Pietas & Gravitas

He can taste hurt in my voice. His deep Texan drawl continues to slip poison into my self esteem.

“This will probably be the last time. It’s nothing about you personally. I just haven’t done this in a while.”

“That’s all right. It’s not like I’m your boyfriend.” This was my attempt at a counter.

“How long has it been?”

“Couple years.” He pulls his underwear back on. Then his pants. Buttons his shirt back up until I can’t believe he’s the same boy who came to my parents’ place at 10 p.m. on a school night to get fucked.

“And then you got a boyfriend.”

“Yup.”

“Does he know?”

“Nope. Planning on keeping it that way, too.” This comment is directed at me because I’ve got his cell number. He told me, when we started texting, never to text him during the day. His boyfriend might see. I always had to e-mail him to talk dirty if it was during business hours. Everything after 8 p.m. could go to his cell phone. I imagine he’d delete each text conversation we had when he got off the night shift. Insurance.

Funny thing is that there are plenty of men who actually want to be with me. The same men don’t lie to their non-existant boyfriends and come to my house after everyone’s supposed to be asleep so we can fuck on the third story of this empty house.

Why do I want this one? Why was I so upset when he made me turn every lamp off, put the screen saver on, and undress myself? I don’t need to be desirable to this man beyond the parameters of my bedroom. I don’t need him to stay the night and bake lemon poppyseed muffins. It would be a pretty grand fucking gesture, but I don’t need it.

Maybe I’m upset because he’s going to work the night shift and then go back home to his boyfriend––who he’s having “trouble” with––and live a life where he can at least know someone’s there for him.

I’m probably also upset because I had to finish myself. Without his help. Or his acknowledgment. And when I asked him, he told me he was going to be late.

“Let’s get you out of here.” I whip on boxers and a t-shirt so I can bring him down three flights of stairs and out the front door, silently.

“Thanks.” His boots leave the only reminder that he was ever here.

“Sure.” I shut the front door and swear never again, only to check my OkCupid as soon as I get upstairs.

Resolutions for the new year by a 2012 hopeful.

(Thanks, 2011. We had fun, but we both knew this day was coming.)

Actually write back

I’m proud to say that I actually have pen pals. And I usually pen something to them once every time the seasons change. No more. I’m so grateful for the exercise of writing and for the privilege to communicate with lovely people. No excuses: I have to do this more.

Slow down

Those who know me know that I go out of my way to be busy. I use my commitments as justification for always being on the go, and it works because I live in a culture that values busywork and mocks leisure time. As a result, the last twelve months have yielded more colds and miniature anxiety attacks than ever before. I have to learn to appreciate my wonderful life, every second of it.

Kick caffeine

I should probably be ashamed of how much money I’m without due to my caffeine addiction (yes, that’s what it is). However, as with the rest of my past, better to forgive (but not forget) all transgressions. Even if the transgression in question is my bad. It’s part of growing up; I know better, now. Granted, I’ll probably indulge in coffee with friends every now and then, but I’m doing my best to find better ways to wake up.

Speak out more

December 13, 2011. A respected faculty at my university asked me to make the student address during the MLK commemoration. A fifteen minute speech. My entire university watching me. It’s funny how you can think of a million reasons why you should do X, only one why you shouldn’t, and still come out with: “yeah, not for me.” I’ve got a voice. I have to use it. Maybe I don’t start with a speech that will engage my entire school, but I have to start somewhere.

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Tomorrow.

So many things happen.

Letters are going out to the people Savannah and I selected to come on our Catalyst trip to San Francisco. They will have until the end-ish of the week to accept or reject the invitation to join us. I am literally bursting at the seams. This is all happening. Again. How amazing is it to be a part of a group that gets to witness (and create) change on a huge scale? It’s pretty amazing.

My staff and I are going out to The Old Spaghetti Factory to celebrate being awesome. Good golly I’m lucky to have them. Seriously. A bunch of them sent me reassuring/smile-inducing texts today. Such a bunch of sweethearts.

I make major headway in finishing my paper. I present the final draft on Wednesday, and pass it in next Thursday. Then I am done with my senior seminar. Holy buckets.

Hey, Tumblr. I’m doing all right, aren’t I? Life ain’t all too bad if that’s the majority of my woes.

47 /365: My date cancelled, so I wrote this

Here’s a profound piece of advice a relative passed to me as if it were their’s when they were just beginning to figure out what it was like to be seen by others––as if it were the mashed potatoes at Thanksgiving dinner, as if something in my face warranted their help, though my lips refused to ask for it:

“Try to be a person who is worthy of being loved; don’t expect these things to show up at your doorstep without effort. Definitely don’t ask for them with hands stretched out, as if you were accepting a gift you knew was on its way. Life is not that forgiving––and any life worth living requires sacrifice, patience, dedication.

(If it helps, think about climbing a hill. Do you think the person who climbs to the top of the hill next to this house feels anything superior—or even close to—the deep satisfaction—the overflowing euphoria–– of the mountaineers who saw the top of Everest first? What about the men who built a railroad over 3,000 miles of terrain, without even knowing how to speak the language of the man across from them? Do you think any conductor can fathom what that moment was like, when one, golden spike connected two oceans and millions of people?)

Now, I’m not saying to be loved, you need to do something incredible or unimaginable. But love isn’t like doing your math homework. There are no formulas. You can’t pass it in half done or give up because it’s too hard. It requires a deep commitment—to be faithful—to know yourself. Not in the way that you know what your favorite color is, not even in the way that you know your own habits and thoughts.

Look at that picture of Nana on the wall. Look at her eyes. I love that picture of her; you can tell how happy she is. Grady, do you see, in her eyes, the kind of woman that found a boy without having a conversation that must have lasted 20 years if we timed it? Can you even imagine the time it takes for one person to truly love another?

Before you go anywhere with this boy, just listen to me. You can’t expect someone to love you if you don’t love yourself. The person that people see in you is the one you project, but it’s easier for everyone if who they see is who you really are. Don’t get so con-fuddled with your hair and fitting into those jeans that you forget what matters most to you. Do you think that the person you’re going to marry will give two shits about the kind of clothes you’ll wear during your life together? Do you even think that, after five years, ten years, fifty years, he’ll even notice what you’ve done with your hair? No. Because he’s going to marry your soul—not your clothes. Your soul. Those jeans won’t do a thing for him if he gets cancer; they won’t make him dinner after he gets laid off; and they certainly can’t talk to him.

Don’t settle for a love that leaves an aftertaste. You want the kind of love that tastes like the moment you walk into your home after being away for weeks. Familiar, sweet, yet completely undetectable. Do you know why? Because our love, and our homes for that matter, ought to be direct extensions of ourselves. That’s not to say people can’t make it work by putting on an act; if anything, that’s probably easier. But that’s not for you, dear.

Now do me a favor and pass the salt. This turkey tastes more like cardboard every year, and if I have any hope of making it to Christmas, it’s in that salt shaker.”

34 /365: stardust on the hood of your car

“Name the one moment that you knew, for whatever reason, you were going to be okay. Whatever happened to you, you just knew that you nothing could touch you.”

“That isn’t easy. I have to think about that.”

“It’s not supposed to be easy. You picked this game, remember?”

“Yeah, I remember. Serves me right… okay. I think I’ve got it. Do you remember that time we went stargazing in Norfolk?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, that’s it. That’s the moment that I remember feeling untouchable.”

“What do you mean? How can you say that? We were two undetectable blips in the middle of space observing giant balls of gas trillions of times our size. Nothing should make you feel more temporary—changeable.”

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27 /365, Moms never stop worrying

A continuation of my 365 project with Ashton. Today’s assignment (yesterday’s, really) was to write a short story that included the words, ‘laptop,’ ‘crumpled paper,’ ‘college student,’ and ‘train.’ 

“No, mom. I’m fine. I’m whispering because Joey’s asleep in the other room.” Just then, without trying, Anna realized how late it was. She was still on California time.

“Seriously! Everything is wonderful! We moved into the new place, and it’s more spacious than we imagined. Yep, right in the middle of everything, too. I don’t even have to pay cab fare to get to work.” Anna heard Joey turn over on the air mattress and cough. She wasn’t sure if he was awake or not, but she figured it was time to get off the phone either way.

“Yeah. I’ll definitely miss California. But this is what we needed, so… No, don’t bother dad. It’s not like I’ve got that much news, anyway. Hey, listen––Can I call you tomorrow? It’s already 2 a.m. here, and I think that I’m gonna hit the sack, too… okay… love you, too… bye, mom.”

