sometimes what fits is clear comparably
each shade of grey unintentionally casts light
where others have ceased forward motion
some try for love for both of them
and little truths are hardest to swallow
when champagne bubbles stop flat in their glass
you drink but don't taste
your hands fumble to feel
reaching out for an unfamiliar
willing love to return to exist to believe
what once believed believing
because the coldness that smothers in the late nights alone
cannot be all
but still
resonating
alive
where once a cement heart heard beating beside you
now at last sleep
sweet sleep
and dreams
dreams to conquer new mountains
waving toward warm smiling faces
who taste and see and touch
all the forgotten fantasies
of serendipity
and the moon
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
the world keeps turnin round.
I went on a date the other night.
I was pretty stoked because it was someone I went to college with and I have this belief that when people come back into my life from the past it means they're significant.
Why else would our paths need crossing again?
You know what a hopeless romantic I truly am.
He was terribly shy.
I mean, I'm always drawn to shy guys but he was like, supra shy.
The Duke of Shy Town.
I had a really good time.
It's curious, but when I'm around someone I don't know but used to, or maybe I never even knew them I just knew who they were, we both seem smehow more comfortable being around each other.
It's like this undercurrent of knowing somehow we're still safe.
My friend told me today she thinks sometimes people don't come into our lives until we're ready for them.
I think in those rare instances people do still enter stage right before we're ready.
But I think that's only when people like me are making the entrances.
I'm kind of a lot to be ready for, you know?
Yeah.
You do.
I thought it was fitting I got my Adieu before all these new things started happening.
Like I didn't even know I needed that door locked.
But once it was my summer came alive.
Alive with possibility. With hope and peace.
And maybe even a little love.
Life's crazy like that.
Sort of like love itself.
"Life is crazy.
Love is life."
And the world continues spinning even when my feet forget to move.
I'll stand glued to one spot looking up at the sky, smiling at the planes that fly over head, counting the stars.
Sure that one day I'll understand all that I see.
And trust you will too.
I was pretty stoked because it was someone I went to college with and I have this belief that when people come back into my life from the past it means they're significant.
Why else would our paths need crossing again?
You know what a hopeless romantic I truly am.
He was terribly shy.
I mean, I'm always drawn to shy guys but he was like, supra shy.
The Duke of Shy Town.
I had a really good time.
It's curious, but when I'm around someone I don't know but used to, or maybe I never even knew them I just knew who they were, we both seem smehow more comfortable being around each other.
It's like this undercurrent of knowing somehow we're still safe.
My friend told me today she thinks sometimes people don't come into our lives until we're ready for them.
I think in those rare instances people do still enter stage right before we're ready.
But I think that's only when people like me are making the entrances.
I'm kind of a lot to be ready for, you know?
Yeah.
You do.
I thought it was fitting I got my Adieu before all these new things started happening.
Like I didn't even know I needed that door locked.
But once it was my summer came alive.
Alive with possibility. With hope and peace.
And maybe even a little love.
Life's crazy like that.
Sort of like love itself.
"Life is crazy.
Love is life."
And the world continues spinning even when my feet forget to move.
I'll stand glued to one spot looking up at the sky, smiling at the planes that fly over head, counting the stars.
Sure that one day I'll understand all that I see.
And trust you will too.
What's an enigma?
"I think that it's funny these people think that they know you when they don't."
I've been trying out this new thing lately.
I'll call it embarrassing honesty.
Like when Texas looked extra fancy I walked over to him and said, "Wanna make out?"
That kind of honesty.
I think for the most part I'd have to admit in the past I'd try and be certain versions of myself with certain people.
I was demure Resa when I went out with Mr. Fabulous.
Or there's censored Resa when I'm around Grandma.
Inappropriate Resa when drinking with fellow actors and entertaining Resa when around my family.
And I adapt accordingly and there's nothing wrong with that.
But with my new relationships I'm finding that I lack the censorship to be anyone but who I am.
And to my delight. I find that people respect that.
People respond more to that.
"She is just completely herself. Like, this is who I am. I love that," this girl I met last week said.
And how rad is it that being my uncandid, sassy, fickle self is more than okay?
It's cherished.
She is loved.
It makes me wonder all the time and energy I would have spared if I started all relationships grounded in such honesty. Maybe it would have been okay then too. And if not, maybe it would have made room for the folks who would have smiled when they saw the real me.
Flaws and all.
Or maybe the real me never existed until now.
Maybe I tried on different personas to find the one that would fit.
And maybe some people need more time for that than others.
All I know is the people I'm closest to now, the people I enjoy being around, the relationships I crave are the ones with the few who get me.
And smile anyway.
I've been trying out this new thing lately.
I'll call it embarrassing honesty.
Like when Texas looked extra fancy I walked over to him and said, "Wanna make out?"
That kind of honesty.
