Remember the Time

I didn't want to keep writing about him since he made it clear he didn't want me thinking about him anymore but Timehop reminded me that on this day, three years ago, Emmett came back into my life.

....

I hadn't heard from him in six months and a friend had invited me to stay with her Tokyo for a few weeks. Airfare was cheap and I hopped at the chance. I posted on Facebook that I was planning on being in Japan for 3 weeks; making plans with friends of mine teaching English there across the country. At this point, Emmett had left six months prior and I hadn't yet heard from him - and didn't know if I would.

And then suddenly, he was active on Facebook - which he hadn't been for the six months he'd been gone. He hadn't contacted me yet so I was upset. I updated my status to "Well, I guess that's settled." - a  slight at him, seeing as he was still alive and living his life and obviously couldn't care about me. He commented on my status that "Things tend to settle during flight." I ignored it. He was always kind of snarky and cheeky.

Then he sent me a message. A mutual friend had told him I was coming to Japan and, if I wasn't too busy, he was hoping I would come and stay with him; he'd love to see me again and show me where he lived. I was angry and apprehensive about it. How could you just turn up out of the blue and expect me to be ok? Expect this to be ok? I said, well, I supposed I did have some time unaccounted for that I could stay a few days. I reserved my final week in Japan to stay with him in a tiny mountain town called Yokote, four hours north of Tokyo.

......

I had spent the weekend drinking and laughing with friends in Osaka and Hiroshima. And on a dreary Sunday afternoon, I boarded a Shinkansen back to Osaka, then to Tokyo, and further on to a place I'd never heard of called Omagari, in Akita Prefecture, where Emmett said he would pick me up. It took 9 hours start to finish. Three trains and three climate changes and I was there. It was late and I'd taken my contact lens out on the train and put on my velour sweatpants, hair in a pony tail. I hadn't showered since we'd spent all night in a karaoke bar and I passed out on a friend's couch. But I was nervous and my keitai had died and now here I was with the train doors opening into this frigid climate.

Omagari.

My backpack on and giant rolling suitcase in one hand, I stepped out onto the platform. I looked up and I could see his silhouette looking down on me from the observation deck. I nervously got on one escalator and then another, heart beating out of my chest, fumbling with my rail pass for the gate agent as I saw him waiting patiently on the other side for me. He looked different, older; his face acne scarred by the climate change. Once I cleared the gate, we half hugged and he awkwardly sought out an elevator. We looked at each other stone faced, trying to hide our nervousness, and loaded my things into his Saab; an interesting choice of car for someone teaching English in Japan. Most of my friends drove tiny kei cars; cheap little aluminum boxes - but somehow, this suited him, suited his personality. He would have driven something like this in the States if he made enough, I suppose. Then again, he drove a Honda Civic when he was living in Ohio when I'd known him then. Maybe this was an upgrade.

He fumbled with the GPS on his phone, trying to figure out how to get back. He almost ran a red light and I yelled at him. We stopped at a diner for pancakes and coffee. (Well, I got pancakes. He just got soup.) And then, a short while later, we'd arrived at his apartment complex which was named Moulin Rouge - although far from the French landmark. I began to unpack my things: presents I'd brought for him like Burt's Bees lotion and Kraft Mac & Cheese powder. I told him I was going to take a shower. I washed all my parts and shaved from head to toe. I'd been waiting for this moment for months. I wanted everything to be perfect. To feel his kiss, his touch, his embrace again. I'd been waiting. And I emerged in my pajamas and we sat on his couch - on opposite sides of his couch - and talked about my journey.

And then, like two high schoolers, we were suddenly in a ferocious lip lock. Our glasses clinked together comically and we stopped and threw them off and continued to kiss, to ravage each other. I straddled him and let my wet hair envelope his pockmarked face. I kissed his soft lips as his mustache tickled underneath my nose and then he took me and threw me down onto the futon on the floor. He kissed my neck and took off my shirt and began to kiss my breasts, down my stomach, pulling down my pants which slid off my hips that were thin from being worn out waiting for him. I was naked and exposed and I just wanted what I'd been waiting so long for. He kissed my inner thighs.

I flipped him and mounted him and removed his shirt, undid his belt, unzipped his pants. I just couldn't wait and I took him into my mouth and he teased, moving his cock away from my lips. I flicked my tongue and he'd jerk himself back just out of reach, then I'd take him deep again until he just couldn't take it anymore. He cut to the chase, pulling me by my arms up to face him, kissing me passionately before he flipped me on to my back, and then entered me. And we fucked and fucked and made up for those past six months with every thrust and scratch and scrape and pulse and grip. We came together, just like we always had. And we fell asleep in each other's arms.

I woke up the next morning to his alarm going off for work and the first thing he did was spoon me from behind and kiss my shoulder. Then he got up and showered and I watched him get dressed for work, wishing that day could be my every day. He kissed me goodbye, told me there was soda in the fridge and a key for the locker for the bicycle if I wanted to go out, but he'd be back at noon. I woke up and made some eggs and uploaded pictures and watching some TV and then took a nap.

He woke me up by whispering in my ear that I probably shouldn't leave the door unlocked. I gasped.

.....

By the end of the week, I'd gotten so used to him that I wished I hadn't had to leave. But Emmett got dressed for work and we drove back to the train in minimal silence and I got my ticket and he hugged and kissed me swiftly even though I could hear him starting to choke up and I boarded my train back to Tokyo in tears behind my sunglasses.

And I cried all the way to the airport and in the airport and on the plane until I fell asleep because I knew that this was the man that I was supposed to love and spend the rest of my life with and I knew deep down somewhere that something was going to prevent it from happening.

.....

And it turns out that something was me.

The Final Countdown

Soon I won't be a "twenty-something" anymore; I am on the verge of 30. And then what happens?

My life is going to be perfect. Everything is going to magically fall into place and fix itself and I'll be happy and I won't need this blog anymore. Because that's what happens when you're in your thirties, right?

People are getting engaged and married and having babies and here I still am, still trying to sort out the mess of the last decade and can't seem to see the light at the end of that tunnel. I was told that it does get better once you turn thirty, but I feel like it's in such an ambiguous way, like when they do those "It Gets Better" videos for the bullied kids. I'm still living alone, waking up hungover, eating junk for dinner, pretending to give a shit, letting others believe this charade I'm putting on.

"Oh, I don't even know if I ever want to get married. I can't even fathom what love really is because every time I thought I had it, it was all just bullshit. Maybe love doesn't even really exist - not in my universe, anyway. I just can't see myself living with someone and settling down and doing boring stuff and merging our things and our personalities and our lives and our groceries."

That's all my bullshit. My wall. My defense mechanisms.

I watched this week's episode of GIRLS and I realized more and more how much I can relate to Hannah, when she says, "Please don't tell anyone this, but I want to be happy. I realized I'm not different. I want what everyone wants. I want what they want. I want all the things. I just want to be happy", because these are the same things that I say to myself; these are the same things that I feel.

I self-deprecate and I engage in behaviors that aren't good for me. I keep people at distances even when I want to draw them so close and so near to me. I try not to let people in and let them get under my skin and then when they do, when I feel things, when I hurt like normal people are supposed to, I'm afraid and offended and scared and brush them off, shut back down, shut them out. Because I want to feel things and I want to let people in and I'm not sure I remember how. I've had people playfully call me a cold-hearted bitch before, and maybe they've been right all along. Maybe everyone else can see it but me.

........

My friend and I had a conversation about how we let the wrong people fill certain voids in our lives because we hope the right people will come along and take their place. Sometimes I feel like I'm just cramming all these people into this void to stop an open, gaping wound; staunch the hemorrhaging of all my emotions. I spring a leak and then just use someone else to plug the hole. It becomes a never-ending cycle and I'm never happy.

