despair of loss - remind me of what's inside, remind me of what could be.

ugly

2007-07-02T21:39:00.000-07:00

I hate anger. I hate being at the receiving end of it, but I hate even more being the one to dish it out. The past few days I've revisited the cesspool that can build up inside when you're forced to watch something or someone that is out of control - be it a disease ravishing a helpless child (one of the last things to insight this sort of feeling in me), or someone disrespecting and threatening someone you hold dear (the most recent). The worst part is that somehow as you try and sort through whatever emotions these sorts of things invoke in you, you can't always do it quickly enough, or orderly enough to not affect the people around you. Throw in the general day to day complexities of life and every once in awhile it all comes hurling out in all the wrong directions. Unlike when you're sad, or stressed, and you just need a good cry to let it out and let it go - when you let out anger, it inevitably makes you feel worse in the end. And then you have to confront whether you're someone who can admit when they've made a mistake, say sorry and move on - or whether you're going to cling to that ugliness for a little longer as you try and sort it all out. Ick.

I was not cut out for phone-lovin'

2007-07-02T15:07:00.001-07:00

Now now now, don't you jump to conclusions - this is not a post about phone sex. It is a post about how hard it is to carry on a relationship over the phone. It's not awful, it's just that my unique self-diagnosed ADD and the family I now live with ("Meg, are you on the phone" (as she looks at me holding the phone? "Tell (redacted) I say hello! Is he coming for Christmas? How's France?" etc. etc. etc.) make it really hard to focus. Combine that with the language barrier (which in person is practically non-existent, but somehow over a trans-continental phone connection is glaringly obvious) and it just doesn't flow 100% of the time. And then I feel guilty because for now, this is what we have by way of communications - and while sometimes all that matters to me is that I get to hear his voice, at other times I struggle to make substance of a few minutes of trying to cram in all that a relationship in the flesh entails (again, NOT about phone sex!). I think I need to do better about setting aside specific times where I can close my door, shut off the distractions and just focus on this man who makes me melt when he looks into my eyes. I can't see them, but if I close my own eyes, I know they're there.

fear and loathing at the gym

2007-06-28T19:40:00.000-07:00

While life in general can't get much better for me right now, the one challenge I face is having moved home for the first time in at least 5 years - and the reality that of my high school friends, only one remains in the area. I didn't grow up here, I transfered to my high school my sophomore year and it was mostly a boarding school - so many of my friends never lived here in the first place. So, while I have plenty to keep myself busy with, and virtually my whole family is here, my girlfriends are not. The cute shirts I splurged on before I left SoCal in a last ditch tribute to the materialization it fostered in me hang, taunting me with my lack of places to wear them. I think if I were moving here for good I'd have a better sense of how to forge into my local community and make a life here - but given all that's up in the air I'm a bit tentative about venturing out too far.

So, I'm thinking of joining the gym. I'm working at home, so getting out of the house is even more important than it would be if I were just facing the sudden lack of social life (well it's not like my social life was kicking in Nkandla, but I had a bunch of kids to wrangle so there wasn't really any time to dwell!). The trouble is, I hate the gym. I have never been a gym goer. They make me incredibly self-conscious, and not just because of the spandex and the bodies that make what I like to think are the naturally toned arms I got from my mom look like gummy worms - I'm always afraid I'll break something. Or I'll misinterprate a machine and everyone will silently (or not silently!) laugh as I struggle to do leg curls with the tricep machine.

Still, if South Africa taught me anything it's that I better damned well take advantage of the good health I have, and do my best to respect my body and take care of it - simply because I have every resource available to do so. Plus, there's a gym literally across the street from our house, which is small and privately owned with a nice outdoor pool, a steam room and twice daily yoga classes. I think I can make it work.

Aside from joining the gym - I'd love to hear from anyone with ideas about how to meet people in a place where you really shouldn't need to. It's not like moving to a new place for the first time - I'm a bit anxious about meeting people and saying, "ya, I spent high school here but I don't really know anyone or anything about this place." I want to explore, but I can't do so through the dating scene because my heart has already settled in far-off Paris. So ya, any thoughts?

light bulb

2007-06-27T21:18:00.000-07:00

I make no bones about knowing what love is. Sure, if you look at my track record I should have a fair amount of insight - having given my heart fully and completely at one time or another to four separate men. And yet the older I get, the less I realize I know - because no matter how authentic my feelings have been, no matter how deep the love or affection we've shared - it all comes short of the understanding of love's significance that only time can bring. This is not to say that experiences while young do not encapsulate truth, it's just that time enhances this truth, gives you a deeper understanding of why such things have touched you, why you have found joy, or heart break, in the places and people that you have.

