Echo

last one. let’s make it happen.

seattle!!!!! i’m finally ready to give things a try with you.

okay, so i couldn’t help myself. posted this for AD, and it contains my final reaction.

love

word, Past Julia. you had it right the first time.

nothing is real. that’s the secret isn’t it? and here i am, believing everything is real.

just want be left alone for a while.

how much of reality do you believe? how do you interpret positive from negative? what is okay, and what is not okay?

my life…whenever i’m given a choice, i always choose the one that will lead to something new. something interesting. sometimes it’s conscious, sometimes i only understand my motivations in hindsight (perhaps for some of them, i will never fully understand). but there’s always a moment of hesitation when i make a choice…

do i commit to experiencing this new potential that is in the present, or do i maintain my stance, and not get caught up?

is it okay, how i am living my life?

i’m not very motivated to write about the cruise, but i will. eventually. probably not linearly. but i feel the most important thing to know is that my shadow side, my mischievous side, was coming on so strong, i could feel it in my teeth. it became so urgent, as we headed out after dinner the first night, i had to pull cody aside and tell her, i feel a sin coming on… but yet, i was very, very good. outputted it all carefully. positively. did not physically seduce anyone for sport. accepted that the weekend would not feature any deep connections, yet did not create superficial connections out of boredom or frustration. i felt my soul being asphyxiated, but i bore it with discipline and a sense of humor. there were times i fell into my shadow…i was a silent panther prowling the jungle, but not for hunt, but to be myself, my silent powerful self, and explore my domain. i can cite 3 incidences where i somehow became invisible. or was perceived that way.

1. first dinner. was wearing black. sat down and waitress gave everyone a menu but skipped me. not sure how she did that. she took their order. left. i had to ask her for a menu. later, she came back, picked it up and left. came back. said she realized i didn’t order.

2. second night. a couple dressed as pirates and a photographer came by, taking pictures with people dining, one by one (yeah, i know. pirates. i was expecting cowboys and indians next, or maybe richard simmons. this cruise line knew how to work the photo ops). i was in the 2nd row, end of the table. they took pictures with everyone at the table next to us, then moved to us. crap, i thought. i don’t want my picture taken. i’m feeling camera shy this trip. shadowy. they came to our table and took pictures with everyone at our table across from us. then they came to our side, and went straight to karen sitting next to me but completely skipped me like they didn’t even see me. the pirates took pictures with everyone down our row, then moved to the table behind us. the photographer followed, and i grinned. i’m invisible!, i thought. i accidentally caught his eye. he saw me with that big i-got-away-with-something grin. wait, he said. you didn’t take a picture! (damn)

3. third night. sarita convinced me to play craps. so i played the usual–6, 8, 9. except whenever i would win, they would give my money to sarita. i thought maybe i was mistaken, but it happened quite a few times. i didn’t get anything for my bets and they kept paying to sarita next to me. at one point she even said, why am i getting money? i have no bets down. i said, i think they’re paying you for my bets. next time, 8 hit (i had money on it) and they paid out. i took the money and the dealer said, no, that’s hers, pointing to sarita. you placed the bets for me, i said. she doesn’t even have bets down! he looked at me like he didn’t know who the fuck i was, like i’d suddenly appeared (we were the only two people on that side of the table). he looked at the pit boss who shrugged. this is weird, sarita said. let’s go.

it’s like i was hidden by shadows.

*****

my body and mind were able to run separately. i felt that dance floor like liquid sex. but in the meantime, i was watching everyone. and watching no one. i was alone in me.

people respected my being. i was unbridled light as my inner world plunged into darkness. i was completely balanced and peaceful. i could be in a dance club, feeling the night like it was coming out of my soul, and be aware of people trying to connect on the periphery, but if i didn’t acknowledge their presence, they wouldn’t come near me. i was in complete control of my experience. every once in a while, some guys, young spirits, would try to get my attention. nothing would change inside me, except in my mind, through my eyes, i would think…if a guy truly thinks he’s strong enough to play with me and respect me for me, then let’s see what you’ve got.

to be honest, they all kind of ran away. i don’t think anything of it. just that you have to believe you’re good enough to approach someone, in order to be good enough. same for me–there are some people who can still make me chicken out. but if i do, it’s because deep down, i probably didn’t feel i was good enough to connect with them, and therefore, i made it so. reality and perception are just so truthful like that. and the guys would watch from the shadows, but left me alone without any games.

i started pulling inward by the 2nd day, reaching a quiet sense of integrity and peace. didn’t have much to say outside of funny moments and jokes when the moment begged for them. the energy was too shallow. it wasn’t engaging me. so like a computer hibernating, the deeper part of me went to sleep, saving up for later.

