Resignation

I am officially at the point in my life where choosing to not have a child has shown up to ring my doorbell and to slap me in the face. For years and years I told myself "maybe someday", knowing I probably wasn't going to do it. I believed it might not be right for me for various reasons. I was ok with that for the most part, then I wasn't, then I was, then I wasn't... you get the idea. Through the years you watch other people with kids and you tend to idealize things, but then somewhere in the back of your psyche you realize what you're doing and those thoughts are chased away by your deeper gut feelings. You finally get to the point where it would be crazy to even entertain those thoughts any longer. Then the sadness kicks in. All those years of procrastination and ambivalence have now turned into hard reality...it's too late. You wonder if you've made the right decision because now you're stuck with it. It's kind of like choosing to not go to a party... only bigger. ;) Someone tells you how fun the party was and you feel left out. Then someone else tells you the party sucked and you feel relieved. You'll never know what that party held for you personally but it's now only a missed opportunity; and the idea that you may have missed out on something really great tortures you! I think imagination is sometimes the enemy. I wonder is it possible to be both a dreamer AND a realist at the same time? Or is that precisely the problem with me??? Maybe women ARE never satisfied.

PS: I'm now worried about those other BIG ideas that have always lived in my head... does this mean I'm not really going to go to India and be a charity worker? What do ya mean I won't be sitting next to the Dalai Lama chanting Buddhist prayers? I better get off this computer, I seem to be diverting my real destinies through Myspace!

My broken body part

5 days and counting until this 30 pound weight is removed from the right side of my body. That's what a cast feels like; a weight. To say it sucks is superfluous. A body needs to be in literal balance or everything is off. I've been "off" for about 7 weeks now... well, my Mother says I've always been a little "off". But then again so is she; and for that matter just about everybody I know or have ever come across. Being "off" can be a good thing because it makes you an individual. If someone sees you as "off", what they are really seeing is someone uniquely different than themselves... and that's definately a good thing. I enjoy being different than anybody else. I like being "off"... just not literally. My poor, poor other leg has been taking all of the work and weight of the entire body. Can you imagine standing on one foot for 7 weeks? Seriously, absolutely NO weight on the bad foot at all. It's weird and cool at the same time to realize your own body compensating and dealing with injury. I kind of feel like I have no choice in all of this; like an unwilling spectator. I watched my leg snap in half and now I'm watching my body mend itself. I can't wait to watch as they saw this thing off and reveal my new leg to me. I understand it will not look like my old leg for a while. I for one will be horrified at the amount of hair that has been allowed to sprout free while I've lost all hygiene control on that particular limb. I'm ready for that. What I'm not ready for is the muscle atrophy and all the rehab I've got to do. I've always had "athletic" legs; the kind that should never try to pull off pumps. And though I've sometimes hated my big calves, I've always liked it when strangers ask if I play soccer. Since I have no desire to bust out with a pair of pumps in this lifetime... I'll gladly take my old leg back. I'll just take it home, wash it, shave it and remind it that it's expected to think it's still 20.

On this desk...

... is my life. Coffee cup with a cold sip left. Lots of tear stains... it's amazing how tears can actually strip varnish. Bills I try not to make eye contact with. Cup holding a shitload of pens, yet I seem to grab the same one every time. A half alive plant that came from a half alive relationship. A Buddha on a spring that looks kind of like a bouncing penis... is this a message from above? Reciepts from my most recent self indulgences and must haves; cute boots, jelly bellys and a carwash. An overdue movie I can't bring myself to watch but won't return either. A $20. dollar bill that I swear was $100. before I went out last night. A lottery ticket I've never checked... I could be a millionaire and not even know it. A list of love story movies I always thought I'd watch with her. Dust.

Gone

So, why do I love women? I'll attempt to articulate. Women are magical. Women are seductive and sexy in ways a man simply cannot be. Ever heard the saying, "Smells like girl"? It's not a certain perfume or soap or lotion; it's the smell of femininity; of the kind of softness that melts you; that takes your breath away. Have you ever studied the nape of a woman's neck? It's like the gentle pedestal of a precious jewel. A woman does not need hair or makeup to be beautiful; she needs only to look into your eyes and you're gone; gone away to a sublime world of cush; keenly aware of all senses at once. Every woman I have ever loved has mesmerized me and stolen pieces of me...but I was willing. Women are like a drug you cannot kick... they become the thread of your being.
If you have ever been loved, truly loved by a woman, you're lucky.

Nancy

Funny, I was able to choose the category for this particular blog... "Life" That's what it is, isn't it, when someone dies. Nancy was only 25 years old. She died of a horrible mistake made by medical professionals last week. I attended her funeral and watched as so many of her friends were devastated at the loss of this very sweet and kind girl. I did not know her as well as they did. I couldn't help wishing I had. She was always kind to me and made the effort to make me feel welcome. She was special in her own unique-to-this-world kind of way. We all are. If we could only realize that before someone dies and treat them as if they may be gone tomorrow. The last time I hung out with Nancy I tried to make her a plate of food at a party. She did not have much appetite. So instead I pulled a giant Ghiradelli chocolate/caramel candy bar that I had been hording for myself out of my pocket and offered it to her. Her face lit up as she snatched it out of my hand. I'm so glad I did that. That was the last time I saw her.