Tag: heart

dominoes and Dostoevsky

My god, a moment of bliss. Why, isn’t that enough for a whole lifetime?

Fyodor Dostoevsky, White Nights

I feel like I spent the past year setting up dominoes for hours and hours (read: months and months) and now it’s finally time to knock the first domino over and watch everything that I so carefully planned fall into place.

Some things aren’t an explosive firework result, but more like a steady match. Maybe most things. A slow and steady burn yields better results than a wild blaze.

It’s easy to come up with dreams and live them out in your head. But how revolutionary it is to bring them to fruition and see them manifest.

Now, after waiting and plowing and sowing and watering, I feel like I’m seeing the sprouts grow. The foundation was laid, the work is done.

I think I’m going to let myself be excited. Let myself get my hopes up because I worked for it, goddamnit. I worked so hard for so many months and then I got to rest for a bit and now we’re back with new challenges but I’m excited to face them because I know I can. (read: I KNOW I CAN.)

I just finished my to-do list and it’s time to make a new one.

I think a butterfly just flew out of my mouth

I can’t stop thinking about the butterfly thing, where he really said I think a butterfly just flew out of my mouth. And it doesn’t make me feel how it did at all any more, but it is so easy to remember how it used to make me feel. Like I’m watching myself act it out in a little movie.

I remember how much I reread that text over and over and over and over and I could have survived off of just knowing that someone felt that way about anyone. I only need three hours of sleep and a daydream when I feel like that.

Where you keep starting to do something and just forget right in the middle of it because he said he got butterflies from thinking about you so you drop everything and lay on the floor to ground yourself before you go flying into the Milky Way. And every time you pass by a mirror you go !!!! She Knows Something I’m Afraid To Think and you give yourself that little smile and can’t even let your own eyes meet or you’ll lose your grip on gravity yet again.

How strange it is that we can even get to that point. Where all you feel is !!!! and the butterflies in your tummy fly up to your heart and out of your throat and out of your mouth right in the middle of the airport and everyone’s wondering how did a monarch butterfly land right here in Terminal 3? But you hardly even notice because of all the butterflies still trying to make your feet lift right off of the ground so you swallow a thousand times until you feel about 60% certain that everybody can’t tell you’re in Big L.

He sent it from the airport. We weren’t texting before and I didn’t know how to reply. I probably read it a hundred times before I even thought about how to answer and the funny thing is I can’t remember how I answered at all. Some memories are like that. I remember exactly how I felt and how I pictured him sending the message and how it made me feel for the longest time, but I don’t know what I said back. Probably something mediocre because how can you beat a lyricist at the word game and in general I never know what to say just that I feel too much of it.

The picture is from Jude Guench, from a short story called The Butterfly Eater. I feel it is much more appropriate to how I feel now and in a way I feel like our stories parallel each other’s.

Timing and direction

I looked for someone to fall in love with and all I got was a quick-talking new friend who is maybe as smart as he thinks he is.

I think everything happens for a reason, and we meet the people we are supposed to meet for a purpose. I could never date someone who expected life to just work out 50/50 all the time, but I can be friends with just about anyone. Read: I like the way you talk pointedly but you never kissed me.

I love an ambitious, smart man just ask much as the next girl but who is more emotionally intelligent – the accountant or a bag of carrots? Read: I wish you would have kissed me so I would have known if there was (a lack of?) something there.

I’m not necessarily private about my life but I do not bring up anything about myself unless directly asked. Read: Did you know I got into all of the universities you covet and did you know I have twice the ambition of your jobless, immature ex?

But I’m always a good listener, and you can talk an ear off. I think you spoke for us both too soon. I am cool, and I am much more. But you’ll never know now because we’re going to become the best of friends and I will always keep you at an arm’s distance. You’ll never know anything concrete about me, but if you did, I bet you’d fall to your knees and your glasses would fall off your face from the shock. Read: I hope the pavement tastes like regret, like trying to text me after revealing too much.

Maybe if you’d went in another direction. Maybe if it was a different time.

invasion of privacy

How are we ever supposed to care about somebody when we’re so busy pretending not to care?

It’s cliche and overdone, but I want to go to the Louvre next year. I will either walk into the museum with my hand firmly planted into the palm of someone else’s hand, or I will walk in alone and happy. I want to explore Paris, in love. Maybe I’ll be with a beautiful tall man or maybe I will be with my beautiful tall self and either way I will be in love.

I think I set up these big brick walls so that nobody would ever make me feel vulnerable again and it’s just resulted in hours upon hours of boring small talk that makes me feel small when I am capable of big intelligent interesting conversations that leave me with more questions than when I started.

I want to commit an act of invasion of privacy. I don’t want to hear about how you secretly like long walks on the beach because everybody with a beating heart likes the sound of water, the colors cast on the sea while the sun sets, and seeing footprints in the sand. We live in California, goddamn it, of course you fucking love the beach.

I want to know if your parents are together or if they are divorced, and why. What did they teach you about life and love that you bring into your own? Did you get along with your siblings? What’s your full name and why did your parents choose that? Were there any other names they were considering and how might your life have been different if you were named Geoff instead of Jeff? I want to learn something from you that I didn’t know I wanted to know.

I want to let you pole vault across my big brick walls of safety and I want to tell you about hyperbolic discounting, and why I think we get anxiety from placing salience on the wrong things. I want to geek out over how much I know about my boy Ben (as in Benjamin Franklin himself), and admit that the second degree I got was for fun. I can tell you all about love and sex in the history of America, because I’ve read hundreds of love letters from dead American couples for my senior thesis.

