Thursday, October 13, 2005
Tuesday night I went to see Joshua Bell, the famous violinist, at a local school. S's friend only got him one ticket, and he refused to go without me, so she skipped 300 people on the waiting list to get me in. Me! Wow did I feel important. Anyway, the talk was long, the playing was liquid and luminous, but the thing that I keep thinking about happened just a moment before everything started.
I asked a friendly older lady where the bathrooms were, and when I got there, I was confronted with a choice: Girls or Womens. Grow up, I told myself and reached for the Women's door. Locked! Now another lady was behind me, and we went to the Girls. "Tee hee," she giggled, "I guess we can be girls for tonight!"
Lucky for me I didn't have too much time to think about it then, but ever since I've been pondering the MEANING behind that short moment in the school hallway.
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I asked a friendly older lady where the bathrooms were, and when I got there, I was confronted with a choice: Girls or Womens. Grow up, I told myself and reached for the Women's door. Locked! Now another lady was behind me, and we went to the Girls. "Tee hee," she giggled, "I guess we can be girls for tonight!"
Lucky for me I didn't have too much time to think about it then, but ever since I've been pondering the MEANING behind that short moment in the school hallway.
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Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Breakfast is cooked for me every morning, starting with fresh carrot beet ginger juice, through eggs and toast, and finishing with dark european chocolate. Almost every night my back is rubbed before I fall asleep. I don't think I've touched a door in a month. Groceries appear in the fridge, and while I shower I'm serenaded by a cello being played. And I take loooong showers. Am I living out the fairytale Beauty and the Beast? Maybe... except there is no beast, but a handsome and sweet prince.
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Wednesday, September 14, 2005
While I'm no longer stuck in the dark forest as far as love and relationships are concerned, I'm not entirely out of it either.
Someone is in love with me, wants me to move in with him, go to Paris, Brazil, show me all the beautiful things the world has to offer. This is all lovely, yes, kind of like a fairytale, but I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. This Someone - S from now on - told me a story from his boyhood about walking home from town to the farm one dark night, worrying about tigers in the woods, hearing animal feet scuffling behind him as he neared home and jumping out of his skin only to find it was just the family dog welcoming him.
I feel kind of like that. There are tigers lurking in the forest of my mind. Tigers who hide porn, cheat, lie convincingly. What happened earlier this summer cracked open my naive and trusting view of life in a way that nothing else had. Now I realize that anything is possible - fuck probable - that anyone can be anything behind a convincing and placid mask, so I don't trust anyone or what they say. Goodness now has to be proven, everyone is guilty, guilty, guilty whether they know it or not, everyone is on probation and trial, and just about anything is a good reason to panic.
This is an exhausting way to live! It's too soon for me to be in a relationship, I'm clearly too newly raw for it, but one has fallen into my lap, and it's too nice to ignore.
Has anyone else ever experienced the slow crawl back from a bad experience? I know time will help, but if there's anything I can do to help the tigers leave, or at least fall into a long quiet sleep, I would love to know.
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Someone is in love with me, wants me to move in with him, go to Paris, Brazil, show me all the beautiful things the world has to offer. This is all lovely, yes, kind of like a fairytale, but I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop. This Someone - S from now on - told me a story from his boyhood about walking home from town to the farm one dark night, worrying about tigers in the woods, hearing animal feet scuffling behind him as he neared home and jumping out of his skin only to find it was just the family dog welcoming him.
I feel kind of like that. There are tigers lurking in the forest of my mind. Tigers who hide porn, cheat, lie convincingly. What happened earlier this summer cracked open my naive and trusting view of life in a way that nothing else had. Now I realize that anything is possible - fuck probable - that anyone can be anything behind a convincing and placid mask, so I don't trust anyone or what they say. Goodness now has to be proven, everyone is guilty, guilty, guilty whether they know it or not, everyone is on probation and trial, and just about anything is a good reason to panic.
This is an exhausting way to live! It's too soon for me to be in a relationship, I'm clearly too newly raw for it, but one has fallen into my lap, and it's too nice to ignore.
Has anyone else ever experienced the slow crawl back from a bad experience? I know time will help, but if there's anything I can do to help the tigers leave, or at least fall into a long quiet sleep, I would love to know.
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Tuesday, August 09, 2005
So. I have been teaching dance at my friend Vicky's house in Connecticut. It is a wonderful house, three stories of Italian stone on the ocean with wild green parrots living in the trees. We teach dance in the parlor, with huge windows and french doors opening out onto the wide stone verandah. I don't feel like I'm in America anymore when I'm here, I feel like I was transported into some fairytale land of my childhood. Also, my worries are stopped at the gate: somehow here I feel protected from everything that is not pure, beautiful, and good.
The dancers are girls, eight and nine years old. They are amazing natural dancers, wild and untrained and perfect like wildflowers. One girl, Sophia, shuts her eyes as she spins, letting herself go into the music, completely unaware of being watched.
Yesterday after the girls left, I retreated to my third-floor room to rest. When I woke up, a vase of flowers, calla lilies of purple, yellow and white, had mysteriously appeared on my bedside table, with a card reading "To the three most beautiful women in the world" and listing three of his pet names for me.
With all of these wonderful influences, I find myself awakening from the dark internal dream of the past three months. Somehow I was on the wrong path, and life grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and set me down on the right one.
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The dancers are girls, eight and nine years old. They are amazing natural dancers, wild and untrained and perfect like wildflowers. One girl, Sophia, shuts her eyes as she spins, letting herself go into the music, completely unaware of being watched.
Yesterday after the girls left, I retreated to my third-floor room to rest. When I woke up, a vase of flowers, calla lilies of purple, yellow and white, had mysteriously appeared on my bedside table, with a card reading "To the three most beautiful women in the world" and listing three of his pet names for me.
With all of these wonderful influences, I find myself awakening from the dark internal dream of the past three months. Somehow I was on the wrong path, and life grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and set me down on the right one.
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Thursday, July 21, 2005
To catch everyone (haha!) up on the delight that is my life lately, a quick recap.
Scott asked me to move in with him at the end of April. I promptly got to work organizing my things, told my landlords, quit my job, had a yardsale, and made plans to borrow a friend's truck.
Then he got cold feet.
A friend of mine was going away and needed a catsitter for a month, so I jumped on it - thought it would give Scott and me time to sort things out without pressure.
The last day I was moving into the catsitting house, he told me that he had slept with another woman on a business trip to LA -- days after he had asked me to move in with him.
I'll spare you the details, but it was just like in the movies, all the drama, tears, etc. I was shocked. I'd never been cheated on before, and I wondered how people forgive things like this. I felt like my life had just been ripped into tiny pieces.
Fast forward to now. I'm staying in my friend Laura's place while she's in Ireland. Scott didn't think anything could be repaired, so he quietly started disappearing out of my life. I've done a lot of meditating, a lot of writing and thinking and walking. For three months I've had no job, no home of my own, with my belongings stored in four different places around the county. It's time to make a fresh start.
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Scott asked me to move in with him at the end of April. I promptly got to work organizing my things, told my landlords, quit my job, had a yardsale, and made plans to borrow a friend's truck.
Then he got cold feet.
A friend of mine was going away and needed a catsitter for a month, so I jumped on it - thought it would give Scott and me time to sort things out without pressure.
The last day I was moving into the catsitting house, he told me that he had slept with another woman on a business trip to LA -- days after he had asked me to move in with him.
I'll spare you the details, but it was just like in the movies, all the drama, tears, etc. I was shocked. I'd never been cheated on before, and I wondered how people forgive things like this. I felt like my life had just been ripped into tiny pieces.
Fast forward to now. I'm staying in my friend Laura's place while she's in Ireland. Scott didn't think anything could be repaired, so he quietly started disappearing out of my life. I've done a lot of meditating, a lot of writing and thinking and walking. For three months I've had no job, no home of my own, with my belongings stored in four different places around the county. It's time to make a fresh start.
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Monday, March 14, 2005
He appreciates every part of me he's seen. The mischievous little fairy. The wise old woman. The ice queen, the sexy dancer. The witch. The sleepy little girl. The therapist. He named them all to me yesterday. The intellectual. The wild costumed freak. The amazon warrior. The simple country girl.
"How can you be all of these things at once?" he asks.
"I told you, I'm full spectrum," I say.
He's not monogomous, and I am going to re-enter an apparently unfinished chapter of my life, so we are just enjoying things as they come. That's new for me.
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"How can you be all of these things at once?" he asks.
"I told you, I'm full spectrum," I say.
He's not monogomous, and I am going to re-enter an apparently unfinished chapter of my life, so we are just enjoying things as they come. That's new for me.
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Friday, January 28, 2005
Nature has her way, her dark blood soaking through these chemicals
stark white hands covering my mouth I want to ask her
fingerprints of blood on these powders
I sink into her silky membranes
that could nourish me better than pills
I want to close my eyes.
I wash her scent off me and stand straight
only touch her with the bottom of my feet
I long for sleep, long for love. I don’t know
if I communicate
only mechanical hums in my ears
skin too delicate and the air stiff with soot
angry bees in my head, hot wires, the candle
was stolen and replaced with a socket:
the toothless old mouth of want, now electric.
And I long for the blood to disintegrate in &
make everything make sense
I eat her plates of white mushrooms
breathe in her yarrow scent
crush her on my fingers
These waves of blood: tidal, ignored.
To taste metals with precision, never sink into you,
everything must open and close.
I am dosed with all the wrong things & still endure.
His spit paints me, I eat it like nectar.
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stark white hands covering my mouth I want to ask her
fingerprints of blood on these powders
I sink into her silky membranes
that could nourish me better than pills
I want to close my eyes.
I wash her scent off me and stand straight
only touch her with the bottom of my feet
I long for sleep, long for love. I don’t know
if I communicate
only mechanical hums in my ears
skin too delicate and the air stiff with soot
angry bees in my head, hot wires, the candle
was stolen and replaced with a socket:
the toothless old mouth of want, now electric.
And I long for the blood to disintegrate in &
make everything make sense
I eat her plates of white mushrooms
breathe in her yarrow scent
crush her on my fingers
These waves of blood: tidal, ignored.
To taste metals with precision, never sink into you,
everything must open and close.
I am dosed with all the wrong things & still endure.
His spit paints me, I eat it like nectar.
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