Distracted.

When I was in college, and even after I finished college, I was always on my computer.  So if I wasn’t on Facebook, or Tumblr, or doing homework, I was usually writing.  I didn’t have to make time to blog, because I was already on my computer.  Now, it’s true that I am writing a little bit less, but the reason that I’m actually blogging less is that I literally have to remind myself to bring my computer with me, or I have to set aside special time when I’m at home.  Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it is something that I should be doing.  It’s just funny that this is my problem.  I don’t even watch that much Netflix anymore, at least not by myself.

It’s possible that I have been distracted, as of late.  It’s possible that something in my life is worth spending time on that isn’t my blog and my dreams and a future career.  It’s a different part of my future.  But it has distracted me from this part of my life.  I’m trying to learn how to balance it.

A little off topic, but something that I have been watching is Z: The Beginning of Everything on Amazon Prime.  It’s about F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald.  It’s about how they met and fell in love.  It’s about his writing.  I’m only a few episodes in, but I just watched the wedding episode.  On the train on the way to her wedding, Zelda’s sister tells her what to expect on her wedding night.  She tells her to keep the lights off.  And she tells her to let her husband do what he is going to do, and to lay back and think about the magnolias in the garden.  I know that things were different then, but it really annoyed me.  It annoys me that there was a time where women were expected not to enjoy what happens in the bedroom.  It annoys me that people still think that way.  Relationships should never be about pleasing your husband.

I have a lot of thoughts.  And I would love to take the time to collect them.  I’m going to try to do that this month.  I’m going to try to set a goal to set aside time to myself to write and be and enjoy.  Because I’m worth it.  My dreams are worth it.  So I’ll try not to get too distracted.

Blogging Everyday in July|On Being a Single Human

Hello.  I am a single human.  In that I mean that I am a human and I am single, but also that I am only one human, not multiple.  I got asked to blog about being single, and I think it’s because my group of friends is mostly from the “singles” group at my church.  That’s so weird to say, by the way.
On a side note, when I was in college, my friend Karina was part of a church in Pasadena, and the young, college aged group was called the “singles” group, and we thought it was so weird and hilarious, but not that I’m out of college, I realize I can’t be in a college group.  So it’s young adults, but my church has a young married people group too, so this one is the “singles” group.  Haha.  Laugh with me.
Anyway, my friends are mostly single, even though some of them might be starting relationships soon.  We love each other, and we’re content with where we’re at, I think.  I know I am.  And that might really be true for the first time in a long time.

For a long time I’ve joked about singleness.  I’ve laughed at myself, but on the inside wished I could change it.  Then, the last couple years or so I’ve had multiple guys in my life, but none of them were serious enough about me, even though my heart kept going farther than I wanted it to, so I kept getting crushed.  And occasionally I’d do the crushing.
One of my old flames texted me last week saying he missed me, even though it’s been so many months since we’re spoken.  I told him that he was just being lonely.  And I told him that I don’t want to be lonely, I want to be content being alone.  And I think that’s what I am.  Not just because there’s no one in my life right now that I really want to be with, but because I love my friends, my lifestyle, and figuring out my life the way it is.  I like that I’m becoming a healthier person.  I think I just needed to purge all of the pain out, and dating is one of those things.

I’ve heard a lot that as soon as you stop looking, you find someone.  I don’t want that to be true.  Because then, when you stop looking, you start looking.  All of the fun adventures that I would want to do on dates, I can do with a group of my friends here, and it’s a thousand times more enjoyable.
I want to be in love with life again before I fall in love with a person.

A lot of people believe in soul mates, or believe that they’re only half of an entity until they find their other half.  But I want to be whole and unbroken.  I want to be desired because I’m independent and following my dreams.  I want my heart to be full.  And I’m getting there.

So yes, I’m a single human.  That’s exactly who I’m supposed to be.  That’s exactly who I want to be.  And that is the end.

