Thursday, January 25, 2007
Last Night
The best part of my entire day was doing nothing. Doing nothing except one of the most important things one needs to do in order to exist. To exist on some level where you can deal with everything, and be part of it, and allow it to be part of you.
Last night, the best part of my night was lying on the couch with Nikki and talking about nothing and everything and letting our streams of consciousness run and listening and offering thoughts back and forth.
She just moved to her new apartment, and it's nice and cozy, but she doesn't have electricity yet, you know, that whole five business day thing, so it was cold and rainy outside, and dark and cold inside, with the exception of a blanket we shared and a couple of battery-powered lamps her father gave her.
We bundled up on her couch across from each other, and covered up, huddling with the pillows, and just let our minds unwind.
Nikki and I have seen each other through so much. We've loved each other; we've hated it each other. We've been roommates, we've fought; we've ordered pizza and french fries and watched Smallville episodes one after another; we've spent entire days drinking scotch; we've read each other our poetry; we've cried together about boys; we've gone out to Chapultey and split Nachos and a veggie burger so we could have the best of both worlds; we've shared an umbrella; we've taken substances together and acted a fool, making stories in the present we could laugh about in the future; we've confided in each other about so many things; we've encouraged each other; we call each other up just to see how life is going; we once were in a band together, and every time I play an open mic she is there to cheer me on; we talk about all our dreams and fears and idiosyncrasies; we've talked about the worst things we've ever done, and the worst things we've ever thought; we've forgiven each other for things when we could not even forgive ourselves; we remind each other that we are human even when we are feeling the most painful measures of what it is to be human; we've had coffee and tea, and spent entire days watching crime shows or the history channel; and we're there for each other no matter what.
No matter what. That is the point we have gotten to. The kind of love that is like family. It IS family. It's a feeling of intimacy and history and love that is almost too much to comprehend, because this kind of thing can seem so inevitable and simple yet bigger than ourselves.
What is it in the universe that brings some people together, and what is it about human beings that makes us need it so much, even in times when we want to deny it from ourselves.
I felt so grateful for life and my friends, and love in every sense that it comes to you in life. And what a lucky thing it is for any number of people to get to know each other that well, and to still be interested, and caring and compassionate, taking in all the good and bad with an indescribable empathy and acceptance so beyond wonder it is as much a miracle as it is a fact. A fact worth remembering, seeking, and finding over and over again, because these little discoveries, as Nikki once said, are what keep us so young through all the many lives we lead.
The best part of my entire day was doing nothing. Doing nothing except one of the most important things one needs to do in order to exist. To exist on some level where you can deal with everything, and be part of it, and allow it to be part of you.
Last night, the best part of my night was lying on the couch with Nikki and talking about nothing and everything and letting our streams of consciousness run and listening and offering thoughts back and forth.
She just moved to her new apartment, and it's nice and cozy, but she doesn't have electricity yet, you know, that whole five business day thing, so it was cold and rainy outside, and dark and cold inside, with the exception of a blanket we shared and a couple of battery-powered lamps her father gave her.
We bundled up on her couch across from each other, and covered up, huddling with the pillows, and just let our minds unwind.
Nikki and I have seen each other through so much. We've loved each other; we've hated it each other. We've been roommates, we've fought; we've ordered pizza and french fries and watched Smallville episodes one after another; we've spent entire days drinking scotch; we've read each other our poetry; we've cried together about boys; we've gone out to Chapultey and split Nachos and a veggie burger so we could have the best of both worlds; we've shared an umbrella; we've taken substances together and acted a fool, making stories in the present we could laugh about in the future; we've confided in each other about so many things; we've encouraged each other; we call each other up just to see how life is going; we once were in a band together, and every time I play an open mic she is there to cheer me on; we talk about all our dreams and fears and idiosyncrasies; we've talked about the worst things we've ever done, and the worst things we've ever thought; we've forgiven each other for things when we could not even forgive ourselves; we remind each other that we are human even when we are feeling the most painful measures of what it is to be human; we've had coffee and tea, and spent entire days watching crime shows or the history channel; and we're there for each other no matter what.
