I’ve Had You So Many Times

Soundtrack – Damien Rice “9 Crimes”

 

I had a dream about you 3 weeks ago. It’s not uncommon, you’ve been an ingredient in my subconscious for over 10 years. You and your girlfriend were over. It was odd.

The thought festered though and I began to wonder if it was true. It was entertaining to think about as my life is less than exciting right now. I wondered if you would have the guts to talk to me again, just talk. I wasn’t thinking about heartbreak. I was just thinking that she would have broken up with you and that would be that. That no one, somehow, would be heartbroken.

I found out tonight that you and her really are over. I actually dreamt of something that really happened. I don’t want to think we’re that connected. We are not. Apparently though, you broke up with her. You idiot. This isn’t what I wanted. I don’t want another girl to be upset.

To be clear – I don’t want you back. I don’t think you do me either. I think we know better now. The 5th time won’t be the charm. We should have stopped plenty before. We should have never been probably. I don’t regret you but we really could have skipped number 2,3 and 4 don’t you think?

You were just a large part of my life. When someone reaches the 10 year mark then they can take over. But right now, you just happen to have the largest ratio of time and memories with me.

I was never your most important. I wasn’t “the one that got away”.  It doesn’t hurt to know that. It just is that way. We just grew up together. We experienced some things for the first time together but I wasn’t the most important.

I will never forget you but I think sooner rather than later, you’ll be a much more distant memory and someone else will have tipped the scales. You will no longer be the biggest ratio.

I don’t have any emotion for you. Not bad, not good. It’s just you and it’s just me. I know you better than anyone and yet almost not at all. I have met you so many ways, worked, lived and traveled with you multiple times, been with you and against you, sang with you the song I’m listening to, made love to you, ran from you, stuck to you, let you go – plenty.

I have had you so many times and I can’t remember a single one.

Quick Saffron Rice

Made some delicious saffron rice – thought I’d share it.

Ingredients:

- 1 cup of Jasmine Rice (very deliciously fragrant)

- 2 cups of water

- 1 knob of butter (the better the butter the better – now say that 5 times fast)

- 1 teaspoon of saffron (most expensive spice in the world…living in the lap of luxury now aren’t we?)

- 1/4 of a teaspoon of kosher salt if your butter was already salted otherwise 1/2 teaspoon of kosher salt…if you’re going to use normal table salt for some reason (kosher is the greatest) then use 1/4 and then salt to taste later because I have a feeling it’ll be too salty using 1/2 tsp.

-1/2 a yellow onion chopped into medium chunks (however you want it really because you’ll end up eating it but it will just get mixed up in the rice)

Directions:

1. Put a saucepan or very small pot on high heat and pour the rice and butter there until the butter melts and you stir it through. You do not want the butter or rice to brown just warm it up a bit.

2. Pour water, salt, saffron and onion pieces in and bring to a boil.

3. Once at a boil reduce heat so everything is simmering and put a lid on it

4. Depending on your heat and size of the pot the rice will cook in about 15 to 25 minutes. Do not make it cook to a mush. Even slightly undercooked is better. Check it by eating a little grain after 15 minute (don’t burn yourself please).

5. Turn the heat off and leave the lid on. After 15 minutes all the water should have been absorbed and you can use a fork to fluff your rice (which should be tinted yellow from your awesome saffron).

I served mine with sautéed courgettes and it was deeeeeelicious.

I got a little extra fancy on my second serving the next day (split the rice in 2 portions) and put some toasted pine nuts in it and some golden raisins…mmmmmm

Enjoy!

Week 1 – Day 3 (Kayla Itisness 12 Week Bikini Body Guide)

I made it back home….alive-ish

Currently eating some saltines and sipping some room temperature water….

My arms were so weak I couldn’t lift my keys up to the door for 30 minutes right after the gym.

I knew tonight would have been a challenge because my arms are the weakest part of me, always have been (never ever could master the monkey bars in school or at the park – just climbed everything but I guess my legs were the real strength source).

I got through 1 and 1/2 of the entire workout. Not bad considering I only got through 1/2 of the first day when I was doing legs/cardio…which, by the way, completely destroyed my legs in the sense that I literally whimpered loudly and uncontrollably every time I had to sit down for the past 2 days (to pee for example) or stand up (from my office chair – humiliating). I didn’t walk like I took it up the ass though (sorry to be crude here) so that’s a sort of personal win.

I tried stretching, putting arnica cream 5 times throughout the day, hot, cold, massaging…still painful….sigh I thought I was in shape damn it. I better regain the ass of a life time with this.

