Sting Like A Bee

Shortly, I'm going to be making two lists.

One is a list of the things that have made me angry
or upset me in recent memory
that I've been unable to let go of.

The other is a list of the ways I've upset myself
or let myself down
So I can learn
to never, ever do 'em again.

And, as I said, just let go.

I plan to take these lists
and destroy them.

Rip 'em, burn 'em, shred 'em,
Wherever the feeling takes me.

Ceremonial-type bullshit
not reserved for the sane.

From this, I'll gain perspective.

And move forward
without the weight of these things
on my tired shoulders.

Sometimes we all just need to
lighten up.

Watch me float.

If You See Me Gettin' Mighty

My life lately has been a series of walls.

A wall comes up to block my path,
I find a way to knock the damn thing down,
And up comes another one.

This process has been repeating itself over and over for months.
Whether big issues or small ones, it never fails.

I'll admit, at times it has slowed my stride considerably. Things come out of nowhere and I can't help but think it will break me. And if this one doesn't, the next will.

I'm not yet broken.
I know more walls are ahead.
But I'll knock em down and keep running.

I have somewhere to be, and I can't stop until I get there.

So get outta my way. Or I'll knock you down.

Reborn Left To Sigh...

Boredom.

Sometimes it just hits.
For an over-thinker, it's a death sentence.

Twiddle the thumbs.
Think some more.

Channel surf til the remote goes dead.
Think some more.

Look for people to lend an ear.
Think a little more.

This is why I keep busy.
This is why I have projects.
This is why I have big future plans.

But some days there's only so much ya can do.

And that, dear friends, is why some people have blogs.

Boredom.

The Orange Post-It

I recently came across a post-it note that I had taped to my desk at the radio station.

A co-worker and friend had told me about an old saying her elder relatives had taught her, so that she would use it throughout her life.

It was in Hebrew, but she had her grandfather translate it for me.

Once translated, the crux of this old saying was that you could judge a man by the way he handles:
his anger,
his drink,
and his pocket.

Meaning that if a man had a bad temper, drank too much and was not wise with his money, then you were smart to keep looking.

But if you found a man who had all of these under control, then he was a good man worth keeping.

So roughly a year ago, on this orange Post-It note, I wrote:

"His anger,
his drink,
& his pocket."

I did not want to forget.

For me, I think it's a great indicator for who you want in your life in general. Friends, lovers, male, female... everyone. Including myself.

I want to know that I am always in control of

my anger,
my drink,
and my pocket.

Perhaps this orange Post-It note needs a new place to remind me.

Ha.

It's funny how I continually sit in one spot for hours, while a 200 hundred page To Do list writes itself in my head.

It's funny how so many things can be happening at once, while nothing is happening at all.

It's funny that you gain strength in your weakest moments, and you learn the best things about yourself when you're unhappy.

It's funny how glimmers of hope and a need for more can keep you going. And so you turn thoughts into reality.

I may not be laughing.

But to me, it's all funny.

No Rest For The Wicked?

I didn't sleep alone last night.

Maybe I regret it now. I'm not sure.
It isn't something I normally do.

It was uncomfortable.
And hot.
Pressed up against me,
Ignoring my attempt to move away.

I meant to sleep alone.
I tried to say no.
But with my emotions currently in shreds,
And my heart sad,
I must have been feeling quite lonely.

The sadness kills you,
But the loneliness blurs your thoughts.

My bedmate was affectionate.
Perhaps more than I wanted.

And my morning greeting?
A wet lick to the face
Before she burrowed back under the covers
And sighed her little sigh.

And I know she'll always love me.

This Post Is To No One And Everyone.

I have issues.

Issues with myself, and issues in relationships.
Can't deny it, so this is me admitting it.

I have a crapload of issues.

I'm severely insecure. I'm jealous.
I suffer from depression. I overanalyze.
I fall too hard after fighting to not fall at all.
I'm stubborn, and I'm pretty much always right.
I naively want the forever-kinda-love.


So that's me. And I've always let these things ruin me. Bring me lower, and blame myself for failures.

But y'know what? Fuck that.

I'm also pretty friggin' awesome.
I'm insanely loyal. I'm supportive.
I love deeply.
I'd give you everything I owned if it would make you happy.

I'm fun. I'll make you laugh until you can only cry.
I'll drink more beer than you, but you'll be amused by it.
I'll sit and watch the game with you. And enjoy it.
I'll be in my element at a concert with you. And you'll enjoy it.
I'll make you wonder where I've been all your life.
And I'll make you love me.

So if I've allowed myself to be beaten down by others in the past,
or to feel unappreciated and unwanted,
and just plain not good enough...

That's their issue.

We all have many flaws.
But I will no longer let you, or anyone, make me feel like less
because of mine.

Youth

I wonder what you were like before.
Who you were.
How you thought.

A different version of what you are now?
Maybe something more vibrant, more alive.

Life has a way of beating us down.
To become less than who we thought we were.

We go through pictures to remember the times.
Remember the laughs and hopeful dreams.
But sometimes all we see is how the years have passed.
And that we're just not who we once were.

You are no different, yet you're not at all the same.

I yearn to have known that you.
Being the me that I am now.

Take another picture of what hope looks like.