As all my nearests & dearests know- I do not do much of talking on the phone. I'm a texter or a social-networker....
I don't know if I have ever been much of a phone-talker. Maybe once in awhile. But I am definitely not now. And maybe I won't ever be. On the rare occasion I will have a long conversation & actually enjoy it- but that is NOT the norm.
I have issues with phonecalls.
I have been in emotionally abusive relationships that have been UNHEALTHY for me- and one of the triggers of taking me back to that dark place in my life is when people expect me to answer my motherfucking phone. Especially men. There are a VERY select few that I will answer when they call. I have had people who are really obsessive & even when I try to make clear boundaries- they ignore & continue to try to press into my life. I DO NOT LIKE THIS. I feel like I am suffocated & strangled.
WHAT THE FUCK IS UP WITH ALL THE GOD-DAMNED PEOPLE WHO TRY TO SUFFOCATE ME?!?!?!?! MY LIFE IS NOT A SNUFF-FILM!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I need a punching bag. And I need to work out more of my seething hate & anger. I am most angry at myself for getting through this much of my life & just figuring out how to start standing up for myself & not let myself get bullied into situations. It took almost dying to figure this out. NEVER AGAIN.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Friday, July 1, 2011
Chocolate-Caramel Croissant Pudding
Ok. So I have a total non-sexual total-sensual foodie crush on Nigella Lawson. I'm not afraid to admit this as fact. Hah! I was elevating my leg yesterday to help decrease the swelling in my ankle & decided to see what the Cooking Channel had to offer me by ways of entertainment. Nigella was on- ahhh serendipity! ;)
The episode had lots of yummy offerings, but truth be told- I was most interested in the dessert- the Bourban-Caramel Croissant Pudding. I got online to print out the recipe. (as follows)
CARAMEL CROISSANT PUDDING
2 stale croissants
1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons water
1/2 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons bourbon
1/2 cup whole milk
2 eggs, beaten
Directions : Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
Tear the croissants into pieces and put in a small gratin dish; I use a cast iron oval with a capacity of about 500ml/ 2 cups for this.
Put the sugar and water into a saucepan, and swirl around to help dissolve the sugar before putting the saucepan on the hob over medium to high heat. Caramelize the sugar and water mixture by letting it bubble away until it all turns a deep amber colour; this will take 3 to 5 minutes. Keep looking but don’t be too timid.
Take the pan off the heat and add the cream - ignoring all spluttering - followed by the bourbon and milk. Whisk to mix, then still whisking add the beaten eggs. Pour this quickly over the croissants and leave to steep for 10 minutes.
Place in the preheated oven for 20 minutes and prepare to swoon.
I clicked on "related recipes" & found a variation that Ina Garten had posted (she is the one who heads up Barefoot Contessa). Her recipe was similar, but seemed included chocolate & the sauce was more custard-like. I decided to take the addition of chocolate & add it to Nigella's recipe. I also was making a bigger batch. Here's how I changed the recipe:
Tanya's Chocolatey Bourban-Caramel Croissant Pudding
Croissants (I found a bag of mini croissants at a local bakery - i used them all & broke them into smaller pieces)
1 cup sugar (i used 1/2 light brown sugar & 1/2 white)
1/3 c water
1.5 c Half & Half
1/2 c bourbon
1 cup skim milk
4 eggs, beaten
3/4 c chocolate chips
I followed Nigella's directions almost exactly- however the 1st batch of caramel sauce I cooked too long & ended up with rock-candy in the saucepan. Total fail. *And I hope after soaking it over night I am able to salvage the pan... The 2nd batch I cooked much less time (only 2 minutes after bringing it up to a boil) -I didn't get to the caramel stage, but I figured it would be baking so I went with it. Because I made a much bigger batch, it didn't get done in only 20 minutes- I baked it in a lightly buttered stoneware pan (the deepdish baker one) - and it took 38-40 minutes. The bourban smelled really overpowering when I took it out of the oven (once it looked set & didn't have pools of melty chocolate-custard all over). I was nervous that I put way too much bourban. Once it cooled, I dusted w/ powdered sugar- and I tasted some. DELISH! It is good on it's own & especially good w/ the ripe strawberries I sliced with it!
The episode had lots of yummy offerings, but truth be told- I was most interested in the dessert- the Bourban-Caramel Croissant Pudding. I got online to print out the recipe. (as follows)
CARAMEL CROISSANT PUDDING
2 stale croissants
1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons water
1/2 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons bourbon
1/2 cup whole milk
2 eggs, beaten
Directions : Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
Tear the croissants into pieces and put in a small gratin dish; I use a cast iron oval with a capacity of about 500ml/ 2 cups for this.
Put the sugar and water into a saucepan, and swirl around to help dissolve the sugar before putting the saucepan on the hob over medium to high heat. Caramelize the sugar and water mixture by letting it bubble away until it all turns a deep amber colour; this will take 3 to 5 minutes. Keep looking but don’t be too timid.