No matter what. That is the point we have gotten to. The kind of love that is like family. It IS family. It's a feeling of intimacy and history and love that is almost too much to comprehend, because this kind of thing can seem so inevitable and simple yet bigger than ourselves.
What is it in the universe that brings some people together, and what is it about human beings that makes us need it so much, even in times when we want to deny it from ourselves.
I felt so grateful for life and my friends, and love in every sense that it comes to you in life. And what a lucky thing it is for any number of people to get to know each other that well, and to still be interested, and caring and compassionate, taking in all the good and bad with an indescribable empathy and acceptance so beyond wonder it is as much a miracle as it is a fact. A fact worth remembering, seeking, and finding over and over again, because these little discoveries, as Nikki once said, are what keep us so young through all the many lives we lead.
Labels: Friendship, Relationships, Smallville
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Hindsight
Man, I have the answers for everything. The problem is, they always come way too late for using. And as for my brain, I think it's slower than the rest of me. That's not to say I'm retarded, although, I'm far from a genius. I used to be book smart, or so I thought, but now I'm not even that.
And if you ask me what is going on in the world, I don't know.
And if you ask me about the endings of Skinny Legs and All, or Fever Pitch, or Wuthering Heights, or On the Road, I wouldn't know that either. All these books have in common is that I never finished them, although I could converse as though I did standing by a keg at some party, if it weren't for the fact I can't remember the last time I went to a party.
My thoughts don't even comfort me right now. Neither does my music. Photography actually was nice this weekend -- spending time in the lab -- rather than frustrating. But it's going to end soon. It's too time-consuming and expensive. I can't keep up. My final portfolio cost $300 in supplies, and who knows how much time ...
And so what if I complain? On a fucking blog? I can't afford therapy, I'm afraid of not having anything to say to my friends other than what's obvious, and the best things that happened to me in so long are gone.
What's love but an ending thing? The only love I know that isn't is love for and from my family. But love ends. Only in my case, not love, but relationships. They all do -- friendships and otherwise.
I could beat myself up for that like I do over everything else, but what's the point? I'm a martyr for no one but myself. Die for myself with thoughts over and over just to be a-fucking-live.
I was just learning to dream again, and now I'm questioning why I ever did. It only complicates things. It only makes the pain stronger upon failure. All the would-bes and could've beens. Enough to swim in.
No more I will or won't or want, no. Now it's more like, why?
A roundabout way of saying what I have been I guess, without saying it at all. Because the few people who read this are too many for that, I suppose.
I'm sorry.
Oh, yeah, and I fucking hate hindsight. Fuck. I told my sister today I wish I could be a fish, at least for a moment, with like a three-second memory. You gotta worry about fishing lines, but at least you don't have to worry about regret. Or wisdom or lack thereof. 'Cause whatever it is, three seconds later, I'd be a new woman.
Or something.
Man, I have the answers for everything. The problem is, they always come way too late for using. And as for my brain, I think it's slower than the rest of me. That's not to say I'm retarded, although, I'm far from a genius. I used to be book smart, or so I thought, but now I'm not even that.
And if you ask me what is going on in the world, I don't know.
And if you ask me about the endings of Skinny Legs and All, or Fever Pitch, or Wuthering Heights, or On the Road, I wouldn't know that either. All these books have in common is that I never finished them, although I could converse as though I did standing by a keg at some party, if it weren't for the fact I can't remember the last time I went to a party.
My thoughts don't even comfort me right now. Neither does my music. Photography actually was nice this weekend -- spending time in the lab -- rather than frustrating. But it's going to end soon. It's too time-consuming and expensive. I can't keep up. My final portfolio cost $300 in supplies, and who knows how much time ...
And so what if I complain? On a fucking blog? I can't afford therapy, I'm afraid of not having anything to say to my friends other than what's obvious, and the best things that happened to me in so long are gone.
