Why is Moving On So Hard?

A cliche image for a cliche lament. How does one deal with moving on, heading down that lonely open road?

I happened to read this blog post yesterday, and it eloquently expressed how I am feeling about life (today) perfectly. Like this author, I love change, I constantly talk about change, I go bat-shit insane when life is too boring, but I hate when I am forced to change before I am ready. Particularly when it comes to relationships.

Right now, I am pretty mad about some injustice done to me, so it's easier to think about leaving places and people behind, but I hate to think that my departure will be just as timely and meaningless to them as I pretend it is to me. That they'll all be better off when I leave for my new gig.

The shitty thing about moving on is this - you have to accept that the other person (or group of people) will ultimately move on too.

My Movie

Isn't always turning out the way I thought it would.

At the beginning, I had very specific ideas about the art direction, about the character of the protagonist. The love interest would be eloquent, deep, and socially aware. There would be tragedy and loss and love, and somehow, it would make the conclusion seem all the more significant.

It was never intended for commercial production - for laugh tracks, and shallow lessons wrapped in smiles and civility. I intended that only a select audience would grasp its message.

The picture seems I see in front of me is much more contrived and safe than I ever thought it would be. The principal actors are so secure and safe. The drama and intensity is muted with polite discourse and good intentions. It's almost hygienic in its nature.

The colors are more muted than I expected too; there is a lot less glitter and gold, and instead the characters wear fuzzy sweaters and old jeans with holes in the knees. Costume design was less based on aesthetic, and more based on comfort.

Don't get me wrong, what I've produced is good, but all in all, something seems lost in translation.

I think it will do well in the theaters - it certainly won't win any awards - but people will walk away entertained, most likely it will be classified as a "feel good" movie. A good representation of the stable progression through life, something you don't really see now-a-days, with all that's wrong in the world. I think the general population will like it.

It's my own fault, really. Somewhere along the way, I guess I sold out. Maybe it was the promise of money, maybe it was the promise of stability.

I guess I worried it would never work if I did it my way. That my vision was unrealistic.

I think about scrapping the whole thing and going back to the start, but then I always stop. Why bother? After all, I already have a good movie on my hands.

A Boring Word Like Sad

Sad is a boring word. It doesn't do justice to the millions of complex feelings that underlie it. Like loss. Or acceptance. Or futility. But sometimes it's all just too much, and there is just no other way to describe how you feel - other than with a boring word like sad.

On Nostalgia

"Nostalgia. It’s delicate, but potent.
In Greek, Nostalgia literally means the pain from an old wound.
It’s a twinge in your heart, far more powerful than memory alone.
This device isn’t a spaceship - it’s a time machine.
It goes backwards, forwards.
It takes us to a place where we ache to go again."
- Mad Men

This is one of the truest, and most sublime quotes I've read in some time. It really speaks to me this morning as I reflect on the past. The older I get, the more nostalgic I seem to become, and it comforts me to know that I might not be alone in it.

I've noticed that there are fewer truly new, blank-slate experiences in my daily life. As the routine events and changes of life become more familiar, they become more and more loaded with meaning. A sunny day, the wind picking up in a certain direction in my neighborhood, the smell of the Bay in the fog, all of these sensual experiences are not unique occurrences, and more and more frequently these experiences leave me momentarily frozen, lost in the past.

This morning, it was the way the sun was so bright through the cold air, a telling sign that by midday it would be warm. All at once memories - of getting up early for coffee before senior ditch day, of early morning St. Patrick's Day drink-a-thons with my best friends, of summer road trips beginning at the crack of dawn, of waiting for the early train to go to the City - came rushing into my head as I waited for the car to warm up. Momentarily I was visiting lost events from the past, completely forgetting the moment I was actually in.

