Memento Mori

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Seattle, Washington, United States
Professional Darling

Wednesday, December 10, 2008

It's Not Quite The End, But It Is For Now My Dear.

I'll hate the summer now for completely different reasons than I did before.

Days heat and nights stuffy embrace were enough to drive me insane throughout June, July and August. Of course September would save one last heat wave for me, just to push me over that edge. The sun does horrible things for one as pale as I, and I would come out pink with just an afternoon out in its garish light.

Now the summer is hated for reasons more than those I have listed above. This past summer perhaps is the hardest one I have on record. Even though it is halfway through the year, oddly enough I have no recollection of what happened in my life before the summer hit. June, or perhaps July, or was it August I ask? It was July that I left my place that I had someone else map out for me, and began the journey to independence all alone. Leaving comfort, complacency, routine and someone elses fantasy to become someone that I feel I was meant to be inside.

Unfortunately, I was blinded by another and so began my descent into co-dependency again. This time taking on the form of something completely different than I was used to. I had myself moved to the suburbs away from the city that I had always known. I felt shut out from the world, and unable to do anything about it. Beggars can't be choosers you know, and I felt that if I did not take this opportunity that was presented to myself, then life would get even worse. The worst feeling I ever had out there in those suburbs, was the feeling that no one could hear me scream. Screaming to be let out from that cage that I found myself in, unwillingly, but with no other choice. Starting to stare at co-dependency, the one thing that I have tried my entire life to avoid.

I used to be fiercely independent...or so I thought when I was in late teens and early twenties. I first moved out when I was 17. Trying to juggle school and work. I lived alone in a one bedroom basement suite below a crazy crackhead lady that used to ask me the weirdest questions at the weirdest times. Most notably was the time she came down to my apartment, opened the door to my bedroom at 2:30 in the morning and asked me if she could borrow five dollars. I thought I was being independent, but alas, half of my rent was paid through my fathers child support payments and I would pay the other half. My mom and sister dropping by all the time and bringing me food, or leaving money in my room, "accidentally". I may have believed I was independent, but I was not, it was co-dependency in a different form. Next I lived with my sister, and then my mom, and then my boyfriend and his father, and then I moved in with my best friend and his roommates. All the while thinking I was this great independent being. Co-dependency wrapped up in a disguise...again.

When I got married, I totally resigned myself to the fact, that yes, in a marriage its co-dependency. I was fine with it, because I loved him. I loved the fact that we were going to lean on each other when we needed to, and that we were apart of a huge partnership. It was supposed to be 50/50. The years went on, and I found myself unable to do the most simplest of things, like order a pizza or make a phone call to someone I didn't know. I couldn't even talk to the landlord by myself. What the fuck was up with that? That of course brings us back to the suburbs and then the man I fell deeply in love with.

As I think back on this year, well at least the parts that I remember, I think back on all the fun I actually did have. My Dad and his long time girlfriend of 15 years finally tied the knot. This afforded me with a well earned trip up to Birch Bay for the wedding and to a wonderful reunion with my sister that I hadn't seen in almost a year before that. I remember sitting on the porch, and having this car pull up, and out she popped, and down I ran to embrace her. It felt like all those emotions that I had been pushing down finally came out. I just stood there crying in her arms for what felt like an hour, not wanting to let go. The closest thing I had had to girl time since the last time I saw her.

I finally received my full Permanent Resident status from the United States Government, even though it was almost a 5 year, fifteen hundred dollar process. It's funny to come into the country on a K-1 Fiancee Visa, and then have your marriage fall apart.

I was spoiled as a celebration of my green card. J had taken me out for a wonderful meal at El Gaucho. Probably the most expensive meal I will ever eat, and quite possibly the most special I had ever felt to one person. I remember pricey blush champagne, course after course of food and wonderful conversation. Sitting beside each other instead of across, easier to snuggle that way. The night was one I will not soon forget, despite the way things ended between us.

I was treated to Bumbershoot this year, and was surprised to find that I actually enjoyed Death Cab for Cutie enough to go out and buy a couple of their albums. A rare occurrence for me, as I usually stick to what I know. Perhaps this was the beginning of my stepping out into the world and not letting what other people thought get me down.

Other notables of the year include falling in love with Nabokov, a fun trip to Portland on the train, cutting almost all of my hair off, etc etc.

