Wednesday, December 2, 2015

Ode to this night

Occasionally it isn't about the orgasm.
Do not misunderstand. An orgasm is amazing and often highly desired.
This time it wasn't the priority.
It was about the gumshoey psychedelia playing over your phone.
It was about our kissing, our connection.
It was about you having a release. About the strange power for a brief moment where I felt beautiful and potent. I felt like I could be channeling a greater force through my body to yours.  The feeling of being an ancient goddess.
The living embodiment of the Venus of Willendorf. Even if for just a fleeting intense moment.
In that critical moment it turned into the ecstasy of skin on skin.
Feeling you twitch in my arms. To hear the heavy breathing. To feel your face in my hand and in turn, my face buried in your beard. The beautiful earthy smells that are you. How real and close you are to me. The exhilaration of you pulling me even closer.
Laying there breathing in your exhales. Being completely in the physical moment.
Allowing myself to be truly naked with you, loved and unjudged.
Sometimes it just isn't about the orgasm.

Wednesday, October 21, 2015

The Minefield of Impecible Words

Words are minefields.  People constantly are throwing and planting these bombs everywhere indiscriminately.
I don't really want to do that any more.  As a society we manipulate, cajole and diminish others with our words daily.

The reasons for this behavior can seem endless to me.

We struggle to own our words and actions for that matter.  We fear ridicule and rejection.  We hear it at every turn.  So we return fire or even prevent an unknown or anticipated fire fight by going on the offensive.

Those tactics can anger me faster than anything.  Inversely, the preemptive strikes seem to be a slew of self defeating tactics.
Do I do that?

We don't want to hear the judgement and criticism.  Just tell the enemy to fuck off first.
Why do they have to be thought of as an enemy?

We are more preoccupied with being the victor rather than asking the right questions and gaining a better understanding of ourselves and other human beings around us.  The fear of rejection is mighty and powerful.  I view it as a cruel task master robbing us of our self esteem and desire for introspection. If we are preoccupied or programmed to cower in the presence or preceived presence of rejection we ask the questions outside of ourselves instead of questioning our logic, motives and emotions to strive to understand the thought process which brought us to our present challenged circumstance.
Am I too focused on the concept of rejection as a motivator?

There is no doubt, asking for definition from our true selves is terrifying.
Is it more terrifying than rejection?  
Why would we choose the course to ignore the core of who we are and the ability to move beyond what we are in that moment?

Tuesday, July 14, 2015


Yesterday felt surreal all day. I couldn't wrap my head around it.  I clung to the small bits and pieces that felt solid and coherent. Then near midnight while looking thru facebook, let's just say, I found the disturbance in the force. A friend had committed suicide. When I put all the pieces together it jarred me to my core, and I found it was more upsetting than I thought I would. I felt confused.  It wasn't a situation where we had been best friends, or talked everyday. She was a friend who's company i periodically enjoyed and even occasionally had minor conflicts with, that resolved fairly quickly and easily. She was a good person. A loving person. Like so many of us, she also had troubles. Troubles that seem to have gotten the best of her. Why do we say that? The "best?" Maybe her troubles got the scared her? Or the weak part of her? I do not say weak to be judgemental. We all have weakness and intusive thoughts which only we know, in our dark hidden places, and how insidious and devestating they can be. I am so troubled by the fact she texted me the same evening she took her life. There was nothing that should have told me this was coming. She had asked (texted) me a question and I responded. Simply a quick & easy dialogue. Perhaps her asking if she had upset me should have told me something. But it didn't. Nor did the following text expressing relief and gratitude that i was not angry at her. My final response, as i was rushing & distracted on my side, had been simply been a thumbs up emoji. Maybe i should have sent a hug or a heart? I thought it was simply another quick text exchange. Not the last time I would talk to her. When i was laying here in bed last night putting all of these pieces freaked me the fuck out. Life has no guarantees. Life has no handbook. Yah, I am  Jewish, but I am also modern and don't view the Torah quite in that way. No guarantees, no handbook, no definitives. None. Talk about the beginning of intrusive thoughts.  I am laying here again, this time after a day of not being really able to leave the house. My boys all with me, all day. Trying to focus on the present. So I will continue to try to focus on the present until i can drift off to sleep. My bed is comfortable. The sheets are clean. The twinkly lights are glowing colors thru the bedroom. Chris' phone is playing a Brian Jonestown Massacre station. His ipad is glowing while he reads his stuff, and points out funny or intriguing bits . The cats are napping at the foot of my bed and Thurston is sleeping safe & well in his room. All is ok. This is the best I can do in this world, in this moment. There are no guarntees and only the present of today. Besides what is tomorrow but another today?

