I find it interesting that my generation ("Generation We Have No Clue What We Are Doing") communicates via music lyrics by way of social media. No longer do we sit in anguish and stew over whatever stress is swirling around us - we put Cannibal Corpse lyrics in ALL CAPS on our Facebook pages. I could probably go on for ten minutes giving examples of different situations that we convey our feelings through a bad Taylor Swift song instead of calling someone up on the phone and telling them you're happy, sad, mad, etc. BUT that would only entertain me.
I am a huge culprit. I will stand on my soap box and wave a really big flag that has those bad Taylor Swift lyrics on it before I actually say something to your face. Why? Because confrontation isn't sexy anymore. And if you're using someone else's words you can always deny them in the end.
FACT.
I have some really good friends who I wouldn't know how they honestly felt about things until I checked their status updates. Is it "Hallelujah" lyrics? (specifically the Rufus Wainwright rendition, obviously) or is it "Club Can't Even Handle Me" by Flo Rida blowing up their page?
It's not that I think any of us are lying. I think we are just so brainwashed into thinking that we have to be positive all the time. Most people are so afraid to be a downer that they refuse to admit that they aren't feeling top notch. That life sucks right now. That their boyfriend just cheated on them with an Appleblees waitress. Whatever. Whatever it is - a smile is supposed to get you through. And at the core of it? Smiling doesn't get us through, unfortunately. Which is why we let someone else "speak" for us.
This Lyrical Passive Aggressiveness has gotten so bad that there was a point in time when eight different people had the SAME Eminem lyrics as their updates. Want to know what I deducted from that?
a) We are all SO LAME THAT WE HAVE LET EMINEM ROCK AGAIN.
b) You are sad and unsatisfied with whatever situation you are in.
Awesome. There's nothing wrong with that! We all know we post updates so others are knowing how we are feeling. So if a sad one is on there maybe a friend will give you a call or an old fling will see you are still indie-cool or your Mom will ask you if you need medication. Why can't we just like...say it ourselves?
Who cares if confrontation isn't sexy anymore? Who cares if we seem like downers when the day went to shit? Sometimes I don't like you and sometimes I am sad! I (we) should be able to say that instead of hiding behind Lady Gaga.
And just so you know? THE CLUB CAN'T EVEN HANDLE ME RIGHT NOW.
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Monday, October 11, 2010
well, this was unexpected
I don't know how to start off this post without sounding like I am using this blog as a sounding board for all of my not-dealt-with bullshit but I'm pretty sure that's what this year is all about anyway. Not dealing with anything and then sometimes feeling like I should deal with little things that probably have a lot to do with the big picture. I'm sure that explanation makes no sense whatsoever but does anything I do? Let's be honest here.
Maybe on my road to being able to not need anything, I learned to block things out until I feel like feeling about them. Generally speaking, I can forget I feel anything for quite some time until I make myself remember again. Possibly the ultimate defense mechanism? Possibly a present to myself after all those ridiculous teenage years of feeling EVERYTHING so vividly and passionately? Who knows. I just know I do this now.
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about *L. *L and I had a pretty curious relationship from the time I was nineteen up until last year. We were ultimately best friends who would fall in and out of love with each other randomly, violently and most of the time, stupidly. We were there for each other when we were both at our worst and there was no one I trusted more. And I knew he felt the same way about me. I never once doubted it.
We'd use each other in the most ridiculous of ways. When we were in relationships with other people - we'd almost beg each other to sabotage it. There was never any reason. We both had fallen in love with other people intermittently throughout our friendship yet would always somehow be giggling behind their backs. It didn't seem malicious at the time because we were best friends and that's how it had always been. I didn't know any better or at least pretended that I didn't.
In between all this we were always fighting. He was always blaming me for leaving the south and I was always blaming him for not coming after me. It was a co-dependent relationship that even though I am a relatively smart girl, it never dawned on me what it meant until it was too late.
