Happy Birthday Maddox

Happy Birthday Maddox

I’ve been up all morning and late last night thinking about this post… about the beautiful memory of you to write on Little Girl, Big City.  I feel, like the lack of ability to write.. the lack of courage I have had to do right by you, even though I’m arguably better now… I fear I’m still doing it wrong.

I wanted to tell you that even though our time together has been short in your now 8 years of living that, while I have forgotten so much as I struggled to even remember if this was your 9th or your 8th birthday, please know my dearest little (but growing) boy that your mother has not forgotten you one bit.

It brings me such sadness each day that we are away.  Of even more knowing that as much as I’ve tried, I’ve also failed.

The memories are the only thing I have of you nowadays.. and our hearts forever beating are the place we will always be together.

I want you to know that I’ve written and tried to see you but your father has not been forthcoming with things… even when I tried recently to bring you to see your dying Great Grandmother and Great Grandfather.  Your father has denied any sort of interaction between us even in the most simplest of terms.  I tried messaging this year requesting to talk to you and your sister this year just as I did last year.

But I’d hear nothing in return

It’s still early and I’m hoping and praying that I get to hear your voice again.  I worry about you.  Not because I don’t think your dad isn’t doing his very best to take care of you but because I’m your mother and I always will be.

From the day you were born I feel like I might have done wrong by you.  I was scared when you were stuck the day you were born.  I remember when the doctors tried to get you out of me how I couldn’t handle the pain and I freaked out- grabbing the tube to the vacum that was being used to try and pull you out of me.

And then I saw you.  You were the most handsome little man in the world.  And I worried that I might have robbed the world of that because I couldn’t handle a little bit of pain.  When you got older I watched as your dad tried to tell me that everything was alright with you.  Deep down I knew something was off.. and I felt responsible.  Know that I did everything I could to plead with your father to put you into a special program so that you could get the attention and help you deserved.  I hope that it’s helping.

I’m out of words.  I don’t know what else to say.  So I guess I’ll just say it.  I love and miss you my dear growing little man.  Happy Birthday Maddox.   You are my heart.  I wish I was a better mommy for you.  I wish your dad would put away the bitterness so that we could spend more time together.  You deserve that much.

Pocket Change

Day 2 of moving back to Culver City and, of course it rained.  My bike went to the Dr. yesterday. Kage’s heart seized and was diagnosed in need of repair.  Months after my entrance and now exit from the magical land I lived in on the East side… it was a bit of an eye opener.  My last day at the Lake was bright and sunny.  But the day that the move was ultimately being done was a sign that the illusion wasn’t built to last.

Tragedies happened this Christmas and things have tended to break around me.

Hearts.

Cars.

Bikes.

I work temporary gigs.  Contractor assignments.  Freelance is great and then it’s not enough.  I’ve been working my ass off here to stay in Los Angeles… to get that view of downtown from my balcony in Silver Lake.  For the opportunity to ride my scooter alongside the ocean.  But at the end of the day I’m back where I started this journey- with my stuff shoved in a storage unit and only a few coins left in my pocket.

And then a package came from a ghost. A few months ago my grandfather on my mother’s side passed.  He was a bit of a tinker (he fixed watches in his spare time while my grandmother worked on jewelry) and collected miscellaneous things.  Growing up, he always had a sea of change.  He accrued it from many a travel… Whether it was a trip to the grocery store or running an errand, he’d take the spare change he had and throw it in a drawer.  One thing I remember about him was that he always would have coins.

When the grandkids would visit he would dump a drawer of it out for us.  We didn’t know it in those days but he didn’t have much of anything really.   But back then, we thought he had a million dollars with all the sea of glittering coins lying in that pile.

On Christmas this year I got a package from my grandmother on my mother’s side.  It didn’t look like anything out of the ordinary so I didn’t open it.

I spent the time with my son.  He asked me what was in the box and I replied:

“Probably jewelry.  Granma Munchalfen always sends mom jewelry.”

I didn’t realize it then but inside was something important.

The rain kept coming down.  And the harder it poured, the more I pushed through the storms of it all.  Just like I always have.  And as the rains washed the city and turned my car into something rivaling Swamp Thing, perhaps something happened to me too.

I got the call about the bike this afternoon.  Not good.  I told the mechanic about my other grandfather who is still very much alive and still riding his own motorcycle.  I thought about how much I wanted to fix things here myself.  The video game industry is not exactly a user friendly environment as per stability.

My great aunt Louise passed away this week at the age of 91.  I thought about my grandparents and about my other family back in suburbia Illinois.