Take the pan off the heat and add the cream - ignoring all spluttering - followed by the bourbon and milk. Whisk to mix, then still whisking add the beaten eggs. Pour this quickly over the croissants and leave to steep for 10 minutes.
Place in the preheated oven for 20 minutes and prepare to swoon.
I clicked on "related recipes" & found a variation that Ina Garten had posted (she is the one who heads up Barefoot Contessa). Her recipe was similar, but seemed included chocolate & the sauce was more custard-like. I decided to take the addition of chocolate & add it to Nigella's recipe. I also was making a bigger batch. Here's how I changed the recipe:
Tanya's Chocolatey Bourban-Caramel Croissant Pudding
Croissants (I found a bag of mini croissants at a local bakery - i used them all & broke them into smaller pieces)
1 cup sugar (i used 1/2 light brown sugar & 1/2 white)
1/3 c water
1.5 c Half & Half
1/2 c bourbon
1 cup skim milk
4 eggs, beaten
3/4 c chocolate chips
I followed Nigella's directions almost exactly- however the 1st batch of caramel sauce I cooked too long & ended up with rock-candy in the saucepan. Total fail. *And I hope after soaking it over night I am able to salvage the pan... The 2nd batch I cooked much less time (only 2 minutes after bringing it up to a boil) -I didn't get to the caramel stage, but I figured it would be baking so I went with it. Because I made a much bigger batch, it didn't get done in only 20 minutes- I baked it in a lightly buttered stoneware pan (the deepdish baker one) - and it took 38-40 minutes. The bourban smelled really overpowering when I took it out of the oven (once it looked set & didn't have pools of melty chocolate-custard all over). I was nervous that I put way too much bourban. Once it cooled, I dusted w/ powdered sugar- and I tasted some. DELISH! It is good on it's own & especially good w/ the ripe strawberries I sliced with it!
Monday, June 20, 2011
God still loves me. Even though I currently have bright green hair...
After a day to process what was suggested to me yesterday, I am calm enough to not be a bitch & post anything that would piss anyone off, but rather post a note that implores anyone reading this to perhaps explain what may have been meant by what was said to me...
Old friends of the family (a married couple) stopped by to say hello & see how we were all doing. The husband was sweet as always & complimented me on how great I look- green hair & all... The wife, who had just learned from my mother, that I was having a bunch of complications with my ankle asked me straight off the bat if I had green hair when I had my surgery (like somehow that would excuse my surgeon from not doing his job properly). She then told me the root of my problems was unforgiveness.
I gently reminded her that I was a nurse & know how some things work around the healthcare system, and felt that no matter what color my hair was, that should not cause my orthopedic surgeon to do a half-ass job & continue to ignore the problems I was having. I also pointed out that my hair was not green. However, I did not tell her my hair was blue at the time of my surgery. Through out the conversation, she kept looking at me disapprovingly (perhaps not- perhaps her face is just a scrunchy unhappy face. maybe I shouldn't be so judgemental of her face...). I had greeted her with a hug, and I think being hugged by such a freak scared her. (I'm really not a freak- sometimes I even forget my hair is a bright color that isn't in the "normal range"...)
She pointed out that diseases are linked to unforgiveness. I can buy this to a certain point. However, my ankle problems stem from a chunk of bone that is jammed up in the joint... The pain is valid, and not necessarily because I haven't forgiven the surgeon who failed to notice it or even listen to my complaints of pain...
Perhaps my unforgiveness is not for the surgeon- but for those who have done me wrong. Ok. I can even buy that. But I do not think God would continue punishing me. I am REALLY working on forgiving all the motherfuckers who have wronged me. If I am working on truly forgiving this people, why would God continue plaguing me with problems?
I do believe that there is a spiritual component to total wellness. But I think as long as we are working on our troubles & attempting to live a more loving & peaceful life, we will continue to see things around us improve. I really do not believe God is using me as a punching bag... Right? Although, sometimes I do question why I am being put through the trials & tribulations time & time again, when others who are BAD get to skip through life footloose & fancy-free. Hmmmmm.
As I was listening to her go on about forgiveness & disease processes (i didn't have the heart to tell her my ankle wasn't from disease- it was because I fell & broke it -oh wait, forgive me, perhaps God was pushing me down???) I noticed that she must be close to 60 yrs old. She didn't have a single gray hair on her head. Either she plucked out the gray, or God was really giving her a youthful look by keeping her hair blonde. I was tempted to ask for her hair stylist's number. I think she might be dying her hair. So what makes my green hair so devilish, when she is just as much of a poser? How is she better than me? Why is it my sin she is trying to figure out??? And how dare she try to judge me when she has NO idea what i have been through & what has happened to me? What a unloving bitch. *sigh*
What happened to the law of love?
