I think it might be time to evaluate the situation

Going through every one of them on this journey would be monotonous and well, somewhat crazy, I will spare you the details of those less significant interludes of love, um, I mean infatuation...

Alright *deep breath* here goes...

I thought I'd died and gone to heaven. The boy was angelic (to me anyway; he was kind of a punkass to other people) and he took a piece of my heart and wrapped it around his finger until it became a twisted piece of twine that could easily be manipulated into any shape he could imagine. He was everything to me. We would wrestle like two wild children in his living room of his apartment and no one would say anything about it because it was innocent--two children letting out steam and aggression in a playful puppy kind of way. We'd lay around my apartment and do next to nothing but just lay there and stare at the ceiling listening to music. We'd walk down the street, around the park, to the store, through the neighborhoods. We'd chase each other around like we were playing tag, only we wouldn't stop at tag--it was a full contact sport--we'd tackle each other to the ground, but we were always careful not to hurt each other. Things changed the day he kissed me. He'd opened the doors to a new kind of play--less innocent, more grown-up. I loved to kiss; I love to kiss.

Years passed.

He kissed me for the first time one depressed evening. The next three weeks are a blur. He kissed so passionately, not like other boys I'd kissed. He was tender and sweet. He let his hand brush my cheek or the hair that fell into my eyes. We were scolded on more than one occasion for not coming home on time, or not coming home at all. We'd just stay up talking in my car all night most the time. Um...oops? *smirk* Going into the begining of us really starting a relationship, I went off to war. I was alone.

Time passed.

It wasn't too long afterward that I'd decided to give my heart to him. I said that I was doing it because I loved him, but I think I was doing it because I thought I was supposed to. There were many things about him that made sense to me, though there were some things that were wrong in ways I could not figure out or express with words. I knew in my mind what my heart didn't want to understand because things seemed so...perfect, imperfect...perfect. He was the one that I would be with "always". I remember kissing him, my favorite thing to do back then, and thinking...oh, he doesn't like to kiss? Good, because he is a horrible kisser, I'm way cool just holding his hand and being close to him. But, I wasn't--it was weird. It was weird in the beginning. I didn't want...him.

Years and time went on.

We'd been friends for a couple of months before she kissed me. Our first kiss turned into a makeout session that lasted a little longer than six hours. And who knew that women kissed so differently than men? Wow. As time went on we eased into other forms of affection--caressing, touching, fondling, fingering, fucking. We were infatuated with the idea of pleasuring each other and ourselves. We'd take turns finding each others erogenous zones until we were completely in tune with each other to the point that we could brush up against one another in a certain way and arouse those feelings of lust that were just under the surface of our friendship facade. The day of doom came. Damn me for allowing myself to do it knowing that she'd never agree to be mine. She was my second heartbreak--I was in love with her then. Eventually I saw our sexcapades for what they were--mutual masturbation. We were using each other to fill the void that each of us had and it worked. We went with it for awhile but when one of us would feel like we were becoming to emotionally attached we'd break it off and try to have a normal friendship again. I began to love her, rather than to be in love with her. I loved her then; I love her now.

Years crawl now.

I almost gave up on love, but then I saw her. She was the most beautiful creature I had ever seen--her smile lit up the room and even the worst day seemed to get better when I entered the room and saw that she was there. I wonder if it was obvious. I was determined not to get involved with anyone. I met her unexpectedly one night in at the same place I'd been so many times before. A mutual friend introduced us and we were all over each other within an hour. We saw each other casually for a few weeks. I got freaked out by the fact that I was starting to have real romantic notions towards a woman. All my prior experiences had been somewhat innocent. Somewhat undefined. I was searching for meaning. I was uncertain of my intentions.
I wasn't even sure I was attracted to her physically at first. I just felt some kind of bond with her that I had never and have never felt. After a few weeks, I knew it was time to say something to her or I'd lose my chance. It took me a couple of weeks after that to get up my nerve, but I did, and then it was...awkward. Geez, I'm more lame than I thought, I'll leave it be for now. Eventually we stopped being in the same place at the same time, but I was able to grace myself with her presence on a couple of other occasions. I was unsure of myself, unsure of my intentions, and unsure of my ability to hold it all together if I were to get attached and then we were parted and went our separate ways. I never understood the saying absence makes the heart grow fonder until her absence grew nearer and nearer. The strange thing is that we were never really that close, but knowing that she was there was good enough for me. So, I called her, and I took a chance--I put myself out there for better or worse because I thought she was worth it; she is worth it.

