This is very weird to me, because I always say birthdays don’t really matter to me. I say I don’t want a party or a present or a dinner or some sort of public display. And I don’t. I truly do not want any of that.

However, I am beginning to realize that birthdays do matter to me in some ways. I guess I realized that I feel like my birthday is my only day I am allowed to be selfish. The only day people only want to talk about me and what I am doing. No one tells me their problems-cause it’s my birthday. They don’t want to ruin my day. They all call me and for a few minutes, it’s all about me. And I can pick the music we listen to while playing a game. I can chose what we have for dinner. I don’t have to work. Everything is about me and everyone is delightful.

And that’s all I want from anyone. A call. To tell me I am important. A text. Some sort of “What up! You old! I love you!”. Then, when someone doesn’t give me that, I lose it. After all I try to do for others all the time, I wasn’t important to them, even on MY day. They have failed a test they didn’t know they were taking.

Therein lies my biggest issue in life and how I relate to others. Everyone fails because they never know when something is a test with me. I say birthdays aren’t a big deal, but when you don’t call, I can never trust you again. You’ve let me down, just like everyone else. And now, I must push you away.

It’s impossible to win with me. I make it so damn hard. I set everyone up for failure. I never let anyone in, I never allow anyone to take care of me in any way, yet when something comes up and am bowled over, I don’t understand why no one helps me up. Duh. I’ve trained them that way, then tested them on opposite material.

Everyone fails. Even me.

Birthdays are important to me, I guess. Maybe not in the same way as some people, but they are important. I guess I should start telling people that.

I guess I should just come out and say it.

For the last 7 years of my life, I have only had sex with 1 person. AND THAT TERRIFIES ME.

Of course, it might be important to add that mentally and emotionally, I am no where close to the place where I am ready to date or have random sex. Not close in the slightest. However, I am a fan of sex. And, I mean, when you are in a 7 year relationship, you get to have a lot of it. Then suddenly you get none. Then you start freaking out. . . .

I just feel like . . . I am not sure how it works anymore. I mean, I had sex with Michael for 7 years. SEVEN years. One person. I know what he likes. I know what he doesn’t like. And vice versa. It freaks me out to think of being naked with anyone! I was a much younger (not to mention, much thinner) person when I started seeing Michael. I was also a lot more open. I have slutty days in my past. Which, ok, maybe isn’t that great emotionally, but can be very freeing sexually. Sex seemed less of a big deal. Now I feel like it’s this horrible monster lurking in the dark, ready to . . . .well, humiliate me.

I am certain I am not the only person who has ever thought this, but for some reason, it’s been really bothering me. I am sure there is something deeper, as well. The thought of being so intimate with someone else. Someone not Michael. Someone who could hurt me.

I was telling Heidi the other day that I have never had a “normal” relationship. I have never really dated.  Seriously. I have [what I would consider] dated one person in my life. Otherwise, in High School, I slept around, never dated. In college, I was in a relationship with one person, whom I never actually dated, we were just, together. And then Michael. Whom I didn’t date either because he was married and when he wasn’t anymore, we, basically, got married. We were living together 1 month after he moved out of his wife’s house. So, I don’t know how to date. I don’t know how to be with someone for 3 months and just say “hey, this doesn’t seem to work, let’s go our own way” without that being devastating. And I don’t like to play games. I feel like dating is some big game. I don’t want to play games. I don’t want to have to pretend to be aloof if I really like someone. And I don’t really know the word ‘tact’ when it comes to not liking someone.

Like I said, this is all pretty premature, as I am in no way ready for any dating. Still. I worry. Because THAT? That I am good at.

Also, there is this:

So, as I find places for my movies and clothes and books in my new home, I came across Jewel‘s book a night without armor. The only book of poems I ever loved. I obsessed over this book. The pages are tabbed and written all over. Long, angsty feelings from about the ages of 17 to about 22. A time when slept with guys that I could never have, hating myself all the while. Married guys, too old guys, guys with pregnant girlfriends. Oh how I tried to keep people at arm’s length-in such a self-destructive way. I hated myself, but I was so, so afraid of letting anyone too close to me. An ugly time in my life.

It makes me feel sad that I am not sure I have come very far in a little over 10 years. It makes me see how much work I have-to overcome this break-up; to overcome myself.

