Echo

Sunday, July 22, 2007

Barely Legal

I spent the day at the stretch of beach in front of our hotel. Waikiki is very touristy, like a more tropical Santa Monica, but the water is amazing. It’s clear blue, warm, gentle and in my opinion, less salty than the water in LA (I absolutely can’t stand getting water in my eyes in LA). The weather was perfect, and every time it got a little too hot, it would start sprinkling enough to cool down. Man, if I could find a way to get rich quick, I would love to spend more time just dicking around in Hawaii, napping on the beach.

So to follow up on the guy I saw in the gym, I came back from the beach and wanted to work out a little before dinner. On the way down to the gym, the elevator stopped and in walks Hot Gym Guy. I thought, this is destiny! So he lights up when he sees me and we’re both kind of shy but we’re small talking. I ask him where he’s from and he says he’s from Tracy (a city in Norcal). I tell him I grew up in Fremont. He gets excited and asks if I still live there. I say I live in Los Angeles now. He thinks about it, then says, that’s cool, like “that’s not a dealbreaker, necessarily.” I ask him if he’s here on vacation and he says, “Yeah, I’m here with my family. I just turned 18 on Wednesday so this is my birthday present.”

AhjuWUT?

Hold on.

Stop.

18? What 18 year old has a body like that???? The guy looks at least 25.

Well, needless to say, I ejected myself out of that conversation in the most polite, friendly way possible. I don’t need to be messing with anyone who’s only 3 days legal, no matter what.

I had told my mom about a hot guy at the gym, and today, she had walked by the gym on the way to the pool and was waving and pointing at him, giving me the thumbs up from outside the door. I told her later that the guy was 18 and she started cracking up. A few minutes ago, she walked by me and started chuckling, saying, “Eighteen years old…what a shame.”

3 days legal. Just can’t do it. I just can’t do it.

Woke up to the sound of the ocean which is the second most beautiful sound to fall asleep/wake up to, second only to the sounds of a rainstorm.

I had an interesting dream last night. I was back in college, but it wasn’t Ann Arbor. I liked this guy who was really elusive (he kind of looked like this jerk I dated for like 5 minutes in college, but with a better body); it was obvious that he really liked me, but it’s like, he just couldn’t give me enough, you know? Like he was holding something or a part of himself back. Like he wasn’t fully coming to the table, so he was making me struggle internally and hurting me. So at one point, I hadn’t seen him in a while, but we ran into each other. The moment was electric and we started kissing and it was really uninhibitedly passionate (finally). It was amazing because he was present and our chemistry is so good. We were literally in this concrete room around the corner from our dorms and I thought, I could invite him to my place where it would be more comfortable than a concrete room, but it might break the moment by him getting too cerebral during the walk over and this moment being lost. So we were kissing and i think he realized it would be too uncomfortable for sex, so he said, let me go get a blanket. So he left and I waited and waited and he didn’t come back. I went looking for him, in the area, at the dorms and even asked our friends if they’d seen him. No one had. I started getting really irritated, because I figured he’d chickened out again and it pissed me off. There was no doubt that he was really interested in me and connected to me, but he was a ghost…one moment totally there, the next minute he had disappeared making me wonder if he ever existed.

So while I was looking for him, I walked by this guy in a green jacket who was carrying this one beautiful flower. We didn’t make eye contact when I walked by because I was busy being irritated and looking for this ghost who was breaking my heart. I realized I didn’t care anymore, that the moment was gone and I went to class. When I walked in, I saw the guy with the flower and remembered that he’s in this class with me. He walked up to me and gave me the flower along with a ten page handwritten note written journal style. He smiled and walked away. I read the note, and it talked about how he knows who I really am because he watches me and he truly appreciates me. He had little examples of days when I felt down and little things I did that he noticed. While now that I’m awake, it sounds a little stalkerish, it was actually really sweet, one of those things that comes out of the blue that you weren’t expecting, but it was something deep and private where I realized this person I’d never really noticed before could see the real me. I finished reading and I looked up at him, I smiled at him and it felt like we’d known each other our entire lives.

I woke up feeling really content. I hope that person exists.

I got up at 6 in the morning today but had some issuees with airport parking so I just barely made my flight to Honolulu. I was the last one to check in and ended up getting a window seat in the exit aisle. I like how they explain to people how the doors open and how to assist people. Every single person knows that in case of an emergency, the exit row people are gonna open that door and be like, “Fuck this…I’m out!” I have a feeling though, I’d be the sucker who would actually assist people, because I would feel like if I didn’t and survived, karma would kick my ass.