The difference between her and the others is that there is no lust involved. I have kissed her. I haven't touched her. She hasn't touched me. I haven't gotten to hold her in my arms the way I held those others, or the way they held me. I hugged her once, right before she left for a short trip, and I knew at that time that I never wanted to let her go; I never want to let her go. The first few weeks after she left were hell on me because I had no idea what the feelings I was having were or why I was having them. I thought I'd lost her and I regretted my hesitation in pursuing a relationship with her when I had the chance. I met another girl. We were hot and heavy for a short-lived while, and eventually, I stopped beating myself up. When that "relationship" or fling, or whatever it was ended, there she was. Back in my life again. Only this time, she was coupled. She had a girlfriend. No more pressure to pursue. No more romantic notions.
It was a relief, in some weird way...that we could just hang out and get to know each other in a non-romantic sense. I grew fond of her; very fond. She intrigued me more than I had ever imagined she could.
But then she cheated on her girlfriend...made out with some other girl one drunken evening. Our friendship was just not the same after that. No, she did not cheat on her with me. I would never allow for that. I have too much respect for relationships. I have too much respect for a committment you make with another person. I know the pain involved in having that bond be broken. We were just friends. But I did grow fond of her and I did want to have her always in my life, but not in that sense.
Then her girlfriend moved for her.

I hate My Job

People talk about being successful or not being successful, but the concept of success is very ambiguous. There is no need to pursue other people’s ideas of success. ~ Ichiro Suzuki
Ichiro’s statement is a perfect summation of both my silence and my struggle- what makes me successful, and am I? Have I really determined what that means to me, particularly with work?
Sometime back, I descended into a downward spiral of worrying. Professional worrying, as in:
“I hate my job.”
“I don’t hate it, so much.”
“I hate this company. GRRRR.”
“It’s pretty good here.”
“%$#@! I hate this company!”
“I’m a loser whiner punk-ass bitch who doesn’t know how good she’s got it.”
I’m not really able to discuss in detail all the events that led to me somewhat rectifying the spiral, but they amount to a few key events:
-Me acting like an ass and really pissing off a few important, much loved peers
-Them telling me to take a breath and DEAL, FOR GOD’S SAKE, LIKE AN ADULT
-Totally screwing up an opportunity to interview for a really cool job in another part of the company
Internalize, internalize, internalize. I’ve been so internalized I might as well have been deaf and mute for real, because that’s about how I felt. Communication and clear decision-making were not my forte during this period.
I finally had to take a mental health day, with bossly permission, and ponder my stress. I found a path through to a state of semi-sanity. With an even keel restored, I’m finally feeling like I might blog again. Lucky you. I think. I hope.
I haven’t resolved the questions that led me to my loathing the daily grind, such as “What do I really want to be when I grow up?” “Am I living an authentic life, or is my line of work just perpetuating a materialistic and empty way of being?” And similar thoughts.
So we’ll see. On the specific and much more narrow subject of blogging, I lost my Muse in the stress. She’s still in Mexico, I think, drunk on anejo tequila and gobbling up any authentic cuisine she can find. Perhaps this new template and a post or two that doesn’t suck ass will lure her back.

Setting Yourself Free

It is good to remember that none of my goals in life is to be perfect. I often lose track of this aspiration. When I make mistakes, I think that I am failing or not measuring up. But if life is about experimenting, experiencing, and learning, then to be imperfect is a prerequisite. My life has become much more interesting once I let go of my quest for perfection. This doesn't mean that I don't strive to be my best. I simply accept that there is no such thing as perfection-especially in life. All living things are in a ceaseless state of movement. Life changes more than it stays the same. Perfection may happen in a moment, but it will not last because it is an impermanent state. Trying to hold on to perfection or forcing it to happen causes frustration and unhappiness.

