calgon, take me away.

that phrase never gets old. There are days I really wish I could say "take this job and shove it," another cliched, but never-gets-old phrase. Today is one of those days. I love my job, and I'm lucky to have a gig that I like, pays me decently, gives me health benefits, and even sometimes fulfills me creatively (I know, I know). But more and more lately, and partly due to the economic crisis, I've considered whether I'm cut out for many more years of nine-to-fiving-it.

Freelancers always seem so relaxed, don't they. And they work from far-off places--like the hammock in their back yard--or some warm, sunny vacation spot. I'm not saying that's the road I'm taking anytime soon--because lord knows the market is too unpredictable right now. I guess, I'm just sayin'. Just venting.

And on top of the stacks of paper on my desk, and the to-do list that covers pages of my notebook and hardly has any cross-outs, there's the looming sadness that my writing is having to take a back seat. And it hurts. a lot. I wrote short prose-y things (I think you call them poems) last weekend. It fulfilled me more than several months of working my ass off and bringing home a decent paycheck. go figure.

a friend told me some depressing news yesterday...

..."When you see the man you're gonna marry, you'll know it immediatlely. It will make you sick. You'll have absolutely no control over it." That made me feel dreadfully awful because:

1) I don't want to be made sick by love.
2) I fear giving up control of anything in my life.
3) It hasn't happened yet: the sickness. So does that mean i have not loved?
4) I truly believe I loved two men in my life, and her statement has me doubting that. I was made sick when we broke up, though not when we met/were together.

When I posed question #3 to her...she said, "That's right. You have not loved." I don't want to believe her theory, but she is amongst the happily married, so what do I know, you know? When I said to her "Well, I get what you're saying, but I'm not so sure I even want to get married," A little light glimmered in her eye (seriously) and she said, "Well, then dating around is what's working for you right now." And then I couldn't tell if she was insulting me or belittling me, or if I was just taking everything a little too personal b/c she's happily married with two beautiful kids and a beautiful husband, and I am not. So I said "OK" (rather pathetically) and walked away, thought about it all, felt crazy, obsessed on it, and decided to commit my obsessing to words here. I'd love to hear your thoughts, if you have any.

don't move.

*sigh*
what?
it's just a lot.
what?
i dunno.
there's a lot you don't know.
i don't want to know yet.
do you want to tell me?
no, not yet.

you're smarter than i am.
am not.
but you know what i'm thinking
i don't.
but you read my mind.
no. okay--yes i do.
i'll stop.
i'll stop thinking now. i will
okay?
okay.

let's not think today.
today we will not think.
let's just lie here.
look at me. and lie here.
and be simple.
we are simple.
yes, we are.
simple is nice.
yes. it is.

hurt. heal.

i'm supposed to write a letter to you. you will not read it. it would hurt you. or not.

you will never know the sweetness, nor the misery, and that i missed you for so long, and how, one day, i stopped.

you will never ever find out what happened when i was 6. and you will never know how I blame you for every. single. bad. thing that happened thereafter.

and how i have hated you and hated loving you.

you will never know how many times i have lied...over and over and over and over and over...about you. i kept your secret.

you will never know how i labor with the words...you will never read.photo from A Relationship Left for Dead on the Lower East Side--on view through Feb. 21. This and other works chronicle a gay couple's relationship over a number of years through photos from their picture album--the album was found, abandoned on a street in the LES.

finished. done.

i finished my steve martin book on the subway today. I didn't want to finish. When I reached the last 10 pages, I slowed down, put the book away for 3 days--I wanted to hold on. The last word meant the end, and I wasn't ready. But today, I did it. I ended it. I let something sublime out of my life. I have the memories though, and I'll tell stories about it--but it's done. Perhaps I'll re-read it. Not many people immediately re-read a book they've just finished, do they? They return it to the shelf...read another book...forget about it...miss it...and one day it calls out to them and they pick it up again. but that could take years, if at all.

I'm rambling and leading you into some other piece of my life...and I'd rather not. Instead, I'll share with you one of my favorite bits from Steve's book, The Pleasure of My Company (thanks again, angda.)

