Emotional Intelligence

From the Wikipedia: Emotional intelligence (EI) is the ability to identify, assess, and control the emotions of oneself, of others, and of groups.

Obviously the entire sentence is from Wikipedia, but I am mainly concerned with the first bit, control of one's own emotions.

I somewhat doubt how in control you can be of your emotions. I think that feelings are wild things. But how you choose to process and express these is the true mark of how advanced you are in this arena.

I fail, regularly. Often aided by C₂H₅OH. None of these are my proudest moments, but they do serve to remind me that I need to find a better way to process what I am feeling. That I need to not only work to develop my emotional intelligence, but my emotional vocabulary.

I struggle to find a way to address things that are bothering me, in relationships in particular, without having my thoughts sound like an accusation. I suppose that maybe I am making the wrong choices up front if the things that bother me are also things that could be taken as an attack. It’s never so simple as “I wish you would take out the garbage more often.” or other minutiae.

But, let’s get to the point, shall we? This is obviously a self-serving venue, where I can air, to no one in particular, save those bots that crawl my posts every time a new one goes up, the trials and tribulations of my not-so-young-these-days adult life.

I’m raw, angst-y, and pissed. I both love and hate these times because I fluctuate wildly between shining moments of clarity and ridiculously clouded moments of pain.

I didn’t trust this from the outset, but I took a leap, and landed somewhere shitty. Though, I can only begin to imagine how much more painful this would have been had I acquiesced to the original “plan” that the two lives become twined immediately via the signing of a lease on a shared space. 2 short months was all it took to explode what neither of us worked very hard to build, but… at the very least we were sharing a space and had the preliminary conversations about sharing a life. Quite obviously, this has not worked out.

There is plenty of blame to pass around, I suppose – though I feel that there is less on my shoulders than his. Sadly, as previously mentioned, I am not a master or myself, nor my emotions, especially when I start to feel disrespected and/or wronged. I tried very hard to not let “just hanging out with friends” get to me, but at the end of the month/week/day my frustration over what I felt like should have actually been a real conversation along the lines of “So, I’ve made this new friend, and I’m finding that I really enjoy the time that I spend with her. I’m not sure what that means for us, but maybe we should talk about it.” instead turned into nights that I spent alone, not knowing what was going on, and the times that we did spend together, often spent in silence. I held my tongue because… why? Because I didn’t want it to be true, partly, and also because I didn’t want questions to come out like accusations. I don’t know how to broach that subject/raise that line of conversation without it becoming combative, but, on some level, I think that the only reason that it would become combative would be if it were true. So I guess I held my peace because I was scared of the truth.

I do that a lot.

The reason given was that “We are just too different.” but, well, I’m allowed to call bullshit… there is no one to stop me, and no one to call me on mine in this area. I know that we were different; I was interested in that, in new experiences, new points of view, and new stories. But, possibly the differences were just too great to overcome.

Maybe not everyone gets off on the fuzzy feeling of going to bed at the same time and listening to someone walk around the house turning off lights, or waking up just a little bit before the alarm clock goes off and having the person next to you roll over and drape their arm across your form. Don’t get me wrong, the big moments, those are great too, but the simple stuff is what sticks in my heart every time.

“I can change! I can change!” – Maybe at a certain point we can’t. I couldn’t be the girl that was okay with so many nights alone. I couldn’t be the girl that was okay with knowing that “the girl from work” who I saw coming a million miles way was commanding so much time and attention, taking away from a freshly-formed relationship where we should have been building a history of shared experiences, and sharing our past so that we each had a better sense of where the other was coming from. I don’t think I can ever be that person. I deserve someone who will share their life with me. Who will care for me in the same measure that I care for them. Talk is cheap, as they say. It’s not enough to just say that you love someone, you have to demonstrate that.

So, I mourn this, and I wake up angry – but that will stop eventually. I work to master myself throughout the day, because the quiet moments, where everything seems to stop and I can just feel my heart beating, are especially rough. I’m not sure that this muscle is breaking, but it’s bruised.

Blown

I don't like being upset, and even more than that, I don't like fighting. That being said, I think that I prefer fighting over a slow and toxic misery that I refuse to give voice to. So I fought, I guess.

