Guts

I read articles by authors who are laying out their guts for everyone to see and judge. More than their guts, they lay out their hearts. Sliced and pressed under microscopes, all the more easy to taste and discard them. 

<holds up to light. turns in hand. deems it a felt emotion, an experienced adventure; catalogues and reaches for the next>

And what am I doing? Hiding behind a desk and a title. Eager to make large moves and reflect, but not to dissect them for others' eyes. 

For my eyes. My reflection. 

Too afraid to revisit those lonely roads and flights and cities; to run my hands around my perfect nest. 

Where was I? 

Diving. Unwrapping. Revisiting. 

Digging and bearing witness. 

Making promises and casting my future. 

Do not make it all for naught. 

Weekend home

San Diego prices she's home because of this weekend. Babysat a three year old. And didn't murder anyone. Had lunch with the family of another fm three year old. Didn't even see my sister for an entire week but that's totally fine bc maybe I'll see her next week or this week. 

Planned on a luau this evening and almost didn't go. But Past Yo moved home so weekends like this could happen. She wished and hoped and missed weekends like this. 

Days like these

Days like this are the reason why I moved back to SD. Babysat a friend's kid, hung out with other friends who have a kid the same age, met friends at a luau, bumped into other friends at said luau. I almost didn't go tonight. But I thought to myself, these are the days Phoenix Yo wished for.  

What are you afraid of?

My most loved people thinking something terrible about me but never telling me. Pretending to my face that they accept me when they don't. 

I hear you in my voice

Mom. When I him to songs you love, Rod Stewart, Harry Connick. Classical music. When I whistle. It's like you're here with me. 

I didn't realize how much until I searched for Rod Stewart songs right now. 

The Way You Look Tonight. 

 I love you and I miss you and I love you. 

Fwd: A new perspective

---------- Forwarded message ----------
From:

​emily july

Date: Sun, Jan 10, 2016 at 7:46 PM
Subject: A new perspective
To:

​emily july

What if we all (me) stopped subscribing to the shit about moving on and changing your life. What if I learned to accept where I am and what I'm doing right now in this place. Instead of thinking believing I'm not happy, learn to be happy where I am. I have a great life. I travel. I'm challenged daily. 

Accept 

Grow

Root

A flower grows when it plants its roots. Or something. I don't know. 

I just want to go home

Well that last post didn't last very long. Maybe bc I've been sick for a week. Wow. A week. I was in San Diego a week ago. 

I miss home. I'm back to wanting to sell everything and just go home. Forget about having a job. Just go home. 

What the hell is it. This is the worst and I hate it. 

Per fucking spective

I watched a movie called what if. And it was the most perfect movie about your early 20s that I've ever seen. So optimistic and fucking full of promise. 

The characters are too smart for their own good. The fall in love. Have these huge brains and get flung across the globe. While trying to figure out their hearts. 

This movie made me want to have kids. If my kids could evolve to have these perfect heartbreaks with such witty and caring asshole friends, I would do it in a second. 

Also made me realize that I'm not in Tokyo. Or Dublin. I'm in Arizona. 

And these kids are swimming in the ocean and bearing their souls. 

And what am I doing?

Hiding. 

And doing my job. 

Well. 

On both counts. 

So what if I fuck it. 

Fuck. It. 

And fucking jump. 

Out of that plane. 

Out of the apartment. 

Plant my feet. 

Jump. 

Leap. 

Climb. 

Roll. 

Dive and fucking swing. 

And fucking swing. 

Because if I'm reliving my 20s, then I already have some years on me. What would you do if you could go back and do it all over again?

Of course. 

(of course)

These last few days. Week. After being home for Christmas were hard. Some of the hardest. What am I doing here. Disappointed. The whole nine. 

Did I just snap out of it?

And how log will it last?

Jump. 

Look how far you've flown. 

Fly. 

Flew. 

Go. 

Take flight

I hate flying. Nothing that weighs that much should be in the air. 

