This morning:
- I ran 2 miles in 19 minutes
- The Metro New York newspaper lady actually greeted me and complimented my sneakers
- I was able to reframe a potentially upsetting piece of communication as a marker of personal growth
Showing posts with label the past. Show all posts
Showing posts with label the past. Show all posts
3.05.2009
1.27.2009
MHP'ing
Today I was able to diagnose myself with bedbug PTSD following an incident where I spotted a reddish-colored object on my chair, and spent the next half hour freaking out, phantom itching and all.
(It was a stray grain from my 7 grain bread, but still. No such thing as being too vigilant. )
(It was a stray grain from my 7 grain bread, but still. No such thing as being too vigilant. )
12.09.2008
Life's Not Fair
Along time ago (2001), in a galaxy far, far away (Central New Jersey), I was engaged to an *sshole. Of course, at the time, I didn't recognize that he was an *sshole, but hey, hindsight is 20/20, isn't it?
I guess I was a whole lot more gullible at that point in my life, and so I lent said *sshole quite a bit of money. And now, 6 years later, I am in a protracted legal battle to get it back.
Tell me exactly how someone gets away with a blatant disregard for the law? Or how financially irresponsible you have to be to sell 3 buldings at a huge net profit, and still be on the verge of bankruptcy?
Or how it is that this *sshole owns his own home, while I'm living paycheck to paycheck, and cutting out non-essentials like, say, taking taxicabs or buying new clothing for work?
It's enough to make you completely bitter. Or give you an extended case of heartburn.
I guess I was a whole lot more gullible at that point in my life, and so I lent said *sshole quite a bit of money. And now, 6 years later, I am in a protracted legal battle to get it back.
Tell me exactly how someone gets away with a blatant disregard for the law? Or how financially irresponsible you have to be to sell 3 buldings at a huge net profit, and still be on the verge of bankruptcy?
Or how it is that this *sshole owns his own home, while I'm living paycheck to paycheck, and cutting out non-essentials like, say, taking taxicabs or buying new clothing for work?
It's enough to make you completely bitter. Or give you an extended case of heartburn.
2.26.2008
A Long Time Ago We Used To Be Friends, But I Haven't Thought of You Lately At All
The good news is that there is some movement on the legal stuff to get my money back from my ex.
The bad news is that (I think) my favorite burrito place served me up a portion of food poisoning last night.
The bad news is that (I think) my favorite burrito place served me up a portion of food poisoning last night.
1.11.2008
As It Turns Out, The Bedbugs Weren't So Bad
Well, comparatively speaking.
These are my across-the-hall neighbors from my first apartment in New York City. The one with the bedbugs.
Read and, please...enjoy.
These are my across-the-hall neighbors from my first apartment in New York City. The one with the bedbugs.
Read and, please...enjoy.
11.27.2007
Wallace
I just spoke with my ex-boyfriend, T, who told me that they had to put Wallace to sleep yesterday.
Wallace was the dog that T and I owned while we were living in Hoboken, way back in 1996. When we broke up, it was just her and I for a while, until I moved to a place that didn't allow dogs. Luckily, T's family was able to adopt Wallace, and they took excellent care of her for the past 8 years. I didn't see her often, but was glad to get updates and photos from T when he went home for visits.
I still remember meeting her for the first time, a tiny puppy who was all ears, wrapped up in a blanket and shivering. And I just tearfully laughed on the phone with my mom, thinking about the time when Wallace jumped up on our kitchen table and devoured an entire stick of butter before anyone could stop ber (her coat was extra shiny for weeks).
9.11.2007
9-11
As I left B's apartment this morning, still smiling over our morning ridiculousness, I noticed that the construction site outside his building was unusually quiet.
And then I saw the construction workers gathered on the corner, facing south. Some looking at the sky, some looking at the ground...no-one talking.
I still don't have words for that day 6 years ago, so I'm just gonna be as silent as possible.
And then I saw the construction workers gathered on the corner, facing south. Some looking at the sky, some looking at the ground...no-one talking.
I still don't have words for that day 6 years ago, so I'm just gonna be as silent as possible.
7.25.2007
Clearly, I Enjoy Spending Time In My Own Head
My horoscope today:
Lots of thinking going on over here. It's interesting that almost directly after receiving some unsettling news, I met someone, and am now negotiating a new relationship.
There's a weird kind of synergy between ending and starting.
