Paper Trail

current state of mind: mildly amused

Sacrifice your dignity

And forfeit your regrets

It's a brand new day

Let's wash our hands of this

~ “This is Goodbye” by Honestly

Yesterday I found myself in the middle of a Match.com event. Firstly, I am NOT on Match.com. Secondly, I was actually there to drink a glass of wine, enjoy some delicious Margherita Flatbread, listen to some live music, and visit with Ms. Wine (a dear friend who happens to own the bar). Another woman (Ms. CSW) was there for the same reason. So, she and I sat at the bar chatting while Ms. Wine was doing her “owner” stuff.

We both found it interesting to people watch at this type of event. For the first 30 minutes or so, attendees came in and sat at separate tables. 75% of the people were playing with their smart phones. Very few people were mingling. It didn’t make any sense. They pay for the dating site. I think they paid to attend the event. They were all purportedly single. Why not take a chance? As the evening wore on, people began to relax (likely due to liquid courage). A few men came up and talked to Ms. CSW. She was confident and remarkably talented at chit-chat. I observed, made mental notes, and continued to eat my flatbread pizza.

While I was in mid-bite, a guy ordering a beer looked directly at me and asked, “Did you go to W--?”
I laughed aloud and said, “Um, yeah, almost 20 years ago. Did you?”

He said he had, and told me his graduation year; 3 years after mine. He let me know that I had looked familiar and was trying to remember my name.  I asked if he was an athlete, since I had been the sports trainer for most of the sports teams for his class. I imagine that is how he knows me, though we really never pinpointed it. When he introduced himself I realized that his older brother was in my class. We hadn’t been close.

Anyway, “Classof97” acknowledged that he was here for the event and figured I was not since I was sitting at the bar, only talking to the staff and Ms. CSW. I wanted to help the guy out, so I asked what kind of girls he goes for. Here is where the conversation became a huge source of amusement.

“Well, I go for younger girls usually. I mean, at least 18, I’m not a sicko or anything. Or I go for older girls. Sometimes girls who are in-between.”
I cocked my head to the side and said, “So, let me get this straight. You go for younger girls, older girls, or girls who are in-between?”

He nodded. I burst out laughing. During the remainder of our conversation, I got caught up on his family history, the places he’s lived, what he does now, and how it was a huge boost of confidence when he could claim a 21 year old college girl was into him recently. Then we began surveying the room and discussed his preferences. He finished what was left of my flatbread pizza– upon invitation. I told him to tell his brother ‘hello’ for me and wished him luck on the rest of his evening. Then, I went home to hang out with Elizabeth and read some “Game of Thrones” on my Nook.  

It was a nice night.

PERSONAL NOTE: I am looking forward to seeing you and the girls in less than a month! Woot! Woot!

CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I think the carrot is far better than the whip. Thanks for the motivation!

  

Connection Undeniable – Too Bad You’re Unreliable

current state of mind: finding ground

I guess you could say I'm one of those girls
That's always been with one of those guys
You know the type
Like right now, he sleeps while I write
~ "Stronger Woman" by Jewel

I enjoy writing my thoughts for public consumption. I seldom, however, write about my own personal heartbreak. My reasoning for this decision is sound within my own mind – but when I mentioned it to my personal advocate (aka my LIMHP/LPC), she found it curious. Let's call her Miss O'Hara. I explained that these are my personal stories and insights; therefore, it isn't fair to only share one side of the story. After suffering through Miss O'Hara's "am I supposed to buy that?" expression, I acknowledged that perhaps I really just don't want to reveal [what I consider] emotional weakness to the masses.

You see, I consider the darker side of my emotional romantic relationships an albatross. Clearly I am being metaphorical, as sea birds do not actually have anything to do with my emotional connections. Hopefully my circular thinking and writing are confusing you – which is my way of distracting you from the fact that I am feeling emotionally vulnerable.

I usually write Personal and/or Confidential notes at the end of my blog postings. Generally, these notes are concise. Sometimes they take on a cryptic aura. Some people have asked the difference between the two. A Personal note is directed at a specific person and I will confirm the identity of that person when asked. Confidential notes are a different story altogether. Confidential notes are directed at a specific person; however, I will not share the identity of the recipient to anyone.

"Why this preface?" you wonder.

Here goes . . . Miss O'Hara and I have been working on some things – and one of these "things" is my ability to rationalize the poor behavior of others; especially when executed by someone with a handsome face and clever wit -- or as "Veggie Girl" said to me when I was 15 – "You always excuse boys' bad behavior." Now, a month from my 36^th birthday, I am ready to learn how to stop doing that. I am beginning today. . . .

PERSONAL NOTE:  "In a game of this kind one has to take sides and we have taken ours. It remains for us to see that our side wins." – Ernest Bramah, Four Max Carrados Detective Stories

CONFIDENTIAL NOTE:  You always tell me how much you love to read what I have written. You praise my choice of words and my ability to convey a message with eloquence. I am hopeful that this is no exception.

I adore you. I feel warm and secure when you tell me that no one in the world is happier than you when we are together. I love how you can read my every micro-expression and know precisely what I am thinking. I appreciate how you have emotionally opened yourself up to me in ways you never thought possible. I value your insight, experience, and honesty. Thank you for refusing to filter and for insisting I do the same. I can close my eyes and still 'see' every glance you have cast my way. I never imagined that I would be able to share so much of myself without censure or judgment. We are perfectly matched in so many ways. I told you once that you had no idea how safe you are with me. You believed me, though you didn't know why at the time. You just "knew" that I would never be malicious or callous with your existence. Our lives have been built within similar realms of logic and intelligence. While neither of us has ever wanted the "messiness" which accompanies emotionally fulfilling relationships, we can acknowledge that the intensity brings out the best aspects of ourselves – and the worst.

I promised you once that I would never judge you. And I don't. The thing is, I don't need to. You know the kind of man you have chosen to be. You have no illusions that your actions are anything but what they are. You don't want to hurt me – but you do because it makes your life easier . . .  neater . . . cleaner. I understand. I do. Neither of us is used to "feeling" so much and being so "vulnerable". The thing is, I am worth the messiness and the feelings and the vulnerability. I deserve so much more than you are willing to give. I am not willing to fight for a man who lives a life filled with lies and half-truths because it is more comfortable than living authentically. You surround yourself with people who are unaware of your vulnerabilities. They support the façade you have created. I won't. Not anymore.

I unconditionally accept you as you are. I will not betray your trust in me – but you need to know with certainty that you have betrayed mine. So, no matter how much I long for your arms to be around me and how badly my heart aches, it is preferable to being with someone I no longer trust.

How sure am I about this? Cocksure.  

Like Falling’ When I’m Trying to Fly

current state of mind: pensive

The other night, you wouldn't believe the dream I just had about you and me

I called you up, but we'd both agree

It's for the best you didn't listen

It's for the best we get our distance

~ “Some Nights” by fun.

Today’s horoscope: Your logical analysis is usually a source of reason, but today it just makes everything unbearable. You can see what's wrong and, fortunately, you know how to fix it. But you're not in control. The harder you work to stabilize the situation, the crazier it becomes. Be aware that the dynamics of a relationship may have to get shaky for a while before they are able to improve.

I am tired.

I have had a stressful week. I am emotionally and physically drained.

I am tired.

And this fecking horoscope is perfectly timed with the debacle my life has become. Today, I am not feeling funny or witty. I definitely don’t feel brilliant. I feel like an eejit of the highest order. I know that the choices I sometimes make seem contrary to what could possibly make me happy – and that is really no one’s business but my own. You see, the choices I make are 96.3% based on logic and pragmatism. They are choices with purpose. They are deliberate and they are my choices to make; not anyone else’s.

The other 3.7% of my choices are made completely against logic. They are so far right of pragmatism and logic that they seem to be “left”. These are my truly human moments – and, well, humans are severely flawed. We act against our own self-interest for the sake of 1) principle; or 2) anger; or 3) love. I seldom do anything on principle. My reasoning behind this is the John Milton Synge play, “The Playboy of the Western World”. I saw it performed at the amazing Abbey Theatre in Dublin. The play highlights the flaws of the human condition – and how doing things on principle is irrational. . . . As for acting in anger, I don’t bother. I generally cannot sustain anger long enough to act. I suppose I am a little like Hamlet in those situations. By the time I am ready to act, the emotional energy has fizzled, resulting in inaction. . . . #3, however, is all mine.

I believe that the only way to love someone is unconditionally. Period. Whether the recipient be your child or your lover, the love must be unconditional. People should not have to earn love. More importantly, they should not have to fear that love will be withdrawn based on their actions. I act accordingly. Therefore, all of my decisions based on love (or the fear thereof) are immune to logical reasoning. This is an unfortunate result for acting out of love. I am uncomfortable with emotional stuff. I am even more uncomfortable with the deluge of heartache that often results. Even knowing the risks, I still choose to love. 