My seat didn’t recline, but I’m one of those people who can sleep anywhere, in any position. I don’t know what’s up with the fact that when I fall asleep in a sitting position, my mouth opens. So I sleep with my mouth open.

I arrived at Honolulu and it’s crazy hot. I met up with my mom and it was great to see her. My mom and I get along really well, even though our relationship is really fiery. Any phone conversation starts with yelling and ends with yelling, but at the end of the day, we get along well because we’re both strong personalities who happen to be easy-going.

I signed up for surfing lessons, after an extensive conversation with the activities guy about how attentive the guides are to students that may be drowning. He asked if I was a strong swimmer and I said I was, but I get really disoriented when I’m underwater so I’m kind of terrified of the ocean. I realized that the water in Hawaii is clear, so that made me worry less. At least if I’m drowning, they’ll be able to see me flailing around underwater. We’ll see how this goes. Is it bad that my major motivation for wanting to learn how to surf is to get my back ripped?

We tried to go to this sushi restaurant that’s supposed to be the best in the city, but it was closed until dinnertime, so we went to this little sushi cafe that was okay. I learned that I do not like raw clam sashimi. At least when it’s served at a little beachfront sushi dive.

There’s an ABC store every block, literally, here. They’re like these convenience stores, akin to 7-11’s. Yet my mom and I managed to stop at every one on the way back to the hotel to buy something. We’re both scatterbrained so we would buy something, then half a block later, realized we forgot something else (ie bottled water, sunblock, beach mats, etc).

We checked out the hotel pool that was supposed to be nice, but it was the size of a regular housepool with about 40 little kids in it. I thought it was the kiddie pool and looked around, but nope. That was it. I realized the ratio of pee to water must be about 45/55, yet it was so hot, I had to get in just to get wet. I had a Mai Tai, totally fell asleep, woke up to find the sun setting. Oops. Tomorrow I plan to tan my backside.

So my mom and I are exercise freaks. We exercise so we can eat. We wanted to work out, so I went there first because she was dicking around the room, and it was just me and this really, really hot guy. He looked like one of the models in the Equinox ads, and he was doing major core exercises with weights while wearing a sweat-drenched wife-beater. Watching him work out was total chick porn.

So according to my book on how each sign should specifically handle their Saturn Return, my Saturn Return in Leo in the 1st House requires that I do things that are more ballsy and assertive. Specifically, one of the exercises is to walk up to the hottest guy in the room and start a conversation. So I’ve been trying to do that but lately, wherever I’ve gone, the hottest guy in the room/bar/club has been underwhelming so it never felt like a challenge. This guy made me simultaneously want to lick him and club him over the head and put him in my suitcase.

So I stared at him for a good 15 minutes while I was on the elliptical, but when he walked over to get water, I started asking him about the exercises he was doing on the ball. We talked for a few minutes, but the rest of the time, we would keep smiling at each other when we would catch each other’s eye on the mirror. I saw him in the hotel later and he had his shirt off which made my head hurt. That guy has to be a sports model. No regular human being dedicates himself to getting his body to look like that unless he were paid. He saw me and smiled. I don’t care that I’m on vacation with my family. If I see him out and about, I’m taking that home.

Aloha!!

i know i’ve been all over the place lately. but i’ll be honest with you. it has been an incredible experience lately, life…it feels like i’m getting the software in my head upgraded and i’m feeling all these old emotions getting erased by all these new types of experiences.

i had really bad back pain from january until may. i mean, some days it was torture to walk, but i didn’t want anyone to know how bad it was so i powered through it. i started letting go of a lot of things and people in my life that i felt were holding me down, and i started feeling better, but right around may, as i had my eyes opened to a new level of awareness, my back stopped hurting. i started cutting down on diet and sleep, spending most of my nights dancing alone in my room by candlelight, doing yoga stretches and writing. it’s weird how i can go to so many doctors to help me with my back, but deep down, if you intuitively do the things you feel to be true, sometimes you know the secret to healing.

michelle has a friend who was just diagnosed with having a large mass in her ovary. it’s a scary time because they don’t know what it is exactly. i asked michelle if this was her friend who married the virgo guy. i had remembered 4 years ago, michelle had told me extensively about a friend who married a guy who was a virgo. the guy had a mild and defeated temperament, and her friend basically told him that he was going to marry her. she said that the guy was miserable before getting married, yet still went along with it because he didn’t stand up for what he wanted. so flash forward and they’re still married but they have 3 kids. but the guy suffers from hypertension and all kinds of health issues. i asked her if she thought the bad marriage was manifesting itself physically in him. she said she was sure. now her friend has a huge mass in her ovary. i think this marriage is filled with a lot of bad energy, and it’s killing them.

crap. 2 hours of sleep on a weekday is not okay.

i hate you today, julia. i hate you so much.

