19 posts tagged “love”
Working late, watching a movie I bought in Arlington. Bought it because I love Viggo Mortensen and it looked like a light romance. I didn't catch on from the cover that the love affair was adulterous (Viggo's the lover). There was some crazy wonderful romance novel sex in it, but it's not just a love story. It's fairly well done--pretty painful stuff though. No judgment--it's just not exactly what I thought I was signing up for tonight.
And how did Diane Lane get typecast as the liberated whore of Babylon? Guess MILF isn't exactly a bad gig for the over forty actress, but still...hasn't she done like 3 or 4 of these extra-marital affair plots?
Ah well, looks like Viggo redeems himself a bit in the end, and is let to walk away with some dignity. Think the Diane character and her hubby are going to try to work it out. Guess all any of us can hope for is forgiveness. If it can be set against a sixties soundtrack, so much the better.
"Crystal blue persuaaaaaaaaaaaaasion...."
Back home away from home in Arlington at the boy's digs. My drive into town last night was almost doubled in time due to being miserably lost no less than thrice. The latter two 'where the hell am I' moments occurred during a long thunderstorm that dropped buckets on my little car. Visibility was bad and I missed by usual landmarks and signs. (On the upside, the lightning show before I actually drove into the storm was spectacular.)
Still online right now working the regular '40-hour' gig. Have a project launching tomorrow that my lead designer is scrambling to try to finish now--his fiance has been due any day and is now in pre-labor as we speak. Shite. Still QA-ing.
I'm also trying to tie off on a piece for bitchbuzz that I started writing last week, then tweaked, and tweaked again, and now I'm just not happy with it. I'm going to go back to my clippings and see what I can salvage. But I'm exhausted, still working, and I'm just royally pissed that I've already missed my deadline and now I'm faced with not turning it in again or turning in something sub par. Poop.
Sigh. Guess it's a good thing that the boy had to work tonight, what with all this business for me to handle. Still...it's chilly out and I'd like to snuggle down under the covers and just knock out until he comes home. And then I could really snuggle.
Aw, mush.
Just realized that Election Day was an anniversary for us...the 4th of July was our start date (spoken like a true PM). Both rather auspicious days of patriotic import to have as milestones. Groovy
Back to QA...
But I'm working on the weekend and I'm so excited. No, really, I am. I have my first shift at my part-time job tomorrow--which means I'll finally have a little extra cash rolling in soon and that's always a good thing. Of course, 'extra' implies it's not spoken for, but that biatch Sallie Mae already has her grubby little hands on it.
It's been a while since I posted, even since I bothered with some tweets, but I've been busy. Just finished the training for the new job earlier this week, had a fun little side project to work on (more on that in a minute), and also the regular job is kicking ass. (We're kind of in a bad hiring streak--every secondary project manager they've brought on to support my areas has either resigned or been canned. The last one just resigned not 3 weeks after coming on board. WTF?)
The best part though about my being busy this week was the visit from the bf, also known as 'the boy'. (He uses 'gf' on his blog in referring to me, and so I'm going to try out the equivalent once in a while. Though he doesn't mind 'the boy', other guy friends have stated they kinda' dislike the connotation; in an homage to SATC, they call him 'Mr. Big'. Which I don't want to do because, love him or hate him, Mr. Big was kind of an asshole from time to time.) So, anyway, the boy was in town and it was lovely having him here. We kept it low key--mostly staying in and watching movies, with just a little time out and about--as we tend to do since we only see eachother a couple of times a month. The animals provided much amusement and I'm pleased to say that they've really taken to him...as in they are all over him and, thank goodness, he doesn't seem to mind and actually rather enjoys their affections. (Side note: I am officially never taking anyone to Guero's in Austin again. I guess I should have long ago heeded my friend Dominic's advice about the place. The boy was thoroughly unimpressed. I had a burrito especial myself which was great, but I ordered it like Sally Albright would have, "al pastor, no queso, no sour cream, only green sauce on top..." so it was kind of a custom order.)
About that side project I mentioned before...the wonderful happenings of CupCate and company have long kept me interested and entertained when the rest of the world was bringing me down or pissing me off. They launched bitchbuzz.com back in August and I'm very pleased to say that they're letting me join in the reindeer games. You can find my first go-around here.
All for now. It's time to walk the 'Velveeta' dog and call my girlfriends to catch up. Hope all is well with you and yours and you have a pleasant weekend.
P.S. I'm early voting tomorrow! Make it happen, people!
