Savor Saver

In the very short period since quoting 7Up pitch man Geoffrey Holder's "go ahead... saaavor it" line while sharing my last blog post (Up to Me), I have since seen or heard the word "savor" no less than 16 times. Granted, I'm counting two "saver" references, but they're sound-a-likes to "savor," so I'm counting them.

I guess this means I need to start sucking on things longer and tucking bucks away.

Take that however you like.

Up to Me

Don't get me wrong. Lemonade is pretty good. It can even be great, especially on a hot day. But lemonade with vodka mixed in? That's a whole different happy fun time, am I right? 

No, this isn't an entry about drinking. This is an entry about why I drink.

(Kidding. Sorta.)

When I was 7, I wanted a boy to hang out with all the time. Girls were okay, but they didn't quite get me. Boys, however, did stuff. It seemed they were perpetually moving, and that intrigued me. I tried to keep up with them, sometimes with tragic results (tales for future blogs, perhaps). But when I could keep up with them in the right balance of ideas and physicality, it seemed magical. I also had a huge crush on magicians in general--and Harry Houdini in particular (along with Luke Skywalker, Mighty Mouse, and Tom Waits, who all seemed to possess some magic)--and it seemed like all the magicians were males. So when I was 7, I guess what I wanted most of all was to be closer to more of that male-magic.

When I was 14, I got my first boyfriend and finally got a glimpse of the magic from the inside ... or at least from the perspective of French kissing at the skating rink, the mall, or the hallways at school. It felt electric, like having everything turned on at once, senses heightened, and every distraction outside of that muted. The best part was that it seemed to turn off my brain and all of its own buzzing thoughts. It was calm and it was excitement. How did that happen? I had to know more! And then began a lifetime of seeking the ultimate version of that sensation. I was certain then that it couldn't come from myself, and again boys must have had something to unlock it. 

When I was 21, a boy took me to the circus ... not just any circus; that magical Cirque circus. He delighted me in ways that I'd never known, but he was always just a little out of reach. He also gave me another magical experience that scared me more than anything in my life to that point. I had to make a decision that forever marked the turning point from when I had been a carefree girl to suddenly realizing that I was an adult woman with big decisions to make. He told me, "I dig you, but I don't love you.," and he meant it--honestly, deeply, and with our any judgement. And yet I felt utterly alone. At that point, I only wanted to be inside that aloof place that had been kept just out of reach from me up to that point ... a longing to feel part of something bigger than me ... something that I hadn't been worthy of to that point ... and for some reason, it felt like boys held the key to that longing.

When I was 28, I had faced down that previous situation three more times, each time holding on and allowing the rapids to take me quickly down a stream of life that I may not have been prepared for, but had already pre-decided that I would accept the challenge anyway. This time I was with a boy who had no way of understanding emotions the way that I did (before the days of Asperger's common knowledge) and although I was inside that "part of something" thing that I'd longed to have, I still felt utterly alone. It only felt bigger than me in the way that a steamroller feels bigger than you, as it's rolling over you and trapping you in the freshly laid tar. Although seemingly bleak, I thrust out a deep desire for happiness to the universe ... asking for a chance at it for once, not knowing how big those ripples would get.

When I was 35, I was completely adrift from any relationships whatsoever ... and even from my relationship with myself. Years away from the relationship that had left me wanting so much more, years away from anything that would feel substantial, and coming out of the only life that I'd known for over a decade (academia), I felt lost. It seemed that the universe had forsaken me and given me instead some difficult, solitary path, full of false hopes and dead ends. I was grasping at whatever flotsam and jetsam floated my way, hoping something might stick ... thinking that I'd been too narrow-minded up to this point and had missed some great ships that I let sail without me. I made a film about what I might be like when when I might finally found my way, or when my way might finally find me. I didn't know who or how or why or when, and I was trying not to lose hope, but it seemed that all I could do was sink a few more seeds into the garden of future happiness that I was hoping would germinate someday.

Now that I am 42, I've experienced cultivating some of those seeds at last. I've intimately felt connected with that male-magic even before having an actual physical partner. I've unlocked some (though not all) of the aloofness, and discovered that much of it was coming from myself. I've discovered that my compass is only within myself and will not allow myself to forget it ... and yet, I still have some sort of longing that has been unmet. Something that makes me sad at times when I'm having trouble keeping aligned with what I want, and hopeful at others when I remember that I have more control over this than I'd previously known. There's a thing that's alluded me my whole adult life ... that feeling of growth that can come from being in a mutual, loving partnership. I have a glimpse of it right now, but I don't really have it in a tangible way. I feel like I get to take it for 2 or 3 night rentals, like a movie on weekends. But why would I be allowing only limited bites right now? The universe isn't Blockbuster ... it's a whole smorgasbord! I expect that I'll find myself lined up with nothing less than the whole shebang, as soon as I can get used to the idea of not having to give something back so readily. 

Will this new sense of ownership of my life come from the location that I'm renting from now, or will it come from some other location? I can't say from here. I just know that it's coming, and I've got some decisions to make in this pivotal year. Apprehension is diminishing, and eagerness is taking its place ... an eagerness to know the perspective that my 49-Up me will have of this time. 

Hmm ... come to think of it, maybe I do need a drink? 

Bless This Mess

UNDER CONSTRUCTION: PARDON OUR DUST!

I'm not even going to sugarcoat it, folks. I'll just be blunt...

I've had a history of dating men who entertain dalliances and distractions that they claim are merely friends, but to whom they're clearly attracted and cling to like safety nets, in case it doesn't work out between us. As a result, of course, it does not work out.

And I've attracted these insecure, unsure men because of my own insecurities ... ones which most definitely date back to my earliest relationship role models: my parents. Their mistakes and angsty vibes did not need to stick to me. I could have shook them off by not noticing them from the get go, but I didn't know that noticing things was a choice.

As a result, I felt fragile ... vulnerable to the whims of others, and fearful of any signs of those whims. I wondered why those things happened "to" me, what was it "about" me that brought repeat experiences with the most significant of significant others. I felt "not enough" and "defective" because I unable to keep a man's affection, and felt his gaze upon all the other more suitable models out there.

Did I need to play more mind games, like other girls? Did I need to dress more feminine? Did I need to lose weight? Did I need to take more interest in his interest? Or maybe less interest in his interests and more interest in what I wear or how I look? Was I just not girlfriend (or wife) material?

Occasionally, I even began to fantasize and even flirt with my own "safety nets" before he could dump me, thinking it would hurt less when it happened. I never followed through, however, and it never hurt any less.

I'm done. I renounce that girl and her silly thoughts.

I took nearly three long years to work on reshaping that brain of mine to be ready for a joyful relationship. I created an imaginary boyfriend, who had all the qualities that I ever wanted -- and only those qualities. It was utterly fantastic, and it brought me into alignment with new, and newer, and newer still real-world examples of this delightful creation.

It brought me to where I am today, actually... seven months into a relationship that is quite literally the best that I've ever experienced. You may say, "Ah, but it sounds like your bar has been set pretty low," and to that I say, "Why you gotta go harshing my mellow?"

The biggest thing that I've come to realize is that the imaginary boyfriend did not prepare me for dealing with my own thoughts and observations of things. And when those little things started to creep in, I found that I was still exactly in that same place emotionally where I left them years earlier ... and they were ready to run wild again when that floodgate got opened.

I was also not prepared for my real-life boyfriend's insecurities to act as triggers for mine. My imaginary boyfriend did not have any fears. He confidently marched forward into every phase of our "relationship" in glee and enthusiasm for every new twist and turn. He had no past experiences to hold him back, to doubt his choices, because he had no past. Of course I wasn't going to create an imaginary boyfriend who was scared of anything life would dish out ... he hadn't lived! And yet, he felt more alive than anyone else I'd met.

A tough act to follow, you say? Well, try following the other kind act ... the highly contrasty kind I outlined from my past relationships. THAT is the real tough act to follow. And alas, it still haunts me ... and in turn, can trigger my real partner even subconsciously. And that may very well be the case.

He mentioned his hesitancy and fears early on, and that dam that I'd built to hold my own fears sprung a leak. I tried to patch it, but another trigger created another crack, and another, and next thing I knew, I was spending as much time repairing cracks in that dam as I was ignoring the dam entirely.

I may be in a relationship with the wrong person, if I look at it from the half-empty side. He's not going to be the person who is two steps ahead of my insecurities ... and that isn't his job; it's mine. As a matter of fact, he might always be two steps behind my insecurities ... running up to help smooth over the patchwork of my dam cracks while trying to get me to turn away from the blue menace ... but then my dam cracks remind him of his own dam cracks, causing him to focus his attention back on them.

In turn, his dam cracks then get noticed by me ... causing me to focus on more of the things that I don't want, rather than focus on all the wonderful things that are already here that I do want. And this vision of the unwanted in turn diminishes my joy and distracts me from living that life that I created in my imagination.

But does it have to be all bad ... just a chain of pain? No, on the contrary!

The half-full view shows that I have attracted exactly the right person for where I am right now. This is my golden, life-altering opportunity to figure out how to let go ... truly let go ... of the little demons that have been underfoot in probably every relationship I've ever had. It is not his job to keep me secure.

And should he choose to do or be any of the ghosts that rattle their chains in my head and heart, why should that worry me? My job is to remember my fantastic, vibrational creation... to live like he exists because he does in everything and everyone ... and to recognize every instance of him in whoever and wherever he may show up ... to focus on what I want and hold that focus to find more and more of that showing up.

As a result of this focus, I may lose touch with more people ... even those who are dear to me ... in the process of sticking to this ideal. People who cannot or will not face the direction that I'm facing. Either they will fall away on their own accord, or I will need to seek directions away from them, but it is for the best for everyone. If there have been past hurts, there is no need to invite opportunities for future ones.

And if there a current opportunities for joy, there is only need to invite more of the same. In the process of moving toward better feeling places, new opportunities will arise, and the people who are still in my life and who will enter my life will have plenty of room to delight me.

So if I lose touch, dear ones, please know that I am doing well ... really well. Know that I love you and always will, and we'll meet up again whenever we're vibing in the same place. I'm excited to be able to tell you about all the wonderful things that I've found along the way!

UPDATE: 

What a difference a day makes. We discussed this blog and these things. And what came of it was there was absolutely no reason to let go and all the reason to see how this goes. The discussion ranged the gamut of fear and bewilderment to happiness and warmth. 

I had held back for 7 months from talking in as much detail as I had today about my demons because I didn't want to feed them, but they were growing anyway. And now that discussed them fully and openly, I also swore to myself and to him as well that I won't talk about my demons beyond this. Nor will I talk about his beyond today's discussion. 

I feel good. I hope he does, too, but it doesn't matter, because I'm going to picture him feeling awesome about this ... even more awesome than he already felt. 

Then this evening, I thought, "I haven't checked Rob Brezsny's Free Will Astrology site in a while ... I wonder if he has his whimsical spin on life ready for this week now?"

Sure enough, he just posted the newest ones today! And wow, if they ever weren't perfectly timed for this post. 

Here's mine: "Divine Intervention" 

Click Sagittarius to open full size.

Here's his: "Passion" 

Click Taurus to open full size.

Just what the love doctor ordered. 

Faker Flaker

I have decided that it would be a great use of my time to plan and promote a huge event on Facebook, complete with location, bait (FREE ALCOHOL, BACON, AND KITTENS!), and constant updates about how awesome the event is going to be on April 1st.

And then watch from a distance as people show up... to nothing.

I'm actually too lazy to actually do this, however. Would someone else like to take this idea and run with it?

I Have a Feeling...

I may never never hit "publish" on another blog post again.

No, really. I'm serious! This isn't writer's block.

I'm writing stuff; I'm just not posting.

This is writer's constipation.

Top of the World!

Tonight, tragedy hit this household. Or so it seemed. 

While removing the cover of a perfectly defrosted and completely untouched coconut cream pie that I'd bought for my birthday, the beautiful thing slipped from my hands and ended up on the floor upside-down, of course. I now had floor pie. Again. (Yes, I've done this before. No, I haven't learned from it.) Not completely inedible floor pie, mind you, but mostly wasted. As I was savoring a few creamy spoonfuls of non-floor touching parts, I realized a few positive things had come of this accident.

Saddest sight ever, after I'd flipped it back over (and tasted some of it).