Word up yo, here's the lowdown- Jesus was good friends w/ Mary Magdalene. She was the town prostitute. Jesus loved her for who she was, and offered a better life through love & kindness. I don't think he wants all of us to be hookers, but he isn't going to shun us away for having sin in our life. No one is perfect.
So once again, I do not think that God thinks I'm a bad person for having green hair. I think God loves me. I also think "God" isn't someone we can put in a box. But that is another rant for another day.
Old friends of the family (a married couple) stopped by to say hello & see how we were all doing. The husband was sweet as always & complimented me on how great I look- green hair & all... The wife, who had just learned from my mother, that I was having a bunch of complications with my ankle asked me straight off the bat if I had green hair when I had my surgery (like somehow that would excuse my surgeon from not doing his job properly). She then told me the root of my problems was unforgiveness.
I gently reminded her that I was a nurse & know how some things work around the healthcare system, and felt that no matter what color my hair was, that should not cause my orthopedic surgeon to do a half-ass job & continue to ignore the problems I was having. I also pointed out that my hair was not green. However, I did not tell her my hair was blue at the time of my surgery. Through out the conversation, she kept looking at me disapprovingly (perhaps not- perhaps her face is just a scrunchy unhappy face. maybe I shouldn't be so judgemental of her face...). I had greeted her with a hug, and I think being hugged by such a freak scared her. (I'm really not a freak- sometimes I even forget my hair is a bright color that isn't in the "normal range"...)
She pointed out that diseases are linked to unforgiveness. I can buy this to a certain point. However, my ankle problems stem from a chunk of bone that is jammed up in the joint... The pain is valid, and not necessarily because I haven't forgiven the surgeon who failed to notice it or even listen to my complaints of pain...
Perhaps my unforgiveness is not for the surgeon- but for those who have done me wrong. Ok. I can even buy that. But I do not think God would continue punishing me. I am REALLY working on forgiving all the motherfuckers who have wronged me. If I am working on truly forgiving this people, why would God continue plaguing me with problems?
I do believe that there is a spiritual component to total wellness. But I think as long as we are working on our troubles & attempting to live a more loving & peaceful life, we will continue to see things around us improve. I really do not believe God is using me as a punching bag... Right? Although, sometimes I do question why I am being put through the trials & tribulations time & time again, when others who are BAD get to skip through life footloose & fancy-free. Hmmmmm.
As I was listening to her go on about forgiveness & disease processes (i didn't have the heart to tell her my ankle wasn't from disease- it was because I fell & broke it -oh wait, forgive me, perhaps God was pushing me down???) I noticed that she must be close to 60 yrs old. She didn't have a single gray hair on her head. Either she plucked out the gray, or God was really giving her a youthful look by keeping her hair blonde. I was tempted to ask for her hair stylist's number. I think she might be dying her hair. So what makes my green hair so devilish, when she is just as much of a poser? How is she better than me? Why is it my sin she is trying to figure out??? And how dare she try to judge me when she has NO idea what i have been through & what has happened to me? What a unloving bitch. *sigh*
What happened to the law of love?
Word up yo, here's the lowdown- Jesus was good friends w/ Mary Magdalene. She was the town prostitute. Jesus loved her for who she was, and offered a better life through love & kindness. I don't think he wants all of us to be hookers, but he isn't going to shun us away for having sin in our life. No one is perfect.
So once again, I do not think that God thinks I'm a bad person for having green hair. I think God loves me. I also think "God" isn't someone we can put in a box. But that is another rant for another day.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
July 14, 2010 Demons of Dispair.... Rated H.............
hmmmmmmmmmm
i've been thinking alot lately. about everything.
i've been really depressed. have had moments that i have seriously wanted to throw in the towel & scream out the last of the last. i've wanted to give up or run away.
i can't run away anymore. i just can't. i need to start facing this POISON that is deeply encapsulated in my soul.
i'm rated h.
i have so much hatred & hurt & heartache. i've been hoodwinked. i'm in the throws of hard knocks.
i'd love to say i'm "hunkydory" - or however it is spelled. but i honestly can not.
i wear my smile on my face. i put up a brave front so people don't have to see my sadness & despair.
i need to start doing my MPs (i have gotten myself into such a rut of despair that I have neglected my own healing process).
i keep replaying the times back in my head. i get sick. i feel sick. i am sick.
how much can i post on a social network that won't end up adding up to more demise? i feel like if i was to just get all of *this* out of me, i would feel relieved. exhausted on many levels, but relieved overall.
and perhaps someone else could be helped because they would not feel so alone.
i've felt so alone.
i think part of my problem also, is that i isolate.
i feel this heartache, hate & hurt & i turn help away. i make myself helpless. hapless. never happy. just painted happy on the outside.
moments of happy happen. for that i am grateful. but i keep returning to the playbacks of what went dreadfully wrong.
i remember specific times that i had lost control of the situations that had seemed pretty harmless & carefree. then all of a sudden they turned into these times of terror.
pushed into the floor.
stop.
dress lifted off.
stop.
shirt ripped off.
stop.
window kicked in.
stop.
face shoved down.
stop.
hands tied up.
stop.
