i find solitude a strange thing. like a cool heat. or a silent scream.i enjoy the quiet of being alone. of being so focused upon one action or thought. of not feeling the sun slip across my skin. of only stirring from a dream when the cool kiss of moonlight disrupts the hair upon my neck.but this quiet. this alone that i feel so comfortable with in one instance. can raise the hair upon my neck in gooseflesh. the inward focused gaze becomes vague. misty. filled with illusions and whispers. i can track the path of the sun by the jagged shadows flitting across my vision. harsh lighting. deep darkness.perhaps i have grown accustomed to my solitude spilling into companionship. two single worlds. orbiting each other. me in mine. he in his. alone and together.so now our paths are thrown off kilter. and i find myself more and more in the discomfort of solitude. alone among friends.it's a strange place to be.i'm ready to not be alone.any time now.
there are no real cinderella stories. no real happily ever afters. no romantic gestures. no running to the airport to catch a fleeing heart. no rainy days spent under a doors lintel waiting for love to return.i was a blind. a fool for the drama that hollywood has imagined. i was taken for a ride by the flowing words of story tellers. yarns spun to entrap young hearts and shackle hopeful minds.i've been herded like so many. into the walls of marriage. into the lies of love. love was supposed to be enough. if you loved someone. somehow. it would all turn out right.if you gave someone. all that you were. all that you are. all that you could ever be. if you gave willingly your heart. your trust. your secrets. that they would see past any flaws. they would know your true worth. they would fight for you. they would mean the words they said to you. they wouldn't run at the first bump in the road.oh love. how you pain me. how you cut me. and so i will continue to be pained. to be cut. to be burned. because i am a fool. because though i want to fight. though i know in the shattered pieces of my heart. my love belongs to one who doesn't see clearly. my traitorous heart will always wait. always long. for that moment. near the credits. when they reunite. and the music swells. and the hearts of two beat as one. and the happily ever after is promised.i will cry. i will suffer. i will slowly die.i will fight. i will yell. i will burn things and break things.i will live. i will wait.i will be silent.i will leave.and i will stay.and i will speak no more.
i've noticed moments of quiet in my soul. it happens in time of happiness. all the angst and anger has been tempered by contentment. i feel as though this joy somehow saps my creativity. i find that the words don't behave as they used to. i wrangle with the feel of them. where i used to pluck the rhymes from the air like little threads of spidersweb. i now sift through the cobweb filled recesses of my own mind.it's as if being in a relationship. no. strike that. being in a happy relationship makes you sluggish. you wade through hugs and kisses. each sweet snuggle catching your ankles as you struggle through a bog made of comforters and cookies. where you used to make entertaining remarks now you talk of mortgages. all your witty quips are in regard to what piece of furniture you just bought. your nights are full of cuddling in front of the television watching crappy shows in your pajamas.on the rare occasion when you do deign it necessary to leave your warm nest you find late nights to be a bother. you realize that your conversations are in the irritating sublanguage of "we". we this. we that. we feel. we. we. we.slowly you slip into this. but you know. after two years? there are always little discoveries. new stories. more conversations about things you never knew. and the nights of canoodling on the couch? i wouldn't want to spend my evenings any other way.
oh hopeful heart. where do we go from here?i'm walking on ever changing landscapes.i do so hope i don't take a misstep.and if i do. i wish for a familiar hand to catch me.
i am a real employee now. like a pinocchio. i am a real person. a live girl. sweet.got a job folks. i'm a permanent employee. dude.i. rock.
despite my current frame of mind. i'm working on a wedding. for a dear friend. almost a blonde counterpart to my dark haired neurosis. where as i am only now accepting my female-ness. and all things pink. she's always been a proper girly girl. as such. her cake is a tribute to the female condition. pink. and gold. and butterflies. and roses.the wedding date will soon be upon us. and i've still got far too much to do. working a 9-5. and working on pulling myself out of a spiral of depression. a wedding cake is not really the first thing i would think to do at this time. but i can't let her down. and what is it they say about idle hands?they cramp up after piping 5 dozen icing roses?yes. yes they do.
surprisingly not too hungover. i made it to and through a full day of work. i was of course helped along by several cups of sweet coffee and hot chocolate.i enjoyed a quiet lunch with the girls. the sun was out.the birds are singing.and if it weren't for the oppressive weight of my heart. i'd say today wasn't too bad.lessons take a long time to learn i suppose. that or sometimes you just need to get piss drunk and sing showtunes until midnight. potato. potahtoe.except i still don't want to call the whole thing off.