I used to get sad when I felt the twinge of nostalgia, but as I've gotten older, I've begun to embrace it as a way of appreciating where I've been, and recognizing past experiences for their appropriate influence on my future. It makes me wonder what it's going to be like when I'm old, and I've truly seen it all. When every odd weather combination, every sunset, every smell, and most of the songs are familiar to me, forgotten and remembered again throughout the years of my life. Will it be comforting, reminding me of a full life well lived? Or will it still bring on that strange twinge that comes when remembering treasures so long gone?

I am at least encouraged by this thought - that every day I'm alive, I'm creating the memories that could bring me peace in my old age. It reminds me to make every day count, because one day, these memories could be my most precious possession. And nostalgia, no longer a delicate and potent pain, my fondest and most familiar friend.

Three Barriers to Freedom

Fear. Attachment. Expectations.

After much thought and internal debate, I've decided that these are three of the biggest barriers to adventure, change, and everything else I yearn for while sitting at my cube, dreaming about the places I'd rather be. Three nouns that are somehow inextricable from the human experience while being detrimental to it at the same time.

Fear is a no-brainer. It’s the affliction I suffer from the most, and it can be absolutely paralyzing. Fear comes in all forms - whether it's fear that my dreams/goals are unrealistic, or fear that I'll look like an idiot. Fear that my logic is wrong. Fear of failure. Fear of pain. Fear that I can’t have it all. That by the time I arrive, the destination will no longer be where I wanted to go.

While fear is easy to recognize as unproductive and unhelpful, attachment, on the other hand, can serve as both a blessing and a curse. For example, when I was planning my trip to Europe, I originally planned to quit my job, and spend 3 months (maybe more) traveling the other side of the world. Since then, the economy tanked, and quitting has become a luxury I can't afford. Because of this attachment, I realized I couldn't possibly get away for more than 2 months, and the leave/return dates must be set in stone. I can't help it - I am attached to my job.

While that is somewhat of an unfortunate attachment, there are things I've chosen to love, and chosen to be attached to, like DBo, or my current neighborhood, or my car, or my dog and cat. Things I can't live without. While I love having all these things in my life, my need to keep them around sometimes makes it a lot harder for me to look inside my own head, and pursue the potential reality independent of it all. It seems like, the more you love, the smaller your world can become. I guess in that situation all you can do is hope that your world becomes richer.

The last roadblock - my own expectations - can be the most nefarious of the three. This idea that things will be a "certain way" can easily stop you from embracing new things or exploring life - I mean, why bother if you already know what the outcome will be. I can't remember how many times I've seen people give up on something far too soon with the excuse that "it wouldn't work out" anyway. When a projection of your own expectations stops you from trying something new, you'll live a life that never reaches it's full potential.

I wouldn't be lying if I said I thought fear, attachments, and expectations were ALL bad - I suppose there is such a thing as healthy fear . . . the kind that stops you from gambling your life away. There are the attachments we love, our friends, family, pets. And then there are the expectations that help people navigate through unfamiliar situations. The trick is to find the balance, and not let these things dictate life any more than they need to. But that's hard to do, and sometimes I wonder if I've figured it out yet.

The Elephant in the Room

2 weeks ago, I got engaged.

The Ring.

It was totally unexpected – as in, I thought he was joking when he pulled the ring out of his pocket - and I’ve been on somewhat of an emotional roller-coaster since. I am completely honored (and surprised) that DBo wants to spend the rest of his life with me, and I know that I’m casting my lot with a really great guy. And I love him.


Some days, I feel completely giddy and stare adoringly at my ring, but then some days I feel unsure, and confused. I question the timing, I question his motives. Some days I look at California Brides, and tear up while listening to our favorite band. Some days I can barely get the word “engaged” out of my mouth. It’s hard to admit, but I don’t know how I feel about being “a married woman.” I love DBo, and I want to be with him forever, but joining the demographic that keeps RomComs profitable is a bitter pill to swallow.


I fear that the window of “you can live your life however you want, and be who you want to be” is closing. My fate is being written. No longer will I be an adventurous, turbulent, never-satisfied seeker. I will be settled - or so I will be viewed. I worry about being seen as just a half. I am scared of losing my choices. I worry about getting old. I fear losing the thrill of loneliness. Of self-reliance. I’m concerned that this time in my life will never live up to the hype.


My biggest fear is of becoming one of “those girls.” The girls who I mock. The girls who just want to have babies and families and who don’t have internal dialogues about pursuing the opportunities of life. When you get married, you have forfeited the right to decide one day that you want to be someone completely different. When you’re married, above all, your loyalty is to each other, and while that’s an amazing thing, what if suddenly find yourself staying at that job, because it’s close to your house and his work? Suddenly you find yourself maintaining the same tired group of friends, because it’s couples you both know? Suddenly wanting babies because that's what people do?


Today I am looking at my ring, and I love it, and I am so happy to be marrying someone as loving and honest and supportive and smart as DBo. Today's a good day. Maybe I just still need some time to wrap my head around the rest.

Open Letter to an Ex

You’re probably surprised to be getting a letter from me. So, let me start by saying - I feel like there was never be a good time to write/send this, or any logical reason why it would be worth it to do so. However, sending this letter has been on my mind from time to time over the last year or so, and some things have happened in my life recently that made me realize ‘it’s now or never.’ So, here goes.

First of all, I wanted to say that I feel like such a moron every time I picture our last interaction in my mind (what I remember of it anyway.) I don’t want to imagine what sort of impression that left on you, that I had become just another crazy drunk girl. I guess I was for a couple of years, so, there’s that. But, I would hate it if you thought that was the forever me. I think at the time I was just still angry about all the ups and downs and impossibilities of knowing you, and, a daily diet of booze makes anyone a little bit emotional.So, sorry for that. I hope you understand where I was coming from.

I also wanted to say that I think it’s sad that our paths have diverged so completely and possibly irrevocably, but I understand why they did, and to be honest, I don’t think I would change it if I could. But I think it makes everything that transpired weigh a little more tragically in my head. That is one of those problems that has no solution, unfortunately.

Most importantly, I want you to know that when I look back on our whole fiasco/saga, I am painfully aware that it’s both the most impactful experience I’ve had in my life up till now as well as the experience I least understand, had the least amount of control over, and feel the least settled about. Perhaps one is a function of the other, but either way, I don’t like the distantly sad, confused, unsettled feeling I have whenever a song, dream, movie, reference, etc, brings something from that time to the front of my mind. What to do about any of that, I have no idea.

It’s really interesting to me now-a-days to think about how different I am from the days when you knew me. I think I’m a lot better, which I suppose is an unexpected benefit of maturity.

I remember you saying once that you thought I made all my decisions with my heart, and now I don’t think that many of my friends would say that about me. I sort of wish I had had the opportunity for you to know me as an adult because I think I finally started coming out the other end of the most difficult years of my life, and I am embarrassed frankly, that the last impression I made on someone who was so important to me at one time, was such a disaster.

I wonder if we’d even get along, if we’d even have similar world views today, or if all the commonalities are really gone. I think they might be.

I guess I don’t really know what sort of response I want from you. I’m not even necessarily looking for one. I just felt like, if I was going to tell you all of this I better just do it, so I could stop contemplating doing it and get on with my life. I got engaged last week, so I am ready to be done with you forever.

I’m sure you’ve been able to analyze everything in your head and draw some conclusion that brought closure to the whole thing, and I say, that must be nice. I just hope you know that17-23 were the most difficult, crazy years of my life, I’m sorry for most of our interactions during that time, and that, maybe in another life there will be a chance to work all the past shit out. That would be awesome.

Anyway, I hope this doesn’t seem too out of the blue. Hope all is well.

Sitting on Faces, Babies, and Doorknobs

So I was reading my best friend's blog and I thought I would look around to see who else is posting to Blogger. I clicked "next blog," and found this.

And this.

And this.

In fact, in over 30 blogs browsed, only 9 were not a personal account of someone's kinky sexual exploration. (And those 9 were almost exclusively about babies, but more on that later.)