the last night, i was sleeping when a good friend of mine, AD walks into our room with my roommate. i’d disappeared that night (left to wander, then write). they’re happy to have found me. i have a conversation with him in the dark, and he wants to know about my “game,” why it’s so easy for me to attract men and know how to talk to them, so i’m explaining it to him–if you just don’t overextend and let the dance of chemistry/energy move you, you know when, what and how to get into anyone, because everything you need to know about someone, they’ll tell you or show you. you recognize whose door is open to you, and whose isn’t, so you never try beyond your means. you just have to recognize the opportunities if their door is open to you, and if so, how to approach in a way that is comfortable.

but AD, of all people, knows i’m catch and release. i don’t mess around with people. i would never consciously take advantage of a soul. he’s known me for 10 years, and i’ve been there for him whenever he’s needed a friend, a caring shoulder, healing wisdom, a woman’s perspective. he knows my heart. he knows i’m a good person.

so then, why did the conversation take such a bizarre turn? he suddenly asks if my vagina is magical. what makes these guys act the way they do around you?, he asks. are you basically saying your vagina’s magic?

what?, i say. whether or not it’s magical, i’ve never said that.

then he gets upset that i’m so “mysterious” and passionately laments that he’s known me for a decade and he still doesn’t know anything about me. he says i don’t let him get to know me.

i’m dumbfounded.

i say that i’m one of the most open people he’s ever met. i try to always answer every question. and i’ve always been truthful with him.

he said that i don’t answer any questions. that every time he tries to get close to me, i start talking about things he doesn’t understand, and…”what the fuck are you talking about, julia?”

i tell him everything i say is truthful. that maybe, because truth is so big, so dimensional, that sometimes i feel it’s hard to capture, but i always try to communicate it comprehensively. and if someone doesn’t understand, i always work hard trying to say things in different ways for them to understand. for example, imagine a glass of water sitting on a chair. you can describe it as “a glass of water sitting on a chair.” you can describe it from a molecular level. you can describe the shadows and light from a poetic metaphorical level. they’re all true. sometimes it’s just a matter of describing what
‘s true from different levels until you hit the level that the person you’re talking to understands. but i always, always try. i’m known for it.

maybe i don’t ask the right questions, but you go out of your way not to give answers.

i answer everything, AD. when have i not answered a question you had about me?

right now. you haven’t answered my question.

what’s your question?

have you ever considered the possibility that you could be wrong?

about what?

just wrong. that you don’t know what you’re talking about.

yes.

you have?

yes. of course. no one’s right all the time. we all just build our understandings based on theories, and evidence to support theories. you have to be willing to question and adjust your theories, in order to evolve. it’s by challenging yourself and your beliefs that you learn what’s real.

but that’s not what i asked.

what did you ask?

if you ever admit you’re wrong about something.

that’s not what you originally asked, but again, yes. i always do. especially if i’m faced with strong evidence. then i would readjust what i think and believe to fit the evidence.

what the hell does that mean? you still haven’t answered my question.

(now i’m kinda irritated, and getting more fiery, but i’m still calm)

AD, i answered your question 3 times unequivocally with “yes,” but started qualifying them because you weren’t accepting my basic answer. karen, didn’t i answer him directly 3 times?

karen, whose bed AD’s sitting on, says, yes.

but AD bulldozes on.

but you haven’t been straightforward. see, i just can’t believe in why you can say the things you say so confidently, when i don’t know where it comes from. you need to show me where it comes from.

(what, you want me to show you my magical vagina? what the fuck is he talking about?)

i’ve always been open with you, i say. and i’m more than happy explaining what i see and believe. but you have to be willing to listen. you have to meet me halfway and be willing to understand, and be willing to see things through my perspective without feeling the need to immediately judge it.

i’m not being judgmental. you’re being judgmental.

wha…what the fuck, AD? that doesn’t even make sense.

i’m just saying, i’m willing to admit when i’m ignorant. but you need to admit that you can’t communicate and you need to work harder if i can’t understand you. it’s like if a student isn’t learning, it’s the teacher’s fault.

yeah, but the student has to be open to learning from that teacher. he can’t get scared every time he hears something he doesn’t understand and get defensive.

whoa whoa whoa, who’s talking about being scared? i would say that’s a strong word and you’re trying to place a feeling into me when i’m trying to rationally build an argument here. i would say that i’m being very logical in pointing out the irrationality of what you’re saying, and you can’t handle it. because i’m not the one being emotional, you are. i’m being perfectly logical. and you’re the one being defensive.

