Again

It hurts... again. He said he would call back, and he didn't. Not even to say that he can't talk.

I'm worried. I hope everything is fine with his family.

It appears as if he turned off his phone, and that hurts.

I don't know what to think.

It hurts. What happened? Why didn't he call? Doesn't he know just how much it hurts me and how much I miss him???

I want to strike back. I want to cry. I want to curl into a ball and not let anyone touch my heart again.

I know I'm exaggerating. But I'm not. It hurts.

The tears are slowly slipping down my cheeks, and I am wishing that they carry the hurt with them. Out of me.

I try to tell him how much or how important it is for me to talk to him. Maybe it's too important. Maybe it's too much.

I don't need him. Make me don't need him. Make me don't care. Make it go away.

Maybe I expect too much. I'm sorry if I do. I'm sorry that I believe you when you say you will call. I don't need you. I don't need anyone. Just go away and I'll be fine.

I Finally Did It

I forgot to tell y'all... I finally cut my hair!! (pictures coming soon... no, silly, not of me and my new hair cut, but of the two long braids.)

At least 15 inches came off into two braids. Then I got more chopped off during my haircut for a total of at least 20 inches. OK, I know that I've lost the guys attention (so what's the deal with guys and long hair anyway??), but I have bangs and it's in layers (short and choppy) and THE MAN loves it. He helped me finally get rid of the locks that were constantly knotting, always pulled back and doubled into a ponytail, and usually hid under a baseball cap.

He kept on encouraging me to get it cut even though he loves long hair because he knew how much it was irritating me. Work and DB keep me pretty busy, and with Yontiff my schedule was just insane. I was going out to visit him and a friend of mine (more on that later) suggested I use her guy. Believe it or not I actually scheduled an appointment AND WENT!! Not until after I walked into the place did I find out that Mr. Rose had already paid for my cut. HOLY MOLY!!! Who is this man???

Before I got the cut I warned him that I would probably cry afterwards. It's kind of traumatic to lose that much hair even if you want to, it's for a good cause, and it's been driving you bonkers. Also told him that I would probably hate my new hair cut, and the best thing for him to do was to constantly tell me that it looks great, he really likes it even if he thinks it's the ugliest thing, and even if I tell him that I know it's ugly or to stop saying those things to me. That's some advice for you guys too. That is if you can remember when she gets her haircut or actually notice it. OK, OK, that wasn't fair, but c'mon most of you never say anything and it doesn't matter if she covers her hair. The woman in your life would appreciate hearing something nice. OY! Didn't mean to give a shmooze. Sorry.

So he picks me up and I don't even want him looking at me. I'm fussing with my hair because the guy styled it towards my face and UGH!! I hate that!!! We get back home, and that's when the tears start. Of course, he's been telling me the whole ride how much he likes it and I've been telling him I don't and I know how horrible it is.

The mirror is calling as soon as I walk in the door and I'm trying to fix my hair so that even if I won't feel pretty at least I'll be a little happier. Then I realize that I don't have anything to use on my hair. Mr. Rose immediately suggests that we go out and get stuff. OMG!!! This man is just 'da best! CVS here we come. I spend about twenty minutes trying to find what I want, and they just didn't have it. BUT he buys me the some of the stuff I was looking at anyway!!! Makes you want to kiss him... and I did.

Later on we went food shopping so that I could cook for Shabbos and Yontiff and the 14 guests we were having for one of the meals, and there it was... my gunk. The stuff I put in my hair. He got a kick out of the name and I'm sure y'all will too... Bed Head. Kind of appropriate for me. Isn't it???

I was able to do my hair the way I like it and I was really happy with the hair cut, but the wonderful man kept on telling me that he loves the way it looks. I told him he didn't have to anymore and he said he wasn't telling me because he thought I needed to hear it, but because he thinks I look great. I know, I know, I'm not letting him go. He's not Mr. Perfect, but I'm not interested in perfect. I want him.

It's been a couple of weeks and I still like my hair so much so that I'm going to get it cut out by Mr. Rose from now on.

IMPORTANT!!! The reason I grew my hair and cut it.