I thought about how much my family meant to me.  How I haven’t been home much since I left except for funerals.  About the unsent card I found addressed to the grandfather that died when I came back from going home the last time.  About how I didn’t have the funds to go home for this one.  All that fighting and nothing but pocket change to show for it.

Change.

My mother called me to talk about things back there.  She asked if I had opened the package from her mother.  She told me that there was something important in it.

On Christmas this year I got a package from my grandmother on my mother’s side with a simple note:

“Grandma wanted everyone to get a little something from Grandpa.  So she separated the coins and by the grace of Grandpa put them into bags so each of you can start your own coin collections.”

Change.

Hmm.  Alright Grandpas, I get it.

The answer was so simple but I was too caught up in everything else that I lost sight of it.

Stability.

Family.

Love.

My grandfather may not have been a rich man by a financial standpoint, but he was rich in heart.

It’s not always easy but the dream is attainable.  Everything is all within your reach.  You just have to open your eyes and embrace the change in your pockets.

 

 

 

Tale of a 5 second vagabond

Today I called a girl I met at a party last summer that is a vagabond.  In my “interviewing” of her she could tell that I was a journalist.  I questioned her about her journey.  I told her a little bit about my story… about feeling the weight of all of this wonderful junk.  What better way to learn something about freedom than from someone who is living a life free of all of that weight.

I asked her how long she had been doing it.

– She’s been living that way for 4 years now.

I asked her if she got tired of that lifestyle.

– She wasn’t.

I asked her if it was worth it.

– She said absolutely.  That she enjoyed how her story was truly unique.  She said she learned a lot about herself and other people- combined and separately.

I asked her if she’d ever found a place that felt like “home.”

-She hadn’t.  She said she saw much of the US and the world but hadn’t had that feeling.  She’d come close but not quite there.

I asked her a lot of questions but what struck me the most was when I asked her this one: What would happen if you fell in love with someone?

-She replied that she believed this would be the time that she stopped vagabonding.  This was all she ever wanted.  This was what deep down she was seeking.

And then… I realized something:

I don’t think I’ll be vagabonding.

I have everything that I could possibly want… everything that I could possibly dream of… right here.

And while it’s not completely all set and perfect, it’s more than most have.  Roots are a treasured commodity of the heart and of the mind.

I have to shed this artificial crap thats holding me back.  When I lighten the load, the rest of the journey will go much smoother.  If you’re going to pack heavy for your trip, pack it in your heart.

I have to fight for this.

I have to make it work.

Why?

Love.

I keep waking up to these dreams about it… and I know that I can make them my reality.

Visualization.

The white room.

I will fight for this.

I will make it work.

Reply

Oh but a lady never tells… everything m’dear 🙂 Names are rarely relevant (though this star eyed pair have…)

Absence of color.
Sparks.
But one shade of something “fake” yet so real it makes you…
something something.

This will probably make little sense beyond nonsense to… but if in the know, and well, you will know if you are, it will land on a chord that few know how to play. Fore Cinderella’s Mr. Midnight clothed himself in a fasade that nothing matters…
Always put together.
Always wearing that same nonuniform.
Always going to that same bar.

Always. Always. Always.

Routines.
Entrances.
Exits.

When he arrives, you may fight it at first… a girl has to know better than to care about this one, even in the slightest. But at that point it may already be too late.

“I don’t belong to you.” He told her.
“I know.” she said.
And in her mind said the same thing aloud.
Were they lying to themselves? Or did they just not belong to even themselves?
“We’re in the same place.”he said.
And in her mind she said the same thing aloud.

…This can’t be happening.

Names are rarely relevant (though this star eyed pair have…)
He is the Mickey to her Mallory.

Absence of color. Sparks. And but one shade of something “fake” yet so real it makes you… something something.

No. No No.

“I want to bring you somewhere.”
Road trips. Mixtapes.
“Don’t do that.”he said.
“Don’t do what?”
“I am just going to fall in love with you.”

This will probably make little sense beyond nonsense to… but if in the know, and well, you will know if you are, it will land on a chord that few know how to play. Fore Cinderella’s Mr. Midnight clothed himself in a facade that nothing matters…

“Are all of your friends going to watch me?”
“He’s looking out for me.” she told him.
“That’s a good thing.”

Always put together.
Always wearing that same nonuniform.
Always going to that same bar.

Always. Always. Always.

One morning trying something different. One left turn.
We are exactly where we should be.

“We’re in the same place.”he said.
And in her mind she said the same thing aloud.

…This
can’t
be
happening.

When random becomes…

“Why are you introducing me to all them?”
“Because you’d fit in. You’re one of the tribe.”