Emmett told me that I was never going to love anyone until I learned to love myself. He said even if I got my dream job and found the perfect guy and moved back to NY, I'd still be miserable and he's probably right. Everyone makes it sound so easy, "loving yourself". I don't even know if I know what it means to love. When was the last time I felt it? I thought it was with Emmett, but he told me that he didn't love me, was never going to love me. And I look back and try to think who else might have loved me once before? Did I know? Did I remember how that felt? How I could try and close my eyes and go deep inside myself to search for that feeling's warmth and bring it to the surface, smell it, drink it in, use it to satiate this hunger. Use it to help me remember and revive the love that is supposed to be inside me, inside all of us.

..........

So here's to the home stretch, the final year before I turn 30. The quest for me to see if all the rumors are true. That life can get better. That I can learn to love myself and others again. That I can be that emotion that has evaded me for so long: Here's to the pursuit of Happiness.

(Not) Thinking of You

You told me we’re not doing this anymore and so, I’m not thinking about you.

I’m not thinking about the first time we met in Grand Central Station and how your eyes lit up like a little kid on Christmas. I’m not thinking about the way you pressed me up against a window in a Manhattan hotel room and kissed me for the first time. How the sparks between us were so intense they could have kept Times Square lit for a year. I’m certainly not thinking about how intensely in sync we are in bed together or how we came together almost every single time.

Another thing I’m not thinking about is how I met you in Cincinnati for your 30^th birthday. How we stuck our heads in those silly cutouts at that festival or how I laid my head on your shoulder while we watched them feed otters at the aquarium. I’m not thinking about how you held me close and told me you never wanted me to leave Ohio. Or how that café we had dinner at was playing The Smiths. I’m not thinking about how you held me in the pool as I wrapped my legs around your waist and my arms around your neck and how you kissed me and I felt like this was the first time in a long time that I knew I loved someone again.

I’m not thinking about seeing your silhouette looking down at me from the waiting room of a Japanese train station as I got off a 9 hour train ride to see you. Or how our glasses banged together like two teenagers when we finally got up the nerve to just thrust our mouths at one another after months of being apart, and how we tossed them off comedically and continued making out. I’m absolutely not thinking about how you woke up the next morning and the first thing you did was put your arms around me from behind and kiss my shoulder before you went to work.

I’m also definitely not thinking about how, when I was lying in my underwear on a bed in a hotel in Houston, you emerged from the bathroom, calmly walked past me, ran your fingers up my torso, went to the door to put on the “Do Not Disturb” sign and proceeded to ravage me sweetly. Or how you adjusted the flower in my hair with the utmost care so that you could see it head on. How at midnight on New Year’s you said, “Well, I guess we’re supposed to kiss now”, pulled me to your waist, parted your lips and placed them softly against mine. I’m not thinking about how when I said I’d miss you, you replied “I never miss you; I have good aim.”

I’m not thinking about the hours we spent talking on the phone or the IMs or the webcam chats or the sexting or the emails we’d send each other at work. About all the smiles and laughs and hugs and forehead kisses and handholds. Or the hours I spent crying over you and missing you from 9000 miles away. Or about the phone call you made from the airport in Minnesota where you told me you were no good for me, that I was too smart, that I should find someone better.

I’m not thinking about any of those things at all.

Because we’re not doing this anymore.

The One

Everyone around you is coupled up and you feel like you’re the only one left standing. They are cohabitating and getting engaged and getting married and you’re buying frozen dinners for one at the grocery store. You contemplate if you’ll ever find “the one”, that person who makes everything in the world make sense. Who gets your obscure jokes and likes that worn out grey band t-shirt you wear to bed sometimes. Who doesn’t mind sitting in the aisle seat all the time and who lets you eat the last donut. You wonder if maybe that person has been in your life all along and you’ve just accidentally passed them over, so you run through your mental catalog of all the people from your past who could possibly be “the one”. 

The boy who you had a torrid and short-lived love affair with; who came to visit at your dorm while surviving a 9 hour trip on the Chinatown bus during a snowstorm. Who stayed on the phone with you late at night while you read poetry to him and he told you how much your prose turned him on. How you took his virginity late one night in his room at his mother’s house on Staten Island. How he held you in the living room after watching Menace to Society, and said I love you in the lights of the Christmas tree. And then how he broke your heart and said it was all a lie; that you didn’t really love him, that he was a tortured soul. And yet, you still held this connection, this bond, on and off again for so many years, finally reuniting recently during Thanksgiving. Older, wiser, a little worn for haul – but he had sent you a text reminding you that you’d promised to marry him when you turned 30. You lol’d and wrote back saying, hold on, I’m not quite there yet.

A boy you met through an Internet dating site that you went on a few mediocre dates with and when he kissed you, it felt like kissing your brother. It was underwhelming and there was never any chemistry, but you still hung out and you still slept in his bed, but you never let him see you naked. And both of you would text each other to hang out every few months; you’d wonder if things would change next time you saw him, but it was always a well-worn friendship and never anything more. 

And then there’s the one that you thought was “the one”. Who was quick witted with even more obscure jokes and who never let you wear that grey band t-shirt to bed because you were too busy making love and falling asleep naked spooning each other. Who showed you the best and worst of yourself back to you like a mirror and kept urging you to grow into the person you are one day going to be. Who started making everything make sense in your life until the day you realized that you were never doing the same things in return for him. The one who told you that he couldn’t love you because love needs to be nourished and fed, even though he was the one nourishing and feeding your love of him for three years. 

None of these guys are “the one”. 

Maybe you’ve met “the one” already and maybe you haven’t. Maybe “the one” doesn’t exist at all. And so what? Who cares? For now, just be the only one you need.

Crossroads

I don't even know what I'm doing with my life. I don't know what I want to do. I'm afraid that I'm doing it all wrong. That everything I do is terrible and I'm going to wind up miserable and shitty and pissed off because I'm not good at anything. I got this internship to write for a food blog-paper thing, and I thought I was a good writer but apparently I'm bad at this or just don't know what to do with vague criticism and no direction (this is why I was not a journalism major).

And I hate being here & hate my job, but I have the potential to move to NY and do a higher level of my job and possibly either hate it more or hate it slightly less since I'd be living in a city that I love and making more money to dull the pain.

But I've also possibly got the opportunity to take a similar job for less then I make now (possibly a lot less) in Singapore. Which would be a great and fun experience and when would I ever get to do that again - provided I get this job and pull enough money out of my ass to move to and live in Singapore?

Singapore would be fun & I could travel and have all kinds of experiences and see the world and do things I never imagined and then maybe write about it - or at the very least start a blog about it. And it could open up the door to so many different opportunities & possibilities in the future.

While NY is my eventual "end game" plan, and it's sitting within reach now, do I want to subject myself to the same bullshit, different geography? Or do I take major risk and move halfway around the world with barely any money into something that I might even like or be able to afford to do?

At least the trying to live in Japan thing offered some sense of security, some sense of camaraderie with other people on similar positions; but I don't know anyone in Singapore.

I just don't want to sit around and look back on this whole scenario and wonder if I made a mistake like I already do when I think about moving to Philadelphia. And I don't want to think I missed a chance to do something amazing because I was held back by fear or money. I also don't want money & location to be my motivating factor behind my decision.

...so what do I do? What should I do?

Maybe I should just turn them both down and keep waiting for something better to come along. Maybe just because this is here doesn't mean it's right.

Passing thoughts

Staring at a blank screen, cursor flashing, and my mind is just as blank. I’m not where I want to be. Emotionally, physically, career-wise; I just feel lost and disappointed in myself. Like, you could be better than this, you know? You could be doing so much more than this, be more, write more, and feel more. Everything always just starts to feel forced: the smiles, the writing, the laughter.

I want to like him and then I second guess myself. Am I doing that thing that I do again? The over-analyzing the other person because I’m holding them up to that standard, comparing them to him up there on the pedestal? You can’t do that – I tell myself – they’re not the same; they’ll never be the same. So what if he doesn’t make you laugh? So what if you don’t have butterflies in your stomach when you’re kissing? So what? You’re still having a good time, so – what?

