The other day I wondered what I offered people. Is there a quality I have that I can impress upon people instantaneously? I sometimes feel choked up when first meeting people in group settings. When I have to fend for myself, I feel rather confident but in the presence of another person I only absorb the situation. Rarely do I feel compelled--or able, really--to contribute to the conversation at hand.
I start feeling insecure. The other day after reading a chapter of Studs Terkel's book, Talking to Myself, he writes that it could be possible that he becomes more creative and more alive when he presses down the lever of his "mute companion" (his tape recorder). After absorbing his thought, I concluded that it could be possible that I could only truly be known on a deeper level after having read my words instead of having listened to them. Because it's in my writing where I feel truly expressed and where most of my liveliness rises.
I don't believe that I am a good writer--although I understand that I love writing and in loving something you can only one day find yourself "good" at it--but what I do believe is that it's easier for me to convey my opinions and views, feelings and fears after having time to contemplate my reaction and having taken time to have clearly and concisely expelled them onto paper or typed out on a computer that is not mine. I cannot debate--I cannot--there is no room for editing in debate. Oratory skills have no place in my life and running for presidency will never be in my cards.
Find me in my words: For this could indeed be the only way one would truly get to know me. Although I find it rather bittersweet for all of those first impression encounters that have since expired--because having no opinion is hardly attractive--I find peace in the revelation that I can be known by my words.
Thursday, October 14, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
[NEW] Beginnings & Orleans
[This post was never published for fear of my openness in speaking of the man I was dating at the time. Now it is almost a year later and I feel comfortable with being so vulnerable with my feelings although I am no longer with this man. I feel it's still a writing worthy of sharing.]
It's true that I have not written in a while. I'm taking on the John Steinbeck way, I suppose. Observing first, absorbing it and then later hashing out the meaning--if there is any.
It's been a little over a month since Isabel and I moved to New Orleans. Most days I realize that I am here. I know, that sounds weird-to realize you are somewhere-who doesn't? But what I mean is that feeling when it seems as though you are watching yourself and you see the people around you and the place that you're in and you realize--I am living.
It's not a surprise to myself that I am living in a different place than I was last year. I've taken up impermanent residency in a few locations over the past few years but I've started to realize that in order to find what I am truly seeking on this earth, I have to stay still. I started to realize one day after the thought of San Francisco popped into my head that I might not be able to do this anymore. This rampant lifestyle might not suite what I'm seeking after.
In these newest of beginnings, I've found myself suddenly in something similar to an actual relationship--or rather, the beginning of one.
This man-he is something that nearly aligns with the epitome of an individual I would surely adore. I've only been seeing him for a little over two weeks but I am suddenly struck with fear. When will he stop finding interest in me? Could it be at any hour that he'll meet someone new? Why shouldn't he be completely taken by my best friend instead of me?
These thoughts--although most likely stirring insecurities--are truly present to me today. I think this is the hardest part of beginnings: The unsureness of its ability to grow legs and make it out of the water, where we sit on the shores, mouths covered, bated breaths and off-beat heartbeats until first signs of loyalty bounds from the pulling back tides.
To describe my initial perception of this individual would do less justice to his unseen.
He's a painting and I'm beginning to see some of the shades of colors that make up this person-and what's this? I think the Artist is using some of my favorite colors, ones that I wouldn't imagine leaving out. Whether it's the lighting that is getting brighter, allowing me to slowly see more or if the painting is developing, I can't tell if the colors are going to get deeper or if they'll stay as they are but from what I see, this painting is going to be completely gorgeous and if I was so blessed as to behold it for the remainder of my life, why I'd think myself the richest woman in the world. I'm not sure if I should walk away and come back when the painting is done or if the Artist has been waiting to create this piece of work for me. I'll sit back--though not too far--for this painting is captivating me in every sense.
It's true that I have not written in a while. I'm taking on the John Steinbeck way, I suppose. Observing first, absorbing it and then later hashing out the meaning--if there is any.
It's been a little over a month since Isabel and I moved to New Orleans. Most days I realize that I am here. I know, that sounds weird-to realize you are somewhere-who doesn't? But what I mean is that feeling when it seems as though you are watching yourself and you see the people around you and the place that you're in and you realize--I am living.
It's not a surprise to myself that I am living in a different place than I was last year. I've taken up impermanent residency in a few locations over the past few years but I've started to realize that in order to find what I am truly seeking on this earth, I have to stay still. I started to realize one day after the thought of San Francisco popped into my head that I might not be able to do this anymore. This rampant lifestyle might not suite what I'm seeking after.
In these newest of beginnings, I've found myself suddenly in something similar to an actual relationship--or rather, the beginning of one.
This man-he is something that nearly aligns with the epitome of an individual I would surely adore. I've only been seeing him for a little over two weeks but I am suddenly struck with fear. When will he stop finding interest in me? Could it be at any hour that he'll meet someone new? Why shouldn't he be completely taken by my best friend instead of me?