Don’t Accidentally Have Sex on the First Date

I just read today’s articles on MSN’s homepage where men and women weighed in on sex on the first date, sex and serious relationships and taking your time. I noticed that the men were older and either divorced or never married…personally I would have liked to have seen the opinion of a guy who’s happily married or someone closer to my age group, but whatever.

I’ve never been a one night stand person, but I’ve never been a serial monogamist either. I just kind of feel that who I am is valuable and what you share with me is going to be an incredible and unique experience, so I don’t want to give it away, but I also don’t want to commit to giving it to someone if I don’t know that they deserve it.

I do know that sex on the first date really complicates things and puts a lot of pressure, so I’ve never done that either. I think the approach though depends on the person and what that person wants. If a person isn’t interested in pursuing a relationship at that time in their life or is “test driving” people/relationships to figure out what they do want, I don’t see a problem with how they want to handle their sex life, even if it’s a series of one night stands, as long as how you behave is aligned to what you truly want, so you don’t end up working against your goals or what you feel comfortable with. For example, if you really want a fulfilling relationship but you find yourself giving it up right away and guys don’t call you afterwards or they’re jerks who end up pursuing only the sexual part of the relationship, then you probably have to ask yourself what you’re doing to contribute to your not being able to get what you’re actually looking for. But on the flipside, if what you really want to do is figure out what you want romantically and sexually, but you feel uncomfortable with sleeping around so you pursue series of relationships that stifle you when what you’re really trying to figure out is what you want, then maybe you have to not worry so much about being judged or judging yourself. Just be safe but have fun.

For me personally, there are all different kinds of sex involving different kinds of connections between two people, but there’s only one kind that I’m interested in enough to put in effort. I only like it when I can feel a deep connection with someone where you’re so connected, you don’t know where one person ends and the other one begins when this experience happens. And it’s no holds bar, straight passion. You won’t be able to have that kind of thing with just anyone…it has to be someone you have that deep connection with, someone who turns you on and someone that you have enough trust with and respect for to want to share something this deep and sacred. Because it’s all-encompassing and amazing, almost an out of body experience, and it’s worth waiting for. If I feel that connection with someone, I’ll take my time, because I want to deepen the spiritual/emotional connection first, make sure it’s real, make sure there’s trust, and then let us go wild. It’s the best sex imagineable, because you’re deeply connected and you’ve withheld that energy for so long that it just completely takes over you in that moment when the dam breaks and you guys get together. It’s a sacred, private connection between two people, something I don’t talk about with other people, because it’s only between you two, and I don’t allow just anyone to experience that with me. That person has to show me that the truth of who he is, is that he’s special and he’s open, and he can truly appreciate an experience like this. It’s because of the connection. It wouldn’t be as amazing of an experience if you shared it with anyone, because inherently, it involves a very specific chemistry.

Everything else to me, if that connection isn’t there, if that passion isn’t there, is like scratching an itch. It’s a lot of work for a little payoff and it’s boring. I go long periods of time without sleeping with anyone because no one’s struck my fancy and I enjoy being celibate because I’m more creative…all that blood is diverted to my brain. I know I can get lazy about it, but if I don’t feel like someone is a deep connection with all the other elements there, I just think of sex as an obligation or work. It’s like getting on an exercise bike. So I don’t do it. I can look at a lot of guys and appreciate their looks, their warmth, their charisma, etc., but there are very few people that I’m sexually interested in, because I’m looking for something specific. So until something comes along that I feel is something I want to pursue, I like to talk about it and think about all the what-if’s of crazy nights of passion and scenarios, etc., but overall, I don’t bother to realistically pursue anything because I would rather save myself and my energy for the real thing. It’s just personal preference.

The Hollywood Bowl is Mecca

Anyone who gets a chance should go see a concert at the Hollywood Bowl at least once in their lifetime, if not as often as possible. The shows put on by KCRW are usually the best as they pull a lot of artists from around the world, and seeing people who come from completely different cultures express themselves is something that gives you a whole different perspective on life in itself. But the whole feel of the place, the background as the sun sets behind the mountains, the positive energy, the fact that you can bring in your own food & drink (and they look the other way when it comes to weed)…it’s a spiritual experience.

