Don't Think Twice, It's Alright

"I think of your smile; I'm in love with your teeth."

-Deer Tick

You don't exist in my reality anymore. You don't gleam in my awakening like you used to. You are undeniably absent in what is real. 

But you are as existent as ever in my reverie. You are the thought I most enjoy, though the thoughts I lend your way don't bring me any pleasantries. Dismissing thoughts of you is a cognitive fight never more helplessly waged than now. More often than not I wave my feeble white flag of surrender, succumb to the masochism, and invite those thoughts in for tea to linger as long as they may. Because I would rather drown myself in a sea of thoughts for you than float along smoothly in an endless and meaningless undulation where you don't reside anymore.

I want to sink into the abyss that was Us. You made me feel flawless and wreckless; the only argument to ever get me to nearly abandon what I'd always protected so fervently. I almost discarded it - all of it - for the sake of ultimate proximity. Somehow, it seemed worth everything. Sacrificial, selfless, important. The brokenness you tried to hide was more compelling to me than any argument or justification you ever made for everything that was Us. 

I miss you almost all the time. Especially in my lonely moments. I know we cannot be. I know in my core I don't want Us to be, either. But Reason never was a friend of mine. The emptiness I felt with you is better than the emptiness I feel now. I felt hollow when I was in Us. But, I craved you. That rough exterior canvasing your tender heart: It held me hostage. I've never in my life so willingly been held captive. You entered, and I was rescued. I exited, and I think we both broke a little. My existence is forever prevailed upon because of yours. But I'd rather live with the scar of your intrusion, than to have the immaculate facade that would have come from never encountering you. 

There must be some perversity lurking within me, that I would rather ache for you than pray for numbness. I've never been one to abandon the weak parts of me, but this is so much more than that. It is deliberate susceptibility. I can still hear your cadences and see your unmistakable silhouette. I know them best in this dark place. I loved the space you took. That space is a ghost now. 

If I am not meticulous with my thoughts, everything about Us pervades my bloodstream. Those cogitations are malignant, and yet, escape seems futile and even more poisonous than letting them invade my counscious vitality. You see, I abandoned Us because the possession terrified me. And even now, I have yet to find the solace that comes from turning one's back on perceived peril. Here I remain, a pitiful fragment of what I used to be- wanting to rewind and yet abhorring the past. 

Sometimes I think I'd cash in all my chips for just one more complete surrender- just one more premeditated detraction. Because We are all that matters when the moment opportunes our collision. A collision- that is exactly what it is. A marvelous, ruinous escape into corrosive plains. It is beautifully destructive. Letting you be a part of me  subtracts from my existence. And yet I ache for it. If, by some miraculous misfortune, you were to appear in my doorway, I would lack the strength to turn you away, though I know it would mean cancer for me. But in my deepest, most private places, I will wish for you and miss you and let you exist as you once did. And I will find no solace from that. 

It is impossible to know you and not bleed for you. It is to feel tangibly what was once just an idea. I was always fighting for a cause which my deepest taverns of identity could not embrace. And it created a war within my own heart: every even beat for you, every odd beat in protest. If you only knew how perilously close you came to triumph. 

All of our endless words. So many and each of them lost now, congregating somewhere in the expanses of time and space. What will become of them? Will they one day greet us and remind us of their existence? They will exclaim: "Welcome to Another Lifetime; We will make sense here. Here, we will provide the promise that was impossible There. Now, what was once a hopeless, debilitating fight, is now Meant. It is what was always supposed to be, here, in Another Lifetime." 

Those words and affectations, exquisite and demoralizing, could hold no promise Here or Now, but were laced with the possibility of fruition in some other world. And they were the sweetest kind of poison.

Pieces of My Life

 "I found that if you have a goal, that you might not reach it. But if you don't have one, then you are never disappointed. And I gotta tell ya... it feels phenomenal."

 -Peter LeFleur, Dodgeball

Last night I was bored and being the narcissist that I am, decided to read through some of the posts here on L.M.T'ly. Last March I wrote a little somethin' somethin' called "Follow That Dream", which was basically a confession of what I want my life to look like by the time it's over. I guess that's referred to as a "bucket list", but I like to refer to it as my "future memories". Anyway, upon reviewing that list last night, I had the giddy little thrill of realizing that in the last ten months, I had accomplished some of those very deeds. I know what you're thinking... "Oh! Isn't it marvelous?!" And that is exactly what I thought too. So in honor of making a small but note-worthy dent in my Future Memories List, I decided I'd catalogue my experience with those once-hoped-for-and-now-just a lovely memory to relish- experiences.

{Get a gym membership} - Sure enough, hell froze over and Yours Truly decided to enlist in that quest so many of us have found ourselves in. I am now a bonafide member of one Gold's Gym. I never thought I'd say this, but exercising is not my least favorite thing. I've come to appreciate the sense of accomplishment one feels after running or throwin' them weights around. I've already accepted the fact that I'll never achieve an Audrey-esque waistline (no thanks to my adoration for confectionary thrills), but recently I've noticed that I'm far less grotesqued by my derrierre than I was a year ago... THAT in and of itself is quite inspiring, don't you think? 

{Not need my inhaler} - Though this one cannot be completely hacked off the list of things hoped-for, I am halfway there. I can now run for an hour without taking one hit... Howev, laughing hysterically still presents a problem. It's safe to say though that eradicating hysterical laughter out of my life would be far worse than any old asthma attack.

{See an opera- any opera (which will most likely spoil everyday life for me forever-after)} Oh Delilah. There are just no words for this one. La Boheme. (Insert slow, enraptured sigh HERE.) It was like... a dream. That's the only way I can think of to describe it. Between the rich poetry, the mellifluous music, the tragical amore... I was completely and utterly intoxicated. Oh, and yes, every day life was spoiled for about a week or so. Then I somehow managed to remember that with all the living I have to do, I shouldn't write Life off just yet. And I simply cannot discuss this experience without expressing my deeply heartfelt gratitude to him who afforded me this rapturous experience: If you're reading this C- Thank you, thank you, thank you...

So I know this list seems inconsequential since there are a whopping three accomplishments, but a goal is a goal, right? I believe I've noted before my affinity for list making and the thrill I get from crossing things off of them. I can't be altogether sure, but I would compare the sensation I achieve might be similar to one a serial killer feels after yet another victim... What? So even though it's quite a small little dent in that list of mine, it's a dent nonetheless and crossing off those three accomplishments was sheer exhilaration.

Now, here are the ones I plan to knock out this year, or at least get started on 'em:

{Learn how to sew}

{Learn the French}

{Master my "muchness"}

{Not go one day without praying}

{Dance to Moonriver in an ethereal white dress}

... Along with my WWAD Resolution (see this little badboy),of course.

Here's to 2011 and all the opportunity it brings for being in love with your life.

Peace and Love.

Image artwork found at http://fc04.deviantart.net/fs48/f/2009/177/9/9/puzzle_piece_Tattoo_by_yitux.jpg

The Bullfighter Was a Lady

"Why can't a woman be more like a man?
Men are so decent, such regular chaps.
Ready to help you through any mishaps.
Ready to buck you up whenever you are glum.
Why can't a woman be a chum?
Why is thinking something women never do?
Why is logic never even tried?
Straight'ning up their hair is all they ever do.
Why don't they straighten up the mess that's inside?

Why can't a woman behave like a man?"

-Henry Higgins, My Fair Lady

The whole idea of "womanhood" has been a dilemma for me. Perhaps this is because I find myself often on the male edge of thinking. Not logistically, of course- since "'Brittany' [Ahab] never thinks, she [he] just feels, feels, feels"- but I guess more on the desensitized, indelicate side of male thinking. I attribute this to my dear father and uncles, who, though I love them with every beating of my heart, have an amazing talent for making even the most crass and crude of commentary seem apropos for the moment. Whether it's a talent, or just a lack of, what's that word again? Oh yeah- tact- we may never know. But regardless, my being born with estrogenical phenotypes has done nothing to sway this brand of synapses from propagating in my female mind. And I welcome them! Because having that dad and those uncles and brothers who you've epitomized as the definition of humor, applaud your humor, is the kind of compliment worth writing home about. This is all fine and dandy, but... I can't help but feel like it is a sort of betrayal to the womanly virtues I've been granted, too. "What the world needs is a return to sweetness and decency..." (-Princess Ann, Roman Holiday). What of tenderness, and grace, and eloquence?
In the last week, I've managed to prioritize six Audrey films into my schedule. If one were to paint the portrait of a lady, I would say that my beloved Ms. Hepburn is the epitome of what a lady should be. Some characteristics of Lady Aud that come to mind: class, eloquence, style, grace, serene sense of humor, kindness, concern for her fellow man. Audrey and all her essence are indeed the receivers of many an admiring eye, both male and female alike. No man can admit that she isn't refreshingly and flawlessly lovely, and no woman cannot admire her. I doubt Audrey ever voiced a crass or harsh thought toward another living creature.

It would be absolutely divine to be able to effortlessly exude such poise and grace, but I just don't think it's in the stars for me. Channeling my inner Audrey- my inner lady- takes a conscious, strained effort... I would imagine it's much like a paraplegic trying to walk. It's not that I'm (totally) white trash or vulgar or anything. It's just that I happen to love It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia just as much as I love Pride and Prejudice. (Maybe not AS much... But I do quite enjoy it far more than any woman venturing to call herself a lady ever should.) I've decided my quest for 2011 is to acquiesce to my feminine proclivities and hone those propensities for the opposite with which I've seemingly been graced. In order to prepare for this quest, I have to consider those ladies who inspire me the most, both real and fictionary... 

Carol Calhoun - Grandmother. Once described in my journal as, "possessing a formula of the tenderness and intelligence and wisdom and humor that makes for a perfect person. And she's beautiful." I can honestly say I've never heard one profane word exit her mouth. That might be the most inspiring thing of all.

Sabrina Fairchild -  The charming little heroine of the movie, Sabrina. She handles her disappointments so gracefully and with such poise and fragile acceptance. 

Anne Shirley - Maybe my most cherished literary heroine of all time... Her idealistic imagination and whimsical use of words are nothing short of inspiring to Yours Truly.

Chanin Warren - Aunt. She's oh so sensible, classy, funny, and  naturally beautiful. And has the most distinguished good taste out of any woman I know. Every visit to her home is like a luxury vacay at a four-star hotel. She is a charming and considerate hostess, an unsurpassed chef, and a kindred spirit. There is nothing about her that I don't admire and whole-heartedly adore.

Charlotte York - Here's where I admit to my Sex and the City crush. Though Carrie is my favorite, it is Charlotte who portrays the qualities I find most commendable. She wants "nice bedding" and to be a mother and despite being surrounded by three other women who are somewhat indelicate, she manages to maintain a delicate feminine quality that I find quite refreshing.

Amy Winehouse - jk.

Ariel Allen - BFF. Her heart is three times bigger than anyone's I've ever met. She is selfless and giving. She is exquisitely lovely. She appreciates and protects the planet. She knows so many good words. She is funny and brave. I truly believe there is nothing she can't do.

Fraulein Maria - Yes, thee musically-inclined-nun-turned-governess-turned-wifey of the delicious Captain von Trapp. She lived through music. She enriched lives. She created her own happiness.

Annie - The little ginger orphan. Always optimistic, was she. I mean, the dame had red hair and no parents, and she STILL opted for optimism: "The sun'll come out, tomorrow..." You get it.

Of course, there's no such thing as a perfect woman. (Except for Audrey.) But as the new year is upon me, I feel that now is as good a time as any to labor for fine-tuning that perfect version of myself. My New Year's Reso's are usually foiled by the time March rolls around... But I'm a little more determined this year because this is something I've been musing about for awhile now; trying to figure out how to be true to who I inescapably am, yet still somehow capture the portrait of a lady in my being. In considering the character traits of the ladies listed above and in knowing my own poisons, I've come up with the following resolutions:

1. The over-arching, "umbrella" resolution: Ask myself, 

"What would Audrey do (WWAD)?" and then... Do it. Or not do it. If she wouldn't.

2. Actually USE all those words I love so much and have highlighted in my Webster's Vest Pocket Dictionary (to which I refer even when I'm not wearing a vest... Yeah that's right)INSTEAD of the choice words that sailors and I have in common.

3. Say "thank you" at least three times a day.

4. Invite lovely things into my life... Music, literature, art, people, experiences, whatev will enrich my life.

5. Cherish virtue. 

6. Be more tidy. Just because I'm the only one living my life doesn't mean I don't have to be inconsiderate to myself... Ha.

7. Recycle. Reduce. Reuse. 

8. Pray always.

9. Think happy thoughts. Is it any wonder that "optimism" and "opium" begin and end the same way? I think not.

10. Think more of others than myself.

11. Make time for reverie.

We'll see if I can get past March...

With these goals in tow, I don't have to wait for good fortune to smile upon me because I'll be creating it, and hopefully become more of a lady in the process.

Peace and Love.

The Lady Loves Me

 "You don't have to say anything.

But you have got to mean everything."

-John McCauley

So. Often on this space, I've taken it upon myself to delicately muse about the different fibers of my being... My sister, my penchant regard for heartstrings, my cherished tastebuds, etc. And although I've already born testimony about my kindred-like affinity for music... I'm not even a little afraid of repetition. 

Of all the things conspiring in my favor to make L.I.F.E. Lovely, Inspiring, Fervent, and Exquisite, I hold those alchemists of language and melody- conjuring up the elixirs that we know as song- almost solely responsible. My mind reels and reels throughout the day; sometimes to an irritating degree. But when it meets an empty moment, it so often (perhaps involuntarily) grants invitation to What Ifisms: "What if I had to choose ONE song to listen to for the rest of my life?" ... "What if each thought had a melody? Each feeling? Each decision?"  ... "What if there were no such thing as red heads?" ... "What if I lost my hearing tomorrow? What would be the last song I would want to hear?" There are a few things that I can think of that would be more tragic than a world void of music... But only a few.

Last night I saw this healing elixir come to life on stage. Of course it wasn't my first time... (When it comes to live music, I guess I am "THAT kind of girl".) I forget, each time, the thrills that watching music brings. Watching the synergy of strings, percussion, and keys coming together to create the combination of chords that melody into something that you know was instrumented entirely for your ears and yours alone. Watching lips relinquish the parade of words that for whatever reason seem to echo within your core. It is this art form for which I find the most appreciation and also the most ineptness at expressing my gratitude. Songs with words, songs without words, songs with words I don't understand... It doesn't matter. After having the blessed privilege of Opera-ing (fancy, right?) for the very first time, I was still at a loss for a word to describe the fullness of that experience weeks afterward. There just doesn't seem to be a word in the English vernacular with which to adequately describe it. 

  Mother Earth herself is a "benefactoress" (to borrow a word from Anne Shirley herself) of inspiration. And the more I seek out her assets, the more inspired I become by the proliferation of her amenities. Point: There is so much in life to be happy about. And though it is not Mama Earth herself that creates the music which is such sugar to my soul, it is She who provides the inspiration for those who create the art that I consider one of my most favorite things to be happy about. So, in addition to all the countless other things for which I owe her gratitude, I thank Mother Earth for being the living inspiration that she is, so that I can bask in her wonder and so that those far more eloquent, poetic, and awakened than I, can translate that inspiration into "that which cannot be spoken, and on which it is impossible to remain silent". {Insert delicate and enraptured sigh HERE}. I think it is safe to say, that music  is, and will always be, my mistress.

Peace and Love.

