Part Two

Okay, okay, okay...I have to confess.

The below song by Tegan & Sarah was discovered on a CD I found in my lover's car, given to him by his EX.  I wish I didn't automatically want to break it in half when I first found the disc with cute, fat bubbly handwriting on it, but I did.

Instead I popped it in his CD player and discovered that she has good music taste.  I guess I feel the need to give credit where credit's due so...thanks Shannon.

my window looks into your living room.

Well kids, I'm extremely sick.  I was correct in feeling weird about how raw and sore my throat was last night.  It kept me up until 5 AM this morning and then chills and sweats followed, along with a headache and sinus congestion.  I wasn't able to go to work today which makes me really angry, as I am so sick of repeatedly feeling like death.  I used to think I had the most kick-ass immune system but this year it's failing me miserably.

Anyway, the above song by Tegan and Sarah rocks and listening to it gives this downtrodden sicky just a little bit of needed energy to keep on truckin'.

i want you to want me.

Today it was indeed sunny in Philadelphia.  The temperature hung out around the low 80s, the sky was robin's egg blue and everyone was out and about.

I began experiencing what shall forever be known as THE WORST ALLERGY ATTACK OF MY LIFE and had to stay inside after work until it was dark out because I think I heard once that the air isn't as filled with allergens at night time.

What's weird about this attack is that my throat is still aching and dry and itchy and feels like what I remember strep throat feeling like.

When I finally emerged from my apartment at around 8 PM, I brought my dog (naturally).  We took a walk to CVS where I had to tie her up outside while I ran in to buy my SECOND bottle of allergy medicine because--let's be serious--the medicine I have been using is DEFINITELY not working.  She hates when I do this; leave her outside alone while I meddle around in a store for a few minutes.  Half of me feels like a bad mother but the other "I need you to need me" half feels nicely surprised knowing that she loves being with me.  I don't think that makes me a bad person.

After I purchased my meds and untied my pooch from what I think was the rain-gutter-pipe-thing (I just realized I never consciously stopped to think that commercial buildings, like homes, need rain gutters too!) we stopped at a coffee place where I tied her up again and ran in to get an ice-cold, organic smoothie called the "Peanut butter and Jelly" smoothie.  It did taste very much like a peanut butter and jelly sandwich if the sandwich were to be chilled and without the bread.  It soothed my allergen-wrecked throat.  I had a nice conversation with the barista man who came outside after I went outside to drink my smoothie with the dog on my lap and me in a plastic chair.  Barista lived in Seattle for a while but is now living with his parents in Wilmington, Delaware until he moves back to Philly in June.  I could not and cannot believe he drives all the way to this freaking obsessively organic coffee shop to work everyday.  He said sometimes he has to open in the morning and that means being at the shop at 5:30 AM...to make COFFEE...really??

I ran into a newish friend of mine outside this coffee shop too.  She stopped to tell me that her ex-boyfriend that I know, but that I didn't know was her ex-boyfriend (got me?) said I was pretty and he's not the type to give any positive commentary on anyone and she even said that and that made me feel like I could have an extra pep in my step on the walk home.  So WHAT.

Now I am going to shower and put on a pair of boy short underwear and a tank top and sleep in just that because guess what?  It's finally that time of year.

P.S.  I usually think that sneezing is like, God showing me a glimpse of what heaven feels like, because it just feels THAT GOOD.  But not today.  I mean, when the rapid fire sneezing bouts occur, I don't avoid them by looking straight at the sun or anything, but they're taking so much out of me and they're irritating the throat and they're not giving me any RELIEF.

GOOD GRIEF.

My Sunday Soliloquy

I'm currently sewing.  No really, I am.

There are a few items of clothing that I would love to wear on the regular but cannot because they've got annoying little holes in them.  Today I wore my melon colored GAP cardigan with the hole because I was just visiting my family and I don't care about impressing them with hole-less clothing.  However, I enjoyed wearing my melon number so much that I went to CVS and bought a travel-size sewing kit. Here I am, stitching away.  Melon cardigan is now hole-free and I've moved on to my favorite SoLow yoga pants with a giant hole in the crotch.  Can't wait to wear these again.  I must admit, they make my butt look fantastic.

Easter dinner with the family today left me with a lot on my mind regarding my sick grandfather. But, it's Sunday night and Sunday nights are like, the worst, even after getting sober and not suffering from withdrawal and hangovers.  Looking ahead at the work week seems daunting and ominous.

In other words, it's not the correct day of the week to be getting into sad stuff regarding my wonderful Gramps and his dwindling quality of life.  Gosh, I want to snap my fingers and go back to the way we were before his health began declining last year.  I looked at the sunroom on the back of their home today and it dawned on me that just about eight years ago, my Gramps built the entire room with his own two hands.  A hard-working and brilliant blue-colored man my Gramps is.  A fine human being.  I will tell you that throughout my entire life, he has not once done anything to hurt me.  I have never once been upset with him.  I have never felt anything but complete and utter love and support from him and I want nothing more than to see him feel better.

Oh, see, look at me.  I couldn't contain myself.  A little emotion spilled out.

Happy Easter Sunday to all; especially my lovely Gramps, pictured above.

Ya feel me?

What do I have to say tonight?  I'm not sure, although I just jotted down a bunch of thoughts into a journal.  I don't want to share those though, as they're not even thoughts I want to admit to anyone but myself in fear of someone saying, "that's just dumb and you know it."

I'm home alone tonight at the apartment.  The roommate has strep throat and is at her parents' home nursing herself back to health.  I am currently in the middle of a small allergy attack.  This means I am sneezing repeatedly, nose feels stuffy and ridiculously itchy and my eyes are begging me to scratch them, but I'm trying to resist doing it because that's like a never-ending story.  The euphoria I feel after scratching my eyes keeps me doing it all night if I begin.  Nope, I ain't doin' it tonight, y'all.

Maddie is eating her dinner and I find it so endearing and adorable to watch her long floppy ears cover the bowl while her little snout attacks her food.  She's very systematic too.  She will pick a few pieces of food out of the bowl with her mouth and then drop them on the floor and eat them one by one.  This is fun to watch until I realize what a mess she makes because she doesn't eat all of the pieces that she places on the floor.  So, Mommy has to clean them up.

Oh!  She's now moved on to her water bowl and is frantically drinking.  For some reason, I always feel the need to say, "good girl, Maddie!" when she drinks.  I guess I sub-consciously worry that she neglects to drink enough water because, well, I don't know why I think that.  But, I'm always pleasantly surprised when I hear her lapping from her water bowl and beam with pride, thinking, "aw, she knows when she's thirsty!  How cute!"

Weird.

I'm trying to find a career lately.  Do you know what I mean by that?  Like, I've often written about different ideas I have for what I'd like to do or what I think I'd be good at but lately I'm going out on a limb and putting myself out there.  I was even semi-rejected by someone regarding a position I was looking into and felt as if I could not rest until I convinced this person to give me an in-person interview. They agreed.  I was shocked and proud of myself.  The confidence I gained in not giving up inspired me to speak to yet another person about another opportunity.  This person was completely open to the idea, and I felt so empowered.  I have to be gut honest here:  it's time for this girl to make some money.  I know this sounds weird and maybe not believable but I haven't been very motivated by money.  I have the opportunity to make a lot of overtime at my current job but over the past few months, I have felt no desire to do so.  I want to grab my shit and get outta' there as soon as the clock strikes five.  That's because my job isn't challenging, doesn't inspire me and I feel like I'm selling myself short.  In fact, I know I am.  Even though it would be so nice to have a few hundred more dollars in my bank account if I stayed and worked overtime, I find that I'm more motivated to get home and spend some quality time with my dog, or go to a meeting or get outside or do NOTHING.

And that doesn't sit well with me.

I know I'm capable of something more.

Now, I want to tell you that I realize that I speak often about the reality of today not being enough for me.  And, maybe I'm the type that seems like they're never satisfied.  So be it.  Maybe I'm at a point where I shouldn't be satisfied with certain realities of my life and maybe I should be thankful that after some time, I'm doing something about it.

For instance, the therapy I receive every week.  This is some intense stuff that has been extremely instrumental in helping me calm down for once in my life.  I'm glad that I was not satisfied with how nervous and uncomfortable I always was (and can be if I don't keep working on it).

And regarding my program...Thank God I finally realized it's time for the 4th step.  Although it's annoying me lately to realize how many daggers I've been wanting to throw at people all my life; daggers that have done nothing but harm me and my piece of mind.  Thank God I'm looking at them so that in the future, I can have more sustainable and healthy relationships.

