It's strange the sort of stuff you miss after a break-up. I was just reading a friend's workshop piece which has heavy menstrual bleeding as its centerpiece.
And that of course made me think of Alexa, oddly enough. It had been about three weeks now; we hadn't gone a single night without sleeping in the same bed.
We're cuddling on my bed, discussing lord knows what when she suddenly jolts out of the room and grabs her purse. Two minutes later she storms into my room, slams her purse against the floor and yells "Fuck! I'm bleeding!"
And I laughed. Because whenever I'd dated girls in the past, we'd never, ever, directly talk about periods. They'd just say they were on their "womanly time" or "feeling strange", I'd silently nod and that was that.
And I smiled. Because she wasn't pitiful or mopey or sad about her period. This girl was fucking PISSED off that she had to go bleed for a week.
And I grabbed her in my arms and explained why I was laughing and why I was smiling, and I got her to smile and laugh too.
Small moments make or break a relationship. Sometimes you just don't get enough of them.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Wednesday, April 21, 2010
Burdens
I hate burdening everyone with my own problems. Maybe it's because I want to be a writer, maybe its because I'm an only child, maybe it's because I move so often that life naturally becomes compartmentalized. Regardless, I've become an expert at bitching about my surface emotions without ever detailing what's really gnawing away at me.
Whenever I finally manage to feel safe enough to delve into that part of me, its never ended well. Like a firehose overflowing with built-up pressure, my thoughts are scatterbrained to the extreme. So instead of bitching to anyone in particular, I've got this nifty blog. So with no further ado...
1. I graduate in five weeks and still have no idea where I'll be or what I'll do. If you know me at all, it's the former that really haunts me.
2. My only real chance at getting what I want depends on, yet again, another round of applications. Two schools in the UK. One year MA programs. The degree also guarantees an additional two year VISA to stay in the country. 1 + 2 = three years abroad = more than enough time to work for residency status.
The deadline system is entirely different abroad, which means that I could theoretically apply all the way up to August. Still, for all I know, all the places were filled way back in January and I'm just wasting my time. It is tremendously hard to make these applications the best they can be - without putting all my emotional eggs in the "grad school" basket.
3. Like almost everyone else, financial difficulties have become a larger part of the equation. My father (a well educated professional with 30+ years in his craft) was laid off in September and is still looking for employment. Outside of my vicarious worrying for my parents, it also means that I've been much more mindful of every dollar I spend.
4. The terrible economy + my lack of a driver's license = nearly impossible to get a job near campus. Despite a four day weekend every week and gigantic amounts of free time, I can't find any place that'd hire me. I don't even want a job for the money. Any way to kill time would be grand.
5. This financial stress has also made conversations with the parents increasingly difficult. Last night I told them that, given the relative uselessness of my degree and my paltry existence after graduation, I didn't want to celebrate my undergraduate celebration. They did not take that well.
6. A few weeks ago my relationship with Alexa spectacularly imploded. We were planning to move in together, get a cat together, share our lives together. I had even begun to prepare to stay in California until she graduated and possibly beyond that. Instead, it looks like I get the worst of both worlds. I miss her terribly - sleeping in the same bed every night for three months will do that to a person. What worries me more is where to go from here.
7. Dating someone who, two months into the relationship, turns to you and says "Insecurity isn't attractive" does wonders for the psyche.
8. Due to a spectacular clusterfuck of miscommunication, all of the trust and responsibility that I've built up with my roommates have been shot to hell. Which means that even my own little room feels less and less like mine.
9. On top of everything else, I can't even bury myself in coursework. All of my classes are intro level lectures that I have affectionately dubbed "my garbage courses". Even if I had one workshop this quarter, that could at least give me an outlet for everything.
10. All of this has flipped my depression into overdrive. It's been slowly getting worse and worse for the last year, but this is the absolute lowest I've been since Boston. I go in next week and am going to ask for a massive increase in dosage or try another AD all-together. In the meantime, I've been drinking anywhere from three to seven days out of the week, and occasionally enjoying a random painkiller or three.
11. Perhaps not coincedentally, I'm constantly nauseated and can't keep any food down. I usually feel so incredibly awful that I force myself to get it out of my system. Which means that most of the time I'm craving food that I'll inevitably throw up in a few hours time. I've been able to get just enough sustenance each day to get by, but almost every other day I'm rushing to the bathroom to cleanse myself. Been here before, but it usually hasn't lasted this long.
Conclusion:
Until I am abroad, there is no point in dating, no point in making friends, no point in doing anything that doesn't directly help me get abroad. Even if I somehow force myself to think that another 20+ months in the states isn't my own personal version of hell, the best I can do is gather $4000 and apply for a measly working holiday visa. This would get me abroad, but only for a year, and the economic downtown is so wide-spread that finding a job for that year would be another nigh impossibly. And then what? Say goodbye to another batch of friends and head back to the states? There are no easy answers here.
What's the point of building anything if you know you'll need to tear it down a few months later?
Whenever I finally manage to feel safe enough to delve into that part of me, its never ended well. Like a firehose overflowing with built-up pressure, my thoughts are scatterbrained to the extreme. So instead of bitching to anyone in particular, I've got this nifty blog. So with no further ado...
1. I graduate in five weeks and still have no idea where I'll be or what I'll do. If you know me at all, it's the former that really haunts me.
2. My only real chance at getting what I want depends on, yet again, another round of applications. Two schools in the UK. One year MA programs. The degree also guarantees an additional two year VISA to stay in the country. 1 + 2 = three years abroad = more than enough time to work for residency status.
The deadline system is entirely different abroad, which means that I could theoretically apply all the way up to August. Still, for all I know, all the places were filled way back in January and I'm just wasting my time. It is tremendously hard to make these applications the best they can be - without putting all my emotional eggs in the "grad school" basket.
3. Like almost everyone else, financial difficulties have become a larger part of the equation. My father (a well educated professional with 30+ years in his craft) was laid off in September and is still looking for employment. Outside of my vicarious worrying for my parents, it also means that I've been much more mindful of every dollar I spend.
4. The terrible economy + my lack of a driver's license = nearly impossible to get a job near campus. Despite a four day weekend every week and gigantic amounts of free time, I can't find any place that'd hire me. I don't even want a job for the money. Any way to kill time would be grand.
5. This financial stress has also made conversations with the parents increasingly difficult. Last night I told them that, given the relative uselessness of my degree and my paltry existence after graduation, I didn't want to celebrate my undergraduate celebration. They did not take that well.
6. A few weeks ago my relationship with Alexa spectacularly imploded. We were planning to move in together, get a cat together, share our lives together. I had even begun to prepare to stay in California until she graduated and possibly beyond that. Instead, it looks like I get the worst of both worlds. I miss her terribly - sleeping in the same bed every night for three months will do that to a person. What worries me more is where to go from here.
7. Dating someone who, two months into the relationship, turns to you and says "Insecurity isn't attractive" does wonders for the psyche.
8. Due to a spectacular clusterfuck of miscommunication, all of the trust and responsibility that I've built up with my roommates have been shot to hell. Which means that even my own little room feels less and less like mine.
9. On top of everything else, I can't even bury myself in coursework. All of my classes are intro level lectures that I have affectionately dubbed "my garbage courses". Even if I had one workshop this quarter, that could at least give me an outlet for everything.
10. All of this has flipped my depression into overdrive. It's been slowly getting worse and worse for the last year, but this is the absolute lowest I've been since Boston. I go in next week and am going to ask for a massive increase in dosage or try another AD all-together. In the meantime, I've been drinking anywhere from three to seven days out of the week, and occasionally enjoying a random painkiller or three.
11. Perhaps not coincedentally, I'm constantly nauseated and can't keep any food down. I usually feel so incredibly awful that I force myself to get it out of my system. Which means that most of the time I'm craving food that I'll inevitably throw up in a few hours time. I've been able to get just enough sustenance each day to get by, but almost every other day I'm rushing to the bathroom to cleanse myself. Been here before, but it usually hasn't lasted this long.
