Showing posts with label positive thought. Show all posts
Showing posts with label positive thought. Show all posts
Monday, May 24, 2010
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Reminisce on the Love We Had...
Reminisce on the love we had…
It’s really something else – the ability to ask the universe for something and to have your requests fulfilled. Via this blog and various other avenues, I have asked the universe to put some worldly folks in my life and this weekend past found me in the company of two beautiful, independent and driven women. We met in Fort Greene for drinks and within a matter of minutes we were chit-chatting the afternoon away while Michael Jackson tunes filled the outdoor venue. Our conversation ranged from Brazilian porn (yes, these are my kind of chicks!), to hiphop, to blogging, and everything and anything in between. The topics discussed were done so with energy and positivity. It was a wonderful way to spend a Saturday afternoon. I left them feeling, aside from overly tequilaed up, very satisfied and driven.
One of the two ladies I just met that day and the other, Sarah, I’ve known since the age of 7. Our parents began attending 12-step meetings together and she and I would play coloring books and the likes while our folks soaked up the anti-drug propaganda. Sarah and I recently reconnected via social-networking and it’s almost as if we never missed a beat. She came down to visit me the week that Daniel and I broke up and I cried into my plate of untouched mashed potatoes while she listened, without judgment, and offered a warm heart. I appreciate women like this. Sarah also happens to be finishing up her Masters Degree in Social Work from NYU, is a fully independent, smart, beautiful woman, and has little patience for bullshit or assholes. These are the kind of women I want and need in my life. These are the kind of women I most identify with.
Over our outdoor margaritas, Sarah asked if I’d yet had a lover since the breakup. “Nope. I’m fucking dying but nope.” – She told me it’s never been so evident than it was in my last posting that I’m far from over Daniel and that she thinks what I’m doing by waiting is good – and what I need. And, I agree with both of her assessments. This is what I need, and I’m far from over Daniel.
Don’t get me wrong, the days are much easier and I’m certainly a hell of a lot better than I was the first few weeks after the break up but the fact remains that there isn’t a day that goes by where he doesn’t enter my mind. I don’t know if it’s just missing him – missing someone – or if it’s outright abnormal to still have him haunt my thoughts so often. Three nights ago I had what felt like consecutive dreams all featuring Daniel’s face, Daniel’s voice, Daniel’s cock. I woke up and literally had to shake my head back and forth, much like a dog that has just finished a swim. After I ‘shook it off’, I sat in bed for a while and just thought about some of the better times:
1) The time Daniel bought me an 82 piece silverware set because I’d been in tears earlier in the day over not having matching china to host a dinner. This must sound so outrageously silly but to me, it was one of the sweetest things another human being has ever done. We were hosting a dinner for six at our apartment. It was actually our first dinner party together and my being such a domestic goddess doesn’t allow room for any imperfections. The table was set beautifully – with the good china – and the apartment sparkled. It was time to place the silverware down when I realized that I hadn’t a matching set to present. That realization was all it took to go into a downward spiral of emotion that was rooted in never being able to have nice things, growing up in a dirty drug-addicted home, and every other possible negative connection I could make to the past and present not matching up. Yes, over a fucking spoon… I shed some tears and got myself together while Daniel ran out to get last minute things for our dinner. When he came back with the groceries he handed me an 82 piece matching silverware set, kissed me on the forehead and assured me I’d never need to feel like I don’t have nice things again.
2) The sidewalk chalk Daniel bought me as a birthday gift from the cat, complete with card.
3) The Ben & Jerry’s phish food containers he gave me when I was sad.
4) The times we’d lay and watch TV – no talking necessary- my head in his lap, his hands in my hair – our bodies entangled.
5) The night we made love in our bedroom with the balcony doors opened – a breeze tickling our skin as we moved with such a synchronistic beat that afterward we both remarked on how it literally felt we were one entity.
6) The times he’d stop dead in his tracks just to tell me ‘You’re so pretty’.
