I got tired of small talk. I got tired of not being real. I wanted to feel something, something that would fill this emptiness inside of me. I realized that I'm completely devoid of emotion. The only emotion I have is a sadness, when I acknowledge my emptiness inside. Otherwise, there's nothing. A big brain, a lot of energy, and then...no heart.
you have to remember how to perceive yourself as a child in order to become very aware of yourself.
and for some reason, dragons are very very important.
white people fear dragons but chinese people revere them as beautiful creatures who give them great power.
going back to asia was like being reminded of where I come from, and the strange, mystic and poetic ways eastern culture experiences the soul.
i decided, i want to embody the dragon.
more and more, it's starting to feel like i'm not fitting in here. venus and mars aren't wars of gender, they're wars of feelings. the safety of being submissive or the courage to expand and become great. of hiding or revealing who you are. today in acting class, i asked them why it was easier as a reader to get into something that's a man writing 1st person through a female character, versus a woman writing 1st person through a male character. they're the most willing to explore the deeper elements of these questions so they just agreed that it's easier to read the former rather than the latter.
dragons are mars. they're the cold, cold representation of mars, a hot blue flame.
I didn’t have a bad childhood or anything. It was okay, though I don’t remember much. I remember I ate plant food once because it was out by the sink. It was in this white plastic tub like the kind margarine comes in, and it had these little white balls like cake sprinkles that I thought might mean it was something sweet. My mom caught me putting a handful in my mouth and started yelling, but being scared just made me swallow. She grabbed my hand and slapped at it over the sink to make me drop the rest of it that was clenched in my fist. My dad was laughing as he walked in behind her. “Now you’re gonna have a little plant growing inside your stomach. What are you gonna name it?” he said as he snapped the lid back on. I think I started bawling. I’ve always been a bit of a coward. And the thought of having a plant growing inside of me was terrifying.
My dad had a big German shepherd for a little while. We weren’t very close. He was an outside dog and sometimes we played, but my dad warned me never to pet him if his tail wasn’t wagging. We ended up having to give him away after he bit the kid of one of my dad's friend's on the shoulder, but I don’t think anyone was sad. My mom was too busy to get to know him and I think my dad got tired of him. That dog never really seemed that excited about living with us anyway, more like he put up with us. Maybe he felt like he landed with the wrong family, a group of complete incompatibles with his personality type, the way adopted kids sometimes do.
The only interesting thing that I can remember was this one neighborhood kid, Jamie. He was maybe a couple of years older than me, about 8, and his parents were never home. He had Duck Hunt on Nintendo so I always wanted to go to his house to play. The game was in their guest room, so we would sit on the edge of the bed, a proximity that allowed me to hold the gun up and be only inches away from the screen for extra accuracy. The thing I loved about it was that he would let me shoot at those animated ducks for hours and he was content to just sit next to me and watch, never wanting to take turns. That’s something I always hated. The waiting part of taking turns.
I was at his house one day playing Duck Hunt when I looked over, and Jamie was staring at the screen, his face kind of zoned out. I looked down to see that he had zipped his pants open, and the tiny head of his penis was poking out, and he was twisting it idly with his fingers as he stared at the screen. I think he noticed that a lot of ducks were going by without me firing any shots, so he looked over and saw that I was staring at his hand.
“What are you doing?” I asked, confused with a tinge of panic.
“Watching you play,” he said, his voice flat.
“Don’t do that,” I said, jumping off the bed.
He got this evil little grin, the one that boys get when they’re running around with a spider or a snake outstretched in their hands, sending us girls into screaming hysterics.
He jumped off the bed and waved his little bitty thing at me, up and down, up and down, flop, flop, flop, laughing gleefully at me.
I stared at him, frozen, overwhelmed by how to proceed. Then…I was gone. I ran out the door, down his stairs and out his front door, ran….my legs pounding me all the way home.
He lived across the street then four houses down, and I ran the whole way with him in pursuit. I don’t think he let go of his penis the entire time. Our automatic garage door was open so I ran in, then hit the button to close it, but the thing was so damn slow that he slipped in underneath. He was cackling with excitement, something that scared me more as something primal inside was telling me to be terrified of what might happen if I let him catch me. He chased me into my own house, up our stairs, all the way to my room but I was able to slam the door and lock it just in time. He pounded on it for a while, laughing with a joy that I’ve since identified as simply a mental state of -- “not okay.” He begged me, cajoled me, told me he was only kidding. That he’d put it away so it was safe for me to come out. But I wouldn’t answer him, my back pressed against the door with my feet grinding into the carpet in case he managed to figure out how to unlock the door (any ballpoint pen inserted in the hole under the handle would have done the trick). His pounding got more persistent, more aggressive. “Open the door!” he yelled. He seemed furious now. Personally offended. He got down and tried to wiggle his fingers under the door as I curled away in terror, but thankfully, the thick carpet of my room only let him get the tips in which quickly frustrated him more. After what seemed like a lifetime of assaulting my fragile panic room, he gave the door a last cowering kick and yelled, “You’re no fun!” followed by footsteps stomping down our hall.
I stayed on the floor in front of my door until the sun went down, until my room slowly turned into shadows, until I could hear night sounds fill the dark expanse outside my window. Finally, I heard my mom pull up in the driveway and into our garage.
I didn’t come out until she tried my door and found it locked. She paused, then knocked tentatively.
“Honey? Are you in there?”
I opened the door, looking around furtively behind her. I wasn’t convinced Jamie wasn’t hiding somewhere in the house, still waiting to catch me alone.
“Yeah,” I said, probably looking at her like I would disintegrate if she let me out of her sight.