(okay, i know i’m being heated, but i’ve been laying in bed the whole time with my hands under my head, and my pulse hasn’t gone up. my ex used to make me damn near nuts with his argumentative circles and mindfucks, and i didn’t like how angry that would make me. since then, i’ve been very careful about not getting fired up in these situations. he’s overheating my head, but i’m keeping my emotions under tight control).

i’m not being emotional, AD. i’m frustrated with this discussion, but my pulse hasn’t even gone up.

see, another one of your statements. how can you say that without having an ekg machine here? you don’t know that. your statement is unverifiable.

you’re telling me that i don’t know my own feelings or inner state? that i can’t own my own statements about myself? now you’re being straight up disrespectful, i say.

suddenly, i remember this other “friend” i have (a cappy mountain goat like AD), who drives me crazy in this exact way. we worked together in promoting in amsterdam, and even though he knew i was living with a boyfriend, he would always tell me how much he wanted to fuck me, and was always suggesting that we should have sex. he did it in a funny, desperate enough way that it was easy to brush off, easy to not take seriously, and outside of that, we had a good working relationship. so when i came back to the states, we kept in touch over facebook, but he would always say shit that would piss me off, along the lines of his wanting to have sex with me, but i would always sidestep it. so when i went to florida for a few months, he kept messaging me to come visit him in louisiana. i said, no. he asked me, why not. i said, because you’re going to try to have sex with me.

you should have seen this guy blow his top. how dare you assume that, he stewed. you’re so fucking arrogant. i think you’re a beautiful, amazing creature, but i’m insulted you would think i would try to sleep with you when i’ve invited you out here as a friend. i didn’t think you were so low-minded, but you’re just one of those girls who can’t be friends with guys because you assume they all want to sleep with you. and that’s ignorant.

wtf. i pointed out hard evidence of things he said in the past, and he stuck by his original argument…that i’m arrogant for “assuming” he wants to sleep with me.

it’s a very specific type of mindfuck. it always makes me stumble and i really hate people who try that on me.

so back to the room. AD has just told me i can’t verify that my pulse hasn’t increased without an ekg machine, so therefore, i can’t know my inner state and have to accept his evaluation that i’m being emotional.

i’ve had enough for the night.

get out of our room, AD. we’ve gotta sleep. get the fuck out of our room.

no, wait! give me 5 more minutes, he says. all i’m saying, julia, is that we’ve known each other for 10 years. i don’t know why i don’t know you, i don’t know why you keep yourself so mysterious, but i’m saying, we should be a lot closer. we have moments where we’re connected and i feel like i know you, but then sometimes you’re talking, and i don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. maybe i’m fucking ignorant, but you need to try harder.

he gets up and gives me a big, drunken hug, kissing me on top of my head.

but i love you anyway, julia.

leaves.

he does not acknowledge this conversation whatsoever the next day, though everyone else is talking about it.

i’ve been very quiet, since then. silent. don’t want to talk to anyone, don’t want to look anyone in the eye. outside of transactions (ie saying thank you to the cashier when i buy coffee), i’ve wanted to be left alone, to be completely still and silent. don’t want anyone near me or inside me.

is this what’s real? this life? how shallow and superficial it is? how a friend can turn around and disrespect your being because they don’t understand why you are the way you are?

it’s important to me to accept people for who they are. doesn’t mean i have to be really close to them, but it’s not for me to judge, or fit them into a cage. it means a lot to me to have the same respect for my being extended.

it’s one thing if people don’t get you. it’s another thing, when they try to tear down who you are because they don’t. i’ll let it go quickly. i always do. but i will say that the experience did hurt a deep part of me, did sadden me, especially coming off such a validating experience from the previous cruise.

reviewing old posts for references to “seattle” to find what clues i left myself from the past. found this post that i never made public for some reason, written the day before leap day last year, the day that i will always recognize as the first day of the rest of my life.

just put it up.

here it is.

los angeles returned to gray skies today. fall is calling me. fall is the season where i’m the most creative, most poetic, my soul driven by the thunderstorms and the rain. i’m feeling this fall is going to be one filled with electricity, rain and words.

everything is still echoing towards seattle. september in seattle. live there for a couple of months. get a whatever job, menial if it has to be, that puts me in contact with the public while i write. got to get it all out. feeling the inner storm.

i need the rain. i’m going to need the rain for this.

brian is going to freak when i leave again. he hates living alone. but this is something i have to do. i need to establish seattle as my secondary location, the place where i go when i disappear. my writing cave. my privacy.

