And … It’s February

Here’s to reading my writer description and noting it’s from this time last year. Really it is quite an accomplishment, seeing where I’ve come from.

Self growth can be quite extraordinary and terribly revealing.

At least, for the moment, I’m seeing progress. I see steps forward. There is backward reflection, as there always must be, but every step is in the forward direction. Arrows pointing towards the unknown and expectation.

It’s scary realizing you have an appetite.

I may be only realizing now that it’s February of 2013 but I’ve come so far and the months have felt like years. The confusion is understandable and pleasurable.

Here’s to enjoying the future, reflecting the past, and continuously finding our Blogs to be time capsule images of a moment. Because as moments go…I’d rather continue to actively live them then to always stop and write about them.

 

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Dancing like Stars

An actual match. Not forced. Not altered. A match. Pure. Innocent. Unyielding.

Here we are dancing like stars, creating shapes like planets and opportunities like meteors. We are creators. Artists. Hopefuls.

The days pass and we are aligned in that it feels like years. Decades. Memories. Yesterday was a year ago. Yet only the hours remind us. We are happy. We are young.

Moments tell us we have an eternity left. These year-days. I have no more reasons to count.

I’ve found my stationary euphoria. Marked it. Captured it. Watching it grow, eyes wide and heart full.

Fear

 

Maybe if I keep this up I’ll be prepared for it all. Maybe if I prepare for all of the worst it won’t be so bad when they happen.

It’s maybe this, maybe that…it’s hard to keep track.

You tell me everything will be fine and that in time I’ll believe you; but can that really be true?

I’m so jaded by what’s real and what isn’t, that pretending you’re a dream and I’ll wake up is the easiest explanation.

Bring me back, reality; therefore I won’t fear the dream. I’m constantly battling the fantasy of fairytale.

 

Once upon a time…

My Uncle said to me that once he stopped looking for love he then found it. Or more like it came upon him. Suddenly then, it was natural and unwavering.

This thought interests me. Originally, I hadn’t felt that I sought out love. It didn’t seem forced. Gradually, however, under further examination, it appeared my history was a little less than. Less than natural, less than healthy and just less than.

What feels like breath and a cool breeze is where I’m at now. It’s not difficult. It comes without thought. The natural flow to it all is surprising. In a way it can be scary and overwhelming.

Even so soon the fear of losing such a feeling can be…almost self destructive. In the same breath I can say it feels it will never end. The fear I keep hidden away, realizing most irrational thoughts now are brought on by my past and the insecurities that have now been engrained.

Wounds heal and time brings to expectation.

I think my Uncle was right.

My heart skips a beat

Obviously I’ve caught some sort of romantic bug. Quote of the day. Songs trapped in my head. So glad that Pandora isn’t fueled on brain waves. What is it to feel romantic? What is it to have some sort of chocolatey gooeyness coursing through your veins?

It feels like a health condition.

Usually when thoughts like these pop in my head I create a Romantic Comedy Marathon on Netflix. Fuels my, already deep, addiction.

What I enjoy about feeling like a human sweetheart candy is the innocent and jovial factor. Currently I might have a bitter after taste but blood still courses hot through my heart. Every beat a yearn for what can’t be mistaken to be human nature. There will always be a gravitational pull towards those who surround us. Like the variables in an equation, we dance around symbols and signs. The dance continues on until we make our way to the logical conclusion.

We were born for it. Created for it. Fish do it, less complicated of course. Whether it be spawning or bonding that bring us together we find a match. Who knows about that “only one special someone” factor. Not sure if I believe that, not now. But what I do know is at the right moment there will be no doubt.

I’m literally gushing. I cannot believe I feel so red-cheeked and smitten with simple ideals.

What a happy day.

140 Characters

Jamey M. H.@jigglejams

I thought it was IBS but it was really WRT.

Things like this make me laugh. Hysterically. And for days. Why? Because to me it is hilarious on multiple levels.

Level 1: The stress, anxiety, albeit hardship of my relationship (on multiple occasions) has literally made me ill.

Level 2: Ha! Just called the ex the “shit.”

Level 3: IBS – A widespread condition involving recurrent abdominal pain and diarrhea or constipation, often associated with stress, depression, anxiety, or previous intestinal infection.

As you can see Level 1 and 3 are related, more exclusively then in Level 2. Level 2 really is to make me laugh. Now the Tweet is fully explained. (I received some confusion)

Personal issue: I do not like giving credit where credit is due. More exclusively in the male category, when the males behaviors affect my life. I do not like to feel less than. More importantly made a fool of. In my situation both of those things happened. So now I have this self-burdening aftermath.

It’s always interesting to self examine. The things you can realize on your own, though inspired.

My “personal issue” as stated above also has a “silver lining” that I pretend* is the route cause. I feel it’s immature to put it all, whatever that is, on to a guy. In each scenario I must have had a downfall as well. The seed growing the plant of failure was that of my own. I am that seed. My life being the plant. Here we sit in the garden of WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING. This I know is not true in all interactions, however.

Why do I like my tweet? Because it’s giving credit where credit is due. That SOB can suck a D.

Jamey M. H.@jigglejams

Emotionally I am #Xena but physically I am #Gabrielle.

*Other life events have made this a regular thought process of mine, since childhood. We are addicts of rhythmic insanity, cycling our insignificance that only we legitimize.

Just to Clarify

Can I clarify? My Blog, I will clarify.

What do I miss about love? Love. Ha. Just reading it makes my heart sink 5 feet into the ground. I almost feel like I’m not quite sure what that is. I know what it’s not. I know I’ve become friends with aspects of it. Visited it. Pretended in it; like dress-up.

Because of new/old people in my life, revisiting, I’m seeing things I never would have noticed before. Things that I need in someone else and in myself. I can’t get by in life only having my work life. I can’t get by without writing or taking pictures or being excited about life and it’s possibilities. Previous to my Divorce I was on a one way, no rest-stops, no exits. Just careening towards the inevitable.

What do I miss about love? Romance. The innocence of it all. That at the base of every moment there is only one thing, love. That sickly, can’t shake it, death-bed please be by my side at my worst, love. Currently I don’t want those things. I don’t want to start over. I don’t want to be naked.  But I miss it. More than mourning the loss of my best friend, I’m mourning love lost. It’s what hurts the most.

What do I miss about love? Having it.