and if you shake your heart enough, she will appear. tonight i think i’ll be staying here.
ok, so i know i promised you a super sleuth story. but, after a big huge date night like meal (cheese, wine, salad, wine, butternut squash linguine, wine, and some chocolate thing in a coffee cup that was like half cooked brownie mix, ie:heaven) i am in a food coma, which is affecting my patience for my own stories. alas, my friends, the crime scene murder mystery will have to wait. ok, you’re right. not murder.
so, this ‘feeling’ thing i guess gets you somewhere. like, through things. embracing them has apparently made me move forward. not on, because well, that suggests like, getting over. and this is something (and i wrote someone just then, and had to correct. total freudian slip) i don’t want to get over.
so yea, i’ve moved forward. and it is what it is. but this time, in a ‘i’m not putting up a wall’ it is what it is, ignoring feelings as a way to avoid disappointment, or heartbreak. but a different kind of is what it is. like a ‘it is what it is,’ forgot i wasn’t thinking about it way. like it pleasantly, and nondescriptly dropped off my list of things to remember to think about. and that was, nice. well, i didn’t even realize it really.
until this morning. when i got out of the shower, at 6:22 am, and *f*l*a*s*h* you were there. in my head. like, why? just there. in the front of my brain. and then i realize that 14 minutes earlier i awoke from one of those completely and utterly real dreams that later, when you remember it, you can’t remember right away if that memory was because it happened, or because you dreamed it.
and i sighed, embraced it, and kept going, kept moving. and proceeded to have a totally, outrageously busy day at work. meeting with my boss’ boss, employee year end performance reviews, 45 minutes total of non meeting time in ten hours, plus ninety five “must do today”s on my list kind of day. an life went on.
until in a double whamie kind of way jason schwartzman began singing to me on the burnt orange sunset drive home through berkeley while staring across the bay at my city. he sang, “for a second there i thought you disappeared. it rains a lot this time of year… and miss you, i’m going back home to the west coast. i wish you would have put yourself in my suitcase.”
and i forgot again, if you were right there, in the front of my brain, all over again because it happened, or it was a dream.
i felt, and therefore learned, two things today: the west coast is home. and it was a dream.
last night was a night that campfire stories are made of. well, maybe not campfire. maybe, um, coffee, or having beer, or ice cream, or whatever.
it involved an east bay pick up, a mocktoberfest costume purchase, a pizza party, a middle of the night drive across the golden gate, a meteor shower with comet tails, cozy laying with three on the hood of the focus, ghoststorytelling, laughing, a moment of common obsession for a 1996 movie soundtrack, playing the air piano and violin, approaching a garage door crime scene, super sleuthing through the crime scene with a 1.5 hour alarm count down, a blue bottle coffee and banana nut muffin, east bay drop, and off to work.
this super sleuth story deserves a full, well written post. but, i’m sleepy. so, please, handle those horses, and your detective story curiosities will be settled tomorrow eve.
“i think that neko case should be playing everytime i look at the stars.” – matthewfleming
tonight i am defying the logic of a 5:30am weekday alarm and driving up north, across the gg, in the meeeeddddddiilllleeee of the night to see the leonid meteor shower. with ebMatt and jess.
welcome night to remember forever, and next day to wish i were sleeping.
last night i left my credit card at the bar. i was sober. and tired. it was one of my favorite bars so i called at 1:54 when i realized that i left it, which was as walked in the door to my house. so today i had to go back to retrieve my trusty companion.
i decided to bring my camera. and am i ever glad that i did. the perish trust, an awesome antiquey store on divisadero, was open. i strolled in to peruse the typewriters, as i always do, and was just consumed with love for the place. per usual. and then i just went for it and asked. i said, “do you mind if i take some photos in here?” and he said, “oh of course not. i mean, this is the magic time. with the sun where it is, and all.”
we’ve been walking sideways, waiting for the cold days. finding strength in numbers, on the ocean floor.
lean mean thirteen.
it’s friday night, and i’m at home. alone. and was loving it. until 20/20 came on with a segment of true honest to goodness crazy old cat ladies. then i started to fall victim to thinking about what i am supposed to be doing because it’s friday. then i turned on music and shut out the ’supposed’ to thoughts.
i’m happy where i am. in bed, with laptop, tv on mute (for company reasons only), indie folk playing, alone, in my studio apartment in sf. the only thing that would make this better, ok, well i guess THAT was the wrong way to start that sentence, as a zillion things entered my head. try again: the one not so ok thing with this moment is my upstairs neighbors that are ruining my life with their hardwood floors, no rugs, three dogs, wooden shoes, constant vacuuming, unnecessarily loud conversations, and 95 people living in a 14×15 ft room. phew, got that out of me.
either way, i’m ok. with life. and right now. in fact, i’m good. and thinking about love.
a girlfriend of mine had a date this week, that she thought went really well. and was waiting for him to text, or call, or contact. and i suggested that maybe she text him. and she said that she’s always the one to contact, and this time she wasn’t going to. and i was right there with her. for quite a while that was me. and we are very similar. so i told her i got it. and then she retweeted something on twitter in response to me, that really really got me thinking. she said @stephdub RT Dating Tip: He who calls more has the most interest and the least control. I can’t say it enough…let HIM call YOU!
and i had some weird sort of view of myself, from what seemed like years ago, but in reality, i don’t know when this girl left. but that tweet made me realize it was for real. my immediate response was enlightening.
you see, i realized that it seems like, in dating, in big cities, as successful smart attractive intelligent people, we have forgotten the real purpose of dating. well, at least what i think a lot of us want the purpose to be. to meet someone with whom we connect.
it has turned into such a game. a game of power, and control, and winning. but that has really just manifested from loneliness, and missed connections, and longing. i want it. i want that someone that i connect with, to be here, with me in sf. she wants it too, to be with her. and so on.
we get so wrapped up work, and life, and success, and winning, that we forget to stress the importance, and allowance of opening up, and making ourselves available for connection. i say we as in society, not her, nor me, individually. we place so much pride and value on success and power, and the way to get that is through rationale and strategy. we have completely devalued, and thereby, disallowed any sort of emotions and feelings, in space where feeling are what are supposed to be leading the way. winning the game.
maybe it’s all this feeling i’ve been letting myself do. maybe it’s a recent reconnection that reminded of its value. maybe it’s seeing someone i care about go through the exact same thing that i am. maybe its longing. maybe its hope. maybe its trust. maybe it desperation. but i want to remember now, the purpose of dating. to meet someone. to connect. to laugh. to share. to support. to enjoy. to embrace.
let’s get back there. together. maybe, yea?
we’re thinking with our brains, we’re living in our veins, we’re swimming in our skin, grinning through our pain. here we go.
ok, so i’m pretty tired and not really in a “here are my semi-put together, semi-intelligent, semi-interesting thoughts” place. so this post will be short. but here none the less because of nablopomo (when i commit to something, i’m all in).
this morning i had a root canal. and right now my face just hurts. two and a half hours of mouth open drilling, sawing, sanding, needling, poking, and icky stuff my body is just done. i’m not a wimp, but sometimes physical pain just manifests itself mentally and emotionally. so i’m just tired and a little cranky.
in other news, after a mere 4 and a half hours of work…. i got most of my old stephdub.com posts back up. which is a good good thing. i’m feeling better about that.
but due to looking at this exact wordpress screen for 4.5 hours already today, i’m a little burned out.
it is, however, time to get back into planning and goal setting and new adventure acquiring for stephdub. i had a nice two week come down, regroup, period and now need to dive back in.
i think i want to try and find another writing outlet. like more formally. and publically. maybe a mag column, or something?
and definitely still wanting to do radio/broadcasting. if anything, i’ll have to get a podcast up and running again.
so if anyone of you know of any leads at all for the above things. remember meeeeeeee. :)
i think… i’m sleepy… and my face hurts… and yea. that’s it for tonight.
there really ain’t no difference, in michigan and maine… if you ain’t here to see this, i’m missing just the same.
open all night (seveneleven)
so i have 61 minutes to write this. until it’s tomorrow. and there is so much i want to say. and so much i can’t, in a public forum. for two main reasons. one, she will think everyone will know. two, he will know.
and mostly, he should know. a friend of mine, that i ran into at the bar in my neighborhood (place pigalle, <3) said to me tonight, “steph… what?! you have to tell him. he has to know. i mean, from all the advice you give……. he has to know.” and that probably sums up my dating life post B. cause in my last serious relationship, in a schema fitting way, I was the needy one. what?! i know. i was independent, and self able, and that didn’t matter. for the reason that we fit each other’s bad relationship habits, he treated me like i was needy. so what am i now (or was until self enlightenment through blogging as therapy)? the one that plays it too cool. the one that is not allow to say what, and how, and why, most importantly, exactly when.
so, i’m working on that. the feelings part. and then, ugh (even harder) the telling of the feelings part. so yea. i feel good about my progress.
the second thing, though, is that i have realized (in the same capacity of listening to my intuition, even when it’s confusing) that other people’s opinions, and thoughts, and concerns, and ‘perspective’ (yes, in quotes) is really only relevant when balanced with my own thoughts, feelings, and needs. or any one’s.
what this really leads to is this- only the two people involved really, truly, know what is shared, felt, and exists in the relationship. therapists, and enlightened friends can offer advice, and suggestions, and perspective…all they want. but the only people that know what is right, are the two in the relationship.
and more often than not, other people’s thoughts, concerns, opinions… they are wrong. they absolutely do not have the whole story. but, nevertheless, they will entice you to spiral into questioning yourself, your relationship, your relationships that they have nothing to do with, and ugh.
the only people that know are you and them. he and she. she and he. she and she. he and he. enough is enough.
and in an environment where people love to talk, but also be incestuous… i learned the hard way. well, people that spiraled far far past anything that they knew, or had to do with… you were way off. way, way off. see second paragraph of this post, ok. it has nothing to do with anyone you know. or think you know.
i’m too scared to ask the right questions, and too tired to fill the right shoes. so i’ll take advantage of the blues.
tears rolling down your face. the vapours all up in the place. guess i’m alive today at least, while i ventilate.
ten reasons why i’m still here…
i haven’t really been talking much about dating on here the last few days. for a few reasons. well, first, i’m not. dating that is. shocker. broken record on repeat over and over- SF dating is hard and different and weird and blah. there are tons of other reasons. mostly, since i’m doing nablopomo i thought maybe you’d get reallllly bored with dating and relationships and want to hear me talk about self awareness, astrology, personal growth and love. hah. well tough. you got that anyway.
but tonight i’m going to talk about a totally weird and totally normal thing that is part of dating, and mating. it’s funny, because i wrote a paper in college on this exact subject, and here i am about to use what i learned. i didn’t pay for that.
BO. as in body odor. we all have it. well, could. we wash prematurely to send it the message that it is not welcome. and we wear chemically created goo in our underarms to avoid emitting the odor when we are not washing. and perfume/cologne, we all wear that for different reasons. either way, in our culture, BO is just plain gross and stinky.
except when it is not. i will bet that, unless you were raised in a completely OCD household, and have a obvious lack of perspective in life, you’ve smelled someones BO and thought, oh, that’s not really that gross. it just…is. because we all emit pheromones, smells specific to our body chemistry, that mix well with others’. or don’t. and not so oddly, something that would smell super stinky to someone else, may not smell that stinkified to us.
and, applying a scientific perspective to love (mating, same thing right?) for moment, i can clearly see how this human ‘function’ would prove to be really very handy. some people have smells that you just can’t stand. and some have smells that you oddly enjoy, and may bring emotional/mental comfort of some sort. my ex had a smell so strong (not BO, just body chemistry) that after we broke up i had to wash my sheets three and four times until i could sleep. my mom has a comforter at her house that we used once at christmas during a visit and it held his smell for probably a year and a half after we broke up. we all have a personal scent. and that can sometimes, usually actually, include perfume, shampoo, lotion, laundry detergent… but even if it includes those outside scents, they are mixed with our body oils and chemistry to become “our smell.” and it’s these scents that help us unconsciously, at an genetic level, decipher who should and should not be our mate.
i have a friend that doesn’t wear deodorant. a thirty year old male friend that just doesn’t do it. he has decided that if someone can handle his man stench, then that’s a positive sign. and, mostly, i agree with him. there is something to be said about someones scent, even if it is BO.
this summer i had a rendezvous or two with a boy that one of my guy friends thought had terrible, no good BO. gag inducing BO. and though said boy rode his bike all day, walked barefoot in the park all too often, and wore the same clothes for days at a time, his smell never really bothered me (mind you i had witnessed the shower time, so i knew he wasn’t, in fact, completely dirty).
and last week, i was nearly, for lack of better word, intoxicated by the smell of a particular someones post bike ride sweat… more than once. i believe it is part of the bigger plan to help us attract a mate that is right for us.
smells. we have them. we are dirty, messy, living creatures that ooze and leak all sorts of questionably fragrant substances. so when they don’t bother you, and in fact may even entice you, you can know that you’ve at least got that right.
however, last night, the group of 5 grown, large, and hairy men next to me rocking out at the pixies shows were. not. that. case. i gagged more than once.
thanks for that, universe. the reminder that most of the boys in SF just plain stink.
you know i had my share of doubt, until i saw the vapours in your eyes.