Conclusion:
Until I am abroad, there is no point in dating, no point in making friends, no point in doing anything that doesn't directly help me get abroad. Even if I somehow force myself to think that another 20+ months in the states isn't my own personal version of hell, the best I can do is gather $4000 and apply for a measly working holiday visa. This would get me abroad, but only for a year, and the economic downtown is so wide-spread that finding a job for that year would be another nigh impossibly. And then what? Say goodbye to another batch of friends and head back to the states? There are no easy answers here.
What's the point of building anything if you know you'll need to tear it down a few months later?
Wednesday, April 29, 2009
The Friendship Reprise
Been doing a lot of thinking about friendships and how quickly they can be formed and how even quicker they can fall apart. From an old entry written over a year ago...
Ultimately, a friend is someone who you can lean on for support and they can lean on you. It sounds simple, but that’s all there is to it. And yet, everyone needlessly complicates such a basic premise. Be there for you, I’ll be there for you. I know I’m not the best at forging relationships, but I’m still at quite a loss as to what actually creates lasting bonds. Is it just an innate compatibility among friends? Is it a unique shared experience that binds people together? Or is it something… more?
The best of friends are those who understand me. In other words, they can parse out the bullshit from reality, and force me to deal with issues and events that may otherwise remain buried. I can say whatever I want to them and they won’t get offended or bitchy; instead they’ll throw it right back.
Friendship is not an unwillingness to sacrifice even a second of your time for a friend. It is not the pointless “how was your day?” and “fine” conversations that loveless marriages are made out of. It is not going out together many nights in a row. It is not judging someone time and time again for little reason than spite. It is not an an inability to recognize when friends are going through a rough time.
Friendship is sacrificing time for a friend, because they need you. It is the 2 a.m. conversations where all is laid bare. It is spending a minute, a day, a month with them merely because you know that it’ll be a good night as long as they’re with you. It is dispensing objective advice without scorn, even though it is likely that said advice will never be followed. It is an unconscious ability and willingness to
ask, “what’s wrong” even if they’re aren’t shouting their feelings from the rooftops.
Friendships are what they are. Hold on to the ones you have, and try and nurture a few more while you’re at it. Life is too short to waste on lifeless nights, dull conversations, and false friends.
Ultimately, a friend is someone who you can lean on for support and they can lean on you. It sounds simple, but that’s all there is to it. And yet, everyone needlessly complicates such a basic premise. Be there for you, I’ll be there for you. I know I’m not the best at forging relationships, but I’m still at quite a loss as to what actually creates lasting bonds. Is it just an innate compatibility among friends? Is it a unique shared experience that binds people together? Or is it something… more?
The best of friends are those who understand me. In other words, they can parse out the bullshit from reality, and force me to deal with issues and events that may otherwise remain buried. I can say whatever I want to them and they won’t get offended or bitchy; instead they’ll throw it right back.
Friendship is not an unwillingness to sacrifice even a second of your time for a friend. It is not the pointless “how was your day?” and “fine” conversations that loveless marriages are made out of. It is not going out together many nights in a row. It is not judging someone time and time again for little reason than spite. It is not an an inability to recognize when friends are going through a rough time.
Friendship is sacrificing time for a friend, because they need you. It is the 2 a.m. conversations where all is laid bare. It is spending a minute, a day, a month with them merely because you know that it’ll be a good night as long as they’re with you. It is dispensing objective advice without scorn, even though it is likely that said advice will never be followed. It is an unconscious ability and willingness to
ask, “what’s wrong” even if they’re aren’t shouting their feelings from the rooftops.
Friendships are what they are. Hold on to the ones you have, and try and nurture a few more while you’re at it. Life is too short to waste on lifeless nights, dull conversations, and false friends.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Great Moments in Male Friendship
Me:
blargh
american women suck
J:
oh yeah?
Me:
no real reason to say it
just needs to be said
i mean, dont get me wrong
ALL women are crazy
but american women are the craziest
J:
naturally
we had a big party last night
and i have a couple leads im workin on now
Me:
see, i've been out of the party scene for awhile now
and I was like
hey, i'm going to try and talk to these girls sober
jesus christ that is a terrible idea
J:
i mean, these are all girls i've known for a while but havent been able to act toward cuz i've been in a relationship til now
Me:
ah
yes
go man go!
score for all of us
J:
workin on it!
