03|29|2008
I have been startled awake from a nightmare. It’s 6:30 in the morning (conveniently, I think) & I cannot get it out of my head. There have only been a few times where a nightmare haunted me so much that I had to write about it. Literally, I think this is the second time where I’ve been jolted out of my sleep & it bothered me so much that I had to rid of it by writing it down — by force, almost — onto some kind of blank canvas. Before I can ever get back to a normal sleep, I want to write it here.
Jonathan had been offered a web designing job in Japan. We had just arrived after a long, tiring flight from LA to Tokyo. It was such a dramatic move that my sister even came down with her boyfriend to just “be in the area” while we solidified our move. We lived in a flat in a very tall building, at least 60 stories, overlooking the valleys & the city. In my dream, I had never felt so alone. I didn’t even want to be there & I could feel the anxiety creeping back up in spite of the little blue pills. But with Jonathan, I would travel to the ends of the Earth, so I followed him.
The next morning, we began to make changes in our apartment. We were looking online at some curtains for our 15 bay windows & furniture for our intricately designed apartment (almost like a L shape, but it was beautiful). He & I began talking about it, envisioning what we wanted this place to be like. Even as I spoke, my voice quivered. I did not want to be here. Ever since our arrival, Jonathan has been acting strange. Very distant & far off in his thoughts. Literally, the moment we landed in Japan he was so cold & cruel to me. Not cruel in the sense where he was saying horrible things; he was cruel in that he wouldn’t say anything at all. Every time I would ask him what was wrong, he disputed anything I could throw at him & we began to live in a very silent marriage. All the while I kept thinking, I don’t belong here.
After breakfast, I noticed that he was fiddling around with the computer, talking on AIM (which he never does, not even in real life, when I’m around; mainly uses it for web design purposes). I happened to glance at the computer screen & I could see that whomever he was talking to, it was a woman & her name apparently was Christina. I asked him about it & he said, “Oh, he’s just a web design client.” He. Christina? But I was so dumbfounded at his emotional absence with me that I actually believed it. Let me take a minute to say that I was an utter mess. I was depressed, drinking even. I was in these horrible looking pajamas as I didn’t give a fuck as to how I looked. I was miserable & cold & neglected & sad. I was moping around the house, still watching Lover chat to this mystery person. A few times he would laugh at something “he” had said. Then, after about an hour’s worth of conversation (give or take) he turned his chair to me, his hands clasped together. He just looked at me, smirking a bit. Meekly, I asked him what he was thinking. He shook his head & said “nothing” & walked over to his closet to get dressed. I asked, “Where are you going? I thought we were going to the city today. I don’t know my way around & I need to familiarize myself with this place or else I’m going to die here.” He continued to get dressed, silently. After putting on his last article of clothing he turned to face me, sighed & said that he had to leave me for a few hours to meet a client & he would be back by dinner — several hours from now. Somehow, I just knew of his unfaithfulness, though he hadn’t said not one word to me about it; we were strangers, remember? & that is when I found my voice. I began to ask him “Who is she? Who are you seeing? Is it Christina?” & he remained perfectly calm, not making a different facial expression. He just stared at me & said he didn’t know what I was talking about. I was screaming now & crying & throwing myself at him to get him to stay. I knew that once he walked out of the door it was over; he was never coming back & he was going to leave me here, alone, to rot. I asked him what I did wrong… he wouldn’t answer me. I asked him why he was doing this… no answer. I was crying louder & begging him to speak to me; he owed me that. Not one word escaped from his lips. So I lost it. I began to break dishes… I stormed around the house turning over chairs & screaming “talk to me, dammit. Why won’t you fucking speak to me? What are you afraid of?? I know!!! You know I know!!! Why won’t you just say something?” Still, against my fits of rage, he was calm as a cucumber; the whole time I was interrogating him, he was living life as usual. He was eating breakfast while reading the paper, never once looking up at me. He was packing his belongings in his backpack, never once looking at me. He was already gone, but still in our apartment. I was still desperate to save him…
I was on the floor now, clutching his ankles begging him not to go, crying & telling him how much I loved him. I said, “Whatever I’ve done, please, I can make it better. I’ll make it right. Just don’t leave me here.” I was going off on tangents, literally having mood swings. I was mad one moment, screaming, cursing, accusing. In the blink of an eye, I was crying & sad & begging like an idiot, not even making any sense amongst my tears & snot. I was a mess. Finally, I snapped for the last time — I asked him for his wedding ring. & that’s when he snapped. He said, “You are crazy! You have lost your mind!! I can’t be with you anymore, Ev’Yan. I don’t love you anymore. I haven’t loved you for a while. I wanted to try to, but I simply can’t!! You are acting insane & I really have to go.” He pushed me out of the way, while I was still clutching his ring in my hands. I was on my knees, crying, feeling like I was about to have a nervous breakdown. Then, suddenly, the ring snapped in two in my hands. Just like that. No reason, it just happened. & I knew… it was over. He began to collect his things & was still sticking to the same story that he had to meet a client downtown. He familiarly kissed me on the forehead & I continued to moan. He started down the 60 flights of stairs never to be seen again.
I couldn’t take anymore silence, so I followed him. I wasn’t wearing any shoes, my hair was messed up as if I just rolled out of bed, I was wearing pajamas & freezing; it was snowing outside. He got to the street & I stayed behind the glass doors of the front of our apartment. I started banging on the windows, hoping that I could get one last look from him. He looked back at something, not me, & started walking down the street. By now, everyone was looking at me like I was a lunatic, saying things in their foreign language. One lady, who was Russian I think, asked me if I was alright. I didn’t even hear her, my eyes were fixated on my husband. I walked outside to follow him. I was dodging behind doors & bushes so he wouldn’t know I was behind him. His cellphone rang; I bet it was her. He started talking, loudly, while pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his backpack. He was laughing now, delighted & in love the way he was with me, & began to light a cigarette. I was watching him behind a window of a nightclub (I don’t know why this nightclub was open in the afternoon, nor do I know why the door was wide open amidst the snow). He was loitering around this area, as if waiting to meet his “client.” While watching, a homeless woman came behind me & asked if I had a cigarette or two I could spare. I was afraid that she was going to blow my cover so I checked my pockets quickly & — strangely enough — I found a pack of cigarettes in my robe pocket & thrust them at her, telling her I needed to be left alone.
Lover was still outside, smoking a cigarette. Then, he started to approach me. I thought my cover was blown; maybe he saw me & was going to tell me to go home but he walked right past me, as I was sitting on the floor trying to keep warm with this homeless girl. Maybe I blended into the scene; I probably looked homeless, too. I was bewildered. How could he not even see me? My cheeks were stained with dirty tears, my legs & mouth shivering in the cold. I followed him inside & stood in front of him looking into his eyes. “Jonathan! Look at me! What are you doing? Why are you doing this? Lets talk, please! I’m begging you! Please, honey. I love you.” He gave me eye contact for the first time that day & ruthlessly exclaimed, “Ev’Yan! Get out of my way.” He pushed me, I fell. He began walking over to a beautiful Asian girl; Christina. I was on the floor, moaning in pain from my anguish, sobbing uncontrollably. I stood up, still bawling & I started yelling “Wake up, Ev’Yan! Wake up! I can’t do this anymore! I’m in too much pain. Please, wake up.” It was in that moment that I opened my eyes, startled by my own pleas to get up. It took me a moment to realize where I was; I was so disoriented. But immediately, I looked to my left to see Lover sound asleep & I clutched onto him & didn’t let go.
He consoled me, holding me, kissing me as I told him that I had had a horrible nightmare. I didn’t go into details — we were both half asleep — but I mentioned Japan & he said, “Babe, we’re not in Japan… I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” His voice is so soothing to me & his arms are so strong. I started to weep a little, the dream still pounding in my head. I closed my eyes & breathed him in, so fucking grateful that it was just a useless nightmare & that Lover still loved me very much.
I really did try to go back to sleep, but I was crying & scared & knew that the only way I could go back (which would be pointless, seeing now that it’s 7:00 am) was if I wrote it down. Release the demons onto paper, as I always say. So here I sit. I’m reflecting this nightmare now & that is what is feels like: a nightmare. Not real, not happening, just my imagination telling me a horrific & graphic story. Even as I was writing it, the nightmare went from being this actual highlight in my life as though it really did happen, to being just a dream… a good story to tell, if only it were mine. It’s funny how it transformed because by the second paragraph, I was still trying to convince myself that it wasn’t real. It’s also funny how I get so tangled into these visions in my head. I understand, though, because I felt everything in that dream. I was anxious & depression, I was longing & pathetic, I was begging & crying, I was enraged & hurt. Even as I woke up, my body felt heavy from these feelings…
Never have I ever had a good dream that was in such detail as this nightmare. Usually, my nightmares are more vivid than my happy dreams. I don’t know why that is. Maybe it’s because I am living my good dream by being married to such a wonderful man & having this beautiful life filled with love & appreciation. & because my dream is now, my nightmares are there to remind me of my dreams. That must be it. If not, then I have a terribly twisted mind.
I going to crawl back into bed now & get warm.
03|28|2008
Brilliant things happened today (which I’ll write about later, most likely) but all I can think about are these stupid little, insignificant things that really don’t top the other happenings, but somehow seem to overwhelm them still. They are as follows:
—- I loathe the way birth control pills are so incredibly small & agile. While you are in the process of taking the damned little pill out of its package, you somehow manage to drop it, because the dispenser is just SO easy to use (ugh), & then the pills bounce. I mean they literally bounce like little BBs, risking the chance that my dog Sofie will eat it. & regardless of what drops on the floor — rocks, leaves, coffee rinds, goo, paper, lead, tacks — she will put it in her mouth. Because, to her, nothing else matters when she hears that something, anything, has dropped onto the floor. If she hears it, she will eat it. So while I am trying to watch the pill as it bouncing obnoxiously all over the hardwood floor, I am also trying to watch Sofie to make sure that her top notch doggy senses don’t win over my clumsy human ones. Much like my mother had to do for me, I will most likely have to keep the Puppy Poison Control on speed dial (I was a mischievous little booger when I was a toddler & managed to eat anything I could get my hands on, vaseline, starch, toothpaste; even poo). Not that I don’t like that the pills are small; small pills are perfect for a fearful pill swallower like myself. But must they be so eager to bounce? I’m not the only one who has complained; my sister has lost a few, I believe, to this unnecessary characteristic of BC. &… whatever happened to MEN taking birth control? I heard about that somewhere. Whoever is giving this a go, they need to hurry faster!
—-There has been miscommunication between Lover & I up the wazoo all day long. He’s been busy & I’ve been bored stiff, so naturally there is bound to be some misunderstandings along the way. I am mostly upset about dinner. He worked late tonight (still isn’t home & it’s nearing 8 o’clock) so I asked him the age old question earlier in the day — what shall we have for dinner? I have never asked such a redundant & unanswerable question so much in my life! We’ve even gotten into quarrels over this. So naturally, his answer, as always, is “I don’t know.” Of course he doesn’t! He never does. Sigh. So, later he texts me to say that he is on his way home. Again, I ask him the rhetorical question & he suggests we go out. I don’t want to, for I am not fit to go out after a whole day of lounging in underwear & bed-head. I decline & somewhere along the lines I ended up getting frustrated by making a sarcastic remark about how I’ll just eat a peanut butter sandwich (yick). He hangs up… & I decide that I’m going to stop being such a pain & cook him a nice dinner. So I begin. I made a salad (another thing causing me frustration is that the life span of vegetables in this house is literally 24 hours. Somehow, they manage to turn to mush after just a few days of buying them. So, regretfully, the salad had just a few slivers of tomato & red bell pepper. Everything else was dead.) I stir-fried some potatoes with onions (thank you, Trader Joes!) & I made these wonderful bread sticks in the oven. The dinner looked lover & smelled tasty. By 7 o’clock, I was beginning to wonder where my husband was; it was over an hour since I last talked to him & it doesn’t take him that long to come home. Where could he be? Oh… he was just around town, picking up dinner. (!!!) So here I was, slaving in the kitchen, a hot mess, for no… reason. Okay, there was a reason. I was able to enjoy the super-deliciousness of my meal all alone, while composing this entry. But still. I probably would have made a peanut butter sandwich if I had known he was going to pick up dinner. I’m an advocate for saving money; especially now that I am Mrs. Unemployed. Sigh.
For some reason, Lover & I have been having these “Oops! I misunderstood!” moments quite often. A lot of it has to do with the fact that Jonathan is so laid back & doesn’t give much detail in his descriptions about life & I am the opposite; if something happened to me, or if something is happening to me, I describe every color, every emotion, every smell there is. In return, I expect him to act the same, seeing that this is the most logical way to communicate. I mean, you don’t ask someone what kind of birthday present they want just to hear the answer “I don’t know.”
Now I am so frazzled & annoyed that I don’t even know what I’m talking about anymore. I had a few more things to add to this maddening list but I’ve forgot them in the attempts to describe in full detail about the other shitty things that happened. (I suppose this is why Jonathan chooses not to go into graphic detail, because you tend to forget when you’re investing all of your efforts into one thing. I get it now.) & Lover is finally home & brought ME dinner, too. But of course I’m not hungry. I just stuffed my face with carbs.
I am irritated. & ridiculous.
03|25|2008
When I finally made the decision to move in with Jonathan, I was surprised at how easy it was to just… leave. The love between Jonathan & I was impeccable; something that was undeniable & inspiring. It seemed like the most rational & logical thing to do at the time. So, with little reluctance & a lot of anxiety, I left my childhood home (I had stayed in the same town, in the same house, in the same bedroom for all of my life upon moving). I remember driving to Jonathan from my mother’s house, tears streaming down my face. Not in sadness, but in happiness & accomplishment & fear. I was proud of myself for finally deciding to do something for myself & I made a vow that from that point on, my life would finally begin.
& it has. It has been almost a year that I have been living with Jonathan & the transformation within me is indescribable. Although… it took me many, many, many months to get to where I am now. There were many downfalls, a few gut-wrenching surprises, a lot of nerves & a few dozen, very scary panic attacks, all of which I survived but at the time it seemed like I was dying. But of course… what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.
When I first started working as a front desk coordinator at a salon (one of my first real jobs, next to doing hair for a few months) I felt like I was lost but in a good way. As though I could find my way around this foreign land & maybe conquer some of it, as well. It was tremendously overwhelming to be so far away from home & having to adapt to new surroundings & situations all on my own, without the physical guidance of my mother, my best friend. Sometimes I felt liberated about this, but mostly I crumbled. One day, I was having this horrible homesickness; the kind that literally numbs you & makes you question reality. My manager pulled me aside out of the blue & told me quite bluntly that I am too much of a nice girl & that I need to grow tough skin. Now… this wasn’t the first time I have heard this but for some reason, it bothered me. I started wondering how she could see through me in that way because I hadn’t spoken to my manager about my homesickness or anything like that. We weren’t even really friends. But somehow, she was able to detect in me something that I thought I was able to hide really well. She said “you must stop wearing your heart on your sleeve. You must stop being so kind to people; people will see your kindness & mistake it for weakness & naivety.” I was furious at this; after all, how dare she?! But, I took her words very personally & made it my mission to be tougher, harder, colder & not so friendly in order to not be walked on & to be taken seriously. Because, for someone of my age, no one really takes you seriously & it’s nothing against you… it’s just expected that 20 year olds are quite, well, oblivious. I was so gung-ho about this new mission that I even started walking like a snooty bitch, just to give people the idea of “don’t fuck with me.” I laugh at this now — this was only a mere 10 months ago — because I was really quite ridiculous. I was only fooling myself.
After a few weeks of this false front, I began to grow tired of being a bitch. It’s hard work for someone who doesn’t know how to do it! I started to do the strangest things out of the blue, as if to prove to myself that I am still in some sort of control & I can be nice & tough whenever. As if it were this sort of switch I could turn on & off. I, this painfully shy & nice girl, was now starting to become bold in her efforts to prove something to herself. An example of this would be that once, I was standing in line at the grocery store & this girl in front of me had a rather ugly purse… I mean, it was hideous. So I blurted out “I love your purse.” I startled myself at my dishonest remark, but I was simply just trying to be nice to prove that I could, indeed, be nice. She smiled, said thank you & went on her way. I went on my way, too & while I did, I strutted my usual snooty bitch walk, proving that there is a time & place for this new craft I was attempting. (Oh, brother.)
But this ludicrous fad ended unexpectedly & thank goodness it did. This is what happened: I was moping to my Lover one day about how I wished that I could buy something fancy since, at the time, I hadn’t been shopping for many months. Lover, being the dear he is, then reached into his wallet & handed me a twenty dollar bill & said “Buy yourself something nice, but don’t spend it in one place.” I never carry money on me & I never think to take out money… so something about it being HIS money & so readily available in my wallet made this somewhat of a thrill for me. I kept that twenty dollar bill in my wallet for about a week. I felt like a child; what would I buy with my twenty dollars? I decided that I must save it for something really, really good. One afternoon, after having lunch with Lover at his work, I was driving home. I exited the freeway & came to a stoplight at an intersection. To the left of me, there was an old homeless man, standing outside in the cold, holding a sign proclaiming his misfortune. He looked so sad, so helpless & so desperate. Without even thinking — & I really didn’t think, I didn’t have time because the light was going to change any second — I reached inside of my purse, grabbed my wallet & took out my treasured twenty dollar bill. I made sure to crumple it a bit so that it would seem as though I was giving him a dollar… I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. I rolled down my car window & handed the crinkled bill to him. He took it, said “God bless you” a few times… examined the bill as if to determine if it were real… began to put it in his pocket & then he checked it out again. His eyes became quite wide (all of this happened within seconds, mind you) almost in disbelief & he seemed to shake his head as if to say “you just gave me twenty dollars! are you crazy?!” But I just looked at him, nodded & — perfect timing — the light turned green & I sped off to my home.
There was so much joy in my heart that day; I was beaming all afternoon. What a terrific, spontaneous, random act of kindness! When Jonathan asked me what I bought with my twenty dollars it was all I could do to keep from saying “I bought myself back.” But I just smiled & said that I gave it to a homeless man.
Since then, I do the best I can to give to the poor on the streets (there are hundreds of them on the streets of LA daily) if I happen to have some cash on me, which is rare. I also remind myself of that moment whenever I start to compromise myself & what I truly stand for. There is nothing wrong with wearing my heart on my sleeve; there is nothing wrong with being kind & loyal & a bit naive for the benefit of others. There is nothing wrong with being a small town girl.
03|23|2008
While Lover is soundly napping on the couch (this boy sleeps more than death itself, I think) I am going to indulge in the stillness of this Saturday evening, while eating my oh-so-delicious tomato, pineapple, onion & olive pizza, which instantly makes me think “pepperoni who?” (Upon being a new vegetarian, the food that was most difficult for me to give up, out of all the meats I ate regularly, was pepperoni. Pepperoni almost cost me my vegetarianism a few times. But I am stronger than you, Pepperoni! After all, you are composed of the leftover scraps of other animals.) The only problem with this slice of pizza was that they mistakenly put mushrooms on it & I despise mushrooms. So before every bite, I inspect the pizza thoroughly, making sure not to unknowingly chomp into a bit of mushroom. Just the thought of it makes me shiver.
We had a good day, which included us running boring errands: smogging my car, to which I told Jonathan that the anticipation of whether or not it will pass is much like taking a pregnancy test; & going to the grocery store. Surprisingly, those 2 tasks took all day. But it was nice just the same. The weather got much hotter today; so hot that sweat began to form between that little pocket between my breasts. Erotic as it sounds (& I’m really not trying to be) it is never pleasant for me. I don’t care where I sweat just as long as it’s no where near that crevice between my breasts. It’s possibly the most irritating thing to have happen on a hot day. For me, at least. Running around in the heat of the sun made me tired very quickly. The kind of tired that only a good Summer’s day could give you; except that I had to keep reminding myself that it’s not summer… but simply global warming.
I started thinking today about how awful it would be for the world to began gravitating closer & closer to the sun. I’ve seen this Twilight Zone episode over a dozen times about several people in an apartment building, trying to survive the intense heat as the sun creeps closer & closer to the Earth. Havoc & chaos is everywhere. There is no water, there is no ice, there are no clouds. Just death defying heat & no surrender from it; even indoors. People are moving trying to get closer to water, but the freeways are jammed packed. & then the air conditioning breaks in this artists home & she basically dies of heatstroke I’m assuming as she watches her paintings slowly melt from the temperature in her apartment. It’s so wicked. Out of every episode I’ve seen, this one scares me the most. For to me, as irrational as that may seem, it could very well happen. I remember thinking a few years ago that the sun seemed to be closer to the Earth. I was driving home & it seemed like the sun was right in front of my vision, but it was terribly bright, almost blinding. I got home & told my mom sarcastically, I think the Sun is moving closer to the Earth. Expecting her to laugh along with me, she just calmly replied “It seems that way because of global warming.” I didn’t believe her, so researched it myself. & so began my semi-obsession with the ozone layer & harmful air conditions & the ice melting in Antarctica, affecting the polar bears & the penguins. At one point, I remember that I almost had to stop caring as much because I started literally weeping for the polar bears & the penguins. I would start to speak about how horrible it is that people think that Global Warming is a myth (this being several years ago) & recite what I heard on the news or what I read on some website. Tears would well up in my eyes at the thought of those poor, innocent penguins in danger, as though they were blood relatives! This was in my old town & the reaction I got from people wasn’t sympathy it was a cynical “yeah, right” so to speak. Thus, another reason I simply had to live my desert town. In regards to the penguins & polar bears & other Arctic life, I still feel very strongly about them & the effects of global warming. But there is this part of me that shuts off the reality just slightly so that I don’t become so emotionally involved that I start actually trying to adopt a penguin, as if it’s the only thing I could do. I even find myself completely involved in the mistreatment of animals. Just one story about a dog that was malled by a mountain lion — which happened around this area several months ago, believe it or not — or the site of a dead kitty on the side of the road gets my blood boiling & my eyes watery. Sometimes I wonder why it is I have to be so damn compassionate about things I cannot fully change forever. It can be quite hard carrying other’s burdens without their knowing I am doing so. Then again, I put it on myself. No one ever asks me to.
