Chewin' the Cuds. Four.

 Hope. 

I couldn't wait until he gave me the opportunity to cuss him out.  Up until this point our relationship had never consisted enough of anything for me to really get upset.  There were rarely any promises made, therefore, no reason for me to flip out about promises not kept.  Thirteen months later and I stood in the kitchen, feasting on a glass full of ice.  I stood there, looking about the house and with every crunch I could imagine what I wanted to say to him.  "Go away," would be the last thing.  Just go so I could get on with getting over him, moving on from him, or whatever the hell it is I do.  Out of sight, out of mind right?

Yes, but you- you keep popping up!  You just apparate out of thin air on my phone, in my face, in my bed!  Its nice to know you can set aside your general disregard for me every once in a while.  And though I cannot fault you for the foolish way I lap up your text messages and dinner dates, I can however be insanely irritable about the texts you don't send or the dates you never get around to canceling. 

I guess I should feel fortunate you thought enough of me to call from the bar.

The amount of though I am giving this man is asinine.  I can more than guarantee his mind hasn't fallen on me in hours, maybe even days.  Crunching on more ice, I wonder how I got the sourpuss.  Then it hit me, as long as I kept dealing with this person I would always be the one waiting around disappointed. I made my way to my bedroom, brie and crackers in one hand, cup of ice in the other.  I like to treat myself to good food when I'm feeling this way.  Something about eating comfort food makes would make me feel defeated.  Like he's won somehow because I'm at home shoving chocolate ice cream in my mouth by the bowlful.

I closed the door with my shoulders and kicked my slippers off, shuffling over to my dresser slowly.  There, next to my mirrored tray of jewelry, my phone lay face down, charging.  Admittedly, I had to force myself not to calculate just how long I had been in the kitchen.  How many missed notifications might there be in the last twenty minutes?  About two hours before, I spazzed after realizing I had left my phone in the car.  I was already dressed by then, hair done, nails done, everything on point.  For all I knew (well, I hoped), he was downstairs calling for me to buzz him in, or that he was stuck in traffic, at the liquor store- "Champagne or Hennesey?"  But even before I slipped my shower cap over my hair and rushed downstairs, even before my foot (booted in brand new black suede) landed in the biggest puddle, I knew he hadn't called.  There was no sign of him on my screen, just every application I'd downloaded since that August. 

Its after midnight by the time I finish fluffing my pillows and spread another blanket over my bed. Christmas is right around the corner and the house will be freezing in the morning.  I set my snack in the center of the bed along with my lap top and switched off my closet light.  The candles I lit before I knew he wasn't coming flickered  and glowed brightly now that the wax had melted down thin.   I checked my email and watched True Blood re-runs by candelight. It got real late, real fast and as the credits rolled, I shook my head. 

I was less furious when I settled down to sleep, but still angry.  Angry because my best candles had burned out and my boots were ruined, but mostly because I knew if he called, when he finally decided to call, I would still answer.

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Piffle.

A friend of mine told me (advised me) to think before I post.  Write, read, then read again prior to posting.  Clearly there's some MLA format to Blogspot.  Won't lie and say I didn't resent it.  However, I did ask her opinion.  She simply gave it rather than sugar coating it.  I'm on the Metra as I think all this over and quickly jot down a list of all things sugar-coated.  "Sugar-Coated" is underlined fiercely.  In my chicken scratch, I can make out reference to a long-since passed relationship.

Truth be told you feel I am too simple and I think you may be a little too pretentious and damn you for making me feel like it was wrong to feel the way I did.  Damn you for letting me explain myself away and apologize when you almost never told me how you really felt.

Maybe, mostly, but after-the-fact, now that we're done you just judge.  However quietly, you just judge.

As long as I am writing on my own blog in my own bed, I'll write what I want!  This is an experiment (note the first installment), to keep me writing, keep my fingers moving, my mind fluid. Its more important to me right now that I get the words out at all, rather than the format they happen to spill out in.  For shame, I haven't appeased the reader.  It is a great skill (which real writers eventually seem to master), siphoning one's thoughts from behind the eyeballs down onto paper.  Its a challenge for me, but I'll combat it now by ranting and raving.  Most days, in the real world, I have to sit down and hush up.  Here, in the wee hours, I can type, say, indent, capitalize, italicize and punctuate however the hell I please. 

