Meagan, I suppose I owe you some things, as I owe many people. But for some reason, you have captured me.
Meagan, you are crazy. You are hot mess smeared make up, racial slur screaming crazy.
I want you to move in so I can take care of you.
I love your kisses, I love kissing you. I love laying next to your spectacular body in bed and waking up to your adoration in the morning.
Cigarettes, grey t-shirts.
I want to dote on you.
This is going to be a list of reason I have disappointed you, and probably will forever.
1) Meagan, I also am a hot mess. For the last six years I have stumbled in and out of sobriety, back rooms of bars, fist fights, fire storms and unrequitted love. Homelessness, desperation, being utterly alone.
2) I am boy crazy.I fall singularly in love with one woman, who I carry in my heart. But through out this time, I chase boys, putting all my emotions into them. I believe you are the answer and I'm still running from the question.
3) Meagan, I have told you about Keith. You led me to heart break. I suspect you have slept with him, and I can not and will not ever forgive you for that. I'm sure he doesn't give a shit about you, and I'm sure you feel the same way about him, but that is a shot at my foundation and no matter how shitty I may have been to you, I did not deserve that.
You are selfish, difficult to handle, and vaguely insincere. You are often embarrassing to have around. My friends said, "she would have been cool if she hadn't been trying to impress you so hard."
You are beautiful and passionate.
I have a difficult time sorting through all these emotions for you, and that is why I have been so slow to respond to you.
I promise I will pull through this and we can be together or not.
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Thursday, December 4, 2008
holding pattern
"the home front has dissolved,
reinforcements needed,
coordinates unknown.
send help."
Seems like every time I sit down to write in this blog, it starts with "moved again."
I've moved again, to Oswego.
It is hard to say if this time it was a mistake but by the way it looks it certainly was one of the most breathtaking mistakes I have ever made.
But I think it was a coordinated effort on the part of my guts and my glands.
Leading me on.
If you don't talk about it, does it go away?
If you don't look at it does it exist?
I think I found something important here in the smoldering ruins but it's buried in ash and too hot to touch yet.
The cold has come and time will tell.
reinforcements needed,
coordinates unknown.
send help."
Seems like every time I sit down to write in this blog, it starts with "moved again."
I've moved again, to Oswego.
It is hard to say if this time it was a mistake but by the way it looks it certainly was one of the most breathtaking mistakes I have ever made.
But I think it was a coordinated effort on the part of my guts and my glands.
Leading me on.
If you don't talk about it, does it go away?
If you don't look at it does it exist?
I think I found something important here in the smoldering ruins but it's buried in ash and too hot to touch yet.
The cold has come and time will tell.
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Update, October
Life happens so fast now.
1) Michael and I broke up immediately after moving into our new house, which is in every way for the best.
2) My hand was forced and I put Onyx down earlier than Michael and I had planned. I drink to the fucking bravest soul the world has ever seen, my best friend and love of my life. Onyx, life goes on like always without you but I'll never forget you and have taken steps to ensure that. Stinky still sleeps with your dog toys, secretly quietly behind the couch in his own silence. We all love you and hope your pain has ceased. O-dog for ever.
3) Dating someone new, who knows how that will turn out. Life is unpredictable which is easy to say now but it's hard to stop planning.
A word on the recent economic shock waves.
BRING IT ON. I hope to god the economy is quickly destroyed and leaves room for a new synthesis.
Anarchy? Anyone?
More to say on that later, working out a couple different papers in my brain right now and it inhibits it inhibits the free thoughts.
Notes on boys with beards:
Thank you, sir. If you are the last squirrelly intellectual I ever meet, I could deal with that.
1) Michael and I broke up immediately after moving into our new house, which is in every way for the best.
2) My hand was forced and I put Onyx down earlier than Michael and I had planned. I drink to the fucking bravest soul the world has ever seen, my best friend and love of my life. Onyx, life goes on like always without you but I'll never forget you and have taken steps to ensure that. Stinky still sleeps with your dog toys, secretly quietly behind the couch in his own silence. We all love you and hope your pain has ceased. O-dog for ever.
3) Dating someone new, who knows how that will turn out. Life is unpredictable which is easy to say now but it's hard to stop planning.
A word on the recent economic shock waves.
BRING IT ON. I hope to god the economy is quickly destroyed and leaves room for a new synthesis.
Anarchy? Anyone?
More to say on that later, working out a couple different papers in my brain right now and it inhibits it inhibits the free thoughts.
Notes on boys with beards:
Thank you, sir. If you are the last squirrelly intellectual I ever meet, I could deal with that.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Update, July 2008
I haven't been writing recently. I've found that in periods of up-upheaval, introspection is painful and perspective impossible.
It is hard to think that betrayal has been the most constant thread in my life these last 3 or 4 years. And it's not to say that it has been the most prominent thread, but it has been there. To imagine my life in terms of a woven fabric, there would be many different and fantastic colors and textures. Yes, there would be an overwhelming presence of coarse raw wool representing drug use, depression, drinking, absence of feelings, oppressive loneliness, and the ever present failure. However, there would be silk interrupters of fun and friends and good weather and simple pleasures.
But betrayal is there all along, perhaps acting even as the warp.
Holding the rest there, the predominant structure.
This has been painful. Michael, a victim of its grating harp strings for the first time, is struggling as well.
We had had a plan and a force operating outside of us and independent of us has torn our plan apart.
So what now?
Now we examine the future critically. What are we doing? I never know what he's doing, as I don't think he does either. I watch him closely sometimes and it often appears that his actions occur only milliseconds after the thought, which is to say, there is no premeditation. Perhaps I constantly underestimate him. He is a photographer with drawers full of film and no photos. He is "in the moment."
I, on the other hand, revile the moment! The moment forces me into the next and the next as if I were stuck marching in this relentless band formation. How do I escape the moment? How to reverse one's fortune when one moment begets the next?
This is the impossible task at hand.
I plan and create "mind trajectories" for myself, convinced that if I believe that is the direction, that will be the direction.
So far this theory has met with failure. Betrayal in this sense is my anti-hero, the force driving against me. Failure is the aftermath.
I am right now meeting with some of my most authentic successes. They are paired with some of the most painful turns of event. Is this always the truth?
However, it has opened us up. We are willing and ready to move, we are no longer tied to Syracuse as the "cheap rent" and "easy" option. We are exploring. This opens up the option to me to go to the school that will really provide me with the learning experience that I want. I am aiming to go to a selective school, not because it's well known. I want to work for myself so a big name diploma will only get me so far. I want to work with good minds. I want to have conversations that will help me grow intellectually. This is the driving force.
So, how do I want to grow? Which direction? I've decided that grant writing might be a good money generator. Theoretically, I would want my job and my passion tied together, but since my passions are so ethereal, I can't imagine that happening. Grant writing seems like a good way to procure a salary and be able to work within my own sense of ethics.
Here is the second problem. I operate within my own separate framework. My ethics and ideals are not tied to my friends or my country. I identify with the individualist anarchist ideal. Voltarine deCleyre is my hero. I am lonely in the pursuit. I have no one around me to talk about this with, to expand upon my knowledge. I have constant battles to fight with no army. I am bored to death of the "button anarchists," and I don't believe their activism or collectivism begets anything but confusion. Perhaps I have become jaded, lost the path.
At this point in my life I am interested in studying the great theorists. I am interested in learning as much as possible, and creating dialogs about the ideas generated in the late 19th century. How have things changed? How valid are the anarchist-feminist ideas on marriage when applied to modern society and relationships? How do we think of the world as a whole? How do you begin to create enclaves of anarchy? How do we operate inside the framework of a larger society? How does an individualist anarchist educate and convert without invalidating their beliefs?
What is the world like now and how do we apply these ideas?
I need an anarchist support group, someone I could go to weekly and make that confession, "Hello, my name is Liz and I'm an anarchist."
Writing, philosophy, gender studies. How do I get that out of college? Do I go for writing and gender studies and do a masters in philosophy? Minors?
I'm looking very closely at University of Pennsylvania. Michael and I really want to go to Philly. UPenn offers what I want.
I'm hesitant to say that's the next step, but I think it is.
My "free tuition" card runs out in about a year and I will still be at OCC.
Financially, I'm in ruins now and am not looking forward to an additional $40-50,000 a year in debt and UPenn is one of the schools doing the whole "make under $100,000? Go to school on grants, not loans." I'll be an adult, fiscally independent. I'm an investment in the future,
whatever.
Moments beget moments and I ruminate on this as I tend my garden. This is the most liberating experience I can generate in my life right now. I, with my own labor, have generated enough food to feed my limited community. I learned and am learning everything I could. I pressed forward without hesitation. I applied my theory to the dirt. I had failures and successes. I modified my behaviors to suit the results I was seeing. I have carried water in buckets to nourish and have kneeled in the dirt to weed. Yesterday, we tasted the first sweet pea of the year.
It was a metaphor, I think.
It is hard to think that betrayal has been the most constant thread in my life these last 3 or 4 years. And it's not to say that it has been the most prominent thread, but it has been there. To imagine my life in terms of a woven fabric, there would be many different and fantastic colors and textures. Yes, there would be an overwhelming presence of coarse raw wool representing drug use, depression, drinking, absence of feelings, oppressive loneliness, and the ever present failure. However, there would be silk interrupters of fun and friends and good weather and simple pleasures.
But betrayal is there all along, perhaps acting even as the warp.
Holding the rest there, the predominant structure.
This has been painful. Michael, a victim of its grating harp strings for the first time, is struggling as well.
We had had a plan and a force operating outside of us and independent of us has torn our plan apart.
So what now?
Now we examine the future critically. What are we doing? I never know what he's doing, as I don't think he does either. I watch him closely sometimes and it often appears that his actions occur only milliseconds after the thought, which is to say, there is no premeditation. Perhaps I constantly underestimate him. He is a photographer with drawers full of film and no photos. He is "in the moment."
I, on the other hand, revile the moment! The moment forces me into the next and the next as if I were stuck marching in this relentless band formation. How do I escape the moment? How to reverse one's fortune when one moment begets the next?
This is the impossible task at hand.
I plan and create "mind trajectories" for myself, convinced that if I believe that is the direction, that will be the direction.
So far this theory has met with failure. Betrayal in this sense is my anti-hero, the force driving against me. Failure is the aftermath.
I am right now meeting with some of my most authentic successes. They are paired with some of the most painful turns of event. Is this always the truth?
However, it has opened us up. We are willing and ready to move, we are no longer tied to Syracuse as the "cheap rent" and "easy" option. We are exploring. This opens up the option to me to go to the school that will really provide me with the learning experience that I want. I am aiming to go to a selective school, not because it's well known. I want to work for myself so a big name diploma will only get me so far. I want to work with good minds. I want to have conversations that will help me grow intellectually. This is the driving force.
So, how do I want to grow? Which direction? I've decided that grant writing might be a good money generator. Theoretically, I would want my job and my passion tied together, but since my passions are so ethereal, I can't imagine that happening. Grant writing seems like a good way to procure a salary and be able to work within my own sense of ethics.
Here is the second problem. I operate within my own separate framework. My ethics and ideals are not tied to my friends or my country. I identify with the individualist anarchist ideal. Voltarine deCleyre is my hero. I am lonely in the pursuit. I have no one around me to talk about this with, to expand upon my knowledge. I have constant battles to fight with no army. I am bored to death of the "button anarchists," and I don't believe their activism or collectivism begets anything but confusion. Perhaps I have become jaded, lost the path.
At this point in my life I am interested in studying the great theorists. I am interested in learning as much as possible, and creating dialogs about the ideas generated in the late 19th century. How have things changed? How valid are the anarchist-feminist ideas on marriage when applied to modern society and relationships? How do we think of the world as a whole? How do you begin to create enclaves of anarchy? How do we operate inside the framework of a larger society? How does an individualist anarchist educate and convert without invalidating their beliefs?
What is the world like now and how do we apply these ideas?
I need an anarchist support group, someone I could go to weekly and make that confession, "Hello, my name is Liz and I'm an anarchist."
Writing, philosophy, gender studies. How do I get that out of college? Do I go for writing and gender studies and do a masters in philosophy? Minors?
I'm looking very closely at University of Pennsylvania. Michael and I really want to go to Philly. UPenn offers what I want.
I'm hesitant to say that's the next step, but I think it is.
My "free tuition" card runs out in about a year and I will still be at OCC.
Financially, I'm in ruins now and am not looking forward to an additional $40-50,000 a year in debt and UPenn is one of the schools doing the whole "make under $100,000? Go to school on grants, not loans." I'll be an adult, fiscally independent. I'm an investment in the future,
whatever.
Moments beget moments and I ruminate on this as I tend my garden. This is the most liberating experience I can generate in my life right now. I, with my own labor, have generated enough food to feed my limited community. I learned and am learning everything I could. I pressed forward without hesitation. I applied my theory to the dirt. I had failures and successes. I modified my behaviors to suit the results I was seeing. I have carried water in buckets to nourish and have kneeled in the dirt to weed. Yesterday, we tasted the first sweet pea of the year.
It was a metaphor, I think.