I think for the most part I'd have to admit in the past I'd try and be certain versions of myself with certain people.
I was demure Resa when I went out with Mr. Fabulous.
Or there's censored Resa when I'm around Grandma.
Inappropriate Resa when drinking with fellow actors and entertaining Resa when around my family.
And I adapt accordingly and there's nothing wrong with that.
But with my new relationships I'm finding that I lack the censorship to be anyone but who I am.
And to my delight. I find that people respect that.
People respond more to that.
"She is just completely herself. Like, this is who I am. I love that," this girl I met last week said.
And how rad is it that being my uncandid, sassy, fickle self is more than okay?
It's cherished.
She is loved.
It makes me wonder all the time and energy I would have spared if I started all relationships grounded in such honesty. Maybe it would have been okay then too. And if not, maybe it would have made room for the folks who would have smiled when they saw the real me.
Flaws and all.
Or maybe the real me never existed until now.
Maybe I tried on different personas to find the one that would fit.
And maybe some people need more time for that than others.
All I know is the people I'm closest to now, the people I enjoy being around, the relationships I crave are the ones with the few who get me.
And smile anyway.
Monday, August 8, 2011
See Dick Run. Run Dick Run.
I have a new friend.
Let's call him Dick.
He's actually a terribly sweet guy so the unlikely juxtaposition of a nice guy being named Dick suits me.
I loathe predictability.
I don't know Dick very well but what I have determined is that he should be a spy.
He's more observant than my Father was when I'd come home at one o'clock in the morning.
"Daddy, we were just talking."
'That boy sure likes to talk a lot.'
Most boys do.
Dick has this ability to make me overwhelmingly comfortable and nervous all at the same time.
I find such dichotomy intriguing so I'm pretty sure Dick and I are meant to be life long friends.
He's attentive and complimentary, honest and a little shy and there should really be more men like him in my life.
There should be more men like him in every woman's life.
"I don't know any other people who are like you," he told me.
Little did he know, that was about the highest praise a Resa could get.
Dick is a testament to the fact that things are rarely ever what they seem.
And that Timing continues to be one temperamental bitch who doesn't give a damn about your priorities.
She has chaos to cause and she doesn't care where the pieces scatter.
So long as the players are willing.
And I always am.
I really do like to run.
Let's call him Dick.
He's actually a terribly sweet guy so the unlikely juxtaposition of a nice guy being named Dick suits me.
I loathe predictability.
I don't know Dick very well but what I have determined is that he should be a spy.
He's more observant than my Father was when I'd come home at one o'clock in the morning.
"Daddy, we were just talking."
'That boy sure likes to talk a lot.'
Most boys do.
Dick has this ability to make me overwhelmingly comfortable and nervous all at the same time.
I find such dichotomy intriguing so I'm pretty sure Dick and I are meant to be life long friends.
He's attentive and complimentary, honest and a little shy and there should really be more men like him in my life.
There should be more men like him in every woman's life.
"I don't know any other people who are like you," he told me.
Little did he know, that was about the highest praise a Resa could get.
Dick is a testament to the fact that things are rarely ever what they seem.
And that Timing continues to be one temperamental bitch who doesn't give a damn about your priorities.
She has chaos to cause and she doesn't care where the pieces scatter.
So long as the players are willing.
And I always am.
I really do like to run.
Saturday, August 6, 2011
summer truths
"I believe that everything happens for a reason. People change so that you can learn to let go, things go wrong so that you appreciate them when they're right, you believe lies so you eventually learn to trust no one but yourself, and sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together."-Marilyn Monroe
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Any number of endings
You know those novels you read as kids where you could choose your own ending?
You could choose either A, B or C and then go to that corresponding chapter?
Of course, if you were like me then you probably cheated and read all three chapters first to decide which ending you liked best.
I've never been one to just sit back and accept what's handed me.
My life, for the past two years, keeps circling back to the same moment, the same year, the same month even, as if the Cosmic Bitch that is Fate is flaunting her delicious uncertainty in my face just to show me all the things I missed.
Then and now.
The year is 2005. It's a pretty monumental year for several reasons. It's the year I graduate college. The year I stop working at Starbucks. (Before I go back again. And again. And then again. And still, again. And yes, again. Juries still out if they'll be a sequel). It's the year I start working at Nordstrom. And it's the year I date a lot of men. A LOT. Like, I'm fairly certain I date more in that one year than I did my entire college career.
Like I said, I've never been one to just sit back and accept what's handed me.
So how has the Cosmic Bitch been messing with my mind?
First of all, one of the guys I dated in '05 found me on Facebook four years later and then became my short lived though drama filled boyfriend for the following year.
Second, one of the guys I worked with in '05 managed me again four years later and became the scandalous rendevous I distracted myself with after the short lived drama filled boyfriend became my ex.
