Wednesday, June 30, 2010

Bodies, Chemistry, Connection


Jun 30, 2010
The basic carnal interaction between two bodies should be far more isolating than it is connecting, but our animal instincts are overridden by they very essence that makes us human. We should by nature's rule rest separately, alone, and protected by privacy as we are at our most vulnerable after said expression yet somehow we cling in spoon like fashion with chins pressed against shoulders, and hands resting awkwardly against skin, listening to heartbeats, seeking rest and proximity.

Women, all of us crazy insane women, are drawn to that connection with near generous desperation and crave more, want touch, want repetition, want "him" there again, resting again, feeling again, moving again.

Men, all of those abundantly disconnected distant men, are eager to sprint, dash, seek independence shortly after intimate expression. It's not for the purpose of abandonment, but instead for retreat, regrouping, and a need to renew before re-approaching.

It's basic chemistry and for that I'm totally unsure how the two - the passionately connected man and woman - could ever unite for productive longevity. Precisely, how does a woman connect with a man on such a physically dynamic level with whom she finds life's simple coordination easy and perhaps boring, and conversely - how does a woman feel served emotionally without suffocating a man that makes her body feel like she cannot sleep without him? Or at least she cannot sleep without what he might do to her before she rests?

How might a man do the same?

Because when we are drawn - in it's most basic magnetic sense - a woman's nature is to close in and claim, and a man's nature is to withdraw and protect his self and independence. Yet a woman also will feel the requirement to withdraw from excessive need and therein lies one consistency between the genders. While both want to be wanted, neither wants to be needed, incessantly obsessively needed. And I have learned being needed, being integral, being too important is suffocating.

If I might extract this learning from my own experience, perhaps I shall someday be able to functionally collaborate with the passionate man who instead of needing me to fulfill his own self worth, might ignite my own fiery inspirations and physical desires. Perhaps I can learn to respect his desire for freedom and understand that to me, eventually he will return.

Until then in the intermittent, temporary, and extraordinary, I shall find moments of exhausting release.

Undeniably Drawn: A Haiku


Jun 30, 2010
Passionate fountain
compelling her, she must drink
as lust brings her life

Monday, June 28, 2010

can't help being a woman - the lyrics


Jun 28, 2010
sun rises and a heart beats with the hope
of a brand new day
in and out of love i often lose my way

but the words I repeat to myself give me subtle peace
reminding me what i feel is nothing new,
i can't help being a woman
and i couldn't help myself from loving you

because you are detached, i remain attached
the chase, the dance, the longing
perpetually distracts
the memories i created and the script i wrote
of a love affair that was nothing but smoke

you changed my path and down a road i danced
thinking that love might have a second chance
but it was clear I was just inviting pain
in yet another one sided romance

so the words I repeat to myself give me subtle peace
reminding me what i feel is nothing new,
i can't help being a woman
and i couldn't help myself from loving you

and days from now in the darkness of a crowded dance floor
another boy will walk through the door,
and through the hazy daze of champagne I'll see
him looking into my eyes watching my body move
thinking those kind of thoughts about me
he'll take my hand pull me tight resting his upon my hips
hovering close he'll try to kiss my lips

and no it won't be love anew,
for a moment it may distract me
just enough from the memory of you
so for a song or two i will move in beat with him
before i repeat my own mantra again

what i feel is nothing new,
i can't help being a woman
and i couldn't help myself from loving you

is it selfish


Jun 28, 2010
is it selfish
to want someone
who just wants me

to want someone
who will love
just me

to expect that
he should look in my eyes
and mine alone

and do i have to wait
until he realizes what he's lost
to be valuable enough

to love completely

is it selfish
to want someone
who wants just me?

Friday, June 25, 2010

i regret nothing


Jun 25, 2010
because i did feel everything
everything i wrote
everything i said
every moment of emotion
was real

drawn to a flame
i circled my own sentiments
yearning for warmth
likely to be burned
and it perhaps made me crazy

and sent away again i will be
magnetically connected
 anew i will be drawn
and inappropriate love
i will certainly re-embrace

and likely to be crazy, unsimple
and intermittently strong
i will emerge from this hazy cocoon
where wrapped feelings
of passion, pain, fruition, and loss
were so delicately protected

because while i regret nothing
it's time to find self
and move on

because i fall in love


Jun 25, 2010
i've had a perpetual habit of falling in love over the last twenty five or so years of my life.