Tell me about somewhere I’ve never been, about how it feels to be able to fix a broken watch and hear it tick again and know that you put something back together with your hands and how that’s when you decided you were going to be a good engineer.

Above all, argue with me. Tell me I’m not right, and prove me wrong. I’ve never felt challenged intellectually in a relationship and now it’s my top desire in a man. I’m tired of the first two weeks of knowing someone getting filled up with misspelt “your beautiful,” because they never specify exactly what part of me is beautiful and I’m left on a riveting cliffhanger that never gets answered after we have one boring date and never talk again but they always reply with heart-eye emojis to my selfies forevermore.

I don’t know how to ask for these things and I‘m afraid that I come across as someone that may be incapable of connecting on a deeper level.

I don’t know when it’s appropriate to politely say, “Obviously we both find each other attractive or we wouldn’t be on this date, so let’s skip to the chase and peel back the layers of heartbreak that made us so tough to get to know and let’s really get to know each other for the next two hours so that we can make an informed decision on whether there’s something here or not and decide if we should see each other again or not waste our time.”

Is that not recommended? It’s not in my copy of the Why Men Love Bitches book, and it’s not in the “What Guys Really Want To Hear” articles in Cosmopolitan. I know I’m supposed to only be available two-thirds of the time so that he finds me mysterious, and that I have to wait four hours before replying to his Snapchat, but how am I ever supposed to care about someone if I’m busy acting like I don’t care about them?

I live a fulfilling, exciting life. I have the job that I want, my own apartment, a nice little cat, and the best friends ever. I am comfortable with myself and I am proud of my accomplishments. I want to learn more, travel more, and I want to fall in great love with someone that I get to experience new things with. I’m not in a rush, but I am so over 50 First Dates with 50 Boring Guys.

I know it’ll come at the right time, and I guess the right time isn’t now, but lately I’ve been wishing it was. Being in love would probably make this pandemic suck less. For now, I’m just going to live vicariously through Zac Efron’s Down to Earth show and keep trying to perfect my homemade gnocchi recipe.

boundaries

Having boundaries in general, with a lot of people in your life, is good.

“I love people.  I love my family, my children ….. but inside myself is a place where I live all alone, where I renew my springs that never dry up…..”

Pearl S. Buck

I’ve lived in the world of right and wrong for so long that I forgot the grey area, the place where most things exist. Now I have accepted the ability to realize that most things are not mutually exclusive. There is good, there is bad, but nobody and nothing is 100% both. There is peace within the chaos and there is chaos when there is peace. I know that now, and it is within my power to accept both in my heart.

By being able to focus on things that are not people-oriented, I am able to grow as a person. By not focusing on pleasing someone, or trying to stay in contact at all times, I am focusing on myself.

Setting up boundaries isn’t bad. You don’t owe it to anyone to be available 24/7 for whenever they need you. You do owe it to yourself to available 24/7 for yourself when you need you.

One of the best things I have done over the past couple months is turn off notifications on my social media. I set a boundary between me and others, and I feel like I have a healthier relationship with my phone now because of it. It also makes me happier to see what my friends are up to, because I genuinely want to know. I’m not just mindlessly switching between apps for no reason.

Set boundaries, be happy!

compatibility + obsession = love?

Last night I sat and talked with a very old friend of mine for hours. We talked about love, and contemplated whether the kind of love that hopeless romantics like us look for is even real. Is the formula for love compatibility + infatuation? I think I have only ever felt one, or the other, and finding a combination of those seems impossible. But at the same time it’s everywhere; it’s in every book I’ve ever read, it’s what I see when I look at my parents’ relationship.

I once said that I was a closet hopeless romantic. My friend responded by saying: 

“Oh my god. You are the most out of the closet hopeless romantic. You are literally running in the streets screaming through a megaphone letting everybody know exactly who you are at all times.”

I am a goal-oriented person. I make goals and then I obsess completely about them until they are reached. I am like a tiny little ant lifting a crumb to bring to the queen. Goal. Goal. Goal. This is a very good way to be when it comes to my career.

One of my biggest goals is to fall in love, but you can’t will yourself into love or set aside some time to do so. I don’t think that the heart really takes your goals under consideration. Hearts are very inconsiderate things.

There will never be a right time, but I think that there is a right person. You just have to find that compatibility and then become infatuated with them (or vice versa), and exist in that state forever. Sounds easy, right?

With dating apps it’s easy to trick yourself into thinking that you decide when you get to fall in love, but I just don’t know if that’s how it really works.

I still hope that I’ll meet someone at a party, and he’ll say he couldn’t stop staring at me from across the room. Or at a coffee shop, where he asks “is this seat taken?” and we begin a deep conversation. Or I’m in my favorite book store, and he will compliment my impeccable taste in literature and fall in love with me.

it’s weird that they say hopeless romantics when it’s just the opposite. I’m so full of hope for romance, and I’m so happy that it exists. I just want a taste of it for my own.

the good is slippery, the bad sticks

Today I was in my first day of media training, and one thing that the instructor said stuck out.

This is about the field of crisis communications and public relations, but I think it applies. The instructor said you can have lots of good moments in your company but nobody really ever remembers those. Those memories are slippery. But if you have one Delta airlines, Starbucks, Tide Pods, Nike, or Boeing fiasco, it sticks.

You remember the bad better than you remember the good and that’s why when things are bad they feel so much worse than when things are good.

The good is there, though. Even if it is slippery.