What's love but an ending thing? The only love I know that isn't is love for and from my family. But love ends. Only in my case, not love, but relationships. They all do -- friendships and otherwise.
I could beat myself up for that like I do over everything else, but what's the point? I'm a martyr for no one but myself. Die for myself with thoughts over and over just to be a-fucking-live.
I was just learning to dream again, and now I'm questioning why I ever did. It only complicates things. It only makes the pain stronger upon failure. All the would-bes and could've beens. Enough to swim in.
No more I will or won't or want, no. Now it's more like, why?
A roundabout way of saying what I have been I guess, without saying it at all. Because the few people who read this are too many for that, I suppose.
I'm sorry.
Oh, yeah, and I fucking hate hindsight. Fuck. I told my sister today I wish I could be a fish, at least for a moment, with like a three-second memory. You gotta worry about fishing lines, but at least you don't have to worry about regret. Or wisdom or lack thereof. 'Cause whatever it is, three seconds later, I'd be a new woman.
Or something.
Labels: Books, Depression, Friendship, Love, Photography
Monday, September 26, 2005
I bet it never gets this cold in California.
Waiting. I hate waiting. Waiting for Hurricane Rita. Evacuating Houston. Waiting in eight hours of traffic to travel closer than San Antonio. Waiting.
Waiting in Houston for college to end. Waiting for camp to end back when I thought Aaron would be at home.
Waiting always brings so many expectations.
But I'm waiting for something else now. Something else entirely.
Tomorrow morning I'm going with my parents and my dog to the vet. I'm going to come home with my parents. But she is never coming home again.
Buffy is the only living thing in this world I've gotten to see grow up. And now I'm going to see her die.
When she was a puppy and I was a little girl, she used to lie on my stomach while I watched TV. And then, when I'd get up, she'd steal my pillow.
I've never been through this before. I'm not sure I want to go except I don't want her to die alone. I know my parents will be with her, but I can't just sit and wait and watch them come out without her.
I've been feeling sick all day. My mother called me this morning, while I was working. I covered my shift tonight at my other job, so I could sleep here and go with them.
This afternoon we took her for a walk behind our house by the bayou. The grass had just been mowed. I walked with her as long as she wanted. I waited for her to turn around. We didn't want to go too far. She has been in pain, and we're not sure how much she enjoys her walks.
Tonight she seemed to. She may have sensed the finality of it. We're taking her again in the morning, before we go.
***
I got a phone bill today that's not mine. It's in my name, and my social security number is the one I found to be on the account. It was mailed to my parents' house, but it's not mine.
It's funny because I just got another phone bill a few months ago, from another account that was not mine. From another company. So now that's two large bills in collection for accounts I never opened.
But I do know someone who gets a thrill out of opening accounts with other persons' social security numbers. Sadly, he's related to me. He's a fuck. Sadly I have his last name.
So it looks like I've got another fight to fight. When all I want to do is forget he ever existed. I fucking hate him.
***
I've decided dating is like the lottery. Or rather, I look at it as a scientific experiment. Although I think about it in if/then statements, which makes me think of studying logic in a philosophy class.
Or maybe it's more like a prove my hypothesis kinda thing. If a guy says he's going to call, but statistically nine times out of 10 they don't call, then I guess there's a 1 percent chance I'm going to give a shit.
It's cool, though, because like I said it's an experiment. Or an adventure. If you look at it as something that is happening outside yourself (which may or may not be unhealthy, I'm not sure), it's at least interesting.
***
I talked to Aaron today for the first time in awhile. It was so lame. I told him I wished he'd be my friend. So he said if I wanted to have a beer sometime we could do that. But then we were talking about my birthday and I told him I didn't invite him because I knew he wouldn't have come, and then he said he probably wouldn't have. So it's like why would he want to meet me for a beer now if he wouldn't have gone to my birthday party?