In any case, here are my favorite Jewel poems from that book:

______________________________________________________________

You Tell Me

It cannot be so
you say
simple hands
cannot change
the fate of humanity.
I say
Humanity is
a boundless,
absorbing heart
transcending
death & generations
and centuries
absorbing bullets
and stitches
and tear gas
enduring humiliation
and illegal abortions
and thankless jobs
I say to you
the heart of Humanity
has not
and will not
be broken
And let us raise ourselves
like lanterns
with the millions of others-
with the mad
and the forgotten
and the strong of heart
to shine

______________________________________________________________

Too Many Nights

It’s been
too many nights
of being with

to now be suddenly
without

______________________________________________________________

Saved from Myself

How often I’ve cried out
in silent tongue
to be saved
from myself

in the middle of the night
too afraid
to move

horrified the answer
may be beyond the
capability of my
own two hands

so small

(no one should feel this alone)

______________________________________________________________

Parking Lot

It was the way
my thigh felt against
the cool car hood
that made me
like you so

And it was the way
a risk can run down
a spine that made
my blood race
as a few bleary eyes
stumbled to their cars
unaware

And it was the way
you took me with such
strength and stretched
me between the
moon and a Chevrolet
that made me
crave you so

______________________________________________________________

We Have Been Called

We have been called
naive
as if it were
a dirty word
We have been called
innocent
as though with shame
our cheeks should burn
So
We visited with
the careful idols
of cynicism
to learn to sneer
and pant and walk
so as not to feel the scales
of judgment rub wrongly
But we say
some things must
remain simple
some things must remain
untouched
and pure
lest we all forget
the legacy which begot us
the health of our origins
the poetry of our fundamental selves

And so
it is to
the longing hearts we sing
rise! spread
your wings!
Let no hand
nor ill will
keep you.

______________________________________________________________

Infatuation

infatuation is a strange thing
a bony creature thin
with feeding on itself

it is addicted not to its subject
but to its own vain hunger
and needs but a pretty face
to fuel its rampant imagination
humid couch
and sweaty palms
fleshy carpets
ablaze with conquest
but when conquering is complete
the blood leaves its limbs
and it becomes disenchanted
(to the point of disgust)
with its subject
who sits then like a hollow trunk
emptied of its precious cargo
and left to fade
a seed relieved
of its transparent husk
to dissolve, finally
on a rough
and impatient
tongue

______________________________________________________________

The Things You Fear

The things you fear
are undefeatable
not by their nature
but by your approach

______________________________________________________________

Sorry about that . . . . I think I got carried away.

I then started thinking about my other siblings and if they had something similar-something that defined them. I immediately thought what it was for each of them. Again, not flattering. I had the thought that this is what year’s of therapy is for. Figuring out that one thing that defines you that’s fundamentally wrong somehow and fixing it. At the very least, being aware of it and how you let it affect your life.

So, of course, I had to figure out what my thing was. At first, I thought it was one thing, but soon I realized that was a symptom of a bigger issue.

I need to be needed.

This is my whole life. This is every relationship I have-I need these people to need me. I need my dad to call me and give me little projects. I need Ed have me proof-read his papers and run his decisions past me. I need my boss to tell me that he doesn’t know what he’d do without me. I need Heidi to come to me for advice. I needed Michael to be un-organized and clueless without me.

I have a hard time connecting with people who DON’T need me. That’s sick.

Of course this is the case. If people need me, they are less likely to abandon me, which is what I think everyone is going to do. It doesn’t help that this IS what so many people have actually done-especially men. Apparently, they needed me-but not enough. In fact, the only 2 that ever came back after leaving me for dead were blood related, so really, I have to wonder if they would have ever bothered to come back if it weren’t for that.

So really, I have to wonder why am I so easy to walk away from. Really, what is all this making people need me crap getting me? They all still walk away.

And yet . . .yet I know myself. I know that I am going to still need people to need me. It’s as much apart of me as my big feet and biting sarcasm.

I guess I’ll just have to rely on something else to make people stick around. Who knows what that is. . . .

I make good money. I can easily support myself (and my 3 grays). Money has never meant much to me either. I am glad I have a little. I am glad I can support myself. However, I don’t need jewelry or Coach bags to make me feel OK (No, seriously).