Truthfully, I don’t know where I am going with all of this. My mind is simply doing the typing while I’m sitting back & enjoying the ride, or so it seems. It’s nearing 7:30pm & I am anxious to wake up my husband so that we can spend the rest of the evening cuddling on the couch, maybe sipping some coffee (our most favorite thing to do in the wee hours) & watch a sad movie.
03|19|2008
I am still reeling over the previous entry; not as much, especially after showing Lover my purchases (he particularly likes the skinny jeans), but still… just enough to make me feel a bit guilty.
Another lifeless, meaningless day as an unemployed housewife. I am starting to see a pattern. I never wanted to make the subject of my writings about my housewifey-ness necessarily; it just so happens that when all else fails — job searching, television surfing, walking Sofie, showering, eating & drinking coffee, bugging Lover at work, etc. — I have no choice than to sit here & describe (also known as: complain about)� my day, which involves me sitting here… describing. Who am I kidding? I bored out of my mind!
Job searching is the most boring thing you can ever do with idle time. Even more so, I bought new clothes yesterday & won’t really have an excuse to wear them until… well, something exciting comes up. I could always just get up & go somewhere just for the hell of it, but for what? To waste gas? To waste time? I am an advocate for never wasting makeup, perfume or good hair on a lazy day. A bit neurotic, yes, but it’s quite truthful. After all, I would prefer to feel my best & look my best when it’s absolutely necessary. There is nothing worse that being all dressed up with no where to go. Fortunately, men don’t have this problem (or maybe they do, I’m not precisely sure). Better to just sit here in pajamas & ponder what to do next.
This emotional outburst of discontentment is coming from many areas: caffeine jitters, boredom (which was already mentioned), loneliness, PMS (sigh), & a nicotine craving. Yes. I, little Miss Purity Pants, am craving a cigarette. Actually, I have been wanting a cigarette for weeks now. My body longs to take short drags from a cancer-stick. How awful. & all of this is really very silly because I have never been a smoker. Not really. I mean, if you call “bumming” drags off of other people & not inhaling, just puffing, smoking. I don’t know where the cravings are coming from, but I long to have one.
Is it just me, of does everyone smoke these days? Really, I can’t watch television — cartoons even! — without witnessing someone nursing a cigarette in their mouth. It’s so aggravating & it doesn’t help my nonsensical cravings. What’s even more frustrating is that I complain about this so much & yet it could all be solved by just buying a damn pack. It seems so easy, but it’s truly not. My ego & pride always get in the way of what I truly want. Sometimes this is a good thing; but for my nicotine craving it’s very hindering.
The cravings came to an all time high a few nights ago, while I was watching old movies. First, it was Roman Holiday. I watched Audry Hepburn take short, swift drags of a cigarette in one scene, as she said, “This is my very first” or something like that. Why is it that movie stars in that era (the 30s, 40s, 50s & 60s) could make smoking such a romantic, sensual & classy thing to do? Ever since I was young enough to understand, I always wanted to be a black & white movie kind of smoker. In between exhales I would speak in that kind of accent that everyone during that time seemed to have, whether they were from New York City or London. I would exclaim, “Why yes, dah-ling… of course.” In my mind, this was the most feminine act a woman could do to proclaim her sexuality. Smoke a wretched, nasty cigarette gracefully, while still being quite womanly & classy. Not very many can do that nowadays. Things have changed, of course. No one ever exclaims, “oh, but of course, dah-ling.” No one wears timeless dresses to the supermarket. No one invites anyone over for tea or coffee. No one that I know, I mean.