Only one person asked me today, "Where were you 7 years ago?" It was a car salesman at about 8 pm, amid casual banter while he was filling out my finance application. The conversation was brief and, oddly, light.
It had already struck me earlier that, unlike the other 9/11s since that 9/11, today was just another day. I was constantly distracted at work by task after task of twenty-one different projects. I was tired and in need of caffeine and dashed to make an on-site Starbucks run. I was rushing around from meeting to meeting, griping about failed technology. I texted and answered phone calls and made project plans and went for a test-drive and then grocery-shopping as if it was September 10th or 12th.
What I didn't do was listen to tributes on NPR. I didn't, and won't, watch the memorials on TV. I don't think I'll talk about it with anyone else. Just you.
I remember fumbling around for the cell phone, mattress on the floor after moving in the night before, and turning on the TV in time to watch the second plane hit the towers.
I remember the aftershocks too. The job listings that were canceled. Paying rent with credit cards. The barricades they placed, and still have, around the capitol building and courthouses. The quiet solemnity of airport crowds.
I remember listening to the rhetoric of the day, and even in my confusion, my strange obsession with watching the footage over and over, and my fears related and seemingly unrelated...I remember listening to the President's language about the Taliban and Afghanistan and the fight for freedom...and I wished so deeply that Gore had won the election. I looked at Bush and shook my head and thought one word: warmonger.
I visited the site last year, just before this anniversary, and just after another one, and was struck by the presence still there. I had never seen what existed. I have no memories of New York before then. I don't know what the skyline looked like, and so I didn't know what should have been there; I didn't know to look for the towers, or their absence, to orient myself on the island. But emerging from the subway, a surreal experience in itself, and walking around the platform that overlooked new construction, there was certainly an otherworldly sense of something missing.
And so seven years have passed and so much has changed for so many. Because of 9/11, in spite of it, despite its lessons. We don't tell the people we love that we care for them enough. We aren't patient or kind--at home, on the road, or at work. We're caught up in our own lives, in finding where the blame lies, in not forgiving ourselves and others for our stupidities. We ignore the pain of friends and strangers. We spend time, like I am tonight, puttering away on the computer instead of being involved in our communities, volunteering, and acting on the hope we half-heartedly profess. We shrug our shoulders at the missteps of government, believing they're out of our control or that we're blameless for their abuses of power.
I don't mean that as a rant of exasperation, but, rather, as a reminder of our opportunities, our chances to 'seize the day'...as the clock runs out and away from people just like us all over the world, we have in this moment and the next and the next the chance to do more and better, to be stronger and kinder, to dream bigger and wiser, to act with patience and to listen with understanding as the goal. We can laugh and dance and make love as if we meant it and resolve to be the best friend, lover, sister/brother, daughter/son, and--for the love of god, country, money or self--citizen, or whoever it is that we happen to be in this life.
In a way, today's like my truly secular Christmas. It's the time of year when I try to remember the Golden Rule and to treat people the way I would like to be treated even and especially when I want to do anything but. I hope in some way this will encourage you to do the same.
Home now, after a long weekend away visiting the boy, and as is best in these situations, the homecoming is bittersweet.
Good to be home with the animals and all my little trappings of comfort and routine...and so clumsily exasperating and disappointing to know I will crawl in bed alone tonight, and that tomorrow I won't wake first in the morning and have a moment to notice how long his lashes are before he consciously or otherwise pulls me back into his arms for a few minutes of sleep
Sigh.
It is always the little things, isn't it?
It's going to be a crazy couple of weeks ahead. I have tons of work to catch up on, despite my working remotely, and of course my tri workouts to ramp up in preparation for the September 1 Austin Triathlon. I'm spending the coming weekend in El Paso too, which will present its own training challenges, not to mention the challenges of seeing friends and family and fielding the usual questions and answers. Glad, though, to have the opportunity to be doing too much instead of pining that life is filled with too little this, that, or the other. For now, I'll take the competing interests of work, sport, family, romance, writing, and leisure as they come, and try to make more hours out of the usual 24 in the day.
My birthday is technically a week away, however, I have decided to adopt July 13 as my new birthday since the weekend in general and yesterday in particular was sooooooooo wonderful. I mean...stars aligning, mystical, magical, FUN wonderful.
First off, despite the rocky start on Friday evening and the near dashing of hopes, Saturday was a great day. I went running at River Legacy Park in Arlington which has some very well maintained, mostly paved (from what I saw) trails running through lots of greenspace. I then trekked through crappy traffic to downtown Dallas to meet up with my friend Carlos at the Nasher Sculpture Center. I've wanted to go since I saw a class presentation on the space a couple of years ago and I'm pleased to say it didn't disappoint. I have a hundred plus pictures I'm going to post to Flickr and then a separate post to Vox when I have a chance. I walked the Arts District for a while too and took some photos of the Dallas Bar Association's headquarters/mansion. Anyhow, the BIG event of the evening was still looming uncertainly at that point, so I went back to decompress for a bit at the hotel, took a nap, and then started getting ready.
With heart pounding in my ears, and still uncertain whether the previous night's fiasco had ruined everything, I forced myself into the car and back out to Arlington. What had taken an hour plus earlier in the day took only 25 minutes on the way back and so I'd little time to worry. Details of the meeting will be posted elsewhere in my world, but I will summarize by saying that I was unnervingly timid at first. Really. Thanks to kitties and such, however, I was able to look around and chitchat for a few minutes until, realizing how ridiculous I was being, I just stated the obvious.
"Sorry...I'm...a little, um, shy right now."
"I can tell. It's ok."
And then...he walked over and turned me into his arms...and we just held eachother for a while. It was...very nice, and I think, kind of electric. *Sigh.* And that, dear friends and neighbors, is all the kissing and telling you shall see from me. This could well be nine very long posts on just the boy, but there are some things a lady doesn't discuss. (Except perhaps with her gay best friend.) Just know that I am very, very glad that I made my announcement a while back.
And I am also extremely glad that I had the excuse of the George Michael concert to bring me up to Dallas in the first place. The concert was last night at the American Airlines Center (which is a beautiful venue--I'm surprised to say I think it really does transcend its status as a sports arena). Let me just say...ahem...George...George...George...sigh...oh, George!
George Michael is one hell of a performer, singer, and dancer (with all his own moves) and he put on an amazing show. The sound was incredible! The staging was slick and innovative and made excellent use of old video footage and club like pulsating animation. He had a great band backing him and he featured them well throughout the performance. And, oh yeah, he played without an opening act from about 8:50 to 11:40 with just a 20 minute intermission, and he played EVERYTHING. Some old Wham! tunes, songs from the Faith album and so many more from his later solo work where he really shines...sharing his life experience and love of music. I would have to say, hands down, that it is the best concert I've been to so far.
Seriously, I haven't had such a great concert experience in a long time, if ever. The crowd was clearly made of hopeless romantic fools like me who have loved and followed George for years, and who damn near passed out when they heard he was touring the States. Everyone seemed to know every song, even those that George himself thought would be a bit obscure for his American audience. The whole arena swayed, danced, and squealed appropriately and the energy was high throughout, even during the ballads and covers. (George said a number of times that he "never thought [he]'d hear that sound in America" and that the Dallas audience had been the best of the tour so far--of course, he could be saying that in every city, but the energy was definitely running high in there last night.) I'll post a set list later, but oh, my it just won't translate. I went from chills up and down my spine to holding hands clasped rapt under my chin, teary eyed and sighing, and then dancing and singing out at the top of my lungs. And when he came out for encores...shivers I tell you....still getting them now as a matter of fact...coinciding with other recent memories...well, let's just say I've been glowing brighter and brighter all weekend.
And then, to end on an even higher note, I drove home after the concert as fast as I could to spend one last night snuggling with the boy.
Yup, it's been a great birthday weekend.
I confess...I watched the playoff round of the U.S. Open today off and on from about the 9th hole. Yes, I was at the office today, and yes, it's not exactly kosher that I did it, but it's not like I was only watching the simulcast. I was also working, multitasking just as I would from home, and really it didn't hurt anyone or anything, not even my productivity. Still...I think I shall refrain in future.
But, man, what a story! Tiger's great, but really it was the whole package--the super underdog against the injured titan, going head to head, trading the lead...just think of the tale that Mediate gets to tell. "I once finished second in the U.S. Open, and I lost by one stroke to Tiger Woods." As with NBA ball, I don't follow golf religioiusly or even, really, much at all though I do like the playing of golf--I'm still learning, I still suck. I grew up with my dad and grampa watching it all the time, and even though I mostly hated the world because they wouldn't let me change the channel, it certainly did build an appreciation for the sport in me. More than watching, they played too. My grandfather was one of the founding members of a local golf club. He played every other day and in tourneys all his life until he started getting ill. My dad still plays-and even had the opportunity to play Torrey Pines this year. (He said it was beautiful, and painfully hard.)
***
A lesson in things that don't work out, but kind of work out in the end...
After work I bolted to try to get to my bike clinic on time, but alas it wasn't to be. First, I forgot my water bottle this morning. While that sucked, it just meant I wouldn't be able to get a quick drink on the go. I bought a G2 at lunch and figured oh well. Then, when I went to change my clothes right before I left the office, I discovered that my socks were nowhere to be found. I thought, eh, what the hell, I'll ride without them. But just 2 minutes walking to my car in the sweltering heat made me realize that I would be in for blisters if I did that. So I made great time home, ran inside, grabbed my socks from the floor where they'd apparently fallen out of my bag this morning, and ran back outside to get my bike out of the car and take off. (I'd decided I would just ride towards the start point and catch up with the group there, having made up what I missed in biking from my house instead of driving to the start point and trailing behind them.)
Well, it's a good thing I went home first because as soon as I had my bike out, I realized that the front brake was messed up again. That same damned spring was popping over the little metal piece (I don't know the technical term) that keeps the tension for the brake. This is the same issue that I've dealt with before, but this time was worse and I had to get out my pliers and an allen wrench to take the brake apart, reshape the spring, and tighten the hell out of the screw that holds the brake in place. While I managed to fix the brake it made me thirty minutes late to my ride!
I knew the group would have passed where I could have met up with them, so I just headed out to 5 mile dam park expecting to see them already on their return leg. Well, I never saw them...until I was making my turnaround at the park. They were doing timed sprints of the loop at that runs by the park. Bummer of bummers, I missed my chance to be timed, but I did really bust my butt to get there and had planned to do so going back--riding all the way to the original start point and then back down to my house to make up the distance. Again, though, it wasn't to be...one of the women on the ride became lightheaded and couldn't ride back. I was the closest to a car, so I rode back to the house to get the car to go back to the dam to pick up the rider. I was bummed because I knew there wouldn't be enough light left for me to finish the rest of the ride.
When I zipped around the corner to my house I saw that the gentleman who was coming to give me a landscaping estimate was 30 minutes early! If I hadn't made it to the house when I did, I would have missed him. I asked him to wait while I went to pick up the downed rider, and so off I went again back to the dam. But about a third of the way there, tada, here comes the entire rest of the group of riders include the overheated one. They were taking the ride very slowly and she said she was fine to finish it out, so then back I went to the house to meet with the landscaper--his name is Mario. I liked both him and his price and so he will be coming by on Thursday to do take care of the yard for the first time. [Yup, I've bitten the bullet and hired someone to help with the lawncare. Neither time nor my allergies were in favor of me trying to keep it up on my own this summer, and I finally decided to throw in the towel. Besides, I have painting to do!] He's also going to give me an estimate for re-doing my brick patio in the back--it's sunken toward the house over the last year and now water is collecting in a pool near the foundation when the weather is stormy.
My neighbor came out of her house right as Mario was leaving and we got to chatting. She came inside to see my paint swatches--the living room still doesn't seem gold or mustard-ish enough to me--and to offer me some advice on a couple of other renovations. As we walked back outside I excitedly mentioned that the eggs in the bird nest above my door had hatched today--I heard them chirping earlier and they sounded so cute, etc. when I saw something move out of the corner of my eye. It was already dark out so I thought it was a small frog, but sadly it was a baby bird. It had fallen out of the nest and was chirping and wiggling on my welcome mat.
And so began Operation Save Baby Bird. I thought it was dead a number of times, and certainly it was in shock. I used one of the paint chip cards to pick it up--carefully scooting it onto the card with another one--and used a stool to try to put it up into the nest. Unfortunately, the mama and daddy bird flew out and past me as I was standing there and I...dropped the baby. I felt horrible! It was still alive though, so I went in and grabbed my ladder to give me a better vantage point. In the end I had to put on a glove and pick up the little guy to get it to climb into the nest. The good news is that it did hoist itself onto the nest with its little clawed feet. The bad news is that the nest was so crowded with baby birds I am now wondering if I didn't completely screw with natural selection by putting it back up there. What if they had pushed it out? What if it was the weak link and their entire family was at risk if he stayed? I feel bad about the whole thing, but hey, I did the best I could, was careful not to contaminate it with my touch, and hopefully they made room for him after all...and he made it. Keep your fingers crossed. If I walk out to work tomorrow morning to find a shower of carcasses, I may well have a weeping breakdown. Anthropomorphizing the world's creatures really can be a problem. "Hello. My name is Vanessa. And I'm an animal-rescue-oholic." Seems one is never completely safe from a relapse. At least I didn't try to adopt it.