No, what kills me, what eats me up inside, is losing my best friend. My partner. A man I loved more than anything. A man who made me care about relationships. A man I wanted to live with forever. A man I built a life with-brick by brick. A man I let in to my life whole-heartedly and without shame. A man who my family embraced and my friends loved. The only one I let see me cry.

I never wanted marriage. That’s just not me. I didn’t play wedding when I was a little girl. I never sat around with my friends imagining what kind of guy we’d marry. I never made a list of things I wanted in a husband. But if I had . . . Michael would have fit the bill perfectly. If I had, he would have been older, blonde, curly hair, blue eyes and gayest straight man I have ever met.

I am only 29. I’ve always been so much older than my age, though. So, I guess it’s fitting that my life resembles that of a 43 year old whose husband left her after 20 years of marriage without warning or reason. Except, I guess I know the reason.

It doesn’t make it any easier.

This past weekend, Michael and I went to see the Harry Potter Exhibition at the Pacific Science Center. It’s not a secret that I love me some Harry Potter. In fact, a few weeks ago, I was sick and I began re-reading the entire series. I think it’s totally lovely that a book I read 5 times can still keep me up until 2:30 AM.

On some good advice from Sunny, we got our tickets for the first tour group. They are all uptight there and you’re not allowed to have food, drink or GO TO THE FREAKIN’ BATHROOM. Still, I enjoyed being the first group in and not being over-crowded.

Now, I’d be willing to wager that Michael and I have watched each movie more times than most any one out there. This is because we watch it every. single. night. before bed. In fact, I never even was interested in the series until Michael and I lived together. This being the case, I have to say, I was a little skeptical of the authenticity of some of the items. For example, I thought Ron and Harry’s bed looked much smaller than in the movie. Of course, to be fair, so did every costume. But I am used to movie stars being midgets.

Either way, we had a great time. Of course, as every good exhibition does, this one ended in the gift shop. There were some damn good things in that shop. I could have easily spent $1,000. I really wanted the Dark Mark necklace, but I ended up settling on something even more useless: Lord Voldemort’s wand. For some reason, even though I am totally Team Harry, I love all the dark memorabilia.It was a tough choice, though. It was between that and The Elder Wand (aka Dumbeldore’s wand)

So . . .funny story about my wand. They have all the wands you can buy on display. They are pretty cool and I was having a hard time deciding. I finally settled on Voldemort’s wand and set off to find where they kept the wands you could buy (vs. the ones on display). I found the girl who was guarding the wall of wands and the following conversation happened:

Me: Is this where you get the wands?

Her: Yup! Which one do you want?

Me: (sort of ashamed) Voldemort

She holds out the box currently in her hand

Her: Here you go!

Me: (looking at her with disdain) Has that been touched by human hands?

Her: (confused) Well, I’m holding it, so, yeah, my hands.

Me: Did you open the box?

Her: Once, someone asked me to op-

Me: (interrupting) No. I need a different box. Untouched

Her: But no one touched the wand inside

Me: I’m sorry, I need a new box

Her: You are NOT my new best friend.

Me: I understand.

I may be buying Voldemort’s wand, but I have standards.

P.S. The exhibition just extended it’s run by 2 weeks! You should go!

However, on this particular in service day, I had to go to school. I was in drama and dance and we had a dance competition coming up. We had to practice. My mom dropped me off in front of the school and told me she was going to stop by the office, since she had recently volunteered to help the PTA.

We practiced for hours. It was fun. Afterwards, we were all standing outside, chatting, waiting for our parents. Soon, though, I was the only one there. Me and our dance coach, who was anxious to leave. I saw our Principal’s Bronco in his spot, so I told her I’d go into the office and call my mom. When I got closer, I saw my mom’s van parked on the other side of the Bronco. Apparently, she’d been here the whole time. I told my coach she was here and went inside to find her.

The moment I walked into the office, I felt the air change. I couldn’t quite place what I noticed, what I was feeling, but whatever it was, it wasn’t good. I heard a noise come from the principal’s office, so I went over and knocked on the door. There seemed to be a lot of sudden movement inside, but I couldn’t place why that would be unusual or weird.

When he opened the door, I saw my mom inside. Me, being me, I walked right in, sat down at his conference table and started talking. My mom cut me off however and said we had to get going.

When we got home, my mom went straight back to her room and got on the phone (it was the only place we had a phone in our small house). Something was amiss, but I didn’t know what. I hovered outside her door. I caught snippets of the conversation:

“I don’t know what that was, but I liked it”

“We need to figure this out”

“Yes, I will be there in 10 minutes”

Sure enough, my mom  came out of her room and told me I needed to keep an eye on my brothers while she met a coworker to drop off some stuff. She was gone for 3 hours. Her coworker, called 10 times while she was gone. Wondering where she was. She, obviously, didn’t go meet him. Something wasn’t sitting right with me, but I couldn’t figure out what it was.

When she came back, my mom declared that we were going to spend the night in a hotel!! We LOVED spending the night in a hotel. We loved swimming in the indoor pool, jumping on the beds, being messy and not having to clean it up-hotel life was AWESOME. We were so excited as we ran around gathering our stuff. Still, I knew something was wrong. We weren’t exactly rolling in money. The only time my mom did stuff like this was . . . when she felt guilty. Like the time we were at Ed’s dad’s house and his wife (not ex, as my mother claimed at the time) came and got into a fight with him and he got arrested. We got to stay in a hotel then too.

Once we checked in, my mom took my brother to go get dinner. I looked out the window and watched the car pull away. The lights shined in my eyes and I suddenly felt it hit me like a punch in the stomach: my mom was having an affair with the principal.

To be honest, I can’t claim I knew exactly what “affair” meant at the age of 12. What I did know was that my principal was married and in my gut, I knew that whatever was happening started that very day.

I wasn’t wrong. As the school year progressed, my mom and the principal didn’t do much to hide from me and my brother. I think they assumed we were too young to pick up on what was happening. So many parents make the mistake of thinking their kids are too young to understand. I, of course, told Joe what I thought was happening. We both stood by, helpless, as the principal began coming over to our house 1 or 2 times a week. He’d hang out with us and my mom would send us to bed early. Joe, the braver of two of us, once deliberately walked in on them having sex on the couch. The principal tried to hide under the blanket, while my mom yelled at him to go back to bed.

Lucky for Joe, he wasn’t in middle school yet, so he wasn’t subjected to daily interactions with the principal, like I was. He made it a point to stand outside the building where I had my first class to say “hi” to me every morning. As time when on, I hated him and took advantage of the situation. I was openly mean to him and ignored him whenever he came around me-especially if my friends were there to hear. I wanted to hurt and embarrass him-they way he and my mom were hurting and embarrassing me.

All of my friends were buying these Adidas shoes with a white, hard toe and stripes down the side. I hadto have these shoes. When my mom finally bought them for me, I was overjoyed. This was short-lived, however, because she had to tell the principal all about it. He decided it would be funny to tell kids I didn’t know, to come up to me and tell me they liked my shoes. From morning and through lunch, kids wouldn’t leave me alone, telling me they loved my shoes, the principal, smirking and laughing in the background. I am not sure if he wanted me to feel good because so many people liked my shoes, but once again, I felt humiliated. I asked my friend Ebony to trade shoes since we wore the same size. She was wearing the knock-off Birkenstocks that were so popular in the 90′s. In fact, after that day, I maybe wore those Adidas shoes once or twice, finally getting my own pair of sandals, which incidentally, I wore exclusively for 10 years after that.

I was never close to my mom and I never trusted her. We never had the kind of relationship where I could talk to her openly. She tried to pretend we did, but I knew all too well she used anything you said against you and lied to suit her needs. Therefore, I never said anything about her and the principal, even though it tormented me. Joe and I would spend hours talking about it, but we both knew we were helpless. There was nothing we could do about it.

We lived in a small neighborhood on the base. Our house was on the corner of the major intersection and everyone passed it to get home. There were many kids around my age in the neighborhood, so, naturally, we all went to school together. I wasn’t the only one who knew the principal drove a Bronco and soon enough, kids began asking why the principal was always at my house. I always told them my mom was on the PTA and my mom was helping with school stuff, but eventually, that excuse didn’t work anymore. I am sure their parents gossiped with other parents about it. I am sure the kids overheard. Before I knew it, everyone in my grade knew. Kids whispered about me all the time and I stopped hanging out with almost everyone. I would sit alone at lunch, it was better than watching the kids give looks, tease and whisper.

