getting high

Darling friends,

It's so easy for me to psychoanalyze everyone else--peel away their layers like the skin of an onion, exposing who they really are.   And yes, even sometimes then I still stay.  I have to live with myself forever, and so I hesitate to analyze myself.  But, last night, I think I did a pretty good job at unraveling a really crucial layer.  


Allow me to try and walk you through this. . . 


Happiness is a fleeting moment.
Inner joy is eternal.


I do not have inner joy.
So, I seek out happiness like a cocaine addict seeks out a high-- obsessively, anxiously.  It is all consuming. 


I act impulsively, always looking for that high, to suck in that temporary happiness--breathe it in, let it overwhelm my body--knowing fully that it will leave, and I will be left sullen, panicked, waiting for the next high.  


Therefore, when any opportunity comes my way, where there is the possibility of feeling that high. . . I take it, of course.  Sometimes, it is  self-detrimental, and I end up unraveling the tangled mess of my impulsivity.  Hurting myself, and hurting others.


The problem:  I do not know how to do it any other way.  I don't know how to find "inner joy," so I can stop seeking the happiness high.  I do not know, especially, how to find God.


Maybe, he is already carrying me.


Love Always,

it's 11:11

Dear friends,

I turn over at night, thinking, wishing, hoping, dreaming.  I toss and turn and turn and toss for hours. 11:11.  1:30.  3:30.  5:00.  The sun greets me waving its warming beams into my sheer curtains like some haunting of happiness.  


I just need a little more room to breathe.  I'm drowning, suffocating in the wild roller coaster of decisions.  I want to rip off the blinders, and be free.  Oh, freedom the little licks of you I taste on my tongue are so satisfying, so beautiful, so welcoming.  But, I choose the blinders don't I?  And then I laugh.  Oh, me.  You are so reckless.  You should wizen up--and then I don't.  Ignorance is bliss, so they say.  For a while it is, and then the daunting task of unraveling the tangled stings of a million dumb moments eats your heart out.  But, isn't it all worth it?  Sitting there detangling the strings, because sometimes they speak back.  Sometimes, maybe, it just might not be tumultuously dumb.  Or maybe it is more than just that.  More than black or white.  More than right or wrong.  But, some shade of effervescent gray.  My gray world.  


"In my big dreams I wake up lying in a patch of four leaf clovers."  ~something corporate. 


So, I just lay there. . . thinking, wishing, hoping, dreaming. . . wishing, wishing on a thousand universes.   And then the sun in it's warming light welcomes me--births me into the turbulent day, like a baby being welcomed into the world.  Damn you, light.  Sometimes I just want to lay there in the darkness of another night.

(photos by maria)

Good night,

flowers and magic and love and bliss

Darling friends,

I think I am afflicted with what some religious scholars refer to as "Slumber Party Theology."  When I think of God I think of butterflies, and love, and flowers, and happiness, and bliss, and life, and stars, and magic.  Yes, even magic.  I've never been "afraid" of God.  Am I supposed to be?  It's all over the Bible... it's all over church... the awesome fear of God.  But, do I fear God.  No.  I never have.  It's always flowers and magic and love and bliss.  

Is that why I have big dreams?  I am such a dreamer.  I want so much out of life--I want everything--so much in fact, I'd probably--realistically--have to live 10,000 lives to do everything I want to do, I want to be, I want to experience, everything I want to live, I want to love.  Oh, do I want to love, and be loved.  To feel the sun from both sides--the warmth--the heat--the fire, like a strike of lightening, blue energizing glow surrounding my soul, my body, my heart, me...me...me


Is this why I'm selfish?  Probably.  Because I want.  I want.  I want.  I need.  I.  I.  I.  And for God sakes...love! Ultimately in life, we act selfishly.  We do what suits our own lives.  Bless, with a thousand universes those who act out of pure selflessness.  I used to think I was selfless that I do everything for everyone else--and mostly I think I do.  But, when it's big enough, when push comes to shove I will act in my own best interest... and damn everything else!  

"It all goes away. Eventually, everything goes away."  So says Liz.  Yes, ultimately the good the bad...the long nights, the blissful days.  They end.  All of them.  Everything.  I close my fist hard around the good moments, and watch as the sweet sand slips through.  Always, always it fall through the cracks.