Why?

This past Thursday evening, after a Monday spent on my own even though I work from home on Tuesdays specifically so that I can spend time with someone I care about on Monday evenings, and a Wednesday where that same person didn't even come home, I arranged to meet for a drink after work. I'd selected a location that was not terribly convenient for me, but certainly attainable for the other party, but after making my way up to the neighborhood where we were to meet, was delivered a text informing me that it was too cold to walk to my selected spot, and that this person was at a different spot that, if one were to review a map, could easily be proven to be mere moments closer. I did, at this point, send a less than constructive message of just "Fuck you" which, I realize is not helpful in any way. I made my way to this other location and arrived to find him sitting at the bar with a friend. I reacted badly, for a whole host of reasons, but first and foremost was that I feel like going to this other space was blatantly disrespectful of the plans that has already been established, and to me it seemed obvious that the choice was, at least in part, predicated on the presence of this other individual.

I dislike feeling duped, I dislike feeling taken advantage of. In this moment I felt both of those things. I've felt that way all week. I reacted badly. I know this. But I am happy that I at least reacted. Too often I just go with the flow, and get rolled over on.

I didn't express myself properly, but I'm not sure that even if I had, that it would have mattered. It's not enough to say that you love someone all the time, it's important to actually demonstrate that. I'm more than happy to care for someone, but I expect that care to be returned in kind. I thought that this was a relationship where, yes, while there may be some rough edges, that could happen. Now, I am not so sure. We've not spoken since that night, beyond a very brief text message exchange. I'm not sure when he is coming home, or if it is really "home" that he is coming to anymore. I wish that it was. I very much hope that we can sit down and have an intelligent conversation addressing the past few days. I feel like if there ever was love between us that it should be possible, and that there is recovery from this, but I don't know. The lack of feedback leaves me to my own assumptions, and I've always been one to anticipate the worst.

Cutting ties

Cutting ties is just as painful and messy as one would think. It's been a while since I have done anything like this. I'm staying socially offline, and am adding words here only to get them out of my head.

I'm being damaged, am allowing myself to be damage, by negative personalities. The only way that I know to correct this, to quell the rage that has built up from the constant exposure, is to terminate the relationships. I can't help someone else - I can barely help myself. I can't be the one person in the world upon whom everything hinges, and it is pissing me off more and more when I am told, repeatedly, that I am. That isn't fair, and is too much pressure for one person to bear.

I can be a source of joy, but only for those that have a spark of joy in them already. I can be joyful, but only when I am not being pressed on what feels like all sides to create hope and light for those that refuse to examine themselves and why these things are absent.

I let my anger take me this past week. It's not pretty, it's in fact a huge mess, but I am trying very hard to stop beating myself up about it. One weekend curled up in the dark is enough, life goes on.

You see, the thing is, for as much as I hear the complaint "I'm alone" like it's a singular thing, the reality is that I am just as alone as anyone else who feels that way. Lots of people feel this way. It's not unique. And many of us, we stuff it down with one thing or another.... cover it up with wishes, mask it with lies, drown it. Pretend.

She's lost control again

It's been a shit week, and I've been a bit of a shit myself.

I've been feeling like there is a fault deep inside of me, fractures that are begging to be patched up before they become irreparable. But in truth, it's all just the panic of a moment that I am getting swept up by.

And so, I make poor choices, I put things out into the world that can't ever ever be taken back, and I forget. I have to own the not knowing, and just hope that any imagining that I may do is so much less terrible that the reality.

I need space. I need to surround myself and engage with those who want the best for me. I need to make sure that my interactions are not with emotional vampires because that is a behavior I reflect back on those that I care for, and... I don't want that. I don't want to be that asshole. I don't want to cause hurt or trouble in any way. However, in moving towards a better me, these things may happen. I can't make everyone happy all the time and at the end of the day what I really need to do is make sure that I am taking care of myself.

Good reminders

How can you make anyone do anything? You can’t. You can control only you, and even then you’ll fuck up sometimes.