The point of this post however is not to wax poetic on the boundaries of love in time and growth, but to recognize just how thrilling it can be when you realize that with each new romance your understanding of this greatest of human emotions grows deeper. I just caught myself looking in the mirror at a certain physical feature of mine that I have long resented. I've never been someone to wallow in despair over my physical makeup - a piece of myself I have the least amount of control over in most ways - but there are definitely aspects of myself I've disliked, greatly. More than that, I've projected my own discomfort with how a certain piece of me came out on those who have given me nothing but affection and the blind desire for me, all of me, that love brings. But it is just now that I am starting to see myself through the eyes of another. Starting to let go of those intangibles I have no control over - starting to focus more on the stuff I do - the inner workings of myself that after all this time still need some tweaking. In this process, this seeing myself through the eyes of someone who loves me, I think my whole perception of love and relationships is changing. I think it comes down to this: I'm starting to believe in love again. Not that I ever gave it up, but I think I tried to fit the wrong kind of love (is there such a thing?) into my overall makeup, and thus I rarely had those moments where I could step outside of myself and see myself through the eyes of someone who was willingly giving me their heart. Whether that was my fault (as I would never blaim it on another, especially someone who I know loved me deeply) or not is neither here nor there. I just want to take this moment, this moment when the possibilities of love seem so present even though the person with whom I'm in it is so very far away, to recognize this simple fact. Love has changed me, has matured me, has broken my heart - but in the end, it is still the best feeling, the best hope, I know.

post script: As I'm sitting here spilling my guts to the blogosphere, my parents are having dinner with a friend and talking about how many people they slept with in Berkeley in the 60's (as if it's a competition). Holy shiz-net. T.f'in M.I.!

saying goodbye

2007-06-24T11:42:00.000-07:00

When everything is going right, when the hopes and dreams you have sent out into the world are starting to form into bits and pieces of true matter - this is when you realize how far behind in the whole process your heart can be. Or perhaps finding a place on a scale of life, what was and what will be, is the wrong way to look at it. Perhaps the so-called pieces of our hearts don't follow any sort of time line at all. Perhaps they cling to a time, to a place, to a person and no matter how much we advance or evolve in other areas they stay among the sediments to mark a moment in time which left to our own devices we might choose to leave behind. But there they are, in the flesh, saying sorry and taking a stand for a time when hopes and dreams were just that - mere images of a life you hoped someday to live.

There's something missing here - some insight I feel at the tip of my fingers but can't find. I guess sometimes you just have to say goodbye, and accept that you'll never really understand how this piece of yourself works at all.

She has a point

2007-06-23T13:16:00.000-07:00

Maria tagged me for this meme by recognizing I might need a break from thoughtful posts given I'm fresh back on the blogging scene but fresh off the "throwing yourself into a whole other world" scene. So, here goes:

INSTRUCTIONS: Remove the blog in the top spot from the following list and bump everyone up one place. Then add your blog to the bottom slot, like so.

A Blog of a Good Time
Classy & Fancy
[Cherry] Ride/5of9er
Airam
My so-called love life

Select five people to tag: I make it a policy not to tag people but I'd love to see Peter, Lisa, Heather, Eve and Natalie do this (I guess I'm not very principled in my policy setting).

What were you doing 10 years ago?

I spent the summer before my senior year of high school housesitting and staying with friends in the Bay Area so I could be closer to my boyfriend. I nannyed for a little girl, took ballet and got my first pager. The pager made me feel more or less like a rockstar.

What were you doing 1 year ago?

Starting my blog and stumbling blindly through the dating game which I thought I wanted to be a part of, but most often resulted in me feeling like my heart had been stepped on.