stupid volcano. if you so much as even sputter again between now and when i fly home to the uk... so help me. i can't be held accountable for my actions against you. stupid volcano.stupid ash.grrrr.
so i'm back at the museum/antique store that is my mom's current living situ. staying here is like going back in time. it's as if once i walk through the doors i've somehow entered into a house shaped delorean. all i need is for doc to help me figure out why they hell i'm here.it's a strange sensation. being an adult. but at the same time being a child.this morning. as i tried to catch up on sleep. i could hear the motherly shuffling of wakefulness just outside my door. i could all but see her twinkling eyes and diminutive frame. quietly at first she whispers... are you awake? are you awake yet? then as if out of a james brown song she gets a little bit louder now... you're not awake yet? a 'lil louder na-ah... are you awake?finally as i pull the covers over my head and quietly say a prayer to the gods of sleep and patience she wanders into the other room.later after i've rolled out of bed and poured a cup of coffee into my system they are readying themselves for a quick jaunt out to the market. i'm surfing the web and catching up on life outside of this time capsule. my mom, full of worry and fretfulness, says to me... don't answer the door for anyone unless it's your cousin or your uncle. there are a lot of counterfeit police...oh dear. i should also state that in this little corner of the world. it's pretty safe. maybe not as much as 10 years ago. but it's safer than some places i've lived in. suburbia is pretty clean and plastic coated if you catch my drift.but most importantly. i've lived on my own for 3 years. i'm 30 years old. i do stay out after the sun sets for crying out loud. i suppose all rationality goes out the window once you pop a couple of sprouts out of your lady bits.but really.really?!sigh.
(in a defensive manner)she's not jewish! she's a lesbian!well, that's us told. best argument evar.
open wounds don't heal. when covered over in salt. compressed and painted. playing make believe doesn't mend a cut. i fear i'm closing down. i want to remain open. to keep my chin up. my spirits high. to keep plowing forward. hopeful. and vulnerable.and there it is.vulnerable.in my head my voice is screaming. pounding my fists against my thick skull. it isn't going to work. it never does. give up. give in. don't bother fighting. just lay down. cover yourself in gauze. wrap yourself in armor. and sleep.but in my heart. the smallest of me is wishing. crying. ever hopeful. ever naive. ever loving. maybe this time. maybe. if i just. if i were. i could. i could try. to be more. to be less. to be what everyone wants. to be what one wants. my head is louder. my heart is sad.nothing ever works out as it should. i should know better. i should know not to expect. if you never expect for much. your heart won't be broken.everything is still unsaid.but my head believes one scenario is coming. and my heart is growing quiet.my hope is built on shaky ground. the dry and hollow foundation of my heart.
sometimes you just get a hankering for something. so at 11 at night you decide to get the ball rolling.i'm making soft pretzels tomorrow. i love not having any restraint when it comes to cravings.
firstly i want to say "the hell? why did i chose one of the more blurry pictures from last night?" oh right. because i was drunk. and it apparently blurry is how my world looks after a few free cosmos.in any case, these are surprisingly clear pictures of last night. things to note:i am wearing makeup.the smooth clarity of my drunk picture.the fact that i'm damn hawt. i am. shut it. that my friend goosed me, spilled cosmo on my tah-tahs, and i don't have a stained shirt.oh and that i got compliments on my entire outfit... which you can't see, because i took the lovely purple jacket off. meh.
one more fun thing to note... watch out england. i just got approved*.
you'll be seeing a lot more of this dirty stop-out in the near future.