brian asked me to write out a plan the way i would write a blog entry that details what kinds of things i would be good at, what kind of corporate structure i would fit, etc.

i told him, i want to get paid doing exactly what i’m doing now…talking to strangers, writing. i don’t want to fit in the corporate world again if i can help it. but i recognize i need/want a job because i need a place and people who see me consistently, so i can anchor my life while i push my mind deep. and my book takes place in the pacific northwest, for god’s sake. i need to get to know it.

so per brian’s demand, here is my job projection:

a job that allows me to be helpful and talk to strangers, related to hospitality, travel, restaurant, fitness, art/entertainment, learning/empowerment or customer service/relations. a job that challenges me creatively, and puts me in direct contact with people open to a positive experience. a job that opens my mind and gives me inspiration, as well as gives me “details” that help me flesh out my book. i would like the job to either have fixed hours limited to the daytime (no weekends), or a flexible schedule where i don’t feel time-oppressed. i would like to work for an established, thriving organization, or a small company with strong ideas, leadership and direction.

i am not above temping, since my character starts at a temp agency. but i will only do this if my financial situation supports it. if not, i will get two part-time jobs if i get to a point where i feel it is pertinent for me to have this life experience.

i am willing to range from working as a barista at a coffee shop, to doing inside sales, business development, marketing, corporate communications/pr. i would probably be happiest in an office job that uses me to create written content and communications.

but again, i want to have direct contact with customers and clients.

my plan:

1. in mind, set sights on september in seattle.
2. scouting trip, early sept. find furnished apt with short term month-to-month lease.
3. research job market, send out resumes, test the waters. if i know where i’m going to be living, i’ll be able to provide proof of intent of relocating to seattle as a resident.
4. rejoice
5. freak out
6. accept my calling
7. get ready to live life and write.

the experience was so shallow, i still haven’t decided yet if i’ve drowned.

8/10/09 – The Incident with the Dog

i’ve been muy lazy about writing up this unusual thing that happened last monday, so before i get into the bahamas cruise update, i want to get this down.

on monday, i had a really chill day. was in a very, very happy mood. did some writing, headed up to borders to pick up the little prince. i’ve been meaning to read it for some time. i’ve had several people recommend it over the years, and recently, on my last trip up to fremont in june, i noticed my brother had a copy of it on his desk.

are you reading this, i asked him.

i don’t know whose that is, he said.

i remember wanting to take it to read, but wasn’t sure if it belonged to someone else who had just left it at my parents’ house, so i left it alone, making a mental note to check it out.

while on the cruise to alaska, i was getting breakfast one morning and i noticed a guy in the beverage line had it in hand, and it reminded me all over that i wanted to read it. finally, the last night, our last meeting, christian and i talked books and he said the little prince was his number one recommendation to me. i figured i was clearly being urged that now was the right time to read it.

i have a bit of a magical relationship with books. i’m always buying or picking up books…both my parents’ house and my place in la are filled with them. there are books i buy for whatever random impulsive reason, but they’ll sit on my shelf, forgotten for years sometimes, before i pick them up one day by whim. sometimes i read them, sometimes i flip through, but usually what happens is whatever i read turns out to be exactly what i needed to read at the exactly right time.

for example, i read a review of this psychology book about how divorce affects children, particularly in their adult life. i bought the book in 2000, really excited about it because it was right around the time i was focused on getting ready to apply to grad schools for clinical psychology. but then it sat on my shelf for years, until 2007, when i decided to pick a book at random from my shelf to read. it turned out to be a fascinating book, discussing studies indicating that divorce strongly affects the future adult outlooks of children and how they approach their own relationships, and begged the question if divorce is better or worse than when parents are unhappy and stay together. so as i was reading the book, i randomly ran into a chiropractor i’d gone to the previous year after a minor car accident. we went out a few times, and i remember there were some heavy moments when he would mention his parents’ divorce when he was a child, and how he didn’t want to get married then divorced. i sensed he had some deep-seated issues, issues that meant that whatever was happening between us probably wouldn’t go anywhere, but a lot of times, i would find myself thinking about the book or telling him things from the book that seemed to open him up a little more. in a way, that book that i had bought 7 years before and randomly decided to read at that particular time, became an aid of sorts for understanding this man and his perspective of life, connecting in a way that was supportive to him.

other examples are sometimes, i’ll pick up a book or magazine, and read about something random, like polar bears, and then the next night, i might be out and about and someone will mention polar bears and i’ll regurgitate some nugget of info that i just happened to randomly read, and then people say, wow, that’s really interesting, like i’m really smart and know so much random information. but really, i’m just lucky that way. usually this information gets forgotten soon after it’s “used,” so if you asked me about polar bears a month later, i would probably be as clueless as the next person.

