Thursday, December 24, 2009

Who knows? It might all turn out wonderful in the end.

Project brother feelings is failing miserably too. As a good friend already predicted/suspected. I'm not sure what else I should or can say about that. Except that I know this could come to some kind of horrible end, but I can't make myself spend any less time or attention. I don't want to. Spending time with him is my favorite thing to do. Even if he could never feel for me the way I feel for him. Even if he never wants to be anything more than my best friend. I love him and I don't want anything less than everything he is willing to give me. It could turn out so, so bad. But I can't stop the part of my mind that builds these invisible futures where everything happens the way I want it to. But I remember how much crushed hopes hurt. So I try not to let them grow. And I'm not even willing to spell them out here. Better not to want anything at all, than to want things you can never, ever have.

I was doing a good job there for awhile. But then he says little things that chip away at the wall I was trying to put up. He looks at me a certain way and I start wondering if it means something more. He touches me casually and my heart starts racing. And I know in my mind that I want someone who lets me know that they want me too, without question or hesitation or games. But then I'm in the room with him and I don't care what I thought I wanted before. He is my favorite person and I like it when I don't know what that look means or what he is going to do now that he has my foot between his hands. It makes me nervous and confused and... happy.

And sometimes I wonder if he is doing it on purpose and then telling Billy how easy I am to manipulate and then they both have a good laugh at my expense. And think that I'm ridiculous and sad. Pathetic.

But I'm not.

I just love openly and honestly. Even when I know it might hurt me later. If this is going to hurt later, I don't ever, ever want to get to later. But there is nothing I am currently willing to do to stop now. Pathetic.

Saturday, December 19, 2009

It's funny how you say all the right things and then do something completely different. Okay, when I say "funny" I mean frustrating and disappointing. But not really surprising.

And what can I say? I've done exactly the same thing.

Thursday, December 17, 2009

The way you keep saying the same nice thing over and over again, it makes me believe you.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

It's not so bad if I focus on the good.

I miss the bike rides and the hikes. Just you and me. The smell of sweat and sunscreen. I miss the sun on my skin and the feeling of my heart racing as we climbed the hills. I miss having to keep up with you. Always just a bit behind. I miss exertion. Knowing that the further we went, the longer I got to keep you with me. I miss the feeling of satisfaction when I got to be healthy and be with you at the same time. I miss silly tank-top tan lines. Even the gnats stuck to the spray-on sunscreen on my arms and across my collarbones. Adventures when we go off trail and just talking and talking and talking. The push and pull of my muscles climbing up over rocks and roots, pedaling along curves and up inclines. The freedom of a coast downhill. The cool relief of the shower afterwards, racing to get clean so I could get back to you faster. I miss knowing what we would do. Having the activity to keep our bodies and eyes occupied. Filling up the time. I miss feeling strong and knowing I can keep going and going. I miss the hot air. Hair stuck to my face and matted to my scalp and circles of moisture around the neck of my shirts and under my arms. I miss wearing less clothes. I miss summertime.

I like huddling under the blanket and stealing the warmth radiating from your right side. I like making dinner together and playing board games in the dining room. I like getting hugs when I don't have my coat on. I like cute socks and flannel sheets. I like my parka and pajama parties. The bite of still, icy air and those little frost flowers on my windshield. I like getting up early to sit at the coffee shop and cradle a hot drink between my hands. I like Thursday nights and laying my head on your shoulder and leaning against each other and holding your hand. I like the way the stars always seem clearer to me when I have to look at them through my own misty breath. I like the heat in the car to be just on my feet. Showers so hot it burns a little. Hooded sweatshirts and warm chapstick. Candy canes. The smell of wood burning. I like waking up to text messages and nearly falling asleep on the couch. Baking and sharing the hours darkness so it doesn't seem so dark. I like winter too.

Tuesday, December 15, 2009

I talk about boys all the freakin time. Wonder when I'll have one of my own?

I know I'm oblivious to a lot of things most people notice. I don't see the details. Okay, I even miss MAJOR details. But I would like to think it is because I'm focusing on other things. Maybe things other people miss or take for granted. Maybe everyone else sees them and I'm just paying more attention. But at any rate, I think about things too much. Over analyze and try to figure out what everything means and how it fits into what I already know. I think my blog is a whole lot of this. Just me trying to figure out what it means. And how it works.