And this new thing is kicking up all sorts of stuff for me - mostly closeness and over-analyzing and pushing someone away without even realizing you are doing it. Because, clearly, he's right there, and he's been open and honest and adult about everything. "I have problems trusting people", I keep telling him, but I'm really only trying to have faith in myself.
Some past dramas are easy to forget, but some are tougher to erase from your mind than they should be. Today you will be reminded of a past situation early in the day, and unsettling feelings will hover around you all day. This is just your subconscious working things out, so let it. Do not try to push these thoughts out of your head. Just let them fade away on their own -- they will. You cannot force yourself to forget something. It just has to go away on its own.
Lots of thinking going on over here. It's interesting that almost directly after receiving some unsettling news, I met someone, and am now negotiating a new relationship.
There's a weird kind of synergy between ending and starting.
And this new thing is kicking up all sorts of stuff for me - mostly closeness and over-analyzing and pushing someone away without even realizing you are doing it. Because, clearly, he's right there, and he's been open and honest and adult about everything. "I have problems trusting people", I keep telling him, but I'm really only trying to have faith in myself.
7.11.2007
Much Love
In the midst of The News (news that is neither good nor bad - it just is) that my ex-fiance is married to the woman he cheated on me with, thanks to:
The Lawyer, who offered to come over and sit in the dark and eat Ben & Jerry's with me;
MS, my very own cheerleader who listed all the ways that I have changed for the better since leaving the ex-fiance;
The Librarian, for asking about my date last night, thus keeping my thoughts somewhat in the present (and HAPPY BIRTHDAY to her, btw.) *and* for researching the character of Joe in 'When Harry Met Sally', hoping to be able to tell me of a fiery death;
DJ, who called last night and left a sweet message to see how I was feeling;
ESB, who texted from San Fransisco to let me know she was thinking about me and sending good thoughts my way;
L, who reminded me that it is okay to be thrown and sad and angry by The News;
My therapist, who left me snuffle into her tissues this morning;
and
Honeychild, who told me that my life being like a movie meant that I was slated for a happy ending.
The Lawyer, who offered to come over and sit in the dark and eat Ben & Jerry's with me;
MS, my very own cheerleader who listed all the ways that I have changed for the better since leaving the ex-fiance;
The Librarian, for asking about my date last night, thus keeping my thoughts somewhat in the present (and HAPPY BIRTHDAY to her, btw.) *and* for researching the character of Joe in 'When Harry Met Sally', hoping to be able to tell me of a fiery death;
DJ, who called last night and left a sweet message to see how I was feeling;
ESB, who texted from San Fransisco to let me know she was thinking about me and sending good thoughts my way;
L, who reminded me that it is okay to be thrown and sad and angry by The News;
My therapist, who left me snuffle into her tissues this morning;
and
Honeychild, who told me that my life being like a movie meant that I was slated for a happy ending.
7.10.2007
Life *Is* Like The Movies
Sally: He just met her... She's supposed to be his transitional person, she's not supposed to be the ONE. All this time I thought he didn't want to get married. But, the truth is, he didn't want to marry me. He didn't love me.
Harry: If you could take him back now, would you?
Sally: No. But why didn't he want to marry me? What's the matter with me?
Harry: Nothing.
Sally: I'm difficult.
Harry: You're challenging.
Sally: I'm too structured, I'm completely closed off.
Harry: But in a good way.
Sally: No, no, no, I drove him away. AND, I'm gonna be forty.
Harry: When?
Sally: Someday.
Harry: In eight years.
Sally: But it's there. It's just sitting there, like some big dead end. And it's not the same for men. Charlie Chaplin had kids when he was 73.
Harry: Yeah, but he was too old to pick them up.
Harry: If you could take him back now, would you?
Sally: No. But why didn't he want to marry me? What's the matter with me?
Harry: Nothing.
Sally: I'm difficult.
Harry: You're challenging.
Sally: I'm too structured, I'm completely closed off.
Harry: But in a good way.
Sally: No, no, no, I drove him away. AND, I'm gonna be forty.
Harry: When?
Sally: Someday.
Harry: In eight years.
Sally: But it's there. It's just sitting there, like some big dead end. And it's not the same for men. Charlie Chaplin had kids when he was 73.
Harry: Yeah, but he was too old to pick them up.
6.04.2007
In The Interest Of Clearing This Out Of My Head
My Engagement, 2001
__________
On a Friday evening, we're drinking margaritas in his sister's small kitchen, looking out at gray skies and trying to summon excitement for the upcoming Memorial Day Weekend. His brother-in-law is ducking out into the drizzle to check the progress of our dinner on the grill.