Aaargh! You see, it's an experiment. I'm betting that if I call and I want to have a beer with Aaron, there is a 1 percent chance he will answer his phone. Like most normal human beings he always has his phone nearby and answers it unless he doesn't want to talk to you. Hmmph.
***
Eric and I might get married. He's been my best friend for years. We've known each other since we were 12. I think I'm too young to have a back-up plan, hah, but whatever. Actually today we were talking on the phone and he said when he was 50 he would have a 5-year-old. And when he's 33 he's going to marry a 22-year-old trophy wife. And I said I'd be gossiping about it at the ceremony, except not really, because I'll be there with my new husband, who will be five years younger than his wife. Scandalous! Aha.
I'm laughing in my head you know. And it feels good. It feels good to laugh even if it is only inside. And only for a moment.
I guess I have a lot on my mind.
Waiting. I hate waiting. Waiting for Hurricane Rita. Evacuating Houston. Waiting in eight hours of traffic to travel closer than San Antonio. Waiting.
Waiting in Houston for college to end. Waiting for camp to end back when I thought Aaron would be at home.
Waiting always brings so many expectations.
But I'm waiting for something else now. Something else entirely.
Tomorrow morning I'm going with my parents and my dog to the vet. I'm going to come home with my parents. But she is never coming home again.
Buffy is the only living thing in this world I've gotten to see grow up. And now I'm going to see her die.
When she was a puppy and I was a little girl, she used to lie on my stomach while I watched TV. And then, when I'd get up, she'd steal my pillow.
I've never been through this before. I'm not sure I want to go except I don't want her to die alone. I know my parents will be with her, but I can't just sit and wait and watch them come out without her.
I've been feeling sick all day. My mother called me this morning, while I was working. I covered my shift tonight at my other job, so I could sleep here and go with them.
This afternoon we took her for a walk behind our house by the bayou. The grass had just been mowed. I walked with her as long as she wanted. I waited for her to turn around. We didn't want to go too far. She has been in pain, and we're not sure how much she enjoys her walks.
Tonight she seemed to. She may have sensed the finality of it. We're taking her again in the morning, before we go.
***
I got a phone bill today that's not mine. It's in my name, and my social security number is the one I found to be on the account. It was mailed to my parents' house, but it's not mine.
It's funny because I just got another phone bill a few months ago, from another account that was not mine. From another company. So now that's two large bills in collection for accounts I never opened.
But I do know someone who gets a thrill out of opening accounts with other persons' social security numbers. Sadly, he's related to me. He's a fuck. Sadly I have his last name.
So it looks like I've got another fight to fight. When all I want to do is forget he ever existed. I fucking hate him.
***
I've decided dating is like the lottery. Or rather, I look at it as a scientific experiment. Although I think about it in if/then statements, which makes me think of studying logic in a philosophy class.
Or maybe it's more like a prove my hypothesis kinda thing. If a guy says he's going to call, but statistically nine times out of 10 they don't call, then I guess there's a 1 percent chance I'm going to give a shit.
It's cool, though, because like I said it's an experiment. Or an adventure. If you look at it as something that is happening outside yourself (which may or may not be unhealthy, I'm not sure), it's at least interesting.
***
I talked to Aaron today for the first time in awhile. It was so lame. I told him I wished he'd be my friend. So he said if I wanted to have a beer sometime we could do that. But then we were talking about my birthday and I told him I didn't invite him because I knew he wouldn't have come, and then he said he probably wouldn't have. So it's like why would he want to meet me for a beer now if he wouldn't have gone to my birthday party?
Aaargh! You see, it's an experiment. I'm betting that if I call and I want to have a beer with Aaron, there is a 1 percent chance he will answer his phone. Like most normal human beings he always has his phone nearby and answers it unless he doesn't want to talk to you. Hmmph.
