Something is gonna explode...

But what? Head? Heart? Uterus? What an exciting game of wait-and-see for me!

Sometimes I think I'm certifiable. I know I'm not, cause if I was I wouldn't consider it as a possibility. Still, though...

Was he right? Is it self-pity? At least he called it Irish self-pity, which sort of takes some of the responsibility offa me, like. I can't help it, you know, I was born this way.

I do have a certain predisposition to tragedy. Which sucks. I suppose I wouldn't have it any other way. It's certainly intense, tragedy. Nothing much comes from it except tears. If you had asked me 5 years ago I would have said self-awareness comes from it - but even then I would have followed up with self-awareness doesn't really do anything except make you aware of why you do the stupid things you do. There is no ounce of prevention in self-awareness. Unless I've been doing it wrong. But that can't be - I'm so good at it.

6 October: I don't want to see other people. He doesn't know if he can handle that. Because he likes to sleep with lots of girls.

By then I had already thrown myself into Sextober in an attempt (a super well thought out and mature one) to prove that sex is just sex and what I have with him is way more than that. *Note to self - I already knew what was going on with him. And it was not just sex. I was only half conscious (and remain, to a certain extent, half conscious) of the fact that it was also a defense mechanism. Whatever, I'm grown, I'ma do what I wanna. Yeah. Still, don't feel bad about it. I'm a grown woman. I can do what I want. Was it the best approach? No. Was it the scared approach? Si, certo. He doesn't need me, fine, see? I don't need him either...

27 October: Our friendship is theoretical because we've only ever seen each other in our respective homes and he can't divorce our great conversations from our kinda mutually neurotic ("not the right word btw") sexual relationship. Okay, is there some sorta Madonna/whore thing going on here? And if we don't do other things it's cause he's relegated us to late night lonely insomniacical companionship - which doesn't always include sexy time.

I'm not what I would describe as conventional. I never seem to do things in the right order. I was with junkie ex-boyfriend for 9 years. That was the longest one night stand ever, I think. Cause that's what it started as. So yeah, this is what I was trying to get him to admit - that there is this intense intimacy. And that is as real or whatever as whatever... I don't have words for this, at this point. Do I love him? Gods help me, I do. Fuck me fuck me fuck me...

And, further: he wants to bed at least one of the recent college graduates he knows cause they share a certain emotional retardation. But he's seriously looking for someone to be monogamous with. What? So are you or aren't you? And why are you telling me this? And why get upset when I accept what you are telling me as is? I mean, you just told me that, right? I believe you. Of course between you and me, I know there's a load of bullshit in these conflicting statements... but that is not for me to point out. He's responsible for him, I'm responsible for me. Whatevs.

Um, hello? I'm right here. Why again am I excluded from being the one you want to be monogamous with? Cause you're saying one thing and then acting a completely different way... And how can you be doing both - being slutty and desirous of monogamy? I know he feels the same thing I'm feeling. Scared are you? I don't know what else could be going on with him.

And then we drive around and he takes me back to his place and its so obvious that something serious is happening between us its ri-goddam-diculous.

And he has my Siouxsie and the Banshees CDs. Which is whatever. At this point I'm ready to give him all kinds of stuff just so that I know I'll get to see him again if for no other reason than to get my stuff back. But I accidentally left $20 there. And I'm pretty destitute. So I need that back.

And tonight was stupid almost Halloween. Actually it was last night, as its 7:44 in the a to the m. The streets of Minneapolis were rife with slutty and I'm sure he brought someone home.

Or did he? Cause he's really not the player I think he wants me to think that he is. But it was almost Halloween, which is like getting laid at a wedding. In that it's easy to do.

Ugh. Why? Why is this so fecking complicated? It's not me, it's really not. Its totally him.

Here's how I see it: people meet and hang out and see other people, that's dating. Or whatever. If something develops then a meeting is held to discuss moving on to a mutually exclusive pair bond. I'm there. I have no idea where he's at. It's not me subjugating my needs cause I won't demand him to "be my boyfriend" - its actually quite magnanimous of me. I'm okay with where things are now.

And of course clearly I'm not. I'm not okay with his telling me "don't forget I'm an asshole," - cause that's the lamest cop-out ever. He's a fool, and he may act like an asshole, but just because he's in the middle of his life and isn't ready to whatever does not him an asshole make.

What I would like is for him to just relax and enjoy it. It doesn't have to be about what's gonna happen, it can just be what it is.

And don't think you need to tell me that "you're going to break my heart" cause I knew that the moment I first sat on your couch.

This post was not gonna be about him, goddammit. Whoops.

I don't know life. I hate this blog. I hate not sleeping. I hate being vulnerable but recognize it as a good exercise in living. At least I try. At least, against all better judgement, I put myself out there.

Love. Right? Such a lonely mind fuck of a situation. But I'm powerless over it. I really wouldn't have it any other way. I rued the day I met him for all of like 30 seconds. At least I can carry him with me, even though memories pale in comparison to the moment. Which is what I'm trying to enjoy, if he would just stay outta my way.

Okay, that's enough of that. It's too much - there is just too too tooo much going on in my head and its all introspective and interesting but what's coming out is frustration. Which is good, I suppose. Vomiting all the frustration on virtual paper to get it out - that's a healthy purge, right? I am proud of how I'm handing the situation, to an extent. I need to me more honest, and more vulnerable with him. I'm lying to everyone, myself most of all, with this "whatever I don't care I sleep with other dudes too" protective armor I've created. I have to be genuinely myself if I want this to work out whatever way it's supposed to work out. I have no control over him. All I can do is enjoy it for what it's worth (which is kinda a lot). Until such a time as it becomes not enjoyable, at which point I do what I gotta do.