This is a more recent thing, but I like to get high just as the sun’s setting, and then spend the rest of the evening feeling the music, the vibes and watching people and learning about all the different types out there. It makes me really love and appreciate people. I think being at the Bowl relaxes people which makes them project more honestly, and you’d be surprised how much you could learn about different personalities or humans in general just by taking in everything. It’s beautiful on so many levels.

Earlier this week, I realized that the only person I wanted to go with was my friend Colin. Otherwise, I wanted to go alone. Colin’s someone who’s himself almost no matter what, so you can talk or not talk to him, and it’s still very comfortable. I’ve found that lately, I’ve had a real lack of patience for vapid, superficial interaction and conversation. I just feel like I’m wasting myself and my time, because when you’re busy making small talk with people who don’t really know you or care to know you because they live on a more surface level, you’re trying to make yourself as bland, as acceptable and as mildly pleasant as possible. But it sucks! It’s like having a Ferrari, but you can only drive in a parking lot. It’s like being put into a little box when you know you have so much more to offer and you’re so much bigger, and it’s pretty magnificent. In these more surfacey interactions, I’m not really getting to be myself with all of my parts present, and I’m having a harder time being tolerant of that anymore if it’s not a situation where socially, I have to be a certain way (ie for work, etc). I would rather be by myself, or be with people who accept and enjoy the whole me. I just want to be able to relax and be myself. I don’t mind more superficial interactions sometimes. It’s good to have balance and relate to people on the different levels they’re comfortable with. But lately, I just feel like I’ve been doing a lot of spiritual work, so all I wanna do is be in situations where I can drop any masks or dividing lines within myself and just relax.

So I had asked Colin earlier this week, and he finally got back to me the day of the show that he could go. I met up with him at his house, which is within walking distance of the Bowl. We had a couple of tequila shots (I realized I like tequila because it doesn’t fuck with my body the way most alcohol can make me feel sick right away. It just goes straight to my brain while leaving my body alone), and headed over.

This is Colin. He’s 6 foot 4. He’s got red hair, fair skin and freckles. He’s gay. And he’s in a long-term committed relationship. I know him because he was a friend of a friend of a friend when I first moved out here, and he’s a good friend of my roommate now so he’s always been around. Once he was over at my house and we heard a party somewhere in the neighborhood. It sounded like it was raging so we thought it would be cool/funny to crash this random house party (we’re close to UCLA so we figured it was probably students). So we follow the noise until we find it, but when we walked in, it turns out it was all Persians. Basically, we were hoping to crash a college party, but we ended up walking into a party where a 6’4 red haired guy and an Asian girl so obviously didn’t belong.

So as we walked, I start telling Colin that I’m just tired of stupid shit. I’m tired of shallow connections and shallow people, and I just want to be myself and not care that it might make some people uncomfortable, envious or scared. I just want to be myself, no matter how bizarre, deep, inappropriate it is, because I fuckin’ love being me, and I’m tired of hiding it. He agreed because that’s basically the way he lives his life, and he’s survived and he’s successful. He tells me that he always has these random deep connections with strangers, like they know each other. He understands. It was such a relief.

So we get to the Bowl and we eat and we smoke and we’re super happy. The crowd around us is a little weird. A lot of your Hollywood Bowl experience depends on your section. We had the best section at the DJ Shadow show because it was one big block party, one big love fest of people having a fuckin’ good time. Groove Armada is opening for Cafe Tecuba and they were accompanied by a live band so it was really cool. We watched people dance–I pointed out some older white people who looked really stiff and uncomfortable, like they knew they should dance because they’re “having such a good time” but their faces looked really anxious and one guy was dancing towards this woman with this, “I wanna fuck the shit out of you look” that was super disturbing, but she was so caught up in self-consciously trying to not looking stupid while she danced, she never noticed. And Colin said, “They look like dancing pickles.”