Blogging Everyday in July|A Poem I Wrote on a Plane (No One Knows My Name)

No one knows my name here
I don’t even want to know it anymore
Finding comfort in the anonymous nature I now dwell in

The land forming below me holds no beauty for my eyes
Though I know some still find it sacred
Scattered through with lakes welling up
I stop to wonder where they come from

The anticipation my heart held before I fell asleep
Has been replaced by a new kind of dread
Expecting someone to collect the bounty on my head

I have been a thousand places
Each one unique
Yet I find them all in one another

Just one last adventure
Reminding myself not to hold my breath
Rising and falling with the pressure around me
I never meant to leave my heart behind

I think we tend to expect too much
Ending up defeated when we can’t fall asleep
These decisions weight heavy, but we continue to choose them anyway

I might beg you to hold me close tonight
Just one last time, I need you
As you wait up for me, watching for my figure in your doorway

I fell for you, tripped over who I was supposed to be
I gave you everything, forgetting who I was
I became someone else, changed my fate, my destiny, my name

I know we’re both pleading with our hearts to stop beating
You can’t have my anymore, but  you can have my every time
I was just a notch in your belt, you still wish I was more

Above the clouds now, drowning in your memory
I return, I return, I return
Tightness in my chest as my heart readies for the landing

Almost whole, almost home
Only to be broken
But this time I chose it, I chose you

I know full well that unless I stay, you’ll never choose me completely
It’s a game or it is real
We’re somewhere in between

So maybe this will be the last time
Maybe next time I’ll stay, gone
Begging you to pull me closer as I push you away

No one knows my name here
I don’t know my name here
But you know my name

No one knows my name here
But I’m more than just a name
You might know my name
But you’ll never know me

Blogging Everyday in July|Is it Hopeless to be Romantic?

Someone asked me to blog about what it means to be a hopeless romantic.  Or maybe what I think the definition is.  Which is possibly one of those things that I can’t quite grasp, so I looked it up.  Google is telling me that a “hopeless romantic” is someone who loves love.  Someone who believes in happy endings.  Someone who wants a fairy tale.  Someone who won’t give up.  This makes me wonder, am I one?

I love love stories.  I love when my friends find their person.  It would be nice to have a person.  But currently, I’m enjoying discovering myself.  I don’t think I’m hopelessly romantic.  I don’t expect anyone to go over the top to chase me down or woo me over.  Life is not like the movies.  But whenever I get to hear a crazy story about something someone has done for the person they love, it makes me glad I’m alive.  Because I want a story.  I want an adventure.  But I want more than that.

Grand gestures probably exist.  But I think they’re rare in this day and age because people are so afraid of getting let down.  Most people spend so much time in the beginning of their relationship unsure if they’re actually in a relationship that they’re afraid to be romantic at all.  And I can’t think of anyone actually following through on anything romantic involving me.  That doesn’t mean that it’s something that belongs only in the movies though.

I think that by defining something as hopeless, we make it unreal.  We make it something that people are afraid to be a part of.  Why do a grand gesture to show how much someone means to you, how much you want to be with someone, if it’s hopeless?  Romance is not hopeless; at least it shouldn’t be.  It should just be romantic.

So maybe hopeless romantics don’t exist.  Because they’re all still hopeful.  Hopeful that the world will be a better place.  Hopeful that someone will love them back.  Hoping for a happy ending; or even better, no ending at all.

Crushes

I get two kinds of crushes, neither of which is very often or very serious.

I get crushes on people who are my friends, but maybe not super close friends.  People who I spend time with and enjoy talking to, and could possibly have a future with if we wanted to make it work.  But nothing ever changes.  I don’t ask them out, and no one would ever know I even liked this person.  Sometimes my closest friends know, but that’s not even always true.  The person in question never knows.  And I would never know if any silly feelings were reciprocated.
These people are usually safe.  They’re usually Christian.  They usually make me laugh, and I don’t usually have feelings of any sort for them when we first meet.  They’re not usually who I would picture in my mind as someone I could be with before I get to know them.  But really, these are the kind that are better.

I also occasionally get crushes on people that I meet only once or twice.  People that I hardly know.  People that I was just introduced to and clicked and thought they were really attractive.  These people usually flirt with me.  We talk for a long time and go on adventures with our mutual friends.  But usually they don’t live here.  Or I don’t live there.  And our friendship literally only lasted a few days.  But these crushes are so exciting.  Thinking about them gives me butterflies.  I get giddy when I find out that they think I’m cute too.  They probably know that I’m interested, but I’m not forward enough to ever actually say anything, even though I really have nothing to lose.
I know so many girls that talk about who they like, but I never do, at least not with anyone who knows the person in question. What is so bad about me telling the mutual friend that they’re friend is hot?  Would they really judge me?