The single thing that I am most thankful for this year are the friends that I have made in the past month. Who knew that a resource such as a blog/journal and the willingness to step out of that ever comfortable and velvety comfort zone would pay off. I would like to thank the following people in random order, even if they never read this, they shall be immortalized: Cheri, Carolyn, Vanessa, Nicole, Izzy, Lasairiona, Heather, Emma, Jen, Laura, April, Melissa, Lisa, Jillian, Jester, Tiffany, Alexandra, Scott, Miguel, Jesse, Charmane, Jen, Devin, Trevor, Ed, Vincent, Jon, Lorena, Christa, Kirsten, Christopher, Roaxanne, Ash... Gawd I feel like I'm at the Oscars or something.

The new year shall prove to be better in more ways than I can imagine. I'm sure that my descent into the darkness will continue as I try to figure out what life is all about. I've learned that nothing, no matter how small, should go unnoticed. Be thankful and acknowledge those around you that deserve it, and leave behind the ones that don't. Life is too short to be stuck somewhere you don't want to be and it sure as hell is meaningless if you don't try to discover who you are.

Much love to all of you!
Bonne Chance!

Tuesday, December 2, 2008


How many times can I blog about winter? How many times do I feel the push to be outside, chilled, frosty fingertips and a warm heart?

Something is calling me. At first I thought it was church again. On my lunch I sat and thought about it. Felt the feeling in my heart, and begged it to tell me what it wanted. Implored, screamed, yelled and then cried for it. Cried for the secret it couldn't release. How do you know, what you know? How are you secure in knowing what you want?

I'm not taking care of myself.

It was that simple. I'm not getting enough sleep. I'm not eating right and I'm not working out anymore. I'm not taking care of my spiritual well being, nor my emotional. I'm trying to cram my days and nights with nothing but social gatherings and hanging out. I wonder why my body can't live on nicotine and caffeine. Red wine and the smell of incense.

I used to go into hiding. When I lived in Vancouver, I would take a weekend and shut myself away. I would write, read, listen to music, write in my journal and spend all of this time listening to my heart and my soul. I would get all of this work done. Work on myself and I would come out of the weekend feeling refreshed, and ready to take it all back on again.

What I loved the most, was the writing. I miss it so much. Before I moved down to Seattle, I was a writer. It was something that I loved, and something that I did everyday. It came easily, and it came beautifully. I loved to spend my time either at home, or at a coffee shop with my notebook and a pen. I could write for hours and just keep going. I once sat and wrote for five hours straight. Whatever happened to those days?

I used to do a 'zine as well. Ava Dement1a. ( #1 was the best thing that ever came to be. The best 'zine I had ever done. I showed it to Ryan one day, and told him that because it was a per-zine, it would reflect a lot about me, and who I was as a person. He refused to read the rest of it, after reading a short snippet about a previous boyfriend. Jealousy. We got into a fight that night, and it wasn't a very nice fight. It's hard to remember exactly what happened, because it happened quite a while ago. The result? I didn't feel like I could express myself through writing anymore. Even if I could pull it off, what was the point? I couldn't even share it with my husband without him going into a jealous rage. I couldn't share what was such a big part of my life without fear of a fight.

I gave up writing during my marriage. Occasionally I would stop to jot down some words about how I was feeling and hide them, usually under the mattress or in a book I was reading. Ironically, after I had left at the beginning of the summer, Ryan found one of those poems, and I daresay he got an even worse taste in his mouth after reading it. Of course the questions came after that. He questioned whether or not those feelings were real, and if they were, he told me how much it hurt him. Part of me just wanted to laugh at him, and ask why he was never supportive in the first place. Why he couldn't swallow the fact that yes, the woman he married wasn't a virgin and that yes she wrote about some past boyfriends that made her hot. That writing about those things was a way of not forgetting. That it as cathartic, that it was a way of letting go of the past, and moving on to the future. That sometimes you need to get it out of you, so you can put it away and not have it linger within you.

I've often toyed with the idea of writing another 'zine. That it would be a way of finishing off with the year. This year that has made my skin grow cold and pale with sorrow. Perhaps in order to get on with 2009, I need to let go of all that is 2008. The death of a marriage, the end of a brief but deep love affair, the hatred of myself and all that is negative. Winter cleaning of the soul?

I hope that I don't drag my feet on this one. I hope that although it will be painful, that I can see the reason within the suffering. I hope that I can just let go...

~ G.