And then one day, I had had enough. I don’t remember exactly what had happened. Someone said something in a class and I ran out of the room. It was sixth grade lunch and the principal was in the cafeteria. I walked up to him and told him I had to talk to him. I began crying. Through my tears, I told him that Joe and I knew everything. We saw them having sex, we read the cards he sent her and we know they lied about whatever they had done 2 weekends ago (that’s a whole other story). I cried and cried. The principal listened and told me he was so sorry. He said that he knows what was going on between he and my mom wasn’t right and that they have been trying to figure it out. I don’t remember how we left it, but it felt good to get it out.

On my way to the bus that afternoon, I asked the principal if he told my mom what I said. He said that he would leave it to me. Ha! Little did he know, that I had placed all my hope in him, to end it, or something. There was no way I was telling my mom. She would flip out.

When she got home from work, she was normal and I felt safe. That is, until, I heard the phone ring and I knew it was all over with. My mom screamed for me to come in there and when I walked through the door, she slapped my face so hard I fell down. She began yelling at me, calling me a liar. She told me that I couldn’t do any of my school activities anymore. I told her that I had practice for the play all day tomorrow and the play was next week. She said as long as I was a liar, I couldn’t do anything. I went to my room and cried and cried.

She eventually came in and told me that if I apologized to the principal for being a liar and telling lies about him, I could be in the play. The next day, I stood in front of a man, who just the day before admitted the truth to me, and told him I’m sorry I told lies about him. He accepted my apology. To this day, I can’t believe two adults-one of them my own mother-could do that to me.

After that, they eventually broke things off. I am unsure of exactly what happened, but he stopped coming around. The school year was almost over and he announced that he wouldn’t be back next year, he was going to be a principal of an elementary school. I was so happy he was gone.

I heard, a few years later, that he lost his job at that elementary school because he got caught sleeping with a teacher. His wife divorced him and he never got to see his kids. My mom, never dated again after him. In fact, this past July was the first time she started seeing anyone since I was 12 years old. It was never my intent to put her off dating, I just didn’t want her to sleep with my married principal.

I didn’t think it was too much to ask.

To this day, she denies she ever slept with him. Joe has even said to her, point blank, I saw you having sex with him. She always gets angry and says Joe was too young to know what he saw. I don’t believe she’ll ever admit the truth. She has too hard a time with it. The Truth. It’s one of the reasons we’ll never be close.

It’s no surprise, that later in life, I generally only slept with married men or guys who had girlfriends. Although, that has as much to do with my dad, as my mom. I never felt right in a “real” relationship. It’s been a tough road for me and Michael, in that respect.

This is also one of the reasons Joe and I are so close. We survived this together. This is the point in our life when we stopped fighting and antagonizing each other and started depending on each other. This is the point when we became best friends and told each other everything. He is the only one who can understand my soul because he was right there with me, in the trenches. He’s the one who came into my room when he heard me crying and made me feel better. No one else can be that person.

And I need that person.

Generally, when we bowl, we go to nice places. The kind that let you chose which players get bumpers. I always get bumpers. I can bowl a 50 with bumpers. I’m that good. This place wouldn’t let me have bumpers because I was over 12. They didn’t understand that I really needed those bumpers.

My other secret to bowling is being funny. I am a horrible bowler. My only option is to make people laugh. I don’t just mean my friends-I’ve already bought their love. I mean the people in the lanes surrounding us who watch me and are horrified by my bowling skills. I need them to know that I know I suck and it’s hilarious. I spend most of my bowling time drinking beer and being hilarious. It works.

In any case, we recorded a short video on Friday of each of us bowling. In my defense, I chose 20 minutes of sleep vs. washing my hair and I had to wear a lot of make-up to compensate for my bad hair.

As you can see, my bowling skills are second to none. And yet, I don’t mind sharing with the world.

Your welcome.

*Think back to ten years ago on this month.
*Write truthful answers and ELABORATE. This makes it more interesting!
*If you don’t have a scanner you may omit #14 but I think if you do you should totally do it!
*It’s about personal changes. Have fun with it!

