a risk-taker. Riley was never off leash in an unfenced area. There are plenty of people who take risks with their dogs. Aaron used to let Roxy off leash all the time. More than once we had to chase her for miles to get her back. She ran back and forth across roads, day and night. She eventually learned her lesson, but not without some risk.
Riley was only off leash at the (fenced) dog park, on a hike that was far away from any roads (and even then, only sometimes), and on the front step of my parent's house. I only let her off leash on the front step of the house because we practiced for months beforehand letting her off leash in front of my apartment. The front door of my apartment was surround by a gate, so it was safe to practice there. We would come home from a walk or from the dog park, I would tell Riley to sit, and then I would take her leash off and she would go inside. She always went inside after I took her leash off at the front step. Always. She never even looked back. She was always hot, tired, and thirsty. She couldn't wait to get inside to get a drink and lay down.
There were plenty of times that I wished I could let Riley off the leash in an unfenced area. She was always good about staying pretty close to me, and if she got too far away, she always came to me when I called her. I always thought it would probably be okay if I let her off leash more, but I never did. I'm not a risk-taker. I saw Roxy run those few times and told myself I would never do that with my dog. I would never be able to live with myself if something happened.
Sunday, July 14, 2013
Riley
On Wednesday I lost her. We were doing our normal routine. I had just gotten back from vacation, it was so nice to see her little smiling face and stub-tail wagging when she saw me. Michael's friends were in town, so we chatted for a while, and I also had to work in the afternoon. By the time I had time to take her to the dog park, it was getting kind of late, it was close to sunset, but I decided to take her anyway. Being at the dog park after dark was nothing new to us...in the winter time it was practically our only option, and I promised when I adopted her that I would take her everyday if it was at all possible, no matter how warm or cold, even if that meant taking her after sunset. So, without even thinking twice about it, I leashed her up and off we headed.
We had a great time at the park, like we always do. There were a few dogs there when we first got there, but as it got darker, they all slowly started to disappear. It was cooling off and the afternoon storms were blowing away, leaving the sky full of big, puffy clouds that were painted pink and purple in the sunset. I stopped to take a couple of pictures. I walked around the dog park finding as many balls as I could in the last bits of light. As soon as I found one, I would throw it as far away as I could, and she would go chasing after it. She always was one of the fastest dogs at the park. Chasing tennis balls made her so happy, you could tell that it gave her pure joy. She rarely brought the balls back (for Riley, the bliss was in the hunt), but I never cared. She would chase the ball down and grab it, maybe jog with it in her mouth for a while, then drop it and look at me to let me know she was ready for me to throw another ball. I threw her as many balls as I could that day, until it got too dark to see. Then I walked around the dog park a couple of more times. Riley would follow me around...not too closely, but always within sight. Sometimes she would come sprinting up to me and run right into me. I would pet her hard behind the ears and tell her she was a good girl. When she followed closely I would hold my hand up at my side and say "nose," and she would jump straight up and hit her nose to the palm of my hand.
After we had been at the dog park for 45 minutes or so (should we have stayed longer? or gone earlier while there was still light left?), I decided it was time to go. I never had to chase her down or even tell her to come with me when it was time to leave the dog park. All I had to do was walk to the gate, and she would come running behind and follow me through. She never wanted me to leave without her. I never would have. I told her to sit and I put her leash on, then we walked home. She was panting hard and stayed right by my side all the way back home. She was tired, and happy.
When we got to the front porch, I did what I always did. I told her to sit, and she obeyed right away. She sat on the second step, not the first one like she usually did, but I didn't think it would matter (did it matter?). I took her leash off, patted the top of her head, and turned to open the door. When I looked back she was gone. She had never done that before. Never.
She had ran to the edge of the front yard and stopped. I called her to come back, but at the same time as I said come, I also took a step toward her. When I took a step forward, she ran further down the sidewalk. This scarred me a little bit, but I figured it was kind of late, so there probably wouldn't be too much traffic. I walked closer to her, tried to tell her to come, but she ran a little further down the sidewalk. She was four houses away. Four.
