Everything is happening

 

I was walking to work this morning. The street I walk down to get to the Metro is a bit “dodgy”, i suppose. a speckling of prostitutes just getting off work or heading to whatever place they call home, junkies at the bus stop. Kids walking to the charter school, old grannies with head coverings and prescription bottles in their bags.

It’s not dangerous. It’s broad daylight and everyone has yet to make any huge mistakes, so no one is pissed off yet. We are walking on a blank canvas, brush in hand but haven’t gotten to the palette yet.
On this particular morning, i was doing what I always do on my morning walks – reevaluating my entire life. ha! totally counter-productive, but not always. It’s full of typical questions, like:

Am I living my purpose? I don’t like my job. I should apply for a new one. But what would that be? What would make me happy? I should be a full time writer. But that wouldn’t pay my bills. I wish i was a teacher. But that’s not what I truly am. I want to live in an Italian villa and write. I am going to save up my money and move to Italy. Why should I wait, I should move to Italy RIGHT NOW.

I want to work in a surf shop in Costa Rica. 

*huge sigh, thoughts pause*
it’s tiring isn’t it?

I am walking to the street corner, to cross. The other side is the metro. As I approach there is a junkie. He is wearing all black, sweat shirt and black jeans, even though the swampy DC summer has arrived. His face displays Vitiligo, as if someone has thrown glass into his face and the shards have stuck, taking away the black pigmentation, leaving peach, tan blotches. It is painfully striking.

As i get closer to the street corner, I sigh and end my morning ritual of anxiety and self doubt. I will come back to that tomorrow. I mutter out loud to myself to close this contemplation:

“Ugh, I have no idea what is happening.”

the junkie turns around, looks up at me suddenly, fiercely, as if he had heard my mutter. I did not think i was that loud, and his back had been turned to me.

He opens his hands, spraying them out like tentacles in the air, shakes them around. He is electric. He speaks to me above a normal voice, an aggressive yell:

“EVERYTHING is happening!!!”

He immediately turns around and keeps looking at the street’s red traffic light.

I cross the street and choose to hear his words echo in my head.
Everything is happening.
Everything is happening.

Everything is happening.

Keillor on Writing

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADQO0aO_uSc

Amazing writer advice from Garrison Keillor:

Writing is NOT about Narcissism.

New Years Intentions

My New Years Intentions are as follows:

1. Write for at least 10 minutes everyday
2. To complete a first draft of my novel, to be exchanged with my friend on 12/31/2015 (we have vowed in blood over email on this one. It's official.)
3. Publish three short stories.
4. Publish a five poems

1. Attend a writing workshop. In Italy.

 

1. SAVE MONEY. mostly so I can travel once again and eventually live in Italy for 6 months. I spent all my money on trips this year: Florida, Michigan, Austin, Montreal, and San Fran.  So no trips EXCEPT FOR ITALY.

1. Continue taking Italian class, Complete Level 2 &3

 

1. Not as much technology use - i think it's rotting my brain. I don't know how to stop this one yet. Maybe time myself? Only allow it for certain hours in the day? I can't give up Facebook cuz it connects me to family & friends who don't live near me, but i could go on only once a week? 

 

1. Consistent exercise, not just once a week exercise. And not just one type of exercise, but different types so I don't get bored (ie: running)
2.  Lose 10 pounds

 

1. Continue falling in love with myself. Continue dating myself. 

 

1. Continue volunteering in my community.
2. Learn how to cook new dishes.
3. Drink more water.
4. Take photos with the old camera my parents gave me, 35mm film. 
5. Get a massage or mani/pedi once a month
6. Dye my hair pink (at least pink highlights or ombre)

 
 
 

let's talk.

Let's talk about how I am reading Lena Dunham's "Not that kind of girl" right now and it's as if she lifted pages from my diaries.

Let's talk about how I am obsessed with conflict photographers, conflict photography and secretly want to be a photographer who covers conflict, even though there's no way I could with my personality traits: ie: highly sensitive, empathetic, anxious, organized.  I like to know that I will be alive at the end of the day. I get tired from carrying around the sadness of others. that's why i write to dump it off and start again.

Let's talk about how i am always late to work.

