Outliving Jesus

Big milestone. I'm outliving the old carpenter, growing out of my Jesus year. Still haven't figured out how to walk on water, though. Or, how to turn water into wine.

7x7 is not Enough

I just learned that my ex-boyfriend is relocating to San Francisco, and all I can think is, this city isn't big enough for the both of us. Hopefully, since he's got kids and a wife and stuff now he'll settle out in the 'burbs somewhere far from here, and I'll never run into him unexpectedly on that one day I decided not to wash my hair.

I liked the protective pocket of knowing he lived out of state, that I wouldn't/couldn't run into him, that when my friends came to town I'd get them all to myself. And knowing he's moving now, it's just too close for comfort. SF is MY city now. MINE. I've staked my territory and laid claim and in all the country for him to move... it's back here!?

7x7 just isn't big enough.

Bad About Writing

I can always bring to term this heavy pregnant balloon of words waiting to burst from me. Or can I? Or will I? I'm just so afraid of the labor pains and whether what emerges will be healthy and beautiful or deformed and sickly. And whether it'll be followed by a sense of catharsis or the deep depression of the post-partum. Something's in there, it's on the upswell, it's starting to kick. The belly of my brain is bloating, it's contracting. Coward, I am, by not pushing I abort.

Quit Plane' With My Emotions

This has been happening to me frequently enough that it seems to be a lasting condition, but when I get on long plane flights, and I have to sit with myself and just my own thoughts without any distractions for hours on end, something horribly embarrassing happens to me: I start to cry. And it's never just a sniff-here, sniff-there kind of cry; it's always a gusher, where I just can't wipe the tears off my face fast enough and have to do this weird turn-thing into the window so I can pretend no one can see that I'm having a breakdown. It's like I'm suddenly reminded of all that's lost, I get anxious about my family and sad about certain situations, or, in this most recent case, I miss my departed cat and that leads to thinking about how she was sick for so long and I didn't even know it and that leads to having to hold her in my lap as she was put to sleep and that leads to the contrast of my friend Jon's death being so quick which probably started this whole crying on planes thing in the first place. That was because I had to leave straight from his funeral on a plane back to San Francisco and didn't cry at all at the funeral and then I got on the plane and was just sitting there and everything hit me all overwhelming and the tears just gushed on down. Since then, it's literally every time I'm on a flight more than four hours it happens--even when I purposely try not to (this time I even took ativan hoping that might put the tears away). Once it starts happening there's no stopping it either, no fighting, it's just time to sit back, let those tears flow, let those shoulders heave, sniffle and boo hoo and have myself a good cry, miles high.