This is how a heart breaks

Ever want something you didn't -- or couldn't -- have so badly that you could actually feel your heart breaking?

If so, welcome to the club.

Rules, playing fields and landmines

In the world of Waldorf (Santa treated this journalist to the second season of Gossip Girl), the ex who dates first is the one who wins.

But it's not winning when you date someone else or at least give dating someone else a shot and end up realizing that while, yes, you can move on, you don't want to.

All I can think about is what I want and what I'm not getting. I'm not enjoying myself or living in the moment. I'm not sure anymore if I can open up to a new guy. And if I do, what pace should I take?

Guys are scared easily, from my experience, but if you decide to let things unfold naturally, and to open up as you feel comfortable, they want you to open up right away. I don't know.

The thing is all about rules... When there are no rules, the playing field's riddled with landmines and the players, taking their lives into their hands.

I can understand why a player would wish to return to known territory. I mean, it's not exactly in my war plans. Just saying, I can understand why.

Q's Without A's

Are there any guarantees of a relationship's success?

Some relationships start out perfectly -- or as close to perfection as you can imagine (and let's admit, the beginnings of relationships are generally looked upon as having been perfect by the end) -- and end badly. Or even just fade; the fading of a relationship is worse than a bad ending. At least that's how I look at it. When two people let their relationship just dissolve, will they ever have closure? I'm beginning to fear not.

And what does this mean for a new relationship?

This is the sad tune I'm playin'

Here's part of the email I sent to my best friend:

I'm tired of being a fly on the wall at social events. I'm tired of being the girl who cries by the end of the night because she feels SO lonely. I've never been the girl who needed a boyfriend... But I am now. Because the more I'm left alone in my head, the more crazed and unlovable I become. I'm sick. Like I really feel emotionally sick, if that makes any sense.

I'm sorry I'm not really elaborating... I just don't have the ability to put the reasons and feelings into words (beyond these) at the moment...

Yeah I really can't explain further at the moment.

There's a reason I feel this way but does the reason matter?

If there were a breakup manual, a "Dump Him for Dummies," it would probably include a step where you send all of his stuff back to him. It happens in all the movies and my friends always send things back to their boyfriends when relationships end.

What if you aren't so sure it is over? What if you did not want it to end, but you thought you had to to cut your losses? What if you're still in love and you still want him to be the first person to know every single minute detail about your day?

I am sure you guessed it but yes, I am talking about me.

What a happy Thanksgiving it was. I broke up with my boyfriend.

He says he didn't see it coming. I had. For weeks, we had barely been in touch. I was wrapped up in my school work and writing and who knows what he was wrapped up in? He sure wasn't keeping me up to date. I felt like I was doing all the work in our relationship. And it got to the point where I wondered what I had done wrong, why he didn't seem to care anymore.

On Thanksgiving day, I decided I needed to be on my own. I made the choice that felt like the only right choice for me.

And god, was it hard. My mom said to do it like ripping off a Band-aid; quick and relatively painless.

There is no such thing as painless when a relationship comes to an end -- or at least a page break.

For a week now, I have wrestled every day with the urge to call him. Or Facebook him. Or IM him. Something, anything. Preferably to hear his voice.

But I do not know what he wants. As long as we were dating, we said that we would stay friends even if we broke up. Now I think that was just pillow talk, you know, those sweet things that give you hope while you're together but in the end have the same effect as lemon juice in a paper cut. It burns.

This part of my chest, the part where my heart is supposed to be, it burns.

I'm going to send him some of his things this weekend. Maybe, if I can work up the courage to even write a letter, I'll send a letter with the package that explains why I did what I did.

What the letter could not explain -- and what I have yet to figure out -- is whether I really miss him or am just lonely. It isn't that I don't care about him -- I really do love him -- but could the reason this hurts so much just be that without him, I don't know who will get me through this?

But since when does the reason behind the feelings matter more than the feelings themselves?

Helpless.

Watching Stepmom, with a headache, when I already feel bummed out for a reason I can't lay a finger on, probably wasn't the smartest idea I have ever had. Every time I watch this movie I end up sobbing.

But today I already feel like sobbing without having to watch Susan Sarandon suffer through chemotherapy while another woman becomes such a big part of her children's lives.

I don't know why. I should be happy. But somehow, I never really am. There's always something missing. And I feel like I've written posts about these same feelings a million times...

They recur constantly.

And I try to fill that void I feel. Probably why I've been working myself to the bone lately (two internships, writing for The Temple News, blogging -- although that's been sporadic lately, and for this I do apologize just in case anyone's actually reading this). I love writing, don't get me wrong but I think the reason I've been doing so much is so that I can avoid thinking about this void inside.

I cannot figure out for the life of me where it comes from. And it terrifies me that I can feel empty for some reason I know not of. If I don't know the root of the problem, how can I ever weed my life of it?

Emptiness.

Why?

Why?

Why?

I feel so helpless.

To squeeze or not to squeeze?

...Sounds like the title of a piece I could read at Rachel Kramer Bussel's In The Flesh reading series. But what I'm getting at, borrowing my language from a line in the 2004 movie The Girl Next Door, is this:

The question I'm facing right now: If I go through with this, will I regret it?

I am trying my best to figure out how to handle a situation that I never wanted to find myself in -- and yet it has happened again and again. How do I express my feelings so that I may find inner peace without permanently damaging my relationship with another person? According to Kelly, a porn producer in The Girl Next Door, the first rule of politics is this: "Always know if the juice is worth the squeeze."

As for me, I cannot figure out the politically correct way to handle this. I do not want to burn bridges. Especially not this bridge. It's not like it's the Golden Gate but still this bridge is worth more to me than almost any other. But what about this island-unto-itself, my conscience?

Can that be worth more than this bridge?