Five snacks you enjoy:

1. vanilla yoghurt and dried blueberries
2. toast with avocado, parmesan and ground pepper
3. bananas
4. banana chips
5. almonds

Five songs that you know all the lyrics to: (I'm the worst person at remembering lyrics EVER)

1. The Gambler
2. Young Love - The Judds
3. Closer to Fine - Indigo Girls
4. Paperweight - Schyler Fisk
5. Most Sara Bareilles songs

Five things you would do if you were a millionaire:

1. Erase any and all debt that I, my parents and my siblings have (GREAT ANSWER MARIA!)
2. Set up a trust or foundation for any number of my philanthropic interests
3. Set up a travel account that would generate enough on a yearly basis to send me wherever I wanted to go (and go to grad school abroad)
4. Open up savings bonds for my nieces and nephews so they won't need to worry about paying for their university education. (ANOTHER GREAT ANSWER I'M STEALING FROM MARIA)
5. Buy a house in Costa Rica

Five bad habits:

1. Procrastinating!!!!!
2. Forever 21
3. Doubt
4. Eating too much
5. Making too many lists instead of one central one

Five things you like doing:

1. Cooking
2. Traveling
3. Going to small music venues
4. Shopping (what can I say? I just do!) - especially abroad
5. Singing with my family

Five things you would never wear again:

1. Double socks
2. uncomfortable underwear
3. too heavy earrings
4. ugly pajamas
5. blond highlights

Five favorite toys:

1. Ipod
2. Surfboard
3. My boyfriend ;) (In a good way, I'm not saying he's just a toy - I mean he's fun to play with)
4. ABC.com
5. my A4 (also stealing the car answer from Maria)

just part of my makeup

2007-06-22T10:09:00.000-07:00

The last two days have been amazing. I answered a craigslist ad to make a couple hundred bucks working a two-day trade show, and ended up getting a job for the summer that I can do from home and actually make some decent money at (to fritter away on a language course at, say, the Sorbonne this fall). I also visited all my old co-workers to share about my trip, and it was nice to be back without the weight of the wrong career hanging over my shoulders! Last night I drank some wine, showed a few friends pictures and listened to my favorite South African music, feeling good about where I'm at and next steps.

So why did I wake up this morning and feel like crying? It's just how I'm made I think. With every high, there's a little low to counteract it, to keep me even keel, maybe keep my head out of the clouds. I used to question it, beat myself up for being a bit down for a day when I have no reason but to be up, up, up. But now I know - this is just how things work for me - and it doesn't make the excitement of new opportunities any less authentic, it just means I need to schedule in a little down time around high-energy times.

And hey, I'm starting to feel better already.

I missed my own blogoversary

2007-06-19T23:23:00.001-07:00

It occurred to me a few days ago that it must be somewhere around a year since I started this 'ol blog - and wouldn't you know it, it has been MORE than a year. A year and 16 days to be exact. I won't feel too silly for forgetting this given I was totally blog free until I got back on the 8th, and maybe I shouldn't even celebrate since I've taken the last few months off - but what the heck, a year's a year, right?

I'm excited because as I've said before, this is some of the only writing or journaling (if it can be called either!) that I've stuck to consistently and regularly (the last two months notwithstanding). Each time I write a post it is like a little gift I give myself, taking the space to process whatever thoughts or experience I'm in the midst of. I try not to chastise myself for whatever comes out - I try to give myself space to feel, to question, to puzzle - to lay a few chunks of my life out in the open and acknowledge that they are part of me. It's the gift that keeps on giving because when I'm lucky, these thoughts transcend solitude when they are joined by those of the dear folks who frequent this site.

I haven't quite figured out what my site is all about in blog terms. I was honored by FG's recognition of me as a "Thinking Blogger," (something I promise to follow-through on with my own award once I'm back in the blogging groove) and would like to step up my involvement with Indiebloggers. But aside from that, I don't feel a need to be categorized or fit a blogging niche. I simply love this space, love that it exists because I put it here and continues because I come to it and write. I love that it's found me a group of people I've never met (and perhaps never will) who I admire and whose own writings invite me on a daily basis into a whole spectrum of experiences that I often feel intimately connected to. At other times I'm just a spectator enjoying the variety that comes with the lives of those around you who choose to share it.

In honor of this milestone, I've collected a few of my favorite posts. Enjoy!

