to all the men i've loved before

you beat me down with your bitter lies, your rationalizations of what was, the excuses for your behavior. i never asked for niceties, just for you to be honest. you couldn't even be honest with yourself. my guilt has run out, the reasons why i stayed, knowing that you could never be what i needed you to be. and perhaps i was different then, less of a clue of who i was than where i was going. with age i see our faults, and looking back doesn't hurt as much as it used to. my sadness comes from making the same mistakes that i've made with you, learning is always such a battle. i've loved you and hated you, the line sometimes indistinguishable. it's time to let go of you, the memories (of which i tend to only remember the happy ones), the pain. life goes on, mine without you. i've found peace in that, and no longer fear being alone. i'm thanking you for everything you taught me, the good times that we shared, and the pain we caused each other. we would not be who we are now without the past. all lines will cross again, and i wonder if when that happens, will we recognize who we were once in who we will be then?

Christmas Cheer

Last night my BFF and I took her kids to see the Christmas lights in Sleepy Hollow to continue a tradition passed along from our own respective childhoods. It's still as amazing now as it was then. Funny how every year, once I see the elephant made of lights sitting on the tree swing, I am catapulted back to my youth. It's at that moment that the Christmas spirit finally arrives for me. Until seeing the elephant last night, the only Christmasy thing that I felt was the dent in my bank account. But with the kids in the car, with their wide eyes open trying to take everything in, I could remember how I felt when my parents took me. Each house competing so hard to be different and more spectacular than the next house. Each year more extravagant than the next. 3 streets and 6 blocks of Christmas light extravaganza. Southern California Edison must be having a field day with the supply and demand of electricity in this neighborhood.
With both kids in the back, and our mugs of hot cocoa in our hands (lap if you are me, since I drove), and the station set to Christmas carols, the season truly had begun. Ryan pointed out every toy soldier that he could see, and Alyssa fell in love with the candy canes. There was Sponge Bob and the characters from the cartoon dressed up in Christmas regalia, and there was Jack Skeleton from The Nightmare Before Christmas. There were polar bears ice skating, and an electronic dancing Santa that was larger than life. There was reindeer pulling a sleigh, and lollipops lighting pathways. I think that magic only happens when you aren't looking for it. And though I wasn't looking for magic last night, I found it in the eyes of two kids who still believe in Santa Clause.

Christmas Tidings

Yesterday I started on my Christmas card list. Who do I send cards to? Who do I not? What criteria defines a Christmas card receiver? I only came up with 6 households. Being single during Christmas shortens my list. I used to send cards to his parents and aunt, but those days are over. Christmas cards make me sad. I start thinking of all the cards my parents receive from people I have never met that were at one time close friends with them. They’d send pictures of the kids or whole family. Now they send pictures of their kids and grandkids. Time passes. It always amazed me that my parents once knew that many people. How come they never came around? How come they never called? As though being a grown up and having kids cut you off from the world. That you would have to give it up, you can’t have both.

Now as I compile my list, I call my friends and let them know that I’m sending this card. That I don’t want these cards to be the only definition of our friendship. I want them to come to dinner, for our kids (someday) to play with one another. I don’t want just the one card a year with the pictures of kids I’ve never met, and 365 days crammed into one or two paragraphs to keep me until the next Christmas. Why should friendships be limited to that? I’ve never understood. Hopefully I never do.

bar·ri·er -A structure, such as a fence, built to bar passage.

Today, after waking up at the ridiculously late hour of 12:30 in the afternoon (note: this was after being up until 5am noodling on the couch with the NS) I looked around my room, which is a complete mess, and pondered what to do with the few remaining hours of daylight. Finally putting away my clean laundry was definitely out. I have let my laundry sit, wrinkled and unfolded in my laundry baskets for a week. One more day won't hurt. I thought about going to the store to start my search for the perfect new mattress. I have recently decided that upgrading from a full to a queen is a wonderful way to blow my annual bonus. So I must visit the local mattress store and bounce around on a few to see which one I want to take home. But that sounded like too much of an adventure.

I thought about cleaning out my closet and taking a few things to Goodwill, but to do that would require two things a) putting my clean laundry away since it's all blocking my closet door, and then b) gutting my closet in order to unearth anything at all. The name of the game lately has been ' too lazy to get anything of any value done...at all'. So cleaning closet was now out. Instead, I waffled in the comfort of my bed, with my 3 blankets on top to keep the chill off. After an hour of staring at the ceiling and recapping the previous evening with the NS, I mooched over to the computer where I thought I'd write a paragraph or two. Checked my myspace (a crazy addiction, that like cigarettes must be weaned from slowly), checked out some blogs that I've gotten into recently, and finally made my way to my own blog where I sat and came up with nothing.

I had an idea that came to me at the bar last night as I fended off the usual one liners. About how guys will come up with the things to say that will induce girls to go home with them. Commonaly referred to as 'players', these guys are usually slick, convincing, and you don't know that you've been 'played' until it's over. However, I figured that I would ask a few of my friendboys for some helpful hints on how to tell the BS from sincerity. Of course all 3 that I asked said they've never used lines. I call shenanigans on that. Considering I dated 2 of the 3, I know better. But I didn't press too much. I figured they knew I'd use it against them. Which I would, when necessary, without regret.

But I digress. I still had nothing. How do you get writer's block when blogging? Seems daft really. Let's recap here, I have chosen to NOT fold and put away laundry, NOT clean my closet, which would include putting away laundry, NOT go mattress shopping, and was mentally unable to write anything of any worth. The short version, I was depressed. About what? God only knows. I have spent all day with myself and have not figured that out. So I did what anyone in my position would do. I called my best friend, and went to her place to distract her kids so she could get some things done.

Kids are the best. Especially when they are someone else's. I get all the fun stuff, and skipped all the nonsense: the 2am feedings, the colic, potty training, though I did have some hand in that, and all the other stuff that actual parents get to deal with. My BFF's kids are fantastic, most of the time. Today they were monkeys. But they put things in perspective. For 7 hours today, none of my non issue 'problems' mattered. All that mattered was hanging out with them. And I'll figure out what everything else is later.

No more fake I love you's

The most abused words in the English language is "I love you". People either don't say it enough, or don't mean it when they say it. I am guilty on both accounts. I've been nearly dumped before because he didn't know where I stood. Here he'd been saying I love you for months. And I just smiled and kissed him back. It wasn't that I didn't feel the same, but I wasn't really raised to say it. I've always been horrible at expressing how I feel. I don't show anger so much as get moody. Or I'll try and just fix the situation without discussing it. Needless to say, I have a lot of failed relationships under my belt. Sometimes I wonder what the point is in saying anything at all. What happens when, and this has happened often, I finally say it. And life goes on well enough for months. And I may start off meaning what I say, but then I fall out. Or he falls out. It could go on for weeks, months of fake I love you's. The ones where you say it because you're just so used to saying it. It doesn't mean that you mean it anymore. And then you start questioning if you ever really did. Then you get neurotic...What is love? How do you know you are in it? Isn't lust often confused for love? What if it was just that? And on and on and on.

And then, when it's over, and you start dating again you start to wonder if you will care enough about the new someone to ever say it. And then what if you just confuse lust for love again. It's a vicious cycle. So now, you don't trust the NS (new someone) to not hurt you. So when it gets serious and that person starts in on the I love you's, you question the validity of their statement. I realize that by continually questioning everyone's motives, that I'm missing out on the rush of the beginning. And I know that eventually I'll move past it. But for now, the only one truth that I know for sure is that I won't dole out any more fake I love you's. It's not fair to them, and it's not fair to me.