Let's talk about how when nothing is wrong in my life I feel a constant restlessness.

Let's talk about how i want to write a novel but average about 30 words on it a month.

Let's talk about my debt and past dating disasters. How now when i think of past lovers, i do not have longing, but i roll over in my bed, put my hands over my eyes, and groan out "what an asssshollleeeeeeee!"

Let's talk about how i feel guilty whenever i complain because there is absolutely nothing wrong with my life and I am a lucky bastard.

Let's talk about I still feel like i am looking for some sort of home, that every place I move to just seems like a landing spot until I move to a place I don't know exists. But i am tired right now and that place will just have to wait.

Let's talk about how i want to be a spy. But my face is so transparent and when I lie I cannot stop giggling.

Let's talk about how i am taking Italian class and do not know how it will ever be of use to me. The sole reason is the sound it makes when dancing off my tongue, exiting my mouth.

This is my life, all the ups and downs, the question marks lit on fire.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S7HdlyCzFrU

I saw Oprah two weeks ago and it gave me a priceless amount of INSPIRATION! Here's a clip I found of some great advice.

I can proudly say I am currently obsessed with metaphysics. I am a TOTAL believer in the law of attraction, karma, positivity.

My only addendum is that on the subject of positivity. It is important to practice positivity, but more important to practice gratitude. If you practice positivity all the time, of every waking moment, that's unhealthy. Being "happy" all the time is unhealthy, since happiness, like every other emotion/feeling is temporary. There is no way to sustain it. You can only embrace each emotion, then let it go when it wants to go. It's good to practice positivity, but when you're mad, sad, or confused there's no use in ignoring it or being upset with yourself. You are having the human experience in all it's joy and pains and in between.

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.

Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,

some momentary awareness comes

As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!

Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,

who violently sweep your house

empty of its furniture,

still treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out

for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,

meet them at the door laughing,

and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,

because each has been sent

as a guide from beyond.

- by Rumi 

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/8534703-The-Guest-House-by-Mewlana-Jalaluddin-Rumi#sthash.TOUPfaS3.dpuf

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/8534703-The-Guest-House-by-Mewlana-Jalaluddin-Rumi#sthash.TOUPfaS3.dpuf

The Guest House

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
As an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they're a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice,
meet them at the door laughing,
and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

- See more at: http://allpoetry.com/poem/8534703-The-Guest-House-by-Mewlana-Jalaluddin-Rumi#sthash.TOUPfaS3.dpuf

The Panama Canal

“My knees don’t work like they used to. You just don’t think about those things when your 19. You think you will be young forever. I never had trouble in the Panama Canal.”

“About 20 years ago when I was a scuba diver for the Navy. We were in the mines."

“A scuba diver for the Navy for the Panama Canal?  What were you diving for in the canal?"

“The mines.”

"The mines? Why the canal?”

“Well WWI and WWII everyone – the allies - kept stuff down there.”

I’m intrigued by the stuff everyone is keeping down there. This old man in the plane seat next to me, he once was a 19 year old scuba diver. And now he is an old businessman. He is not adventuring anymore. This is as wild as it gets. He orders jack and soda water, please.

“My daughter’s 25. She’s a psychologist. She can’t find anyone. She doesn’t trust anyone. She knows too much about human nature and now she doesn’t trust anyone.”

“Oh...” The other business man gives in grave whisper. “You know, the longer you wait the smaller the pool of quality men gets. She better hurry up.” They erupt with laughter.

If the ex-scuba diver’s daughter has studying the human psyche, and has determined this means she can trust no one, do I want to know more of her conclusions? No. I put my earbuds in. I drown out the old men talk.

I am in my early 30s. Single. I am not a psychologist, but I trust no one. That developed after years of trusting people, not reading lots of textbooks, not teaching people EFT.

I am leaving by plane from my hometown to my new town. I have just spent the week in the wilderness with no Wi-Fi. I actually had to feel all my feelings. It was a rough week. Drank lots of wine. I’m breathing deeper on the flight back to my city apartment.

