Category Archives: relationships

kicked to the curb

i’ve become a little bit obsessed with the whole cooks source fiasco going on over the past few days. part of it is because i do a lot of writing, including this blog, and part of it is that dealing with copyright issues is what i do for a living. my job title is copyright and document delivery specialist. i spent a good part of this afternoon submitting permission requests to the copyright clearance center, requests that actually stand a pretty decent chance of being denied. if everything on the internet were public domain, as judith griggs claimed in her infamous email, this wouldn’t even be an issue.

anyway, i had planned to write some about my take on this thing, but i’m going to save that till tomorrow. at the risk of being melodramatic here, at the moment i am broken-hearted, and will probably trot off to my bedroom to cry shortly after finishing this entry. someone who was at one time one of my best friends has cut me off as a facebook friend. facebook, yeah, big deal, i know. but, at one time she and i were really close friends.  and when i moved back to columbia last fall, i moved in with her. the day that we moved out of that place this past spring (into two separate places) was the last time we ever spoke.

i can’t really pinpoint it to a reason why, although i will say that this is further proof of the theory that friends should never live together as roommates. it’s cool to become friends with a roommate you didn’t know previously, but the whole ‘let’s move in together because we like each other’ thing just doesn’t work. you end up not liking each other, and maybe you eventually recover, and maybe you don’t. i knew we were growing apart even while we were living together; it could have been the age difference (17 years), or it could have been that i wasn’t viewed as a potential sexual partner (which i’m perfectly fine with), or it could be just that people change, or some combination of all of the above and more. over the past winter, when i was having such a hard time emotionally with so many things, this floundering friendship was one of those things. but i couldn’t even really talk to her about it because she never had time for me, or if she did, she’d invite other people along. or if we did have plans to do something, if she found something ‘more interesting’ to do, i wouldn’t even get a courtesy phone call to be told of the change in plans. so i was really starting to feel like i didn’t matter. and i guess that feeling was right.

the thing about facebook is, i felt that as long as we had that connection, i would see that she was doing okay (which she really seems to be), and also i felt like there was an off-chance that one of us would say something and that we could then talk about what happened, and consider the possibility of trying to make things right. (not back to the way they were, necessarily, but just ‘right’… whatever that means…) so now she has severed that connection, which is perfectly within her rights to do. i know there is still the phone, and email. and when i was living in columbia over the summer, i did swing by her new place a couple of times to say hey, let’s find some time to talk, but of course she wasn’t home. her birthday is this week, and i did send her an e-card wishing her all the best. if she responds, maybe there’s hope, but maybe not.  i’m certainly not holding out any. in the meantime, i hurt. i’ll get over it and will have fond memories of the good, and interesting times we’ve spent together, and the times we’ve made each other laugh, and the times we’ve held each other’s hand and just listened. but right now i feel as though i’ve been kicked to curb. which in fact i have been. one more time.

repost: love of god

this is another repost of something i wrote back in march 2007. i think it’s something i needed to see now, at this particular juncture in my life. first of all, i would eventually like to be in a long term relationship, and this reminds me figuring out what that looks like for me is a continual work in progress. (however, i do have it narrowed down pretty much to these three criteria: a man who can make me think, make me laugh, and make me cum. anything else after that is a bonus.) secondly and somewhat more immediate, it reminds me that i should probably call or email my friend mentioned in the post, just to see how he’s doing.

The Love of God/The God of Love

To Love is to reach God.
Never will a Lover’s chest
feel any sorrow.
Never will a Lover’s robe
be touched by mortals.
Never will a Lover’s body
be found buried in the earth.
To Love is to reach God.
– Rumi

One of my good online friends who knows of my recent relationship woes (actually of my woes since 2000) asked me the other day if I had considered ‘finding religion’, I suppose as some sort of salve for my current situation. I replied that I absolutely could not set foot in a church right now. It’s not that I don’t have a belief in God, because I only get by because of that belief. Hoping I don’t sound self-congratulatory, I pray daily, I meditate some days, do some spiritual reading, and pretty much try to see God’s hand in everything that happens, even in the stupid shit I bring upon myself.

And yet, maybe he’s right. Not about me finding religion, but about at least finding a somewhat likeminded spiritual community. But I’m such an odd duck with my beliefs, and I don’t want a group of people who just pays lip service to what they believe, but who actually lives it. I’ve read a lot of Rumi over the past year. Rumi was a 13th century Persian poet and mystic whose only goal in life was to be one with God. I rather view him as a role model in that regard, and have tried to model some of my personal practices towards a similar goal. Then I get distracted by life.