Everyone here makes me feel insecure. Everyone is a better writer than me, established better in their careers, has more connections, more notches on their resume, bylines to show for it. I’m a fucking great writer, aren’t I? Why can’t I do that shit? Why can’t anyone seem to see how great I am? Everyone here is more athletic than me, going to the gym every day, running marathons, being active. Why am I just so lazy about it all? Where is the fire I can light under my ass to get me to really want to get out there and bust my ass for it? I feel like everyone my age it doing more than I am and I can’t just seem to get it together.

I keep telling myself I’ll try more, harder, to be better. But then I just get to a screen and everything goes blank. I don’t want to do anything about it. I am stagnant.

I know I can, I know I can, I know I can. But I can’t.

I’m preoccupied at the thought of the future, of not wanting to be here, of him. 

Emmett. 

Of wanting to be with him; like he is the key to make the rest of these pieces fall into place. If he were with me, I would be happy. And then we could go somewhere and live together and be happy together. He would inspire me and motivate me and encourage me. Because he gets me – he gets what I’m about and what I do and what I want to do, where I want to be – because we’re so much the same.

I read through his blog the other day and cried. The way he writes makes me so envious, it’s so beautiful and poetic. His entries are sporadic just like mine. Sometimes they are epic novels and sometimes they are short stories. Sometimes they make a difference and sometimes they are just random thoughts. I want to write my story with him, write the story of our future together.

I hate everything else I have to say. It all seems so trivial. The world is so much bigger than we all are and why make a mountain out of our anthills of problems?

I hate my novel because I hate that it feels phony; I can’t convey all these thoughts of loss of a loved one since I’ve never really lost someone I loved. I based the idea on my loss of him but he never really went away, and he was never really mine to begin with. That’s why it’s so terrible. That’s why I have an ending that was just a cheater’s way out since I couldn’t figure out how to end it since things were never ended. It doesn’t even make any sense and it’s just cheap filler. It’s like when you eat something that makes you feel terrible and bloated right after but then you’re starving again a few hours later. Or if you ate something expensive or something that you hoped would taste great but was bland and flavorless, and you felt guilty about it, about how you were so excited for it and then hated it but you still had to pretend to like it anyway.

To be honest - I’m worried that’s how our relationship would be. Bland and flavorless, even though we hoped it would be mind-blowing.

I'm Not Sorry

You know what? I take it all back. I'm not sorry.

I have no remorse. I'm a big girl now and I'll do whatever the fuck I want.

All my life I have been mousy, meek, passive, pushed around, used, taken advantage of. I let people use their leverage against me to guilt me, make me pity them, make me feel sorry for the bullshit they have done to me, make me feel like I don't have the right to just walk away, like I have to give a shit about you when you couldn't give two shits about me. I let those thoughts consume me, eat away at me, hold me down with their emotional baggage while I tried to find a way to apologize and make things right, to life these weights off my chest when I was never the one who put them there; I was trying to apologize for things that weren't my fault.

I no longer want to feel jailed by my actions or guilted by the thought of the feelings of the others that I have hurt. I'm getting too old for that. 

I am not that girl anymore.

And if you don't like it, get the fuck over it.

/I'm done.

Doing it Wrong

As I sit around and look at all the people around me, I can't help but feel like I'm doing this whole  life thing wrong. Everyone is in relationships (happy or unhappy relationships - regardless, they have someone special in the life), moving in together, getting married, having babies. People are in their careers, advancing to better jobs, giving up the old bullshit for the new awesomeness. And where am I? I'm stuck here - living alone, being alone, being miserable in my thankless job. It's not for lack of trying. I've put out more resumes than I can recall, and while last year there were a slew of promising interviews, this year remains nothing but silence. 

So what am I doing wrong?

I've been trying to like Philadelphia, really I have. And I've been trying to date and give people the benefit of the doubt. But the more nothing goes the way I see it going for others, I really have to wonder if maybe it's really just me. I'm what's wrong in this equation. I have dreams and principles and goals set for myself and my future that I'm not willing to compromise - is that really so wrong? There are things that I feel in my heart and my gut that I know are right - things that I know that I can do, tasks that I can legitimately accomplish - but nothing is propelling my life into motion; the pieces to the puzzle just always seem to be missing.

I am rapidly approaching 30 and with it brings along this wide-eyed sense of panic and anxiety. I don't know where I wanna go or who I wanna be or what I wanna do. Every day I'm on to a new thought or idea or city or state or country; I could move to X and do Y. I don't have a problem picking up and starting over - it's the part that happens after I get there that's going to be difficult. All I really want is to just be happy. To wake up in the morning and not hate where I am or where I'm going, what I have to do or who I have to see. Do people really have that? Do people really, genuinely, truly wake up in the morning loving every single little aspect of their lives? To not have regrets that they wish they had gone here, done this, tried that. To not have all this fear of moving forward to the exciting and new because they are too scare to let go of the past, the safe, the familiar.

Friends in long term relationships are moving in together, trying to find the perfect living spaces in which to combine all their things, posting the totally cool, quirky wall art of that thing they both like. Or the pictures of their fridge covered in pictures of that trip they once took. Well, I tried that whole "living together" thing once and it didn't go so well, and the thought of putting that much of myself on the line, the merging of things, even if I know in my heart that this other person would never do me wrong, still feels unnerving and makes me break out into a cold sweat of sharing an apartment with anything bigger then a ladybug.

As friends marry and have babies and post pictures of said babies on social media sites, I feel these little twinges of the hetero-normative pulling and prodding. "Find a husband, have a baby - happy wife, happy life." Being married, pregnant, raising children? These are not the ideals I see for myself, and ultimately it becomes my cross to bear as I see others finding happiness in these simple milestones and wonder if maybe, I just compromised my own beliefs, that I could find that happiness too. 

But I know I won't. I would never be happy just trying to fit the mold. I know I'm going to be amazing one day. I'm bound for glory. But can it just hurry up and get here already? Because I'm really starting to get worried that I'm fucking it up.

Butterflies

I really ought to apologize to him. I lied when I said "It's not you, it's me" because it was him.

After kissing so many frogs, I finally found a prince. After all those duds, he made me see sparks.

He was the first boy that I'd kissed in a long time that made me feel butterflies.


And it scared the shit out of me.

He was so nice and sweet and kind. He made me nervous and I was afraid I wouldn't be able to control myself with him. Like I would just let the emotions take over; like I really could have fallen in love.

I tried to play it off and make excuses, talk myself out of it, date someone else. But the whole time I was with #2, I couldn't stop thinking about #1. Running into him in hallways, dreaming about passionately making out with him on their shared couch, fantasizing about sneaking into his bed in the middle of the night.

.......

"Shhh!" I'd put my finger to his lips as I slipped between his sheets, then kiss him softly right in the area between his ear and his cheek, running my hand strongly across his firm chest. I pictured his arms embracing me gently but kissing me firmly, holding me close and making me feel safe; like I was the only girl in the world.

.........

Maybe all my excuses were right. Maybe it's better that we were never together.

He would have treated me like a Princess and I turned around and treated him like a Frog. 

And I never deserved him, anyway.

Tongue Tied

I'm terrible at talking about things. Words just tend to bunch up somewhere in the back of my throat, stumble around on my tongue and never make it past my lips. Whenever they do manage to come out of my mouth, they are discombobulated, adjectives running into nouns, trampling each other and never making sense. So that's why I write - because I'm horrible at getting out the things that I want to say in an eloquent enough way for them to makes sense to human ears. I try to explain myself to people, apologize for things, separate myself from situations in a mature, adult manner and I can't. It's not that I don't know how - I can formulate all the monologues in my head - but it's that I don't know how to get them out of there. So I don't. I cease communication. I cut people off. I cower into a corner, speechless. Because it's easier to be silent than try to stutter and ramble or be guilted or have to fight or defend myself. Easier than having words thrown back in my face - words that hurt or sting or pull at my heart strings. Words that make me feel things that I want to avoid.

Usually I'm better at writing than I am at speaking. But I haven't even been able to write lately. The words get stuck in the area between my brain and my fingers on computer keys. I've been worried about it. Thoughts that used to flow so easily now seem difficult to get down on a page; forcing my creativity to show itself ends in vain. Even this post right now is a challenge: I'm distracted. I'm distant, unfocused. Everything is crowded. All the great ideas, the stories, the jokes, the anecdotes - they're trapped, aching to find release. I know what I want to say, so why can't I just get it out?

........

They say if you never ask then you'll never know. But really, don't we already know? Isn't that why we're afraid to ask in the first place? We're not strong enough to face the rejection of our dreams - no matter how strong of an argument for them we may have, no matter how passionate we are for the cause - we're afraid of the possibility of "No". I was told "No" so often growing up every time I asked for something that I just decided to stop asking altogether, because I was tired of hearing no. I'm afraid to ask anything now, even if I know the answer will be a resounding yes; all because of the small fraction of the potential for "No."


I wish I could just tell him how I'm feeling. How when I got that email, how much I wanted to say the words that I'd been waiting so long to say because he'd finally said something that I'd been waiting so long to hear. "I'm lost too." I should have told him. "Come back and we can be lost together. We'll help each other find whatever it is we're looking for. I can be your Next." But I chickened out and just typed a sarcastic, off handed remark and the door to that topic was closed. And now the words are piling up because all I can think about is "What if?" What if I said what I'd wanted? Would it have had a warm reception? Or would he have just brushed it off as a passing, drunken comment in a moment of weakness that had no real weight on the reality of his situation? Maybe that's why I didn't say what I should have: because I was afraid that I wouldn't get the response that I was hoping for in my head. Maybe that's why I never say what I want to.

Because I'm afraid of the truth. Because I'm afraid of the "No".

If I don't ask, then he never has to let me down, he never has to reject me. I can keep the fantasy going in my head; the hoping, the wishing, the wanting, the waiting. In my head, I always get the answer I want.

But then the words start piling up. There's no where to put them all - all the things that I want to tell him, all the things I want answers to, the things I've put off discussing. They start clogging my brain. Then, there's no easy way for them to come out. The exits are blocked, the doors are bulging as they try to hold back the overflow. One day, I'm just going to explode and everything will just spill out like lava, destroying everything in its path.

...And then, I'll just get tongue tied again.

Out of Order

"Out of Order"

Whenever we see or hear that phrase, it can mean a lot of things. It could refer to something that is broken and not currently functioning. It could mean that things are in disarray; out of order from the neat and proper way that they are supposed to be kept, out of place. Or, perhaps one of the most infamous ways this phrase has ever been uttered, from the movie "A Few Good Men": "You're out of order"! - inappropriate, stepping over the lines of decency. I've definitely applied all of those definitions to different aspects of my life within the past few weeks and they are really starting to take their toll on me. My whole universe is currently "out of order".

........

It all started with a boy, as most things in my life tend to start with. I met a boy who was nice and kind and sweet. I really liked him, I really did. But, I am so broken and out of order. There's just too much baggage in my life, skeletons banging to get out of my closets, that I could never expect someone like him to be able to handle that. He would never be able to carry all my baggage. And so, I let things go to the wayside.

And then, I met another boy. The only problem was: Boy #2 was Boy #1's roommate.

Because I'm not enough of a martyr. Because I apparently can't handle enough chaos in my life that I just need to keep piling it on and getting myself into situations that are unhealthy and probably going to end in (ok, always destined to end in) disaster, I moved things forward with Boy #2. (Apparently, they conferred about this situation - aka Me - first and Boy #1 gave reluctant approval for Boy #2 to ask me out.)

And I really liked Boy #2. He was basically like, the boy version of me. (Except, clearly, I'm way cooler and more attractive. /sarcasm) We became "partners in awesomeness". He thought I was clever and funny and beautiful (all true things, obviously) and I thought he was handsome and smart and brilliant. I admired and adored him. I loved joking and laughing and smiling and plotting with him.

Yet, despite all those awesome feelings and fun times, I kept defaulting to my stupid thing that I do with boys where I keep them at arms length and pretend I don't have feelings because I don't want to get hurt and try to keep everything as casual as possible and pretend like I don't care.

Only problem is: I started to care. And it scared the shit out of me.

"Hmm, I think I might kind of like you...", I once told him, half joking, half serious. 

I kept trying to tell myself things to psych myself out of it, like "Well, I'm never going to love him like I love Emmett. He's never going to be as good as Emmett." or "Oh, I'm not trying to put down roots in Philadelphia. I'm leaving soon. I can't get into anything serious." My friend and I even resorted to making Pro & Con lists about him. (I know we all remember that episode of FRIENDS where Ross makes the Julie & Rachel pro/con list - and we saw how well that turned out at the time. "She's not Ratchum!??!")

But I started feeling like maybe this could be something serious, like maybe I could really fall for this person, like maybe Philadelphia wasn't so bad after all as long as I had someone to share it with. I got butterflies when I was with him and I got sad when we were apart. I always wanted to be around him; sharing kisses and creativity and scotch and calamari. That, my friends, sent me into the panic of the century. I started having anxiety attacks, worrying that I was going to get trapped here in Philadelphia - in a job I hate, in a sub-par relationship with someone who was not the soul mate I envisioned for myself. So of course, I went into self-sabotage mode.

Anything good in my life will always turn to shit. And its 99.9% always my fault.

The whole version of events as to how we met was something that we joked about a lot. It was unavoidable - literally. I mean, I was dating someone who had a roommate who I also went on a date with once. And there were playful jokes about well, maybe I should just go on over to Boy #1's room sometime and try and seduce him - or whatever. Totally and completely not serious, but wheels kept turning in my head. I kept having these "What if?" moments.

What if I had just dated Boy #1 instead? It wasn't that I didn't like him; we had a lot of common interests. What if I could date Boy #1 Mondays, Wednesdays & Fridays and Boy #2 Sundays, Tuesdays & Thursdays and then they could alternate Saturdays? What if I could really get these guys into a polyamorous relationship and have them be totally cool with it? I mean, in the Millenium trilogy, Berger is able to have her husband for one part of her life to fulfill certain needs, and Blomkvist as her lover and for everything else. Why could I have that too?

So, I got fucking greedy is what fucking happened.

I had already started being aloof with Boy #2 and downplaying things and acting like I didn't care. Rubbing it in his face that I'd applied to 2 jobs back home one week and how my boss had asked if he would come with me and I'd recoiled in disgust like, "GOD NO! I mean, it's not THAT serious!" How I couldn't wait to get the fuck out of Philadelphia and leave this shit stink of a town behind - and presumably him as well.

And then, one night, I did the unthinkable: I, while under the influence of several beers and shots of Patron, messaged Boy #1 and asked him to come over.

I mean, I wasn't even really being serious. I wasn't home at the time. I wasn't expecting him to actually come over. I knew he was out drunk too so I don't even know how he'd even get to my house (that I wasn't at). And even if he had shown up, I probably would have slammed the door in his face and laughed.

And then Boy #1 told Boy #2 and he was pissed.

I don't know why I expected him not to be. I don't know why I thought "I was really drunk" was going to be an excuse and he was going to forgive me for it. (Maybe because I once blatantly tried to shove my hands down the pants of a friend of a guy that I was dating - and not really into - right in front of him while shitfaced?) That's an excuse you use when you're 18, not when you're 28. And so I don't really know why I was shocked when he broke up with me.

At first, I was pissed and angry. Like, HOW DARE HE! Like I didn't cause this; that this was somehow his fault. And so I sat around being really pissy and angry for a week and hating Boy #1 and Boy #2 for getting me into this situation. Like somehow this all could have been prevented from Day 1 if we just had some kind of weird threesome and then let everything work itself out. To have eased the tension of avoiding Boy #1 every time I came to their apartment. To have stopped thinking about how I was flaunting this relationship with his roommate in his face.

Point is: I hurt people's feelings. And that's what's really fucking out of order.

My behavior was out of order and what I did isn't really forgivable. Shit, I wouldn't forgive me. But that's because I don't forgive anyone easily. (Must run in my family because my Mom is really good at holding grudges for decades.) But I wish I could be forgiven. I wish this albatross wasn't hanging from my neck day in and day out. I wish I could just go back and erase everything that happened - but I can't. I have felt guilt about what I've done, this pit in my stomach that won't go away. I hate myself. I deserve this shitty feeling of feeling like a shitty person because I am one.

And I want to apologize. 

I've really started to like it in Philadelphia, and it was because of you. And now, I feel like I can't even go certain places because they remind me of you or things that we could be doing together. I sit there and I think, "Oh, he would really love this or that." Or, I'll see something that would be perfect for you or have an idea or a joke. And I can't even tell you about it because you hate me.

You inspired me to be something better than I was. The girl just biding my time til I got the hell up out of dodge; you made me want to do more, be more, dream bigger. The cupcake business, marketing ideas, freelancing - you awakened these dreams inside me to help me make my time here so much more enjoyable - and now, I just feel empty again and uninspired. I admired the way you dreamed big - the things that you wanted to create and I wish that I could be by your side supporting you and seeing you through it, seeing your genius reach the light. I wish I could be your partner again. I adored listening to how passionate you were about everything - and I won't lie, that's what I found sexiest about you - your creativity and intelligence. I was like a moth to a flame just wanting to feed off your energy and have that kind of dream for myself too.

I know you hate me right now. And you have every right to. I betrayed you. It was wrong and stupid and I want you to know how truly sorry I am. I am begging you please, if you could just listen with your heart when I tell you that, I know you can't forgive me right now - but I'm going to do everything in my power to make it up to you. No matter what happens. No matter what you decide to do. I hope we can at least be friends again one day.

I'm Sorry, Ricky.

Win Some, Lose Some

There are words inside my head, struggling to get out. I’ve been trying, but they just don’t seem to want to come. I have demons inside me too that are battling each other. They seem to have no problem slipping past from time to time. But the darker ones, the deeper rooted ones; those are the ones that are the worst. They fight and control me. They are the ones keeping the words inside because they don’t want the truth to come out.

........

We’re all battling something, hiding something, running from something. Most of the times, it’s from our own selves, from our past, our present, our future. We run from the things that scare us and from the things that bring us joy. We hide the person we used to be from the person we want everyone to think that we’ve become. We battle the guilt we feel over doing things, or not doing things, or not doing things the way we wish we had done them, or over the way we did something that did not lead to lifting this guilt.

I’m an Asshole. I’m selfish, egotistical, a sociopath; self-obsessed and un-remorseful. I’m opportunistic.  I do things without thinking of the consequences. I hurt other people without thinking of their feelings. And then I feel guilty about the pain I’ve caused, about the ways I’ve fucked up, about the people I’ve forced out of my life. 

I’ve left a wake of boys and men in my path for 10 years and I have nothing to show for it. 

But why?

I don’t have daddy issues, but I am an only child. I was never given everything and anything I wanted though. My parents made me work for everything I’ve ever had. I could blame the one person who ruined my entire life for me, but it didn’t just start there. I was doing this long before that – this erratic behavior - sometimes manipulation of their feelings, sometimes manipulation of my own. Shutting myself off and acting like I don’t give a fuck one second, then crying and pleading because I realized that I’m ruining, have ruined, a good thing. 

At first, maybe it was just boredom. The first boy I ever dated had an obsession with video games and became more interested in them than with me. So what did I do? I went out and found someone to be obsessed with me instead, while still dating the video game lover; an entire summer spent sneaking around behind his back. And then, when my new paramour ‘cheated’ on me with another girl, I was appalled and cut off contact with him; even though he was doing precisely the same thing I was doing to someone else. Then, he told me he loved me and I threw it back in his face. “You don’t love me. You don’t even know what love is.” And went back to vie for the video game lover’s attention.

I used them both to make myself feel better about myself, and in the end, I was just alone and felt miserable. Several years later, I even found myself with my paramour again, repeating the same cycle. I was obsessed over another boy who wouldn’t give me the time of day – and once again, he was there. So I led him on and baited him, and then dropped him like a bad habit once I had the attention of object of my desires. What a vicious cycle.

I want things my way, on my terms. Seems like a simple request, no? But I guess it borders on selfishness, wanting someone only when you want them, and the way you want them. Pushing them away when they’re too close, then struggling to draw them to you to get the attention you crave when it’s lacking. Pointing out all their flaws, the things that disgust you, finding reasons to leave or to not get close – then grasping at straws for the things you liked and loved, all the good points and great moments you shared while you’re watching them walk away. 

I thought maybe my destructive, abusive relationship may have been the root of this – and ok, maybe it can take the credit for some of it. He had played the game right back to me and he was better at it and he won. He could be blamed for the trust issues, for the not wanting to let anyone get close, to see the real you, for fear that they’ll realize you’re a disappointment and leave. That they’ll see those demons peeking out of your closet, find out who the real you really is, and despise it. Because everyone you let get close to you once at one point in time all turned on you and left you cold. Men who you’ve dragged through the mud, who would have gone to the ends of the Earth and back for you, but you never even bothered to give them the chance that they didn’t even know they never had. You played with their heart strings while playing apathetic.

And then finally, he came along. A person who you didn’t have to play games with, someone who finally understood you as you are and called you out on all your bullshit when you tried to play the game with him once and he wasn’t having it. And you didn’t have to fake it this time, the feeling was real. But he left – but not because of you – but he was still gone. And you reunited a few times and got closer, feelings grew deeper, and you thought to yourself – this is it, the thing people talk about all the time: 

Real Love. Soul mates. A partner for life. 

And you told him you loved him so because you swear you’d see it sparkling in his eyes whenever he looked at you, whenever he smiled that smile he only smiled for you. He did the things that no one else ever did, paying attention to all the tiniest details, and listening, really and truly listening to you. Caring for you, taking everything into consideration that made it worth it and you wanted to reciprocate all those things in the greatest way you knew how. 

And so you said those Three Little Words – words that you had uttered as a teenager without knowing the meaning, as a love sick college girl in the heat of the moment, on a dark winter night with someone you had once thought could have been the one, over the window of a car door while coerced by someone who had played the game back and won, and that one other time where you didn’t even mean it at all - and this time, you really, really meant those words this time. 

But he didn’t say them back. And then, the walls caved in all around you. You’d been waiting so long. It felt so right – how could this not be right!? 

It was time to play the game again. 

You hoped maybe if you played the game long enough, you’d find another him one day. Maybe you’ll find another one of him one day. I mean, you will right? You have to, right? 

So it was back to a string of dates with boys who didn’t make your heart skip a beat the same way, who didn’t send a charge through your body with a single kiss, whose eyes showed you something deeper when you looked into them. Try one on, see if it fits. Don’t like it, but buy it anyway. Regret it later but you’ve already cut off the tags so you can’t take it back now. You wanted to try and like them, to give them a chance instead of always holding them up to him for comparison. You really were trying. You were.

And then you found two pairs that you thought both looked great. One fit one way, and the other fit the other way. You would never be able to wear them to the same things; they both served different purposes and would have been great for different occasions. The first pair was newer, fit tighter, were the kind you wouldn’t want to take out of the closet unless it was important. So you left the first pair in the closet and bought the second pair. The second was more comfortable, an everyday kind of wear; reliable but you over wore them and took them for granted. You kept trying to find problems with the second pair that would give you a reason to wear the first pair, secretly lusting over the first pair, wondering what it would be like to wear those all the time instead. So, you wanted to see if you could try the first pair on for size and the second pair caught you. And then, you were left with none. 