Now it's late and I'm tired and glad to be so. It's been a day of small adventures. I still have so much to do though! Oh well, they will keep for another time...because I have a new romance novel to read. That's right--trashy romance novel reading Vanessa is back. Trust me, she's a lot of fun. In and out of bed. (Hee. Sorry. Had to try out a little sexual innuendo just to see what it feels like again. Kinda' nice...)
And on that note, I am meeting with a reputable local jeweler tomorrow who will be taking a look at my engagement ring and wedding bands to make me a purchase offer. I am selling my rings. It feels strange, but not bad. I paid for at least half of them, monetarily, and I paid for them in other ways too, so I feel mostly grateful to have the opportunity to sell them. I plan to put whatever money I can get for them--provided the price is right--into a CD. (I promised my Grandma that's what I would do with some of the money she gave me, but my debt and car repairs ate up more than I had anticipated.) I'm still planning to find a part-time job to take care of the student loans, so I don't have to touch this money. I want the ring money to be the start of something new for me, not just some maudlin cliche of a romantic end.
On a final note, we are at t-minus 26 days until I head to Dallas to see George. I'm thinking of making a weekend of it--I wonder if the skating rink in the Galleria is open in summer--but either way I'm extremely excited. If that's not the start of something good, I don't know what is.
in the twist and turn of random occurrences and memories jarred from their craggy resting places, i remembered today that we met fifteen years ago. today. today you kissed me for the first time. today i was kissed for the first time at all. you dazed me, drugged me, with chemical reactions and synapses firing in rapid succession of teenage lust and the hum of another more powerful force i'd only read about it books. "strange, baby, don't you think i'm looking older." today i learned the feel of your arms around me, the taste of your tongue, the strange electric sensation of loving, and being loved by, you. today, this time, was my hawaii, my dream trip. my time to look back on and shake my head in wonder at, knowing it would never be that way again, but knowing that every day could be, might be, sometimes almost was and then, sometimes, really was...even better. but you took it away, and took it away, and took it away again. and i gave it away, and gave it away, and then, i held on for dear life, heels in the sand, rope burns on my hands, my arms, and around my waist where i tied it off and tried to anchor you to life. the rope might have held, was holding, but you turned and sliced it between us. leaving me. to untie the rope and tend to my hands.
dripping with irony, or perhaps just coincidence, you and the universe have worked to take you back there, to that--to this--place in time. "there and back again." today. today you were there. you tried hard to look past the stairs. you glanced absently at the courtyard and the fountain that once carried our dance of hollywood lovers. you shut out the smell of my hair and the hesistant first touches i finally dared to reach for, to take from you, to give to you. you tried hard to leave me, to erase me, replace me even with something or someone else, like work or a cause or a body absent of my faults and gifts. and perhaps you almost succeeded...perhaps you count this as a sign, that things are for the best, never meant to be, never really happened, never really there.
but...
i remind you. we were here and we are there and the walls and roads are soaked with memories of our looks and secrets and pains and dreams.
in an empty landscape of night and desert sky, the blazing liquid gold of a river of fire burns down the mountainside.
and you.
cannot.
forget.
I saw Sex and the City (minor, possible spoilers ahead) tonight at the 12:01 a.m. showing with my sis and her boyfriend. Of course, I needed a 15 minute power nap in the car first while they went in and found seats, but hey, there's no shame in my game, I stayed awake and enjoyed the movie instead of being a sleepy grump-ass.
I'm not sure if the movie could stand lone. As a fan who did see all the episodes, I think I benefited from already having the characters developed and knowing their backstories. I don't think that newbies would get as much out of it--despite the very well done title sequence and intro that cleverly recaps the high points of the series, I don't think the events in the film would have as much impact if you hadn't been on the whole journey with the girls. [The best way I can describe it is this. Imagine that you read The Return of the King without reading Fellowship and Two Towers first. You would perhaps enjoy the action, adventure, and mighty feats of all the players in RofK, but would you understand their sacrifices and their growth? Would you know why Eowyn and Faramir's quiet love at the end was so important? Would you really understand why the magic and memory in Frodo's Morgul wound continued to plague him? I'm not sure that you would.]