Its just so pure, on some weird level. But then that brings me right back to the tragedy of it all.

Whatever. One thing I do know is I'm an archaeologist. And that is still like the most bad ass thing ever.

Enough. Maybe for my next post I'll ruminate on something anthropological. Perhaps something to do with Glastonbury and the creation/perpetuation of a proto-Christian-cum-British mythology that reflects or parallels the formation of a cultural identity. The role mythology plays in the creation of the identity of a State. Going all the way back to Roman syncretism. Or something like that.

Off ruminating,

KBO

What's brown and sticky?

Two hours of laying awake in bed is enough. Insomnia can suck it. Suck it long, and suck it hard... Of course, by 5 AM I'll be sleepy. Then I'll have to struggle with the do-I-go-to-sleep-for-two-hours-or-should-I-just-stay-up-I-have-to-leave-for-class-by-8-anyway routine. Good times. Good fucking times...

So happy Sextober to all ya'll. That's what my best-friendy called it last night, and I love it. I've been trying desperately to fuck away this one guy I may or may not have accidentally fallen in love with. So far it's only kinda working. As of today Sextober has provided me with some "distractions," some far better than others, but all of them not this one guy. That's what I think I'ma call him: This One Guy. I did actually see This One Guy once this month, but yeah... not looking too good on that front.

Stupid This One Guy.

This One Guy doesn't know if he can deal with admitting there is intimacy between us. This One Guy doesn't know if he can handle it. This One Guy said he wouldn't freak out and disappear, but that if he did freak out he'd do it in person.

This One Guy is not a liar. This One Guy just gets too depressed to deal with life. This One Guy says he might not believe in the world. This One Guy calls himself an asshole, but This One Guy is totally using that as an excuse because he's too afraid to try. I can totally understand This One Guy. For all the good thats done me.

I offered This One Guy me - not a committed relationship, but rather pure friends with benefits. I like making This One Guy happy. I'm way too busy becoming an awesome archaeologist to worry about an official relationship. "Relationship" to me at this time implies loss of some freedom, or some sort of responsibility. That's not quite what I'm after. Right now. Right now I want a friend, who I can be with and then "be with" - in the biblical sense (wink wink). I don't want to worry about what happens when I'm not around, or be forced to attend couple-y events (nor to force someone to attend the aforementioned events, for that matter).

This One Guy is so cool. This One Guy is a humble intellectual, which is a rare commodity. This One Guy is a humble artist, an even rarer commodity, if that's possible. This One Guy is a fantastic kisser. This One Guy is sexy as hell and the most amazing lover I have ever known. I really wish I could hate This One Guy.

I can no more hate him than accept his "I'm just an asshole" excuse. I recognize myself in him. I understand him. There is just something about him that is amazing.

Ugh, god. What does it even matter?

I was talking to my sponsor about this, because that's the sort of thing I do in these situations. I needed validation (hmmm... acknowledgement?) that I'm not simply justifying to myself a willingness to accept less than I deserve. I don't need a boyfriend. What I want is a lover. This One Guy was awesome. It was nice, naked intimacy - not just a mechanical booty call. She heard me. She understood. That made me feel somewhat better. Now if only This One Guy would do the same...

I decided a long time ago that I was over trying to convince people how awesome I am. I'm pretty fucking awesome, you know? I play with dead people, I'm arty, I'm smart, I'm sorta hilarious. I can be adorable. What's not to like? Man, I wish I was the sort of person who met awesome people like me all the time, so much so that all these awesome folk become disposable. How great must it be to be that person? Pretty fucking great.

I read something somewhere that said for men its less about the person than the timing. Okay, fine. That is understandable. I can intellectually grasp that, but I'm just not built that way. I don't believe in accidents, I only believe in on purposes. When someone is put in your path it's for a reason. People aren't disposable... and what I mean by that is that I'm not so ungrateful for what life chooses to offer up to me that I would turn something great down because the timing was off. Its not a for sure thing that you're going to just continue to meet awesome people, ya know? Its like when I was in high school and had a friend who wanted to be married when she was 30. What the fuck is that? I never got that. Who's to say that anyone would ask her by the appointed time? Someone did, but she was 33. Close, I suppose... I guess what I'm saying is that when something extraordinary crosses my path I don't want to just waste it... Its extraordinary, after all. The nature of existence is transitory, but I'm going to try to care for it and nurture it so I can enjoy it for as long as possible. And by possible I really mean mutually beneficial.

Don't even get me started on this "I have to protect you from me" bullshit. I fucking hate that. Who are you to decide that I don't want you after all? And who asked you to protect me from anything anyway? I'm going to make mistakes in life, thank you very much, and if you happen to be one of them I kindly ask you to step aside and let me take the chance. Junkie ex-boyfriend did that to me too. I HATE it. Really, you're not doing my any favors. Or yourself for that matter. This is life, we only get one lap. Ugh. Maddening. Its abosfuckinglutely maddening. And a little egotistical if you think about it. Go on - think about it. Do it now. Am I right? Of course I'm right. Gah!

Clearly I'm a fan of tragedy. I suppose I wouldn't have it any other way. What fun is simplicity when complicated and intense is an option. Why would I ever want to take something easy on?

