My Rediscovery of Me

Remember that time when I was up at 5 a.m. doing stuff I didn’t really understand and I accidentally deleted this journal?

Three days and some sadness later, here it is, up again, minus that one post I wrote at 4 a.m. right before I lost it.

(That post was about God.)

“…thinking how many dishes have i broken this week?
in an attempt to not break myself …” -Andrea Gibson

Number of dishes I broke this week: 2.

–

Something I wrote at a museum recently:

“too many people, too much heat (an experience I don’t often feel), too too sacred a place to share — no, to experience together — nothing is too sacred to share, right? — but experiences sometimes demand alonedom, singlehood, even if only briefly.”

–

Something else:

“After our lovers storm
your tongue tornadoes my breast”

–

I step on glass. I don’t feel it. I bleed. Repeat.

–

I hung out with a friend to(yester)day. We had coffee, and then we went to this and then here. And then I walked to work, about 40 blocks. (It took an hour, and it was amazing.)

He and I talked about a lot of stuff. At one point, we were talking about dating in New York and I said, “it’s awful; isn’t it awful?” He agreed. We shared stories, kind of, and continued to agree on how awful dating was. And then I said something about how it’s only awful for me when I realize I don’t want to be with the person I’m seeing but don’t end it. He said that didn’t apply to the situation he was in.

I’m still thinking about all this. Is dating in New York awful? I think it ties into how isolating the city can be. But I don’t think it’s hard to meet people. I meet people all the time. It’s hard to meet the right people. (Yesterday, I took myself to a movie, a bookstore and dinner at a burger place. Just as I finished eating, this man walks by and then in, straight to me, and introduces himself. We talk a little — he tells me he’s a painter — and he gives me his number. When I get home, I Google him. He’s 49. That isn’t old, but it’s not what I want.) Helen says I get bored too easily. Sia says we INFPs are never quite satisfied. I just always go back to the knowledge that I’ve let a lot of love go. That makes it easier for me to just experience things as they (or we) come or don’t come.

–

I found out that one of my aunts died following her circumcision. She was 7 or 8 years old. Another aunt died in childbirth, also shortly after her circumcision.

My great-grandfather wrote an autobiography. I found it in its entirety online. I started to read it but I was too emotional, so much was opening up to me and I had to breathe.

–

I have a celebrity crush. (Well, really her character on Fringe.)

–

And sleep, soon, I hope.