Sorry if I'm losing you amidst all these rambling thoughts. It's 1:54 a.m. at this exact moment and I cannot sleep yet I am not fully awake.

Now it's 1:55 a.m.

And I am no closer to a solution than I am to sleep. I wish someone would give me a remote control for my brain.

Consciousness in life-changing moments

"I have started to think that the great, decisive moments that broadly govern our lives are far less conscious at the time than they seem later when we are reminiscing and taking stock."

This is what Esther says in narration in Sandor Marai's novella Esther's Inheritance. When I first read these words, I thought how true, how right they were. Then I was not so sure.

I spend a lot of time inside my head. I agonize over things no one else might. I think things over and over and over. Granted the things I don't think that hard about -- whether to take a nap or to go to a certain place for dinner -- may be the moments that shape and define my life as opposed to the ones I think so hard about. Maybe that is how the importance or affect of a decision is determined; maybe the more you think about it the less impact it will ultimately have.

After napping for much longer than I had intended, I finally awoke at 7 and kicked it into high gear to get the the cafeteria on the other side of campus for dinner before 8 p.m. because I was bound and determined to get dinner and fourth meal tonight. I got my dinner at 7:30 and had a half hour to kill before I could get my pretzel and lemonade at Auntie Anne's. When I got in line at 8 p.m. I was two in line behind a football player, someone I have, um, followed -- you know, football wise! -- for a few years.

I had never met him before and as I stood there, wanting to say hi, I finally just -- and with very little thought at all -- tapped his arm and asked if he was in fact the man I thought him to be. Sure enough, there was my favorite football player talking to me, taking a personal interest (if only for those brief moments) in my background. All in all, we shared a few minutes of conversation before he jetted off to wherever, leaving with the words "It was nice to meet you. See you around." (Or something. I cannot very well be trusted to remember his exact words. I was dying of excitement.)

Granted, it has not visibly impacted my life -- and it is unlikely to since I have a boyfriend! -- and it may have had no impact at all, but it surely has the potential to and the decision to tap him was something I thought very little about.

Here is what I say: I have started to think that the great, decisive moments that broadly govern our lives are the those when the decisions are made instantaneously rather than agonized over. The more you think about it, the less it matters.

At least this is how it seems to work for me.

Doctor's orders.

Kay was stressed about a paper we have to write for J1111. So I told her:

"take three deep breaths. scream out loud. listen to a Gwen Stefani song or two. take a drink of water. shut your eyes for 30 seconds and tell yourself it will be ok. then plunge back in. doctor's orders."

With all the work I've been doing, and all the stress I've felt, I've decided this is my new de-stressing ritual.

Maybe this will work for you too. :)

Someplace greater.

"If you listen to your heart you may not finish where you'd planned, but someplace greater"

I wrote this in a poem once upon a time and my friend Jenny (she is also probably my biggest fan) has had this quote on her Facebook ever since. I am finally starting to see the wisdom of my words. I am nowhere close to being where I planned on being at 18 but the ride I have had -- while certainly rough at times -- has been worth it. Not only that, but I am enjoying, immensely, the place I am at.

I hope my words can have some kind of positive impact on you. If nothing, that is my goal: to better the lives of others.

♥

Is the air stale or is it just my writing?

Why does it seem that when things are good, I have nothing to write about? I really cannot quite grasp why my talent is so connected to my unhappiness. It's always easier to write well when things are all bad. And at the moment, while I'm drowning in schoolwork and wishing I had just a few more friends, I'm still sublimely happy. For the first time in my life, I'm in a good relationship with a truly beautiful guy and I find myself struggling to write... So it's not just about my happiness in general; everything in my life could suck, but if I'm romantically happy, I can't write. What is that?

I want to have my cake and eat it too. Why does it have to be one or the other? Well... I'm going to write whether or not I think it will be good. Maybe that's the only way to break this disturbing cycle. So please, pardon the next few posts for they may be stale and boring, irrelevant and insight-less, ugly and well... just disappointing. So sorry!

(Photo Credit: Me!)

Trust Issues

Why is it so difficult to let past transgressions go, especially when they could be hurting our chances with someone new? I find it so difficult to watch a friend struggle with trusting someone new because of old hurts. Lately, it is the very situation I have been finding myself in. I am watching as my friend Kay struggles to trust what this very new, very cute guy is telling her because she is so worried about protecting herself, and nothing I say or do will help her to trust while still keeping a close watch on her heart.

I have been in her place, scared and afraid, tormented by the emotional pain I had been put through because the people I trusted had done me wrong. I was scared to trust new people but by nature, I still did trust to a degree. That's the thing about me. I can't help but trust people. Even when I want to put walls up, I can't help but tear them down--or let someone else do the work--but usually the walls don't get but waist-high before I let someone in. And I'm not talking just romantically.

Why is it so hard for others of us, when for some (like me) it comes so naturally, to trust someone when they've never hurt us?

And why, when some people are so hesitant to trust a new person because of the things others have done, do others give second--and thousandth--chances to the very same people who have hurt them?

The only reason I can come up with is this: we make judgements about people every day, little split-second decisions about those we come into contact with. Some of these we question constantly and others we maintain, even when the people our judgements have been proven wrong again and again. So maybe the question is really: Why do some judgements stick and others don't?

I have no clue. Maybe you do?

Recognizing a Good Guy

My friend Kay has been asking me for advice in matters of the heart lately and it is a little strange to me. This is the first time in my life that I have felt like I had something of benefit to say to her and to others when it comes to love and relationships.

One of the things I have spent some time thinking and talking about lately is how to recognize a good guy. I used to doubt that good guys exist and proof of my doubt can be found in older posts on this blog. But now I am sure they exist. They may be rare, but they are out there.

So how do you recognize a good guy? Here are a few of my pointers:

1) He does not scare easily. You feel like and/or know that no matter what you say or do, he is not going to run away. It is important that you can be vulnerable and share things with him and that he be sensitive enough to understand.

2) He asks how you feel about things and not just that, but he honestly cares about your response. He wants you to feel comfortable in every situation and so he asks you how you feel about him, about the things you two do, about pretty much everything. Not only does he ask but he says reassuring things like "If you don't want to, it's ok; I won't force you to" and "I'm glad you feel that way because that's how I feel," which leads me to my next point.

3) You both are constantly on the same page. I do not mean that you do not disagree about some stuff, but on big ticket items, like your feelings for one another, you two feel the same way. If you notice yourself (or him) saying things like "I couldn't have said it better" or "That's exactly how I feel" or even "Wow, who knew we'd be so in sync," you have got this one down. (Be happy; this is a very good thing!)

4) He cares about his family and friends. When my boyfriend said the most important thing to him were his godsons, I knew he was a good one. Anyone who cares about the people in his life in such a strong fashion is bound to treat you right. That is just how I feel...

5) He makes you feel like you shine brighter than the sun and are more beautiful than the moon. It is important that he have the ability to make you feel like you are one of a kind -- because let's face it, dear, you are -- and when he tells you how beautiful, sexy, luminescent you are, you just have this feeling in your gut that he is not lying. Some guys say these things and do not honestly mean them. If you have had any practice with this rotten-apple kind of guy, you should be able to recognize when the right guy means these things.

6) He does not just talk about himself and the things he wants. He has a general interest in the things that interest you. This should be pretty self-explanatory.

7) He makes plans for you to meet the important people in his life. I have dated guys and never met their families, so for me, when your guy makes plans for you to meet his family and friends or constantly expressed his wish for you to meet them until he makes it happen, it is a surefire sign you have found yourself a good one. (This really goes hand-in-hand with #4.)

These are my best tips for now. As more come to me I will post them. In the meantime, any boys want to know how to recognize a good girl?

Enjoy Intermission.

Apparently, every time I go on Facebook, I see something that in my mind warrants my doling out advice. I should start charging for this stuff.

So my friend T from high school posted on her status that she is "fat and alone" and blamed one on the other. And so, after I told her to "SHUT. UP.," I wrote this:

"Loneliness is like the intermission in a movie. Sure they got rid of them, but I don't understand why. This is your chance to fill up on candy, drink some bubbly (either alcoholic or not), and just have a moment to think before the action starts again. Enjoy the fucking shit out of it."

These things just come to me... "Fuck, I'm good! How do I get these ideas? It's like a gift, you know? It's like I can't control it." (Sorry, couldn't resist quoting The Girl Next Door.)

Please enjoy intermission. :)

Most days now...

I believe I now know why the past year has been so challenging. For one thing, it spurred a personal growth the likes of which I have never experienced before. Secondly, this growth, I believe, has led me a little bit closer to the person I want to be and so now I seem to have found the person I always wanted by my side.

I am not getting mushy. And do not take this as clingy or something like that. But for the first time in my life, I feel like an adult who is in an adult relationship and I relish this little fact. Maybe it is too soon for me to say things like this and maybe I will jinx it but I highly doubt so.

There have been guys in and out of my life but I am finally dating someone whom I am sure will continue to be in my life in some way. I do not know what way that will be but I guess I should just take that as the most exciting part. I do not know yet where this is going and I do not really need to. I am just so happy to know him. I once joked (and wrote about it in a story) that I only find God when a guy's lips are on mine, but I am thanking God most days now.

...A scary thought just occurred to me. We have both lost people we care about (although I have lost less of them) and maybe it was through the losses that we gained each other. If this is the case, I feel I would regret saying that it was worth it, but for me, it's pretty close...

♥

Clueless

So an old... "friend" of mine says he wants someone who, even when things are bad, is better than the best thing he could ever have with someone else. He says this on Facebook. For everyone to read. Thus I felt the need, an obligation, to share with this person -- who once hurt me -- some advice.

I wrote: "Just some advice... The best way to have this kind of thing with someone is to make them know you think they're the best thing under the sun. If you can make a girl feel like she's worth more than the moon and the stars, you should have no problem keeping a good girl. And just another little piece: just because a girl is good doesn't mean she can't be everything you want, if you get my drift. Some people equate good girls with prudes. It ain't true. Haha. Anyway, it's just that I've found someone who does what I'm telling you to do and honestly it makes all the difference."

I do not claim to have much romantic experience but I am sure that this is good stuff I'm dishing out to him for free. Free advice. You'd think if you were given such good stuff -- and been told by another female friend that it is sound advice -- you would take it. But alas, my friend is an idiot.

He wrote back that he kind of did that with me -- and to what he is specifically referring, you may have more clue than me -- and that he "just" wants someone who treats him right. Yeah, him and every other person on the freaking planet. His next thought (which follows the first with no punctuation in between) that he lost someone "who i treated like shit nd changed my perspective on shit nd tried workin it out with another ex nd was just mistreated and im done with it." The one question I have about his statement that I should have posed to him was this: You think because you changed your perspective, the first person you stumble upon or back to will magically work out?

If he'd responded in the affirmative, I would have laughed in his face. Only because he needs to wake up.

There are how many people in the world and we just automatically assume that finding the right person is going to happen at the snap of our fingers? I used to be of the same camp; I won't lie. But the thing that I've realized is even if your soulmate lives next door, it won't (or at least shouldn't) work out until you work on yourself.

We ought to work on being better people. That's the problem. People seem to believe that being a good person isn't something you do, but rather something that happens to you because other people do the work. I think movies and books -- different kinds of media -- have fed into this belief; made us think "I'll be complete when I find him/her." It's bullshit though. No one is going to make you a better person. You've got to do it yourself. I should have told my friend this because if he's anything like the person he was 3 years ago, he's got a lot more work to do.

I'm not perfect but I work really hard to be a good person. I help people, I am kind, I do not judge (except in extreme cases, but like I said, I'm not perfect), I believe in honesty, I love people and worry about them... I do what I can to make my tiny world a better place. It upsets me when people don't put in the same kind of effort and expect to reap rewards that haven't even happened to some of us good people.

But then again, it's easy to be selfish and expect things to be given to you. What's hard is to be a good person and to work for good things and to never have them happen for you...

To bring this back around to the FREE, good advice I gave my friend, here is my response: "I understand, but still, sometimes girls need to be reassured that they matter to you before they can fully trust you enough to give you what you want. This may sound unfair, but the truth is once you do this and they open up to you, it'll be the best. Granted, some girls may take advantage of you but you've got to decide if the juice is worth the squeeze. You've got to go with your gut and decide if you think the girl is worth that trouble and hopefully she'll decide the same about you. You've got to remember that as much as your ego's been bruised, most girls you'll find have also been bruised so in most relationships, you're dealing with two sensitive egos. This is the time when you can act like a man and take care of a girl. If you do it well, she'll be taking care of you for a long time."

I hope he takes my advice. And I hope it benefits others because in most situations, we forget that there are usually two bruised or sensitive egos.

I'm just happy I'm happy now.

Belief

As I think forming your own belief system is part of growing up, I have been thinking lately about my own. Among the things in which I believe are the following:

+ Life is gorgeous and inexplicable.

+ I can only be me. Those who don't like it, don't matter.

+ Don't rush it. When the beautiful moments come, the suffering will have been well worth it.

+ Take the shot, have stugots. If you don't try, you may never win.

+ One of the greatest pleasures in life is to read.

+ Kissing is good for the soul.

+ Believing in yourself is most important. You can't fly until you believe in your wings.

+ The best collection in the world is one of experiences, not material possessions.

+ You should always decide what's right for you; follow no one else's moral code.

+ The human experience is universal.

The Curtains Part...

...to reveal a vulnerable young girl, stripped of her make-up, her connections, her ideals, her identity. She is nothing more than a scared girl with the highest ambitions who has given up the ghost, and is giving whomever is listening, the real story. The truth hidden behind the practiced lines.

Vered's real identity: Rosella Eleanor LaFevre.

She is a writer, a girl who dreams of being part of the literary big league, a girl who is working for it constantly. Something else she's just learned about herself: She's always lived the part of best friend rather than leading lady, just like Iris in The Holiday. She has lived her life for years, in relation to others. She has always been Kathy's daughter, Mike's daughter, Ellie's granddaughter, Lily's sister. She's just started to make her own identity, the large part of which are her literary aspirations...

I hate writing about myself in third person, so please pardon the uncustomary POV change. I do think that this is the reason I have such trouble with friendships. I often live the role of best friend. I give advice to everyone and work to fix others' problems, but no one offers me help. Hell, I don't even have problems... at least not in my "friends' " minds. People think everything is handed to me and yet I've worked all my life for anything I've ever wanted...

I'm just a person in transition like everyone else. I just know I'm tired of not being the leading lady.

"In my heart I feel that a legend is about to be born." -Mary, Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen (My guilty pleasure...)

The Mourning Tree

This is the tree in Lynnport beneath which I first mourned my Opa's passing. He passed away early Sunday morning. He was in his late 70s and died in his sleep.

My Grammy, Opa's ex-wife and friend, and I were housesitting at my Aunt Cindy's when a call woke me at 8:30 which is early by my standards. Grammy entered my Aunt's bedroom where I was sleeping and said she didn't know how to answer the phone. I answered it and Uncle Steve asked to speak to her.

"Your Opa passed away." The next thing I really remember was holding Grammy while she shook with tears.

The tears didn't come for me.

Shock was all I knew for the next few hours.

We tried calling Aunt Cindy and at first could not get hold of her. Then I called my mother to see when she would be with us because she was supposed to take me home that day. She didn't answer. Whenever we finally heard from her she said she was just then leaving and would be there around 2:30 PM. Grammy and I then travelled half an hour to her house to find my Aunt Louisa's phone number. Aunt Louisa's husband answered and so Grammy left a message.

Back at Aunt Cindy's house around 2, we waited for my mom to show and for Aunt Louisa to call. When mom did arrive, she and my sister were both wearing black dresses. How fitting, I thought. Inside the house, we sat them down, and Grammy said she had some bad news. Vienna half-jokingly asked if Grammy's twin brother had died. Whatever was said next, I don't know, but I'll never forget my mom's reaction to the news.

After Grammy said it, mom screamed. "NO, NO, NO, NO, NO!" over and over. Her face turned a shade of tomato red and tears streamed down her cheeks. Grammy rose from the arm of the Lay-Z-boy on which she was perched and hugged my mother. "It's ok, he's in a better place," she said. My sister went to the other side of the room and cried. I hugged my mother and wished she would stop.

Aunt Louisa called within moments. Grammy cried with her on the phone until she said "You go ahead. Cry for a while and when you're ready, call me back."

Then I went outside to call my dad back. He'd missed my call at around 11 and called back just when my mom pulled up. So now it was my turn. I dragged a chair from the deck to a shady spot under the tree above. That's where I sat, wishing I could cry. I told my dad the news and about mom's reaction and how I couldn't cry.

The tears finally came yesterday. There were two viewings yesterday; a private family viewing and a public one later that night. It's getting blurry now. The image that sticks with me is of my Uncle Steve, Opa's only son, leaning into the wall, his fist hiding his face from my view, sobbing. I don't know when the tears finally came. But they did.

