Better Days

"Without forgiveness life is governed by an endless cycle of resentment and retaliation."  ~Roberto Assagioli

"To forgive is to set a prisoner free and discover that the prisoner was you."~Lewis B. Smedes

The sky is cold and gray outside and I'm glad. 

For someone who's been fighting seasonal affectiveness disorder for the past ten years, this is really saying something. 

See, I've been deleting old photos again (it's a slow-going process for reasons that follow) and the weather fits my mood perfectly, like a big old coat that's there when you're freezing. My usually-preferred bright, blue sky would just make me feel stupid right now. In this gray gloom I can indulge my bittersweet sadness, but only for a little while.

I'm so, so sorry that things turned out this way. There are two sides to my romantic life: the loving, giving side that will open a vein for you and bleed to fill your needs; and the angry, bitter side that wears Iron Man armor and rages at the very mention of your name. An hour or so of viewing happier times has cut through the armor like Wolverine's blades. 

I've been on a bit of a super hero kick this morning. Don't know why. Bear with me.

I'm sorry that I gained a friend, fell in love with my friend, broke up with my friend and worst of all, lost my friend. 

Through these old photos, I'm re-living the better days of laughter and the sweetness of being close to someone you like...and love. I can hear the voices and feel the warmth. 

Even though I knew it wouldn't last forever (what really does?), I eschewed all the "better judgment" choices. I even knew that I'd eventually get hurt, but I also knew that the experience would be worth it. No "woman in her right mind" would have gotten involved with someone so many years her junior.

What the hell does that mean, anyway? From my understanding, the left brain is logic, fact and detail-oriented , vs the right brain, which is feeling, imagination and big-picture-oriented. Okay, I must've been in my right mind. 

Only a woman in her right mind would be smart enough to know that some of the moments she would experience were only available to someone brave enough to ignore everyone in their left mind. Anyway...

I'm sorry that something so special went so wrong. I'm sorry for not being as affectionate as I could've been at times. I'm sorry for being too enabling when I should've been holding back. I'm sorry for not setting aside more time. I'm sorry for being closed-minded at times. I'm sorry for thinking this was more than it was. I'm sorry that the door to communication is closed. I'm sorry that I can't bring myself to opening it again. I'm sorry that we live in the same state. 

Out of sight helps with the out-of-mind part, but I'm not done deleting these pictures yet. My guard is down, and that's a vulnerable state for me to be in. I was told that this processing thing is a healthy part of moving on. Moving backward for a little while really helps with moving forward. I'm done with talking to this friend in the present and most likely, in the future. Outside my window the day is gray and gloomy. 

But here in the past, in these pictures, we're still close and the sun is shining. I'll feel these feelings for now, file them away, and look forward to those better days without him.

Winds of Change

Winnie the Pooh: Happy "Winds-day", Piglet.

Piglet: [being blown away] Well... it isn't... very happy... f-for me.

Winnie the Pooh: Where are you going, Piglet?

Piglet: That's what I'm asking myself, where? W-Whoops! P-P-P-Pooh!

Winnie the Pooh: And what do you think you will answer yourself?

It's that time again. I'm trying to simplify. One partner, three sons, two passions: music and martial arts. Everything else is icing. (And too much icing makes you fat!)

We want to move.

I've been accused of having an incurable case of wanderlust. I've been called a "gypsy" and a "nomad", and I used to take offense at this. Not any more.

The great thing about growing older is that you grow up. Sticks and stones no longer break your bones, especially when you understand that those who are hurling the objet d'hurt are usually envious of whatever it is you're doing.

Why don't you just settle down and buy a house? 

Yeah, this is what I've heard for years. We make enough to buy a house. It's the "settling down" part that doesn't appeal to us. It's the fact that we'd be tied to one particular area for years before being able to consider selling and moving. This may be a good thing to you, but I know, without a doubt that we wouldn't be the multi-faceted people that we are without the exposure to the different settings that pepper our past. 

The most boring people we know are the ones that have remained too long in one place. 

Think about that.

I want to move. I love Alameda, but our space, despite its amazing location, is too small and too crowded. Even if it were filled with only my immediate family (and that hasn't happened in years!), it still lacks the required space to give each other space. Like my mother before me, I'm too communally-wired, always inviting those in need to stay a while...a looong while.

Don't know what it is exactly, but I need some space. And so the search begins, or continues, as I'm in the middle of checking out leases. Alameda is an island paradise and I'm hoping to get a place close to where we are now, but it looks like we may actually be moving to San Pablo. 

What?? Back to the hood??!!