* if you are wondering why it's not mastercard... it's because it's a visa baby!
the other night we stayed up a little later than usual. it was the end of a weekend and my darling hubby didn't need to be at work until 9am. you see the next morning would be the start of a new job. his first day. and seeing as we live all of a 5 minute (if you are him) or 10 minute (if you're as slow as me) walk away, he could wake up at 8 and still be in on time to work.so all nestled in bed. lights off. the blankets all warm and cozy. i drift off to sleep. there i am. all snug as a bug in a rug... bug? bug? oh god almighty there is a bug on me! i brush it off my arm onto the floor. now, keep in mind i'm blind without my glasses. my world is a blur. so here i am. in bed. breathing heavily as i've been woken up by a creepy crawly on my arm. and i can't see a thing.where is it? where is it? do i get up and turn on the light? no, no, that would wake the man. and then he'd look at me with his pretty blue eyes all crinkled from the sudden blinding light and he'd whine. or worse. he'd call me a dork. so i sit there. trying to covertly scan the blurred room for the bug. i don't want to get up. it might attack my toes. finally, now that i'm awake, i have the pressing urge on my bladder. phooey. now i have to get up and risk a guerrilla attack on my precious toes.i finish up in the bathroom and open the door back into the bedroom. now, the bathroom is an "en suite" meaning it's part of the bedroom. it's so part of the bedroom i can take one step from my side of the bed and be in the bathroom. so as i open the door the light comes spilling out. i take advantage of this slightly diffused lighting to try and find the bug. no luck. i stand up from my crouching bug killing stance. and there, there are those pretty eyes all crinkled at me.i explain that there's a bug. he gets up. shakes the bedspread. watches as i inspect every corner of the room. then gets back into bed. i find no bug.i go back to bed. so here's an interesting tidbit about me. once i wake up in the morning (even early, early, why the fuck am i awake morning) i start to sneeze. i sniffle. my nose drips. i get all congested and miserable. and to make matters worse, my allergy pills just ran out. so i am in bed, trying to go back to sleep, sniffling, sneezing, and still looking out for a bug.and then? buzz. buzz. tink. tink. buzz. it's on the window. we jump up. can't find it. sniffle. sneeze. drip. drip. trip to the bathroom for toilet paper to mop up my nose. sniffle. sigh.back i fall into sleep.and then he's out of bed. rustling with the bedside lamp. and there. there is the bug. one of those nasty black beetles. the kind that is surprisingly strong for a beetle. the ones where you try to get as much paper towel between you and it as possible, and even then you can feel it's icky hard shell and prickly little nasty legs. and those legs are strong. they burrow into the carpet so you feel as if you are trying to prise a chubby 7 year old away from the bakery counter at lardy's-r-us.i digress.he got the beetle. crunched it in some toilet tissue, which i then dutifully flushed down the toilet.and back to sleep we went.i think he got about 5-6 hours of sleep.
so yea. in case you haven't been aware of the situation with my visa it's basically this:- in july, apply for renewal of uk visa.- in september find out that visa agency will not expedite and can not guarantee when the visa (and our passports) will be returned.- also in september is my best friends wedding (hence the need for our passports).- the week before our planned flight to the usa in september we are told by the visa agency that our options are to not attend the wedding and await for an unknown time for our visa to be processed OR to cancel the application and lose out on the 400 quid we paid in order to receive our passports. awesome.- october 2nd, the date that we were supposed to return together after our trip to california for my friends wedding. husband flies out alone as i don't have a visa to return home with him.- from october to december, much crying, much trying to figure out which country we want to live in, one failed attempt to re-apply for the visa, two interviews in london for the husband, one half filled in green card application for the husband, unemployment for me, indecision, changed plans, and many frayed nerves on both sides of the world for ALL involved...- mid-december, i use the money that was lent to me for my visa by my dad to visit my husband for christmas.- december to early january. i forget how it is to sleep alone. i wake up in the middle of the night next to my husband. bliss.- january, husband and i decide (finally) on a course of action. i'll be returning to the uk. we'll move to london. i need to return to cali (which was always the case anyway) to apply for the visa.for the time in cali i've been staying with my friend. rent free. though not guilt free. i have no job. i can't contribute monetarily. so i cook instead. i try to help out by helping with the back garden. i clean. i do laundry. i try to stay out of the way. they're newlyweds. i shouldn't be there. i try to teach her how to stretch meals. how to check the pantry before going shopping. how to check the fridge before shopping. how to keep foods costs down by planning meals with what you've already got in the house. by planning for leftovers. i collect them from the airport. i try so hard to be unobtrusive. but my guilt is oppressive.my guilt is