Thoughts from a Flushing Starbucks

A week from now I will be in New Mexico for my vacation. I am so looking forward to being around my friend, being in a beautiful state and for getting to sleep in and not have to go to work. It truly will be the perfect vacation.

As my trip gets closer I realize even more how lonely I am in NY. I accept my solitude, but also acknowledge that there is a balance missing in my life. There are days I wish I had someone to go shopping with, or to the movies. I miss sitting in cafes with someone and having the kind of conversations that only seem to take place over coffee. I eat out alone. Go to movies alone. Shop alone. Even coffee is a solitary act for me.

To be honest, I'm not a huge fan of humanity and people in general. It's unpredictable and in my mind, unpredictability=pain. I like things I can understand, things that have reason. People don't generally fall in that category. That's why love is so hard for me to grasp. It has no explaination or formula. The "Why?" never gets answered even in the deepest of feelings. There is a security in the why that I never get from love and in turn I don't trust it.

I suppose in time I will learn to reason less and feel more. Observe less and do more. Think less and love more.

Stagnant Alienation

I’m 26 years old and I’m stagnant. I was speaking with an old friend recently. We hadn’t spoken in a year or so and he asked me “What’s new?”. I sat thinking about the answer and I realized “nothing” was the only answer I could give. The players in my life may have changed, but the situation is the same, I am the same. My faults are the same. My demons are the same. I am so afraid of change that I don’t even change for the better. I’m more afraid of speaking to him a year from now and giving the same answer.

I battle so much of myself it seems. My internal struggle never has an end, it never has a winner. I’m so aware of my faults I don’t need critique or criticism from the world. I already acknowledge the faulty parts of myself. So much so that I glaze over compliments, for the faults speak so loudly that they cover any beauty that might be there. Practicality wins in the end. If I can’t see it, then it doesn’t exist. Every break-up, negative comment or hurtful exchange just reinforces what I already believe about myself. There is no escaping who you are.

I think once of the reasons I’ve always been drawn to photography is that I like the position of “observer”. For me there is more impact in viewing than in feeling. Seeing a couple on the train holding hands cuts me deeper than actually being part of the couple myself. I can only process what I see, not what I feel. I’ve stuck myself on the outside of life purposely and there’s no way in. I don’t feel love unless I can view it. Seeing people kiss on tv makes me cry. Being kissed doesn’t shed any tears. I’ll never be in the inner circle of lovers. I’ll only be there to capture the moments of others.

Alienation. The feeling of being on the outside. I’ve had that feeling long before I picked up my first camera. My inception into this world was a difficult one, one that didn’t come with a lot of answers. I don’t have early baby pictures, a knowledge of where my brown eyes come from, what my ethnicity is, even where I was born. Living a life in a family who loves you, but always feeling like you were a piece of furniture in the house they purchased to fill an empty room. Never being invited to the “cool kids” table in junior high. Moving around and never being able to make friends who know your history, who have seen you through your best and worst phases. That’s where my “snapshot” life comes from. Needing to have something to hold on to when it was gone. Early in life alienation was a product of circumstance. Now it’s self induced. Not much in my life isn’t self induced. I will always be the one behind the camera. Sometimes it’s film, sometimes it’s digital, but if you look in the distance, behind the lens, that’s where you can find me.

Never

I need to accept that there are things in this world I will never understand. Why some people die young. Why some people are thin. Why some find love, and why others do not.

I've never been happy in a relationship. At least I don't remember being happy. It may be that I'm one of those people who forgets the happiness once it's over, for the pain of the end erases any joy that was once there. I have never heard the words "I love you" from someone. I've never gotten flowers "just because". I've never had sex with someone who loved me.

I want to know what love is like. I want to feel the joys of it, as well as the pain. I want the passion of feeling raw to course through me.

How does one learn to accept that love may not be a part of our future? That I may go through life with no wedding ring, no one to help me fold sheets, no one to kiss me goodnight. I have this voice in my heart that tells me I will never be in love, that my solitude is permanent. That it isn't meant to be. That I need to let go of hope and set myself free.

I feel sad for all the things I feel I'll never have. I'll never be introduced as "my wife, Karen". I'll never have someone call me "mommy". I'll never have someone to kill the spiders for me. I find myself getting lost lately in that sadness. I'm turning inward more and more, accepting what I feel is my current fate. I wish the weight of sadness wasn't the only thing I woke up next to.

I know I am lost in the "never". That isn't always a bad thing, for the one thing I do know is that I will never give up hope.

What is this thing called love

Ah Ella....or was it Sarah Vaughn who sang that song.....

