"I have a history..."

"...of making decisions very quickly about men. I have always fallen in love fast and without measuring risks. I have a tendency not only to see the best in everyone, but to assume that everyone is emotionally capable of reaching his highest potential. I have fallen in love more times than I care to count with the highest potential of a man, rather than with the man himself, and then I have hung on to the relationship for a long time (sometimes far too long) waiting for the man to ascend to his own greatness. Many times in romance I have been a victim of my own optimism."


I did not write this, but I very well could have.

After my break up this time, a friend jokingly asked, "What did you do wrong this time?" My answer was "I chose to date the wrong guy. Again." But what I really should have said... what is very often the case, in fact... is that "I have been a victim of my own optimism."

(Please note the past tense there.)

Digging in the Dirt

Yesterday, I posted this little blog over on Facebook:

So about a week before our break-up, my ex "beau" gave me a little present... a final parting gift, if you will. He had actually picked it up about a month earlier, while on a roadtrip with a buddy for some nonsense or other a couple hours south of here. Apparently, he forgot to give it to me, so he'd been carrying it around in his back pack for a while... got a little scrunched.

What is this delightful surprise?

Dirt.

Well, white dirt... or kaolin clay, to be more precise.

"Best White Dirt"
So what qualifies as the worst?

"Not Recommended for Consumption"
Don't eat it? But my "white chocolate" mud pies!

And to think, some girls get diamonds!

I don't mean to seem ungrateful, but what the hell am I supposed to do with this? Was he trying to send me some sort of a message? He saw bags of dirt and it made him think of me? Come to think of it, maybe it was meant for me to remember him by... that would make more sense, with all the trail of debris that used to follow in his wake.

*sigh*

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Responses were varied, including me adding that although he was kind of sucky at gifts, he was good at tickets... taking me to see Tom Waits, Patton Oswalt, and "This American Life" Live... shows he was listening at least half of the time!

The best comment came to me from an old friend wishing to remain anonymous. Her idea was:

"first, [k]aolin makes a lovely facial mask. make a paste with water and a few drops lavender oil. focus on drawing out the negativity of the relationship. apply mask, then wash him down the drain with it :) take the rest of your white dirt and release him to the winds."

So after a few cat calls for "DO IT! And post photos!" and me laughing that off, I finally figured, "Sure, I haven't photo blogged in a while!" (Or "phlogged," as my friend Candice calls it!) Also, he never responded to any previous messages that I'd sent him, the last of which read simply: "Fyi: I still miss you."

Way more than enough time had passed and having not received a response to even that last message, I figured it was time to just move on, even if the first step was a symbolic one. Not being one to believe in "the best way to get over somebody is to get under somebody else," I grabbed the bag of clay, some lavender oil, and my camera and headed into the bathroom for an experiment in spiritual healing.

Here is my follow up "phlog" result...

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As previously read in my "Not Digging in the Dirt" note, it was suggested that I should make a wonderful facial mask out of the strange bag of kaolin clay. So doing my best job crushing with just my fingers and mixing in water and lavender oil, I made this lovely paste, which made strange pops, clicks and whistles while it melted... yeah, like a little dolphin.

Mmm! Kinda like baby vomit!

The lavender scent was soothing.

The coolness was exhilarating.

The gushiness was... disgusting.

A mortar and pestle would've been good for getting rid of the chunks.

Once I was satisfied with how thoroughly smeared my face and neck were, I went off and tried to meditate while this goop dried for about 30 minutes. My thoughts vacillated between focusing on pulling out the toxic impurities from my last relationship, healing and being completely whole, and wondering where I put my dignity.

When I came back to check the mirror, the experiment seemed to be done.

"I like turtles."

Where'd all the flakes go? Where flakes always go... down my shirt.

I gotta say, though, after washing the crust away, my pores have never looked better!

I fear no macro lens!

After that, I took a rubber mallet to the remaining clay clumps inside the bag and went outside to scatter the dust to the wind.

Unfortunately, there was no breeze...

...so the dust didn't "scatter" as much as it just "snowed."

As I let the dust go, I thought to myself, "I miss you and I release you."

"Congratulations to meet you."

If you can get your hands on some of this clay, I highly recommend the experience. It worked better than I expected it would... even if the whole act was merely symbolic.

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Interestingly, just as I was about to hit "Publish" on that photoblog, I received a text message from the ex in question. "I miss you too. Every hour of every day." Maybe some of the dust did take to the wind after all.

That message not withstanding, I wish he could release me in a similarly meaningful way...

R.I.P. Mr. & Mrs. Awesome