And, finally, the time when in his parent’s home, we lay in our bedroom and discussing our future he said “I want to build a life with you Kitty, I want us to have all of this one day”. I just smiled and kissed him – confident in the fact that he already knew I’d been waiting to hear those words for such a long time.
I can’t help but reminisce on these things. They happened and although at this point it seems like they didn’t – mostly because of his extreme extraction from my life, I fear ever forgetting the way I felt the moment each of the items above happened. I don’t want to forget the warm love inside, the content I felt, or the security with which I believed we were living. The odd thing about the reminiscing is that it doesn’t sadden me as much as you may think. I don’t sit here and recall these loving moments with an ounce of regret or sorrow. Instead, I sort of feel lucky for having been able to feel these things at all.
Daniel is the first man I’ve opened myself up to in a long time. Prior to dating him, I’d done the casual stints of relationships here and there. I had plenty of men on whom I could call for company but I never believed in anything with them. I matter of factly chose to date losers so that I couldn’t possibly allow myself to be truly invested in what we had. If I was never really invested, I could never really get hurt – and that’s the defense mechanism I used to keep myself safe from the heartache. Then along comes Daniel and I opened myself up to something I felt was very real. I believed in him – and I believed in us as a unit. That is a serious accomplishment for me. I opened myself up - and that’s why when I sit and remember how I would turn into a giddy little girl every time Daniel was around, it’s not with tears of sadness in my eyes - it’s with a feeling of success that I’m able to feel that way at all.
Do I miss him terribly? I think that’s an obvious answer…
At least I’ve got the memories, right?
It’s really something else – the ability to ask the universe for something and to have your requests fulfilled. Via this blog and various other avenues, I have asked the universe to put some worldly folks in my life and this weekend past found me in the company of two beautiful, independent and driven women. We met in Fort Greene for drinks and within a matter of minutes we were chit-chatting the afternoon away while Michael Jackson tunes filled the outdoor venue. Our conversation ranged from Brazilian porn (yes, these are my kind of chicks!), to hiphop, to blogging, and everything and anything in between. The topics discussed were done so with energy and positivity. It was a wonderful way to spend a Saturday afternoon. I left them feeling, aside from overly tequilaed up, very satisfied and driven.
One of the two ladies I just met that day and the other, Sarah, I’ve known since the age of 7. Our parents began attending 12-step meetings together and she and I would play coloring books and the likes while our folks soaked up the anti-drug propaganda. Sarah and I recently reconnected via social-networking and it’s almost as if we never missed a beat. She came down to visit me the week that Daniel and I broke up and I cried into my plate of untouched mashed potatoes while she listened, without judgment, and offered a warm heart. I appreciate women like this. Sarah also happens to be finishing up her Masters Degree in Social Work from NYU, is a fully independent, smart, beautiful woman, and has little patience for bullshit or assholes. These are the kind of women I want and need in my life. These are the kind of women I most identify with.
Over our outdoor margaritas, Sarah asked if I’d yet had a lover since the breakup. “Nope. I’m fucking dying but nope.” – She told me it’s never been so evident than it was in my last posting that I’m far from over Daniel and that she thinks what I’m doing by waiting is good – and what I need. And, I agree with both of her assessments. This is what I need, and I’m far from over Daniel.
