Weather Underground

August 25, 2009

I made it to the west coast, and it’s freezing. I am actually freezing. I had to borrow some jeans from my mom (yeah, I’m wearing MOM JEANS) because it’s that cold. I assumed “summer” meant shorts and summer dresses, but apparently over here it means mist and 60*.

I did get to sleep with my balcony door open last night. Unbelievably refreshing. I love being back.

Off the grid for a bit. If I’m coming back, it’s with the project I was working on… pre-written and ready for posting…

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Expectation

August 21, 2009

I’ve written this post several times, but what I’ve been able to deduct from it is that I think I’m on the right track, and for once, I’m really standing behind my decision making process.

I guess it all came to a peak last night in a conversation I had with the lovely Josh Pressman, who I hadn’t spoken to in a very long time. I was talking to him about expectations: how I hold people to such high standards, how I tend to try to predict what’s going to happen and how to control the situation before it takes place… I was also kind of skirting around being 100% honest about a situation I am currently facing. I was leaving out crucial details so that he was giving me reasonable advice according to the information I was giving him…

And then I decided that wasn’t fair. Honestly was necessary in order to get the advice/bounceback I needed (I didn’t really need advice, but I expected Josh to probably agree with my direction on this, and sometimes you just need some fucking confirmation that you’re right about these sort of things.)

I dropped a bombshell, and I don’t think I expected his reaction at all. He was shocked, and did that Josh laugh that kind of resonates for a second and you can hear him digesting your words and trying to find something to say but that statement escapes him so he just chuckles and tries to regain control.

Josh definitely did stand behind me… in fact, he definitely reinforce what I was thinking and encouraged me to be less invested in the situation… I take things so seriously and so personally that if I’m not careful, I get swept up into a giant whirlwind of self loathing. Josh told me I wasn’t doing anything wrong, which I kind of needed to hear. He did tell me, however, that I needed to be honest with all parties involved. Sure, I can do that, but the question becomes when, how, and what’s going to happen.

His answer to that was not what I wanted to hear, yet at the same time honest and comforting to a certain extent… it was something along the lines of: If you’re honest, and it fucks shit up, then it’s not meant to be.

He also told me to “have fun and be respectful,” which almost made me fall off my bed I was laughing so hard.

Now that this is all cryptic and confusing, I’m sure little bits and pieces slip through the cracks and I’m a bit vulnerable to a few people reading, but I’m confident that I’m doing the right thing. If I’m doing the right thing, and I’m honest about it, I don’t feel like I can fail.

And if I do, it’s not meant to be, is it?

I leave you with a kersmidgeon of bullshit before vacation brain takes over and I completely neglect writing for a week or so. (This is probably a lie, I told you guys that writing project is coming soon, and according to my calendar, it starts SUNDAY, so I guess stay tuned and that should be up soon…)

Buck 65 – Blood Pt. 2 (ft. Sufjan Stevens)

You’re not bloody swab paradise
You’re golden stars licked to stick
A world with frogs and magic tricks
Floating logs and scissor kicks
And lemonade and sweaty sex
Hug me like I gave you checks
You kiss me like the upper crust
Tell me things to make me blush
Champagne bottle
Bon voyage
A souvenir garage
A melody to make me smile
Not that you’ve been gone a while
A purple medal eighth place
Backlit in a trophy case
Sign that says “For little Ace”
Supportive like an ankle brace
Not bloody cotton swabs and lies
Stolen checks and empty eyes
You’re a county fair in July
Canadian field of wild rye
You kiss me like potted plants
Bite me like fire ants
Touch me like an old stamp
Olive oil and seven lamps
Not stolen cash I’ll pay you back
Bloody paradise attack
Your Sunday at the puppy track
Time to take the long way back
Sweet as the apple of Peru
The inklings of the Eastern Sioux
Not bloody cotton swabs and lies
Stolen checks and empty eyes
But rather

You are the blood
Flowing through my fingers
[That’s what I meant to say
Blood in my fingertips
I couldn’t tell you that it’s the other way]
All through the soil and up in those trees
[You are the blood that I may see you
That I see you
You’re the blood in me
You’re on earth though]

Girl you wake me to the smell of butter
Sunlight shone through wooden shutters
Naked sex and cuffed breast
Early morning back to test
Pouring rain and rubber suit
Cotton socks and rubber boots
I sprint across the parking lot
Cause that day we were unprepared
Dried our socks and on the stairs
Sound of rain is rain in gutters
Lightning seven seconds thunder
A mild snack late evening hunger
DVDs and VCRs
Fish tanks and jelly jars
The storm passes the room ours
The summer times and you move
Safety belt in summer cars
Lightning bugs to die in jars
The air conditioner saving grace
Grass stains and flushed face
Refreshing like a glass of milk
Your shaven legs were like silk
You kiss me like a bon voyage
A secret souvenir collage
Overalls and water parks
T-tops and baby sharks
Dragon rolls and frozen juice
Making out in photo booths
A lovely Saturday night alone
Full of films and baking pies
Not cotton swabs and bloody lies
I’ll pay you back in plastic eyes

You are the blood
Flowing through my fingers
All through the soil
Through those trees

So it’s official…

August 17, 2009

… everyone I know just might read my blog.

I’ve always tried to limit my writing in terms of writing for an audience. I’ve always said I’ve written this for myself – which I have – but I sometimes throw something in that I know just ONE person will understand or a small group will laugh at. These are the things that connect us, and the fact that my words have that capability scares the shit out of me.