***
Eric and I might get married. He's been my best friend for years. We've known each other since we were 12. I think I'm too young to have a back-up plan, hah, but whatever. Actually today we were talking on the phone and he said when he was 50 he would have a 5-year-old. And when he's 33 he's going to marry a 22-year-old trophy wife. And I said I'd be gossiping about it at the ceremony, except not really, because I'll be there with my new husband, who will be five years younger than his wife. Scandalous! Aha.
I'm laughing in my head you know. And it feels good. It feels good to laugh even if it is only inside. And only for a moment.
I guess I have a lot on my mind.
Labels: Deadbeat Dads, Friendship, JamisonParker, Man's Best Friend, Relationships
Thursday, September 15, 2005
Thanks, T.
AAAGGHHHHH!
in the words of my friend:
"The way I see it is, if you quit now you can be a secretary. But if you just finish school you could be the head secretary. So finish and get that extra $1.50 an hour. Get some cheese on that Whopper!"
It's going to feel so good when I finally get my degree. Not only will I be able to claim my degree, but with pride I can say it was eight years in the making!
But somehow, it's not school that's bothering me really. I don't know what is. I love school. I don't like how much school costs, or how long it takes, but I don't mind it. Then again, whoever liked that other stuff? Who gets all excited when they think about $_________ they owe for school. I mean, people who actually borrowed money. I can't really think of anyone.
There's this line, one of many on Songs for Silverman, though, that circles in my head in the most convenient of times, making me feel better:
Why you gotta act like you know when you don't know? It's OK ~~~~ if you don't know everything. It just does.
AAAGGHHHHH!
in the words of my friend:
"The way I see it is, if you quit now you can be a secretary. But if you just finish school you could be the head secretary. So finish and get that extra $1.50 an hour. Get some cheese on that Whopper!"
It's going to feel so good when I finally get my degree. Not only will I be able to claim my degree, but with pride I can say it was eight years in the making!
But somehow, it's not school that's bothering me really. I don't know what is. I love school. I don't like how much school costs, or how long it takes, but I don't mind it. Then again, whoever liked that other stuff? Who gets all excited when they think about $_________ they owe for school. I mean, people who actually borrowed money. I can't really think of anyone.
There's this line, one of many on Songs for Silverman, though, that circles in my head in the most convenient of times, making me feel better:
Why you gotta act like you know when you don't know? It's OK ~~~~ if you don't know everything. It just does.
Labels: Ben Folds, College, Friendship
Monday, August 22, 2005
Hi. Again.
So ... Nikki has managed to betray my trust in less than 48 hours of staying at my place. No kidding. But there is no mistake on my part. At least I gave her a chance. I would have felt like a bad friend if I hadn't tried to help her out. But what do you do for people when all you want to do is help them and all they want to do is turn around and fuck you? Fuck them. That's what you do. Fuckin' A. Nuff said.
Well, I've been busting my ass. Last week was really good. And busy. But fuckin' awesome. I was training so I worked every day at Chuy's -- where I am hosting now -- and then I closed at Slicks five nights outta the week.
This week'll be a change of pace. I'm so excited about class tomorrow. I looove school. Ah, I'm such a big dork. Ah.
Sorry if this is generic or more diary-ish than blog-ish, but for the few of you who read this sometimes it's the only way we can keep up.
I will be 25 in a couple weeks. Whoa. I'm trying to decide what to do. My original plan was to have big bar party, like I did for my 23rd. But that was back when I only got "birthday drunk" -- which is the drunkest I would get all year -- on my actual birthday. And since I've spent the last month or more that way I'd rather not.
The only question is what does one do on their birthday other than get shittily and retardly wasted with ones friends? I'd say that's all I've done for the last five years at least.
Back in high school my friends and I used to go celebrate in large groups at places like Planet Hollywood and Hardrock Cafe and shit. We thought it was just about the coolest thing ever. But meh. Maybe I'll go bowling, hah! Thing is I kinda suck at bowling, and it seems like on your birthday you should want to do something that you don't completely suck at. At least with pool, I always cheated on my birthday. No one would say anything about my putting balls in the pockets with my hands because it was my birthday. My day, man.
