Can a thing sleep? A house? A door? Is a closed door sleeping? I think I closed a door. I pushed and pushed and it finally slammed shut. I want to pry it open. Dig my fingers in and pull until it swings wide and let’s me through. But it’s not my house. Not my lock to break. Sleep. That’s what I need. Can a thing sleep?
i spent a lot of years surrounding myself with people like me. Or who were enough like me that nothing was ever challenged. Don’t do that. It’s dumb. It makes you dumb. It makes you complacent and judgey. I picked my partner based on how different we were. Why’d I think it was okay to pick friends differently?
A lot of it comes from the Desire (yes capital D) to be right. When you have a belief system that’s never challenged you begin to think you can do no wrong. That your path in life is going exactly the way it should. And pretty soon you realize your path is a rut. Or you don’t and you turn into a D-bag.
Derby helped. So many different personalities, one common goal. But for a while I did the same thing I had always done; surround myself with teammates who had the same line of thinking and avoiding those I had pegged as too different. It led to some really interesting relationships. I thought it was okay. Okay to always agree with someone even when I didn’t. We were enough alike that I began to think their ideas were mine. See? Dumb.
When things changed and I started disagreeing more and more because I was so fucking exhausted walking on eggshells all the time,the friendships inevitably ended. I feel responsible for my part. For not trying to explain. I could have done more to salvage. To be fair, neither of us handled it well. But I can only take responsibility for my share of the blame. The bitterness I now feel in her presence, I can’t take credit for. I don’t think I did that. I hope I didn’t do that. I don’t think I did.
I struggled all winter. New friendships cropped up. And unlike before, these people weren’t like me (see previous posts). One is sane where I’m a bit not. She makes it okay to laugh at mistakes and see the silly in even the most serious of situations. She routinely calls me on my shit. I need my shit called out regularly. And anyone that can break into song in teh middle of the most inappropriate of places is OKAY in my book and someone worth spending more time with.
One of them is whip smart. Like intimidatingly so. But never once have I felt stupid around her. It’s not her roll. Instead she challenges me to think about things I’d never really thought about. I don’t ever feel like I’ve asked a stupid question and I don’t ever feel like I’m not sure where I stand (I mean, to be fair I tend to go through life waiting for the big shoe drop, but I’m learning that with her yes means yes etc etc). My brain is growing new bits and pieces hanging out with her and her hubs and sometimes it hurts. To realize you aren’t sure about things and that someone else might actually be closer to right than you or that just because one of you may be right doesn’t make the other wrong is fucking hard to wrap around. And years of doing it a certain way just cuz suddenly seems like a really poor way to live.
I guess my point is it’s easy to surround ourselves with people just like us. But it’s also easy to do a lot of things that aren’t exactly healthy. It was easy to be In a relationship with a friend who told me what I should think or that I was right all the time. Friendships that challenge us, those that can say “hey, here’s another way of slicing that pie”, those are the ones that’ll keep us alive longer and happier and healthier. So maybe I’m processing things differently, more slowly. Random outbursts are happening. I’m playing with new tools. But it’s good. It’s right and it’s healthy. It lacks the sting of bitterness. It’s missing the familiar feeling of douchebaggery. it has a level of Irony that The Man would get, seeing as how for years I lectured him on “see it different, it might work out.” and now I find that I had definitely fallen into a “my way or the highway” sorta of living. Anyway. Yea. Happy Daily.
Maybe the door had always been open and he just hasn’t been paying attention. She’d offered to make breakfast, so she’d probably comeBrown earlier and gotten started and then realized they were out of something snd had gone out to get it. He shot her a text and let her know to grab orange juice if she hadn’t left the store. It was relatively gloomy out. No light streaming across the kitchen and he stumbled over to click the door shut, tripping on the cat in the process.
Huh, the car was in he driveway. Maybe sh had gone for a run. She’d been threatening to start again once the weather broke. Frost kissed blades of grass outside the kitchen window but the sun was promising to shine. Her shoes were gone. And her jacket. In fact everything was off the rack. Had she gotten up that early? The cat clawed at his attention. His bowl was empty. Strange, she rarely left the house without dropping kibble in his bowl. She knew that he liked to sleep in and the dsmn cat would howl at the bedroom door ifnhe thought he’d been starved long enough.
Something wasn’t right. He flicked lights on in the kitchen and dining nook. Trying to pinpoint the source ofnthe wrong. Things were tidy. Not clean. No, the room wasn’t cleaned. Things were missing. Only one set of keys on the hook. Pictures gone fr the fridge, her coffee mug not on its hook. His brain was foggy and half asleep but something tickled at the back of his neck, in that part of the brain that made fear. She was missing. Not just her, everything about her. It was like a vaccuum had come through and picked up everything that was her. The door was open. The door had been open. It kept screaming at him. The door had been open.
too tired. But a comic con happened .
Do you ever have those moments in your life (of course you do, we all do, duh) when a thing that is so unexpected clicks and you know that it’s happening, but it’s happening in such a rapid way that it sort of feels like you might careen out of control straight into a wall because it’s happening that fast?
I’m at one of those points in my life. Things have changed drastically since September. And one of the most devastating things I could have predicted (let’s be honest, we all know our parents are going to die at some point, we just can’t prepare for the emotional fallout as much as we’d like to think) has happened. It coincided with something really great. A new set of friendships that I was not at all prepared for. People I’d taken for granted as nice but really just acquaintances, stepped up in a way that took me so completely by surprise I’m sorta sitting here waiting for the “just kidding, Carrie, have some pig’s blood” moment. Now, I know (or think I know) better. But the icky inner monologue is just twitching to holler a big “I told you so” should things suddenly go T.U.
We are strange, we humans. Our tribes are built not from a bond of blood but shared experiences and interests. It baffles me at times when I look at my little village. Each of us is uniquely different, a little fucked up at times and all in all doing our best to adult. Which is really not at all what it’s cracked up to be kiddos, so FFS go take a nap while you can because believe it or not no one is going to sit around and twiddle their thumbs while you curl up in your blanket fort. Shit needs doing and you’re the only one around to do it.
Anyway, friendship can upend things in the brain. And this particular set of friends I’ve got right about now is doing just that. They picked me right up off the floor without a second thought, poured booze and love down my throat (not like that, ew, gross) and have been a constant and consistent “things are okay” in a rather “things are not okay” time. They are second only to The Man in their unwavering support. They’ve also got me questioning things, interested in things that were never on my radar, challenging myself mentally and physically to TRY THE NEW because if it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for me and that’s fucking awesome. It hurts me a bit to think about the things I’ve lost this past year, especially in the last two months. Especially because I think my mom would love some of these people I’m surrounded by. She would definitely approve of how they treat her baby.
NaNo is creeping up, and I as usual there are some plot ideas. Some themes I want to explore, a few characters half hashed. But I can’t help but think maybe this year I’ll try something a bit less out there. Maybe real life can treat you to as many surprise endings as the fantasies I tend to dwell in. Maybe. Who knows. There’s still the issue of the door. It’s still hanging around being an asshole. Derby is winding down, but we have a ton of paperwork to complete and some deadlines to hit and that’s always lingering. along with the ever present fear that maybe someone will realize that I’m a big faker, that adulting is not at all in my skill set, that I should turn over my Fem card once they realize I’m not really contributing in a meaningful way to the betterment of our sex, and that maybe my kid will realize that mom doesn’t quite have all the answers and maybe it’s okay for her to not listen to me as quickly as she used to.
Coping is a word that gets thrown about all too often lately. And I get it and I’m trying. But honestly, without the support network around me (hope I tell them all enough that they’re saving me) I’m not sure where I’d be. Between The Man and the kid and the friends and the derby, these two months have been “okay”. Meaning I haven’t had too many epic meltdowns, yet. But there’s also this “omg new things’ stress wrecking up the brain joint and I can’t decide how much hermiting will need to happen this winter to decompress. A fair amount is my guess.
I guess there’s no real point to this post. Just that life is strange and sudden. Don’t take people at face value, they could end up being more like family than you’d ever expect (who knew I had a long lost brother?) and FFS don’t take your family for granted. Each of us is just a moment, a blip on the screen adn we will all be gone before any of us has a chance to say “Was Here”. So yea. That’s it I guess. Just life. It’s a thing.
