Coping

I have nothing to say but wispy shit. 

And how reading over my older entries made me better understand how others can see beauty in a person while not wholly grasping the reality that the person is not ready to recognize nor employ it. 

Let me tell you, public: low self-esteem is a formidable adversary. It defies logic. It needs its own time, and you are merely another external, temporary placater if you take on the burden of healing it. Which is to say, as common wisdom now knows, confidence must come from an individual's hard work (of the introspective and behavioral nature).

Potential, no matter how impressive, is bullshit if you don't like yourself. Tell the person how great they are all day long, because they need more of that, but don't get caught up in the results. It's not your show. You can't control it.

                                                                           ~

Regarding the aforementioned wispy shit, I have mostly lost inspiration for writing about that at the moment, which I guess is good, if not unexpected. That's the thing; I know there isn't much to it. We shared intimate times with each other and he's a genuinely good person (hello, such a turn on), but I have no deep feelings for him and I've always felt weird about that. Is he OK with that? Is that an OK thing in general, given our very intimate physical exchanges? 

And I will miss him, naturally. But I have to remember how much better I felt knowing it was over. These sorts of things have a way of taking over my whole existence...if we're not right for each other, I feel like I have to be that person (the one who molds to his personality) all the time. I can't just turn it on and off at a whim. 

Being nude reminds me of him. So that's going to be a challenge, what with showering and getting ready for bed and all.   -__-

I want to be clear: the above topic (invested in healing a loved one) has little to nothing to do with my 6'2" honey bun. I developed no codependent tendencies with regard to him, nor him to me. I didn't even want to clean his kitchen!

OK so...maybe if the moment were right and enough time had passed I'd open myself to him again, but he turned me off in so many ways...some he's aware of and some he isn't. I mean hey, he's mentally about 26 years old (his friend actually said 23, haha). 

                                                                                 ~

You know I try to create cogent themes and succinct writing in my entries. Here we have two seemingly distinct topics that might be fun to mentally juxtapose. I'm proud of myself for not employing codependent behaviors, first of all. Putting his needs before mine a bit, yes, I did do that. But I'm so much better than I used to be. 

And that's the confidence I'm talking about. When I wrote many of those former entries, I sounded wise and in control, but it was largely intellectual and not fully, emotionally realized. This is how loved ones get fooled - because you can sure as hell talk the talk, but what is being said between the lines?

You're a *~beautiful~* sweetie pie. And I can also let you go.

I wanna talk about horror movies *kicks the dirt*

Cool, I came here on an emotional whim and it has been a year and one day since I wrote my last entry.

I just spent two hours laboring over reading two emails and writing a response I won't send. Trapped in that vortex for two hours. I don't want him, ultimately. I know that. But he's a strong, intelligent written communicator and we enjoy geeking out on some of the same things. The allure of intellectual intimacy! I'm hooked onto some aspect of our connection that doesn't represent him as a whole, so I won't risk leading this man on just to relieve some temporary longing-anxiety. I shall not!

They say they're fine and that they can be friends right after the topic of romance was broached...but with all due respect, they're stupid. Or lying to me and/or themselves. So OK, the onus is on me to put up the boundary since you haven't been able to. Certainly not my favorite position to be in, but I'm trying to be realistic about how difficult that should be. Suck it up, Kelli. 

Or a more effective approach - meditate. Let the feeling go, whatever it is about it you crave clinging to. 

Jim Gaffigan is commenting on how discouraging it is to see how few calories you burn while on a treadmill. True.

The end.

The Huntress

I've unexpectedly found myself dancing in Grandmom's boots before - the green rubber Huntress pair that I didn't know was a "thing" until some bar girl expressed her good natured envy. They're by no means good for dancing, but sometimes you end up at a certain makeshift music venue after a certain rainy day. And I think Grandmom wouldn't mind...I think Grandmom would be happy that I'm happy in them. Dancing is movement and processing; eyes closed, while I let a wave of motion snake up my spine and through my arms, I think slice of life thoughts, oddly juxtaposed to the present grinding, drinking and blinking. Tonight, as always, it was therapy. Those clunky rubber shoes on my feet, I felt supported, too.

SHAKE IT

www.staggeringbeauty.com

The Deep Bass of Conscience

This weekend I went to a Halloween rave, and lawwwd the kids there were young. While I still love the festival and rave scene and don't plan to retire from it any time soon, I've entered into an era of cognitive dissonance that I'll just have to live with until the time comes. Why do they allow 18-20 year olds to buy tickets for something that is widely known to house more dangerous drugs than any other type of recreational event? My comrades and I, ages 29, 31 and 34, made particular note of how the venue charged $5 for water bottles, patrons weren't allowed to refill the bottles in the bathroom, and no free water cups were given. The 31 year old said, "They'll learn when one of these kids collapses on the dance floor from dehydration and they have a lawsuit on their hands".