I know, I know. Despite my years of chanting "location, location, location" to keep away the ghetto demons that lure unwary house-hunters back into crime-infested jungles with the timeless temptation of lower rents, I have found a space and it's love at first, second and third site.

And it's in the hills. 

There something about being above sea level that instantly provides you with a feeling of safety. Maybe it goes back to the days of castles with high towers, built on hills. I don't know, but the house is wonderful. Besides the pre-req living room, dining, kitchen, blah, blah, blah, there are three bedrooms, one loft, a huge basement and laundry room. This all translates to: 

SPACE, mofo.

I don't have to see you, if I don't want to, and vice-versa. 

We don't have the house yet, but the point is, we're looking for space. Even if this isn't the one we end up with, the need to breathe and the need to move about freely are forefront in our decision process. There is also a faboo home on Bay Farm Island, which is also considered part of Alameda, and this home has a ton of space, as well. We'll see...

Wow, the simplification process continues. Who am I and what have I done with the real me?

Oh really?

Just when you think you've got it down, just when you think you know what you're doing and where you're going...

Yes, I believe. Yes, I think there's a plan. No, I'm not pompous enough to think that I'll be privy to all of it right now.

But what happens when I don't know what to do and I'm not sure of who I can turn to? This is all uncharted territory for me and I'm afraid the shock will thaw and I'll really feel the weight of this burden.

I'm not trying to be cryptic, but I'm still trying to protect the innocent, if they truly are innocent. If they're not, and are proven guilty... I can already feel one of my walls start to crumble. 

I'm thankful that everyone I know and love is healthy, and for the most part, happy. I give thanks to my God for that every day. 

I just wasn't prepared for this detour. 

Life's a journey though, right? And do all journeys follow a straight line? 

Rarely. 

Amazing what you take for granted along the way. 

Help me to help myself.

Scumbag

Wow. Some people never cease to surprise me with their rudeness, cowardice, immaturity and lack of social skills.

If someone calls you, asks you politely to call them back, tells you that it's really important, 

what do you do?

Even if you don't like that person,

You call them back.

That is, if you are man enough to do so. Apparently, I've wasted my time on immature little assholes who don't know enough about courtesy or manners to do so. 

I'm so glad my parents raised me better than their's ever even tried to.

And I'm so glad I came to my senses and realized that they are a part of my past,

and have no place in my future.

Fuck you, scumbag. Keep sowing your own karma.

Priceless.

"I'm gonna copy you." Meeg said, as she updated her facebook status. "How much do you think it cost for the gas to get here?" "Maybe twelve bucks?" I answered. She continued to list the things she purchased to get here and how much they cost, just like the MasterCard commercials. She finished her update with, "Spending two nights at the Ritz-Carlton--priceless."

The Ritz is all about price. In fact, to call the stay "pricey" would be a masterpiece of an understatement, depending on your current station in life. Our particular room starts at over $400 per night, not including the $45-a night valet charge. If I were to get the munchies in the middle of the night, and forget that the honor bar was not stocked with my supplies, I could easily run up a $76 tab for peanut MnM's, wine and a half-can of Pringles. I kid you not.

I've been in a whirling dervish of to-do's at home and it's started to show in my face. I needed to get away, to unwind. I needed to clear my head of the fog that comes with shouldering sorrow, anger and confusion, grouped too closely together. Meeg's invite was timed perfectly.

This place is so low-key and relaxing. You can't stay stressed or tense without really trying. A few more days would've been great, but I'm not complaining. Of course, just as I've started to get used to doing nothing, we'll be heading back home in the morning. And of course, I have a concert to do just a few hours after I get home.

But right now Meeg is asleep on the bed, the firepit is still burning outside and all is quiet inside and outside of this magnificent hotel. The ocean waves are breaking in the distance, reminding me that there's more to life than the trivial little dramas I find myself repeatedly starring in. I'll brush my teeth, soak in the bath/pool, wrap myself in a comfy white robe and sleep with no threat of an impending alarm clock.

I may not have completely un-wound or de-stressed, but there were moments, and I'll take what I can get.

Arriving back home to my loved ones in a better state than when I left:

Priceless.

Hurt.

By all rights, I should be perfectly content at this moment. It's summertime, the sun is actually shining, I've got money in the bank and most importantly, everyone I know has their good health. 

Take a look at the picture I've posted on this entry. 

That's how I feel at this moment. Luckily, life is made up of many moments. But allow me to indulge in this one...just for a moment.

There's a darkness, a looming sadness that's seeping into me and keeping me on the couch and away from the front door. Odd, as I'm usually the first one out the door. I feel a spookiness that's draining the sunshine out of me and replacing it with fear and longing and hurt.

I could use a good cry.

I think I know its origin, I mean, a very sweet person I know recently ended his own life, and I watched Dumbledore die last night, but it feels deeper than that.

And really, I'm not comparing the depth of someone's suicide to a movie, but if you knew me, you'd know how much I truly mourned the deaths of anyone in the Harry Potter stories. These became real to me.

I need to slow down. I think part of this moment's sadness is the realization that I can't get back the time that is passing by so quickly. I don't feel focused. Maybe when Meeg and I are lounging poolside this weekend I can finally stop and really look at things. Maybe I can shut up and really hear what I'm saying.

My year is half over. What have I done with it? 

What will I do with the rest of it?

I'd like to stop hurting. Giving thanks really helps with the healing. 

I think I'd just really like a big, long hug...

Right now!

Stop bullshitting yourself.

If you're over the age of 17, who you are now is who you're going to be for the rest of your life. 

What you're doing right now, how you're living your life is most likely how you'll be living it 20 years from now.

I've read this over and over again in books and articles, and it can be pretty depressing. 

I said, "It can be." 

It can be, if you're not happy with what you're doing right now. 

Me? I'm not stuck in some job that I've been in for years, saying things like, "I'll be here only until______ (fill in the blank with your own excuse), and then I'll be doing what I really want to do--which ISN'T this job."

I'm doing what I love, every day. Not just some of what I love every day, after getting through the shitty parts. I love what I do. Every day.

Can you say that? 

In fact, Dan and I can both say that. 

Why? Because we've pursued what we love, worked hard to get the jobs and are now doing them. They don't feel like jobs. They feel like fun that we get paid for.

We didn't make excuses and bullshit ourselves with reasons for not getting what we wanted and doing what we love.

And when we're not working, we're living life fully, every day. Can you say that?

Why not? 

Good luck.

In between.

Deep breathing. Meditation. Thankfulness. Love.

It's not all about me. It's all about the world and what I can do for it while I'm in it.

If I don't remind myself each day, it shows.

Petty thoughts lead to nowhere. Sadness is a black hole.

Anger is draining.

Regret is its own mistake.

All that matters is what I can do for the world while I'm here and what's left after I'm gone.

...

Needing a little lift. My plate is so full that it's weighing me down. Even if it is full of things that I love to do, it's still full. Need some more energy. Been working hard at creating more, but I think I need a little break. 

My little brother needs me, my kids need me, my work needs me, my husband needs me. It's nice to be needed. 

I need a little me time.

Can I say thank you and ask for something at the same time?

Happily Codependent.

Independence Day was just this weekend. On the eve of the Pride celebrations, I recently reevaluated what Pride meant to me and was happily surprised. Three days after the 4th of July, I've realized how non-independent I really am.

Sure, I  can support a family, have a couple of bank accounts in just my name and prefer riding my motorcycle alone, but truth be told, I'm codependent and loving it. 

I love waking up next to someone, a couple of someones, in fact. I love knowing that I won't be spending my holidays alone. I love having "our song", not just "my song". I love not dreading slow dances. I love being in love. 

My codependence stretches beyond romance. I love depending on Starbucks to be everywhere, open and great about getting my tall, decaf, two-pump soy mocha with light whip right, every time. I love depending on Billy Mays' (may he RIP :(  products to work every time. I love knowing that Odie will be wagging his tail and waiting anxiously at the door for me, no matter how many times I come through it. I love knowing that my martial arts school has been consistent for 40 years and that they'll be the same tomorrow. I love knowing that I'll always have a musician in the family.

I love depending on others who depend on me for love.

Had a good dream last night/this morning. Mad me happy and sad at the same time.

Kinda like fireworks. Happy as hell during, sad after.

Here's to a happy 4th of July :)

Here's to dreams coming true.

Because of you...

I am at ease in a crowd.

I am generous.

I love easily.

I am hurt easily.

I have control issues.

I have a voice. 

I am intelligent.

I try to do everything.

I'm a gatherer of people.

I have a temper.

I don't listen to "no".

I am extremely creative.

I can cook.

I'm easily rattled.

I understand people.

I can perform.

I want more.

You have made me all of the wonderful, annoying and crazy things that I am.

Even though I can't see you, I know you're here every day.

Your teachings continue to influence my life and I try to pass those teachings on to others.

A ripple in a pond is not a worn analogy, 

it's your heart

and it's still beating.

Happy Birthday, Mom.