Its not the end of the world. Its only been a week and a half. I really cannot see This One Guy just never calling me again. I just hate waiting.

I should really be studying for my History mid-term. Instead I'm writing a lame blog about my lame heartache. Lame, lame, lame. I should really be asleep actually, but here we are. I'll sleep tomorrow I guess.

I was laying in bed thinking about depression as an act of passivity. Not that it's not real, or horrible... I am intimately familiar with it. But the only way out of it is to take an active role. Which is tragically ironic, being that - aside from joy - depression robs one of just about any and every thing which might enable someone to take action to move through it. Couple depression with fear and yeah... Depression, fear and a vehicle to avoid dealing and you have one paralyzed person full of hurt and helplessness. Except they aren't actually helpless. It's just hard to realize as much when you're in that position. And fear? Fear is always gonna be there. Everything is scary. That's just no excuse for inaction.

I don't know.

In other news, A stick. Is brown and sticky.

Holy shit I remembered my password and everything!

Whoa! Depression returns after several years on sabbatical. I did not miss it, not even a little. Oh Seebo and you're paralyzing perfectionalistic procrastination and almost crippling tendency to use emotion over reason... the whole while expecting rational people to be able to make sense of your ramblings. Good times. Welcome back. I have missed these defects of character most of all.

I'm an osteoarchaeologist now. So I have that going for me. Like for reals - its what I do and I do it well. Also, allora parlo italiano - ma non parlo bene.

I'm rethinking my rethinking of removing the baser sex from my life as it only serves as a constant source of pain and/or unwanted distraction. Since aprile I've acquired a Spaniard, who may be on his way out because my ability to want to be with him whilst not asking for anything from him (read: committment and/or monogomy) other than a lil bit of security and validation of my vulnerability (just let yourself like me you douche. You've been telling me for months now that you like me "too much" - so, um, yeah... go for it) might just be "too much to handle."

And now, if I may - and I may - wtf? Too much for you to handle? Oh you poor darling. There is nothing for him to handle. I'm the one that has to handle it. And will have to handle it when he decides that my loyalty and affection are super downers. Honestly. You like this Seebo girl too much, she submits to your sexual will 99.3% of the time, she doesn't care if you fuck other girls, and this is too much to handle. That's retarded. Is what that is. Re. Tard. Ded. I can't give him everything, unless he's willing to accept it. And I cannot stress enough how much I'm only asking for simple acknowledgement in return.

Believe you me I understand the difference between sex and intimacy. And what we've been doing for months now is hardcore intimacy. That's hard. Intimacy and vulnerability and all that - scary.

It boils down to this. You don't want to see me, cause you like me too much to use me for sex. However, if you'd just let yourself like me, and allow me a miniscule amount of security, you'd be free to have me and I don't care what happens when I'm not around. Cause it really has nothing to do with me. I don't want a boyfriend, I was happy with my lover. What I need is a PhD. And someone who can appreciate me.

An hour before I tried to tell him I wanted to belong to him, please and thank you, he was telling me about how our relationship was like that one movie... you know, whatsitcalled? Oh yeah... Twilight! I shit you not. Perhaps he meant in the "theatrical" sense, regarding the "theatrics" that is god only knows what. The D/s play? Or does it also include his telling me that he likes me too much to use me.

Okay. Clearly a lot of stuff to work though here. Its going to be a tear-filled, head-achy weekend. When you write it out and read it back, I sound like the retard.

Como se dice "I wish I knew how to quit you" en espanol?

There is the Russian. Who is a super sexy model. Who speaks Russian. Need I say more? Okay, I say more - he's a bit young. Sex. No intimacy. Fine with that. Couldn't care either way with this one. And that's easy and I can handle it.

I'm a trooper - I can handle anything.

Then there was Pretend Irish Boyfriend. Who was a real man, but only a "pretend" boyfriend. Irish men and their confusing of sex with intimacy and the cultural Catholicism baggage... Premature ejaculater. Gave excellent head. Was what it was.

Then there were the four guys over the last five days. I'm on a bit of a slutty kick. Fun, no hassle, its all good.

There seems to be a unifying theme of intimacy: full on hard core he can talk about it but I can't intimacy. Misdirected sex is intimacy and therefore wrong and weird. And Russia somewhere in between. Oh, the tall good-looking not so much for talking to as for fucking.

I have no idea. The Spaniard said he'd call. I believe that he believed it when he said it. I also think he might be a coward-cum-emotionally-bereft-wanker. Who is incredibly awesome, and is totally gonna break my heart, isn't he?

This made me feel better. Somewhat.

First of all, love is a joint experience between two persons — but the fact that it is a joint experience does not mean that it is a similar experience to the two people involved. There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries. Often the beloved is only a stimulus for all the stored-up love which had lain quiet within the lover for a long time hitherto. And somehow every lover knows this. He feels in his soul that his love is a solitary thing. He comes to know a new, strange loneliness and it is this knowledge which makes him suffer. So there is only one thing for the lover to do. He must house his love within himself as best he can; he must create for himself a whole new inward world — a world intense and strange, complete in himself. Let it be added here that this lover about whom we speak need not necessarily be a young man saving for a wedding ring — this lover can be man, woman, child, or indeed any human creature on this earth.