These thoughts--although most likely stirring insecurities--are truly present to me today. I think this is the hardest part of beginnings: The unsureness of its ability to grow legs and make it out of the water, where we sit on the shores, mouths covered, bated breaths and off-beat heartbeats until first signs of loyalty bounds from the pulling back tides.
To describe my initial perception of this individual would do less justice to his unseen.
He's a painting and I'm beginning to see some of the shades of colors that make up this person-and what's this? I think the Artist is using some of my favorite colors, ones that I wouldn't imagine leaving out. Whether it's the lighting that is getting brighter, allowing me to slowly see more or if the painting is developing, I can't tell if the colors are going to get deeper or if they'll stay as they are but from what I see, this painting is going to be completely gorgeous and if I was so blessed as to behold it for the remainder of my life, why I'd think myself the richest woman in the world. I'm not sure if I should walk away and come back when the painting is done or if the Artist has been waiting to create this piece of work for me. I'll sit back--though not too far--for this painting is captivating me in every sense.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Symphony
I was on a walk today. Out of nowhere-as thoughts usually seem to be birthed-I realized how I consider every person in my life to be a truly critical point in the creation of the "masterpiece" I hope to evolve into at the end of my life. It's as if every individual is a dot and digit on a paint by number canvas. As small and insignificant those dots might seem without the connections, once the line travels through them, once the color is added, the significance of that dot is instrumental in the creation of the bigger picture. By the end, once the last dot is connected and once the line becomes an unobstructed continuous shape, the beholder and the creator can bare witness to a brilliant masterpiece. The layers of colors, the textures and techniques speak to the sequence of events that add to our minutes, hours, days, etc...
For some reason, my [our] brain [and this goes for any and everyone else, I only speak for myself since I only know what is in my mind] has an ability to take into consideration the depth and the true meaning of the individuals in our lives. As I was walking, I was consumed by this thought.
Many times, I've told my dear friend, Jon, who is in a very accomplished band, about the day I realized how important each instrument was in their band. I had never been able to hear the bass before, which is what he plays, but one day while at a show of theirs, it hit me: These instruments, on their own, could still sound great but had they not been together, and if each instrument was not there, no matter how insignificant the instrument might appear, the sound that we've heard would not be the same.
Now, this to me seems to be an almost daft realization to state out loud because it seems so obvious. But to me, it seems the most obvious things are never stated because--well, they seem too obvious to state--but in reality, if they are never stated, never vocally realized and celebrated, then we might miss the importance and sacredness of a thing. We might never pay attention to the uniqueness, the seemingly unimportant and the everyday. We might never revere the "instruments" that have been creating the symphony we love: Life.
For some reason, my [our] brain [and this goes for any and everyone else, I only speak for myself since I only know what is in my mind] has an ability to take into consideration the depth and the true meaning of the individuals in our lives. As I was walking, I was consumed by this thought.
Many times, I've told my dear friend, Jon, who is in a very accomplished band, about the day I realized how important each instrument was in their band. I had never been able to hear the bass before, which is what he plays, but one day while at a show of theirs, it hit me: These instruments, on their own, could still sound great but had they not been together, and if each instrument was not there, no matter how insignificant the instrument might appear, the sound that we've heard would not be the same.
Now, this to me seems to be an almost daft realization to state out loud because it seems so obvious. But to me, it seems the most obvious things are never stated because--well, they seem too obvious to state--but in reality, if they are never stated, never vocally realized and celebrated, then we might miss the importance and sacredness of a thing. We might never pay attention to the uniqueness, the seemingly unimportant and the everyday. We might never revere the "instruments" that have been creating the symphony we love: Life.
Monday, August 2, 2010
love & loyalty : inexplicable & indispensable.
There will come a day that I realize I am in love with someone but I'll only know that because he'll be in love with me too. I think on that day, we'll have to also take an oath to always remember why we've decided to love each other and realize that there will be days that we might be mad at each other, days where expectations we've kept to ourselves might be broken and days in which we might undermine the oath that we've created with our decision to be loyally in love.
At the same time, I realize that I could have an incredibly naive picture of what love is going to be like, of how being with one person day in and day out is really going to pan out.
I know one thing, is that we have a choice to be in love. Sometimes we cannot help but be in love, and we fall into it but I think we have the choice-when it comes to being "out of love" to come right back into it. I think as a human, we have a natural tendency to love and to create. So, it is always easier for us to love another individual rather than hate them. However we can-unknowingly- repel this feeling with our inflated pride and egos, but if we suppress them, overlook these crippling tendencies of self-afflicting hurt, then we can allow for love that we are organically created to cultivate in each other's lives.
Either fortunate or un-the majority of my being tends to love more than harbor platonic feelings. This in turn sometimes ends up bringing moments of disappointment rather than complete and unending happiness. However, I have to say that allowing those feelings of adoration for another person to become more prominent not only gives me more joy (if only in that present moment) but it allows for me to hopefully make someone else feel cared about, loved & important.
