I would like to share with you some writings from my past. I've been reading my journals from the time I left college until now. Following my path of growth is fascinating! The entries I am going to share with you are from summer of 2000. These are blogs before blogging was born. The Internet was but a baby. Its a time in my life where I realized I was embarking on a new paradigm. Not the one I just finished, but the one before that. Its just after I started partying and just before I started to become a DJ. Far before Burning Man or the Leschi Lounge, or even Jen Woolfe. I was 25. I had a degree, a career, a sex life, great friends, a cat, my own place. I was forming my first true identity.
Early June, 2000
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'Isn't it crazy how some things never change?
Here I am, two weeks shy of 25 years old, and I'm still drawing the same doodle-boy that I drew when I was 16. Sure, he looks a little different: different hair, different grin, different style of clothes. But still the same doodle.
Has my doodle gotten an wiser over 10 years? I know now from my 10 years of doodle experience where to start the line for the neck, the tuft for the hair, the lift of the ears. I know how to cover up my doodle mistakes. I still make them, of course. But are they less noticeable? Less careless? Less important?
My doodle is still a simple idea. It sill follows the same simple goals. Two googly eyes, a button nose, a long face.
No smile today.
Simple clothes and simple jeans.
No shoes today. To show off his cutsie toes.
Is my doodle me? Have I changed? Or am I the same? Following the same scratchy lines, matching the same ideals, wearing the same simple look on my face?
Each day a little different. A little less. A little more... doodley.'
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This next "blog" references many of the girls and boys that I been in varying degrees of relationships with and how much I learned from them. I was completely unattached, as I am now. I was what Iyanla Vanzant would refer to as 'In the Meantime'. I was comfortable with that, but curious. I was reflective but diffident. I was about to embark on a cozy relationship with the Soccer Star, but I didn't know it. I was also about to find my passion in music, my Destiny, something I had longed for, also unknowingly. Maybe something I had longed for even more than love. For I always knew that somehow I would find love, perhaps even over and over. But Destiny? I doubted, at the time, that I could be so blessed. [I've added some notes and aliases to protect those who have not opted into a cyber presence].
July 3, 2000
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'So I guess I have a lot to talk about -- more than I thought I did. A lot of huge things are happening - a paradigm - and I almost didn't notice. Its so funny how some things don't change. I still go into a super-hip coffee shop and feel like a dork. I'll probably never get it right.
Today's the kind of day where I need a haircut. Its a gorgeous day in Seattle. The air is moderately warm, the sky is gray. I left the house wearing a sweater, no hat, and sandles, braving the idea that there's a 50/50 chance of rain. The day is good: somber, mellow, the fresh scent of weed tickling my nostrils (along with my cat). Next door to the Still Life [an old cafe that is now closed] (where I exuded idiocy in front of a gorgeous girl with spiky-purple hair) they are building a condominium. Fremont is pissing patchouli. This hippie town was happier hiding in the hairy armpits of downtown, unnoticed. Things were good until they made the mistake of building the best parade in the city [the annual Solstice Parade]. Big business noticed this treasure and built a software shop across from the Natural Market -- then Seattle in the 21st Century was born. My favorite billboard, "You don't have to be a 23 year-old C.E.O. of a software company to buy a home". Yeah, right.
So I guess I have a lot to talk about (but I'm not saying any of it). I wonder if I could be the writer I always dreamed I could be. So many story's main characters are writers. That bores me.
So I'm thinking of dating a guy. There's some hotties here, pseudo-naturale-hiker-skater types. H-O-T. Too bad when I kiss them it feels numb.
I spent all weekend with the Soccer Star and I really liked it. We are reaching the "I really like to hang out with you so I must be attracted to you" stage. She's cute as shit. But I feel like dating her would be pushing me into a 'Type B' relationship. I've had them before: My Harmless High School boyfriend, the Adorable Irish Boy, the Bionic Chic. Secure. Charming. Passionless. This is the type of relationship I imagine having if you out-live the love of your life. Many people get into relationships like these, marry, and are moderately happy. But they don't grow.
The fear is that people [i.e. me!] are afraid that there won't be more. Like that relationship is the last chance. If I give up this Type B relationship, will I ever get the chance for a Type A relationship again? And, if I take the Type B relationship, will I be giving up the Type A relationship forever? I guess the real question (or the real challenge) is, Will there always be an inevitable Type A? Or is there only one Type A ever? I've already proven that wrong, as my First Love was a definite Type A [meaning I'd already had one Type A relationship and knew there would be more to follow especially since my First Love was not a woman].
Type A relationship -- True Love. You know, one of those people floating around the world whose soul's are connected, in love, with yours. Before you ever meet (if you ever meet), you are automatically connected, soul to soul, in life (and possibly death) and even more possibly, life again.
Bionic Chic said something interesting about our connection. She said she felt we were old soul mates, like we were together in the past and no longer need each other, at least in this life. Its funny to think that I was dreaming of my first sex [with a woman] on the bus going to softball games (and tennis matches) and she was right there, sitting less than 10 feet away from me [it didn't happen until 6 years later]. How amazing that our souls follow each other so closely.
I run into The Climber frequently [a short-lived but passionate fling]. I always look for her, though I know I shouldn't. Last Tuesday I got off the bus one stop early, honestly to save time waiting for an eternal red light. There she was, boyish and beautiful, smiling at me with crystal green eyes. I haven't seen her since. We had shared a few short moments of romantic bliss. I hold tightly to the sensation of her frail body leaning against mine, listening to Natalie Merchant, feeling the loud beating of my heart, fully-fullfilled. I had given The Teacher [a romantic but toilsome relationship] Natalie Merchant, to help her live life. I gave her 'Live is Sweet'. I wanted her to know this feeling [my bad habit of projecting, as I'm completely ignoring the fact that I learned it, too]. She does. She did. She learned. She found beauty. And now she no longer needs me. So I left.
I told The Climber that I was tired of always being the one to teach people shit. I told her this as I handed her "The Celestine Prophesy" and gave her positive words to help her find her path. I did so selfishly, secretly wanting her path to lead to me. That wasn't true for everyone. I knew most of their paths were not towards me. I hoped as much. Maybe I manipulated them in an opposite direction. Maybe I led the the wrong way. But I don't think so.
I handed The Climber that book, knowing it may be the last thing she needs from me before moving on. I may never run into her on the street again. I may never see her smiling secretly at me again. I need to let go so it doesn't hurt anymore. If I let go, I can continue to the next phase - mine. Building me. Learning about me. Living with me. When people ask me about how I like living by myself, I tell them that its lonely. But is it really lonely? Or am I lonely? And how can I teach myself to enjoy that feeling of being only with me? Of being alone? Am I really alone if I am here?
I suppose I'm never alone, as long as I'm always with me. And I never seem to leave, as much as I want to. Probably because I don't really want to. I like it here. With me.'
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I realized that all my life I had always looked forward to the time I would be 25. In high school, even college, I always wanted to be 25. And I was there. I had made it. I also realized that I needed to sit back and enjoy the me I had created. So maybe that's where I also am now: two paradigms, two long-term and many short but sensational relationships later, about to embark on a new re-design of me. Sitting atop a tree of experience, of artistic and emotional work, of a new and brilliant sense of self. No attachments (except to my tree).
July 12, 2000
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The sky is soaring,
High above the clouds.
My heart rests
Beside a pale moon.
I Stop,
Take a deep Breath
Of the Ocean,
Refill my lungs with Life,
Vibrant, fresh.
I look upon Myself
From the Treetops,
Wink and tip my Hat.
My crystal eyes Sparkle
From below.
My Soul is Smiling.
