Happy Ne-...eh I can't even finish that sentence.

And yet again Texas has flip flopped around. Yesterday was cold and overcast and windy and today it's a perfect 71. The waters are still. I'm considering more and more investing in a kayak, but I did look into it years ago and they are very pricey and I could just rent one here for $15. However they are not open in the "winter months" which isn't today and isn't  Texas for the most part anyway. But I'd have to wait until Spring. And since Spring is Summer and Summer is Hell...I don't know how much actual kayaking I'd get in.

I walked a ways before I spotted a bench. Someone was already sitting on it. I was already making plans in my head to hover near them, much like my approach to any social situation, but I didn't have to, they got up before I got there. I took off my shoes and socks, rolled up my pants. The sun was warm, but at least there was a nice gentle cool breeze. It helped tremendously. I think I've made my way around the whole lake this past week. Stopping in so many places along the way on this now 8 day outing. I looked around and spotted one part of one side I wasn't completely sure I'd been to. Tomorrow I will explore to be sure. 

I don't really have anything to say. I almost forgot it was New Years Eve. I don't like to be reminded yet another year has gone by and I'm still alone. I like to pretend that these big holidays- Christmas, NYE, Valentine's day, just don't exist at all. They are for people with loved ones and I don't feel that I have that. I haven't gone out in I want to say about 4 years. Yep, 4. I remembered Facebook has their lovely "on this day" section, where you can see what you posted on the exact same day in the past however many years you've been on Facebook. I can't believe I actually wrote this 4 years ago tonight- "2013 is gonna be my year!! I can just feel it!! Big excited things are gonna happen. And I am ready and have an open mind and open heart. I am confident and I know who I am and I am so confident and happy with myself. Watch out world, Christie is here!" Yeah fat lot of good that did me! But I remember that time. I was coming off the high of finally realizing who I am, and dealing with my sexuality and coming to terms with it all and what I wanted. It was a great feeling. I went to Sue Ellen's, Dallas' only lesbian bar that night, with a girl I used to work with who is also a lesbian. I don't remember expecting anything at all from anyone, but you can work this thing both ways, now can't you? You can say "oh I'm not expecting anything to happen but I'm going to stay positive" (and then nothing happens). Or you can go in there expecting to meet someone, and saying "I am going to do this" (and then again nothing happens). I've played both sides, I've played all sides. I've done it all, trust me. Positive, negative, not looking, looking, just doing me... yeah it's fucking all bullshit, whatever. I expect nothing to ever happen ever again. I mean I can't win any way. Even playing that side means that I am "hoping" someone will come along but I'm not expecting it and I'm not looking. There's no right way. You can't win. Those who have someone will say "oh it was the right time," or "I stopped looking and he came along."Bull-shit. You're just saying that because it worked out for you. If it didn't, you wouldn't be saying that. It's all so fucking pointless. So happy fucking new year, or whatever. If you have someone in your life, well good for you. You didn't deserve it and you didn't do anything to get them, but there you go, you have 'em anyway. Enjoy. Have fun. Try not to rub it in everyone else's face. Much obliged.

I guess I did have something to say... but don't I always?!

cold day warm night

It's another cold day at the lake. It's not as windy but it's still bone chilling cold. It says 53 but feels colder, plus it's overcast, so no sun. I walked along the shore, I could hear the water lapping against the side. There's a surprising amount of tennis balls on the shore. Or not, seeing as I'm sure they were thrown for a dog who never brought it back. The mournful Hallelujah is playing in my ear, sung by various artists. It felt like a sad end to a depressing 2016. And I say this not just because of my year but because of America's year. In a few weeks, a bully will sit on the throne of the highest seat our country has to offer and that's incredibly depressing. It feels like Negan has won. (The walking dead fans will get that reference). 

I walked the shore, backpack on my back, hoodie over my head until the wind picked up and my sniffing from an earlier allergy attack was getting to be too much for me. My fingers were starting to feel the cold and I was starting to question this alleged 53. It felt more like the 30s to me but what do I know? I'm not a weather man or a weather app 

As the wind got even stronger and it had become clear that the allergy medicine I had took was a placebo, I spotted my car and ran for it against the wind. Leaning my seat back in my car has made me more sure than ever that my next car must have a sun roof. No exceptions. I could see this tree out my back drivers seat window, so I took a sideways picture of it. I sat and read one of my old stories I wrote, until the sun that never appeared, was officially set, and the evening was already in full swing.

 

Late that evening under a heating blanket and a warm cat asleep across my chest, I re-watched the movie "the end of the tour."  I remember vividly how much this movie grabbed me and affected me, when I saw it in the theaters last year. I remember sitting in my seat, actively engaged in the dialogue. As if I was the one having a conversation with David foster Wallace, and not the far less appealing interviewer, by the same first name. I am by no means as profound or intelligent as David foster Wallace was. I will never write a book in which people compare me to the likes of Ernest Hemingway. And honestly I haven't even read his book- Infinite Jest, mostly because it's a thousand pages and I'm afraid I'd never finish it... or understand it, not that I'm not ruling it out completely. But I feel this connection and this understanding, to how he feels, or felt. He took his own life 12 years after this interview. It's 1996 and even back then, he was already predicting where the world was headed, from a technology perspective. He talks about how with the way technology is going, it will become easier and easier to disconnect and sit alone in a room and stare at a screen and get all your pleasure from that. And how, like candy, it's ok in small doses but if it's your main staple in your diet, then you will die. And he was right. His direct comparison was to porn, but this could be applied to other things...TV, Facebook, Twitter ect.

When I first saw this movie in the theater, I was the same age as the David foster Wallace that Jason Segel so perfectly portrayed- 34. He talked of being lonely and how it "would be nice to have somebody that you shared a life with and allowed yourself to be happy and confused with." He goes into more on the life of a writer, or his life... and kinda mine, even though I'm not a published writer. I never used to call myself a writer. My friend Amy called me that, about 5 years ago and I was blown away that she'd call me that, but when I thought about it I was like, "yeah, you're right, I am a writer." I don't need to wear it like a badge of honor, but maybe I do sometimes. When he talked about using his newfound fame to meet the singer Alanis Morrisette, it made me laugh because the way he feels about Alanis Morrisette is how I feel about Kate McKinnon. And if I were a famous writer, you better believe I'd use that to get a cup of coffee with her. You're damn right I would!

 

"I don't think writers are smarter than other people. I think they may be more compelling in their stupidity, or in their confusion. But I think one of the real ways I have gotten smarter is, I don't think I'm that much smarter than other people...I just think that to look across the room and to automatically assume that somebody is less aware or that their interior life is somehow less rich and complicated and acutely perceived as mine, makes me not as good a writer." David Foster Wallace. 

So that was my day. I couldn't tell you what else I did. It seems like when you're off this many days in a row, without any places to be, the days all seem to run together. The hours go by fast. You can sit and stare at nothing and 2 hours have passed. It's a very interesting thing. I can't say that I hate it, to be honest. I know I'd get more writing done and maybe I would get closer, quicker, to turning one story in particular into an actual published book, if I could spend all my days like this. I'd like to think so. It doesn't "make" things happen, but time and no job certainly gives you a leg up on that front. It's certainly not the fame I would want, from writing a successful book. Not with the way the internet is nowadays. I'd have to actually cancel my subscription to the internet. And doing readings and signings at bookstores, freaks me out to no end, even if the people there most likely would be ones that loved your book. What I would want is just the luxury of being able to write more books, screenplays maybe. Maybe get my book turned into a movie. If I didn't have to work at my current job, then I could dedicate those "work day hours" to writing and continue on and hopefully improve and get better and better; just because of the fact that I would have the time to do so. I would love that. Sorry babies, I love helping you learn to walk and talk, but the stress of the paperwork and the expectations of the higher ups, is just too much for me sometimes. I'd probably also have stress to "write another amazing book," but at least I could say well... at least now I have met Kate McKinnon.

crashing waves...and pictures

 

