Wednesday, January 31, 2007

Pennies From Heaven

I keep finding pennies. Heads up too! I found like four in less than a week. I think it's a sign of something huge. Something good is comin' my way.

I don't know why I believe in silly superstitions like finding pennies or throwing pennies into fountains. It's childish, I know. But I really like the idea of living in a cosmic world where the universe or God or fate is constantly trying to communicate to people and guide them. I like feeling like there are messages from someone or some force that are trying to offer me help and encouragement.

So for whatever odd reason, pennies has always been one of those messages for me. It's a language I can understand and whoever is out there trying to communicate with me knows that.

When I was a little girl, I was always very conscious of the 'step on a crack, break your mother's back' thing. I'm not sure why, it is really ridiculous, but my mom has always had a bad back. It's something I was always aware of and always heard talk of. So the idea that there was anything I could do that might make that worse was terrifying. I still have a hard time walking on cracks. Haha.

Pennies, though, still make sense to me. I went through a weird phase where I'd flip a penny to make a tough decision. Heads, I'll go out with him. Tails, I won't. Something stupid like that. Really, I think that exercise just helped me figure out what it was that I really wanted to do. Because if I wanted to go out with him, for example, and it was tails, I'd be disappointed. And then I'd lose the confusion and realize what I really wanted.

So since the universe, the forces, the whatever out there knows that I get pennies, I think that four in less than a week means they've got something big to tell me. Something good really is comin' my way...

Monday, January 29, 2007

The Ghosts Still Haunt Me...

I remember the tears. I wonder if I could count them all. I could probably come close. I remember all the lonely nights, the days spent wondering, worrying. I remember feeling worthless and invisible. I remember wanting your love and never feeling it. I remember always being unsatisfied, wanting more, needing more and putting in more than I got out. In the end, the love just wasn't enough, and I had to get out. I had to run far away so as to never go back to you again.

And here I am, 17 months and 700 miles away, and yet it doesn't feel that far. It feels like you're here and it feels like it all happened yesterday. I feel haunted by it. It follows me into restaurants, movie theaters, down the street and in my bed at night. They say the past can haunt you, and baby, our past is haunting me.

Is it because my love for you was so strong? Because the relationship was so dramatic and intense? Because the connection we had was real? Or because the pain was so scarring, the cuts so deep? I don't really know why. I think if I fall in love again, all the ghostly whispers will be silenced. That's what I think and hope. I don't want the ghosts to keep me from love, that's for sure. I don't really think they will because I know I am brave.

But this is really awful. So unhealthy. That after all this time, I'm still gripped by it. We had such good times too, which I think makes it harder to reconcile what happened between us. Every guy I meet, every guy I date I compare to you. I expect the worst from men. I expect all men to behave like you. It's a constant struggle to tell myself each one is not you. He's not you, he's not you, he's not you.

Though the memories still come to my mind, I feel better knowing I did get away. I did not fall back into it. And I was able to get out. I still believe that you can be the person I always saw in you. I still care for you. And will always want good things to come your way. But I'm healthier and happier now that I'm away from all that drama, even if the past still haunts, a ghost isn't real.

Friday, January 26, 2007


Send/Receive. Send/Receive. Send/Receive.

It sounds like a game of fetch, and in a way it is I guess, but technically it's that annoying little button in my email program that I fanatically worry isn't doing its job. Do guys obsess over that button? I know a lot of girls who do - this gal included. And we time how long it takes them to respond to our emails. Right now, I'm at almost two hours. The official count is one hour, 47 minutes. I love email flirting. It's almost as cute and fun as text flirting. But who am I kidding? I just love flirting!

Again, it goes back to the song Tracing. "Always staring at the score, to figure out who's barely winning." I feel like if I wait two hours to write him back, then I'm ahead in some pathetic, trivial way. Who likes who more. Is that the game we're playing? It's certainly a game.

My good friend, A, is right here with me. Timing emails. A's guy waited two whole days. We were convinced that was it, their relationship was over before it even started, but then, out of the blue, the poor guy responds, mumbling something about being busy at work, and asks her on their next date.

We'd already written him off, gotten angry at him for not giving her a fair chance and then made our peace with his decision to blow her off. Maybe it's just not meant to be. Maybe he's still getting over his ex - you don't want to deal with all that excess baggage. Maybe he's just not that into you. Fine! Let him be that way! He's such a jerk!

But no. It turns out, it wasn't that at all. He was just busy and important, focusing on his daily tasks and probably innocently and absentmindedly let two days go past without an email. Having no idea that his actions (or lack thereof) were having such an effect.

And it's not that we don't also have very important tasks in front of us. Because we are smart, successful girls. Who also like a little email flirting. And where's the harm in that? That we like constant reminders of their feelings? And affirmations that they like us?