.............................................
blackouts.
blackouts.
blackouts.
blackouts.
numb.
ugly. never good enough. can't look at my own reflection without wanting to die. ugly. clearance rack girl. never good enough for anyone other than a bargain hunter who wants a better deal for finding an extra rip or tear. marking it up a bit more before checking out. make it cheaper. better deal. ugly. discarded. back of the closet. no one wants it anyways. trash.
goodgirl bad.
misunderstood.
sick & sad. painted pretty.
i can't take a compliment gracefully. sometimes i get rageful when i hear nice things said about me. i want to tear at my flesh & scream. i have to get this poison out.
i don't want to run away to be numb anymore. i want to cut out this poison. i want to free myself from these demons of my past. i want to learn to forgive. maybe i will never forget, but i want to be able to forgive myself. i need to start loving myself. i have to heal.
hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
i've been thinking alot lately. about everything.
i've been really depressed. have had moments that i have seriously wanted to throw in the towel & scream out the last of the last. i've wanted to give up or run away.
i can't run away anymore. i just can't. i need to start facing this POISON that is deeply encapsulated in my soul.
i'm rated h.
i have so much hatred & hurt & heartache. i've been hoodwinked. i'm in the throws of hard knocks.
i'd love to say i'm "hunkydory" - or however it is spelled. but i honestly can not.
i wear my smile on my face. i put up a brave front so people don't have to see my sadness & despair.
i need to start doing my MPs (i have gotten myself into such a rut of despair that I have neglected my own healing process).
i keep replaying the times back in my head. i get sick. i feel sick. i am sick.
how much can i post on a social network that won't end up adding up to more demise? i feel like if i was to just get all of *this* out of me, i would feel relieved. exhausted on many levels, but relieved overall.
and perhaps someone else could be helped because they would not feel so alone.
i've felt so alone.
i think part of my problem also, is that i isolate.
i feel this heartache, hate & hurt & i turn help away. i make myself helpless. hapless. never happy. just painted happy on the outside.
moments of happy happen. for that i am grateful. but i keep returning to the playbacks of what went dreadfully wrong.
i remember specific times that i had lost control of the situations that had seemed pretty harmless & carefree. then all of a sudden they turned into these times of terror.
pushed into the floor.
stop.
dress lifted off.
stop.
shirt ripped off.
stop.
window kicked in.
stop.
face shoved down.
stop.
hands tied up.
stop.
.............................................
blackouts.
blackouts.
blackouts.
blackouts.
numb.
ugly. never good enough. can't look at my own reflection without wanting to die. ugly. clearance rack girl. never good enough for anyone other than a bargain hunter who wants a better deal for finding an extra rip or tear. marking it up a bit more before checking out. make it cheaper. better deal. ugly. discarded. back of the closet. no one wants it anyways. trash.
goodgirl bad.
misunderstood.
sick & sad. painted pretty.
i can't take a compliment gracefully. sometimes i get rageful when i hear nice things said about me. i want to tear at my flesh & scream. i have to get this poison out.
i don't want to run away to be numb anymore. i want to cut out this poison. i want to free myself from these demons of my past. i want to learn to forgive. maybe i will never forget, but i want to be able to forgive myself. i need to start loving myself. i have to heal.
hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm
Jan.13, 2011... I have moxie & spirit! HUZZAH!
It is Thursday night. I haven't worked since Monday night, and I am now just returning to the "human" feeling again. (damn the nightshift!!)
Today has been wonderful! I started out at the winter sidewalk sale where I indulged myself in a new pair of Dansko's that have sparkley bits in them... And I indulged myself in my addiction for Smartwool Socks... I also got new crosstrainers & shoes for work (cannot WAIT to pitch the ridiculous sketchers shape-ups that have very little base-support...)
Then I slept. I must have needed the sleep, so I will not be annoyed about that.
It has taken me since Monday to feel like I want any social interaction OUTSIDE of my house...
I went out for coffee, and had fun random conversations. A woman who I have never met, overheard me talking about my Smartwool sock addiction, and she then told me about a little yarn shop about an hour away that will spin the yarn of your choosing while you go to one of the little coffee shops in the area. I will have to check this place out! What an indulgence!!! :) The same woman came very close to me then, and looked into my eyes, and asked me if I have ever read "The Artist's Way" - the same book that Len gave me to work on my morning pages & such. I have let my morning pages fall by the wayside in the past year or two, much due to the situational depression I have faced- and the inner turmoils & emotional/situational fallout that had been built up in 2009. It's been a rough few years for me. But the fact that she made such a connection & seemed to truly peer into my soul, and was SO earnest about me getting "The Artst's Way" back out- has inspired me to once again reach into the recesses of my mind & poke around a bit for what had become shattered and/or tattered dreams.
