Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Getting Back to Santa Croce: Tix Confirmed

So yes, it's totally Eat-Pray-Love of me but today, on the day I finalized the end of one very long, very trying, in early times precious and later times heartbreaking era - I bought a plane ticket to Italy. The last time I spent quality adventure time in Europe was in 2000, before so many things happened. How very different the life I have lived these past eleven years was than what I imagined when first moved by the creative vortex of Santa Croce.

In preparation for the upcoming adventure, I wonder what sort of featured blog I should write. It's a perfect series opportunity, I'm just perplexed at what I want to learn about myself these days.

With all my darling readers in tow, I've wandered down the road of Abandoning the Little Girl, ending up right back where we started. Turns out, the little girl inside is just never going to go away and in-fact I quite like her. She's often covered in salty-sandy sunscreen playing in the waves or dirt covered climbing up the nearest mountain. She's sometimes dreaming of being a princess and fairly sure she'd like to rule her kingdom instead of waiting around for prince charming. Yep, I like her quite well.

Then we played with being Naked with Chanel No. 5 for 40 days during my self imposed man hiatus. My Late Lent was actually quite fun. Yet while I was able to halt a terrifying pattern of truly bad man decisions - I'm still pretty much the same passionate, fiery, occasionally confused and eternally loving woman I was before. I now just enjoy the subtle sensuality of Chanel No. 5

So what shall I learn in preparation for Italy? Is it just another opportunity to affirm those basics I know to be true? Maybe I'm meant to spend the summer re-embracing a journey with the same abandon I did at eighteen. Is it time to re-open my scrap book and flip through the pages of aspiration?

Perhaps it's just about getting back to Santa Croce. Armed with nothing but a backpack, a map, and an open ended train ticket. A renewed passport to freedom.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Let Freedom Ring

Ten years boiled down 
to thirty simple minutes with you, 
five signatures
and an affidavit of adieu.

Peace Out - things I could not fix.
Ta'Ta' to all I certainly will not miss.
Ciao for now, giving without return.
I bid farewell to all you did not earn.

Adios uno, tres and dos,
it's time I abandoned this dissatisfying post.

And on my own, I am happy,
free to simply be.
Because for at least a while
It's finally all about me.

Monday, June 27, 2011

A Love Letter to the Ocean

Your sand between my pedicured toes
your salt water fills my sunburned nose.
The sound of seagulls caca-ing in the sky
as pelicans in their skimming patterns fly,

and in these waves I am at ease
moving with whatever rhythm you please.
A cresting tide breaks overhead,
deep I dive to clear my head.

and while your utter power is one I shall never know
a simple comfort from these waters doth ever flow.

Sunday, June 26, 2011

Whoever Tells the Best Story Wins - Why Les Mis has played for 25 years

Tonight I watched again, as I had only once before as a girl - wide eyed and heart aching, the telling of one of the most passionate and impactful if not important tales of contemporary literature and musical theater. Les Miserables has enchanted audiences for 25 years as it wanders through the pain of a burgeoning French revolution weaving in its inherent tragedy - a love story, a life story, and a father's tale.

It is a tale that has it all - and in its most recent retelling in Los Angeles' Ahmanson theater, not an eye remained dry on a sunny summer Sunday night. The fathers ached with the sacrifice of parenthood, the lovers held hands as Cosette and Marius professed passion upon first sight, the brothers and soldiers shook with the memory of standing together in fight, and I mouthed every word with Ebonine's On My Own.

I have beside my bed my next reading assignment, a book titled Whoever Tells the Best Story Wins, and I know it certainly is true. A simple beautiful tale of love, family, and the undeniable desire to be free has captured audiences for a quarter of a century. The legacy of story tellers who created and the performers who have since recreated the tale of Les Mis have most certainly won.

Let the shrine of friendship, never say die. 
Let the wine of friendship, never run dry.


For a week we sat only a breath's distance apart, watching people we then hardly knew bare their souls - and a magnetic fire was sparked among us all. The honesty of the room, the fear, the intensity, the pain, the trust and hope all fueled a like minded flame.

And then one night, over a glass of wine, in a crowded penthouse bar it was as if nobody else was there, we talked quietly. I was nearly shy and still thinking of you after you left. It seemed you perhaps were thinking of me in such a way. Other forces had played with our senses that day.

The delicious flavors of an overwhelming week were made more powerful by the sound of your voice behind me, the surprise of across-the-bar eye contact, the thinking and contemplating an emotional deduction. The touch of your hand on my back walking through a door, and a wine influenced dueling flirtation that spun into tangible seduction.

I found myself intoxicated by not just your smile but also your story. And wrapped in your arms not so innocently dancing to the sounds of an old school crooner, I would not resist. I warned that I could fall in love with any him. And then we rested, enchanted by a memory of earth shifting elevators, passionate conversation, the tender ache of touched sunburned skin.

And in the morning when the sun re-claimed the day, it all seemed so very perfectly ridiculous.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Lips Touch

I have always been this way
Passion is my life's breath
 and I will fall again 
and I will fly
and my heart will beat
in rhythm with my lover's
because there is nothing
more powerful 
and nothing more pure
than a kiss

Friday, June 17, 2011

So lets talk about Highs and Lows

Yeah - well we've all had that day. That 24 hours where the roller coaster of emotion shakes you from head to toes and you can't entirely make sense of your highs and lows. Let me tell you about mine.

I had lunch yesterday with my father for the first time since my head got knocked silly while riding in the back seat of a cab and then by a dumb ass drunk driver. He reminded me that in fact it was partly my fault that he and momita didn't show up while I was all wobbly to bring me groceries or frankly even to say yo. See I had told them just a few days prior that I didn't want the bad, the mean, the angry any more. If we couldn't make it good, we best not bother. My fault that my parents couldn't or wouldn't help me....maybe. One thing is for sure, nobody is ever a perfect daughter but I'm not sure you can expect perfection from anyone.

Then I got a call from my soon to be ex husband. Now a big part of the whole finalizing shenanigan has been health insurance. Post head knocking, I wanted to be sure I was covered through my regaining of sensibility. Frankly I credit our mediator for that logic because lord knows I was def lacking during that phase. Turns out Ex Husbandriffic's switching firms and I'm gonna be up shizzit creek come day 30. I suppose it was interacting with Pops that reminded me how to be cold and "constructive" so I maintained my calm when he informed me I best pay for my own self and reminded him he was legally obligated to cover me til next month. For god sakes - cool ol' daddy got him that gig and any subsequent opps are surely derivative.

But somewhere amongst the ickness of yesterday, I got the idea to interview a pretty awesome dude for my other blog. He's a newsmaker despite all odds and I hit him up email style and we had a fantastic convo this AM. That lil chat led to hundreds, and I joke not, hundreds of hits on my newest adventure: I was reminded that I am not so crazy, no so bad, in fact - I actually have a talent or two that people like. Hello High! Nice to see you.

And now, one more low. I've been working my ghetto tail off to make up for a really crappy grade in Stats the first semester of graduate school. I needed at least one A this semester to secure my continued enrollment in the learning to be a business person class of 2012 for 120k at UCLA. It's like attempting to win a marathon against a Kenyan and why the eff a poet is up against financial brainchildren, I'll never know. But some races, I simply can't win. So hey - yay, B+ in Accounting for Managers. $1400 in tutoring, 100 hours of studying, yeah middle of the freaking pack, and still not enough to lock and load. Here's hoping Econ comes through. Couldn't have worked harder.

Long winded, confusing, frustrated. But at the end of the day, people seem to still think my opinion is funny so at least there's that.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Alright Dudes

So here's the scoop, kinda sick of dudes being dudes. Hef, Gene, Wiener, Newt, Uno, Dos, That Guy - (yeah those last three are nicknames). Please dear god of man logic explain to me exactly what makes your average dude able to think that even though he's a bit on the portly side, less than hot, in his late 30s, and ambiguously employed,  be so damn certain he's waiting for freaking V.S. models?!?! I'm not bitter (doth she protest too much) but I am pretty serious on this one. Most guys are just not all that!!!

Hef - You are super duper proud that you could tweet about spending the evening with six women the day after your 24 yo broke off the engagement - dude, you are an old raisin! Aint no viagra making that work. Please stop pretending.

Gene - Don't be an idiot - Shannon rocks and you really really shouldn't be such a dick.

Wiener - Dude, put down the goddamn camera phone.

Newt - Ewwwww

And all the rest of you - Yeah, it's way fun for you (but decidedly confusing for her) for now, and at a certain point, just like our dear friend Gene has learned - being THAT GUY is going to peter out and you will have blown something you wish you didn't and probably lost a friend you wish you hadn't.

And as I tuck in watching Love Bites when I should so totally be finishing HW for my Leadership Case Study, all I can say is - Alright Dudes, waiting for one of you to drop the dude and act like a man.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

I might be in luvst again

Crap - So I totally broke the 40 day hiatus by making out with a dude. That's ok, fasts are meant to be broken, hence the word breakfast, but frankly this kissing issue is the least of my problems!

See the real deal is, despite a 40 day break, I'm perpetually nail biting confused and soul aching lust/love with someone that is sure as shallots not likely to love me back and I've got to figure out what to do about it.

My best friend calls it 'The Condition of Hot Guys" - the super cute ones are always straight up crazy trouble, but rats they are fun. She has thus determined that my alter ego "The Nerd Hunter" is a far safer sexual superhero to embrace. Yet I can't help it. I like the guy who embraces danger, adventure, is sexy AND challenges me intellectually, and at 6' something - makes me feel small. (Why in heck's sake does a woman like me, ever want to feel small?!?!)