Rest in peace Leann.

Monday, March 23, 2015

46 or something

March 23, 2015 @ 10:41pm. Home and listening to my childhood 70"s Pandora station.

Darkened living room.  A rough couple of days. Although not today.
No excuses.  Anxiety has been on high lately.  Strange when my compulsions bring me no comfort in these times...Damn you talk have changed me!!

I am now 46.  Not 39 and not 50.  Just at this point where I know exactly where I am but feeling lost.  I no longer really give a fuck of others' opinions, yet others can still wind me up.  It is a strange place to live.  I think perhaps it is specific subject matters and encounters that wind me up more than opinions.

The last year taught me a lot about people.  Much of it not really great, but there have been moments of shining illumination.  I no longer feel the complete insecurity of a chubby and innocent 13 year old in comparison to the same 13 year olds who looked 15 moving towards 22.  My experience has been unique and yet completely common place.

People still seem to assess based on superficial values and and judge situations based on their own experiences superimposed onto others without trying to understand what most of the time, can never truly be explained or even justified. I am tired of trying to explain when in reality there has never been any reason that I had to explain, only my misguided sense of trying to soothe a challenging situation or in a harsher light ,justify my own actions.

fuck that shit.

I have discovered in the last couple of weeks that I gain very little solace from trying to explain why I am feeling anxious.  Often it makes it worse.  I am not saying that I want to shove those closest to me away, just that I am going through another change in some fashion.  Maybe I am not as interested in discussing my issues with many.  I have spent much of my life being what, in our family, have called a poll-taker. I think I am starting to step away from that space.  Maybe it is because I am 46.

What I do know is that any of my change is based on my thought process and the action that comes from it.  I do care what those closest to me think, yet at the same time, that weight is not as heavy as it used to be.  My core values haven't changed particularly.  The best I could say is that the world is a great deal grayer than it used to be and gets more so every year that passes.  I think the old adage is some thing like ...the older I get the less I know...

I regularly do not know totally what I want.  I am for the first time really thinking about what it means to get older.  It is completely fucking scary at times.  I have a life full of experiences, which I hope doesn't change, but in our ever complicated social/economic climate I feel a bit scared.  Scared for myself, scared for my son and nieces.  I try not to dwell a ton on only becomes counter productive.  I now find myself thinking ....well shit....retirement? What the fuck is that?  Is it even possible for much of my generation?  Sadly I am not sure that it is.  What does that mean? I simply don't know and I don't have any magic answers.  It completely distresses me these days.

So lately, I am trying to focus on the positive.  Focus on what I can do.  I keep looking for the work that will keep me and my family above water, and maybe try to figure out how to make it go a little farther.  I try not to be critical of myself for times past, as it really does no good.  I mean, it isn't like I can go back in time and reroute money into a retirement fund.  I don't really want to go back in time and take away the trips I took or the other experiences that my work financed.  Those were my choices.

Ah well...enough of this ridiculousness that keeps me awake.  Besides, I have some books to read, cheap wine to drink and my fantastic 70's station that probably would be a cause for ridicule and judgement.  Whatever...I listen to this music and it is July in Point Loma in 1977.  The pool out back is where I want to be and I know that Mom will have lemonade and popcorn for me when I get out from swimming and I can lay down on a towel on the warm concrete and here this music leaking out from an FM radio in the house or garage or even the neighbor on the other side of the fence.  It is good to be 8 one more time when retirement and society inequities had not captured my innocent mind.

Friday, January 30, 2015

A year ago and a year from now.

I miss writing regularly.  I have become far too inconsistent on this critical activity. This would seem to be a reoccurring complaint of mine.  Shockingly, the act of living takes up much of my time.  I admit for the last couple of weeks a certain level of melancholy has seized my head.  I can't seem to shake it from the deeper folds of my gray matter.  So many issues all seemingly bound together that brings my thoughts to this self critical space that historically I have a hard time pushing away.  Thoughts on my age,work/career, unfulfilled goals and those tenuous ties to one's self worth....  Even in this mental space, I recognize and acknowledge I am incredibly lucky to have Chris and Thurston.  They keep me from isolating myself.  It is ruminating on my relationship with Chris that calms me and helps me try to push through the gray clouds hovering in front of my eyes.

