Fishing, big fish, and big definitions

    "The way you do it, see, is you cast out a lot of lines. If you cast out enough, something's bound to bite."
    "Dude, trust me; I've cast out ALL of my lines and nothing's biting."

I give up.
...

    “All men are jerks, except for you.”
    “Actually, I’d like to amend that—I’m trying to be a jerk now. Sorry.”
...

    "I should have made those guys sit with us."
    "If they sat with us, ESPECIALLY while I was still 10 shades of red, I would have puked in my coffee."
    "I would have saved you if they came over. I am the Ultimate Wingman."
    "How the f--k do you explain your friend puking in her coffee cup and then passing out from being sooo red? Wingman me out of that!"
    "'Oh, don't worry about the puking... just means that she likes you...I mean...err...that she doesn't...well...never mind...BLACKHAWK DOWN!'"
...

ADD - abbr. attention deficit disorder

attention deficit disorder - n. A syndrome, usually diagnosed in childhood, characterized by a persistent pattern of impulsiveness, a short attention span, and often hyperactivity, and interfering especially with academic, occupational, and social performance.

career - n. 1. an occupation or profession, esp. one requiring special training, followed as one's lifework: He sought a career as a lawyer.
2. a person's progress or general course of action through life or through a phase of life, as in some profession or undertaking: His career as a soldier ended with the armistice.

career ADD - n. A syndrome, usually diagnosed via ventures into different occupations or professions, characterized by a persistent pattern of impulsive job-changing, a short attention span for positional responsibilities, and often hyperactivity in tasks other than the one at hand, and interferring especially with academic, occupational, and some social performance.

The truth was, I was treading water and had been for some time. If you're wondering why a thirty-something woman who had gone to all the trouble of attending a university and slogging through medieval allegorical texts had risen no higher on the career food chain than cafe manager, I don't blame you. I wondered myself. And the best answer I'd come up with was that I hadn't figured out anything better--not yet. If I were to ever have a full-fledged vocation, as opposed to a half-assed vocation, I needed to love it and, in my experience, it isn't always easy to figure out what you love. You'd think it would be, but it isn't. Also, if you stay in it for any length of time, like anyplace else, a cafe becomes a world.

    -- "Love Walked In," Marisa de los Santos

Finding out what you're made for can take a lifetime. Society demands that you figure it out by the time you're finishing school; early 20s. Doing the math, how are you supposed to know what you're going to truly love when you've only seen a quarter of all that you will come to see and know over a lifetime? Why is there all this pressure of NEEDING to KNOW? Those who are lucky, know early what they love to do. Those who are luckier have the support of others who let them take as much time as they need to figure things out.
...

My amazing hour is apparently 10 o'clock in the morning...shitty.

Things that warmed me from the inside this weekend:

• - sleeping in the crook of an arm
• - double-sided tape
• - bachelor-style omelettes
• - JFC reunion
• - unabashed omelettes
• - the ultimate cock-block
• - the innovation of omelette-omelettes
• - mother's intuition
• - "I'd take care of you."
• - nuzzling in to the nape of a neck
• - the seed nearly sown

Love is lovely.

From the depths

I found a journal tonight. I read it. I recalled.
...

I feel as though I'm losing words because I have no use for them any longer. Who could expect a princess to understand the word "superfluous," let alone a simple server the word "crestfallen."

This time around I seek intellect and wit above physicality and affections. Anyone can provide anything physical that may be needed. But how many could really and truly stimulate intellectual thought? While actions may speak louder than words, the pen has always been mighter than the sword.

I'm still hoping that a casual coffee date will come my way sometime soon. I'm not looking for romance. I'm looking for change, for new, for some good conversation and a good cup of joe.

Brain wants to move forward.
...

Blindsided. Again and again and again.

Hopeless romantic? Or just hopeless?

So many wishes gone unrealized. How tragic. How storybook.
...

    "It's a game that you have two days left to play--what have you got to lose?"
    "I never play to lose."
    "Who ever does?"
...

I feel like I'm going to get myself into trouble again. I've been thinking about kisses. Soft, warm, kisses. Yum.
...

Each time I think of "forever," I hear her words in my head, telling me that I have to tell him. The risks are obvious.

My only honest out is to leave without explanation. How do you give a reason so old? It's deceitful.

Yet...the longer it goes, the deeper I get. Which is more dangerous? It's all grey to me.
...

I'd runaway, but not only would I have no where to go, but I wouldn't know what I was running from in the first place.
...

