Mother Nature's sewing machine

[hearts will hold ](Jason Mraz)

Yesterday I received another shocking tsunami wave of emotion, turning the corner into S's driveway to see a car that I thought was J's. I think I'm doing just dandy, and I am, but then these break me down for a little bit and I have to take some time to rebuild my oceanfront walls with some new mortar. I have to admit that last night I cuddled a certain stuffed animal in a manner I haven't cuddled one in years-- I didn't even let go in my sleep like I usually would. Then I woke up, agitated, and wrote a poem for the first time since November 30th (I can't believe it's been that long, that's tragic.) I haven't re-read it again, so I don't know if it's any good or not; I presume it's the usual caliber of the poetry I write when it's been a while (i.e. poor; it takes me a while to get back into the swing of it.) Needless to say, I'm experiencing a bit of tumultuous sensation this morning.


On a completely different note, Friday was a trip. I went dancing with SJ again. One thing I love about doing that is that as of yet I have not changed my clothes from what I was wearing all day (aside from removing layers), there's been no aspect of cultivation of a certain impression. In the past, my dressing up/manipulation of impression management (to be all social anthropology on it) has kind of annoyed me, as it usually does when I feel like I'm changing myself to please others (not that me dressing up is expressly changing anything about myself, since I do that anyway, but if I decide against something I love just to upkeep some impact I believe I'm having with one style, it's not true.) What I mean to say is that I've been dressing myself, from one spectrum to the other, and being accepted (will revisit this.) Anyway, Friday night. As with most of my interactions, there was a teensy bit of awkward to begin with, which-- as the dancing commenced-- soon dissipated. There was a little bit of rope, but only for a minute, and a chain for a quick second too, but nothing like the other night (the prospect itself was pretty exciting, though.) It was still amazingly hot though, especially when I finally figured out that he was packing (oh man. There were a couple of times where we might as well have been fucking in the middle of the dance floor. It felt obscene [and so, obviously, I enjoyed it even more. hehe]) A few times, in between or during dances, the way he said 'fuuuck' or shook himself as if my hotness was too much to take made me play certain things up even more (yes, I am a tease.) Later, as we were saying goodbye, we were both so worked up-- he had me growling-- I was about ready to fuck anywhere, but it was not going to happen. We did make a tentative plan to meet next week, though, when he'll be house-sitting for someone...

Saw S last night, wonderful hugs ensued. As I came home yesterday I realized that I expect people to get tired of me, or that I will always be more enthusiastic about them than them about me. I suppose it's social paranoia that's a hangover from middle school/high school drama, but it seems odd that it's such a strong feeling, though I have plenty of evidence to support the idea that I am a lovable person and an enjoyable one to have around. I keep feeling like any day now they're going to find the "real me"/some reason to not like me, latch on that, and it will all fall into the same familiar pattern of dodging. I recognize that this is a somewhat unfounded fear, but it's interesting to observe.

Also, (unrelated) I have noticed that my appreciation of electronic music increases with proportion to my age. My hypothesis is that happens in many people, but the basis has to be from quite a dislike of electronic-based music (or maybe just what techno I encountered in Italy at ages 6-10) for any comparison to be made.

Another thing of note that occurred yesterday: As I was walking with G&AD and S&C (grouped according to who was holding hands) I acknowledged that sometime in the past I would have been made to feel lonely in that situation. Instead, I felt fine, felt like I didn't desperately need to have anyone to hold hands with right now.
(Later, we all held hands, that was pretty cute.)

Is it May Day?

Because there are red flags everywhere today.

So. Date with Sy was okay, better than I thought. We went to dinner at R. Thomas, which is kind of a kooky place but I was tired of all the usual places. I had convinced myself that she was more unattractive than she is, so that was a pleasant surprise (hey, I know it's shallow, but I also know how dancing can cause me to make some very bad choices, and I don't just mean looks-wise.) She got me to talk, which can sometimes be a feat. But there were a couple of things that make me even less than enthused about dating her:
1)She only orders the chicken, wherever she goes, and she cooks it at home, too. Even when I ate meat, I thought that chicken was boring. Signs point to lack of adventure= bigs points lost.
2)She said she can't do anything without a schedule, and balks at spontaneous plans. *red flashing lights* I need to be spontaneous, I am somewhat of a "free spirit", that just happens to habitually lock herself in a study-mad schedule.
3)Insecure texting/communication patterns: she texted me earlier today saying that she had a great time and that she hoped to see me again soon... and I, not sharing quite the enthusiasm, put off replying to her. Then, after I return to my piles of clothes, books, and papers that I call my room, I see that I have a text asking if I received the one she sent earlier. A bit too intense for me. (Although, if I were into her more, it probably wouldn't be. As is, I'm a little irritated by it. It's like clinginess before even going out.) This, in combination with her possessive swooping in after my one song of dancing with SJ that night, makes me more than a little wary.
Clearly, I'm not really wanting to date her. But, I also suck at turning people down, and don't really know how-- at least, not face to face. I'm thinking that I don't really have a lot of time to meet up with her anyway, so it's not going to be a huge issue, but I need to be able to just freaking say shit like this, so I'm going to think of how to phrase it. *shrug* I'm not really that bothered about it, though, which is just kind of indicative how tepid I feel on the whole matter.
So far, my experience of dating is a little iffy. But that may be because I'm pretty picky about who I want to spend vast amounts of time with. I'm good for short flings-- in that case, I don't have to be crazy about people-- but there are relatively few people that I actually get mad for. That's when I get scary and obsessive and fall hard. I don't know that I ever 'pick myself up' from those falls, either. I feel like I keep a little piece of my heart reserved for those special people (maybe that I have always ended things on a good note is part of that.) Fortunately for me (and other people, I guess), I have a very large heart. I wonder if I settle down with someone, if that someone will have the last reserved parking space in my heart. I wonder if that's possible :P I love to infinity? (Funny, not too long ago I was grappling with whether I believe in love or not. JB wrote some awesome stuff on that, which I will re-post sometime soon.)
"My heart won't stay entirely in this ribcage" -The Weepies, "Take it From Me" (did you really think I'd go one post without a song reference in some capacity? ha.)

Then somebody loves you just enough

(Bernard Fanning, from Powderfinger)

Today was a tough day. I woke up from a dream about being molested (very vivid, extremely disturbing.) to groggily drive to school and sit through chem and bio, all while feeling nauseous and guilty about food and anxiety about the test I have to turn in by Thursday morning. Then I got a text from J (a million minutes late, because the Science Center apparently sucks whatever signal there is along with a few souls.) For the past three weeks I've been diddling along, trying to get on with whatever approximation of living I've been doing. Today, I realized to what extent my ways of coping with saying goodbye involve forgetting. Trying to forget the way it felt, so that I can't compare it to the present; trying to forget that I even met him, that we ever interacted... which is horrible, and really sad. It's not that I actually succeed in the attempts to forget, but after all the goodbyes I've said in my life, why am I unable to look back and reminisce without the poignancy, the nostalgia becoming overwhelming? Why can't I just enjoy the re-hashing of scenes and sensations (insofar as much as possible) without wishing to not be in this moment (which is definitely something I want to avoid)?
With this goodbye, in particular, I have run the gamut (so to speak) of reactions: I've been angry, sad, hurt, and even relieved to some extent (the latter mostly being because I was having trouble focusing on studying, when I need as close to a 4.0 I can get to apply to med school-- so far, I'm at a 3.89, or something.) But today, (and the other day), when I heard from him spontaneously, when I was alerted to the fact that I'm still on his mind despite everything that's going down in a new and exciting place, I was struck. Struck by how much I miss him, by the very fact that I'm important, by how much I was holding back, by the strangeness of my mode of coping, and by how it seems so callous. No wonder I'm afraid of being forgotten, when this is the way I deal with things. I braced myself for a big reaction at the beginning, when I thought I had time to deal with it a little more... but now is when it's hitting me, when it's been three weeks or so. So I try to deal with studying for my tests and struggling with myself for control of anything, when in actuality all I really want to do right now is write and cry and sleep and draw and dream, and then maybe go dancing when I wake up.