I have a growing fear about relationships with men in my life. I’ve noticed a horrifying pattern that started happening since Sophomore year of college, and only have I slightly strayed from that cycle. There is a lack of progress in this department, and I’m beginning to step back and wonder if this is something that I’m going to have to address sooner rather than later. While these men play important roles in my life, I’ve noticed habits that have formed and breaking them will take a lot of patience… or a few good men. Where they are… I don’t know. But I’ve been putting myself out on a limb to find them, which is the least I can do.

I’ve also discovered this little wall I’ve built. It runs along the lines of “I’ll deal with it when it happens” or “I’m going with the flow.” These have been my new catch phrases lately, and they simply mean what their translation implies. However, they are being used as an excuse for bad habits. Classy.

Over the next 2 weeks, it’s unlikely that I’ll write much. If I do, it will be brief, and probably for my own personal amusement. I’ve got a friend in town this week, my birthday party is this weekend, and next Monday I fly off to Oregon for “Operation: Natalie Reboot”… this city really is starting to wear on me.

Back to “overtime.” New questions of the day: what the hell are you gonna do when you grow up, Natalie?

Last night, I stood in a crowd of hundreds, being one of few odd people out for not draping a piece of fabric across myself or sporting a speedo and body paint. I wished I could have jumped into the pool and flung tomatoes across into the crowd. But as a spectator, I may have realized something bigger than what I could have as a participant: maybe this is what we’re supposed to be doing.

An hour of absolute chaos in a group of people determined to have a good time (and bring everyone with them) was exactly what I needed to jump start my rebooting process…

Blast from the Past

August 11, 2009

This is the 5th time I’ve completely deleted this post.

You only get to see what I want you to see. How you interpret that is your insecurity, not mine. I don’t write this for anyone but myself, and if you’re going to jump to a conclusion instead of asking for an explanation, this is never going to work. You’ll drown in your anger and boil over with distrust. I’m not about to have that toxic presence in my life right now.

But god they seep in through the sewers and mutual friends and it’s in the drinking water. I can’t wait to remember what relaxation feels like. I can’t wait to remember what air feels like when it’s not coming out of an air conditioner or an exhaust pipe. I am beyond ready for this vacation, and I feel like this summer has flown by. I’m ready to turn the page. Let’s see what happens.

I am desperately trying to remind myself that this is my dream. That this is what I want.

But I really question what my ultimate goal in life is. Everyone is telling me I’m supposed to be a successful career woman, but my heart doesn’t beat to that rhythm anymore. It’s on it’s own pulse… a new one. One I haven’t deciphered yet.

Can’t I be a receptionist anywhere? Can’t I sleep late and see movies and visit friends anywhere? Why do I have to be here? What makes me need to stay here?

I’m just so homesick. So far from home. Can’t even hop home for the weekend.

I need to get home and reboot and remind myself why I love visiting, but can’t stay.

I love to visit but can’t stay. Noooope. Can’t.

we’ll make this house a home again

Hands

August 6, 2009

Regardless of all the work I’ve been putting in to improve my health, I still can make myself ill with thought. Last night, I was woken up around 3 in the morning by a friend’s text message (no big deal) and was up for about an hour following. But around 5am, my mind started getting carried away with itself… dreaming up my all-too-famous “worst case scenarios” and making my mind go nonstop. I started distracting myself… finished a movie, took a sleeping pill, did some reading. None of it really worked. I forced myself into a coma around 5am. My alarm went off at 8.

I woke up this morning having forgotten why I was upset, and then a trigger made me all tense again. The meds in my system calmed me down a bit, but the sedated nature of my mood today really isn’t the level of office-attentiveness I strive for. While I can numb out my brain to forget important things, they creep back and are itchy, incessant reminders that things are completely out of my control.

Is that the issue? Lack of control? My latest test of strength has been letting go of the fact that I can’t control other people, especially those I really care about; if I do that, it’s instant alienation. And I’ll give myself a bit of credit for keeping that in check lately… I’ve been actively acknowledging those ridiculous expectations, and those that got the worst of it recognize it and are appreciative.

But I can’t control life. I can’t control fate. If I could, wouldn’t everything be better? If I could control one – just fate or the free will of others, wouldn’t the power be back in my hands?

I suppose it all can be taken back to fear. It always is. I’m afraid that everything I’m working for is worthless. Everything I’m invested in is false… a projection. Everything and everyone I love doesn’t feel the same. This insecurity is a woodpecker at my temples, reminding me that there is nothing I can do about it. Nothing at all.

And here we are again.

I’ve been so in my head lately that writing seems like such a chore. I haven’t worked on my novel in weeks although I’ve gotten some wonderful feedback from mentors. Instead my new pipe dream is grad school… we’ll see how that all goes.

I suppose the worst part of all of it is so many balls are in the air, scattered across thousands of miles, and there is absolutely no way I can catch them all myself. It makes me so unavailable to so many people to try to main such a circus act across such a distance. But God, I’m trying. I really am.

It’s times like these that I wish there was a reset button or an override. I need to pause things – stop them – and get a grip. Things are either just so stagnant or so progressive that I am constantly having to stop myself and remind myself of the goal – the endgame. Because that’s all that really matters right? It doesn’t always matter how you get there if you have a goal in mind…

… or is it about the journey? Is it about the process of hitting that goal? Are my priorities all out of whack?

I’m taking a vacation soon in hopes of removing myself from some of the chaos. But the nagging woodpecker at my ear says it’s only going to make it worse.

knock knock knock knock knock knock knock knock
who’s there?

Momma, I’m Comin Home

August 5, 2009

Bought a ticket. Going home at the end of the month.

It needs to happen sooner. Everyone and everything is excruciatingly annoying. Everyone just needs to leave me alone for the next 19 days and I’m sure we’ll all survive.

That’ll Do

August 2, 2009

I think this just might work.

This is the most positive outlook I think I’ve taken in a long time.

I want to go home.

August 1, 2009

Now.