What a day a difference can make...or something along those lines. Yesterday the waters were still. It was 80 degrees and I was in shorts. Today it's windy and cold. I'm in sweats and it's 56. The waters are choppy, while yesterday they were still as can be. There's an actual wave crashing to the shore in this picture. And there were no boats out, making waves. It's just that windy. It is now 1pm and I'm finally eating for the first time today. I tried to sit out on the bench for a picnic by the lake but the wind was too strong and cold, so I'm in my car today. But I can still see the lake. It's right there in front of me. I was up till 145am last night, or technically this morning. I can't remember the last time I was up that late. Like it's been a million years at least. I was working on this letter and I couldn't get it to print. Apparently my printer isn't an "Airprinter." It can print my pictures from my phone through air/ Wi-Fi, but in no way shape or form any documents from Word, apparently, even though it was right there in the app for my Canon printer. I could see the document right there. It pissed me off to no end. But I knew it wasn't really about it not printing. It was about the letter itself. Cuz I'm a loser for writing it and I knew it. I ended up smashing this picture out of frustration, that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I didn't think it would shatter into a million pieces. I wasn't aware in the moment it was made of glass. But it was and it did. Ironically it said "this is my happy place." Yeah I'm not sure I have such a thing. I don't think I know what that even means. "Happy." Happy is just a feeling in a moment. Like when friends jump out and say "surprise!" as they have thrown you a surprise birthday party. Or when you're spending quality one on one time with a close friend or someone you're really into and it's going really really well. But happiness is always conditional and it's always mixed up with other feelings as well. It's a simple word a simple feeling. You also really feel blessed and loved, when you're happy. Happy is an uncomplicated word that 3 year olds use, because they don't know a bigger word than the word "happy." 

 

I cut my finger on the glass as I picked it up awhile later, when I had finally given up. I didn't even realize it. I picked up my phone and saw red on the screen and realized my thumb was bleeding. I didn't do anything to stop it. It didn't hurt and I didn't care. The same thing happened later in the shower when I was shaving my legs. I cut myself again and didn't care. It didn't hurt and usually when I cut myself, be it shaving or my finger, it hurts. Or at least stings a bit. But I felt nothing. I guess I was hurting too much inside for a little cut to cause any pain or do any real damage.

Well I did find a place near my house to print the letter, and so I did. On the way home from the lake, one of my favorite songs came on the radio. Simon and Garfunkel's I am a rock. I've always related to that song...maybe a little too much. Maybe I too am a rock. Because a rock feels no pain...

 

 

 

 

another lake day

Found another awesome new spot today. Man, this going to the lake thing every day on my break is really paying off. It’s something I have to look forward to every day and it’s been good weather and just all around good for me. Plus I’m discovering all these parts of the lake I’ve never been to before. Went down the farthest side of the lake from me, where the spillway is. When it has rained a lot, there can be rushing waters there like the roaring rapids. I saw it on the news once when they did a story about it. It was after it had rained like 10 days straight or something. Today there’s nothing but the little bit of water that shoots out of the pipes that are built into the wall. Today there’s a whole family reunion of seagulls chilling out on the spillway, sitting around on dry ground. I found this little nook. It’s got a back for me to lean on, the Dallas Waterworks building. And it’s the end of the wall that overlooks the lake and ends at the spillway. It’s a pretty sweet spot, if I do say so myself. I still have a great view of the lake without the fear of falling off a wall to my death…or more likely just some busted bones, depending on how I fell. I’m thinking of climbing down and seeing what’s on the other side of this building, because to my left is this grassy knoll area with rocks in front and tall grasses in front of that, which ends at the water. There’s even a log that I’m sure kids propped up on the side so that they could climb down and walk on the other side of the wall, since there’s a wide slanted place to walk before you would even hit water. I’m sure it’s not designed for walking, but teens don’t listen. The only reason I don’t do it now is because I’m not a teen…plus I’m not 100 percent sure I could climb back up…even with the propped log. I’m not as young and agile as I used to be. There’s woods behind me though, and I’d really like to go explore those if I could. Maybe tomorrow.

 

I walked a long way today. Gotta walk all the way back to my car. But it was worth it. I got this awesome picture- it’s like Christmas at the lake. Red berries on a tree, with the water in the background. There are people everywhere being their own professional photographer. 2 girls that are dressed like they are in the 90s but clearly born after 2000. A family taking pictures of their children. 1 girl taking pictures of her friend holding a bouquet of flowers up near her face…which looks oh so natural. I love people watching. Always have. But I definitely love looking at nature more. And there’s a lot of that to look at out here.

So I put this book on my Amazon wishlist and got it for Christmas. Just thought it sounded cool, and I was right. It’s a journal of self-exploration and if I know how to do one thing really well- it’s journal and self-explore. Guess that’s two things I do really well. It’s called “Start where you are.” And in it every page has an idea of what to write or draw. It asks you to look into yourself and document what you’ve experienced or write down the first thing that pops into your head. Naturally I started with the last page of the book…because I like to do things out of order and I don’t like to be told where to start or what to do, for that matter. “Close your eyes and think about what makes you feel most alive.” Well, I’m not going to tell YOU what that is, because this is a journal of SELF exploration, not shared exploration, but it was fun, let me tell you. I did a couple more pages, each time not thinking about what I’m going to write, just writing down the first thing that came into my mind. I had a lot of fun with the page about a “major transformation you’ve been through.” Oh I’ve definitely been through that. I can’t wait to do more. I love myself, I do. I love to take care of myself be it massages or alone time to refocus my mind. I’m going to love documenting the exploration of Me. And I’m sure I’ll learn even more about myself from it. You never stop learning about yourself. If you’re healthy human being, you should change, grow and discover things about yourself all the time, especially when you experience something new and for the first time. I’m a terrible artist, just the worst. So those pages where they ask me to draw, are not going to be pretty, but thankfully there’s no one judging my work, because this is just for me, not for anybody else. So the pictures of the people who have most affected my life- both good and bad, look like a 3^rd grader drew them, but that’s pretty much when my artist abilities stopped. I once wrote a story based on one line- “In an alternate universe I could draw really well. Freehand. Draw people, animals, even landscapes…” From there it delved into mostly a relationship I wanted more than anything at the time, but that’s how I started it. I wish I could draw, I do. But I wasn’t given that ability. I was given the ability to put into words what the world looks like to me, how it’s affected me and how I feel about it. I can’t draw it, but I can write it. And that’s a pretty good gig, if I do say so myself. Plus I can always take pictures with my camera…so I really never have to draw them.

 

a duck doesn't give a fuck. And I respect that.

I spotted this little cozy little cove driving down the road on the other side of the lake, the side I hadn’t been on before. When you live close to one side, you tend to just go to the same place every time. I have walked quite a bit down its makeshift shore before, but never as far as the entire lake. It’s something like 9.3 miles. At least that's what I found on my casual glance on Google. I love little places I can hide away, so I love that this bench is blocked by a large bush-like thing that smells like a Christmas tree, on one side. It’s off the road, with a little wetland area in front of me and a bridge in front of that and the lake in front of it. So basically a lot of distance between me and people walking the trail. Just the way I like it. The Strumbellas play in my ears and my thoughts are still on a beautiful Canadian actress I watched in a show earlier, who I wrote a letter to once…just for the hell of it. Just because; what’s life without a little impossibility and craziness? I was going to write about this single white tree across the lake, full of blackbirds. But I’m not up for comparing it to how old and gray and dying I feel…so I’m not going to write about that today. I keep thinking about my zombie apocalypse story and how this very lake was the opening setting of my story. It’s where I sought refuge- in a boat in the middle of the lake. As long as the government doesn’t bomb over here, I think it would be a pretty good idea. As long as you had enough water and food…and bullets, just in case the floating bodies started to pile up too much, so much so that they could possibly overtake your boat. Let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that. This overgrown bush next to me though, could be a little hiding place, for awhile…just saying.