Routines.
Entrances.
Exits.

.Jena Red.

Absence of color. Sparks. And but one shade

.Mr. Midnight.

of something “fake” yet so real it makes you…

This will probably make little sense beyond nonsense to… but if in the know, and well, you will know if you are, it will land on a chord that few know how to play.

Tipped cups. Sunrises. Sunsets. Sunrises again.

Oh but it all started at Midnight. With one reply. One smile. And one more left turn.

“Don’t do that.”he said.
“Don’t do what?”
“I am just going to fall in love with you.”

When he arrives, you may fight it at first… a girl has to know better than to care about this one, even in the slightest. But at this point…

And he plays his guitar as

I sit there cross legged in front of him and look in his eyes… and I know this will probably make little sense beyond nonsense.. but when you know, and well you will know if you know, it lands on a chord that few have known how to play.

But.

“I love you but…”

is not going to be good enough for me.

It was a frustrating night last night.  Yet another night where you were not here.  This time, there wasn’t an excuse for it.

This isn’t grade school.  You can’t tell the teacher the dog ate your homework this many times and her to just give you a passing grade.

You are a grown up.

Love is a gift, not a right.

And when I give you something so very… and you say you do too, but then do things like this again…

You didn’t call or message or even say you were sorry.  The fact that I had to instant message you at 3am to get a response an hour later, sans apology…

In my romantic naiveity, I want so very much to believe you when you say those three words.  I want my friends to be wrong.  I want to believe in the passion that I remember.

Memories are inherently sticky.  Those of you in the beginning… of those moments in the sun where nothing else mattered, will always make my heart tug thinking about.

“Nothing is forever.” my best friend told me.

I’m brought back to that night with Moo.  Of a discussion that continues to mean even more each day.

“Some things are meant to be legendary.”

I wonder what happened to the man I fell in love with last summer.  It is a shadow.  The season has changed.  And now, you are a ghost.

In your wake, there are questions.  I know now that it really isn’t about my wrong doings this time.

If you love someone, you move mountains for them without them asking.  You once did.

Monday morning will be tomorrow.  You will be at E3.  I’m not sure where I’ll be just yet.

This is the part in the movie where either the boy rushes to the girl…

or

or

or

I have to go to see my son. Afterward I think a drive along the coast may be in order.  Some roads you have to walk alone.  I’m to the point where that’s what I want to do.  It’s getting a bit easier each day when things like this happen.

“I love you, but…”

No.  If you love me, that word will not be in that sentence any longer.

In rememberance

Memorial Day.

The day we take the time to remember all those dear to us and lost.  A time to think about the things we once had and cherished- the things we should have cherished when we had them.

Today is not a sad day.  It’s one of looking back and also looking forward.

“I’m just a fucked up girl who’s looking for her own piece of mind.”

Over the past few weeks, I’ve been doing a lot of both.  I’ve been trying to find myself.  Where have I been?  Where am I headed?  Where do I ultimately want to be?

The grip and I have been having some major conversations lately.  It hasn’t been a secret that for some reason I keep going back to him.  What’s the reason?  It should be obvious.  I’m madly in love with him.  Today is the day I admit it.

I’ve been in other relationships in the meantime since our more semi recent breakup.  For some reason, I am just unable to connect the way I did with him.  And when it finally got to the point where it was looking more serious, I freaked.  I’ve been holding a torch for this man even when I’d been trying to get over him.

Love or stupidity?

In the heat of an argument he told me to watch a certain movie.  He said that it was exactly how we were.

I have a confession to make:

I hold grudges.  Very… specific… movie grudges.    Or three in particular.

It should not be a bit unsurprising, given my love of film and art, that I would have an argument based on movies with very specific roots only to never recover from them.

This movie was one that my ex husband and I had argued about.  I knew when it came out that it would be one of my favorites.  He not only refused to watch it- calling it artistic saccharin induced dribble… but to insult me, actually rented it and shoved it in my hands to insist I watch it alone.

I’m not/I haven’t been:

• the greatest girlfriend.
• Wife.
• Significant lover.
• Insignificant other.

It’s in realizing what you’ve lost that you can focus on what you need to do to get to where you want to be… and sometimes, that’s exactly where you were before.

The movie?  Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind.

Sure she’s nuttier than a loon.  But for some reason… despite all of it, he loves her.  He’s the rock of stability and she’s this stream of color and chaos.  Combined, their adventures are both… “volatile and scandalous.”

The story is told through the eyes of the man, Joel who has been broken up with and soon realizes that his girlfriend has gone through an experimental procedure to have her memory of him erased.  In his frustration with her, he decides to get the process done to himself as well.

While it is going, you will see, at the start of the movie, the woman, Clementine appears to be this insane psycho.  She’s a mess.  He’s quiet and introspective with artistic tendencies.  She’s philosophical and eccentric.

As the movie progresses you see it’s quite the contrary.  They had a rich love affair, that, sure, wasn’t always perfect… but it shined.  It was magical.  And Joel realizes that he doesn’t want to forget her.

A few parts of the movie really stick out in my mind.  But this one, where they are in a house and he runs away…

HE: I wish I had stayed.

SHE: Was it something i said?

HE: Yes.  I was scared.

SHE: I’m sorry…  Joel? What if you stayed this time?

What if…

I watched the movie in revered silence.  As I recommend that you do as well.  Think about the courses of actions that you take.  Think about the memories you are building your future on.

SHE: It’s almost over.  What do we do?

HE: Enjoy it.

I screwed things up before.  I made the wrong choices.  I need to make them right this time.

I’m not/I haven’t been:

• the greatest girlfriend.
• Wife.
• Significant lover.
• Insignificant other.

Against much resistance and turmoil, I’m going to give this one more try.  I may be an idiot, but there have been crazier things that have happened before in the name of love…. So this should be nothing.  Nay.  It isn’t.  It’s more than that.  It’s the first real, unselfish something I’ve done in a long time.

Here’s hoping for a happy ending… with a new beginning.

It’s in realizing what you’ve lost that you can focus on what you need to do to get to where you want to be… and sometimes, that’s exactly where you were before.  Never to be taken for granted ever again.

Excerpts & Prose: 2.17.9

1.

And now to make myself  “Unattainable”

in hopes of the day that you will inevitably return.

if only for another first chance at the dream.

——

2.

You’re looking so hard at the tree, but you’re missing the forrest.

Relevance? Unknown

I had.. the most bizarre dream last night.

And you were there.

And so were you.

I don’t remember all of it.

Hell, I don’t remember much of it.

Is it odd for an atheist to pray?

Isn’t a thought released to the air really just the same thing?

What is a prayer exactly?

Another time.

Another story?

This one is just about a wish.

Yes, yet another wish.

Because if you can’t dream it, you can’t realize it.

If you can’t realize it, you can’t actualize it.

If you don’t know what you want, your odds of getting it.. well, they just aren’t as likely.

A discussion with my roommate last night bid some inner reflection.

I was exhausted.  Yesterday was a long one.  But even when my body begged me to stop, I just kept going.

I had to ride out the storm.

I had to punish myself so I knew when I was finally there that I’d deserved it.

But I deserve everything along the way too.

The heartache.

The pain.

The levity.

The letdown.

Talking.  More and more talking.

I’m fortunate enough to be surrounded by such a wonderful support group.

“The thing was.. over the past months you were with him, you grew up immensely.  He, on the other hand, just remained the same.  If anything, he regressed.”

My head is…

I’m so…

~L.

the grip

Mr Parker

the panther

etcetera. etcetera.

There’s alot you don’t know… that you’ll never know.

“I think you’re reaching far too low than you should be.  You are worth so much more than you have been giving yourself credit for.” said another good friend, regarding business affairs.

But the statements…

“Women seem to have it either one extreme or the other.  It’s either full fledged all out full of themselves intensity or no self esteem at all.”

Potential.

Love.

Success.

Dreams.

I was about to go to sleep when he messaged me.  He just won’t let me let him go.

“Is there ever a time when you’re not amazing?”  I asked him.

But that’s yet another story.

I “prayed.”

I wished.

I dreamed.

And you were there.

And so were you.

I don’t remember all of it.

Hell I don’t remember much of it.

I couldn’t see faces.  I can only remember one name.  I’m not even sure if it was the person in the dream.

I remember very little.  But what pieces I do, I remember vividly.

I was sitting across the table from a gentleman.

He asked me:

“Why couldn’t I be your first choice? Why am I not your first choice?”

And I said:

“You already are. You always were.”

And then I woke up.  I tried to remember more of the dream.  I couldn’t.  It was driving me batty.

I forced myself to get back to sleep, determined and vigilant to uncover the subliminal messages underlying within.

I remember one name:

yours, Mr Parker.

Even still, I’m not sure.  I woke up again.

No answers.

Just stillness.

Is it odd for an atheist to pray?

Isn’t a thought released to the air really just the same thing?

I just kept going.

I had to ride out the storm.

I dragged myself out of bed.  I saw Mr Parker online.

“You should call me.  I miss your voice or something.”