At one point, he interrupts the silence to ask if he is too old for me, and I feel everyone's head swivel, anticipating my answer. This is an unexpected question, asked lightly, but with layers. There are always layers. I look up at him, trying to gauge his mood. I finally shake my head and smile a little bit, but it doesn't break the tension. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough. I reach out and awkwardly take his hand.
__________
Earlier in the day, at lunch, my co-worker asks about my relationship. She wonders if I love my boyfriend, if we have a future together. I don't trust her, so I order another drink and change the subject. When we get back to work, I realize that I am slightly drunk.
__________
The blender is whirring, preparing another round of drinks. He is unusually attentive - refilling my glass, asking if I have enough to eat. He talks about his temporary job with a landscaper. He is content. I notice that he has showered and shaved in between work and here, and the knowledge of this effort creates a slight rush of affection. Still, I look at his movements and feel like I'm watching from behind a glass wall, completely disconnected.
Saying goodbye is going to be easy.
__________
On Tuesday night, I leave work and travel down the highway toward home. His home, his house, not mine. Never mine. I can't stand the thought of being there, so I pass the exit and continue south, heading toward the ocean.
The awfulness of the day before has brought me to this point. I sit in the parking lot, in my car with the radio off, staring at the waves. This is rock bottom, I think. I care about nothing. For the first time in a long time, I know what I need to do.
When I walk into the house several hours later, I am unconcerned about being late. He meets me in the front hallway. Strangely, he is not angry. He tells me that he was worried, and tries to kiss me. When I walk past him into the kitchen, I see that he has made dinner. There are flowers and a greeting card, demonstrating his apology.
That night, I lie awake in the dark, listening to him snore beside me, planning my escape.
__________
We open champagne, pouring a bit into each plastic cup. Before we drink, he asks everyone to name something they are grateful for. When my turn comes, I know the right answer to give: for my amazing boyfriend, who loves me so much. My delivery is flat. No-one cares.
We toast, and his brother-in-law notices that my boyfriend hasn't said anything.
"Me?", he says, happy to be the center of attention. He draws out the moment. Inwardly, I roll my eyes.
"I'm grateful for this." He takes a jewelers box from his pocket, holding it out to me. I am frozen. I am panicking. All I can think about is the absurdity of getting engaged while wearing baggy carpenter jeans and a ratty t-shirt. I take the box and open it. A perfect diamond, the one I've always wanted. Without knowing why, I slip the ring on my finger. (After, when I can be private with my thoughts again, I will remember that he had to be prompted to ask The Question. I'd been obedient for so long. Why would he even need to ask to be mine?) His family erupts in celebration.
I am not present. No-one cares.
__________
The ring feels foreign to me. Heavy. I am afraid. We are linked, he and I, in some kind of awful dance, playing itself out over and over again.
__________
On a Friday evening, we're drinking margaritas in his sister's small kitchen, looking out at gray skies and trying to summon excitement for the upcoming Memorial Day Weekend. His brother-in-law is ducking out into the drizzle to check the progress of our dinner on the grill.
At one point, he interrupts the silence to ask if he is too old for me, and I feel everyone's head swivel, anticipating my answer. This is an unexpected question, asked lightly, but with layers. There are always layers. I look up at him, trying to gauge his mood. I finally shake my head and smile a little bit, but it doesn't break the tension. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough. I reach out and awkwardly take his hand.
__________
Earlier in the day, at lunch, my co-worker asks about my relationship. She wonders if I love my boyfriend, if we have a future together. I don't trust her, so I order another drink and change the subject. When we get back to work, I realize that I am slightly drunk.
__________
The blender is whirring, preparing another round of drinks. He is unusually attentive - refilling my glass, asking if I have enough to eat. He talks about his temporary job with a landscaper. He is content. I notice that he has showered and shaved in between work and here, and the knowledge of this effort creates a slight rush of affection. Still, I look at his movements and feel like I'm watching from behind a glass wall, completely disconnected.
Saying goodbye is going to be easy.
__________
On Tuesday night, I leave work and travel down the highway toward home. His home, his house, not mine. Never mine. I can't stand the thought of being there, so I pass the exit and continue south, heading toward the ocean.
The awfulness of the day before has brought me to this point. I sit in the parking lot, in my car with the radio off, staring at the waves. This is rock bottom, I think. I care about nothing. For the first time in a long time, I know what I need to do.