People love you until they don’t, so it’s a good idea not to absolutely need that, but it’s one of the best parts about being a human so it’s not to be missed. Love those you love freely and deeply, and keep your feet because you just might need them.

Oh really?

Surprisingly, the turn of phrase "Fuck the taste out of my mouth." is not universally well-received when explaining why you slept with someone in the first place... the full sentence being "Because I just needed someone to, I don't know... fuck the taste out of my mouth." which MEANT, I did it because I wanted to replace, or at least layer, one memory over another. The words should in no way be taken literally.

I feel like one day everyone will say this.

Anyway, I've broken that off before I got too caught up, as I am wont to do.

I'm working on being in better control of myself, of my words and actions. It's pretty tough, and I admit that I will still probably post TMI-flavored items here, but... hey, I figure if anyone actually comes here, they were asking for it. It's quite different than sending an email, a text, or posting some insane facebook item.

Words should not be weapons. That's what I told someone recently. But, of course, sometimes they are. I am trying to move away from that. I don't want to hurt people with what I say anymore.

lol

Or: Why Online Dating Makes Me Lose Faith In Humanity

So, I have an online dating profile. It's certainly a work in progress, and what I have chosen to say about myself is both a whole lot, and a whole lot of nothing. This is besides the point.

I call out, very specifically, that I get fussed when "lol" is used like punctuation. This apparently is not a deterrent. I pretty ruthlessly delete any offending messages, but it's fair to say that an alarming number of people are unable to wring out more than two sentences before they are lol-ing all over the place. And in very regular exchanges as well. It's disappointing.

I mentioned this to a friend recently and he thought that I was being somewhat silly. His opinion was that in this arena online people are "flirting" and "nervous." He is more than entitled to his point of view but I refuse to accept this as, ONLINE, you have the time think through your words before committing them, and actually have the potential to come off as somewhat more intelligent and collected than you may be in real life. This is not a first date situation where you could easily find yourself giggling like a ninny at nothing in particular just so that you appear to be engaged and enjoying your time.

I think, my main issue with the "lol" and to a lesser extent the "hahaha" is that it makes the sender seem like a raving maniac.

Sample messages:
"Hey! What did you do today? I just got off work, gonna do it all again tomorrow. HAHAHA"
"Your profile is cool. We should get together sometime and play Cards Against Humanity. LOL"

In neither of the two example above was the hahaha/lol even a little bit normal. Also - these are terrible messages to send, as there is no real jumping off point for an actual conversation. These types of messages get deleted.

Other messages that get deleted:

• Anything that has a semi-naked photo for the profile
• Any profile that details how "You better not hurt me because I've been burned in the past."
• Any profile that is just more moan-y and groan-y than interesting - though I suppose that this is excellent insight into that person's personality overall and the AVOID is probably the best course of action.
• People in poly-amorous relationships. I am not a sister-wife recruit.

To be clear - I am not opposed to the use of "hahaha" or "lol" if it is warranted. But, when I receive an "lol" or a "hahaha" from someone (on the internet or in text messages) I want it to be earned, and valuable. I've won a few of these over the years and even handed out a few of my own. But it's pretty rare. So, if you are texting or chatting with me, and you get one, rest assured, I am truly laughing out loud. Congratulations!

It's like a garden

The best advice that I have given in recent memory is that a relationship (and, this applies to all relationships - familial, romantic, and friendly) is like a garden. While it may apply to a somewhat lesser extent to friendships and familial relations, all relationships need constant tending.

The way that I manage my friendships is very much like a controlled burn. I pour gasoline on that shit and toss a match. This is maybe not the very best way to be, but it does weed out those who cannot "deal," as it were. Sometimes this also devolves into an "untended campfire" scenario, but...

I'm actually quite tender-hearted and caring, but it is sometimes hard to know this about me given the way that I regularly conduct myself. The kind side of me seems to only come out in terribly quiet and private moments. I wish that I could be more even more of the time. Perhaps that isn't something that is readily apparent to those around me though, both that I wish to be more even, or that I am, in fact, quite gentle.