Sleeping Rough

(That's the title of a Berhard Fanning song. Yes, it is my first impulse to use song titles and/or lyrics... for much of my communication, not just blog headings.)

Speaking of communication through music, I made J a mixtape. It's just my thing, I guess. I've always communicated through music-- when I say that the first thing that crops up is listening to Cartel on my bed with JB while the sun was rising again, just sitting there and feeling lost and found simultaneously. Every time I hear "If I fail" I think of that night/those days where it finally came together and what it means that it happened. Whether I was wrong to what I did, whether I regret it (which I was, but only because I didn't break up with JF before; and which I don't. Not a whit. [Hi, JB! *blush*])
The next scene that presents itself is sitting in the car with A, on our way to work, with Ben Lee or Bright Eyes or the Shins or the Knife playing-- all of those songs that we communicated in on those awkward and wonderful rides. A's the only other person that I've ever met that communicates in music quite like I do, and we had uncanny coincidences in our music tastes (Powderfinger, the Knife [beyond just Heartbeats]) I wasn't sure of it at the time, but I think that was a pretty awesome mixtape that I made. (Lord knows I've listened to it enough.)
The mix I made for J is not my best, I'm ashamed to admit-- there's much that I forgot to put on there, and the song order's a little iffy. I blame that on my procrastination, though I'd been compiling potential songs for a long time. It's not bad, though. The cover art was fun, too (physics calculations as a base, a leaf sewed on, my usual melted crayons, magnetic poetry, etc.)
With A and J, I know that on some level the making of a mixtape was to allow some sort of feeling of closure-- not necessarily an ending, but something that I'd done to let them know that I'd thought of them. I don't know why I never did that for JB (though I'm working on one now). Maybe it has something to do with not feeling like I really could without being found out (it's not like JF didn't use my computer almost every time he came over) and not feeling like I had a whole lot of music that he didn't already know. That's less of a challenge now, since I've been away so long, but there's still the impulse to put songs I associate with our times together (EMO.) So when I go in May, it should be finished.

*sigh* I guess I'll get to the actual (recent) personal blogging I wanted to do now.

Sunday was a strange day-- woke up to huge snowflakes wafting down (on the 1st of March. In Georgia. I know.) I went to Waffle House for the first time (not all that impressed, but I also wasn't in the mood for anything sweet, and I'm spoiled in terms of my cheese tastes. Not to mention dairy still doesn't sit wonderfully with my stomach. It was more about the company, though.) Then, at night, my first time going to a lesbian bar... being mesmerized by burlesque, laughing hard, being awkward (in a way I do oh so well), dancing, getting a free spanking doled out by a roller derby girl (with the anorexic cousin of a cricket bat) [first for this, too, and I enjoyed it more than I thought I would-- that is to say, rather a lot.] Then to S's futon to help J pack and fall asleep with him and SS. Odd is the best way to sum it all up. Weird and wild and wonderful... and also fringed with poignancy, with a sense of sad inevitability that something important was going to change.

I woke up on Monday morning without an alarm. I did some sad-eyed staring and, as the time to go to class crept up on me fast, I dressed myself and tossed the mixtape onto the bed. I had wanted to give it to him in a better way, but that's all I could bear to do: plop it down and turn my head away as I started to cry. I wanted to run away and cling to him simultaneously. I hate goodbyes. I felt (and feel) bad for feeling sad, since there are happy aspects of him leaving (at least, for him), so it feels selfish to just be sad. I am excited for him, too... but at that time, sadness was primary in my consideration. I didn't say the word 'goodbye', I couldn't do it. Especially because I'd like to pretend/hope there's a chance we'll get to see each other sometime. But in reality, I should have said it, because it will never be quite what it was. Nothing ever is-- I'm not saying that to be melodramatic, it's just true. Time and experiences change a person so much, even from moment to moment. Maybe next time it will be even better, who knows? There's no way to determine that. But we were saying goodbye to something that was then, who we were at that time. Perhaps someday we'll say hello to what we are in the future. Considering my past with saying 'see you later' to people that I'm attached to (A and JB, for example), I'm not hedging my bets (it's been 1 year and 8 months since I've seen JB, 8 months since I've seen A.)
The past few days have been a little numb. I've been distracting myself with studying for my bio test for the most part. I don't quite know what my full reaction is yet, since I've been bottling it (unhealthy, I know, but since when have I been the poster child for good health?) Spring break is next week. I'll have extra time to think about it, which is both good and bad. I have no plans except to take care of H's cat, catch up on schoolwork, and possibly go to Dahloniga for a meditation/yoga thing with JP and M.

Speaking of yoga and mediation, I really need to write Ju and explain some things. I really don't want to, though.

And while I'm on the topic of men I don't want to speak to, JF is pissing me off royally. I can't believe that I spent almost 3 years of my life with someone that is so narrow-minded, so didactic in tone, so unable to listen to me, so condescending. He expects us to get back together when I visit, despite my many explanations to him that I was not happy in our relationship in the end. He seems to still think that it all ended because I moved away, ignores the whole JB thing as if it was just a glitch, as if I had said it was a mistake (which I never did. I said I was sorry for hurting him, but not for what I did.) I'm about tired of his self-centered bullcrap, especially his expectation that he should be "the most important person in England" for me. He even got pouty that I was staying with AB. Those are the very traits that I despair of in my brother's wife. I'm not going to just sit back anymore. He always talks to me as if the way I am now is somehow beneath him, like I've become some degenerate. *deep breaths* Ok, I'm done.

I'm going to go read Watchmen.

Try to make me go to rehab...

Today someone was talking about Amy Winehouse and how she might potentially be sorting herself out because she gave her parents control over her money (or something along those lines. Basically so she can't spend it all on drugs.) The person talking then went on to say that she's never really going to be clean until she learns why she's numbing herself and deals with that.

That's what I'm doing, I'm numbing myself. Why? I'm jealous of the other people included on his adventures, I'm afraid of falling (but who can help that?), and I feel like I'm feeling more for him than he does for me. Wallow, wallow, wallow, I know. This is how I feel. Almost all of today I have been down-- some of it has to do with caffeine crash after yesterday's shenanigans, mixed up with a helping of self-hatred and guilt, but a large part of it is because I know that I don't mean all that much to him, and there's nothing I can do about it. Even just hearing from him for a little bit cheered me up, and then I remembered that he spent last night with some other chick (who I have no hatred against-- in fact, I'm fairly certain she's awesome) and that he's leaving all too soon.

To be entirely honest, I don't know how I'm going to react.

Oh, and another thing: none of this seems real. Any time I leave, the memories fade like the ephemeral nature of dreams-- if I don't write it down, I won't remember it. If I write it down, it's corrupted, edited, changed in a way that I can't reverse. What's the better way to deal? Forget, and lament the passing of my memory as well as whatever this is? Or cling to whatever image of the past I can, fallible as my written accounts are? Isn't it healthier to just move on? Maybe I should attempt to begin this "moving on" process before he goes? Or maybe that will just end up being the same old pushing techniques I demonstrated with J and A and so many others. This is ridiculous. I am ridiculous. I need to live. And if I'm hurting, then I am, and I'll experience it fully.

Go on, hit me where it hurts most.