Not a whole lot to say today…the lake is quite peaceful to look at and it’s lulling me, and since the sun has gone down behind me, it feels much better, because I wore a sweatshirt thinking it was cold outside, but it wasn’t. There’s a hell of a lot of birds and ducks out in the trees and water to my left. Like so much so that it’s a bit creepy. They are all dark and they look scary and ominous in large, dead, white trees. Like they are plotting something. Maybe they are congregating to plan our takeover. I think a bunch might be ducks. I don’t know. Can ducks make it to a tree? I think they can actually fly pretty high, but I don’t think they sit in trees. I love it when they fly just over the water really fast. They are so close but don’t touch it. Maybe they are looking for bugs or tiny fish on the surface, or maybe they want to be close to the water so that they can make an emergency water landing, if they get too tired flapping those wings. I respect the duck. I like how they don’t give a shit if they’re popular or not. Sometimes they are out in groups, but more often than not I always see one off by itself. Sometimes they are close to a group, just on the outside and sometimes they are far off on their own. They don’t seem to care either way. They’ll even be side by side and then one will be like “peace out I’m going this way, don’t follow me Carl.” And off he goes. And Carl’s like “huh? What ya say?” as he continues on his merry little way. A duck likes its “me time.” Much like I do. If realistic human robots existed, I would so get one for the company and be like ok I’m done, off you go and power them down. Ha ha. I’m kidding…kind of. As much as I would like a partner in life and love, I’ve been alone for so so long. Like over 10 years, so I would most definitely have a hard time adjusting to having someone around all the time. I’m sure I’d run off to this very lake as much as I could. I mean I still want someone to hold me and kiss me and to talk to, but it’s a matter of what I’m used to. 10 years is a long time. A really long time. That’s why I fucking love the duck. Right now looking out at them, almost all of them are off on their own. When they feel like congregating together, they do, but if one goes off on its own, they don’t follow it, they don’t chase it down and say “please don’t go! Pay attention to me!” They give it its personal space and let it be. I don’t think they’re lonely. I don’t really think I’m lonely. I want the physical intimacy that I’ve been without for 10 years. I want that. But like the duck, I like to be on my own most of the time. It’s fine by me. It gives me writing time. It allows me to be in these worlds I’ve created with my words and I love that. The duck can be near a group when she wants and off by herself when she wants to, or side by side by another duck friend, whenever she wants that too. There’s so much space in a lake, I don’t think they feel trapped. And they also have the ability to fly away, which can be a quick getaway when need be, I’m sure. So you do you, duck. You go girl. You do with your life what you want…well, you have your nature to attend to as well, but let’s forget that part for a sec. You glide peacefully along the water at the slowest pace ever, for as long as you want, all by yourself. You do that. You get to. Because you’re in control of you. And when you want to go join the others, you do that. But never stop being who you are…a duck. Because you have to. You were made a duck. And ducks don't give a fuck.

 

 

light and dark

Third day in a row I’ve gone to the lake by my house to write. Christmas eve, Christmas day and now again today. I’m off from work for 10 days straight and I decided today that I’m going to continue to go to the lake every single one of those days and write. The first day I was inspired by the fog over the lake. I couldn’t see to the other side and when I looked at the picture I took, I noticed that there were rays of sun streaming through the clouds. It spurred a story of a celestial being coming down through those rays, who turned out to be my soulmate. Then yesterday in all my anger, I came to the lake and found a wind that was extremely strong, and a whale in the clouds with the sun as its eye. That wind pushed out my anger and that whale ate it. Well, today is calm. Today I found a dock. It started out on one path and broke into 2. I walked those 2 paths. They felt the same, but they were different. They looked different. A light and a dark side. From the start I could see that one side was darker than the other. There were dark clouds hovering and unfortunately the darkness was starting to spread to the light side. These 2 sides feel like the 2 sides of me. On the light side, there is, well…light. There are less clouds too. Less stuff in the way. When I walked down the light side there were boats. Tons of boats docked off on the light side. On my light side there are people. People who I either try to keep in my life or who are forced into my life or people I want to be in my life, but who aren’t. Lots and lots of people. On the right side, the dark side, there is nothing but water. Lots and lots of water. It’s empty, but it’s beautiful. To me it’s much much more beautiful than the side with all the boats shoved together. All falling all over each other, jam packed in there. The dark side has freedom. It has endless possibilities. A lone little duck swam bye…a lone kayaker paddled by. To me that’s enough. One special person to spend my life with. One little child to raise and love. That’s all I would need. One thing both sides had in common were, the docks were covered in bird  poop. Like absolutely covered. Both sides, all up and down the dock. It didn’t matter that it was the light side or the dark side. The bird poop didn’t care. The seagulls didn’t choose a side. Crap is everywhere, on either side. My dark side is where I like to be. It’s where my creativeness comes out the most.  But like it does to the dock and the clouds, a little light manages to cross over to the dark side. It infects both sides, just as the dark intrudes on the light. The social side. The side that says you’ll be happy and light with people surrounding you. But I choose to live on the dark side. The side with open waters and endless possibilities. The side that has the occasional kayaker or duck swim by. The beautiful side. The peaceful side.

The sun made an appearance. It broke through the clouds and pushed its way thru. It shone down on the middle of the lake. It cut through the middle of the 2 sides and like the duck in the 2^nd picture, I stood in the middle of the dock. I didn’t look to the left or the right anymore. I just looked out. Looked out at the water and the rays of sun that shone down through those clouds. Neither side was good or bad. They just…were. To each their own…

 

whale, are you hungry?

 

The clouds look like a whale. And the pink sun, its eye. The wind is strong. I’m up on a hill overlooking the lake. The sounds of seagulls in the distance. It’s somewhere in the upper 70s. The wind isn’t necessarily cold. It’s just wind. And it’s forceful. I’m letting it push out all my anger, my frustration, my strong feelings of hatred, of resentment, of disrespect, out of me and take it away on the winds, out across the water and into the great void. It is what it is. Your life. Sometimes you have no choice in who is in it. At least not every single day of the year. I hate being controlled. I hate being forced. I hate forcefulness of any kind. You should be allowed to feel how you want. Some relationships are forced. They just have to be, based on circumstances. You don’t get to do what you want, be with who you want. It sucks, it's not fair, but it’s life. I especially hate it in my personal life. In my professional life I do have to suck it up. I have to put a smile on my face and be so nice to that person, even if they are the devil incarnate. That’s my job. I have no choice; I’d lose my job and I have to work, ya know…to live. Ain’t no one taking care of me. But in my personal life I want to spend every minute with whoever lifts me up, encourages me, cares about me, shows me that they care. Those who take interest in my life, ask me questions about my life, about what’s going on with me, not simply just talk about themselves 24/7. But we can’t have that now can we. There’s always exceptions. I don’t have to spell it out for you. Or the specific days I am talking about. So what can you do? Go as long as you can with your mouth shut, until you can’t anymore. And then you can come to the lake and sit on a hill and type away on your tablet whatever you want to say. Whatever your little heart desires to say, but can’t out loud. You can let the strong winds blow over you and take all of it out of you. You can throw rocks into the lake, as hard as you can, until you almost throw out your arm. You can breath in as deeply as humanly possible and then breath out all of the negativity. You can, for the lack of a better word- let it go. So let it go. Start again tomorrow, refreshed and renewed, because all of that is gone. The wind took it. The big whale in the clouds ate it up…

 

a picture is worth a thousand words...roughly

This story was inspired by this picture

It was Christmas Eve many many years ago, when a miracle happened. What the miracle was, well, you'll just have to read on to find that out. 

I was at the lake near my house. I stopped to eat lunch and take pictures of the beautiful fog over the water. It was Christmas Eve and nearing 70 degrees. This was Texas, so that's not really surprising, but it had been really cold lately, so that, mixed with the new warmer more humid air, caused the fog. I had just taken a picture of the lake, capturing how you couldn't see across to the other side, when all of a sudden the sun shone rays through the clouds onto the water and there was a sudden flash of light. Like as if God had taken a picture with the flash on. I thought I saw something fall slowly out of the sky, but it was too far away to be sure. I looked out over the water, covering my hands over my eyes and squinted, trying to see better through the newly out sun. Suddenly the being was gliding across the water towards me. It looked like a woman! Her hair, golden as the sun, flowed all around her. 

"Are you seeing this?" I asked a girl nearby with her dog, taking pictures of the fog, like I had been doing. :See what?" she asked looking out into the lake. But her expression told me she didn't see anything. Her dog suddenly broke loose from the leash she was holding and she ran after him. "Roscoe!" She called after him. 