I wonder sometimes if I wasn't programmed to love. Sure, I love my puppy, but that's different. There's nothing she could do that would hurt me, I don't give anything up to love her. I have a pretty good life if I look around. An apt in NY, I like my stuff, a decent job, I can afford to travel.....all it's missing is people. I accept that I'm a solitary person who for the most part is not a fan of humanity. My interests are solitary so I'm not forced to have the same innane "what do you do" "what borough do you live in/train do you take" "where did you go to school" small talk conversations over and over and over again. I have a few close friends who live far away, so my core friendships involve nighttime cell phone minutes, a gmail account and the annoying sound effects of aol instant messenger. There is very little human contact in my world, and the small amount I get is usually shortlived. I don't play the roles in my life based on obligation very well....daughter, granddaughter, girlfriend.....I can't seem to get a handle on those. Legal Assistant, tenant, customer.....those I can do. Any role that involves the "I love you" dialogue I can't grasp.

There are so many things I want out of life. The days where it all seems so out of reach are the hardest. A walk down the street turns into a line-up of everything I don't have. I feel like I won't ever know the kind of happiness that others have. My dreams are plagued by the realities of my true self.

Contradiction is a bitch sometimes.

Monday June 20, 2005

I was browsing iTunes tonight. I suppose I was looking to compile my own personal soundtrack. A look at my life through the pop culture of the times. I should have known better than to think I could find my life in all that. I found the life of many others, but certainly not mine. Mine must be in a book somewhere.

Anyway. It occurred to me that there are so many things about me that even my closest of friends do not know. People I’ve shared words with and beds with and meals with (not in that order) who know nothing of me. Some will surprise, some you will think you always knew, some you will realize in yourself. That’s ultimately why I’m writing this. Not for me. I’ve already had the self discovery (and man it was a bitch). Hopefully it will be easier for you.

I have a secret love of truly bad television. The list of things I fear greatly exceeds the list of things that make me happy. I have never felt beautiful. I want nothing more than to be a mother. Some weekends I get into bed on Friday and literally do not get out until Monday. I have never been in love. I wish that someone understood my need to be sad. I often blare Lady Marmalade on my stereo. I love nothing more than being kissed. I don’t want to be married, but I want a diamond ring (which I already have designed). I truly believe in the difference between actual truth and emotional truth. I am an amazing piano player, but can’t play in front of people. I hate the color pink, but own pink underwear. Some days I think I am crazy. Some days I think I am the only sane person I know. I want someone to take care of me. I want to be left alone in the dark. I want romance. I am terrified of lightning. 8 years later I still have nightmares about my car accident. I love it when a man brushes the hair out of my eyes. I have to write in the dark. I honestly have no idea what makes me happy. I love.

No thoughts!

No mind!

Greetings from the Airport!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME......(yesterday).

12 days until my birthday
13 until puppy
14 until Grace's graduation

Disclaimer. I have been drinking.

Why don't I write anymore? It's been months since I wrote a word. Is it that I'm too happy to write? Is it that I'm uninspired? Is it that I don't think anymore?

I'm sitting here drinking vodka and watching Growing up Gotti. I never watch this crap, yet tonight I'm facinated. Watching another family, their life, their interactions. I can't explain why at all. I guess because it makes my own family dynamic seem less Hamlet and more Leave it to Beaver.

I'm starting to lose my train of thought now. Like my self esteem, my inspiration is fickle I guess.

I suppose it's possible that it's the vodka that is fickle, and not me.

Do I know how to do this?

My apartment is hot, my ceiling is leaking and I'm grumpy.

Why does socialization usually involve a mad hangover......

I truly have nothing interesting to say.

I'm an intellectual flirt.

I know I don't make sense.

There is a part of me that does not want to sleep. My worry has no pause. no mute. no off. no hold.

My past is never a memory. My mistakes are never lessons learned.

My thoughts are those of a drugged person, though they are natural to me.

Perhaps my 4.8 hour average is getting the better of me.

I did the math

Ok for one week I kept track of how much (or how little) I slept and here are the results:

On average I sleep 4.8 hours a night

That's not bad at all really. I mean some nights I'm not sleeping at all, but a weekly average of 5 hours a night....not bad at all!!

No offense

But I f*cking HATE men...dating...relationships. It's all crap. Nobody cares about getting to know a person's mind anymore, it's all about finding the hottest girl they can "score" with. I doubted that love existed before, and now I truly know that there is no such thing. I SO hate humanity.

I heard a quote somewhere "Passion is the reason we live" and it's been festering for awhile. There are pieces of passion that have never been elements in my life and I question what my place now.

Screw it. I just need sleep.

LOTS and LOTS of SNOW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!