I suppose that the turmoil that churns inside of me almost daily doesn't help things one bit. I feel very much at loose ends. All details are unresolved. And I very much have a hard time just putting a cap on things and walking away. Or, if I try, it becomes explosive at the very worst of times.

I've been trying to be more gracious. It's a habit I am working to cultivate. This has been difficult.

This is another habit that I need to break. The "aside." I too often let my new thought distract me from the current one.

But I digress.

Relationships, gardens. I will focus on romantic entanglements despite my earlier announcement that this is applies to all relationships, as, the advice I was giving was strictly related to this, and was focused on my own fuck-ups.

Hard to write. Easier to confess when the words are just going out into the air, and not being set down for robots to peruse. I'm not sure why I am so fussed that robots will judge me... Much more likely that I will just judge myself when I come back to this much later. I dare anyone to be a more severe critic than I am of myself, always. Well, maybe I don't "dare" anyone to be, as I am sure that there are things that I overlook/ignore, or, know and refuse to acknowledge.

My last "real" relationship, was, as it turns out, a hot mess. And that may be putting it too kindly. I let everything slide as far as maintaining a real connection. Part of this was my desire to allow for "space" (which I very much still believe in), but at the same time, I got very complacent, and, in a way, became uncaring as far as daily interactions went. Yes, there was regularly the kiss goodbye in the morning, with an "I love you" thrown in for good measure. But as far as cultivating and maintaining meaningful interaction, I very much failed. I have to live with this, and, I'm sure that I could easily detail the many ways in which I fucked up, but, suffice to say that in the end, while I could wax poetic about the space taken up in my heart by this other life/personality, maybe it was all bullshit. Maybe I had checked out way before I thought I had. I certainly wasn't putting in much effort, beyond the efforts of madness borne of desperation about what was being taken away from me. The security of knowing there was someone to come home to, even when it clearly wasn't working anymore. There were details beyond this... some real horror-show moments, that I will not go into great lengths about, and I know that these also took their toll, but... it was a rough break, and at the same time, I let myself get tied into knots about, again, something that was clearly failing.

And... let's tie it all back to horticulture.

One does not merely plant a garden and let it grow wild.

"Weed the bed weekly, or whenever young weeds manage to breach the mulch layer. Prompt weed removal prevents the plants from establishing in the garden, where they rob moisture and nutrients from your garden plants while also providing a haven for pests and disease."

"Just as weeds are a detriment so are pests such as insects. Bugs, slugs, and beetles can all wreck havoc on a garden. When you spot them, make sure you take the proper steps to evict them! If a pesticide you purchase at the store doesn’t work, you will probably want to call in a professional."

Take from that what you will but my interpretation is that:

1. Deal with shit when it comes up or it will eventually destroy what you have.
2. Don't be scared to call in a professional. Sometimes it takes a dis-interested 3rd party to really root out what is going on, and put you onto the right path.

Of course, this is coming from a girl with years of therapy under her belt. (though, none in recent memory, and I would very likely benefit from taking up the reigns again.) A lot of people see the discussion of their thoughts/feelings with a hired gun as some sort of weakness. And yes, I engage in a fair amount of navel-gazing that would possibly be put to better use by actually moving forward, but...

This is just how I see things. I give great/terrible advice but very very rarely apply my own insights to my particular brand of madness. I know many things, and most often behave as though I am a babe in the woods. My cross, I bear it.

Off the rails

I spend a lot of time here, recently. It's sort of gross. I'm not at peace. I need to slow down, overall.

Foam home

Or: Why I Love(d) Wisconsin.

When I was 9 my Grandmother and I drove from Montana to Virginia in order to visit family. I don't have many clear memories of the trip, but one standout was our stop in the Wisconsin Dells. To my 9-year-old self, this place was a wonderland. A Ripley's Believe It Or Not Museum, Old-timey photo places, tons of water parks, Mini Golf, Go Karts, strange and small shops lining the sidewalks where I managed to score a kick-ass and completely useless pair of moccasins, and a Visitor's Guide filled with hotels that featured themed rooms (or "fantasuites" as I now find they are termed). My tiny mind was blown by all the strangeness of what basically amounts to an entire town dedicated to being a tourist trap.