I told my friend, and a couple of others, that I was taking a sabbatical this summer, from men and sex and relationships. I’m not getting any younger, and I really need to concentrate on figuring out what it is that I want and need in a relationship and for myself as a single woman. One way for me to do this, I think, is to follow Rumi’s lead, which is to just love God. Not to seek him/her, but just to love what already is. And in doing so, in any future relationship, I can find someone through whom I can express that love to God.

i want to understand

i don’t understand certain people in my life. i suppose these people could say the same thing about not being able to understand me either. however, i’ve tried to be honest about my feelings and what i want, and i either get a ‘there, there’ and a pat on the head, or i get trampled on (sometimes this occurs simultaneously). a part of me wants to just say fuck it and walk away, and i guess i’ve done that in effect with one person, but can’t yet with somebody else. and yet, that seems like the only viable option, if i want to keep what little sanity i have left. and maybe i do already understand completely, i’m just ignoring the obvious: the people i tend to fall in love with are emotional fuck-ups (not that i’m any healthier than they are).

is it so wrong to want to be loved, just completely and absolutely loved, and to love in return? is it wrong to want to be the most important person in someone’s life? i know that there are a lot of people who love me and would miss me if i weren’t around, but it’s not the same thing. what’s it gonna take for this to happen for me, for once and for all? what am i doing wrong?

interacting with god

the sgc doesn’t get it. anytime he starts talking about god, he prefaces it with ‘i know you don’t believe in god, but this is what i believe,…’ and i’ve told him time after time it’s not god that i have the issue with, it’s religion, especially the abrahamic variety, and the people in power within religion saying you have to believe a certain narrow conception of god or else you’re doomed. and he doesn’t get it with his reminders that i don’t believe in god, because, in reality, as far as semantics go, he’s right: i don’t believe in god, because belief alone in any person, thing, or idea is not proof that the thing exists. belief is based on hope, based on having seen some evidence or some sort of hearsay that something is true, but you don’t know balls to bones (thanks, oracle) that the thing is absolutely, verifiably true. so i don’t believe in god, but i do experience god on a moment by moment basis. i have to remind myself of this sometimes when i pass the homeless man on the street, refusing to look him in the eye, because i know if i do look, it’ll be into the eyes of god. it is my belief (ha ha) that we are all manifestations of different aspects of god’s character, positive and not-so-much (isn’t god described in the old testament as being a jealous god, with jealousy being normally seen as a negative trait?). our interactions with one another and life itself are really nothing more than illustrations of the myriad of ways that god has found to interact with god. god is so much bigger than the bible, so much bigger than religion, so much bigger than we can ever fathom, but because i have a different experience of god than the sgc does, we can’t even be friends (which i’m not sure could have happened regardless). another relationship bites the dust.

and i know this is the very best thing that could have happened, the best case scenario given our history. we’ve had our issues and i still think he is a selfish prick and he thinks i’m crazy and overly materialistic and really it’s mutual that it’s ending like this. aspects of god’s character interacting, huh? didn’t i just post yesterday that this shit needed to end? still it hurts. i did, and do, have feelings for the asshole, and it hurts that, okay, this is really not going to work, once again. but the reward is in being true to myself, not pretending to believe something just so i can have a warm body next to me at night. yes, it hurts, but the pain is overshadowed by the joy of knowing what i know of god, and the knowing that things are perfect exactly as they are, unfolding as things always do.

crouching asshole, hidden agenda

this has got to die

this has got to stop

this has got to lie down

with someone else on top

-from the song ‘elephant’ by damien rice

this whole thing with me and my sociopathic gentleman caller (the sgc) is just getting ridiculous. i just need to cut him off and not be bothered with him anymore and get on with my life. today it’s something like 95 degrees out and i live on the 7th floor of a high-rise building with no air conditioner (but plenty of fans). earlier this evening, there was a knock at my door and i answered, thinking it was the pizza guy, since i had just ordered a pizza so i wouldn’t have to hang out in a hot kitchen and cook for myself. the knock turned out to be the sgc, holding a bag of raw chicken, wanting me to fry it for him. (mind you, i have never prepared fried chicken in my whole life.) he even noticed how hot my apartment was, but that didn’t stop him from insisting that my cooking his chicken would not make my apartment any worse than it already was.