It all sounds ridiculous, but guys have their pathetic moves that they overanalyze also. Maybe it involves trying to figure out when is ok to go for second or third base. But we all have something we obsess over in the beginning. It's what makes it exciting and keeps us interested. They call it a game because it's fun.

One hour, 56 minutes...Send/Receive, Send/Receive, Send/Receive...oh, he's ooo! One hour, 58 minutes. Gotcha. Aw, honey, you're all mine. Tee hee!

Thursday, January 25, 2007

Chivalry and Dingo Juice

So the Merriam-Webster Word of the Day today is "chivalry." It's so foreign in this day and age that we actually need to be reminded of its definition. Sad.

Here's what ol' MW had to say -

The Word of the Day for January 25 is:

chivalry \SHIV-ul-ree\ noun
1 : mounted men-at-arms
2 : the system or practices of knighthood
*3 : the conduct, spirit, or character of the ideal knight

Example sentence:
"Chivalry is not completely dead," thought Alice when the man on the subway rose to offer her his seat.

Aw. And in the example sentence, they even told us, "We know you think chivalry is dead...but it doesn't have to be!"

I'd love a little chivalry every now and again. I can't complain, there are sweet boys out there who'll get a girl a glass of water at the bar, roll over in bed because his snoring's disturbing her and buy her window insulation because she complains of the cold. Those guys are great. But it seems they're in short supply these days.

This morning, I walked to my car and saw something white stuck on my windshield. I checked where I had parked, and it was a legal space. I checked to see if my license plate was visible through the windshield, and it was. I started getting really annoyed and angry, thinking what in the world could I have done to get a stupid ticket!

And then I saw it. It was a postcard. Not just any postcard. No. A postcard telling me all about how a man finally satisfied his lover after 21 long years with the help of a little concoction called ‘dingo juice.’ And my car was the only one on the whole street with this stupid postcard! What made them think I needed dingo juice?!?

So that's modern chivalry. A knight using some dingo juice to please his lady fair. I miss the good ol' days...

The Sum of All Parts

You never know where it's gonna hit the hardest. Sometimes you feel it in your stomach. This topsy-turvy, flittery, twisty set of knots. Like riding a rollercoaster, when you know that big scary drop is coming up fast.

I think the stomach is the most important. It's the most inexplicable, that's for sure. I used to call it 'making my stomach jump.' I don't know what to call it anymore; I've seen so many variations. Sometimes it flips and flops like that to tell you that you like this one, he's someone you want to keep around for awhile. But it can also bunch up and squeeze you from the inside out. That's a warning that there's something to watch out for, something that just isn't right, doesn't sit well.

The heart and the head, everyone knows about. The head is the guy who looks good on paper. The guy who fits the list. The heart is the depth of feeling and the white hot heat of the emotional core.

The tricky thing is finding the right combination. You gotta have them all there or it just doesn't fly. I've had the head and the heart without the stomach. That was a hard lesson because it's easy to forget the power of the stomach when it's absent. I thought that maybe it didn't matter that much or I could fake it or it could be forced. But love is not easily fooled.

I had the heart (oh and did I) and the stomach too - the good and the bad mixing up together so tightly that it was tough to tell the difference between the two - but the head just wasn't there, could never be reconciled.

What I'm quickly learning is that despite knowing the ingredients, I don't really understand the recipe. I'm just trying out what I can, seeing if it comes out right or sinks down in the middle. I feel like after being in the kitchen for as long as I have, I should have things figured out by now. But I don't. I'm just as clueless as I was at 16 when all this started. I do know that all the parts have to fit together somehow. So in a way, I guess I do know what I'm looking for. Something whole. And complete. In all its mystery.

Tuesday, January 23, 2007

Makin' It To the Big Game

I love Peyton Manning. Love. L-O-V-E. I think he's an outstanding quarterback. Full of heart and he's a smart QB too, always has been. He's great fun to watch and truly one of the greatest players in NFL history. But he's kind of an underdog sometimes.

Everyone calls him a 'choke artist.' No one thought he would ever go to the Super Bowl, much less beat his arch nemesis the Patriots to get there. And just watching him out there on the field, you can tell that he's an emotional, passionate player. When he messes up, you see his frustration and disappointment on his face, but then you watch him try and try and try again with everything he has.

Sunday, the first half of the game was depressing. For awhile it was 21-3. The Colts ended the half with just a field goal more, taking them to 21-6. De-press-ing. The announcers were repeating all that trash talk, saying it seems like he'll just never get it together, never be able to pull it off. But then he did. They did. The Colts accomplished the biggest comeback in playoff history. Biggest. Ever.