Anyways – these workouts make me feel like I want to puke right in the middle of them and about 2 hours after. I don’t know how to fix this. I drink water before, not a lot during so I don’t get sick, I don’t eat right before…I’m definitely pushing myself too hard but not sooooo badly. I mean I feel like puking but there hasn’t actually been any ejection…although sometimes throughout the workout I kind of wish it would just happen if it would cure the horrible nausea and headache I feel. I must be doing something wrong but I don’t know what.

Oh and also I found out apparently I cannot do a sit up without putting my feet under something and using my legs really to pull me up…basically rendering the whole sit up, working out your ab muscle thing, pointless. What the flip right?!

And I confirmed my vague thoughts about not being able to really do a full push up…I dip about 3 inches down max (don’t judge me).

I hope this entire workout isn’t just going to be me bitching, bitching, bitching…at the same time that’s almost what I use this blog entirely for – muahahhaha

Tomorrow we will see if I am able to use my arms. If I can’t drive or type or pick things up…I will not go to work, I swear…so I doubt this will happen.

I’m guessing, and truly hoping, that by doing as much as I can on each workout, I will slowly build up to being able to work out without feeling like death and slowly build some more muscle in my arms and legs and abs so I don’t have such a hard time…I believe this is what exercise is supposed to do but knowing me – anything could happen lol I

I don’t want to just go back to my running routine – although pleasant I don’t think it will so much anymore to just run without any strength training…and I’ll probably injure myself again.

I’m about to dose myself with magnesium to relax my muscles and hopefully sleep.

Kisses

T.I.I.D

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New Training Regime

Bloody Hell!

I’m not fat or anything but I think I’m the chubbiest I’ve been in almost 10 years right now.

All of last year up to May of this year I was pretty much running every night and working out and eating my favorite things (which luckily for me is basically a 90% vegetable and fruit based diet)….then I injured my ankles and took my trip to EU and then came back and had to catch up on the millions of things I left behind for not even a month and so and so forth and now it’s September and I’m a little tea pot – short and stout….

I got fitted for more cushiony running shoes, also good for polymetrics. They’re ASICS and I love them. I’ve been “power walking” for a week to make sure my injury was healed and because I’ve become so blubbery and out of shape I wasn’t sure if I could even make it for 30 minutes on a treadmill. Turns out I can…and my ankles don’t kill me although I didn’t run to check because I’m afraid they’ll hurt and I’ll just be upset.

So after some light “warming up” for a week….tonight was my first day of the Kayla Itisness 12 Week Bikini Body Guide.

I swear I was going to vomit, have a heart attack and pass out.

I only made it through the 2 circuits once (Legs & Cardio) and I had to keep taking breaks to spit in the trash can and try to keep my heart out of my throat. During the workouts my legs would almost give out which made it even harder to do them correctly and fully. I literally couldn’t stand or walk afterwards. I did the stretches she gives you while I tried to get back to a normal breathing pattern and my heart didn’t feel like it was going to stop at any moment in my throat.

From the gym, up the stairs, to the house, my legs were like soggy noodles. I also felt like vomiting hardcore.

Luckily I have a stool in the shower and I sat down while I washed my hair. I thought I was going to die there too anyways, or pass out minimally.

Now my legs have regained some feeling but still feel weak. It makes me laugh but I don’t think it’s funny…

I feel like an idiot. I used to run every day how am I such a blob now?! I’ve only stopped for 3 months…ugh

Tomorrow it’s more power walking. Wednesday I think it’s abs or something…will try to get through the 2 circuits twice as I should, but I refuse to die trying. I’m literally scared for Wednesday to come. I guess it’s good because my last workout routine was just keeping me lean but not doing much more -so this is a major challenge at least. There’s so many before and afters of this workout program on instagram it’s gotta do something…if only I can get through the damn circuits as needed. *Sigh*

Hopefully tomorrow my legs aren’t shaky because I have to wear heels and stand around for a while…If I fall and vomit on someone I swear I will fly to Australia and get this girl to train me until I’m not this sort of blubby sea cucumber with soggy noodle legs.

Good night,

 

- Sea Cucumber

 

Sun Rise Over Como, Italy

Watching You Grow Up; Heartaches I Cannot Fix

Soundtrack: “Rain Song” – Clem Leek

I have one boy in my family. He’s younger than me. He’s never gotten into trouble, he finished school well even when he had troubles studying, he works with his sister in a company that they started and is going very well, he lives at home and is not a slob, he accomplished a great deal for being so young and he’s just overall someone everyone admires and likes.

He hadn’t had much experience in the “relationship” ambit of life. Not a virgin but really nothing more than a fling here and there. He’s an “over thinker”. He’s a gentleman almost to a fault, extremely picky and he’s stubborn as hell and thinks he knows better; period. (Must be a family trait?)