And regarding my job...I fought my way through college despite extremely humiliating setbacks and I realized at the end of it that I had a brain.  A brain that worked rather well when inspired.  If I'm not inspired, and if I know I'm not putting my best foot forward, then thank God I'm looking to find something that makes me happy with who I am and where I'm going.  And let's be serious, thank God I'm finally realizing that I need to be financially stable just so that I can go to bed at night without calculating if I have enough money to eat until Thursday when I get paid next.  Really?  So over it.

So, this may make no sense to anyone but myself and that's okay.  Because thank God I'm at a point in my life where I realize that I don't care that much if people see me fall or see me worry or hear me talk about the stuff that's uncomfortable.  Because this is me.  And the good part about me is that I know that "this too shall pass," and I'll be right back on here spilling the details of how I got through the difficulties and landed on my own two feet.

photo from nirrimi

4 peas in a pod.

People talk about the happy quiet that can exist between two loves, but this, too, was great; sitting between his sister and his brother, saying nothing, eating. Before the world existed, before it was populated, and before there were wars and jobs and colleges and movies and clothes and opinions and foreign travel -- before all of these things there had been only one person, Zora, and only one place: a tent in the living room made from chairs and bed-sheets. After a few years, Levi arrived; space was made for him; it was as if he had always been. Looking at them both now, Jerome found himself in their finger joints and neat conch ears, in their long legs and wild curls. He heard himself in their partial lisps caused by puffy tongues vibrating against slightly noticeable buckteeth. He did not consider if or how or why he loved them. They were just love: they were the first evidence he ever had of love, and they would be the last confirmation of love when everything else fell away.


— Zadie Smith, On Beauty


The following events reminded me of the above excerpt from one of my favorite books:

1. Watching my youngest sister beam from ear-to-ear onstage during her 8th grade play while I watched from the audience, giving her tons of thumbs-up, beat-the-beat-up fist pumps and obnoxious rounds of applause 
2. Having a predictable tiff with the 25-year old version of myself, also known as my other sister, 2 years my junior. 
3. Another lovely in-depth phone conversation  with my little brother who's not so little.  In other words, he plays basketball for a Division 1 college and is graduating in like, 5 seconds.

I could read the above quote twenty times over (and have) without getting bored with it. I just think it's beautifully written. Without needing to say it, or even really show it, the definition of love lies in my relationships with my siblings.

then memories.

Laying on my bedroom floor felt like nothing.

Until my father opened the door and watched me in silence. I was unaware of his presence until I heard his voice.

“Honey, I think you’re depressed,” he whispered.

I strained my neck and eyes to look up at him as he towered over me. Statuesque.

No words came, so I allowed my neck muscles to release until I felt the plush carpet against my left cheek.

He turned around and walked out, closing the door quietly behind him.

I melted into the carpet for another three hours.

A midnight snack.

Just like I really enjoy the taste of orange juice if it's accompanied by a cheese omelette or my father's pancakes on Christmas morning, pairing certain music with certain activities makes my world a better place.

I'm currently writing and listening to Gregory Alan Isakov. I can't tell you how serene and fluid I feel at ten past midnight, after what can best be described as an annoyingly productive day. In other words, I had to work, run errands in the rain during my lunch break, get home in time to find a legal parking spot, then catch a cab to therapy in a downpour and endure another grueling session. I then had to force myself to keep my debit card in my wallet as I perused Urban Outfitters (yes, I check off the productive box if I can successfully window shop).

There's laundry to be done and sleep to be had but first there's writing and there's good music and there's enjoying these two hobbies that make me feel like me.

give me darkness when i’m dreaming
give me moonlight when i’m leaving
give me shoes that weren’t made for standing
give me tree-line, give me big sky, get me snow-bound, give me rain clouds, give me a bed time ...just sometimes

- Gregory Alan Isakov, 3 a.m.

There are more poignant lyrics where those came from. This Gregory fellow knows how to pour it out.

That sometimes bed time he speaks of is right about now for moi. Sweet dreams.

Great Expectations.

Fill me with dandelions,
and daisies and rose.

Give me wet strawberries,

the sea at my toes.

Show me the sunlight,

warm winds and laughter.

Tell me this won't end,

we've reached ever after.

Shower me with lovin',

passionate, true.

All of these things,

give me, can you?

photo from nirrimi