Annoyance

We generally work hard to avoid people and things that we find annoying so they don't bother us. From a deeper spiritual perspective, however, irritation can be an important teacher and indicator that we are making progress on our path. Being able to remain centered and awake even when we feel uncomfortable is much more impressive than doing so in an environment where everything is to our liking. No matter how good we are at controlling our circumstances, there will always be factors and people that we cannot control. How we respond to these experiences to a great degree determines the quality of our lives. The goal of spiritual development is not to learn to control our environment-which is more of an ego-driven desire. And while having some measure of control over our external reality is important, it is when we are confronted with a person or situation that irritates us and we can choose not to react that we know have made progress spiritually. It is when we have mastered our internal reality that we will have become the masters of our lives. The more we try to eliminate annoyances, instead of learning to handle them gracefully, the further we get from developing the qualities that come with spiritual growth, such as patience, tolerance, and acceptance. It is often in the presence of people and experiences we find annoying that we have an opportunity to develop these qualities. Fortunately for most of us, our lives offer an abundance of opportunities to practice and cultivate these traits.

Love's Fickled Flames

"Love, therefore, and tongue-tied simplicity
In least speak most to my capacity."
--A Midsummer Night's Dream Act V, Scene 1


My silence is my self defense

And So It Goes - Billy Joel

In every heart there is a room
A sanctuary safe and strong
To heal the wounds from lovers past
Until a new one comes along
I spoke to you in cautious tones
You answered me with no pretense
And still I feel I said too much
My silence is my self defense
And every time I've held a rose
It seems I only felt the thorns
And so it goes, and so it goes
And so will you soon I suppose
But if my silence made you leave
Then that would be my worst mistake
So I will share this room with you
And you can have this heart to break
And this is why my eyes are closed
It's just as well for all I've seen
And so it goes, and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows
So I would choose to be with you
That's if the choice were mine to make
But you can make decisions too
And you can have this heart to break
And so it goes, and so it goes
And you're the only one who knows

Dis-illusioned

Thinking we can change other people is an illusion. The best kinds of relationships are the ones where both people are free to be themselves.
I spent way too long in the past worried about the outcome of my friendships/relationships. The most liberating thing was how these last few years I found the strength to release the relationships to be whatever they wanted to be and to release the other person to do whatever they wanted to. Having lived a year and a half stripped of my friends, my family, my loved-ones, and my precious belongings...I learned to change with the tide of life and to focus on what matters most.
My expectations are still high of those I let in, but they are realistic, and based on who the people in my life really are...not my own expectations of them. I have adopted the practice of vigorous acceptance. If someone acts in a way that disagrees with me, I let them. I only have to remind myself that they are free to behave however they want...just as I am.

Retrospective

Current mood: grateful
Here it is...over half-way through November and the year is coming to a quick close! I cannot believe how quickly it has flashed by!
Every year, about this time, I get into this retrospective mood. I can't explain why...I don't really know, but I become this incredibly deep person that I love and miss for the whole following year, until this time rolls back around.
This year has been one that will certainly go down in my memory book as a time of revolutionary growth for me. The year began with me still in Iraq...and I remember New Year's Eve very well. It was a bitter-cold evening. Everyone around got out their secret bottles of booze (the ones that they had managed to not drink in the previous weekends of craziness). I heard Jeni's bottles clanging, and Jade ruffling under her bed to try to find her bottle of Vodka. Haha. Those were some good times...what a bunch of alcoholics we all were!
But alcohol was not on my agenda that evening. I wanted to go outside and feel the breeze. I wanted to go to the phone center and call my friends and family back home. I bundled up, picked up my M-16 and headed out the door of our barracks building towards the designated bus stop, which was about a quarter of a mile away. After exhausting an hour waiting for a bus to show up...I decided to go by foot. (This was about a 4 or 5 mile journey.)
That night, I truly felt the fact that I was in a foreign land, alone and vulnerable to many dangers as the wind blew chills right through me. I didn't look around much as I walked... I mostly tried holding my booney cap on my head, in an attempt to also block the wind from my ears. I saw some headlights, but no tail-lights...to my luck. So I just kept walking. A part of me hoped that someone would be kind enough to be willing to drive back towards town with me. But no one stopped, no one bothered to offer me a ride. Before long, I was crying. I was so cold, and I was too far to turn back around.
I remembered how I had spent so many of my nights drinking in the previous weeks. Drinking was the only comfort that any of us had to numb us to the fact of how much it sucked being so far from our lives...our loved ones, and our dear friends. Drinking was the only drug to keep us away from the harsh realities.
But New Year's Eve, I was not in the mood to drown the emotions I was feeling. I wanted to feel again... I just wanted to let myself feel a little fear, a little cold, a little pain... And that I did. With this one gush of wind that chilled me to the core, I felt my heart skipping beats in my chest.---I had never cried like that, and have yet to cry like that again. I suppose that at that moment, I was too strongly conscious of the presence of that all-powerful God of Youth—of that capacity to be entirely transformed into an aspiration or idea—the capacity to wish and to do—to throw oneself headlong into a bottomless abyss without knowing why or wherefore. I was conscious of the fact that I was going home in a few months and that my life would be frightenly different. I was conscious of the presence of God...and the hand that He played in having sent me to a desert land to experience first-hand the woes of religious extremism, of ignorance, and of intolerance... to experience first-hand why politics should and do matter to my daily life... to experience first-hand how ONE person can at least change the world for one other person.
That night, as I continued walking towards the phone center, I grieved the loss of my closeted life, the loss of my barrier from the world, the loss of my ability to deny who I am, and the loss of my capacity to live selfishly and so unaware of the woes of people both around me and far away. I was, a new person. I was scared, not for my life...though perhaps that was one night, if any, that I should have been. I was frightened of the unknown...the uncertainties of my future.
And it's funny how tonight...as I sit here on my bed, in the comforts of the home I grew up in...with blankets to keep me warm, with no need for an M-16, and with the world at my finger-tips...I feel the same fear, the same cold, and the same pain of the uncertainties of tomorrow.

God Bless America

I love America. I mean, I honestly, whole-heartedly, full-throttle love this country! I love it so much that I even joined the Army Reserves. I love it so much that I served some military time in Iraq. I love this country so much that I live here away from most of my family (whom live in Brazil).
But I am angry, Uncle Sam! This marks 13 months since I turned in my naturalization papers. Still no word from INS. And now, I am angry, Texas! I am angry at the fact that I fought to defend the freedoms of so many Americans...the freedoms that most of us so take for granted. And here my freedoms have been limited because of narrow-minded, conservative, Christian, Republicans...and this is because the non-conservative crowd are too selfish and irresponsible to go out and vote for their own good. I cannot vote. Or else I would have definitely put my 2 cents in on this election held November 8th. But I don't have that freedom, that right, or that priviledge.

to be continued....

Silence Does NOT Speak Volumes!

si·lence n.
The condition or quality of being or keeping still and silent.
The absence of sound; stillness.
A period of time without speech or noise.
Refusal or failure to speak out.

If there's one valuable lesson that I've learned this year about relating and dating, it would have to be that silence does NOT speak volumes! In fact, everytime that I have given someone the silence as a tool of cluing them into the fact that I'm NOT interested in them, it has back-fired or fueled the fire even more.

The truth of the matter is that I just have high expectations for those I let in. Usually I only let people in who I see something spectacular in...this drive, this passion, this karma, this incredible energy or incredible potential. I do not care for loosers (ie. people who do not make any effort towards humanity and do nothing to improve the dissatisfactions that they have about their own lives).--This goes for friendships, as well as for people I date.

I refuse to believe that there are people who are worthless in this world. However, I have come across a few too many people that just don't give a care about what their purpose is in life. They live their lives soaking up all the resources around them and sucking other people dry while they themselves do nothing to improve their circumstance.

You may be thinking, "What in the world does any of this have to do with the first comment about silence??" Well, I will explain...

In my life, I have few that have been silent. These would be people that find it necessary to withdraw themselves from my friendship because they lack the guts to admitt that I make them uncomfortable. What's so hard about saying that??? I'm not so fragile that I cannot handle it. As a matter of fact, I am one that thrives on confrontations and I love conflict for the shear fact that it causes me to MOVE...to GROW...it sparks me into a metamorphic phase and I become a better person for it. I do not wallow in self-pity over one person who does not like me for some reason...I like to know the reason so that I can work on it.

Craziness

This has been the craziest and most entertaining week! First, to meet such a great and interesting girl...and then to be scouted out by a couple of hotties who finally got my digits this weekend. And to be having mimosas with them and then cutting up the dance floor yet again and partying yet again....and partying yet again. ;)
And then to reunite with a couple ole highschool buddies. Man...this has been a crazy week! What next?

I will try to write more tomorrow on this here above....