A year ago (Jan. 25th) Chris and I moved in together.  I suppose we decided that we wanted more.
Every day I wake up in a near state of disbelief, awe and gratitude about our relationship and the path it has taken.  I hope I never stop feeling this way.

Chris and I met in 2007.  He had just moved back to San Diego and started working at Adams Ave. Bicycles.  I had a  4 month old baby and had just started working again, which included in my roster of work,  Adams Ave. Bicycles.  I just knew him as this pretty quiet guy initially.  Then, over time, he took on more responsibility in the shop and we worked in the tiny office together a couple of times a week.  We listened to The Damned Pandora radio station while we worked.  We talked about music we both loved.  I told him of my guilty pleasures and he told me of his crazy adventures and worries about pieces of his life. I only think of him when I hear The Clash and Stiff Little Fingers going back to this moment in time.

We both had some serious troubles and terribly sad events that changed our lives profoundly over the next couple of years.  I was some what open about what I was going through and he kept his close to him. We kept talking, laughing and listening to music.

One night during that tumultuous time we were hanging out and drinking more than we should; I realized  how completely attracted to this man I was.  That was 5 years ago today.  It terrified me then.  I was in the process of ending a 16 year relationship.  I desperately wanted to be desired, loved, and even more..connected with another person.  We laughed much that night.  I think it was over for me when he started reciting Robert Frost poetry.  It was that night when I realized time could stand still when I look into Chris' eyes. I fell in love, even though I had no idea what to do with it, much less be able to recognize or to deal with my intense emotions and the reactions they created.  I didn't realize it in that moment, but I had a great deal of work to do on myself that I needed to do alone.

Subsequently there were so many experiences together.   Many good, some terrible, all of them intense (and confusing for me) and culminating in about a year or so where we didn't really talk, although we would see each other socially and be cordial.  At this point I went into intensive therapy.  I needed to work through many issues, including but not limited to my divorce and how my feelings about Chris had made me feel like I was going nuts. He had told me that I was too intense and that he did not have feelings for me, yet I kept seeing subtle behavior that told me otherwise, creating deep conflict and self doubt within myself. My therapy helped me work through many of my emotions, reactions and needs.  Helped me to find healthy ways to process through them.  Even to let go of certain scenarios and scripts that I believed in....for example...believing I was more to Chris than what he was telling me I had been.

So I did the hard work and let go.  I even dated other people.  Then slowly Chris and I reentered each others lives.  We were both tentative at first, in my opinion.  We were JUST friends, helping each other.  Being there when stuff didn't go great with our other relationships.  Our renewed friendship kept growing deeper and deeper.  I still could not believe that we were back into each others lives. Simultaneously I was incredibly grateful to have my friend back whom I had felt such a deep connection with.  I was also kept a tight grip on any expansion of my feelings.  I did not want to find myself back in a situation where I had to deal with a deep sense of rejection and self distrust.

Slowly our friendship evolved.  We talked or saw each other daily.  Romance made another appearance in our relationship.  We both fought in our own self defeating ways against this oncoming tide.  Then after a particularly hard emotional night...Chris decided that I was where he wanted to be.  I fought a battle against myself to believe that he could feel this way about me.  Trust has not been my strong point.  I was terrified that I would hear all the "criticisms" that I had once heard from him....  Yet I did not hear those from him.  I heard 'I love you like crazy." I heard "I miss you when I am away from you."  I heard "You love Thurston, so I do as well."  I did not hear his trademark "HOWEVER."

Then it became clear that we really disliked being away from each other (on nights he would go to his home).  Then an unspoken plan came into play.  We were going to live together.  That was the first time I heard the reassurance from the one I love so much that I am no longer alone.  The power of hearing that.  The fear.  The elation.  The joy.  The love.

It has taken time for me to really process and trust this situation.  It has become so clear to me in the last year.  The work we have done, together and individually.  The day to day experiences we live through together.  Do not mistake me...there have been challenging moments and difficult words spoken.  Learning how to express seemingly negative emotions in an honest and constructive manner and likewise,  learning how to hear that communication and figuring out how to honor the needs of my partner.  The last year with Chris has made me a better person.

I am in awe of the love he shows me.  It has taken me time to learn how to trust it.  Now that I do, I can't believe that I had questioned it. I hope that I give and show him the same amount of love he gives to me so completely.  I can look in his eyes and time still stands still for me. That connection we have spoken and unspoken has been one of the most important and precious quests I have had in my life. May I never take Chris for granted.