A month or so ago I was sitting in a pub with a friend of mine who is a few years older than I am.  He said that it doesn’t get easier as you get older.  He said that saying what is on my mind about my feelings for a person does no harm.  It’s not a bad thing to take risks.  So what am I so afraid of?  Am I honestly going to be single forever?  Probably not, but I should really stop being so silly.

How to Love

The other day a friend texted me about two guy friends of hers.  One of them responds quickly and gets all her jokes.  He laughs at her pictures and responds with another one.  The other one responds vaguely, and it’s usually a little more difficult to get ahold of him.  She said she felt really bothered by this.  She said she felt like chocolate, and that yeah, some people don’t like chocolate, but chocolate doesn’t really feel great when it’s unliked, even though most people like it.
I told her that I wasn’t so sure that that’s what it was.  See, everyone has a different love language and a different way of communicating.  But everyone loves the way they want to be loved.  And everyone communicates the way they want to be communicated with.  And so if someone doesn’t respond right away, they probably don’t expect you to.  If they don’t send you funny pictures or have hilarious responses to your jokes, it could be that they think you’re funny, they just don’t communicate that way.  But friendships do take communication.
I feel a lot like chocolate covered bacon, I told her.  If we’re sticking with the dessert references.  I feel like I’m something that people shouldn’t like.  Like I’m something that some people think sounds so awesome until they try me.  Or the opposite, that I sound horrible, but once people give me a chance, they’re hooked.  But even more so, there are parts of me that are so sweet, that people love, and parts of me that are savory that people crave.  However, when mixed, they’re not always what you want.
I feel unappreciated.  I feel like a joke.  I feel like an acquired taste that no one wants to take the time to acquire.  But I hide away so much at the start that I have to put some of the blame on myself.

I had a discussion with people.  I’m being vague on purpose.  We talked about having people in your home when you come home from work.  Especially when your house is the size of three vans.  How 2 extra people can feel like 10.  But the other participants of this discussion dwelled on the noise issue.  People should be quiet after 10pm.  I have social anxiety.  And I’m so much better than I was a year ago.  But for me, dealing with people has very little to do with the noise factor.  It has to do with the presence of unwanted people in my house.  So telling me you’ll keep it down doesn’t make me feel better.

On Wednesday night I came home at 11pm after a stressful day at work to a group of people hanging out in my living room.  Yes, some of them live here, but not all.  And it was too much.  I can’t feel comfortable in my own home.  They said they were being quiet and that they were making brownies, but they also always fail to remember that I don’t have a door.  I went outside to grab my phone charger and had a full fledged panic attack.  Why is it okay for me to come home to that?

And maybe I do need to learn to live in community.  But I’m the kind of person who needs to wade into the water, not be thrown into the waves of the ocean, drowning.  I feel like I’m drowning.  I forgot my life-vest.

Maybe it’s time I move out.  Maybe it’s time I move on.  Because my broken heart can’t keep beating.  My bruised lungs can’t keep breathing. And no one can hear my screaming.  No one can hear the words I pen.  No one reads anything that comes out of me.  Because I don’t even matter.  I’m just trying to live.  I’m just here.  But I want to be more than that.  I want to be loved.  I want to be cherished.  I want to be invited.  I want to be sought out.  I want to be asked.  I want to be chased.  And I want to matter.

Or I could just run away.

Or I could just disappear.

Gelato in London

When I think about the important relationships in my life (relationshits), about the ex boyfriends who mattered, who left a mark, there is no magical love story.  My connections have always been easy, non existent, or instant.  And sometimes they were only one-sided.

I had a lot of boyfriends in high school, but I only count one.  He’s still one of my closest friends.  We were best friends, in the same friend group, and after more than a year of liking each other without saying anything, we kind of just fell into a relationship.  When it ended, we both wanted it, even though we both ended up hurt in the long run.  We both made mistakes.  But we’re better off not together, even though we’ll always have that connection.