Don’t get me wrong, the days are much easier and I’m certainly a hell of a lot better than I was the first few weeks after the break up but the fact remains that there isn’t a day that goes by where he doesn’t enter my mind. I don’t know if it’s just missing him – missing someone – or if it’s outright abnormal to still have him haunt my thoughts so often. Three nights ago I had what felt like consecutive dreams all featuring Daniel’s face, Daniel’s voice, Daniel’s cock. I woke up and literally had to shake my head back and forth, much like a dog that has just finished a swim. After I ‘shook it off’, I sat in bed for a while and just thought about some of the better times:
1) The time Daniel bought me an 82 piece silverware set because I’d been in tears earlier in the day over not having matching china to host a dinner. This must sound so outrageously silly but to me, it was one of the sweetest things another human being has ever done. We were hosting a dinner for six at our apartment. It was actually our first dinner party together and my being such a domestic goddess doesn’t allow room for any imperfections. The table was set beautifully – with the good china – and the apartment sparkled. It was time to place the silverware down when I realized that I hadn’t a matching set to present. That realization was all it took to go into a downward spiral of emotion that was rooted in never being able to have nice things, growing up in a dirty drug-addicted home, and every other possible negative connection I could make to the past and present not matching up. Yes, over a fucking spoon… I shed some tears and got myself together while Daniel ran out to get last minute things for our dinner. When he came back with the groceries he handed me an 82 piece matching silverware set, kissed me on the forehead and assured me I’d never need to feel like I don’t have nice things again.
2) The sidewalk chalk Daniel bought me as a birthday gift from the cat, complete with card.
3) The Ben & Jerry’s phish food containers he gave me when I was sad.
4) The times we’d lay and watch TV – no talking necessary- my head in his lap, his hands in my hair – our bodies entangled.
5) The night we made love in our bedroom with the balcony doors opened – a breeze tickling our skin as we moved with such a synchronistic beat that afterward we both remarked on how it literally felt we were one entity.
6) The times he’d stop dead in his tracks just to tell me ‘You’re so pretty’.
And, finally, the time when in his parent’s home, we lay in our bedroom and discussing our future he said “I want to build a life with you Kitty, I want us to have all of this one day”. I just smiled and kissed him – confident in the fact that he already knew I’d been waiting to hear those words for such a long time.
I can’t help but reminisce on these things. They happened and although at this point it seems like they didn’t – mostly because of his extreme extraction from my life, I fear ever forgetting the way I felt the moment each of the items above happened. I don’t want to forget the warm love inside, the content I felt, or the security with which I believed we were living. The odd thing about the reminiscing is that it doesn’t sadden me as much as you may think. I don’t sit here and recall these loving moments with an ounce of regret or sorrow. Instead, I sort of feel lucky for having been able to feel these things at all.
Daniel is the first man I’ve opened myself up to in a long time. Prior to dating him, I’d done the casual stints of relationships here and there. I had plenty of men on whom I could call for company but I never believed in anything with them. I matter of factly chose to date losers so that I couldn’t possibly allow myself to be truly invested in what we had. If I was never really invested, I could never really get hurt – and that’s the defense mechanism I used to keep myself safe from the heartache. Then along comes Daniel and I opened myself up to something I felt was very real. I believed in him – and I believed in us as a unit. That is a serious accomplishment for me. I opened myself up - and that’s why when I sit and remember how I would turn into a giddy little girl every time Daniel was around, it’s not with tears of sadness in my eyes - it’s with a feeling of success that I’m able to feel that way at all.
Do I miss him terribly? I think that’s an obvious answer…
At least I’ve got the memories, right?
Monday, May 17, 2010
The Organic Pick-Up
Last week instead of being lazy and taking the downtown E train one stop to transfer to my downtown Brooklyn train, I decided to have a nice quarter or so mile walk into the west-village to catch my train home. I had Sade blaring in my headphones and the weather was almost as perfect as could be; the sun was still shining brightly at 5pm, and the breeze was the type that caught your hair and allowed it to have some organic movement while you walk. I was feeling great – no negative thoughts of Daniel had entered my mind – and I was off the next day to head out of town to a friends house for some much needed away from the city time. Seemingly, I felt on top of the world.
I was strolling east when I noticed a nice looking guy take a double look in my direction. He was noticeably older than I was – but his clothes and his style stood out to me and as a result, I suppose my gaze made its way over to him as well. I continued forward at the same pace I had been walking but he seemed to slow down a tiny bit. In a very adolescent yet charming way, he purposely however accidentally almost hit me with his outstretched arms while he let out a relaxing “what a great day” type of yawn. When he veered back to apologize for almost catching me with his arms, I smiled and said “not a problem”. We strolled together for a block or so and made casual chit chat about the gorgeous weather, the need to go outside on a day like this, and the whereabouts of my office with proximity to where we were currently. “My office is right over here”, he pointed to a tertiary street that only native NYers know exists – and in the next movement he handed me his card. “Do you have a card?” – In my mind I told him “no, my boss doesn’t consider me even nearly important enough to warrant a business card and even if he did my company is so fucking cheap they’d never approve the expense”. Instead, I smiled and apologized for not having one to return to him. So he did what any over 35 year old person would do these days, he asked me for my phone number – not my IM screenname, or if I had a Facebook account he could check out, or whether or not I was on a dating service, or my e-mail; he asked for my phone number. We exchanged digits right as I was about to head down the steps to catch my train back into Brooklyn and I had a Kool-Aid smile on my face for a good 15 minutes afterward.
There is something to be said for the organic ‘pick-up’. It’s been such a long time since something like that has happened to me that I forgot how good it makes a girl feel to have a man sort of court her. We are in such a digital world these days that even as I consider stepping back into the dating world, my first inclination is to activate my various dating profiles to see what’s out there. Has digital media made us that anti-social that instead of putting on a hot outfit and coloring my lips, I’ll sit at home in my living room, hair in a bun, and rock it out? I think it may have done just that.
There are various positives to doing the digital thing and highest on the list for me is that when you are engaging in an online world, you are immediately made aware of your potential matches aptitude with respect to literacy. To some, this probably sounds silly but it has become increasingly more important to me to have a partner who is able to handle their own in the literate universe. Granted, I realized there are probably myriad grammatical errors in my postings (Daniel was my resident editor!) – But on a comparison stand point, I think I do A-OK with the ink-sword and I really yearn for a partner who will bring it correct on the language tip. Believe it or not, this is progressively more difficult to find in a partner. During one of my many Daniel stalking sessions during which I read his Match.com profile, I veered off course and went to the “men seeking women” section to check out what was available with in 5 miles of my area and in the age range of 32-38. God – help – me and keep me strong; Brooklyn is crawling with the uninformed. It wasn’t a total massacre, though. There were quite a few profiles that seemed attractive enough to maybe ‘wink’ at some day and I’m sure when I’m ready, I’ll send them a little nod.
Whether or not my friend of last week calls is really immaterial for me at this point. One significant point I didn’t mention earlier with respect to my organic-suitor is that his business card told me he was the principle of a NYC based Real Estate firm. This may seem like nothing – but in a weird way this sort of validates my growth process. I realize the guy could be a complete scumbag and still have a lot of money and success, but the fact that he is a successful man at all and was attracted my way means that I am omitting something different to the world. Remember my post sometime back in which I mention that the universe watches? I believe this was a bit of an example of that happening in real time. Up until shortly before meeting Daniel, the general type of dude that was attracted my way sat somewhere on the low-level street thug scale and that has seemed to completely cease. I have no doubt that it is what I am giving out to the world in terms of my attitude and my belief that things are going to work out in my favor that is no longer attracting the dregs of society.
It must be my attitude because physically not much has changed on this end. I am still the short white girl with brown hair and strong yet nice-looking looking face that I have been for the last 10 years of my adult life. My frown lines are a tiny bit more defined now and there are some prominent grays atop my head, but all in all I am the same physical specimen. My body hasn’t changed much; I go up and down a range of 10-15lbs as often as people change their panties but all in all I lay somewhere in the range of a size 10-12 American. My tattoos haven’t gone anywhere, so it can’t be that… All in all, I really believe it has to do with looking at the world through a different lens and the lens I am wearing now is somewhat clearer than the murky frames of yesterday.
My personal efforts are paying off and it feels really good to recognize that.