“Or something… ” he said, as if he already knew.

…Or something…

I drove to work.  The words stirred in my head.  Everything about last night.  Everything about this morning.

I pulled into my spot and went to walk upstairs.  I lifted my eyes up and there you were.

What’s the meaning of all of this?  I’m unsure.

No answers.

Just stillness.

I have to keep going.

I have to ride out the storm.

Little white lies

I was raving about you yesterday to a friend.  She wanted to know all about you.  I told her you were everything that I thought I wanted.  There had been this moment.. carnal and animalistic, where we first saw eachother and I knew I just had to have you.  We caught eyes.  He locked on and kept walking, never faltering with his stare.  I was his prey.

And then I got to know more about you.  I was intriqued by you.  Every facet of you seemed to entice me more and more the more I found out.

Artist.

Intellectual.

Genuine.

Loyal.

Sweet.

Endearing.

Imaginative and childlike.

A man, but still a boy.

And then I met someone different.  I met ~L.

He once wrote me (back in those 3 glorious days that were ours once upon a time):

“As I see your time as valuable and your hands with which you hold the mightier as future artifacts, forgo spending your time with boys. Valor, chivalry and romanticism can best be found in a man. Perhaps I am mincing words, but having spent most of my life as a “boy,” I can feel the difference.”

But this panther, I thought.. I was blinded by as it turned out.  He wasn’t all that I wanted.  He was a facade.

I went out with the panther the day after my magical night with ~L.  For reasons unknown, I said to myself, if I had to choose between the two of them right now, I think I’d…

The panther was a boy.  Childish and imaginative alright.  But not the man I made him to be in my mind.  I needed to experience last night’s moment before I was finally able to accept it.  It was something I’d already known though.

He’d said he wasn’t over his ex girlfriend.  He’d broken up with her around the same time I’d parted ways with the grip.  We’d gone to have drinks with my best friend, and come back to play video games and talked until 6:30 am.  That was Friday night.

Sunday we went out to a movie.  Which turned into “Surprise my roommate and his girlfriend are there holding our seats.”  Followed by dinner.  If that wasn’t a double date, well then I’m  boggled.

The encounters like this only continued to get further romantic in nature, although never physically romantic at all.

We went on a walk through Venice.  Through alleyways of magic and lights, arm and arm.  We made flirty remarks to eachother.  Told stories about our lives.  Poured our hearts out.

I did it because I thought I felt comfortable with you.  I thought that you were genuine.  Now I don’t know.

Yesterday I was talking to a friend about you.  I showed her your picture.  She said…

Oh no.  We were… about a month ago.

For about that same time, you were telling me you weren’t over your ex.  I believed you.  I remained friends because I adored you.  I wanted to be a part of your life.  But now I don’t know what to do.  I don’t know what to say.

A little white lie?

A huge white lie.

Awesome.

I’m glad that I found out, what apparently I already knew.  ~L. is completely right.  I’ve spent too much time on boys, not nearly men.  And now I just wish… and continue to fold my cranes.

Strong Enough

A few weeks ago I was on a rooftop with someone dear to me & a woman in a cafe started singing this.  So we danced. And for one moment it was wonderful, even though it was nothing but a moment.

I oftentimes find myself wondering now if I will ever find the right man who will love me unconditionally and.. well deal with the fact that I’m not perfect.  I thought I found that man a few times.

Perhaps I really had found him.

Or perhaps it was a mirage.

I always seem to hold onto the ones that people seem to tell me I should let go.  I don’t believe in hopeless causes. I… I’m realizing by the small things that people do, that I’m worth more than I gave myself credit for.  This is not to say that I think I am better than anyone else.  It is simply saying… I’ve learned that I am capable of receiving some amazing acts of devotion from all of my relationships- which are happily reciprocated in the ways that I can.

I think it’s easy to forget just how much those little things mean.  It’s ironic because the very acts are simple in it of themselves.

Perhaps it’s why I love sending postcards so much.

Or smiling at everyone I see.

If it makes their day even remotely as much as it makes mine when I receive one, then I’m doing alright.

Are chivalry and romance really dead or is it just hibernating? Believe it or not, it exists here in LA.

I’ve been very fortunate.  I’ve experienced a spectrum of emotions.

• I’ve gone on terrible dates.
• I’ve gone on absolutely AMAZING dates.
• I’ve been a spoiled brat.
• I’ve been happily poor and just warm enough with love.

When will that man that’s strong enough step forward and show it?

Probably when I say… I’m strong enough not to need one either way.  But damn it would be amazing to have a partner in crime sometimes.