Dance is part of life to me. I love Garnett's classes, and feel like I have been able to find myself again. Little by little I am shedding the insecurities that have plagued me since childhood. I feel like my soul is nourished in these dance classes, and I am FOREVER grateful to her- she is my hero! I love her dearly! <3 It was nice to chat with her after class as well. More picking up some pieces of the dreams I had started to forget about... I am hopeful, and I know my dreams can become reality with some hard work & confidence & the moxie that I KNOW runs through my veins! ;)
My dance classes are about 2 city blocks away from where I live, so I use the walk as part of my warm-up/cool-down to & from class.... After class was over, I took my time walking home- enjoying the lovely snow that looked like glittered whitefluff falling from the sky onto the ground. The streetlights illuminated the snowflakes & made everything look magical & sparkly!!
In a state of twirling & happiness, I made pasta primavera (vegan- using tofurky for the meat/protein in the sauce). Of course, I made WAY too much for just me- even if I am cooking a batch to last me for working through the whole weekend. As I twirled around, chopping up the veg & making the marinara, I recalled the events of this day with a smile on my face! I imagined I was making all of this food to share with the people I miss most. (haha- throw a babushka on my head & call me Bubbie- I like to feed people...) I imagined playing hostess to all my wonderful friends that have enriched my life throughout my 30+ years, and even though it is 11pm at night (was 9-10pm at the time of twirling in the kitchen), I am having a delightful dinnerparty with the people I hold near & dear to my heart. Distance might separate us, but know that I love you all, and you are with me in my heart always!!! <3
Today has been wonderful! I started out at the winter sidewalk sale where I indulged myself in a new pair of Dansko's that have sparkley bits in them... And I indulged myself in my addiction for Smartwool Socks... I also got new crosstrainers & shoes for work (cannot WAIT to pitch the ridiculous sketchers shape-ups that have very little base-support...)
Then I slept. I must have needed the sleep, so I will not be annoyed about that.
It has taken me since Monday to feel like I want any social interaction OUTSIDE of my house...
I went out for coffee, and had fun random conversations. A woman who I have never met, overheard me talking about my Smartwool sock addiction, and she then told me about a little yarn shop about an hour away that will spin the yarn of your choosing while you go to one of the little coffee shops in the area. I will have to check this place out! What an indulgence!!! :) The same woman came very close to me then, and looked into my eyes, and asked me if I have ever read "The Artist's Way" - the same book that Len gave me to work on my morning pages & such. I have let my morning pages fall by the wayside in the past year or two, much due to the situational depression I have faced- and the inner turmoils & emotional/situational fallout that had been built up in 2009. It's been a rough few years for me. But the fact that she made such a connection & seemed to truly peer into my soul, and was SO earnest about me getting "The Artst's Way" back out- has inspired me to once again reach into the recesses of my mind & poke around a bit for what had become shattered and/or tattered dreams.
Dance is part of life to me. I love Garnett's classes, and feel like I have been able to find myself again. Little by little I am shedding the insecurities that have plagued me since childhood. I feel like my soul is nourished in these dance classes, and I am FOREVER grateful to her- she is my hero! I love her dearly! <3 It was nice to chat with her after class as well. More picking up some pieces of the dreams I had started to forget about... I am hopeful, and I know my dreams can become reality with some hard work & confidence & the moxie that I KNOW runs through my veins! ;)
My dance classes are about 2 city blocks away from where I live, so I use the walk as part of my warm-up/cool-down to & from class.... After class was over, I took my time walking home- enjoying the lovely snow that looked like glittered whitefluff falling from the sky onto the ground. The streetlights illuminated the snowflakes & made everything look magical & sparkly!!
In a state of twirling & happiness, I made pasta primavera (vegan- using tofurky for the meat/protein in the sauce). Of course, I made WAY too much for just me- even if I am cooking a batch to last me for working through the whole weekend. As I twirled around, chopping up the veg & making the marinara, I recalled the events of this day with a smile on my face! I imagined I was making all of this food to share with the people I miss most. (haha- throw a babushka on my head & call me Bubbie- I like to feed people...) I imagined playing hostess to all my wonderful friends that have enriched my life throughout my 30+ years, and even though it is 11pm at night (was 9-10pm at the time of twirling in the kitchen), I am having a delightful dinnerparty with the people I hold near & dear to my heart. Distance might separate us, but know that I love you all, and you are with me in my heart always!!! <3
"Creative Mind" by Pearl Buck
One of my favorite quotes:
"The truly creative mind is... no more than this: a human creature born abnormally, inhumanely sensitive. to them... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create-so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, their very breath is cut off... They must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency they are not really alive unless they are creating" -Pearl Buck
"The truly creative mind is... no more than this: a human creature born abnormally, inhumanely sensitive. to them... a touch is a blow, a sound is a noise, a misfortune is a tragedy, a joy is an ecstasy, a friend is a lover, a lover is a god, and failure is death. Add to this cruelly delicate organism the overpowering necessity to create, create, create-so that without the creating of music or poetry or books or buildings or something of meaning, their very breath is cut off... They must create, must pour out creation. By some strange, unknown, inward urgency they are not really alive unless they are creating" -Pearl Buck
Oy. On Dating & Baggage......