HOWEVER... beyond all of that, the one place that I visited whilst touring The Dells that will stick with me forever was Xanadu: House of the Future.





Looks just like the future, right?

From Wikipedia:
"The Xanadu Houses were a series of experimental homes built to showcase examples of computers and automation in the home in the United States. The architectural project began in 1979, and during the early 1980s three houses were built in different parts of the US: one each in Kissimmee, Florida; Wisconsin Dells, Wisconsin; and Gatlinburg, Tennessee. The houses included novel construction and design techniques, and became popular tourist attractions during the 1980s.

The Xanadu Houses were notable for being built with polyurethane insulation foam rather than concrete, for easy, fast, and cost-effective construction. They were ergonomically designed, and contained some of the earliest home automation systems. The Kissimmee Xanadu, designed by Roy Mason, was the most popular, and at its peak was attracting 1000 visitors every day. The Wisconsin Dells and Gatlinburg houses were closed and demolished in the early 1990s; the Kissimmee Xanadu House was closed in 1996 and demolished in October 2005."

I super loved this place. It was the first of the Xanadu houses, and I never visited another, though I've read that especially the Kissimmee house was more focused on the automation aspects. That would have been interesting to see but I think that home has been particularly well documented, both in books and in video, both from the heyday and more current times.

Xanadu Home of the Future with Designer Architect Roy Mason
Kissimmee Abandoned Tour Part 1

The basic idea behind the construction of these homes was an elevated form of papier-mâché. And while it isn't somewhere that I would live, for a variety of reasons (Inability to hang pictures, the never ending struggle to dust all that texture, and my love for architecture composed of sharp angles and clean lines, among other things) it was certainly an interesting concept. Unfortunately, it seems that spray foam is perhaps not the best material to use for 100% of a home's construction and without regular, and I imagine intense, maintenance it is all too easy for the structure to fall prey to decay, most notably, mold.

For my money, the imprecision of the final product, with it's irregular and organic forms, isn't worth the effort. This is something that I can only tolerate in art and nature, it seems.

That being said, again, as a child, I was enchanted by this strange building. The spire at far left was hollowed and filled with dancing lights. The bedroom was centered on a round bed that sat on a tall and thin pedestal, with a series of ascending columns to step up. And, there were passageways that only children could fit in, leading up to a play loft. It was quite magical and exciting as a first exposure to any alternative ideology about what a home could be.

Also, "fantasuites" are weird, and I'm pretty sure, disgusting.



Most reviews on TripAdvisor comment about how poorly lit each room is, and details the abundance of mirrors on nearly every surface. I would be beyond frightened to take a black light into any of these spaces.

I can has sad

I'm sad.

There, I said it.

Nothing really seems more mundane than plain old, ordinary, sadness. But when you are caught up in the whirlpool, it seems as though there is very little outside of it.

I've come to realize that robots, not humans, ever read my blog posts, so I am less inclined to suppress whatever is rolling around in my head, for fear of being called on it later. This may come back to bite me, but, all the same... I steam ahead. I treat this like a diary.

There have been so many strange things that have been said to me in the past few weeks.

I clearly remember hearing... "Do you remember how I told you I've never had a real relationship" (to which I replied "Yes") and then... "I feel like that is about to end." and then I left.

And another day where the question was "How long do you think you will stay here?"

And then... in the last seconds of a last moment "It would have worked out." (Which, for the record, if a horrible thing to say to someone as you are preparing to leave the state.)

What could I have done to craft a better last moment, something less heart-wrenching, something less ripe for offhanded and ultimately damaging comments like that? Walked you to your car? Yes, certainly I should have done that. Any moment would be a moment treasured. But I did not. (This is all that timing stuff coming into play.)

And tonight, you called, and the connection was so bad that we could only talk for a few moments, and I didn't get to hear hardly anything about your last 7 days, when all that I want to do is hear about all of your days,

I know it's dumb, and hopeless, but... All the same, I can't stop myself. Feeling everything is ultimately better than feeling nothing. You are a beacon in a sea of boring. I will likely regret these words in the morning, but it doesn't make them any less true, just... easier to stuff down in the sunlight.

