Tomorrow is Today

I’m a smart cookie, but a cookie that moves with her heart and not always her head.  Who will love and lose and hide all at the same time.

I get so near to true regret, wishing I could take away all that I gave and the usage I received in return.

I look at my current situation and I see a naive girl that watched life come together and fall apart at the same time.  Pushing myself firmly out of the nest with the realization that the nest had actually crumbed and fallen to the ground some time ago.  I’d been perched on the branch, alone and waiting for some time. It was okay to fly, even if it was a frightening prospect littered with doubts about my wings.

They work.  Like a lot of birds, I run into doors and windows repeatedly from time to time.  The damage thus far, minimal.

Then love.  Yea.  I fell there. I ignored the signs, the obvious red flags.  I loved my heart away, as I am apt to do.  I had it returned in little pieces. I’m still trying to shove those little pieces back at him, and even though he used and returned them dirty and broken, with a few bits missing — I’d love to keep tossing them back at him, even though he sends them back by wiffle bat, every time.

There’s something to giving that it so hard for me to shake.  I love without regular bias because I just never could get myself to believe that the stigmas and expectations so prevalent in LA society were really the answer.  You have nothing? I have nothing… I have me, and I love YOU.  Not your car, not your wallet.  I love what you gave, and it was a damn lot more than you realize.

I’m young, and like my mother said when I lamented shortly that my love had been lost… "focus on your career".  But my family was starting their family and me at this age.  My 25th will remind me that I was born at that exact time in my parent’s life.  The true anniversary and understanding of being, and as a maternally minded young woman, it will burn to know that I am nowhere close to a family.

It will burn to realize that for all my doubt — I very much want a family.  I very much want a partner.  Living alone has taught me that whether it’s possible or not, I don’t think I’m meant to do this all alone.

For the time being, I can put my shambles on hold and find things to be busy with — and try not to hurt wondering if it’s years down the line that things change or get better/worse.

I love the idea and the success of living alone, but coming home  to my empty apartment is harder than I thought it would be.  The initial joy of the idea of it has worn.  I want to share it.  I find it sad that even a work e-mail elates me and gives me purpose.  As much as I feign hatred for the constant communication, it’s my sole reason d’etre maintenent.

He used to have so many lists and categories I topped.  And now, when I am shy about a way I could help, he tells me who is the more well-spoken the most this and that.  I wonder how I became just good enough to… you know.  To use at my offering.

I wonder sometimes how people can accept gifts they aren’t willing to deserve.  How the phrase "but I never ASKED for that" has ANY bearing on the situation.  So inconsequential.  So misleading.  Missing the point.

I’m good at that.  Missing the point.

Missing the point.

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You know that fleshy space at the joint of your thumb, that place right on the inside that moves so much that should it be severed no band-aide could cover it or last?  Well I’ve plastic-cut it with the edge of a binder and I’m very, very unhappy about that.

I tried to bitch it off.  Swear a few times and shake it off.  The problem is that it still hurts, and every time I use my gift of opposible thumbs I rue the day I was born. 

Paper cuts are those things that are such a joke, so techinically slight that you’re not allowed to upset over or whine about them — but the thing is: they effing hurt and linger like not much else!

I’ve felt like having things amputated over a paper cut while a gash to the head hardly phased me (save for the blood). 

I’d like to part ways with my left thumb about now.  I didn’t like it anyway and I’ve got one left.  Everytime I move the little wound reopens slightly and stings like I’m swimming in the ocean or something.  I must travel in an aura of salt.

Freakin’ aura of salt! 

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Denial is a funny word.  I’ve had that word positively SPIT at me so many times in the past four years I could choke on it.  When used at me, it’s always been so off mark I started to disregard it as a concept. It was to the point that hearing it made me full out laugh.

Then, today, twice I found it very pertinent to at least two major lines of my very own thought.

I slept an awful lot yesterday/today.  Where I didn’t even think I was tired, I napped from like 4 till 9 (and that might be undershooting it) and then slept a night from a bit before midnight till nearly 10am I think!  When getting up, I didn’t want to leave the bed.  I half thought about snoozing for a bit more, even through breakfast.

