contentment, embracing yourself, existential crisis, lessons, life, love, ramblings, thoughts, woman, words, writing

Finding My Ways

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I am at once so many different versions of myself. Yesterday I loved the way my hips swayed and the way his fingers pressed into my sides in heat and passion and love. Today I scrub a little harder under the duress-ed pressure of the hot water gushing through the shower head lost in thoughts of reprimanding. I may sometimes question your judgement a little bit, but I promise to be the one sitting across you in my Swiss wool socks ready to consume and comprehend the words you will spill in hatred and anger, or those lighter ones said in joy and pure innocent glee because I will completely understand the need. I will some days willingly guide you through the web of life the best way I can, and some days I will ask that you find in yourself the solutions to your problems you have always known but refuse to accept. Some days I will be angry. Some days I may smile. Other days I will be at once the fiery orange in my curly brown hair, wind-blown and unkempt, and yet press feather light kisses on your cheeks and your forehead in my summer peach lips to let you know I am here, always. Today you may find me voraciously reading guides on how to get ahead in life because I say that the go-getter in me needs to be nourished, forget contentment. And tomorrow I will wake up to prayers in praises to spirituality, to learn and practice compassion, to be simple and want simple, accepting that less really is more. Because, I am at once so many different versions of myself. Tomorrow I will love you fiercely, that overwhelming kind of love that leaves you dizzy like you’ve have one too many mint juleps on a hot summer southern morning. Balmy, dazed and incomprehensible in pleasure. But maybe I will be the ice, the winter gush pushing you back because foolishly I will believe I am no good for anyone. Some days are clear days. Some days I am lost.

Everyone talks about being true to yourself. But we are never just one version of ourselves to be true to. There lies within you and me, many different us, so which one do we choose to be true to. We are all at once givers and takers, of responsibilities, of dreams, of hopes, of support, and of love. Some days we need more than we can give. Other times we are happy being the one giving all we can. Circumstances have over the years created many different versions of myself. Yesterday I promised myself I will try to keep the light burning for them, to be the flicker of hope of what could be because I know what is right, I know what is best. Yet today I find myself committed to yesterday’s goals but frantically searching for the hinge on which I might peg my own being so I do not find myself lost in the same darkness. Because, some days are clear days, and some days I am lost.

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embracing yourself, lessons, life, relationships, thoughts, twenty-somethings

A friend in NEED is a friend indeed. A friend in WANT is whatever.

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I want to talk about this interesting, almost epiphany worthy, talk I had with a dear colleague of mine a few days ago. (On a side note – doesn’t saying “dear colleague” almost make you think I might be a middle aged wise lady with unisex dressing sense and an uncanny liking for elbow patches and cigarette holders/pipes? I like it!). In all my sense of being I have always thought that I have been blessed with the ability to bond with people with ease. I cherish the fact that most people I get to know beyond courtesy salutations always seem to find it easy to come and talk to me about more personal and deeper things that they might be contemplating or dealing with. And while it may not entirely reflect very well on myself, I took a certain level of satisfaction and comfort in knowing that when they did talk to me about their troubles and sought advice (or so I thought) I was doing all that I could in my ability to help them. That the mere fact that I was, at any given point in my life, being confided in by at least a few people was reflective of the effectiveness of the effort I put in to scraping at the bottom of my wisdom, knowledge, and experience barrel to share what I thought were comforting words, advice, and helpful suggestions. It would however appear that I may have been mistaken. I might have even been a bit too presumptuous in thinking I could mean anything more to these people in my life than just a listening ear, a dumping ground of sorts to just let out the one thing they find themselves struggling to hold on to and fearing to admit or talk about.

As my dear colleague so plainly put it, no one really needs someone there to just listen to what they have to say. People NEED tangible help, they WANT every other kind of help. At first I was a little shocked, how can the figure of speech such as ‘a shoulder to lean on’ or ‘lending an ear’ be so easily dismissed I thought. Being there doesn’t only ever have to be at the rate of material or physical help I argued in my mind. But as my quickly deflating sense of satisfaction from knowing I am a trustworthy person calmed down I realized he may be onto something. Well basically he might be right. Or, he is right. My advice, or my lending ear, or even my uncomfortable shoulders, don’t add up to jack at the end. I sometimes go out of my way just to be there for people…..in intangible ways. I have an important presentation tomorrow but my friend in Australia needs to skype so she can vent about the horrible break-up till 4am? I am there! Its my own birthday dinner party that I am already late to but my friend’s parents have thrown him an ultimatum which led to a big fight so he needs to talk? I will hear him out and give advice on how to deal with it! Sometimes always being there is exhausting. And maybe its this exhaustion that’s finally catching up that makes me believe my colleague when he says, in the end people will do what they want to do no matter what you tell them. So even if I spend hours every week hearing them out, handing them tissues, and putting in my two cents, should the day come when everything is okay, we may or may not still stay in touch and they will probably be okay with it. When I am not around, I apparently will not be leaving a large vacuum space…a black hole….like my narcissistic self assumed. They will find other ways to deal with it and move on.

I guess in the end, its really about finding balance. Balance between being there for others and being there for myself. It is also putting (what I now guess is) my high sense of self in check because I might think the fact that people want to come to me to talk about their personal lives makes me a little bit more important than the rest when in actuality, it may be that I am one of five other people they bounce their stories off of. Hear that?……..Yup! that’s the sound of my ‘amour propre’ deflating un petit peu.

