I get where you're coming from...

When you're young and you feel you have so little to risk, it's easy to say things you aren't necessarily sure you believe in. You say things like, "I love you", when you've only known someone for a moment, you say things like, "let's move away together, it's easy to start over, you should go…"

But when you're a little older, the connections you have in this world become less fleeting, they become more real and complete connections and these connections aren't exactly something you're really able or ready to simply throw away on a whim.

I've been here 8 years now. Actually, 8 years almost exactly give or take a few days. And the people I have met here have become the threads woven into the tapestry that is my life. To even think about leaving would only cause an unraveling unlike any I've ever experienced.

If I ever say to you, "I'm going", If I ever say to you, "I'm over this", I only expect you to say, "I completely understand, I get where you're coming from", but I don't expect to hear you tell me to go.

And if you do, I'll just say, "I completely understand, I get where you're coming from."

-------------

Every once in a while you take that long forgotten path down memory lane and along the way you keep your eyes narrowly focused on the good and allow the bad to take the back seat on the journey. Doing so allows you to smile. Doing so allows you to forget all the sadness and all the pain. Doing so allows you to keep the crying, the hurt, the anger, completely stowed away. Who wants to remember the baggage anyway? It's so much better to keep the funny little inside jokes outside and the "fuck yous" and "go to hells" hidden and forgotten. But I think a little bit of our path becomes hazy if we choose to ignore those things.
Looking on the sunny side is good for our souls for a while, until we start to allow them to beat up on our souls in spite of growth and understanding. I say if you're angry, say so. If you're hurt, shout it out loud. But then move on and accept where you've been and what you've allowed yourself to go through. Unless it was utterly malicious, then you had a part in the wrong as well. You allowed yourself to be there. No one story is ever completely one-sided. It just always appears that way to you because that's the only frame of reference you have to work with. You make the choice to move on. You decide your path. And again, your path should always be about forward motion. You just have to decide the pace at which your forward motion progresses.

fragile

You make me feel fragile.
you make me feel fragile.
you do.
and I can't do anything about it.

I can ignore you.
I can make myself unavailable.
I can make a conscious effort to decide to not be where you are.
But none of it matters.
Not even the slightest of the tiniest bit.
Because no matter what I do,
No matter what I tell myself,
You have an impact on me and my emotions.
And I can't control any of it.

I’m not scared. I’m scared.

I'm not scared of East Nashville in the middle of the night....actually, not in the middle, not at all, not the wee hours of the morning when all the drunks are driving home, not even the worst part of town where all the "undesireable people" we choose to ignore, live. I'm not scared of my own daily solitude, of time alone with my own thoughts. The danger doesn't really lie there. I'm scared of unending solitude...you know the "alone on a desert island" question. Yeah, NO, thanks...not even with my favorite book or music. I'm not scared of losing my family. I know they will always be in my heart. I'm scared of them thinking I don't care. I'm not scared of tap water, I'm scared of running out of water. I'm not scared of bill collectors, I'm scared of not having a roof over my head.

We all have so much to be scared of. Let's not let it be each other.

I love my family and friends, so very much. If I don't say it enough, I'm sorry. And this is my biggest fear of all.

xo
m

I know the first time I heard the B52’s.

I was at Cappy Malacek’s house. She had some old albums. She had a really bad record player. We listened, I was changed forever (and no it wasn’t Love Shack). It wasn’t necessarily the most poignant moment in my music appreciation history, but in my memory it speaks volumes nonetheless. (for those who don’t know, I’ll just say, my first concert ever was Three Dog Night. Mom and Dad took my sister Tina and i to the Austin Aqua Festival, and Three Dog Night was playing a concert that night. Mom and Dad also bought Tina and I each a 3/4 length sleeve black and white ringer tee or maybe they bought us one to share..all I know is that i was there and for reasons completely unknown to me, I remember it...)
Remembering where you were and who you were with when a specific moment occurred in your life isn’t the simplest of memories to place. Sometimes, it’s like it was yesterday, and other times, the memories become clouded in a distant, hazy fog mixed up with other memories, jumbled with dreams and spit out for you to wonder if it ever really happened at all.

I remember the first time I met specific people here in Nashville. I remember how and why and who; and well, how. But lately I’m wondering how it’s possible to see people off and on for years at a time and never really know who they are. I’ve seen people, I’ve skimmed the crowd...gaze inadvertently skipping over while my eyes were scanning the crowd for a "familiar" face. Suddenly, I am curious; was it because they became a fixture in my every day life? (or every night life?) or was it because I simply chose not to see?

As always, i have more to say; but as Rob would say (condescendingly) "I love drunk Michelle post-ums." And yes, Michelle is drunk and tomorrow this may or may not be deleted.

xo
m

ps. It’s a new dawn, it’s a new day. You know how I feel.

You are a leader without any followers.

Haven't been sleeping very well and these are some of the things on my mind.

1. Went to see Control at the Belcourt over the weekend. First of all, the story is a superbly written account of Ian Curtis' rise and fall. If you know anything about Joy Division, I am sure you are already aware of his battle with depression and epilepsy. I am very often in awe of people who are so keenly and simultaneously aware of the beauty and ugliness of life. I think no matter what, even if you're not a fan of Joy Division, the film itself is just so gorgeously shot that it's worth a watch. First of all it's in super high contrast black and white, so visually it's really lovely. Secondly, each frame is perfectly composed and would work independently as a photographic still. Just lovely.
2. I recently discovered Pandora (I may be a little late on this one). Right now I'm listening to a Joy Division station/mix. Some tracks on the station are somewhat obvious (Joy Division Station thus far includes: New Order, The Cure, well, and Joy Division. Right now, Modern English is playing.) I am pretty much in love with this idea since I'm a little bored with my music selection. More experiments to come. I wonder what would happen if I put in something a little more obscure like Mulatu Astatke. Ok, so I did it. So far, so good. Damn. I love Pandora!
3. We have mice. They are driving me crazy. After 3 months of traps (that haven't caught a damn one) and poison in the basement, the landlord has finally hired a professional exterminator to come today and take care of the problem. I used to be one of those people who didn't want to kill them, but now I want those little bastards dead. We can hear them in the walls, scratching at the innards of this house throughout the night. It's the most annoying sound in the world. Also, for some irrational reason, I keep thinking they're gonna fall from the ceiling into my bed while I'm sleeping. It's dumb. I'm dumb. They're dumb.
4. I'm addicted to reading other peoples' blogs. Especially if they are smart. I like smart people. The only problem is unless you know them personally, it kinda creates a false intimacy. Like, because you are reading their thoughts, you know them and how their mind works. This is not the case, because some people formulate their thoughts specifically to get you to like them. Maybe, maybe not. I don't, per se. What I do is say exactly what I think and type it as it comes to me. Some people maybe edit themselves a little more...this 4 is dumb. I don't know why I'm saying this, but to further my case regarding me not being calculated when it comes to blogs, I'm gonna post it anyway.
5. I got sucked into stuffwhitepeoplelike. It's one of those obviously funny blogs with observations to make you question your own cleverness (or lack thereof).
6. I need a job. I have an interview today, so hopefully they'll see how smart, funny, good I am. It's worse than a freaking first date. I have about 30 minutes to convince them of my abilities. Ugh.
7. Insomnia is one of the worst afflictions you could ever wish on your worst enemy.
8. A Guatemalan man read my palm at Alley Cat this past Sunday. He said, in Spanish, "You are scared of falling in love."(duh, who the hell isn't. and if they aren't, what the hell is wrong with them?) He also said "You are a leader without any followers. But in time, you will have followers." This keeps resonating in my head, "You are a leader without any followers." "You are a leader without any followers." No shit. I don't really want followers. It makes me nervous. I am barely responsible enough for myself. I mean, I'm responsible, but not really. Case in point, It was such a lovely day Sunday that my girlfriends and I went to the neighborhood bar and drank from 4pm in the afternoon to last call at 3am. I guess because it was 2 4 1's, I was kinda being responsible. Also, I would just like to point out that I was able to understand the majority of what this man was saying throughout the entire evening. I was able to translate for my friends and even speak to him in Spanish for most of what I needed to say. I want to be fluent.

I have nothing else.

xo
m

ps. More Joy Division. I love them.

and I shall call this, "boys should have longer hair..."

Current mood:you can’t make me

You can't cut his hair. It's turned into his, you know, "thing". All the ladies say to him, "you have the prettiest hair".
I think you should leave it alone until I move on and just let it grow...and then we'll cut it together as kind of an umbilical cord type ceremonial ceremony?

He's not mine at all. But I can't help but anticipate the missing.
The smells. The sounds. The cuddles. The commands. The funniest funnies. Aw man, the funnies. The fart machine?

Thank you for loaning his love to me. Thank you for allowing me the time.

x
m

ps. I'll miss you too.