Now, the beloved can also be of any description. The most outlandish people can be the stimulus for love. A man may be a doddering great-grandfather and still love only a strange girl he saw in the streets of Cheehaw one afternoon two decades past. The preacher may love a fallen woman. The beloved may be treacherous, greasy-headed, and given to evil habits. Yes, and the lover may see this as clearly as anyone else — but that does not affect the evolution of his love one whit. A most mediocre person can be the object of a love which is wild, extravagant, and beautiful as the poison lilies of the swamp. A good man may be the stimulus for a love both violent and debased, or a jabbering madman may bring about in the soul of someone a tender and simple idyll. Therefore, the value and quality of any love is determined solely by the lover himself.

It is for this reason that most of us would rather love than be loved. Almost everyone wants to be the lover. And the curt truth is that, in a deep secret way, the state of being beloved is intolerable to many. The beloved fears and hates the lover, and with the best of reasons. For the lover is forever trying to strip bare his beloved. The lover craves any possible relation with the beloved, even if this experience can cause him only pain.”

-Carson McCullers

Yep.

I find it no coincidence

That just now, outside at my office, a mourning dove flew very close to me overhead and perched on a tree a short distance away and cooed.

My great aunt died pretty tragically this past Saturday. My parents had driven down to Texas for a visit (as they are oft times wont to do in Spring) and when they arrived there were emergency vehicles everywhere. Apparently my great uncle had gone out to wash the car and when he came home he called out for my great aunt and she didn't answer... He found her face down in the pool. According to the homicide detective who came to the house yesterday, they determined the cause of death to be "accidental drowning" - which is awful, because it implies conciousness whereas we were thinking maybe she had a stroke or heart attack. Very sad.

I've been waiting for a sign - I've been patient, which must mean I'm maturing (crazy, no?) - figuring that she had a lot of family to visit and time to adjust, etc. etc... But I think that was it. Feels like it. Good enough for me.

Monday afternoons rock...

So tired. After lunch is my least favorite part of the day…

I went to a sweat lodge on Saturday. I haven’t been able to make it to one since last August. So different to sweat on frozen ground – it was very comforting. Muddy, but not so physically taxing. What a wonderful gift… I was listening to the prayers inside and I was just amazed – if you had told me five years ago where I’d be now… People really can change. I saw a hawk and an eagle on my way out there – and of course when I pulled up there were two crows waiting for me across from my car.

And now I feel off. This happened the first time I did a lodge. I didn’t remember it until last night – afterward I felt like somehow I was tuned up or tuned into the spirit world. I was seeing little black things darting around. To the point where I was sure, for example, my dog had gone from room A to room B… And he’s not a small dog – I mean these were good sized little shadows.

My dog: Darby – the black one on the right. Goofball…

Which I attributed to negativity that was going on around me and in my house. These little “things” that – I don’t want to say “feed” – are drawn to situations like that. Thrive in depression and darkness… They aren’t bad, that’s just how they are.

Anyhoo – yeah. I was wiped out when I got home Saturday evening. I had to fight to stay up until 8:30. I woke up Sunday and I was just… I don’t know. It wasn’t uncomfortable… I felt like I was high almost. Like I was swimming through my apartment, life, whatever. Physically. I took a nap which was more of a weird super comfy tossing and turning – strange images popping into my head. I woke up and I was shaky for about an hour.

Man, writing this out sounds crazy. I have to get over that.

Today I still feel off. My head really hurts and that’s not normal for me. Its almost like when I open these doors, things flood in and I don’t know whether or not to believe or trust myself. That its really happening, like. And certainly these things can’t be happening to me, Seebo. Sigh...

Eh. Hopefully this makes sense to some, and the others will hopefully find me charmingly endearing in my eccentricities…

Sometimes...

I wish I could just go live in a cave. Then I remember how much I hate bugs and bats and pretty much all things dirt and being dirty for extended periods of time and how I'd be scared of "cave-darkness" and I think maybe its not so bad...

Well whaddaya know?

Oh mah gosh I think I totally get it! I was driving home yesterday afternoon, or possibly walking to my car, I’m not sure when the exact moment of realization was, but I do remember talking to myself out loud about it in the car… Cause that’s how I roll. Quite literally, apparently….

Anyhoo – so this whole “sit with the pain” and “find ease in the pose” and “just acknowledge the discomfort and let it go” bullshit that’s been driving me crazy the last couple days – the whole “do nothing” business… I get it! Its totally what I did with smoking! Or with not smoking, asitwere.

I “quit” smoking on January 12th of this year. I say “quit” because #1) I smoked one cig around January 22nd and one cig this last Tuesday and b) (yes, I did that on purpose) I can’t say I “quit” – that I’m “done” – that “I will with 100% certainty never buy another pack of squares and smoke them and enjoy it ever again!” I’m not smoking now. I didn’t smoke yesterday.

Sort of very much like what I did with drugs and alcohol, except different. But similar. But different. I digress…

The first few days without my beloved Camel Turkish Silvers sucked. I pretty much just took to bed. My mentality was “its not a big deal, just don’t make this a big deal” – its gonna suck whenever I quit, and eventually one has to quit, so just do it and DO NOT make a big huge deal out of it cause that will do nothing but make it a BIG HUGE DEAL.

AND THAT’S IT! By the gods – that’s what all these crazy helpful people were trying to tell me. “Just acknowledge it and let it go” means, well, just acknowledge it! And then let it go! I just say (think) it different – Seebo, just don’t make it a big deal.

