excessbaggage

Yesterday we waited in the rain for a friend to join us at Five Leaves. I'll rephrase, it wasn't raining, but more of a light drizzle (just enough to ruin your hair but not enough to shield yourself with an umbrella). "No I already have a smoke thanks. Can I use your light?" Exhaling the first drag I turned to him.

"I feel really full," I sighed, with that distant gaze I sometimes have. He thought I meant from brunch, and questioned what I'd had.

"No, no- I feel full. Mentally full, emotionally full, full of happiness. Full. I can't remember the last time I felt like that." We sat at our table and I continued. "For the first time in my life, I really feel like I have something to bring to the table. I'm happy, I love my house. I don't feel like a burden the way I used to. It was always something, money, emotions. I always felt like such a fucking burden."

I've never really understood how people go through their lives not feeling like a huge weight on the shoulder of their significant others, in the cases in which they actually are. Comfortable with your boyfriend/girlfriend paying for everything because you "can't find a job"? You, my friend, are a burden and should really start seeing that. Go home and work out that resume and wallet situation because supporting your broke-ass is not cute or fun, but more taxing and draining. I'm done with those people and I'm through with being that person. If your bed is a futon, AND your sheets feel like you've been sleeping in your shoes, I'm sorry I can't sleepover anymore.

But we can totally be friends.

bartalk

When I saw your mother tonight, I couldn't help but remember being drunk on sushi in her backseat, falling asleep. I was sitting next to your future girlfriend and had spent the prior 4 weeks watching you fall into lust. I had enjoyed your tea dates, but wanted none of them. In retrospect, I shouldn't have had that third round of caterpillar rolls- but I assumed your family could afford them. I assumed a lot at the time. And if I knew then, what I know now, I'd still know nothing at all.

wait a second.

I work 50 hours a week. When I'm not working, I really enjoying spending time in my bed. Of late, it's been rather empty. If I'm not mistaken, what you're telling me is that on my time off I'm supposed to get up and "get out there" to "find someone."

UGH.

I think I will continue on my cat lady path of oatmeal in bed at 8 PM and dreams of food I'll never cook during naps I take at 6:30 in the afternoon. It's not that I don't have time for romance. I don't have the energy.

oh the abuse.

and i miss the bastard.

bear City

i wear red lipstick around the house. just for shits and giggles, as my sister would say. sometimes it's to motivate me to get out of my room. sometimes, it's to make me feel better about staying in. most of the time it's about feeling like a lady, when i don't.

I was supposed to go to a wedding reception/party occasion thing tonight, but no matter the amount of red lipstick i applied, I couldn't find myself filled with the desire to "dress up." On my days off, i am most comfortable in jeans, a low-cut t-shirt, a hoody, my leather jacket and boots. END OF STORY. I've conditioned myself to think that "bad-ass" is "sexy" and i don't like to vary. Granted I love me a summer dress or 7, at the end of the day I'm cut-offs, not curtsies.

Instead of the burlesque-wedding-extravaganza, i landed myself on a couch (in my cut-offs and boots) with 2 and 1/2 gays and Meg Ryan all night. Long story short, the next graphic T you'll find me in is going to read "sorry boys, I only date Bears."

Okay fine, we watched Bear City too.

edit: that picture is way bigger than I thought it would be.

banditos

All I want is to be in my bed. Right now. Not riding on a bus, with a relentless sinus headache. I want to be sitting on the new couch Jess and I stumbled upon (she spotted it, but hell if I didn't take her to the store). I need to get my feelings in order. I probably need to get some feelings. I know I'm a sympathetic person but I think I'm missing the ability to conjure up... Sexual sympathy? Empathy?

Here's something I wrote over brunch with myself the other day. Slightly personal, but what isn't?

My mind is completely racing and I don't have my journal so I can't write a thing down. Called my mom today- someone tried to break in. I'm worried and mad at her for not- I don't even know what I'm mad at her for. I just want so much better for her. She wont accept help but has no way to really provide for herself. Name. Name. Names. My "love life" is stagnant and circular. The lunch I'm getting is too expensive and won't satisfy me. Im cutting and dying my hair tomorrow morning. I have spring fever. 

My lunch was actually delicious. Somewhere around the time it arrived I decided to start recording the room. The sounds are so cluttered- I feel very relaxed. I don't want to go to work today. I want to go visit people and wander the streets the way normal people do on Saturday's. Find a flea market; find a find (catch me a catch!). I don't want to be loveless again this summer. I want a companion- Yeah I miss him. 

The loud church outside his bedroom window. The long talks about our lives, our futures, our present-days. I miss looking at his body and him seeing mine, without attraction or sexuality, but just comfort. I miss the comfort. That's what I most enjoyed about being with him. Though it's a characteristic not unique to him, he didn't try to figure me out or see through my thick skin bullshit. He just let me be, as I tried to do for him. 

When people say his name there's always some sting to the statement or sharp taste to the tone, but whatever it is, it makes me smile. 

Lunch is almost over. I have finish up this wine and walk back home. I'm going to keep thinking the entire way there. That full moon did a number on me. It always seems to have it's way with my heart.

Yeah.