Sunday, November 27, 2016

Crossing enemy lines

(From so long ago...I can't even...)

Dangerous territory....

*HE* asks me to go to things with him, sometimes I help out. Sometimes I take him to places like the laundry or to other functions. This time he asked me on a picnic with other 'gamers' typically I'd turn him down outright - I figure they are going to be like him - but I remembered some of the people and since I AM trying to make new friends I figured I could do this and gain something.

And I did....

I ended up meeting some really cool, funny, intelligent people. More importantly, I ended up meet a couple of cute guys. And brazenly, I gave them my phone number. I NEVER do this - NEVER. But the one guy had me laughing all afternoon and the other one looked like Edward Norton ('nuff said - at least for me - I've always found this look kind of sexy) - plus there was an undeniable 'connect' between us - some electricity for sure.

So this morning, 06/25/06, much to my surpise 'Ed' calls me - I was totally floored by this...and we sort of fell into a conversation. Of course I hate things like this - I always don't feel like 'me' when I am on the phone with guys. I feel I have to fill in those 'silent' gaps. But hopefully, I didn't babble too terribly much and hopefully I will hear from him again...

Goddess sometimes I feel such the slut - I mean maybe that's what the problem is - I am not trusting my own re-awakening sexuality/or self (cause it does not boil down to sexuality entirely) enough to allow myself to BE loved (or at the very least lusted after)....

...more later...

Later...

There's like a 'rebel' growing inside of me...I am breaking all MY rules. I NEVER ever ask guys out NEVER. But the other night I DID - I out and out asked a guy out! I just sort of slipped it into the connversation as in: "Gee we should go get a glass of wine" and after talking for a bit - he said "About that glass of wine"

Score!

It's awful! It's not me - but it is becomming me (LOL becomming Colette)...to hell with polite society/manners and etiquette....

It's almost as if the idea behind the show How to get the Guy is about moving women into a more agressive approach when it comes to stuff like this. I don't like it - I don't like feeling as if it's a competition out there - but the truth is that it IS and if I have to embrace the tactics of Hugh Hefner so be it - but I am going to feel like Jekyll and Hyde the entire time - it's not really my nature to be so agressive when it comes to this stuff.

So to answer dear old Henry Higgin's question: 'Why can't a women be more like a man?' here I am Henry - give us a hug luv.

^_^

Dancing on Colette's Grave: Not meant to be

Momentum

(You know, I used to be a writer...once upon a time...)

It's coming - I can feel it. The rush of feelings - it's like a daemon on my back. The waves, an ocean of feelings taking me down - under and I am drowning. It enters into me, icy through my veins and surrounds me and I can't see, hear, breathe. It's anger, and hate, and it's tinged with desire and longing and fear and yearning.

I think sometimes I want to just be alone, to just be. To try to deal with all of this and get the answers that lurk just beneath the surface. So confusing and yet deep down I know the answers, I just can't speak them out loud to myself - like it's an ancient language and my tongue has lost the ability to use the words; the meanings are jumbled and incoherent to my mind. Life is impermanence and I should have know all of this - seen it coming.

I imagine other women, living other lives in other cities...big cities and there are masses of people - everywhere they look they see humanity - but they stay, alone. They go home to their walk-up flats and they eat TV dinners and they feed their one cat, Tinkerbell, and they curl up on their couches amid blankets and Cosmo magazines and channel surf trying to figure out why they are alone. Have they missed some important infomercial that will show them how to look better so they can attract that all important mate. Get married, have 2.7 children, live in a cape-cod with a picket fence and a dog named Beau (short for Beauregard) - because of course the hubby is a southern gentleman. Only to have the man grow tired and bored and run off with his 20-something secretary because the wife is too tired for titillating sex due to the fact that she is managing the house, taking care of the kids and working outside of the home...stupid, stupid women - who also should have seen this coming.

Doomed we are all doomed to live out this existence. The same thing our mothers and grandmothers went through, life after life, generation after generation. How do we break the chain?

Can I be that strong? Can I reclaim my inner Colette or Anais so I don't have to feel this pain? Or is that part of the secret - the pain that we all try to avoid, the never-ending cycle of suffering that only enlightenment will stop...

Perhaps the idea is to become a warrior and just live by a code that does not allow for such frivolity as love. To become mistress of my own destiny and never give up the ship that houses my soul. Only give away those parts of myself that I can afford to lose. I need a strong wind to carry me out to sea, to a deserted island when I can begin anew.

Life in the shape of decay (a repost)

(We do this shite on FB, why the fuck not - maybe re-publishing some of my old thoughts will help me find the keys or where I left this vehicle that used to be my soul...)

It all started with my friend Scott. Because we work at the same place we see each other from time to time – always greeting with a hug. This time as he hugged me and I asked after him he told me his dad was admitted to hospice...it’s been coming...the gathering storm...life in decay...

Work’s been blasé, stressful, and irritating…

‘This ain’t the summer of love’; ‘Love, love will tear us apart...’

People around me are imploding in their relationships…a frantic call from a friend who is barely hanging by a thread...listening to stories about others’ marriages failing...love in decay...

Last night was the concert at the Beachland Ballroom to see Ladytron. Mr. C and I went. Beforehand, I stopped at his friend’s (D~ who lives above a funeral home with his girlfriend S~) – to meet prior to the concert. D & S looked like death warmed over (pun intended). Both are doing the ‘student’ thing and seemed just totally lethargic.

D~ greeted me: ‘SO how’s the new ‘man’ thing?’
Me: ‘Ah….*shrugs* OK…today’s a bad day to ask...’
Him: ???????

As I was leaving he told me ‘C – don’t do the ‘girl thing’’

WTF?

So yeah there may be a little bit of trouble in paradise but what gets to me is that when you don’t answer in some sort of ‘glowing and/or incredibly blissful’ way about a new relationship, people think something is terribly wrong…

The concert was great. Got to meet Mr. C’s son – he was a riot – cute, funny, adorable, and affectionate. We had a lot of fun…he is a work in progress and it’s nice to meet that ‘Y chromosome’ from his set of offspring – he’s a great young man.

Amidst a venue of an old Croat hall there was music. First act was called CSS – the pint-sized dynamo who was the singer kicked ass. I really enjoyed them and their energy.

Then came Ladytron - music to decay by…intense, rhythmic, dark, trance/ambient/techno/Gothic/Germanic

Perhaps it was the beer, the clove cigarettes, the xtasy (insert drug of choice here) kicking in but after about 5 songs the hall was moving in syncopation, we stood close, you could smell body heat, you could feel people’s breath we swayed/moved in unison we seemed of one mind.

Got home called Erin, talked, went to bed.

Slept fitfully. Woke up upset, fretful, concerned.

Life isn’t smooth. ‘Fasten your seat belts, we’re in for a bumpy ride!’

I struggle with trust (rightly so I might add). I struggle period…don’t we all? I say and write things that cause me problems. I STILL think too much. I want to be reassured but there’s no reassurance when the problems lie within or when the things I perceive AS issues are ‘pooh-poohed’. (Keep telling yourself 'it’s JUST a relationship, it’s JUST a relationship' – Dorothy clicking those ruby slippers). Perception might be within the eye of the beholder but it’s still there – I was once told when studying psychology that YOUR reality may be flawed but it is the ONLY reality your perceive – sometimes it’s hard to move past your own limitations for whatever reason If it grows wearisome to the other parties so be it...I wonder what the point is a lot of the time...I’m not little Miss Mary Sunshine, and I never have been….I never will be which is fine. I am filled with joy and hope and sometimes my darkness over-rides the joy and hope, but to me that *IS* normal – I hate perky, plastic people (don’t you?)...yeah OK, I thought so...

I want to be the person I am meant to be – whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. It’s changeable. I am not the same as I was yesterday, or will be tomorrow. Let me share my decay with you, perhaps together we will be able to stop it...

Yeah...

I’ll leave you to your thoughts...

(From the 'Ministry of Silly Thoughts'...)

She's late for the big meeting, because she's running in heels to small to navigate her own ambition...

Mater Dolorosa

I just cannot do this anymore. There is barely anything left of me that I can look at and say 'look it's me'. It has all been subsumed into someone who fears every time she opens her mouth. Who has to tiptoe around for fear of offending.

I tried, I really tried. But I just cannot keep pretending anymore. Everything I say is suspect, everything I do seems wrong.

There are moments of happiness and joy, but there is this underlying dread. There is this sense of being lied to , of having things hidden because of fear from the other side of being honest. That is not love and that is not fair - to anyone.

You gotta love the having to beg for things that used to come naturally. You gotta love the total disconnect and then the sense of confusion when certain phrases are used (over and over) and they do not match the actions, or seem to just be said out of obligation - and perhaps it is me, that would not be necessarily a surprise, but there is a definite disconnect, regardless where, "I am just not feeling it" - it's like the Carole King song - "It's too late." It always feels like too little too later after hurt is piled upon hurt and how long can one go on being ignored or feeling like it's all a charade for appearances sake. Again, perhaps these feelings run both ways, and again if this is the case, it's not right for either party.

I don't know where to go or who to turn to. I am tired of being called names and then asked why I am crying. I am tired of dealing with BPD and ADD and there is never any attempt to get help. And, it's not like I am perfect. It's not like I don't get I can be stubborn or I can cause pain. But when the tables are turned, and I am pushed to my own breaking point and I finally lash out, I am called every name in the book and then 'recorded' or threatened, or called a whore, or holes are punched in walls, things that are important are broken, but hey, it's me who needs to be 'recorded' because I might be saying something offensive or abusive, except, usually, it is something taken the wrong way and it is a misunderstanding - but heaven forbid that is acceptable.

It is enough I think. Time to figure out where to go...sometimes I feel like a motherless child...
oh wait...

Wednesday, March 23, 2016

Going, going...

gone...

I need to go, I need to get far away...

I just don't have the strength anymore to pull this all off and pull it all together. I tire of pretending. I miss so many things that the list is endless....

but mainly, I miss me.

Monday, January 11, 2016

RIP Starman

He finally had to return....

Thank you, Mr. Bowie

His last music video will haunt us and perhaps inspire us to rise as well.

Thursday, January 07, 2016

Unicorn Land

A place where...

You don't have to really be good at anything, or excel because, well...
You're a Unicorn!
Where you will always have a 'get out of jail free' card.
Where people will bend over backwards to excuse you from responsibility
Where all your needs will always be taken care of.

But beware....once you venture out of Unicorn Land....


....things may just get real.

Thursday, December 24, 2015

And so it begins...again

I know I said I was gonna move this blog...and sure...that'll happen.  In the meantime, much stuff-n-things are going on...so you all know, I have made a foray into a new position and am now a case manager...to say it is difficult work is an under statement. To say we are judged because people have an opinion already formed is also an under statement. To say they tell you, warn you, prepare you for all the shit you are gonna go through - under statement is putting it mildly.....

To that end, I am going to begin again to journal - but in a much different way...a very non-Colette sort of way (but perhaps she will peek her head out to share her experiences in Paris this past summer, qui c-est mes amis).

And now, for something completely different:

From the Trenches - A Case Manager's Journal

When he is ‘him’ the smile in his eyes can rival the sun. His realness shines through. I have been dealing with ‘him’ for several weeks now. He chronically abuses alcohol. We first met when he was in the hospital and the diagnosis was not good. His liver is shot, his pancreas is next. He is with his girl, who never leaves his side, is practically living at the hospital, but then, she is practically homeless along with him. I am introduced to mom, who has taken over his medical care, hoping against hope to save him….from himself.

We are told in social work about self-determination, about honoring and respecting clients. It is a razor’s edge line we walk because at the same time we are ‘helpers’ – we want to save people…but we can’t.

This man seems to do OK after release from the hospital. After they have pumped his stomach, run tubes into him, detoxed him. We have all agreed to a family meeting, where the mom wants me to push her agenda. I am in a word, ambushed. Not by just by mom, but by this man’s sibling with whom he is temporarily staying, who angrily looks at me and asks: “Just what good are you?” After swallowing my anger and indignation, I turn this question on myself and panic…what good am I?


I tell the family meekly that I will work hard to try to stabilize this person, but that he also has to participate, that he has to want to do this work – I feel like I am reading from a telephone script, telling the listener that if they buy what I am selling their life will be complete…only deep down, I know the truth…and the ‘what good am I’ rings through my head over and over.

Wednesday, May 14, 2014

A 'punch in the gut'

...or 'gut-wrenching' I will never in my entire life, (barring Alzheimer's or dementia) - forget the feeling of being at Ground Zero in NYC, March of 2012.  It was, what I imagined visiting a concentration camp, or any other place where many people died in a tragic/horrifying way...

Here the NY Times discusses the museum and provides haunting photos.  I've no real reason to want to go to the museum, but I feel the coming generations of school children should make the trip - the same way they visit Gettysburg, or other places of historical portent.

Friday, May 02, 2014

Packing the boxes

...and soon will move the blog to the new digs:

www.colettesgrave.com

Since I am not really an 'org'anization - LOL - more of an institution.

Not sure if I am going to have a new look or not....it will be fun to play around.

The move coincides with a project I am working on to help people tell their stories of recovery - to give hope to those still suffering and their loved ones.  Too many kids are dying from drug use...and I feel compelled to do what I can to get the message out and remove the stigma from this disease so people can get the help they need. We've been in the dark too long...it's time for some light.  Anyone out there who reads this blog - write to me at colettes.grave@gmail.com or colettes_grave@yahoo.com if you are interested in contributing or know someone who might want to share their story of hope.

Cheers!
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