You tried to go double or nothing and came up empty handed. You were greedy and selfish and now, you were alone again. And now you feel guilty. The second pair was great and was really starting to be your favorite. You had fun together. They complimented you and made you feel confident, alive, amazing, like you could have done anything. You could have taken on the world with the second pair by your side. They almost made your forget all about him. As much as you tried to fool yourself into thinking that you would never love them as much as you loved him, you were warming up to the idea. It wasn’t quite the same but it was a different kind of comfort, a different kind of fit. Like switching from a boot cut to a straight leg: They both looked great on you and hugged your curves in all the right places; they just gave you two totally different looks. They could have been your favorite.

I know I can’t make amends for the hurt that I’ve caused in the past, but if I could apologize knowing that my voice would be heard, and that they would accept my apologies, I would. I don’t want it to feel forced or feel like it’s falling on deaf ears. I want it to be genuine and real and honest. I want the other person to accept that I am trying to change here and give me that chance. But I think I’m past the point of repair.

You can’t make someone love you, but you sure as hell can make someone stop. And you can’t make someone stop hating you, but you sure know how to make them start.

I don’t know how to change the past but I think I know how to change my future. I don’t want to play the game anymore. I want to actively change my behavior to avoid this kind of destruction. I want to live without fear of being hurt because I can’t get past my past. I want to give you a chance and I want you to give me one too. Because we all deserve second chances in life – and I think it’s time I got mine.

V-Day Mixtape

Oh Valentine's Day - the day we live for, or the day we live to forget. No matter what your feelings are on this holiday that was completely contrived by the greeting card companies, and no matter what your relationship status, I have compiled a few playlists to help ease or elevate your mood (depending on your situation) this February 14th.

The Unrequited Mix - For those of us who are soulfully pining over someone who probably doesn't even know that we're alive

Aaliyah - 4 Page Letter
Head Automatica - Beating Hearts Baby
Fergie - Clumsy
Ashlee Simpson - Fall in Love with Me
Michael Cera & Ellen Page - Anyone Else But You
Incubus - Stellar
Letters to Cleo - I Want You to Want Me
LL Cool J - Hey Lover ft. Boyz 2 Men
Mariah Carey - Fantasy
Leona Lewis - Bleeding Love
Dashboard Confessional - Stolen
Natasha Beddingfield - I Wanna Have Your Babies
Karina Pasian - Just Can't Find The Words
David Archuleta - Crush
Amerie - One Thing
Ryan Adams - Wonderwall
Janet Jackson - If I Was Your Girl
The Cardigans - Lovefool

The Over It Mix- When you've had it with your loved one, or former loved one

Mariah Carey - Shake it Off
Maroon 5 ft Rihanna - If I Never See Your Face Again
Keyshia Cole - I Just Want it to be Over
Blu Cantrell - Hit Em Up Style
Keyshia Cole - Let it Go
Aly & AJ - Potential Break Up Song
Ashanti - Unfoolish Remix
Justin Timberlake - Cry Me A River
Maroon 5 - Makes me Wonder
Keyshia Cole - I Should've Cheated
Ashlee Simpson - No Time for Tears
Danity Kane - Damaged
Christina Aguilera - Fighter
Ciara - Like a Boy
Beyonce - If I Were a Boy
Gilette - Mr Personality
Good Charlotte - I Don't Wanna be in Love
Jaheim - Put that Woman First
Kelly Clarkson - Behind These Hazel Eyes
Kelly Clarkson - Since You've Been Gone
Missy Elliot - Toyz
Mya - Case of the Ex
Mya - Movin On
Timbaland ft One Republic - Apologize
Rihanna - Breakin Dishes
Ashlee Simpson - Surrender
Black Eyed Peas - Don't Phunk With My Heart
Brandy - What About Us?
Cassie - Official Girl
Britney Spears - Womanizer
Britney Spears - Why Should I Be Sad?
Jennifer Hudson - Spotlight
Jennifer Lopez - I'm Gonna be Alright
Taylor Swift - You're Not Sorry
Carrie Underwood - Before He Cheats

The Back Seat Mix - For a foggy windowed good time (or inside if it's too cold)

Bobby Valentino - Tell Me (remix)
Marques Houston - Naked (remix)
Justin Timberlake - My Love
Ludacris - What's Your Fantasy
Ginuwine - My Pony
No Doubt - Making Out
Day 26 - All I Want is You
Mariah Carey - Touch My Body
Rihanna - Push Up On Me
Britney Spears - Breathe On Me
Britney Spears - And Then We Kiss (Junkie XL remix)
Snoop Dogg - Sexual Eruption
LL Cool J - Doin It
Cassie - Me & You
Duran Duran - Come Undone
Britney Spears - Phonography
Jay - Z ft Pharrell - Fuck All Nite
Boyz II Men - I'll Make Love To You
Missy Elliot - One Minute Man
Panic! At The Disco - Lying is the Most Fun a Girl Can Have Without Taking Her Clothes Off
Lil Kim ft 50 Cent - Magic Stick
50 Cent - Amusement Park
Lil Wayne - Lollipop
Dru Hill - Got to Get It


The Happy Together Mix - Everything's perfect and happy and roses and sunshine! You're in LURVVVVVVVVE (lol)

50 Cent & Olivia - Best Friend
LL Cool J ft Amerie - Paradise
Natasha Beddingfield - Put Your Arms Around Me
Marie Digby - Say it Again
Common - Come Close
Jason Mraz - I'm Yours
Incubus - Echo
Jack Johnson - Banana Pancakes
Boyz II Men - On Bended Knee
Dashboard Confessional - As Lovers Go
Finley Quaye - Dice
Tanto Metro & Devonte - Everyone Falls in Love Sometimes
Mariah Carey - Ill be Loving you Long Time
Plain White Ts - 1, 2, 3, 4
Ashlee Simpson - L.O.V.E.
Ashlee Simpson - Never Dream Alone
Bow Wow ft Ciara - Like You

Single and Lovin it Mix - You're all you need!

Kelis - Bossy
Ne-Yo - Miss Independent
Katy Perry - I Kissed a Girl
Britney Spears - Touch of My Hand
Ashlee Simpson - Boys
Beyonce - Single Ladies
Britney Spears - My Prerogative
Black Eyed Peas - My Humps
City High - Caramel (remix)
Eve - Who's That Girl
Adina Howard - Freak Like Me
Nelly Furtado - Maneater
Pink - So What
Britney Spears - If You Seek Amy
Fall Out Boy - I Don't Care
Beyonce - Me, Myself, and I


Hate That I Love You Mix - You used to Love them, Now you Hate them (you think), either way, you can't' stop thinking about them

Miley Cyrus - 7 Things
Rihanna ft Chris Brown - Hate That I Love You
Chairlift - Bruises
Duffy - Stepping Stone
Amy Winehouse - Tears Dry On Their Own
Mariah Carey - Heartbreaker
Tegan & Sara - Back In Your Head
Bright Eyes - Lover I Don't Have to Love
Bush - The Chemicals Between Us
Alicia Keys - Like You'll Never see me Again
No Doubt - Running
Janet Jackson - Again
Kanye West - Heartless
Kanye West - Bittersweet Poetry
Lady GaGa - Brown Eyes
Little Boots - Stuck on Repeat
Mariah Carey - We Belong Together
Monica - So Gone
Ne-Yo - So Sick
SWV - Weak
No Doubt - Happy Now?
N'Sync - Gone
Paramore - I Caught Myself
Duffy - Mercy
Katy Perry - Hot n Cold
Timbaland ft Patrick Stump (FOB) - One and Only
Prince - When Doves Cry
Taylor Swift - The Way I Loved You
Bow Wow - Outta My System

The Afterglow

Have you ever known someone and then not talked to or seen them for a while and then, when you do see them again, they just seem... broken?  (I'm talking several months or years, not just days or weeks.) And it just seems like something has changed this person - a serious life event or maybe just the passing of time - to the point where they're just not the same as you remember once knowing them? You're hoping they're going to be the cheerful, hopeful, fun person that you remember and instead, there's just an awkward shell.