One day *L went off to join the army and came back the man I always wished he was. I didn't understand our dynamic anymore and he came back with a girlfriend.
This time I felt different. It hit me like a ton of bricks that I had always loved him. I had to fall in love with other people to find out and we had to get to this place to finally have it all work.
When I told him, he blamed me for leaving him years ago. He blamed me for making him watch me fall in love with someone else. He felt victorious because I now knew how he felt about me before. Before what? Before the army? Before this girl? Before I actually grew up and stopped playing games? What?
I knew after that nothing could ever be the same. They say it in movies all the time and it's all dramatic and silly but this was the truth. There was a tangible shift in our entire timeline and no matter what - there was no going back and I genuinely didn't want to.
There were a lot of things he told me and I never once had a reason to not believe him. We had never once lied to each other even when it hurt.
Around that time *M relapsed. Obviously, I needed my best friend and the one person in the world who I wouldn't fear crying with and telling him exactly how I felt. Our communication had been sparse in the few months leading up the relapse because I was trying to give him his space to figure out his next move. I never got a response to my own text - instead I got:
I'm engaged.
I've never dropped a phone before but I smashed it all over the back room of my work. I felt sick. For all the years I thought I had the upper hand and it ended with a text message that made me stop believing in "the normal course of things." I won't use a cliche word like fate and cheapen the experience - but I'm sure you can picture it.
I panicked and called my girlfriends who were mortified for me and also advised me to delete him out of my life. I knew I should. I knew I had just heard another huge blow of information after, you know, my brother relapsing from cancer. But I couldn't. Not until I decided. Until I made it my decision.
I had to come to terms with the fact that I would always have the impulse to call him when someone said something funny or to tell him a juicy story. Strangely, it didn't take too long to figure out that I was worth more than those impulses and I could tell someone else, goddamnit. And I did. I deleted him from every social network I could and deleted his phone number from my phone so I couldn't cave and call him when the tequila got to me.
I got a lot of calls, messages and texts from him after that. I didn't listen to them or read them which is unlike me. I usually like to torture myself a little bit. The last call came from the last week of *M's life when he was on hospice. My Mom saw the caller ID before I did and I saw the sadness in her eyes for me. As her son was dying. And I knew I had to end this once and for all.
So I did.
Please leave me alone.
And that was it. 5 years like it never existed.
I miss him every day. And I want him to be happy every day. I love him enough to know we can't be in each other's lives without intentionally or unintentionally stealing too many pieces of each other. It doesn't make it easier when I stumble (*ahem* yeah right) on a picture of him with his pretty wife in front of their pretty house. But in the same breath I look at them and realize that that wouldn't have been us anyway. And somehow, depending on how I chose to feel that day - it makes me feel a little bit better.
Maybe on my road to being able to not need anything, I learned to block things out until I feel like feeling about them. Generally speaking, I can forget I feel anything for quite some time until I make myself remember again. Possibly the ultimate defense mechanism? Possibly a present to myself after all those ridiculous teenage years of feeling EVERYTHING so vividly and passionately? Who knows. I just know I do this now.
Lately, I've been thinking a lot about *L. *L and I had a pretty curious relationship from the time I was nineteen up until last year. We were ultimately best friends who would fall in and out of love with each other randomly, violently and most of the time, stupidly. We were there for each other when we were both at our worst and there was no one I trusted more. And I knew he felt the same way about me. I never once doubted it.
We'd use each other in the most ridiculous of ways. When we were in relationships with other people - we'd almost beg each other to sabotage it. There was never any reason. We both had fallen in love with other people intermittently throughout our friendship yet would always somehow be giggling behind their backs. It didn't seem malicious at the time because we were best friends and that's how it had always been. I didn't know any better or at least pretended that I didn't.
In between all this we were always fighting. He was always blaming me for leaving the south and I was always blaming him for not coming after me. It was a co-dependent relationship that even though I am a relatively smart girl, it never dawned on me what it meant until it was too late.