“We will fuck exactly three times,” she said. “The first time, that’s for you. You’ll do what you need and take me until you’re good and done taking.” As she spoke she crossed over to where he sat, hiking her skirt up to straddle his lap.
“The second time will be for me. You will be begging me to let you go by the end. I’ll devour you. Slowly, like a delicacy.” She smiled the self-satisfied smile he’d come to associate with her wicked mood. She was on at the moment. She knew she had him exactly where she wanted him. He could feel the heat through the thin fabric of her panties. Her thighs pinned against his as her hands traveled up his chest, tangling around his neck. She brought her hands to his face, cradled it and pulled it inches from hers, their mouths almost touching but not quite.
“And the third time?” He asked, sorry as soon as he opened his mouth. She backed up off of him, leaving him aching where she’d been touching him moments before.
“The third time will be goodbye.” She sounded genuinely sad as she said it,but she was good at this game and he didn’t trust it.
He stood up and shoved her against the wall.
“Goodbye, huh? And what will that entail?” He crushed her mouth with his and felt her whole body sigh. She let her lips linger on his then pushed him away with enough force to send him reeling back into the chair.
She smiled; the look of a predator. “There’s only one way to find out.”
Don’t want to miss a daily, but in no mood to wax poetic about a day that was rather ordinary and brutally full of people. Over peopled. Over talked. Over it.
I’ve spent a lot of time in parking lots lately. I go do some chores or run around and when im done, I’ll often sit in my car listening to music or sleeping.
I’ve got a favorite spot in town right now. It’s quiet, off the beaten path and the view is killer. It’s great for catching a nap. I’m tired. Sadness makes you tired.
Yesterday was particularly harsh. I had multiple sads all stack up leading to an epic meltdown in my favorite lot. It was raining (why wouldn’t it be) and there was no one around. I think I needed it.
Afterwards I ate noodles at my Mom’s favorite place. I walked around town and chilled the eff out. In cried more. I met friends and walked more. I cried on my drive home. I didn’t stop and sit in anymore parking lots.
the goddamn door is back.
I’ve written about this mother fucker seventeen ways from Sunday trying to purge it from my stories. I’ve burned it, drowned it, built it, torn it off its hinges with hatchets and bare hands, buried it, carved it and ignored it. It creeps in and sooner or later each of my favorite characters have been overshadowed by its bullshit.
This thing is like the fucking Mariner’s albatross. I can’t pitch it into the ocean so I’m stuck with it. I hate this inanimate object more than any villain I’ve ever created. Goddamn door. Get out and quit swallowing my stories. I’m not opening you, so deal
….all the time, every day. In fact, I can’t stop thinking about you. It’s ridiculous. Crazy. Sad. I’m not what you need or want; you’ve made that abundantly clear and I’m not writing this hoping you’ll suddenly wake up and see how much better we are together than apart. This past year proves how irresponsible that line of thinking is. We aren’t meant to be. You’re not what I really need. But it’s like that time, when I was so hungry and we were both a little stoned and we took that cab down to the U district and we ate at every restaurant on the strip until our money ran out. It was reckless and stupid and we were both sick for days. It’s like that. Or maybe that doesn’t make sense. No it’s not quite like that. I mean you don’t make me sick. But when we are together I feel like I’m too full. Too full of emotions. Too full of fear. Too full of what’s so eerily close to love. And when we are apart, I can digest. See the bigger picture. See how sick we are for each other. But it’s good, yes? No? I don’t know. So I’ll tear up this letter. I’ll eat it or burn it or drown it’s shredded pieces in the toilet. You won’t see it. And even if you ever do. You won’t care.
In the shadows like a raven dreamt darkly of a man I have. Madness mine and silenced wings he was torn from day like sunlight waning. Quiet thoughts in rushing wind the beating of our battered hearts did stumble. A quiet, deadly, night thing crept against us hiding in the shadowed places. We tore from each a thing most needed. In the shadows like a raven Dreamt darkly of his hands I have.
Bountiful Words, Beautiful World 