The Flow (Yes, you can laugh. To a point)

WARNING: Bodily functions ahead.

I woke up smiling until I realized that my bed was filling up with pee. I hadn't peed myself in a long time. I woke up wondering if this was part of my being ill today? I started to fear what how this might affect sleepovers? Disappointed, my smile turned to a frown of concern, Stopping the stream, I got up and assessed the damage. I was soaked. It was everywhere. The ass of my sweats were sagging with the weight of my urine like a baby's diaper might. Thank god I had a maxi pad on. I was beginning to wonder if I shouldn't just finish emptying.
Scuttling to the bathroom with dripping pants, I questioned if I could ever truly stop being a bedwetter or was this just some phase I'd go through until I'd finally just hit old age. Should I just wear a diaper to bed? Dinah?
The good news is I don't do this very often. Well, maybe more often then most or so you care to admit to me. The bathroom, trip was a harsh ego-beating of my immaturity as I sponged the piss from my thighs and looked into the mirror and laughed. What was it? What had just happened? I'd never been in so deep a sleep that I couldn't wake myself out of it to race down the hall. A telltale towel lays in place under the sheets that I managed to pull on sleepily at 2:30 in the morning. Yay for doubles. Checking to see how far the flow made it, I scratched at myself again as I felt a damp patch on one of my comforters. "Hmm, 3 layers away. But I'd managed to miss the fleece?" Or so I'd have to pretend. I needed another blanket. It was cold tonight.
Waking up at the regular time, I know I'm going to call into work and I am glad because I do need to sleep in. My chest had been congesting throughout the night. Sliding back into bed, I am trying not to think about the comforter that's now airdrying near the radiator. Half smiling, I'm partially thinking about all of tasks I have to do today until my big brother brain takes over and tells me to go to sleep. There'll be time for that later. But first a shower, then later I'll write this to you.

Holidays

Ah, an actual impromptu blog.  So, I am at the tail end of my Jersey tour.  My Mom and I met up with S & C today.  We went to the MET which was pretty cool. I haven't been there with them in many years.  It was interesting to see some of the exhibits that I remember loving as a child.  So many flashbacks during this trip. I always feel like I'm a kid looking through an adults eyes when I visit the house in Caldwell.  Sometimes when I am standing in the house after everyone else is sleeping, I feel the haunt of the house.  It's scary how many intense and frightening things happened there.  A lot of sorrow was created within those walls.  I wonder if an outsider can feel it or am I just sensitive to it because I lived through screaming parents, midnight calls from the Caldwell PD about my older brother, broken glass from my bedroom mirror running against my wrists.  It wasn't all bad but I was sad a lot.  That was the general feeling.  Sadness.  I can see that depression can run through the family as I walk downstairs and find my Dad sitting in darkness listening to music on his new IPOD shuffle. I know what he is doing because I do it too.  I sink into music when I am depressed, listening to the same songs hoping that they can shed a light on my sadness and confusion.  I tell him not to get lost in the music knowing full well that later on that night, I will be doing the same thing.  I have no answers, I never do. I was thinking about some of the decisions that I've made over the past four months.  Wondering when to trust my heart and when to trust my head.  I had to make a difficult decision not to be friends with someone and my head has been going crazy but I have to trust my heart.  When I feel like texting or calling her what stops me is my heart, which incidentally was what got me into the relationship.  So while my head is freaking out, I check my heart before making a phone call.  It has constantly told me "No, hold on."  I am angry but I have to believe that there is a reason for this hesitation.  I just wish I knew why.  I do know that my body physically reacts too when I try and go through with contact.  I feel sick to my stomach and that I suppose is another warning.

Holidays are hard especially without a partner.  I want to spend time with my family because I live so far away but very often we are on edge.  I wish it could be relaxed.  I don't want to leave wishing that I hadn't stayed for so long.  

In the coming new year some of my hopes are my heart heals, that I can take another class, that I can continue guitar lessons, find a girlfriend that excites me, work becomes a place that I can brag about again.  

A lesson learned...

O.K., I think I'll write about my weekend instead. It's a bit difficult to focus on this prompt right now and I had a really fun weekend.

Friday night, L and I went to the Yellow Sofa cafe and listened to a local gypsy jazz band, Swing Caravan. They sounded great and I discovered a new favorite drink: Matte Latte, steamed milk and Yerba Mate. Oh heaven. So delicious. So full of caffeine. Or matteine. Whatever.
It was great to have some solo time with L. It's been a while since we've hung out together partially because out friendship has been changing. I don't think it's a bad thing but we've been going in different directions with our lives. Sometimes I feel that maybe we should allow ourselves to grow apart but I don't really want that. L an I have been through many trials of friendship together and it's possibly one of the most challenging relationships that I've ever been in. I think that we can try and make our relationship work even through the life changes but sometimes it's hard. It's like being shut out and uncertain when you'll be let back in. It will take a lot of belief on both sides but I feel like there is a reason to keep going.
The next day I had to work. I love my job at the store but lately, life has started to become really busy so it's not always easy for me to be there. I love my customers and always enjoy absorbing new books and games but I know that one day, I'll have to let it go once I get a "real job."
During that evening I went to F's ___ birthday party which was awesome. I think it was fun because there weren't tons of people there but it was a good crowd. My favorite type of party. The lovely K was hosting the party (Glee) on an amazingly stormy night. It was one of those storms that is super warm and windy. I love storms like this because they always blow something new into the world. It's a time where Mother Nature helps push everything she's nurtured into the next stage. I felt like I was standing on board a pirate ship.
Sunday, I woke up early (eek gad) which was not easy after getting home late. I put away all of my Summer clothes in exchange for the Fall ones and got ready to study at Packard's with L & R. When we goth there, I had the best burger in the World. The Ultimate Beer Battered which is essentially a jalapeno popper burger. It still rests like a stone in my belly.