Got A Lot of Livin' To Do

"It's not what the world holds for you, it's what you bring to it."
-Anne Shirley

So much in what life holds for us depends on what we're willing to put into it. A few years ago I had a completely loathsome, mind-numbingly life-deteriorating mundane job at a call center in which I often idled away hours on the clock with what I now refer to as "musings". I would let my mind wander (because it was never in use for the four hours I was there dialing phone numbers for potential water softener clientele... Yes you read correctly. That really was a job.) And during those shifts on the clock I found a way to be productive by musing about a better way to spend my time. I would doodle and scribble and imagine all over the back of my "lead sheets". The ones which were particularly compelling to me, I made a point to save and tuck away, promising myself to make good on them someday. I recently came across one such "musing" which I distinctly remember investing very serious, contemplated, compensated (heh heh) hours for. I chose my words very carefully. Though less scripted than some of my others, this particular sheet, Water Quest logo'd (R.I.P.) and all, speaks volumes in it's simplicity. Upon re-discovering this little mind memoir, I couldn't help but think of the Bob Dylan gem, 

"All I Really Wanna Do". It goes a little somethin' like this:

"I ain't lookin' to compete with you

Beat, or cheat, or mistreat you.

Simplify you, classify you,

Deny, defy, or crucify you.

...

No, and I ain't lookin' to fight with you,

Frighten you or uptighten you.

Drag you down or drain you down,

Chain you down or bring you down.

...

I ain't lookin' to block you up,

Shock or knock or lock you up.

Analyze you, categorize you,

Finalize you or advertize you.

...
I don't want to straight-face you,
Race or trace you, track or trace you.
Or disgrace you, or displace you,
Or define you, or confine you.
...
I don't want to meet your kin,
Make you spin or do you in.
Or select you or dissect you,
Or inspect you, or reject you.
...
I don't want to fake you out,
Take or shake or forsake you out.
I ain't lookin' for you to feel like me,
See like me, or be like me.
...
All I really wanna do,
Is baby, be friends with you."

Now, my "All I Really Wanna Do" ballad differs from Bobby D.'s in that it does not relate to creating (or more accurately I guess, subtracting from) someone else's life, but to creating my own. I think the reason why his song reminded me of my "musing" is because of how he chose his words. Maybe you won't see the connection, or maybe I just think everything circles back to Bob Dylan (thank you, Pops). But either way, you are the author, the artist, the composer of your life. After re-reading the following words on that little 4 x 6 scrap of weathered paper, I have made the solemnest of vows with myself to make good on it in some little way every day, as best I can, starting today. Basically, I promise to bring to life everything the world has to offer, and absorb it completely. For, truly what better way is there to be alive than to feel alive?

Word by word, here it is:

"I will: endure. thrive. uphold. cherish. nurture. believe. bequeath. strive. expect. reciprocate. empathize. construct. perpetuate. promise. protect. abandon. comfort. satisfy. support. acknowledge. champion. fulfill. laugh. cry. enthuse. internalize. learn. study. teach. seek. find. practice. perfect. search. explore. implore. interrogate. uplift. impassion. fortify. succeed. exceed. sanctify. realize. relinquish. grasp. rejoice. repent. redeem. esteem. adore. dismiss. welcome. provide. settle. waver. define. redefine. discover. rediscover. elaborate. exaggerate. yearn. plead. protest. desire. succumb. supply. create. choose. remember. forget. epitomize. prioritize. neglect. play. work. overreact. ignore. compel. cave. faulter. stumble. struggle. conquer. prove. disappoint. impress. offend. applaud. disarm. appease. argue. evaluate. reevaluate. approve. improve. testify. torment. apologize. beguile. enjoy. digest. comprehend. indulge. sacrifice. inundate. transcend. believe. believe. believe. overcome. 

Peace and Love.

Artwork: Vincent van Gogh, "Still Life with Three Bird's Nests", 1885

Mono - Life In Mono

I found it altogether alluring. Quite-ly so.

Barefoot Ballad

 "Summer afternoon - summer afternoon; to me those have always been the two most beautiful words in the English language."  
-Henry James

Dearest, Darlingest Summertime,

Every relationship must brave it at some point, if there's ever a hope of progressing anywhere. The point has come for us I'm afraid. The DTR. These aren't fun for either party, I know. I've been told by other lovers that I don't act upon my feelings very adeptly, so, with that in mind, I feel like I owe it to you to express how I really feel about you. I'm so much more charming on paper, so please don't think me cowardly for versing my feelings this way. I think it'll be easier for me to truly elucidate how I feel if I refer to you in the Third Person. So here goes. I am deeply and importantly in love with summer. There are so many reasons why, really. The carelessness of summer, for one. I don't mean carelessness as in void of generous thoughts for others or negligence or anything like that. I mean the without-a-care-in-the-world kind of carelessness that inevitably comes with the dawning of each summer morning. It's impossible to wake up on the wrong side of the bed in the summer. In fact, I think that side hibernates during the summer. "Happy" gets redefined. I would say that sadness is an anatomical impossibility. ME! She who not only dabbles in emotion but drenches herself in it. I'm crossing my fingers that- Heaven forbid- any tragedy ever befall me, it will besummer me, because at least if something life alteringly disheartening happens between June 21st and whenev the last day of summer is, it will happen when I can cling to summer's embrace. {If it weren't so premature, I would say August 14th, the day Elvis died, should be the last day of summer. It might as well be the death of summer too, that way it can be the date for disarming not one but two things that make my heart beat. I never bother to learn what the last day of summer is because I don't want to know the exact date of The End.} Anyways. Oh summer. You and your effulgent rays. I want to bask in you all of my days. There's just so much that contributes to the wonder of it all (you).Here are just some of the culprits behind my undying love for you:

  
{The beach}

{Popsicles}

{Super Soaker fights with the neighborhood kids}

{Swimming at the grandparents & inventing dives with my brothers}

~To this day Alex maintains he invented the much acclaimed "Penguin Dive"... But he is sorely mistaken.~

{Swimming at our neighbor's house down the street and me always thinking it was odd that Becky (the M.I.L.F.y mom) used her bras as bikini tops. Now I think it's cool.}

{Crocodile Mile}

{Collecting sand dollars}

{Renting movies from 80's Albertson's}

{Staying in our family's timeshare in Carlsbad with all my cousins}

{Frequent stops to the 7-11}

{Swimming lessons}

{The Beautiful South}
{Endless sunshine}

{Snow Cone shacks popping up like daisies}

{The smell of sunblock}

{The sound of lawn mowers}

{Endless BBQ's(aka endless opportunities to eat a cheeseburger)}

{The. Pool.}

{Outdoor concerts}

{Warm nights}

{Sundresses}

{Bike rides}

 {Being tan}
{Watermelon}

{Sublime}

{Bonfires}

{Running through the sprinklers}

{Baseball games}
{Staying up late just because you can}
{Truth Or Dare}
{Summer salads}
{Black bean salsa}
{Corn on the cob}
{Whimsy being a part of every day living}
{Outdoor flea markets}
{Farmer's markets}
{Strawberries}
{New sunglasses}
{Monsoons}
{No such thing as snow}
{Hiking}
{Ladybugs}
{S'mores}
{Floating the river}
{The Fourth of July}

{Fireworks!}
{Meteor showers}
{Bare feet}
{Night swimming}
{Camping}
{Grandma & Grandpa's cabin}
{Fishing}
{Slurpies}
{Warmth}
{Sunsets}
{Picnics}
{Henna}

...To name a few. Oh summer. My only complaint is that you are ephemeral. If there were a way to capture you and keep you inside a glass bottle and drink you in and visit you any time of the year, I would sell my very soul. You can never understand the depth of my ardent adulation for you. I cherish you with all that is nearest and dearest to my heart; my allegiance is to you and you alone. Though I can appreciate fall's alluring metamorphosis and spring's cheerful awakening of life (winter- there is nothing upon which to congratulate you, I'm afraid), it is you, summer, to which all my enchantment is bestowed. How can I ever thank you for the exquisite rapture I find in your entity? I don't know. But I can promise you this: You will always have my heart, my devotion, my loyalty. And when you fade into the changing colors of fall and then become absolutely absent in the abysmal winter, my heart will slow it's beat for you, but will remain ever faithful. And when spring presents itself to to the world once again, my yearning heart will slowly find it's normal beat again, and through the hope that comes with that awakened season, will meet it's true source of life when spring gives way to you again. I remain yours affectionately and eternally,
Brittany Anne.
Peace and Love.