I'm donating my hair to Zichron Menachem in Israel. They make human hair wigs for children who have lost their hair due to cancer

• Hair needs to be a minimum of 25 cm (10 inches) long - when braided.
• The hair should be tied with a rubber band at both ends - before it is braided and cut.

Braids should be sent (enclosed in a plastic or zip-lock bag) to:
Israel:
Zichron Menachem
P. O. Box 16383
Jerusalem, 91163

In the USA:

The Children's Bridge of Zichron Menachem
39 West 37th Street 3rd Floor
New York, NY 10018

In the UK:
The British Friends of Zichron Menachem
30 Brookside Road #306
London NW119NE

Missing

Hot tears and aching sobs
fill
his voice in my ear cannot place his arms around me
or let me look into his eyes

I pick a fight because the hurt has to go somewhere
out
into the world away from my soul
I want my life filled with smiles
not swallowed loneliness

Knowing that we will be together soon only intensifies the pain
that laughs at me for my foolish fears.

I Hope You Dance

A New Friend

The man 11 years older than I am called me tonight to ask if I got anything today. I had a busy day and didn't get a chance to get the mail or see if the doorman had anything for me. While he was on the phone with me I went downstairs got the mail and.... two dozen gorgeous roses. The picture here doesn't even do them justice.

We haven't even gone out yet, and he wasn't being pushy at all. In fact he signed the card, "Your friend." The rest of the note said, "Thank you for being you and putting a smile on my face."

I opened the box up and tears immediately came to my eyes. Y'all know how much flowers mean to me and these are amazingly beautiful flowers. He told me that he chose the colors too, pink, red, orange, and lavendar in a red vase.

He has just given himself his name... Mr. Rose

btw-Mr. B made sure to call today, and tell me what a good time he had last night. He also wanted to make a date for tomorrow night, but I might be getting ready to go to Kansas.

Why

...couldn't you have said so before?
...leave me waiting and hanging?
...do I still care?
...won't the feelings go away?
...am I just so angry?

There's so much I want to say. I counted to 10... I counted to 100... I concentrated on my breathing... I counted to 100 again...

What I want to write is "Go away. I'll leave you alone. Good-bye." But there's a part of me that doesn't want that to be the case.

Then there's a part of me that just wants to rail at you... pound your chest with my fists... make you hurt the way I'm hurting.

You know where to find me, but I'm not going to be waiting.

Different Ways

There's always a way to do something. You just have to figure it out if it's important enough to you.

There's a way in and sometimes it's hard to find the way out.

There are many ways to say good-bye, and quite a few to say hello.

I've had a few new hello's recently. One is from a sweetheart of a man whom I spoke to last night for an hour and a half. Yeah, yeah, I know I was only supposed to talk to him for 15 minutes. It's obvious from this, and this that I have a pretty thick skull. BUT I'm working on it.

He's 11 years older than I am, but I didn't feel like he was an "old man". He sounds like fun and recently broke a finger playing basketball. I like that, not just because I've done that myself, but because he likes to have fun and do things.

Another hello came from someone 10 years younger than I am. It is hard for me not to doubt that he is really interested in dating me for marriage. But he said he has no problem with bringing me and DB home to his family. He was very open with me about some other things which made me believe what he was saying. BUT I still know that I am gullible and easily taken in so I'm just going to see what happens.

We had a good chat last night for about two hours. And I didn't feel any disparity between us because of the age difference. He called and left a message today to wish me Good Shabbos. I got a nice note from the older guy about our talk last night that also put a smile on my face.

Of course, these two new guys need names. I'll have to come up with something if I think they might be around for awhile. There also another man, but I don't know if he's still interested.

Don't ask me what I'm doing I'm not quite sure, and I don't want to rebound into any relationship. I still have feelings for Cowboy, but I'm trying my best to push them down.

I don't want to talk about him.

update: another man just contacted me hadn't heard from him in a week... he's 13 years older more later...