Me:
yeah, i'm fairly sure "getting to know them" is a dumb, dumb tactic
"lets go out for coffee" might as well be "here are my balls, please take them from me"
J:
last night i was doin well i thought then this one girls roommates made her leave...then another i was even more sure i was in but i think itll happen another day
hahaah
yupp
Me:
its just a fact
drunk steve has more game than sober steve
J:
oh same here
no question
Me:
i'm half thinking of learning to fake a british accent so I can get tail in canada
J:
ho damn
such an actor
Me:
heh
if only if only
but seriously, this country is driving me to celibacy
it's like I had an abundance of riches thrown at my feet, and then I woke up one day and the goods were shoddier and the prices higher
J:
oh man
i mean its not THAT bad here
Me:
haha
dont mind me, I'm just bitter
A and I are just kinda... whatever
she was sick this week and i was busy so we havent talked all wee
and I ended up halfassedly asking out another girl
who... eh
and most of the guys I know down here are of the "sensitive, love and respect girls and they will love you back" philosophy
which is why it's great to get online and talk to you and just say "'dem girls are crazy bitches"
J:
hahah
oh yes
but i am A SINGLE GUY WHAT THE HELL
Me:
see, eventually that becomes IM A SINGLE GUY.... MEH
J:
haha word
i have prospects now at least...in chi its gonna be rough
Me:
bars
yeah, i have no idea
i'll be shooting blind in canada
but I do my best work that way
blargh
american women suck
J:
oh yeah?
Me:
no real reason to say it
just needs to be said
i mean, dont get me wrong
ALL women are crazy
but american women are the craziest
J:
naturally
we had a big party last night
and i have a couple leads im workin on now
Me:
see, i've been out of the party scene for awhile now
and I was like
hey, i'm going to try and talk to these girls sober
jesus christ that is a terrible idea
J:
i mean, these are all girls i've known for a while but havent been able to act toward cuz i've been in a relationship til now
Me:
ah
yes
go man go!
score for all of us
J:
workin on it!
Me:
yeah, i'm fairly sure "getting to know them" is a dumb, dumb tactic
"lets go out for coffee" might as well be "here are my balls, please take them from me"
J:
last night i was doin well i thought then this one girls roommates made her leave...then another i was even more sure i was in but i think itll happen another day
hahaah
yupp
Me:
its just a fact
drunk steve has more game than sober steve
J:
oh same here
no question
Me:
i'm half thinking of learning to fake a british accent so I can get tail in canada
J:
ho damn
such an actor
Me:
heh
if only if only
but seriously, this country is driving me to celibacy
it's like I had an abundance of riches thrown at my feet, and then I woke up one day and the goods were shoddier and the prices higher
J:
oh man
i mean its not THAT bad here
Me:
haha
dont mind me, I'm just bitter
A and I are just kinda... whatever
she was sick this week and i was busy so we havent talked all wee
and I ended up halfassedly asking out another girl
who... eh
and most of the guys I know down here are of the "sensitive, love and respect girls and they will love you back" philosophy
which is why it's great to get online and talk to you and just say "'dem girls are crazy bitches"
J:
hahah
oh yes
but i am A SINGLE GUY WHAT THE HELL
Me:
see, eventually that becomes IM A SINGLE GUY.... MEH
J:
haha word
i have prospects now at least...in chi its gonna be rough
Me:
bars
yeah, i have no idea
i'll be shooting blind in canada
but I do my best work that way
Monday, April 6, 2009
Friday, October 3, 2008
One Week, Three Poems
For my spoken word class. Credit to Professor Herrera for throwing us out into the deep end early and often.
Fuck to Feel Alive
I’m lost surfing through the tidal waves of the day to day, the week to week, the end all be all do-what you can never enough existence that we try to call “Living”
It’s as bleak and as bright as ever, like a cascading orange burst adjacent to our perceptions.
As I feel the razor slice through the layers of my life I’m desperate to recall anything, anyone, anywhere that makes me feel like I’m something meaningful, someone divine, somewhere spiritual.
Instead the blood begins to seep out like droplets of a past I never had, a present I loathe, and a future that’s as fated as it is damned.
I try to tap into the glowing arms of nostalgia, but all I can find are girls with paper thin personalities, wafer thin bodies, and a shocking sincerity towards submission.
All I want to believe in now is the girls who taste like sin
Every word she says is lathered in seduction, so confident in her belief that every step has a purpose, every word a meaning, every gesture a sign.
I can still picture her in the hazy distance like sepia-toned Perfection
Did she break out of the chains of her expectations or is she still struggling, grasping, holding onto the arcane notion that her place is to kneel just a little lower at the feet of her newest escape?
We want to feel pain because we live painless lives
We make love to feel loved
We fuck to feel alive
The bleeding has stopped, but I still enjoy the scars.
Nostalgia
My mind works overtime every night, throwing out ideas and promises and thoughts and musings too often to control them. I feel as if at any moment I could float away into the clouds, either because I’m that worthless or that important. I thought I’d think about one thing while drifting off but instead my mind has veered like a runaway train between sanity and fulfillment. Mostly though, I think about the past, about nostalgia, about the way it was.
Objectively, I know that my four months in Ireland were good but not as good as the memories suggest. Laughing with Dave, Kevin, and Robin over Dave’s solemn insistence that he was more likely to use his penis as a comic prop than for sex. Trying to explain to many a drinker that Bush wasn’t evil, just very very incompetent. Getting drunk because of the moment, instead of in spite of it. Girls with something more to say than agreement and a nod. We’re all too busy popping pills and heading towards a vague sense That Everything is Wrong but It’s Not My Fault.
Maybe the Irish have it figured out. Or maybe nostalgia has sunk into me the way it did to Don Draper. All I know is that there is that there, life was worth chasing. Here, Life is too new to truly judge, but at least I’ve got my running shoes on.
Another election, Another Audition
Another election, another audition
I’m overwhelmed by the carefully calculated,
Audience approved, mandatory message masturbation
Promoting another pointless Celebration
Of our broken down and bastardized
Assembly line, Pre-packaged Bullshit
by the best at K Street
There’s the battle damaged, war ready
GI Joe of a man
More apt to punch Cobra Commander
Than contain the careers of combat
Where men hold their rifles high,
But Hang their heads low,
As they stand united in prayer
That the Gambler didn’t gamble
Their lives away
Then there’s that empty suit of a man
Balls not included
More content to hurl words like “Hope”
“Change” and “Believe” in the air like
potpourri for the masses
Than challenge the charity of his contributors
300,000 from Stanley, 400,000 from Chase, 650,000 from Morgan
9 million from Wall Street
The numbers speak for those who cannot
This talk of
New Frontiers, New Deals, Contracts, Promises,
Revolutions, Revelations, and Change
Have been thrown around longer than our faith in them
The only thing new about Obama is the
Color of his skin, not the Content of his speeches
And if you think “Yes, We Can” then all I can ask
Is if it’s better than the magic act of the disappearing
Straight Talk Express
Myth of the Maverick
Myth of the Message
What’s the difference?
Fuck to Feel Alive
I’m lost surfing through the tidal waves of the day to day, the week to week, the end all be all do-what you can never enough existence that we try to call “Living”
It’s as bleak and as bright as ever, like a cascading orange burst adjacent to our perceptions.
As I feel the razor slice through the layers of my life I’m desperate to recall anything, anyone, anywhere that makes me feel like I’m something meaningful, someone divine, somewhere spiritual.
Instead the blood begins to seep out like droplets of a past I never had, a present I loathe, and a future that’s as fated as it is damned.
I try to tap into the glowing arms of nostalgia, but all I can find are girls with paper thin personalities, wafer thin bodies, and a shocking sincerity towards submission.
All I want to believe in now is the girls who taste like sin
Every word she says is lathered in seduction, so confident in her belief that every step has a purpose, every word a meaning, every gesture a sign.
I can still picture her in the hazy distance like sepia-toned Perfection
Did she break out of the chains of her expectations or is she still struggling, grasping, holding onto the arcane notion that her place is to kneel just a little lower at the feet of her newest escape?
We want to feel pain because we live painless lives
We make love to feel loved
We fuck to feel alive
The bleeding has stopped, but I still enjoy the scars.
