Ex Resurrection

I just found out that my ex, Matt, was in town over Thanksgiving and he didn't call me. I don't really know how to feel about that. Part of me is very hurt, the other part of me is not surprised. I am moving on. I know I am but I feel like whenever I move a little bit forward I get shoved way back. I can't really pinpoint why I'm reacting the way I am. I need space from him. I wanted space from him but I also want him to crawl on his knees from Colorado for me. I hate this.

First Post of the Day.

A few interesting things: I'm having drinks with the lesbian I was dumped for sometime in the next two weeks. For those strangers who have stumbled upon this blog, I am female and straight. So now you may be asking how was I dumped for a lesbian? You got me. I have no idea how or why it happened but it did. The strangest part of this whole thing is that due to this horrible, ugly and dramatic break-up I lost three of my closest friends at UNCA. I hated the lesbian. Hated her. Then I moved to Charleston and realized that although I was deeply hurt by the situation it really had nothing to do with me. It was about her and my ex-boyfriend. They had feelings for each other and that was that. I reconciled with her and no one else. I find it strange that of all of the people who were involved, it's her that I'm friends with. Not close friends by any means, but friendly.

Another interesting thing: I have an older brother. His friends from high school are essentially my extended family. I feel like I grew up with 6 older brothers because of the amount of time they were around. Now that Kit's on leave, I am seeing a lot of his two heterosexual life mates (who happen to be roommates). One of them, I'll call him J, has had a crush on me since high school. Well, last night while working in the box office, I get a call from J. He asks me to settle a bet he had with my brother and then proceeds to ask if I was still seeing "that guy". I told him no, and then he goes into this Freudian diatribe about how he thinks that Matt looks exactly like this kid, Matt Burnette, whom I grew up with. I then made the mistake of the night and told him I think Matt (the ex) looks a lot like him (J). Shit. He then, yet again, points out the obvious fact that we are both single. Is it so wrong that I find it incredibly awkward to even fathom seriously dating one of my brother's best friends? I could never sleep with J because he'd talk about it to all of my brother's other close friends. I could never kiss him or show affection towards him in the presence of Kit (or any of my adopted brothers for that matter). Am I wrong in thinking this?

Mourning Rituals.

This morning, I'm oddly overwhelmed by a sense of peace. I'm at the stage in my "mourning the loss of the life I so desperately wanted" where I finally start to deflate a little bit. I'm okay and today, for the first time, I've believed it. I also put my future goals into perspective a little bit. I realized that I have 15-18 months before I can move to Denver. When you look at it, 15 isn't that big of a number and I have a feeling it will sneak up on me. Look at college, 48 months. Did it seem like 48 months to anyone else? It sure as hell only felt like 3 to me. Granted, a lot can happen in such a short amount of time but I'm not afraid of it. Then there's the grad school factor, I may not even have 15 months, I may only have 9.

I still haven't decided if I am going to audition this year. At the moment, the desire to get into grad school doesn't outweigh the dreading of all the shit I have to do just to apply, not to mention, the actual audition process. I do want to go back to NYC for a few days in January again. I like New York at that time of year. Bitterly cold and gray. The reason I like the cold and the gray is because I think of the warm refuge inside golden lit restaurants and shops and the best chai tea of all time. I think I'm going to start praying for the ability to be more decisive or I'm just going to take a week long vacation to London in May. One of the two.

The Beginning

This past Thanksgiving was one of the best by far. Kit (my Army brother who's currently serving in Iraq) came home. It was a complete surprise to my family because last we heard he was not going to be home until December for leave if at all. I was nervous to see him because I feared that he would not be the same person as when he left. After all, how could he not have changed? But, true to form, he's the same. I didn't realize just how much I've missed him until I saw him in the airport. I've been in denial over the fact that he enlisted, let alone that he's sitting in the Iraqi desert with an AK47. It's really good to have him home. It puts a great deal of things into perspective. For example, how much I would have missed if I were in Denver/Chicago and how I am in the right place for the time being. I wouldn't have been home for the majority of his visit and just the thought of that breaks my heart and makes me very grateful.

