A few years back, I wronged a girl. A sister, if you will. She handled it beautifully, and said something that has sat with me since then. I introduced myself to her, innocently - and believing that I had all the power - she responded simply with "I know who you are."
I am deeply sorry. My only excuse is youth, inexperience - I didn't yet know what it was to have your heart broken. I hope it's not, but I'm sure the sting is there. Years after I've moved on and found blissful happiness. And I did that.
It's among about 3 things in my life that I truly regret, and absolutely the most heinous of the three.
I am so deeply sorry. I wish I could say it to you.
You gave me the tools to find forgiveness and understanding. I thank you for that. This week I've found the way to forgiveness, to peace. To understanding. It's a hard lesson to learn and tough pill to swallow and every other cliche out there - but I've found it. After hurting in the way that I hurt you.
Thank you, and I'm sorry, N.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Panic is setting in.
I know that I have trouble keeping perspective on things. "This too shall pass"...I KNOW it, of course - but in that moment when everything inside seems twisted outside and I just want to scream and tear at my hair and generally melt down, it's not so helpful - those things that I rationally know. So these days I'm having a little trouble keeping the panic down somewhere around belly level - not letting it surge up into my chest, my throat, finally spewing tragically out of my mouth. Incidentally, my stomach's hurt for days - but I have a feeling that's better than letting loose my demons, my internal disasters on the entire world. What might feel good is curling up in a ball and crying for a few weeks. It most likely would feel awful though, as those things do - puffy face all stopped up, red, and blotchy - eyes worn out and dried out -
Usually, if I can pull the thought train up to a stop right around this point, I can take a deep breath, blow out the smoke, and come back to myself, to the world of enjoying the small miracles, the everyday joy of living. But not always - I'm trying it right now and it doesn't seem to be working. I'd like to start shrieking and crying in fact. I won't. But that's where I am.
I'm sleepy. I'm working too many jobs and I've been working too many jobs for too long and I'm highly educated (not TOO highly...), I'm talented, I'm hard working - and I don't understand why I keep doing this to myself - working myself to the bone for a few dollars here, someone throwing me a little bone there...it's pathetic. And I'm acting as though I'm a worker bee. Like I have nothing true to offer but all of my time and energy. And of course, everyone works their asses off, but often people get to at least enjoy a beer after work with their colleagues. I, on the other hand - have to run off to another job - never getting to enjoy or reap the benefits of the inside jokes, the comradery of working your asses off together.
I get one day off a week (most of the time) - and lately, B. has been working especially hard on those days. Which means I virtually never see him.
I'm feeling more outside of things than ever. I'm exhausted, and can't seem to figure out a practical way NOT to be exhausted. I don't have five minutes for a phone call with a friend, much less an actual social encounter. I'm an outsider - everywhere I am, and I just want to go inside - curl up, share a cup of coffee and a laugh.
I miss those days - the days of sharing things.
Usually, if I can pull the thought train up to a stop right around this point, I can take a deep breath, blow out the smoke, and come back to myself, to the world of enjoying the small miracles, the everyday joy of living. But not always - I'm trying it right now and it doesn't seem to be working. I'd like to start shrieking and crying in fact. I won't. But that's where I am.
I'm sleepy. I'm working too many jobs and I've been working too many jobs for too long and I'm highly educated (not TOO highly...), I'm talented, I'm hard working - and I don't understand why I keep doing this to myself - working myself to the bone for a few dollars here, someone throwing me a little bone there...it's pathetic. And I'm acting as though I'm a worker bee. Like I have nothing true to offer but all of my time and energy. And of course, everyone works their asses off, but often people get to at least enjoy a beer after work with their colleagues. I, on the other hand - have to run off to another job - never getting to enjoy or reap the benefits of the inside jokes, the comradery of working your asses off together.
I get one day off a week (most of the time) - and lately, B. has been working especially hard on those days. Which means I virtually never see him.
I'm feeling more outside of things than ever. I'm exhausted, and can't seem to figure out a practical way NOT to be exhausted. I don't have five minutes for a phone call with a friend, much less an actual social encounter. I'm an outsider - everywhere I am, and I just want to go inside - curl up, share a cup of coffee and a laugh.
I miss those days - the days of sharing things.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
10 years later...