BUT. My favorite flying time is after I've had a drink or three. And I'm sitting in the waiting area to board. My eyes are a bit dopey (there's a fine line between dopey and drunk), I have my earbuds in, and I'm contemplating a nap. 

I've gotten better. This last trip to San Diego, I wasn't worried about anything. The plane was taxiing and then we were picking up speed. 

I don't know what it was about the flight. But I was okay. Maybe because I didn't have a connection to rush to. Or it had been so long since I'd been in SD. Or I knew it was only an hour flight. 

Anyway. On my way back to Phx. Just paid $21 for a double vodka soda. And had a Dramamine. 

Self medication is rad. 

Dave

I don't know why I do it to myself. I must enjoy it. I do enjoy it. This sweet pain of remembering you, remembering us. 

Looking back through the fog of time, the bad times are blurry. And I can pull the good times into focus. 

Of course, these good times can't be exactly how they happened. 

Dave always reminds me of you. Especially this album from 2001. Because we had broken up. And then gotten back together. And then broken up. I burned you a copy. And then we broke up. And then we hooked up. 

Ugh. You were terrible. And wonderful. And the worst. And I hated you and couldn't stop loving you. 

And Dave reminds me of you every time. Still. A million years later. There's no one else it reminds me of. 

Just you. Us. Those kids we were. 

It's comforting. Familiar. It's your face and hands and arms and body against mine. 

Tangled tongues and lips. 

I see your face in my newsfeed. I read your comments and see your likes. 

And I wonder at our pictures. We would be in them together. Maybe we would be married. Maybe we would have a kid or three.  

I always wonder. 

Dream

I had a dream my parents faked their deaths! And I was so mad at them. They didn't say why they faked their deaths. They were just alive. And I yelled at them!

Boston

11/16/15 7pm ET

What am I doing here? I'm in the hotel restaurant. People milling about. Im reading a book and listening to drunken conversations while sitting in this trendy place with strange chandeliers made of lighted bars. 

What am i doing here?

Does anyone else wonder this? What they're doing here and how they got there?

And just like that, I want to go home

I talked to Aunt last night. Talked about looking for a job in ca. Lease coming up in January. I don't know what I would do in ca. What jobs to even look for. 

Updated my resume and LinkedIn. Couldn't sleep. 

I feel so lonely and I don't know what to do with my life!!

I told my sister. She said, "so just an existential crisis?" Which is cute. And true. 

Not looking forward to travel next week. 

I feel sick. 

This too shall pass, right?

It always does. 

Meet cute

It begins like all love stories begin. With a question. 

And then figure out what the first question was. 

One of them is about Weezer. For a screenplay. Nope. That one was recent. 11/5/15

But the first one isn't. And then it becomes about the screenplay. 

Wait. 

Witty banter witty banter. 

Morbid jokes. 

Inside jokes....I think it started with Narp. 

Then movies. 

Super troopers. But not meow. 

Simon Pegg. Director. Writer. That was one of the first. 

But really. It's the dude's voice. 

I can't believe I'm typing this. 

I imagine him and his face. Next to mine. Having a conversation about I don't know. Prop 3. 

But our tones are low. We're saying things, but almost whispering. Sitting at a bar. Rolling a glass of vodka, a glass of whiskey. Legs crossed, knee covered by a skirt. 

Those smirky eyes knowing they can't convince me of anything. Still trying. 

Knowing he can convince me of one thing, now. 

Currently

I'm currently wondering about staying for another year. 

I know when I left Seattle I wondered what would have happened if I'd stayed. I could have stayed with friends. I could have found a job. I could have lived in Seattle. 

I wonder if I'll regret leaving here too soon? Like, if I had stayed for one more year. Would I wonder?

Being on the back end of a year here, it doesn't seem too bad. Is it because the weather cooled off? I stopped visiting San Diego so often? I'm getting used to things at work and gaining confidence there with my training and public speaking? 