so on monday, i went to pick up the little prince to bring to the bahamas with me. i went to borders and happened to have a gift card i had bought for myself last month to get the parking validated. so basically, it was like this book was a present to me, from me. it took me a while to find that book (they’re so incredibly disorganized), though i did find it in spanish. i like reading books in spanish, though my spanish has gotten so rusty that i can only read and slightly understand spoken Spanish if it’s articulated slowly, but can’t “create” with it (speak or write). i felt a twinge in my head, that maybe it’s time to pick up spanish again.

i finally caved and asked a sales rep for help, and the only other copy was a limited edition hardback copy, a really beautiful copy. i figured i would probably really like the book so i may as well get it. was really happy about it.

it was a gorgeous day, blue skies with expressive cloud formations, so i headed to venice to sit outside and watch the sun set while i read the little prince. it seemed like a fitting setting to finally read the book. my usual place wasn’t opened yet for the evening, so i went to a little cafe across the street, and got a coffee. the waitress was really nice.

as i was getting the book out, this shaggy dog on a leash came up, crawled under my chair and between my legs, curling at my feet like she was my dog. her owner was this dignified-looking white guy in his 40’s.

um…okay, he said. this is unusual.

he stood there holding the leash while his dog chilled, pressed up against my legs.

what’s her name, i asked.

lucky, he said.

of course it is, i thought with a smile. like the radiohead song i was just thinking about.

so i was petting her, and he said, she must really like you.

he pulled the leash and asked her if she still wanted to go to the park, but she just looked at me, then put her head back down and chilled. he kept cajoling her, trying to get her to go, but she was determined not to go anywhere, pressing harder into my leg. so he was just standing there, holding the leash, not knowing what to do.

did…you want to sit down?, i asked, gesturing to the open seat across from me.

i guess i have to, he said. lucky doesn’t seem to want to go anywhere.

we talked about the area, but to be honest, we had no connection. it was really tedious small talk. i seemed to also be making him nervous, or more accurately, he was making himself very nervous. he kept taking off his sunglasses, putting them back on, taking them off again, and talking really fast, then drifting off in mid-sentence. so i just tried to be friendly and pass the time, and we waited for his dog to be ready to leave.

i asked him about 1311 abbott kinney which was half a block up from where we were sitting, that commercial building that’s for sale. he didn’t know what it was, but said a lot of buildings were vacant now because there wasn’t enough money coming in to support the leases. the street has a lot of art galleries and boutique retail establishments, but i feel this building isn’t for retail…but something else. i would have to keep an eye on it and think about it some more, but i want access to that rooftop patio.

i told him i was a writer and he told me to write children’s books. actually someone else had suggested that to me before, but as something i would be good at once i had my own kids. we had a long silence while we each stared off into the distance, and then he broke it by saying, i don’t know anything about what you write, but whatever you do, you should tie it in with music, make it a multimedia experience.

that’s funny you say that, i said. my creativity is closely tied to music. i’m always linking music to the things i blog about. music and words, to me, feed and inspire each other. i can’t have one without the other.

he stood up and asked his dog if she was ready to go. he tugged on her leash and she got up, but did a fake out, walking in a tight circle then sitting back down on her haunches, staring at me.

now i d
on’t have as much experience with dogs as many of my friends do–my parents had a sweet dog when i went off to college, and he was great, but i’ve never had my own who was my sole responsibility. i know they do tend to like me, and as long as they aren’t neurotically insane, i usually like them. but this experience with this dog was getting unusual.

the guy kept tugging the leash and telling her to go, but she just sat there looking at me, then jumped into my lap with her paws on my waist, putting her head on the table. it looked like a very wistful hug.

well, that looks very comfortable, i said.

the guy was perplexed. lucky, you act like you don’t get any love at home, he said, almost hurt.

she laid there like that and he patted her but she wouldn’t move. he offered her a treat but she just lifted her head, looked at me, licked my hand, then put her head down again. he tugged at her leash and she would land on the ground, but just jump into my lap again and stare into my eyes.

this is very unusual, he said. she really likes you.

i took my phone and snapped a picture of her.

there, i said. now i promise that i will never forget you.

but she stayed in that position, paws on my lap, staring into my eyes. her owner kept calling her name and she would glance over but go back to staring into my eyes. it was then that i noticed she had hazel eyes that were incredibly…human. i stared back into them and felt myself starting to open, starting to sink, the way it happens when i look into the eyes of someone with whom i’m capable of connecting with on a deeper level.

