nye

girl time. dance dance dance. backless-cut-to-there dress and shit kickers.

if each month had a name

january...solitude and introspection

february...resistance!

march...fuck it!

april...strung out #1

may...strung out #2

june...fun and then crash!

july...boy major depression month

august...adventures in being truly single

september...being in a relationship?

october...to trust another to trust to trust

november...the stark change

december...boy heartbreak and confusion..lean on myself and lessons

in august i told you where i was

it was the first week after i met you. i was living between this world of solitude and space with myself in conjunction with this new incessant communication between us.
i went north along that ocean side highway and finally left my car because this felt like the spot for me. i walked a path between bushes which came to a clearing that revealed the most spacious, vacant beach. i settled there with my books and journal as always is my company.
it was this adventure by myself, but you were there in the way you've been for months.

i got so used to carrying you along with me to nude beaches, wearing ripped skirts and landing in bushes, crossing the country to see a city at a distance and telling you about it, sitting on a hillside hearing patty griffin live, lying back in my car at 2 am under a glaring nordstrom emblem and with the rain pounding down. i witnessed your life for awhile and you witnessed mine.

for her was enough

So how do you do it? she asked. How do you let go of the ache for that one special relationship and accept the level of intimacy that occurs? she asked and she really wanted to know. Almost with a sense of desperation, but also impatience. Not because she couldn't wait to hear the answer--rather because she already knew and it felt repetitive to hear repeated what she'd been thinking about all night.
She'd had work to do tonight and in the quiet of the kitchen, betwixt banging pots and the whirring food processor she realized what was different now as opposed to one month ago. She realized how when there was a special man in her life she tended to involve him in most of her activities, in her mental depiction of him. It wasn't that she literally told him everything, but as she went about her life she would imagine what she would tell him about what she was doing, or something that happened and how he would respond or what he might think about it. She realized how habitual it would become when she liked someone to imagine him into the scenario as a means of validating herself and her life. As if things were somehow more important if he even just inadvertently experienced them with her. 
Tonight the feeling was different. There was, for the first time all year practically, there was no man in her life with whom she was hoping to have a relationship. The only source of validation was her experience of this moment in solitude and the fact that it was just for her was enough. 

How free it is to realize you've held everything you ever needed all within yourself.

...how free it is...

From Sylvia Plath's Tulips

Anais on Lou

"'I cannot be faithful to others, only to myself.' She had her own work to do, and her faithfulness was to her expansive nature, her passion for life, and her work. She awakened others' talents, but maintained a space for her own...She showed remarkable persistence in maintaining her identity...She preserved her autonomy while surrounded by powerful, even overpowering men...Her freedom consisted in acting out her deep unconscious needs. She saw independence as the only way to achieve movement. And for her, movement was constant growth and evolution...She demanded the freedom to change, to evolve, to grow. She asserted her integrity against sentimentality and hypocritical definitions of loyalties and duties."

From In Favor of the Sensitive Man and Other Essays, by Anais Nin.

belong to yourself

no excuse

at night, I seek...

can't forget

The bathroom is steamy with the thickness of a dense fog and because of the dismal weather outside, it is dark inside as well. I am drying my body in the ethereal feeling of this post hot water running room and deep in my thoughts...
suddenly I am lying back in the muted to almost pitch black light of his room. I am naked on his bed and he is on top of me, also naked. It is that feeling of being lost because of absolute presence in the moment. I am not worrying about what's next, just living each moment with our bodies feeling the way along each other. And suddenly the motion of the moment comes to a halt as he stops above me and utters in the most pure intentioned, uninhibited way--"I want to have sex with you..."
My face contorts in a need to sob. I am no longer in that then but in this now--of this bathroom so thick with steam and the smells of shampoo and a naked body--just as I was beneath him that night. How much that moment means to me. How much that flash of memory brought me back to his body over my body and the scents of his boyness and the feeling of safety in exposure of myself. 
I came the closest to having sex with him right then--the question--"do you have a condom," was so heavy on my tongue, it couldn't escape. My body was so ready...but I didn't. And now, five weeks later I can't help but wonder what my feeling would be in this now if that then had gone a different way.

favorite

you are never so sexy as when you make me think. 

I would...

 I would fuck so hard right now. I mean, I would really fuck. Just let go of everything in my mind and live through my body and through your body.
And then I would cry even harder. I mean really, really sob with utter abandon and surrender.
And then I would crash so hard and lay still for hours...letting my mind ache with missing you.