She looked at me, then at my darkened room with a mother’s concern. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah,” I said.
I reached for her hand, and together, we went downstairs to the kitchen, and as I sat in one of the high kitchen stools in front of the counter, I watched her transfer vegetables and packages from the refrigerator to the sink to prepare dinner. She cut the vegetables carefully and with great concentration, then put them in a rinsed bowl as she washed the slime off the chicken pieces. She told me to open a window as she dropped the chunks of meat into heated oil, which I did obediently. A thick cloud of white smoke rose above the pan instantly as the room filled with sizzling. I could smell the cool fall air through the wire mesh of the screen as the warm aroma of garlic and cooking meat wafted by me, mingling, and I realized I’d been holding all the air in my chest the entire time, only taking shallow breaths.
“You have a good day?” she asked, her spatula scraping the pan at random intervals.
“Yeah,” I said, my face pressed into the screen, taking slow breaths, in and out, filling myself with these familiar smells. Because everything that was bad was now safely tucked in the past. And everything in the right now was finally okay.
saturn. the father. the stern taskmaster. you make us fear things the way fear felt when we were emerging beings, viewing the world through a pinpoint of consciousness from within a dark cave, when we still had no sense yet of what the hell was going on. you scare a person enough while he's in this stage, and he'll perpetually walk through life like he's lost in a game in which he doesn't understand the rules. it's the same reason you don't shake an egg before it hatches.
tyrant father.
you liked tormenting those weaker than you, didn't you?
but it never killed the smallness you felt inside the root of you.
because father issues are the mother of all issues.
it's going to stop.
let up on some of these people, okay? they are good people who are way too hard on themselves, thinking they are incomplete or flawed. you are making them feel sad and angry. small. some who are so much bigger are playing small in hopes that you don't turn your brutal eye on them, or are playing small in hopes it will please you into offering kindness. some have abandoned their personal power in their need to escape. you need to be a better leader like the sun.
when i told someone in confidence that i needed an army to stand up to you, people started following me. they can feel the same feeling, a readiness for emergence. they can feel there's some truth in this, and they have hope. what binds us is that we believe that we are better than this, timid caged people terrified of their father. they believe that if they can expand the positive energy inside them, it would be so powerful as to render you a ghost.
is it too idealistic of me to think that we can coexist? this is not a war. this is a peaceful return to balance. we are not weak, but we are not threats. we are going to stand up, very slowly, and you're going to let us. you will be awed by what you see, our size, our numbers, our gentle power. and then, you're going to step back, and you're going to let us walk away, to unlock the cages of others.
In my writing workshop, we did a short impromptu writing exercise where we had to write the beginning of a story that starts with "Once upon a time..."
Once upon a time, a man and his toaster had a dispute.
The man was groggy from a late night of spying on his neighbors across the alley who were of dubious nationality (someplace where the men were swarthy with perpetual forehead sweat and the women their coy properties). He was convinced they were running some kind of third-rate brothel out of their dumpy 1 BD + den. He had already been irritated with the coffeemaker which had released a thick little poot of grounds in its final gurgle of release, thus ruining the entire pot. Now the toaster refused to relinquish his toast.
I'll shake you, he said, waving a knife at the toaster. The indifferent toaster didn't even blink, knowing if the man so much as tried to pry that precious meal from his insides, he would give him a shock to remember.
I'll throw you in the alley like the tea kettle!
The toaster remembered the tea kettle, the shy, red KitchenAid possessing an unassuming allure. He had grown fond of her in the summer months when she sat quietly on the backburner, watching the rest of the kitchen go about its business while she, herself, remained a wallflower.
The man was always a coffee drinker but the one time he attempted to make tea for an obese, inane lady friend with a double chin and a peculiar smell, the teapot's shrill announcement of the water boiling inside her so discombobulated the man that he burned his pinkie on her red backside and promptly defenestrated her out the window.
The entire kitchen was horrified.
They had staged a passive-aggressive rebellion ever since.
i used to think it was stupid how people couldn't recognize that clark kent was superman, how a pair of glasses could render superman invisible. today i wonder if maybe this is based on a phenomenon that's real.
today i went to a toastmasters division competition. the understanding i had was that i would probably never see these people again. the message had been delivered to those it was intended for. the messenger is to stay out of the way of the work of the message. but i wanted to know. and i wanted to be supportive of this group that had accepted me for a few weeks.
the room was bright and fluorescent-lit, unforgiving. sometimes the best way to hide is out in the open. i wore my hair up and glasses. i've been told when i do this, i look like a different person. wore stylish, texturized solids, rich and earthy for the sake of blending into the background, but potentially stunning if you notice. sat directly behind everyone from my chapter, my knees inches from our treasurer's back who was sitting in front of me. gray wool socks with black loafers, his feet nervously jiggle when he sits. yet he looks like a dancer gliding with animal grace, every movement lyrical when he walks. why?
i focused on a reality in which i believed i didn't know anyone here, that i was consciously, a complete stranger to this place and these people. cloaked myself in blankness. hiding. a man i've truly never met sitting next to me noticed me; he kept pretending to crane to look at the guy on the other side of me, taking a long lingering look at my face as he turned his head back. i sat motionless, refusing to make eye contact. he seemed to be subtly smelling me which was making me nervous. i wondered if my perfume was too strong. if my scent was too obvious, giving me away. had i made a mistake? but the people in my group didn't see me, even though they were all in the two rows in front of me. they walked by me and even turned, facing me. i made brief eye contact with one of them when he turned to talk to the man in front of me. no spark in his eyes. no recognition.