I've also really started the process of moving on from my last heartbreak. I've realized a great deal of truths that until recently have been shrouded in the euphoric/gut wrenching feelings lost loves provide. He was and is one of the most genuine people I've ever known but he's young and immature and needs time to grow up and become less selfish before he's any good to any woman. I had the time of my life with him and until this past holiday, part of me believed that I would never find that again. Now, I know I will but I am afraid he won't. One of the hardest issues I've had to deal with so far has been the desire I have to hate him. It's always been much easier for me to move on if there is a level of anger surrounding a past relationship. I can't hate Matt and that's okay. I love him and I want him to succeed. My hope is we will someday be able to have the friendship that governed our relationship again but right now that particular hope must sit and wait because the timing is off.

I also realized that I will have the relationship I deserve and Matt was great, really great, but he wasn't what I need. I need someone who will be there for me through thick, thin and sweatpants. He was there through the thick and the sweatpants but turned his back on me in the thin. Well, at least when it was thin for me. I also need someone who will make sacrifices for me, who will fight for me. If Matt were to fight for me, really fight for me then there would be a chance for a reconciliation but the chances of him brawling for my affections are slim.

Finally, I listened to myself and now know he will always regret me but I will not always regret him. Our break-up was not within my control. The choice was his and therefore, the aftermath rests solely on his shoulders. I know that he wants me to alleviate his guilty conscience but I will not. It is not my responsibility to heal his self-inflicted wounds, not anymore at least, because I have to heal the wounds he inflicted on me.

It's truly amazing what a little conversation with two of your best friends can do. I can't wait until we're all home for Christmas.

Just a thought...

I fucking hate mandolin players.

The Drag "Race"

For those of you who are unfamiliar with highway 123 through Easley, SC, this post is irrelevant to your existence. 123 is a drag strip, and by drag I mean in the sense that everyone has mutually agreed that the speed limit(s) are at least 10 miles too fast. Not only is the speed limit too fast but there is an unspoken rule that if you are going at least 20 miles under the speed limit, you must find a buddy who is doing the same speed and sit side-by-side with them for at least 10 miles while traffic backs up behind you. Granted, I have found a sort of zen-like state while driving this stretch of country sleeze. I've decided that since I spend approx. an hour and a half in the car five days a week that I would listen to books on tape and learn Italian. Currently, I am taking a break from the Italian lessons and have begun listening to a book entitled Eat, Pray, Love. This book has really begun to speak to me on a deep personal level.

I have very little in common with the author. She is a thirty-something divorcee who spent a year traveling to find her spiritual path. There was one thing that she wrote about that I've been mulling over since. She had an encounter with a spiritual leader in Indonesia who asked the group she was with to name the three things that they wanted in their lives. He also said that if any of those things conflict with each other, then you have destined yourself to unhappiness. I've thought about my three.
I want a great love who will feel the same way about me as I do him and I want that love to extend beyond passion and into the deeper love that only friends can share.
I want to be settled in a town that I love with my own place.
I want a career that feeds my mind, soul and wallet.

Of these three, I think the first is my most valued desire. I believe, perhaps in a childlike way, that there is such a thing as great love, not addictive love, but great love. Now, this is relevant to the title of this post because I feel like I'm dragging on all three of these goals. Granted, I have very little control over the first one except that I can be ready for the possibility by loving myself that much. Who ever said that happiness is a gradual process; one that cannot be obtained quickly? I wish that I could snap myself out of this mild depression and rediscover the person I was all of six months ago. I miss that blissfully happy period I was in. I want it back and I lack the patience to let it happen. I never thought I would be a drag racer or that I would be where I am at this very moment. I know life will be this way until the day I die but I cannot blindly accept this lack of security in both my finances and my emotional stability.

"I cannot control the way I am perceived, I can only control the way I am presented." -Tim Gunn (whom I love). I've decided that I am going to take up yoga and pilates. I need to "center" myself in the most jaded terms. God, when did I grow up? When did I lose that wide-eyed belief that I could do anything I wanted to? And why did I lose that belief? I envy a friend of mine who truly lives on the spur of the moment. I could never live like that. I could never max out my credit card and buy a plane ticket to London on a whim. I would have a panic attack. In fact, the only panic attack in my life that's on record happened because I was doing something that was on a whim. Reality hit me and I fell to pieces. The desire to do what I attempted, however, has not left me. Denver has not left me. I am, without a doubt, one of the most stubborn individuals of all time. I get an idea into my head/heart and I will not let go. It's like a chinese finger trap where no matter how much I tug, I can't release myself. But if you know the trick to the finger trap, all you have to do is give way and let it let you go. It's this step that gives me the most trouble. It's this step I am working on.