Nostalgia
My mind works overtime every night, throwing out ideas and promises and thoughts and musings too often to control them. I feel as if at any moment I could float away into the clouds, either because I’m that worthless or that important. I thought I’d think about one thing while drifting off but instead my mind has veered like a runaway train between sanity and fulfillment. Mostly though, I think about the past, about nostalgia, about the way it was.
Objectively, I know that my four months in Ireland were good but not as good as the memories suggest. Laughing with Dave, Kevin, and Robin over Dave’s solemn insistence that he was more likely to use his penis as a comic prop than for sex. Trying to explain to many a drinker that Bush wasn’t evil, just very very incompetent. Getting drunk because of the moment, instead of in spite of it. Girls with something more to say than agreement and a nod. We’re all too busy popping pills and heading towards a vague sense That Everything is Wrong but It’s Not My Fault.
Maybe the Irish have it figured out. Or maybe nostalgia has sunk into me the way it did to Don Draper. All I know is that there is that there, life was worth chasing. Here, Life is too new to truly judge, but at least I’ve got my running shoes on.
Another election, Another Audition
Another election, another audition
I’m overwhelmed by the carefully calculated,
Audience approved, mandatory message masturbation
Promoting another pointless Celebration
Of our broken down and bastardized
Assembly line, Pre-packaged Bullshit
by the best at K Street
There’s the battle damaged, war ready
GI Joe of a man
More apt to punch Cobra Commander
Than contain the careers of combat
Where men hold their rifles high,
But Hang their heads low,
As they stand united in prayer
That the Gambler didn’t gamble
Their lives away
Then there’s that empty suit of a man
Balls not included
More content to hurl words like “Hope”
“Change” and “Believe” in the air like
potpourri for the masses
Than challenge the charity of his contributors
300,000 from Stanley, 400,000 from Chase, 650,000 from Morgan
9 million from Wall Street
The numbers speak for those who cannot
This talk of
New Frontiers, New Deals, Contracts, Promises,
Revolutions, Revelations, and Change
Have been thrown around longer than our faith in them
The only thing new about Obama is the
Color of his skin, not the Content of his speeches
And if you think “Yes, We Can” then all I can ask
Is if it’s better than the magic act of the disappearing
Straight Talk Express
Myth of the Maverick
Myth of the Message
What’s the difference?
Tuesday, September 23, 2008
Touched by An Angel
You know, despite my cynical facade I'm actually a fairly optimistic guy. Our nation has dealt with worse, failed more spectacularly, and has enough dirty sins and proud achievements to fill a few dozen history books. We're a nation borne by and has now given birth to enough paradoxes to boggle the mind. In America, symbols have always been more important than any smidgen of objective reality.
Some days though... it all gets to be a bit too much. No, I'm not talking about the recent economic collapse. I'm talking about a poll that shows that 68% of Americans believe in Angels (Yes, Fucking Angels! 68%!).
Then we wonder why we can't be get along perfectly with the rest of the West in Europe. Well, Europe doesn't believe in Angels. Perhaps it's better that way, but after reading Matt Taibbi's infiltration into those crazy conservative Christian bootcamps in The Great Derangemetn I do truly fear for our country.
I don't want to sound like Mr. Liberal Atheist here. For one, I'm not really a liberal nor am I an atheist. I believe that my deeply personal struggles in understanding The Powers That Be are mine and mine alone. Sometimes though, I do wonder if you can ever truly divorce America from it's papacy.
Some days though... it all gets to be a bit too much. No, I'm not talking about the recent economic collapse. I'm talking about a poll that shows that 68% of Americans believe in Angels (Yes, Fucking Angels! 68%!).
Then we wonder why we can't be get along perfectly with the rest of the West in Europe. Well, Europe doesn't believe in Angels. Perhaps it's better that way, but after reading Matt Taibbi's infiltration into those crazy conservative Christian bootcamps in The Great Derangemetn I do truly fear for our country.
I don't want to sound like Mr. Liberal Atheist here. For one, I'm not really a liberal nor am I an atheist. I believe that my deeply personal struggles in understanding The Powers That Be are mine and mine alone. Sometimes though, I do wonder if you can ever truly divorce America from it's papacy.
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