Posts tagged Serendipity
Posts tagged Serendipity
so that’s what that word means ;)
What about the other important words? The ones that can come between the i _______ you that are often forgotten or somehow get shuffled into the greater assumption of “i love you.” Why don’t we bother to say those things? Are they too revealing? Do they may us too vulnerable? When we feel the rapture of intense overwhelming emotions towards another, we can’t and wait to hear the words, “i love you,” but forget the value of
I WANT you.
I DESIRE you.
I NEED you.
I UNDERSTAND you.
I APPRECIATE you.
I WILL SHARE THIS COOKIE WITH you.
I TRUST you.
I BELIEVE IN you.
I HAVE FUN WITH you.
I CHERISH you.
I MISS you.
I DON’T WANT TO LOSE you.
Those are not always comfortably bundled into the almighty L word. While you may find yourself excessively spouting i love you’s, don’t forget to pay attention to everything else she makes you feel. Sometimes you need to say them too…or show them, if you can.
Strawberry Fields Forever…
The sky was gray and the air was warm…a quiet breeze blew by, but I didn’t notice much except for the occasional rustling of leaves just below our knees.
My exposed shoulders burning from the unforgiving California sun…punishing my skin but not wavering my excitement.
We got to do this together. It would be wonderful.
The fields appeared to go on forever…row after row disappearing far in the distance…only seeming to stop to kiss the clouds.
I strolled down a vanishing trail of green and red, looking back occasionally to see if you were keeping up…and every time I looked back, there you were, childlike as you balanced your basket of handpicked treasures.
Tasting the ruby gems when you thought I wasn’t looking.
You carefully examined each heart-shaped fruit before you you committed to bringing it home, only selecting the perfect berries—evaluating each one before adding it to your basket. Even in this, you would not settle.
Your kisses were sweet that day…sweeter than they had ever been. And I can remember wishing that we could stay that way. Forever.
Over time, “i love you” means less and less. WAIT WAIT WAIT! before you blow me off and completely discount me as a skeptic and a pessimist, hear me out.
We can all agree that the first utterance feels like your life has been forever changed, like you have just experienced something that belongs only to the two of you, that no one in the history of the world has ever been this happy and full of love, and you are left with a belief (which should be more of a hope) that those words will forever elicit the same intense emotions, that the feeling never fades, that the love just grows more and more passionate…but one day you realize “i love you” has become synonymous with good morning, see you later, safe flight, or thank you…or sometimes is used as a temporary solution to fill an uncomfortable silence. it could be that i have become jaded over the years, i’ll give you that…bruised indefinitely by “i love you’s” that weren’t, or it could be that i’ve come to value little things, gestures, much more than the all-important word. i know, strange words coming from a writer, but good relationships are worth much more than overused words, like…
A kiss good morning, the one that comes before you check your email…maybe even in-between snoozes.
Splitting the last cookie.
An outstretched arm after a long day, pulling me into the softest, most perfect, warmest spot…the spot that always feels like home no matter where I am.
Having a spot that always feels like home…no matter where I am…because it’s right below your chin and just above your heart.
Inside jokes that no one else gets…and no one else knows about.
Sharing secrets, and trusting with you with my life.
Watching a musical because it’s my favorite…watching a sci-fi series because i know it’s yours…even better, enjoying it.
Spending time with family together.
Holding hands…even if we’re just sitting on the couch.
Sharing memories that still make us smile.
A bottomless heart box that is mysteriously never empty…because it reminds me of one of my happiest days.
Dinner negotiations ending in collaborative creativity in the kitchen that is often more enjoyable than fine dining.
Tickle-wars turned wrestling-matches turned…
Waking me up every night to make sure I’m in bed next to you…and never ever leaving me to sleep on the couch. (this makes you my hero)
Holding me closer when nightmares are keeping me from sleep.
Planning…even if it’s just next weekend.
Never getting angry when my writing, or my work, or my family…or my mood…gets in the way of our plans.
When you make my heart race when I unexpectedly bump into you…even after all this time.
And kisses that take my breath away.
Please don’t ever stop telling me you love me. I will always need to hear it—mostly because i like it. But know that if you never said it again, i will always know it because of the little things you do…
there’s a line between funny and mean and it makes me sad when people—grown adults—can’t tell the difference. it makes me feel sorry for them. it makes me wonder about their childhood. how many times they may have been told hurtful things and how they came to believe that cruelty was the standard. So much so, that even in their heart, after years of human interaction, they cant differentiate—nor do they have the sensitivity to realize—that what they find to be benign humor can actually be hurtful.