i kept repeatedly saying no, and he kept insisting, and the only way i got him to stop was to offer him a piece of the pizza when it came. so we were waiting for it to arrive and i was trying to watch a movie i had just started (crouching tiger, hidden dragon) and he asked me out of the blue what i had planned for the next 20 years. i replied that i didn’t know, but i did know that for the next couple of years i’d be in library school and after i graduated i’d get a job as a librarian and go from. then he goes on this mini-rant about how education is useless; there are embezzlers and adulterers that have an education, so education has nothing to do with morality. he went on to elaborate that he wanted to know about my inner life, where i saw myself in 20 years. well apparently i have no trouble giving this information out to strangers via this blog, but there’s no way in hell i’m going to present him, the epitome of blue/amber on the spiral dynamics scale of consciousness, with ideas such as the evolution of my consciousness and a continuing interest in exploring shamanism and entheogens. (considering all the sex we’ve had, you would think he’d know something of this part of me, but our so-called relationship is pretty one-dimensional.) the fact is that these are issues i want to spend the next 20 years, and indeed the rest of my life studying, but if i bring them up, he’ll start going on about how all i need is jesus and how he can’t see how people get along without knowing jesus, blah blah blah. (we have had some interesting conversations along these lines, since i spent most of my 20s in the place where his consciousness seems to be parked now.)

anywho… i answered by saying something about wanting to do some extensive volunteer work in south africa at some point in the future (true) and i was probably about to get the god lecture again, when the pizza man (finally!) showed up. i threw a couple of pieces at him and he left (is there some sort of metaphor in that sentence?!) and now i’m just like, why am i keeping him in my life? the sex, while good, isn’t worth it, and he’s treating me like a girlfriend/spousal figure, which neither of us actually wants (i’m not a christian like he is, so he can’t marry me; he’s not a godless heathen, like i am, so i can’t marry him). i cook for him, i iron for him, i loan him money, i perform sexual favors for him. it all sounds like at least some sort of girlfriend to me, but whatever i may feel for him, it doesn’t involve any sort of commitment on any level, other than frenemies with benefits. so why do i continue to allow him to take up space in my life?

it really is my intention to be free, to evolve my consciousness to the point where it just doesn’t matter what my ego wants. recently my reading has included andrew cohen, 11 days at the edge by michael wombacher, and the uncommon path of awakening authentic joy by mick quinn. i’m in the process of doing some of the exercises towards the end of quinn’s book, and wombacher’s book affected me so that i’m reading it again. i’m excited about the concepts i’m coming across in all these books and more, and i want to see them come to fruition in my life. however, it seems like when i feel committed to a practice or certain ideas, the sgc comes bumbling into my life again. is it that my ego is afraid that i’ll never have the attentions of a male, that i’ll never be in a meaningful relationship again (although how much meaning does this current one have?!), that i’ll never have sex again? but, if i’m free from responding to the machinations of my ego, and if through my freedom i’m serving the greater good, do those questions really matter? i hope to find out the answers to these questions and more, but first of all, i need to cut the dead weight out of my life. i mean, the man had me cooking spaghetti for him when i was stumbling around with my frickin’ star wars boot a couple of weeks ago, and didn’t even offer to take out my trash for me. it seems pretty obvious what i need to do, huh?

farting in hurricanes

‘i don’t have time for this shit.’ -trinity, matrix revolutions

in the interest of full disclosure, over the past few weeks or so i have been involved with the sgc again, but that involvement has been strictly one-dimensional, if you know what i mean. because of our past history, this time around, i have been on my guard, knowing that he can’t be trusted, or rather that he can be trusted to behave in certain ways, and that i could eventually count on those ways to make themselves known again. last night, without going into detail, those ways showed themselves and hopefully this time – knock on wood – we have permanently gone our separate ways.