i slipped out just before they announced the intermission, went to the bathroom. thought about it, that if my presence had actually been noticed without me realizing, then i probably come off very strange. figured i should probably mingle.
when i walked up to the group at the intermission, it became clear no one knew i had been there the whole time. they were really surprised and happy. some looked confused, like they weren't sure if it was me, like they weren't sure what to make of me. that was the point though, wasn't it? my sharp entrance into their lives? my vanishing? wasn't that what i wanted, what i'm always obsessing about, to make sure they didn't become attached to the messenger and lose the message? no, it's not what i want, because underneath it all, i'm lonely and i want people to know and understand all levels of me. but i don't want to let people get attached, pin their hopes and dreams or feelings on me because i don't know where life will take me and my commitment first and foremost is to this journey.
the person who hadn't recognized me earlier despite making eye contact made a happy sound when he recognized me. he looked at me in amazement, like i was someone he never thought he would see again, when in walks a ghost. he grabbed my hand with both of his, shaking vigorously and refusing to let go. in chinese, this means gratitude. in white people, i'm not sure what this means. it's really really good to see you. really good to see you, he kept saying. his whole body crackled with anxious energy, his eyes never broke contact. like he was assuring himself this moment was real. if i could trust that this man weren't a drowning man looking for an audience, i can feel the message for him on the edge of my mental horizon that could guide him towards the peace he secretly wants if he could let go of the drama he openly craves. but his desperation makes me very cautious. i can not trust that he won't eventually lash out at me.
they didn't know i had been there the whole time. they thought i had just shown up. they were surprised i'd been there for a while. i didn't even know you were right behind me, one man said. i didn't recognize you, said another.
but one of them did. i knew that he knew more about me than the others, but i didn't acknowledge this or show awareness out of politeness, keeping my expressions open but neutral. two poker projections facing off, both with secrets, both hard to read. but i did have questions, questions that i would never bring up openly unless the subject were put on the table. other people were talking to me so it was hard to get space to talk to him, to feel him out. i was curious to understand what he thinks he knows, what he was hoping to find. maybe he's not even aware of what exactly drives his curiosity, so these questions may not even matter. does he want a message, or is he like me, two travelers in an undeveloped foreign land, realizing we look the same under our masks, but only acknowledging our hidden selves in psychic nods and winks? or is this just lower vibration human complication to be avoided at all costs?
glasses. hair up. one mind's focused projection bending the perceived reality of others. like with mirrors. like in magic.
an illusion.
for a short period of time, i walked among the living without their awareness.
overall a fun evening, interesting experiment, and an overwhelming tinge of loneliness and loss on the drive home.
i am empty when i am alone.
lost without a reflection.
a shadow without identity.
a messenger serving a voice i've never met.
echoing.
i am a ghost.
last night i admitted to someone that i am a ghost.
i knew he was going to ask me out. it had been brewing for a few months. but i have been switching up my schedule so that people can't find me, and i had been deflecting his feeler inquiries into my status because i've been working really hard lately on whatever it is i'm working on, focusing my energy, understanding personal power and my path. i have to stay focused. but he finally did it. he was polite about it, a little awkward. and his energy felt kind, so i never like to discourage anyone who is kind and positive by nature. so i agreed, looking forward to it as much as i was apprehensive. would i be able to act like a normal human being, not revealing too much about this other side of me? would i be fun and interesting and lighthearted, considering i've been intensely plumbing the spiritual depths for so long? would i come off like a sex-craved animal considering i'm going at least 10 months strong on withholding sex from myself? would i sexually assault him? is that necessarily a bad thing?
we went to dinner and had pleasant conversation. small talk. i was still safe. normal flirting, i was interesting, funny, letting him make tiny discoveries that i am full of surprises. remembering that i'm a very good first date. he surprised me as well. intelligent, cultured, a soothing comfortable energy. he dropped compliments that he found me attractive. then religion came up. i was cautious. said i was spiritual, but not religious, but i appreciated religion as a way for people to find their path to spirituality, the way some people didn't need to go to college to be successful in their career path, while others used college to help them gain the knowledge to where they wanted to go. i didn't believe in religion as the end all be all because i felt it was a method to achieve spirituality, and i definitely didn't believe in any religion that spouted obedience by manipulating people's fear and shame. but i believed that there is a greater power, and that we all belong to it as much as it belongs to us. he said that he believed jesus is the way. the subject passed.
we went to a piano bar. it was a really good time. he really wanted to get me drunk. 4 tequila shots, the only thing that doesn't make me sick. defenses failing. true self coming out. i wanted to kiss him, even though i wasn't sure if i liked him in a way in which i wanted to build anything together, where i could commit to showing up and consistently being the same person. it's strictly chemicals coursing through my blood. like i said, sometimes it's like that with me. born on venus raised on mars. primal mentality. almost a years worth of sexual energy pent up to force creative output, but still crafty about a more electric release. but it's just about the release, the conquest. one and done. catch and release. never hunt and kill, but still...a loss of interest. leave and move on to another chase. cast a cheap pallor on everything else exchanged that had actually been sincere and real. so i withheld myself.
he is circling closer. he says he's blown away, that he liked me before, but now that he's discovered this whole other spiritual side to me, he's blown away. uh oh. he sees. i might freak you out, i say. nothing you could say or do could freak me out, he says. don't say i didn't warn you, i say.
we go back to his place. turn down the lights. turn on some music. relax. he does not come on to me. he gives me my space so i am not scared. so the words come. the words come like a broken radio i can't turn off because it's not plugged in. he sat there, fixated, motionless. words going by that made sense to him, about his childhood, his life experience, his purpose. things that i didn't know why i seemed to know, thoughts, ideas and observations that seemed to come from someone who knew him better than i did, and i was just a 3rd party listening in on this conversation.