In the other movie, The Blue Gardenia, everyone smoked in that movie. Perfect little women, with hour-glass figures & accurately pinned hair smoked as though they were making love to the cigarette. I am not over exaggerating. Watch an old movie & surely, you will see what I mean. Even the men made cigarettes look dangerously handsome & alluring. So much that you don’t even think about lung cancer, or breathing problems. All you seem to focus on is the steady, rhythmic inhale & exhale of the toxic, yet hypnotic smoke, almost wishing you could be so lucky as to be inside of them. I suppose I should be speaking in first person, referring to myself instead of “you,” because I have never met anyone who idolizes 1950s cigarette smoking. Hence, the reason I am an unconventional girl.
A bit shamefully, I must admit that when my husband smoked religiously (a pack & a 1/2 a day when we first met) I was dangerously attracted to him. There is something intoxicating & rebellious about a handsome young man playing with the cigarette between his lips. Something very seductive. I can’t put my finger on it — maybe it’s because I admire so much men like Cary Grant, Gregory Peck & others when they are aimlessly smoking — but it makes me weak in the knees. Lover has been sober from cigarettes, alcohol & anything else toxic to his body for nearly a year now; although, he occasionally has a cigarette a few times a week. When I know this, I reprimand him, making a big deal that he is going to die from cancer & become an isotope (something I saw in one of those TRUTH commercial years ago, that I never quite understood, but isotope sounds like a very serious word). Truthfully, I become aroused at the thought, the smell, the idea of Lover with the smell of cigarettes on his breath. It’s a love/hate kind of thing; a bittersweet fantasy.
I must finish this entry now, for Lover just surprised me by walking through the door to have lunch with me. I greeted him with a big hug & a kiss & was astounded at what I smelled on his breath: cigarette smoke.
03|18|2008
Sigh. Being unemployed with a semi-full bank account is dangerous. I only wanted to go to Target for a few feminine products & a jar of pickles. That’s it, really. Nothing else because we have everything else. While I was getting ready I kept talking to myself saying that I would just look at the clothes. Just one look. & then, I would walk away, collect the items on the list & mosey on home to my messy kitchen that needs to be cleaned.
That did not happen.
I tried, I really did, but I ended up spending over $80 (!!!!!) on things that I really didn’t need. In defense of myself, they are very cute things.
The purchases are as follows:
- a 30% off striped, black & white, boat neck sweater; one that I have eyed for months.
- a pair of semi-acid washed skinny jeans; I just had to get them. When I tried them on, they fit like a glove. For someone of my size, that is a huge feat. Jeans never fit my small frame & for $20 dollars? Steal!
- the book “A New Earth” by Eckhart Tolle; I’ve wanted this for months, also. I heard it was the bee’s knees. I really did.
- lavender dish soap; it’s like killing two birds with one stone because you are not only tackling grease, but you are inhaling the calming scents of lavender, which is a natural stress reducer.
- tampons. (is there a more… professional term for this? I hate this word.)
- panty-liners; trust me if I had to put some items back, it would have been this & the one above it. But… it’s inevitable. No need to elaborate any further.
- a jar of hamburger dill pickles; just because we needed them.
- a 12-pack of 7-up. All natural! It is my new regular.
- spearmint Stride gum. Also a regular.
- &… a pair of wide, wide-legged khaki pants, which fit like they were made for my cute little booty. They must have been, or else I would have been able to resist a little harder.
How does this always end up happening to me? It’s a conspiracy! It must be Target’s marketing; I have never been so hypnotized by anything else (other than monkey bread). I can usually control myself really well. But, I simply just lost my marbles & found them by the time I set foot into the real world, into real sunlight & real air. My first thought: Jonathan is going to kill me. Alright; that is a tad dramatic, but I know he will reprimand. Even before I had left, he warned me that I always say that I’m going to try not to spend so much money. & what did I do? I overspent.
Actually, I did quite well, considering I also had in my arms a striped tank-top henley & this darling, airy, coral tank top that was made of some sort of… silk. I was close to purchasing that, on top of a new bottle of mascara & more panties. But I restrained myself. I truly did. So, kudos for me. I would have ended up spending over a hundred if I wouldn’t have kept my wits about me. But still… I truly didn’t need the clothes. Or the book. The moral of this pathetic story would be that while I am in Target (or any other store that has merchandise to die for, really) I need to focus. I mean, really, really focus. Unfortunately, my focus button was broken temporarily today. Here’s what was going on in my brain while shopping:
Focus, focus, focus. Alright. I’m going towards the food section. Oh, wait. Hm, what’s that I see over there? No, no, Ev’Yan. Don’t you dare go near those cute little pile of tank tops! Don’t you even think about trying that skirt on! Or those shorts. Actually… that would be really cute with those shoes you have. Hm, or maybe this dress would be better? No! Just back away; you don’t need it! Well… I’ll just hold it in my cart & think about it while I’m shopping. Now lets see: do you really need that set of dish towels? They are pretty soft & fuzzy & the color would be perfect in the kitchen; hmmm. NO! Focus! What does the list say? Concentrate one the list. Okay… now simply just get only the items on the list. ONLY the items on the list. Ooo! That’s such a pretty color! I’ll just look at the sales rack… NO! Focus!!! No… no… stop! Don’t!!! I’m warning you!!!
