If there is anything I do have to say about the past 2 or 3 months is that it has been one of the most different journeys I have been on in a long time. Not to say that I'm through, but the past 90 to 100 days have been fast, euphoric, a study in endurance and, maybe, just about the most needed time I've had in my life.
My trips back to Seattle lent me the opportunity to say that I had made a mistake. I went back on my own accord for New Years and had a blast. Then a couple of friends had sent me plane tickets to visit and to watch the NFC Championship game and the Super Bowl itself. I mean, where would my life be if I could not watch the Green Bay Packers through their NFC Championship and winning the Super Bowl at Madison Pub?
Afterwards, I have spent most of my time in a sort of cocoon where I thought and wrote poetry and transcribed novels that I had written. I got a collection of poetry on Amazon Kindle and plan to get 3 of my novels on there in the process. That's my goal. I've edited and posted about 3 videos on my You Tube channel, with plans to work on at least 2 more before I can come up with other ideas. I've worked on some simple photography with plans to do more. This creative burst has come out of me and I'm both happy and proud. I'm not going as far as I want to go, but I guess that will take a little time. I've got to take care of these small projects first so that I can step into some bigger shoes.
Anyway, I mention the all of this because it has come out of a swirling devil that has spun about me for a bit of time since the end of December. That swirling devil spins around from the fuel of 3 components, which has given it strength. Not enough to over-power me, but enough strength that has given me pause to think.
The first component: my roommates, Patrick & Neil. They decided to move in together to build a life and a home. I thought it was good for them to move to the next step. However, as much as they seem to be into each other there is an unrest there. Deep in there. Since I moved to California, Patrick & Neil have constantly argued, broke up and stopped talking to each other. At first, I thought it was just a couple's thing. Then I discovered that it is a Patrick & Neil thing. Neither one want's to confess that he may be wrong. Neither one is willing to listen to the other. Neither one convey intention to work on the relationship based on the fact that there are two of them involved. By the time Neil moved into the house at the beginning of December, they had decided to break up, yet again, right before the holidays. Then they decided to wait until after the holidays. And once the holidays were over, they were back together. Now, this has happened twice since New Years and I was there to listen to them both. The only thing is that the story is always the same - the argument and basis and talking points and catalysts are always the same. I gave up. I can't take it anymore. I try to listen, but only with a half-hearted ear. They both want my advice, but they use that against each other. I can't get into the middle and, since my return from Seattle, have made that known either verbally or through silence. I'm worn out. Their friends are worn out. And, still, neither one is ready to communicate. I mean, really deep-heartedly communicate. I try my best to keep my distance, but I can only go so far especially when the kids are involved. I love those kids, but I can't be the glue to hold them all together. I have a life to re-build...once again.
The second component: my fuck up. Okay, I've said it before and I will say in again: my sudden decision to move back to California was a mistake. Yeah. Easily said. But since going back to Seattle 3 times in the frame of 6 weeks, I realized that I fucked up. I mean, really fucked up. I had it good. I had a life. I was a part of a community unlike I've ever been in my entire life. So many people had tried to talk me out of moving and I asked myself why was I moving. Yes, I was a mess. Yes, I couldn't write or draw or create. However, in the same realm: I had a whole fucking lot around me. I don't know if my creative side would have ever been re-born the way it has been over the past 3 months but I gave up a whole lot. I know I won't be able to get it back, but it sure is (and will continue to be) a lot of fun rebuilding it. I want to go back to Seattle. Nothing will be the same, but I think that's the way it's supposed to be. I want to go back having moved on - having become a little more stronger. I think that moving was just what I needed. Maybe I should have taken a month to have a nervous breakdown and went back to my apartment and Madison Pub and my volunteer work and my friends not complete, but a little more fresher. My trips back and my friends have made me understand that I belong in Seattle.
The third component: my broken heart. Somehow, my writing poetry and locking myself in my room to escape my roommates and watch movies and a burst of creativity has led me to wake up one day and realize that my heart was healing. I always thought that I would wake up one day to a new life and discover that my heart has healed and life has moved on in a different direction. That's what I remember from the past. Yet, this time, I feel the progression. I feel the change. I feel the repair. During my first return to Seattle, one of JD's friends (a nice guy whom i still have some friendly connection with) had come up to me and stated that the real reason I moved was because of JD. I tried to tell him that it really wasn't. He persisted and I told him maybe a tad, but not a huge reason for my decision. Now that I think about it, I was probably a mess because I was, too, worn out back there. Everyone wanted something and they wanted it when they wanted it and in their way. Whether it was favors or sex or gatherings. I just wanted a little bit, ya know: to live, to love, to fuck. I did not present what I wanted with a bag of tricks or a bowl of phoniness. I was being honest. Arrogant, but honest. But my biggest hurdle is this: where will my heart end up? Through a series of events and encounters, my heart was closed. Unexpectedly, it was opened up and quickly smashed. Now, do I continue with a new chamber around my heart or do I let it run free? Feeling the things I did when my heart opened was amazing! And I wonder if keeping my heart alive will deem it vulnerable? I ask myself that whenever a guy flirts with me or when I flirt with someone else. I ask myself that from sexual encounters and the exchange of phone numbers. I don't want to be a block of ice, that's one of the reasons I stuck to my rushed plan to leave Seattle. I know that when I return to Seattle I will have healed and become stronger. I'm just wondering if someone will come along between now and when I'm ready to return home?
I am so happy that my creative spirit has been re-born. It's hard to buckle down with dueling boyfriends and playful kids and job-hunting and insomnia and constant crap from Unemployment always stomping their feet around me. I try to find the time, sometimes even force it. I don't want to loose it. I want to see how far the return to my dreams will take me.
I guess no one but me will know that. I guess no one but me can work on it. I guess no one but me knows how important my dreams are, so I guess no one but me can work on them.
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