...you answer
A slight digression: my boobs made me do it
Tracing my neuroses
In honor of a girl who knows her heart
2006: Black jack - hit me
Contending with contentment

back to the real world

2007-06-17T17:04:00.000-07:00

I fear my post titles are going to be a bit trite for awhile. Today was the first day I've had to breathe and take it all in since I've been back, so naturally I spent most of it catching up on Brothers and Sisters online while attempting to make sense of the suitcase explosion that is my room (or rather, my roomate's room, as this is now her apartment and she moved into my old room). I'm now a bit more "ordered" with a finite to-do list, a stack of bills and mail for which I need to request an address change and a nearly complete pile of laundry to get me through my last week in SoCal. It's as if nothing, and everything, has changed.

I went out last night with some girlfriends and it took me a full two drinks to remotely start to mellow out in the sea of bar hoppers I found myself in. Granted, it's never been my scene, but I've always been able to make it work for the sake of a few laughs, some silly pictures and a night out with the girls. Trouble is, it all seems so damn pointless right now. I don't want to begrudge people the right to a good time, but it's true that once your eyes are opened to certain things, you change in ways you can't always help, and apparently my fun factor has gone down. Pretending like the world's not out there, like life is at its best in the middle of a crowded bar, just isn't an option for me right now.

Today I broke into tears watching a scene on t.v. where a soldier tells another soldier that he's going back to Iraq, and the look on the face of the one who's safely home after three tours of duty said it all - a tragic look of sadness and near hopelessness. The guilt of what's going on in my own country and the lives of people my age who are on the line - I had this sudden ephiphany that it makes as little sense as the chaos I confronted in the lives of the kids I worked with while I was gone. Such different circumstances - one the product of diplomacy and international relations, the other the effects of an ill-managed health crisis and the after effects of colonial expansion. But tangible comparisons can be made, none moreso than the bigger picture connection that this is humanity at its worst. People having to give their lives for all the wrong reasons, and the majority of their peers, countrymen or fellow humans oblivious all the while.

time marches on

2007-06-13T10:48:00.000-07:00

I have hardly had a moment to catch my breath since I've been back stateside. Most of my immediate family is in town to celebrate my parent's 30th wedding anniversary (way to hang in there folks!) and we've been to Disneyland, Legoland, the pool, the beach, thrown back a few bottles of champagne and have our last visit to Mickey today. So the unraveling of my thoughts as I re-enter what should be a more familiar world than the one I left has been interrupted by Jedi knights, Disney princesses, cannonballs (the pool kind) and more alcohol than is polite to imbibe when in the company of nuns.

My point is, this is going to take awhile. And yet I feel a sense of responsibility to be able to package my trip up in a form I can hand to people and say, "here is some nugget of truth about life and humanity - do with it what you will." Or at least something to run with, a way to continue to support the kids I worked with, or the situation in South Africa (and throughout the continent) - the mission I was so drawn to when I got involved with the Africa Project. Maybe I need to grant myself a bit of patience, let everyone who has been back home fund raising carry the torch for a bit while I get my bearings - I just don't want to drop the ball now that I've had the chance to see it all first hand.

And oh the possibilities of next steps! Some require my attention right now, before I've even had a chance to tie up loose strings from this experience. I won't complain about possibilities - because there are many, and that's a freedom I am still getting used to granting myself - but what freedom it is! At the same time - while I've been gone people have gotten pregnant, engaged, married - the lives of those I love the most are evolving in their own ways and if I choose to remove myself from the nearby again I'm sure to miss even more. It's food for thought - figuring out what's necessary, what's selfish, what's the happy medium.

In the meantime - it's nice to be surrounded by family, to have this space once again to process it all and to be enjoying the SoCal sun once again.

back

2007-06-10T07:20:00.000-07:00

Oh the posts my brain has contemplated during my absence from blogger. I hope that means that upon re-entry I'll be able to catalog these thoughts - share the insight that three months of re-directed writing (mostly in the form of my trip journals which you can read here, thought the last three aren't up yet) has brought. Let me say - it is good to be back! And, perhaps more exciting, I have a LOT to write about because my so-called love life is not so-so anymore - it's alive and well. Despite all the odds, the distance, the randomness of our meeting, the language barrier and the blank slate that is my future plans at this moment, the Frenchman and I are making it work, and his presence during my trip (at first through emails and phone calls and then in person during the final portion) was a true delight. I have so many thoughts about this to sort out - it's taken me by surprise and thus every new emotion is like a little gem I want to dissect and congratulate myself for having stumbled upon.