Dude, you know what I've been wanting to do for some reason though? Mini golf. Haven't done that in years. I've also always wanted to go to the driving range and do that thing where you just pay like $20 for a bucket of balls and hit 'em as hard as you can. Not exactly a birthday idea though.
That actually sounds like it would be cool right now, because I'm really kinda stressed and unbelievably pissed off about the aforementioned bull shit with my "so-called" best friend.
So, there's this line on this one song on the Ben Folds album that I love so much. It says, seems to me if you can't trust, you can't be trusted.
It really hit home with me, because since Aaron and I broke up, I haven't really been able to trust anyone. And I don't want to be that way.
I know that some people really suck. Some human beings are just outright awful, and others are golden. And I will never stop hoping and believing in the golden ones. That they exist.
I know some really quality people. Man, I do. And sometimes you've gotta filter them in and out, because some folks will inevitably disappoint you. And maybe my bull shit meter isn't all in order, but I'm working on it. In the mean time I believe in people until they give me a reason not to.
Or at least I used to be that way, and I'm trying to get there again. Because I don't want to be ugly. Or cynical. Or drunk. I just want to be me.
So ... Nikki has managed to betray my trust in less than 48 hours of staying at my place. No kidding. But there is no mistake on my part. At least I gave her a chance. I would have felt like a bad friend if I hadn't tried to help her out. But what do you do for people when all you want to do is help them and all they want to do is turn around and fuck you? Fuck them. That's what you do. Fuckin' A. Nuff said.
Well, I've been busting my ass. Last week was really good. And busy. But fuckin' awesome. I was training so I worked every day at Chuy's -- where I am hosting now -- and then I closed at Slicks five nights outta the week.
This week'll be a change of pace. I'm so excited about class tomorrow. I looove school. Ah, I'm such a big dork. Ah.
Sorry if this is generic or more diary-ish than blog-ish, but for the few of you who read this sometimes it's the only way we can keep up.
I will be 25 in a couple weeks. Whoa. I'm trying to decide what to do. My original plan was to have big bar party, like I did for my 23rd. But that was back when I only got "birthday drunk" -- which is the drunkest I would get all year -- on my actual birthday. And since I've spent the last month or more that way I'd rather not.
The only question is what does one do on their birthday other than get shittily and retardly wasted with ones friends? I'd say that's all I've done for the last five years at least.
Back in high school my friends and I used to go celebrate in large groups at places like Planet Hollywood and Hardrock Cafe and shit. We thought it was just about the coolest thing ever. But meh. Maybe I'll go bowling, hah! Thing is I kinda suck at bowling, and it seems like on your birthday you should want to do something that you don't completely suck at. At least with pool, I always cheated on my birthday. No one would say anything about my putting balls in the pockets with my hands because it was my birthday. My day, man.
Dude, you know what I've been wanting to do for some reason though? Mini golf. Haven't done that in years. I've also always wanted to go to the driving range and do that thing where you just pay like $20 for a bucket of balls and hit 'em as hard as you can. Not exactly a birthday idea though.
That actually sounds like it would be cool right now, because I'm really kinda stressed and unbelievably pissed off about the aforementioned bull shit with my "so-called" best friend.
So, there's this line on this one song on the Ben Folds album that I love so much. It says, seems to me if you can't trust, you can't be trusted.
It really hit home with me, because since Aaron and I broke up, I haven't really been able to trust anyone. And I don't want to be that way.
I know that some people really suck. Some human beings are just outright awful, and others are golden. And I will never stop hoping and believing in the golden ones. That they exist.
I know some really quality people. Man, I do. And sometimes you've gotta filter them in and out, because some folks will inevitably disappoint you. And maybe my bull shit meter isn't all in order, but I'm working on it. In the mean time I believe in people until they give me a reason not to.
Or at least I used to be that way, and I'm trying to get there again. Because I don't want to be ugly. Or cynical. Or drunk. I just want to be me.
Labels: birthdays, Friendship, Work
