welcome back

Hellooooo out there. "Wait..don't turn the page. I'm not finished. Life is so uncertain.." Lyle Lovett

7/22

Today is July 22nd. I flip to my calendar and see that I have about 3 weeks left.
I had several goals set out for this summer, one of which was to cleanse myself of relationships that weren't working and find someone new. And I am half way there.
My heart is closed to the past and open to the future.

Sometimes I feel the winds of change just around the corner. I see a glint of possibility only to watch them retreat and disappear. Then the measuring stick of comparison comes out. I watch everyone around me happily coupling off, taking fabulous trips and doing exciting things.. and I remain solo. As if asking someone to go out with me isn't hard enough, it is worse to be rejected over and over again.
So, I stopped asking.

I am trying to look forward to an event planned that will be fun. But things just don't seem all that exciting knowing I will be going alone. As much as I love the adventure, I am weary of traveling by myself.

Still, after 2 disastrous trips with guys, I vowed that I won't do that again until he is the right one. THE one.

It has been a disappointing summer on many levels. I suppose this was the summer to let go of the people that were going nowhere in my life and make way for the new.

If only fate could speed up that process.
If only....

looking forward...to the end....

Hello old friend.


It has been a long time. Thought I would catch you up to speed.
I had a dream last night.
Usually I don't remember my dreams, but this was one of those indelible dreams that stays with you for days, if not forever.
I am still uncertain to whether or not it was the end of the world, or just the end of MY world as I know it. Still there was a lot going on with flooding waters, sinking parking garages and people deciding to jump or drown. The freak show that ensued afterward that was my choice of jumping was no picnic, let me tell you. But watching the folks sitting on the sinking concrete disappear into the muddy waters below, was haunting. What does it all mean, I ask you?

Anyway, life buzzes by in such a blur. I spend too much time making plans for things that take relatively no time to do and it is over before I have a chance to enjoy or even reflect upon it. I am currently planning things for January and July and am missing the very things I planned back in December to enjoy now.


Must live in the now, you know?

here I am

I am standing by the river
I will be standing here forever
Tho you're on the other side
My face you still can see
Why won't you look at me
Here l am

Today was a grey, gloomy Sunday here in South-Central Indiana. It's the time of year when folks give up the fight simply because it so damned depressing outside that one can only dream of summertime or kill oneself. The obit. section is littered with the faces of those who were unable to make it til spring.

I have a confession.
I have not posted in months.

But as Emmylou puts it...here I am...



I am searching thru the canyon
It is your name that I am calling
Tho you're so far away
I know you hear my plea
Why won't you answer me
Here I am

I am in the blood of your heart
The breath of your lung
Why do you run for cover
You are from the dirt of the earth
And the kiss of my mouth
I have always been your lover
Here I am

I am the promise never broken
And my arms are ever open
In this harbor calm and still
I will wait until
Until you come to me
Here I am

don't panic

Oh, we're sinking like stones,

All that we fought for,

All those places we've gone,

All of us are done for.



We live in a beautiful world,

Yeah we do, yeah we do,

We live in a beautiful world,

Oh, we're sinking like stones,

All that we fought for,

All those places we've gone,

All of us are done for.



We live in a beautiful world,

Yeah we do, yeah we do,

We live in a beautiful world.



Oh, all that I know,

There's nothing here to run from,

And there, everybody here's got somebody to lean on.

day 24

"There’s a smell here that stands my hairs on end
Dog hair in the heater, gas pumps and cedar
And jackknifes on the nine
and seabirds choked on fishing line.."

I am not sure where I am these days. Day 24 and it's pretty much a done dealio. I have washed my hands of it and am pressing on. And just like all kicked habits, you wonder what in the fuck you were thinking to begin with. The ticker-- it's a delicate organ full of feeling that when shot through with holes you have no choice but to lie there and bleed or harden it again and lose a little more idealism about love, relationships, happiness, truth, trust.

"Clouds say hush but the chainsaws mush on to Custer and Columbia
Salty tentacles shrink in the sun but the red tide is over
The mollusks they have won

There’s a smell here of gravel and cigarettes lit
When the match made them sweet
When the engine turned over and beat up our street.."

Sigh. I will never be okay. I will never be good enough. This is the way it is. How many years has it been now? There is no more changing after trying like hell to change. This is it. This is all there is.

"Oh, that was the day
To remember

I remember because of the fires that leapt
From the caves of the things that have not happened yet
When I think of it now they smell to me quite sinister

I want to go back and die at the drive in
Die before strangers can say
I hate the rain
I hate the rain..."

