When I first met you, I loved you. The way you smelled really stood out. Citrusy but ending in a woodsy scent, really yummy. It was the kind of scent that was like poetry. Some scents are just a floral, or a couple of florals, or florals with a little bit of spice. But they are always separate. This one was different. They "rhymed". It was just brilliant. The gay guy at Nordstroms introduced us, as I was buying some lipstick, lip gloss, and lip liner. Needless to say, my lips looked really good!
But I walked away. I couldn't commit and I was a little overwhelmed. I was happy with who I was with, Marc. A couple of years later, I saw you, again, in Los Angeles (before it was in Orange County). Again, the same scent. I was tempted, but wanted to wait until I was ready.
And I wasn't ready for a long time. I got pregnant, and then my baby grew older. Marc was out of the picture. I was on my own. Then opportunity came up. The time was right. My son was old enough to have you in his life.
When I looked you up, I couldn't find you anywhere. Your facebook page was gone. I googled you; the lamest results came up. I panicked. And then I found you, at Barney's place. I could consummate my passion of you, Armani Prive Vetiver. And every day I wear you, I inhale and try to envelop your essence.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Just when I try to get out, it pulls me back in
Lately I've been fantasizing that I've moved on from my child hood. It seems so long ago, not like yesterday like it did 10 years ago or so. I'd like to think that I've done a lot of consolidation.
On Friday I went to the playground with Logan. There was a young, cute dad that was there with his son. Logan was busy doing his own thing. The dad approached me. He asked about my son's hair cut. "Oh, so you've already cut his hair?" "Yeah", I said. His son's hair was pretty long, and curly-ish. "We don't want to cut his hair yet, it's so soft and nice as it is."
I really didn't know what to say. What I did say was the wrong thing. "Well, we want to make sure that he gets good hair cuts rather than bad ones at Supercuts", or something along those lines. It was snarky. It closed a door rather than opening it.
I realized that it was because when I was a child, my hair was either really long, or really short. My mom would give me $10 and drop me off at the SuperCuts and say "tell them to give you the pixie cut". And I would. It was really short. I have a round face, and in truth, it didn't really fit me, but it was super short.
And that's how it was me and my sister. When I think of it, it symbolizes how my mom neglected me, and it brings up a fear that maybe those parents are neglecting their child. Just because they don't want to cut his hair. They can be charming, wonderful people, who take great care of their child, it's just they have this different belief.
And then I realized just how big this issue is. That whenever I see anything that remotely looks like neglect, the neglect that I experienced, it's going to bring out that type of reaction. That it doesn't stop with the hair cuts, that ill fitting clothes, shoes too large, clothes that are overly dirty, babies that are told to be quiet when they are just being babies, all of the things that come up generates that reaction in me. And I need to be aware of it, and try to take ownership of it.
Until then, I need to be compassionate with myself about why I'm snarky. Because I can be harsher with myself than anyone that I make those comments to. I guess next up is finding a dandelion break when you're in the sea of emotion and have those reactions.
On Friday I went to the playground with Logan. There was a young, cute dad that was there with his son. Logan was busy doing his own thing. The dad approached me. He asked about my son's hair cut. "Oh, so you've already cut his hair?" "Yeah", I said. His son's hair was pretty long, and curly-ish. "We don't want to cut his hair yet, it's so soft and nice as it is."
I really didn't know what to say. What I did say was the wrong thing. "Well, we want to make sure that he gets good hair cuts rather than bad ones at Supercuts", or something along those lines. It was snarky. It closed a door rather than opening it.
I realized that it was because when I was a child, my hair was either really long, or really short. My mom would give me $10 and drop me off at the SuperCuts and say "tell them to give you the pixie cut". And I would. It was really short. I have a round face, and in truth, it didn't really fit me, but it was super short.
And that's how it was me and my sister. When I think of it, it symbolizes how my mom neglected me, and it brings up a fear that maybe those parents are neglecting their child. Just because they don't want to cut his hair. They can be charming, wonderful people, who take great care of their child, it's just they have this different belief.
And then I realized just how big this issue is. That whenever I see anything that remotely looks like neglect, the neglect that I experienced, it's going to bring out that type of reaction. That it doesn't stop with the hair cuts, that ill fitting clothes, shoes too large, clothes that are overly dirty, babies that are told to be quiet when they are just being babies, all of the things that come up generates that reaction in me. And I need to be aware of it, and try to take ownership of it.
Until then, I need to be compassionate with myself about why I'm snarky. Because I can be harsher with myself than anyone that I make those comments to. I guess next up is finding a dandelion break when you're in the sea of emotion and have those reactions.
Monday, August 1, 2011
One time When I Should have Asked for a Ride Home...Or Not Gone Out at All
It was a warm evening in Tucson, as it always was in the summer. I was 15, and hanging out with some friends and in came Rob, who I'd heard bad things about, but I didn't care, I thought it would be fun to go four-wheeling in the wash in Rob's jeep. I'd be with my friend Stella, we had beer and her boyfriend, Jason, I thought I'd be fine. Right?
You could see all of the stars in the night sky - it was gorgeous! We were having a lot of fun four wheeling, when we came to this part in the wash that had a little pond. Stella and Jason went away. That left me and Rob. Rob got completely undressed, and was trying to coax me into the pond. I saw where this was going, and said that I wasn't okay with this. Then he picked me up and tried to get me into the pond. Then I went from a little scared to terrified. I grabbed onto a tree for dear life, and for as hard as I was pulling, he was trying nearly as hard to get me in there.
Then I was trying to get into the jeep, and he was pushing his penis against me, and was trying to get me to have sex with him. I was yelling to Stella to come over, and was trying to get into the jeep, because it would be difficult for him to force himself on me, so I thought, or maybe I thought it was a tiny safe place.
After a while, he stopped, and then I went back to the jeep. I screamed out for Stella, and after a little while she and Jason finally showed up. I asked if they could take us home. I thought Jason was a good guy, but then as we piled into the jeep he and Rob were ganging up on me and calling me a bitch. Soon after that, we were four wheeling again, until the car stopped right outside of someone's motor home on the side of the wash. There was something wrong with the car and they couldn't start it.
The guys were being really rude, and I got out. "C'mon, Stella, let's get out of here. Fuck these guys, they're assholes". Stella reluctantly followed me. We walked to the nearest paved road, which turned out to be Houghton Road, which was the furthest outskirt you could find. We started walking towards town. About a half an hour later, the guys drove by us. There was no one else on that road. They drove up and down as we walked on, Jason saying mean things to Stella, Stella crying but still being there with me and walking with me to the nearest Circle K. Sometimes they would drive dangerously close to us, and yell at us. "We won't let you in the car until you bitches apologize", Jason said during one of the drive by's. "Fuck you!!!" I said, and we kept on walking under the desert sky, continuing to get taunted.
Finally, in what seemed like an eternity, we arrived at the Circle K. I called a cab, I had enough money to get us to her house, which was near mine. We waited shortly for the cab, which seemed to take us to her house very quickly in contrast to everything else that happened. When we got there, Stella said that her mom probably wouldn't be happy to see me, and that I should probably go home. Needless to say, that was the end of that friendship.
The next day I went to my boyfriend's house to tell him what happened. He was smoking crack and using a plastic bag to inhale and exhale and inhale and exhale out of to maximize the high....and then Rob knocked on the door. He was with Jason. He didn't come inside, he just stood at the door. I cried and cried and cried. It was the Fourth of July.
You could see all of the stars in the night sky - it was gorgeous! We were having a lot of fun four wheeling, when we came to this part in the wash that had a little pond. Stella and Jason went away. That left me and Rob. Rob got completely undressed, and was trying to coax me into the pond. I saw where this was going, and said that I wasn't okay with this. Then he picked me up and tried to get me into the pond. Then I went from a little scared to terrified. I grabbed onto a tree for dear life, and for as hard as I was pulling, he was trying nearly as hard to get me in there.
Then I was trying to get into the jeep, and he was pushing his penis against me, and was trying to get me to have sex with him. I was yelling to Stella to come over, and was trying to get into the jeep, because it would be difficult for him to force himself on me, so I thought, or maybe I thought it was a tiny safe place.
After a while, he stopped, and then I went back to the jeep. I screamed out for Stella, and after a little while she and Jason finally showed up. I asked if they could take us home. I thought Jason was a good guy, but then as we piled into the jeep he and Rob were ganging up on me and calling me a bitch. Soon after that, we were four wheeling again, until the car stopped right outside of someone's motor home on the side of the wash. There was something wrong with the car and they couldn't start it.
The guys were being really rude, and I got out. "C'mon, Stella, let's get out of here. Fuck these guys, they're assholes". Stella reluctantly followed me. We walked to the nearest paved road, which turned out to be Houghton Road, which was the furthest outskirt you could find. We started walking towards town. About a half an hour later, the guys drove by us. There was no one else on that road. They drove up and down as we walked on, Jason saying mean things to Stella, Stella crying but still being there with me and walking with me to the nearest Circle K. Sometimes they would drive dangerously close to us, and yell at us. "We won't let you in the car until you bitches apologize", Jason said during one of the drive by's. "Fuck you!!!" I said, and we kept on walking under the desert sky, continuing to get taunted.
Finally, in what seemed like an eternity, we arrived at the Circle K. I called a cab, I had enough money to get us to her house, which was near mine. We waited shortly for the cab, which seemed to take us to her house very quickly in contrast to everything else that happened. When we got there, Stella said that her mom probably wouldn't be happy to see me, and that I should probably go home. Needless to say, that was the end of that friendship.
The next day I went to my boyfriend's house to tell him what happened. He was smoking crack and using a plastic bag to inhale and exhale and inhale and exhale out of to maximize the high....and then Rob knocked on the door. He was with Jason. He didn't come inside, he just stood at the door. I cried and cried and cried. It was the Fourth of July.
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