i was explaining to him that he's a special person, that he's had a hard life but having gone to hell and back, having looked at utter destruction of the self dead in the face and facing a decision to give up on yourself or save yourself because you realize you care about yourself, you're stronger. you've learned what true courage is, and that you have it in you. because you looked death in the eye and you said, i want to live. and after that, you know that nothing can hurt you, that there's nothing in this world that you could ever be afraid of. don't be afraid to stand up and be amazing. be amazing in your own unique way, because every single person in this world has a special talent. it may not look like mine, it may not look like other people's that you admire, but you have something to offer this world that only you have, so you have to show people. in fact, i don't know what it is, but i know you do. he nodded. don't doubt yourself, i said. your path is to share your exceptionalness with those around you, so that they can also recognize their own power, and so they can pass along the knowledge.
these words. these words and phrases and ideas. they just kept spilling out from a place close to the right side of my head and out of my mouth. i was surprised by how wise and confident they were, considering i had no control over them and didn't feel like i was making things up, performing a magic trick. this was making sense to him. what was happening in the moment, was completely unexpected, but we both could feel it was important. and i was learning from these words at the same time he was absorbing it.
when i was done, he bowed his head, processing. then he looked up and said, "thank you. i am grateful that you chose to communicate with me." i said your welcome.
but then the other part of me got conscious, insecure. "that was weird, what just happened, right?"
he smiled and nodded sincerely. "yeah, that was definitely unusual and unique."
i was a little embarrassed and a little terrified. "i don't know how i do that. it's like something is speaking through me and just using me to deliver it."
"i think god speaks through you." he was serious.
"i don't know where it comes from, but i know it's a positive energy that changes people's lives."
he takes his time to gather his thoughts before he speaks, slowly.
"i know that i will remember you for the rest of my life. i will remember the time you granted to spend with me, and the message you gave me. there are times when you realize you will always remember someone, and i know, in this moment, that i will always remember you, because this has been significant."
i'm blown away. this man is so incredibly honest, and i'm grateful to him beyond words. he is looking at me in the way that i know he's surprised to suddenly find that he's in love with me, and i am suddenly feeling self-conscious, shy.
"be careful," i say.
a tiny smile around his lips. "of what?"
"i can't let anyone get close to me."
"why?"
"because if i love someone, if i commit to someone, i will want to give all this energy to one person. and my gut tells me that this is selfish, to only give to one person. that i'm not living up to my potential of the positive changes i could help other people with, even though i hope that some day, this path will be complete so i can settle down and live a normal life with people close to me."
my loneliness is radiating out of my chest, overwhelming me, almost a physical sadness. a part of me wants him to say, you don't have to do this anymore...it's okay.
"you're of the wind. you're like a gypsy, going where you're needed. it's very cool. what you do is a good thing that the world needs, so it's important that you keep doing it."
my heart sinks. i wanted to be off the hook.
he looks at me for a long time, and i get a little nervous. i don't like it when people direct all their attention at me when it's just me. because i am not it. he asks me if i want any water, any ice cream, anything to make me more comfortable. he's very concerned. i tell him not to worry about me. he says, "i want to give you a present. i just don't know what yet, but i want to give you a present."
i say, "why? you don't have to give me anything."
he says, "i feel like you just gave me a lot, and i want to give you something back."
i say, "it's okay. you don't have to give me anything."
he asks me, "what do you get out of this? delivering these messages to people?"
no one has ever cared enough to ask me that. he surprises me.
"if these messages help people discover their true paths, they'll find peace and contentment in their hearts. they'll radiate love which will in turn, affect the people around them. it makes this world a better place by expanding awareness of our connections with each other, and this is important to me, because this is the path i serve. i remind people that there is a greater power out there, and not to lose faith in themselves and their own unique paths. in terms of just for me, it's like if we didn't have such things are mirrors, you would never be able to see what you look like. i have no accurate mirror. i don't understand what this is, what happens, because it's like i go into another room, but i can hear what's going on, but i can't see. i have no idea what i look like, how people perceive me, what i look like from the outside when this is happening. when i have this type of connection with someone, usually they'll give me something, a clue that helps me understand who i am, what i am. because i honestly have no idea, and it tortures me to not know what i look like. i've always felt like my life purpose, i'm searching for an answer to a question i don't even know. and i keep searching and searching. but then i meet someone and have a connection like we just did, and it's like, unexpectedly, we find that i am the answer to their question." he nods enthusiastically. "it's unbelievable but it's true," he says.
"when i tell people these things and they realize that what is happening is the answer to something they've been searching for whether or not they were conscious of it, like a key and a lock, my hope is that they've gained enough understanding to explain to me, what is the question that i have just answered? because i seem to be answering the same question, because it's similar people in similar stages of their lives that are drawn to me. that is ultimately what i'm trying to understand. it's so mysterious and frustrating. but i think that a lot of us are like that. we are the unique answers to a lot of other people's soul questions, and when we meet, the riddle is complete, even though each side doesn't necessarily know which mystery was just given light. you are the unique answer for certain people's questions, and you know this when you meet them and a whole other level reveals itself."
he nods. "thank you. thank you for spending this time with me. what you do is almost like divine communication, it's a power that comes from inside you that that is so positive and full of love, that a person who hears the message opens up and also responds to you with love. it's an incredible and beautiful experience. there is a part of me now that truly and deeply cares for you."
the me that is not fully developed hears this and gets scared, even though the higher part of me asks me to calm down. "you have to be careful. i don't know how to let people get close to me because it's terrifying to me. i try to live gently and carefully, but i've also got defenses that are not nice to keep people out that i can't control yet so i don't want to accidentally hurt you. just know that the message has nothing to do with the messenger, that i'm a fucked up flawed human being just trying to find my way like everyone else. i'm a kid...so know that what is happening is not me, but happening through me. i'm a ghost. i deliver messages and disappear. you might not ever see me again, but know that what was exchanged was real and for you."
don't become attached to me, is what i'm saying. from this point on, i can only disappoint you.