When I walk into the house several hours later, I am unconcerned about being late. He meets me in the front hallway. Strangely, he is not angry. He tells me that he was worried, and tries to kiss me. When I walk past him into the kitchen, I see that he has made dinner. There are flowers and a greeting card, demonstrating his apology.
That night, I lie awake in the dark, listening to him snore beside me, planning my escape.
__________
We open champagne, pouring a bit into each plastic cup. Before we drink, he asks everyone to name something they are grateful for. When my turn comes, I know the right answer to give: for my amazing boyfriend, who loves me so much. My delivery is flat. No-one cares.
We toast, and his brother-in-law notices that my boyfriend hasn't said anything.
"Me?", he says, happy to be the center of attention. He draws out the moment. Inwardly, I roll my eyes.
"I'm grateful for this." He takes a jewelers box from his pocket, holding it out to me. I am frozen. I am panicking. All I can think about is the absurdity of getting engaged while wearing baggy carpenter jeans and a ratty t-shirt. I take the box and open it. A perfect diamond, the one I've always wanted. Without knowing why, I slip the ring on my finger. (After, when I can be private with my thoughts again, I will remember that he had to be prompted to ask The Question. I'd been obedient for so long. Why would he even need to ask to be mine?) His family erupts in celebration.
I am not present. No-one cares.
__________
The ring feels foreign to me. Heavy. I am afraid. We are linked, he and I, in some kind of awful dance, playing itself out over and over again.
5.07.2007
Mantastic!
Friday night got a little bit ugly when MS, Groom and I found ourselves in a local sports bar, devouring a platter of fried food and mocking the nicknames on the back of a softball team's jerseys (for some reason "Clutch" inspired particularly virulent derision).
And then, in the midst of our ridicule, we looked over and realized that this was JP's softball team. Which meant that A. was there.
(Here's the A. summary that I provided for Groom on Friday night: 'Dated briefly, abruptly blew me off only to call three weeks later to explain that he had rediscovered his Judaism, and was already dating other women, but might be open to dating me at a later time, should his religious preferences change.')
Ugh. So I debated for a bit, knowing that it would be better if I made the first move, but also aware that I was 4 vodka-and-sodas in, and not entirely coherent. I also spent that time begging (in vain) for MS and Groom to not be so blatantly obvious in their attempts to check him out, having never met him while we were dating.
Finally, I just sucked it up and went to talk to him. Which wasn't as bad as it could have been, but wasn't entirely comfortable either. Let's put it this way: I was giving myself the internal 'shut up' command several times during the conversation, and there were lapses of silence, and maybe some not-entirely-covert looks exchanged among the softball team.
Between the J. situation, and the JP mess (which I can't even get into) and then this awkwardness with A. and the utterly bad idea of going out with MySpace guy - I think it's time to take a dating break for a while. All signs point to disaster.
And then, in the midst of our ridicule, we looked over and realized that this was JP's softball team. Which meant that A. was there.
(Here's the A. summary that I provided for Groom on Friday night: 'Dated briefly, abruptly blew me off only to call three weeks later to explain that he had rediscovered his Judaism, and was already dating other women, but might be open to dating me at a later time, should his religious preferences change.')
Ugh. So I debated for a bit, knowing that it would be better if I made the first move, but also aware that I was 4 vodka-and-sodas in, and not entirely coherent. I also spent that time begging (in vain) for MS and Groom to not be so blatantly obvious in their attempts to check him out, having never met him while we were dating.
Finally, I just sucked it up and went to talk to him. Which wasn't as bad as it could have been, but wasn't entirely comfortable either. Let's put it this way: I was giving myself the internal 'shut up' command several times during the conversation, and there were lapses of silence, and maybe some not-entirely-covert looks exchanged among the softball team.
Between the J. situation, and the JP mess (which I can't even get into) and then this awkwardness with A. and the utterly bad idea of going out with MySpace guy - I think it's time to take a dating break for a while. All signs point to disaster.
4.25.2007
Burn This Motha Down!
Wikipedia, "Scorched Earth" entry:
Roiphe, New York Magazine:
(And seriously, I know that these are sourced wrongly. I'm out of practice since grad school ended. Bite me. I will, however, apologize for the randomness of this post.)
Along with the sickness and the race anxiety, and the other anxieties, I've been thinking a lot about tearing down, specifically related to the Ex Fiance. I'm not sure why he's cropping up now - perhaps because April is the time that I finally left for good, for the last time. Or maybe it's because the half-marathon is near our old neighborhood, and I half expect to see his face (or other faces that I left behind) along the race route.
