there should be a 'do not enter' sign in my subconscious REM state where certain images and people are just not allowed to enter.
in other news,
the other day i saw an ex sitting at a table in a restaurant that i happened to walk by. we both looked up at the same moment and shared a glance; me from outside and him from in, which is pretty accurate since our entire relationship was me trying to get in. But this time, I saw him and he saw me, and instead of going in for the cordial 'hello nice to see you after so long' waste of time conversation - I sprinted away. Literally. Sprinted. Feeling free with no regrets - I may have even skipped a little. Knowing you meant nothing to me now, even though you once consumed pages of prose, I now don't care enough to say 'hello'.
I hope if I see you I'll do the same. Last time I saw you randomly, it was on the F train and after you got off at your stop, I had to sit down with my head between my legs, the wind had literally been knocked out of me and I was dizzy and sick.
People only have an effect on you if you let them. So my goal is to not allow this effect to take place if I see you again.
Whenever I read a book these days, I always google the author's bio and more and more the author is closer to my age...and that somehow makes me motivated to get moving on my book. I also notice that, while most people can sit and enjoy a book for what it is...I pick it to pieces..analyzing and basically critiquing it in my head..and ultimately, my inflated ego decides that I can't believe I'm reading this when I could be writing my own novel.
But then when I sit down to go for it, the block is thick and nothing pours out. Fiction is HARD to right. I have stories in my head and an imagination that is borderline schizophrenic..but writing fiction is just hard!
Even writing a memoir is hard...I can't seem to do it - all the words sound great in my head..but on paper it's like atrocious word vomit, desperately seeking to be deleted.
Will try again. Hemingway had a typewriter, which I'm sure expelled mountains of prose that were quickly deserted onto the floor in forms of crumpled papers thought unnecessary. Yet, somehow his thoughts finally came through in perfect form. I'm sure mine will too.
Picture of Hemingway's actual desk and actual typewriter above.
I prayed for apathy and now I think I've gone and gotten it.
I used to imagine what I'd say if I ever saw you next - now I think I'd pull down the shades to my Prada knock-offs and keep walking, imagining I never saw you. Imagining that I was, yet again, seeing things, seeing people, seeing images that don't exist anymore.
With my clear apathetic head, I see a bit more clearly and this vacant cavity of our lost dear best best friendship has slowly slowly closed.
I only hope it stays that way - - my apathy and closed cavity.
recently I went to a networking event. It was a 2 day event where 95% of the crowd was in a serious relationship. After a while of having the 'oh I'm single' talk - I got bored and began to embellish the truth. In other words, I began to lie.
girl 1: yeah my boyfriend's pretty old-fashioned so I feel like if we move here we won't live together even though that makes no sense since he would be moving here for me.
me: haha oh man yeah...well that's kind of admirable that he's old-fashioned...rare to find
girl 1: true...so do you have a boyfriend too?
me: oh... i did..but we ended it (translation.."no i don't)
girl 1: oh man that sucks!
me: eh nah it's no big deal (translation.."it's no big deal because it didn't really happen and i can't think of anything more clever to say")
girl 1: oh ok - were you the one who ended it?
me: nah..it was pretty much a mutual decision. (translation..."please refrain from asking me more questions as I am the world's worst liar)
After relaying this conversation full of lies to a friend I got the following response:
friend: dude! if you were making up a story, you could have at least come out being the one who ended it!!
so there you have it, I'm even nice to my fictional boyfriends...not wanting them to be seen as the dumped..but rather, having us both come out on top (or bottom, depending on how you look at it) as 'mutual dumpers'.
today my heart craved something it rarely ever does.
Not frozen yogurt, or a powdery non-fat concoction whipped into an airy frothy cream-like consistency, no. Ice Cream. Real, rich, dairy-filled, refined sugar loaded ice cream with chocolate chips, cookie dough, and cocoa intertwined.
Today my heart craved Ben & Jerry's, the icon of all that is gluttonous, creamy, decadent, and overloaded with various sugar-filled flavor concoctions.
And today I allowed it. I averted my eyes as I passed 2 frozen yogurt stores, darted past the vegan ice cream parlor, and refused to acknowledge the asian-inspired, much lower in calorie sundae shop, as I walked to my destination. Brightly lit, colorful, calorie-laden Ben & Jerrys.
"1 small cup with 2 big scoops please - Oatmeal Cookie Chunk + Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough."
After a while of imitations, the heart just needs the real thing.
from the very first to the current, i've always had a thing for lying with my ear near their heart and hearing the steady 'da-dum da-dum da-dum'
"i can hear your heartbeat", I would say out loud, as if I thought this was a Danielle Steel novel and my quirky fascination with hearing heartbeats was supposed to evoke something more romantic than an "mmm...k" from the person in question.
On Wednesday I used your arm as my pillow, my ear pressing against your forearm, and I could hear your pulse - 'da-dum da-dum DA-da-dum' - one quickened unsteady pulse - I was fascinated.
I pulled my wrist close to my other ear and heard my own pulse. It was off-beat as well.
I lay there as you slept, listening to our uneven pulses beat together in perfect harmony, and for a moment I couldn't tell whose was whose and for that moment I couldn't tell what was really so different between us. For that moment, I was oblivious. Obliviously smitten, my heart refusing my brain to speak out and make me see logic.