I wonder if he ever thinks about me?
...

I rarely feel sexier than when I'm in a pair of jeans and a tank top, jammin' alone in my room to the music on full blast.
...

How do you know if this is the way it's supposed to be? Reality tells us that it's not supposed to be magical and fairytale-like the whole way through, but then again, why can't it be? And even if not always, then why not at least consistently revisited? It sucks that it's not like math--there is no right or wrong answer, no matter how much logic you can try to impose on a relationship--on love--there is no simple solution. Hell, even math can have imaginary and irrational numbers, otherwise there's no way to figure some things out. As for myself, I don't need the equation, I just need the proof. The proof that what I'm doing makes sense.
...

Goodbye my lover.
Goodbye my friend.
You have been the one.
You have been the one for me.
    --"Goodbye My Lover" - James Blunt
...

    "Why not?"
    "No."
    "Oh come on. Don't be so adamant about the idea."
    "Okay, I'm not being adamant about the idea; I just don't want to think about it right now."
    "Alright, but don't close the option off entirely. You don't even have to think or do anything about it--it'll just happen one day by itself."
    "Can we please stop talking about this now?"
    "Why are you so against it?"
    "Why are you so for it?"
    "Really, I'm neither. If it happens, it happens; if it doesn't, it doesn't. Just that if it does happen, I think it would be good and we wouldn't worry."
    "Okay, for real: let's stop talking about it. Look, if it happens then I reserve you the right to come and tell me to my face: 'I told you so,' okay?"
    "Fine."

I've seriously heard too much about this recently. Regardless of my official position on the matter, I'd just rather keep from having seeds sown in my ever so fertile imagination.

In France

Nantes - Beirut


well it's been a long time, long time now
since I've seen you smile

and I'll gamble away my fright
and I'll gamble away my time
and in a year, a year or so
this will slip into the sea

well it's been a long time, long time now
since I've seen you smile

nobody raise their voices
just another night to mourn to
nobody raise their voices
just another night to mourn to
...

The sound of his voice gives me shivers. The look of him makes me smile.
...

So addicted am I to the idea of being in love, that I'll pretend that there's someone else when there's not; I'll mold a perfect out of pieces that I find along the way and pretend I've found him when I haven't. The one thing I can comfort myself with, is that at least I know I'm pretending and that the only one I'm fooling is myself.

Inbetween coming and going

"Come here..."
...

Driving down the Allen it happened again. I was inching my way up the off-ramp, and I came up beside another car. Focusing on the car ahead, I suddenly found my gaze drawn to the side by some sort of minute movement; I turned to find the driver next to me, smiling at me. My immediate reaction was to turn away before having made it obvious that I'd seen him. At that moment, the traffic started to move, and I pulled up ahead. Safely out of view from my neighbour, I reassessed.

What was I so scared of? Two metals frames, two panes of glass, and a chunk of roadway in between; what was it about a friendly set of teeth that had me freaked out? I shook my head at myself. Ridiculous.

By then, my lane had progressed much more than my neighbour's, and I was far ahead, but I was also stuck at a red light. Eyes to the rear-view mirror, I waited. Just as my light turned green, he caught up, and smiled again at me. This time, I smiled back. I was better than just okay; my smile was real.
...

She is lying on the futon, rustling through snacks on the table when he comes and sits down, leaning back on her outstretched legs. The TV flickers scenes of an unknown movie that neither is paying much attention to. Her visit was impromptu; she'd found some of his free time and had taken advantage of it. A silence passes comfortably before he speaks.
    "Why are you here?"
    "Because you let me be here."
    "No, really."
    "I don't know, I suppose you keep me out of trouble."
    "How is it I keep you out of trouble?"
    "Being here, I'm not out on my own, doing stupid things that might get me into trouble."
    "Hah, what, like the United Way?"
    "Sure, yeah, like the United Way."
Another silence comfortably passes before he shakes his head and snickers. She looks up at him.
    "What?"
Still snickering, he leans in towards her, lowering his voice as he responds.
    "I'll unite your way..."
She laughs and allows herself to be enveloped.
...

Stemmed from a combusted spontaneity, we found ourselves entangled in arms and legs and elbows and rums and gins and grapes and tuna and pictures and sweets and like and love and role-play and knowing glances and fictions and truths and advice and retorts and dancing and friendship and family and warmth.

The hardest part of the whole night was not the drive or the lateness or even the tough love, it was having to leave each other at the end. There are some moments that you never want to end.
...