12-June-2011
Oy. On Dating & Baggage………..
It is the summer month of June. It is 2:30am. It is so chilly outside- feels like the mid to high 50’s, but I cannot stand for the windows to be closed up tight. I’m sitting here at the computer in my pj’s (a tanktop that read GI Girl from about ten years ago, and green plaid flannel boxers that are probably older than the tank). I’m chilly. But the crisp air is refreshing to me, and I can hear the wind outside dancing through the treetops. I’m smiling. There is an element to the air that makes me feel the same feeling I had on early fall mornings when I would be getting ready for school, when the school year was still young, and there was surprise and adventure in each day.
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. Hah- isn’t that what I do with all this time I have? Indeed- I think… well. I do. Think. About stuff. About this, that & everything in between. I’ve been thinking a lot about relationships & even the pseudo relationships I have had throughout my entire life. This week specifically things came up from the depths of my memory bank with no warning really. “T” called me the other morning. Which is weird, because it has been awhile since I have talked to him. There really isn’t anything more to say to him. We spent every waking moment together for a few months last year, but things just never progressed. He once told me he didn’t know whether to fight with me or kiss me. Then he hung up on me, I texted him that he should kiss me. And that just ended badly for me- I put my pride on the line, and smash. Crunch. Fizzle. That wasn’t what he wanted. So we were just friends. With no benefits. Which in the longrun was healthier for me. But the fact that we were practically a couple, except for the physical ‘stuff’ – which there were hints of physical attraction, just no home run. Fuck- not even 1st base… it just made me feel really insecure about myself- I made myself believe something was dreadfully wrong with me. Then he deleted me from his facebook, and told me he was following every comment anyone would make & he would be really upset when someone would make lewd remarks on any of my posts, and he was becoming obsessed with me, spending all of his time online cockblocking other people, even though he didn’t seem to want a real relationship with me. SO FUCKED UP. But, there were no other offers really- except from some of the sleazy guys at my new job. So I just waited it out… I’ve once again been thinking about how much time I have wasted hoping & calculating & trying so hard. GOD HELP ME. I should know better… I cannot change myself to become a better fit for another person. I have to just be myself.
Leading up to this time being spent with “T” I had a fling of some sort with “D”…. D & I had been friends on facebook & myspace & we had several mutual friends around town. We finally met at an art show that he was performing at. He was ever so charming & charismatic. He was a performer. Smart. Totally full of himself, but somehow had a way of making me feel like the bee’s knees. I remember we texted back and forth a few times. Then he called me one day- I was actually out on a run on my beloved RiverTrail. He asked if I wanted to go out on a date. Wow. D the hotshot performer wanted to take me out on a date?!! I agreed to go of course. He was always so vibrant and made me feel excited about being my vibrant self. I remember what I wore on that first date- jeans that looked just perfect on my ass, and stripey stockings underneath- but I wore the tights, as an insurance of a chastity belt of sorts. I know myself. I need all the insurance I can find. Hardy har har. Jokes on me once again. We went to an eclectic restaurant & he was very attentive to me being me. He wanted to know all my ideas, he wanted to network & integrate our art for the better of the city- for the better of the world. I really thought he meant it. He didn’t. I wouldn’t find that out until after the short-lived fling when he encouraged me to sleep with his friends & told me he believes in open relationships & I could call him anytime I needed to get off- he would be more than happy to oblige me, unless of course, he was with one of his many other lovers. I felt sick. Stunned. And sick. And angry.
The only good thing that came of that whole crazy experience was the roadtrip when we went to Chicago for a Burning Man event party. D, me, & three of his friends piled into his van, and we went on our trip. Three guys, two girls. Plenty of beer, whiskey & sex talk. We got to Chicago, and it was evident things were just different. I was wearing one of my favorite burlesquey outfits. The party was packed. We had climbed to the loft & were listening to the house music just chilling. As I was descending from the loft, a young kid screamed to me- OMG! AMANDA FUCKING PALMER!!!!!!! (I was indeed wearing fishnets & stripey stocking thigh-highs & black boots of some sort & my corsety-bodice thing that I love….) D was pissed that he was not the center of attention, and at that point I knew it wasn’t what I had been hoping for... But my god- that kid ran up to me, hugged me, kissed me & dragged me to his group of friends that all agreed I looked just like AFP. I nearly peed my black lacy boyshorts. The fucking bitch that I love to hate to love. Fuck. I love her. And I somehow passed as her at that party- I did tell them I was indeed NOT Amanda Palmer, and I did not know where she or Neil Gaiman was at that time… hehehe In the midst of my heartache of once again a potential relationship completely fizzling out, making me feel really used & unloved- at least I got mistaken for the woman whose music had inspired me and had started me on the path of my emotional freedom. Ok. I’m just going to say it. I fucking love Amanda Palmer. And on some level I am still dealing with anger & hurt from D… this whole memory became fresh in my mind because I had dinner the other night with M who was the other woman on that roadtrip. She had mentioned how fun it would be to be D’s groupies, and I almost spit out my food in disgust. I will not be a groupie for anyone. Save Brian Viglione & perhaps some clowns I have met through the years. Overall, I think I have had more than my fill of performers (at least of the douchebag variety). I don’t think I am meant to be with someone who continually needs to have the universe revolve around them… There needs to be balance.
All this baggage I have that I continue to haul around- dragging it around in my daily living & more importantly from potential relationship to potential relationship. I have issues of never feeling good enough. I have issues of mistrust. I have issues of being abused. All of this shit I keep covered up in my giant suitcase. I am just so tired of always lugging it around. I feel like it is high time for me to unzip the cover off of this piece of luggage and take everything out- piece by piece- to examine everything- really weighing the pros and cons of whether I need to keep it or toss it. I need to think about all of this stuff- not just throw it out, but I need to face it. I need to remember what it meant to me, before I can let it go. Because I need to let a lot of this stuff go. It’s getting too heavy for me to carry around. When I get too tired of carrying it, I can’t help but ask others to help me carry it, and no one wants to carry this shit around for me. I guess one way I am using writing is to unpack this suitcase & look over all this shit so I know what it is I am carrying to & fro. Again, I’m not writing for pity- we all have shit that has happened to us. I am just chosing to write as a means to get it out of me. So I can be healthier. I also think it is really important to examine what happened, and what lead us (in this case me) to get hurt- especially if there seems to be a pattern, which there does for me. I want this pattern to break- so I do not continue to put myself in situations where I get used & abused or treated in a manner that makes me feel bad about myself.
I deserve more than what I have settled for & even strived for in the past. I am worthy of love, as I love others- wholeheartedly. And for the first time in my life, I am not just saying it or typing it- I really truly mean it. And I feel good about stating this as a fact. This is a new leaf to turn over- the leaf of living honestly. It might hurt a bit, but change & pruning brings about new healthy growth. I’m ready to grow. <3
Oy. On Dating & Baggage………..
It is the summer month of June. It is 2:30am. It is so chilly outside- feels like the mid to high 50’s, but I cannot stand for the windows to be closed up tight. I’m sitting here at the computer in my pj’s (a tanktop that read GI Girl from about ten years ago, and green plaid flannel boxers that are probably older than the tank). I’m chilly. But the crisp air is refreshing to me, and I can hear the wind outside dancing through the treetops. I’m smiling. There is an element to the air that makes me feel the same feeling I had on early fall mornings when I would be getting ready for school, when the school year was still young, and there was surprise and adventure in each day.
I’ve been doing a lot of thinking lately. Hah- isn’t that what I do with all this time I have? Indeed- I think… well. I do. Think. About stuff. About this, that & everything in between. I’ve been thinking a lot about relationships & even the pseudo relationships I have had throughout my entire life. This week specifically things came up from the depths of my memory bank with no warning really. “T” called me the other morning. Which is weird, because it has been awhile since I have talked to him. There really isn’t anything more to say to him. We spent every waking moment together for a few months last year, but things just never progressed. He once told me he didn’t know whether to fight with me or kiss me. Then he hung up on me, I texted him that he should kiss me. And that just ended badly for me- I put my pride on the line, and smash. Crunch. Fizzle. That wasn’t what he wanted. So we were just friends. With no benefits. Which in the longrun was healthier for me. But the fact that we were practically a couple, except for the physical ‘stuff’ – which there were hints of physical attraction, just no home run. Fuck- not even 1st base… it just made me feel really insecure about myself- I made myself believe something was dreadfully wrong with me. Then he deleted me from his facebook, and told me he was following every comment anyone would make & he would be really upset when someone would make lewd remarks on any of my posts, and he was becoming obsessed with me, spending all of his time online cockblocking other people, even though he didn’t seem to want a real relationship with me. SO FUCKED UP. But, there were no other offers really- except from some of the sleazy guys at my new job. So I just waited it out… I’ve once again been thinking about how much time I have wasted hoping & calculating & trying so hard. GOD HELP ME. I should know better… I cannot change myself to become a better fit for another person. I have to just be myself.