I looked back out at the lake and the floating celestial being was even closer to the shore. I started to back up, walking backwards so quickly that I fell over onto my back. "Are you ok?" I heard her voice before I saw her. It was silly smooth, like cotton candy. It was beautiful and magical somehow. It was a voice that I could tell I wouldn't mind listening to every day for the rest of my life. I sat up and saw her standing before me. My eyes were wide. My mouth dropped open. She smiled sweetly at me. Her tall thin body was clothed with a flowing gown. I couldn't even tell if it was actual material, it looked almost iridescent. My mouth was still opened but I couldn't speak. All I could do was stare at her. She was the most beautiful being I had ever seen in my life. Her hair seemed to be blowing behind her despite the fact that there wasn't a breeze to be found. She continued to look back at me with a sly smile, like she knew more than I did. Like she knew everything. Her eyes were huge and a beautiful sea green blue. I stumbled over my words, "what? Who? Where?" I couldn't form a sentence. She chuckled at me and came over to help me up off the ground. It hadn't occurred to me to get up, and the ground was wet since it had rained earlier in the day. She knelt down and took my hand in hers. It was like immediate connection. Electricity flowed through her to me. I almost pulled away because it was so intense. It was like a spark but it didn't hurt. My heart started to pound faster as she pulled me to my feet. I didn't let go of her hand and she didn't pull away. I didn't take my eyes off of hers and she did the same. "Who are you?" I asked in absolute amazement. She thought for a second and said. "Hmm...I'm your soulmate, Christie." That was when I let go of her hand, pulling away. Breaking eye contact and retreating back from her. "How do you know my name?" I asked her. She shrugged. "I don't know. I just do. My name is Olivia. My friends call me Liv." "Your friends?" I asked. "And what friends are these? Angels?" I asked half joking. I lightly laughed but looked at her out of the corner of my eye to see if she would confirm my suspicion. She lightly laughed back. "I'm not an angel. Angels have always been angels. I'm very much human. I'm having a hard time remembering. But I think I used to be...alive," she said as she pondered this with a bit of confusion on her face. I stared back at her. Now I was starting to think she was a crazy person. Like she had escaped from a mental institute and I should be trying to get away from her or find her help. But the way she got here. The flash of light. The whole scene flashed through my mind again and I knew she wasn't crazy. I just knew. I had been looking at the ground, processing it all. But when I looked back up at her, her hair wasn't magically blowing anymore. Her dress wasn't glowing. It was just white. Her face and body was the same as before, but she looked more human. Normal. She wasn't this celestial being I thought I saw a minute ago. I shook my head. I looked around but no one was nearby. I couldn't confirm her existence without someone else here to talk to, to say they saw her too. I didn't know what to do. She didn't seem to know what to do either. She looked a little lost. I felt the urge to grab her hand again and help her. So I did. And the rush I felt before, when she helped me up, was even stronger. Our connection strengthened. It was almost like a download on a computer. She was being downloaded into me and I into her. I felt like I couldn't let go this time so I led us a few feet to the bench and we sat down, both of us never once taken our eyes off each other. We sat there holding hands, looking into each other's eyes until tears started to stream down our faces and at the exact same time I fell into her arms and she wrapped her arms around me and held me tightly. "I've been waiting for you Liv. For my whole life," I said to her. "Me too," she whispered back, her voice cracking as she broke down as well. We stayed that way even longer. We looked out at the lake. The fog was dissipating and the sun was out but there were no longer rays of sun coming through clouds. The clouds were parted and she sun shone bright. We had calmed ourselves but hadn't let go. It was almost as if we were both afraid that if we did, she would disappear and go back to wherever she came from and I would be left here on this bench all alone, back to the way I was before. So we stayed that way. Until one of us was brave enough to speak up and let go, see what happens. We pulled apart at the same exact time, sighing a sigh of relief as we looked at each other. She was still there. She was still very much alive. She was very much real. I had felt her heart beat when she was holding me. I had felt her breath on my neck. What would happen next, I don't think either one of us knew. But somehow, deep down, in the depths of my soul I knew. This was it. She was the one. She would always be by my side, no matter what. She had fallen from the sky and I had fallen for her. Somehow, someway, my soul mate had finally found me.

Lyrics inspire words to inspire myself...and maybe someone else

"Where there is desire there is gonna be a flame. Where there is a flame someone's bound to get burned. But just because it burns doesn't mean you're gonna die..." We all know what comes next in Pink's song- Try. I mean it's in the dang title- "you gotta get up and try and try and try. You gotta get up and try and try and try." I used to only hear that part of the song. I used to focus in on that last line and take that part to heart- that I have to keep on trying. I tend to take songs and make them about myself, I mean I think everyone does that. The artist writes it from a deeply personal place and even if the verses suggest it means one specific thing to the artist who wrote it, I typically hone in on the chorus and apply that to my life. But today when I heard this song again, for the millionth time, it was like I heard the first part of the chorus, for the very first time.
To me, if I'm going to take heed to the anthem that I have to "get up and try and try and try" endlessly, then I needed to know why? And I needed to why it is worth it? That first part- the desire. I know what that is to me, very well. It's been the same desire I've had since I wrote that first love letter when I was 16, after I had watched Dirty Dancing. I wrote about this desire to "dance with whoever I was going to marry...dirtily of course." Like they did in the movie. That movie resonated with me because I was definitely the shy, inexperienced girl. I was curious and I wanted to help others, but I also wanted to be cool and I wanted to fall in love, dance and make love. Thus started my letter writing to my future love. That desire is to BE desired, in that way. To be loved in more than a friend way. To be wanted, fully and deeply, intimately. No other love can be that for me, than the love "that dare not speak it's name."
So I thought about this desire I have and how by simply having it, the flame was lit. It's alive. It's on. It can't be turned off. No matter how many times I say "oh it doesn't matter." "I give up." "I'll just be alone and live my life and enjoy it." I won't. I can't. Not fully. That desire lit the flame and it's there. It can't be extinguished, no matter how much I wish it to be. And yes, someone is bound to get burned. That someone is ME. I get burned every time I try to connect with someone I meet, that could have potential for something, and they don't respond back. I get rejected, I get forgotten, I get discarded, I get burned. But just because it burns doesn't mean I'm going to die. It's not going to literally kill me, to be rejected. Rejection can't kill. Your depression over that loneliness and rejection most definitely CAN kill. And it does. I'm not here to say whether or not some people can live with that or can't. That's their journey. I most definitely hope that they can find the help they need to make it, but again, not my journey, not for me to say. I know that if I didn't have my little godsons that loved me and practically worship the ground I walk on, that I might not get up and try and try and try. I might give up. Forever. Permanently. But that's too scary for me to even contemplate in actual terms and I could never pull it off, and again, I would never do that to them or to my best friend or parents. Their lives would be forever changed and I don't want to be the cause of that. But I get it. I get wanting to give up. It's not that I haven't prayed a hundred times that it would all just end. It's tiring. Getting up and trying over and over again is really hard, impossible even at times. But it's sort of all we have. We have to. Because that flame is lit by that desire and we have to follow it. Just because you get hurt by your desire, doesn't mean it's over. It doesn't mean that's it, you've used up all your chances, cashed in all your tokens, there's nothing left. Being hurt or rejected (or whatever term you want to put in there) is not the end.  The end is the end. When your life is over and there's nothing you can do about it. But that's not now. You're breathing and you're alive. Your desire is there, your flame is burning strong. Nothing will put it out while you're still breathing. So yeah get up and try, yada yada yada. But more importantly- just know that when you fall, when you get hurt by this desire you've had your entire life, that doesn't mean the answer is NO. It doesn't mean you won't get your desire. It's not over. It's never over till it's over; and you won't know when it is anyway. So lick those wounds, slap on some Neosporin and a Bandaid, wait not a Bandaid because you're supposed to let a burn breathe, or not, I'm not a doctor, don't take my advice literally. But the important thing to remember is: You're not alone in it. There wouldn't be a song that speaks to millions of people, if you're the only one who could respond to it. So run cold water over it, blow on it, do whatever you have to and get back out there. Even if "getting back out there" is simply the first step of acknowledging your desire isn't going away and believing it will be met someday.

"San Junipero"

This particular episode of Black Mirror, entitled "San Junipero,"that I watched late last night, is still etched inside my brain. It's themes continue to echo. This British series on Netflix is almost always dark, twisted and sometimes perverse. I watched the very first episode years ago and thought it was way too perverted and couldn't go back. But then I heard how great the others were, and they are all individual stories, kind of like how The Twilight Zone was, so I gave it another shot. They all seem to have these futuristic technology aspect to them. And they all have amazing twists. Just skip the very first one and you'll be good. I haven't watched them all yet, but most of season 3. This episode though... it was the sweetest and 'happily ever after' ending that they've ever had...considering they don't do 'happily ever afters.'
To summarize, it was about these 2 women, early to mid twenties, that meet at a bar in San Junipero circa 1986. One is curly haired and wild, having fun with anyone who's game. The other is a quiet mouse, who hides behind her fake glasses and doesn't want to dance because she doesn't know how and also "what will people think about 2 girls dancing?" The other girl picks up on her interest and goes for it. They have a wonderful night together and shy girl tells her that it's her first time..."with a woman you mean, right?" Kelly asks. "No, with anyone," Yorkie responds. So Kelly and Yorkie keep meeting up one week later several times... and in several different decades- 80s, 90s, 2000s. Of course they don't age, which doesn't seem that weird, considering the series. But what's revealed is that these 2 women are living in different places... in nursing homes. Kelly has cancer and lost her husband 2 years ago to cancer. Yorkie is on a ventilator. She can't speak or move. She was paralyzed at age 21 when she came out to her Bible thumping parents and they forbid her to be herself and she got in her car and drove upset, crashing and becoming a quadriplegic. So this therapy they both are on is called "immersive nostalgia therapy." They are allowed 5 hours a week to go to "San Junipero" an idyllic beach town where they can just enjoy life again... or for Yorkie, for the very first time. It literally sounds like the best idea ever. They don't say if it's just for seniors, but they limit it so you don't rely on it too much, however when your time comes to die, you can choose to make it a permanent home, not a vacation home. Yorkie is definitely choosing this, but Kelly is unsure, because her husband didn't choose it, plus they lost a special needs child when she was 39. Apparently this is only for the old, who know they are going to die, so they can sign off on it. They don't seem to believe in a Heaven. When you die, that's it. Kelly's husband didn't want it. I guess he wanted to take a chance on wherever you go next, not being 'put' somewhere. Me, I think I would choose this town over not knowing. I don't know what Heaven would be like, but I know what San Junipero is like. They showed it. They live on the beach, there's mountains, it's the 80s! I can't think of anything cooler. But most importantly, she finally found love. Kelly proposes and marries her so that she can be her spouse to sign off on the papers to make this home permanent for her, because her parents certainly weren't going to do it (I guess surprisingly they are still alive). But also she loves her. Even though she doesn't know what to do, take a chance to see her husband again, who she spent 40 years with, or start a new life with the woman she now loves. Thank God she chooses her. I was scared for a second she wouldn't. Like I said, this show doesn't do 'happily ever after.' I don't know if it was the late hour at which I watched it or what, but it suddenly made me hope that even if I don't find love in this life, I can in the next. Or more specifically the after-life. There's lots of shows and movies that poke fun at what this could be like. There's another show called "The Good Place." In it the "good" are those who have reached a high point system by doing good things in life. The main character is there by accident. The actress said in an interview that she's not necessarily bad, but I kind of disagree with that, some of the things she's done are not nice at all, downright mean to real people, but no she didn't murder anyone, if that's the line. There's houses which are by size depending on how much good you did, and frozen yogurt places everywhere with flavors like "full cell phone battery." And most importantly your soul mate is there. However due to the mix up, it's not their actual soul mates. I don't know if heaven will have beaches and the love of my life, or frozen yogurt and my soul mate, but I'm hoping it has all of those things. I could try to find those things here on Earth, but that seems as impossible as finding a unicorn out in the woods by my house. I wish it was possible, but it just doesn't feel it. I look for connection with anyone I meet. I try to see if hanging out would be an option, to better know if there's anything real at all, even just friendship. But people don't want that anymore. They want to connect online with strangers, speak their mind with no consequences. Kelly wanted to visit San Junipero once a week and have fun, no emotional connections... but it happened anyway. It feels like everyone already has that one person that they are dedicating their time to, to build on that connection. They aren't looking for anyone else. Or, I'm just not their cup of tea. And I'm good tea. I'm like green tea. It's good for you and it makes you feel chill. It's light and soothing. You feel better after you drink it. Heck I've only dated 2 guys and they both wanted to marry me. They audibly said it. That was a random brag, but it was also to prove my point. Anyways. I thought about the writer of this story, the one title "San Junipero." Without looking up who it was, I thought about how it was this woman, writing what she wished for her own life. I thought about how I could have been the writer of this episode. All the stories I write are about myself or a fictitious me, wherein I play out my fantasies of falling in love, making love and spending my life with someone that loves me both relationally and physically. And they are just like this very story I got to see on my big TV screen (that I moved from the living room to my bedroom because let's face it, my Tempur-pedic Breeze mattress is about a million times more comfortable than my terrible so-called couch). To see it play out before my very eyes; something that wasn't real in a sense that it was their actual lives and their actual bodies, but was very real to them and was 100% their own minds, is exactly how I live in the stories I write about myself. It's not real, it's not my actual life, it's not my actual body experiencing all things I'm writing about, but my mind is experiencing it, through writing it. And like the story in that show, everything isn't perfect- they fought; Kelly almost didn't 'pass over' to San Junipero. In my stories too, I don't make myself or the other girl 'say all the right things.' She doesn't say I love you all the time, or 'you're like a beautiful model.' I write realistic. My stories are real to life and life isn't perfect like that. People don't always say the right things or say what you want them to say, that would be called ventriloquism.
I'm glad that it ended hopeful. I was worried for a second that Kelly wouldn't choose Yorkie and she'd be stuck in this perfect world forever, without the woman she loved, after finally getting to experience it in the last days of her actual life... via virtual reality or whatever you want to call it. Or that the server room where everyone is stored, with the robot arms keeping it running, would somehow malfunction and then everything would cease to exist... including your afterlife self. But thank God it didn't end like that. And I'm hoping that's not what the afterlife is like either, a malfunctioning computer system or living eternally without your soul mate. That would doubly suck. Afterlife has to be better than actual life...I would hope. Unless you're a psychopath, then you don't deserve that. You spent your life doing what you love- killing and hurting people. You do not get to do that in your afterlife too. And on that note... butterflies and unicorns and rainbows. Puppies and Kittens... just trying to leave a nice image in your mind before you go. Not go, go. Just go away from this blog. But hopefully not forever. I'll see you next time. Soon, I'm sure. In this life... to be clear.

Cali

 The girl in the room in San Francisco:

 

The window to my hotel room is open. The perfect breeze blows in from the bay. The sound of the trolley bell dings as it goes by…ding…ding…ding. A jazz saxophonist plays his heart out on the street corner below. These are the sounds I hear on this perfect night in October. The view is not as pretty. The view is a small space between the walls of this tiny hotel. They make the shape of a triangle. I could practically reach out and touch someone, if they stuck their hand out their own window as well. If you look out of the open-ended triangle you’d see across the street, another building. The windows are open as well. People live in them. I can see straight into their apartment from here in the daytime. At night I just see lights. 2 people have yellow lights on. And two others have red curtains. The light shining through them make it look so colorful and happy. One room at the bottom corner has a bluish tint to it. I love the sounds more than the sights. It’s all dirty below, I can’t even look down that far to see. I might fall or my glasses will fall. There’s no screen on the window. No air conditioner, hence the windows that open. They don’t open all the way, but a thin body could fit through if squeezed. The paint is peeling from the side of the hotel. There’s a ledge that looks to be falling apart as well, that connects my side of the building to my neighbors. I’m in 611. Whoever is in 609 is the room catty-corner to me.

I imagine there’s a single girl in there. Like me. She came to the city to get away from her job and her life of loneliness. To take in the sights of a new city. To escape into a new world, one where anything could happen. One where when she walks down the crowded street below, she doesn’t feel so alone. I wave hi to her. She waves hi back. We both smile at each other before closing our drapes and go to bed...

It's crazy how you can have the most perfect setting, one that could've come from the pages of a book or a scene in the movie, yet unlike in both those places, nothing happened in mine. Because the real world isn't a book or a movie. We are tricked into thinking they could be, because they say "based on a true story," but in reality you have to remember it's "based;" it's not exact. The writers made it more exciting, real life isn't as exciting. Well, at least not for me. That first paragraph was 100% true. That setting was PERFECT. Like I said, straight out of a book. From the lights to the sounds, to the adjacent window. It was so magical. But apparently I live in a world where magic doesn't exist and nothing good ever happens to me. The second chapter was just the beginning of a story I started. One where there was a girl in that window and we did talk and...more... but I'm not sharing all that here. It's just for me. Gotta have something just for me. My time in San Francisco was ok. It was fine. It was good. It wasn't magical, I didn't connect with anyone. Even when I tried to talk to someone, I discovered they didn't speak English. Getting a picture taken, was through pantomime. I swear no one around me ever spoke English, it was the weirdest thing. I heard Russian and French, Italian and other languages I don't know what they were. I would try to talk to them, thinking they were American, but discovered they weren't, and they couldn't respond. And that's fine, I'm not saying that's bad, I'm just saying it was a bit of a bummer. It would've been cool to make a new friend. But those days are behind me, I guess. This isn't college. No one is looking for friends anymore. Everyone is too busy raising their children and desperately fighting to keep their relationship with their significant other alive and well. No one has any more time or energy for anyone else. I wouldn't, if I had that. I get it. I don't hold it against them. That's how it should be. Raising a child in this world as it is now takes everything you got. Keeping a marriage strong with all the temptations that are right at your fingertips, takes every ounce of energy and effort possible. Without those people in your life though, it all seems kind of pointless. Maybe that's putting too much on those particular people in one's life. You definitely need your own life and I do have that, it's all I have. I would definitely go hide away one Sunday every so often and just write and tell my family, 'sorry, fend for yourselves today, I'm doing me.' Everyone needs that. I would give that to my significant other. I'd tell her- go! Be with the wolves! Or wherever you want to go. I'll stay with the kids, or kid, or dogs... whatever we have. If you make your life only about those other people closest to you, then A) they are going to let you down and you are going to feel like the world has ended, or B) you're gonna burn out from overexposure to their needy little asses.

But anyway, like always, I diverge into the lonely existence of the single white female. It's not important. Nothing is. But my godchildren are. They're important. I got to spend precious time with them on the first half of my trip: snuggles and endless stories and playtime. I got to sing to my newest and only goddaughter. I sang to her Billy Joel's She's got a way and James Taylor's Something in the way she moves. They kept popping into my head and it was fun after singing to 3 baby boys, Dixie Chick's Lullaby and Godspeed (sweet dreams), which uses the male pronouns, being that they all had baby boys. I loved singing to her, it was probably the best part of my whole trip. All I've ever wanted was a baby girl of my own. She could be crying and I would sing to her and she'd go right to sleep. Or if she was awake and just fussing, I would sing to her and she would watch me and smile, quieting down and then sing along with her own coo's. I've bonded with all 4 of my best friends' children this way... through song. It's been my thing. I don't think there's anything greater than singing to a baby, because even if you don't know the words, just that way your voice sounds when you sing quietly, not perfectly, but the rhythm and cadence... it's just so beautiful and soothing. Babies really take to it. I wish I was back there now to sing to her. I must've sung to her 4 or 5 times, in the few days I was there. Between that and my best friend intently listening to me read my latest story out loud to her, it was even better than San Francisco. I had people around me then. I heard endlessly "hi sissy" from a 2 year old and the other two fighting over who gets to play with me. Like there wasn't possibly enough of me. I made the 3 boys a scrapbook just for them, so they'd know even with a new baby sister and the attention she would get from me, they were still incredibly special to me. I caught them looking at it on their own, without a parent reminding them to. It was filled with pictures of the 4 of us and lots of stickers and special memories documented on the last almost 6 years, since the oldest is about to turn 6 next month. My bestie texted me when I was in San Francisco that she caught the middle child looking over the scrapbook and insisted it stay by his bed that night. The fact that I am that much a part of their lives, that they want me there right by their bed, that means the world to me. They treat their stuffed animals that I gave them like family members, taking them everywhere and crying if they were left behind. This makes me cry. I know it's not the dinosaur or the turtle. It's that they're from me. I would be in their lives everyday if I could. I love them as if they were my own. Not that I'd know what to do with 4 children, that is a lot. I'm seriously good with just 1, if I'm so lucky to be blessed with 1. So was my trip just fine? Good? It was great. My loved ones were a part of it, so it was wonderful. I loved the city I love the bridge, I loved the weather and the redwood trees at Muir Woods were absolutely intoxicating. I wish I could've spent longer there. I will definitely be taking the boys there next time. They would love it. It was the freshest and best smelling air I've ever experienced. The tallest trees I've ever seen. It was cold in the forest, while down in the city it was much warmer. In the woods, amongst trees, I was in heaven. That's my place. I love being in nature and I have a thing for trees. I want to see those big sequoias you can drive through, next.

So the girl in the room in San Francisco didn't get to experience exactly what she would've wanted, but she is lucky to have gotten to be there at all. I'm lucky to get to board an airplane and fly somewhere I've never been before. Many people never leave their hometown. It's just not feasible. I know I'm lucky, in that respect. Where will I go next? The Grand Canyon? Sequoia National Park? The mountains of Alaska? Who knows! But it will be amazing wherever I go. Because I have the ability to make it so. Just me. By myself. I always do...

 

Fried eggs and Religion

It's early Saturday morning and my older Vietnamese neighbors are having some kind of prayer circle. Other older people dressed up in Sunday best, despite it being Saturday have been coming and going while I sit on my porch eating my fried eggs I splendidly prepared. I'm still in my pj's but some say 'good morning' to me and I smile and reply the same. They are chanting in Vietnamese, in monotone speech. Obviously I don't know what they are saying. There's a Vietnamese Catholic Church at the end of my short block, so it's no surprise they are all meeting here. In fact it's why this older retired couple lives here in these duplexes. I talk to them sometimes. They speak broken English.
But it got me thinking about religion. I believe you can worship whatever God you want and in any capacity. As long it's not one of hate or killing. However we all know there are several "religions" or branches of them that believe in this very thing. That it's their God-given duty to rid the world the of whatever they feel is "bringing the world down." When in fact, it's THEM that's bringing the world down. I'm grateful to have been raised in a Baptist Church in Texas that didn't preach hate. If it did, I didn't hear it. It wasn't until my teens that I really started to listen and I remember taking notes on the side of the bulletin. Of course that wasn't every Sunday. I still passed notes to my friends and doodled in the margins, or wrote my own stories wherever I could fit it. But I think I would remember if my Pastor preached hate. That would be pretty obvious. Being someone that was raised in the church, I could be a completely different person right now if I wasn't raised in that particular church or not in one at all. I think I held on to God for as long as I could and longer than most would. It was life. I spent Wednesday nights and practically all day Sunday, there. I spent weekends at retreats, weeks at various camps and mission trips. It was my whole life outside of school. And now for years it's been practically nothing- to nothing at all. Why?
I guess I've become that stubborn child who is holding their breath until they get their way. Not that I was that child when I actually was a child. I was pretty easy going. Taking the backseat to the drama of my younger sister. I obeyed and I was quiet and shy. I took everything I was told as the truth. It's not that I don't believe it all now, I still do. It's just that I don't know that I believe the cornerstone of Christianity which is that God loves you. Or maybe I don't believe he does because I don't have that in human form. He's supposed to be there for you all the time, but all I want is someone else to be there for me all of the time. (Physically, not literally be at my beck and call). I just want someone that chooses to be in my life on a more consistent basis than a couple times a year. That chooses to live in the same house as me, walk my life with me, good or bad, present or distant (metaphorically speaking). But at the same time I want to be left alone until that does happen. I don't want to waste my time with people I don't have anything in common with. I don't want to pay an annual fee in order to hang out with strangers at some restaurant or concert or event. I don't want to email strangers that sound like they have potential, only to be rejected by them without even saying a word (or typing a word). I guess I want the impossible- someone to walk into my life at work, at the grocery store, at...I can't even think of a 3rd place I go. In San Francisco next week...
This all goes back to God not providing for me. Leaving me out to dry, literally and physically and emotionally and metaphorically in every way. I love the solitude though. At this point in my life, even though it would be quite impossible to have 4 children unless I adopted them all at once; I don't even want that anymore. I can't imagine the noise. Thinking about it overwhelms me. Listening to a baby scream for an hour is more than enough for me, and that's in my day job. I do want a kid, but only one. Sometimes I think back on what my life would've been if I had married my first boyfriend, from college. If he hadn't broken up with me after we made silly plans of honeymooning in Disney World in those little cottages because I didn't like the idea of a hotel room where people could hear you through the walls. I could have 4 kids right now easily, if I had gotten married at 22. I had a friend who has 4 or 5, I've lost track and she got married in December before we even graduated. At only 21. I wonder how overwhelmed I would be. I wonder if I'd be sad and lonely still. Longing for someone I couldn't have. Something he couldn't give me. That would be miserable. More miserable than still being single with no prospects at 35 and no one for the past 10 years now.

"God is good," came into my head just now. Whether or not I believe it, I know the saying. I think it's good to believe in something. Even if it's just the Universe and it's own plan. It doesn't make sense, but it doesn't have to. My best friend is Mormon and that would never ever keep me from loving her just the same. People who are passionate about their beliefs, (when they are loving and kind beliefs) are just fine with me in my book. I will put the opposite in a box, I will. I will lump any religion or belief that some people are less than you and deserve to be killed or hurt or taunted just because they believe in something different than you or live a different lifestyle than you, into that box and say "you are wrong." What you are preaching to your children is hate and there is no God out there that would agree with you, if you were to meet them face to face. There can't be. It goes against what an "God" or entity is supposed to be. How could you preach "love one another" or "thou shalt not kill" but then make exceptions for that and say, "oh wait, but you can hate and kill these group of people?" It does make me think about that certain "Baptist Church" you know the one; the one who does this very thing everyday and publicly I might add. Loudly. I've thought many a time that God should smite them down, just strike everyone in the church. But saying that out loud makes me no better than them. Ok, well, a little better, I don't go out and preach that that should happen. But you know what I'm saying. I'd be just like them, hating a group of people and wanting them dead. So I don't think that way anymore. I love the people out there that stand around those funerals where these other people are protesting, and they stand there not in violent outrage, but in quiet unity. They hold hands and create a barrier against them. That's the way it should be. Hate doesn't cancel out hate, it just adds to it. It just makes it grow. (I mean obviously; it is why we have wars). Quiet love. Unity. Connectedness. That's the way it should be. Well enough on that.
I hate summing things up. Sometimes I do and sometimes I don't. I just end my blog. Sometimes I just run out of things to say and it doesn't have a nice little ending. So that's what I'm going to do now. I'm going to end. Go enjoy my Saturday. And I hope you do the same. And tomorrow, go to church or don't. Worship or don't. But like Ellen says, "Be kind to one another." It's not as hard as you think it is.

100th

I sat down to write a new blog post when I realized that this would be my 100th post. One-freaking-hundred!! Wow. In 4 years. Almost to the day too, because I started this blog in September 2012. That seems like a crazy amount. But I feel like it's one of the greatest things I've ever done... for me. As for anyone else that reads it, well I'm sure there are lovers and haters, there always is, but I am so glad that I did it.
I started it after the summer my life changed forever. It was May 2012 when I had this epiphany that I could be gay. It was almost like a light bulb moment. I wrote it all out in a blog post back in February 2013. Up until then, I hadn't spoken out, well not to the blogosphere, but to my friends and parents shortly before I posted that blog (not that they read this blog). It's a long story of self-discovery that I don't feel I need to recap here, but I think in a way I started this blog because of it. I needed to process things in written form. I've done that my whole life, but I needed to take that extra step and put it out into the universe. It feels really good to post like this, I'm not gonna lie. I need it. It's like my therapy. I did do real therapy for at least a year that first year. I can't say it helped or didn't help, I think it was ok. But this right here, this helps me feel alive. It helps me feel like anybody could read it. Anyone could feel connected to me. Anyone could be touched by it and even if I never know it, I can see that 30 people have read it, or less or more, and it helps me to not feel so alone. I have gotten some feedback from friends who like my brutal honesty and realness. I don't need to sugar coat anything. I just tell it how it is... for me. No one can tell you how to feel. That's the good thing about being your own person... and not some robot or clone or something created in a lab.
I did sit down with a topic in mind. The topic is the dry wasteland that is my backyard and what a few drops of rain can do. (Which of course is a metaphor for something. It always is. Something is never just one thing).
My backyard used to look like the Amazon jungle. Thick, green grass that soared above my cat. It was her own private little oasis. I know she loved it. But I kinda hated it. I hated it because we are supposed to keep it down and it was always too hot to cut it and it grew like... well weeds, which are also amongst the problem. My push mower proved to be pretty useless. I had a weed eater or trimmer or whatever you call that thing with the blue cord that cuts the grass, but after throwing it a few hundred times in frustration, it broke beyond the repair that duct tape could accomplish. So with that out of the question, the next step would be to pay someone to do it. My friend offered her husband to me and I took it. (I paid him of course). I asked if he could also cut some of the branches on what I thought was a bush but was more like a small, out of control tree that poured over the fence and made it impossible for me to even walk between it and the fence. When I checked in he had cut down several of the branches, at a slant, and I said that's probably getting good enough, when I checked again, the entire tree was gone. Nothing but a stump was left. I didn't know what to say. I mean what's done is done. You can't un-cut a tree. He cut the grass down to the bare dirt, so what was once a lush Amazon rainforest was now a dry desert wasteland. My cat and I were both left in shock.
It's been a hot summer, to say the least. Last Friday it was 105 with the heat index of 115. I left work that day feeling like that backyard, a dry, desolate wasteland, with nothing left to give. There was the promise of rain. I made it home in time for a 2 minutes shower, a sprinkle, but I stood out there in that rain soaking up every last drop. I needed that desperately. My good hasn't been good enough. I was sucking at my job (apparently), because I wasn't being "productive" enough, ie: seeing enough kids to pay for my own position (or more likely the positions of the higher paid others).  I was pretty fed up and done. I was done with the heat that I had to drive around in and get in and out of the car every hour and walk into a house that could be just as hot. I was done with the expectations I couldn't meet, due to families no showing me or cancelling last minute, which is somehow my fault. Like that tree, all of my limbs had been cut off:  I wasn't good enough at my job, I wasn't good enough to make new friends, to connect with people, to meet a girl to fall in love to get married, to have a kid... none of it. I was like that hot dusty backyard, down to the bone dry. But when those rain drops hit me, it was like I was finally able to breathe. I didn't even realize I was holding my breath for that long. I didn't realize I couldn't breathe... until I could. I took a deep breath and let those really cold raindrops freshen my face, permeate my skin, satiate my body... right down to the bones. It didn't last long, but it was just what I needed. It didn't fix anything, but it felt good and I felt like I could finally breath, and that was enough in that moment. The promise of a rainy weekend didn't' pan out. In fact that was all we got, those 2 minutes, that Friday late afternoon. I peeked out at my backyard Sunday night. I hadn't been able to go out there or even look at it. It depressed me. It depressed my cat. Without that tree, the sun would hit that window and made it far too bright, despite blinds. Without that grass, my cat wandered around looking sad and in need of somewhere to hide. But when I looked out that evening I saw a patch of brand new sturdy green grass.  It was about 3 strands. That was it. But it was the greatest thing ever. New life was already springing forth, from a sprinkle of rain! Imagine what a real rainstorm could do!
Well come Monday morning it started to rain for real. Little by little, till today, Wednesday, we got a whole bunch of it. Our summer's long drought was over. With it brought cooler temps. 80s and then today upper 70s. Right now at 75, it feels the coolest it's been since I can remember. All I can remember is 100 degree days, which is what it's been for a lot of the summer. We needed this. I needed this. The days are still hard. Today was a long hard crazy one. But the rain and the cooler air just allows me to do what I don't do often enough- breathe. Take a deep breath and let it out. I'm not going to burst into flames inhaling the heat of a thousand suns. I breath in rain and cooler air and some humidity, but it makes it all worth it. I am so grateful for tonight, for the cooler weather. I am grateful for my job (despite it's many challenges and expectations that can't always be met). I am grateful for this blog. For it's 100 times it's allowed me to share what's weighing on my heart the most. This blog is like the rain and cooler temps. It lets me take my dried out dusty self and sprinkle it with rain and it may not completely fix the problem... the cut down tree is still cut down. The grass is growing back in strange patches of long strands, 5 deep, surrounded by dead yellow hay grass, but it's something. This blog is something. It helps me. It waters me. It keeps me going, keeps me sprouting grass strands, or blades. (That's the word I've been looking for this whole time! That was driving me crazy).
I hope I do 100 more blog posts. I hope they continue to take me on a journey of myself, as lame as that sounds. Who knows what I'll discover next, what adventures I'll go on next. In 2 months I'll be writing about my first trip to San Francisco. Who knows what new discoveries lie there. I can't wait to see what my 200th blog post will be about... what's in store for me next.

well, at least Michael "gets" me

I'm beginning to not see the point anymore. The point of anything. Why am I so unlucky?
I wrote to a friend recently about how I have tried to connect with people and how even in reaching out for a friend, I get rejected. I mean these aren't random strangers, but people I've met along the way. People I just wanted to get to know in a casual group situation, to be invited to their group maybe. I have no lesbian friends, so I thought maybe I could join the group of the one girl on my Facebook I met years ago, and just join her friends for dinner or something. Instead I got a speech about things come when you least expect them. And that I should focus on myself more and do community service. Thanks but I didn't ask for your opinion on how you think I should improve myself and live my life. She literally didn't even answer the question- Do you have a group of girls you hang out with as friends? That's all I wanted to know. I know she does. She's very outgoing and an activist and knows everyone. But, whatever.
My friend sympathized. She did. She knows the amount of effort I have put in and tried to connect with people. She doesn't understand why it has been the way it's been, for me. She poured out encouraging words and wonderful things about me, I don't need to brag here. "You are lovable," she said. It makes me cry even now. I think I know that. I know there are people I see a few times a year that love me so incredibly much. But it's not enough. Sometimes I think I'm expecting too much. But I'm really not. I'm not expecting a perfect relationship. But I'm expecting to be chosen by someone. To be picked out of the billions of other people in the world, to spend their life with me and only me. I'm not looking for a sister wives situation. I don't think that's too much to ask. I don't think that's unrealistic because there are so many people out there that are living it. At least 99% of my friends; 98% of everyone I would even call an acquaintance, or maybe a "friend" in the broadest sense of the word, are in a relationship. So what is wrong with me? I think I'm just unlucky. Maybe I'm in the wrong place. But thinking I might meet someone or connect with someone like I thought I might of on my vacation in Canada, or thinking that I might meet a girl in San Francisco, the gayest city in world... is just a pipe dream. It seems completely pointless to even hope anymore. It doesn't get me anywhere. It all feels so... pointless. I've done this before. I've prayed. I've envisioned who I want. I've written about her. I've tried to meet someone. I've gone in with no expectations and I've gone in with the mindset, I will be successful. Nothing works. I'm at a loss now. I think I'm at a complete loss now. I want to be at the bottom so I can work my way back up, but every "cliché" phrase out there, just has not worked for me in the least bit, so it doesn't even matter if this is my rock bottom, because it's not going to get any better. So no more "love will come when you least expect it." No more "if at first you don't succeed, try try again." No more, "if you're not open to love, then love can't find you." I don't know about that last one, maybe I misquoted it. But you get my point. None of those have ever worked on me. "When God closes a door, he opens a window." Nope. When he closes a door, he double bolts it and puts bars on the outside so there's no way you're getting out. I've done every possible thing and lived every possible way. I've lived my life just doing what I love, not worrying about it. I've been positive, not as much on here, but why do I need to be positive on my own blog that I use to help process and get out my feelings? Maybe somebody else in this world reads this and really gets it. It's them, too. But yeah, none of it matters anymore, because nothing changes. I was looking for places to maybe hang out in San Francisco, after I see my bestie and the kids that love me so much in Sacramento. Places where lesbians hang, but I think that's the whole city, they don't really have their own places anymore. But I probably won't even go to any of them. I'm not going out of my way, because nothing is going to come of it. Why would it? If nothing's happened in nearly 10 years why would anything happen now? This is it. This is my life. I'm going to live in this house near the lake in Dallas, with my cat, for the rest of my life. This is all I get. I don't get any more friends. I certainly don't get any more single friends. I don't get any more connections with people. I don't get any more dates. I don't get any more loves. I just have to accept that and be ok with it. I'm just not one of those people that get to have a life that she feels is what's "the norm." Maybe normal is boring. But normal doesn't mean perfect. It doesn't mean a man and a woman and a son and daughter a dog. But it does mean a family. It does mean someone that you get to love and be loved by every single day, even when you do not like them or what they did. It does mean kids, to me. I'm not going to define everyone else's normal and everyone else's definition of family. I can only define mine. I already can't have a child in the sense of them being half me and half my partner's. That's already out the window. I'm not going to pretend I'm not upset about that, but that's biology, that's just the way it is. The closest thing would be a brother's donation. A twin brother even more so, but I don't know that people really do that. That's just me being logical. All that is moot anyway, so moving on.

What do you do when everything else fails? Even though everything always amounted to nothing or I failed or people rejected me or whatever the case, I would always pick myself back up, dust myself off and whether it be a couple weeks or a couple months or more, later, I would get out and try something again. But now I can't even fathom that. Instead of indulging myself like I would in the past, thinking about what "might" happen when I go to this group, or this city, or message this person; the thought that "maybe I will meet someone" here or there, is completely shut down within the first few seconds. I'm surprised I even wasted my time looking for places to hang out while I'm in San Francisco. I can't believe I even indulged the thought of looking for a meet up group event or looking online to see if I'd connect with any one that lives in that area. I thought if I'd already be there, why not meet the people. I've kind of been thinking about what it would be like to live outside the city, since it's way too expensive in it. I'd be so much closer to my boys and I'd love to be in their life more regularly, face to face that is. I'm in their life everyday through the things I've given them and clothes they wear everyday from me, and the conversations they have about me with their Mom (my best friend). But that idea's been shot down before I even research it. I'm not risking my cat's life on a dream. The move alone will kill her. The fact she wouldn't be allowed to roam around outside there, would depress her to no end. She's more important than the less than 1percent chance I'd meet someone there. You can say I use her as an excuse not to try, but I wouldn't move there unless I already had someone there waiting for me. I would figure out the logistics of moving a cat across the country who is scared in a 2 minute car ride, if I already had a girl I was crazy about who was like "please come move to Cali for me." I would even get my own place. But yeah, not gonna happen. So back to my question. What do you do when everything else fails? I have no idea. I can tell you what you don't do. You don't go on Instagram looking at that crush you had for so long who suddenly always had a girl by her side, yet she never said she was gay. Well, she is now. Officially. I knew it. She even kind of looked like me, which only made it hurt more. Not that she knows I exist. Well I did write her a letter a couple summers ago, but most likely she never read it. It was stupid anyway. Things like that don't happen to me. There's no way I would've ever gotten her, even if we had met. I don't get to be happy. I don't get to be in love. I don't get to ever be kissed again. I don't ever get to be held again. I don't get anything. I get the scraps left by people when they have a minute to spare to give me face to face time with them. The ones their kids and spouse haven't already hoarded for themselves. As well they should. I would kill for a spouse and kids to give all my time to. My friends wouldn't feel left out, because they all already have that, so they don't really need me. They sure as heck don't need me now. So that's it. There's no point. There's no answer. There's no "things will change, give it time." If 10 years isn't enough time, then I don't want to know what is. There probably is somebody out there for everybody. But there's not someone out there for me. I don't get anyone. I figured only murderers and rapists and child molesters would fall in the category of "you don't get anyone, sorry, not sorry." But for some weird reason, I get put in that category too. Even though I'm the complete opposite in all 3 of those ways, like night and day opposite.
And now I shall leave you with a story from Michael, of The Office. You know which Michael I'm talking about:
Michael: I read this story about a woman who slipped on some black ice, and she hit her head and went into a coma forever. And then every day, her husband went and visited her in the hospital until she died.
Pam: that's a sad story
Michael: (voice breaking) yeah, well, at least he was married.
Pam: Oh, ok, Michael, slow down. Everything's gonna be okay.
Michael: no, it's not. It's not. Oh man, I can tell you confidently that it is not gonna be okay.

Oh Michael, I feel your pain. At least you were on a hit TV show so you were bound to get Holly (the one and only girl weird enough to like you) back at some point. And you did. And you got married and had 2 kids. Sigh... where's my weird girl?? I need someone by my bedside if I'm ever in a coma, or vice versa. (insert silly face emoticon here)

(insert awkward pity laugh here) It's ok...go ahead...I get it. ;o)