Valentine's Day (as an adult)

Today I experienced Valentine's Day as someone committed to work. I came into work ready to take charge, and I whipped that motherfucker into shape. I took care of my people, couldn't stand to see them so unhappy and I'm about to start making demands. I know I've been so wary of the attention that being the leader gets, mostly because I was always getting in trouble for inciting groups of kids into noisy, rampaging games. But last night I realized, I'm the only one who has the courage in me to stand up and demand changes, starting with myself. If this company is serious about competing, then let's shape up and compete, because this is what I live for. So I've taken it upon myself to commit myself and my unique abilities to work right now to see just what I'm capable of. I think with permission, I can get these people to believe.

Then I went home, picking up a pizza on the way, relishing in the fact that tonight I was that 20-something solitary executive woman that I'd always fantasized about as a kid, taking home a cardboard meal over which she contemplates lofty world-changing professional decisions while never noticing the growing splinter of loneliness growing in her stomach. But the only difference is that I always imagined this girl living in Seattle.

Maybe she does. She's pretty hot.

*****

I had a late night talk with someone a few nights ago. He described me as this plant that sat quietly in the corner and shriveled up, but when everyone forgot about it, the plant secretly moved itself outside. And all of a sudden, there's this huge, wild rose plant growing out in the middle of the woods, and it's so amazing and beautiful, but there's huge thorns on it and no one has any idea how to touch it because it won't let them.

He keeps talking about how people want to touch the flowers, take them home and put them in a nice vase in their house, but I know what he means.

I told him, I don't think of it as much like a plant that died, but like a butterfly. I had to turn myself into a ghost for a little while because I was changing and growing bigger, and I couldn't do it close to anyone who was clinging to the old me. And now, I've learned how to fly and I never want to let anyone take that away from me.

He's upset that I won't let him get close to me, that he's never done me wrong but I still won't trust him. I told him it's like this. Imagine that you live in a tiny village somewhere, and you've never seen a rainbow before. So you're out in the woods one day picking firewood, and all of a sudden, you come into a clearing and see this massive rainbow in the distance, disappearing over a misty cliff. It's breathtaking. You're so awed by it, you're convinced this is not only a miracle, but the most beautiful thing you've ever seen and you ever will see. This, this is magic.

Now imagine you go back to your village, and you're afraid to tell anyone about it because you're convinced that no one will believe you. So you go through life looking and looking for that one person you can trust, that one person you can take to see the rainbow, who won't look at it and say, that's nothing...that's just a phenomenon of science...that's just not real. But you search until you know deep down for sure that you've found him, someone who will look at the rainbow and also experience the same kind of awe and understanding that you had experienced, that same kind of momentary euphoria because you're convinced you have found actual proof of magic.

So he's upset that I don't trust him yet, but trust is not something you say. It's something you know, and as long as I know he'll try to touch me and distract me when my guard's down, I know I'll never be able to show him what it is I know. So I tell him. You give too much power to immature fantasies. As long as you think that the world only has enough success for a few people, that in order for you to win, others must lose, you're not a person I can talk with. But I did admit when I was too hard hard on him sometimes. Sometimes I don't acknowledge his progress because the moment you think you're good enough and get comfortable celebrating that, that's when you stop your growth towards fulfilling your potential. But I let him know that I actualy have noticed his progress and I promised to be more open about acknowledging his big wins. He says that I've taught him a lot. I say, yeah, whatever. Because this is how it always ends.

Because as always, tomorrow, he'll be acting like an adversary, like we're of different species and men really are complete bores, and I'll become exasperated and ignore him for days. Because in the daytime, he doesn't want anyone to know that we're "the same" like he says. He doesn't want people to know about our "special connection." He hates to think he's not the only one I talk to about the things I experience. He wants to know who else is around me but I always remain silent on this.

The same. They always say that. We're the same. And they don't want that to change.

But really, how hard is it to understand someone enough to mirror his personality so that he falls in love with his own image? It just takes practice, wouldn't you say?

*****
You can be a coward about the little things, but not about the things that count.

Do not lose the forest because of the trees, but do not lose the trees because of the forest.

The world is circular to give us chances to redo the things we did equipped with the knowledge from the previous times around. So keep your eyes open for clues and try to learn from your mistakes. And for fun, watch for familiar faces within strangers.

Keep thinking that there's more to this, that there's more yet that we'll discover. There are infinite possibilities. We're going to find a way out of this.