"so this may be it?" he says.
"i don't know," i say. because i really don't. we stay up until 3am, like we know, as soon as this connection is over, as soon as day breaks, the magic will be gone. and then we are again, two people, on separate paths, serving our own unique purposes.
believe in magic, is the last thing i tell him. this world is full of magic. and if you believe in it, that we can change the world with our minds, our hearts and our energy, you will meet more people just like you and i to remind you that you are not alone. you will meet those who are also hiding, thinking to themselves that they are alone in their uniqueness. the ignorant who held power have taken advantage of us when we were young, manipulating us to believe we are the lesser minority that is inferior, broken, defective, because the truth was threatening and opened up questions that they had no answers to. the truth of our difference is that we are courageous, wise, powerful and more aware of our connection to the greater entity outside of our bodies. this awareness, once embraced, makes us the shepherds for those who vibrate at lower levels and have fear in their hearts. we have power if we can focus it, to make change, to heal. believe that there are others out there, and you'll be drawn to each other, to teach and to learn, so you won't be afraid to believe in yourself and your unique purpose. don't feel alone, because you're not.
he really is a lovely person whose receptiveness and kindness allowed me to listen and learn as well. i am thankful for having met him and spent time with him.
nevertheless, i woke up this morning, melancholy, feeling like i lost something i really loved.
he closed his eyes and tried to imagine her--the way the low timbre of her voice hinted at a bitter, brooding storm caged grudgingly just below the surface, the way she moved that was equally as terrifying as exhilarating. he wasn't sure if he could even remember what she looked like, only the dark shadow that had invaded his headspace like a fog with teeth, muting his senses whenever he looked at her, convincing him there had to be a connection, that this was all for him, perhaps willing it, like a welcomed illness or addiction. she made him feel imbalanced, uneven, kinetic--trembling on the verge of something redemptive or something tragic, either of which he was more than willing to accept as long as he could have his satisfaction. he wanted a peek behind the curtain. he wanted to consume her secrets.
i'll get inside your head if you let me, he heard her say. and then you can see, what happens to a man seduced by a ghost.
a chill ran through him, dispatched by the tiny logical minority living in his left brain that still cared about keeping his world intact. he wasn't sure if it was a wish or a surrender that had allowed the voice in, or even if the voice was just a masquerade of something surfacing within the depths of himself, pleading for a stupendously gruesome trainwreck that might shake him out of his infinite stupor. but now that she was inside him, he felt resigned to let things run its course. the muscles in his shoulders melted as he settled deeper into his office chair, his hands falling loosely above his thighs. a beacon of pulse throbbed a desperate s.o.s. into the tips of his fingers as he felt himself slip away, the words, sometimes devastation can be lyrical if you look hard enough, echoing in the space behind his ears.
it would only be a matter of time.
my favorite semi-urban jungle gym.
6:30 pm. i rode the bike for half an hour, and then looked for my coworker who was there for a 7:00 training appt. we go to the same gym.
i've been obsessed with who her trainer is, if she's good, and wanting to trail a session. i don't know if it's protectiveness or competiveness that's the underlying urge. this place is my 2nd home and i'm territorial. my coworker invited me to trail their workout tonight so i could copy the circuit.
i ran into her by the locker room and she got my attention with a shy wave. she said that she had been watching me. i was surprised. i hadn't seen her at all. she said that she was on the treadmill right behind me. really? i said. huh. got creepy feeling that i filed away for later.
she said that her trainer wasn't there. i asked her what she meant. she said her trainer just called her and said she couldn't make it. that's unprofessional, i said. i know, right? so they said i should see if any other trainers are free who could train me. i walked her over to the desk and she asked them about available trainers in this time slot. the guy tries to give her some chick, but i could tell from the way he said her name, it was kind of a sorry, but that's all we've got tone.
this guy, juan, we've acknowledged each other with smiles and nods for years. he knows i've been here long enough to call bullshit. i ask him, what about bobby? is bobby available. noooo, he said, like bobby's out of my coworkers league. listen, i said. i've been watching some of your trainers, and they're not watching people's form at all. that's how people get hurt, and then they get sent out back to the chiro's office. my coworker giggled. juan looked taken aback, then grinned. hey, that's my manager next to you, you have to tell him what you just said. some of these trainers aren't paying attention to form, and that's how people get hurt, i repeat, impatient. the manager shakes his head and says, sorry, some trainers just aren't as good as others.
sorry, some of our trainers just aren't as good as others.
that should be the gym's motto.
so i look at juan like, no bullshit, get someone fucking good for my coworker. so he flips through some pages and says, you know, jack over there, he's very good. he's very serious and wants things done a certain way, but he'll work you. he knows what he's doing, juan? i ask. yeah, jack is good. he waves jack over and introduces them. my coworker agrees to work out with jack.
i lose interest immediately when i see they're going to be doing legs. i don't know if you know, but i have legs like a chick running back. like, why can't i look that muscular in the area of, say, my abs? so i hate working out legs on the machines because i work them out so much in everything thing else i do. i look over and see the basketball court full, sigh, and resign myself to doing quads next to them. in the middle of my first set on my left leg (i go right for 15 then left for 15 at 35 lbs for 3 sets), her trainer walks over and runs his finger along my surgery scar and asks, what's this from? i watch his finger trace the scar on my knee and look up to see him looking me in the eyes. i narrow my eyes, hostile. don't touch me. acl, i say, and i go back to focusing on my leg with complete concentration. in the middle of my second set, my coworker asks me if i have an extra hairband. i do. i go back to the locker room to get it. when i come back, she whispers to me, my trainer says you have really strong legs.
i see they're heading for more leg machines and my body is revolting in boredom. so i tell her i'm going to go play basketball. i head to the court and there's the guy who shoots like he's cocking a handgun. he's also a domineering son of a bitch, and we play some intense one on one games. i do want to interrupt their three man game of 21 to play 2 on 2 and he tries to get me to join a 4 man game of 21. what the fuck? how does that work? so i say 2's afterwards, even though i know i totally don't have the patience today to wait for a game. i go and run on the treadmill, the intensity of running making me fantasize about how shredded this is getting my body. i get off after 2 1/2 minutes. dreams of fourpack ownership float away.
i do some back exercises, some 5 lb weight circuit, some dips and consider doing abs, settling for stretching instead because the mat is crowded. i decide to do the seated row. i realize i approach weight training the same way i approach rides at magic mountain. i just go where there's the least amount of wait until i get tired and want to go home. the trainer and coworker walk by and she says goodbye. i say, i'll walk you out. i'm bored so it's time to go home.
the trainer asks her if she would like to train with him again and she says that she would. as we walk, he sidles up next to me and with this grin, says, what about you? what about me, i say. what do you want, he says, trying to look sly. i don't need anything, i say. you've got really great legs, he says. sigh. i want this conversation to end immediately. yeah, that's all i've got, i say, dismissively...the rest of me is still gunning for that fourpack. that's not all you have, he says. i mean, you've got amazing legs like, really amazing legs. he casually gestures towards the trainers station. we've been talking about it, your legs are ridiculous. (who've been talking about it? mild feeling of alarm) but you've got a personality, and a lot of other great things going for you. you've got a great jumpshot. with a devious grin, i ask him, almost accusingly...have you been watching me?, saying it the way tim olyphant as the drug dealer in go asks katie holmes, claire...are you a virgin? he gives me this bizarre look, like a small fuse behind his pupils pops and his mouth forms a perfect 0 . no, he says quickly, then gives me a little tiny smile that doesn't convince me or him. he gives me a small embarrassed wave and says, seeya, as he hurries away.
today i also saw a group of these cocky big black ballers laughing and joking around in front of the courts. they were being obnoxiously loud like they owned the place. as i walked by them, i gave them a smirk like, yeah, i know all about you. and they all fell silent, like they were waiting to see which one of them i was giving the look to. i walked by without saying a word. that's my way of saying, shut up.
tyrannically enforced celibacy to fuel creativity maintained over multiple months-- healthy or a vicious girl-on-guy sexual assault waiting to happen? discuss amongst yourselves.
Thoughts I Had Today
1. Do we really need headlines for blog entries? Have we become such pussies that we need to first be prepared with an easy-to-swallow summary before we read anything? Swallow your freakin' pills, kids. Seriously. You need to be learning this stuff.
2. As long as you can understand I am the most unreliable contact in the world, but deep down, in a sincere but abstract way, I really do love you even if you can never find me at any given moment and I have a tendency to drop off the face of the earth for stretches of time, then yes. We can be friends.
3. Why is it that when food is fried, people get so giddy?
4. A handshake really does say a lot about a person. It's like trying a key in a lock for the first time, and you have no idea if it will open the door.
5. Do I want to be invisible or a mind reader? I haven't quite decided.
6. In One Corner--Tender Sensitive Therapy Addicts Who Have the Annoying Tendency of Being Comfortable with Oversharing in the Elevator.
In the Other Corner -- The Predators Who Go To Therapy Just So They Can Consistently Mindfuck Someone Who Is No Intellectual Match
Watching the people coming in and out of the therapists' office next door is like human fishtank porn.
7. Men with money in Los Angeles have god complexes, no matter how ridiculous it is for some of these losers to have god complexes.
8. I think I've been visiting people in their dreamscapes. I've been experimenting with gamma waves.
9. Jesus loves you.
I love this:
Kathy Griffin's Jesus Profanity Stirs Outrage
Oct. 1, 2007 issue - Some stories are best told straight. On Sept. 8, Kathy Griffin, a bawdy, foulmouthed comedian, accepted an Emmy Award for her reality show, "My Life on the D-List," and in her acceptance speech she explained that while other actors might thank Jesus for such an honor, she wouldn't consider it. "Suck it, Jesus," she exuberantly added, waving her statuette in the air. "This award is my God, now."
Outrage from Christian groups predictably followed, led (also predictably) by William Donohue of the Catholic League, who went on CNN to complain that "Hollywood laughs when she says 'Suck it, Jesus,' but if she'd said 'Suck it, Jews,' or 'Suck it, Muhammad' ... they wouldn't be laughing, would they?" Then, newspapers reported that E! Television would scrub the speech before airing it the following weekend, which triggered an equal and opposite outcry from liberal groups accusing E! of censorship. Around that same time, a group of college students in Hawaii, sitting around voraciously reading the news, "got a giggle," as 20-year-old Carlos Uretta puts it, out of the controversy. So they did what any atheist-minded group of 21st-century college students would do: they registered suckitjesus.com as a domain name and, a few days later, put up a petition in support of Kathy Griffin, which now has more than 2,500 signatures. "We got an e-mail from someone in Italy, and we thought—really? People are concerned about this in Italy?"
You might think that when the awards show aired the next weekend, edited but not completely airbrushed, the controversy would die. But you would be wrong. Last week a small Christian theater company based in Pigeon Forge, Tenn., took out two full-page ads in USA Today at $90,000 a pop, decrying Griffin's remarks and pleading for a new civility. Griffin, meanwhile, went on Larry King, who played the unedited clip and ignited the entire thing all over again. And who stands to benefit from this tempest? Well, Griffin, who's playing sold-out shows all over the country this fall. And Tennessee's Miracle Theater, just down the road from Dolly Parton's theme park and in its second year of staging a Broadway-type play about the life of Christ. "The phones have definitely picked up, and that's great," says manager Russ Hollingsworth. Now that they've scored the domain name, Uretta and his friends think it might be fun to expand their site, but "not to be too profound or anything," he says. No worries, Carlos. You're in good company.
URL: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/20920371/site/newsweek/?GT1=10357
Last night, after the president of my company gave me my award plaque at our company dinner, he said he wanted to tell us a story about an old Persian king. So this king loved listening to violin music, so he put a call out to the kingdom for the best violin player. They found the guy who was the star of the orchestra, so the king asked for him to come to his palace every day to play for him. So every day, he would play for the king and the king would clap wildly after he was finished, ecstatic with his violin skills. He felt proud because he could bring such joy to the king, so every day, he looked forward to traveling to the castle to play for the king. One day, he returned home and his wife looked distressed. When he asked her what was wrong, she said that he has stopped playing with the orchestra to spend every day playing for the king, and now they had no income coming in and she was worried about money. He told her not to worry, that everything would work out, and he continued to play for the king every day, instead of playing with the orchestra for pay. One day, he came home and his wife was crying. She said that she tried to go to the market and buy food to make dinner, but she had no money and no one would give her anything. He says, don't worry, give me your list and I'll go. So he goes to the market, picks out everything on the list, and when they tell him how much it is, he looks the vendor in the eye, and starts clapping enthusiastically. You see, he derived such pleasure for when the king clapped for his violin playing and took this as the king's payment, he assumed that this vendor would accept clapping as tender as well. Of course he didn't, but when the story traveled back to the king, the king laughed and sent him enough money to take care of himself and his family.
"So the moral of this story," the president said in his broken English, "is...the clap...will not pay your bills."
Indeed, wise president. The clap will definitely not pay your bills.
So let's say you go to bar and there happens to be a minority TV industry networking event going on. Let's say you crash it and pretend you're with the group. Out of the blue, a guy starts chattin you up. Let's say suddenly a possessive girl who feels she already has dibs comes pushing through the crowd, and sticks her hand in your face to introduce herself, because all 5 foot 9 aggro African-American of her wants you to know this is her prey, her conversation, and you had better back the fuck up. How do you get out of this situation without any she-cat scratches on your dignity or your corneas?
I decided not only was I not gonna back down, but I was gonna do the opposite. I gave her my biggest, most disarming smile and looked at her like she's the most interesting person in the room. I shook her hand warmly and ask her where she works. She tells me and I ask her what they do, listening attentively. I'm completely ignoring the guy. She goes into a long-winded rambling explanation then decides to just finish it by saying it's a TV network that's like the one the guy works for, but without protestors in front of the building. I say, seeing from the way you carry yourself, it sounds classy as well. She looks pleasantly surprised, then says, "Yeah, it is. Thank you." She's grinning, defenses gone. The guy had joked with me that his network has too much "titty-bouncing" before she got there, so I say, "Yeah, it's not like all the titty-bouncing they got over on his network..." She laughs and he laughs. They each thought they were in on an inside joke against the other person. The ice was broken and we started joking around. I looked at her and then him, both so giddy and nervous, and thought, is this how threesomes start? We were still joking around when my boss pulled me away to take a company group picture (I forgot to mention, I was there having a company celebratory dinner. Let's just say I've been bitching the last month about wanting to move to San Francisco and being an all around disgruntled bitch around the office, and tonight, as a surprise, they present me with an award for outstanding service along with a five-digit bonus in hopes that I'll stay. Uh, come again? Ladies, I will only say it once--Men. Love. Bitches. I know, it's completely depressing to me, too.) So as we got ready for the picture, the guys were cracking up about how they had been watching me to see how I planned to work the crowd. How that guy started talking to me and within moments, the girl came steaming towards us from the other side of the bar, getting in my face to cockblock me, but whatever I did, they were both flirting with me at the end. I told them, you just have to know how to talk to people. You get into people by making them feel that in your eyes, in that moment, they're the most beautiful, amazing creatures you've ever seen, and then you own them.
You're drunk, my coworker says as he puts his arm around me, and you have a big ego.
You love me, I say.
You're definitely interesting, he says, and I lean my intoxicated head into his chest.
Meanwhile, the coworker I've been spending a lot of time with, my little Scorpio protege/tormentor, was jealous of me getting the award and the bonus. It was so hard core he could barely look me in the eye. I saw it on his face the way I see it on a lot of guys I've dated in the past when they see my car, or my house, or how many friends I have or some other form of envy. It's always disappointing. It's like something about another person's success shakes up a jealous person's inner core so they feel their sense of self threatened. I sat across from him at dinner and he was acting weird, so I just said straight up, you're jealous that I got this. He looks surprised and said straight up, yeah I am! I said, you're a little bitch because if you had gotten this, I would have been happy for you, and still happy with myself. He says, sometimes you've gotta be a hater, which then sparked a group lecture from two more spiritual coworkers on either side of him about being being a bigger person.