Things are going beautifully - Summer's here(ish)...I'm learning to always add that "ish" since I've lived here...in gorgeous Colorado. I went to my first Red Rocks concert with new and dear friend Kate on Tuesday. It was REM, Modest Mouse and The Nationals. What an amazing place - it's like all your dreams come true. You know how, you see something absolutely beautiful, you're standing in a moment of true natural beauty...and you're thinking "all this is so perfect, it could only be SLIGHTLY better if there was a soundtrack...some live music..." Well, when you're in Red Rocks - you don't have to think that. And there is this huge hill of beautiful people, and there are stuffed pretzels :), and you're sharing it with a good friend, and life is good. Yeah. That's what it's like - it's like all the best things in life at once. That's Red Rocks.
Things are constantly busy - I'm directing a short piece for the TCG convention, and that's amazing. Next week is the convention and that promises to be incredible, invigorating, and incredibly sleepless :) Yesterday I had training for the Denver Center's summer program - it's a little strange not to be IN CHARGE of the summer camp, I have to admit - but this program is amazing, it's a well oiled machine and I can't wait to do it, and learn so much.
Brian's shooting a bunch of films, and today a wedding, AND rehearsing non stop for The Zoo Story...oh! I start MY Zoo Story rehearsals in two weeks as well. Wow - where does time go? Before we know it, we'll be returning from Ireland and ready to get going on the next big project!
Yeah - life is good. And I'm 28 this year. I always thought I'd be having babies by the time I was 28 - but then you know, life happens, and I couldn't be happier about where it's brought me. It is, however, the year of the high school reunions. My Vicksburg reunion (Warren Central High School - the Vikings) was Memorial Day weekend. I didn't go. I considered it, for a minute, but I didn't even graduate from that school anyway - ultimately, I caught up on some hours at Oilily - and called it a holiday :) However, MSMS reunion is in October - and before that - the girls of the classes of '97 and '98 are having a weekend reunion as well. I really kind of want to go to both. I was looking at pictures today and suddenly couldn't remember my senior prom. I think that had a lot to do with the lemon drops that Bri and I were shooting in the bathroom (is there a statue of limitations on confession for that sort of thing??)... Let's see - my date was John Imes. We'd been going out for a month or so, but he'd just left me for another Kate (last name, don't currently remember...she became a photographer, we met up again years later when she was shooting for the JFP...cool girl, certainly not worth the bad feelings I held for her). Still, we decided to go to prom together - mostly it was about my girls - Breezy, Julie, Lauren, Anna (were we still friends then, or had things gone sour?) We called ourselves B.I.T.C.H. - and we were. Absolutely. Funny all the things that seemed so important then. I think that Prom was at the Air Force base...dinner beforehand??? can't remember... Party afterwards? REALLY can't remember...I'm sure it was at a hotel somewhere, yes? After the '97 prom debacle with my mom - everything else sort of pales... I remember my dress - hideous - pale purple, actually a bridesmaids dress, but we finally bought it after hours of searching to no avail. The pictures are ludicrous. John Imes was about 5 feet tall. I am about 6 feet tall. The photographer had me stand behind me with my arms over his shoulders - he looks effiminate, I look amazonian - not the way an 18 year old girl imagines herself at all. Senior prom was sort of a disastrous memory all around. And yet, a fond one.
As, it turns out, are most of my MSMS memories. I remember that it was often terrible - getting by on no more than 3 hours of sleep at a time, working harder than I've ever worked before or since, knowing that I was rushing harder and faster at actually FAILING chemistry no matter what I did...heartache, heartbreak, the gossip and the tole that it was taking on all of us. The sadness when your friends broke under it, the seeming intolerance and rigid dictatorship of dorm rules, the absolute frustration of indorm, any punishment, when you were already under so much. I KNOW THAT. I know that sometime in my senior year I started driving home every weekend just to sleep for days at a time, I know that I begged my parents to let me come home sometimes (they would have, if I'd meant it), and cried in the middle of classes. And YET, despite all of that. I loved it there - I loved that time, and I have nothing but fond memories of MSMS. My beautiful, dear Julesberry just found me on facebook and we've exchanged a few emails. It makes me happy - nostalgic - and glad to share these particular memories with these particular people.
Getting my first tattoo, then sneaking over to my favorite teacher's house to show her (they filled up a beer huggie with candies and sang Happy Birthday). Sneaking out with Tanya and Carson during the letter ceremony to get Happy Hour Sonic Rte 44 Fresh Lime Slushes. Drama conventions, roommates, meals in the cafeteria (thankfully the only time in my life I've routinely eaten my meals in any type of cafeteria), East Bank, West Bank, Lake Lowndes, Ann Lee's - just getting in the car on Friday evening and knowing that you had approximately 6 hours (depending on your priviledge plan) of your own - amazing how memories start to flood back as you begin to think about it, write about it.
I probably won't make it back for the reunions. Lame, probably - but there's so much PRESENT life going on, who can take the time to look backwards? Still, I bet I can make an hour or two to sit down and go through my old scrapbook.
Things are constantly busy - I'm directing a short piece for the TCG convention, and that's amazing. Next week is the convention and that promises to be incredible, invigorating, and incredibly sleepless :) Yesterday I had training for the Denver Center's summer program - it's a little strange not to be IN CHARGE of the summer camp, I have to admit - but this program is amazing, it's a well oiled machine and I can't wait to do it, and learn so much.
Brian's shooting a bunch of films, and today a wedding, AND rehearsing non stop for The Zoo Story...oh! I start MY Zoo Story rehearsals in two weeks as well. Wow - where does time go? Before we know it, we'll be returning from Ireland and ready to get going on the next big project!
Yeah - life is good. And I'm 28 this year. I always thought I'd be having babies by the time I was 28 - but then you know, life happens, and I couldn't be happier about where it's brought me. It is, however, the year of the high school reunions. My Vicksburg reunion (Warren Central High School - the Vikings) was Memorial Day weekend. I didn't go. I considered it, for a minute, but I didn't even graduate from that school anyway - ultimately, I caught up on some hours at Oilily - and called it a holiday :) However, MSMS reunion is in October - and before that - the girls of the classes of '97 and '98 are having a weekend reunion as well. I really kind of want to go to both. I was looking at pictures today and suddenly couldn't remember my senior prom. I think that had a lot to do with the lemon drops that Bri and I were shooting in the bathroom (is there a statue of limitations on confession for that sort of thing??)... Let's see - my date was John Imes. We'd been going out for a month or so, but he'd just left me for another Kate (last name, don't currently remember...she became a photographer, we met up again years later when she was shooting for the JFP...cool girl, certainly not worth the bad feelings I held for her). Still, we decided to go to prom together - mostly it was about my girls - Breezy, Julie, Lauren, Anna (were we still friends then, or had things gone sour?) We called ourselves B.I.T.C.H. - and we were. Absolutely. Funny all the things that seemed so important then. I think that Prom was at the Air Force base...dinner beforehand??? can't remember... Party afterwards? REALLY can't remember...I'm sure it was at a hotel somewhere, yes? After the '97 prom debacle with my mom - everything else sort of pales... I remember my dress - hideous - pale purple, actually a bridesmaids dress, but we finally bought it after hours of searching to no avail. The pictures are ludicrous. John Imes was about 5 feet tall. I am about 6 feet tall. The photographer had me stand behind me with my arms over his shoulders - he looks effiminate, I look amazonian - not the way an 18 year old girl imagines herself at all. Senior prom was sort of a disastrous memory all around. And yet, a fond one.
As, it turns out, are most of my MSMS memories. I remember that it was often terrible - getting by on no more than 3 hours of sleep at a time, working harder than I've ever worked before or since, knowing that I was rushing harder and faster at actually FAILING chemistry no matter what I did...heartache, heartbreak, the gossip and the tole that it was taking on all of us. The sadness when your friends broke under it, the seeming intolerance and rigid dictatorship of dorm rules, the absolute frustration of indorm, any punishment, when you were already under so much. I KNOW THAT. I know that sometime in my senior year I started driving home every weekend just to sleep for days at a time, I know that I begged my parents to let me come home sometimes (they would have, if I'd meant it), and cried in the middle of classes. And YET, despite all of that. I loved it there - I loved that time, and I have nothing but fond memories of MSMS. My beautiful, dear Julesberry just found me on facebook and we've exchanged a few emails. It makes me happy - nostalgic - and glad to share these particular memories with these particular people.
Getting my first tattoo, then sneaking over to my favorite teacher's house to show her (they filled up a beer huggie with candies and sang Happy Birthday). Sneaking out with Tanya and Carson during the letter ceremony to get Happy Hour Sonic Rte 44 Fresh Lime Slushes. Drama conventions, roommates, meals in the cafeteria (thankfully the only time in my life I've routinely eaten my meals in any type of cafeteria), East Bank, West Bank, Lake Lowndes, Ann Lee's - just getting in the car on Friday evening and knowing that you had approximately 6 hours (depending on your priviledge plan) of your own - amazing how memories start to flood back as you begin to think about it, write about it.
I probably won't make it back for the reunions. Lame, probably - but there's so much PRESENT life going on, who can take the time to look backwards? Still, I bet I can make an hour or two to sit down and go through my old scrapbook.
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