So dumb. It all would have ended in tears, one way or the other, anyway,

Still, a girl can dream.

There is no thread

I did a little bit of spring cleaning in here the other day, after also horribly breaking the template. It was probably time for a refresh anyway. Maybe all in service to figuring out what I can hang on to and what I need to let go of...

Of course I can't fully stow away my memories, but perhaps it is just time to let them have less power over me.

I was talking with a friend the other day about how moving to somewhere new can be such a blessing. As I walk/drive/bus all around this city, I have very clear and specific memories attached to so many places. Some good, some bad, some just... there... but all the same, it often feels like paging through an old photo album, and the sometimes-ache that can accompany that pastime. I can't really decide if the place-memories are a good or a bad thing, and of course I am often in these same spaces creating new memories to layer over the old, but all the same, sometimes I think that it would be nice to have a change of scene. I love Seattle, but I do often wonder if I've been here too long. I don't know where else to go though. I suppose that I will remain until compelled to leave, until called away.

I'm working on becoming a more active listener. This is something that I have maybe not been so great at in the past. I'm trying to ask more questions, and do less talking of my own. It's interesting, how much people will just talk and talk (and I am very much guilty of this myself) and never think to ask "Et tu?" - it seems to actually take a very special sort of person to find the right balance between give and take in a conversation. A consequence of all this listening is, of course, these more frequent updates to my blog. There is no thread between these posts, really, beyond the fact that it is all the stuff that is rattling around in my mind, and when I compare these posts to the much much older ones, it's much more than a hard jump between two subjects.

In the past few months, I've been a bit of a shit to a few friends, and I have some rebuilding to do over... the rest of my life, probably. When I get upset, I tend to drink my feelings. This is a fucked-up "coping" mechanism that I first implemented years ago when my father was dying and refused to get into contact with me so that we could have any chance of reconciliation. I pull this trick out of the bag from time to time, because I believe what cowboys tell me in songs...

I'm gonna keep drinkin'
until I'm petrified.
And then maybe these tears
will leave my eyes.

or

I'm gonna keep drinkin'
till I can't even think
Cause in the last week
I ain't slept a wink

But I do actually know that this is not a good way to be. I have found myself having to issue apologies for stupid things I have said and done somewhat recently, or, at the very least, being tied up in knots wishing that I could get a do-over, take it back, don't hit send, do not pass go, or what-have-you. I don't want to behave in a way that harms the people around me, so I need to find a new way to deal with bad feelings. I don't think that drinking is inherently destructive, but... my timing is off.

Notoriously poor timing, in almost all things.

Sometimes I forget to breathe

It's true, sometimes I forget to breathe. This may not be 100% accurate though. It may be more fair to say that sometimes, when I am nervous or upset, I hold my breath. This leads to me getting very dizzy, at which point I begin to panic, which doesn't make breathing one bit easier.

The same could be said of myself emotionally. I often forget that the best plan is to calm down and step back - really assess the situation. Intellectually I am usually pretty clear on what is going on, but the stupid heart/feelings tend to gum up the works and I sometimes simply begin to flail.

It's not a good head-space to be in, in either situation - and oddly, the cure for each is very much the same. Long walks let my mind rest a little bit. Focusing on one foot in front of the other, or letting myself be distracted by things seen.

I was watching Apocalypto over the weekend and the journey that the main character takes made me wonder - What does it mean to be a man? There is a quite a lot of information out there about this - about the idea of being a man - but after reading through quite a lot of it, I am not sure that the gender roles really apply and the insight I gained is better applied to "What does it mean to be a person?" - and by this, I mean, a person of quality - not just a lump on the surface of the planet. I'm not going to gender edit the items that I cherry-pick for my list, but at the same time, these apply across the board...

Lessons Learned:

1. A man is defined by his accomplishments and his purpose.
2. A man holds himself accountable.
3. A man does not fear failure.
4. A man believes in beauty.
5. A man is composed.
6. A man takes responsibility for his deeds.

And then, possibly the best piece of the whole lot...

A man feels like a man whenever he faces the right way, staring straight into his fears. He feels even more like a man when he advances in the direction of his fears, as if sailing on the winds of an inner scream.