I saw the people on the other side of the street just before she did, but as soon as she saw them, she started running toward them. She always loved people. She would always go right up to a stranger, sit down right next to them, and wait for them to pet her. When I saw the people walking on the other side of the street, at first I was relieved. I knew she would run right up to them and sit down, and then they could grab her collar and I would bring her back home.
I don't know where the car came from. It was going so fast. I didn't see it until Riley was already in the street. I don't think she saw it until it hit her. I can't stop seeing that car hit her. It hit her so hard and so fast, it never once slowed down or stopped. It broke her body and kept right on moving, as fast or faster than it was going before. To be fair, it was dark outside, and she was a dark dog who was moving very quickly, the person in the car might not have seen her before it was too late. Riley didn't make a sound when it happened. Afterward, she didn't move out of the middle of the road.
I ran out into the road and scooped down and picked her up. The people who were walking on the other side of the street saw the whole thing happen. They stopped traffic as I was picking her body up, then came over to me. I was on my knees in the grass, bent over my little girl. Her body was still shaking, but I could tell she was already gone. Whatever was left must have been just muscles spasms. I don't think she suffered long. I didn't cry at first, I just sat starring at her. What I was seeing just didn't make sense. What just happened could not really have happened. The people asked if there was anything they could do...I couldn't think of anything to say other than "she's gone." Then the tears came.
I called Michael. He came running out to the curb while I was still telling him what had happened. I was only four houses away. Four goddam houses. He came and held me, and we both started weeping together. At some point, Michael left to get a blanket from the house, and we wrapped her up. We carried her back to the house, and laid her down the in backyard.
Everyone in the house cried that night. We all held each other closely, and cried loudly at times, sometimes softly to ourselves.
I decided I wanted her buried in the backyard, and I couldn't bear the thought of her being outside alone all night, so we started digging. The ground was so hard, the only spade we had broke, but we kept digging using whatever tools we had. A hoe, snow shovels, pitchfork...whatever. Caitlin and Cameron tried to find a 24 hour store nearby that would sell shovels, but they couldn't. They came home with flowers instead.
We dug for hours, until nearly two in the morning. We had to abandon the first hole because we realized there were power lines buried a couple of feet down. We didn't realize this until we actually got to the power lines. But we started a new hole, where the ground was even harder and it took even longer to get deep enough. It was painful and exhausting...but it felt good. I would cry as I shoveled, using all the emotion as fuel to keep on going. I was taking vengeance on the Earth. I was creating a hole as big as the one in my heart.
Once we got deep enough, I got down into the hole, and Michael carried her over to me. I laid her down, and told her this was where she was going to be sleeping. She was buried with some flowers and, of course, a tennis ball. Tennis balls always made her happy, just like she always made me happy.
We had a great time at the park, like we always do. There were a few dogs there when we first got there, but as it got darker, they all slowly started to disappear. It was cooling off and the afternoon storms were blowing away, leaving the sky full of big, puffy clouds that were painted pink and purple in the sunset. I stopped to take a couple of pictures. I walked around the dog park finding as many balls as I could in the last bits of light. As soon as I found one, I would throw it as far away as I could, and she would go chasing after it. She always was one of the fastest dogs at the park. Chasing tennis balls made her so happy, you could tell that it gave her pure joy. She rarely brought the balls back (for Riley, the bliss was in the hunt), but I never cared. She would chase the ball down and grab it, maybe jog with it in her mouth for a while, then drop it and look at me to let me know she was ready for me to throw another ball. I threw her as many balls as I could that day, until it got too dark to see. Then I walked around the dog park a couple of more times. Riley would follow me around...not too closely, but always within sight. Sometimes she would come sprinting up to me and run right into me. I would pet her hard behind the ears and tell her she was a good girl. When she followed closely I would hold my hand up at my side and say "nose," and she would jump straight up and hit her nose to the palm of my hand.