i was upset for a few minutes, sobbing uncontrollably, wondering how i could be so stupid as to get involved with him again. then i started thinking of excerpts from the book i just finished reading, 11 days at the edge by michael wombacher (which i will be writing about in the next few days). his book is a detailed description of an andrew cohen retreat dealing with evolutionary enlightenment (i realize all his retreats are about this topic), and i’m finding that reading the book has been like a poor person’s version of attending one of his retreats. much of what i read has had an effect on me, and i’ve been doing a sort of compare and contrast in my head of cohen’s teachings with those of jed mckenna. one quote in particular from the book jumped into my head last night: ‘this moment of drama is like a fart in a hurricane.’ i was laying in my bed, looking out the window over the nighttime city and the full moon, and it hit me that this little episode between him and me is really nothing more than that, a fart amidst a hurricane. it’s nothing compared to the vastness and grandeur of our planet, our galaxy, our universe. there are probably hundreds of episodes not dissimilar to what happened between us last night happening in this city right now, and while they may be painful to at least one of the participants, in the big picture it all means nothing. and my mind thought about all that was before my eyes, the cityscape i was seeing and the bright bright moon and what lays beyond it, and how it all comes from the same source, from the big bang, and how even the sgc and i share that same consciousness and come from that same source, and that thought made me smile. i smiled because the bullshit doesn’t matter; i have bigger fish to fry. i’m still not happy about what went down last night, but i feel it was important in that it helped to solidify my priority: putting my ego in check so that the authentic self (as spoken of in wombacher’s book and several of cohen’s works) can be brought into fruition in my life.

the bag of flesh known as gail

where to begin, where to begin… i’ve been reading jed mckenna and his first two books (spiritual enlightenment: the damnedest thing and spiritually incorrect enlightenment) have proven to be nothing less than a major mindfuck. i’m anxiously waiting for the third (spiritual warfare) to arrive, which is supposed to be about waking up within what mckenna calls ‘the dream’.

before reading his books, i had already been realizing that life is pretty much a dream and trying to figure out how to be a more active participant within the dream instead of just letting it ‘happen’, or to live more lucidly, as it were. and then i come across mckenna’s words and now realize that the only thing that matters about the dream is that i wake up from it. however, the hard part about this realization is that this thing called *i* is also a dream. i’ve come to terms with life being a dream, but *me* being a dream? that means i don’t exist. there is no me. it’s all a construct: my thoughts, dreams, memories, preferences, opinions, the books on my bookshelf, the clothes i wear, all meant to make me seem *special*, *unique*, *important*, and i’m none of those things. i’m not. the only thing i am is full of shit. just like the rest of humanity. but humanity is not my concern at this moment, or maybe it is in that i can’t deal with most members of it right now. even friends and family are hard for me to spend large chunks of time with. i think i probably have one friend, and an online acquaintance, who would be most likely to understand what i’m getting at here, that i can talk to somewhat about what this is like. otherwise, most everyone else i know (and don’t know, for that matter) is thoroughly ensconced in the dream and think it’s absolutely real and they and their thoughts and beliefs are absolutely real and that even i, the bag of flesh known as gail, am absolutely real. and they are wrong.
so, at this point, *i* am still just a part of the dream. and if i figure out who the fuck this *i* is, i wake up. (i feel like i should have the who playing in the background: ‘tell me, who the fuck are you?’) so who am i? i don’t know anymore. i mean, i was born in 1965 under circumstances i’m not even fully aware of. my supposed father, the man whose name is on my birth certificate, was in bed with another woman the night i was born because he was so upset about his wife giving birth to another man’s child. growing up, i knew something was wrong because he and i never bonded (or rarely even spoke to one another) and i had no physical resemblance to him or anyone on his side of the family. still, i spent most of my life up until my 30s, believing that he was my biological father, because i had no tangible reason to believe any differently. i was told otherwise by my mother’s two best and oldest friends only because my mother was thought to be on her deathbed at the time. however, she did get better, then passed away a little more than a year later, but never did ‘fess up; even when talking to her through my psychic last year, she still didn’t confess to it on the other side of the grave. so i don’t know anything about my biological father, other than his name and what he did for a living. this means that even on the most basic, rudimentary level, i have no way of knowing fully what this bag of flesh descended from. and it just doesn’t seem fair, but it is what it is. however, if i don’t know this, what else don’t i know???
what i do know (or thought i knew), on this plane anyway, is that i was considered a highly intelligent child, having skipped a grade in school; i have an addiction to carbohydrates and sugar that i fight daily; i get a lot of compliments about my hair; i think certain forms of anarchy would be ideal; i’m bisexual; i’ve traveled to some interesting places, but have only been outside the united states for something less than 18 hours; i’m lonely but prefer being alone most of the time although physical companionship would be nice at times; i think i’m pretty smart but also feel like a fraud much of the time… i could go on and on with the trivia, but is any of it true? i, i, i…. who is this *i* that has interesting hair, who is bisexual, who has done some limited travel? fuck. i’m… can i even write a sentence without using *i*???
whatever. i’m trying to write something that i know absolutely without a doubt to be true, and i am finding that damn near impossible to do. to me, whatever is true is that which is not fleeting and cannot be destroyed. everything about me, everything in my life is fleeting; hell, life itself is fleeting. let’s say i live to 80; that’s a mere drop of mist in the bucket of time. my thoughts only last moment to moment; my body will eventually stop functioning and be turned to ash which i hope will be used as compost on flowers with a limited lifespan themselves; all this crap here in my apartment will be given to goodwill or stashed in the back of some relative’s closet or end up in a landfill or maybe burn in a fire or in some other way be dispersed amidst the dream when I’m gone (?!); my beliefs – well we have seen how my beliefs have changed radically over the past decade. ten years ago i was a wage slave in a christian bookstore, and now look at me, derisively denouncing pretty much any form of religion or belief. (wonderful, and imho, true piece of writing by julie, mckenna’s ‘student’ in spiritually incorrect enlightenment, page 256: ‘What is Christianity but a two-bit protection racket? Good cop/bad cop. The son, our blessed savior, saving us from what? From his psychotic freakshow father who’s hellbent on burning us alive forever. What kind of twisted fuck thinks this stuff up? What kind of pathetic slob falls for it? My kind. Me. I did.’ me too, julie. who woulda thunk it?) there is nothing about me that is real, yet i have this attachment to it all as if my life depends on it. maybe that’s because my life, at least as a part of the dream, does depend on me hanging on to the fantasy. and, while it’s had its moments, it hasn’t even been a very pleasant fantasy overall. wouldn’t i have chosen things differently if i knew early on that this was just a dream? maybe, maybe not, who the fuck knows?
what i know to be true at the moment of this writing is the only thing about me that is true, that cannot be destroyed, is my awareness, which i’ve had from before i was born until now; which, in reality i had before i was conceived and will continue to have long after this body stops working. everything else is just part of the construct. and i guess my job in all this is to rid myself of my emotional attachment to the construct and embrace the only thing i know to be true. my ego must destroy itself. if i choose to accept this mission, this is going to be sooo hard. being at this point so very much sucks, because right now i feel like i can’t go back to the way i was even a month ago, but going forward will be a nightmare, if i choose to detach from all this nonreality and pursue ‘enlightenment’. but it only makes sense that i do so, how can i knowingly hang onto a delusion??? i mean, detaching to this degree is a scary thing. how am i supposed to maintain relationships? what about being a part of a healthy, loving romantic relationship, which I still have hopes for (talk about a fantasy!)? how is this even possible if i’m on this quest to weed out falsehood from my life, falsehood being defined as anything that is not 100% true? how am i supposed to show up at work every morning, let alone move to california and continue my education, if everything and everyone i see rubs me the wrong way even on a good day because of ignorance? how can i listen to the dramas my family and friends role play in daily, when i know they are not real, it’s all just a big fucking sometimes tedious play? similarly with politics, it’s all just more drama that affects a larger cross-section of participants in the play. maybe one day i’ll be detached enough to look on it all with a sense of amusement, but right now it’s just painful, because it all seems so meaningless and a waste of time, and yet i’ve got 44 years invested in it.
so, this is going to be ugly, but i have to work it out somehow. i don’t even know why it has to be worked out, but it’s something like a compulsion, i suppose. and let’s say that, okay, eventually i am face to face with reality and have weeded out all that is not true – i am this enlightened creature with the interesting hair. what does that even matter, as opposed to me living out my life the way it is now, like everyone else is doing? one key notion in spiritually incorrect enlightenment is that the point of enlightenment is to realize that there really is no point. geez, talk about meaningless and a waste of time. yet deliberately allowing myself to be a part of a delusional world is not really an option. and i realize that, should all go well physically, i’ll be on this planet another 40 or so years moving around amidst the dream, but i hope to develop the ability not to take it seriously and not to look askance at those who do. (please hurry up and get here, spiritual warfare, for some suggestions on how this might happen…) in the meantime, well, here we go… …don’t take anything personally that i might write from here on out; it’s really not you, it’s me… and i know that most people who have read this far are probably thinking i’ve gone off the deep end. maybe i have.