Love is a choice though, yes, I believe it is. I also think it takes courage to take your heart outside of its cage. I think truly courageous people will love many people but when that person of equal courage meets you and stares you square in the eye and challenges you to love them just as much as they could love you, yes, I believe that's when you've met a match. I think that's when you both have to jump into a journey together and commit to be a living definition of the very word: love.
If you can't pledge a loyalty, a life-altering loyalty, the kind that would challenge the depths of the heart of the most loyalest of lions, then you have no right to commit to someone. Sure, you can choose to be with whomever you'd like for however long you'd like but we know, ultimately, it's in hopes of a lasting connection.
I often find myself in great ocean waves of unobstructed love-of lightening bolts striking me at my very core. It has to end at some point, because it's a confined tsunami. It's nature being contained. There's not an outlet for me at the moment. I kind of feel like there's an amazing earthquake coming soon and he'll be knocking down one of the walls. This enormous wave of unending love will have an outlet soon enough.
lsw.♥
At the same time, I realize that I could have an incredibly naive picture of what love is going to be like, of how being with one person day in and day out is really going to pan out.
I know one thing, is that we have a choice to be in love. Sometimes we cannot help but be in love, and we fall into it but I think we have the choice-when it comes to being "out of love" to come right back into it. I think as a human, we have a natural tendency to love and to create. So, it is always easier for us to love another individual rather than hate them. However we can-unknowingly- repel this feeling with our inflated pride and egos, but if we suppress them, overlook these crippling tendencies of self-afflicting hurt, then we can allow for love that we are organically created to cultivate in each other's lives.
Either fortunate or un-the majority of my being tends to love more than harbor platonic feelings. This in turn sometimes ends up bringing moments of disappointment rather than complete and unending happiness. However, I have to say that allowing those feelings of adoration for another person to become more prominent not only gives me more joy (if only in that present moment) but it allows for me to hopefully make someone else feel cared about, loved & important.
Love is a choice though, yes, I believe it is. I also think it takes courage to take your heart outside of its cage. I think truly courageous people will love many people but when that person of equal courage meets you and stares you square in the eye and challenges you to love them just as much as they could love you, yes, I believe that's when you've met a match. I think that's when you both have to jump into a journey together and commit to be a living definition of the very word: love.
If you can't pledge a loyalty, a life-altering loyalty, the kind that would challenge the depths of the heart of the most loyalest of lions, then you have no right to commit to someone. Sure, you can choose to be with whomever you'd like for however long you'd like but we know, ultimately, it's in hopes of a lasting connection.
I often find myself in great ocean waves of unobstructed love-of lightening bolts striking me at my very core. It has to end at some point, because it's a confined tsunami. It's nature being contained. There's not an outlet for me at the moment. I kind of feel like there's an amazing earthquake coming soon and he'll be knocking down one of the walls. This enormous wave of unending love will have an outlet soon enough.
lsw.♥
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
June 2008
I stumbled across an entry in a journal I kept while I was in Italy-well, this was a few weeks before I went overseas, I remember writing this around sunset at the beach in my hometown:
I thought to say I saw your face in the clouds today, the sky some brilliant shades of an ending day but as I glanced away only to find the crazy shapes that only you and I could see, you were gone and but a dream again. Just a fleeing memory of days I've seen.
I thought to say I saw your face in the clouds today, the sky some brilliant shades of an ending day but as I glanced away only to find the crazy shapes that only you and I could see, you were gone and but a dream again. Just a fleeing memory of days I've seen.
Thursday, July 22, 2010
Dreams & jokes
Forewarning for the reader looking for more than fictional entertainment: These dream documentations are merely for my own amusement years from now.
I was walking into some new bar in a neighborhood I lived in and the bartender asked me what I wanted to drink, as usual, I was indecisive about what to get and told him that he should just pick something or I was going to have water. He asked me if I had ever had a penniesidaways and I reply, "Oh, no I've never had one."
He then proceeds to take a penny out of his pocket and lay it flat against my palm and says, "Well, there ya go, a penny sideways. So, what would you like to drink?"
I can't help but feel proud of the humor that occurs in my dream. Or embarrassed?
I was walking into some new bar in a neighborhood I lived in and the bartender asked me what I wanted to drink, as usual, I was indecisive about what to get and told him that he should just pick something or I was going to have water. He asked me if I had ever had a penniesidaways and I reply, "Oh, no I've never had one."
He then proceeds to take a penny out of his pocket and lay it flat against my palm and says, "Well, there ya go, a penny sideways. So, what would you like to drink?"
I can't help but feel proud of the humor that occurs in my dream. Or embarrassed?
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Washington, DC & beyond
I've yet another amazing opportunity bestowed upon me, thanks to my great friend, Jennifer Jameson. Next week I depart for our nation's capital, making it my 2nd year of being there for the 4th of July, not so much of a secret anymore, but this happens to be one of my favorite holidays.
I'll be working at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival as their Marketplace Volunteer Coordinator. I'm so excited about their programs this year too!
This opportunity and trip is going to give me a lot of sway in my next destination. I'll either head back to Seattle in the beginning of August or I could possibly stay on the east coast.
I'm thinking about joining AmeriCorps in Louisiana or southern Washington (state). After my trip to D.C. I leave for NYC on July 7th, aboard the MEGA BUS where you can pay as little as $1.50 for a one-way bus ticket from D.C. to NYC. In my case I paid $3.50. Equally amazing. You do have to buy these tickets way in advance for these prices, but even if your planes change, you haven't lost too much.
A few places on my list during this trip:
D.C.
New Jersey
New York City
Somewhere on the Hudson River
Montreal, Canada
Portland, ME
Although most of my things are in Seattle, I have this feeling of wanting to explore more places before I settle. I can imagine myself being back in Seattle and I definitely miss it and think I deserve to enjoy its gorgeous summer weather after I endured that winter (okay, not too harsh, but for a Floridian, come on.)
I love the feeling in the unknown. Although it taunts at my every strand, it's a component of my life that I don't know what I'd do without. Plans and set routines sometimes instills more fear in my soul then a schedule that is unreliable and inconsistent, for in the unknown, I feel as though I can give more trust to God--not saying that I do, but I can leave the moments open for a split second decision that has been created by the elements of life that I have no control of.
I'm happily lost in anticipation.
I'll be working at the Smithsonian Folklife Festival as their Marketplace Volunteer Coordinator. I'm so excited about their programs this year too!
This opportunity and trip is going to give me a lot of sway in my next destination. I'll either head back to Seattle in the beginning of August or I could possibly stay on the east coast.
I'm thinking about joining AmeriCorps in Louisiana or southern Washington (state). After my trip to D.C. I leave for NYC on July 7th, aboard the MEGA BUS where you can pay as little as $1.50 for a one-way bus ticket from D.C. to NYC. In my case I paid $3.50. Equally amazing. You do have to buy these tickets way in advance for these prices, but even if your planes change, you haven't lost too much.
A few places on my list during this trip:
D.C.
New Jersey
New York City
Somewhere on the Hudson River
Montreal, Canada
Portland, ME
Although most of my things are in Seattle, I have this feeling of wanting to explore more places before I settle. I can imagine myself being back in Seattle and I definitely miss it and think I deserve to enjoy its gorgeous summer weather after I endured that winter (okay, not too harsh, but for a Floridian, come on.)
I love the feeling in the unknown. Although it taunts at my every strand, it's a component of my life that I don't know what I'd do without. Plans and set routines sometimes instills more fear in my soul then a schedule that is unreliable and inconsistent, for in the unknown, I feel as though I can give more trust to God--not saying that I do, but I can leave the moments open for a split second decision that has been created by the elements of life that I have no control of.
I'm happily lost in anticipation.
Wednesday, May 26, 2010
Manta rays, $1,000 bills & Paris
Time once again for me to jot down my dreams for future references and entertainment.
With the BP oil spill in our Gulf of Mexico, there's little of anything else on my mind when I am in my hometown of Venice, Florida, a gulf coast beach town. Thoughts during the day lead to dreams at night. Listening to these mongers talk about what they are going to do 30-something days after the fact is maddening. I realize that I am not exactly apt to give my meager opinions and solutions to this mess, but it *is* maddening nonetheless to feel so helpless.
I digress. I dreamt of reasoning for the golf balls they suggested to throw into the gapping leak on the ocean floor: I am swimming in the midst of the oil in the gulf with others. It's hot. The oil is smelly and hot, I'm commenting on it as I wade through the sludge. I hear from somewhere that whales are dying. This is breaking my heart. I can see hundreds and hundreds of whale flukes fleeing from the oil. All of the sudden, golf balls are flying from the sky into the water. I start to realize why they are doing this: Golf balls float and so the tar balls would cling onto the golf balls and float, so then they could just scoop up all of the golf balls that had tar balls stuck to them. Genius (ha!)
Dreams later on in the week consisted of being at the beach, and going for a run on the shoreline. After outrunning some people, I am on an empty beach and the tide is trying to pull me in a bit. From afar, I can see that there are lots and lots of stingrays and manta rays in the water. I saw a very, very large manta ray and made sure to keep my eye on it. I was getting pulled in a bit by the tide still and finally I realize the manta ray is approaching rather quickly. I jump out of the water and start to run. I find myself running from this manta ray and have decided to hid in my parents' bedroom. They have a pocket door and so I'm trying to lock it as I see the manta approaching. All of the sudden as this manta is sliding closer to me on the tile, 3 greyhounds (two of which are my sister and brother in-law's) come running through the door opening. The manta's wings are up and it is getting closer and closer, it opens the door and starts cuddling with one of the dogs, then turning into some burley man who is playing with the dog. I realize my mistake in thinking the man was a manta ray.
Next up to bat, I find myself in a train station in France with my Aunt. We are trying to get to Paris. There are some really beautiful old, red, trains that we can take and I suggest that we wait for those trains. I'm debating on how to pronounce, "Paris" to the Frenchmen. I awake. No Paris for me.