Today, I sat with my dad through the service and military honors and I cried on his shoulder. He held my hand when I went back inside the building for my last moments with my Opa. I think I will forever be haunted by the feel of his leather hands and the cold, crinkly forehead I kissed.

But sitting beneath that tree, looking out over the valley and countryside, talking to my daddy and wishing I could cry over this loss that has already had such ramifications. It has opened holes in me that I could not have known existed. The loss of a life is something I don't think one ever gets used to. I wish I had more insight about it, but this is all.

Ugly queens and dramatic scenes

(I just found this -- today, January 24, 2010 -- and decided that it totally belonged on here so I'm posting it under the date it was written: June 10, 2009.)

Honestly, I have so many feelings about my impending graduation and the last four years I've spent at the Philadelphia High School for Girls. Mostly, though, I just can't wait for this all to be behind me because I can't take it anymore. The stress is getting to me. I could handle the academics with (almost) no difficulty but this whole "sisterhood" thing is a trip. Our class, which we're supposed to be proud of and represent proudly, is nothing but a big group of really mean-spirited girls. Most of the girls who will stand on that stage with me next Wednesday believe they are entitled to everything and for what reason? Some of them, I'm sure, have not worked half as hard as some of us have to get here.

Some of these girls stomp their feet and suck their thumbs and throw temper tantrums--as in the struggle over our graduation song. These girls are the same ones who moaned that we weren't graduating from the Kimmel Center as previous classes did and who didn't pay the twenty-nine dollars or sell pizzas to raise money for the Liacouras Center. These are the girls who don't give a monkey's a** about their classes but will shell out $210 for two prom tickets and spend hundreds on dresses, shoes, accessories, hair and nails but refuse to pay their class dues, money required from every student.

There are girls in my class who tell you they're your best friend and the minute your back is turned, will dump all over you. In fact, there are girls who you've never had a problem with who will talk shit about you--right in front of your face--to some girl you're having problems with just because those two are friends. There are girls who insist they are right--even when they're DEAD WRONG--and will roll their eyes if you answer a question correctly.

I've never been surrounded by a group, of any size, that was so filled with disappointing people. And I'm supposed to find something to be happy about in these last few days before graduation?

So few girls there are capable of the selflessness it takes to be a good friend. Everything is always about them. I admit I feel that way OCCASIONALLY--but when I have earned it and no other time than that--but these girls think everything ought to be about them. They will cry on your shoulder or tell you melodramatic tales about their sordid love lives but they give the cold shoulder to anyone who wants to talk about themselves for five minutes.

And I still can't believe there are girls with the gall to say another won't make it where she's headed when this girl is beyond prepared for her future.

Sick, sick, sick.

I'm so disgusted.

To the people who keep pissing me off, I say the words of The Academy Is..., "Let all your small steps expose your secrets." Those of us taking big leaps toward the things we want--the important stuff--will make it, whether or not you believe in us. So, whatever.

Naked v. Nude

Today, in Art, I discussed this work, titled Grande Odalisque by Jean-Auguste-Dominique Ingres, with my art teacher. In 1814 when it was painted, this painting and others like it were far too provocative. I am intrigued by human sexuality so immediately, this painting caught my eye.

My teacher, who had told me to find a painting I could turn into a self-portrait, told me that I couldn't do this painting. His explanation, aside from his want to keep his job, was that this painting was inappropriate even when it was made. He explained that because the subject is staring at the viewer of the painting; this he says is the difference between naked and nude. A "nude" subject is one that is unclothed and looking to the right or the left. When the subject of a painting or artistic work is unclothed and staring directly at the viewer, the subject is "naked."

The difference, one I had never considered, is so interesting. I wonder if this difference applies in life outside art... (Although I'm not sure if there is life outside of art...)

Big Bad Sex

Today, I watched La Petite Jerusalem with Mom and Vienna. The movie focuses mostly on a Jewish girl named Laura, living in a suburb of Paris with her sister Mathilde, brother-in-law, mother, and nieces and nephews, who struggles with the line(s) between her religion, her philosophical studies, and her burgeoning sexual desires. In the movie are many sex scenes and many sensual shots of Laura and of Mathilde with her husband.

At one point, Vienna turns to me as we were seated on the couch together and says "This is so embarrassing watching this with our mother." I laughed. Vienna has always been ill-at-ease with sex and with sensuality.

It makes me laugh that my sister can get so weird about watching a woman slowly roll stockings up her thighs or touch her bare neck. The thing is, I doubt that my sister is the only person I know who is so bothered by a woman touching her own bare skin or by seeing a scene where a guy kisses from her shoulder to her jaw. For one, I find it fascinating. I think sex and sensuality are beautiful (just not when it's my mother, ha-ha).

I am almost completely comfortable with my desire to be touched by a man. I am almost completely comfortable with my own body. Sure, I have just enough self-doubt that I am not 100 percent comfortable with these things.

That my sister can be so bothered by these things seems to me to be the result of -- and I keep saying it -- society's double standard of the sexes and sex.

Take just about any boy my sister's age (16) and you'll likely find that he watches porn on a regular basis, that he's done it with at least one girl, and/or he jacked off at least once today. Just as many girls as are having sex are not. Generally the girls my sister's age who have had sex did so because they were in relationships. Guys? I don't know, but I don't think that for as many of them, being in a relationship is a stipulation required to seal the deal.

With this in mind, I think more people should watch La Petite Jerusalem and talk with the daughters of the world telling them it's okay to want sex, to have sex, and to see sex in a movie.

Man's Fixation with Order

I have always believed that people believe in God and organized religion because they need some systematic way of looking at the world. People look to churches, synagogues, temples, and all manner of religious leaders and disciples to help give meaning and order to life. Reading a book on writing, Gotham Writers' Workshop's Writing Fiction tome, and its chapter "Revision: Real Writers Revise" by Peter Selgin, I found this great quote that I'm just so excited to share:

"For damning evidence of man's fixation with order look no farther than heaven; what are the constellations, but tidy boxes in which we've shelved the stars? The Big Dipper is cosmic fiction."

Before this, Selgin wrote that he writes fiction for the same reason some people believe in God: "to give meaning and order to life, or at least give it some shape here and there. Like many people, I'm uncomfortable with chaos and disorder."

Coincidentally, this is the reason (or really, one of several) why I write. Certainly one of the benefits of writing is the ability to make things happen the way you think they should, whether you make happy endings or more realistic, less fairy tale endings.

Predestination

Today I have been given much reason to think about cosmic signs and destiny. Usually when I have to make a choice, I look for cosmic signs to tell me which choice to make. Today, I took a chance on prom dress shopping. I thought if I find the perfect dress at the perfect price, I'll bite the bullet, pay for prom (pretty late...) and just go alone. I found the perfect dress and it was the last one of that style at the store and then the attendant who was helping me put it back on the rack and by the time I realized it, it was gone! It was a sign! I'm not going to prom.

Little things like this happen all the time. And sometimes the signs aren't to help me make a decision, but just to get me somewhere to make something happen. I believe in fate, signs, and deja vu, too.

I have deja vu all the time. It's this vague feeling or flash that tells me I have been here, seen this, done this some time before or at least I've dreamed it. My theory is that we live our lives over and over again. The one variable in my theory that I haven't worked out and am having trouble working out is whether or not things change in each lap around the track. I guess this is the same as asking the question: Do you make your own destiny? I don't know... I'm so confused about it all... 

Call Me 'Snarky'

Three chief complaints about people:

First of all, I am sick to death of girls who are my friend and will speak to me only when we are alone together. The same person of whom the former is true ignores me when she's having a bad day. I will not apologize for thinking that friendship is not just for the sunny days. When a friend is having a bad day and if I can't fix her problems, I always try to get her mind on other things. When I am having a bad day, I may not hide it, but I do not take it out on my so-called friends. That's just shitty. I AM SICK OF BEING SHIT ON BY PEOPLE.

Secondly, I am tired of people who avoid confrontation at all costs. I am not one for confrontation; I will admit it and I have admitted it, but when something seriously needs to be confronted, especially if I am in the position where I can ease the struggle, I attack the problem like a mad dog. I dislike hurting feelings, but if I was in the position where something true and seriously problematic needs to be aired, I would do it and not sit around wondering how I can not hurt anybody because they might be too weak to handle the blow to their ego that they so rightly deserve. I have been in a situation that has needed confrontation and the person of authority who is in the position to and has the responsibility to solve the problem has avoided dealing with it because he doesn't want to upset the idiot that has been fucking things up.

Third and lastly, I am enraged by one person (Bell) who has taken no responsibility or received no punishment for her negligence and who, in standing up for one single solitary moment to shoulder the burden which was meant to be shared with her partner, has relieved herself of the possibility of termination from her post. So I have resigned. Let Bell see how she likes the fucking pressure I have had for nearly a year with putting that publication together. She thinks she's been pressured all year? I'm the one who shouldered the fucking burden all by myself, day in, day out, night after night like Atlas, son of Lapetus, a Titan who was made to carry the world on his shoulders for warring with Zeus. I am the one who put in a million outside hours and ran myself around that school building, getting approval for one thing or another. She doesn't know the meaning of the word "pressure." I hope Bell falls flat on her face, that disgusting and ignorant ass.

I am still all ticked off but this is the end of my ranting for one evening.

Perfection: Perception Vs. Reality

People are essentially flawed. I know this and I hope you've realized it by now. That's why, in working on my new novel, when my protagonist came across a guy who started out as just a hookup but has come to read like the perfect guy, I got worried. The character is flawed, but since he's hooked up with my protagonist, he's only looked perfect and I'm afraid that what readers will take away from this is that one person can complete another. I am very wary of giving anyone this impression because even if it happens every now and then, it goes against my beliefs to write an example of such an instance.

I doubt very much that one person can "complete" another because I think that despite the fact that we, as humans, have flaws, we are complete persons. We might feel that we have holes, but these are essential to the human condition, I think. If none of us felt like something was missing, if we all have perfect lives, we would get quite bored quite quickly. If there was nothing to send us hurtling through life, no feelings or illusions of emptiness, nothing would ever change. Immanuel Kant believed life is the continual struggle to achieve perfection and once this was achieved, the universe might cease to exist. I'm really starting to believe it.

So to solve the dilemma of not appearing to tell people that it takes one person to complete another, I texted my friend Jenny, who I've known since middle school and who in freshman year was the first to read my first attempt to write a novel. I told Jenny that I thought the guy is too perfect and she asked if she should come up with some flaws for me. I told her it's weird because I've shown him to be flawed and I will show other flaws later on, but I feel like he's too perfect with my protagonist and I worry about the message that could send. Jenny eventually said, "It means that everyone is flawed but when you meet the right person, they see only the good so therefore you seem perfect."

It made amazing sense. Perception of perfection is completely different from the reality or presence of perfection. God, Jenny's a genius!

Frogs

Yes, I will always be just a little sad when I see a couple with chemistry out and about. But I am so tired of feeling like, at 17 (!), I am missing out on something because I don't have a boyfriend. You know, because I don't have some asshole who has greasy, too-long hair and lying eyes and who is shabbily dressed, saying he loves me while he paws at my clothes and pushes my head southward because all he really cares about is getting his. They are all like this; at least all of the ones I have met. Why would I need a relationship with one of these ill-mannered, non-hygienic fools to be complete?

The thing is I don't need one!

Every time a special girl friend of mine gets involved with a guy, he breaks down the walls she's so carefully built around her, gets inside her skin, her heart, her head, and then he breaks her. I'm the one who sweeps all the pieces up and Krazy glues them back together until that special girl, the one who was perfect before Jackass came along, can re-fire the pieces and fix what Jackass broke. I don't want to let some guy get in that deep. I do not want to fall apart and wait to see who will help pick up the pieces.

I guess it's kind of sad that I think any and all relationships could end this way, but I prefer to think of it as realistic. See, someday, a good, smart, strong man will come along and while I understand it's fun to kiss a bunch of frogs, there's no point in trying to date a bunch of frogs. Just kiss them, have fun, and move on. Don't try to make it last. Don't put effort into it.

Someday, I hope, the right guy will come along and I'll just know. Hopefully, this great guy will love me right away and see the real me. I'm just hoping...

Reverse Prejudice

Every year I have been in school, I have learned about prejudice throughout human history. I have studied, again and again, about the most referenced example of prejudice: that against black Americans on the part of white Americans. What no one tends to talk about is this: there is a counter-prejudice to this. I call it reverse prejudice.

There are actually two kinds of reverse prejudice as I see them.

Reverse prejudice #1: Black Americans (not all of them, obviously) are sometimes against white people, as if every white girl and white boy they deal with is responsible for the god awful shit that some old racist white people put them (well, usually their ancestors) through. I have never been prejudice and I have never made comments about someone's race or anything like that. This has always hurt my sense of justice, that people could lay blame like an oversize quilt over the whole of a race. It does not seem fair at all.

Reverse prejudice #2: This has only really come to my attention lately. It is when a white girl or white boy dates only black boys or black girls. How weird is that? Vin finally, after MONTHS of flirting with me, told me that he only likes black girls. He is Italian and English and Scottish or something. It blows my mind that he is only into black girls. (Not that there is anything wrong with this, it just blows my mind!) It has occurred to me that maybe he lied. Maybe he just said that as an easy out. But I would rather just believe him although the truth seems so twisted in my mind.

This Rose Has its Thorns (A Letter)

This letter is for all prospective suitors so that everyone one of them knows fully what they are getting themselves into, although I guess one could argue that because I do not plan on delving into the more positive things about my person that I am not keeping them fully abreast of everything.

******************

Dear _________,

I feel I must apologize for the fact that I am a mess. I am, simply put: intense, emotional, feisty, occasionally vindictive, introspective, inquisitive, occasionally stubborn but generally not, intelligent, dark, quick with a "burn," and I see too many flaws in people to be completely trusting or sociable.

One problem is I do not know who I am, or at least, I feel like I do not and so I will probably be constantly searching for who I am. As long as I feel like this, I will probably always question who you are and what I am doing with you and where it's all going. It will probably be very tiring for you and it will surely be tiring for me whether you notice me doing it or not.

Another thing is I really do not know what I want from a guy. It's the result of a lot of personal history. After all of the times I have been hurt by a guy, and after seeing all of the women I love get hurt by guys, I honestly distrust guys in general and, mostly, I distrust myself when I am with a guy.

Sure, you are not all the same. Sure, you are not going to hurt me. Sure, you love me or care for me or just think you could. Whatever. Whether you do it on purpose or not, you will hurt me. You will ignore me for a week or cheat or dump me for your ex or just leave when I need you and I will feel like I could die. I will ask myself how I could have let my world revolve around you. I am a lot stronger than I used to be, but not half as strong as what I need to be to be good in a relationship. Or maybe I am underestimating myself. Maybe I am too strong and I will not be the kind of girl you want. I used to be too amenable and self-sacrificing. I think this time, I will stick to my guns and I will not give in to anyone else's desires unless they match mine to the letter.

See, whichever way it plays out, I will be all wrong for you.

Also, I have a problem with letting people in. Either I will reveal too much too soon and you will run or I will wait too long to let you in and you will run away before I can (or you'll run away after I do and after you have determined that it wasn't worth the wait). My mom says I have not let anyone in lately and I do not understand. I have tried to be frank and still funny and I have tried to be understanding and fair and calm and it has gone awry. People always run from me.

My luck, you are the best kind of guy. You are the one (ONE!) guy on earth who knows how to respect a girl and how to love her and when to put her desires before your own. And now that I have found you (or now that you have found me), I have been through a bunch of bad ones and I no longer know how to be the right girl for you. Just my stupid luck.

Well, maybe I am all wrong as I sit here writing this. Maybe I am complete in your arms. Maybe I am the good girl I have always been. Maybe with you, unlike with anyone before you, I have figured out the perfect balance of slow and quick, or emotion and calm, of serious and fun. I kind of hope that this is all true, but I don't know if that's good enough for me. I do not think I can be okay with figuring out that it takes a man to make me a better person...

See what I meant about how messed up I am?

Sincerely,

Vered

Repression and Double Standards

I have been thinking lately about how repressed female sexuality is in today's society. It really should not come as a shock; the hypocrisy of lauding men who have sex freely and in turn criticizing women who do the same is fairly well noted, I think. But it goes further than that.

Young women are called promiscuous and are deemed to be "asking for it" if they are at all sensual or even just exploring the full meaning of their sexuality.

Furthermore, young women, most of whom are probably confused about their sexuality, can never be sure of what men want. Some guys want a girl with promiscuity out the ass and these same guys won't take seriously the same girl. It makes me think of Jena Malone's line "It's all too much to live up to," in Saved! She was referring to the strict rules laid down by the Father who was principal at her school and his interpretation of Christianity, but her words could truly apply to male expectations of women.

Other guys just screw you over, play games with your head and throw you away like a dirty tissue. I haven't yet met a good guy who was honest from the start about what he wants. I honestly do not think they exist. Mom said even at her age, male-female relationships are more about game-playing than they should be. It's sickening because I know what I want and I do not hesitate to go for it and I despise games, so obviously I have no luck with guys.