More on that soon, and you can also expect a fair amount of life pondering as I try to reconcile the world I just emerged from with the world I find myself back in.

-M.I.

p.s. I've missed you!

Today's the day.

2007-03-18T08:20:00.000-07:00

I don't even know where to start. The last month and a half has been a whirlwind. I left my job, hopped on more than a few planes, did my best to catch up with everyone I could and give my head some time to clear after a few years on not-quite-the-right path. It didn't end up like I thought it would - I didn't surf quite as often, didn't get through all the research I've been putting aside for when I have a bit more time - didn't figure it "all" out - whatever that means. But I did learn to breathe easier about my future, to trust that gut feeling that this is the right thing to do - and most important, I realized that this really is home for me.

On Friday night my friends indulged me in a "Karaoke to keep from crying" going away party. The vast majority of the people who carried me through the past eight and a half years were here to help send me off on this next adventure. I looked around the room and saw one of my oldest college friends and roommates - now pregnant with her first child and singing her head off alongside my best friend from high school who recently moved to L.A. Two of my absolutely favorite people, sharing one of the things that brought us together - music - and having a ball. I sang Ryan Adams and let my roommate cry on my shoulder with three of my favorite women in all the world. I smoked a cigar with my best friend Eric, and took goofy pictures with my nephew (and he gets major kudos for loading up my new ipod, which Will at the Cherry Ride has suggested you all offer suggestions on a name for. I've been thinking of calling it "button" - thoughts?). We ate cupcakes until we were blue in the face, stayed up obscenely late, and I simply reveled in being surrounded by love and people who inspire me and who I know stand behind me in this step.

The past month or so has been incredible. I've been able to soak up the SoCal sun with a carefree heart. I've had my best friend who just moved to L.A. by my side for much of it - and as I type she's busy running around doing a number of little errands for me to get me ready to leave (in an hour!) and for that, I can't say thank you enough. The time with her before I leave has been grounding - a reminder that no matter where any of us go, we always end up back together and life is that much sweeter for those moments when we can live the day to day stuff together.

I have a letter on my bureau from my roommate. I know it's filled with words of encouragement, strength, love and the stuff of a friendship that will last a lifetime. I haven't been able to read it yet - I'm saving it for the airplane. Wish me luck!

With all this, and my parents helping me move, and so many words of encouragement and excitement - it's just been blessing upon heaping blessing. I must admit - there's an increasingly thicker layer of guilt I feel for leaving this all behind. Or perhaps it's because I know there have been so many times when I've taken this all for granted. Now that the day of departure is upon me, I know that I've figured out some of the most important things to life as it's meant to be lived. Friends, family, time together - holding each other up through the big stuff (and I'm being held up in so many ways right now) - it couldn't be sweeter. I don't know what radical shift I'm about to experience - it's scary and exciting - but my foundation couldn't be stronger. Clearly I don't lack words to try and identify this - but I know I'm not doing it justice.

I've got to sign off for now - I'm going to try and get some Africa links up when I get some time in an internet cafe. For now - I should be posting here: http://www.theafricaproject.com/megansjournal.htm (will be set up in the next week or so).

Sorry for this frantic sign off - I will miss being able to read all your comments and stay up to date on your blogs - I'll have a lot of catching up to do when I get back! Until then - be blessed on your individual journeys, and thank you for being a part of mine.

my life as poultry

2007-03-13T22:36:00.000-07:00

I don't know what NVTech is - but other than that, this just about sums it up.

the tears of life lived

2007-03-09T21:40:00.000-08:00

Today was a day of sifting through things that were once a part of my daily life. I unpacked our storage area and priced about a million odds and ends for a garage sale tomorrow morning (well I wish it was a million odds and ends - even if I sold everything for a quarter I'd be in good shape!). Tonight, my roommate* helped me start loading up my room - taking all my sacred boxes of pictures and journals and art down from the top of my closet to get them ready to send on to their next resting place.