maybe she has something she’s trying to tell me, i say, almost a whisper. lucky, are you trying to tell me something? do you know what it is i’m supposed to be doing?

she licks her lips, almost a smile, then jumps off, walking away with a happy trot, now more than willing to lead the way towards the park.

her owner looks at me and shrugs, dumbfounded.

i’ll…i’ll see you again, he said, almost dazed. i’ll probably see you again.

he walked away, dog leading the man, and i thought, i’ll see you again. not see you later. not, take it easy. but i’ll see you again. like he didn’t understand what had just happened, but expected when we meet up in the future, we might have a better idea then.

what a strange encounter.

i saw that my place was now open for business and figured i would read there and watch the sunset through the palm trees from my favorite spot by the open window. i went to pay for the coffee but the waitress smiled and told me not to worry about it. that was very nice. so i left her some money on the table, more than the cost of the coffee.

started reading the little prince. it took me a long time because i was savoring every word, every feeling, every sweetness, every image. it made me so happy sometimes, i thought i would cry. got to the part about the baobabs and watching the sunset. loved that i was watching the sunset at the same time.

“you know, when you’re feeling very sad, sunsets are wonderful…”

“on the day of the forty-four times, were you feeling very sad?”

but the little prince didn’t answer.

holy crap. tears welled up in my eyes. i put the book away, to savor for later.

i didn’t end up taking it with me to the bahamas. the copy i have is just too nice. i think i’ll read it over the next couple of days when i go to my spot in venice to watch the sunset.

so far, it has brought a lot of happiness into my spirit.

today’s mood: laconic melancholy

brian told me once that i’m someone who needs a certain amount of time to myself to be melancholy. that it’s just a part of who i am, something that i need. nothing for people to be alarmed by. i guess there’s an emotional richness to being melancholy. it’s probably necessary to give me moments of reflection. regardless, i’m having a melancholy day.

on the taxi ride home i got a very nice, friendly taxi driver. but after this weekend, i didn’t feel like small-talking. i wanted to be left alone to the echoes of my mind. he tried to start a conversation about my vacation, but i gave him very short answers, polite still, but reserved. i realized that i do this. there’s a population in this world of people who think of me as a very quiet, serious, shy person. and that’s because on the days they’ve met me, or whatever side of me i consistently show them, they’ve encountered a very quiet, reserved person. like this taxi driver, these people have never seen me at a party lighting it up, have never seen me in a dark corner having a soul-searching heart-to-heart, have never seen me in work mode getting it done, have never seen me when i’m in warm, bubbly miss helpy-helpy mode. if they saw these other sides of me, they would probably feel like they’re experiencing a different person. but it’s all me, just different sides, different elements becoming dominant.

in regards to this driver, his entire experience of me builds the idea of a quiet, private person.

a polite person. but a blank.

one that may or may not exist.

i like that though. sometimes, i don’t want to be remembered.

sometimes, i wish i could forget.

a couple of nights ago, i had a dream.

i walked into a moonlit afterworld of deep blues and shadows. the world was rich and beautiful, but everything was in disorder, in need of being put back together like pieces of a puzzle that have been jumbled and left in neglect. nothing was functional. the city was lifeless. abstract. lacking meaning and soul.

the school in particular was in shambles. the children had nowhere to go. i sat down and was overwhelmed with sadness, but i wouldn’t let myself collapse. i had to be strong, there was so much work to do. it was all so much to put back together, even before we could start creating what’s new and start moving forward. i stood up, gathering inner strength for the task, feeling overwhelmed but preparing to face what needed to be done when two men approached, surveying the scene.

we have to get this place running again, i said to them.

the cold wind whispered and the moon hung low. it was late. the man on the left put his things down and led me towards a sheltered spot. i followed reluctantly, untrustingly. we laid down, my head on his chest, his arms wrapped around me as he gently stroked my hair. he kissed the top of my head tenderly, and i let go, closing my eyes, pulled under by a deep wave of exhaustion. i suddenly had an incredible feeling of safety. of all that is familiar. of being home.

it’s him, i realize. the one who echoes of a memory before time. the one i’ve been meeting in various recurring dreams my entire life, even in childhood, his ghost appearing then disappearing to the sound of distant train whistles cutting through midnight fog.

don’t worry, he whispered into my ear as his silent, shadowed friend stood guard. just rest for now. we’ll put everything back the way it should be.

between the slow, deep rhythm of his heart, and his tender stroking of my hair, i felt myself melt, letting go of worry and drifting away…back to a place where i am safe.