Because I know my mind. My mind (as is evidenced by the two previous posts) will seize on anything I happen to focus on much like a drowning man seizes anything floaty which happens to float by... Always forcing (or attempting to force) action where apparently no action is necessary. Not even action not being necessary, there IS no action to take. There is literally NOTHING that needs to be done. Bear with me here, I'm like just now getting it all over again - its like when the sun rises. Seebo doesn't need to take an action, it will just happen. And there we have the freedom that comes from recognizing our powerlessness, which is actually the most empowering thing of all... Ack! Its so beautifully, awesomely simple!

So when people tell me to just sit with the pain and I’m all like, “How? Really, HOW? Do I sit facing north-northeast? In an arm chair? Arms resting on the armchair or in my lap? Palms up or down? Are my eyes open or closed… Maybe I should put on some ‘sounds of the ocean’ or Gregorian chant – or would that be distracting…” – I’m making it a big deal. Eu-fucking-reka! I take everything so literally, and am so self critical, I feel like I need to know exactly what other people do (EXACTLY) so that I can do it to just like they did (because clearly they must know something I don’t), and if I just do it exactly right and perfect like they do then everything will work out perfectly and life will be perfect. Okay, so life won’t be “perfect” but it’ll be way more awesome than it is because clearly I am doing it wrong. Whatever “it” may be in any given situation.

How could I ever possibly live up to that expectation? I know I can’t. I know my mind’s default setting to that level of trying to maintain “perfection” (when in reality I am already perfect in my imperfection as the universe has planned me to be) is what’s not doing me any favors. Winston Churchill said it all when he said, “Perfectionism spells paralysis” – it most certainly does.

So yeah. I was doing it with the smoking... I knew how to do it all along! Where’s my Glinda and my ruby slippers? Seriously, though - just recognizing that thought yesterday, in a moment I happened to not be obsessing about the whole situation – like totally broke the hold this discomfort had over me.

Ultimately, what I’m trying to express, it that I get it. Seebo, don’t make a big deal out of it. Does it suck? Yeah, but don’t make a big deal out of it.

Mah gosh its so simple… Who knew?

Did I mention

That staying present is hard right now? Because boy howdy lemme tell ya, staying present is hard right now.

It feels like its time to confront some [formerly] closeted skeletons. Things I've been working around for just about ever... You know, core issues. Things impeding my spiritual growth and serenity. Nothing trivial.

I hear I'm supposed to not do anything. I am, in fact, supposed to do nothing.

How the hell do I do nothing? Isn't doing nothing doing something? How can I judge whether or not I'm doing nothing right? Yes, that is indeed as retarded as it sounds.

That's my m.o. - Seebo, self-critical to the last drop! Now with 100% more introspection!

Ugh. Its sooo haaard. I feel like a whiny baby, and it does not escape me that perhaps that's because I'm being a whiny baby. However, that does not escape me that perhaps I should tell that self-critical voice that just said that to suck it.

And then - THEN - I think that I'm using too many "thats" and that's just not good writing.

My crazy addict mind can do so much with so little. I have a sponsor who told me to do nothing, "just pay attention to how you feel" - it would be amazing how many things my mind can do with a simple statement like that (grrr) if it weren't so frustrating.

So here I sit. Uncomfortable. Mind racing. Should I just go buy a g.d. pack of smokes already? Should I eat something? Should I just sit here and tell myself "this is what crazy feels like and it will pass" - like I was told to?

"Like I was told to" - interesting choice of words on my part.

You see, in my mind, at times like this, when I'm all unsure and uncomfortable and want to look around for something (anything!) I can do to change the situation in any way possible I feel like other people have a handle on this thing called life and so I go to them for some bit of wisdom and they throw me some little chestnut like "sit with the feeling" - something so seemingly innocuocus and simple and sensible and I take it and strech it and stomp on it, bite it and put it over there and see how it looks and then take it down and roll it around on the floor, smell it for a bit, kick it, poke it with a stick... I just can't let it be. I just can't let myself be.

Except that I will be critical of my choice of the word "can't" - because I am capable of sitting with this mental and emotional discomfort, but I - I dunno - borderline "won't" - is that a better word?

I know its my addict-mind telling me that everything I focus on needs some action attached to it. Unfortunately for me at the moment self knowledge is not enough. And inaction is driving me crazy. Going crazy might be an action... Ugh. And so it continues...

KBO

Sigh...

I was super worried that because I had declined the invite to October's lodge because I was in Ireland and then RSVP'd to a lodge in November that I had to cancel at the last minute due to family obligations, and since I had only received the cancellation notice (due to cold weather) for the January lodge that I had fallen out of the good graces of the group. But no - not so! YAY! There's a women's lodge in March and I'm so all over it. I've been wanting to go, I think I need to go. I was just thinking about it last night, in fact. Now I just have to figure out how many prayer ties I need... I want to say 50 some, but I can't for the life of me remember...

I'm having a hard time being present lately. And from what I understand being present is kind of what its all about. I know moving to Ireland isn't going to magically make life wonderful and exciting. But I'm not looking for wonderful and exciting really. Generally contented, which I am for the most part. There are areas in my life where I feel completely... I don't know... frozen? Stagnant? Frustrated at my inaction? Because how can you not get upset with yourself when you know what you need to do to change something, but then see yourself, over and over, doing the thing you know needs changing?