Far be it from me to censor anyone else.  That makes it a slightly difficult to censor myself, to edit away my own thoughts.  Honestly, I think The Ramble is indicative of anything with my name on it.  Even my senior thesis, although very good, full of interesting points, was simply very full- meaty.

But here, I can't trim away whatever emotion is fueling my fingers typing.  These days, all I seem to talk about is relationships.  Try taking some emotion out of that.  Use one less adjective with that.  I can take criticism just fine, and I guess when I asked my friend I wanted her to comment more on the conetent versus the execution.  Maybe she couldn't get past The Ramble. 

Breathe Again.

Three weeks ago I made a pact.  I promised to minimize my availability and my reliance on the people around me (especially men).  In making myself less tangible I would have to a) end all relations that were-just that- relations b) cut off my sponsor entirely and even c) do away with all those late night phone conversations I find so necessary before bed.  Something about the depth of a man's voice and mind at this hour, when you're both settled in bed- to tired to bullshit.

As much as I enjoyed my sponsor:  the expensive dinners in dimly lit downtown restaurants, surprise gifts and quiet cash flow... Said sponsor, along with empty relationships, and bedtime drunk dials all leave me entirely too vulnerable.  It puts me out there, susceptible to all sorts of unnecessary mishap and circumstance. Mess.  Admittedly, last year I vested entirely too much energy into my personal life.  Other than becoming a workaholic, there was very little work or restructure on me or my person.  I may have changed a few wigs here and there, but after a year I was still no closer to knowing what I wanted to do or needed to do for myself.

So now that it is almost 2012, I am learning to write again.  Slowly, I am teaching myself to maximize my alone time (or not maximize it), so long as I do it alone.  I spend Friday nights reading instead of seeking places to be out in, perches to see and be seen. On weeknights, I might sift through my ever-growing stack of books rather than scrolling through my text messages, deciding only after much deliberation who to call back.  Additionally, I have stopped frowning because this particular one only calls when he's drunk.

Cutting all this out-all of them out-I have created a bit of peace.  The smell of a good book helps me filter all the garbage out.  The notes of some Benny Golson song stirs the contentment in my chest and sends it rippling across my face.  This pact is going very well.  I have learned to re-enjoy my own company.  For the first time in a long time I can focus on my writing, on anything else I know I want to do.  In fact, the pact has become a regiment that I am trying my damnedest to apply to all aspects of my life.  If by sticking to this, I can create further clarity, find that ember of self motivation that I lost somewhere along the way, then perhaps I shouldn't talk to boys at all!

Syke.

All jokes aside, I feel I'm onto something here.  I have set my own pace, and can once again "keep it moving" without arms around me.  I have reminded myself that I can pick up the pieces without my girls in my ear.  And in the eleventh hour I can lull myself to sleep just fine without him "telling me something good".  Quality solo time, writing again, breathing easy, and learning again how to live with just me. 

Tied Up.

Figuring it all out is not an option. 
I've questioned myself one thousand times, but have no answers for myself. 
I have no methods, only outcomes.  Destinations.
Knowing where I wanted to be or end up has never been enough to get me there.
 I don't have quite so much trouble sticking to a path as choosing one. 

I read somewhere that because of this economic... panic, this generation is more likely to feel lost then any other.  More so than the labeled "Lost Generation" of the 1920's, I'm assuming, but then again they had money.We've been reared on a formula, an expectation that if you go to school, work hard and graduate with this GPA, you land a job and live happily ever after.  Ten years later and here we are bumbling around with this fualty formula in the unemployment line!  Or worse, back in school going further into debt trying to prep ourselves for the Career B.   

To stay sane I have become a workaholic.  My version of retail therapy: If I work enough hours at a job I hate I can distract myself from hammering my way out of this mess.  Working, I can fool myself into thinking I'm not moving forward, that I'm not stuck.  Every day customers come in my store, purchase, then continue on with their lives (in the next store).  I hand them their receipt over the counter and I am quite literally stuck in the store as they hurriedly walk out of it, bag in hand.  "Have a nice day!" I call out after them. Sometimes they're in such a hurry to get on with their lives they don't even hear me.  So not only am I stuck, but I'm stuck, talking to myself.

