i'm freaking ready...

bring it on, 2009.
I'm ready for a new year and a new slate.
I'm ready for new adventures and change.
I'm ready to travel entirely by myself for the first time in my life, on MY terms and on MY schedule.
I'm ready to go back to school and make a career change that will pull me out of the current "single-serving" Fight Club (before all the fighting started)-esque existence.
I'm ready to take my life back.
I'm ready to move forward.
I'm ready for our new President to take office.
I'm ready to rebuild my savings account (and I'm even ready to start the whole student loan process again)
I'm ready to use the cute tips I found online to redecorate my apartment using construction paper (!!??)
I'm ready to stop missing him and I'm ready to stop counting days/weeks/months since I last felt "ok". The truth is that I hadn't felt "ok" for a while.
I'm ready to stand up for myself, to stand on my own, and to stop feeling pulled in every direction but the direction I want to go in.
I'm ready to stop being jealous of other people's lives, and start living my own.
I'm ready to make changes that will get me out of LA...and lead me to the next adventure...

2009 is going to be amazing.

soundtrack...saturday evening edition

1) single ladies (put a ring on it)...beyonce

2) lover, you should have come over...jeff buckley

3) rehab...rihanna

4) liked you better before...little jackie

5) no surprises...radiohead

6) back to black...amy winehouse

7) american boy...estelle (featuring kanye west)

8) about a girl...the academy is...

9) i don't blame you...cat power

10) new shoes...paolo nutini

11) say you miss me...wilco

12) lonely...yeal naim

13) a gentleman caller...cursive

14) on the radio...regina spektor

15) wisemen...james blunt

on keys and the holidays...

there is a key sitting on my front desk.

this key is not on a key ring anymore. it doesn't clink and slap against other keys, those which were used far more often in the past 3 months than this single, lone key.

it is just a key.

but this key was more for me. it was a symbol. it signified more than a key probably should. a key is just hard metal, bent and pressed and shaped to fit the lock on my door, with a band of teal plastic to distinguish from the other keys it used to hang out with. and now, it is alone, sitting on my front desk and waiting for a purpose again, waiting for meaning.

my initial thought was to immediately pass it off to a girlfriend, someone who lives close and could check in on my apartment while i travel, someone who should have a key "just in case." someone who won't use it to surprise me when i come home from business trips. someone who won't use it to enter after a day at work, holding flowers, or some other surprise they've brought to dinner.

but i can't. it meant so much for me to give him that key. it was access. to me and my life. which was something that i resisted giving to anyone for so long.

that key can't NOT have meaning. it would be a waste.

so i'll leave it on my front desk for now...until i'm ready to let him go.

there are very few things as heartbreaking as watching someone you love walk away from you. walk away from the life you had together, carrying the remnants of that life in his hands.

but that's what i did.  i watched him walk away with all that was left of his physical presence in my apartment.  he is officially gone, gone, gone.  and he left the key behind.

and now it is christmas.  it is christmas, and i have a key and memories of the holidays past, when love was fresh on our tongues, families were met, presents exchanged, and a christmas dinner was prepared by a jewish girl from los angeles for a family in utah.

it is the most gut-wrenchingly painful holiday season of my life, with these memories of what was, and thoughts of what i believe should be.

but i am launching myself forward as hard as i can.

i have been filling my time with friends.  they are my holiday gift from the universe, these friends of my very own, and we share stories, drink coffee, drink liquor, laugh at each other as we dress up in silly outfits for theme parties, put on our favorite outfits and make fools of ourselves at karaoke, show up in the middle of the afternoon on a weekday to drink vodka and cry together, watch ridiculous movies...and generally love each other.

maybe he won't come back.

and maybe...maybe it will be ok.

it's a little bit funny...

there are actual parts of the day when i forget to miss you.

the sharp and thrusting pain has dulled into something worse...a constant ache that is manageable, but never gone completely.

i'm moving forward...i guess. i go out with friends. i eat meals. i can even listen to some music. i sleep through the night for the most part.

but sometimes the effort of moving forward throws me back.

i flirt with other men...but that feels futile and i don't really put much effort into it. i even slept with another man. the sex was fine, but it made me miss you too much, and i kicked him out of my las vegas hotel room less than five minutes after he finished. i think he was upset.

it all makes me feel more than a little dead inside.

i stumbled across some old emails from when we first started dating...i wonder what happened to that couple? the couple who said things like "you quiet my soul" and "you have a beautiful spirit" and "i don't expect anything. i just want you." they were good together.

it's funny that, even now, it's the same for me. i just want you.

i yelled at you last week. for the first time ever. even when we were together, we never yelled. last week i fully embraced my rage, and the idea that i don't have to sugar coat jack-shit for you anymore. it felt great. i raged at you for about an hour, then we settled back into our usual habit of easy talking and laughing.

we diffuse each other.

you quieted my soul right up until the end. now it's all about when you're going to come collect your things, making sure i get everything of mine from your place, going on trips without each other and wishing you would wake up, grow up, get a clue, anything to shake you back into realizing that this is an exercise is futility.

you have gone on 3 trips without me since it happened. 3 trips that i tried to get you to go on with me for over a year.

we celebrated halloween apart.

we will celebrate thanksgiving apart. christmas. new year's. then our birthdays.

next week i go on another business trip. and next week, another business trip will end with me coming home to an empty apartment.

baby. i still just want you. it's just that simple. and just that complicated.

may i cut in?

well, well, well...here we are again.

depression, my old friend. the constant and steady unwanted compadre that follows me throughout happiness and revels in my despair.

why are you such a bitch?

everytime i get just a bit out of your reach, you catch on to my coattails and manage to pull me back safely into your arms. you howl in pain when i find happiness, and seem fulfilled and glowing when i end up weeping in your arms.

your black velvet skin (i hate velvet) is wet with what seems like an endless supply of tears...every time i run out, you rush to refill the reservoir, like my sad sad soul is a brita filter that you use to filter out the good thoughts like the lead in my LA public water.

and, of course, you seem to become a more complex mistress everytime we are re-introduced. what's this now? social anxiety? bitterness? isolation? well, pile it on, lady, we're having a pity party, and no one is invited. you're a mean mean bouncer at the club of my heartache.

and i am putty in your hands

you tell me to push away the things and people who could help me.
and i do.

you tell me to sit alone and avoid human contact.
and i do.

you tell me to be angry...but not too angry because then no one will love me...
and i do.

you tell me to believe you when you say i will never be ok again.
and i do.

i believe all of it. the loneliness, the isolation, the anger, the sadness - oh, the deep, deep sadness - all of it adding up to another dance with the lady in black.

and this time, i don't feel like fighting it.

the war...

i cannot drag myself up from my melancholy.
i cannot peel myself off the floor.
interacting with others hurts my eyes
i feel like i have to squint to see straight.
i want to curl up into myself
and at the same time make myself large enough
to destroy entire cities (picture a sobbing godzilla).

i want to be quiet
but i want to rage.
i don't want to be touched
but i want to fuck
total strangers
who don't know me.
know nothing about me.
(no, i don't give a shit about your dog.)
fuck them wildly and then politely
excuse myself from their presence.
so i can go back to being small and quiet.

i don't want them in my house
or my town.
i want them to make me forget
just for one moment that we were happy
and great
for awhile.
and that once
for once
i wanted for nothing.

i want to throw things and break
windows (and your face)
and hurt everyone.
and i want to stay in this corner with
my chin on my knees
where no one can see or touch
me.

i want to be invisible so i can scream and
no one will know it's me.
i want to disappear into nothing
and forget and that i loved.
that i ever knew what love is.

i want to remove you from the fabric
of my soul
so i will weave over
that fabric.
with meaningless people whose names
i will forget on purpose.
with the regrettable follies of youth
that i never wanted.
with myself - closing myself
in.

it's not there.
but it always is.
i want to hate you forever
but i want you even more.
i don't believe this is something i will
recover from.

i fucking hate you.
why won't you just come home?

routine...

saturday mornings are the hardest.

i'm still trying to find the rhythm of my new life.

i took so much pleasure in the routine we had fallen into...we would sleep in, i would make coffee while you made eggs (because the one thing i cannot cook is eggs...), we would do the thing we always joked about..."nest"...the stupid yuppie shit that i used to make fun of...farmer's markets, wandering around town puttering, holding hands...

so these days, i sleep in if i can (i can't really), and when i wake up - for some stupid reason, my brain hasn't processed the idea that you won't be there next to me - i get that sinking feeling of reality setting in.  i make myself coffee...too much coffee...and i have a cigarette...too many cigarettes...and i set about filling my saturdays...

finding a new rhythm, a new pattern, a pattern for myself, that doesn't involve you.

which is pretty impossible, because you are everywhere and in everything.

our rhythm...the rhythm of our lives together...is over...the sweet little ways and details i loved are gone...i'm done, tapped out, exhausted from the hours of crying, re-building the walls, hoarding the love i have left like gold, pushing everyone away.

my rhythm looks like solitude right now.  avoiding social situations, keeping my own counsel, asking no one for help, letting the anger seep into my bones.  i just want to be alone.  the smiles i force feel so fake on my lips, and i haven't really laughed in a month.

shit.  a month.  a whole fucking month.

my rhythm is in counting days since it happened, counting days until i get to go away.  i have to create my own things to look forward to, since you took away the daily joy i had.  so i'm going on a trip.  by myself.  my own adventure.

my own life.  MY own rhythm.