Regardless of whether you've laid your head to rest next to all these things every night for a number of years, it's usually only when you move that they get the love they deserve. I've come across letters I've cherished since high school. Journals full of teenage angst and the absolute explosive joy of first love. Artistic endeavors, friends now lost, trinkets collected around the world - all mementos I've carried from home to home to home.

I'm letting go of a few. The music box that plays "You are my sunshine" that the first (and somewhat only) boy to break my heart gave me on my birthday because it was our song - it's going in the garage sale pile. But there are some things, like the letter that my brother Todd wrote me on my 16th birthday that makes me cry just holding the envelope for all the love it holds inside, that will be packaged oh-so-carefully so that they can be stumbled upon once again when I figure out where I'll next call home and bring tears to my eyes once again.

And when that happens, there will be a whole new set of reminders of this time to accompany them. Pictures, and cards and music - the things that remind me of where I've been these last two and a half years - and the six before them - of the people who shared this time with me, the tasks I undertook - the heart aches, the celebrations, the losses and most importantly, the gains.

But the best parts - the things that transcend all these mementos I'll take with me are the voices I'll continue to hear (though sometimes now by phone), and the trips we'll continue to take, and the celebrations we'll continue to share. Because these eight and a half years have been life being lived, and you don't leave that behind - you take it with you.

*The Frenchman asked me the other day why I call her my roomate, and not by her name. What he should really ask is why I don't call her my darling dearest most wonderful friend - because that's what she is. But because that might make me sound suspiciously non-hetero, I stick with roomate, because this girl has lived with me, and trust that my point comes across :)

Deconstructing Relationships

2007-03-07T17:44:00.000-08:00

The word Relationship has two "Is" - looking at it one way each could symbolize the individuals involved. But right now I'm going to assign these Is two different definitions - imperfection, and insecurity.

As I crawl back into the world of relationships, I confront moments where I am reminded of the many facets that don't involve first dates, giggles and stolen kisses. Because along with all that fun stuff comes the reality of allowing another I-clad person into your life, and laying your own Is on the table.

Last night the Frenchman and I had a lovely meal, worked on some details for South Africa (he's going to visit at the very end of my trip) and enjoyed down town San Diego. At some point I made a joke in poor taste that ended up hurting his feelings. As I (with my head in my hands) tried to un-do what I'd done, which was to basically chide him for something that he has a lot of insecurity about, I realized that this was the first real touch of me and my imperfections meeting him and his.

As we sorted through what I'd said, and he in turn made a statement that ended up hurting my feelings (both of our actions totally unintentional and as far from malicious as could be), I realized that at some point relationships go from being surface-level and lovely by default, to deeper and lovely by virtue of really getting to know someone. Because now, in front of me, was the reality that to be with someone you have to admit to the pieces of yourself that you don't like, and accept that someone else can like you in spite of them (which was really my point in making the joke in the first place).

Nothing we were discussing was major or about deeply-seeded character traits - but this small experience did make me realize that this is where "baggage" comes up, because I was suddenly unable to imagine admitting to someone else just how far from perfect I am. I wanted to hold on to that glow I get when someone has fallen for me and I can do no wrong in their eyes. And yet that's not real, and what's more important than actually being perfect, is finding someone who you can be at peace with your imperfections with.

We both confronted this a bit last night, and I think we came out on top - our communication and care for each other remains strong - and while in the midst of it I was a bit panicked, in the end it was yet another confirmation that I'm more and more ready for the real deal. Whether this is it or not remains to be determined, but it feels real, and I know at the very least that I'm bringing the real me to the table.

This doesn't bode well...

2007-03-03T11:36:00.000-08:00

...for my upcoming HGTV appearance in May. Allan finally received a copy of the show he filmed while I was in Montreal with him. I make a very brief appearance looking quite baffled as I don't speak french and hadn't a clue what was going on. I do know at some point he made a catty comment about me not speaking French but I can't remember what his exact words were.