Still not a fan of flying. But it's getting better. 

Wondering. 

Massage perspective

Talked to my aunt Noni this evening. Me hinted the massage I had and how much pain I'm in from it. She said it was expected since having the Chicago trip and workshop in October. 

I say October like it was so long ago. Two weeks ago was the end of it. 

Ramping up with more travel soon. 

I took a nap today and started waking up to the beginnings of a panic attack. Flying. Client responsibility. Being out here all alone. Making grown up decisions. Money. Car. 

I don't rant to get too into t. I had to calm myself down. Do a recheck of my "systems status", similar to that panic attack when I was flying. Ignore everything and pretend it was all fine. 

High rise hermit

If I were to live in a skyscraper. High rise. Whatever, if you will. If I were to live in one of those and not want to mingle on the streets. If I could get sunshine and feel grass between my toes, would that be living? Would I be grounded? Or would I need to have touched the ground that touched the earth?

What I'm asking is... Could I be a high rise hermit if I did get sunshine but never touch the ground? On purpose?

Sick of being sad

I'm so sick of this. I'm so sad I feel physically ill. Nauseous. Just tried to go to the store and started crying in the car. Not the first time I've cried at the grocery store or target. But it got too out of hand on the way there I had to come home. 

This is so fucking depressing. I know it will pass. But it seems like the bad times are outweighing the good. Or at least the Not Miserable Times. 

There's a constant lump in my throat. I always think it will feel better if I let it out a little. But it never does. 

Chicago in two weeks. Conference in three weeks. Cousins visiting cousins this weekend. I hope I don't sound miserable while I'm with them. I also hope their cousins will be more welcoming to me. 

Am I a baby that I can't deal with not having people around?  It's not like I need it every day. Just once in a while. Once or twice a week. 

Low lows and then better

I felt so low today. And yesterday. Stressed about the upcoming work trip, reference book, and work shop. Stressed about not having the reference book completed, not focusing on it as much as I should have. I worked on it this weekend at coffee bean. It was nice to get out of the house for a while and not have the car an oven. 

Last week around this time I was feeling high. Hopeful. It was a change in the weather. It felt like fall. Not humid in the am, and breathable air. Refreshing. 

And then this weekend. So low I felt like  I would throw up. Cried Sunday. In the kitchen. In the shower. I woke up feeling like I cried in my sleep. 

Low again today. Low like crying at my desk low. Could have cried in meetings low.  Better later at work though. Worked through the reference book. Had a productive meeting, shot the shit. Taught. Worked on the reference book more. Talked to Melissa this evening. Cleaned the kitchen. Took a shower. 

Had to write this down bc I know things get better. But it never feels like that when I'm in it. 

Furiously happy came in the mail today and maybe that brought some hope, too. 

Up up perspective

Talked to Auntie Shu this morning. Almost an hour. We caught up on work, travel plans. Plans to move back. Weather here, people not as friendly as I hoped. Miss having friends around. She offered her place. Asked if I was looking for jobs in California. I said I was also looking in Northern California, Washington and Portland. I had friends there and knew the weather. Also was more welcoming than Arizona. She mentioned the weather in the pnw, but I always loved the rain. 

It was good catching up with her. I think of her often and all the adventures we had getting me moved out here. She's seeing her doctor soon bc she's experiencing shortness of breath. Mentioned that heart disease is not in our family, by my uncle and mom and grandmother and older sister had heart issues. I'm worried about her. But I'm always worried about people. 

Maybe I'll move to W town. Plenty of cousins to go around. 

LA suburb. Tucked in the corners and surrounded by family. 

Adventure. Perspective. Finding out what is important to me. What I need, what I can do without, and what I can't do without. 

Some things you don't know for sure until you go out and find out for yourself. 

We ended our conversation by saying we loved each other. She said she thinks of me all the time and it's just so comforting to know. 

Plans for thanksgiving at MJD's.