It started with a boy we'll call Peter from my 4th grade class. He was adorable, and unparalleled in brains and we wanted to write a fairy tale play together. We did, and our class performed it. I'm pretty sure I was the writer, director, and played the princess in peril and he played the knight in shining armor - or whatever shiny thing we found to make look like armor. Peter gave me a bottle of perfume with an attached doll and I was certain I loved him. Then 4th grade ended, he skipped a grade, I changed schools and then moved to California two years after. I found Peter on facebook twenty years later and oddly enough, he was easy to recognize. Happily in a relationship with a wonderful woman living in Portland, Peter writes fantasy games for a well known gaming publisher.

The next love of my life was a boy named Sam. Sam and I met the first day of 7th grade and he was nice to me. New, having recently moved from the wacky state of Colorado, I was the awkward girl who had grown breasts a bit before everyone else's time. Sam was kind, he was my first friend. A few weeks later, he asked me to dance to Unchained Melody (a GHOST influenced theme song of my pre-teen years) and we were pretty much be-fri from then on. For some reason however, Sam didn't want to date me, so instead I paired up with his best friend Robert. Twenty years later, Sam and I after attempting to be more than friends a few times, settled on friendship forever and he chose a different path. Robert turned out to be gay too.

After that I fell in love my Freshman year in HS with a boy named Richard. Richard and I were in a high school musical, and precisely as illustrated by the series  found romance behind the curtains and in the darkness of a theater. The passion of creating emotions, the fluidity of song, the anonymity of costume, and the quiet of curtain call led to the most amazing young love I could imagine. And oh by the way, Richard was a great kisser. No offense Sam and Robert ;-) For transportation reasons, Richard who lived Westside, and I an Eastsider, were not meant to be. We'd cross paths for the next fifteen years, but only as friends who remembered a romance both of us were too young to understand.

And then I fell for a boy I'd known for a year and would love for a decade. Hank was everything I wanted at the time, creative, driven, confused, dangerous, passionate, and proximate. He lived around the corner and we walked and talked for years while wandering our neighborhood. Our memories are different about what went awry, but I felt I'd always play second fiddle to another addictive passion, and knew I'd do him no good. It was too passionate, too up, too down, and too much for either of us. He has since moved on to father a beautiful son and live a peaceful life with a wife who does not cause him so much turmoil. He is much better without me in his life, but for a time - he was my everything.

After that, there was my collegiate romance to a man who was much smarter than I. He was never the one because he couldn't ever be comfortable with my upbringing, but his mind was stunning, compelling, magnetic - and I craved that interaction. It made sex phenomenal and conversations dynamic. Meant to end, we broke up after two years the semester before we graduated. He too is happily married with a wonderful woman and a beautiful daughter.

Then my love life gets muddied - In short order I received three marriage proposals, lost my brother in a plane crash, and found myself in a nine year relationship which resulted in five years of awkward marriage. I craved passion to alleviate pain, I craved proximity and need to define relevance, and I felt that marriage would anchor me to the world unlike my brother who had flown without restraint.

I know I loved my husband very much. I know I wanted to give him everything I possibly could and that improving his life made me feel stronger. I know he was receptive and I know he cared for me too. But somehow in a life of tremendous love, ups and downs, and passionate emotion, I married someone who didn't ever stoke the fire in my soul nor care to do so. It was simpler to give than to receive, easier to advise than to listen, and kinder to give more than I'd get. A near decade later, I am faced with the decision that I cannot keep giving and he chooses not to want to know me more.

And stumbling again down a path of emotions, I found myself inapropriately falling for someone who would never be my anything but felt like a something while I was so unhappy in my marriage. There was a man who seemed to protect and care for me in a way that my husband simply wouldn't and the romantic high school musical dreamer in me moved onto new affections. These affections would forever be unfulfilled, albeit not unrequited and as an exercise in futility I had to evolve enough to let them go.

I've been writing this particular destiny since the day I fell in love with the nerdy boy in 4th grade.

Seeking inspiration and flame from men means that "temporary, extraordinary and intermittent" may forever be my mantra. This of course makes me sad, but at the same time - I know, I will feel the passion of falling in love many times, the fire of something new, the inspiration that echoes from romance, and while I may never feel the comfort of longevity, I will thrive in the brevity of temporary significance.

Monday, June 21, 2010

Productive


Jun 21, 2010
I've put a lot of energy into unproductive measures these last few months, stayed up all night confused and distracted, shown up less than perfect at work, let my mind wander to useless places, spent time mulling the clearly evitable over coffee for hours, not paid attention to details, and given about 50% to what means the most to me. Of course this is to be expected as I'm going through a separation, but it's time to get back on track with myself, my values, and frankly my own personal strength. I haven't been as honest with myself as I should be. So here's 15 pieces of self directed honesty laid out there for the world to see with the hope they will drive me to a more productive few weeks.

1) I'm not as nice as I'd like people to think I am. I'm selfish, I have an ego, and I'm 90 percent sure I'm right 100% of the time. I am not apologetic for it.

2) I don't really care a whole lot about what people think of me, and frankly I've learned to live without a lot of great friends and can usually detach pretty easily when things get rough. This doesn't mean I'm a quitter, I'm just not that interested in wasting time dealing with unsolvable issues. I should probably be more loyal, but loyalty isn't something that I've ever trusted. The inevitability of betrayal by friends and family is enough for me to walk pretty easily.

3) I am as much to blame for a marriage that didn't work as he is. It's definitely a marriage that never should have started because there was too much hidden ego between the two of us, but I am equally at fault. I know I've admitted this before, but I am flat out saying - I gave up, and made choices that make going back nearly impossible. I'm OK with that and going back isn't an option, even though there is an associated emotional roller coaster with going forward.

4) I fall in love with the idea of love way too easily. I am ridiculous in my obsession with instant gratification. This is dangerous but it is also part of what makes me creative, driven, and aggressive. It also makes me a stupid girl, a blind lover, and not likely to see reality when it's looking me directly in the eyes. I don't know if there ever will be a balance and may have to live with that. It does however mean there will be a lot of happy and a lot of sad down my path.  

5) I procrastinate, BADLY and always have. The requirement to work under pressure and the last minute sprint is my favorite part but it makes life more difficult and I need to deal with this one.

6) I habitually create fantasies of opportunity and see more than exists because I see the best in the future but sometimes can be blinded by unrealistic hope. I need to be more of a pragmatist and less trusting.

7) My parents sometimes do have good advice even if it comes through a hazy shouting match of anger and resentment.

8) On that same note I wish my parents weren't so angry and resentful towards me for all my misgivings and I wish they'd shut the eff up about my years in college. Seriously GET OVER IT.

9) I don't like people who are senselessly conservative, racist, or bigotted and I am perfectly happy to be a gay loving, big industry hating, hippy dippy socialist from berkeley, even if i do hang out with a bunch of Republicans. I respect opinions, but I cannot respect racial or cultural disrespect. 

10) I never should have married a Republican who was willing to pretend he was a Democrat and then jokingly disparage my beliefs behind my back. That wasn't being true to my values and I'm done with that. (note - item 9 has nothing to do with item 10 - husband was actually pretty culturally respectful despite his Republican tendencies)

11) I do think the Europeans do it better when it comes to dealing with political leaders, fidelity, and health care and no - this does not make me un-American.

12) I'm terrified of being alone because being alone means having to hear myself and there's just too much to be afraid of when you can't put it anywhere else.

13) I really don't want to waste any more time in my life and am trying very hard to figure out what the hurdles are that are preventing me from achieving what I really want - unparalleled success.

14) I don't feel badly about thinking I can be extraordinary. I also don't want to let myself down.

15) I do kind of wish I could meet my birth mother if only to better understand the difference between nurture and nature. Is she like me? So yes, I guess I do have unresolved adoption issues. 


Sunday, June 20, 2010

Nope not chickening out


Jun 20, 2010
I've been given several reasons to chicken out from composing this week and I'm absolutely not interested in being drawn back into silence.

I won't ever be perfect, I won't always be kind, I won't ever always be smart or gentle or supportive or perpetually sexy or remotely nice. In fact, sometimes I will suck - and quite honestly everyone else sometimes sucks too, so don't challenge me because I hurt you, don't be afraid to tell me I have - I will hear you, don't embarrass me without thinking I might curtail your behavior, or attempt to control a voice that I've found.

So even if friends threaten that because I for a time can't be a good friend - to bail while reminding me they keep my secrets (hint hint don't make me mad or I'll tell people what you don't want them to know), and former scorned lovers who are scared I might reveal something that could embarrass them or hurt their career are angry with me (what would you think if I started writing about you), I am done being quieted by others.

I'm willing to take the risk that comes with this. I am not afraid of your fears.

And no - this blog is not just about you.