Anna listened to the dial tone for a few seconds, removed the receiver from her ear, and placed the phone back on the wall. So weird… she thought. What Manhattan apartment comes with a cordless phone?

Bewildered from the darkness and upset about being out of driving distance from her parents, Anna tried to reassure herself, but a little voice kept nagging her.

Damn it. We didn’t even think to get wine. Anna didn’t like taking pills for her anxiety, but since she was high and dry in the big apple, she figured she’d make an exception. She shuffled into the kitchen and reached into her bag where her pills were… somewhere. 

Ah, there.

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6 /365, Untitled

Project with Ashcakes.

Ashton and I are switching it up a little bit. We’ve decided to write out a few of our 365s. Here’s the prompt for today: Write about a landscape with a single tree. Describe the tree in as exact detail as you would a human being. Add a human being to the scene. What is the relationship of the human to the tree?

As you’ll read below, I colored way, way, way outside the lines.

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Jonathan poured another cup of coffee. He unfolded a piece of paper and was about to read its contents when the timer went off across the room.

“Great. It’s ready,” he thought.

Jonathan folded the paper and stuck it in his shirt pocket. Then he grabbed an oven mitt, opened the heavy door, and grabbed what was inside. In a few minutes, he left the house and began walking down the walkway with a book in one hand and a covered basket in the other. 

It was barely morning, but the sun had already begun its ascent. Dew had fallen, and birds called eagerly to each other. Jonathan stopped and looked out on the lake. “Beautiful,” he said aloud, walking toward the young Oak sapling he planted almost three years earlier.

Jonathan gently set the basket down and removed the blanket. “You know you were right, don’t you? My brother had it all along,” Jonathan said, shaking the book in front of the tree. He sat down on the blanket and lifted the food from its container and placed it beside him.

“I’m just glad I got my hands on it again. I couldn’t believe he still had it. All these years and my name’s still in it. See?” Jonathan opened the book, flipped to the first chapter, and held it out in front of him.

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Remedies for a stressful semester

Here’s an article I wrote for the Commuter Connections e-newsletter for my school.

It’s easy when you’re constantly on the go to feel run down. Between navigating bus routes, making your own meals, and doing homework every chance you have, you could give a new definition to the word exhausted. Now, this article can’t make any of the aforementioned tasks easier, but it will give you some tools for getting through your day, semester, and life with a little more vigor. The following are my fail-proof, last resort, student-tested techniques for keeping up with whatever life throws at you.

  1. Never underestimate the power of a nap. This is one of the best and most obvious ways to give your body the lift it needs when you plateau after lunch. One thing to keep in mind––don’t be overzealous with your naps. Find a comfortable place to lie down, close your eyes, and forget the world for 20 to 30 minutes. Just remember to set an alarm, and your body will thank you while you conquer the afternoon.
  2. Caffeinate cleverly. About one cup of coffee a day is all you need to keep your batteries charged. Remember: this is another instance you don’t want to over-do it. Too much caffeine will dry you out and make you into a java zombie.
  3. Seek the sun. Seriously, just walk for 15 minutes in the morning––even on cloudy days. Shoot, you could even walk to the coffee shop. This time spent outside is essential and will give you the vitamin-D your body needs to absorb calcium and boost to your immune and digestive systems. As always, if you pan on staying in the sun for any period of time, wear sunscreen. Most moisturizers and foundations have SPF-15 built in, so there’s really no excuse to be unprepared.
  4. Diversify your agenda. If you’re devoting all of your free time to school work, you aren’t getting the most out of your time here. You don’t have to join a campus organization, but try going to an event once in a while. This is a great way to meet happy people, and happy people are good to have around. And (wo)man does not live by bread alone.
  5. Vanquish your vampires… the emotional ones. You may feel more than honored to be a friend’s go-to person in a moment of need, but monitor the cost to you. Plan your phone calls and trips home so you have enough energy to do well in school and run your own life. If you’re feeling drained by your emotional vampires, steak ‘em Buffy style.
  6. Respect your REM cycle. You’re really not doing yourself any favors by cutting back when it comes to sleep. It’s medically proven that people who get more than seven hours of sleep a night have decreased stress and health problems. Less stress means fewer sick days, means less work for you to make up.