My brain fully believes that "in between" and "in front" and "in case" are compound words spelled all in one go.
...

Tonight I was excitedly enveloped in the arms of someone that I truly felt wants me, needs me, and loves me. It felt good.

F5

Those who are new are found to be intriguingly refreshing.


Boo has me addicted to this song by A Fine Frenzy. While the song and lyrics are beautiful, I think I'm addicted most to the title of it; "Almost Lover."

It's comforting to know that I have friends that would defend me as fiercely as I would defend them.

"Words are so very
Unnecessary."
    --Depeche Mode

While not true to me, I love the lyric.

It's quite the experience to have a stranger take one glance at you, and see right through you.

Assurance

    "Hello?"
    "Hey."
    laughter
    "Hi."
    more laughter
    "Just checking."
    "Right."
    persisting giggles
    "Okay, bye."
    "Bye."
...

Sometimes, the shortest of moments is all it takes to rejuvenate a belief in life being good.

Back-up

    "Hey,"
    "Hey, just called to give you some inside information: don't do it."
    "Really?"
    "Yeah. Just heard it."
    "Point duly noted."
    "Good."
...

I was just thinking that sometimes, having a back-up team is a good thing. While you're your own individual and free to make your own decisions, it's always nice when there's another on the inside who can give you a second opinion. Some decisions are too hard to make by yourself; some paths too difficult to travel alone.
...

    "Am I overreacting about this?"
    "Yes."
    "That's what I thought."
...

It's rare that you can find friends that care enough about you to deliver the truth unabashedly. Those are the ones that know that no matter what the outcome, you'll still value them for who they are, not just what they said. They're also the ones that will accept you after you come crawling back, fallen from not having heeded their warnings or good advice; though not necessarily without sneaking in the "I told you so" some where in there.

I used to cower from the idea of being brutally honest. I've found that I've grown a new found appreciation for it. The truth can hurt, but in the end, it's the truth and if you shy from it you're only lying to yourself. Some of my favourite people are my favourite for the reason that they fearlessly give you the answers that you ask of them--sugar-coating unheard of. But deny it all you want--the truth will find you, and they were the ones there that were willing to offer it to you in the first place. That's balls. That's friendship.

She, him, her

She listened to him speak of her. She heard the changes in the tone of the his voice and how he got excited at the mention of her name. She watched his expressions light up as he repeated the stories that he had shared with her; the times they had spent and the experiences that they'd had.

He spoke of how her actions had made him laugh, and how he loved her reactions; her care-free nature, and the fact of her being easily entertained. Smart, funny, beautiful, and unique were the ways that he described her. He was surprised at the ease at which they got along, at the many views that he shared with her.

She could feel the affection and admiration he was already nursing for her. Despite his denials, she could tell he was really fond of her and all that he had in common with her; even with her out of the room, his chemistry with her was almost palpable. As a friend, she cheered him on and encouraged more stories from him about her.

As a girl, she quietly wished she was her.
...

Sometimes you can't always say what you would like to. Sometimes it's out of empathy, sometimes it's out of tact. Other times it's out of fear; fear of not being taken seriously, or fear of facing rejection.

And then sometimes, you take the plunge and try to say all that you've been holding inside, and it just doesn't come out the way you had expected and you wish you had never said anything in the first place. But then, had you not taken the plunge, you would never have known.

Kiwi

Take what you wish from it. I, myself, might have shared a tear.

Mistaken

During a conversation tonight with someone who was truly interested in learning about me and my personality, who was truly intrigued in the things I thought and the hobbies I held, who expressed innovative ideas and curious insights, I found all I could keep coming back to ask myself was:

Why does he keep referring to me as a woman?

It's hard to realize that despite some of my best efforts, some out there can see that I have indeed grown up. Goodbye, little girl.

What if this is As Good as it Gets?

"You make me want to be a better man."

"How do you write women so well?"
"I think of a man, and I take away reason and accountability."
...

I want to make someone want to be that, and then I want to see him strive to fulfill his goal before I find it's too late. It's one thing to hear the words, but entirely another to actually be able to believe in them.

Speaking to another tonight, we found the frustrating thing to be in relationships was when you found someone that made you want to be a better person, but when you worked so hard and actually became that better person, they were still in the same spot as when you started. The game of Leapfrog only works when the person behind puts an effort to get ahead. What's the point in running a race if no one is running against you?