Oh-somewhere along the dream timeline, my Mama and I have found or have won a million $1,000 bills. Damn. That's a lot of money. We hide it somewhere in the trunk.
Z end.
With the BP oil spill in our Gulf of Mexico, there's little of anything else on my mind when I am in my hometown of Venice, Florida, a gulf coast beach town. Thoughts during the day lead to dreams at night. Listening to these mongers talk about what they are going to do 30-something days after the fact is maddening. I realize that I am not exactly apt to give my meager opinions and solutions to this mess, but it *is* maddening nonetheless to feel so helpless.
I digress. I dreamt of reasoning for the golf balls they suggested to throw into the gapping leak on the ocean floor: I am swimming in the midst of the oil in the gulf with others. It's hot. The oil is smelly and hot, I'm commenting on it as I wade through the sludge. I hear from somewhere that whales are dying. This is breaking my heart. I can see hundreds and hundreds of whale flukes fleeing from the oil. All of the sudden, golf balls are flying from the sky into the water. I start to realize why they are doing this: Golf balls float and so the tar balls would cling onto the golf balls and float, so then they could just scoop up all of the golf balls that had tar balls stuck to them. Genius (ha!)
Dreams later on in the week consisted of being at the beach, and going for a run on the shoreline. After outrunning some people, I am on an empty beach and the tide is trying to pull me in a bit. From afar, I can see that there are lots and lots of stingrays and manta rays in the water. I saw a very, very large manta ray and made sure to keep my eye on it. I was getting pulled in a bit by the tide still and finally I realize the manta ray is approaching rather quickly. I jump out of the water and start to run. I find myself running from this manta ray and have decided to hid in my parents' bedroom. They have a pocket door and so I'm trying to lock it as I see the manta approaching. All of the sudden as this manta is sliding closer to me on the tile, 3 greyhounds (two of which are my sister and brother in-law's) come running through the door opening. The manta's wings are up and it is getting closer and closer, it opens the door and starts cuddling with one of the dogs, then turning into some burley man who is playing with the dog. I realize my mistake in thinking the man was a manta ray.
Next up to bat, I find myself in a train station in France with my Aunt. We are trying to get to Paris. There are some really beautiful old, red, trains that we can take and I suggest that we wait for those trains. I'm debating on how to pronounce, "Paris" to the Frenchmen. I awake. No Paris for me.
Oh-somewhere along the dream timeline, my Mama and I have found or have won a million $1,000 bills. Damn. That's a lot of money. We hide it somewhere in the trunk.
Z end.
Monday, April 5, 2010
Ventilating
Today I realized the reality and lack of change in my life. I can change something that is constant about me and I know that nothing is more constant than change.
This was something that was embossed into my memory when I was in high school and would dream of being a writer. The editor of Surfer Girl, a magazine I avidly read, wrote an editor’s letter about change and how it was the only constant in life, the only element we could count on despite how much we avoided it.
Why should I not take this to heart when it comes to matters that live inside of me? I believe I’ve only thought of change as an outside phenomena; only affecting what and who I see, where I go and how I get there. The days can change, and my outward feelings can change but fractions of my personality, my stubborn idiosyncrasies are staples of my life I took at face value; nothing could be done to alter them. All those other things can change--but me? How could I change?
Well, I can, I should and I will. I hate to say it but I've just been too lazy, too anxious and too spontaneously-driven to find a way. It's easier to live without reasoning, to act like a child with my feelings and emotions and pretend as though that is just the way I am and there’s no way of dealing with it.
There’s always been this urgency inside of me that is never settled by anything I’ve ever accomplished--whether in relationships or in career dealings. Anticipation of what's next fuels my fire; it gives me an enduring hope.
Yet this urgency most likely stems from a fear of death that I truly try to mask by saying how much I think about it and how OK I really am with it.
Who the hell is okay with dying? Ceasing to exist is my largest fear because it encompasses all that is unknown to me. I try to play a psychological game with this fact of life by stating how much I’ve reconciled with the idea of it. So-HA-can’t get me!
When in fact what this does is lead me to unknowingly hurry along anything in my life that could happen. Hurry along new relationships, hurry along a day so that I can get to where I’m going next, hurry along, hurry along, hurry the fuuuuhg-along. I live in the anticipation of life more than the presentness of it.
In turn I end up having an outlook on life that I thought was respectable Seize the day! Never take a moment for granted! Say what you have to say before the moment is gone!
I’m on this scale and I’m so far on one side that it’s going to take some serious climbing to get to the middle and seek the balance I need. I’m looking up and I don’t know exactly where that midpoint is but the other end sure is out of my line of vision.
My lack of patience--there, I said it--is disguised so well that it fools me every time. My impatience tricks me into believing that I’m only being passionate--people just can’t handle how much passion you have, Diana! You belong in Italy, they’ll understand you there. They are the Adams and Eves of passion!
Yeah, you’re too passionate. So if he can’t understand that after 3 weeks, you’re pulling plugs and giving directions to the emergency exits because you don’t think he’s as passionate about you as you are about him--well he can just go and do you know what.
But wait--how could he not be enthralled with your doting treatment? Wasn’t the last woman flaky, unresponsive, and unavailable?
Why is it too much to hope for in thinking that he’d want to spend more time with me after almost a week has gone by? What is this dating crap, anyway?
True, I’ve never had a boyfriend. I don’t know if I’ve ever really even dated a guy for longer than a week before I believe it was simply the beginning of the end. Hey, if I sense something is wrong--most likely it is the end of the road. Might as well exit the highway before the traffic gets too backed up.
Rerouted.
I feel as though I’m attracting wonderful people and then, nervously sensing their displeasure, elbow them and run to the next guy in a crowd as if it’s some sort of game you played in elementary school. A version of TV tag? I think so. I’m completely content with the person until I’m feeling neglected in some fashion. I’m fine when I’m alone because I’m the only person I am dealing with-I’m getting all of the attention. But if I’m not called upon, text messaged, e-mailed or esp’d, there’s no way this beau’s into me anymore.
I try to believe that what I’m doing is fine. That I’m really helping everyone in the situation by not letting this thing take a breather--just don’t let it breath so it can’t get hurt again. Seems more humane, I suppose.
In hindsight, it’s ridiculous--completely ridiculous. I have unachievable expectations for these men and their (possibly) developing feelings.
I’m not that wonderful that they should think they love me within the first 18 minutes of conversation. I’ve no true talents to speak of--nothing entirely captivating to say.
The fact of the matter is that I need to change.
I need to create a balance in my life and that means I need to be more patient. My restless heart won’t be fulfilled until I honestly realize--and put into motion--the idea that although life is fleeting, as it stands, I am still alive and shall remain so until whatever occurrence takes place.
I know that God is the greatest unknown, yet I trust so fervidly in His existence. I have no unsettled thoughts nor do I try to find the answers right now. Although my mind and heart take horribly off-course detours, they know the right road, they know the way back home. No askew arrow can misguide their Creator’s call. I trust that God will lead my life to be more patient if I am up to it.
All I can wonder is if I was made to be impetuous. If in fact, my impetuousness has ever brought anyone to change their lives; to be more free in the understandings of their feelings and relations with people. To speak with an unabashed love for the promise of a companion's heart that will understand the language of its own as well as the Creator does.
The solace I find in the unknown still boggles my mind. Nature is a wonderment in and of itself. I can simply feel at ease--can simply have the patience-- in knowing that I will never know the reasons for its grandeur other then the simplicity of a creative being for which all humans intrinsically emulate.
But with Earthly dealings, with relationships among each other--the unknown, the ambiguous and the unclear don’t necessarily have to apply; for we’ve been entrusted with this great form of communication for a reason. Words become the magic we need and in which we can create a storm of life-giving freedom to each other. We can be explicit and concise with every letter’s hook and curve. We can denote every moment of our soul’s timeline within stacks of sentences.
With these letters that make these words, we can be creative, we can express and most of all we can show and define love. Nothing has to be held back. The only patience I have is for God and his unknown.
Have I missed my point?
This was something that was embossed into my memory when I was in high school and would dream of being a writer. The editor of Surfer Girl, a magazine I avidly read, wrote an editor’s letter about change and how it was the only constant in life, the only element we could count on despite how much we avoided it.
Why should I not take this to heart when it comes to matters that live inside of me? I believe I’ve only thought of change as an outside phenomena; only affecting what and who I see, where I go and how I get there. The days can change, and my outward feelings can change but fractions of my personality, my stubborn idiosyncrasies are staples of my life I took at face value; nothing could be done to alter them. All those other things can change--but me? How could I change?
Well, I can, I should and I will. I hate to say it but I've just been too lazy, too anxious and too spontaneously-driven to find a way. It's easier to live without reasoning, to act like a child with my feelings and emotions and pretend as though that is just the way I am and there’s no way of dealing with it.
There’s always been this urgency inside of me that is never settled by anything I’ve ever accomplished--whether in relationships or in career dealings. Anticipation of what's next fuels my fire; it gives me an enduring hope.
Yet this urgency most likely stems from a fear of death that I truly try to mask by saying how much I think about it and how OK I really am with it.
Who the hell is okay with dying? Ceasing to exist is my largest fear because it encompasses all that is unknown to me. I try to play a psychological game with this fact of life by stating how much I’ve reconciled with the idea of it. So-HA-can’t get me!
When in fact what this does is lead me to unknowingly hurry along anything in my life that could happen. Hurry along new relationships, hurry along a day so that I can get to where I’m going next, hurry along, hurry along, hurry the fuuuuhg-along. I live in the anticipation of life more than the presentness of it.
In turn I end up having an outlook on life that I thought was respectable Seize the day! Never take a moment for granted! Say what you have to say before the moment is gone!