It took half a grapefruit, a banana, a cup of green tea and a final round of emergen-c to get me up and around.

I was utterly confused at this till the phone rang and I was having a conversation with a friend who didn’t seemed shocked at all at my need for rest.

"You’ve had a crazy two weeks, Megan.  You’ve been all over the place and working all sorts of mad hours.  Of course you needed to sleep!"

"I guess I’ve been a bit stressed," I offered.

"Ha! YEA!"

Well damn.  How did I miss that I’ve been busy enough to merit that?  It makes a lot more sense now, people offering to see me then renigging and asking incessantly if I feel up to it, if I’d rather rest while I can.  Here I thought they just didn’t want to see me, and here I am not realizing I seem completely overwhelmed!

What an amazing thing to be in denial of, right?  Going a mile a minute and hardly noticing.

The second point is my smoking.  Denial of my reasons for doing it.  Knowing that I don’t like it, that I only continue to do it because each one makes me want another.  Using the excuse of my friends smoking as reasoning to not quit quite yet or to find it harder.  To know it’s all BS, I own the BOOK on how much crap the lot of it is.  The friend of mine that told me he quit smoking today read it, too.  The bastard.

I’m a singer at heart damn it, WHAT AM I DOING!?  You know, even part-time vegans don’t smoke.

D-E-N-I-A-L.

I’m waiting for a Fed-Ex package.  The package that cements the beauty of everything that is new and wonderful about my life.

I was so tired of hearing that I wasn’t working hard enough or sacrificing enough.  Unfortunately the very people that shouted that at me were the very people I needed to sacrifice to find my way.  I suppose they had it half right.  They said to expel the poison and negative influence.  I just so badly didn’t want it to be them that everything nearly crashed on my head.

I know that I still worry for them and love them despite everything, but I wonder if that isn’t the seed of a deeper and more damaging denial I’ll soon need to explore.

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It’s happening.  Everything I’ve worked for, and I’m damn near holding it.

All that’s left is to trust that when I wake up it’ll still be firmly entwined between my fingers.  To trust that no matter how tousled my morning hair is or how rank the breath, this reality is my own.

I’ve worked for this.  I deserve it.  I can do this.

Dude, I could buy a car! *vroom*

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Oh, Sailor - Fiona Apple - Extraordinary Machine

I’m undecided about you again
Mightn’t be right that you’re not here
It’s double sided ’cause I ruined it all
But also saved myself
by never believing you dear

Everything good I deem too good to be true
Everything else is just a bore
Everything I have to look forward to
Has a pretty painful and very imposing before

Oh sailor why’d you do it
What’d you do that for
Saying there’s nothing to it
Then lettin’ it go by the boards

Oh sailor why’d you do it
What’d you do that for
Saying there’s nothing to it
Then lettin’ it go by the boards

I have too been playing with fifty-two cards
Just ’cause I play so far from my vest
Whatever I’ve got, I’ve got no reason to guard
What could I do but spend my best

Oh sailor why’d you do it
What’d you do that for
Saying there’s nothing to it
Then lettin’ it go by the boards

Oh sailor why’d you do it
What’d you do that for
Saying there’s nothing to it
Then lettin’ it go by the boards

And after waiting, fighting patiently on my knees
All the other stuff tired itself out first, not me
And in its wake appeared the touch and call of a different breed
One of the steps is getting wise and got me there and then got me

And what a thing to know what could be instead
Oh what a blessed curse to see
Took the agenda from its place in my bed
Made a merry paramour of me

Oh sailor why’d you do it
What’d you do that for
Saying there’s nothing to it
Then lettin’ it go by the boards

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I always thought I was a big forgiver with emphasis on dwelling on the past indefinitely.  In fact, I think the last time I spoke on it, it was the biggest difference between me and who I was speaking to.

I simply don’t have the mental energy to seriously ponder right now if I was mistaken in saying that, then.  But, what I am rather sure of is that in this case I have chosen to forget without forgiveness.

I like to believe I am a compassionate person.  I’m sure most of us do.  Compassion is a gentle but martyresque word.  Makes you feel like you’ve got a leg up, right?  You chose to care in a society where many chose to turn a blind eye.

This time, however, in this little, rather insignificant case, I think I’ve decided to take a page out of someone else’s book.  I don’t want to think about it, but I refuse to be okay with it.  It could be that I am recently spoiled with the ease of good and profitable things coming my way; that I have been made to feel like I deserve and am worth a lot more; that in this particular case the situation is decidedly beneath me.

I will not wait on something that carries little guarantee of making ME happy, that forces ME to work for it with little return, and could just as likely as not never come again while still taking up residence in my energetic brain as a sad and lacking confusion.

I don’t really want to forget you, but I also didn’t want it to be complicated.  I am a female, I tend to do that — but really, for now, I’m just going to put you far, far out of my mind.  Without forgiveness, without a second chance.  I’m just not sure, serious or not, occasional or not, that the lie shouldn’t have broken it all into the smallest of pieces.

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It’s odd how the things you get most enveloped in turn out to simply be catalysts to a bigger picture.  Sort of like focusing on the most gorgeous flower you’ve ever seen and missing that it’s only a small piece of a massive, block consuming, tree.

Meeting someone and thinking THEY are the point, when really it’s the actions they inspire that are the point.  It’s what happens after them and not with them that is important.

Missing that because of their smile, you’ve become yourself again, and that it was finding YOU that was so great, and not necessarily finding THEM.

It’s falling for someone in .2 fucking seconds and then realizing as it falls apart within what seems like 2 minutes later that it’s okay.  A relationship was never the point, loving yourself was.

And while I’d love to have it all, my family, a lover, this job, this lovely apartment — the friends and the finance are really what I’ve been seeking, and can be all I need.  Life without drama, smiling without faking it, helping because it’s right and it’s lovely — being needed and appreciated and feeling fantastic after each days work.

Thing should go like this:  like there was a bigger plan always festering in the background; like it was all meant and scheduled out already just waiting for the right moment to hit; flawless and without thought or effort.

And if life has come to this and in this way, I have to say I’m too spoiled to look at future love any differently.  If it will and if it’s right, it will come to me, easily and without toil.  Simple and in it’s place.

Maybe now, maybe later — but sometime — it’ll be there — as if it always was, all along.

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Just as things seem solid — seem a slight bit hopeless, everything changes.  But they change like they were supposed to go that way.  Like there was a timeline already set out just waiting for me to press on — for enough time to pass on to rush forward to the next step.

Accidentally fall into good work, into good friends, into your first apartment.  It’s like you tried so hard to tread water just to realize when you let go, willing to sink, that you’ve been wearing a life jacket all along.

Tell yourself you’re nothing only for life to yell back: "the fuck are you fooling!?"

I need a bed.  A shower curtain would be nice, and maybe a leash for my wandering heart.  Sometimes when it gets away from me I don’t realize till I’ve smashed it under my foot.

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When I was little I was a bratty little princess.  I "stretched" for ballet and had lists for my friends and enemies I kept only in pencil (things changed quickly).

Over the years, while I’m not quite so presumptive I do tend to hear the same things about myself on a repeating basis.

While the wording is always different the core message is the same.  I’m still a little bratty princess.  Last night was a perfect example.  I had certain wants and expectations for the night and when the control was taken away from me I threw a little fit.

It was a cute fit, but I was LIVID.

All I can say is thank the lord for self control and teh internets.  No one saw said tantrum, they just saw me type it out.  Often in CAPS. It wasn’t much of anything, but looking back I can’t help giggle.  I guess it’s hard to see yourself as you really are sometimes. You like to think you cater well to others and adapt.

But honey, it’s like I sang to the video when I was two with my mic "plugged in" under my grandma’s foot:

"If you tell me what to do, I won’t be your friend."

And if you DON’T, well, see that’s even worse.

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this is not about love

cuz i am not in love

in fact, i can’t stop falling out.
i miss that stupid ache.

– thank Fiona Apple.

new lovers hit as fast as it takes to order a vodka.tonic.

back to work.

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