Third, the job I was so thankful to have to get me out of coffee land I quit the following year. My next job at Macy's I met a girl who hired me five years later in the same department at the same Nordstrom I'd quit right before I started working with my unknown future boss.
Fourth and finally, another guy I dated in '05, the same month I met the kid I'd date the next couple years and the kid I'd date four years later, found me online and is taking me out next week.
To say life follows no circular cosmic pattern is to amuse Fate with a wave of great laughter.
I can't help but wonder how different my story would be if I'd chosen Bachelor Number two initially instead of Bachelor Number One or if I'd kept my initial job instead of waiting six years to return to it or if I'd never gone back to Starbucks again and again and, well, you get the picture, if my scandalous work tryst ever would have occurred and all the while knowing full well, no matter which ending I chose, Fate always holds a surprising twist up her sleeve.
Perhaps I could have dated any one of those men and it never mattered what sequence because somehow all of our paths were to again cross in the future. Perhaps I could have remained at the one job instead of inconsistently hopping from one to the next.
But perhaps no matter which door I foolishly close, what needs revealing finds a way to be seen.
What needs connection finds a way to be felt.
What ties seem lost will one day show up unexpectedly and Fate smiles at her own cleverness, revealing all that always was, that always is, that finds its way, even when we never see all that was and is before us.
You could choose either A, B or C and then go to that corresponding chapter?
Of course, if you were like me then you probably cheated and read all three chapters first to decide which ending you liked best.
I've never been one to just sit back and accept what's handed me.
My life, for the past two years, keeps circling back to the same moment, the same year, the same month even, as if the Cosmic Bitch that is Fate is flaunting her delicious uncertainty in my face just to show me all the things I missed.
Then and now.
The year is 2005. It's a pretty monumental year for several reasons. It's the year I graduate college. The year I stop working at Starbucks. (Before I go back again. And again. And then again. And still, again. And yes, again. Juries still out if they'll be a sequel). It's the year I start working at Nordstrom. And it's the year I date a lot of men. A LOT. Like, I'm fairly certain I date more in that one year than I did my entire college career.
Like I said, I've never been one to just sit back and accept what's handed me.
So how has the Cosmic Bitch been messing with my mind?
First of all, one of the guys I dated in '05 found me on Facebook four years later and then became my short lived though drama filled boyfriend for the following year.
Second, one of the guys I worked with in '05 managed me again four years later and became the scandalous rendevous I distracted myself with after the short lived drama filled boyfriend became my ex.
Third, the job I was so thankful to have to get me out of coffee land I quit the following year. My next job at Macy's I met a girl who hired me five years later in the same department at the same Nordstrom I'd quit right before I started working with my unknown future boss.
Fourth and finally, another guy I dated in '05, the same month I met the kid I'd date the next couple years and the kid I'd date four years later, found me online and is taking me out next week.
To say life follows no circular cosmic pattern is to amuse Fate with a wave of great laughter.
I can't help but wonder how different my story would be if I'd chosen Bachelor Number two initially instead of Bachelor Number One or if I'd kept my initial job instead of waiting six years to return to it or if I'd never gone back to Starbucks again and again and, well, you get the picture, if my scandalous work tryst ever would have occurred and all the while knowing full well, no matter which ending I chose, Fate always holds a surprising twist up her sleeve.
Perhaps I could have dated any one of those men and it never mattered what sequence because somehow all of our paths were to again cross in the future. Perhaps I could have remained at the one job instead of inconsistently hopping from one to the next.
But perhaps no matter which door I foolishly close, what needs revealing finds a way to be seen.
What needs connection finds a way to be felt.
What ties seem lost will one day show up unexpectedly and Fate smiles at her own cleverness, revealing all that always was, that always is, that finds its way, even when we never see all that was and is before us.
My So-Called Relationships
People constantly amaze me.
And I don't mean that in a Hallmark warm and fuzzy, Lifetime original, doesn't it bring tears to your eyes kind of way.
I mean people behave like schizophrenic malnourished wackadoos.
The moment I think I have someone figured out, or at least moderately understand their agenda and motives concerning me, they'll do something to completely shatter my so-called understanding.
It is beyond annoying.
But it's also insanely entertaining.
Exhibit A: The interested guy who loses interest
I'm not good at playing hard to get. I find games contrived and lacking in spontaneity. I'd rather say something so blaringly truthful it shocks the panties right off them. Such as, "I like you. Wanna make out?" Life is so much simpler without pretense. But men like a challenge so such brazen behavior can be off putting for them.
It's like, I wanted to feel like a man and ask you out and now that you've gone and done my job for me, it makes me feel like my dick is shrinking.
Then again, I could be exaggerating.
Just a little.