The day after the letter was Easter Sunday. It reminded
me that as an adolescent I was primped and combed and
then incarcerated in a wool suit that had the texture of
burrs. I was then dragged to church, where I had to sit
for several hours on a cushionless maple pew in the
suffocating Texas heat. These experiences drained me
of the concept of Jesus as benevolent.

p.s. jay leno just said the funniest thing. "Barack Obama's first order of business will be to pardon Aretha Franklin's hat." ha.

i really wanted to post...

about the shitty mood i was in today. but i figure, it'll pass **crossing fingers that it's PMS.** I haven't felt honest enough on my blog lately. I haven't felt like enough of anything--(there's some honesty). Maybe that's why I want to cancel it. It's not helping my happiness. In fact, re-reading some of my past thoughts...well, it's sad. I'm sulking more than i am laughing. The new year really needs to show me something...anything, a new direction, a flicker of THIS IS YOUR PATH.

P.S. I really appreciate your "don't cancel your blog" comments (i love you guys). I don't think I'll cancel. well, not yet. Although, I'm considering a possible name/subject matter change. For now, perhaps a break? Hmmm.

i cannot contain myself.

and so i won't. tomorrow, the world will change. i'm so overwhelmed with emotion today...I really can hardly work. I might cry, but maybe I'll save that for tomorrow. Get excited people...for the last day of Bush, and the first day of Obama.

i wish i'd never become happy...

...then perhaps being comfortable with my sadness wouldn't be this backwards, uphill battle.

i'm posting this gray art because it's from a new exhibit I want to see...it opens this week in chelsea. She looks like she's suffocating, doesn't she? But all the while examining her life and peacefully allowing it to happen. The Heirloom, from Danny Hobart's "If I Should Die Before I Wake."

forced break.

well, maybe. my laptop is being temperamental. but i hope to be back to blogging by the end of this week. cross ur fingers for me. xo!

i have nothing...

...new to contribute to my blog except...I met her! And yes, she IS as lovely as she appears to be on her blog. We giggled over yummy plantanos, sweet potato fries, and shrimp...and oh, we had salad too! Then we headed over to see my friend Kevonne's awesome band perform. We shared capris (yes, I'm still smoking. oy.), and discovered a new beer together--Blue Point's Toasted Lager. It really was as if she was an old friend that I hadn't seen in some years...though, it was our first date. I've never been keen on internet dating, but internet friending...i'm all about it!

p.s. today, our yoga instructor thought we were advanced enough to give THIS little pose a try. And try I did. Several times. But alas, I wasn't ready. I nailed the hands part, but fear that i'd fall on my face wouldn't allow my legs extend. I'm about to get down on my bedroom floor and try again. I will not let koundinyasana defeat me.

i want to write...

but for two days: NOTHING. it's painful. I frequently blame it on my 9-to-5...sapping 90 percent of my energy, time, and creativity. but perhaps i'm making excuses. or, maybe i could use some inspiration--visual stimulation...and since it's not finding me, I vow to get out and find it. In fact, I likely won't post again until I find it.

just because, here's a pic of my neighborhood. tonight, i stood on Orchard, between Broome and Grand (my new favorite block), and cried against the lamp-post...it held me up. i don't know why i like to cry in public. perhaps b/c there's more room out there to let go of all that baggage...and of course, no one asks you "why?" The dog from the store next to Still came over, and rested his head under my hand. he did, he really did! I want to think the little bugger sensed my grim mood and came over to comfort me...but the truth is, he likely smelled my slice of pizza and thought he'd sniff his way into a pepperoni or two. p.s. i have therapy next week. i'm really really really scared, but i'm really really really ready. it feels so far away.

it was a steamy night.

walking up Broadway with R., i can feel our short break from haze and humidity ending.

so i got home, drank some ice water, took off my clothes, felt good, and played in my new shoes (i'm obsessed with them)...and nothing else... p.s. for decency's sake, i had to cut one of them in half. the pic, not the shoes. :-)

nothing today...nor tomorrow.

going away for a few days...mentally. i hope to be up and running again soon. just need to some time to gather the pieces. Or maybe get rid of the pieces. i don't know what to do with them.

xoxo.

this one's from the day it rained all day.

a grey street in Old Montreal...near Champ De Mars. The others are still on the BF's camera and he promises to upload them pronto. So BF, if you're reading this...send the pics! You're holding up the works! Although, I have to be honest...most of the pics are a lot like this one...I was obsessed with the old, stone buildings and cobblestoned streets. Anyhoo...