Today, I read:


"Nobody amongst us is shown the endgame.  Devotion is diligence without assurance.  Faith is a way of saying, 'Yes, I pre-accept the terms of the universe and I embrace in advance what I am presently incapable of understanding.  There's a reason we refer to 'leaps of faith'--because the decision to consent to any notion of divinity is a mighty jump from the rational over to the unknowable.... If faith were rational, it wouldn't be--by definition--faith.  Faith is belief in what you cannot see or prove or touch.  Faith is walking face-first and full-speed into the dark.  If we truly knew all the answers in advance as to the meaning of life and the nature of God and the destiny of our souls, our belief would not be a leap of faith and it would not be a courageous act of humanity; it would just be... a prudent insurance policy.  I just want God.  I want God inside me.  I want God to play with my bloodstream the way sunlight amuses itself on water."  ~Eat Pray Love 


So, God... carry me.  Dance inside my bloodstream.  While I don't want to know the endgame (because what fun would that be--after all).  I want some guidance.  I want you to help me cross that threshold into the joy of life, of living, of love, of adventure, of passion, of happiness... of bliss and butterflies and flowers and love and magic. 


Love Always,

all in

Darling friends,

I have to remind myself that in terms of the relationship I have with myself--I'm all in for life.  Which is why even though this new Lifehouse song, that I love, speaks of a relationship between two people.  I see it as a relationship with myself too.   Because. . . 


There's no way I'm giving up this time.
I have to remember who I am without giving in to who I think someone wants me to be.


There's nothing left to hide, I'm falling harder than last time.  
I have to remember that even when I'm falling hard, letting my hands off the handlebars maybe really dangerous.  I have to pause. 


Even if I lose the game, I'm all in.  
I'm with myself always... when I win...when I lose.  I'm with me for life.  So, I should sure as hell love myself.


I have to remember who I am.  Pause.  I have to be careful not to lose myself again. 





Love Always,

cloths, albums, and bing

Darling friends,

While I was home during the week my mom exercised her amazing sewing talent.  Ever since I was a little girl I remember my mother's sewing machine as a sound of comfort.  After she had put us kiddies to bed, she would sew bibs for her business--and I would fall asleep listening to the sound of her ambition.

 

 Mom bought a bunch of flour cloths (I think that's what they're called), and some really adorable cupcake fabric to sew a little applique.  I watched as she carefully ironed each piece of fabric, sewed it to the cloth, and delicately added pretty bows to the folded center of each.

Last night, I got the pictures I ordered from Rachael's wedding in the mail.  I purchased a 200 photo album a week or so ago for these photos.  Before beginning my day today, I organized the pictures and then put them into the album.  I actually ran out of space--I couldn't include the "after-party," but perhpas it is better that those pictures are left out 

Today, I am back visiting my cousin Sarah at her medical town =).  We always have so much fun.  This was a very spontaneous visit, in which I decided to leave upon receiving an early morning text message from her asking to visit.  Here I am!! We had a delicious fish dinner, prepared by Sarah.  This was her first time making fish by herself--I told her as long as we didn't die, I'm sure it would be delicious--and it was, and we're still here haha!  

Time to go walk to Friendly's for ice cream.  We have a big day planned tomorrow!  Stay tuned.

                              Love Always,

who am I? I am That.

Dearest friends,

I've been questioning myself a lot lately.  I suppose the psychoanalysis classes I took in college don't help this situation much...or maybe they do.  I've kind of been on this roller coaster of emotions as of late, extreme bouts of happiness and then sadness and then hills of happiness again... and then oh look, plunge to sadness--where you want to throw your hands up in the air and say "woooo yeah, I am ready for this plunge," and then you end up chickening out.  But, oh,  once you hit that peak and your waaayyyy up there; the plunge is inevitable.  And the worst part--you see it. 

My mom seems to think that this is because happiness is fleeting--which it is--and that it is only when you have inner joy that you are truly "happy" all of the time.  Life isn't Disney World--of course.  And I mean, I know this.  She said sometimes it's as simple as telling yourself to be joyful.  But, I've tried like I'll get this burst of happiness and run out to go and get my Starbucks venti passion fruit iced tea, and I'm so happy, and then when it's gone I'm a little sad--not like someone died sad, but sad at the moment's end.  Or maybe disappointed is the better word?

So, I've been trying to discover who I am, which seems to be part of the key to "inner joy."  Who am I?  I have apparently no friggen clue.  I mean, I think I know, but then I start wondering if that's REALLY me or if that's society's influence on who I thought I should be... or is that really just a glimmer of my friends or my family, or whatever.  And I wonder if I'm so buried in this life that the REAL me will never "stand up."  Then, I start wondering if that's why I'm so attached to my name--my full name (first and last).  In my old relationship I explained that it would be difficult for me to change my name when I get married because it's me, and I'd probably go through this period of loss--and it made me panic a little inside.  Is this feeling because my name first, middle, last is the only thing I have to identify "me."  Because that's the ONLY thing I have concretely showing "this is me, this is who I am."  Maybe.  I don't know.  And then, when I'm thinking all these things I just want to tell my mind to shut up!  Like I don't care!  


My mom says I need to talk to God, apparently another key to "inner joy."  But, I really don't know how.  You would think talking to God would come naturally for me given the familial household in which I grew up.  Nope.  Aside from praying, usually selfishly, I really don't know what I'm doing.  So, I think tomorrow morning I'm going to meditate using a mantra.  Ham-sa.  Which in Sanskrit means "I am That."  Apparently, according to Liz  "Ham-sa is the most natural mantra, the one we are all given by God before birth.  It is the sound of our own breath....  As long as we live, every time we breathe in or out, we are repeating this mantra.  I am That.  I am with God.  I am an expression of God, I am not separate, I am not alone, I am not this limited illusion of an individual.  Meditate on whatever causes a revolution in your mind." 


Tomorrow, I go to war--with my mind.
Love Always, 

the excess noises of a nice day

Dearest Friends,


I'd like to start by saying that the person who's apartment is up against my kitchen wall has been blaring video games since early this morning, apparently they have nothing better to do with this gorgeous day.  It makes it very difficult to peacefully post.  I can hear the surround sound of their games OVER my computer music.  So, I had to shut off my music because it was just too much noise.  It's giving me a headache!  


It's an absolutely beautiful day!!!  It boggles my mind how some people would rather spend it inside shooting at fake cartoon people on their television screen.  And the sound, oh, the sound!!! I can feel the vibrations of the base in my skull.  I absolutely cannot take it.  I have been super close to exiting my unit walking to the front of my building and knocking on these peoples door.  But, what good would that do? Except probably piss them off, and incite them to blare the noise louder.  It's soooooooooooo obnoxious.  


And now, someone is revving their motorcycle.  Seriously!?!?!?  WTF!!!

But, today, is a GREAT day because in almost exactly 1/2 an hour one of my best best best friends from high school is coming over!! I haven't see her in what seems like FOREVER!!!  She got engaged this past winter, and I have yet to see the ring.  I cannot wait to see her!  We are going to have a blast, I will post about our visit tomorrow!!  


Have a gorgeous day and try to tune out the excess noises!


Love Always,

five years later

Dearest Brandon,


I didn't think I would be able to bring myself to write this post; I thought it would be too difficult, but I'm figuring as it is almost the end of July it is either now or never.  I'm sorry it took me so long.  

I cannot believe it was five years on July 10th, five years since the glass of invincibility I had lived my life under came shattering down.  Five years since I was given the heartbreaking news that you had been in a fatal car accident.  


We had a tumultuous relationship, you and I--one that was obviously not meant to be--full of drama, sorrow, extreme bliss, but one that also collapsed friendships.  The friendship between you and my sister is one that haunts her because she never was able to make peace with you.  I know though that you hear her.  

...because I know you hear me.   You know I struggle with death, and after-life, and all that comes to be--and you know it frightens me, but you help me.  The night you died I felt your presence in my bedroom, it was so strong, your presence there.  I knew, if I opened my eyes I would see you, but I was too afraid.  I squeezed them shut, and waited for your presence to pass because I was scared.  I recall how obvious the difference was to me--you being there and then you being gone.  How I've wanted many times over to go back to that moment and get one last glimpse of your dazzling face, and mostly the chance to say goodbye.  Perhaps, that is why you try and try again to reach me in my dreams.

I remember telling you once that my grandmother scares me when she visits me in dreams because she just appears.  And I know she's not supposed to really be there because she is not alive.  Is that why you call me before you come into my dreams?  So that I wont be frightened?  Thank you!  I love when you visit.  It's been a long time!  Come back soon!  The first time you visited my dreams, you called me to "warn me" you were coming.  Then, sat down to tell me you were alive and well... this gives me hope that we are alive in death--as paradoxical as that may seem.  

I'm writing this because it has been five years, and I want you to know that I think of you still... often.  Sometimes I feel your presence in my car, or I pass by the smell of your cologne and my pheromones go crazy.  I try to be still at these moments, and ever so quiet--listening, if only I could hear you.  On the 4th I drove up rt 30A... a place I had not been in a long, long time.  The wreath I made you is the only marker still left, hanging from the tree almost camouflaged into it--all the color gone from the flowers, and our pictures and notes disintegrated.  I'm glad I took a picture of the notes, so the memories linger long after they have been carried off by the wind. I looked at the wreath, marveled that it was still there, and promised to make you a new one.  Then, I prayed, silently--allowing myself to be overcome with emotion at this place where you took your last natural breath in life.  I allowed myself to be overcome with the love so many people once and still feel for you.

Be at peace my dear Brandon.
I love you always,

desire is the design flaw

Dear friends,

I started India last night.  This is the second third of Eat Pray Love.  I am in love with this section because already it has got me thinking.  

In her 38th bead Liz talks about Yoga.  I've only ever participated in Yoga once.  I was in middle school, clearly much too young to appreciate the value of this ancient practice.  It was my favorite choice in gym class for two reasons:  first, it allowed me to get out of playing basketball (which I hated most), and "all we had to do" was stretch and lay on the floor in the dark listening to classical music.  Obviously the meditative part of this was lost on me--or never explained because our culture fears and forbids conversation of anything deemed religious--especially in school.  So, instead of clearing my mind and finding my balance I lay on the floor thinking about whatever boy I currently was crushing on, a chronic condition of my life.

I still don't know anything about meditation over ten years later.  When I have tried I fall asleep or boredom kicks in--perhaps, I don't know how to do it, how to clear my head of toxic thoughts and let the universe rush in.

Liz explains Yoga,which comes from the root word yuj meaning "to yoke," to attach yourself to a task at hand with ox-like discipline. "And the task in yoga is to find union--between mind and body, between the individual and God, between our thoughts and the source of our thoughts... It is a dedicated effort to haul your attention away from your endless brooding over the past and your nonstop worrying over the future so that you can seek, instead, a place of eternal presence from which you may regard yourself and your surroundings with poise."  Oh, to be able to do this.  Sometimes, I think I am, or wonder if I'm just "faking" living in the present.  And I do this so very well.  I think I fake it so well that I trick my mind into a state of transcendent bliss.  This doesn't always last because I inevitably go back to dwelling over past events or worrying over future plans.  How do I live in a perpetual state of "now?"  

She also says that we need to try to disentangle the built-in glitches of the human condition, which "I'm going to over-simply define here as the heartbreaking inability to sustain contentment."  Liz's psychologist friend describes it as "desire is the design flaw."  I thought about this, and yes, none of us are happy/content all of the time.  In fact, most of us are probably content less than half of the day--though I personally strive for more than that.  Is desire really to blame for this?  Desire does certainly complicate things.  I desire so many things in life, and perhaps the realistic fact that I wont obtain all that I want would cause me to be unsatisfied or unfulfilled?  But, as we grow up our desires change.  Desire is one of the supreme factors that motivate us to do awesome things in life, to pursue seemingly impossible dreams.  We cannot live without desire.  We wouldn't be human without desire.  Even a shadow of desire moves us.  Changes us.  Leads us.  Maybe, we sacrifice a perpetual state of happiness for the ability to desire.  

Dream always, desire always, love always,

passion fruit with a side of good life

Darling friends,

Last night, after my delicious dinner I was elated.  And, like One Republic sings "when you're happy like a fool let it take you over."  It was a beautiful night--the perfect state of warmness.  I threw on my new red sweatshirt from Gilly Hicks, jumped in my car, and raced to find an open Starbucks.  I was unsuccessful.  But, on this journey of happy joy riding I ended up behind a group of people in their Jeep, with the top down of course.  They had their hands in the air, clapping, and singing!  Joy rushed through me.  Oh life, you are good!  

The Starbucks across from Barnes and Nobel (a good fifteen minutes from my house) was closed at (9:00, it was 10:37).  How could it possibly be closed so early, I thought.  And then in a state of complete irrationality I drove the fifteen minutes down the road to the other one in my area .  It too was closed.  On my way to the second Starbucks, I was again behind a beautiful reminder of life.  The car in front of me had a bumper sticker that said "remember who you wanted to be."  This, naturally, got me thinking.


hmmm. . . who did I want to be?  Ballerina.  Atmospheric Scientist.  Actress.  Astrophysicist.  Film Editor.   Housewife. Teacher.  Writer.  I think always a writer.   The rest, they were like distant beats in vacant chambers of my soul tempting me to remember.  Pick me.  Remember?  You wanted me once.  A long, and not so long time ago.  But, now. . . now, I want to be everything--which is perhaps why I am a writer.