No one ever moved forward, successfully, while looking backward. I look backward all the time, and often ascribe this to self-reflection, but in my more lucid moments, it's easy to see that this is most often just wallowing. I let past pains sully my view of the future, and too often let fear guide my choices. I struggle to find the balance between "all-in" and just being a spectator. I turn moments over in my mind until the interior is rubbed raw.

I find it hard to let go of the idea of people who have made a significant impression on me over the years. It takes a very long time for these personalities to fade into just memories.

We aren’t meant to be this tethered to all the people in our past. But I don't know how to tell who I should let go of and who I should hang on to.

Some Saturday

Once, in a bar, some guy told me that I would never be beautiful, just “cute.” I still kind of hate that guy.

I should update my blog… This thought has struck me on several occasion but it a long time coming. I don’t know that there are any graphics that properly express my life over the past 1.5 years, though, I am only accounting for the time that everything changed, and not for the time since my last (un-read) update.

It’s been a strange stretch, to be certain. I was so sure that I knew what my path my heart and life were taking, I forgot that there are always, most certainly, alternatives. I approach a few different parts of life with this singe-mindedness. It’s a flaw, to be sure.

Recently I have been reminded that I have a heart to give, and it has been somewhat painful. It shouldn’t specifically be so, but… there are moments when I am absolutely stricken, overwhelmed, by this simple fact.

Affectionately referred to as “LA” for far long than deserved, and out of stubbornness, I have a great, great friend that is moving away in 3 short weeks, possibly less. This is someone that I did not particularly regard as much of a friend before… maybe... the more I think about it the more I feel like we were really quite close for far longer than I ever noticed.) but who I am struggling to imagine a Seattle, or, to be honest, my life, without now. I am sure that I will cruise through with dead eyes, as I do with everything else, but, in the middle of the night, I wake with the fear that I will never find someone who is as engaging, always pushing, always important, to be a part of my life again. When finally told about the final decision (though I knew, I knew...) I had the misfortune of asking the embarrassing question of “Can I visit you!?” (Mortified) and will forever feel like a dumbass due to that moment in time alone, but…

I don’t know if you’ve ever met me… I am slow to warm up to people. When I accept someone into my heart (on any level) I am quite fierce in my devotion, and it takes quite a bit for any individual to drop onto my “must-not” list. Maybe this is insane? I don’t really know…

I am really going to miss this friend. He has been patient with all of the things that are horrible about me. (I also know that everyone ELSE has been patient with horrible me things, so, if anyone IS reading, congrats to you as well…) However, he has been one of the main people, most recently, that I have turned to when things are terrible, and who I most love to spend time with when things are average/great. He has re-informed me about what a good conversation is really like, has re-taught me that spectacular memories can be found in the most ordinary of moments, and has, mainly, reminded me that having an open heart is a good place to be.

I am struggling today, though, truth be told, and am struggling, maybe always, as well. In a few short weeks things will be… better(?) but it doesn’t make today, this instance in time, less tragic. It’s the massive amounts of eyeliner that have leaked into my bloodstream during years past that make me so melodramatic, I’m sure of it…

I ruthlessly curate all the moments in my life. I have an easy time forgetting the nightmares (except for that one where I was sucked into a toaster that was Hell.) and only remembering the good times. This sometimes makes me romanticize the most mundane of moments, but… this is who I am. Some have even been the most uncomfortable minutes of my existence, but, still they shine bright in my mind. Good memories: Seeing the Wall of death for the first time, Coffee shops after too many drinks at Shorty’s with a friend, Taking long walks and sitting at the water’s edge with a thermos or a few beers to stave off the cold while watching the city lights, Pulling tables and chairs near to a fountain in an empty outdoor shopping mall after hours, Taking long drives into the wilderness for no particular reason in the middle of the night, Even drinking the swill that they claim is coffee at The Hurricane until 4 in the morning... all the while just talking, telling stories, asking questions, explaining. I feel okay about holding these memories, and more, close to my heart… but at the same time, these can be a distraction because I am not sure that this is the path that life takes anymore. Spoiled, perhaps.