Cinderella Syndrome

When I have a little girl, I want her to read fairy tales and love the idea of having a romance that is so big and true that it will last forever.

When I have a little girl, I want her to know that she is strong enough to rescue herself.  She doesn't need a man for that. 

When I have a little girl, I want her to know that she is beautiful, and not because she "fits the images in magazines" or because people tell her 2 seconds after meeting her how pretty she is.  I want her to know that she is beautiful because she is good, has charisma, is intelligent, and has an open and loving heart.

When I have a little girl, I want her to know that she can do whatever she wants, have whatever job/career she wants to do, live however she wants to live, dress whoever she wants to dress.

When I have a little girl, I want her to live her life in full colour, I want her to laugh out loud, I want her to dance in the streets, I want her to love freely, I want her to live out every single one of her adventures.

When I have a little girl, I want her to have everything she ever wanted.

When I have a little girl...will the world be ready for her?

hard girl

The music was blaring on the radio and through the open windows as I sat there in the car driving home from Dallas, after having my heart broken. It was heavier than lead, but I still couldn't help but smile as the sun was shining into my car, warming up the left side of my face.  249 miles down and an eternity of driving after that before I could collapse into my bed.  Home seemed so far away and I was already tired of driving.

I pulled off the road for gas, cigarettes and lime tic-tacs.  As I made my way back to the car, I lit one up, throwing the crumpled paper onto the hot black asphalt.  Each drag just solidified all the crap that I was feeling;  never mind the accomplishments for the year, including being called and landing a job any idiot would envy.  Any idiot but this one was what I was thinking as I lit up my second cigarette.

I could feel myself hardening with each deep breath of smoke I took.  Fuck it.  Let him have that Betty-Crocker-June-Cleaver-fucking-only-on-Sundays kind of bitch.

I'm done.

Dearest k

Dearest k,

for some reason that doesn't sound so strange anymore.  Maybe it's because lately I've come to know just how dear you are to me.  I really don't know what to say now.  I'm kinda tired, and a bit strung out at the moment.  I don't know what to do anymore.  I'm sure of one thing though;  I'm not going to stop loving you no matter what anyone says.  I've never let anyone else make my decisions for me, and I'll be damned if I'm going to let anyone tell me to walk away from the best thing that has ever happened to me, especially him.  I'm not sure what else I want to say, and chances are, if I did know, I'd rather say it in person.  Actually, if I was there with you, I'd just sit there and hold you.  So what else is new...

I don't have the words but right now the feelings that I am holding in my heart are enough to make it burst (and there's saxophone music playing in the background of my head...ha ha ha).

Remember one thing;  no matter how this turns out, no matter what happens, remember that I love you.  No matter where we are or who we're with, I love you.

always,
J

A small love note, k

I am sorry to have to cancel our plans tomorrow, k.

I really wanted to see you.  I really enjoy all the time we spend together, especially when I get to see your smile.  I really wanted to see you, and to hold you and to feel you next to me.  I don't know what it is about you, but nobody has ever been able to make me feel the way that you do.  I don't know why, but when you just look at me, even for a fleeting moment, my heart races, the blood starts pumping, the adrenaline gets up and I have to fight to stay in control and keep myself from taking you into my arms, kissing you long, kissing you hard, kissing you like you've never been kissed before.  Don't get me wrong.  There is so much more to our relationship other than that. I've never felt such a strong emotional bond with anyone or anything as I do with you.  The questions you ask of me force me to the ends of my intellect, and force me to quite often examine my moral standing, and my beliefs.  I know you don't realize all of this. I know you don't think that talking to you is anything but silly and boring, but that couldn't be further from the truth.  Truth is, I love talking to you.  You challenge me intellectually, you give me insight into you and who you are.  You entertain me with jokes and stories and throw in enough gossip to keep it interesting.  Best of all, you almost always end by saying you love me.  What more can I ask for?  To be honest, you could call, tell me you love me and hang up, and I'd still be happy.