Groove Armada was amazing. The one guy performing with them was young and very vibrant and enthusiastic, and you would sit there thinking he was the coolest guy on earth until he busted out some terrible moves like he was an emcee at some Florida resort event. Colin and I both agreed he’d probably be the kind of guy who has ten-hour marathon sex. Speaking of marathon sex, Colin and I were talking about Pisces men. First we agreed they’re kind of fucked up. There is no rhyme or reason to them in that you can’t cajole or force them to get close to you. They’ll be totally in love with you, then they’ll want nothing to do with you and all of a sudden, they’ve dedicated their lives to serving your every romantic need. As long as you ignore them. We did agree they’re pretty amazing in bed because they put every ounce of their souls into it, and that’s the kind of thing we like. That’s the best kind of sex, personally, the only kind that makes me put in any effort (I’m sure there will be a post coming that discusses my love for celibacy). So he told me about a boyfriend who was a Pisces, and Colin would get home from work and there would be a line of candles leading from the walkway all the way to the bedroom. Which sounds good, right? But it would happen all the time until the day Colin was exhausted from work and came home to find candles leading from the walkway to the bedroom and he was like, “Oh no, not this.” So Colin walked into the guys room and slapped him, then walked back out. By the way, Colin’s an Aries. I asked Colin if the guy was upset (because you know, I always want to know the emotional aftermath of stories), and Colin said the guy was crying in his room and threatening to kill himself. I felt bad, but then it sounded like that kind of chemistry fueled the relationship, so it’s one of those things you don’t judge and you appreciate hearing as a different experience of life. I think if people stopped acting like all our lives are as similar behind closed doors as they are in public, we would feel more integrated.

There was this guy sitting in front of us who sat there and didn’t really move. He didn’t have any food or any drinks, just sat there with his hands in his lap. I could only see the back of his head so I didn’t know what he looked like; from the back he looked like Tobey Maguire. So Colin whispers to me that the guy is clearly enjoying himself, but he’s so anxious that he’s afraid to show it. I look and the guy is tapping his legs to the beat, but he’s not moving at all. His head, neck
and back are completely stiff. Colin says, “Poor thing, he’s so anxious. He probably hasn’t come out yet.” I’ve got a good gaydar (I’m a nightmare for guys who don’t know or refuse to admit they’re gay) but Colin’s is on a psychic level. It’s like, I can name a song in 3 notes, but Colin just needs 1 (weirdly, Brian needs a chorus). So we started discussing, what if I just tapped him on the shoulder and introduced him to Colin, or if I just started massaging his shoulders. We were plotting and it got crazier and crazier and Colin said, what if this turns into some crazy threesome and I said that I was okay with that. It was really kind of hot, mentally, this crazy scenario we were plotting. I said, we sound like we’re tigers circling before the kill, and that poor kid’s a lamb. He said, we’re totally tigers who would tear that poor thing to shreds and just start fucking each other on his carcass.

Okay. In the light of day, that was a weird conversation to have with my gay friend. Or with anyone. But at that moment, between the music, the vibe of the crowd, and this poor kid that we were brazenly plotting to sexually manhandle, for a gay man and a straight woman to plot how we were going to have our way with this kid with clearly repressed sexuality seemed like the only logical conversation we could possibly have. We wanted to wait until it got dark and I said, I just hope he’s at least 18.

(Well, he left before Groove Armada finished and he didn’t come back. I wonder if he heard us. We did see him when we went to get more beer, and the kid was totally gay. Like future flamer, gay.)

As we basked in the glow of our devious plot, Colin said that I’m evil and it was delicious. I said he was, too. Who knows if we would have really done anything. It was fun to think that we could truly use our powers of not giving a fuck for good or evil. We shared a moment and I think we realized that we’re very similar in one very specific respect–the two of us have an ability to break down repression. Colin’s specialty is to relieve men of the conflict of their sexual identity, and you all know what I do…mother issues, human potential, blah blah blah. But we realized that we can see the truth of people, everything that is hidden but is still a part of them. And despite our love for breaking down walls and cages, we really respect and love the core of people, and it’s that respect and love that compel us to want to set people free to be themselves. It was amazing. I asked him how come we never realized how powerful the two of us are together, that we can both see things. He said, it’s because no one has really left us alone together.

Cafe Tecuba was not that great. I said it felt like being at prom in Mexico. Colin said it felt like we were at someone’s fat Aunt Betty’s wedding. Their stuff that I’ve heard on KCRW is so much better. The crowd enjoyed it though. Especially when they chanted “Mexico…Mexico…”

We left when we couldn’t stand it anymore (a lot of people were walking out. As the guy next to me said about the band, “This gives me hope that anyone can be in a band.”), and went back to Colin’s place. I had some port with Martin and we all watched Devil’s Backbone, which is an amazing but scary movie. I noted to myself that I have a strong feeling that their new house has bad energy in it. There is something wrong there, and it’s an energy that will break their relationship by bringing out negative feelings and feelings of separation and isolation. Later, I talked to Brian about it and he said he was so glad that I mentioned that because he felt it too, but he could never put his finger on it. He said the house used to be a duplex so there’s something very compartmentalized about the energy flow. I told him that I was worried about their relationship, and he said he was, too.

Okay. I’ve been stewing about the paparazzi thing for a whole day now. I think it’s not so much that I’m mad at the guy, because I don’t give two shits about him. I think the incident triggered one of my deepest fears.

I grew up in a house where there was someone who could exhibit the most awesome, destructive, senseless violence at a moment’s notice. You never knew where it was going to come from, when or why. It would just happen. Like I said, over spilled milk. Over not eating fast enough. Over wanting to eat too much. Or for absolutely nothing or everything, because he was angry at our mom or overwhelmed by life’s stresses. It was like being caught in a terrifying storm that came out of nowhere, and it would leave you broken and wrecked when the sun came up, wondering what it was that caused this and how you could possibly avoid it next time. But here’s the thing. You couldn’t. You have no control over this force, and you can’t reason with it. You can kind of predict it by reading certain signs and making yourself scarce, but there was an inevitability to it. I was completely helpless.

So I have all these feelings in me, the fear, the rage, the anger at myself for not having protected myself and my brother. The helplessness, the vulnerability. Look how strong my body is–I have the body of a fighter, a warrior. I’m obsessed with keeping it strong because I guarantee you any physical attack anyone launches at me, I will fight back. And I will fuck some shit up. Look at how angry I get when I finally decide that someone is not on my side but is trying to do me harm. I have no qualms about using the words that will cut deepest and cause the most damage. Truth in words is my sword, and it is always at my side. And should I not be able to draw fast enough, I still have my hands for survival.

I have worked very hard to gain the spirituality which allows me to not get to a point where I feel cornered, where I don’t need to be on the defensive or need to be at arms. I’ve worked to make my mind incredibly strong, to analyze both instantly as well as continually to find perceived threats, to know very quickly who someone is (even their secrets and repressions), and where they’re coming from. I’ve learned how to be aware of my body, to relax myself when I’m feeling threatened, to know that unless it’s a dangerous threat of bodily harm, that I can handle anything else, that I’m not helpless. It works in that I have ways to consciously keep my heartrate down, I can keep my body relaxed, I can process everything logically so I don’t become overwhelmed by my emotions. I can get irritable but it takes a lot for me to become angry because I’ve got a lot of discipline, because I delineate everything logically and process information bit by bit rapidly rather than as a large chunk so I don’t become overwhelmed too quickly. But in those moments when I get overwhelmed and feel threatened too quickly, if my mind loses its grasp…I’m scared of those moments. Of losing control, of what might happen. I have the storm in me. I have stored in me the vibrations of my father’s rage.

My soul and my mind can say, it’s over, you aren’t in that place anymore, you’re safe now. You aren’t in that house anymore. Nothing can hurt you that way anymore because you are no longer helpless. And I absolutely know that. I’m completely conscious of that. But there’s a part of me that I’m scared of, the part that lays dormant in my unconscious. A part of me that has to take over when I feel backed in a corner, because it’s the last resort when my mind, which is always my strongest defense, becomes too overwhelmed to handle the threat. Then what? How deep is my rage and what can it do? How dangerous is my rage?

I meet certain people and I can see it in their eyes. It’s an intensity. We are drawn to each other because we know each other’s secret–that we are terrified of something that lays deep within ourselves, something that we did not ask to carry but we can not help. And even if we so desperately want to get close to other people, we are afraid we will someday lose control and hurt them. Razor hands. What if we hurt the very ones we’re trying to love? There is no forgiveness in our own souls for that. So we keep our distance from people. We go through life and we can learn how to be gracious, how to be kind, how to be wonderful jovial company, even how to give the good parts of ourselves unconditionally and nurture and protect others, because we give to those that which we always wanted. Sometimes we convince ourselves that we enjoy being alone, that it’s the ache of loneliness that truly reminds us that we are alive. But we are lonely, so wary of others and so afraid of ourselves.

What if someone gets too close to us and hurts us, if this thing could unleash and be so primal, that it could do things that would morally horrify us in the aftermath, where everything that we have built of ourselves comes crumbling down, and all that is left is one ruined, fucked up individual with blood on his or her hands. How could life possibly go on after that?