Raves are a parallel example of the type of dissonance that occurs for me with regard to rap and hip hop. I still love it, I was overjoyed to hear a little mixed in with the dubstep this past Saturday, but these lyrics...Jesus Christ. I am so tired of the way some rappers continue to speak about women. It's disgusting, and I hope that parents are sending stronger messages to lessen the force of what's being played on the radio.


Chances are she was acting up and I fucked her once, never fuck her again.
She can have a grammy, I still treat her ass like a nominee,
She’s leaving on with that pussy like so one time is fine with me.

-Drake, No Lie-

Y'all been together ten years, you deserve a menage 

Specially if you put that BMW in the garage

Specially if you paid a couple payments on her mame crib

Went to her neice's graduation, man, I hate those kids

-Kanye West, Birthday Song-

If she don't wanna fuck I get on my skateboard and I skate past her.

-Lil Wayne, Burn-

She say why you asking questions I say bitch you trynna be funny

Now take your fucking clothes off and let me see your donky kong...

I swear I saw my ho, I swear she waas with my ho

You know I fuck them both, sore pussy and sore throat

-Lil Wayne, No Worries-

Lil Wayne, in particular, focuses on fornication SO much in his songs. It's starting to get obnoxious and is detracting from his albums' entertainment value. Something that I believe solidly validates my disdain is the fact that a majority of nasty mouthed hip hop artists, Lil Wayne and Drake included, have young children (daughters for the aforementioned).

So that's all I'm saying hip hop. I'll still listen to you in my car for 85% of my driving time, but you're disappointing me. Then again, I rarely ever buy music and when I do it's to try out some indie artist I can't hear on the radio, so my opinion doesn't matter. As long as THIRD graders continue to gain such access to rap albums that they know every word to profanity laden Tha Carter IV, you'll be sitting pretty. No lie.

I experience ____. No no, that was a statement not a request.

He was a fine gentleman, a solid Irishman (accent and all) with an open spirit and a certain depth. I felt a kinship there. But despite our better-than-average first date conversation, I came away from the evening feeling defensive and anxious, and I knew that couldn't be good.

He is a teacher at a community college, and thus harbors that teach-y spirit that tends to drive me batty. This is what I would like: I would like to express a piece of me - specifically some light internal struggle -  and just have the person express understanding. No advice, no commentary indicative of the listener judging the comment's validity or need for change, just acceptance and reciprocal conversation.

Come to think of it, he was doing it from the very beginning and I was just trying to stay positive and enjoy myself at the time. This is an emotional bias that I know is nowhere near universally true, but I like to indulge in the perception that these men who become attracted to a girl whom they also feel the desire to teach or save are compensating for something. If, right off the bat, I feel the desire to guide a man, help him reach his potential, then that is not my man. That is a lovely person who is not my equal and who is in the Friend Zone. I'm not looking to mold someone into something else, and doing so alters my feelings about our power balance.

So more of this grrrrr that was mentioned in the previous post.

I am who I am. I don't need you to help me change when I've just met you an hour ago. If I tell you I feel a certain way and we barely know each other, any arguments against what I've expressed as my internal experience, no matter how well-meaning, will not be met warmly. Do you relate to and fully accept who I am  right now or don't you? I'm looking for the former, thank you.

This Body Is a Guest House, Invite Them In

Mmmm kimchi from the jar. It punches you in the face then lingers on the tongue, a complicated and fishy coleslaw with a vinegar undercarriage.

This blog was intended to be written from an ornery, forceful place, but endorphins have rushed in to sooth my capsaicin burn, thus "producing a feeling of well-being". And it hurts so good. Ohhhh yeah.

I can still, however, report on the pleasure associated with what is typically seen as an emotionally negative neurochemical event: a reduction in serotonin. This brain chemical helps us steer clear of depressive moods, compulsive behaviors and poor sleep patterns. It also keeps anger and aggression in check.

Last Friday the brain chemical gods sent a Baltimore riff raff to break into my car and steal my book bag, which contained the pills I take to increase my serotonin levels (I have struggled with mild to moderate depression for much of my life). It took a total of five days to obtain the refill, but by the time I picked it up I was starting to feel...alive?

Having also struggled with assertiveness over the years, and having tried this prescription for about 7 months now, I can say that the reduction in angry/aggressive feelings did make me less bothered by frustrating situations, but it also led to an added lack of drive toward redressing them.

So the pleasure I spoke of comes from a keen awareness of this sensation: I'm back, and I'm angry. I'm tired of not correcting people when they've incorrectly assessed my thoughts or emotions. I'm tired of not speaking up. Of not pushing for the information I need.

All this fiery enthusiasm could be a flash in this week's pan, and my heightened joie de vivre will likely be accompanied by deeper shades of upset when things go wrong (they don't call them mood stabilizers for nothin), but right now I invite it. I have shit to do, things to be inspired by...annoyed by, enchanted by, infuriated by. The emotions I experience have always been broad in scope, and it wasn't until this week that I realized how much I miss myself.