Honestly, and Dad, you can stop reading now, I just want to mess around a little bit. I want the freedom to explore my body and the bodies of others. I do not want to be labeled in a negative way for something that is completely natural, nor do I want to live a life confined to the expectations or limitations of others. That would be living a stunted, boring, noncreative life.

I am frank and I want to explore things and I refuse to be apologetic anymore... Just some thoughts.

By the way, that jerk Vin never called and did not reply to my text today. I am done being played with. I am not a toy, nor should I be. I do not exist to be his or anyone's play thing. I may have many queries about the nature of existence, but this is one thing I am positive of.

I just wish above all that there did not exist this double standard for men and women and that women did not have to quiet things like their sexual identity. That's the world I want to live in.

This is Dangerous

I am dangerously close to wanting nothing more than a boy... a certain boy with a cute smile, a nice body, and the rare ability to make me laugh, really laugh. It is beyond taboo for me to like him since he and a certain one of my ex-best friends went on a date once or so I've been told. It isn't even completely clear whether this guy--I will call him Vin, short for "Vincenzo" and evoking the image of Vin Diesel (just about the sexiest man on earth)--thinks I am anything special. See, he is totally the kind of person to flirt with anyone and everyone, but he has been flirting with me for nearly 9 months! If he's not at all interested, he would have stopped flirting quite some time ago, no?

Last night, I was out with friends and Vin was working. At our table, there were my two friends Tanya and Amy and Tanya's friend Kurt and his friend Brad, both of whom are Coast Guards. Vin kept flirting with me in front of all of them and I can't help but flirt back. I felt guilty because Brad was supposed to be my date, although I've never met him or Kurt before. Vin asked what we were doing or maybe it was Twin, another server I know who asked, and when I said we were going to the movies after dinner, he asked why I never ask him to the movies. That is such shit, too, since I asked him to see The Dark Knight and other movies and he would consent but never actually go with me.

Eventually we were heading out and Vin asked me about the day that I had my breakdown in the restaurant. He said he had seen me and didn't realize who I was until he was driving away and Twin told him it was me... The rest of our party went out to the doors and I lingered for a few moments to talk to Vin. I tried to talk seriously to him about his movie comment and he just made jokes.

When I got home last night--er, early this morning--I was texting while exhausted (probably nearly as regrettable as texting when intoxicated though I wouldn't know a single thing about that) and sent Vin a text asking him to call me today. Then I slept till noon and now it's 9:15 pm and he hasn't called. I am trying to remember that Vin has probably been working all day, is still working, and does not want to call while he is at work, yet I cannot help feeling like he will not call because he doesn't like me.

I hate these mind games that I feel so much the victim of. I am a beautiful, intelligent girl who should be worshipped and adored by a million guys and my ego is seriously wounded that I am not worshipped and adored, let alone that I never get the guys I want. I don't even want a serious, till-death commitment. I'm not looking for marriage. I really just want a friend I can have fun with and kiss and the fact that I even want or need this much from a guy scares me. So why in the hell would I want commitment?

Maybe all of this is just the innate desire most humans feel for that which they are not supposed to want, need, or have. Maybe I should stick with this thought and I will eventually overcome my want for Vin.

Rasa

I have been reading about this viewer-response theory of art called rasa in Vidya Dehejia's Indian Art book and I find it so fascinating. According to Dehejia, the concept originated some 1,500 years ago and was written in Bharata's work titled Natya shastra (which means "Science of Dance"). Basically, when it comes to art, "aesthetic experience rests not with the work of art, nor with the artist who created it, but with the viewer." The responsive viewer is called rasika.

Dehejia goes on and says, "Literally, rasa means the juice or extract of a fruit or vegetable; it implies the best or finest part of a thing. In the aesthetic context, rasa refers to a state of heightened awareness evoked by the contemplation of a work of art, drama, poetry, music or dance. A performance is criticized as ni-rasa (without rasa) or praised as rasavat (imbued with rasa)."

Further on: "The erotic sentiment of shringara, described as king of rasas, has a high visibility in the fine arts. The other eight rasas are the comic or hasya, the pathetic or karuna, the furious or raudra, the heroic or vira, the terrible or bhayanaka, the odious or bibhatasa, the wondrous or adbhuta and the quiescent or shanta."

In the context of Indian history, Dehejia writes, "The cultivation of rasa seems to have been an intellectual and emotional experience that was completely available to only the sophisticated segment of the population."

It occurs to me that most people today have the opportunity to experience this heightened awareness just by reading a book or watching a play or staring at a piece of art and so many do not appear to take advantage of it. I wonder if so many of the people who appear to me to be very shallow and unquestioning, even sometimes unfeeling, could really be so. If fewer people than I think are really so shallow, unquestioning, and unfeeling, then too often people put on unbecoming charades.

I wish I knew more people who are forthright about their appreciation for thought-provoking art and who could shed some light on their own awareness of life and the world. Am I really so different a kind of creature that few others feel the way I do?

Sometimes I am tempted to say, like Jean-Jacques Rousseau wrote in The Autobiography of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, "I am not made like anyone I have seen; I dare believe I am not made like anyone existing. If I am not better, at least I am quite different. Whether Nature has done well or ill in breaking the mould she cast me in, can be determined only after having read me." Yet, I do not think I could say this with a conscience, because my sole proof for saying it would be, as it appears Rousseau's sole proof was, that I have not met anyone quite like myself. Just because there is no proof that something exists, whether it be another being like myself or something else, does not ergo mean that it does not exist.

Back to the subject of rasa, I find it intriguing to try applying the concept to life in general. The aesthetic experience of life really rests in the person taking action and living that life not the person watching this other life. Then, again, who is to say that the beauty of one life does not lie in another's perception of it? Hmm...