You don’t want to believe it. You don’t want to believe it could be so bad. So you have faith. And you hope. And you believe with the right kind of love, it will heal you from this burden. And you try to meet people like you, so scared but so aware, and you want to see how they can work through it, because if they can diffuse this bomb and extricate it, then so can you. That maybe if you can talk them through towards healing, that once they achieve it, they’ll in turn be able to help you set yourself free, because that’s the irony–the only way to free yourself, is to let someone get close enough to you to touch it, but that’s the absolute thing you’re most afraid of. You don’t want to believe that this is who you are, this darkness. You don’t want to believe that you are destructive. People tell you it’s just in your head…it’s just fear, trauma, but you’re okay. Look how gentle you are. But deep down, you worry. You always worry.

All I have in my life is faith and hope — that there is order to this chaos, that there is a reason behind what can not be explained, and at the end of the day, there is healing if you work hard enough. My greatest hope, is that there is light at the end of my journey.

I can’t say it enough. Never, never, never schedule big events during a mercury retrograde. Remember what the retrograde did to the 2000 elections?

Read this rumor about how the Warriors were working out a deal for Garnett on draft day that got screwed up due to miscommunications and the phones in the war room not working. Phones in a team’s war room on draft night not working? Sounds like classic mercury retrograde weird.

last night my fever broke.

for that i am thankful.

i will not deny that i am sad as well, but it’s a sweet sadness, the kind that makes me smile to myself when no one is looking.

i was never good at saying goodbye though it is never in doubt that i always wish people well at the level that matters most.

when we meet again, when all the petty ego conflicts have been forgotten and all that remains is the joy of a reconnection, i hope we each find ourselves in a better place.

implode .\. explode
implode ./. explode
implode .\. explode
implode ./. explode

(don’t cry, kid. it’s not what your parents like to see)

and then ./. complete stillness.

(letting go)

hey tantrum boy.

i’ve seen your loss
it was hiding in the same place
brooding like you
crouched in the corner behind all the other things you pretend aren’t yours
the dirty thoughts
the voiceless needs
the unanswered letters to a compassionless god next to the
empty cartons you hoped to someday fill with lofty dreams

i can understand.

you could not save your mother
i could not save my father

we are both failed
failed failures flailing
in a still bottomless sea
but it has a nice ring to it doesn’t it?

comforting more than anything
like eyes that bleed at will
a gangrened hole in the heart
or a fantasized bullet to the head

it’s so much safer to see yourself as broken
so the world will think there’s nothing left to break
grinding away the afternoons
assigning every fragment a personalized adjective

hideous
diseased
unloved
unloving

like items in a morbid warehouse
called out one by one
to be savored with a tongue of delighted pity

i’ve been keeping your smile for you inside my left pocket
folded into the pages she wrote about
her bleeding insides that she didn’t know you’d read

and the ticket to the movie you went to see the afternoon she died
when all you wanted was to cry inside a dark empty womb where
shadows might keep the thoughts at bay
but the fat guy in the corner kept laughing at all the wrong jokes in
all the wrong places and ruined the whole damn experience for you

it seemed too fragile to throw away

and someday when you realize how you’ve been missing it
you can have it back

and someday when you realize what you want from me….

if you sleep i can keep watch
i’ll pick up my pieces beside you and try to put this whole story together

when it rained
who to blame
why this whole damn place came crumbling down and
left the children without a soul to their name
stranded in the middle of a dry desert landscape
whipping up its own brand of nightmare

and when it’s time
when we can look back at all of this and laugh over ice teas in frosted glasses

when you can put your arms around me without feeling so lonely that
you would die just to be alone
so terrified to look into someone else’s eyes for fear of what they might reflect

you can tell me why it is
and whose fault it is
that nothing
ever
stays in one place forever.

okay. from the beginning.