So here I am, today, in the early evening (when I knew it would be open for sure) sitting at a wooden Starbucks table, sipping a venti iced passion fruit tea, and writing.  I am freezing because the air conditioning in here is ridiculous.  Though, I am enjoying every minute of it.  


Today, I remembered that first and foremost I am a writer.


Love Always, 

eat; mangia; come!!!

My dearest guests, 

Welcome to the eat portion of Eat Pray Love.  And welcome to my kitchen.  Tonight, you will be experiencing long grain wild rice with eastern spices, and zucchini, onion, summer squash and tofu pan fried with soy sauce and sesame seeds served by our amazing head chef. All of this will be complimented with "Team" Jacob's Creek Cabernet Sauvignon courtesy of my brother-in-law (thank you, <3 you), who added the "team" into the name of this delicioso wine seeing as I have been converted since the movies!! The vino will be served in my Tiffany and Co. glasses that I feel like a million dollars drinking from =), but really in all honesty weren't very expensive.  How I came upon these glasses is a long and semi-funny story for another time.

So, here I am with this amazing meal, which I normally do not cook for myself, but I feel as though I am cooking for all of you too.  So, I was inspired to cook tonight.  For me.  For you.  Mangia!  

I've been thinking about the notion of having a relationship with your food.  After all, cooking is passion.  Food is a very important part of your life.   It is nourishing the temple of your body with vitamins, anti-oxidants, iron, etc.  But, food is also allowing your lips and tongue the utmost pleasure of tastes, and spices, and memories--all packaged into one succulent bite.  In the perfect combination of sweet and salty your food can be divine ecstasy--it can increase your awareness, your emotions, your desire.  


And so my dearest friends . . . Tonight, I had a relationship with my dinner!!  

While I was eating. . . oatmeal chocolate walnut cookies were baking in the oven!! Courtesy of my mother's semi-homemade recipe--where one step in the directions is literally to take three fist-fulls of oatmeal haha!  Who needs measuring cups anyway!!!

Can I even tell you how much I love the words for eat.  Not so much the American word, it sounds kind of rough.  But, mangia... I think I love this word because it was often said to me as a child in the presence of the old Italian cooks in my family.  I espeically love the Spanish word for eat, which is "come."  You pronounce all of the letters, of course, so it actually sounds like co-m-A.  But, I love that in English you would pronounce this come, like come here, come and eat with me!!! 

come and eat and mangia!


Alla Salute,

manis, and pedis, and crazy ladies . . . oh my!

Dearest darling friends,

Cassandra text messaged me late this morning "you want to get manis/pedis?"  YES!!! I've been thinking about how deplorable the red toe polish looks for days.  We haven't gone to get pampered since before my birthday--before I started this blog.  I'm kind of tired of looking at red toe polish, I thought.  YES!!! LET'S GO!!!


We were both running late =) but got there at the perfect time.  It was packed, but we were seated right away.  Two or three minutes later a 57 year old woman with bleached blonde hair sat down in the only vacant pedicure chair left--the one next to Cassandra.  I was in the seat on Cassandra's other side.  She was visibly on her way to the gym, and was from some borough of the city.  She huffed as she collapsed into the cushy chairs, and turned to us.  "Men, they are all the same," she began... and proceeded not take a breath for the remainder of the time she was in her chair.  She complained bitterly about the lack of sex she was having with her current boyfriend, and went into disturbing, explicit detail of her intimate life with this man--whom I feel as though I know very well after listening to her.  


She just wanted to fix him.  Isn't that the terminal problem of most women.  We find these lost souls, these "bad boys", and want to aid in their discovery of the right way to live.  Why can't we realize that we are better than that, and deserve better than that?  Why do we stay in toxic relationships for too long? Why do we want to fix the world?  These were some of my thoughts in-between the thoughts that were of sheer embarrassment for this woman who was exposing her VERY personal life to two young strangers.  But, she was a character in life I will never forget... 


Another thought I had was how wrong television is in their portrayal of male and female sexuality.  How obviously wrong they are.


Cassandra and I left the nail salon a little more educated...lol... but, with a good laugh, and matching toe and finger nails.  =)  A little pampering goes a long way!!! 


Love Always,