The Morning Rain.

I woke up early this morning, listening to the rain outside of my bedroom window.
I had thoughts of her, like I do every morning since we broke up.

Laying still in the darkness, warm underneath my blankets, I'm trying to decide if I should just roll out of bed and get to work but I decide to stay where I am. I want to lay here for a bit but, the urge to pee has been heightened but the sound of the rain so I throw my blankets off and scuttle off to the bathroom.

Quickly, I flush and then make my way back to my room where the bed is still warm. Checking the clock, I see that I still have ample time to rest. I spend too much of my day running around, trying to make things run smoothly that it is nice to rest here for a while.

I am back under the covers and I can hear the soft music playing from across the room on my IPOD. John Mayer is crooning silently about love and trust and I am wishing that she was here with me, tucked away in the warmth of my morning bed.

If I could change one thing about myself...

..it would be how I obsess over women. I feel that if I weren't always fantasizing, living in a dream where I'm touching them, I could harness a lot of my intellect and creativity. Instead of writing a story, I daydream about the latest distraction. Pining over failed relationships. Will I ever let it go? Move on. If I did, what would I spend my time thinking about? Class. Reading. Playing music, juggling, hanging out with friends, exercise? But no. Instead I sit and think about the moments I wish I could have.

Otis Redding is singing " A Change is Gonna Come" on my stereo behind me.

The best thing that happened this week.

Originally written 9/26/08

Well, I think that best thing that happened this week was yesterday's gym class. We were supposed to be playing basketball but I just couldn't gather up the energy to play so, I spoke with L & M about playing some double dutch.
It was so much fun!
I totally suck because as little girl, I never played it. It was always the girly girl think to do and I stayed well enough away from stupid things like that.
Of course now, 60 years later, I see it as the cool alternative sport. I like how it's popular in black culture. I felt a little blacker every time I tried to jump in. It was awesome. I went home and downloaded You Tube videos. My students were talking about how the Philly teams are especially nice. I want to find out everything I could about this culture. It was like my ping pong obsession all over again.
I seem to really enjoy off the cuff sports: Surfing, tennis, soccer, boomerang, field events, skateboarding, bmx, and now double dutch. It's not that I don't like mainstream sports. I'm just more attracted to the edgier ones. So yeah. Playing double dutch was the best thing that happened this week. I'm hoping one day we're good enough to challenge Wildwood Elementary but I hear they're pretty killer.

The Crust

This entry is dedicated to Sarah and all of the other Crust lovers that help me finish my pizza.

I am not a crust eater. I find that it wastes valuable space in my belly that can be filled with warm, sweet tomato sauce and a variety of toppings. The first part of the pizza is just so easy to eat. You can fold it up and push it into your gullet, easy as liquid. There's just something about pizza that lets you store it in your belly like sheets of paper bound together in a package. I imagine the slices are standing upright against my insides, making way for the next piece to come down. I find it no small wonder that pizza eating contests are so popular amongst enthusiasts of all ages.

But then, there's the crust. I know that once I've made it to this point in the pizza, it's slow going. Starting off with the best of intentions, I consider that no food should be wasted. There are starving people everywhere.

I begin where the pizza leaves off: The edges are still soft and doughy so I can't resist nibbling on the floury crust. A few bite marks later and I am attempting to eat my way around the burnt edges. This is where I start to feel defeated. It's just so dense. The hard bits are crumbling all around me. True, it's tasty but it's just too much work and I have another slice of pizza loaded with mushrooms sitting in front of me.
I continue to think about the starving people but I just can't do it. Taking one final bite off of the edge, I look sorrowfully at the dark brown crust before me, tossing it back into the take out box.

This is when my crust partner takes over.

The crust partner is essential. Without them, I'm nothing to a slice of pizza. They're are the ones who can take away the guilt of my perpetually unfinished project.
There are certain people in this world that live for crusts. It is not my intention to say that they spend their lives scrounging through the trash of others, waiting to see what the can scavenge. ( Although they do, kind of.) What I mean to say is that they've cultivated a taste for what some may say is the best part of the pizza. These are the people that can battle that thick, chewy, rind of bread with ease. Made of sterner stuff that I, they can dash away a piece of crust with dedication that I am incapable of.

What's funny is, I never have to look to far to find my crust partners. They're usually hovering around, without my knowledge, waiting for me to throw in the towel.
There I'll be, sitting, arguing internally about how it's time to move on to that other piece. I'll have just accepted the truth that I am in fact a spoiled brat when my crust partner will swoop in with an offer to devour the remains. I am saved.

Once I discover my pizza soul mate, I use them constantly. Offering all I can to these creatures. I will even stop a bit before the crust begins so that they too, can enjoy some of the soft bits before decimating the final pieces of pizza. It's neat. Everything has been put where it needs to be. All that's left in the box are crumbs and a bit of oil to remind me of the relationship made between those who can swallow bulk with ease but need help with chewing the toughest parts.