I’m on this scale and I’m so far on one side that it’s going to take some serious climbing to get to the middle and seek the balance I need. I’m looking up and I don’t know exactly where that midpoint is but the other end sure is out of my line of vision.
My lack of patience--there, I said it--is disguised so well that it fools me every time. My impatience tricks me into believing that I’m only being passionate--people just can’t handle how much passion you have, Diana! You belong in Italy, they’ll understand you there. They are the Adams and Eves of passion!
Yeah, you’re too passionate. So if he can’t understand that after 3 weeks, you’re pulling plugs and giving directions to the emergency exits because you don’t think he’s as passionate about you as you are about him--well he can just go and do you know what.
But wait--how could he not be enthralled with your doting treatment? Wasn’t the last woman flaky, unresponsive, and unavailable?
Why is it too much to hope for in thinking that he’d want to spend more time with me after almost a week has gone by? What is this dating crap, anyway?
True, I’ve never had a boyfriend. I don’t know if I’ve ever really even dated a guy for longer than a week before I believe it was simply the beginning of the end. Hey, if I sense something is wrong--most likely it is the end of the road. Might as well exit the highway before the traffic gets too backed up.
Rerouted.
I feel as though I’m attracting wonderful people and then, nervously sensing their displeasure, elbow them and run to the next guy in a crowd as if it’s some sort of game you played in elementary school. A version of TV tag? I think so. I’m completely content with the person until I’m feeling neglected in some fashion. I’m fine when I’m alone because I’m the only person I am dealing with-I’m getting all of the attention. But if I’m not called upon, text messaged, e-mailed or esp’d, there’s no way this beau’s into me anymore.
I try to believe that what I’m doing is fine. That I’m really helping everyone in the situation by not letting this thing take a breather--just don’t let it breath so it can’t get hurt again. Seems more humane, I suppose.
In hindsight, it’s ridiculous--completely ridiculous. I have unachievable expectations for these men and their (possibly) developing feelings.
I’m not that wonderful that they should think they love me within the first 18 minutes of conversation. I’ve no true talents to speak of--nothing entirely captivating to say.
The fact of the matter is that I need to change.
I need to create a balance in my life and that means I need to be more patient. My restless heart won’t be fulfilled until I honestly realize--and put into motion--the idea that although life is fleeting, as it stands, I am still alive and shall remain so until whatever occurrence takes place.
I know that God is the greatest unknown, yet I trust so fervidly in His existence. I have no unsettled thoughts nor do I try to find the answers right now. Although my mind and heart take horribly off-course detours, they know the right road, they know the way back home. No askew arrow can misguide their Creator’s call. I trust that God will lead my life to be more patient if I am up to it.
All I can wonder is if I was made to be impetuous. If in fact, my impetuousness has ever brought anyone to change their lives; to be more free in the understandings of their feelings and relations with people. To speak with an unabashed love for the promise of a companion's heart that will understand the language of its own as well as the Creator does.
The solace I find in the unknown still boggles my mind. Nature is a wonderment in and of itself. I can simply feel at ease--can simply have the patience-- in knowing that I will never know the reasons for its grandeur other then the simplicity of a creative being for which all humans intrinsically emulate.
But with Earthly dealings, with relationships among each other--the unknown, the ambiguous and the unclear don’t necessarily have to apply; for we’ve been entrusted with this great form of communication for a reason. Words become the magic we need and in which we can create a storm of life-giving freedom to each other. We can be explicit and concise with every letter’s hook and curve. We can denote every moment of our soul’s timeline within stacks of sentences.
With these letters that make these words, we can be creative, we can express and most of all we can show and define love. Nothing has to be held back. The only patience I have is for God and his unknown.
Have I missed my point?
Monday, March 22, 2010
Okay, okay.
My last entry was maybe a bit heavy. True, but heavy. You never know the validity of what you say or how you feel until time passes. I know that I might have felt that way to begin with and when I wrote that, but I know that the reasoning behind it holds less weight than it should have.
Enough! I can't recall any recent dreams lately--oh, wait, I take that back. Here goes another whale dream. Fascinating!
I was in my parent's backyard and there's a creek back there in the rainy season. Well, in this dream it must have been flood-season because when I looked in the creek, there were dozens of humpback whales in the water. I was flabbergasted! All of these amazing creatures dwelling in my very home space.
At some point, my Mom picked up this baby orca whale that had escaped in our yard only it was an illustrated orca whale, like the traditional tribal drawing of the animal in red, black and white. Mom picked up the baby orca and told me that I had to put it back in the water since I had a better relationship with the whales. So, I picked up the baby orca and brought it closer to the creek to where it's parents were. The water was so full of whales that the whale wouldn't necessarily be submerged in the water, rather become apart of the mass of mammals that swam in the waters. I didn't want the whale to get crushed in the crowd so I kept telling its father to move over so I could lean in far enough to put the baby in the water.
I don't remember exactly what happened but I think I recall the whales turning into humans at some point and we exchanged cordial phrases.