So the guy likes you, he flirts, he pursues, he adds you on Facebook and somewhere along the dance to get laid you never hear from him again. No reason, no warning, maybe he got back together with his ex girlfriend or maybe he couldn't handle trying to seduce you while he's still living with his Mommy, but whatever the reason, his mojo is no go. The guy goes AWOL and you write him off as being yet another one who got away.
Asshole.
Exhibit B: The mean girl who secretly wants to be friends
Women are bitches. They rarely communicate honestly and if they ever utter one sentence that isn't layered with seventeen deeper meanings it's about as often as men over coming their shrunken penis syndrome. Women are always motivated by a hidden agenda. Jealousy, competition, insecurity, the desire to be liked, even the desire to be liked by people they don't like themselves.
Enter Mean Girl. Mean Girl talks about you behind your back and says disparaging comments to your face. She acts indifferent but her constant need to get your attention reeks of wanting to merely be accepted in the Confident Bitches Club. Finally one day she opens up and tells you her life story. Then she invites you to get drunk. The dance of sorority bitches is complete.
Exhibit C: The guy who wants to just be friends but gets jealous
I don't have guy friends. I believe "When Harry met Sally" speaks truthfully on relationships between men and women unless the guy or girl is either gay or asexual. My guy friends are gay. Because there is no chance of me hitting them with my sexray gun thus we are safe to frolic without him accidentally getting sucked into my hoo hoo. Straighties however are another story. The guy who claims he's not interested romantically and goes out of his way to make his disinterest known turns into the Incredible Hulk when I try and share my dating life with him. He sees me being picked up by a date, he hears me whine about being rejected by a crush and he responds with unsupportive, insensitive remarks making it known how unattractive and undesirable I truly am.
Thanks a heap for the support, ya big baby.
Don't take it out on me just because I won't let you touch my ta ta's.
Conclusion?
There are few so-called relationships in my life that aren't so demented they should be written about in a psych book.
But for the rest of them at least it gave me something to shake my head at.
And laugh maniacally at their expense.
Naturally.
And I don't mean that in a Hallmark warm and fuzzy, Lifetime original, doesn't it bring tears to your eyes kind of way.
I mean people behave like schizophrenic malnourished wackadoos.
The moment I think I have someone figured out, or at least moderately understand their agenda and motives concerning me, they'll do something to completely shatter my so-called understanding.
It is beyond annoying.
But it's also insanely entertaining.
Exhibit A: The interested guy who loses interest
I'm not good at playing hard to get. I find games contrived and lacking in spontaneity. I'd rather say something so blaringly truthful it shocks the panties right off them. Such as, "I like you. Wanna make out?" Life is so much simpler without pretense. But men like a challenge so such brazen behavior can be off putting for them.
It's like, I wanted to feel like a man and ask you out and now that you've gone and done my job for me, it makes me feel like my dick is shrinking.
Then again, I could be exaggerating.
Just a little.
So the guy likes you, he flirts, he pursues, he adds you on Facebook and somewhere along the dance to get laid you never hear from him again. No reason, no warning, maybe he got back together with his ex girlfriend or maybe he couldn't handle trying to seduce you while he's still living with his Mommy, but whatever the reason, his mojo is no go. The guy goes AWOL and you write him off as being yet another one who got away.
Asshole.
Exhibit B: The mean girl who secretly wants to be friends
Women are bitches. They rarely communicate honestly and if they ever utter one sentence that isn't layered with seventeen deeper meanings it's about as often as men over coming their shrunken penis syndrome. Women are always motivated by a hidden agenda. Jealousy, competition, insecurity, the desire to be liked, even the desire to be liked by people they don't like themselves.
Enter Mean Girl. Mean Girl talks about you behind your back and says disparaging comments to your face. She acts indifferent but her constant need to get your attention reeks of wanting to merely be accepted in the Confident Bitches Club. Finally one day she opens up and tells you her life story. Then she invites you to get drunk. The dance of sorority bitches is complete.
Exhibit C: The guy who wants to just be friends but gets jealous
I don't have guy friends. I believe "When Harry met Sally" speaks truthfully on relationships between men and women unless the guy or girl is either gay or asexual. My guy friends are gay. Because there is no chance of me hitting them with my sexray gun thus we are safe to frolic without him accidentally getting sucked into my hoo hoo. Straighties however are another story. The guy who claims he's not interested romantically and goes out of his way to make his disinterest known turns into the Incredible Hulk when I try and share my dating life with him. He sees me being picked up by a date, he hears me whine about being rejected by a crush and he responds with unsupportive, insensitive remarks making it known how unattractive and undesirable I truly am.
Thanks a heap for the support, ya big baby.
Don't take it out on me just because I won't let you touch my ta ta's.
Conclusion?
There are few so-called relationships in my life that aren't so demented they should be written about in a psych book.
But for the rest of them at least it gave me something to shake my head at.
And laugh maniacally at their expense.
Naturally.
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