Sunday, July 31, 2011

Tough Girls Hold Hands Too

I just finished reading Into the Wild.  It's about a kid that took off after college, gave all his savings to a charity, gave up all his earthly tethers and disappeared from his family.  I dog eared the pages that hit home to I do in all of my books.  "Chris was very much of the school that you should own nothing except what you can carry on your back at a dead run."  There was another...a letter that he wrote to an old guy he met somewhere on the road...its entirely too long to pass along but it told him to get out and live and do and see all the places and do all the things he regretted not doing.  "If you attempted to talk him out of something, he wouldn't argue.  He'd just nod politely and then do exactly what he wanted."  "I was surprised, as always, by how easy the act of leaving was, and how good it felt."   
Starting to see the similarities now aren't ya?  It's the second such book I've read.  This one instead of being penned by the adventurer/wanderer himself ended more tragically.  Imagine: A Vagabond Story was a similar scenario with a much happier ending.  With a couple hundred dollars he left the country and traveled all over Mexico and Central in hostels and working odd jobs to get by.  I share a wander lust with them both.  All of my life I've been a rebel with no cause.  Throwing the middle finger to conformity and standing firmly by myself in my made up beliefs.  As I've aged the rebelliousness softened into odd and currently is probably teetering on eclectic.  Even though I've never had the balls to peace out of society and take to the road with a backpack I harbor jealously and a bit of penis envy for those that have. 

There is no secret that several times in my life I've completely lost my self.  Lost in normalcy.  Instead of being who I am, I was chipped away at until I became some hybrid version of what they expected.  The bad ass girl slipped out of sight after one too many flips of the Sunday morning omelet.  That in turn was the demise of the relationship(s).  Then of course I come out of the corner like a wet pissed off cat scratching and biting to reclaim myself. 

I feel good that I don't hide or modify who and what I am with Velcro.  I am an open book...there is no hidden sneaky program behind the scenes.  I like that I can ask for an opinion other than my own but know that I don't need permission.  This being independent but holding a hand thing has been bouncing around in my head for sometime, then I read this and it really summed up a lot of how I feel.  Kinda wish I had written it.  I don't feel alone even though I'm by myself sometimes.  I rest beneath his smile and he's with me every minute.  It's a delicate balance being a tough girl in love...

Velcro told me that he sees the world differently than ever before since knowing me. That made me happy.  My ability to realign my thoughts is probably one of my best assets.  I doubt it's super hero enough to require a cape but it helps me on the rare occasions my head and ass get in close proximity. My happy lists get me back on track when my wayward mind takes off on me.  Here's my latest list

-Lightning Bugs
-Day Lillies
-A 3 Beer Buzz...I know alcohol does not solve any problems but neither does milk.
-Velcro's shows up with his happy smile
-Seagulls... minus the poop
-Foot feeling them touch each other
-The Shu's replacement...more pictures of her to come.

Sunday, July 10, 2011

Bitter Sweet

Sunday morning 8:52 - Spaghetti w/ goat cheese and Season 2 of Weeds.  How can any one not want to be me??
Not sure if the entire world experiences odd planetary alignment at the exact same time or not but everyone close to me seems to share my schedule.  Saturn has been tilted and threatening to take out adjacent planets for the past week or so.  I have ramblings and thoughts that I've scribbled and none of them actually tie together but they warrant sharing. 

Why does hind sight seem to be my best light?  Not for me but for how people view me.  I've been trying hard lately to identify and break patterns.  The patterns that have governed my life.  The keep quiet and look fine when you're really not so much and then bailing before the unsuspecting have a clue of what's going on.  I blame no one.  I am the problem.  My non-confrontational side is damning.  I'm scarred from a childhood of "turn the other cheek" and it's made me less than honest about my feelings...whether they are the good  or the hurt ones in relationships.  My calm in the center of the storm self is a mask of what I'm dealing with on my own time.  So for the first time, as awkward as it feels to me, I actually talk about things and how I feel.  Don't worry I'm not becoming a softy and I will still kick the shit out of you. This new modified bad ass girl is only exposed to one Velcro... to everyone else, expect to see no difference.  Pretty sure after I wrote this I went to bed before a tourist town...obviously I am awesome.