Teeny Tiny Case


Of the feels.

Fucking sads.

Go the fuck away.

Don’t you know tomorrow is Friday?

Bah.

Oh, body, really, do you have to do this?

Sometimes I wonder if my body cycles the way it does just so that I can occasionally access emotions that I sit on.

It’s like, normal Carmen just breezes through the day and I am pretty fucking unruffled.

Quick!

Pee before yoga, you got a minute, it only takes two to walk to the studio, go, fast.

And there like a little blight on my happiness.

The dreaded red spot.

Not the period, nope, that’s got about two days to go, unless I get lucky, insert irony here, and I get it tomorrow morning, which the rate my hormones are emotionally playing the violin may strike a day early.

Ugh.

I ovulated.

“Another baby down the drain,” my brain whispered to me.

Fuck you.

WHO ASKED?

I most certainly did not and was a bit abject that this is now the tact my brain takes to malign my day.

FUCK.

I hate overblown emotions.

I don’t like having the sad’s and I am not interested in the feel’s either.

Back off.

Maybe I should change the music, Regina Spektor is lovely and all, but I don’t want to think about Ne Me Quitte Pas Ma Cher.

It just makes me want to burst into tears.

And now I’m full blown crying.

Good thing this is not a video blog.

Bah.

I just miss someone.

And sometimes that happens.

And it catches you off guard and it doesn’t matter that you’re wearing red lipstick and look really cute, sexy pin-up hot, I mean, I do, I got some looks today, it doesn’t matter if you’re crying over fantasy spilt milk.

Some times things don’t work out and it’s not because there’s not love there, it’s just not there for you.

Every one knows its going to hurt.

Ugh.

I guess I just needed a really good sloppy cry.

I guess I am surprised that I still feel like this, the grief comes, it goes, it dissipates like the moon waning in the evening sky, the stars flashing while the moon whirls slowly over the arc of the sky.

And when I am awake, late in the night, when I so just want to be asleep.

And there’s still no cure for crying.

But the moon is streaming in and the whiteness, like snow illuminated, sand ripples, waves crash, the icing floating over the ocean, the glitter of diamonds, the shatter of breaking my own heart.

Darling let go of her hand, let go of her hand, let go of her hand.

She’s the kind of girl who’ll smash herself down in the night.

She’ll break her own heart.

And you know, she’ll break your own heart too.

The pain of knowing true love exists.

Oof.

Ok.

All cried out.

Fuck listening listening to this music any more.

Back to Mike Doughty Stellar Motel.

Ah.

Better.

Side bar.

My friend commented about Mike Doughty liking one of my Instagram photos and did I just freak out?

Yes.

I did.

And I freaked out more when he started following me and now he’s coming up on my facecrack page as a friend suggestions we have four or five friends in common.

I’m like, hey sugar, we don’t really know each other, but hey, hey.

I like your music a lot.

A LOT.

Swear to god I have listened to Stellar Motel on repeat now for a good solid week and a half, I’ve played it every day, at least once, often times more than once.

Now.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not just listening to Mister Doughty, but he’s kind of got my attention right now, plus, I like to think that I sound good singing his stuff, it matches my vocal range pretty well.

I love singing.

I’m not the greatest, but it does make me happy.

I sang a long to all sorts of things tonight trying to find the right thing for the boys to listen to.

Everything from “Somewhere over the Rainbow,” to Thomas Dolby, then Jim Croce, Van Morrison, Steely Dan, again Mike Doughty, but from Yes and Also Yes, not Stellar Motel, oh and some Art of Noise–the boys freaking love it.

I was at work late tonight and I go in early tomorrow.

And I found out I’m getting out a little earlier than I thought tomorrow as well, I’ll be done by 5:15pm or so, the family has dinner plans.

Swell.

I’ll get my nails did.

Or do some grocery shopping.

Definitely need to take care of doing the deal, not sure where, who knows.

After the emotional roller coaster of hormones, it seems to have passed, I really think I just needed a good cry.

And lucky you, you got to be the witness thereof.

I thought I had all my cries out, but sometimes there’s just another in there.

I’m being a bit vague about the whole thing and I’m not sure why, the person I am having the feels around stopped following my blog.

That hit like a ton of bricks.

We’re still facecrack friends, but I did stop following him.

It was just too hard.

I haven’t been on his page in weeks but it’s hard, his profile photo is one I took.

The last time I saw his page he was half naked on the beach.

I was like.

Um.

I can not look at that.

I’ve basically been in, shocker, a unrequited love relationship for months.

It started to fall apart in November, had it’s death knoll in December, buried under the glittering lights of Paris, dissolved in the New Year and the week or so before Valentines Day, well.

Yeah.

I haven’t done much writing about it because I was so fucking in love it felt like I was being consumed.

Oh fuck, here comes the waterworks.

It’s hard.

But I will live through it.

“Just be grateful that God gave you this man in your life so that you could get a chance to see how deep you can love,” she said weeks and weeks ago at Tart to Tart.

Yeah.

Like that.

I prayed for weeks, months, let it go, surrender, move on.

And I have.

I have stopped walking down that street, I don’t fall in the pothole, but man, the siren song of it lures.

I saw him sitting in Burger Joint a few weeks ago, the one by my job, and as I rode my bicycle past I said, “don’t look, don’t look, don’t look, fuck, looking, looking, fuck, yup, there he is, and keep fucking moving.”

That’s what it’s been like.

The anger that my person was talking about that needed a valve, yeah, might have had something to do with being mad at myself.

I assuaged myself for a nano second.

“But he said he was in love with you too,” and yup.

He did say that.

It’s a powerful thing to tell someone that you are in love with them and they tell you that they are in love with you too and there’s nothing he can do and there’s nothing I can do and it’s not important the why’s and where of’s, it just is what it is.

And I can cry in my soup, or tea, or whatever is in front of me, the collar of my red cardigan, my heart broken and bloody once more, or I can say hey, you lived, you loved–oh so hard–and you learned and now.

Well.

You get to keep loving.

Harder and stronger.

Bigger and faster.

With greater joy and fervor.

With all my heart.

And that heart is so big now, so full and open and blown apart, you’d be amazed at what I can hold.

I don’t regret a moment.

Or the experience.

I know greater love for having known this love.

I always will.

And for that I am grateful.

Hormonal or not.

I get to have this experience.

And knowing that.

I know that I am taken care of.

Always.

Blessed.

Graced.

Held.

Loved.

Always.

 

 

Advertisements

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: