I want desperately to want to write about something other than what I've been writing about recently. But, the somber tones seem to find their way into my writing of their own accord.
I want to write about something other than my tortured emotional state, but at the same time I don't want to force anything...a journal shouldn't be about creating some facade.
The thing is, I can easily identify with and dwell on the melancholy in life...is this a good thing or bad? I recently looked back on some of the things I wrote several months ago, to ponder the general flow of my writing and the tone each entry has taken. It's interesting the way the collection flows over a time period, and I can easily recall those feelings, re-identify with them, though I'm now far removed from those experiences. It makes me glad that I found this place, that I've been keeping this journal.
It feels, in a way, like a fingerprint that slowly develops intricacy over time. This is me, and though I've been apprehensive (many times!) to write what's really going on inside this head of mine, I think I've grown in some small way as a result of putting my thoughts on paper, so to speak.
I have grown up to feel most comfortable sheltering my emotions, my soft underbelly. Its a paradox of sorts that I'm incredibly emotional and intense - I just rarely allow others to see that side of me. I want to feel more comfortable with my intensity and I don't want to fear revealing myself because I'm worried about scaring others away. It has already taken so much work, I have to make a conscious effort to expose myself, though my instincts fight fiercely to reign it all in.
I understand that this process will be painful but when I'm doubting this mission I'm on, I think about how painful life would be like were I to someday look back on things and realize that I never let anyone know me. Which is worse? The latter, I think...and so that fear is my motivation for fighting this fear I feel now. Fight fire with fire, right?
I firmly believe the way to growth is a rocky and torturous path...and my tenacity won't allow me to give up, falter though I may.
Monday, March 28, 2005
Sunday, March 27, 2005
My Exotic Getaway
My heart is hurting and I don't see refuge in sight...
I am days away from embarking on an incredible experience and I can't muster much excitement...the kind that might be expected when one is in such a place. Instead, my grey matter is preoccupied with feelings of loss and longing, feeling for some missed opportunity...another incredible experience, though of a very different vein, just a plane ride away.
It comes down to love vs. life. Though, in some ways, love is life, in this case choosing one means losing a bit of the other.
I dread my "final departure" because I think about how long it will be before I see his face again... those, deep and mysterious eyes, that smile. The way he holds me, how he can make me laugh with my entire body, and with little effort on his part. His smell and his childlike heart. So many things to contemplate...almost instantly, I want to cry. He is intense and so my recollections, my feelings, my associations regarding him are intense as well.
Conflicting emotions have been the predominate theme in recent months, and since I've left him, they are only intensifying. I so thoroughly enjoy feeling enveloped by emotions when involved with someone, especially one that rocks my world in such a way...yet, part of me just wishes it would all go away. I am so guarded with my heart, but once I cross the point-of-no-return, my heart is almost totally exposed. So...the hurt, its going to get much worse, I know it. And if I'm struggling so much now, what then? And then there's the fact that we're in different places emotionally...that makes it hard to fully embrace what I'm feeling because I know he's not there.
What have you done to me, Vino?
I can liken it to going on holiday to an exotic and beautiful destination. When you arrive, you're overwhelmed by what it has to offer, and each hour, each day you are there, you feel so grateful, so rewarded. At some point, your impending departure darkens the mood and you realize you must soak up as much of the environment before you go home. Your quests, your days, they become longer...you don't know when it is you'll be back to this place, and who knows if it will even be the same as you left it? So it becomes imperative to enjoy the experience to the fullest, and at the expense of sleep, or money, or whatever.
That is what I've tried to do in this relationship...he has been my Fiji, my Paris...those places I constantly dream of exploring but have not yet been able to find my way to. They are the type of places I know I want to go back to, before I've even visited them once. They are expensive to get to, time-consuming to fully appreciate, their appeal is both visible and cryptic...but it is always worth the sacrifice.
I am days away from embarking on an incredible experience and I can't muster much excitement...the kind that might be expected when one is in such a place. Instead, my grey matter is preoccupied with feelings of loss and longing, feeling for some missed opportunity...another incredible experience, though of a very different vein, just a plane ride away.
It comes down to love vs. life. Though, in some ways, love is life, in this case choosing one means losing a bit of the other.
I dread my "final departure" because I think about how long it will be before I see his face again... those, deep and mysterious eyes, that smile. The way he holds me, how he can make me laugh with my entire body, and with little effort on his part. His smell and his childlike heart. So many things to contemplate...almost instantly, I want to cry. He is intense and so my recollections, my feelings, my associations regarding him are intense as well.
Conflicting emotions have been the predominate theme in recent months, and since I've left him, they are only intensifying. I so thoroughly enjoy feeling enveloped by emotions when involved with someone, especially one that rocks my world in such a way...yet, part of me just wishes it would all go away. I am so guarded with my heart, but once I cross the point-of-no-return, my heart is almost totally exposed. So...the hurt, its going to get much worse, I know it. And if I'm struggling so much now, what then? And then there's the fact that we're in different places emotionally...that makes it hard to fully embrace what I'm feeling because I know he's not there.
What have you done to me, Vino?
I can liken it to going on holiday to an exotic and beautiful destination. When you arrive, you're overwhelmed by what it has to offer, and each hour, each day you are there, you feel so grateful, so rewarded. At some point, your impending departure darkens the mood and you realize you must soak up as much of the environment before you go home. Your quests, your days, they become longer...you don't know when it is you'll be back to this place, and who knows if it will even be the same as you left it? So it becomes imperative to enjoy the experience to the fullest, and at the expense of sleep, or money, or whatever.
That is what I've tried to do in this relationship...he has been my Fiji, my Paris...those places I constantly dream of exploring but have not yet been able to find my way to. They are the type of places I know I want to go back to, before I've even visited them once. They are expensive to get to, time-consuming to fully appreciate, their appeal is both visible and cryptic...but it is always worth the sacrifice.
Wednesday, March 16, 2005
A Juxtaposition Cocktail with Bitters
I've slowly come to the realization that my life is one of extreme juxtaposition.
I have long known that I am a person of great contradiction, though it has taken some time to become accepting of this fate. Now though, I am presented with the reality of a real-world existence that will mirror the one I lead internally.
I've said time and again that I am aware of the delicate dance life's mysteries participate in, though I've never quite recognized a pattern with which they couple themselves. It's just kind of hit me...this thing.
I must live through something beautiful and fulfilling while in another arena of my life encounter some of the ugly vicissitudes of human existence. And they are always at such extremes: not just MILDY beautiful or MILDLY ugly, but preceded by an adjective suggesting notability. Yet, there is an even distribution, not only in the contexts of the experiences, but the magnitude with which they affect me is somehow balanced.
Granted, there are long stretches of time when the color of my world's sky seems all but gray, but I can generally will-out a bit of sunlight. The converse is true in times of extended summers. And so it is when I speak of these bizarre juxtapositions, I am referring to life's "big" things.
Now is a time when all I really want to see is an expansive desert sky, like those I so fondly recollect from my youth: The wonderous way in which, at dusk, the jagged, blackened profile of the mountains become blanketed with brilliant hues of magenta and orange. I long to close my eyes and bask in the warmth of the setting sun's rays, smelling of that sweet floral musk that I've never quite been able place. It is a thing of rare beauty, and my mind keeps creeping toward that vision...
The reality, however, is that my Arizona sky is an oasis. (Though it exists somewhere, this place I'm in now is just not magnificent desert-ready.) Because, just as quickly as I begin to explore its nuances, the illusion fades, forcing me to recede into the clutches of a far less spectacular materiality.
It's funny...I have this tendency to seek out the wizard behind the curtains, but as of late I've been trying to master the art of repression. I've been striving for unabashed idealism, just to see what it's like to go about life with such an outlook. Ironically - and of its own accord - the truth has found its way back to me. The realist has resurfaced.
What I surmise from all of these elements: I can't resist the natural flow, the energy that is inherent in my existence. So, I will not feign naïveté any longer...it just ain't my style.
I have long known that I am a person of great contradiction, though it has taken some time to become accepting of this fate. Now though, I am presented with the reality of a real-world existence that will mirror the one I lead internally.
I've said time and again that I am aware of the delicate dance life's mysteries participate in, though I've never quite recognized a pattern with which they couple themselves. It's just kind of hit me...this thing.
I must live through something beautiful and fulfilling while in another arena of my life encounter some of the ugly vicissitudes of human existence. And they are always at such extremes: not just MILDY beautiful or MILDLY ugly, but preceded by an adjective suggesting notability. Yet, there is an even distribution, not only in the contexts of the experiences, but the magnitude with which they affect me is somehow balanced.
Granted, there are long stretches of time when the color of my world's sky seems all but gray, but I can generally will-out a bit of sunlight. The converse is true in times of extended summers. And so it is when I speak of these bizarre juxtapositions, I am referring to life's "big" things.
Now is a time when all I really want to see is an expansive desert sky, like those I so fondly recollect from my youth: The wonderous way in which, at dusk, the jagged, blackened profile of the mountains become blanketed with brilliant hues of magenta and orange. I long to close my eyes and bask in the warmth of the setting sun's rays, smelling of that sweet floral musk that I've never quite been able place. It is a thing of rare beauty, and my mind keeps creeping toward that vision...
The reality, however, is that my Arizona sky is an oasis. (Though it exists somewhere, this place I'm in now is just not magnificent desert-ready.) Because, just as quickly as I begin to explore its nuances, the illusion fades, forcing me to recede into the clutches of a far less spectacular materiality.
It's funny...I have this tendency to seek out the wizard behind the curtains, but as of late I've been trying to master the art of repression. I've been striving for unabashed idealism, just to see what it's like to go about life with such an outlook. Ironically - and of its own accord - the truth has found its way back to me. The realist has resurfaced.
What I surmise from all of these elements: I can't resist the natural flow, the energy that is inherent in my existence. So, I will not feign naïveté any longer...it just ain't my style.
Wednesday, March 2, 2005
Er...
I am the Ice Queen.
Or so I've been deemed by a coworker, and probably various others who haven't the heart to admit it to me directly. She did, though. And over lunch no less.
It's not as bad as it sounds. She was telling me that that's the impression she got when she first met me. She was hired as a seasonal employee to assist me and others in my department. Apparently, when she introduced herself and in a few subsequent conversations, I came off as cold and a bit displeased with her presence.
Now, she says, she's aware that I'm just reserved and that it takes me a bit of time to warm up to people.
I didn't take offense to what she said; I always like to know what impressions I give others, good or bad. But, it got me thinking about how many others I've made feel the same way or similarly. While I can't apologize for my natural demeanor, I do know from past conversations and intuition that my tendencies can throw others off or rub them the wrong way.
Or so I've been deemed by a coworker, and probably various others who haven't the heart to admit it to me directly. She did, though. And over lunch no less.
It's not as bad as it sounds. She was telling me that that's the impression she got when she first met me. She was hired as a seasonal employee to assist me and others in my department. Apparently, when she introduced herself and in a few subsequent conversations, I came off as cold and a bit displeased with her presence.
Now, she says, she's aware that I'm just reserved and that it takes me a bit of time to warm up to people.
I didn't take offense to what she said; I always like to know what impressions I give others, good or bad. But, it got me thinking about how many others I've made feel the same way or similarly. While I can't apologize for my natural demeanor, I do know from past conversations and intuition that my tendencies can throw others off or rub them the wrong way.
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