After dinner, he gave me a ride to my car and I started laughing. "I can't believe you were jealous. That's so fucked up. "
He told me how jealousy fuels his success and was cocky about it. I told him that he can't think of other people's success as being in direct competition with his. He says that there's always a winner and always a loser, like in sports. He says, there's always a loser, and it's not gonna be me.
I said yeah, in sports, we may care who wins during the game. But when it's over, we just remember that we had fun and maybe we learned something, we got better, whatever, but that's what it's about. No one remembers who won or lost a game in the long run. And also, I could knock someone down in the context of the game and it would be fine. But if I knock someone down on the street, it's totally inappropriate. There's a place for everything but sometimes you have to see the bigger picture. It's a big enough universe for everyone.
He tries to tell me that life is a war and it's kill or be killed, and he thinks that way because he spent his childhood in Israel and life was a war. I tell him, I grew up with someone who approaches life as war and spends her life strategizing and vigilant in recognizing perceived threats, so I know what that's like and I have it in me. There's a time when you need that capability, when you're fighting for something or in the presence of people who are undermining you. But the key is to know the difference. So many soldiers fight a war and then come back and fail in society, because they don't know how to adjust. A true warrior can fight in times of war, but thrive in times of peace. A true warrior knows the difference.
He says so what that I felt jealous and couldn't be happy for you for like two minutes. you're so on top of it, you noticed these things immediately and I couldn't even hide it. I can't even let myself feel jealous for two minutes. That's your thing, you're so aggressive and you point out people's flaws when they're vulnerable and it's like kicking a guy when they're down.
I tell him that's the thing men don't understand about people like me. We never kick with the intent to hurt. We can't help seeing things, but when we look at people, we aren't looking for flaws, we're looking at the whole picture and we see everything realistically, your strengths and weaknesses, but we love you as a whole, both good and bad because we're all human, so you can stop obsessing about hiding what you think are flaws. But the problem is YOU don't accept the flaws yourself. I come from such a good, caring place, and you can't even comprehend that because you're so threatened. So look at yourself before you start pinning it on me as a way that I'm judging you because I'm not. It's about the potential you have and how you get in your own way, why you're always telling me you're not satisfied with your life. There's so much abundance in the world that everyone can be successful. Why the fuck do you have to be successful in the same way as other people and obsess about it when you're really just avoiding your own dreams?
He said, because I want to be better than people because I want to be in control at all times.
Do think you have control over me?
Yeah, I'm in complete control of the situation.
Really. You have control.
He hesitates, then says, yeeee...ah.
You don't have any control over me.
Well, you don't see it, but--
How can you have any control if you can't even catch me?
He lets out a string of sounds but doesn't really complete a thought.
You're dealing with a world class athlete here, and the only thing I was built to do is run. Look at my body, look at how athletic I am. Look at how fast I type. How fast I think. Everything about me is about going as fast as possible. And that's because I have one goal and one goal only, and that is to not ever get caught. What makes you think you can possibly outrun me when this is all I do? What makes you think you can ever be faster than me?
I can't, he says, quietly.
But why would you think you have to be? You don't need to be. You're outstanding in other ways. It's like this. If I really admire a friend and she's a world famous violinist, I'm not gonna say, holy crap, she's so good at violin, I've gotta be as good as her, and then waste my life trying to be as good as her when violin isn't my destiny. I'm gonna say, even though I love music but I'm not musically talented, I'm good at other things, like basketball and writing, and I hope that she's as impressed by my unique successes as I am of hers.
So I guess I'm yelling at him, not out of anger but out of passion, hanging halfway out of his car because I don't want to be in an enclosed space with him. My bosses drive by and wave with these little smiles on their faces, and I say, Oh crap. Now everyone's gonna think we're dating.
He says, whatever, who cares.
But I don't like this.
The thing is, I'm not emotionally involved here outside of our friendship or mentorship or whatever it is we are. I'm not engaged in his romantic projection that he keeps pushing onto me. I'm a slab of ice on the inside because I don't have any desire of a shared romantic path with him, even though my head is connected and for whatever reason, we keep talking. I hate office rumors because they only turn ugly.
Now I'm really irritated so I say, Men love bitches. Straight up. You love bitches. I treat you so badly, and I don't treat anyone like this, because you do dumb shit to provoke me because it's what you want. Stop being a little bitch and grow up. I'm tired of this dynamic. Just take the freakin' message so we can both move on. Whatever potential it was that you felt you had but people didn't see in you while you were growing up, get over the bullshit and just go out and be who you are if that's what you want. Go be successful if you really want it so badly. Figure out what you want to do to be successful and do it. But stop trying to get people to treat you badly just because you get off on it and it distracts you from pursuing the things that you wish you had that other people have.
He nods somberly. You're right.
He tells me to get in the car and smoke a bowl with him. I say no. He asks me again and I say no again. He says, you're really irritating me right now.
I say, I irritate you all the time. I'm actually completely irritating to you across the boards.
He looks out the windshield for a while then says, you know, all this time we've been talking and spending time, I never really got it, but I just got what you've been saying tonight. Everything you've been trying to say to me.
Really? I say. It's been a long battle and a part of me doesn't believe he'll ever give in.
He says, yeah, I get what you're saying about my life and what I need to do. Just right now. I just got it.
Good, I say. I give it a respectful pause. Then we're done here?
I can tell from his eyes, he doesn't quite know how to take that question.
We're done, he says.
I smile.
I close the door, then leave.
