Thursday, December 31, 2009

Happy New Year.

I'm curious about this New Year, what is so happy about it? What was wrong with the last one? And what difference does it make if there is glitter and kissing involved?! I guess every blog today is probably taking a moment to pause and reflect on the year past. I suppose I could too, but there truthfully would not be much to tell. A year of travel, realization, growth, death, writing and a severe lack of sleep, too much wine, not enough cheese! I believe that 2009 was probably the least eventful year for me, and honestly I quite like it. It has been a year of work, and just a moderate level of play (have to work on that for 2010 I propose). I was unbelievably grateful to have my family home and safe from Iraq and to be able to have us all together for some much needed Cabot/Ritter tom foolery!

I am sitting, staring at the same computer screen I stared at this exact time 1 year ago. And all I can wonder about is how my thought process has changed. What occupied my mind then as opposed to now? I know what it is and unfortunately due to my lack of self discipline and probably a little respect for my mental health, it is the same thing. Why do we kiss the one we love when the ball drops? We could kiss them anytime we want, what is so special about this giant glowing ball and the fact that is it being, quite dangerously, lowered from the sky. Are we thanking them for sticking by as one year passes to another? An appreciation of having wonderful people in our wonderful lives? A good-bye to the past and hello to the future. But I'm starting to wonder about the desperation people feel. This deep burning need to just have that one kiss, just when the ball drops. Alright, alright, maybe I'm only talking about myself because I sure as hell haven't the felt the need for any kisses at any other point in time when there is not giant glowing glittery mechanical balls dropping in celebration of a new and prosperous year. Perhaps is the nostalgia, the overwhelming sense of warmth and positive energy of getting starting everything anew. Well, maybe not everything. Some old habits are seriously hard to break.

You are like the most bitter cup of black coffee
scalding hot and
steaming from my faded travel mug
curling the ends on my hair
my taste buds screeching
and my heart pounding in his cage.
My blood pressure takes off, straight to the moon.
You are like the Marlboro Red
I bummed from a stranger outside a bar
my breath cursed me and
my body beat me
the burning tornadoes tearing
at the corners of my heart.
And the race had begun in my chest.
You are like the tall glass of dark red wine
flushing my cheeks and warming my skin
my fingertips and toes seem to move like mud
and my body slows to a guiet lull
reminded of the movement of the sea.
For shame, I must pour myself another.

Monday, December 28, 2009

To my Best Friend

What is it about these sneakers? It seems as though when I wear them I tend to feel some kind of unconscious spring in my step. It has been that way in the past, but today I feel heavy. Not even the extra dose of caffiene in this mornings coffee seems to help. The sticky notes look a bit more pink today and the lights, awfully bright. What I thought might be a mindful and productive day, has quickly turned itself downhill and I can smell the sting of the smoke trailing up from the crash landing. There is so much more I could be focused on. Things that are detrimental to the path my life may or may not take. Things that could alter what is to be my next move in what looks to be a horrific game of chess and chance.

In attempting to escape my life for a few days in the deep corners of a quaint wooded town in Massachusetts, it seems as though the dive back in has been fifty times harder than the climb out. A gentle reminder, there is no escaping, as much as I'd like to think so. Loved ones are still sick, family is still struggling, and friends are still shaking their heads in wonder. I'm still going to make stupid mistakes under the influence of alcohol, after which I will pour myself another drink and apologize profusely while continuing to make rude sarcastic comments and hiding myself behind slurred language and the deep green of empty wine bottles.

How do some people come to mean so much to someone. My best friend and I have known each other for about 15 years. Some of these years we didn't talk on a regular basis, what with me in college and her having children and getting married. I was still learning what it meant to have balance in your life. School, work, family, boyfriend, and my best friend. But we never let each other go. Still to this day our attachment to each other astounds me. Our support for each other has been boundless, even when we don't agree. There is not one subject we can truthfully agree upon and yet still I am over there almost every weekend. Bottle of wine, hand rolled cigarette and deep belly laughter. There is nothing better than freezing in the basement, watching QVC and crying out how heinously ugly all the jewelry is. Laugh about Friendly's in Fitchburg and times when our judgement proved us wrong. Building strong relationships has never been my strong suit, but it seems as though in the sense of having a great friend, she and I have found true love (just don't tell her husband).

In researching Humanism for a writing sample I am working on, I found something interesting, well it's all interesting I suppose, but this was an aspect of religion that was not something I had thought about previously. Humanists put a significant amont of emphasis on living in the here and now. Living life to the utmost and making make decisions that are not only conscious and aware of the human race, but also making yourself happy. In working towards a common goal as a species, this is to make the individual a happy and successful person. It is about fostering and encouraging creative thought processes to add to personal satisfaction. Humanism puts the responsiblity of creating a happy and successful home on each and every one of us. In letting go of the supernatural, we are dependant only upon ourselves to make this life worth living. A part of an article I read stated "Humans are social by nature and find meaning in relationships.... The joining of individuality with interdependence enriches our lives, encourages us to enrich the lives of others, and inspires hope of attaining peace, justice, and opportunity for all." (Human Manifesto III). Building strong relationships is something that therapists say, we are taught by our parents and by the positive/negative relationships we have when we are younger. Of course, this is open to interpretation as mostly everything is, but based on circumstantial evidence, I could aggree with the statement for the time being. So it can be said that based on the lessons I have learned in my past surrounding relationships and how to build and sustain them, I could be helping the human race. The pressure is unbelievable!
To my best friend of 15 years, thank you for helping me enrich my life while trying (perhaps fruitlessly) to enrich yours and thus adding to my personal satisfaction and encouraging me to create peace with the other people that I meet along the way, as I work through these mindless days. Who knew our laughter could affect so much!

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Addiction

It feels like such a flurry. Feelings that I had just about forgotten, right down to the gently lifting of a bleach blonde arm hair, preparing for the goose-bump. I should've written last night and I didn't. I forced myself to read and fully enjoy my novel, since it's due date back to the library is quickly approaching. All I wanted was to talk to him a little longer. Feel his fingers on my tattoo one more time. Tell him stories that I can't bring myself to admit to. But my opportunity has passed. Perhaps I never really had one, everything is always so cloudy. Why does he still hypnotize me? Why does his voice move deep and slow like molasses and hands haunt me? I had told him I didn't love him anymore. Perhaps I lied. I actually have to admit that I'm not entirely sure how to write about what it is that I am not entirely sure I'm feeling at this moment. I feel like I'm still in love, that I was always in love, that there was never a moment of doubt and all those other beautiful things that happy white-picket-fenced-in couples spew at the alter on their most holiest of days. But I don't particularly care to feel this way. I expected more from myself. More strength and endurance, more emotional freedom and capability. But I have fooled myself once again. The overwhelming sense of need has taken over my morning cup of coffee and drab excel reports.

I smoke my last cigarette this year, I hope, and stub out the remains in the left over snow that the plow didn't manage to pick up. I feel a subtle wave of self doubt, as though I am perfectly in control here and have sabotaged myself to settle here. Right here. In the half empty parking lot at Midnight on a monday after having worked for 14 hours; lying, laughing, squirming in my seat. What a masochist he is. To simply watch, as though he has no idea, but he knows. He knows even better than I do. I don't mind so much. I've spent enough time in a tattoo chair, and they don't joke when they say it's an addiction.

We talked about addiction. Something that you feel you can not function without. Does that mean I'm addicted? I can function, I just don't like it. Look at me, wallowing as though I were some star crossed lover with a gun to my temple, trembling and weeping to a melancholy man. How is he the only one that brings this out of me. This flood, this monsoon, this tidal wave, if you will.