Wednesday, May 30, 2018

Enthusiasm

I'm reclaiming the enthusiasm of my childhood.
What can I hold responsible for it's decline?
Inhibition.
Fear.
Shame.
"Failure".

Getting excited, displaying enthusiasm, is vulnerable.
It's visibly showing that I'm jazzed about something.
I'm so into whatever it is, in fact, that I can't contain myself.
My excitement spills out in laughter,
my eyes light up,
I lean in,
I start talking with my hands,
I get consumed by the very thought.

Enthusiasm isn't too far from love.
I'm enthusiastic about everything that I love.

Goals crush enthusiasm.
I can't get excited about a checklist.
Fantasies on the other hand...
Dreams are exciting as hell.

Less check-listing, more dreaming.

Tuesday, May 29, 2018

Clean Closure

The word "closure" gets thrown around a lot
at the end of a relationship.
When all is said and done,
everybody wants "closure".

Here's the thing about closure and relationships-
it's messy.

My father is a surgeon
and a great one at that.
Recently, he told me about a simple technique he uses.
After he draws the line to mark his incision,
he draws lines that cross the incision at even marks.
The secondary lines are fondly deemed
"idiot lines".
The "idiot lines" are his way of making sure that when he closes the incision,
the skin lines up the way it was before.
My dad's surgical closures are so clean.

What if there were "idiot lines" for romantic relationships?
The closest thing I can think of is a pre-nuptial agreement.
No one goes into a relationship and lays groundwork for the end, right?
And sure, a pre-nup can make the end a lot simpler in terms of physical assets
but what about the emotional toll?

Clean emotional closure is a dream.
The reality is that the end of a relationship is messy
and no one can sew you back together.
In fact, once you sew yourself back together, 
you're not even remotely close to way you were before.
And the scar may be faint but it will never disappear.

Monday, May 28, 2018

More Than

I found my mind wandering in the shower this morning.
These thoughts were being spurred by the new Shawn Mendes album,
which I am obsessed with and play in it's entirety fairly regularly.
"Why did I stay? And why the hell did I keep coming back?"
Why did I stay when I knew there were still problems
in spite of all my time and energy
and (what I believed to be) love?
I stayed because with you,
I felt like more than I was.
More than the sum of my (good and bad) choices.
I stayed because you brought out joy.
Joy that I was missing since the city.
I stayed because it was easy.
I was silly and ridiculous and natural
and you'd be laughing the morning away with me.
I stayed because I learned to love you more than I loved myself.
Do you know what I mean?
Did you feel that too?
Is that why you pushed away?
Is that why I didn't want to see the full picture?
I stayed because I want to love?
I want to love.
More than anything.

Sunday, May 27, 2018

Slow Down

I've always had trouble slowing down.
I think it's because I'm afraid of not having enough time.

I've been hearing a lot about this "culture of scarcity".

Time is a non-renewable resources.
You can't recycle or reuse it.
Once it's gone, it's gone.
Attention is the same.
For most of my life, I have operated under this idea that multi-tasking was my ticket to success.
If I could do a lot of things really well, then I'd be successful.
So, I did a lot of things and depending who you ask, I did them well.
And where did it get me?

I burnt out.
I threw myself out of balance.
I was moving too fast and
I crashed.

Now what?

I've been sick for the last few days.
I thought I was doing everything necessary to get better.
But in reality-
I was continuing to operate the same way I normally do.
I went out socially.
I tell myself tequila cures colds.
I went to the gym.
I thought it would be good to sweat it out.

I woke up this morning and couldn't breathe out of my nose,
which I took as a sign that I really needed to try something different.
So, I've decided that today I am going to slow it down.
Not sure how that's going to look.
I can guarantee that I will be bored.
I will feel like I should be doing something "productive".
But I'm going to force myself to be uncomfortably slow
and uncomfortably "unproductive".

And I'm realizing that when people tell me to slow down it's not a bad thing.
When I'm blazing through life, I miss things.
I miss the details, the simple joys, the small clues.
I don't know what's coming next in my life
but I know I need to slow down to move forward.
All the runners/bussers at my restaurants used to tell me
"Soave, chiquita".
There is more wisdom in that than I realized.

Wednesday, May 23, 2018

Champagne > Emotions

I love weddings.
I love love.
Weddings are fleeting.
Love is forever.
What happens when it's over?
What happens when it's over?
The afterparty.
The aftermath.
Worth the hangover?
Worth the heartache?
Champagne problems are a simple.
Emotional problems are complicated.

Thursday, May 17, 2018

Tough Pills to Swallow


  • Money doesn't fix everything.
  • The Serenity Prayer
  • "I haven't been trying for a while."
  • "No."
  • "You are not for everyone."
  • Nostalgia
  • Break-ups
  • Dreams fade
  • Taxes
  • The end of an "era"
  • Leaving an old home
  • Leaving an old life
  • I am exactly where I'm supposed to be.
  • My parents don't know it all.
  • I am going to have to answer some things for myself.
  • I cannot do it all.
  • It's ok to ask for help.
  • It's ok to accept help even if you didn't ask for it.
  • Mom was right- vegetables are really good for you.

Tuesday, May 15, 2018

Love Was

Love was a lazy morning after a busy night,
swapping stories over $1 pizza and gelato,
Clos Rougeard before coffee.

Love was going to see every Pixar movie in theaters,
letting you win the round of mini golf,
forcing me to bowl without bumpers on my 24th birthday.

Love was COS Cerasuolo in plastic cups and burgers on the terrace,
pregaming dinner with champagne and a cheese plate,
taking dessert to-go a la John Legend and Chrissy Teigen.

Love was Federal Donuts' fried chicken for breakfast two days in a row,
buying all the Savart in that wine shop in Portland,
and somehow hiding it from me so every bottle was a surprise.

Love was leaving the island for pizza in the middle of the day,
holding me close even in an empty train car,
chases up the escalator.

Love was a surprise passing on the street,
throwing a bridge over people we passed when we held hands,
the profane term of endearment we adopted.

Love was in the drunk dials,
and the fights,
and the tears,
and the make-ups,
and the break-ups.

Love was there, right?
In the little things?
Even at the end?
Even now.
Somehow the little things are the hardest to let go.