"i can draw a line between, who i am and what i've seen"

...but it's still just as dark at night.
                                   -Bryan Fenkart, My Prayer

the other day i denied the dreaded "facebook friend request" from an ex-whatever, who for far too long was The Guy I Couldn't Get Over.  just over a year ago, i received the same request from the same Guy I Couldn't Get Over, and  a rare moment of strength spiked like an irregular heartbeat over my steady pulse of weakness for him, and i denied him then as well.

but a year ago, for whatever reason, i felt compelled to relieve him of whatever guilt he was carrying around, even though these attempts were and are born out of manipulation and mind games rather than his genuine interest in my clever status updates and WWE YouTube links. 

or maybe it is genuine.  but our virtual friendship was just a toxic crack into our immature, nonexistent real life relationship, maintaining our affinity for unhealthy habits we excuse away with the stupidity of our twenty somethings, not knowing how to navigate the uncharted Age of Technology--an age which betrayed me by unblocking him when I switched to Facebook's "Timeline" format.

regardless of virtual profiles and ethermessages, he's mostly likely reaching out to me in an attempt, consciously or subconsciously, to sabotage his relationship with his current girlfriend, who he already cheats on, so that he can drown in the deep end of the pain inflicted by his broken engagement.  and with a painful goodbye to an innocent girl who caught on too late, he will wonder why oh why he took the dive in the first place.  there was a time when I was sympathetic to this once, and for far too long, but this pain manifested itself into brief spurts of torture victimizing me and whatever cute girl may have caught his attention in his Hoboken shithome pub. my threshold has far been broken.

despite my thorough and most likely upsettingly accurate analysis of his current state, based on our 0 interactions in the past year, it is no longer my concern.   i'm done listening to whispers of his heart on his sleeve; of pretending our surface flirtations haven't seen far deeper realities; of challenging him to be a better man at the sacrifice of myself.

so, the girl that just a year ago was apologizing for her inability to resist him and wistfully singing along every Dave Matthews that my iTunes seemingly not-so-randomly shuffled now blares Lelia Broussard's finest tunes (Masquerade, Something True, You're Not Fooling Anyone), with a confident strut into her new life, no longer looking back at the guy who needed his fix and little girl who once supplied him.  the needle no longer stabs both ways, feeding my veins with poison disguised as love's complications.  my blood pumps only with positivity and strength.  he wears wounds older than my scars, picking at them with sharpened nails of nostalgia and what could have been.

the girl who was once pathetic over The Guy now finds The Guy...well, pathetic.

i'd never seen him as pathetic before, and though this term seems harsh, i mean it with it's definition, not condescension, though allowing myself the anger i deserve is cathartic.  looking at all experiences through the filters of who you've grown into reveal so much about the decisions that you made in the past.  they can color in silver linings and true colors, and even if they clash, the wisdom gained is it's own value.

i don't want to be with someone who chooses suffering over healing, who creates their own pain through mistakes that they know they are making, who won't address his Achilles heel, and creates his own tennis elbow.  it once felt so stubbornly right, and now i could not be convinced there is anything more wrong (okay, maybe like evil dictators and felons and stuff).  and for so long i thought the pieces would fit if i could just smooth out what was rough around my edges.

it's important to reexamine keystones of our lives when we can do so with understanding and compassion for who we were and shed the masochism that comes what was once such a defining pain.

Facebook is just tomorrow's MySpace anyway.  (please go like this on Facebook).

-k.

try

 
i'm the one yelling my head off two people to the right of the mic.
            photo courtesy of the brilliant Chris Roque!
               www.ChrisRoque.com, @ChrisRoque 
..but you can't bring me down
                                  -Everready, H2O

i finally remembered that i had to pick up soy milk.  i live with my sister and we go through soy milk like it's (thick, thicker than...) water because of our love of Rice Chex and the constant lack of anything else in our refridgerator.  she had bought the last 8-9 (hundred) gallons, and just as my weary, post-weight lifting arm cleared fresh gym sweat from my brow, endorphins cleared my mind long enough to remember that i had to run to the corner deli before i collapsed in my chair to watch WWE Raw.

with an intentional stride past my apartment and onward to the Christmas tree stand on my street corner, my eyes glowed with happiness like the lights that would soon adorn the naked trees i was walking towards.  this sweet, holiday magic was quickly soured by a criminal scrooge, armed with mace and a desire to steal my phone.  as he made a threatening (and public) grab for my things, i blocked him, screamed, and elbowed him really hard in the rib cage.  a friendly doorman and cinematic couples walking their dogs through Christmas paradise quickly came to my aid as he ran and i stood paralyzed in shock.

he didn't manage to rob me of anything and i only felt robbed of my safety for a short time.  but he did mace me, which left behind an orange residue and a brutal burn that blanketed my skin, only cured by water, air, and time.  the pain followed me to the police station. and then to the hospital.  and then to a wicked shower that dripped with a new stream of pain as i tried to wash it away, and new combinations of swear words that bounced off of the bathroom tile as i shouted them.

the following hours of exquisite pain and days of paranoia were caused by a split-second attack that was over almost as quickly as i forget a lesson that i love to relearn: trust. the damn. universe. and yourself.
 
we can work what problems in our control and learn to let go and accept what is not in our control.  furthermore, don't be plagued by negativity and waste your mental energy on what you can't change.  i write about this concept ad nauseum, because we can't escape it and i believe it's at the core of what happiness boils down to.  but i don't think i've placed enough weight how powerful perception can be in this equation.

i walked away from this attack feeling so thankful.  for my instincts, my support system, the NYPD officers that helped me, that i still felt so safe in my neighborhood, that the pain inflicted from being maced was temporary, that none of my possessions were stolen, that my assailant will likely be caught.  and for so much more.

i could have let the emotional pain engulf me the same way the scalding sensation ignited my skin.  as i laid in bed coping with the post-mace heat, i could have let my mind burn with fear, with doubt, with self-pity, with anger, with what-ifs.  i could chalk it up to big bad New York City and move.  i could lock myself in my apartment after dark.  i could wonder what-if i had just gone home, or had my phone tucked away, or had taken the bus instead of the train, or hadn't been slacking on groceries so many weeks before?

but what a pity to have not gone through this little hell and not out of the flames better for it.  i don't ignore the fear and i don't hide my anger, but to me this is proof that when i'm faced with such a test, blessings rain down on me.  showering myself with anything less than gratitude would be such a disservice.  this perception is a choice.  i choose not to swim in the waves of negativity, because they are powerful and you can easily drown.

the only experience to rival this physical pain recently was the ache in all of my organs from being pinned between a barricade and a mosh pit at H2O's album release show (the day after seeing Chimara and Unearth at Starland Ballroom).  the difference is that pain was AWESOME.

i found H2O working for my college radio family at WSOU and rekindled my love with their music (and tattoos) when i found out he was good friends with WWE professional wrestler and fellow S.E.O.G. CM Punk.  the band is fronted by Toby Morse, and if you aren't drawn to him, you're allergic to inspiration.  he is a mastermind behind embracing a Positive Mental Attitude (PMA).  his lyrics, attitude, and soul don't bury or ignore human hurt, but it rips out their silver linings and turns them into shining overlays.  his outlook impacted me far more than any cowardly attempt at a robbery.  we can't control what heartbreak we encounter, but we can choose the path where we struggle the least; the path that steers us away from self-pity and towards transformative knowledge.  we have to power not to be haunted.

like the pain that danced on my skin, emotional pain is often unprovoked, undeserved, and may linger.  it's up to us to wash it away.

-k.

COMPLAINT post.

...or you can run--run, run away, screaming like a little girl. i'm used to that.
-parry adams, little girl.

my blog has gone feisty and it's everyone's fault.

i am tired of people who treat happiness like it is entirely circumstantial and not at all a decision.

i have a friend who is 39. i like to say i picked her up at a bar because the first time we really hung out out was over a beer and burger four times the size of a human head at Jack Russell's (not steakhouse). she is happy and she made the choice to be.

heartbreak sucks. it is also inevitable; our hearts are usually put through the wringer at least once, be it wrung out romance or torn apart trauma. my friend is in an ending ten year marriage that has been on the road to divorce for about two years. her soon-to-be-ex-husband, who has bought us many a drink (he's a good guy, shocks me it didn't work out sometimes), and they were in couples therapy and trying to salvage what ended in a split. he said he just didn't think he loved her anymore. she took off her wedding ring and surrendered to the end. she made the decision to be happy. she wasn't going to stay with someone who is capable of falling out of love with her. she deserves unconditional because that's what she gives.

there a fewer things more personally painful than this i imagine. that's the fact that she's in love with someone new is amazing and a miracle to me--not so much that she's in love again, she's the kind of woman everyone falls in love with every other second. it's that she proved she could rebuild her way out of the wreckage with just her.

she moved out of a multi-million dollar home in California to a modest, one bedroom on the upper east side, which becomes significantly more modest when her two fifty pound boxers are in the recipe, too. she lived in both Boston and then New York after the separation. living among millions of people can be very lonely when you're putting together the puzzling pieces of your own broken heart. she grieved. she cried. she got scared. she got lost. and then it got good. she got up. she dried her tears. she grew strong. she opened her heart. she got found. she had fun.

the most beautiful part is she was more than fine on her own, but she also knew she had too much love to keep to herself. it seems to me that if you're so good at loving the first time around that you get completely demolished, you're meant to love again because you're one of those people with so much genuity per square inch off you it becomes immeasurable. when you take someone else's love, you're sure to overwhelmingly replenish them, not leaving them out to dry but soaked in the good stuff. you can stand on you're own, but you 're brave enough to keep your guard down so when your love fills the air between you, it doesn't break against your rough exterior. you're strong enough to take that risk because you don't want to miss out on someone truly great, and you know that if it falls through you're still standing. you love unbridled. you love with your whole heart. you love yourself enough to love.

with any heartbreak, this isn't easy to do--but it's always possible. your compass has to point inward for a while. you have to do the things you should do rather than want to. you have to stop thinking about them/it all the time, and when you do, you have to send them light and love and then think about something/someone else, according to eat.pray.love. not bad advice for a mediocre book and a julia roberts film. you have to take care of a healthy you before you entertain thoughts of taking care of someone else. you have to be selfish enough to be selfless enough. you have to kick out the pain by feeling it. you have to boot those who are only listening to your pain to gauge how much they can take rather than those who want it to be okay. you should get rid of those who you don't feel compelled to tell your honest tragedy to. you'll drown in the poison of anyone who you can apply to Ben Fold's "Battle of Who Could Care Less," because that means you and someone else are masquerading behind everything away from the truth. you can't drown in sorrow. you can't say what if i do. you can't say what if i did. you can't run when it scares you that something new has come along. you can't shy away from the uncomfortable or you will never do anything. you have to cut yourself slack, but not so much that you have blinders on. you have to get up everyday. you have to be happy and not just content. you have to risk. you have to try again. you have to avoid (though not entirely) those shallow desires that make you happy but are also harmful--otherwise you'll never get away from the nagging selfloathing that comes with it and you'll never heal. you have to eliminate the reminders. you have to away from everyone/everything that demands less than honesty. you have to avoid everyone/everything (though not entirely) who make it easy, because it's not easy. you have to get off facebook because anyone that you care about, and that cares about you will pick up the phone when you call. you have to go to therapy if you can't do it on your own. you have to make the decision to make things better for yourself. you have to find a route to happiness. you have to pursue that route without caution or hesitation. you have to be ready. you have to keep fear from winning. you have to get the stigma that your happiest is behind you out of your head. you aren't meant to idle in a state of moderate happiness forever. you can't sit still. you have to let someone else into your world, and maybe dabble in their's. you have to have faith--i don't mean that hour-in-a-church-on-sunday faith, i mean in you and people and hopefully a higher power. you have to surrender.

and hey, if you're reading this, it means you're still alive after round one.
-k.



----------------
Now playing: The Academy Is... - The Fever
via FoxyTunes

"i'm a walking contradiction...but also not."

i stole that from friend.

i was recently told that my blog is kind of dark considering how bubbly and happy i am in person. i feel like i should explain. (i'm not in any danger of severe depression or declaring Fall Out Boy my favorite band. i promise.)

i've never slept well. my sister never slept well.

when i was little, i used to make my parents lay down next to me. then they had to sit at the end of my bed. then they had to sit a top the three stairs at the end of the hallway that led to my room. then they had to sit at the bottom of the full flight of stairs. and yes, i would get up and check.

my dad used to travel for work, so my mom had to deal with my sleep troubles and my sister's simultaneously. in fact one time, i was crying in my bed, while my sister was crying in her room, and my mom split time and the tissue box between both of our rooms. finally, she realized we weren't going to sleep any time soon, and that my dad would be landing at the airport soon. if we hurried our up-too-late butts out of bed, we could intercept him between his landing gate and the cab ride. keep in mind this was before cell phones existed. but we had to leave THEN. so my sister in her flannel night gown, and myself in my Aladdin nightgown (third grade gift from Aunt Laura and Uncle Tommy) prepared to leave. just as we were busting out the door, our family dog, Bailey, who my dad never really wanted in the first place and rarely warmed up to, decided she needed to go out. with no time allotted for this, my mom decided Bailey would come on this trip to prevent any accidents for my dad to come home to.

off to Binghamton Airport we went. it was like the Bradys but born out of more chaos. once we arrived at the airport, we realized we can't really just take the dog in. so my mom sent my sister and i to retrieve our surprised and exhausted father, as she waited with the dog at the other end of the airport. people probably thought we were a little insane as two grammar school kids were running thru the airport in their pajamas.

when we got home, the tears disappeared and exhaustion set in. it was decided shortly after that my dad needed to stop traveling for work so much.

but we didn't sleep for long. soon the nightly tossing and turning transitioned from 'i miss dad' to 'what the hell is adolescence and why did God think it would be a good idea.' laying down with your own thoughts can be one of the most difficult parts of your day. it's amazing how much energy you can put into doing nothing. it is only when my head hits the pillow that everything i need to do and everything that is weighing on me creep in.

i've been thinking a lot about why, an overall happy person writes about overall unhappy topics, usually at like 2:30 in the morning. recently the idea of individuality has been marinating in my head. the idea that as an individual, we are just an insignificant spec in the grand scheme of something far greater, but also as an individual, the human elements we possess are in some ways all that matters. the greatest factors of human connectivity are love and pain. that's why i think it's no accident that they so often present themselves as a duo. great pain can open the door to great love, and great love can open the door to great pain. dealing with pain is often through finding ways to love yourself, others, a higher power, etc. so even though i more often than not write about pain, am i truly ignoring love? there is a lot of value in lessons learned from both. besides, who wants to read a blog about how much i love everyone.

go turn on z100 for that.

-k.