After we had been at the dog park for 45 minutes or so (should we have stayed longer? or gone earlier while there was still light left?), I decided it was time to go. I never had to chase her down or even tell her to come with me when it was time to leave the dog park. All I had to do was walk to the gate, and she would come running behind and follow me through. She never wanted me to leave without her. I never would have. I told her to sit and I put her leash on, then we walked home. She was panting hard and stayed right by my side all the way back home. She was tired, and happy.
When we got to the front porch, I did what I always did. I told her to sit, and she obeyed right away. She sat on the second step, not the first one like she usually did, but I didn't think it would matter (did it matter?). I took her leash off, patted the top of her head, and turned to open the door. When I looked back she was gone. She had never done that before. Never.
She had ran to the edge of the front yard and stopped. I called her to come back, but at the same time as I said come, I also took a step toward her. When I took a step forward, she ran further down the sidewalk. This scarred me a little bit, but I figured it was kind of late, so there probably wouldn't be too much traffic. I walked closer to her, tried to tell her to come, but she ran a little further down the sidewalk. She was four houses away. Four.
I saw the people on the other side of the street just before she did, but as soon as she saw them, she started running toward them. She always loved people. She would always go right up to a stranger, sit down right next to them, and wait for them to pet her. When I saw the people walking on the other side of the street, at first I was relieved. I knew she would run right up to them and sit down, and then they could grab her collar and I would bring her back home.
I don't know where the car came from. It was going so fast. I didn't see it until Riley was already in the street. I don't think she saw it until it hit her. I can't stop seeing that car hit her. It hit her so hard and so fast, it never once slowed down or stopped. It broke her body and kept right on moving, as fast or faster than it was going before. To be fair, it was dark outside, and she was a dark dog who was moving very quickly, the person in the car might not have seen her before it was too late. Riley didn't make a sound when it happened. Afterward, she didn't move out of the middle of the road.
I ran out into the road and scooped down and picked her up. The people who were walking on the other side of the street saw the whole thing happen. They stopped traffic as I was picking her body up, then came over to me. I was on my knees in the grass, bent over my little girl. Her body was still shaking, but I could tell she was already gone. Whatever was left must have been just muscles spasms. I don't think she suffered long. I didn't cry at first, I just sat starring at her. What I was seeing just didn't make sense. What just happened could not really have happened. The people asked if there was anything they could do...I couldn't think of anything to say other than "she's gone." Then the tears came.
I called Michael. He came running out to the curb while I was still telling him what had happened. I was only four houses away. Four goddam houses. He came and held me, and we both started weeping together. At some point, Michael left to get a blanket from the house, and we wrapped her up. We carried her back to the house, and laid her down the in backyard.
Everyone in the house cried that night. We all held each other closely, and cried loudly at times, sometimes softly to ourselves.
I decided I wanted her buried in the backyard, and I couldn't bear the thought of her being outside alone all night, so we started digging. The ground was so hard, the only spade we had broke, but we kept digging using whatever tools we had. A hoe, snow shovels, pitchfork...whatever. Caitlin and Cameron tried to find a 24 hour store nearby that would sell shovels, but they couldn't. They came home with flowers instead.
We dug for hours, until nearly two in the morning. We had to abandon the first hole because we realized there were power lines buried a couple of feet down. We didn't realize this until we actually got to the power lines. But we started a new hole, where the ground was even harder and it took even longer to get deep enough. It was painful and exhausting...but it felt good. I would cry as I shoveled, using all the emotion as fuel to keep on going. I was taking vengeance on the Earth. I was creating a hole as big as the one in my heart.
Once we got deep enough, I got down into the hole, and Michael carried her over to me. I laid her down, and told her this was where she was going to be sleeping. She was buried with some flowers and, of course, a tennis ball. Tennis balls always made her happy, just like she always made me happy.
Monday, October 01, 2012
New Perspective
I found this quote in a post from back in 2006. I think this is what I'm trying to do right now. I'm in the "letting it penetrate" phase.
Learn to detach. Don't cling to things, because everything is impermanent. Detachment doesn't mean you don't let the experience penetrate you. On the contrary, you let it penetrate you fully. That's how you are able to leave it. Take any emotion--love for a woman, or grief for a loved one.... If you hold back on the emotions--if you can never get to being detached, you're too busy being afraid. You're afraid of the pain, you're afraid of the grief. But by throwing yourself into these emotions, by allowing yourself to dive in, all the way, over your head, you experience them fully and completely. You know what pain is. You know what love is. You know what grief is. You can say, "All right. I have experienced that emotion. I recognize that emotion. Now I need to detach from that emotion. I don't have to let it control me. I see it for what it is. Detach."
I need to detach. I know that's what I need to do. But honestly, "the thought of detachment makes me sicker than the thought of the pain of all of those different emotions. I want to feel those things fully, completely, dirtily, and I want to hold onto them and not let them go. Like a mother protecting her babies, I want to savagely clutch them to my breast, and desperately fight off anyone who tries to tell me to put them down." I don't want to let these things go, because I don't want to let you go. "I want to feel them with or without fear of propriety, disappointment, or regret. I want to let them consume me; I want to stay in bed with these emotions all day, feeding them and not myself. I don't want to compromise, I don't want to be rational, and I don't want to settle. I want to travel around the world chasing it, I want to be made a fool of."
But now I realize that by indulging myself, but letting myself feel these things unabashedly, I may finally be able to reach the ultimate goal of detachment.
Learn to detach. Don't cling to things, because everything is impermanent. Detachment doesn't mean you don't let the experience penetrate you. On the contrary, you let it penetrate you fully. That's how you are able to leave it. Take any emotion--love for a woman, or grief for a loved one.... If you hold back on the emotions--if you can never get to being detached, you're too busy being afraid. You're afraid of the pain, you're afraid of the grief. But by throwing yourself into these emotions, by allowing yourself to dive in, all the way, over your head, you experience them fully and completely. You know what pain is. You know what love is. You know what grief is. You can say, "All right. I have experienced that emotion. I recognize that emotion. Now I need to detach from that emotion. I don't have to let it control me. I see it for what it is. Detach."
I need to detach. I know that's what I need to do. But honestly, "the thought of detachment makes me sicker than the thought of the pain of all of those different emotions. I want to feel those things fully, completely, dirtily, and I want to hold onto them and not let them go. Like a mother protecting her babies, I want to savagely clutch them to my breast, and desperately fight off anyone who tries to tell me to put them down." I don't want to let these things go, because I don't want to let you go. "I want to feel them with or without fear of propriety, disappointment, or regret. I want to let them consume me; I want to stay in bed with these emotions all day, feeding them and not myself. I don't want to compromise, I don't want to be rational, and I don't want to settle. I want to travel around the world chasing it, I want to be made a fool of."
But now I realize that by indulging myself, but letting myself feel these things unabashedly, I may finally be able to reach the ultimate goal of detachment.
Hypothesis
Ambition is part of who I am. Anyone who doesn't see that doesn't really know me. Anyone who doesn't embrace that doesn't really understand me. Anyone who thought they could change that was fooling themselves.
Safety is part of who he is. Safety, comfort and happiness are what he lives for. Anyone who didn't see that didn't really know him. Anyone who didn't embrace that didn't really understand him. Anyone who thought they could change that was fooling themselves.
I knew this about us. I knew we were opposite in that way. But all along I thought we could meet somewhere in the middle. And I don't mean to say that he is never ambitious or I am never happy. I just mean our default modes are different. I thought he could teach me a little bit about being content. I thought I could teach him a little bit about pushing.
What's funny is, I imagine, he is now seeking safety, comfort, and happiness more than ever before. And I've set a more ambitious path for myself than I ever previously imagined. We both ran back to our default modes in very big ways. Maybe it's best to find someone who operates in the same default mode. At least there is a common language spoken there.
Safety is part of who he is. Safety, comfort and happiness are what he lives for. Anyone who didn't see that didn't really know him. Anyone who didn't embrace that didn't really understand him. Anyone who thought they could change that was fooling themselves.
I knew this about us. I knew we were opposite in that way. But all along I thought we could meet somewhere in the middle. And I don't mean to say that he is never ambitious or I am never happy. I just mean our default modes are different. I thought he could teach me a little bit about being content. I thought I could teach him a little bit about pushing.
What's funny is, I imagine, he is now seeking safety, comfort, and happiness more than ever before. And I've set a more ambitious path for myself than I ever previously imagined. We both ran back to our default modes in very big ways. Maybe it's best to find someone who operates in the same default mode. At least there is a common language spoken there.
Confession
Forgive me, Mother,
For I have sinned.
I let my true love
Be taken by the wind.
Yes, my child, your crime is grave, indeed.
For my best gift is love to those in need.
And for this reason, your punishment shall be
Bitterness of regret, your love be lost for eternity.
For I have sinned.
I let my true love
Be taken by the wind.
Yes, my child, your crime is grave, indeed.
For my best gift is love to those in need.
And for this reason, your punishment shall be
Bitterness of regret, your love be lost for eternity.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Strong
You can see through the smoke
And though you know
That something's broke
You're holding on for now
Aiming for the mark
How is it that your scars light up
like flashlights in the dark
Leading with the heart
You know your battle from the start
Don't let it wear you down
You can make it alone if you try
Til' the beat come home
I know you'll sing it
You can make it alone if you try
They never see your fire
Til' you make it out
Both Hands
And I am listening to the low moan of the dial tone again
And I am getting nowhere with you
And I can't let it go
And I can't get though
So now use both hands
Please use both hands
Oh, no don't close your eyes
I am writing graffitti on your body
I am drawing the story of how hard we tried
Hard we tried
How hard we tried
Eleven Years
"You foolish boy," she said. "You're just like me. If you can't have the lover you want, you won't have anyone else."..."After your father died, I lived alone rather than take second best. I never wanted another man until I saw Tom. That was eleven years later." She detached her hand from his. "I'm telling you this for a reason. It may take eleven years, but you will love some else one day; I promise you."
There is still so much I don't understand right now. I'll never forgive myself for taking things for granted before. For being ready to leave because this whole thing just wasn't practical enough for me. I'll never understand how I underestimated how much I loved you. I don't think I'll ever be able to stop loving you. I don't understand how you were never able to forgive me. You never could do any kind of self-reflection, never could see my side of things. I cannot comprehend how easily you got over this whole thing. How you seem so happy now, curled up in the arms of another. I can't imagine how it isn't killing you to not be with me. It's killing me. I can't settle for second-best. Every time I meet someone else, they're compared to you. They just don't grab me like you did. Your love grabbed me from day one, and still hasn't let me go. I know I shouldn't be acting like the victim here. I brought this whole thing on myself. But I still don't understand. I can't give up. How did you? I can't look for love anymore. You are love. If I look anywhere else, I don't find it, because it's not you. So, I'll stop looking. I'm trying to train my heart to be hard, so that it stops aching for you. If I could only act as indifferent towards you as you act toward me. The opposite of love is indifference. I can't go there. Honestly, I don't know if we'll ever be able to be friends. It kills me to lose you. It kills me to think of a life without you. But I don't want to be your friend. If I can't have you all the time, I won't have none at all. I want to be your lover. I want you to come back to me, and I want us to work things out, once and for all. Maybe I'm crazy. I'm trying to remember all the reasons I was willing to walk away before. But they just seem so small now, compared to how much I love you. How much I miss you. I'm so sorry. I'm trying to understand why you left me, time after time, when we were trying to work it out. The truth is, I know you won't ever come back to me. Not now. I know you too well. You've moved on, and you don't come back to something once you've moved on from it. I'm trying to remember how to live my life without you. Trying to find happiness again. No, not happiness actually. I'm trying to find numbness. Happiness is much farther away than numbness. I'm hoping Ellen is right. I hope that somewhere down the line, maybe several years from now, maybe I'll be able to love like that again. I hope someday your memory won't cause me to start sobbing. I hope you're happy, I truly do. But I can't understand how you're happy without me.