But the thing I love most is holding you.  I've always been a kind of affectionate kind of guy.  You noticed too?  What gave it away?  I only wish I got to hold you more.  It seems like every time I get a good hold going, you up and change positions and interrupt me.  Sheesh, the nerve of some people.  I'm only kidding, but I do wish I got to hold you more often.  I think I've finally found someone with whom I can have a complete relationship.  Do you want to know who she is??  I have a feeling I'm going to get hit for that last sentence!

I can talk to you, you let me hold you, and you hold me back, you do the little things for me even though you don't know what they are.  You appreciate my cheese, you're beautiful, you have spirit, you are witty, funny and smart and on top of all that, you do it for me!  I love you so much.  All of you.  The way you love me is the stuff legends are made of.

Lovingly,
J

i am a terrible blogger

The title says it all;  I am a terrible blogger.  I know I am a terrible blogger.  I think part of it is because I know that no one is reading this blog.  I write for myself.  I write to etch the feelings and moments of my life into the universe, with the hopes of growing and learning from my moments. 

I am a terrible blogger.

I always wonder....if I knew someone was reading my words, would I be more diligent about writing?  Would I censor my feelings and my confessions?  Would I be more open if someone would offer me a word of support?  A word of shared experience?  I don't know.

So much has gone on in my life these past few months, years since I started writing sporadically.  I don't even know how to catalog the events of my life in my own mind/heart, let alone here in the universe.

All I know is that it is always here for me when I am ready to write about my experiences.  It is always here waiting to listen to all that I have to confess. 

For that, I am grateful.

where are you going today, my friend?

I've been obsessing wondering a lot lately about what I am doing, where I am going, who I am. Am I having a midlife crisis? Am I just floundering in between jobs?

Dear God, what AM I doing?

I have a job. Is it my passion? I don't think so. Does it bring me personal happiness and satisfaction? Yes, it does. So what does that mean? Everybody is always telling me to follow my passion, but what if my passion is eating cake? How do I follow that? And don't suggest baker because I don't have the stamina for baking and decorating a cake.

I sat down this afternoon and read old love letters from high school, university and graduate school. All of this love and pondering and disappointment. People who have said they have learned, they have grown, they have loved and moved on. I was so different then, and I am so different now, and the one thing that I know is that I am still looking for purpose. I am still searching for the "mark" that I am supposed to be leaving on this earth.

Where is it? What is it supposed to be? For some people it is a financial goal. For others, it is family and children. But I guess I still don't know what it looks like for me.

A lover once sent me a drunken email almost 10 years ago and the words haunt me to this day,

"I can't promise that I'll grown those wings or keep this tarnished halo shined, but I'll never betray your trust, angel mine".

I feel like this myself. I cannot promise you, or you, or even you that I will always be the perfect creature you think I am, or the image I project out to the world. But if you stay with me, if you stick with this rough ride, I will never betray your trust. I will always try to become a better version of myself.

If you let me....

Where did these tears come from?

I sat watching a movie on tv this past Sunday. I won't tell you which one it was, but lets just say that it was one I was glad I was watching alone.

The female lead of the movie was wondering where the sparkle goes after you've been in a relationship for some time and how does it get replaced with...comfort? Dullness? Complacency?

The the male lead does something reminicent of the past. He calls her on the phone, tells her to get ready for dinner because he is taking her out and that if she looks out her window, he is waiting for her in his car.

For some psychotic strange reason, I start crying. The tears were streaming down my face from both eyes like a water fountain.

What was going on here? Why was I crying? He wasn't waiting outside my window to take me out, this was just a movie.

I came to realize that I was mourning a relationship of my past; one that was full of romance and "sparkle". He would show up in the middle of the night with surprise phone calls. We would wander the streets of various cities together and he would surprise me with lemonade, cookies and marriage proposals.

All of this emotion pouring out of me left me thinking, when does the emotion disappear? How long do you mourn past loves, past lives, past romance? Does it ever go away?