Mainly, though, it's about that wonderful, ugly tendency/propensity of mine to destroy. There's something ultimately thrilling and terrible about watching yourself tear down your life - it's so extreme - yet, all of the times that I've done this, I can recall a detached numbness, followed by intense joy. How else can you describe the feeling of issuing a gigantic FUCK OFF to all of your carefully laid plans?
I don't know why I let the bullshit get to me, when really, all I should be leery of is the halfway.
A scorched earth policy is a military tactic which involves destroying anything that might be useful to the enemy while advancing through or withdrawing from an area. Apparently a translation of Chinese 焦土 (Jiao Tu), the term refers to the practice of burning crops to deny the enemy food sources, although it is by no means limited to food stocks, and can include shelter, transportation, communications and industrial resources...
Roiphe, New York Magazine:
There is something that happens when you burn your entire life down. The feeling is raw, close to the bone, jangly, nervous, productive.
(And seriously, I know that these are sourced wrongly. I'm out of practice since grad school ended. Bite me. I will, however, apologize for the randomness of this post.)
Along with the sickness and the race anxiety, and the other anxieties, I've been thinking a lot about tearing down, specifically related to the Ex Fiance. I'm not sure why he's cropping up now - perhaps because April is the time that I finally left for good, for the last time. Or maybe it's because the half-marathon is near our old neighborhood, and I half expect to see his face (or other faces that I left behind) along the race route.
Mainly, though, it's about that wonderful, ugly tendency/propensity of mine to destroy. There's something ultimately thrilling and terrible about watching yourself tear down your life - it's so extreme - yet, all of the times that I've done this, I can recall a detached numbness, followed by intense joy. How else can you describe the feeling of issuing a gigantic FUCK OFF to all of your carefully laid plans?
I don't know why I let the bullshit get to me, when really, all I should be leery of is the halfway.
8.13.2006
History and Mystery
At what point do you talk about your past with the person you are dating? When can you be sure that your ugliness/their pity won't permanently frame the way that this person sees you? Do you really want to look into someone's eyes and know that they're seeing the person that was? How much of that girl is hidden until you tell them? When do you stop erecting the walls and dancing out of reach? Can you trust them? Can you trust yourself?
In any event, it's too complicated to figure out tonight...
In any event, it's too complicated to figure out tonight...
6.08.2006
Anniversary
My wedding would have been four years ago today, had not my long-absent common sense intervened and compelled me away from what would have inevitably been a nightmarish marriage. Nonetheless, this is a strange sort of anniversary for me. I'm sitting here thinking about all that has happened since June 8, 2002.
I will choose to spend the day celebrating that narrowly-dodged bullet...
I will choose to spend the day celebrating that narrowly-dodged bullet...
1.25.2006
The Persistence of Memory
Two of us, each on a treadmill. We're subtly competing with each other, inching the speed higher and higher. I wouldn't figure out that we were competing, or why, until later. Much later. I can be so stupid sometimes.
__________________
Only slightly out of breath, she asks me how I feel about my fiance joining the fire department. Do I worry about him getting hurt? Not coming home? (He'd already started not coming home, for reasons that I couldn't discuss with myself, or my friends or my family. Certainly not her.)
I answer, casually, something about wanting him to be happy, and fate and love.
We keep running, her perfect blond hair streaming behind her, her strides even and sure.
__________________
Weeks later: we laugh at you.
He's drunk, but calm. This is because he's already yelled, and thrown things, and ripped my engagement ring off my finger. He looks at me, triumphant. He knows how to hurt: we laugh at you.
The answer that I gave without thinking has been dissected and thrown back at me. Too late, I understand why she asked me.
We laugh at you. I guess it was funny.
__________________
Only slightly out of breath, she asks me how I feel about my fiance joining the fire department. Do I worry about him getting hurt? Not coming home? (He'd already started not coming home, for reasons that I couldn't discuss with myself, or my friends or my family. Certainly not her.)
I answer, casually, something about wanting him to be happy, and fate and love.
We keep running, her perfect blond hair streaming behind her, her strides even and sure.
__________________
Weeks later: we laugh at you.
He's drunk, but calm. This is because he's already yelled, and thrown things, and ripped my engagement ring off my finger. He looks at me, triumphant. He knows how to hurt: we laugh at you.
The answer that I gave without thinking has been dissected and thrown back at me. Too late, I understand why she asked me.
We laugh at you. I guess it was funny.
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