And I don’t mean grossly inappropriate comedians. i’m talking about mean girls. real ones. the ones that never seem to grow out of the cruelty and insensitivity—who’s moral barometer has an inseparable broken gauge, who sprinkle their social syntax with backhanded compliments, whispers behind the back, spread rumors, spread hate, who have a false sense of superiority spurned of pure insecurity—but rather grow into it, and suppress those around them with this toxic behavior.
yes yes. i can grow a thicker skin, but what they need is to grow the fuck up.
sometimes things happen that will bring out a side of your nature that you forgot even existed. since my transition a year ago, my highly sensitive, highly emotional self has mostly manifested in the form of tears—sometimes even sobs. moving away from my family, becoming detached from everything that was my life for 30 years, and the solitude of a soul-less city like LA, has created a pitri dish of emotions—often magnifying parts of my psyche that have long been forgotten…and then something will happen.
today i was reminded of one of my mom’s favorite stories from my childhood—an experience that i was far too young to ever recall on my own that, however, is a perfect example of a personality trait that i’ve never grown out of, but may have put to rest for a bit of time.
growing up i lived in two-bedroom in a decent-sized apartment complex with my mom and dad, little sister and a mut from my dad’s youth (later becoming my mom, her boyfriend, my little sister, her 6 ft iguana, and often her boyfriend/soul mate). it was tight, and we were often piled on top of each other, which forced me to learn to just let things be sometimes…the constant poking of a little sis, the never-ending nagging of an over-caring mother, the lack of privacy…live and let live was the only way to survive. who wants to spend their life fighting every day?
in spite of all the patience learned, my emotions became a sleeping bear—snoring through most of the insanity—even if outside disturbances caused the occasional nightmare, they were my nightmares that i endured in solitude. However, at times the mania became too much to sleep through, and if pushed too hard, the beast would awaken…which was exactly the case with my now best friend, Traci. poor Traci.
i was always a well-behaved child. Mom made sure of it. always said please and thank you, never spoke unless spoken to, didn’t talk back (until my sassy teenage years), and never…ever…used foul language or mom would make me a nice plate of dial soap for dinner. but there was ONE time that i managed to expel the F-bomb without suffering punitive damages, and a 5-year old Traci was on the receiving end.
Traci lived up the block. my mom used to babysit her. we spent a lot of time together, which lent itself to plenty of opportunities to get on each others nerves, as i’m sure we did…often…i just can’t remember. As my mom likes to tell it, we were enjoying a lovely swim together in the community pool—a favorite hangout for the Terrace crowd—when Traci decided it would be fun to dunk me under water. not cool Traci. It happened quite a few times, (i’m sure there were tears and desperate pleas of release somewhere in there), before i climbed out of the pool, dramatically stomped my foot and in my best outdoor voice belted a single statement: “EFF* YOU TRACI!” [*substitute “EFF” with your favorite F-word and mine]. I had had enough.
that threshold is something that i’ve carried with me throughout my life…opting most often to internalize my frustration rather than voice it, often resulting in personal determent, but also personal growth. i had to learn to let MANY things slide. i constantly tested my limits and boundaries, making excuses for bad behavior or things that caused me pain, and ultimately it made me stronger—still a cry baby—but stronger.
Finding something good.. I definitely didn’t look for it, but oh how wonderful it was :)
I’m weird…that goes without saying. My oddities, unfortunately, have made forging new friendships a bit of a challenge, however.
The word “Best Friend” doesn’t mean the same as an adult that it did pre-puberty, in high school, or even college. Those wear-it-on-a-necklace, parade-skipping-through-the-streets-holding-hands, wear-matching-outfits-to-school, share-everything-even-gum kind of friendships tend to disappear when you grow up and realize that there are more important things in life…things like a career, relocating, personal goals, money, romantic relationships, etc.
I want to say these things shouldn’t change relationships, but they do…no matter how much we may wish otherwise.
Why is it that in my adult life I have only been able to find the closeness I used to share with my very best girlfriends, with guys? Guys who’s hair i’ll never braid, who will never split a best/friends necklace with me, who will not sit beside me for a bi-weekly mani/pedi and or a a sit-and-bitch about mom calling me every ten minutes, or how much I hate mushrooms, or how cute the guy in accounting is…but nevertheless, these relationships seem so much easier for me.
It may just be that i’m weird…which has been my go to excuse for many things i can’t explain.
Or maybe it’s because I don’t have to worry as much about being weird with guys, or about showing interest in things I really don’t care about…maybe it’s because i feel less judged for being the uniquely odd less than feminine girl who prefers weekend watching the LOTR trilogy back-to-back while splitting a meat lovers pizza over an all day boutique shop-a-thon trying on two-sizes-too-small skinny jeans while lamenting my body’s shortcomings. You never really have to concern yourself with mutual self-loathing while spending time with the guys…kind of like when we were kids and that stuff didn’t really matter.
Ironically, even though my inclination towards male friendships has once again come to fruition while establishing myself on the other side of the world, i find, more often than not, that i miss all the ladies i have left behind…the ones that took the time to get over my flaky inability to commit to plans in advance, my chronic lateness, my dislike for most of their female friends, my odd obsession with diner food and breakfast for dinner, as well as my need to share everything we do in social media. I didn’t appreciate or even recognize how rare this kind of patience is…or how selective i was when deciding who i would let get that close to me.
I also miss not having to have the “it’s never going to happen” conversations with my guy friends. This had already been mutually established with my best guy friends at home…It’s so weird starting over. I find myself having the When Harry Met Sally debate over and over again. Lucky for me, it’s worked out in my favor a few times since my move. Even if my relationships cause many a raised eyebrow and some awkward conversations in the office, there are a few wonderful new friends (mostly male) who have decided to take me as i am without judging my sometimes tomboy, sometimes insanely emotional mood swings, who understand where i came from, and generally like who i am—quirks and all.