Here's the deal - I want to drive down a road of adventure all night long! I want to risk it because yes, I am a decidedly risk prone investor and I'm willing to go for the highest reward. It's not going to happen by choosing anything but fire. I just need to figure out how the hell not to get burned.

Monday, June 6, 2011

Some things are better in the rain

Paris is better in the rain.
The Charles Bridge in Prague 
is better in the rain.
Florence is better in the rain,
Love is better in the rain

I attended a wedding this weekend in the hills of California's central wine region. The bride and I have adventured the world together and grown from hopeful creative artistic little girls to hopeful creative artistic women. As we grew we both tried on more formal hats only to discard them instead for flowers in our hair. There is a soulful poetry in her spirit and as I wound my way up the historic 101 highway past a dark and tumultuous pacific, I realized that there is no bride better suited to a rainy wedding than my friend. 

Captured in a last minute tent on top of a winery's hill, we watched the wind whip gently back and forth across fields of pinot noir and her perfect white taffeta dress stayed pristine as she navigated a muddy landscape towards the aging barn's wooden doors. The rain misted the ceremony tent and as if in a greenhouse, we saw the blooming of a young love, gentle souls agreeing to support and care unconditionally for eternity. 

The dark greys and blues of the sky cleared for a moment to rosé and champagne as the ceremony ended and the couple emerged into the evening's rays. We were all captured by their honest and almost innocent true love.

As we danced the night away in the hearth of a poppy and candle filled barn, we were warmed by the forced closeness due to the wet outside. It was then that the bride and I shared a smile, remembering all of our own travels knowing - some things are just better in the rain.

Friday, June 3, 2011

because I will

i should not write today or tomorrow
because i will be too honest

i best not embrace joy or feel sorrow
because both will only cause us unrest

i cannot come here with you again
because i already imagine us while asleep

and i recognize your fear of much too much
because what I feel is always far too deep.

so instead i bury my head in the sand
salty skin, crisp tan lines yet with no anchoring hand

because if i share what you want - my soul will inevitably pour
and a picture perfect performance will reopen this door,

and all i can hope is that in time I can care less
because i fear you will never care anything more. 

Thursday, June 2, 2011

Melody of Dawn

Now awaken with the sounds of spring.
The up - up - down cooing of a lonesome dove 
and sparkling chirps of the unnamed morning bird.

Sun warms a brisk and dewy California.
The cool air breathes clean,
as the day's tendrils of color highlight 
the bluish gold and pink
of a broad ocean sky.

And morning is the only time of day
we have control.
The rest is positively unknown.

It is the only time of day, when alone with our thoughts
silent with our hopes, 
there is not yet other white noise.

Today rise to the hopeful calls
of the melody of dawn
and embrace the start of something new.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Naked with Chanel No 5: Day 40: The end of a hiatus!

So 40 days ago I realized I was entirely confused by romance, by circumstance, by relationships of no consequence and so I went on hiatus. I tapped out of flirtation and stepped back from dating, mating, relating even interacting with guys. In order to quiet all the noise and influences that didn't serve my own hopeful dreams, I went dark. What a girl can learn from a fast!

First I learned I can and will fall in love with just about anyone because in my opinion people are extraordinary. I love nothing more than digging into someone's soul and understanding what makes them tick. It helps me understand my own mechanisms. I believe I have something to learn from almost every soul I meet and I cannot shut myself down from that sponge like desire. The difference however between letting myself love unrestricted and untethered with the rhythm of life versus aching from hurt caused by the imbalance of my poetic expectations and reality of the people I meet is what I must practice.

Second I've learned that following a divorce, you really really do need to find time to be alone - entirely and completely alone. After the last 40 days, I am most definitely not ready to even consider testing any sort of dating waters. In fact, as I review the final terms of my divorce which will be executed 30 days from now and scroll through the pages of the last forty days, I'm pretty sure that I will have a summer free of anything close to falling again. Its amazing when you realize what you want more than anything is perhaps the very worst thing for you. I know that even the smallest amount of affection will lead to my inevitable collapse into a mismatched relationship, so I best sit in my own corner for a while longer. It's been a very confusing year.
Last, I do believe that now that the noise has quieted and I've considered the gap between my own misplaced romantic fantasies and the reality of the type of guys I've dated - I might now be able to better identify when I am just flirting with the hopeful inevitable romantic poet attaching to anyone or instead actually engaging with someone who might want more than just a fling. I look forward to that day, just not any time soon.

It's been a journey and I've come to learn that there are very few things better than choosing to take off all the armor acquired over the course of relationships staring openly at your own reflection, finding what makes you sexy, compelling, and instead of needing another's reflection to simply understand who you might be, just resting quietly, alone Naked with Chanel No: 5.