I was strolling east when I noticed a nice looking guy take a double look in my direction. He was noticeably older than I was – but his clothes and his style stood out to me and as a result, I suppose my gaze made its way over to him as well. I continued forward at the same pace I had been walking but he seemed to slow down a tiny bit. In a very adolescent yet charming way, he purposely however accidentally almost hit me with his outstretched arms while he let out a relaxing “what a great day” type of yawn. When he veered back to apologize for almost catching me with his arms, I smiled and said “not a problem”. We strolled together for a block or so and made casual chit chat about the gorgeous weather, the need to go outside on a day like this, and the whereabouts of my office with proximity to where we were currently. “My office is right over here”, he pointed to a tertiary street that only native NYers know exists – and in the next movement he handed me his card. “Do you have a card?” – In my mind I told him “no, my boss doesn’t consider me even nearly important enough to warrant a business card and even if he did my company is so fucking cheap they’d never approve the expense”. Instead, I smiled and apologized for not having one to return to him. So he did what any over 35 year old person would do these days, he asked me for my phone number – not my IM screenname, or if I had a Facebook account he could check out, or whether or not I was on a dating service, or my e-mail; he asked for my phone number. We exchanged digits right as I was about to head down the steps to catch my train back into Brooklyn and I had a Kool-Aid smile on my face for a good 15 minutes afterward.
There is something to be said for the organic ‘pick-up’. It’s been such a long time since something like that has happened to me that I forgot how good it makes a girl feel to have a man sort of court her. We are in such a digital world these days that even as I consider stepping back into the dating world, my first inclination is to activate my various dating profiles to see what’s out there. Has digital media made us that anti-social that instead of putting on a hot outfit and coloring my lips, I’ll sit at home in my living room, hair in a bun, and rock it out? I think it may have done just that.
There are various positives to doing the digital thing and highest on the list for me is that when you are engaging in an online world, you are immediately made aware of your potential matches aptitude with respect to literacy. To some, this probably sounds silly but it has become increasingly more important to me to have a partner who is able to handle their own in the literate universe. Granted, I realized there are probably myriad grammatical errors in my postings (Daniel was my resident editor!) – But on a comparison stand point, I think I do A-OK with the ink-sword and I really yearn for a partner who will bring it correct on the language tip. Believe it or not, this is progressively more difficult to find in a partner. During one of my many Daniel stalking sessions during which I read his Match.com profile, I veered off course and went to the “men seeking women” section to check out what was available with in 5 miles of my area and in the age range of 32-38. God – help – me and keep me strong; Brooklyn is crawling with the uninformed. It wasn’t a total massacre, though. There were quite a few profiles that seemed attractive enough to maybe ‘wink’ at some day and I’m sure when I’m ready, I’ll send them a little nod.
Whether or not my friend of last week calls is really immaterial for me at this point. One significant point I didn’t mention earlier with respect to my organic-suitor is that his business card told me he was the principle of a NYC based Real Estate firm. This may seem like nothing – but in a weird way this sort of validates my growth process. I realize the guy could be a complete scumbag and still have a lot of money and success, but the fact that he is a successful man at all and was attracted my way means that I am omitting something different to the world. Remember my post sometime back in which I mention that the universe watches? I believe this was a bit of an example of that happening in real time. Up until shortly before meeting Daniel, the general type of dude that was attracted my way sat somewhere on the low-level street thug scale and that has seemed to completely cease. I have no doubt that it is what I am giving out to the world in terms of my attitude and my belief that things are going to work out in my favor that is no longer attracting the dregs of society.
It must be my attitude because physically not much has changed on this end. I am still the short white girl with brown hair and strong yet nice-looking looking face that I have been for the last 10 years of my adult life. My frown lines are a tiny bit more defined now and there are some prominent grays atop my head, but all in all I am the same physical specimen. My body hasn’t changed much; I go up and down a range of 10-15lbs as often as people change their panties but all in all I lay somewhere in the range of a size 10-12 American. My tattoos haven’t gone anywhere, so it can’t be that… All in all, I really believe it has to do with looking at the world through a different lens and the lens I am wearing now is somewhat clearer than the murky frames of yesterday.
My personal efforts are paying off and it feels really good to recognize that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