I am in the northwest, a sighting has GOT to happen sometime in the near future. Right?
Enough! I can't recall any recent dreams lately--oh, wait, I take that back. Here goes another whale dream. Fascinating!
I was in my parent's backyard and there's a creek back there in the rainy season. Well, in this dream it must have been flood-season because when I looked in the creek, there were dozens of humpback whales in the water. I was flabbergasted! All of these amazing creatures dwelling in my very home space.
At some point, my Mom picked up this baby orca whale that had escaped in our yard only it was an illustrated orca whale, like the traditional tribal drawing of the animal in red, black and white. Mom picked up the baby orca and told me that I had to put it back in the water since I had a better relationship with the whales. So, I picked up the baby orca and brought it closer to the creek to where it's parents were. The water was so full of whales that the whale wouldn't necessarily be submerged in the water, rather become apart of the mass of mammals that swam in the waters. I didn't want the whale to get crushed in the crowd so I kept telling its father to move over so I could lean in far enough to put the baby in the water.
I don't remember exactly what happened but I think I recall the whales turning into humans at some point and we exchanged cordial phrases.
I am in the northwest, a sighting has GOT to happen sometime in the near future. Right?
Friday, February 12, 2010
Been a while; time for breaking and mending.
Has broken mine heart again.
Moments of love find me too often but seldom stay long enough to be accounted for.
They float in & out of my life as ambiguously swift and obscurely as the rise and fall of a waves' crest,
morphing back into the solid body of water of their origins, leaving me in search of its whereabouts.
The moments in which it appears and disappears is as unknown as my falling to sleep.
Lifting me up and bringing me down so often so that I become unaware of a normalcy other than this seasickness.
Constant is its churning in my heart, constant is the salt in my teary eyes.
But its boundlessness gives me a freedom and hope that other waves will lift me and one will ground me to the shore,
one
day.
Moments of love find me too often but seldom stay long enough to be accounted for.
They float in & out of my life as ambiguously swift and obscurely as the rise and fall of a waves' crest,
morphing back into the solid body of water of their origins, leaving me in search of its whereabouts.
The moments in which it appears and disappears is as unknown as my falling to sleep.
Lifting me up and bringing me down so often so that I become unaware of a normalcy other than this seasickness.
Constant is its churning in my heart, constant is the salt in my teary eyes.
But its boundlessness gives me a freedom and hope that other waves will lift me and one will ground me to the shore,
one
day.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
the reckless abandonment of loving
I was just hit with the reality of love's presence in my life; of the incredible abundance in which it appears and in the many sweet and endearing facets it's brought to me; some more ambiguous than others.
They've flooded my hours all the same. Waking to my family calling on me, my best friend, a new dear acquaintance who carries a tinge of lover-ness in him, a stranger, my real-life mentor--they've all expressed it in one way or another and I've been impressed by the chances they take on loving me.
Loving someone is vulnerability backed by courage. It's the substance of life: our relationships--not our work. We work to relate, we work to serve in one way or another. We are serving each other, trying to make each other's lives better in some way or another, trying to distract each other with things we've created and the things we've found passion in.
Love is my profession. I'm not oblivious and I'm not immature to be so consumed by love. I'm not naive, nor am I simple-minded. But if the compulsion to love is considered simple, I am as plain as a sheet of paper.
My days are consumed with finding that one love and loving my stepping stones along the way. Loving the rocks beneath my feet: my friends, my family, my strangers and my roads.
The only thing we can do in love is to live in reckless abandonment. This is not selfish, this is not absurd. What is the significance of a day we live when we think not of love? What is the goal in that day if not seeking love? What is love if it's not given freely, if it's not expressed in abundance? If it's simply blinded by problems and tasks?
I will unabashedly lose my days to the reckless abandonment of living for love.
They've flooded my hours all the same. Waking to my family calling on me, my best friend, a new dear acquaintance who carries a tinge of lover-ness in him, a stranger, my real-life mentor--they've all expressed it in one way or another and I've been impressed by the chances they take on loving me.
Loving someone is vulnerability backed by courage. It's the substance of life: our relationships--not our work. We work to relate, we work to serve in one way or another. We are serving each other, trying to make each other's lives better in some way or another, trying to distract each other with things we've created and the things we've found passion in.
Love is my profession. I'm not oblivious and I'm not immature to be so consumed by love. I'm not naive, nor am I simple-minded. But if the compulsion to love is considered simple, I am as plain as a sheet of paper.
My days are consumed with finding that one love and loving my stepping stones along the way. Loving the rocks beneath my feet: my friends, my family, my strangers and my roads.
The only thing we can do in love is to live in reckless abandonment. This is not selfish, this is not absurd. What is the significance of a day we live when we think not of love? What is the goal in that day if not seeking love? What is love if it's not given freely, if it's not expressed in abundance? If it's simply blinded by problems and tasks?
I will unabashedly lose my days to the reckless abandonment of living for love.
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