Saturday, June 19, 2010

when i get older


Jun 19, 2010

The headache that follows the tears of heartbreak
cannot be eased with normal measures

It rests in the back of her skull
With the dull heartbeat of repetition and finality

thoughts and tears have swollen her eyes
and her skin is pale despite her tan

so she plays on repeat a song
that inspires and reminds her

"when i get older i will be stronger"
and about the fourth time she's heard it

she finds the strength
to get out of bed

a smile creeps cautiously back into her eyes
because love is the answer

and she walks outside to see the already
high sun and remembers that

sad is part of life
loss is part of love

and out of the darkness
she will find light

and move forward
and grow again.

Friday, June 18, 2010

hoping for quiet


Jun 18, 2010

Because I made these mistakes
And broke my own heart
I sob without control
Parked under the streetlight
on 10th and Carlyle
Listening to the nights echo
Of loneliness and pain
As no love is ever enough
And only the quiet of darkness
Might ease this ache

Thursday, June 17, 2010

The Ring


Jun 17, 2010

She wasn't sure what bothered her more about her evening. Was it the fact that her soon to be ex shared with her that his mother was enthusiastically looking for new apartments for him, or the fact that the "dissection" of jewels from her engagement ring was a topic of discussion? His mother required back the center stone and her mother claimed the flanking sapphires. How quickly the true architecture of each of their intentions had been made clear and she realized for the first time, that she owed nobody a return on their investment. She certainly had none for the nine years of her own life and all the financial investment she'd made in a man who turned out to not have any true gaining interest.

The ring was constructed using a pretty enough 1 carat emerald cut center from his mother, and like her monstrous wedding show, was an affectation the bride never wanted but graciously accepted under his family pressure. At the time, he couldn't afford to buy her a ring, and instead a family stone was scored. She spent more on his engagement watch after realizing he was jealous of her newly manufactured bling. She had thought long and hard about the piece she would design, and like so many things - he left it up to her. It was a beautiful art deco ring that begged to celebrate, but had required ball bearings inside to steady. Now, as she looked across the table in his dispassionate eyes and imagined his vapid mother clicking gleefully away on apartment searches while her own glared angrily into a chardonnay glass of regret, she realized that the jewel was hers alone and did not have to be returned to anyone who wanted to retrieve it's significance.

So instead, she chose to place it in a safety deposit box - far from his likely to take it when he dropped by with the best of intentions - for future consideration. She knew that eventually, it could become a gorgeous pendant that she would wear on a day that celebrated all she would achieve. The stones of her five year marriage would forever cobble the path of her long life, and she did not need to return her journey.

Tuesday, June 15, 2010

Brain Fried


Jun 15, 2010

Hello Darling Readers,

Due to herculean efforts by the other half of my very split personality, I cannot come up with anything creative to write today. I'm back from going into another world for a week and the temperature of  multiple hot Georgia days fried my brain. I had to exert a whole lot of creative and emotional energy into a week spent learning about some very interesting characters and there isn't much left.

I'm going to give it a few days to see if anything starts percolating and if not, expect some useless dribble for a while until I get my groove back.

Peace out,
Infinite Vitality Girl

Monday, June 14, 2010

Space


Jun 14, 2010

There is a hole, the perfect size of a nine point five heel in her bathroom wall. A day, years ago when she was so frustrated that a swift kick inches above the paper roll and just below the towel rack were the only way to express the temperament of her hour. And she has kept that broken wall to remember that he only listened then.

She can lie in her bed and re-witness the gaping hole's angst while she remembers not too long after, perhaps a day or two later, he called paramedics because he thought she'd had too much Advil and didn't know what to do. The post drama review was simple, she was ok - just sad and with a headache.

That night, a conclusion of a long progression of discontent, she convinced the 5-7 paramedics that arrived, because in her town there isn't much action, that she was in fact fine. He had overreacted and there wasn't any domestic violence, just a whole lot of screaming. She promised she was just mad and sad and not likely to go sprinting about the beach with homeless people in the middle of the night.  She'd curl up at home like the docile education had drafted and would be OK.

Then she ran. Far and sandy she watched the waves play and the ground flex. She knew that what awaited her back at her home was lonely and was quite cold. She ran in shoes and workout clothes at 3AM sweating, beating, breathing, and he slept. She forgot her key and he didn't wake up for 45 minutes after she got back to let her in. He was clearly unconcerned by her late night sprint and saw no metaphor in his peaceful rest whilst she pounded her body against the pavement.

Years later, she traced her finger around the perfect size nine point five heel hole and realized she hadn't ever stopped running. A new course of course, but nothing holistic had arrived to change the patterned beat of her feet.