And here we are...it's "tomorrow" and I'm writing a little more.

HAZ MAT

No matter how blithely aware I may be that my arrival to any budding romance will be accompanied by a full set emotional Louis Vuitton of my own, any trace of it in someone else I meet with immediate misgiving. I think I have learned this about myself and have in this last week decided to ease up a little.
So....I was at Sue Ellen's last night (surprise surprise!) with a friend I met over a month ago named Angeline. She's a cute tiny little Malasian chick and so incredibly sharp! I think I FINALLY am getting to know someone in-person and on a *friendship* level that is on my same page. We went to this pub called Idle Rich for starters and got bored with the straight crowd. So, we decided to go to the gayborhood and kareoki/dance/check girls out. I have big ole feet for my tiny frame and Angeline wore sandals...of the thongy type. I tried spinning her around and 2-stepping at RoundUp. Of course, she's like a foot and a half shorter than me....Well...all I have to say about that is she was quickly out-of-order for dancing and that led us to Sue Ellen's for the chick-scoping.
We arrive and there's hardly a soul there. But we were in high-spirits and we decided to stick it out. Sure enough...a nice little crowd showed about 45 minutes later! I'd say we were about ready to call it quits for the night when this TALL guy approached me and asked me if I thought this girl behind him was cute. I had caught her taking a look at me in the corner of my eye earlier, and I thought she was OK-looking (mind you...it was all from the CORNER of my eye). So I said, "sure". So he had her introduce herself and we really hit it off! I think she's incredibly funny and witty, intellectual, and yes, she was really cute...such BEAUTIFUL eyes!
Turns out we have a 3 person web connection to one another. This Lesbian World is sure starting to get small on me!!! Turns out that she also lives in Plano and is going to my community college at the same campus, around the same times. So we met up for lunch today. It was pleasant and I am glad I wasn't my normal..."I'm not interested in talking to anyone" self last night. She's also the type that likes to get to know someone before being interested in them romantically...so I FINALLY met someone that isn't making me feel like I'm being harassed. *good thing*
I am a total skeptic when it comes to meeting people at bars or online. Haha. This has been the story of my life lately, though! Most the people I've met have major emotional Louis Vuitton going on. I personally don't care if they have a little baggage, but I like the concept of stowing it in the under-carriage. The whole "best friends" thing with ex's...I don't really mind it, but I don't know that I can do that now. But the having casual sex with random people just to feel a connection thing...not for me. I am just not a big fan of carrying my ex's around with me once we break up or of having casual sex with people...at least I haven't been since I came out, anyway. My ex-boyfriends are a different story. Most of them are sweet-hearts and I felt awful for "lying" to them about who I really was. I did have a connection with them, just not the same they had with me. I have maintained most of them as good friends, and I don't think they are baggage because there's absolutely NO way that I would ever go back to any of them or date them or cheat on my girlfriend with one of them. But the casual sex thing was also an instrument I used not to have to admitt to myself that I was gay. And I'm not using that as an excuse...I was the type, but now NO WAY!
I think that keeping ex-girlfriends around pose a threat to current relationships. And women are naturally jealous...posing a threat in itself. Drama Drama Drama. Ex's are like HAZ MAT...
Otherwise known as Hazardous Material.

Distraction subtraction

My face is red and blotchy. I need to change makeup.

Lately I've been too distracted. I haven't been able to concentrate. I've been studying, but my enthusiasm isn't where it needs to be. So I'm going to try something new.

I hate routine. Seriously, I dislike it. But it may be time for me to try it and see how it works. So I'm going to set the old alarm clock for 7:00 tomorrow morning. I'm going to get up, get a quick shower, deal with email and whatnot for no more than an hour, then I'm going to write until nine. Two and a half hours in the morning. Go to school, maybe take a walk after lunch. Then class again from two until four thirty and then dinner and class again until .

We'll see how that goes.

Jen's flight was delayed. Or changed. Or something. There was a mixup. She's coming in to Love Field at 8:45. I'm going to go pick her up, of course, because that's what the good friend does. That's the job. A job I'm only too happy to do, because I know how nice it is to be picked up at the airport. There's nothing quite so lonely as showing up at an airport, either at home or away, and having to go hail a cab. It's a miserable, depressing place. There are thousands of people, tens of thousands, all around you, all going in their own various directions, none of them making eye contact or striking up a conversation.