I thought it might be nice to share this and give an AYMW update. Allan continues to keep in touch as he makes his way around the world. I think his project has morphed quite a bit and I don't honestly think his focus is on finding a "wife" - if it ever was. I do think this experience will impact who he is and what he ultimately offers to whoever he finds or chooses to settle down with - though unless he's really kept me in the dark, I don't think that will be any time soon. Still, he's having a blast and he's come across some truly exceptional people - any one of which I think he'd probably be lucky to end up with. I'm still glad for my involvement and mini-adventure in Montreal, but looking back I realize I was primed for romance and ultimately, his project doesn't leave much room for that. Still, perhaps it helped me get to a point where I was better prepared to handle the Frenchman that's now in my life and not go overboard right off the bat. Watching this video I couldn't help but laugh that the two mini-romances I've had in the past six months were both with French speakers.

On that note, I bought a set of French language CDs at Costco the other day. If the cosmos are telling me anything, I suppose it's that it's time for me to learn the language of love, once and for all.

moments

2007-03-02T00:09:00.000-08:00

I'm behind on everything. On my to-do list, on blogging, on laundry. The only thing I can say I've been doing quite well at is taking these remaining weeks to spend time with friends - and I'm treasuring the moments I'm able to do so. It's the little things that give me that little pang in my heart - the calls from a friend who is in the neighborhood and wants to meet for coffee, the setting up a brunch date on what I know will be a sunny Sunday. Being able to see my best friend who has just moved to L.A. and simply spend the day with her. There have been concerts, and dinners, and simply wandering about with some of my favorite people - and how I will leave these, the simplest of moments, I don't know.

I didn't realize how bittersweet all of this would be. My excitement has been so big for so long in planning this adventure that I didn't realize that saying goodbye could be so hard. A few days ago my friend Josh and I were staring at a very choppy sea and contemplating surfing, and he told me he'd had a total cry fest the day before thinking about me moving. It was so touching - having a moment to realize that to someone's daily life my absence will be felt (and by the way, how awesome is a guy who can admit he cries?). How lucky am I to have someone who cares about me that much? It's these moments that I'm trying to record - to store up so I can revisit them when I need them most. Because as emotional as this week was (and it really wiped me out in a lot of ways), I have a feeling I have no idea what lies ahead.

having said goodbye

2007-02-27T11:42:00.000-08:00

I just got back from the funeral for my ex's (J) dad. It was a beautiful service - the words were profound and it was filled with love and forgiveness and celebration of life. J opened it up with two songs - he sang perfectly, I cannot imagine what kind of strength that took, and he maintained it throughout the service. A family friend gave the eulogy - a tribute to his dad's faith and the belief that he has moved on to a more peaceful place. A family friend read a letter he'd prepared before his death directed at each of his children and grand children that recognized their strengths, some of their challenges and the importance of sticking together and supporting each other as they all grow. J closed the service with some words about the last few months with his dad, what it meant to him and to the family - and read some lyrics he adapted to honor him. I was, and am, amazed at his strength.

I struggled when leaving to know whether I should go to the reception afterwards. I had the opportunity to see a number of family I haven't seen in ages at the service - and it would have been nice to have caught up a bit with each of them. But I couldn't stop crying, and I wasn't sure if J's "girlfriend" would be there or not. His sister has told me they don't really like her, and I didn't want to create a situation where she would feel any more uncomfortable than she might already (they didn't always like me when we dated - now they love me!). I only worry that his sister would think I didn't come because I had something else I needed to do (she said as much when I left the wake early yesterday to attend a dinner I had scheduled) - so I left messages for both her and his mom to send my love and hopefully convey my best wishes. I hate that it's so complicated for me to simply lend my support during this time - but I'm trying to respect the feelings of two people very important to me who likely have conflicting comfort zones. And at the same time, I'm trying to deal with my own emotions of having seen the absolute best pieces of the person I've loved most in this life, and know that he's going home with someone else.

My mom asked me if it made me second guess being apart - the only way I could respond is to say that if that was the J that I got to be with - strong and emotionally available - I could have never walked away. But somehow all those best pieces of him (and all the best pieces of me) only seem to thrive when we're apart. I can't quite wrap my hands or heart around that fact - so I'm left with the heart break that you only feel when you love someone that much, and you don't have license to show them anymore. I can send him all the messages of love that I want - but in the end, he's going through this on his own, with his new support system, and I'm just a bystander.