twofold. i've not had steady work. i've not looked hard enough. my husband alone. he's been struggling. trying to handle the same amount of debt with less the income. i'm not there. i can't help. i'm not working. i'm not working hard enough on working. he's had to sell stuff. he's going to move to smaller flat. he's got to rent a room with a friend in london. it's cheaper than living here where we are. he want's to live in london for a while. it's a big city. it's a chance. it's a change. it'll be an adventure. and i'll join him there. i'm apprehensive of course. large cities and i don't mix. but it's exciting. it's london. it's opportunity. it's diversity... it's terrifying.but it's with him. the man i married. the man i swore i'd be by his side forever. and for 3 long horrible months i've not.but the guilt.the burden.and to have someone i care about... presume that the changes in plans... that the indecision... that all the delays and trepidation is about something more... something else. something sinister? another woman? trouble in the marriage? that somehow i'm dragging them into this... this possible marital stress? this IMAGINED marital stress.i've found my angry again.bubbling and roiling. rising to the surface. overflowing into tears. becoming tangible in heat rolling off my body. changing and twisting my guilt into rage.ask no questions. guess and presume. gossip and whisper amongst yourselves. bring your own insecurities into my despair. thanks so much.apparently i'm that kind of person. that people can't ask me what's going on. without already having their own version of events. and when i explain multiple times. ignore my answers. and ask again. to ignore my explanation again. and again. so the true picture is hidden.i'm not that vague. i'm not a closed book. i don't lie. i don't give half truths. i say it as it is. so how can i be misconstrued? i don't sugar coat things. yes there has been a lack of concrete information. not ALL things can be planned. not everything can go according to my plan. or your plan. or some cosmic schedule.life is life. we make our way. we negotiate a path in an ever changing landscape.believe me when i say this wasn't in my plan. i really, REALLY would rather things be different. but they're not. i made one choice 3 months ago. i thought it was the right one. and it's becoming increasingly difficult in these past few days to justify that decision. i'm angry. so my words are more sharp than they need be. my actions are more rash than perhaps a rational person would consider.life is life.we make our way.i'll negotiate my path. i can see the landscape laid out ahead.i can see it transforming.cliffs. mountains. deep gorges and valleys.it's going to be shit.but i think me and my anger will make it through.i can't say the same for some.
to be.or not to be?or is it. to love. or not to love.what is love?do you chose? is it a conscious choice? or is it one of those things that simply happens? and therefore. is it one of those things. that can simply un-happen?i don't want to go. to leave this place. this little part of britain i've come to consider home. but it's an option isn't it? i don't know what to do anymore.
excerpt from an email:"...The one with the wrought iron spiderweb gate and the fountain and the glass windows in the wood fence? I dream about that place, or someplace very similar to it. I dream of one day living in such a place, and seeing the faces of curious children peeping through, and perhaps one day I will open the gate and let one in and roast it...oh, wait, that's not how fairy tales go, do they? Wait, that IS how fairy tales go. I'll have to get a cauldron, just in case."yes. we are so frighteningly similar at times.i [heart] you nammikins!
no tears. hopeful words. tenderness creeps past the awkwardness. it's like getting to know someone again. trying not to be too intense. gentle hands and looks. tumbling over my body and my heart.it's better than nothing.and it's a start.
it's weird. struggling with weight. i've always had an inflated image of myself. a bloated image. it's always been bigger... my reflection in the mirror. and as such i've always looked the same to myself. i've always looked big. so now... being a bit bigger than i was three years ago... it's weird. i know i am. i know that three years ago i was much more slender. it's obvious when i look back. when i look at pictures. but my face. the thing i see every day. so many times a day. in every bathroom mirror. in every store window. it's always looked the same. so now. i'm dieting. for real. i actually walk the 40 minutes to work every day. i hustle it home by foot if i can. i'm counting calories. which is saddening. i'm a cook. i love food. so to limit myself. it's like trying to turn a switch off. a switch that springs back to place every 5 minutes. but i'm seeing results. i'm actually going to sleep at the same weight i woke up at. which boggles my mind. i mean... i am still eating. i still have snacks... healthy snacks. i eat two actual meals a day. it's two because i can't face food in the morning. it's always been the way. i can eat an actual brekkie on weekends at ten or later. but on weekdays... meh. a smoothie or random asian cereal-tea-porridgy thing is all i can handle at 7am.so i'm not starving. yea. i'm hungry. but i'm not going to gnaw my arm off any time soon.if only the weight would shift faster... my hips are a swaying people. and i would definately like some fries with my shake.you know what i'm sayin' ?