Things I love about Dunkin' Donuts

My morning sanctuary is the Dunkin' Donuts on 123. I love it for the following reasons:
That first blast of the Dunkin' smell when the drive-thru window opens.
The perfect amount of Splenda in my lite latte.
They put the cream cheese on the TOASTED bagel instead of giving you a stale, cold, precut bagel with a tub of cream cheese.
The donuts.
The muffins.
The donuts.
The fact that it is on my way to work and not out of the way.
And finally, the donuts.

I am a fat kid.

Slightly out of Contex.

I greatly enjoy picking out pieces of dialogue, e-mail, litterature that without their surrounding texts are, by and large, some of the greatest examples of human genious (a.k.a. hilarious). I suppose it's the fact that I often find myself saying the phrase, "Well, I guess you had to be there." For example, my recently opened e-mail had a great phrase sitting by it's lonesome due to the position of my cursor that I find profound: 3. Mockery, scoffing. Within the e-mail's context (dictionary.com's word of the day; flout) it is not as striking to me. I've always enjoyed walking around cities alone and eavesdropping for golden tidbits of conversation. A personal favorite, "It's not that cold once you think about it." This was said by a teenybopper in a mini skirt in, oh, about 20 degree temperature. There are also pieces that I pick up from my coworkers. Example, "Great. Now I'm never going to get into heaven because I mocked the foreign kid." I enjoy these brief exchanges more than a lot of other things.

On an update on my first post note: I was watching (for the first time) "My First Home" on whatever that channel is above the food network and it made me cry. Why? Because the woman they were doing the story on was buying her first home in Denver. It made me physically nauseous to see someone else where I wanted to be. I don't really know what to make of my jealous rage at this poor woman but it affected me. I'm at the point where I want to take my chances and run away but I know I must be patient and it will work out in a relatively short period of time. In my head, I've been decorating the apartment that I lost in Denver this past October. I want an aubergine focus wall in my livingroom with neutral, off white accent walls. The overstuffed cream couch has these amazing green and orange silk pillows I found last year. And that's just the beginning. I know every room. Someone please stop me.

Keeper of Records

I'm starting this blog to simply remind myself of where I want and need to be within the next two years. It's other purpose is to track the changes I go through within that same time frame. In January 2009 I will either A) already be in Grad school B) will be making the steps to move to Denver within three months or C) I will be in Denver. I have always lacked patience when it comes to life. This will be my third year auditioning for grad school and I really think it may be my last regardless of the outcome. I want to be a college theatre professor eventually but not being able to get into a graduate school has curbed that dream for a bit. I am not truly sure what it is that is pulling me to Denver. I like the south but I am desperate to get out. The thought of spending yet another year here is overwhelming. I thought that I had an adventure in my future way back in August. I see now that I did it just wasn't where I thought/planned. Denver is...crisp. That may have no significance to anyone else but to me it means a great deal. It would be a fresh start in a great city. I need that start. I need that kick to the ass and the removal of my comfort bubble. I know that I need to learn patience as well. It is without a doubt my biggest challenge. So much of my internal being has changed since graduating from college that looking back is like reading a fiction novel. It just wasn't my life, or so it seems.

I've lost, for the first time, real love. I believe in love above anything and everything in this world. I believe that it is powerful and worth the trials and tribulations it often brings with it. I believe in it more than ever because I've learned that I can love with my whole heart. I've learned how scary it can be to people and how devistating it can be. I've also learned that my intuition is as strong as I thought it to be. I know in my heart the love I have for this one particular person is strong and will remain. I also know that it's not over. It may never be romance again but it's not over. I'm ready for the next adventure because love is supposed to be just that, an adventure. I'm ready for someone else but above all, I believe in the power of love.