She would keep running and she would wait.

Tuesday, June 8, 2010

You aren't a toy - I wish you knew that


Jun 8, 2010

She is frustrated while because she's decided to move on - officially, it's been announced - She has been abundantly clear and there is no going back. No no no going back. Painful, fearful, and soooo OK, because what she is leaving was wrong for them both, and together they are better apart. She still remains fearful and finds herself stuck on another repeat.

Her feelings have rapidly climb elsewhere and rest precariously on an abundantly unproductive perch. A fairy tale in her head that perhaps has no lifeline or possibility of hope and she's thinking it isn't love, although she does not actually know what love feels like anymore. And there is no no no going forward. And yes, she is imperfect, flawed, emotional, and a bit broken, so she'd be wary of her too.

When she asked him how they ever might get over their new habit, he said that she'd eventually find a new toy - although they remember the conversation differently. She realized that it's not only her fear of relevance dividing them - but his as well.

Let me be clear she wants to shout - "I don't want another toy. He is not replaceable. I want the chance to fall in love with him. I want to be passionate, and weak, strong and kind. I want to be broken with him, I want to be new with him. I want the chance to begin again with him. I want him to feel as strongly as I do, and I fear he never will. Because he may tear my clothes off and kiss me for hours, he won't take my call a day later."

This may however be the new rules because there is a difference between an affair, having a lover, and being married. She's heard there's a book on the subject, that she ought to read but can't believe he's just not that into her. Then again, she was married to a man who wasn't that into her for about a decade, so judge of character is clearly murky at best.

Stuck in one place while simultaneously sprinting somewhere different, petrified that new won't ever be able to grow,  she's clear about dashing forward knowing it means heading straight into repeated heartbreak again and she just fucking wishes - "If only I could just have grown up as a simpler kind of girl."



Another Poet's Words


Jun 8, 2010
 

Ever realize your night's soundtrack couldn't have possibly been more appropriate? A song you've never heard before suddenly makes very clear everything you were feeling? Happens to me - all the time.

Alicia Keys
Try Sleeping With A Broken Heart Lyrics


Even if you were a million miles away
I could still feel you in my bed
near me, touch me, feel me
And even in the bottom of the sea
I can still hear inside my head
Telling me, touch me, feel me
And all the time you were telling me lies

So tonight I’m gonna find a way to make it without you
Tonight I’m gonna find a way to make it without you
I’m gonna hold on to the times that we had
Tonight I’m gonna find a way to make it without you

Have you ever tried sleeping with a broken heart?
Well you can try sleeping in my bed
Lonely, only, nobody ever shut it down like you
You wore the crown, you make my body feel heaven-bound
Why don’t you hold me, need me, I thought you told me
You’d never leave me

Looking in the sky I can see your face
And i knew right where I’d fit in
Take me, make me
You know that I’ll always be in love with you
Right til the end

So tonight I’m gonna find a way to make it without you
Tonight I’m gonna find a way to make it without you
I’m gonna hold onto the times that we had
Tonight I’m gonna find a way to make it without you

Anybody could have told you right from the start
It’s bout fall apart
So rather than hold onto a broken dream
I'll just hold onto love
And I could find a way to make it
Don’t hold on too tight
I’ll make it without you tonight

So tonight I’m gonna find a way to make it without you
Tonight I’m gonna find a way to make it without you
I’m gonna hold onto the times that we had
Tonight I’m gonna find a way to make it without you

So What


Jun 8, 2010

Yep - today I channel P!NK and sing SO WHAT, I'M STILL A ROCK STAR at the top of my lungs while commuting around the city to meetings, because not every day am I going to find my own words. Today, is one of those days.



Monday, June 7, 2010

No - I don't want to just hang out


Jun 7, 2010

There is no connection
left to reconnect

We spend time thinking time will change
what was never possible

We were both there for a purpose
and now those needs have been met

And though we are fearful
it is not enough of a reason to hold on

We need to find a sharp knife
and the courage to make this cut

Because there is no connection
left to reconnect



Sunday, June 6, 2010

Electrical Properties of Matter


Jun 6, 2010

Your hands are electric
channeling a current through my skin
that I cannot resist
and there is no question
you feel it too
your heartbeat audibly quickens
your breath becomes shallow
and your fingers dance fervently,
charged upon my body

and just brief proximity
is enough to begin
the crackling of our dynamic particles
 quickly growing to a full lightening display
with thundering echoes that are
impossible to sleep through

and when your touch has left me
shaken, awoken, exhausted and deeply stirred
i fear the conductivity that remains is too powerful
and the magnetic storm will evolve
to an emotional response
 our wires may not handle

Friday, June 4, 2010

What makes me a woman?


Jun 4, 2010

Is it my round breasts that rise and fall with every breath?
Is it my long eyelashed eyes that gently look up searching?
Is it the curve of my body as my hips grace gently to soft thighs?

Or am I a woman because I feel so much deeper
and care so much more than the men in my life?
Am I a woman because a heartbreak will linger much longer
than the fleeting feelings of lust and love.

Because the fantasy of past is always better than its actuality
and in some histories, a woman's memory remains perfect
and the way your hand traced along my waist
and the way your body fit perfectly into mine
is enough to temporarily forget
your uninterested look of today

and to instead recall the way
for just a moment,
you understood what makes me a woman.

Wednesday, June 2, 2010

Because there is no perfect man


Jun 2, 2010

God knows there is absolutely no perfect man, in fact - there's are most certainly adequate ones, but generally speaking - if you think beyond the obvious they will perhaps let you down. Men are simple and if you put too much faith in them or require too much of them, you will likely be quite disappointed. So I highly recommend mitigating disillusionment and assigning a more relevant structure to what the boys in your life are good for. They truly are all good for something!

Some are good as public dates - they make for nice arm candy and are amusing to your family and friends. They know how to order at restaurant and behave at a party. They are the host, they are the perfect guest. But do remember these accessories and not likely to express deeply or give greatly, instead they entertain on the surface and be delightful when presented to company.

Others are the lovers, and well they exist for the purpose of exercising one's most basic needs - Orgasm. You may briefly become infatuated with one of these, because after all - a mighty body shaking O is even more dreamy than a perfect pair of shoes found on sale, but you will soon realize his erratic ways, and undependable artists energies are in fact just best when directed towards passionate fucking. He will look deeply in your eyes, take you places you haven't been in years, and then forget to call until his next painting is complete. Don't be offended, it's just his process.

There are the providers/ protectors, these are the sage figures who may become fixated on making you better and helping you, and goodness that's useful when building your own paths, but a smart girl must remember that there is a reason a professor sleeps with his student and frankly it's because he wishes he was still just a boy.

So instead of assuming that there is a perfect someone, I challenge all my favorite women to remember that on those days when you are feeling the need for a release, call your lover, "eff" him wildly and of course use protection. When you need a date to a business event phone your pretty boy. When you need someone to help steer you in a clear path ring the protector, and when you need a night to reconnect, slip on some adorable lingerie, pull your hair back and paint on a deep cleansing mask, pour a glass of wine, snuggle up with your cat or pup, and enjoy a great book!

when optimism mixes

Jun 2, 2010
 while it is much easier to write about sadness because joy in poetry feels indulgent there is a rising swell of the giddy power in a self defined opportunity and she cannot withdraw from the creeping of a smile and twinkling of her eyes because there is optimism mixed with the subtle softening of regret and the lethargy of sad has become less fulfilling than the energy of happy

Time - a haiku


Jun 2, 2010

it takes longer now
yet silence will sadden less
with each day's passing

The beginnings of another chapter


That morning in the dewy beginnings of a day, their paths almost crossed again and she realized how small this world continued to be. He'd been interviewing wearied travelers and happened to meet a man she shared most of her days with. Learning that he'd offered to interview her colleague while he was en route to another shoot was just too strange. She realized that in some ways, he knew more about her personal life then her own colleagues and for a moment, it made her nervous. 

She couldn't help but wonder if they'd ever actually meet in person or instead just let an odd friendship grow through emails and tweets. There was something strangely comforting about knowing he was out there, caring about her life, for almost no reason at all.

(There's a murder mystery or action adventure story in here somewhere. Just need to find it.)

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

knowing what it's not


Jun 1, 2010

It's taken a long time
to understand what this is not,

because I scripted a fairy tale
where you were a prince
gallant, kind and courageous

and I was gentler princess
strong enough to stand alone
willing to walk forward on my own

believing that someday
together we might thrive

but as you turned your head in my direction
and looked squarely in my eyes
clearly showing me what you needed from me,
and only what you desired,

I saw my reflection and heard my voice
and found my feet upon a path
I've tread before

realizing that yet again,
there is not enough me in this
and the terms are not my own

and that this is not
any kind of love
I want.