Sometimes I feel like that. Like I'm just down and out, all the cards are stacked against me and I'm just never gonna figure things out, get them right or find my way. I feel like I'm down 21 to 3, with no hope. But when we believe all that hype about what's possible and what's not and about the pace the game needs to move in or the dynamics you need to win, we forget that what's most important and most needed is FAITH.

When you feel like what you want is never going to happen, you have to still hold onto that belief that it can and that it will. I feel so lost sometimes. What do I want to do? Where should I live? Who is right for me? What do I want? Oh, the questions. They'll make you crazy and make you feel like you don't know anything and haven't accomplished anything. And I feel that every once in awhile. But I have to remind myself that it ain't over til it's over. If my timeline seems a bit behind everyone else's, that doesn't mean I'm not gonna be able to catch up.

I can make it to my Super Bowl too. And so can you. I like to think that my screaming at the TV helps Peyton. And my defending him against everyone who says, 'Eh. I'm not a fanning,' makes a difference. The more people who believe in you, and who let you know it, the better chance you have of winning. Not that Peyt can hear me through the TV but...I believe my good thoughts and well wishes can travel through and affect things. So, let the people you love know you love them. Let them know you believe in them because it's true - they can do it. We can all make it to the big game.

Friday, January 19, 2007

We Are Tracing, We're Both Alone.

You know I can't really blame you,
For being bored with the beginning,
Always staring at the score,
To figure out who's barely winning.
But don't you know?
There is a reason strong moves slow.

Those are my favorite lyrics from one of my favorite John Mayer songs. I have no idea how it found me - it was recorded somewhere sometime but never released. I often wonder if it was meant for me alone. It's called Tracing. I haven't thought of it in months, but it's been in my head the past week.

He talks about tracing, we don't know what we're drawing, we can only see the bottom line. That metaphor means different things to me at different times. This week, I was thinking that it means that we create something new based upon the old image that we know.

It makes perfect sense really. Life is like any other skill - we build upon what we've already learned (no matter how wrong those lessons may be). So if I'm writing a press release, I know what needs to go in it, how long it should be, the format to put it in and blah blah cuz of all that schoolin' I've had. But because I've written so many releases at my current job, I know how my boss'll edit it and what she wants to see and what the background is, tra la la. I once had a boss who forced me to follow an out-of-date grammar rule. She was wrong, but it's what I learned I had to do so I did it for her, and it continues into the next job because she trained me to be cognizant of that rule.

It's the same with dating. I really do hate the beginning. Not really because it bores me. But because that constant glancing back at the scoreboard makes me nervous and frantic and dizzy. And also, as wrong as it is, you always end up comparing the new person and new relationship to all the old ones that have taught you everything good and bad that you know about love and relationships. Add to that the "sense" you have of who you think you are and the vision you have for your future.

There's a very clear picture of what you think this new person and new relationship should be. Not like Person 3 or Person 5 in Way X and Way Z. But like Person 5 and Person 6 in Way A and Way B. And fits into what you think a Person For You should be with qualities 35, 49 and 61.

The thing is that you try to trace, but that picture you're drawing takes on a life of its own and has colors and shapes and dimensions that you don't know, so you try to guess and end up using your eraser more than you thought. You never know what you're gonna get. One of my biggest pet peeves is when someone tells me what I'm thinking or how I feel about something. It makes me crazy. But we all do it to some extent - especially in the beginning, when we're trying to figure someone out and learn them. It's important to keep in mind that we don't actually know what we're drawing and that we're going to make some mistakes and incorrect assumptions in the process.

So why do we try to draw anything so quickly? And why are we so convinced it's going to be better than any picture you've drawn before?

Hope. Hope based upon a belief that the perfect fit you're trying to find is out there for that picture of your future you're so convinced you have figured out. And don't be that hard on yourself for all this - the other person is in the process of drawing a totally wrong picture of you too. We're all fumbling our way through.

Do you ever get the feeling
that we started in the middle?
Or have you ever had the sense
that we've been lying just a little?
I mean, come on,
it's not like we've known ourselves that long.

And I can't say I really blame you
for being bored with the beginning -
always staring at the score
to figure out who's barely winning.
But don't you know?
There is a reason strong moves slow.

And I'm okay
if you're okay with
wasting time.
But when you trace,
you always see the bottom line.

We are tracing.
I hope you know.
We are tracing.

And if you want to know the moment
I knew that I was still alone -
I found I'd never learned your number.
I only stored it in my phone.
You'd think by now
I'd know the shape of calling home.

And I'm okay
if you're okay with
wasting time.
But when you trace,
you know you'll always face that bottom line.

We are tracing.
I hope you know.
We are tracing.
We're both alone
We are tracing.
We are tracing.

Do you ever get the feeling
that we started in the middle?
Or have you ever had the sense
that we've been lying just a little?
I mean, come on,
it's not like we've known ourselves that long.

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