Leading up to this time being spent with “T” I had a fling of some sort with “D”…. D & I had been friends on facebook & myspace & we had several mutual friends around town. We finally met at an art show that he was performing at. He was ever so charming & charismatic. He was a performer. Smart. Totally full of himself, but somehow had a way of making me feel like the bee’s knees. I remember we texted back and forth a few times. Then he called me one day- I was actually out on a run on my beloved RiverTrail. He asked if I wanted to go out on a date. Wow. D the hotshot performer wanted to take me out on a date?!! I agreed to go of course. He was always so vibrant and made me feel excited about being my vibrant self. I remember what I wore on that first date- jeans that looked just perfect on my ass, and stripey stockings underneath- but I wore the tights, as an insurance of a chastity belt of sorts. I know myself. I need all the insurance I can find. Hardy har har. Jokes on me once again. We went to an eclectic restaurant & he was very attentive to me being me. He wanted to know all my ideas, he wanted to network & integrate our art for the better of the city- for the better of the world. I really thought he meant it. He didn’t. I wouldn’t find that out until after the short-lived fling when he encouraged me to sleep with his friends & told me he believes in open relationships & I could call him anytime I needed to get off- he would be more than happy to oblige me, unless of course, he was with one of his many other lovers. I felt sick. Stunned. And sick. And angry.
The only good thing that came of that whole crazy experience was the roadtrip when we went to Chicago for a Burning Man event party. D, me, & three of his friends piled into his van, and we went on our trip. Three guys, two girls. Plenty of beer, whiskey & sex talk. We got to Chicago, and it was evident things were just different. I was wearing one of my favorite burlesquey outfits. The party was packed. We had climbed to the loft & were listening to the house music just chilling. As I was descending from the loft, a young kid screamed to me- OMG! AMANDA FUCKING PALMER!!!!!!! (I was indeed wearing fishnets & stripey stocking thigh-highs & black boots of some sort & my corsety-bodice thing that I love….) D was pissed that he was not the center of attention, and at that point I knew it wasn’t what I had been hoping for... But my god- that kid ran up to me, hugged me, kissed me & dragged me to his group of friends that all agreed I looked just like AFP. I nearly peed my black lacy boyshorts. The fucking bitch that I love to hate to love. Fuck. I love her. And I somehow passed as her at that party- I did tell them I was indeed NOT Amanda Palmer, and I did not know where she or Neil Gaiman was at that time… hehehe In the midst of my heartache of once again a potential relationship completely fizzling out, making me feel really used & unloved- at least I got mistaken for the woman whose music had inspired me and had started me on the path of my emotional freedom. Ok. I’m just going to say it. I fucking love Amanda Palmer. And on some level I am still dealing with anger & hurt from D… this whole memory became fresh in my mind because I had dinner the other night with M who was the other woman on that roadtrip. She had mentioned how fun it would be to be D’s groupies, and I almost spit out my food in disgust. I will not be a groupie for anyone. Save Brian Viglione & perhaps some clowns I have met through the years. Overall, I think I have had more than my fill of performers (at least of the douchebag variety). I don’t think I am meant to be with someone who continually needs to have the universe revolve around them… There needs to be balance.
All this baggage I have that I continue to haul around- dragging it around in my daily living & more importantly from potential relationship to potential relationship. I have issues of never feeling good enough. I have issues of mistrust. I have issues of being abused. All of this shit I keep covered up in my giant suitcase. I am just so tired of always lugging it around. I feel like it is high time for me to unzip the cover off of this piece of luggage and take everything out- piece by piece- to examine everything- really weighing the pros and cons of whether I need to keep it or toss it. I need to think about all of this stuff- not just throw it out, but I need to face it. I need to remember what it meant to me, before I can let it go. Because I need to let a lot of this stuff go. It’s getting too heavy for me to carry around. When I get too tired of carrying it, I can’t help but ask others to help me carry it, and no one wants to carry this shit around for me. I guess one way I am using writing is to unpack this suitcase & look over all this shit so I know what it is I am carrying to & fro. Again, I’m not writing for pity- we all have shit that has happened to us. I am just chosing to write as a means to get it out of me. So I can be healthier. I also think it is really important to examine what happened, and what lead us (in this case me) to get hurt- especially if there seems to be a pattern, which there does for me. I want this pattern to break- so I do not continue to put myself in situations where I get used & abused or treated in a manner that makes me feel bad about myself.
I deserve more than what I have settled for & even strived for in the past. I am worthy of love, as I love others- wholeheartedly. And for the first time in my life, I am not just saying it or typing it- I really truly mean it. And I feel good about stating this as a fact. This is a new leaf to turn over- the leaf of living honestly. It might hurt a bit, but change & pruning brings about new healthy growth. I’m ready to grow. <3
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