I went to Boston a few weeks ago and I saw Jon for the first time in at least 6 years. The last time we saw each other was about a year after we had broken up and we told each other how well the other looked, how great it was to see them and how they were doing. But then... everything changed.

He came inside Erin's apartment and could barely meet my gaze. When we got in the car and we were catching up he just seemed cold, pre-occupied, distant - not because of me, but something deeper. The conversation just didn't seem natural. Something just wasn't right, like a light had been turned off inside him; the flame of the young, bouncy, fun loving boy I knew when I was 19 years old had vanished. Sure people grow up and age and mature but that wasn't it. That wasn't how I knew him. He had never been awkward. He had always been outgoing and able to make friends in seconds and talk on an array of topics with passion and intensity. We had shared two years together filled with adventures and intelligent moments and philosophical pondering, intimacy, giggling, expanding our minds with drugs and research chemicals and loud electronic music. Maybe we weren't friends in the technical sense anymore but we still knew each other... didn't we?

Inside the club we got some drinks and caught up some more, saw old friends and bopped our heads to the music and he didn't dance. It was the first time I'd ever seen him just not immerse himself in the beats, feel the rhythm, see the way it let his body flow and ebb like a river. That had always been my favorite thing to do: watch him dance. He always looked so alive; each bass line controlling him like a marionette. At some point a girl had come up to him and talked to him and when she walked away he told me, "That was my ex.... She ruined my life." I laughed because I could relate.

He told me whenever I was ready to go, he was too, so I said I was ready and we left. We drove around in the late, dark night of Cambridge, looping through supermarket parking lots and idling at red lights. He asked me to come back to his place and cuddle and I obliged (even after he had told me earlier he was dating a really great girl - but they were in an open relationship which apparently he didn't abuse the privilege of). Once inside, he told me the story of his ex and I could see the pain, the emptiness so much clearer now. Could see how broken this girl had made him. He was always the nicest, most non-confrontational person. Everyone loved him and he loved all. He made friends with anyone and everyone. And yet, this girl turned his life upside down in such a malicious manner. I couldn't wrap my head around how anyone could ever do that to someone like him. We climbed up into his loft bed and he put on a wave light. I laid down 6 inches from him on his mattress and then, without warning, he pulled me close into him, sending me back in time.

It's so weird to think that someone who you used to kiss and hug and hold and love and make love with still exists when they're not in your life anymore. Even stranger still, when you reunite with this person and they touch you, it just feels like second nature. You can recall the way this person has stroked you in the past, the softness of their lips, every curve of their body, every scar and birthmark. And yet, he still allows you a bit of modesty to change your pants in his room while he waits outside even though he could probably close his eyes and still remember you naked. We laid in bed together, skin on skin, his arms around me spooning me from behind and suddenly, there it was - he was back. He slipped into this voice that I always remembered him using with me: soft, sweet, childlike. "I'm so glad you stayed", he whispered in my ear as he kissed my shoulders. I playfully bit him on the arm like I used to and he held me tighter, snuggling into my back. That bed became a time machine for the night.

In the morning, we woke up and were back to square one. He let me change in peace and drove me back to Erin's place. We gave a quick hug and waved goodbye and said how nice a time we had had and how it had been so good to see each other once again. I wish I hadn't had to lie. I wish I hadn't had to see him that way - vacant eyes and lost inside. It really pained me to see him so different and broken. But at least for that one moment at night, we were able to relive the past and put our present aside.

Like Crazy

A few weeks ago I had gone to see "50/50" and a trailer played for this movie during the previews:

 It's called "Like Crazy" and it's about a couple who meet and have a long-distance relationship. Having dealt with my own trials and tribulations in that area, I knew immediately that I had to see this movie. So yesterday as part of the Philadelphia Film Festival, I went and watched this film that was the darling of "Sundance" this year.

Anna is an exchange student from England who meets Jacob in college a few months before graduation. We start out seeing how their relationship begins and then how it's ultimately torn apart by her Visa issues banning her return to the US; both struggling to hold onto their love at so many thousand miles away. It's at this point that the movie begins to emit a feeling that perhaps only those of us who have been in a long-distance relationship can really relate to.

In one of the reviews I read for the film online, the viewer said that they felt a certain disconnect between the characters; that they were annoyed that the relationship is just given to them in bits and pieces, scenes of fun times the couple spend together laughing and playing, and that there's never any strength in the development. Well, that's kind of the point. There's never any progression of their relationship because there never can be while they're on two opposite sides of the globe.

While visiting Anna for the first time in England, Jacob complains "I don't feel like I'm a part of your life. I feel like I'm on vacation" and Anna laments how hard it is for them to keep always starting and stopping. That's how long distance relationships wind up working out unfortunately. You're always stopping and starting, having to pick up where you last left off; not just physically, but emotionally as well. You really do just feel like you are always on vacation, that you're not a permanent fixture in that other person's life. You don't get to experience their daily routines, hang out with their friends and family, to really nurture and grow that bond between you because you are always leaving. Perhaps I related to this movie most of all because, while Anna and Jacob are separated, they are basically going on with their own lives - moving forward in their careers, seeing other people while still having a deep emotional connection with each other inside - and that's basically how my relationship with Emmett played out.

Other films I've watched about LDRs have the characters frequently Skyping and texting or emailing, but sometimes when you're both in areas with such extreme differences in time zones, it's better to just stop trying to make it work after awhile. This is essentially what happens with Anna and Jacob. In the beginning they are trying to get their times synced; One night while out at a bar, Jacob calls Anna, who herself has just come home and is already in bed and he wakes up her. In another scene, Anna is leaving Jacob a voicemail and struggles to figure out what time 5 PM her time would be in his time so that they can talk in real time. While Jacob is able to come visit on a few occasions, the relationship is stunted because Anna can't reciprocate as she cannot enter the US due to her previous Visa ban. Anna's father jokes at dinner that maybe they should just get married and solve the issue altogether, but they brush it off as they are both still young and growing.

The most gripping part of the film for me was when Anna calls Jacob crying while he's out with his new girlfriend. She tells him that she loves him and can't live without him; he's the only one who understands her, understands how she thinks and feels, and no one else gets it. I started bawling because that's exactly how I feel with Emmett. No one gets me like he can, no one else can ever possibly understand like he can. Then, she says that they should just do it. They should get married so she can get the Visa and come back to America. Jacob agrees and heads off to England where they get married. According to Anna's lawyer, they will only have to wait six months after the wedding and they will be able to get her the spousal Visa needed to come to America. Unfortunately, because the issue with Anna's Visa came from the Student office, the judge cannot grant the marriage visa until they lift the ban. And so, the couple must part ways and live apart once more. They both return to the partners they were seeing in the meantime and going on with their lives, their marriage on the back burner.

Eventually, the day finally comes where the ban is lifted and Anna is able to travel to America. But at this point, so much time has passed, it's as though Jacob and Anna have become strangers. In the final scene, Anna arrives at Jacob's loft and everything seems so awkward, as they're unsure how to interact with each other now that Anna is here for good. Anna decides to take a shower at Jacob's apartment and he joins her. While they try to embrace and kiss, to rekindle their romance and enjoy this monumental moment that they had been waiting so long for, both are at quite a distance with each other emotionally. It's a complete contradiction to the affectionate wedding night scene between the two that we witness earlier. Suddenly, Anna walks out of the shower, leaving Jacob under the running water and the film ends.