I miss him

it's been 12 days. Not sure if the rain compounds the lonely feeling or if the flat-out void of a person just blows through me like a winter wind.

so we busy ourselves with life and avoid feeling; we curl our lips at lovers and institutions that no longer work for us; we deny ourselves the purging of feeling and instead congregate with other like-minded, burned individuals who all essentially are looking for the same thing: love.

its always in the fall, too, making it the dreariest, loneliest and hardest of seasons for me.
someone please wake me when its summer again.

by the sea

I used to start with a short stanza of a poem on my blogs. But I have found in the past four or so years that poetry doesn't speak to me anymore. I value the lyrics of my favorite songwriters to divulge their poetry to me and whisper in my earbud. Tweedy says it best-- "music is my savior. and i was maimed/tamed by rock and roll."

It has been a long time. I scanned the old blog-o-sphere and smiled to myself. We have all grown up, thank God. Apart. What a tremendous pontificating went on here. I am glad to say I have made the switch to an even lesser form of the written word by subscribing to the dreaded facebook. Still, it is a way to manage relationships with people that you otherwise would not be communicating. It is easy and fast and well, universal.

I have grown up. I can feel it and I am so glad. It took me long enough though. Pushing 40 I am SO damn glad to be moving on. So--a great summer. I guess it is time for a farewell to summer since we stared back to work last week. I know--it's only the 2nd week of August. People in Indiana are dumb and they need all the learning and re-learning they can get. So--back to werk.

I managed to make time to set goals and achieve all of them this summer. Home improvement, mind, spirit and body improvement and lots of time with the only person that I should focus on: my girl time.

So last summer was the summer of the desert. This was the summer of water. I managed to work my way solo up to Niagara and OT and biked the river out to the falls--50 miles round trip. Never been there-- was lovely and a religious experience passing under the falls in the mists. I loved every minute of it.

I also trekked up to the dunes indiana-michigan for a spiritual immersion. The waters were calling and the northern cool waters won.

I am well. I am centered and grounded and focused and strong. Very strong. I don't take shit from anyone anytime.

It's a great place to be. Can't wait to be 40.

Ciao.

the slow road to recovery

32 days.
The loss of someone whether living or dead always throws me into a strange, empty place. It feels not quite living fully but obviously not functioning well.

As the skies darken, cloud up and prepare for another series of rainstorms, my heart is heavy with feelings of inadequacy as the patterns that appear with each failed relationship resurface. I marvel at the buoyancy of these men who seem to be moving on unfazed by the lack of my presence in their lives. We are fed this line that every person is special and a gift to the world. I don't believe that is true. It seems that some of us are just obstacles, conquests, or just here to guide others but are not ever fully understood, appreciated or loved.
The defense mechanisms we build up to protect ourselves run deep and instead of trusting others or relying on others, it is far safer to step away and remain aloof with our intimacies and feelings.

I am hoping there is some sort of higher purpose for me, as it seems these exchanges with the opposite sex are futile. Yet, as I continue the search for meaning, my heart and mind reflect back to these men--all now happily invested in other relationships--married with children, living together in bliss, soon-to-be-married.

This isn't meant to be a pity party. I am just to the point of questioning why I continue to put myself out there knowing the end result will be the same, again and again.

Guess it's time to find higher ground.

Not Too Late

Tell me how you've been,
Tell what you've seen,
Tell me that you'd like to see me too.

'cause my heart is full of no blood,
My cup is full of no love,
Couldn't take another sip even if I wanted.

But it's not too late,
Not too late for love.

My lungs are out of air,
Yours are holding smoke,
And it's been like that for so long.

I've seen people try to change,
And I know it isn't easy,
But nothin' worth the time ever is.

And it's not too late,
It's not too late for love,
For love,
For love,
For love.

it all comes down to..

..what's going to work right now.

to everything, turn turn turn.

It has been some time since I have had time or even the desire to write.
Granted, I am not a writer by trade. In fact, I suck at it it.
I also feel that writing in this place, under these circumstances dictates that I censor what I write.

I mool over the prospect of writing a memoir someday given the circumstances. Still, I suppose others' have had the same, if not more sordid tales to tell than my tame story.

Call it purging; call it grieving; call it exploiting; call it making peace with myself...it is a book that must be written some day.

Our stories all start out the same. The exposition and rising action follows...but it isn't until the climactic moment and the denouement that our stories diverge.

I have no ping.

10 pm. act 1 run.
After the torture talk on the way home, I decided to make matters worse by reviewing the past and reminding myself of why I am here in the present... staring the future in the face and wanting to change everything.

the tears flow. it has been awhile since I felt anything but exhaustion, rage, rejection, doubt so it is a welcome change.

oh, the holding pattern sucks. as does the disappointment of hope. I lack the skill, the monetary means, the time or drive to make a change.
But I need to. so much. I need to make a change.

I am a failure. I am unworthy. I am a place holder.

Still, I want to understand what about me is not good enough? Why do I remain a single seat in the front row for my favorite show?


I feel cheated and betrayed, lied to and pacified.

When do things start going my way?
How long must I live in this shadow?