And I just want to be heard too.

Today I spent the day with my best guy friend, Mr. Jeremy. Something terribly embarrassing happened to me during that time. Girl stuff, you know. So I come out of the bathroom and get my coat and I inform Mr. Jeremy that I have to go home but I'll come back, if he wants me to. And he was all concern, wondering what was wrong because we had just gotten back to the house and he had gone downstairs and I had gone to the bathroom. He guessed pretty quickly what was the matter and let me go. And when I returned, he told me embarrassing stories and moved on. And then later asked me what had happened. And I don't know if he did it on purpose or not but he left the couch and sat at the computer and messed around on the screen as I attempted to tell him.

I'm telling you all of this because I'm so impressed with him right now. First, because I assume most guys don't want to know what horrible thing happened in the bathroom to make a girl want to leave immediately. I thought I would come back and we would both pretend it didn't happen. But more than that, he shared a story with me before asking me to tell mine. To make me feel more comfortable. And then he moved so that he wasn't watching me while I explained what happened and that made it easier too. I'm not used to talking with people about my menstrual cycle. Especially not a guy. I don't like talking about my bodily functions. But this was okay. It wasn't awful.

The other day I told him he should get his hair cut soon because it was interfering with my ability to see his eyes. Today we looked through magazines until he decided on a haircut and then carried out the decision. He does look better now. And I can see his eyes. Not that he doesn't always look handsome, of course.

I came home thinking about how relationships change. I was so tangled up in liking him before. You know the feelings. They are fun, of course, but not really when you're feeling them alone. It was like I cared too much, but for the wrong reasons. And everything seemed bigger than it was, like getting knocked around by a slight breeze. Too much.

Oh I thought of another metaphor. When I went snorkeling for the first and last time, the water was choppy and the waves kept washing over my snorkel and I got mouthfuls of sea water. I would lift my head from the water to empty the snorkel and get hit in the face by waves. It was overwhelming. I was so glad to actually be in the ocean and the fish that swam near enough were beautiful. It was an amazing experience. But the water was too much for me and I had to swim back to the boat.

It used to be like that. I felt like I was trying my best to keep up. To breathe. Because I really was doing it alone.

But now.

Now it's different. Now I've got a handle. Maybe now I'm on the boat and I can still see the fish and feel the water rocking me, still feel the sun warming my skin and smell the sea, but there is no danger of drowning. No taste of salt in my mouth. No feeling of being powerless.

I still care too much, but now at least I think I've got the right reasons. He is my best friend and I love him. I think it's more each time I see him. But I don't hope for things that aren't there and I don't want anything other than more of his time.

I just started a list of things I like about him. Thats ridiculous. You don't care.

I was just trying to say something I haven't found words for yet. I don't want to say that it is easier to be around him now, because it has always been easy. Too easy. My favorite thing to do. I think I mean that it is easier to be without him now. Easier to not think of him so much. Not wonder what he is doing and how he is feeling and blah blah blah. He'll tell me when I see him. And he'll want to see me. So I don't have to worry.

Maybe that's it. It is easier not to worry now. And I'm not worried about all kinds of things.

And for all that, I love him even more.

Monday, December 14, 2009

I don't like Christmas.

I don't like Christmas. I don't like ridiculous trees that get all tangled up in a box in the basement all year and then covered with finally-un-knotted lights and pieces of things on wire hooks. I don't understand the reason. I don't like things that sit around and serve no purpose. And I certainly don't like the process of turning it into something pretty when it starts out so ugly.

I don't like gift-giving. Not at Christmas time or birthdays. I hate the idea that we give things to one another because we have to. I would much rather give something to a person unexpectedly. The pressure of deciding what on earth you could get that person. Trying to make sure you have enough money. And who do you buy for? What if this person gets you a gift and you didn't get one for them? What if they don't like what you got them? And I am so not sentimental. How long am I supposed to keep this card? It has a long note written in it, so awhile, right? And what about this lotion I don't want? I always get about 15 bottles of lotion every Christmas. I don't want to smell like eggnog. Lets not do this part. I hate it so much. Can we skip that part? Lets do.

And honestly I'm not into celebrating the whole birth of Jesus thing. I am not religious anymore. I'm not that person. It is a holiday for a religion that I don't share.

And it reminds me of the Christmas we didn't have running water and I stayed all night with my aunt in protest and then somehow it became a tradition for me to stay all night with her and my cousins on Christmas Eve though it reminds me of horrible, horrible times. People asking what I got for Christmas and me thinking about how much bigger concerns I had at the time. Gifts? I can't even sleep in my own house.

But everyone assumes that everyone else likes Christmas. Are you ready for it? Did you get all your shopping done? Are you excited? Merry Christmas! And I know they mean the best. And I don't really want to explain how much I hate it. So I smile and say, "No!" and they agree with me.

I'm just doing my best to pretend it isn't happening. I can't wait until it is over.

Is it summertime yet?

Friday, December 11, 2009

So this is why we have rules.

Today I had a customer that made me feel a little uncomfortable, but also a little flattered. First, he asked if Melanie and I were related because we both had pretty red hair and gorgeous freckles. And then a little later he says, leaning towards me, that a pretty girl like me makes him wish he was young again. He was probably in his forties but he was handsome and articulate in a way that kept him out of the creepy-old-man category in my head. The way he leaned forward and looked into my eyes kind of made me feel like he was used to talking to women that way and having it work. Like he wasn’t just looking at me, but looking into my eyes and seeing things there. I wasn’t sure what reaction he was hoping for but all I could do was smile politely while my face turned red and inform him that he could take a seat, it would be a minute or so before his license was ready. Then I gave it to him when it came out and told him to check it for errors and I walked away. Before he left he walked over to the counter where I was and said, “You really are gorgeous.” with that penetrating look and then left.

And yesterday a cute young man told me he would buy me a drink and teach me how to play pool if I went to the pub that night.

I’m not used to this. I’m not used to being noticed. I mean, people notice me all the time, sure, but as the happy girl or the nice girl or the smiling girl. Not really with interest.

I like it.

To be fair, Jeremy tells me nice things all the time. He tells me I’m pretty or beautiful or attractive. He compliments my eyes or the way a shirt contrasts nicely with my hair or any number of positive observations about my appearance. But I suppose it feels different.

I was going to say it was different because I don’t believe him, but that’s not it exactly. Part of me does think that he would just say these things because he is a wonderful friend that knows I’m terribly insecure about my appearance and therefore says nice things to help me, but I know that’s not true. He wouldn’t lie to me. It would be better to not say anything at all than to lie. The frequency of his compliments helps me believe there is at least some truth to it.

But still, it is different. It is like when my girl friends tell me that I’m pretty or I look nice or something. I certainly believe that they believe it is true. And maybe I DO feel pretty or beautiful or whatever. But they, my girl friends and Jeremy, they say these things out of kindness. They don’t want anything from me. There is no goal in mind.

I want someone to want something from me. I want someone to be attracted to me. To want to get closer. To want to touch and share and be touched. And they way that man spoke to me and looked at me today, it was the first time I felt like someone did want something from me. Like I could have said something like, “You aren’t that old” and kept him there longer. Like he wanted me to say something like that. Now I absolutely didn’t want to spend any more time with that man and I certainly didn’t want him touching me, but he gave me something no one else yet has: He made me feel attractive. He made me feel desirable.

And I realized that all those times I thought I wanted to feel pretty, I thought I wanted to feel beautiful, this is what I actually wanted.

Because I’ve known what it feels like to look in the mirror and be pleased with what I’m seeing. To think that yes, I am pretty. Yes, I can be beautiful. But not until today did I ever think that maybe a man might be attracted to me one day.

I want to feel that way again. I want to see that look in the eyes of a man I’m attracted to.

(While keeping in mind Mr. Jeremy’s sixth month rule, of course.)

Monday, December 07, 2009

If I had thought. . .

If I had thought that was going to be my last night with you, I would have done so many things. I would have hugged you for so long. A hug that felt awkward in its length if it didn't mean goodbye. I would have said so many things. Told you how much I love you. How wonderful you really are. Because you can't see it. And I would have let you know, finally, what it meant to me to lose you. Because if I never get to tell you I love you again, you should see the hole you'll leave behind. You should see just how big you are to me. Because you can't possibly know.