i liked to wear red shoes. i didn’t like to wear clothes. things were usually really confusing to me. they weren’t home a lot so i didn’t have anyone to talk to. we had a lot of babysitters. some of them were just children themselves, because i would watch them fumble around with their responsibilities. the night my brother was born my dad’s cousin watched me. he wouldn’t tell me what was going on. i was gentle with michael. i didn’t understand him though and sometimes I would be aggressive, like bite him or put toys in his diaper. i could always get out of trouble. my mom didn’t have the attention span to dole out discipline convincingly. she only grounded me once in my life, and it was for something really, really stupid, because she thought that’s what parents are supposed to do (she said it like, “well I guess what other parents would do is ground you…”), but i blatantly went out the next day because I knew she’d forgotten. My dad was strict. He was like military. He was a drill sargeant. He kept you in check. I told him once that I wanted to play basketball. So he dragged me out to an outdoor court at 6am and made me do layup drills, screaming at me the whole time. I decided that I never wanted to play basketball because I’m a big pussy who’s too sensitive. My dad is a very very angry man. I remember that anger. It’s rage with a hair-trigger. I spilled milk on the couch once (I mean, it was literally over spilled milk) and he flew into a rage that went from the couch to me cleaning my room. He threw objects at me, including a binder that hit me in the leg and really hurt. I ended up getting really angry about it so I waited until he went off to bed and then I started crying until I hyperventilated and I freaked my mom out. I pretended to have body spasms so they took me to the hospital. I didn’t say a word but I think the doctor knew something was wrong. Because later, my mom whispered to me that the doctor told my dad that he had emotional problems. sometimes i would throw michael under the bus when my dad was angry, because even though michael was so vulnerable, he would still take things out on him. but the thing was, michael never let anyone attack me. If my dad would dare hit me in his presence, little autistic michael would jump in the way and scream, “NOOOOOOO.” he wouldn’t let anyone touch me. he would yell at my parents to stop yelling at his sister. but i never stood up for him because i was a coward.

ah, fuck. at what point can I make up for my cowardice in life? how much good can I do to erase the fact that I am a coward? what if all this strength I supposedly have gained is just something that crumbles into dust in the face of a real challenge? who am I really, if I built this image of myself on the foundation of “I am not a coward,” when I know deep down, I’m building my entire personality on a lie? What if it’s not a lie and I’m actually stronger than I want to admit, because I’ve spent so many years hurting myself out of guilt that I’m still not convinced that I deserve to feel good again. I wanted him to do the work when really I need to do the work myself. what’s so clear to others, you absolutely can not see. It’s the curse of irony. that twilight zone where the guy who loves to read and finds out that due to a natural disaster, he’s the last man on earth so he’s happy he can read all these books in peace…until he breaks his glasses. you spend your life begging for a mirror, because you can’t see yourself anymore and have no idea who you are. and that’s the thing. all you’ll really know of yourself, is reflection. but all that you can feel of yourself, is infinite.

i must be stronger than i realize, but i don’t know why i can’t see it. i’m so afraid of finding out i’m still a coward.

just try, julia. for once, just rely on your own inner compass.

“we accept the love we think we deserve.” – stephen chbosky (the perks of being a wallflower).

i left this book out on the coffee table for weeks before brian finally borrowed it. he left me a note and said he’d taken it to italy with him. i hope when he reads it, it speaks to him.

today i had a very unsettling experience.
a homeless came out of nowhere and smelled my hair.
it was like one moment i was walking and he was walking in the opposite direction, and the next, there was a memory of him smelling my hair and he had already passed me by. I was about two strides away before I really comprehended what’d happened. I turned around, and he was walking away, cackling to himself about it. I just stood there and couldn’t comprehend what happened. On one hand, what the fuck was that?

On the other hand, I discovered something curious. I go so deep into my head so quickly when I’m vigilant or scared that I lose the present and all I experience is the memory of something, like I’m watching a delayed film strip of what happened but it’s not something I’ve ever consciously experienced. I can hop so far out of a moment when I’m scared, that I can only remember it when it’s over. I know what this means. But I can’t see what it actually looks like. What the fuck was I so traumatized by that my perception of reality and memory’s so fucked up? What happened to me? How is it possible that someone can’t remember large portions of her life?

Trauma seeks trauma and someone was kind enough to give me a spiritual mirror for a bit. I know so many people say walk away, it’s a dark tunnel, but there are those of us who are looking for redemption. We have to find the answer to the questions about our history because by knowing it will set you free. Right? Or is all this spiritual stuff just complete bullshit? What’s at the bottom of this tunnel, at the end of this journey? Man, weird shit has been happening in my life. And I’m sober and conscious most of the time but people just come out of the woodwork lately. And sometimes they scare me. Why?

The closer you get, the more people want a piece of you. Who do you trust?

as the night falls, let’s see which parts of me come out to play tonight…

some people live like this…

they’re available for something unavailable
they’re unavailable for something available

fantasy is so much better than life

the universe will give you *nothing* because you won’t let it.