Dissapointments and Fantasies

So yesterday began with the anticipation that later on that evening I would be attending my very first concert. Now how has such a music afficiando as myself lived to be 27 without ever having gone to a concert, you might ask. Simple, grow up in Sierra Vista where nothing exciting ever happens, and you're broke all the time. So this concert was to be my first, and was presented to me by my 16-year-old roommate (in spirit), Cheryl. She burst into my room on Wednesday night all a glow with excitement, her flush and giddy anticipation making her positively irrisistable. "Okay! You wanna go to a Backstreet Boys concert with me on Friday?!" That's right my friends, she said Backstreet Boys. I looked at her incredulously and she continued her proposal speedily as if to silence my refusal with her rush of words. "They're amazing seats and it's only $50! C'mon!" I felt her excitement begin to settle on me like the adreneline pumped frenetic delirium of a really good roller coaster. So I accepted her invitation and spent the day yesterday planning my outfit, applying fake nails, carefully attatching my hair extentions (realizing how much of me is fake with a small measure of chagrin, and subsequently shrugging it off, because the end outcome is so worth it), and listening to as much Backstreet Boys as I could to get in the groove. Two hours before the concert was scheduled to begin and half an hour before we planned to leave the house, we got news that the concert was CANCELLED! And so there I sat at the crest of the tallest drop of my roller coaster-stuck. However all was not lost. For what should be premiering that night but what was sure to be the sexist, most tempting, daring, fantasy catching, and let's admit, cheesiest movie of the year. But of course, I'm talking about Twilight. Our dissapointment over missing out on the musical stylizations and gyrations of the Backstreet not-so-much-Boys-any-longer, was numbed at the the chance to watch the sexy and erotic tale of the Cold-One and his extraordinarily common-place lover. And we were off! And did it live up to the hype? In my estimation, yes! Edward oozed sensuality, brooding discontentment, and one irrisistable come hither stare after another. And his kiss skyrocketed up the hottness charts, nearly melting the film reel, and certainly melting me on my seat. And so though, the night may have started with dissapointment, it ended with fantasies.

I Am

I am a lover of the arts who delights in the asthetically pleasing joys of the world from good music that swells in my soul to great food that delicously swells my stomach.

I am a believer by nature who will catch the spirit of an idea, a legend, a story, a song, a volume of scripture, and be inspired by it.

I am a woman hurt, who has had better luck finding ladybugs in the grass than finding a good man.

I am the daughter of a girl who has always seen me as her emotional giant and spiritual predeccesor.

I am a sister of four uniquely gifted women; each of which have taught me great lessons.

I am haunted by fear of losing love before I find it.

Time to Clear the Clutter.

So the other night I had a remarkably vivid dream. There are dreams that are murky and convoluted; the kind that leave you in a fog when you wake up. And then there are the less common dreams that are so sharply focused that the colors in them seem brighter than anything you've ever seen in life, and you wake up exhausted from the sheer energy of them. That's the kind of dream I had, and it turned out to be very symbolic. In this dream, there was an extra room in our house that was completely empty. It was a living room, and for some reason it had been ignored and neglected by everyone up till then. Stranger still, was the fact that our other living room was so cluttered by furniture and fixtures that there was barely enough room to stand in it. So the dream consisted of me heaving and grunting while I pushed and pulled and lifted one item of furniture after another from the overly stuffed living room to the empty one. I ended up making both rooms cozy, beautiful, and each with a character all its own. And now people loved both rooms. I was exhausted when I woke up, but extremely satisfied. And the meaning of the dream hit me with an incredible force. I have an empty space in my life that has been neglected, and I've been waiting for someone to come fill that space. At the same time, I have so much clutter; so much excess that I just haven't prioritized and put in its proper place. But I can't just sit around in the clutter and wait for someone to rescue me, and fill my empty space. I have to stop neglecting myself, put things in order, and make every space beautiful, before expecting anyone else to feel at home in any of my spaces.

Haaaa!!! Simbangawa Eona Zii Teiabowa Heyahayeah!!

So, last night was Sabrina's birthday party, and it was a lot of toilet paper talk, tickling on the couch, tiny pieces of birthday cake, overt flirting, musical cards, a pregnancy announcement, and music video planning. Sabrina had wanted to do music videos with all us roommates most. She's been wanting to do it forever, and decided her birthday would be a perfect time. However, the plan was thwarted by too many people in our house, but she and I got to talking about it while sitting at the kitchen table. And Cheryl had the brilliant idea that we do the Lion King song. This is brilliant, because nobody knows the words to that song, at least not the beginning, which just sounds like a bunch of mumbling tribal chant. But wouldn't that be funny to have us all on video trying to fake our way through that part? I used to know it though, because I sang it in middle school choir, and so did Sabrina. So we were discussing this, and I said that the sheet music had all that written down, and I remembered a part of it. "All of it?" Cheryl asked me. I told her I remembered the chant. The part that goes, "Himaya manlingwana bana, but not the beginning" And then it just flowed off my tongue, sounding somewhat Chinese, "Haaaa!!! Simbangawa, eona zii teiabowa heyahayeah." I had no idea this would be so funny, but Cheryl and Sabrina got a good laugh out of it, and I'm hoping that we really do eventually do the music videos. Complete with costumes and choreography.

Almost a Year

It's been almost a year. That, of itself, is hard to believe. Why does everyone say that time heals everything? Surely there are some things for which time, is an inadequate physician. I think we only hear that over and over, because no one is willing to admit to any one, least of all themselves, that in the quiet moments, in the fragments of memory sparked by every day mundane images or sounds....smells; there is pain that still resides no matter how much time has passed or what we've done to mask it. It comes in shock waves when you least expect it. It takes your breath away, and for a split second it's as if not a moment has passed since your heart broke. I believe that those who have most successfully managed to dull their pain, almost to the point of immunity, did it without time having anything to do with it. Those fortunate people, those blessed and kissed by the Grace of God, found something to replace it with. The fact is that pain takes up a space in your soul. The rememdy is to replace it with something. But what? Not time. Time is nothing. It is not motion, it is not physical, it is not even empty space.
It's been almost a year, and my heart still throbs, my body still aches, and my spirit still feels severed. I know what can replace it. I just don't know how to do it.