If I had thought that it would never be the same between us again, I might have seen the signs earlier. Might have seen all the things you weren't telling me. Might have had enough time to hide some small space in my heart that would be left undamaged by your departure.

If I had thought that you knew all night long that this was going to be the last one we spent together, I might have stayed home alone instead. I might have kept a memory more pure for our last day together. Or I might have kept you with me all night long.

If I had thought you were lying to me while I told you all my truths, I might have kept some things to myself. I might have hidden part of myself away from you the way you were doing the whole time.

But I never thought any of those things. Not even once.

Sunday, December 06, 2009

Someday though, it will all be okay.

I don't know how to care about you any less than I do now. I don't know how to be anyone other than who I am and who I am loves you a ridiculous amount. Who I am is able to forgive you over and over again. Who I am is getting better and better at not letting you see how much you hurt me because I know that it would hurt you to see it.

As a human being, I get to reinvent myself with every rising sun. Or more frequently than that. Every breath we get to choose who we want to be. Usually we just keep being the familiar thing we are used to. It is easier. It is safer. Every once in a while something comes along that knocks us off our present path. Or maybe it is a subtle wind that causes us to bear ever-so-slightly to the right until eventually we are someplace we never planned to go.

I think you were a subtle wind for me. And then you just plowed me right off the path. I don't think I'll ever be the same again.

And I love you. Oh, how I love you. I don't think telling you with words is working well enough. I don't think my free time and attention and care are making a bold enough statement. Or maybe they are and I just look ridiculous to you. Because you don't care for me so much. You couldn't. You don't.

So despite how much I love you, I have decided it would be best for me if I created some space between us. I don't think you'll notice, so it won't hurt for you. But I have this problem: I don't know how to care for you less. I don't know how to think of you less often or not worry about you so much. I don't know how to reign in my stray thoughts so that they don't wander your direction.

Because when I don't see you it weighs heavier on my heart than when I get to see you several times a week. And when I don't text you I'm just wondering if maybe you'll want to text me this time. And when I DO see you, despite my best efforts, I fall easily into that person that absolutely loves you. No matter what.

My conclusion:

I'm not going to ever be able to tell you goodbye. The very thought of that makes me hurt in ways I haven't learned the words for. I'm going to keep reaching out to you even if/when it becomes obvious that I should maybe stop trying. So if you don't want my love and time and attention, you are going to have to be the one to walk away. And I really hope you don't, because that would be something to survive, not something to get over.

I know all of this might come off as sort of desperate and pathetic. Think of me that way if you must. But I'm trying to be the one that will always be there. I'm trying to be that unconditional love I keep hoping to find somewhere. I'm trying to be as forgiving and accepting as I need someone to be for me.

I know you love me. And I know you love me less than the things pulling you away from me. I'm just saying that I can't love you less for that, even if I should.

Patience is a virtue I am lacking.

Every time I see a secret on postsecret that speaks to me, I save it. Tonight I started going through them to read them all again. I only got to "S" in alphabetical order before I had to stop. Too many things going through my head.

First, I think someone could learn quite a bit about me based upon the secrets I chose to keep. They speak to me for a reason.

Second, it made me believe that maybe we aren't all that different after all. My deepest fears and greatest hopes do not belong to me alone. Over and over again other people found more beautiful ways to say these things:

I feel not good enough.
I can't wait to fall in love.
I don't think I'll ever recover from being fat.
I think you are amazing, and you can't even see it.
I'm so completely happy with me and life and everything. One day at a time.
Just because I survived it, doesn't mean it was ever okay.
Being imperfect is part of the beauty.
Every bad thing in life would be worth it, if it led me to you.

Over and over again. The same feeling with different words. The same meaning with different pictures.

I'm ugly and flawed and broken and I'll never be okay. You should love me anyway. I think you are more amazing than you would ever believe. If I could tell you, maybe you would fall in love with me. I think we could build something beautiful beyond words.

I'm surprised again at how often we can feel the same things. Me and a stranger. Us. All of us together.