I did an internship the summer after I finished high school.  We weren’t allowed to date in the internship, and when it started they told us that we would probably start having feelings for one another because we were only around one another.  They called this “beer goggles.”  They promised that our feelings weren’t real, and they didn’t want any intern drama.  All totally understandable.
About halfway through this internship, I developed a crush.  *dun dun dun* Anyway, I thought that it was just that, even though it didn’t feel fake.  I was starting college in the fall and I wasn’t wanting to date anyone else until I found who I wanted to marry.  I was sure he didn’t reciprocate my feelings, even though we hung out a lot.  We never did anything wrong, anything against internship rules.  We just had feelings.
The last day of the internship, after we had graduated, everyone had packed up and left.  My car was ready to go, but his parents hadn’t shown up yet.  So we hung out.  I had already planned a trip out there with another friend of mine to visit, so I knew that I would see him again, but I still was sure that after that trip our friendship would pause.  And then he kissed me.  I think he was trying to be romantic.  It was unexpected and like a word on the tip of his tongue.  And I laughed in surprise.  He brought up that laugh later, but I still think it was warranted.
Anyways, we ended up dating my entire freshman year of college, long distance.  As the months dragged on, I grew more and more unhappy with our relationship.  When we were together, we never had anything to do.  And when we talked on the phone, he never had anything to say, because he did the same thing everyday.  He lived with his wealthy parents and didn’t have a job.
He told me dinosaurs weren’t real.  He refused to ride a tandem bike with me.  He was against adopting a teenager, assuming we actually got married.  Our kids would definitely be home schooled.  And he was far too chivalrous for me.  He wouldn’t let me walk on the outside or open my own car door.  Not that he wanted to do these things for me to be nice, but he forced me to let him do them.
Eventually I had to end things.  It was the day before Easter, we went on a walk, and it was over.  I’ve always felt kind of like a jerk for ending things the way I did.  But it had to be done.  And I’m older now, hopefully wiser too.
But really, he was just beer goggles.

Then there was the on again off again guy from my hometown.  He never remembered me from high school.  He always thought I was younger than I was.  He was Catholic, although not really practicing, so I’d just tell people he was good enough, because he was hot.
We would talk, he’d pursue me, and as soon as things would start to become a little serious, like he might actually want to be my boyfriend, he’d disappear.  This went on for three years.  The last time, he may have broken my heart, because I tried too hard.  I didn’t want to lose him again, so I lost him in my efforts.  But it’s probably not my fault, and I just need to accept that.

There was the guy I worked with, who wasn’t ready to be a boyfriend again, even though that’s basically what he was.  We hung out late at night.  We went on drives and adventures.  We loved all the same shows.  We talked about our beliefs.  He cared so much for me.  Until he didn’t.  Until he disappeared.  And I was once again too much for him.

A couple weekends ago I started getting hit on a lot more than usual.  The lead singer of a band that was playing became infatuated with me.  He would come to the front desk where I work and find excuses to talk to me.  He would flirt incessantly.  If I came to his show, he would buy me a drink.  And he told everyone that he liked me.  And he has my number and asks for things that I can’t give him, because I’m not that kind of girl.  I couldn’t be, even if I wanted to be.
I know he’s not the person I’ll spend the rest of my life with.

This morning I had coffee with my friend, Natalie, who is mentoring me this summer.  I was talking about how I’ve noticed how important connections are in relationships.  And she talked about how, when it’s there, it just works.  I think connection is something that I’ve tried to force, but I have been lacking.  I’m not someone who has ever believed in soulmates, but maybe… maybe that’s starting to change?
Natalie told me a story about a couple she knows.  I don’t remember the details exactly, so I’ll improvise.  The woman was from Iceland and taught at Julliard.  The man did some other important thing (I can’t remember what).  They were both in London doing one thing or another for their various occupations.  They both ended up in a gelato shop, one that neither of them usually went to.  There was only one table left, so they shared it, and ended up hitting it off.  Connection.  And they got married.  And it’s been like 20 or more years.
I want that.  I want a story like that.  I don’t want to meet and be forgotten in the small town I was born in.  I don’t want a friend from work.  I don’t want a random band member that stays in my hotel.  I want a chance meeting in a gelato shop in London.  Or on a bus in Ireland.  Or on a plane to New Zealand.  Or hiking alone in the Sierras.
I want something amazing.  I want connection that lasts forever.  So maybe I’ll have to wait.
I am someone who lowers her standards, and maybe it’s because high standards are easily lowered when feelings are involved.  So maybe instead of setting standards, I’ll wait for connection.  If he’s not fun to talk to, sorry.  If texting him is more of a nuisance than a pleasure, no thanks.  If he makes me uncomfortable ever, I can’t.  If I find myself trying, worried that he’ll stop liking me, than I’ll be okay.  If I’m not excited about his very existence, if my heart doesn’t beat faster, if I’m not giddy about him, if it doesn’t come easy, than it’s not worth it.
I’m done with heartbreak.  I’m ready for connection.  I’m ready for gelato in London, no matter how long that takes.