Recently – as the heavens opened up and light from the gods shone down, he finally made up his mind about someone and started a relationship. Is she up to par with him? Truthfully no, but she’s not bad at all. I answered the few sex questions that came up at the beginning of their “honeymoon” phase and let him be; barely hearing a peep sometimes from that general direction. Knowing I was just to leave him to live his life and be happy watching him become the man he is growing up to be.

A month or so later, today, we had dinner and he told me of a bad fight they had. He told me everything from his point of view. What she said, her inability to understand him, how he feels he does it all, how she doesn’t appreciate him, how she’s always troubled, how she is, isn’t and all of the possible wrongs. I offered my own  experience and tried to push him to see that maybe he just needed to be smarter about talking to her, that she, only like many women, just want to be passionately wanted every second of every minute, every hour of every day…forever. He doesn’t like it. He’s a stubborn a-hole and he was upset.

It made my heart ache. I don’t know if they’ll stay together. I don’t know that he’ll be happy. I know it’s not a big deal and I definitely know, through much experience, that break ups happen and that people move on and things can get better.

But oh god it hurt. I wanted to rip the problem away from him and throw it into a violent and erupting fire. I wanted him to feel relief immediately. I felt helpless. How do parents do this? How did my own mother watch as I broke down in tears day after day after even just my most recent break up? How does your heart not break too?

I had a “play date” with my beautiful god-daughter this morning. We went out to eat and play together outside and color and practice writing her name. She held my hand everywhere, she told me what she wants to have for her 5th birthday coming up, she told me about her friends at school and mum and dad and the new kitten they got. She was so beautiful and so innocently happy. Later tonight I wondered in despair; “What am I going to do when I have to sit there and watch her cry her heart out because of a stupid boy?” “What if she never does?” “Is there someone out there who has never cried because of someone else?” I was in a panic but knew that it was almost inevitable and that I wasn’t certainly going to stop her from being with anyone to not ever feel this way.

I know everyone must have their own experiences. They must live for themselves. Offering solutions, most of the time, doesn’t actually help. You must be there to listen and acknowledge their existence and their problems, not solve them. This is support. The person can be helped in various ways to become the responsible and productive adult that they can be. One that can handle their own life and share their triumphs with the people they choose to have around. They must be their own solution.

This is the equivalent of being in the driver seat with someone just learning to drive. You cannot jump across the seats and drive for them. You cannot scream and yell so much that they freeze up – terrified of making a mistake. You cannot stop them from driving in the first place so they never get hurt.

You can teach them what you know, lead by example, share your own experiences, help them grow to be strong, educated and responsible. You can come up with all the safety measures and rules under the sun, moon and stars – but in the end, they have the keys, they are in the driver seat and as much as you love them, as much as you’re terrified they will crash or get damaged; they must make their own way. They must drive where they want, and all you can do, after giving them all the tools to be the best possible driver, is be the best passenger you can be.

There might be a time where they too will be passengers. And there they will really understand and admire you for all the times you just hummed along to their soundtrack while they sped through highways, swerved by obstacles, waded through rain, traced back their steps, cursed at maps and traffic, ran out of gas, piled their car with friends and lovers, good and bad, and you never once stopped smiling, got angry or impatient, doubted them or asked to be let out, no matter how heartbreaking or scary it got.

Because really, you were proud they were driving. And you were happy to be there.

And when they’ve reached their destination, they will remember you were there, no matter what, along for the ride.

Because you were proud.

Because you supported them.

Because you loved them so much.

Budapest Alley

Walking Your Own Road

Soundtrack: “You’re so very far away” – Clem Leek

I’ve been on a roller coaster. Up through the most incredible clouds and rising in front of the most beautiful and brightest sun on a limitless horizon; just to free fall down, fearing life itself towards dark black coal and mines of despair. There are twists and turns on the way down, some nice, some almost ignorant of what’s below or above me, some teetering on the edge of cliffs and some bordering fields of my most precious dreams, taking me on a tour of my deepest wishes.

Life is improbable and sometimes scary. I’ve been feeling so angry and hopeless. Why is it that things happened this way? Why am I always here? Why does this happen? Why? Why? Why?

We can’t all just be plainly living life. I can’t sit in my office every day and wait for the day to end. I am wishing my life away. I am playing always the same certain tune. I know how it starts, I know how it changes and I know how it ends. And all the meanwhile I wish it were different.

There is something to be said about loyalty, about responsibility and duties. I wear my “badges” proudly. I know I can be counted on. I know I can help and be available. I can help everyone around me succeed. I love that. I love it but I want it for myself as well.

The pendulum is swinging, the clocks are ticking and my hand is itching again to slam on this improbability drive…and soon I’ll have to pick where I want to be next. Will I live back in California? maybe New York? Maybe throw it all to hell and go to Paris and get to know my other family. Maybe run away to somewhere to the edge of the earth, maybe not. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Moving forward and changing is scary sometimes. Most of the times for me lately. I think I engaged so much into such an improbable life that I scared myself completely still. If 16 year old me would see me now she would be awed but very confused. She would reject this future but understand why I did it. I worked so hard not to be so impetuous, so improbable, to fit in, to “not be a problem” for my family, that I encased myself in a life I really was never bred for. Some people are born to be lovers. Some people are born to be parents, or artists or teachers or dentists, doctors and even marine biologists.

I was born to be this. An improbable, highly unlikely and ever moving infinite “drive” for lack of a better word. To be anything and everything in whatever quadrant of whichever galaxy I happen to pop-up in. Worrying about who I am and what I am supposed to be isn’t so farfetched now is it?

I think I’m coming to terms with it. I, like every lover, parent, artist, teacher, dentist, doctor and marine biologist; am different. The masses mix us up and blur the lines to make us all look the same. One big conglomeration of negatives. But the positives, the uniqueness of every being in this life and universe is, and always will be, different and truly good.

It takes courage to be yourself. To stand up and walk your own way. Make your own path, untraveled by anyone else prior. To not falter when even your closest loved ones deem you wrong, crazy or simply ignore you. But I’ve always said and truly believe that it takes real responsibility to admit and be yourself. No matter who follows and loves you because of it, no matter who you lose as you start down your own road. That courage is not lack of fear but the ability to go through something no matter how scared you are because you know it’s for the greater good.

The trick is really, truly finding out that being yourself is something towards the greater good, and that you just have to take that first step, and make sure, that the next foot follows. 

NYC Take Off - Night

Take Offs & Life Plans

I feel like I should always know where I am flying to. I guess lately I have been planning and taking so many trips I don’t even know where I am at this very moment. Sigh that’s my problem. I can’t live in the moment. I can’t savor and anchor myself on one emotion. I’m always late for something. Late to know what I’m going to be doing next, late in achieving my goals, late in making progress in life. Why can’t I just be happy with what I have? I mean, there are 7 billion something people. Not everyone is happy. Not everyone knows what to do. But still; here I am, 20,000 ft in the air and climbing and I feel like – I keep taking the wrong flight.

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Dealing With Stress – Or Really; The Ability to Stress About Anything

I swear if there is a day that goes by that I do not feel some anxiety for something I feel like a fucking queen who just saved an entire galaxy while delivering a million babies and then saved a kitten stuck up a tree.

I just have an extremely active mind. So active in fact that I make myself sick with worry, or even too much happiness. Like I can make myself feel faint just by getting too excited (it’s not funny). It’s annoying. The more I grow and become more and more myself the more energy I have and the less venues I have to let it out because I am busy being an adult working a job I don’t like and not creating anything I do like. Writing is one of the few things that help. Hence why I stopped what I was doing now and sat down to write.

I have been cleaning for 2 days and 1 night; and when I say cleaning I mean like “deep cleaning, throwing things out, rearranging furniture, scrubbing the floors on my knees, washing the walls” cleaning. I am leaving for about 24 or 25 days to Europe on Tuesday. This should be so fucking intense but it’s me…so automatically it becomes the equivalent of taking The Ring halfway up to Mordor.

I just want to make something extremely clear:

I know that the life I created for myself is something some people want; that I have almost nothing to complain about, that I have a lot of reasons to be happy and truthfully, there are a lot of things I am seriously happy about.

However, with my overactive mind, this type of lifestyle is killing me. I am able to keep up with all this mess I create for myself and not actually go insane but it isn’t completely “fixed” yet. I’ve been working a lot on myself these past 2 years. This last horrible break up has been a set back it’s true. I’d like to think that some of that humiliation did some good for me, kept me humble or something, but that isn’t the case. No one deserves that. No one at all actually.

Now I am just unhappy that I am even able to overwork myself to the point of collapse. To the point of freaking out so much my own body thinks there is something actually happening to feel sick about. I trick my self accidentally, physic myself out. This just adds to the stress and believe me, these past 2 years I have made leaps and bounds towards a much calmer me and it has gotten so much better overall. For example I am not really freaking out about the long plane rides I have to take. It’s annoying but I am not terrified. Yay!