Then: August 1999

1. Age: 17

2. Romantic Status: Single and loving it. i.e. back in my slutty days. I am not ashamed of that. It was fun while it lasted.

3. Occupation: Actually, it was the first time I ever had a “real” job. I had always baby sat, but that summer, my bestie, Frankie, and I got jobs at Cliff’s in kiddie land! It was totally horrid, but so awesome cause Frankie and I had the BEST time together.

4. Fun night out: Oh my Gay Baby, we would have the most RANDOM nights out. The kind that started with lying to your parents, picked up when you ran over a CINDER BLOCK and ended with you having sex with your best guy friend just because you both thought the other would be good at it. Again, those days when you’re young and think nothing can touch you.

5. My BFFs:Cara, Frankie, Cassie, Pepe, Viri-I actually got along with quite a few people back in the day.

6. I spent way too much time: In school! Ha! Seriously. I used to ditch ALL THE TIME (right Lindsay?), but I straightened up my Senior year.

7. I spent not enough time: Doing school work. Cara and I would try to do school work, but we always ended up watching some Julia Roberts flick and falling asleep on the couch!

8. I wanted to be when I grew up: A Theatre teacher

9. Biggest concern: Probably over some boy and whether he liked me. Not probably, this is true, but I refuse to name names.

10. What my biggest concern should have been:College! I ended up totally wimping out, not applying ANYWHERE, going to UNM (even though I never wanted to stay in NM) and being MISERABLE. I fixed that after the first year.

11. Where did I live: Albuquerque, NM

12. Dumbest thing I did that year: Seriously? I don’t know if I know the dumbest thing, as there were so, so many stupid things.

13. If I could go back now and talk to myself I would say: Take school more seriously! And apply to the college you really want to go to.

14. Picture of me then:

My friends Christine and Matt. This was our fake trip to France (for a school project)

 

Now: August 2009

1. Age: 27

2. Romantic Status: Living in SIN

3. Occupation:Licensed Financial Assistant (I made that up. I make up my title all the time. I have no real title. How about Sr. Manager of My job sucks?)

4. Fun night out:Family reunion! At Palmers!

5. My BFFs: My sister, Heidi, Louisa and Tim

6. I spend way too much time: On Twitter. I LOVE twitter.

7. I spend not enough time: Figuring out what I am going to do with the rest of my life.

8. I want to be when I grow up: See previous answer. Also, please post ideas in the comments

9. Biggest concern: If I quit my job, what am I going to do and how am I going to bring in the income I bring in now?

10. What my biggest concern should be: World Peace? I think my biggest concern is a good concern to have

11. Where do I live:Bellevue, WA and I am TOTALLY a Bellevue snob

12. Dumbest thing I have done this year: Oh, oh, OH. This year has been FUCKED up. I am not sure if there is anything I could have done to prevent what happened with Joe, but I think the dumbest thing I did was ignore my instinct about that situation and let it ruin my friendship with Heidi.

13. What I think I would say to myself in 10 years: Stop letting it eat up your life! It will be fine. Trust in that.

Summary:

1. What do I miss most from 1999: being so fucking care-free. I mean, I am sure I had my angst filled “oh, my life is SO hard moments”, but damn I was having fun and I really didn’t have a care in the world.

2. What do I miss least from 1999: The petty teenage drama

3. What have I accomplished in 10 years that I am most proud of:Hmmm, is it pathetic I am not sure how to answer that? I think I would have to say building a life here in Seattle. Save a few details, it’s basically what I wanted 10 years ago. It’s kind of awesome that I did that.

4. What have I NOT accomplished in 10 years that I wish I had: Finished school. Although, honestly, I didn’t know then what I wanted to be when I grow up and I don’t know now and until I know, I am not sure wasting time on a degree is what is best for me. I just need to figure that shit out.

Instead, I bring you my favorite depression cure: online shopping.

Actually, this is SO bad. I do WAY too much online shopping. My only defense is that I return about 60% of the clothes I buy online. Of course, when it comes to make-up or shoes, I rarely make a return.

Here are a couple of outfits I bought:

For some reason, I am WAY into dresses lately. It’s totally weird.

And that’s it. I may be going to the poor house, but at least I’ll look cute.