The audience started laughing, perhaps out of discomfort, with a sense of 'That's it?? That's the end??", but I don't really think that anyone fully understood the meaning of that scene. Jacob and Anna had built this relationship up so much, they had worked so hard to fight with the Visas, to eventually be together, that - at the point when they finally got to be together for real - they just weren't sure that was what they wanted anymore. I completely understood because that's been my biggest fear. That if there were ever a moment where Emmett and I got to finally be together in the same place, at the same time, would I still want it? Would the feeling still be the same?

Or was it better to just always be on "vacation"?

The Lost Decade

Every year since 9/11 occurred, the same routine has been played out at the WTC site: families gather and read all the names of the victims, political figures loom and read poems, someone plays or sings some sentimental music in an effort to help people grieve and remember the tragedy of that day. I've watched the memorial on TV most years and until this year it never really hit me that maybe it's time to just let things be. Yes, the 10th anniversary is a big deal and should have been treated as such. The 9/11 memorial officially opened today and the families were treated to the first look at this glorious tribute to their loved ones. But instead of going above and beyond, the same routine was replayed over and over again on TV for 4 hours. I understand the need for people to mourn, but have these yearly memorials really been helpful? Have they helped to ease the pain or have they belittled a tragic event in our nation's history? Families of those lost on 9/11 live with the grief every day. They remember every day. And for the past 9 years we've grieved along with them on this day. But maybe, it's time to leave well enough alone. To let them deal with it on their own, to mourn and remember in their own ways.

Do we really need to continue these lethargic monologues and canned speeches being read by former Presidents and Governors and Mayors year after year? Who are we really doing it for at this point? For the people in the Midwest who have never even been to NY, never known anyone who died on 9/11, so they can have some kind of holiday to cling on to and celebrate with their God Bless Americas and their American flags and eagles on the back of their pickup trucks and their ignorance about Muslims? Several news outlets this week asked people to share their 9/11 stories, their "where were you" stories. I'm sorry if it makes me a bitch or an elitist or insensitive, but I don't need to hear the 9/11 story of someone who was 2000 miles away - to hear that on that day they were in their pig farm or in church or in their college dorm. I want to hear stories of real people, New Yorkers, who were there, who lived it, who knew people living it, who were terrified, who knew that in that moment their lives were changing forever.

......

September 11,2001: 9/11 meant a lot of different things to a lot of different people. But most of all, it meant something major for America. It mean that American would never be the same again. It seemed for every step forward America had made in its history, it was taking so many steps backward. In the days after, people began to turn on each other. There were hundreds of hate crimes against Muslims and widespread racial profiling. The Patriot Act was passed in the month following 9/11 to help "fight terrorism" along with a military campaign in the Middle East touted as the "War on Terror". The TSA was created in November 2001 to try and secure our airports as the hijackers were able to waltz past our seemingly lax airport security on 9/11. Ironically, Richard Reid - aka the Shoe Bomber - was able to board a flight just a few days before Christmas with a bomb in his shoe which he was attempting to light and blow up a plane. (Yeah, you can thank that guy for the whole annoying process of having to take your shoes off at the airport and holding up the security line. Way to go, bro.)

The Department of Homeland Security was created in 2002 and merged with INS to try and control immigration and our borders and released that oh-so-easy to remember color coded advisory chart.

What began in 2001 as an invasion in Afghanistan to capture Osama Bin Laden and his Al-Qaeda operatives strangely spread to Iraq in 2003, where we captured Saddam Hussein on December 13, 2003. (Hmm, that's funny. I don't remember Saddam Hussein having anything to do with the 9/11 attacks?)

2004: Michael Moore released his controversial documentary "Fahrenheit 9/11" in what was already a very controversial election year. Hoping to sway the vote toward the Democratic party by revealing the lies and deception of the Republican party, he opened the film with the results of the 2000 election in which Al Gore won the popular vote, yet surprisingly lost the election to George W. Bush. He continues to undermine the Bush administration, drudging up Bush's lack of reaction time during the morning of 9/11 as he stuck around to finish reading "My Pet Goat" to a group of elementary school students, as well Bush's service record in the National Guard. He also focuses on the fact that Government officials were aware of threats made by Osama Bin Laden and Al-Qaeda, yet failed to act accordingly and concludes that the military movement from Afghanistan to Iraq was driven by the thirst for Middle Eastern oil reserves and G Dubya's quest to get back at the guys who tried to kill his Daddy. Moore also highlights how the war's "Patriotism" marketing campaign has cost the lives of hundreds of thousands of young men and women, especially those in low income areas who were promised thousands of dollars in sign up bonuses to fight for their countries; bonuses that will never get used as these soldiers are never making it home from this war - and leaves many wondering what the real purpose of the war is for.

November 2, 2004: George W Bush, running on a ticket of religious ignorance, abortion banning and the promise to write an amendment against Gay marriage (aka the Defense of Marriage Act), is re-elected for a 2nd term on November 2, 2004, despite the best efforts of the Democratic party.

July 7, 2005: Bombings occur in London's transit system during rush hour. Islamic terrorists take credit.

August 9, 2006: A terrorist plot to use liquid explosives to blow up airplanes is uncovered. Thanks assholes. Because I really only need 3oz of shampoo on a week long vacation.

November 5, 2006: Saddam Hussein is found guilty of crimes against humanity.

December 30, 2006: Saddam Hussein is hanged to death. A grainy cell-phone video of the execution makes waves across the internet.

September 2007: Oil passes the $80/barrel mark.

October 2007: Oil passes the $90 mark.

January 2, 2008: Oil passes the $100 mark for the first time ever.

January 21, 2008: Stock markets plummet on the possibility of a US recession, fueled by the subprime mortgage crisis.

August 28, 2008: Barack Obama becomes the first African American nominee for President. His campaign promises hope and change. Many questions are raised about his background and heritage as he was born of a white mother and an African father in Hawaii and attended school overseas in Indonesia. Some questioned if he was really born in the US at all and therefore that would make him ineligible to run for president. Some claimed that he was a Muslim because of his middle name of Hussein and was in cahoots with the terrorists and couldn't be trusted. Others still simply were racist against him for being African American. However, Obama was overwhelmingly popular with the youth vote, with the minority vote and a star with celebrities - being backed by many of the biggest names in Hollywood.

November 5, 2008: Barack Obama is elected the first "Black President" in the history of the United States. He promises Universal healthcare for all the to bring all of our troops home by 2011.

January 20, 2009: Barack Obama is official inaugurated as the 44th president of the United States.

May 2, 2011: Osama Bin Laden has been captured in Pakistan and killed in a compound by Navy SEAL team 6. This is later confirmed in a public address by President Obama on live television. He proclaims that this was never a war on Islam - Bin Laden was murderer, not a leader, killing many people including his own.

Today:
The American economy is in shambles as a result of the War on Terror. Billions of dollars that were dumped into defense were siphoned from areas of our country that could have used it the most. Banks go under and President Obama attempts to try and bail them out. 14 million American are without jobs and the unemployment rate hovers at 10%. Our Government almost defaulted on its debts and America's credit rating dropped. Republicans and Democrats are at odds fighting over their own political bullshit as millions of Americans feel lost, buried in the rubble - hopeless, jobless, homeless.

Peace? Freedom? Equality? What do those things even mean anymore? They're nothing but lost symbols of what America used to be. In a year before what could possibly be an even more important election then our last, where is all that Hope and Change now? We as Americans want to believe in it, to believe it exists, that it can happen and help. That things can change so that we have hope. We hope that our Government will put our interests above their own and create change. We don't need any more buzzwords in this upcoming election - We need action. We need results. We know that it's tough but it can be done.

Tomorrow, President Obama will present his American Jobs Act to Congress which he hopes will jump start the economy. We need this, not just as a people but as a nation. America needs this to move forward, to reclaim this lost decade of progress and to make America the great nation we remember it being 10 years ago.Sure, we still have a lot of ground to recover but perhaps 10 years from now we will be having a different kind of memorial: a memorial of the day when America got a brand new start.