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.

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.

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.

De-preciation

A text around 7pm on Valentines Day…

“Go to your front door please.”

I put some jeans on.  Wiped the tears from my eyes.  I could barely breathe.  It had been a day of harsh reflections.  This Valentines Day, as cheesy as it sounds, I was going to be my own Valentine.

Sitting in the corner were a few things: the newest issue of The Walking Dead, Batman #686, a sticker, and a heart shaped locket.

“Where are you?” I texted back.

“I thought I was ready to see you.  Waited for a bit for someone to open the door.  But then lost my confidence.”

It’s been a month.  And time does not seem to heal these wounds for so much bittnerness hath been created.

Against all other judgement.  Against my own judgement.  I started to fall deeper into an abyss.

A man who once showed so much strength and conviction to get through the days that it kept me moving… was a shadow now.  And for a craftsman of light such as I, it stung that much more.

He didn’t understand.

Months and months of him having little to no time for me.  I found myself losing myself.  Many nights, I cried myself to sleep wondering why this man who claimed that he loved me, and showered me with matierial affection, failed miserably where it counted most.  I stopped seeing friends as often.  Part responsibility.  Part sacrifice for him.

But then it became petty.

He was working so hard for that picket fence he said.   Toiling away for that bottom dollar.

Until the day where my best friend came back into town.  He’d been overseas for 6 months.  I wanted this boy to come meet him.  I wanted to have an evening out with 2 of my best boys.

I was thrown more bitterness.

I went through it anyway… the way I always knew how but didn’t always show I knew better.

I spoke to friends.

I went out.

I went to work.

I saved my money.

I cut back on the excess.

I cut back on everything.

I needed the time for myself.

To reflect and appreciate what mattered most.

“I’m raising my standards with people each time they piss me off… and they’re dropping like flies more and more.  I used to have 60 phone numbers in my phone.  It was all the people I’ve met in my life.  I now have 12.  So consider yourself lucky.  You’ve outlasted some amazing people.” my friend from a small town in Alaska (the same Sarah Palin is from) told me.

Because life has to go on.

Because you always have to be moving forward.

I stopped waiting around for someone who did not value my time.

I was alive again.

“Where are you?” I texted back.

“I thought I was ready to see you.  Waited for a bit for someone to open the door.  But then lost my confidence.”

Dear the grip,

I feel that you do not appreciate me.  When you truly love someone… this is not the proper way to behave.

I want to thank you for everything that you have done for me.  For everything that you are doing for me with the coorespondence we are still having.

You say you do not have confidence.

You say I hurt you by having… whatever moments that I have.  They are my moments.  They are the moments of the people I share them with.  They do not belong to you.

You choose to not be part of them.

You chose not to want to be here.

These, are… yours.

Free will.

Live the way you want to.

But live while you are living.

Lest you miss out on something wonderful.

Where the road will take us, for that I am uncertain.  I will be forthright and honest… I do not know if we shall walk this road together or if we shall part ways.  Perhaps for a little while.  Perhaps forever.  Perhaps for many lives to come.  For I cannot make promises or guarantees of anything.  That is something I have always been constant in telling you.

I love you.

I love you as a person.

But lovers we shall be?

Perhaps we both know the answers.

I guess time will tell though.

Because life has to go on.

Because you always have to be moving forward.

Free will.

Live the way you want to.

But live while you are living.

Lest you miss out on something wonderful.

[To be continued…]

Bribery.

He came back with comics.  Everything that had happened the night before seemed to drop away to nothing.  Tales of zombies, foul language and irreverancy.  Tales that keep me going through the days.

Everything faded to the background.  Nothing else mattered.  But he had to leave again after.  I was bummed, but it was the way of things.

Entrances and exits.

He lights the stage and disappears.  It’s his job.  No wonder he does it so well.

I guess I’m easy to please… in some ways.  All day yesterday I waited patiently. Impatiently.  This weekend’s “plans” turned into a lot of me waiting around for him.  I’d not gone out on

1. a date with a pornstar with “a little following”
2. drinks with friends
3. date 3 at “our bar”

etcetera etcetera

Priorities…

Well, time is a priority.  This weekend will not occur again.  He was warned. Nay, instructed.  He apologized emphatically.

When he finally came by, it was another comic book.. and handcuffs.  Add some hot wax, and well, all was forgiven if only for a moment.

• A school girl outfit.
• Pigtails.
• Hands pinned down

He was to be punished.  Only to watch.  Temptation at its finest.

The next time we go to a sex shop- as we did this weekend-there are more rations to be bought. A checklist of sorts.  My vanity feels a bit empty with what’s in there currently.  The ropes bid company beyond those vials of decadent pleasures.

And something else.  Midst all of this, we talked about home.  How I missed San Diego… let’s just say..

TO BE CONTINUED…