I'm barely holding onto my reason and accountability these days. I say one thing, but I want to scream another. I refrain from doing one thing, when in reality I just want to dive in head first. I want to learn more, but I feign uninterest for fear of learning too much. I'm acting like a man to keep myself from being the woman I really am. I probably shouldn't share these things--they'll ruin my stone-cold facade--but misery loves company. Call me Misery.

I haven't decided if I'm lucky or not that some people are stronger than me, regarding the same situation; they're watching me go crazy without even knowing it.
...

"How do you tell yourself not to fall?"

On the verge of relapse

It's not easy. It's not going to be easy. Nobody ever said it was going to be. I never believed that it was going to be. But being prepared doesn't make it any less hard.
...

    "So yeah, West, I'm different. And you can tell the world if you want to because I'm tired of pretending to someone I'm not."
    "Claire, shut up."


To be able to fly away from those that can't see that I'm different. To fly away in the arms of someone--the only one--who understands. To fly...
...

She stares at the phone before returning it again, un-dialed, to the table. She lets her eyes lose focus as she stares unseeing at the floor, wrestling in her mind the gap between logic and longing. The hole in her chest aches of withdrawal; it is hard to remind herself that the few words she yearns to exchange, as kind as they could be, would break down all that she has worked to build recently.

Sleepless nights have left her disoriented, floating through her days. While those around her know her situation, they don't understand. Hours of insomnia have her mind racing through the witching-hours, re-living three years in just a few nights. When her mind finally rests, she notices that she still sleeps on one side of the bed.

Sunlight pours through the window and warms the room, drawing a rectangle of light on the bed where she lies, still awake--she could see the dust dance through the rays if she cares to notice--if anything, she feels colder. A room that had once felt warm and cozy now feels like a giant, unfamiliar expanse that she couldn't fill if she tried; everything seems to be missing, even though nothing in the room has been moved. Her lip trembles.

Decided and determined, she shakes off the weakness and picks up the phone. A groggy voice greets her.

    "What are you doing?"
    "Sleeping."
    "Can I come by?"
    "Now? Sure, why?"
    "I can't sleep and I can't call."
    "Sure."

The drive is short; she hasn't bothered to change out of her pajamas. Eyes sore to the sunlight, she lets herself in through the door that has been left open for her. She knocks softly before she enters the darkness of his room.

Her eyes quickly adjust and she can see the shape of his body still beneath the covers--he's left a side of the bed empty for her. She crawls in, staying close to the edge. He doesn't turn over to face her when he speaks; it's the same sleep-filled voice from on the phone.

    "You okay?"
    "I haven't slept; it feels so empty. All I want to do is call him, and I know I can't."
    "I know."
    "Yeah, I know you know."

There is a break in the meagre conversation, but the silence is comfortable. While there is a world of space between their two bodies, she can feel the emptiness melting in to something softer; the ache subsides. He has already begun to softly snore, and she is finally starting to drift off into a long awaited dream. Exhausted as she is, she speaks quietly enough so as not to fully wake him, her own eyes closed as she gives in to unconsciousness.

    "Thanks."

Just as sleep overtakes her, there is a rustling next to her and she feels his hand blindly clasp her wrist. She is warm.

Disturbing some stool

"What I say has nothing to do with what's in my heart."
...

Listening to the Kanye Graduation Album isn't the same if it's not in the car with my boys jammin' away in the front.

A little while ago, I began to give into the admission that I do indeed rely on liquid bravery to do things I would otherwise pretend to be adverse to. The hope is that someday soon I will have my own courage to do those things without needing a catalyst.
...

He embraced her amongst the lights. They held on a moment longer than they should have. While she knew it didn't matter, the few drinks she'd had that night made her bold. She leaned in towards his ear.
    "Where is she tonight?"
    "I didn't bring her." His lips brushed her cheek and ear when he replied.
    "Why not? Isn't it all good with you two?"
    "It is, but..."
    "But...?"
    "C'mon, you know you still are the best."
His words didn't exactly surprise her, but it was something she had needed to hear. She smiled to herself, and as their bodies parted and melded back into the crowd, their hands held on until they could reach each other no longer.
...

Guiltily, I spent the night watching old Britney Spears videos, and reminiscing about the days when I used to be bombarded by these by her biggest fan. That was before youtube when you actually had to download the videos to watch them. That was adoration.

Notch.
...

    "I don't so much have an archive as I do a list of 'what-ifs'."
    "I know what you mean. I hate the 'what-ifs.' If I have anything to do with it from now on, I won't have anymore of those. So far, so good."
...

As I recall I know you love to show off
But I never thought that you would take it this far
What do I know? (Flashing Lights)
What do I know? (Flashing Lights)

As you recall you know I love to show off
But you never thought that I would take it this far
What do you know? (Flashing Lights)
What do you know? (Flashing Lights)
...

There was a talk recently that asserted that relationships could only be successfully started between people if those two were on the same page of the relationship book. If they met eye to eye on what they wanted out of the other person, then by all means it is a green light to go diving in head first. If not, then all signs point to coming to a screeching halt...but sometimes it's not so easy for some to hit the brakes.
...

I think I'm still awake because in the back of my head, there's something missing from my life. I can't quite put my finger on it. Or perhaps because it's missing, I can't put my arm around it in order to comfortably fall asleep.

I admit I'm still in rehab--I can't deny it. But I'd like to believe that I am recovering much better and faster than average. It helps to have such a great support system and so much bluntly delivered advice.
...

"I think I would love you, but I can't."

How I made it through the day

"You're right, I do."

"You disturber of stool."

"Like throwing a hotdog down a hallway."

"Well, despite how you might feel, you still look great today."

"Why, can you suggest something more interesting for me to do?"
"I bet I can."
...

Words are always up for interpretation by the reader. The message intended might not be the one conveyed. Even in print or in a clear conversation, you can never be sure that you're not risking a game of Broken Telephone. Part has to do with what is said, part is what is heard, and the rest is the part having to do with what is expected.

Clear messages are rare due to the number of factors needed to convey one. The speaker must speak honestly, actually meaning and believing what they say. The listener must be patient and attentive--not a detail must be lost. And while they may not have to share the same view, both must be on the same wavelength, truthfully realizing either their agreement or disagreement, and being understanding of why.

Stubborn by necessity, to submit to another would be to compromise yourself and your beliefs.

Even with the time to sit, stare, review, edit, and craft, I understand right now that my words will still be garbled to those who are not me.

Pick your poison

"My body misses your body."
...

The conversation that closed my working day was with someone I didn't even work with. Debating the position each of us were in in our single lives, it suddenly slid into place that we were both recovering addicts. Just as people can get addicted to partying, nicotine, alcohol, or drugs, they can just as easily find themselves addicted to being in a relationship.

Sure, it sounds ridiculous, but the more we threw the notion around, the more it made sense.

You start off as a normal person.
You start off easy; a few dates here and there.
Soon, you find that you like this new feeling that being part of a pair gives you, and you start spending whole evenings, days, weeks, immersed in this.
Suddenly, you discover that you're pouring lots of time, money, and effort into keeping this new sensation going (sure it's a poor investment, but it makes you feel great).
Friends start to notice that you've dropped from the scene, that you're not around as often being too involved in your relationship.
Family begins to call you, wondering where you are and how you're doing--if you need anything.
Up to a few years pass before you find that you've lost the love for it; you're in it out of habit and because your body and mind has just become accustomed to and dependent on the relationship.
You start to become inexplicably irritable and short tempered.
You decide it's time to give up the relationship.

You quit.

At first, you feel great, liberated even; you believe that you don't need a relationship and that you never did in the first place.
Some people make it out cold turkey, but others struggle.
If you don't make it out, you start to feel susceptible, inadequate.
Your first and strongest notion is to jump right back into a relationship--be it with the same person, or with the first new body to come along.
If you have a good support system of friends or family, they'll keep you out of it, but the moment you're alone, you start to doubt yourself, think too much about the things you used to do in a relationship.
You feel cold, alone.
The first few weeks, months, feel like an eternity of solitude while all you want to do is to hold hands, cuddle, and come home to someone's arms.
After those tough months, you finally start to remember what it's like to be on your own.
You call up your friends, spend time with your family.
You go out often.
You meet new people, forge new friendships.
You might even find that you reject a few offers for companionship.
You become yourself again, independent, fun, and free of the relationship.

Not so strange, once we thought about it. It was a lot of verbal spewage that seemed to make an amusing sort of sense.

As always, I know I'm a strong person when it comes to my sense of self, and I still am. I know I can go out do what I want, and come back alone and that's okay. I know I can go out, enjoy myself, and come back feeling independent. I know that with or without my support system, I can say no in the face of temptation. I know that I can go ahead, have some cake and eat it too with little to no guilt. I know that I am disciplined enough to not jump at any first opportunity to arise. I know I have more strength in regards to resisting the addiction of the relationship.

But sometimes I just want to be weak.