I like to wear my sunglasses at work.  Most times I wear them until I've put some make up on, or until my tired eyes stop looking so tired.  Other days I wear them all day so people can't see me when I close my eyes and count backwards from 12 to keep myself from strangling them.  The most depressing thing about my job is that I'm smarter than all my customers.  And I mean all of them.  If there is one thing this industry has taught me, its that people never really know what it is they want.  You can talk them into just about anything else.

I like lists too.  Every day I make out at least one for groceries, a budget allocating all of next weeks paycheck, all of the statement pieces I feel that I need in my closet.  Last month I itemized my entire monthly budget- all the way down to the last tampon.  I found that after everything (including 150 in savings and several bills ) I should have around 200 remaining dollars.  Where this remainder actually is or goes, I have yet to discover.  Something about writing it all down, figuring out all I need to do gives me some sense of control over my life.  If I can just get it all down on paper (not actually even accomplishing any of it), I suddenly feel so much better.  Its a release when I actually do cross something off the list because I can  look at my self in the mirror and say, "I did what I needed to do.  I've been Pro-Duc-Tive."  You ever have anyone say that to you? You ask them, "How was your day?'  and they answer "Productive."  Well, hon, what does that mean exactly?  Productive as in you did something or productive as in your did something that actually matters.  For instance, did you productively use your time improving the life of someone else, or even your own?  Or is it that you just finally remembered to pick up your dry cleaning or get an extra set of shot glasses for the house?

Little victories.  It has all boiled down trivial battles won throughout the day.  I cleaned my room- 3 Points.  Paid a bill on time: 10 Points.  Sent in a resume:  Points Pending... 

Eventually I hope, I pray to find motivation again. To wake up with not just desires, but optimism and gumption as well.  For the time being I've lost it, and I cannot wholeheartedly blame it on any recession or a poor choice in study.  I'd love to be the girl who makes it happen instead of the sales girl who makes lists.  Survival is cool, but the key is to thrive. 

Cinco de Mayo as a bust.

Yes, yes yes... it has been quite a while since I have posted. Forgive me, honestly, I don't have shit to say. Its May 2011 and here I am, back in transition. This new job is a blessing, but everyday I walk in I feel so blown. I started fighting tooth and nail for a position in my field or at the very least, something interesting. Eight months later... well it could always be worse. Actually it could be a lot worse and I have to remind myself not be so caught up in everything that's not working out exactly the way I planned. Patience as you all know, is not my strong suit, but I am actively trying to change that. I'm trying to teach myself that being content and optimistic is not the same as being complacent and oblivious. So I'm taking a breather, I won't be rushing things- for the time being.

But honestly...

I'm fucking bored. I blame it entirely on my location though. Really, I think I already covered the fact that I live in No-Man's Land. Farmers' markets and Wal-Mart grand openings are all that makes headlines out here. Which is fine! When it comes to cheap wine and Ethnic hair products, I love Wal-Mart. Nevertheless, there is no trip to Wal-Mart long enough to distract me from how idle I feel. I'm moving, but I feel like I'm not going anywhere. I'm treading freaking water here! Thrashing arms and legs back and forth, for what? Just to stay afloat. Don't feel like I'm making any progress here, the island isn't getting any closer!

Thoughts and prayers are with my home town. Much love to all of Japan, and to all my fellow navy brats.  

- YOKOSUKA NAVAL BASE, Japan 1993-1999

tlc take our time

Anticipation of the Physical: Based on True Events.

A PREVIEW:

After our conversation last night I found myself wondering: Should I have promised you anything?

In that instance, just a few moments again I was decidedly excited about the prospect of laying with you. In fact, I can almost ensure myself myself of how good you'll be, how loudly I'll whimper and how tightly I'll cling to you.

However, like a bad double date, I feel like I have sucked all the air out of this, like you have already planned everything out to the 'T'. You're expecting it now. You know its coming because our special night has been manhandled. I chide myself, but you are so cute. Your gleaming smile has permeated through to my brain . You're playful and sexy and I've fouled up your impression of me. Its one thing when you think you're gonna get it, its another when you know...

[more to come]

Lady Says...

Check The Shop. for Spring/Summer Fashion Show videos:

Christina Dior
Bebe
Michael Kors


More to come...

Pink - One Foot Wrong - Live in Australia DVD - Funhouse Tour

I have loved this song for a long while, but today... its like this lady is a friend of mine from way back.

Chewin the cuds. Three.

Josephine.

A lot of the time I close my eyes. Almost every day, I hold my own head in my hands. Sorrowful is my voice. Melancholy is my mood. I sit quietly and I stare out, mulling things over, seeking answers for which I do not have the right questions.

I haven't been hungry for days. Don't want to see anybody. If I spoke now my voice would crack. Silence is the only thing keeping me together now and I won't shatter that little bit of tension keeping me sane. It is an awful thing, after a while, having to sit with yourself when you can't stand yourself, when you have been your only comfort. I sit quietly, close my eyes, mulling things over, seeking answers for which I ask the wrong questions.

The other day, laying in bed. I stroked my own hair. I wiped away my own tears; whispered words of encouragement into the pillow to keep myself from sobbing.

"I just want a window seat...
Don't want nobody next to me..."**

After a while, I don't seek comfort, don't desire company, advice, or motivation. What good is motivation when complacency has set in? Just the other day, when the sun had set I poured myself a drink. And before I could finish it I poured myself another. And before I finished that I poured myself another, and poured myself another until the bottle was gone. Drunk, I lay with my hand on head rubbing the bridge of my nose with my little finger. Something starts to pull at the corners of my mouth and at the back of my eyes, starts to quake my hands as I reach for the light.

Alone in the dark I swallow and swallow again because I just can't breathe. The silence is suddenly overwhelming and as I pull myself into a ball I feel that tug on my mouth, at the corner of my lips, the back of my eyes and my lash-line. And I wonder, if despair has come calling? Or is it Defeat soothing me now as I drift off into fretful sleep? What do I do, I have asked in prayer, what else can I do? But true answers require a bit of hope and Defeat made sure I'll never hear them. I just want to sleep now. I'll just sleep. Let me sleep.

"I just want a chance to fly, a chance to cry and along bye-bye..."

**Lyrics: E. Badu, "Window Seat"

In the Company of Myself.

Its a shiver. Its a shiver and a raw feeling in the center of your stomach. There is an echo about the world- everyone else and their happiness, amplified all around you.

Lonely can be cold. Its monotonous: everyday tasks are frustrating because you are doing them alone. Lonely sets in in slow motion and most times you hardly even notice until you stop moving. Like when you have settled into bed, finally comfortable, just about to does off and suddenly having to pee- it wakes you up, keeps you up.

You have cooked and eaten dinner, cleaned the kitchen, changed the sheets and for what? You are alone in the dark and to make matters worse, you're wide awake, thinking about it.

At one time I was pretty good at being alone. I cherished sundown, long hot showers in solitude, and only the hum of the fan while I slept. However now I in a new predicament: can't quite seem to make dinner for one. Can't quite seem to warm the sheets fast enough. I have to stay busy. There is no doing nothing when you are lonely. Incidentally enough, Lonely (for me) is a productive place to be.

You clean and work overtime, watch bad TV, clean, buy shit you cannot afford, clean- anything to keep your mind from drifting, from longing. Because the minute you stop moving, the minute you sit down or lay down in silence, Lonely is all you can think about.

Your whole fucking house is sparkling clean and your closet is now bursting at the seams, but you still can't sleep.

Damn Him.
Or damn Her- whoever it was that once got underneath your skin, in your head, in your pants...

Its more than just horny, more than just bored- Lonely is like hunger. It nags and it grows and it makes your stomach, head, eyes and hair hurt. I just need somebody to to feed me, you say. Feed me.

Lonely- that's that place I do not want to be. I'll fight it tooth-and-nail. Fuck you Lonely, fuck that kind of misery.

Its a shiver no blanket can warm, with the pains of hunger and desire where chocolate is no substitute for kissing. That is that place I do not want to be. I will fight it tooth-and-nail. I'll say fuck you Lonely. I'll fight you, I would fight you...

if I could just get to sleep.

Outsiders Perspective: Is it valuable?

How clear is our perspective as outsiders? Is it really that we don't see the personal drama between a couple, that we're blind to the important factors. Or is it that we see passed the bullshit? Don't we see them at their best?

Probably not. There's a reason its called "between me and you". Because we all know that everyone knowing your business only results in more opinions which always leads to more confusion than any real solutions.

However isn't it important for us to step outside of ourselves if only for a moment and acknowledge what everyone else may see. Often it is so difficult for us to look beyond ourselves. Especially women. We spend so much time solidifying our standards and values that we get stubborn.

Relationshsips are clearly more than just sex or pleasant conversation or someone to go out with. Relationships (real realtionships) are fucking work. At some point there has to be some recognition that you are dealing with another preson, another human being. With thoughts and feeling and wants and (most importantly) fears. How dare you put your foot down! How dare you not consider these things. You wouldn't engage any other animal without knowing something about it first, without respecting it. So why not your significant other who is equal to you (hopefully) in intelligence.

Tread carefully.

Relationships are work and anyone who tells you different is lying to you.More than likely you are in a relationship because you want to be, not because you have to be. Remember that you can always bounce. You can always forfeit. Its the staying that's hard. Its recognizing and deciding that you are willing to fight for this person. Even if that means going toe to toe with their drama, maybe even their insecurities. Even if it means combating with your own insecurities.

I mean honestly- realistically- who want to be easily won? Most people (at least all my readers) want to feel some type of value. A woman likes when her man sees her as something he's earned, regadrs her as a hard-won prize. Not in the shallow sense of course, but in the sense that she was worth the fight.

Having survived the fight, isn't it a valuable moment when you take your relationship and analyze the full picture. Is the potential of "me and you" worth the pain? Is there potential? These are important questions that require you to be somehwhat objective. Can you really just decide, I don't need this shit or should you wait it out? How long do you wait it out? Do you keep looking for the light at the end of the tunnel?

Meh?

Honestly, I don't freaking know. You lookin' for advice? Came to the wrong site honey...

Lady Says...

Happy Happy New Year and thanks again (as always) for being so patient with me. Just returning from vacation, a long road trip and a dying MP3 player left me with ample time to think. After mulling things over, I think I have finally combated my 3-year block.

New installments coming soon:

Decidedly Diva.
Black Gold.
He Used to Love Me.
In the company of Myself.
Stag.
Rebound Panties.
Trepidations: Internal Affairs.
Porn Star Theory.

Stay with me,

C.

When We Dance.

When we dance-
Damn it feels so good to take these shoes off
They're suede and patent leather and make me stand up straight

When we dance
I close my eyes and I breathe you in. Dancing with you
Its so familiar that closing my eyes now, I can smell you
Can recall the faintest bit of our cologne
light scratch of your beard

When we dance
For once, for real, I can let you lead
I can trust you completely and almost predict your next move
You guide me close then spin me away
But you never let go

When we dance you put me on display
You always could put on a show, but half the time I barely know what I'm doing
Somehow, somehow, when we dance, I look good
Everyone's watching. They're watching. They're whispering.
We're flawless

You move not only to the beat, but to the words as well
Your incredible body finds the mood of the music and the heart of every song so
When we dance
We're flawless

When we dance you create circles around us
I fix my hands in yours or around your shoulders and I'm locked into a very private embrace,
a separate space even
With my head resting on your shoulder I can only feel it when you're smiling
I cherish your arms, your fingers that press into the small of my back
That reassure my steps

When we dance
I'm alright
I'm yours
I believe you
I want you

When we dance
you can convince me of anything
Ask me
Ask me again
This time I'll go.

Hazardous.

Its nights like this that I want someone close to me.
Quiet nights, when you've done everything you need to do
so there's nothing on your mind, nothing weighing on your shoulders
Its cold outside, but its warm where I am and yet
And yet I know how much warmer it would be if I wasn't alone

I'm settled against my pillows
Laptop nestled and warming my thighs
Nothing negative on my mind so I look to the left
and think who out of the line up would I want with me
Who exactly am I craving tonight?
Close to me, right now. Here, where its warm and quiet
Where the fan is blowing soft overhead

Fiddling with Pandora and Youtube I set myself into a mood
All my favorite songs
Those Evening songs
Melodies that get you wishing you'd invited him over
Beats that make you smile, riffs that remind you
Remind you of past evenings
With good company

The point in the evening when all you can do is close your eyes and listen
Listening and hoping that someone will finally do everything Trey, Jamie, and Drake are saying they would
I find myself regretting playing any of this music, reading a love story, taking a hot bath
I should have showered and only checked my email before bed

My bedroom is suggestive, like any of these slow songs
These 'End of the Night' songs
These 'I have twenty seconds to find him again and take him home' songs
Suggestive like anything He may have said over the phone
Its quiet, nothings on my mind, nothing weighing on me
Just this soft nagging in the pit of my stomach and
the tips of my fingers
for skin to touch
a face to caress and ears to tease