Often & Much

I think, sometimes, about the many mistakes I have made in the past. The past, like yesterday (or Sunday, specifically). I think, “how quickly will karma come?” I think about how quickly it has come before, when I’ve done things that were on the thin of falling off the moral compass. Often, I believe it’s why I spend so much time alone, or why I have been alone so much.

Other times, I think it’s my fierce affection for others who have enraptured me.  It is not just love affairs that have blinded me. Other people mistake my strength as a challenge to see my weakness and exploit it. Or as an opportunity to take advantage – maybe it’s all exploitation and manipulation.  I know it all feels yucky and confusing and empty.  Sometimes, I try to assign meaning or rationalize or correlate these disgusting mean meanies to bad things I have done, but the truth is: mean people are mean. They like being mean. They need no reason.

This city has been a vicious cycle of false friends and opportunists or judgmental folks who can’t understand that not all free-spirits have wind in their hair and bare feet.  I’m opinionated, not rigid. I’m professional, not conservative. I’m vocal, not judgmental.  Except with judgmental people, I tend to want to give them a taste of their own behavior – an incredibly pointless exercise which I somehow cannot stop.  I am strong because I was built that way, but my strength is independence, scurrying down tiny trails because a feeling led me there, not because the path was well-worn. I still follow a heart-string to the edge of the Universe, which is why I don’t think of myself as a natural leader; not everyone is meant to live on the edge of the Universe…don’t follow me unless you’re sure. Very few people have been sure, which circles back to why I am mostly alone.

So, I did a bad thing, and then immediately, something bad happened to me. Now I’m empty again, not just alone, but actually empty. It’s that rumble in the belly when you’re so hungry, it is no longer a pain, but a hollow… the faintest echo hollering back.  For now, I think what is needed is for me to feel the emptiness instead of fill it (see “vicious cycle of false friends”).

Maybe the echo has something to say.

Breathe, Goodbye, Exhale, Tomorrow

Song of the Moment: Rascal Flatts “Bless the Broken Road”

Somehow, no matter what the end looks like with us, it seems to be another beginning…

I keep up this picture of us, at this completely transitional time, when we learned about the other person, the truth of the other person, when we haphazardly fell in love. Maybe I always knew it would be fleeting. Maybe your intense need to believe that we would figure it out held us to each other.  Maybe passion disguised the mistakes, the flaws, the inherent thing about it that was always going to be a little bit uncomfortable and wrong.

I look at this photo, and I focus on your smile.  I see only my love.  We were broken before we were whole, fell into each other because of love, not despite all of the other bullshit. I leaned over, in that photograph choreographed by some event photographer, and it captured this moment when we became an “us.”  It didn’t last long, but I keep the photo, display it proudly, because the moment is so pure. Love was so very present, even if fleeting. Even if but for a tiny moment in the infinity of time.

I keep the photo, because I know I did the right thing when I loved you. I don’t keep thinking about all of the ways you failed me.  I don’t focus on the ending filled with harsh disappointments and betrayals and sadness, even though every person I know imagined the outcome would be exactly as it happened. A small failure, one after another. You always loved freedom more than you loved me.  I always loved you more than I could understand. I still don’t think you will comprehend how pure the love I have is, so entrenched in desire and comfort and affection that it can be nothing but true. I tried to leave, and my heart stayed in one place: it stayed in you.

This photograph is a reminder, that when one girl (me) follows her heart, her heart is not wrong, even if everything else falls down. I love you, I loved you, I will love you, even if that love means I must give you the freedom you crave and deserve. I am reminded, by that smile on your face, and the incredible memories of a decade, that you were meant for me and I was yours…just not forever.

From here forward, I will take comfort in knowing, we were right about us when everyone else believed we were wrong, when I thought I was mistaken, when you had faith that a hope and prayer could recover a fallen love. Maybe if we had both done it ever so slightly differently…

I am grateful, broken, blessed, loved, loving, wanton, cherishing, lost.  And yet, I am not angry, not wounded. There is no fault, my love, in goodbye this time. There is only tomorrow, and some future day, in the infinity of time, when we will both know… we were right about us. Even if only for a breath.

I will keep that photo, stare at your face, inhale that smile, not to be trapped in that one moment, but to take power in it. It was right, and I was right to come to you, to have you, and to love you, my one true love. The ending… will never matter as much as what I know to be true. A picture and a thousand words. A thousand times… I love you.

Godric Elevens

11 Things About Godric the Kitten

1. Godric loves his tummy rubbed first thing in the morning. He will stretch his legs and purr and purr.

2. Godric hates all talking first thing in the morning. First thing in the morning is for tummy rubs. Only for tummy rubs. Do not talk. Do not answer the phone. Do not make coffee. Do not use the bathroom. Tummy rubs.

3. Godric loves ice cream from Dairy Queen. Though I thought I was ordering him Kitty Cones, I was recently advised they are indeed Kiddie Cones, for children, not kittens.

4. Mr. Man lost his boar bristle flat brush to Godric. It is now a kitten brush.

5. Godric loves Mr. Man. The feeling is not mutual. Though I explained to Godric that love is fickle and inconsistent, he continues to be a traitor by adoring Mr. Man more.

6. Godric wants to be friends with all the animals in our neighborhood. Two kittens have punched him in the face. He is not an alpha cat.

7. I’m trying to convince Godric I am still his human even though my hair is a different color. He is not convinced. He has tried to scratch the dye off the blond strands that are now brunette.

8. Godric’s twin is half his weight. Godric is a giant kitten that happens to weigh 15 pounds. Maxie weighs 8 pounds and so does Izzy, Godric’s mom.

9. Godric does not like moving. He has been extremely confused and anxious about these boxes. I haven’t told him it’s going to get worse… Soon we will live somewhere else.

10. Godric loves watching Daniel Tiger’s Neighborhood. I’ve tried to explain about Mr. Rogers’ Neighborhood being the original creepy version, but Godric calls me a liar.

11. I have officially become a crazy cat lady. Godric’s IG: http://www.instagram.com/godricthekitten

The Apartment

Song of the Day: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6AAXlmMpq8U

I’ve been having this incredibly difficult time looking for a new place to live.  First, I waited a little too long for any comfort in trying to look for a place to live.  I put my notice to terminate my lease in April, but didn’t start looking until… uh, last weekend. Second, in the intervening time between giving my notice and not looking for  a place to live, the neighbors  across the way had a fist-fight, followed by a brick being launched through their dining room window when the non-resident was sent packing.  In response, Godric the Kitten scrambled up the side of my face and I was covered in blood. So, time to move out of here. And I did already given my notice.

I’m working with a realtor to find a little townhouse to RENT, because purchasing a home feels, like, permanent-ish. Anyhow, the realtor has given me tons of options. Plus, I’ve been searching on Zillow AND continue to look at back-up apartments.  I toured three properties this weekend, and they all seem… FINE. Just fine. There’s nothing wrong, but they don’t feel like home.

But, my current apartment doesn’t feel like home anymore. I moved here under pure duress and desperation.  I chose this life, leap of faith.  I became this girl I didn’t recognize, someone who didn’t plan, who wasn’t organized. I came for love, because I loved someone, and thought if I moved to where he was, he’d magically love me too.  And he did. We loved each other, easier, seemingly, when I moved to an apartment without any real furniture and we spent all of our time curled into my queen-sized bed watching my old box TV and planning a future.  Talking about the future seemed easier than changing the present. Thinking about the future was easier than building a future.

I’ve said it before, but it’s this recurring theme/plain reality: The future comes, with or without my consent. And it came, and none of our plans were there to greet us, not one. We were trapped in the magical thinking of being in love and holding so tightly to plans for the future, that the present just elongated for years.  We didn’t do anything to ensure that the future plan became the present reality. Instead, the future came with nothing to reveal, and we both looked at each other with a tiny bit of disappointment that the other person didn’t make the future more real.  I changed into a person burdened by the responsibility of a grown-up, cerebral life… and he stayed the exact same person he was the day we met. I was no longer the girl he fell in love with; he never evolved into the man I thought he’d become. And maybe, we forgot to plan for the most important thing… to love each other, to keep loving each other.  Whatever happened, we didn’t break, we just dissolved.  I understand now why divorce is called a “dissolution.”

So, I think the real reason why I can’t pick a new place to live is that leaving this apartment alone, by myself (sorry, Godric), choosing a new direction, feels like a failure of sorts.  I came here to build a life, to build a love. I leave here, without the most important part of the story.  I really wanted  for him to be the love, the man, the partner, the STORY… and when I leave this apartment, I know that this story must end, once and for all.

And I know there will be other loves, there will be other stories. Sometimes, it just takes me a bit of time to close the cover…

Random Elevens

1. Godric the Kitten has successfully learned how to high-five about 85% of the time.  If he wants to. When there is a treat. And he’s interested in the treat at that exact moment in time.

2. I’m currently obsessed with HBO’s “Big Little Lies.”  I agree that Reese Witherspoon has reprised a non-satirical version of her character from “Election.” I now want to live in Monterey.

3. Speaking of HBO, the last season of “Girls” has literally made me LOL.

4. Love is weird.  And so is the weather.

5. I have bangs again, but long, so hopefully, no endless complaining.

6. I have extreme anxiety about time.  I find myself constantly afraid I may be “wasting time” so I over-plan and actually get nothing accomplished.  I’m not as efficient as I used to be. I’m not sure how to get my mojo back. It isn’t just a random thought, I guess, since I’m obsessed with clock-watching.

7. I have acquired a love-hate (mostly hate) relationship with hot (not bikram) yoga.  It does make my non-heated practice easier.

8. I tried to join a meal delivery diet program.  It was actually too much food, so I quit.  Then today made five pounds of baked tortellini. SIGH.

9. Not sure if I want to see the live action “Beauty and the Beast.”  Belle was my first nerdy heroine.  She loved books. What if Hermione ruins it?

10. I’m trying with incredible difficulty to declutter. It just makes my brain hurt.

11. I could listen to Tailor’s “Shaped Like a Gun” on repeat for an hour.  But at 61 minutes, it would be too much.

Found Quote – March 1, 2017

From “The English Patient” by Michael Ondaatje

“The new lover enters the habits of the other.  Things are smashed, revealed in new light. This is done with nervous or tender sentences, although the heart is an organ of fire.

A love story is not about those who lose their heart but about those who find that sullen inhabitant who, when stumbled upon, means the body can fool no one, can fool nothing – not the wisdom of sleep or the habit of social graces. It is a consuming of oneself and the past.”