That said, I think the film did do an excellent job of examining some big relationship issues--sex, trust, adultery, expectations, disappointment, forgiveness--in big ways.
There was a point about 1/3 to 1/2 through the film where I found myself quickly exiting the theater and seeking refuge in the bathroom for the second time in my life, also the second time in the last year. (The last time was during Knocked Up. There's a post in my archive somewhere about that.) It wasn't so much a sequence or a scene that set me off, but rather just a look. It was the expression that Carrie has on her face when she removes her large sunglasses and looks at her reflection in the mirror. The look in her eyes, on her face, well, Miss Sarah Jessica Parker nailed the shock and exhaustion that comes with a certain kind of pain that I know a little about. (I really am trying not to spoil it, especially for friends who I know read this, are SATC fans, and haven't seen the movie yet.) What I saw, or rather, what I recognized was an expression that I knew very well at one point, and that stayed in my eyes for a long time.
So I bolted to the bathroom in tears, surprised and embarrased and confused at my reaction. Leaning my weight into my hands against the stall door, I cried as a montage of images of my own 'love lost' reflection in the glass flashed through my head. After a moment, I realized how very strange it was to be crying like that. I hadn't cried about it in a long time. Harder days than others, sure, but nothing more than a little melancholy. And thus began my inner dialogue: "Why are you crying?...Do you miss him?" Sort of, I guess, but not him now, I miss him then. "Do you want him back, is that it?" No, not exactly. "So why are you crying?" It was her face. I recognized her face, and I remembered the pain. "So, it's not the pain, but the memory of the pain?" Keep talking. "Well, what are you feeling? Are you in pain right now? Do you feel bad? Or do you feel bad that you once felt that bad?" And then it clicked. I took a breath and stopped crying. I didn't feel bad. I wasn't in pain. I was just remembering what it had been like, and I could snap myself out of it.
It was just a movie, and it did its job. It touched me, but that's it. So, I dried up and went back to the theater and watched the rest of flick...and really liked it.
[I'm home now and taking a few minutes to write again so that I get my intial impressions down. There's one more bit of news: did you know they have remade The Women? It's a classic b&w with Norma Shearer and Joan Crawford in the lead roles. The dialogue is great, it's over the top--and I think it's pre-code too--and though they figure into the story, not a single male character ever appears on screen. It's one of my favorites, and I recognized the plot just a few seconds into the teaser trailer. I'm not sure if I should be pleased or appalled. Methinks that a version with Meg Ryan and Eva Mendes in the leads isn't going to have quite the same dramatic impact as the first film. But I'm still going to go see it.]
With a twinge of unhealthy satisfaction, I read that my ex-husband lost his bid for city council back home. The emotions are complicated...a split second moment of imagination wondered if he might reach out to me in his loss, just as I remarked in my head that his photo in the paper didn't look very attractive. I recognized his resigned expression though...if he'd put half of the energy of his political efforts into our marriage...but that's neither here nor there now, and really, I suppose he could say the same about me. What is the saying? That truth only exists in the moment...once it is observed and retold, it is no longer the truth but just a story of what the truth might have been.
...
I have always loved the scent and taste of honeysuckle. I remember picking the flowers from the playground walls and sucking out the stems when I was only in first grade. I've been using a honeysuckle perfume from Whole Foods for the last year. And my favorite part of the neighborhood is the long fenceline of the property behind my house, along the road, that blooms with yellow and white honeysuckle in the spring. Sometimes the scent is heavy on the air and sometimes you just catch it lightly on the breeze and can't tell where it's coming from. It always seems to lift my spirits, relax me, and make me feel...clean and pretty and just better. I thought it was just something I liked, but I read recently that honeysuckle is purported to have medicinal properties for relieving tension and clearing the mind. I went out and purchased some Bach's Honeysuckle Flower Essence and now I try to drink a couple of drops everyday, and have been doing so for a couple of months. I left it at home on my trip to Nashville and now I'm curious if that might have had something to do with my melancholy.
...
The little dog bite on my hand is healing, but it's ugly and it looks like it's going to leave a scar. I've started dressing it with lavendar oil in the hope that the scar will fade even as it's forming. In much the same way, my honeysuckle, my triathlon training, my new habits and rituals, and my pointed breaking of those habits, are not just a means of keeping busy, but a way of fading the inevitable scars that are forming over heart and mind. I know they're there...I think sometimes that I've escaped without them, and then I read about my ex in the paper and a little smirk of satisfaction drips into my soul, and I realize I'm not getting off that easy.