*Quick Backstory/Digression Before I continue this path of discussion . . . *
To prevent these emotional hiccups in my logical life, I build a lot of metaphorical walls. Like the wall that Nashe and Pozzi build in Paul Auster’s “Music of Chance”, it is a process without an end. The wall will never be complete and life will never permit abandonment of the wall’s construction. All I can do is provide ladders and grappling hooks (again metaphorical) to those I care for.
*Resume Discussion* 

I love my children without limits. There is nothing they could ever do that would make me not love them. There are plenty of things they could do, however, which bring on heartache. It’s inevitable. Children disappoint and hurt their parents. Parents disappoint and hurt their children. It is the human condition. I accept it without reservation. I am grateful for the opportunity. I have never regretted a single emotion triggered by the twins. Not one! They are the epitome of all that is right and good and pure in the world. They are my life source.

My love life, on the other hand, is a different story; one that will be unveiled another day. 

For now, enjoy this YouTube video from a singer/songwriter that was brought to my attention by someone who regrets not having a heart-to-heart with the performer in 1992 when he had the chance to change a life!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m5gCahc1uiM

Windowless Conversion Vans Echo with the Screams of Reluctance

current state of mind: disingenuous
Yeah, some
'Cause I could use some friends for a change
And some nights, I'm scared you'll forget me again
Some nights, I always win, I always win
~ “Some Nights” by .fun

In the past fortnight or so, I have driven 3500 miles, gone to Texas twice, visited waterparks, endured 4.5 hours of an ink gun on my ribs, driven through a number of small towns, and watched as someone changed a tire on Lucius. I have also visited with loved ones, reinforced friendships, and taken some tentative steps toward a different future than the one I had once planned. Overall, it’s been hectic. Going on holiday generally is far from relaxing; and this one was no exception. I did have a wonderful time, however. I love being a mom and every summer I get to live that role to its fullest for a little while.

I know that I have not written for a while. I have been throwing thoughts around in my head – but none of them wanted to be put down on paper, virtual or otherwise. A few nights ago I had a burst of writing inspiration; however, I was driving and elected not to pull over to write it all down. In hindsight, that was a bad plan because I did not retain any of it. I suppose that is the price to pay for inconsistent brilliance.

I did receive some vindication this past weekend. I always like it when I can say “I told you so” and this was no exception. I went to the eye doctor. I chose a new eye doctor because the girls in my old eye doctor’s office are rude. Plus, I wasn’t a fan of the eye doctor either. He had a creepy, conversion van essence to him. So new eye doctor seemed friendly when we met. I entered the examination room and sat in the eye-exam chair. His first question was an open-ended one: Tell me how you normally wear your contact lenses. I did not pretend to not know what he meant. He wanted to know how often I wear them, take them out, disinfect them, etc. In the back of my mind I could hear all of the lectures I have received over the years about how I am going to go blind because of how horribly I treat my eyes and contact lenses.

I took a deep breath and blurted out, “I am going to be honest with you against my better judgment. I wear my contacts straight for up to 3 weeks, sleeping in them, etc.” Then I braced myself for the wrath of the eye doctor.

Instead he asked a follow-up question, “Okay, so how long do you wait to dispose of an existing pair and put replacements in your eyes?”

“Um, 4 – 6 weeks unless I tear one.” I could only stare at the floor.

“Wow. Let’s take a look at your eyes and see if any damage has been done.”

Moments later he expressed surprise and said, “Your eyes display the signs of the average contact wearer. It doesn’t appear that your lack of contact care has caused any additional damage. Your particular contacts are now FDA approved for 7 straight days of non-stop wear. They should then be disinfected overnight and can be worn for another 7 days. The FDA suggests that they be thrown away after 14 days of wear. I cannot suggest to you that you maintain the aggressive regiment you have been following; but, I am not seeing anything in your eyes that concerns me.”

Ha! Now the whole wide world can hear me say, “I TOLD YOU SO!” My inherent laziness and desire to see clearly when I wake up in the middle of the night have done me no harm. Still, I am not going to tempt fate. I agreed to the every-7-day disinfection guideline. I made no other promises.

It’s a start.

PERSONAL NOTE: Thanks for the wine, conversation, and Phase 10. We need to do that more often.

CONFIDENTIAL NOTE: I am stronger than you think.