Finally, my brain couldn’t take anymore arguing & it just surrendered. I think it may have put elevator music on to distract & tune out what was really happening. & now I sit here, depressed in my effortless attempts to try to hold myself back, trying to convince myself that there was an exception to the extra items I purchased. Frankly, I have buyer’s remorse.
Now, I must try to regain my confidence back & not sink into a lazy state of mind, or my messy kitchen will never get cleaned.
03|18|2008
At this moment, I must be honest & say that I do not know what to write about today. Not yet, at least. But something happened last night that jolted me quite a bit. Lover says that I always have the most interesting things happen to me; I have to agree. Even though I will get nothing but sadness from writing this, I feel it is worth mentioning.
Last night, I was on my way to picking up my husband from work. Around 5pm, but not quite on the hour. I am a very safe driver — or so I think — so I am always trying to make fast but conscious decisions while I am on the road. Coming towards a stop light, I noticed upcoming traffic in the lane that I was in. So I signaled, looked over my shoulder to avoid missing my blind spot & merged into the far right lane.
Literally seconds later, I heard a tremendous ruckus. It sounded as though a big metal trash can was lifted & then dropped to the ground. Still at the red light, I looked over my left shoulder to see what on earth that noise was. What I saw frightened me: a car had plowed itself into another car, creating a chain reaction that involved a van, 2 other sedans & a bus. It didn’t even try to stop. I saw glass & debris all over the pavement. I was bewildered; was that a car accident? I didn’t hear screeching tires or a horn. All I heard was a thud, a crash & then saw the debris spilling onto the pavement.
Behind me, though, I could see the car that had gotten plowed into. It was smashed completely. The light turned green, but I was still trying to understand what had just happened. I was close to turning around & seeing if everything was alright; maybe there was something I could do in that moment. But, I continued driving to Lover’s work.
When I finally arrived, I told him what I thought had happened. He seemed concerned, but I think we were both hopeful that it was a simple fender-bender & nothing more than that. I drove back in the direction of the accident — which was really about 10 minutes later, maybe less — & they had closed off the entire intersection. There were dozens of police cars & fire trucks & ambulances. Stretchers were out & you could see the medics moving quickly. I gasped. It was horrific. I wanted to get nosy, but I was already jolted at the fact that that could have been me. After all, I was in that lane just seconds before the accident but something prompted me to switch. Why? I kept asking myself this as I drove home. Lover grasped my hand tightly & told me how much he loved me. He said “you are meant to be alive right now.” A shiver went down my spine; even now that I write about it, I am getting goosebumps at the thought.
Upon returning home, I turned on the news, hoping to catch a glimpse of some sort of “breaking news” update. I missed it on 2 channels, due to the distractions of kissing Lover & asking him how his day went. I am not complaining at that. I did try to research online about it, but I couldn’t find anything. Certainly they wouldn’t have a full story on something that had just happened 20 minutes ago. In the end, I decided that surely there would be something the next morning about the accident. Reluctantly, I gave up the search fro details, but I still kept thinking about it over & over.
So… while enjoying a cup of coffee, I went here & read grimly. There aren’t much details about what happened, but at least 3 dozen people were involved & 3 people were seriously injured. All I can think right now is that could have been me, as morbid of a thought that is. I remember seeing the van & the bus; I passed them right before I changed lanes. If I would have stayed in that lane, my car would have been the one that got plowed into. I didn’t sleep well (again) last night. Also, I have a habit of watching the most wretched things on television before sleeping [the show Intervention on A&E]. My mind was wandering for hours before I actually went to sleep because of it.
When I kissed Jonathan good-bye this morning, I kept thinking that I shouldn’t be here today. I was a few seconds away from being in the hospital with the other victims. That kiss was one of the sweetest I have ever given him. & at that moment, I thanked God for being with me in that moment.
All I can do now is sigh. I don’t know what else to do other than that.
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