Monday, January 29, 2007

Sock and Whole Bottom-Panties

I wear bright yellow socks to keep me warm. I've worn these socks, knitted and long, three nights in a row. And after three nights I've been reminded of a forgotten fact. I hate socks. Bright yellow socks and cotton whole-bottom panties...and sweatpants on winter nights. I wake to my snuggle-happy puppy sprawled feet out, back against mine for three nights in a row, with a great deal of puppy hair in the morning. After weeks of appreciating the calm of routine, the comfortably of whole-bottom panties, and the apparent complacency of yellow house socks on Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights I have awoken Monday morning looking in the back of my top chest drawer for a pair of thongs.

I am reminded that I even have thongs, more than plenty actually, and that I have been wearing the same 8 pairs of undies for months. I am reminded that I sleep horizontally not only because I have a mound of tops needing dry-cleaning, journal articles and texts sitting at the foot of my queen sized bed, but to utilize its- always empty-guest side. So I have spent months wearing socks that I despise and a limited number of large yet comfortable panties, snuggled up against a dog... because I'm cold? I grab the first thong found folded in the top drawer and closed it shut.

"I guess I'm a little lonely", I say under my breath so that I won't wake Bradley. Immediately, I remove my yellow socks, knitted and long, and throw them in trash.
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Thursday, January 25, 2007

My Puppy Snores


My puppy snores in the middle of the night while I toss and turn. After washing his feeding bowl and cleaning the mess he may have made on the floor, after hearing him whimper for five minutes to be freed from his crate so that he may continue to gnaw on my beloved black leather sling-backs... he snores, audaciously. Bradley snores like that of an ex-boyfriend after we've made love who selfishly finished first, and only. He snores so that he often wakes himself from his nap letting out a sigh evident of annoyance, unaware that even he considers himself a jerk. And he is.

So I lie awake wondering if I must climb out of bed on a chilly January night to poke this 5 month old dog the same as I would the ex that snored. And just as I regret having this living, pooping, destructive little individual who is narcissisticly certain that everyone passing by wants to play with him and thinks he's cute, he awakes excited to see me near him. I pull him from his crate and lay him on the bed. He snuggles between my arm and leg placing his head on my lap looking me in the eye. He then yawns, complete with smacking, closes his eyes and falls asleep.

I forgot why he annoyed me. Love will do that.
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Saturday, January 20, 2007

X-man


The warm bitter taste of the last sip of my Corona made me think of you and your naked back standing in my bathroom doorway. I imagined the deep divide at your lower back separating you into two equally georgous halves. Placing the bottle on my nightstand I remembered your dark-skinned wolverine physique contrasting my white sheets and how smooth it felt when your leg rubbed against mine. I pressed my face in that deep groove many Monday mornings reluctant to leave it.

Now months away I don't know what to make of you. Our time together was as if flipping though a comic book. Just a continuation of a story of which I arrived in the middle. I am volume 24; issue 12 in the story of a man so grounded with the ability to fly. A mutant living amongst mortals disguising the supernatural, occasionally pausing to save a life like mine to then again hide in the shadows of fools.
I still don't know what to make of you. Or of us.
But I hold on to the smell of your hair and the feeling of your neck grazing the bridge of my nose and the groove of your back. We were no more than a pretty picture on a page of many. But I'll slide Volume 24; issue 12 under my mattress for keeps. Yeah... and sometimes take a look over my shoulder to catch a glimpse of you in the sky.
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Sunday, January 07, 2007

Commitment

"Jack of all trades, Master of None" should be engraved on a plaque and hung above my headboard. It fits. I have found it hard to stick to one thing. This could be anything, one job, one degree program, those damned tennis lessons I was so obsessed about. I'm sure some would consider me a quitter. But of the contrary, I hate to quit. I have problem with saying no and setting limits. I have the ultimate problem of making decisions and sticking to it. I am completely terrified of making the wrong decision and because of that I have made many.

I have made the incessant mistake of overloading and reading exhaustion as failure. I've always aspired to be superwoman. I believe I have accomplished the woman part, unfortunately the super part hasn't come as easily. The flip side to doing it all is that the possibility of you doing it all well is slimmer than Nicole Ritchie in her bathing suit last summer. So if some are considering me a quitter, they would certainly consider me a half-ass without a doubt.

Prioritization is a skill I have not mastered. I am not always sure who's priorities I am considering. Much worse, I am not always confident in my own. So I've lost really important things in the process of holding on to things I could give a damn about. I have half-heartedly quit boyfriends, school and other unhealthy ties only to return because I was scared to let go.

This all comes in the wake of the biggest decision I had to make. A decision I have made time and time again but never truly committed to. I commit to my heart and what is best for me, not just for now but also the foresable future.



Geez and I pressure guys to commit...
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Monday, January 01, 2007

Til Death Do Us Part

I woke up this morning to a dull headache and the sound of my puppy I had just knocked to the floor. Bradley looked at me with forgiving eyes just before he closed them to return to sleep. Last night's Grey Goose however, was not as forgiving as the little Boston Terrier for my headache did not subside for quite some time. It was almost enough for me to resolve to stop drinking for this new year.

After a cup of coffee I quickly decided against it.

I thought of something else I had decided against, continuing this blog. What do you want me say? No really, what? My life is different now. I have different surroundings, I'm even trying my hand at this "real job" thing people make sound so serious. And to be frank, I became tired of whining. I really just got tired of being miserable. That part of me died. I had expected all of which came of her to have faded away with that of the past year.

But I will admit, that if I didn't whine about school, being broke and the tragic happenings of my love life (which I am happy to say does not exist) I was afraid I wouldn't have much to write about. Which is silly. I mean even with the passing of a music legend, former president and hanging of a tyrant, I couldn't say anything outside of "why do men refuse to take the condom wrapper with them to the garbage can? Why must you always stumble upon it the morning after?" Considering now that I only vaguely remember condoms, much less its functions I wouldn't have much to say on that topic either.

A number of things died last year, plants, dreams, heroes, grudges. But forth has come a new, fresh perspective. I'm going to celebrate this change. I guess it's still you and I.

Happy New Year!
Bring on year three.
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