If there are all these people out there waiting for their person, than I'm sure my person is out there waiting for me. And no matter how flawed and broken I think I am, he is going to think I'm all kinds of good things. And I'm going to see the good in him, even if he can't figure out why I keep seeing it. And together we will make each other happier and stumble along through the years just holding each others hands, no matter how rough the path becomes.

I'm feeling impatient. It is just getting worse.
I feel like I can bring any subject back around to this one.
I'm lonely in a way I don't understand. Hanging out with friends every day doesn't make it any better.

So, so impatient. Where are you?

Thursday, December 03, 2009

I really like the way this feels. Holding hands with my favorite, favorite man (mostly so I would stop poking him and pinching his nose and rubbing his chin hair and messing with his hair) and feeling only the kind of affection I feel for any of my friends. Friend-feelings. I sure love that man, and now I've learned the right way to do it. My heart feels full. And whole. And happy.

Wednesday, December 02, 2009


I'm going to write though I have nothing particular planned to say. Just this awareness that my blogging lately has sucked. Okay, everything in my life lately has kind of suffered from my lack of attention.

I could talk about work, because I've been at one place or another at least 70 hours a week. But I've been living for those few hours between work and sleep. Let me talk about those.

So I had a crush on my best guy friend. I think these things probably happen a lot between men and women. And then he told me he liked my other friend. Well that sucked. More than I thought it would. And not in a oh-no-he-doesn't-like-me kind of way because I already knew that part. It was the excitement in his face when he talked about her and the horrifying realization that no one has ever, ever looked like that for me. And the wonder if anyone ever, ever will.

Well, and, it DOES suck to not have feelings reciprocated. I'm not going to lie about that one.

After I got over that particular event and all the associated feelings, I decided that he needed to be moved quickly and permanently to the "brother" category. For my sanity. For our relationship. For the good of everyone involved.

Yeah, so thats easier said than done.
Totally working on it.

I can't tell you how much better this feels. Now it feels much more okay to tell him how I love him. Maybe I feel less misinterpreted. But I do love him in a similar way that I love my brother. Maybe less because I know my brother better and longer and we have so much in common and so many good memories. Maybe more because I see my best guy friend more often and he disappoints me much, much less and he is a brother I choose to have.

And it feels more permanent to me. Like when he starts dating someone I'll definitely see less of him because he will, of course, want to see her as often as possible. But that won't mean that our relationship is over. It is a forever thing. Elastic enough to absorb the changes.

I feel like I have more power. Or more ground. Like I don't need to worry so much over not making him mad or not letting him see me grumpy or ugly or unhappy. He doesn't need to be attracted to me, he just needs to love me for who I am and accept the ugly parts too.

I'm not so preoccupied with his physical self. How near he is or how often he touches me or how often he looks at me. These things still matter, of course. Especially hugs. Hugs are IMPORTANT. But I don't feel like he is a second source of gravity and my attention keeps falling into orbit around him.

And I love him all the more for it. For the things he has taught me; the things he meant and the things I think he never planned and doesn't even know about. And now that I'm learning to slowly erase all the stupid extra stuff floating around in my head, I can see even more details of who he is. My favorite man.

Sometimes he makes me smile all goofy because of a text message. Sometimes he disappoints me. Sometimes I feel like the only safe place left in the world in right next to him. Sometimes I think he has no idea that he is hurting me. But I like nearly all of his moods and can accept the ones I don't care for so much. He listens and shares. He smiles and laughs and gets quiet and sings and rants and raves and dances. He is consistent and inconsistent. Sometimes I understand parts of him and then later I'm baffled. He challenges and affirms me. He pushes me to the edge of my comfort zone. Sometimes he makes me mad. He makes me want to listen to every story and somehow be for him as many wonderful things as he is for me. I want so many things for him. Things that will make him happy and healthy and whole and so, so, so, happy.

And I miss him. This is what working so much has affected the most. Less time for him. I've seen my girl-friends a lot. But I miss this one. My favorite man.

On another note, I just realized that I worked out today in a sleeveless shirt and there is black lint from my previous shirt stuck to my deodorant. Kind of looks like I have black armpit hair growing in little patches. I wonder what ladies at the gym thought? They probably didn't even notice me. Thats what I'll say.

Goodness I'm tired!