It’s dark on the plane but the businessmen are loud so I can’t sleep. I think about the first few nights in the cottage. It was so quiet. Too quiet to fall asleep so I read till 2am. I am used to noise and babies crying and sirens. I remember when we met you covered your ears whenever we heard sirens. Like they were telling you something you didn’t want to hear. Reminding you of things you wanted to forget. I didn’t understand what you were trying to forget until the night you woke up next to me, eyes terrified, wide as quarters. You looked like you were coming up for air but you were not underwater, just in my bed with me.

In the beginning I loved the fact that I could make you moan. Since I knew there were very few things that made a man such as yourself moan. One being love, two being war. I was happy to be of the former category; I was happy to move you to shudder not due to pain, but due to love. Or from your end I guess you’d call it lust.

I remember feeling your arm draped over my skeletal frame. The fall had been hard on me and I had forgotten how much I liked to eat. You didn’t seem to notice anyways so I never brought this size change up. As long as I still had a C cup I knew I would keep your attention.

I remember that night, the moon coming through my blinds, stripes of stardust on our arms. I couldn’t sleep with you around me. I kept tossing and turning until we took off all our clothes. And as we were still catching our breath you suddenly burst out of the bed saying, “I’m going home, I can’t sleep now.” I wanted you to take me with you. Tuck me in the suitcase with your camera and cheer when I popped out of it like a calendar girl from a birthday cake.

You did not want to sleep with me. You wanted to keep a warm body close, have a someone to wake you from your nightmares. You wanted someone to pull you away from yourself in the middle of the night.

Christmas passed, the lights came down and there were still no phone calls. I pretended you were a pirate or soldier that was lost at sea and I would just have to wait for a carrier pigeon to come to my lighthouse. Be patient, I told myself. He will call, he will call.

There were never any calls. Leaving in the middle of the night was your grand exit I just had no idea until the curtains were up. The lights in my bedroom on, you gone. A disappearing act; an illusion. The tickets are sold out , no refunds.  The stale popcorn on the floor is the only proof we have.  The smallest filth is the only proof we have that it happened. The stale popcorn kernels are the smell of your sweater (greasy hair, sweat and overly priced cologne).

I order from the stewardess. My body buzzes with tannins. My brain is a bit scrambled but a steady idea is living there. I am finally realizing that your ghost has moved out. I am finally realizing it did take the banana from the kitchen as I had expected. I refuse to admit you left in the middle of the night because of me. It was never me. It’s whatever you told me you left in the desert, something you’ll never get back, yet you can’t stop thinking about it.

Xoxo – Marzipan Moxley http://marzipanmoxley.tumblr.com/

You're Kind of a Big Deal ...

i finally reached the point where i can't believe i ever gave my ex so much power over my self-worth. i'm finally reaching the point where i laugh instead of cry when i think about our time together. i laugh at the fog i was in and how delusional i was thinking he was my one chance at romance and a grand life adventure.

you are your own adventure story. you are the master of your own destiny. never let someone take that away from you. never give that power to someone else. yes, it may seem easier, but in the long run you're essentially sacrificing your soul, your worth, your vision. not worth it.

it's important to keep your heart open. we need to be compassionate and non-judgmental. but this past year i realized the (perhaps) more essential lesson is learning to protect your heart. it's one thing to forgive and show compassion. it's another to let yourself be a doormat with no brain. 

my life is filled with my interests, writing, passion, love. things are so much better now without this toxic person in my life. that's why i laugh when i think about how wrong i was.

i did hit a speed bump recently of jealousy, revenge. my ex and his gf live in my neighborhood so it's not unusual for me to see them out together. he rides his bike up and down my street and we don't even look at each other. or we do, but we both pretend we didn't. in a perfect world we could smile and say hi. but when someone hurts you deeply, it takes awhile. why pretend you respect someone when you don't? why give them a smile of submission? they do not deserve to be in your life. they don't deserve anymore smiles; fake or not.

i'm not necessarily proud of this outcome. but in life not everything ends how you envision. and that is real and that is the best, because this is life!

a recent writer i've become obsessed w/ Lorrie Moore explains this scenario best:










I came out of my jealousy and resentment by diving into myself, my interests and passions. From this experience, I discovered myself again and legitimized why I do not need a shitty partner. I'm waiting for someone who compliments me; there is no one who can complete me. Only I can do that.

And here is the kicker, the latest thing I saw that resonated with my current state: