||[Oct. 11th, 2009|12:32 pm]
it's no secret that i've abandoned my readership. i'm in a weird place where i still love you and think of you and write for you but it doesn't leave the tips of my fingers. a few weeks ago i was feeling a sort of writer's constipation. stuffed up with words. i took some immodium oed like elyse recommended, and slowly the words came. they weren't good, but they were there, and i started writing when they appeared, where ever i happened to be. i have a notebook by my bed, next to the couch, and next to my desk at work. now you know the 4 places i spend the most time (#4 being right here in front of the screen).|
i think it stemmed from a sick bout of nostalgia, which came on the tail end of one of my recurring bursts of missing the fucking living shit out of seanpalmer. you remember seanpalmer? he was my first love and best friend and in the past few years it seems as though he's dropped off the face of the planet. sometimes i feel guilty for missing him but i also think that's a cop out. just because he used to be my boyfriend and i have a new boyfriend doesn't mean we can't be friends, it doesn't erase the mighty mighty fun we had. he remains hidden despite my best efforts to find him and i guess i have to be ok with that. ask me if i'm ok again around our old anniversary or his birthday and i'm sure i'll sing a different tune. he's still one of the only people i dream about.
anyway, this is about writing, not how i fuck up friendships. you might remember my journal when i was 17 or 18, and i had so many things to share. i still do, but i'm keeping my memories close to myself, and i'm starting to wonder if holding them selfishly means i'll loose them sooner. i'm very forgetful, you know. my whole life i've been filled with thoughts and ideas and plans and it kind of scared me that for a few months nothing was coming out of me. i still had plans, but they were little things like curtains for the kitchen or what color manicure i'd give myself next week. now that i'm forcing myself to write more by having notebooks everywhere (and thus no excuse not to), i feel lighter, smarter, and more thoughtful.
i'm telling you all this (again) because yesterday i finally met a great internet friend and muse, and she gave me some of the sweetest compliments about my writing. so sweet that they disappeared into powdered sugar dust as they floated out from her red lips. she chose her words carefully and deliberately and i'm ashamed that i can't remember what they were but i remember how they felt when they filled me up and that's good enough for me. in the words of zoe trope, she loves with her mouth open, and i realized that all of my favorite people have souls that are too big for their skin. julie told me last week that everyone she knows wants to know more about me, and tears rolled down my face because that's all i've ever wanted. i'm layers and layers of person and i try to hold my old soul in the deepest pit of me, but i'm always looking for the spark that tells me you're an onion too.
i used to not mind taking off a layer or two for the whole world to see. eight years ago the internet felt like a smaller place and i was compelled to carve my name in a part of it, but now it's all changed. it's sped up, condensed, and constantly refreshing. not to say i don't still love it, i love any glimpse into your world that i can get. i still want to let you in but i'm choosing to be more string cheese than onion now. there's still layers to be separated, but they all look the same. i've been struggling with what i can and cannot share and where and how i can do it. i don't like these new rules, where everything lives forever and my whoever my boss may be in 10 years can judge who i am 10 years in the future by what i said this very minute. that seems unfair to me and it makes me really mad. i don't want to have to photoshop beer bottles over bongs because someone, someday in the future, might get in trouble for having been in the same room as a legal piece of glass.
despite my anger and confusion, i have to find the parts of my life that i can peel away and leave for you. milky white and shredded, i'm determined to get my string cheese layers out of my brain. i know you enjoy it, even though i can't see you and i don't know you're there. just like you can't see me when i hide in the shadows for months at a time. it works both ways, you see. and it makes me feel lighter and smarter and more stealth when i can just lay a little something down for you and let you chew on it silently. i did it for you but i'm learning how to do it for me.
here are things i love right now:
baby carrots and goddess dressing
the infinite possibility of color
knowing i have options