7Nineteen

breathing easier

[pretty things in unexpected places]

i'm really smart in one respect: i know when to get help when i need it. in other words, i managed to get in with my therapist on monday during my lunch hour.

she was full of good things like:

"anger is just hurt feelings that explode."

"you should have been respected and he didn't do that."

"you need a vacation. it's ridiculous that you can't get time off of work."

"i can write you a medical excuse to get a few days off, you know." (which I declined for fear of being forever known as the crazy woman in the office)

"you need to have some fun. don't you ever have any fun?" (to which I shook my head, started sobbing like a child and cried, "not enough. not enough to make up for the rest of it).

i went back to work, sucked it up and got on with my day. i slept fitfully last night, bad dreams constantly waking me.

but i woke up this morning feeling more at peace than i have in months.

i'm a strong woman who has weak moments.

and there's nothing wrong with that.

stripping it away

[me, bathroom self-portrait]

It's amazing what one hurtful email, received after 5 weeks of silence, can do to one's weekend. I read it and spent the first 5 minutes numb. Then I called my friend, J., and sobbed. Then I crawled into bed with my clothes on and cried every particle of makeup off of my face. I've never done that before. It's sort of amazing when you think about it.

Anyway.

When I woke up this morning, I ran to my bathroom and started giving myself a facial peel. I rubbed my face until it was red and tingling. And then I did it again. And then I did it again. I think in some weird, irrational way, I was trying to strip myself of the tears.

Or maybe it goes deeper than that....shedding old skin and all of that. I don't know.

It was pouring rain tonight. It rained so hard, and so long. I took my iPod and journal and sat on the deck, feeling the wind blow the rain onto me, soaking through my clothes. When the lightning would hit, I'd close my eyes and feel the vibration of the energy in the air, and each time, I'd wonder what it would be like to get hit by it.

Of course right after that, a huge bolt of lightning struck and scared the shit out of me, forcing me to run inside like a child. All of a sudden the lightning striking me wasn't such a great, dramatic idea.

Maybe I really am an optimist after all.

the death of creativity! *cue the dramatic music*

[from a very enjoyable cemetary walk over the long 4th of july weekend]

i am always hesitant to think of myself as a creative person. i was always focused on grades. but i conveniently forget that i danced competitively for 13 years. i call my photography "just a hobby that i'm ok at".  i don't think i'm a good writer, yet i make my living writing contracts and briefs and memos all day, every day. those are creative things.

in an attempt to "get in touch" with my creativity, i decided to do the artist's way. i'm not doing it to become some pretentious internet presence. i'm doing it because the stress of being a lawyer is draining the life out of me.

tonight, my assignment was to list three old enemies of my creative self-worth. this is what i wrote for one of them:

in kindergarten, i colored a picture of a cake black to make it a chocolate cake. mrs. *insert name of meanie teacher here* said it was wrong and that i should have colored it brown because chocolate is brown, not black! i'm 35 years old and i still remember how awful i felt when she said that. couldn't it have been dark chocolate for chrissakes?

-----

some of my favorite examples of creativity:

tess and houser find a new way to use flags

dianne the cashier

we are lovers, girl

i'm glad that someone remembered joe totsky

[handwritten grave marker, made of pipes formed into a cross]

I dated a mortician about 6 years ago.

One night he called me up and said, "I have to go embalm a body. Do you want to watch?"

So, I watched.

I didn't feel queasy. I was actually quite fascinated. But mostly, I wondered what this old man's life had been like. I remember making a point to look up his obituary the next day.

I'm sorry, and a little ashamed, that I don't remember any part of what it said. 

what have you done today to make yourself proud

[the pump dance tent at pridefest]

milwaukee's pridefest is amazing. this was my first year in attendance and i had more fun at pridefest than any other summer festival i've attended here (and milwaukee is known as the summer festival capital of the universe].

where else can you see margaret cho, lady bunny, bow wow wow, martha wash, en vogue, female impersonators, half naked men with rippling muscles and wash it all down with the strongest martini of any summer festival around?

i also got my first tattoo there.

i plan on making pridefest a summer tradition, and i plan on making it a tradition to get a tattoo at pridefest every year.

other photos of various pride events around the country:

beautiful tattooed man at nyc leatherfest

checking the dance line at denver pridefest

bare-back duotone at key west pridefest

you'll meet jesus and fire will come out of his eyes! [my photo]

always under or above

[when you get too lazy to photograph something else, you always have yourself]

"Inside Of Love"- Nada Surf

Watching terrible tv
It kills all thought
Getting spacier than
An astronaut
Making out with people
I hardly know or like
I can't believe what i do
Late at night
I wanna know what it's like
On the inside of love
I'm standing at the gates
I see the beauty above
Only when we get to see
The aerial view
Will the patterns show
We'll know what to do
I know the last page so well
I can't see the first
So i just don't start
It's getting worse
[chorus]
I can't find my way in
I try again and again
I'm on the outside of love
Always under or above
Must be a different view
To be a me with a you
Of course i'll be alright
I just had a bad night

things i'm digging right now

[chinese lantern on our little deck]

terri lynn's talent and creativity. no one does artwork with their photos like she does.

my new camera and planning new adventures with it by my side

italian margaritas

the four day weekend coming up

tvgasm

coming out of the funk i've been in for the past 3 months

blogging again

alone

[my mother cooking dinner. what is that you ask? braciole]

the thing about having a sick mother is that you realize that sooner rather than later, you're going to be alone in the world, and that's a tough realization. in my head i still feel 16 sometimes. i can't understand how i got to be 35, with parents who are in the autumn of their lives.

i ran into my parents at the grocery store on saturday and it took me a few seconds to realize who they were. all i could see was a frail, thin woman, shuffling her feet, with dark circles under her eyes. and the man looked weary...so weary.

mentally, i've been preparing myself for it. i find myself thinking, all too often, "you're going to be alone someday, so you need to figure this out on your own."

it's really only at times like those that i regret not being married. at least i wouldn't be alone.

How many tears must fall, How many hours must my heart ache

[my grandfather's poetry book, written after my grandmother died in 1979]

my mother's illness has put her in the state of mind where she feels as though she needs to sort through her life, giving away things that are important.

i got this notebook of poetry that my grandfather wrote after my grandmother died in 1979, at the age of 55. it goes on for pages. the poetry is simple, but pure, and it makes me cry every time i turn the yellowed, stained pages.

if i could be loved that way in my life, i'd consider myself blessed.

-----

I cry when I see your picture,

Oh, how I long for your touch.

Did you know how I loved you,

Did you know how much?

I see you in everything I do,

How much can I endure?

How do I survive without you?

The months roll by,

They seem to fly,

But my darling, I still cry and cry.

with time

[benches seem so lonely. downtown milwaukee]

At first, when you make the clean break, it's easy. You feel lifted, relieved, lighter. The load has finally been lifted.

And then a month down the road, you realize how quiet your phone is. How empty your e-mail inbox is. How quiet your nights are. Instead of falling asleep with his voice in your ear, and a smile on your face, you lie awake at 3 in the morning and see images of him in your head.

And that's the only time the tears come. And tha's when you bury your face into the pillow and curse at him and ask into the air, "Why did you do this?"

You ask yourself that question too.

You never dreamed about him then. But now that he's gone, he invades your subconscious almost every night.

Some things don't get easier with time.