First, the way it splattered on the floor--it's light fluffy texture splayed out around the edges as well as melting in my mouth--made me realize why the coconut cream pie has always been the clown favorite for a pie in the face. Genius and tasty, who could be mad? I'm remembering this the next time I think I might like to surprise someone with a face pie. I'm thinking it's a different reaction than the resounding sadness and disappointment I usually get from people over my floor pie.

"I don't fight, Baby. I'm a lover!" A pie lover, that is.

Second, I probably should not have been left alone with that whole pie anyway, because I most definitely would have eaten from it until I was sick ... then probably eat some more after a nap. All of my workouts would be for naught for weeks! This way, I got to taste it, which is really all I wanted, and not lose control. Silver lining!

"Any world that can produce the Taj Mahal, William Shakespeare,
and Stripetoothpaste can't be all bad."

So while I'm on this topic of silver linings, I thought I'd write up a few of the other awesome things that seemed like tragedies, but quickly turned awesome lately:

1) A few weeks back, a huge, dead tree branch fell on my super awesome Nissan Cube, Mothra. I love that damn car, so naturally, I was mega bummed about the damage. However, nothing could've gone smoother with the repair, the worst part of which was having to be without Mothra for 10 days, while I drove a dull Mazda. When I returned the Mazda, the Enterprise clerk was stunned to learn that it wasn't in their system anymore because it had sold. Guess someone learned that a world famous blogger was driving it and have to have it!

That rental was completely free, by the way, and my deductible was so stunningly low, people gasped when they heard at the repair shop. But before I even paid them a dime for the repair, I'd received a check for double my deductible from Allstate because of Mothra's "diminished value" or something. Then just today, I received a letter from Allstate saying, "We'd like to give you an extra $300 dollars for your car's diminished value and for you being so awesome." Or something like that. As my boyfriend put it, "You got hit by a money tree!" I did, indeed.

"You and your 14 karat oomph!"

2) Speaking of Mothra, she and I were recently pulled over for speeding in Byron County, Georgia by a very sweet, young officer, who complimented me on my rear-view mirror disco ball, to which I cheerily replied, "Yeah, and it looks extra awesome with your pretty colored lights flashing in it!" He ended up letting me off with a warning, despite the fact that I qualified for a "super speeder" ticket. Just to be extra nice, he even clued me in to the fact that I'd be fine if I "just keep the cruise control at 80." (The speed limit is 70.) I didn't even have to cry and/or show cleavage!

"Well, that's the kind of a hairpin I am."

This would be awesome in and of itself, but it's also the third time in the last year that I've dealt with sweet, young police officers for things that were clearly my fault, only to have them bend over backwards to be super sweet to me. They all could easily have been cop strippers in their off hours, if they wanted to be, too. I'm just sayin'.

3) And I wouldn't have even had that fun cop experience if I wasn't coming back from my awesome boyfriend weekend. This is the best part of all of the good things of late (which are too many to write here), is that I lined myself up with this really awesome, great-fit of a guy. "'Bout time," you say? I know, right!?

How is this part of the tragedy-turned-awesome sauce? If you recall, it seemed a few months back that I'd failed at yet another relationship attempt with someone else, but in actuality I had already met the one that I really wanted to know better. That "zing" that I felt on the first in-person meeting grabbed me and hasn't let go. As a matter of fact, if it just keeps getting stronger, I may literally burst. I think the most most accurate description of that feeling was given earlier tonight, when we had this exchange:

Without giving away too much of the bursty magic, I'll just share these photos with you all here, to let you soak in whatever you infer. These were taken years (decades?) apart, but you can just assume that every picture taken between those shots was equally awesome (along with every moment), because I truly can't tell the difference if they aren't: 

Photo courtesy of his ex-wife, who calls this one "Frolic."

And I call this one "Magically Delicious!"

I know he loves these odes that I keep posting about him here (although publicly he'll deny it), so I'll just keep going.

In his self-deprecating humor, he recently referred to himself (I'm using "himself" very loosely here) as occasionally being a bit like Peter Lorre (which I am more than okay with):

But I think it would be just as accurate to say he's (also using "he" loosely) a kinder, less-punchy Jimmy Cagney:

What do you mean you don't see it? Here, look again: 

Uncanny, isn't it!?

Fortune Favors the Bold (Font)