Friday, July 10

So loved

My heart connects to a huge circle of love that spans the globe.
Heck, maybe even the universe.


I sit here on a Friday night and feel so loved.
Yet, at the same time, I feel so forgotten.


I have so many friends/people in my life that I truly love, but there's something about not being any one's number one that feels so lonely.

When I think back, I always wanted exactly that.
A partner.
A soul mate.

There are very few *times I can think of when I did not want a boyfriend.
Genuine *times.
No crush.  No desire.  Nothing.  When I felt so whole and free and peaceful.

Rare.  They were rare.

That being said - I've wanted the boyfriend.  Yes.  But my awareness around what that means/represents has changed.  Manifested.  Morphed.

I was ok alone.
I'm still ok alone.

But like so many things in my life...  when I've done it enough, I get bored.  Whether it's a restaurant.  A town.  A hotsprings.  A kick-ass movie.  Been there/done that - that happens for me.  Even for myself.  I kick ass.  I love my mind.  I love my goodness.  I love my heart.  I love my body (mostly).  Yet...  I am bored of being me.  Alone.

I want ...someone to bounce off of.
To banter with.
To share a meal with.
To wake up and make a plan with.

...to truly know the other person's life.

(What people do every day can be so mysterious.)

I want to know someone, and I want someone to known me.
As family.

(I believe the clarity helps manifest the dream man.  
I sure hope my beliefs are true.)

At the end of it I want to belong to another.  As family.
I want to have a true  marriage.
Big time.

Weekend getaways.
Road trips.
A spontaneous swim.

The utter love and devotion and magic.

A hookah bar.

Right now.

Let's go.

You know.

None of this is unique to me.


Thursday, June 25

Like an old friend...

...  it's possible to pick up where we left off.  
It's been a while since I've called or emailed, 
but I'll try.  Here it goes.


I have instagram.
I have facebook.
I don't tweet anymore (but even if I did, it wouldn't matter).

I have a story to share and this is the best place for it, so here it goes.

I took myself on a date, to a museum (contemporary art), for a walk, and out for dinner.  I tried to have a date with some guy I met on Tinder but he only wanted to text and not meet, and I only wanted to meet and not text, so that did not exactly work out (and he basically called me a snob for being too good to text...).

The museum was short, sweet, to the point.
Checked the box, and enjoyed the space.
Nothing so moving that I was stopped in my tracks.

Walk was weird.
Downtown is not "there" yet.   (there, as in, gentrified enough to be hip and cool.)
Went to the Landing - and was nostalgic.
It used to be so cool.
It used to have a Banana Republic before Banana Republic was cool, which was cool.
I think it may have even had a Laura Ashley back in the day.
Now it only (and still) has a Hooters and a Nine West Outlet.  Lame.

It's on the river.
The real estate is amazing.
Yet there's nada happening.
It's a shame.

Whenever I am downtown my creative juices get flowing.
I'd like to own a small brick building some day and do something very cool with it.

(you wouldn't know this but I just paused to eat more of my $9 bar of chocolate.  toasted and salted breadcrumbs in dark chocolate.  pretty much to die for.  am trying not to eat the entire bar right now.)

For dinner I went to a restaurant called The Candied Apple - which had more than just those.  I ordered an arugula salad (with candied pecans and goat cheese - standard fancy fair), sweet potato fries (that were battered and crunchy and perfect, served with a creamy orange glaze mayonnaise), candied bacon on a stick (that was slow cooked in maple syrup), and a veggie burger (made with quinoa and black beans that was mushy and flavorless so I sent it back and moved on).  My dinner was fairly sweet and candied.

That was all backdrop.
Now here's the story.

After I ate dinner (outside, on this great wide southern balcony that I had all to myself) and purchased the chocolate, I headed back to the car.  On the way, there were some homeless people.  I decided to give away my leftover salad with the candied bacon and side of sweet potato fries.  The first guy I saw, I asked him (like I always do, in exactly this way), "Do you know anyone who may want my food."  He asked what it was.  I told him:  salad.  With sweet potato fries! (I added.  always the salesman).  He looked skeptical and asked to see it.  I opened the box and he refused the food.  I moved on.

The second guy, same question.
Same response.
"Salad?  Let me see it."
I know, it's not that exciting, but there are also some sweet potato fries.

He examined it from a few different angles then agreed to take it.

I felt so relieved.
I wanted my food to be accepted and enjoyed.

And it was (or at least the fries were).

The end.



Wednesday, March 11

walk along river, girl with dog, at dusk

she tells me that I am not special,
that I'm just like everyone else.
that she jumps up and down and twirls around for everyone.

I know it's not true so I move on.

the sunset is monochromatic.
not dramatic like my innards.

I want to lie down and start over.
like a mantra I feel that wash over and over me again.
I want to lie down and start over.

