MonthDecember 2011


I realized the other day I liked him because he’s the only person that has never bored me. No matter how much I learned about him, there was always more to know, more to learn, more to inspire me. Every other guy bores me. A guy could be the most handsome man on the planet but if he doesn’t interest me, there’s no point. I can’t wait for someone to interest me again. When? I feel anxious just thinking that it’s never going to happen again.

Click? No. We do not click.

You know we don’t have one thing in common. We don’t click in any way. We don’t have chemistry or banter or common interests. You’re a yoga instructor, you get colonics, you don’t appreciate the chaos and absurdity of life on this planet and in this city, you don’t understand irony or eccentricity or poetry or the simple joy of being a regular at your diner on your block – I love that. You don’t drink coffee or alcohol, you don’t overeat or cry when you’re alone, you don’t understand sarcasm, you plod through life in a neat, colourless caffeine free dairy free conflict free banal self-possessed way. I’m bold and angry and tortured and tremendous and I notice when somebody has changed their hair parting or when somebody is wearing two distinctly different shades of black or when someone changes the natural timbre of their voice on the phone. I don’t give out empty praise, I’m not complacent or well-adjusted. I can’t spend 50 minutes breathing and stretching and getting in touch with myself, I can’t even spend three minutes finishing an article. I check my phone machine nine times a day because I feel there’s so much to do and fix and change in the world and I wonder every day if I’m making a difference and if I will ever express greatness or if I will remain forever paralysed by muddled madness inside my head. I’ve wept on every birthday I ever had because life is huge and fleeting and I hate certain people and certain shoes and I feel that life is terribly unfair and sometimes beautiful and wonderful and extraordinary and also numbing and horrifying and insurmountable and I hate myself a lot of the time but the rest of the time I adore myself. I adore my life in this city, in this world that we live in, in this huge and wondrous bewildering brilliant horrible world.

In these ways I feel that we do not click.

 — Kissing Jessica Stein

Truth be told, I could just BOLD most of that quote, it’s so great, so applicable. And I love that movie.


Lately I have found myself wondering what kind of person I am. If I could be labeled (most people don’t seem to want to be labeled, but alas I’m strange) with one thing, what would it be? I am neither a homemaker or a businesswoman. I am neither an artist or a photographer. I am neither unique or different. What exactly am I?

Lately I have found myself saying, “I wish I were ____” a lot.

I’ve past the point of acceptance. I am me, there’s no denying that. I am fine with the way I am. But many times, I just want more. More… more of something definite.

So if I could be a few clearly defined things I would like to be…

A woman that bakes exceptionally well and decorates her home beautifully.

A friend that always has wine, cheese, and crackers for whenever you want to come over.

A person that always has friends come over.

A homeowner.

A DIY kind of girl.

A much more creative, talented version of myself.

A woman that talks sweetly, calling friends and acquaintances “sweetie” and “love.”

A woman that makes everyone feel special.

It’s official. I think I’ve painted a photo filled with thoughts and dreams and aspirations akin to a country housewife… Honestly not my intention. But I want to be THAT girl. The one that has it all, that looks and dresses perfectly, is always prepared, has things to do with her time. Instead I’m this urban American that drives a luxury car to and from work, lives by the beach (but never goes), and I sit around watching grand ol’ American TV and microwave dinners when I get home.

I am so bored with my life.

I just want to host dinners, have pleasant and enlightening conversations over coffee and cigarettes, be social.

Too many aspirations. Too many changes. Not enough time, money, or the energy.

These days I completely don’t mind doing anything alone. If I want to go to a movie, I’ll go. If I want to see a play, I’ll go. There is no sense of requirement that someone must tag along. And while doing this provides me temporary entertainment I am not painting myself as anything definite, perhaps in part because none of this is anything anyone witnesses. I am not anything to anyone. I feel like a bunch of scattered blocks.

I don’t know if this is the preemptive feelings of unrest before a big internal and emotional change. I just know that I am not satisfied with my life. But each passing day I do nothing. My life is a gigantic waste of time and there is nothing productive coming from me. I am not working towards any goal. Nothing bigger and better will come from my diseased lifestyle.

Many days I just feel so numb, so drugged… and no outlet to rid myself of the toxins.

This is not who I am. But I am also not working towards who I want to be. And so, this perpetual state of limbo stirs me into restlessness. Worried.

I’ve Been Saying This All Along

Things are sweeter when they’re lost. I know–because once I wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly, Dot, and when I got it it turned to dust in my hand.

― F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Beautiful and Damned

Some days I just get this feeling that you’re around the corner, on the next street, at a different time, never crossing paths.

Other days I just get this feeling that you don’t even exist for me.

Time Lapse

It’s funny how in the previous post “one full year flew by” very quickly but the time in between that post and this one has felt infinitely long. But I suspect it’s that because in between then and now I went to Spain, to Germany, and the holiday season is so far underway it’s almost gone and past.

I love when things happen. Travel happened. Experiences. Memories. Friends. Fun. Tears. Emotional breakdowns (not necessarily mine, lol…).

From then to now it feels like a whole other world has been set before me and I hardly recognize the world from the previous moment in time mentioned in the post prior to this one.

My state of mind feels so different. My mood altered. My person changed.

This is exactly the kind of thing I needed in my life. A little bit of change. Breathing different air, experiencing something far different from the daily mundane. Even the mundane feels that much more bearable because of the break in repetition.

There’s far too much I want to say and write. I just want to write and write and write. But sometimes that takes too much focused effort. So I compromise by spending more time thinking now without getting down in writing all my thoughts.

OK, this post is rather pointless but too much time elapsed between that post and now. Just wanted to share: my vacation was amazing and I’m OK being back at work. But if I had the chance I would move to Berlin. It’s a city I have learned to love despite the freezing cold temperatures. (: