Blue birds fly, so why can't I?

http://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2010/03/21/magazine/20100321-soliders-bedrooms-slideshow.html?hp

I stumbled upon this.

I am obssessed with this idea to write a play or short story about the mounments we create in our own homes to those who have passed away.

Example, my brother's old room.

Whatt follows are just some very general and very ideas.

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The room with it's rich navy walls and white corvette poster had been there everyday of her life.
Nothing had ever really changed in this mosulemem. The furniture orantation was probably the biggest switch. And the continually addition of crap into the space. If her mom didn't want it anymore or if it was going to be gone through later it all went in that room. Just like the memory of her brother.

His younger sister had never known him. He was 18 when he passed away. He had been running with friends on his college campus and quite suddenly collapsed. Or at least that is what she had been told. Little hints had been dropped here and there to her that maybe it wasn't just a massive heart-attack that killed her brother. This hints had mainly been dropped by her once dying grandmother, who in drugged induced hallicanations would look at her and mumble something like "You know your brother was taking a lot of streiods when he passed away. That's what caused him to have his heart attack." Her grandmother would then breathe deeply, with that nausating breath of sickness. Her eyes would glaze over and at times you would swear she was dead. Then suddenly she'd reveal another skelelton from the family closest.

The trouble was his sister never met him. She was born two years after his death. So when people would express how sorry for her loss they were she'd simply reply "My family appericates it but unfortunately I never knew my brother." It was like as soon as someone mentioned death everyone feels sorry for anyone involved. The problem is sometimes you are assoicated with death but you aren't affected by it. Everything is jsut sort of numb because you have no connection with the deceased even though you might even be as close as brother and sister.

The room was eerie to her, it housed some type of spirit or remain of what her brother once was. But, she couldn't quite place the enegery. She felt she couldn't because she never really knew him. It was a bit like like going to a memorial an not knowing what it was for. There was always a disconnection for her, ever present and nagging like a bad cough.

What she never rally truly comprehended until now is that just two short years aftr her brother passed away she was born. Her mother was still in the greiving process for the majorty of her life. She never quite understood those implications on her life till now. That was why she was always so nervous and worriesome.
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I think it's just fasincating those photos or rooms full of life but sterile and empty.
It's an amazing juxataposition.

Meditation with a Mint Julp.

She had gotten carried away. Her body felt like is was lulling along on top of dewy mist, akin to walking while in a drunken haze. She was always a sucker for a man who could really work a suit. Not just wear a suit but really owned the suit he shrouded himself in. She had almost an eccentric obsession with men's fashion, the clean lines and loose fit. Nothing was ever too tight or too over powering. A man could just put on a suit and suddenly he would instantly gain more glances from women. She longed to find a man who wanted to wear nothing but suits even though she knew this was an utterly ridiculous fixation. But, she couldn't help herself. Business men and business attire were her fetish.
Most would find all of this in one word pathetic, a sort of prehistoric preservation of the early tertiary 1950's period. Which during barbaric cave men ruled the land laden in Brioni or Brooks Brothers. All the while wielding giant gold gilded pocket watches and stainless steel monogrammed money clips. Clips that would unfold only at the mention of their spouses allowance. Her personality wasn't dwarfed by the 1950's female persona. On the other hand she was quite out spoken and kept to herself just fine. She didn't need a man nor really desired one. She just enjoyed men. Thoroughly. Utterly. And completely enjoyed everything about them. There was something she couldn't quite explain about the appeal of the delicateness of cuff links , a tie clip, or a nicely detailed handkerchief.
Perhaps she should have been born a man. But, then she wouldn't be able to worship the world of fashion without be called a fop she mused. No, she knew she was indeed supposed to have been born a woman.
A woman who longed for a man who could wear a suit. One who got as captivated by The Great Gatsby as she did, a man she was pretty sure she'd never find. Then again we never wholly ever get what we ask for...
Then again if she ever did find this man he'd be more then deadly to her health.

City Life

Growing up I only wanted to move and live in NYC. It was a dream of mine. I wanted to live in a big city and be part of that atmosphere and that scene. It was a different lifestyle. Something new and exciting.

I went to New York and loved it. Had a slight nervous breakdown while I was there and left hating the city. Not, because I didn't have a good time but because I was afraid I'd lose my first boyfriend.

So I changed my dream. I wanted to be that guy's girlfriend for as long as I could. At 16 I wanted to marry him. Stupidly, very very stupidly. That relationship ended.

I found another boyfriend and prevented myself from falling for him. I let him fall for me and removed myself till I couldn't hide the fact I really liked him from the beginning. I moved to a rural town where I appreciated the beauty and simplistic lifestyle. I acclimated to school life fairly easy. Made friends and had fun and lost grip of that boyfriend. I changed my life again to hang on to him as long as possible. In the end he broke up with me because he "fell out of love with me." He put me through and on again off again hell.

So I changed my dream again. I imagined moving to the beach and being close to the water. Living there and getting as far away form the city life as possible. I dreamed a 60 yr old retirees dream. Not because that is where I really wanted to be but because I wanted to escape to a time where I had a flood of memories from a time when I was utterly happy in that previous relationship.

Somewhere along the way I lost my dream of moving to New York, to a city, and settled for wanting to be someone's wife. I settled for a dream that wasn't my own. Yes I want to be married one day and have a family. But, not tomorrow.

A mistake my father and mother made. They gave up there dreams because everyone expected them to get married because they had dated so long.

I can't repeat this mistake.

For once in my life I just want to move somewhere. Maybe the West Coast, like Seattle because I really LOVED that city. Best of all the worlds, the beaches in California, the Mountains in the North the beautiful peaceful Pacific to the West. But, wherever I go it won't be because of a man. It'll be because MY job requires it. My LIFESTYLE warrants it.

I will not let another person's life rule mine. Because that isn't a relationship I want.

I want to meet someone who has similar dreams as me. I don't want to force myself to be a square peg trying to fit a round hole. I've tried to be the femme fatale, the stepford wife, the indifferent non-caring girl.

I am none of these things.

My heart is so big it hurts sometimes. The simplest things amuse me. I laugh at everything I find funny. I love to work for the things I love. If I have no creative outlet I am unhappy and I became depressed. If I can build it I'd rather work with my hands then have someone else do it for me. I love to have control of a project. I will listen to anyone as long as they are willing to listen to me analyze everything OVER and OVER and OVER and OVER. I wear my heart on my sleeve when it comes to my family, children growing up, homeless animals, and people in need. I speak my mind about everything I have an opinion on because I believe the moment you stop speaking up for the things you believe in is when you give in. I get bored very easily with something that doesn't kept my interest. I want to travel everywhere I can. I love to do spontaneous things just to see someone smile. I very hardly think of where something I do will get me. Instead I wonder if it will make someone smile and make their day better. I want to stay in school and learn as much as I can for the rest of my life. I can't stand a day where I just sleep and not learn anything new. I fight for the things I love longer and harder then most people see or realize. I don't believe in giving up. I want to own my own house, I help remodel. I believe in blood, sweat, and tears to get what you want, only then is it really worth it. I want to publish a written work of some kind. I want to ride horses again. I want to get a license to carry a weapon and be good with it. I want to read the books I keep buying. I never want to forget what it's like to be amazed like a child. I never want to lose touch with childhood. I can not stand to ask for help for anything. I will avoid asking for help till it is absolutely necessary, it usually results in me doing something utterly ridiculous to get over it, like scream at the top of my lungs in the dead of night in a vacant lot. I am a fixer and see giving up as a sign of defeat. I want to earn the things I want because I did EVERYTHING possible to get them, because I exhausted ALL avenues to get to them. I want to be the cool aunt whose nieces come and stay for a summer in the city with her.

Most of all I want to do the most of this on my own.

If I am lucky enough to find someone then I want a man who looks at me and respects me for the knowledge and kind heart I posses. I want a man who annoys me and I annoy him but we love each other anyway. I want a man who makes me laugh instead of cry. I want a friend and a lover together, not separate. I want a man I can laugh while naked if we fall out of the bed together. I want a man I am not afraid to be a blubbering romantic around. I want someone who stands in my way when I want to slam the door and act childish. I want someone who will push me and challenge me and keep me on edge. I want someone who I respect because they constantly force me to think. I want someone who won't let me run, someone who will run with me and not after me. Someone who doesn't want to tame me and make me wear pearls and push me to be a soccer mom.

Mainly, I want someone who I don't have to force to "fit" into my life. Someone who just fits.

In those jeans...

I was talking to friend of mine the other night over drinks when I was asked a pretty personal question.

"How many people have you been with?"

Maybe it was the smoke and the liquor or the fact that the person had already asked me this question some time ago but I answered.

(I won't answer that on my blog because it is the internet and that is just down right odd. Plus if you know me really well and you are truly my friend then you know the answer to that question. And real women never should kiss and tell. )

Immediately after answering said question I put it simply.

"I am picky."

For a long time when I was still heavily influenced by Catholic guilt I attributed my "prudish" nature to my belief that you only did it when you were in love. Hindsight, disproves that completely. I am not advocating going crazy and sleeping with everyone that gets your panties wet or your rod stiff. I don't and never really will advocate that lifestyle, you are just begging for an STD and an earlier death. Instead, it takes a lot for me to be with an individual. I might not "love" that person but I do have to trust them. I feel like as teenagers we confuse those two emotions. The first person we date for a long time we quite often LOVE.

OMG I LOVE HIM!!! HE IS TOTALLY PERFECT!

You know EXACTLY what I am talking about. But, as we grow older we "fall" out of love, when we really weren't in "love" to begin with. Maybe, the reason we were with them was simply because we trusted them enough to give them that part of us. I am not saying you didn't love the person at the time or possibly at least care for them but in the big scheme of things you probably just trusted them. That is why I don't kiss and tell. That is a private act between to people that trust one another. No matter what anyone says it's a sacred act. I don't mean sacred as in matrimony I mean it sacred to the body, period. You should take care of yourself it is the only body you have after all. Anyway, back on topic! Yes, it is wonderful to be with the one you love, but in this touch and go soicety sometimes the only time you feel alive is when you are with another person. Not just physically but mentally as well. Our society is so fleeting. With blogs on fashion were thing are in one day and out the next. With the internet and electronics constantly getting faster and upgrades to better products till barely month old products are now obsolete. With the news and media being all about what's new and a buzz word. With cities growing bigger and bigger and the likely-hood of you knowing your neighbors in a 40 story pent house in New York rapidly decreasing it isn't hard to imagine why we a people cling to the tangible to feel alive. Some psycholgists even say the reason people disfigure themselves is to feel alive. To feel a rush of pain, one of two real things left, pain and pleasure. ( In extremes of course. )

Yes, eventually I want to hear someone tell me how beautiful I am in the heat of the moment and really BELIEVE them. Will that be anytime soon, I highly doubt that. Yes, I really do want to believe that I am an amazing person but truth is hard to come by in this day and age. Truth and tangible sentiments are rare commodities. Something I wish I would have known when I was younger is that compliments are for that MOMENT in time. Just because someone says you look beautiful doesn't mean you always look that way. It's mean for that fleeting moment and that is why you shouldn't let compliments go to your head, because they are temporary.

I saw a staged reading of a fabulous play tonight. It was called Dead Man's Cellphone by: Sarah Ruhl. I love her as an author and have been waiting for this stage reading so I was beyond excited with anticipation. There is an awesome monologue within this show where the main character Jean talks about how for so long she tried not to own a cellphone. She spoke of how having a cellphone meant you always had to BE THERE and the more you were THERE the more you really disappear. What I love about this author is how frankly ironic and true all in the same breath she can be. She spoke about how sad it was that people tell one another that they love each other via text message and then where does it go? It's floating around in the atmosphere within thousands of other electronic messages and reminders to pick up the kids from soccer practice and remember to call your grandma.

We as a society don't put pen to paper anymore.

I've been really obsessed with idea my history professor professed the first day of class. That the closest thing you can ever get to really understanding a person or what it was like to be there is to WRITE IT DOWN. Written word is so unbelievably powerful. I mean I sit here in my tiny apartment typing out this blog post that will be on the internet for the entire world to see. That is crazy. But, what happens if the internet implodes and goes away. Yes, the same thing happens if your house catches fire and your journal is there in the midst of the flames. Both have a non-permanent basis. It's just crazy to imagine it all I guess.

I guess the point of this blog is to further express my mindset right now. I am trading in my morality based beliefs for ones that I actually thought about. It's part of growing up and that is cool in my book.

Hate

I wish that I would stop having what I term as flashbacks. By flashback I mean a sense memory. I see some exchange happen between two people and I a thrust back to a memory of Stephen and I. Then I become angry and bitter.

I don't have these everyday but they strike when I least expect it.

I am going to write a letter to "clean my kitchen sink". I have this metaphor I live by, I view my life like a sink full of dishes and when it gets to gross I know it's time to wash them. Thus, cleaning out all the crap of my life.

Dear Stephen,

I hate that you don't even care enough to even attempt to be my friend. I have tried to be your friend and not interfere with your life. It appears I have been replaced on every level.

I thought you were my best friend. One of the people I could always count on and someone who made me a better person because you pushed me. Someone it felt right to be with and now I can't even give you a Christmas present without you pushing me off an entire month.

It makes me feel like the three years we were together was a joke. That the feelings you felt were a lie.

It's been a solid year without you in my life. Its been a solid year of being single and pseudo dating people. It's been a solid year of hell.

It's been a year of loss.

A year of anger.

A year of being denied most of the things I wanted.

A year of hurt.

A year of tears.

A year of silent suffering.

A year of self loathing and self doubt.

A year you don't even care to ask about.

A year in my life you will know nothing about.

Sincerely,
Courtney

p.s.
You are a spineless jerk. You stood me up for your Christmas present because you were afraid to face me. I don't have time for cowards.



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I know it's almost a week after New Years but I want 2010 to be a year of healing for me. I didn't ask for anything for Christmas and I made no New Year's Eve wish. I don't pray very often. I view "religion" as spiritual mediation. Whatever gets you through life is what you should subscribe to, regardless of what anyone else says. But, because I know no other words for it because of countless years of Catholic schooling, I "pray" for the strength to make it through this year. I "pray" for the ability pursue my dreams and get out of this funk.

And to be honest. I "pray" that I forget you faster and faster each day. Because I don't have time for you or for liars.

I found out tonight that for 22 years of my life I have lived literally 5 minutes away from one of the coolest people I know.

She lives two blocks away from my great uncle's house. I have driven that way an innumerable amount of times.

And I only found this out tonight.

I wonder how my life would have been different had I know how close she in fact did live to me. We would be better friends? Would we have had sleep overs? Would be best friends now?

She and I are similar in personality. I am pretty sure we were the same growing up. Painfully awkward and very aware of it. But with a big heart.

What I different life I would lead if I had only known 5 minutes away was another friend waging my same battle.

What a different life I would be living had I gone to Baton Rouge High.

But everything happens for a reason right?

At the moment I am super obsessed with the song Laughing With by: Regina Spektor.

No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one's laughing at God when they're starving or freezing or so very poor

No one laughs at God when the doctor calls after some routine tests
No one's laughing at God when it's gotten real late and their kid's not back from that party yet

No one laughs at God when their airplane starts to uncontrollably shake
No one's laughing at God when they see the one they love hand in hand with someone else and they hope that they're mistaken
No one laughs at God when the cops knock on their door and they say "We've got some bad new, sir,"
No one's laughing at God when there's a famine, fire or flood

But God can be funny
At a cocktail party while listening to a good God-themed joke or
Or when the crazies say he hates us and they get so red in the head you think that they're about to choke

God can be funny
When told he'll give you money if you just pray the right way
And when presented like a genie
Who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus

God can be so hilarious
Ha ha
Ha ha

No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one's laughing at God when they've lost all they got and they don't know what for

No one laughs at God on the day they realize that the last sight they'll ever see is a pair of hateful eyes
No one's laughing at God when they're saying their goodbyes

But God can be funny
At a cocktail party while listening to a good God-themed joke or
Or when the crazies say he hates us and they get so red in the head you think that they're about to choke

God can be funny
When told he'll give you money if you just pray the right way
And when presented like a genie
Who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus

God can be so hilarious

No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war

No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war

No one's laughing at God in a hospital
No one's laughing at God in a war

No one's laughing at God when they're starving or freezing or so very poor

No one's laughing at God
No one's laughing at God
No one's laughing at God
We're all laughing with God

Fingernail clippers

Why can't I be content with what I've got?

Why do I wish I was more like her? Because then maybe we would be together?

Why do I think she is better then me?

Why am I bitter and jealous that she has shared more with you then I ever will?

Why am I jealous that she has impacted your life so much and I clearly didn't even scratch the surface?

Why do I feel like she is living some romantic comedy/meaningful life story and I am the hopeless romantic watching it?

Why do I allow this to matter so much?

I will never be her. I will never share those memories or even come close to them with you.

And this sucks because you actually want to matter to someone you like. In the end we all want to go the distance because we are all secretly hopeless romantics.

Living on the border or naive and frighteningly realistic is a bitch.

Psychology tells us that growing up leads to disillusionment. You realize you really aren't that special and that things will happen to you. We as human beings suck that up and move on and become adults. I hate this. And yet I allowed myself to smile and blindly accept it all.

I am worth more than this.

Even if it is just to me.

I can't give myself away.

The one of the saddest things to come to terms with in life is that you can not recreate moments. No matter how hard you try the lighting won't be the same. The look in your partners eyes won't equal the original luster. We are living a series of unattainable unrepeatable moments. And yet we constantly try to recreate and live them all over again. It is a vicious cycle.

This is why Christmas as an adult isn't the same.

Psychology tells us we should enjoy the new memories and new moments and live in them. Until we long for the comfort of the old ones.

Living is the most fucked up thing you will ever do.