I want to swim in the water.
I want to play in the sand like that toddler.
with it's grandmother.
sun hats and silhouettes.

the lady on the bridge.
the one who paints faces and sells hula-hoops at festivals.
she listens to a song that no one else can hear.

she wears leg warmers.

she dances with the water.

the couple.  young.  cute.  hip.  hair off their faces.
the few words I hear, like culture, and this culture,
light me up inside.  I want to jump in the middle and hold their hands.

I want to engage in deep and real ways.

a lesbian couple.  they are chubby, quiet and slow.  One has painted red hair.
they look uncomfortable yet happy, and loved.

there's a little baby wearing a little blue jacket.
on the patio.  at the brewery.  fit moms.  hot dads.  northface vests.  
everyone is very colorado, and loved.

there's a school-aged kid with wild curly hair running up the hill while his dad clocks his time and shouts, "push it.  push it.  run like you mean it."
he is loved.

I notice buds.  brown and spiked.
I notice birds.  the absence there of.

I walk through tunnels.
over flat concrete with etched curves.

I want to lie down and start over.
I want to lie down and start over.
I want to lie down and start over.

my friend calls.
she whisks me away to another place and time.

like water.

I am loved.





Saturday, February 7

weekends have lost their flare

I remember the days back in *the day* when weekends used to mean something - like going out with friends, having fun, having a social life!

My life has been reduced to being home on back-to-back consecutive weekend nights.

My best friend here just dropped something off/picked something up on her way out on her double date with a couple other mutual friends - and my heart feels a little broken.

The reality is my social life does not really exist..

I am not part of a couple, nor do I have any single girlfriends.

I am a third wheel at best - and that's no fun for anyone.
(especially not for me)

I did, once upon a time, have a single-centered social life, but my fellow single friends either 1) faded away once I stopped drinking, or 2) faded away once she became part of an us.

I used to enjoy my own company.
I'd take myself on dates.
I'd wine and dine myself and take myself to soak at the hot springs, and to soak up on life.

That got old.
I got old.

Being single used to feel good.
Nourishing.
Interesting.
Freeing.

Now - it does not.
It feels lonely.
It feels like everyone is out with their best friends but me.

It feels like my heart is broken.
The song "I've been lonely too long" plays in the background of my mind.

So.
Here I am.
Alone.

It's Saturday night.

My kids are here, but they are doing their own thing.
They have a friend over.
They don't need me outside of making sure that they are fed (request already made:  "Mom, are you going to feed us?")

The answer is "maybe".

If I feed myself first.



Thursday, February 5

craving a cave

Sometimes I don't know what I want until it's right in front of me.
Like laying on the couch and listening to music.

I had no idea how badly I wanted to do this until someone at work brought a guitar in and started playing.  All of a sudden all I wanted to do was lie around and listen.  By a fire.  On a sheepskin rug.  Naked.  Rubbing oil on myself.

I've been talking and preaching and instructing and starting at two computer screens and answering the phone and emails and overloading my mind to the point in which my brain is hardly working for way too long and my eyes hurt.  My brain hurts.  I am fried fried fried.  Sunny-side up with buttery browned whites.

I had a realization today that the last time I worked in Corporate America was in 1994-1996, and when I hit my breaking point I went traveling and ended up naked in a cave on a beach off of Africa.  If history repeats itself...  I am getting close to being naked in a cave once again....

For now, I'm in my pajamas, on the couch, listening to Robert Earl Keen on Pandora.   As close to my cave as I can get on a school night....




Read a fucking book

If I was going to throw all of my energy into a cause - it would be the "READ A FUCKING BOOK." cause. (or the ballroom dancing for all middle-schoolers cause - but that's for another rant)

Kids/Teens/my daughters/their friends...  ALL spend too much time on technology.
When I want my kids off of their iphones (which I lovingly refer to as their "technology" because I can't always get the name of what they're on straight) I tell them to tell their friends to "READ A FUCKING BOOK" and to get off of their technology.

Yes, I really do use the word fucking when I want to make a point.
Even with my children.

I am not sure what would motivate them, besides using the word "fucking" and being cool.  Maybe if some idols/cool kids/famous peeps were reading books, and talking about them in short podcasts (for short attention spans) - or even acting out the books, or reading the books to them - that could be motivating? (or inspiring, even?)

Reading books would give kids something to talk about, and to think about, other than each other.
I really think that access to technology is spinning their social lives (and their dramas) out of control, to new (and not so improved) heights.

I just worry that their brains are frying.
That they won't know how to engage in the world moving forward without a hand held computer.
That they won't make eye-contact anymore or engage in what's going on around them, in real time, in the same way.

That their relationships will suffer.
That they will no longer be pleasant or real.

Gone are the hippie-momma days when I could control screen time, and what my kids ate, and who they played with.

All I can say is READ A FUCKING BOOK Y'ALL, so we don't all evolve into mush.


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