Now this “Stress” or whatever is just an annoyance, whereas before I literally could not function. So; I am grateful for the work I put in and for the achievements I have made. It takes a lot to battle things that are your own. Everyone has their own faults, their own fears, their own self-made prisons. Some people never feel the effects, some people never have to face these things and some people succumb completely.

I truly commend everyone who is able to see that there is something not optimum within themselves and who make the enormous effort to begin a journey towards betterment. If everyone was able to find their answers and to become a greater, better version of themselves – this world would be utterly amazing. Even more than it is now.

So; I wrote this to calm my nerves a bit. It’s working slowly but surely. Not by best piece ever but it was really a means to an end. I have been in such a whirlwind my whole life it seems. Never really having a place to call mine. Not in CA, not in NYC, not anywhere. Even here in FL where I have most of my life set up it’s always unstable and “in the interim” and therefore, even though very nice and somewhat comfortable, never really completely satisfying, never a place where I can build something permanent. It’s just a “jumping off point”…and yet I never jump.

I have a full time day at work tomorrow handling all possible things that can go wrong before I leave (of course) and then somehow finish all the personal things I have to get done (like the packing I haven’t done for example) so that I can leave in one piece and arrive back to my county.

I just keep telling myself that. In less than 50 something hours I will in my own land. In my own city, in my very own street, in my own yard, my staircase. I will be where I used to call home.

And for me; that’s as close as I can get to “being home” right now.

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How Could You Do Such Things

My very last words to you were via text. You couldn’t even have the decency to speak face to face.

It was dark and I was walking back to the East side form god knows where.

Just do what you want all the time and don’t email or call me or text me that you had a revelation about us, about me or about what happened or that you’ll change

Not my finest writing but it was direct. It was what you deserved. You humiliated so many times. This time was the last.

Walking angrily through New York City streets with a torrent of tears gushing all over my face. The only city where you are surrounded and yet have almost complete privacy.

25 minutes later, I was still crying. I stayed at a friends. Long gone were the days of living together. My stuff was annoyingly confined to my carry on and the bottom corner of my friends tightly fitting bed in a small, shared apartment.

I no longer felt comfortable or longing in this city. I no longer cared that I would not be back home as much. I was angry. I am angry. NYC isn’t yours. I was there long before you were mine. Now I see you everywhere on every street and hide with my heart in my throat, terrified I will have to face you. Not knowing what I’ll do or how I’ll feel.

Every time my phone vibrates, stops for a couple of seconds loading a song, lags stuck on a screen, I think; “it’s him, he’s calling.” But it’s not you. It’s never you. You are following my command perfectly. And so you should.

Sometimes I miss you. Sometimes I really wish I was blind, deaf and dumb and could just give in and crawl back to you and pretend I can be happy while you surely find other ways to mistreat our relationship and myself.

I know I can’t. I know I am going to destroy both of us if I come back. I know you are no different than before. You are no longer the epitomy of love, trust and care. You are – a liar.

I want to scream it over the rooftops and rip the blindfold from our “friends” eyes. No longer would you be able to walk around these streets acting as if I merely left you because we “fought too much”, no longer would people just casually shrug it off and move on as you publicly engage on someone else, repeatedly.

You came crawling back after you cheated and I stayed.

You came crawling back after, instead of trying to fix us and begin again, you slept casually with someone else.

You came back every so and so to check if I had changed my mind, but yet never did anything to change yourself or make up any of the damage caused that spurred this horrible breakup in the first place.

You came crawling back after the girl you were drooling all over for everyone to see rejected you after she made you think you almost had her. You deserved that, to be played like a fool as you do with me.

You came back when you achieved some great personal accomplishment you longed me to acknowledge and congratulate.

You always come back. But you come back selfishly. Never to help me. Never to love me. You just come back and with yourself, you bring more and more hell for me to stand through and run after.

I miss you. I miss you so much and then my mind pulls up all the stupid things you did, the stupid things you said, the overly incredibly selfish actions you shoved in my face. I don’t miss you then. I drown in a sense of guilt, for not being able to save you, to save us. I suppress the nausea I get from thinking of all the moments where you were or were trying to be with someone else. And I hate myself for caring. For acting like this is more important. Like there aren’t so many worse things in the world.

To think that we were brighter than the brightest sun. A perfect example. Now you’ve left me burnt out and dead, floating around in cold dark space, waiting to be eaten up by a merciful black hole. How dramatic and hopeless my life has been made for this. I daydream about the day when it stops. When it all just seems like a silly distant memory of a stupid man who was really just a boy and who broke me long ago; “I almost forget” I will say, almost fondly for what was good once and can only be vaguely recalled.

But an injustice IS an injustice.

And I will not be able to forget how you could do such things.