*****
when i woke up in the morning, i got progressively more melancholy. there were traces of him everywhere, more real than the strangers i was surrounded with. who is this man who haunts my dreams? this man more familiar to me than time? why does he give me so much solace in the shadows when i need it most, yet become an endless illusion in waking life? i strive so hard with so much faith to reach for him in this world, so that i can bring him out of the dream world into reality. but is it possible?

then i remember something. how, when i learned how to breathe underwater, it changed my life. my entire approach and perspective of the possibilities of life. maybe if i can take something i recognize in a dream and find it in the real world, i can basically show myself how to cross tangible things over from dreams to reality. i’ll create a new level of freedom. of reality. of destiny.

i need you so much closer…

the dream has been in the background of my mind all weekend. as i was riding the taxi home in my laconic mood, i remembered there’s a david gray song from one of his older albums i used to love but which i haven’t listened to in a while. found it on my ipod, album – lost songs. david’s a fellow old soul gemini. love the expression of his universe. realized how beautiful and fitting the song is for exactly what i’m feeling and experiencing lately, everything my book is about, especially how the symbology of a deep blue flame burning through shadows is one i always see in myself when i close my eyes.

perhaps this day is about how i lost this song, so that i could find it again when i needed it most.

this song is dedicated to you:

I went looking for someone I left behind
Yeah, but no one, just a stranger did I find
I never noticed, hadn’t seen it as it grew
The void between us where the flame turns blue

Through the lemon trees the diamonds of light
Break in splinters on the pages where I write
That if I lost you, I dont know what I’d do
Burn forever where the flame turns blue
Yeah if I lost you, I don’t know what I’d do
Burn forever where the flame turns blue

-david gray, flame turns blue

i’m back! happy to be home. updates later. must eat.

who is he, she asked the shadow.

why, you don’t know? he’s the man who will give you away.

calm before the storm

tomorrow morning, i fly into miami to begin BOOZE CROOZE…a cruise trip to the bahamas that my college friends have been planning for a year. it will be interesting…we always have a good time but sometimes the group dynamic gets a little shallow for me, so i end up feeling like i’m 37% present at any given time. unless something funny happens. but sarita always says i’m the best person to go to vegas with, because really unique and memorable things tend to occur. and i’ve learned last week how much energy i can pull on a cruise ship to make things out of the ordinary happen. i’m really hoping for a very interesting trip. at least one that will be a great story.

i can’t promise salt shakers moving across the table by themselves, but i would be game for a little positive weaving.

my life, is like having the ability to get to know each individual drop of the ocean, while simultaneously being able to understand its grand meaning.

sometimes, when i touch someone’s skin, i can feel if they have been sad for a while.

nice note from colin:

Thank you for such a wonderful evening! Even the floor was comfortable!! You are such an amazing person and I’m glad we got to reconnect…you’ve done some amazing work since we last connected.

i’m always so appreciative of kind words.

so i haven’t given out brian’s assessment of my cruise trip. this monologue happened my first night back in la. if you should feel at all offended in anyway, please remember that: 1. it’s brian; 2. so you know he was probably drunk; 3. he’s from texas. he can’t help himself.

[brian, glass of white wine in hand, after hearing a short synopsis of the story]:

the first thing i want to say is that you and “crazy shit” need to be on a break, like ross & rachel style. you’re ross and “crazy shit” is rachel, and you guys are on a break.

what the hell are you doing meeting people on a cruise? of course you guys connected. that’s all they do. guys who work on cruises only have to pay attention to one bitch for a week at a time. how convenient is that? so any dude who works on a cruise is basically like, i’m gonna work the high-seas pussy [he circles his hand like he’s buffing a car]…while i’m killin’ the land-based pussy[lifts a shotgun and fires]… i’m watching the real world right now, and those kids are working at a resort in cancun. you get a bunch of young, hot dudes working at a resort…they’re basically mailing that pussy in for them to hit. you know what those guys are? they’re swimming in pussy. up to their fucking ears in pussy. they’re getting it mailed in, and they fuck it and return to sender.

and this is the last thing i’m gonna say before i pass the fuck out.

1. italian. really? they’re womanizers. it’s like in their blood.
2. cruise dude. you met on a cruise. that is not okay.
3. he works on the cruise. you know how i feel about dating the help. i will make a rare exception for an exceptionally hot bartender, but julia…no.

[he points a finger and wags it at me, then staggers away]

*this performance brought to you by the state of texas.

today my coach gave me a drill–running straight towards the basket, catch and bank. it’s about angles, and delicacy. he said this was the hardest drill, and he guaranteed me that i would miss more than i make.

so of course, i make the first three, lose a little focus because i’m feeling the urge to gloat, and ended up 5-8. hardest drill, huh…is all i say.

well, it’s hard for me, he mumbles.

he spent about half an hour sitting on a bench with me after the session, telling me theoretically, how he would treat me if we were dating. to be honest, at least he’s a sweet guy. still not my dude, but he’s trying to meet me on my level, and i can appreciate that.

does that old guy still bother you?, he asked.

i took out my phone and looked. i don’t know, it was just a feeling. to my surprise/non-surprise (they were both intense feelings), there’s an email from him. yes, i said. i’ve only met him twice, and have been ignoring him for a month, and he’s writing to tell me i’m the only woman for him and i’ll never meet anyone better than him. in fact, i get something from him every day. do i need to explain further why this guy being on my radar is worrying me? the devil often plays a desperate man. i had a sudden wish that my coach could be my big brother. it’s times like these i need a big brother.

(*epiphany. i know it’s childish, but this stalker is a fucking child. if the harassment persists, i bet my coach would be willing to call the guy and tell him to stay away from me. in america, where often, karma is a bitch, big black guys always trump little white guys. and i need this little white guy to stop even thinking in my direction)

jason met up and brought some friends. we haven’t played in 2 years, and only once. we played 4-on-4 half court which is probably my worst game. my best is 3-on-3. i really sucked the first play, and i wanted to blame it on being tired (i’ve already been running hard drills for an hour and a half), but that’s a crappy excuse so i sucked it up and kept going. took me a while to get into a rhythm and the guy i was guarding was fast and strong. the guy was built like a 5’6 tank with quick reflexes and great body control. but i stuck with him, even though he did score a lot on me off screens. i hit most of my mid-range shots, and we won the first game. lost the second. played a tie-breaker and jason twisted his ankle on a drive to the basket.

boy, i’ll tell you something about jason. the guy graduated from ucla, is smart as hell, but he’s like a rabbit who won’t get out of his cage. and he’s in his late 20’s. but you watch this guy attack the basket, and he’s like a one-man fighter-jet brigade. it’s like watching a robot against humans. strong, precise, flawless. i couldn’t believe this guy. i told him afterwards, how we once discussed a common perspective regarding how people play basketball says a lot about them as a person. i told him how he attacks the basket, he needs to go at life in the same way. he hasn’t even started his journey yet! i’m halfway through and he hasn’t even left the starting gate. so i told him he has to harness that power and do what he does on the court, the way he charges in, trusting himself that he’ll know what to do when he gets there. and he usually makes the right decisions. he agreed he needed to do that.

so anyway, tiebreaker game, jason twists his ankle but keeps playing. i tell him that he needs to carry us, and he stays in it, playing his heart out. but then i’m asking for the ball when it feels like the momentum is in favor of the other team, and i ended up scoring 8 out of our 15 points, putting us well ahead. i hit some long range shots, but to be honest, they were all really hard shots. i had this guy who was like a ninja tank going after every shot, and i had to do a lot of crossovers to create any kind of space. but i started posting up on him a couple of times under the basket, and got some turnarounds in. one drive into traffic with shot blockers jumping around me. i’m going to say that was the most ridiculous one.we ended up winning. thanks for carrying the team, jason said when we shook hands.

afterwards, jason sat down next to me on the bench as i was packing up my stuff.

i can’t believe what you did over there, he said.

what do you mean, i asked.

i didn’t know you could play like that. i had no idea you could do that.

i laugh, and make a self-deprecating comment.

i’m just not used to seeing girls play like that. you don’t play like a girl. you play like a really good basketball player.

i’m amazed. what a nice comment. right up there with that night we watched the dawn break and he called me a child of atlantis. i really am playing out of my mind, and it does surprise me. i mean, i hit 44 out of 47 free throws today in a drill.

this level of mental focus is absolutely unprecedented. and the amazing thing is, it’s coming so naturally. it’s just a matter of paying attention. maybe that’s all it is, being really conscious by focusing your entire self into a moment. when i look into people’s eyes, i’m completely focused on them, opening my inner door so i can take in as much of everything about them as i can. last month, an argentinian playboy told me i had dangerous eyes.

perhaps it’s whatever you want to make it. or perhaps, it’s not my eyes people find dangerous, but what they’re afraid i might see.

Places I’ve never been that I want to visit when the time is right:

1. Greece
2. Croatia
3. Cinque Terre
4. Portland, OR
5. Cambodia/Vietnam
6. Egypt
7. Australia/New Zealand
8. Fiji
9. Maldives
10. Buenos Aires
11. Montreal