I operate out of fear a lot. A lot more than I'd like to. I really like my new apartment. I really love my animals. I really love my family and my homegroup and my neighborhood and the normalcy and stability... Maybe love is to strong a word. I mean, I love my family and my pets, but do I love normalcy and stability? I suppose I prefer them to abnormalcy and unstableness. There's just got to be more to life than this.

I'm a city girl. I don't know if I can do hard core rural. Granted, its rural Ireland, which is totally different than rural America. But there's not going to be a Starbucks or a DSW or a Macy's. Do I really need those things? No, I really don't. But its so comfortable to know they're around.

Comfort zones. I heart my comfort zones. And when I leave them I get all uncomfortable (and ascaredes).

I certainly don't want to entertain my ego by saying I just know I'm destined for greatness, but I feel it in me. Not "Greatness" as in the world will bow down before me, but personal greatness... Doing things I know I can do. Taking more out of life than just doing what I feel I'm supposed to cause its the responsible thing. Seriously. If I can pull off working with horses living in the crazy wild beauty that is county Clare, well, that's just freaking bad ass.

I worry (full stop) that I'll get there and let all this doubt creep in. Which brings me back to not staying present. I'm worried about whether or not I'll worry.

I suppose, to my credit, I do keep putting one foot in front of the other. It will happen. I recognize that thoughts aren't real and that I just need to let go of the illusion of control... But really, that's not an easy thing. My higher power probably isn't going to book my flight or rent me a flat... Or are they? Hmmm...

I'm tired. What a weird day.

Today is hard. I feel like I’m all over the place. My mind is racing about a thousand different things and all I want to do is crawl back into bed and rest. Alas, I am at the office…

I had a great dream on Friday after asking for some sort of a sign that I’m on the right path. Long story, just really want to document it for myself for the future… It involved a medicine man and the number 19 (which how do I even look up the significance of? Is “19” significant, or is it 1 (1+9=10 1+0=1), then is 18 also significant since the person who wasn’t chosen was 18?).

Then last night before bed I was moved to pull my runes – just a simple past-present-future spread. Mannaz (reversed), Ansuz, Ehwaz (reversed). It made total sense to me, I love my rune stones – they have always been so good to me. Basically I can see in that that in the past I wasn’t ready to embark on this big Moving-to-Ireland journey. That we don’t always have all the options – does that make sense? ALL the options aren’t always truly open to us. Makes sense in my head. Then Ansuz – being about signs and messengers and gifts… totally where I’m at today, and what I question. I try not to question “signs” for lack of a better term, but its hard when you have to walk around “practical society” – and then Ehwaz… first of all being “the horse” - come on. Although it was reversed, which sort of warns me against moving away to avoid things, but also I think portends getting my act together so that I can move, freely and unencumbered.

I hope this makes some semblance of sense. I feel like there are about 100 watts going through a 20 watt receptacle. Me being the afore mentioned receptacle.

2008 was clearly not about Seebo blogging...

Someday I'll refocus and keep this updated. There are way too many things going on in my head. It seems the more I try and find order and direction amongst them, these head things, the more elusive and chaotic they become. Hard to pin down, one might say, if one was so inclined to say such things...

Long story short (too late)

Still clean and sober (w00t)
Moving to Ireland (target date January in the year of our lord two thousand ten)
- Excited
- Scared shitless
Can't decide what sort of lingering energy is in my apartment. It could have been just that one rug. I never did have a good feeling about that rug. Huh.

That's about it.

I don't need no stinking title!

So my gorgeous and lovely roommate rented Superbad last night. Oh. My. Goodness. Too funny.

But as hilarious as it was, it kinda made me sad. Sad for the days when I could go out to a crazy party. And drink. And other things too. I suppose I can still go out to crazy parties, but its not the same without a handful of bottle, ya know? And I don’t wanna be in the physical presence of “other things” cause that would be just too too.

Not that I want to go back to my using days, per se… I mean, some of it was fun, but soooooooo much of it was just fucked up. Like, oh, 2006 – that was one hella fucked up year. Not that ought five or ought four were better. Sheesh – my advice to you – stay off the pipe. Fo real.

Sometimes I wish I was “normal” – yeah, whatever – what is “normal” – yadda yadda yadda. Sometimes I wish I wasn’t an alcoholic and drug addict. Not often, really, most of the time I’m super THANKFUL I am cause well, it’s a pretty cool club I’m in and shit. I suppose if I wasn’t an alcoholic I wouldn’t be pining for the days when I could be the life of the party, bottle in hand, making friends, working the room. I was a pretty good time once, in that I was cool and hilarious.

Not that I’m not cool and hilarious anymore, but I had to temper that “I was a pretty good time” for those of you with filthy, dirty minds. Though I was that too. I digress…

I just can’t look at the “Forever” part of this deal. Cause it’s daunting, and sorta sad. But I haven’t been able to “party” in a normal-y party sense for years. It just gets ugly, and gross, and very sad. And dangerous. Ask me about the time I called the police on myself. Twice. In 10 days. Got taken outta my house in handcuffs and given “chemical restraints” –

Ah, memories.

In other news, there is so much sadness in people. Really – I think it’s like humanities’ (or at least the good part of humanities’) default setting. Ya know? It’s awful. I have it too, but because of the whole Seebo-metamorphosis deal – not so much anymore. Does that make any sense? I am able to be present and serene – not that I always am, but I am able to be… Gah. I know what I’m talking about, so I suppose I’ve got that going for me.

It’s really easy to get stuck in the sucky miserable part of life, and it took a pretty intense moment of surrender for me to get out of that, but man is it ever better on the other side. It’s a complete miracle, for lack of a better term. Good lord am I ever thankful… Really.

Alright, I’m done being a vagine. What happened to my self imposed ban on cheese? Seebo out -

R.I.P.

Basil the Rat and Alfred Q. Rattius had to be put to sleep last night. We are in mourning... Baz and Alfie were the best rats ever. They will be missed. My poor lil guys...

Wow.

Dear sweet baby Jesus… my blog is lame. Lame! A little bit cheese, a little bit ghey. My bad. First I’m all depressed and shit, drunk and or high, then I go to treatment and get all better and its woo-hoo isn’t everything all wonderful look at me all happy. Wow. Who reads this crap?

I’ve been sober for thirteen months and one week. Its awesome. The pink cloud has passed. I am content in my sarcastic cynical bitterness – I think it suits me. In that I wear it well. Many find it quite endearing. Really. I'm adorable. LOVE ME!

Whoops - ahem. Get it together Seeboandherzen - focus. This is going on the interweb -

Where was I - oh yes...

I forgot I even had a blog (I’ve been too busy reading someone else’s and living vicariously through their pathetic and gross existence. Its not their fault, they’re slow, and Canadian. Its a long story, one involving suction machines and gambling addiction) until I got a gentle reminder from one S. Magoo. Good lookin’ out there Stewy –

So here we are. “We,” of course, referring to the “royal we” consisting of me, myself and also me. I vow, right here and now, to be a better blogger, who is more funnier and less melodramaculous. Possibly one who posts more often. One who remembers how to log in, including - but not exclusive to - remembering her password even.

Perhaps as the day progresses I will come up with a comical list, or humorous observation I can go on about, tempering my largess with some sort of sense of wittacular self-satisfaction one can only enjoy by sharing one's more entertaining thoughts with strangers. "Spreading the love" as the kids are calling it these days. Perhaps posting something political in nature… Perchance some sort of diatribe on societal norms or comportment. Or paragraph after paragraph regarding the fact that words such as "comportment" have fallen out of favour, this being a certain sign of the end days indeed being at hand - as is evidenced by the devolution of western civilization apparent in the vocabularies of the undereducated masses...

Maybe. Or maybe I’ll totally forget I have a blog for several more months, then stumble upon it and think “Jesus I’m such a dork” –

Either way - KBO


Post scriptum: You know who I miss - The Bringer of Truth. Apparently there is no truth to be broughten at the moment. I hope that guys okay - he's like a little crazy ray of sunshine in my otherwise dull existance...

I'm so grateful

That I am alive. I don't know why I get this gift today, of just being happy being, I really don't. But I have faith that my HP has a reason for it.

I don't even know. I'm such a different person than I was this time last year. Its like I'm finally letting myself be who I always wanted to be. I was asked once, by a tremendously wonderful woman, "If you become who you want or would like to be, what would you lose?"

Control. I give up control. The universe is perfect, every atom is where it needs to be doing what needs to be done. I cannot change or control people, places or things. But I can put one foot in front of the other, do the next right thing, and have FAITH that its all taken care of. What a tremendous weight to be lifted off my shoulders... The world is doing aiight. I can just be.

I prolly sound all ghey. Sorry. Just having a serious gratitude moment. If you could have been where I was last year, you'd understand :P

Oh. Mah. Gahd. I'm such an emoticon smiley person its laughable (c:

Whole lotta nothing...

Wowza.

Lots of stuff. Lots and lots of stuff… Where to begin?

Well, for starters, I’m afraid of the repercussions if I actually post what’s on my mind. Stupid big mouthed Seebo all sharing that she has a blog. With people she’d have liked to blog aboot. That totally blows. Ya know? Like, this should be a safe-to-vent area. In fact, I would go so far as to posit that venting is welcomed with big, welcoming arms here. Not so much anymore. Just not worth the drama…

And if that’s not cryptic enough for you, well – MOVE ON! (TG should totally appreciate that one!)

Argh.

Why is Gravel such a looney? There, that should be safe to discuss. Well, safer.

Seriously? I mean, granted, the whole National Initiative thing is sorta dodgy, but its not like the President actually does a lot of stuff. Unless of course you are talking about the current administration and its complete lack of regard for checks and balances. Remember those? Checks and balances? Like we had back in the good ol days? That was awesome.

But for so serious – Obama? I just don’t like him. I can’t put my finger on why, but I just don’t care for him at all. And Clinton? Erm… Not so much. Gravel is so outside of the box of the normal political machine… I mean, Narnia please… Give a brotha a chance.

This post was clearly not well thought out. I will say this – the day just might be a-comin’ when I can actually vent freely and without fear. Are you so excited? Storms a-brewin'!

Bright blessings to all! Well, most all… I’ve got some love to spread -

Seebs

*Please note that I am now onboard the Obama train... This was a long time ago.

Still alive

Still clean as a whistle - a really clean whistle... Maybe someday I'll even blog about my wacky shenanigans. Maybe. Okay, probably. But Seebo and her zen need some sleep...

YAY YAY YAY!!!!!

Live is freeaking awesome, let me just begin by saying that - also, and more importantly, Yaweh is sending me messages!

Rejoice and fear!

Request for Advice (or How to be Crafty)

Oh great blogsphere - please help me to craftily send my email address in a profile so that I do not have to have a paid account with a weirdo website, yet can still communicate with someone neat.

Make sense? I am soliciting any advice on how to send a message to someone, cryptically, which communicates my email address unbeknownst to the website people, who are trying to charge me $30 for some sort of membership to utter craziness. The best idea I can come up with is, well, I got nothing.

Any advice would be greatly appreciated. (Stew - I'm trying to tap into some stew-y goodness here - )

Best wishes to all!
S

Post Scriptum to Teachingirl -

I am NOT crazy. Well, maybe a little crazy, but a good kind of crazy. SO AYUDAME, por favor!

Been putting this off, but this is as profound as its gonna get

I don’t know why I’ve been putting off writing about what I’ve been through the past couple of months, and how much I’ve grown. I’ve alluded to it, but really it has yet to be spoken of (and of course by “spoken” of I mean “posted” of). This blog deal was mostly used as a place for me to write about how bad everything was, oh woe is me, and how much I was hurting and boo hoo please tell me you love me because maybe if I keep taking and taking somehow this hole will magically be filled, and if nothing is offered for me to take, see, isn’t my life just awful – see, I don’t deserve anything. Sad. I just could not see that, like Dorothy, I had everything I needed the whole time.

I promise to not go all treatment on your ass.

But clearly – or not – I was gone on the 28 day vacay to the most wonderful place in the world. I loved – LOVED – every minute of rehab. It was the best thing I have ever done in my life. It truly opened my eyes, gay and cheesy though it may sound. I’m a totally new person – a bit more fragile, perhaps, than in my former days - but now airborne! I can’t cure myself of this disease, but I can manage it. And it is my responsibility to manage it. I’m completely okay, just as I am. I know that sounds silly, but I never ever believed that. This is a primary, progressive, chronic and fatal disease. My brain is just different. It is not my fault, but it is my responsibility. And I don’t have to live like that anymore.

Waking up in the morning remembering the night before sure beats the hell out of wondering what sort of a mess I was going to have to clean up, both literally and figuratively. Constantly telling myself what a loser I was, and what jerks the rest of the world was for not giving me what I wanted when I wanted it. God, to think about how much I just wanted to die – I don’t want to die. I just couldn’t live like that any longer, and to be completely honest I was killing myself, slowly. Now I know I am not alone, and there is tremendous strength to be found in numbers.

I used to not get this whole “strong” thing. I have figured out that being “strong” is not about being tough or bullet proof. Quite the opposite. Being “tough” is nothing more than weakness in disguise. Some things you can’t do without help, some things you can’t do alone, and somewhere in there, borne of the acceptance of your powerlessness, you realize that you are too strong (tearing up here – wow)… There is absolute strength in risking everything by reaching out and allowing yourself to be held up by people who are willing to jump into the hole with you, because they know the way out. By letting people take care of you and love you until you are ready to take care of and love yourself, embracing your imagined “weakness”, that is what strength is all about. It is a we program, not an I program. There is no reason to doubt – and every reason in the world to have faith – that people who have been there and know more than me can and will help.

There is no way someone who hasn’t gone through what I’ve gone through could ever understand how that feels. Thank god I was able to go to the “place” I was able to go to… Thank god for all the wonderful women I got to live with, who – somehow – finally were able to get through my thick mellon that I am loveable, and awesome, and strong. Please don’t read this and think I believe myself to be special - because I have learned that there was nothing special about my alcoholism and addictions – I simply mean the fellowship of recovery has to be experienced, it cannot be explained.

Goddamn - I am strong. I don’t have to live like that anymore. I’m a wonderful person, and my life will only get better. I have complete faith that it will, because I already see it changing. I don’t have to be cavalier anymore, or sarcastic - defending myself against imagined foes, or “tough” (or “cool”). I am happy now, and before I didn’t know what “happy” was (or fun, or serenity, the list goes on and on). I knew what I needed to do, and somehow through the grace of god found the courage to get it done. I completely surrendered. I asked for help. That is the strong thing to do. That is the brave thing to do, and most definitely that is the intelligent thing to do. To fight against something alone, never gaining any ground, is ridiculous. In fact, its more than ridiculous - its pathetic and pointless. So is blaming people or situations. So is allowing you to destroy yourself.

I have not been sober consecutively for 48 days since I was 14 and began using. 14. Emotionally I have a long way to go, I’m 14 in the body of a 31 year old. Progress, not perfection. I am starting to feel things, and its strange and not always pleasant, but its normal. Oh my god, I’m normal. What a freaking relief!!!

And here’s my favorite part:

THE A.A. PROMISES
If we are painstaking about this phase of our development, we will be amazed before we are half way through. We are going to know a new freedom and a new happiness. We will not regret the past nor wish to shut the door on it. We will comprehend the word serenity and we will know peace. No matter how far down the scale we have gone, we will see how our experience can benefit others. That feeling of uselessness and selfpity will disappear. We will lose interest in selfish things and gain interest in our fellows. Self-seeking will slip away. Our whole attitude and outlook upon life will change. Fear of people and of economic insecurity will leave us. We will intuitively know how to handle situations which used to baffle us. We will suddenly realize that God is doing for us what we could not do for ourselves.
Are these extravagant promises? We think not. They are being fulfilled among us—sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. They will always materialize if we work for them.
______________________________________________________________________________


Yeah, I know. I used to think this shit was cheesy and stupid, that it was cultish and not for me. But you know what? I don’t even have to believe these promises are true, because I KNOW they are. I already recognize them coming true for me. Thank god.

Seebo rocks!