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contentment, existential crisis, lessons, life, ramblings, stories, twenty-somethings, Uncategorized, woman, words, writing

Broken Poetry

Image: eye.fashionary.org

The severe cracks no one sees;
afraid to let him run his hands along the fractures of my being;
they say to be human is to be broken;
but to be broken is to be unwanted;
still the shrouded torments break with it;
my current will but also my current struggles;
seeking solace in the strings of companionship;
and the frayed ends of love;
to be human is to be broken;
but to be broken is to be life’s poetry.
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Another End to an End

Juxtaposed in my head
Subconsciously, Unconsciously
I compare and he wins
I reassess and he loses
This battle worth its decade
Worn to threads but still existing

Drowning out the analysis in my head
His smile, mischievous but familiar
Our bond, fractured but constant
The love, not real but habit
I filter its contents
Through the webs of truth and my reality

Juxtaposed in my head,
Subconsciously, Unconsciously
This a lacking
But that an abundant
Not the best but still a loss
I hold on and then let go

Lingering on those small moments
A little melancholia, but relief
Some disappointment, but closure
The relationship, metamorphosized
Sentiments labeled
Then filed in the crevices of my memories

No juxtapositions, No wins, No falls, Normal.

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Coffee with a Flibbertigibbet

Source: weheartit.com

Source: weheartit.com

The mall, well more specifically, THIS! mall was what a consumerist like myself would call HEAVEN!!! The shiny ornamental lights and floral decor lining up the center of the building, from ground floor to fifth floor of the perfumed, glitz and glamour structure was everything my little shopper heart could hope for. Still, when the hard kneading hands crept up the small of my back to the back of my neck, gently massaging, gently caressing, I snapped out of my shoppers coma awestruck at the beauty that were the designer shops and the perfumery and what appeared to be an overly decorated organic health foods store to glance at the man holding all my shopping bags. A knowing feeling of love and dread simultaneously rushing down through the center of my being to the tip of my toes as we got onto the escalator going up. “Uncomplicate this! Uncomplicate this!” I mutter to myself, disguising my mumbling behind a heavy sigh. “Do you need to get anything else?” he asks, but I am already distracted by the handsome man on the other escalator going down. We make eye contact and we hold it for longer than what is presumably polite. He smiles a half grin like he knows what I am thinking and that I am thinking particular thoughts about him. I smile back knowing that he thinks I am thinking those things which I am actually not. A kiss meets my left shoulder and I glance at the man beside me. “Handsome right?” he says. A statement but somewhat a question. “He is. Looks like a baby though,” I add softening the impact any partner creates by complimenting those of the opposite sex in front of them. “Hmm…” he replies. “Should we look around or head back?” he asks. I look at his face. Both a feeling of deep caring and partial fright course through my chest. How does one person bring forward such contradicting emotions I wonder.

The sound of the piano concerto beginning over the department store microphone startles me. I realize I am jumpy and distracted. As we walk around the last time on the 2nd floor to find a coffee shop I notice the handsome young man from the escalator walking towards us. I look up at the man holding my hands and see that he is distracted by the need to locate a “Damn coffee shop!” as he puts it. We walk closer, that other man and us and for a second my imagination runs wild as I imagine what his story might be. Every person you cross has a story, and sometimes I wonder what it might be like to walk in their shoes. He is probably a cocky bastard living off his parents money I judge shamelessly. We walk closer, he holds eye contact, raises his eyebrows and passes us. I hold myself back from turning around to look at him. I half wonder if he glanced back at me.

We find the coffee shop “Do you want something to drink as well?” I am asked. Five minutes later, dead silence, two cups of steaming hot Americanos between us. I look up at him and we make eye contact. I could swim in his doting looks. He keeps staring and I blush. I remember why a part of me will never be able to deny him. I remember the first time we held hands some eleven years ago and just how nervous he used to make me. I remember handwritten letters and bad grammar when we were international students at an American boarding school together. And just as quickly as the unsure feelings I have of him comes, out it goes to be replaced by my fondness and familiarity of his otherwise kind heart. I pick up my coffee and take a sip maintaining eye contact, I smile at him and he smiles back a knowing smile. I blush at the fact that can be so finicky with my feelings. That I will always be so flighty about everything in life, especially romance. I set my cup of coffee down and feel a little bad. It seems I will always be, a silly flighty person. Every single coffee had between us will always be coffee with a flibbertigibbet.

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Which Woman

Image by Anka Zhuravleva

Image by Anka Zhuravleva

There is something in the way that she moves. There is always something in the way she half smiles before every single sentence. Or when you see her swallow before speaking, like you make her nervous. Or the sparkle in her eye, and the way they squint before she uses her words. Sometimes when you feel like life has been hard, or you wallow in the guilt of your sins, you simply find comfort in the strands of her hair. The fragrance of the so many lives sheltered under her age old ways providing a distinguished sense of support and protection. They say shes been around the block, but her effect on you isn’t in any way diminished. With every single life she decides to be with, her beauty intensified by that additional length. No amount of visitors coming in and going out leaving any kind of taint on her unprecedented purity. She feels like shes built for you. Her arms shaped to fit your form, to embrace you close to her heart and join in her breath. Every inhalation and exhalation your vigor, your strength, your vice but also your elixir. You forget her sometimes when you get caught up in yourself. But then on a down trodden day, a battled you will remember the shape of her almond eyes and her lips. The way she will always anticipate your return and remembrance. Unselfish in her ways of accepting you in any of your brief and inconsistent visits and remembrance. The porcelain skin across the nape of her neck, your portal to disappear into a space so much greater than yourself. There is something in her unselfish ways. She loves you always just as much as you selfishly love her in your desperation. 

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