I blog often on relationships, in particular my romantic relationship--because it's very high up there to me. Because there have been ups and downs. but oh the beautiful ups! but then, the discouraging downs. A move. A test. A near break up. A question. A promise. A re-affirmation. All over the course of 5 months. And it doesn't end there...I know....i'm sure....it doesn't get easier, tho maybe with faith we can get stronger.

So, here's the part of my vacation that I'll speak on tonight, so that I can talk about the coolness that is Montreal tomorrow. Well, for me it was a vacation, but for the BF it was more like working remotely--and I didn't take it well. I can be selfish and spoiled--but I can compromise and I can listen and give--and I tried hard at the latter last week. But not soon enough. At first I lead with my emotions...which left me feeling like "I don't know what I want" from him. And him likely feeling like he wanted to bolt. I need counseling. Or I need to ease up. Think things through. Write it all here. Talk.

I thought I'd be okay strolling around the lovely city solo, exploring, drinking coffee, shopping--my favorite things...and I was for a bit. Really, I was. But then I started to think too deeply--and wonder why he'd invited me on this trip. The "shoulds" entered my head, and the faith went out the other end. The stress and frustration of being the supportive girlfriend...with the smile and the nod and the best-face-forward...at some point got to me. Yes, we enjoyed our breakfasts together, and sangria--a tradition for us, it seems. And our coffee...and walks...another tradition. But still...

So, I felt myself pulling. Wanting inside of a part of him I have no access to. Wishing I knew want to say...some words to make him feel hopeful about his dreams. Wanting to feel something other than useless. I wanted to comfort him when things didn't go his way--he'd do the same for me--not listening to my inner voice that told me to just "leave him be and let him find his way." I hate fixing problems...yet, it's something I lean toward when I love hard. A flaw and a gift of sorts. Loving hard.

On the morning that I couldn't speak to him, he reached out to me sleepily and said "But. I'm learning too." He was worn. I wrapped my arms around him. Wanting to take away whatever had happened last night...

I was on vaca...and he was working...and everyone around me spoke French...and so many things felt like they'd be so much more interesting or funny with him around. and I wondered which one of us had been selfish. Was it me for wanting to go with him on this trip and not fully realizing that I'd have a lot of "me time" and that it wouldn't be a real vaca for both of us...or was it him, for not telling me to "not come"? Maybe both...maybe neither. Why ponder? What I did ponder was this question: "can i do this?" There were two moments when I wanted to say to him "go away. be free. go." but then I'd feel so wrong after seeing how tough his day had been. And how he'd still find time to listen to the mini-series of my day.

On the road trip home...i slid my fingers inside his. "I love you more in America than I do in Canada," I half-joked. And we shared a smile...and in those few seconds, I knew I didn't want him to be free.

i think i'm losing it.

or maybe i'm getting older and therefore naturally more fearful of life and of losing it. More than ever, I'm afraid...afraid of the Dominican teenagers that "congregate" on my block and yell "mami" at me and other things that I'm happy I cannot understand. I now walk on the other side of the street to avoid them--the side with the large cemetary. This also frightens me, and I have crazy thoughts of someone grabbing me, taking me inside the cemetary, raping me, and leaving me, or even worse--murdering me. Awful thoughts. I think I'm crazy. After hearing about the woman who was raped and tortured for 19 hours (WARNING: you may not want to read this story--it's NOT for the faint of heart)--just blocks from my house--I'm afraid to walk home from the 1 train at night. I either take the C, or take the bus, and if it's very late, a cab.

Yesterday, I wondered "I'm I cut out to live here again? In a city where assault is not just someone robbing and attacking you, or even stabbing you? Where there are so many sick, twisted people who get off on seeing strangers suffer?" In the past month, I've been haunted by this rape story, the story of a couple who killed a 3-year-old (the story is too horrific to post here), and a bit about a biker who stabbed a woman in a random ride-by...and the list goes on. This all makes me fearful for myself--and mostly fearful of men.

Maybe I should stop watching local news. I'm considering moving back to Brooklyn. I know it's still NY, but I always felt safer there.