The fact that so many people are blogging about sex - and fisting/spanking/donkey sex at that - leads me to think that there must be an awful lot of sexually repressed and unfulfilled people out there.

There's also a lot of people who are into some weeeeird shit.

Sexual fulfillment is so important, but its more than just the frequency with which you fuck. Sometimes it's less about the orgasm, and more about what you get out of it, whether it's an exhibitionist thrill, an intense emotional connection, or a pass from doing the dishes. With all the shit out there that tells you what you want, there is a lot of pressure to stick to the script. But it seems that the people who claim sex is as simple as putting a dick-in-a-box are the ones who come out years later with a fetish for doorknobs, a collection of men's thongs, or whatever this is. So it's probably better to be honest from the beginning about what you want (MUCH easier said than done.)

Side note - does anyone else find it odd that Fox is covering the Tiger Woods debacle as news when there are earthquakes in Haiti to worry about?

In the name of full disclosure, I should admit that I've got sort of a weird relationship with sex myself. Growing up in a religious household with a super overprotective mother, sex was the one thing that was off limits, no matter how broke or horny I got. I knew I would smoke some day, I knew I might try drugs, but I was NOT going to have sex. Ha.

In hindsight, I hope my parents can see that the whole "abstinence thing" never works out well, especially for curious girls with a rebellious side. I mean, I'm no donkey-girl, but I still feel like I have my own shit to sort out in the sex department. I guess when it comes down to it, I'd rather be spilling my secrets to someone I can trust, rather than sharing my shit online. But who am I to judge? They're just looking for a way to fill the hole. That's what she said.

Can I Get to The Point?

I am a big-picture kind of person (so I have been told by multiple personality-quizzes.)

I guess that's cool, but to me, all that really explains is why I say phrases like "At the end of the day" and "In the big scheme of things" when I'm talking about why I don't like chick-flicks or when I'm trying to claim Bloody Mary's are a "health food."

I would think that if I was a true visionary, I would have some idea of what the hell the big picture actually is.

What is the big picture? The big big picture? I have no answers for that.

It can be really hard to motivate myself to do things sometimes because I oftentimes don't really see the point of a particular action in "the big scheme of things." The things that mattered to me at age 10 don't matter to me now, the things I love now I may or may not remember by the time I'm 60 - with the here-and-now having such fleeting significance in a bigger design, what is the point of it? I am usually far too cynical to come up with answers that don't shit all over everything going on in my life -

Why go to college?
- So I can join the ranks of Corporate America, where I will hopefully be accepted into an entry-level position that will suck 40-50 hours out of my week and maybe not even save me from the recessional American economy -

Why get married?
- Because its the only way to legitimize sex and cohabitation, even though over 50% of people who once married are currently divorced -

Why have children?
- To contribute to an already over-populated earth where there won't be enough drinking water world-wide past 2050 and to ensure that I have fulfilled my womanly/familial duties. . .

I know this sounds sickeningly emo but the world I live in seems so stupid sometimes that I've got to believe there is more than that. What's the real point of hitting (or not hitting) societally decided landmarks as I move through life? What's the point of networking, and making friends, and fitting into a community, other than ensuring packed seats at your funeral?

I used to say that heaven was the end-game. But really, if there is an amazingly powerful omnipotent and omnipresent Alpha-and-Omega, wouldn't he/she/it have an end game of his/her/its own? Surely God didn't use all the power and influence in the universe to create what is arguably the largest game of Sims in the universe.

Then again, if everything is so pointless, why am I wasting time writing a blog?

I guess I'm hoping that if I tell enough stories, and spend enough time in this painful state of reflection, I'll finally start to make some connections - maybe I'll finally figure it all out, or come to some sort of peace with my complete lack of figuring it all out. . . or maybe I'll just find more reasons to live life in a semi-altered state while buying hot shoes and drinking a lot of beer.

So for now, here's my big picture -
"I'm just a fucked-up girl who's lookin' for my own peace of mind" (ESOTSM)

Whether this is a good starting point remains to be seen-