Wish I Were Lucky

Lucky





In my heart... Rated R

A Passing Afternoon

Passing Afternoon - Iron & Wine

There are times that walk from you
Like some passing afternoon
Summer warmed the open window of her honeymoon
And she chose a yard to burn
But the ground remembers her
Wooden spoons, her children stir her Bougainvillea blooms

There are things that drift away
Like our endless numbered days
Autumn blew the quilt right off the perfect bed she made
And she's chosen to believe
In the hymns her mother sings
Sunday pulls it's children from their piles of fallen leaves

There are sailing ships that pass
All our bodies in the grass
Springtime calls her children until she lets them go at last
And she's chosen where to be
Though she's lost her wedding ring
Somewhere near her misplaced jar of Bougainvillea seeds

There are things we can't recall
Blind as night that finds us all
Winter tucks her children in, her fragile china dolls
But my hands remember hers
Rolling around the shaded ferns
Naked arms, her secrets still like songs I'd never learned

There are names across the sea
Only now I do believe
Sometimes, with the window closed, she'll sit and think of me
But she'll mend his tattered clothes
And they'll kiss as if they know
A baby sleeps in all our bones, so scared to be alone

My Friend, Petey

I’m so silly, and I’m so lucky. I’m lucky that I have a good friend. Let’s call him Petey. He makes me laugh and always has, even though his jokes are so, so, so very horrible. He listens. And not only that he has the answers to my questions. That is a major feat!!!

Petey explains and reminds me of things that I should be able to know and remember by myself. My emotions sometimes get in the way. The funny thing is that sometimes we are both talking about someone or something completely different than what the other one thinks and yet his advice still seems to apply. It's obvious that we're both strange. Yes, Petey, you're strange, but you knew that already.

He helps me keep my head on straight, and not get into too much trouble. I get lectures sometimes (alright, about once a week) on different matters, and it doesn’t bother me in the least. It means he cares, and I appreciate it.

He gets me to laugh while I’m in the middle of crying. OK, OK, it’s not that difficult to do. And yes, I already know I’m weird. Just about everyone who's ever read my blog can attest to that.

I guess the real reason for this post is so that I can say, "Thank you, Petey. And I'll bet you a nickel you never figure out why I called you that."

btw- Your offer to call blew me away.

He Called

He called. Cowboy that is.

But don't ask me what's going on. I don't think either of us know.

It was enough for now just to hear the voice I love so much.

I Miss You

I miss you. Even if I could write I miss you at the beginning of every sentence I send to you, it cannot describe the loss I feel at not being able to hear your voice. I can't see the words I'm typing because my tears blur the screen.

I haven't slept. I've tried, but I only start crying and feel my chest ache to the point that I hold my hands against it to keep it from ripping apart. The tears fall slowly one by one down my face or in a torrent of sobs that shake my body and make me gasp for air.

I've never felt for anyone what I feel for you. It hurts. It hurts that I don't know how you are. I'm davening. I'm asking Hashem to take care of you and make you happy... to let you smile and laugh.

Can't Sleep

...and I miss him.

Friends Don't Let Friends Write Sleepy (I mean "while sleepy" Just another reason why.)

When it's late at night I get more emotional not to mention the fact that this increases with the amount of sleep that I have gone without. It's not like I'm drunk just a helluva lot more emotional. In case y'all didn't notice, I'm an emotional person to begin with.

I got back to Oz yesterday evening, but I couldn't sleep because of the caffeine that I had earlier in the day. The night before I was up late doing laundry otherwise I never would've had the caffeine to begin with. So even though I was wired, I was also exhausted. It's kind of difficult to think straight like that, and of course, I felt the need to write out my emotions.

Actually, what I think I need to do is wait a day before I post, talk to someone or get emotional when I'm tired. Now I understand the sayings; Let me sleep on it, and Things will look different in the morning.

btw-last week I didn't get too much sleep... not an excuse, just an explanation

Needless to say, I shouldn't even be posting this.

Am I... When I...

Swallowing Tears

How do you swallow the tears to numbness
Forgetting what was there
The joy lifting you above is now shoved down
with the pain
Silent drops escape and my chest is sore
from being ripped in two.
In the sun it is easier to pretend life is fine
but at night it will not be contained
and flows into a river of hurt down the worn tread of thrown away dreams
memories of what could have been follow my footsteps dodging my happiness
trying to forget what never existed
my tired eyes cannot see the future
clouded by visions of unknown ecstasy
the knot gets stuck in my throat and will not go down easily
pulling us with it.

The Final Word

Said in anger there is finality

with sadness there is longing

in joy for the certainty of again

and too quickly, followed by regret

Living A Story

Her writing fills her life
As living never does
Dreams and poems become real
Closing her eyes
Trying to hide behind written pictures of joy and passion
Tears flow with the words and pour from her fingers

And I know the sorrow
Wishing for the fulfillment in her stories
Hoping for a life of her dreams

To go back in time and start again wouldn't help
To go forward would only make the past less familiar
I don't want to let go of the hurt that releases him
To know that not even cries remain
When they are gone so is his existence in my world
Just another character imagined in my life of books
Rereading friends and living the lives of others
To disappear from my own
Sometimes the hurt and pain continue through the day,a dull ache
At others, a familiar song stabs my memory
And rips his loving words from my heart with an anguished cry

To live for others is only existing
I hide behind smiles
Believing that none can see the dull pain of alone

She doesn't search through crowds for his face
To recognize his walk in a crowd
Straining to see... hoping he is returning to her
But knowing that will never be
Even with their meeting.

How do you live with sorrow?
Is it forgotten in a drawer with letters folded and worn from longing?
The memories of caring words in deep voices fill my mind
And the suffering leaks down my face
Cooling the passion that is still there.

Don't leave me
Don't let me leave you
Don't say goodbye
Don't wish me well
Just go and give me forgetting your laugh
So that I can continue on my walk for others
Across an empty world

I Hate Love

It hurts too much.

I hate limbo because I don't know what I'm expecting then I'm not at ease and can't experience what I really feel. All that I feel then is anxious. It colors everything a pukey sea green kind of color that reminds me of hospitals where I've done a lot of anxious waiting through my life.

I'm horrible at making decisions, not all decisions just a few and of those only the ones that impact on me singularly. I would love for someone to make these decisions for me, but then what would be the purpose of me being involved in my life at all?

I don't know whether to cry or yell so I do neither. The pain is muted right now. I have too much going on in my life to feel it completely or maybe I just don't want to face it.

I feel like I'm losing a best friend, and he's not even lost. It just that things are in limbo, but I have this feeling. Anyway... I'm sure my tears will come. But my eyes are dry right now. I guess, I'm trying to push it down. I've never felt this way about someone. Maybe it was easier to care about him like this because he was so far away. So that this wasn't "real." Then why does it still hurt?

I have too good of an imagination. I let dreams get the best of me. At this point in my life, I should know that there is no such thing as "happily ever after." But I do know that. I don't want perfect. I just want to share. I want to share smiles and tears, arguments and make-ups, family dinners and slamming doors.

I wish... I hope... I dream... and I curse myself for wanting the impossible.

Didn't reread. Don't want to read this again.

Happy Girl

How can you be angry at someone who knows you better than you know yourself? At someone you don't even want to be angry with? At someone who knows you just want to pick a fight and don't really want to hurt them?


I was upset when he called. He knew from the second he heard my voice that something was wrong, but he didn't push and ask me about it. I was trying hard not to be argumentative, but then he asked me if I wanted to fight. It appears that I can't hide things from him, not that I really want to or maybe I do.

Something he said made me smile and he knew it would. The next thing I knew there were tears in my eyes and he offered me his shoulder to cry on. That did it and I felt the wet drops trace a hot path down my cheeks. My voice didn't catch in my throat and I wasn't sniffling so there was no way for him to know I was crying. His soft words soothed and relaxed me as if he were holding me in his arms.

Usually when I'm that distressed the tears will go on for quite some time, but as he tells me he's "magic." Never have I felt better in such a short amount of time and with less tears. The next thing I know I'm giggling again.


OR


I'm not upset when he calls, and then he says just the words that he knows will bug me. It's done on purpose to get a rise out of me, and it works of course. He's got his fingers on what buttons to push.

Then he chuckles, and he is most definitely aware that this only infuriates me more. Two seconds later he tells me something that has me cracking up despite myself. This makes him laugh even harder knowing that I'm trying my best to stay irritated with him and that I'm losing the battle. My giggles inform him that he has won again.


Either way it's hard to stay angry at a man who makes me happy... a very happy girl.