There is still so much I don't understand right now. I'll never forgive myself for taking things for granted before. For being ready to leave because this whole thing just wasn't practical enough for me. I'll never understand how I underestimated how much I loved you. I don't think I'll ever be able to stop loving you. I don't understand how you were never able to forgive me. You never could do any kind of self-reflection, never could see my side of things. I cannot comprehend how easily you got over this whole thing. How you seem so happy now, curled up in the arms of another. I can't imagine how it isn't killing you to not be with me. It's killing me. I can't settle for second-best. Every time I meet someone else, they're compared to you. They just don't grab me like you did. Your love grabbed me from day one, and still hasn't let me go. I know I shouldn't be acting like the victim here. I brought this whole thing on myself. But I still don't understand. I can't give up. How did you? I can't look for love anymore. You are love. If I look anywhere else, I don't find it, because it's not you. So, I'll stop looking. I'm trying to train my heart to be hard, so that it stops aching for you. If I could only act as indifferent towards you as you act toward me. The opposite of love is indifference. I can't go there. Honestly, I don't know if we'll ever be able to be friends. It kills me to lose you. It kills me to think of a life without you. But I don't want to be your friend. If I can't have you all the time, I won't have none at all. I want to be your lover. I want you to come back to me, and I want us to work things out, once and for all. Maybe I'm crazy. I'm trying to remember all the reasons I was willing to walk away before. But they just seem so small now, compared to how much I love you. How much I miss you. I'm so sorry. I'm trying to understand why you left me, time after time, when we were trying to work it out. The truth is, I know you won't ever come back to me. Not now. I know you too well. You've moved on, and you don't come back to something once you've moved on from it. I'm trying to remember how to live my life without you. Trying to find happiness again. No, not happiness actually. I'm trying to find numbness. Happiness is much farther away than numbness. I'm hoping Ellen is right. I hope that somewhere down the line, maybe several years from now, maybe I'll be able to love like that again. I hope someday your memory won't cause me to start sobbing. I hope you're happy, I truly do. But I can't understand how you're happy without me.
Saturday, July 07, 2012
Running
For me, it is a process of converting emotional pain into physical pain, learning to push through it and ultimately getting some endorphins as a nice little reward. I've never been very good at it unless I've got that emotional pain as fuel. So, thank you for giving me enough fuel to run all day.
Saturday, June 30, 2012
I know
it's just a stupid teenage novel. Still, I can't help but relate to her in those months after he is rescued. I know what it feels like to see the one you love look back at you like he doesn't know who you are anymore. Or, alternatively, look back at you like he sees you for the first time, but despises what he sees. I know how the guilt can eat away at you. That you know it's your fault he's so far gone, that you pushed him away, but can still be angry with him for going away. Knowing you should be able to try, should be able to do something to bring him back. But being completely clueless about how to do it. Even your love make him angry and pushes him farther away.
I know what it feels like to realize you took everything for granted. To be confused and refuse to acknowledge your emotions until it is too late. To wish, beyond reason, beyond hope, that there was something you could do to bring that old person back. Maybe not even the old person, but maybe just some person who can stand to be in the same room with you would be a good start.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
I don't understand
How can we both say we want the same thing, and yet completely disagree on how and what we need to do in order to get there? I could do things differently, sure. Did I go too quickly? Maybe so. It was silly of me to get so worked up over one stupid little night. That was my fault. I could back off. Could make rules for myself regarding frequency of visitation, etc.
But how long can I go without him being in love with me? I can't demand that from him, obviously. Can't make him fake it. But, I need his love. In a strange way, his love is what would motivate me to be able to keep my distance, not to scare him off. Sure, I could go to China. I could go to far away, if I know on the other side of the world is a person who is love with me and wants me to come back, but slowly. If he could send a letter every once in a while with those three words, I could starve myself of all other attention, could just wait until the next time he feels comfortable to be in my arms again. But without those three words? Why bother? Why deprive myself? Why walk on egg shells? In the name of love, I could do anything. But without love? How much can I do in the name of potential love that may come back after some undetermined amount of time in the future?
Time
is linear. Relationships, being a product of time, are also linear. It's like floating down a river, you can't stop, can't reverse, can only go forward. Where you are and what's happening right now on the river are a result of what happened upstream. The way you paddle and what you look out for, what you avoid and what you steer towards, all those things are also products of what happened to you and what you learned upstream. You can't undo those things, can't unlearn them.
We pulled out of the river. Just crashed, burned, and pulled out. Multiple times even. Now we're so messed up from what happened on the river, we don't even know how to get back in. At first I thought it was just him who was guilty of wanting to haul the boat way upstream and put in again at a place that he's comfortable with. He wants to go back to the beginning. Back to the part where everything was easy and there were no commitments to be made, no emotions that needed to be recognized. The water was slow and shallow. No rapids, no danger. But I thought, we can't go back that far. We're here right now, if we're going to get back in this thing, it has to be from this point. We can't go back and do all that over again. What's the point? It's already been done. And even if we bring the boat all the way back to the beginning, it's still not the same as it was before. The water that was there when we were there before is gone, it's moved on down stream. You can't step in the same river twice (Thank you, brain, for having all Disney songs memorized and for producing that line at the right time).
Though, maybe I'm guilty too of wanting to haul the boat upstream a bit. I want to put it in at the place where we were both happy and committed to each other. That place where the water was quick and strong and cool, but the rapids were small, and we were paddling in tune. I want to ignore all the bad things that happened after that, want to ignore that big crash and all the pain that happened afterwards. Want to pretend bad things didn't happen and won't happen again. But like I said, you can't unlearn the things you learn on the river. He can't unlearn the distrust, and I suppose I can't blame him for that. So, yes, I'm guilty too. I just want to put the boat back in at a different spot. To stick with the analogy though, it doesn't really make sense to put your boat back in the middle of a class 5 rapid, which is where we pulled out, so I guess we're both right in thinking we have to start again from a different spot. But if we can't agree on a spot? Do we just walk away?
China
The best I could find on YouTube was a cover, but you should listen to the real song.
Oh maybe somewhere down the line...we'll get back the same time from China. China, China, far away. Baby said looks like you're on your way to China. China, China, far away. Baby said, how long you gonna stay in China?
Tuesday, April 03, 2012
Weddings
are not a great place for the broken hearted. Don't get me wrong, it was the best wedding ever, there was lots of dancing (Jewish and otherwise), singing, laughing, drinking, toasting, beauty, and love, but at times those things felt like rubbing salt in the wounds. I am hurt, sad, confused, and crushed, and somehow being around people who aren't all those things just doesn't seem fair. The emotional highs and lows of the weekend were brutal. I would alternate between pure happiness and bliss, without a thought of you in my mind, then I would hate you for giving up on me, then I would understand why you left, then I would want to call and tell you I can do whatever you want, if you'll just please take me back. I did text you and never heard back from you, but other men, who were practically strangers, texted me instead and asked me to spend time with them, even if only for a few hours. I didn't go with them, they weren't you. So many questions left unanswered. I'm not sure where I went wrong this time, I don't know what could have been done differently. What I do know is that I could never treat you this way, could never ignore you. Reaching out to you seems so futile now, but I can't stop wanting to try.
Getting Deep
The Dalai Lama, when asked what surprised him most about humanity, answered "Man. Because he sacrifices his health in order to make money. Then he sacrifices his money to recuperate his health. And then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present; the result being that he does not live in the present or the future; he lives as if he is never going to die, and then he dies having never really lived."
I am very scared that this is me. And scared I don't know how to changed it
I am very scared that this is me. And scared I don't know how to changed it
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