It’s very hard telling the man you’re in love with that you’ve met the man you’re going to marry. Tougher still that it doesn’t bother him.
Untitled
November 16, 2008 — lesilTonight I feel like I could write the world’s next great novel, like there are words inside me screaming for release and if I could just get them in the correct order then my heart would heal itself. Then I would no longer need you.
Emergency!
October 3, 2008 — lesilI am out of tequila! This is bad!
Would I *really* get dressed, leave the apartment and drive one minute to the liquor store to buy more Pepe Lopez?
Nah. Yesterday I would have. But not tonight. I’ll pick some up tomorrow.
Sweet absolution!
September 29, 2008 — lesilAh, I love the rain. Sleep will come well tonight and tomorrow the world will be cleaner and new.
Ceiling Staring
August 11, 2008 — lesilIt’s 2:00 am. I just realized that the reason i’m running from this new fellow, the reason his insistence upon touching me turns my stomach, is because I’m afraid that it will poison him like it poisoned you. That it will make him so disgusted with himself, and that ultimately he will break my heart because of it. I’ve come to believe that touching me is fatal, that i’m toxic.
It really is me, this time, and not him. He deserves a second chance.
I, on the other hand, do not.
Pinpointing the Problem
May 16, 2008 — lesilAt some point during the last two years, I truly began to believe that it is wrong and immoral for anyone to love me.
I only just now realized this.
And I still believe it.
I’m thinking padded room, jacket with buckles
May 13, 2008 — lesilMy god, I’ve moved from simply talking to my cat to actually responding from her perspective.
Public Service Announcement
November 15, 2007 — lesilI’m sure this goes without saying to most folks who read this blog, but just in case there’s a troubled pre-teen out there just looking for something to do, I’ll just say this: Dude, don’t do meth.
Hate Is a Strong Word
September 20, 2007 — lesilIt’s way beyond emo, but this song applies to soooo many guys from my past.
Well, I asked for it. . .
February 7, 2007 — lesilMy hair is redder than anything has ever been. Orange, even. Like a traffic cone.
I hate it right now. Maybe it’ll grow on me, maybe it’ll fade. *sigh* Damn it. Damnfuckingdammit.
Back to Where I Need to Be
December 27, 2006 — lesilBack to living for work, not working to live. Back to staying in on weekends. Back to focusing on my career, on building an organization from scratch, to paying off my debt and staring out windows. Back to no one touching me. Back to no one to watch TV with, no one to rub my hair. Back to no one who looks forward to seeing me. Back to nothing real. Back to being lonely. Back to antidepressants and Jazzercise. Back to turning down men. Back to no one to call to see a movie on Friday night.
Finally back to myself again.
Forty Word Fiction – Christmas Eve version
December 25, 2006 — lesilFrom the couch I limped to the kitchen with words like “anesthetize” and “cleave” on my brain. I glanced at the bottle, glanced at the razor, thought about it, and went back to bed. It won't make things any different.
Ooh you’re my best friend!
November 6, 2006 — lesilI was thinking about you when you messaged me. Thinking that I missed you waking me up at the butt-crack of dawn on a Saturday morning to do something absurd. Thinking that when Lori asked me this weekend what I do for fun, all of my answers began with “Jenn and I. . .” And thinking that I just wanted to hear your voice.
You asked me who else wanted to break your heart. And I didn’t have an answer. As as normal, I tried to assuage your pain with humor, as you would have done for me, because I didn’t know what to say. The only thing I knew for certain was that I never want your heart to break; I want to make it whole again. If there’s one gift I could give you, it would be to seal your wounds with how much I love you.
Because I couldn’t soothe your pain with my words, I said nothing of any consequence and hung up feeling, as usual, very inadequate. But I hung up knowing this for certain: for everytime someone breaks your heart, I will love you more to make up for it. And I’ll keep doing that until I explode and die from an overdose of sweet, sappy gooeyness. And then I’ll come back and do it again, until I die again. And then I’ll haunt you. Forever.
Sometimes I don’t have the words to make it better. But I’ll always want to.
Love you!!
That's 64 cups!
September 10, 2006 — lesilI cleaned out my closets today, in anticipation of the impending move. I found a bunch of stuff I didn’t know I had. Most notably was bras and socks. How many bras, you might ask? Now, prepare yourself for this. . .
32! THIRTY. TWO. BRAS. I don’t know ANYONE who needs or owns 32 bras. And I wear the same two over and over. I think in the past year I have only deviated once, when I wore my red one. That’s it. Most of them appear to be brand new, and had been buried in my closet and forgotten about.
I have one overflowing, heaping box and one overstuffed garbage bag full of stuff for Goodwill and about twelve loads of laundry.
But all that’s left to pack is the stuff from my desk, bathroom, and kitchen. Shouldn’t be too bad.
Thirty-two bras. Wow. I don’t even remember buying some of them. How did they get there? Most of them just don’t offer the support that my favorite two do, and they don’t protect against THO. So the jury is still out on the fate of these newfound undergarments.
Consequently, Jennifer has forbid me from ever purchasing another bra. Ever.
Confusion Never Stops
August 26, 2006 — lesilTo say that I am confused is a gross injustice to the word “understatement.”
I tried to pray last night. I tried to pray this morning. But I cannot. There is a numbness about me now that has taken up residence in my mind and heart, an entity much like cancer, the invader becoming one with the invaded. Whatever it was that I thought I was praying to, I have come to question its nature and even my faith in its existence. Always questioning. Which is good, I suppose. But I’m just so tired.
Tired of searching for things. Tired of waiting for things. Tired of hoping for things.
I get within an inch of something that I want or need or have worked so hard for, and I lunge at it, grasping with what little strength I have left to try to hold on to it. And when I open my hand there is only air. I feel like I’m making these huge strides spiritually, then discover that they have been in the wrong direction. And I’m closer now to where I’m going than from where I came.
Hindu worship cows. They do not eat meat, or any living thing because they believe that our ancestors can be reincarnated as any living thing. And we don’t want to eat our ancestors. Now, having not been submerged in that beliefs system, in that culture, we pretty much immediately dismiss these claims as foolish, but hey – to each his own, right? Now imagine, having never grown up in a culture where the majority of the population believes that there is an invisible being in the sky who immaculately impregnated a young girl 2000 years ago and she gave birth to a child who grew up to perform miracles and was sacrificed by his own father to forgive the people of the entire world for all the bad, horrible things they were doing, and if we worship this man and pray to him and spread his message, we will be rewarded with all the treasures we could ever desire – after we’re dead.
To anyone outside of this culture, this is the ultimate wool-over-the-eyes. The most remarkably successful BS story ever sold. It’s just as foolish as worshipping the cow.
But you know what? I’m out there, trying with everything I have to believe it. Looking for reasons, praying – to whomever – for guidance, hoping that if the Jesus depicted in the bible does exist, that we will find each other and that I will feel his presence in my heart. I don’t know many people who take their notebooks to the park on a sunny day and just sit and think and write about spirituality and God. Many people lie awake at night staring out the window, I’m sure, but they’re thinking of their mortgages, of their kids, of their lovers or jobs. I think about spirituality. I ask myself if I was born a skeptic or became one by trade. I plan my journey. I don’t know how else to go about this. I cannot just turn on these beliefs inside me. If I could, I would. I don’t know what it is in me that mandates that I have reasons to believe this, that I have “proof,” physical or metaphysical. But if I told myself or the world that believed this now, it would be a lie.
I’ve never met someone who makes me so desperately *want* to believe as much as he does. His passion, his talent for spreading the word, his unwavering conviction and determination, all play together to paint a miraculous picture to me. But in the end, one human being will never be enough to make another one believe. It is something that has to be experienced, that has to be discovered and followed individually. But, as he said, what if he’s right?
Well, then, if I die today, I’m screwed.
But what if he’s wrong? Most people say “Okay, so he dies, and nothing happens. Big deal, you’re dead anyway.”
But what if he’s wrong and someone ELSE is right? What if it IS the Hindu who have it all figured out? What if it’s the Jews or the Muslims? HOW DO WE KNOW?
I just feel like I’m back to square one, figuring out if I believe in God again. Or *a* god. *The* God, I don’t know. Only this time, maybe I’m too numb and weak to make the journey. But I’ve made a promise to someone I love to never give up.
So, I will start over. Tear down everything I have built and begin again. But the most important thing is that I remain true to myself. I will not say that I believe something I don’t, no matter how badly I wish I did, no matter how much easier it would make my life.
So. . . hello again, day one.
So Much Depends on a Hat
August 19, 2006 — lesilThere are nights when you aren’t supposed to sleep without writing first. Those are the nights when you find something extraordinary in ordinary moments. Those are the nights when the sight of four hats laden with guady chotchkies and lined up in a row stops you in your tracks and invokes a prayer of thanks for the blessings you’ve been given. When once again, love and friendship saturate a room so completely that it can move you to tears, when you feel that love more than the fatigue weighing down your limbs, and when you wish the night would never end.
It is the promise of a bright tomorrow that keeps us – not waking up every morning – but going to bed every night. If we really believed tomorrow would never come, we wouldn’t waste one of these precious moments asleep. And tomorrow will be, without a doubt, a joyful and love-filled day. Once again, we will watch our sister, our friend, our soulmate walk down an aisle toward a future that makes her happy and complete. And in doing so, we ourselves will become a little more whole.
I love you girls, more with every passing day. My constant; my touchstone.
