It seems that it’s around this time during the month that not only do I feel obligated to write again, but I feel the words bouncing and tearing around inside me looking to ricochet across a broader space than my mere insides can provide. They want the room to roam and be free, so here I am yet again.
That being said, I come to you today with a literary title rather than a musical one*: The Savage Damsel and the Dwarf by Gerald Morris.
*To be honest, and despite what it may seem with my running title theme, in the war for my affections, it’s often hard to tell if music or literature is winning. There are worse situations to be in. Continue reading “The Savage Damsel and the Dwarf”
I feel as though I can be comfortable with the expectations I have set for myself this year. Last year didn’t kill me, so if that is my base line, I at least know I can survive this one given nothing actually, physically, disastrous happens (I am currently knocking on every form of wood I can reach). I have said the purpose of life is to survive it, but that was admittedly during one of my darker moments. Right now, I can see with the foggy realization, the general though occasionally begrudging acceptance that despite the difficulty, the purpose of life is to live it—with some damn VIGOR where possible.
The tragedies of last year are of the past, I am clinging to them as a bad dream, lest I forget all together, but I now intend to live with some kind of intention after a really rough six months (at least, you know, until all the enthusiasm wears off and everyone leaves the gym again—kidding, mostly). It was all a bad dream (sorry for bastardizing the words, Biggie), it’s now time to wake up.
Continue reading “All Will Be Well”
It’s been a while since I posted. While life, uh, finds a way… Life also, uh, gets in the way (most of the time in the best possible way!). I’m not going to apologize for having one. Besides, this is my therapy and I’ll write if I want to (don’t take my words as too defiant, I missed being here)!
Continue reading “The Wrote and the Writ”
Don’t Worry, I Won’t Be Long…
Today is our wedding anniversary. Were it not for yesterday marking three months since our separation, we would have been married two years as of today. What is three months? Long enough, apparently, for an individual world to toss about like a boat in a tempest and still not find equilibrium. Three months is a quarter of a year, one eighth of my marriage. We were together for seven years, friends for three longer than that. Three months may seem like nothing until you factor in the finality… The fact that each day adds to a week, each week adds to a month, and each month leads to a year. In three more months, it will be six, half a year… The thing that was my whole world is just gone, it’s an ineffable feeling to conceptualize. I am astonished by how seemingly slowly time passes, until it’s of the past and then I wonder where it’s gone.
Because of this anniversary, everything is shades of blue today. Not happy, periwinkle blue or deep, lusty cobalt… the blue of haze and sadness. It’s not even a good, thematic blue that complements the musical genre. Or an adorable dog from a children’s show. This blue is dull and characterless. Unfortunately, though, its lack of character is still all encompassing and eye catching in its grungy hue. It has stained my world and made it dingy – incapable of any sparkle (not the pansy vampire kind). Worst of all, this blue has a liquid quality, leaking through the cracks around each door I try to close in an attempt to hold it off. Continue reading “Exeunt/Stay With Me Baby”
[“Hold On” – Green Sky Bluegrass]
“I know everything for all that I know,
But there’s always two sides to the way both of the stories go.
Sometimes things better left unspoken,
Should be shouted, written down, and quoted.”
I am a superfluously apologetic person, I always have been. I apologize for things that don’t really require it, feelings I have that I am entirely entitled to, even the actions and hurts of others. I think it comes along with anxiety that, at a point, I feel like a burden on the world and so I have always been one to apologize if anything around me is going wrong because I take it on myself, I internalize it, and assume it is a reflection on me.
Someone is unhappy? Obviously I am not doing my job to make them happy.
Someone stubbed their toe? Why didn’t I have the forethought to move that box to a more convenient location? Even though the box was not mine to move.
Why can’t I tell the future and change the past?
Continue reading “Hold On”
Surprisingly enough, I did not start out an avid reader. Many people would be shocked to learn that I initially hated reading because I was quite slow to learn and, to be honest, I don’t deal well with being bad at something I have worked so hard to master. The first books I read and truly enjoyed were from a series, by Gerald Morris, about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table (fantastic “YA” books, still very accessible to regular ole’ “A”s). These books, plus my Navy Brat upbringing, helped create a solid belief system based around the importance and necessity of armor; of personal protection from the things that wish to do you harm.
As we know, life quite frequently seeks to do us harm. Coping mechanisms, sarcasm, and a solid concept of self worth are our mental versions of armor; but there’s nothing wrong with decking yourself out in physical representations of your strength, when necessity demands it. Continue reading “Glorious You”
Words are everywhere. We use them for everything. Authors are lauded for their ability to manipulate them and people seek therapy when they aren’t able to find the right ones… Dave Barry (YAY for Haverford alumni), a favorite columnist of mine, wrote a piece once when his son was about to take the SATs. I actually have tried desperately to find the full article but I believe it was written in the pre-internet days and is therefore part of some back-country Google resource site that I just can’t find at the moment. Therefore, you will just have to trust me (if you can find it, please send it to me because, more than just for the sake of providing proof, I have been wanting to read it again. Regardless, it’s way too good for me to have just made it up).
Continue reading “Words Have Weight”
So… the first thing I have had to address in using my personal stitch cutter to delicately separate my life from the one I had aligned myself with over the past decade is establishing the things over which I have a full hold and vested interest, and which ones I need to either dismiss or reclaim based on the one-third of my life which is now, for lack of a better term, of the very aggressively and decided past. For example, I want to reclaim Iceland, the place of our honeymoon, because it was actually a transformative experience for me personally. It was the first time, in years, that I felt like a normal person because I had finally taken control of my mental health and decided to begin a regime of medication. So, Iceland was a world and experience lived in color again… a world which, despite my best efforts previously, had finally regained some scope and depth, one in which I could actually feel hope and happiness rather than trying to make myself rationally reach those outcomes through aggressive mental calisthenics. I associate this amazing change with one of the most important events a couple can experience, a celebration of “the happiest day” a couple will plan and execute. I assume you see the conundrum? Yes, I did something for the betterment of my relationship (not being depressed as all hell) but it was also for me that I made that change. That is how I now need to approach every thing that has become an aspect of my life because of the influence of that *other* person I, apparently mistakenly, chose to call my love.
Continue reading “Retaking my World”
I have of late, (but wherefore I know not) lost all my mirth, forgone all custom of exercises; and indeed, it goes so heavily with my disposition; that this goodly frame the earth, seems to me a sterile promontory; this most excellent canopy the air, look you, this brave o’er hanging firmament, this majestic roof, fretted with golden fire: why, it appears no other thing to me, than a foul and pestilent congregation of vapors. What a piece of work is man, how noble in reason, how infinite in faculty, in form and moving how express and admirable, in action how like an angel, in apprehension how like a god, the beauty of the world, the paragon of animals. And yet to me, what is this quintessence of dust? Man delights not me; no, nor woman neither; though by your smiling you seem to say so.
– William Shakespeare (Hamlet: Act 2, Scene 2)
Insomnia has plagued me for the better part of two months now. It was something I struggled with before, but the day my life changed… that day definitely has been weighing on me… causing many a sleepless night and multiple instances of beautifully bruised and puffy eyes from lack of sleep and a maybe a few leaked tears. Hell, I am not too proud to admit that. Which is why I think it’s appropriate that I am keying this, my inaugural post, in the quiet time just before dawn. Even now, my lovable douche bag of a cat is fixing me with some serious side eye from his curled position at the foot of my bed because I have the audacity of interrupting his 18th hour of sleep for the day… though I guess we are technically in a new day so the tally has reset and I am ruining his stats. My bad, little dude (don’t worry, this post is about your namesake, so it’s still all about you).
But I digress…
Continue reading “Entering Act 2, Scene 2 (of Life):”