So close. Within reach. People, all around us. Other souls. Other minds. Thinking original, unique thoughts, thoughts we've never heard before. They'll share them, if you give them half a chance. Strike up a conversation. Hear something you've never heard before.

--If anybody out there knows me, you'll recognize that the previous sentiment was totally in character for me. What can I say? I'm slowly comming back to being myself. In a way, I think I have evolved. But most of the time lately, I have kept to myself.

Every day I wake up a different person from the person I was when I went to sleep the previous night. Most people find this surprising and disconcerting. So I try not to advertise it too much. It's not that I don't think I'm a great person...it's that I don't think people should be so content in who they are...we are human and there's always something that needs a Spring cleaning job inside of us.

Douche Bag

Saturday night as I head for Sue Ellen's (my fucking favorite place in this whole wide world!) I run into, none other than, Jade. Yes, Jade and her best friend Jennifer (not Jen by the way). I keep hanging with Jade. Then this girl, Angeline, that I happened to meet the same night that I met "Crazy Australian" is there and we proceed to bash "Crazy Australian" and all her psycho schemes while dancing to the music.
By the end of the night I had my ass grabbed by "poopy pants older woman"...who by the way, did NOT have poopy pants this night...and yes, she is damn fine...I still can't get over the fact she crapped her pants the night we met, though!
So, back to Jade...who was ditched by her best friend and her best friend's boyfriend while in terrible shape...attempts to drive her truck. I have her take me to my car, and then she passes out in her truck in the parking lot.
So I drag her into my car and take her home. Then call Joel up to take me to her truck so I can drive it to Jade's place. When I get into her truck, I notice bag full of beer cans that half are empty and other half still have beer.
Things become evident that Jade is an alcoholic and now I'm not so angry at her anymore.
But still, I'm officially a douche bag and retarded.

You know what’d be cool right now? Blogging.

I should be blogging today, I really should. I’ve got a great excuse why I’m not, but I’m not gonna tell you what it is, Internet, because it’s none of your beeswax. How you like that, Internet? Huh? Huh? The girl who lives a life of perfect transparency has a secret or two after all. How you like me now?
Okay, I’ll quit taunting you with my secret. But anyway, I’ve got this thing going on, and it’s distracting me. Makes it tough for me to concentrate. So any blogging that happens today is gonna be purely coincidental.
And thanks for asking, but no, it’s nothing bad. It’s just the opposite. What’s the opposite of bad again? That word I hardly ever use? Oh, right. Good. It’s good, Internet. It’s six kinds of good with hot good sauce and whipped good and a cherry right on the very tip-top.
Neener-neener, I have a secret.
Oh, right. Stop with the taunting. Sorry, Internet. I know you’re sensitive about that kind of thing.
[snicker]

Late-night ennui

This morning — well, technically yesterday morning, being as how it’s after midnight now — I was thinking about late-summer malaise, about the doldrums, about ennui.
I’m going to revisit this topic, not because I’ve got a whole lot to say on it, but because I can’t sleep and I have to write something.
I think there are people out there who understand ennui and people who don’t. Ennui, to me, is an overwhelming sense of what’s-the-point. It’s a low-grade existential crisis, a sense that nothing matters, that nothing means anything. It’s an acute case of profound disinterest in the world and all there is in it. I mean, really: who cares?
For some people, ennui is just a word, something experienced by other people, or maybe not even experienced but just talked about by people who want to give off the impression that life is somehow harder for them than it is for everybody else and that they’re in some way special.
For me, ennui is the real deal. It hits me periodically, and when it does, it just weighs me down. This is because life is harder for me, and I’m special. Remember that.
Ennui is distinct from depression. Depression isn’t ennui. Ennui is an entirely different emotion. Depression is an ice pick through the heart. Ennui is a cold drip through the short hairs at the back of your neck. Depression is “just fucking kill yourself and get it over with.” Ennui is “oh, why bother.”
I have ennui tonight. Tonight it feels like the whole damn country has ennui. It’s gonna rain tomorrow. Nobody will move. Everyone will sit in their air-conditioned enclaves and wait for the clouds to part and for the sun to go down and end the day.
There are a lot of great things about living in Texas. The weather ain’t one of them. Neither is the ennui.