there was a time not long ago, i dreamt the world was flat

Several weeks ago, I went on my first date in quite a while. It was also my first successful date in a while - meaning I thought he was attractive, we had plenty of things in common, and the conversation was quite good. Our follow ups consisted mostly of emails and text messages and plans were made for date two. This was to be my first second date in some time. Then about two hours before the scheduled meet, I get text that because he's feeling sick, he won't be able to make it. I believe the words, "I'll need to take a raincheck" were typed at some point. Perhaps naively, I still choose to believe he was telling the truth. But there's a tiny little Doubting Thomas inside of me that thinks he knows better.

Since then, I made the decision that it's his call to ask me out for the make-up date. I consider it only fair since I made the plans which were aborted last minute. No need for me to reschedule a whole evening again unless I'm reasonably assured he's interested, right. There've been a few more emails, text messages, and one phone call (I'll admit it - I caved and called). But no requests for another outing. At this point, I'm filing this one in the "noble failures" category. I tried, I tried again, and I know better than to keep beating my head against the wall. I get it - either he isn't interested or he's just very slow about getting to know someone. Either way, I can read the signs well enough to note that this isn't going anywhere.

A few years ago, I was a lot stupider. Something like this would have devastated me. I'm too far along these days to sulk or chase someone down or wonder why they don't like me. Sure, I'd appreciate the heads-up ("Hey, I'm just not feeling it," would suffice for the record!) but I'm not going to whine about it. I'll just move on and hit on the next cute guy I meet in a bar. And then maybe his friend if that doesn't work out.

What? Give a boy a bell curve. I didn't say I'd learned all of my lessons.

J.

the blood of eden

in the blood of eden, we have done everything we can...

Peter Gabriel plays softly on my headphones. I can feel a slight breeze from an only-in-L.A. November evening, warm without being gross. What's not to like about a night like tonight?

I find myself in an interesting position these days. I'd never been much to reach out for help - a character flaw more than a strength, I think. But in my darkest days, I reached out and found more hands reaching back than I ever would have expected. People don't always realize how little moments can change everything. These days, improbable as it might have seemed to myself two years ago, I find myself one of those hands reaching out to my friends. This weekend, I found myself referring to my conditions with humor, with humility, and with truth. I used them as a way to let people feel less alone and to remind myself of how far I've come. I looked into a pair of ridiculously soulful eyes without fear and spilled who I was, who I am without bleeding or being the victim. I proceded to come home and had to rearrange (and rearrange again) my closet in color-order, re-stack some CDs and make sure the medicine cabinet was in order. I caught myself biting my nails twice. Progress and perfection are a long road apart, but no one said anything would be easy.

I told someone the following last. The full meditation didn't hit me until a day or so later: in my darkest moments, my trick is to think about everyone I love and name everything I love about each one of them. Then I say out, "And they love me back." I think of every reason they love me. And I realize that none of my reasons and none of theirs have anything to do with achievement or status or any of the superficial things any of us hate ourselves for. I love them because of who they are and they love me for the same reason.

what a moment this is...for a moment i'm forgetting...a moment of bliss...

I'm still a work-in-progress. I'm still me. And I'm more OK with that I've ever been.

fall

Somehow, October always does me in. For as long as I can remember, I just kind of drop out come the first few weeks of fall. There have been times where something really bad goes down and there have been times where my state of mind has been the only thing wrong in the room. But one way or another, I seem to lose every October. The best anaology I can give for those who don't deal with clinical depression is that it's like diving to the bottom of a pool and not being able to come up for air, except for a few fleeting moments. And in those moments, you're so busy with survival and breathing, you can't even think to look around. You're just concentrating on your next breath. (Ironcially, controlling your breathing and concentrating on one breath at a time is one of the ways you're supposed to deal with panic attacks, too.)

I documented on the old blog my struggle and success with my condition(s). I've been going it without meds for over a year now (by choice, after a successful run on the proper cocktail). I'm also doctor-less (again by choice, after a successful run of therapy and close behavior monitoring), which means that I'm supposed to keep myself in check. It's true, each day that I manage not to manifest an OCD moment where I once would have, I feel slightly more "normal" - which is to say, further and further removed from past instances of feeling crazy. However, if I don't remind myself what it's like, all of the sudden I realize I'm treading old pathways again. But, then, depressed and crazy or not, we all have to do that to some extent. For me, Ocotober's just a trigger. I just have to remind myself I've been worse and I'll be better. And of course, make sure not to drop off the face of the Earth again. Last time, it required a break-up, a forgiveness session with an old friend, and a whole lot of doctor visits. We're looking to forgo that if possible.

OK, that's enough navel-gazing for me. This is all getting a little AA for my tastes. See me when I have something to say again.

J.

red sky

At least for natives, one of the joys of SoCal seasons is the lack of actual, well, seasons. As such, we miss out on all of the beautiful fall colors (or so we are constantly told by our Midwestern and East Coast transplant friends). Personally, I've never much missed all the extra colors in the leaves that die. And I sure as hell haven't ever missed the cold snaps. What we call cold (usually about 60ish) is a fair trade off for earthquakes if you ask me.

Tonight, as most everyone knows, seemingly every occupied California hillside from National City upward is in blazes. Fire season's always like this - but never this bad. Pity, too. I love the feel of the Santa Anas winds. Most people who've known me for a while agree that it's typical that I'd like something with so much dark side and so little redeeming. I'm not trying to be a misery chick. I just happen to like the wind and not so much the cold.

Through the smoke, though, the sunset provided a bit of those missing fall colors for us. Mind you, L.A. is one of the few things I'm not 99% cynical about. But even I have to admit that's very Hollywood. Consider this snapshot her collegen enhanced face on an otherwise all-around bleak situation. Only Los Angeles to produce a photo-worthy moment with tragedy as an accessory.

That's my girl. Long may she run.

J.

obligatory (re)introductions

Once upon a time, I blogged. Once upon a time, I co-blogged. Hell, once upon a time I dated a fellow blogger. All of those deals eventually fell through, for various reasons and with various levels of closure. The fact is, I feel my best when writing. Less an exercise in reconnecting with my old blogging life (the old one's still up for anyone who cares to find it on their own), this is a way to reconnect with myself. Who knows how regularly this will update? I'm hoping to only post when I have something to say. When I don't but feel like forcing my creative muscles to keep from atrophying, I'll write in my journal at home. One's worst work should be saved only for yourself and close friends who know better than to laugh at you.

See you when I've got something to say.

J.