One day *L went off to join the army and came back the man I always wished he was. I didn't understand our dynamic anymore and he came back with a girlfriend.
This time I felt different. It hit me like a ton of bricks that I had always loved him. I had to fall in love with other people to find out and we had to get to this place to finally have it all work.
When I told him, he blamed me for leaving him years ago. He blamed me for making him watch me fall in love with someone else. He felt victorious because I now knew how he felt about me before. Before what? Before the army? Before this girl? Before I actually grew up and stopped playing games? What?
I knew after that nothing could ever be the same. They say it in movies all the time and it's all dramatic and silly but this was the truth. There was a tangible shift in our entire timeline and no matter what - there was no going back and I genuinely didn't want to.
There were a lot of things he told me and I never once had a reason to not believe him. We had never once lied to each other even when it hurt.
Around that time *M relapsed. Obviously, I needed my best friend and the one person in the world who I wouldn't fear crying with and telling him exactly how I felt. Our communication had been sparse in the few months leading up the relapse because I was trying to give him his space to figure out his next move. I never got a response to my own text - instead I got:
I'm engaged.
I've never dropped a phone before but I smashed it all over the back room of my work. I felt sick. For all the years I thought I had the upper hand and it ended with a text message that made me stop believing in "the normal course of things." I won't use a cliche word like fate and cheapen the experience - but I'm sure you can picture it.
I panicked and called my girlfriends who were mortified for me and also advised me to delete him out of my life. I knew I should. I knew I had just heard another huge blow of information after, you know, my brother relapsing from cancer. But I couldn't. Not until I decided. Until I made it my decision.
I had to come to terms with the fact that I would always have the impulse to call him when someone said something funny or to tell him a juicy story. Strangely, it didn't take too long to figure out that I was worth more than those impulses and I could tell someone else, goddamnit. And I did. I deleted him from every social network I could and deleted his phone number from my phone so I couldn't cave and call him when the tequila got to me.
I got a lot of calls, messages and texts from him after that. I didn't listen to them or read them which is unlike me. I usually like to torture myself a little bit. The last call came from the last week of *M's life when he was on hospice. My Mom saw the caller ID before I did and I saw the sadness in her eyes for me. As her son was dying. And I knew I had to end this once and for all.
So I did.
Please leave me alone.
And that was it. 5 years like it never existed.
I miss him every day. And I want him to be happy every day. I love him enough to know we can't be in each other's lives without intentionally or unintentionally stealing too many pieces of each other. It doesn't make it easier when I stumble (*ahem* yeah right) on a picture of him with his pretty wife in front of their pretty house. But in the same breath I look at them and realize that that wouldn't have been us anyway. And somehow, depending on how I chose to feel that day - it makes me feel a little bit better.
Monday, October 4, 2010
The Checklist.
So sometimes I have a social life (or some semblance of it.) Sometimes someone will ask me to do something or go somewhere and I have realized that I have an actual checklist that runs through my head determining my response. This checklist determines if I accept, decline or pretend to accept and then ignore your text/call when the time comes for said event to occur. I'm a bitch, sorry. So when I realized I had this RETARDED list, I had to share it with you all. So you could make fun of me.
Do I have to wear pants?
Are vampires involved?
Is Jersey Shore on?
Would my Grandma think I was cool?
Do I get free food?
Will someone be taking pictures of me?
Can my dog come?
Will I need Purell?
Are boys with muddy trucks and baseball hats invited?
Did I leave my flask at my parents?
What's the likelihood that Taylor Hanson will be there? OLD HABITS DIE HARD, YA'LL.
So since it is now fall and it's cold and it will be harder to get me out of hibernation - just some tips on what goes through my head when you want to make some plans. I mean, I may outwardly sigh if not all of these questions are answered in my head to my liking but as long as my Grandma would think I was cool, that's all that realllly matters.
Do I have to wear pants?
Are vampires involved?
Is Jersey Shore on?
Would my Grandma think I was cool?
Do I get free food?
Will someone be taking pictures of me?
Can my dog come?
Will I need Purell?
Are boys with muddy trucks and baseball hats invited?
Did I leave my flask at my parents?
What's the likelihood that Taylor Hanson will be there? OLD HABITS DIE HARD, YA'LL.
So since it is now fall and it's cold and it will be harder to get me out of hibernation - just some tips on what goes through my head when you want to make some plans. I mean, I may outwardly sigh if not all of these questions are answered in my head to my liking but as long as my Grandma would think I was cool, that's all that realllly matters.
Thursday, September 23, 2010
sweet caroline, bun bun bun, good times never seemed so good
A lot of the time I put a big emphasis on the idea of "home" and surrounding myself with the people I love at all times. Because I did a lot of traveling when I was a kid - I was able to comprehend at a pretty young age that you can live anywhere, burn every bridge and run super far away and eventually everything catches up with you. You will always still be stuck with yourself and the bullshit crap that encompasses you. Seriously. I said that and meant that.
I was fortunate to allow a little bit of my flight instinct free from its cage this past week and I fled the state. Literally ran in the opposite direction screaming. This time I didn't feel like I was doing myself or anyone a disservice by peacing out - it felt freeing. For the first time in a long time I was able to get away and feel refreshed instead of guilty and disappointed! Mazel tov to me!
I hooped and hollered. Drank too much. Wandered Observed. Existed. It was perfect.
I didn't want to see a single face from my everyday life, hear a nagging word or see a pouting mouth. I was triumphant and I rewarded myself with way too much overpriced gourmet chocolate.
It sure helped that the weather was magnificent and that Boston has a population worth looking at and that they're nice enough to tell me I'm going to make an attractive kid or move their car for me when I can't parallel park. It was the kind of weekend that was effortless with no strings attached. My entire life is full of effort and a feeling of impending doom. I know it sounds tragic but it isn't meant to be - it's just the way it is, ya know? So when I can get a little bit of the sweet stuff, I'm gonna snag it. And then buy some chocolate to make it even better!
I was fortunate to allow a little bit of my flight instinct free from its cage this past week and I fled the state. Literally ran in the opposite direction screaming. This time I didn't feel like I was doing myself or anyone a disservice by peacing out - it felt freeing. For the first time in a long time I was able to get away and feel refreshed instead of guilty and disappointed! Mazel tov to me!
I hooped and hollered. Drank too much. Wandered Observed. Existed. It was perfect.
I didn't want to see a single face from my everyday life, hear a nagging word or see a pouting mouth. I was triumphant and I rewarded myself with way too much overpriced gourmet chocolate.
It sure helped that the weather was magnificent and that Boston has a population worth looking at and that they're nice enough to tell me I'm going to make an attractive kid or move their car for me when I can't parallel park. It was the kind of weekend that was effortless with no strings attached. My entire life is full of effort and a feeling of impending doom. I know it sounds tragic but it isn't meant to be - it's just the way it is, ya know? So when I can get a little bit of the sweet stuff, I'm gonna snag it. And then buy some chocolate to make it even better!
Thursday, August 19, 2010
pride is an asshole
*this post will have an embarrassing amount of "probably's" and "I's". My apologies for the passive aggressive narcissism, my dear friends. =)
I have come to the soft conclusion that I have slowly built myself to need nothing.
This may have started sometime in middle school when I decided I didn't *need* to speak up all the time. I could still hold convictions and opinions and whatever else you feel at 14 and just basically not say them. I think that was the start especially since the summer after I stopped speaking up like 3 boys professed their love for me. I came off shy and coy when really I was just trying to shut up. (That lasted long LOL) This subconsciously probably gave me positive reinforcement.
*M getting sick when I was eighteen probably had a lot to do with it also. That was the summer I was going to college and quickly turned from a codependent wide-eyed girl to someone completely alone and without parents at one of the most crucial times. This was the time I was waiting for my entire life and instead of enjoying it - I had to teach myself how to live a completely different way. This time it was not a choice to stop needing - it was forced.
My brother got sick again 7 years lately and subsequently died. All throughout the time he was dying right in front of me, the funeral time, and the months after his death I have managed without a significant other. I have not had that one person you generally go to when you are in pain. I have been through the kind of hell most people will thankfully never encounter and I did it all on my own. I relied on no one but myself.
My friends are all leaving to start their lives elsewhere. I feel slightly numb to it because I know I will learn to not need them either. It is apparently my first reaction after so many years of slowly eliminating that instinct.
I feel like pride has a lot to do with it in the end. If I have been able to practically extinguish vulnerability in my life - why let down guards for new boys, new friends, my family - when in the end I'll just start needing them and consequently something will occur that I'll have to rearrange my head again? It would be MY fault for allowing that to happen instead of having it happen to me like it has for so many years. I'm strong enough by myself, anyway.
And then...there is that small voice in the back of my mind that repeats that stupid cliche:
God gives you what you need not what you want blah blah.
So if I continue needing nothing...will I get nothing? Because that, my friends, would suck.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
Summer of No Pants
Let me start off by saying that I love a good challenge.
My favorite thing to do is to take a change of clothes with me after work and completely change into said outfit while driving my car to a destination.
There is no reason why I can't change my clothes at work or wherever I am going. None whatsoever. I just find that I get a lot of satisfaction from being able to physically drive my car the entire way and not get pulled over or smash into a vehicle while taking my dress off in my Honda going 45 down a city street.
When I type it out it sounds pretty voyeuristic and weird, but whatever. Have you seen Strange Sex on TLC? I'm like a 3 on the weird factor compared to these looners. (And there is actually an episode ON "looners" who are sexytime lovers of balloons.) Oh yeah, I'm a 3 or less.
Just to clarify, I am not interested in anyone catching me doing this - it's just that I CAN do it. I would probably find the same satisfaction in changing my sheets blindfolded or eating soup with a fork victoriously. I'm just easily personally provoked by my "you totally can't do that..." voice.
So since I love a good personal challenge, I have proclaimed this the Summer of No Pants. I think I was egged on when I heard some quote about girls not wearing pants anymore. Like yeah, I'm generally a girly girl but I'll wear jeans on the weekend and trousers to work on occasion. But when I heard some guy talking about how girls don't wear pants...I had to spend a summer trying to prove him right.
I have made it a point to only wear skirts, dresses and leggings/yoga attire from June through September. There have been some bumps in the road - that entire two week fashion disaster called Israel and today I wore jeans to the aquarium because it's "that time" and I felt like this hippo:
But other than that - no pants. I thought I would be annoyed by having to pass over the pants selection in my closet but instead I am simply delighted to be 100% dressed up or in leggings like I'm Lindsay Lohan pre-jail. My Mom *likes* my facebook status whenever I talk about the Summer of No Pants. I think she's delighted with my motivation. I also think she hopes this gets me laid. Either way, I'm glad to have her support.
And you know, just for good measure - I'm losing 20 pounds if the Mets make it to the World Series and 25 if they win it. So God, if you're interested in me with a hot bod - I suggest you help along my sucky ass baseball team and provoke my *DARE ME* attitude. JUST SAYING.
My favorite thing to do is to take a change of clothes with me after work and completely change into said outfit while driving my car to a destination.
There is no reason why I can't change my clothes at work or wherever I am going. None whatsoever. I just find that I get a lot of satisfaction from being able to physically drive my car the entire way and not get pulled over or smash into a vehicle while taking my dress off in my Honda going 45 down a city street.
When I type it out it sounds pretty voyeuristic and weird, but whatever. Have you seen Strange Sex on TLC? I'm like a 3 on the weird factor compared to these looners. (And there is actually an episode ON "looners" who are sexytime lovers of balloons.) Oh yeah, I'm a 3 or less.
Just to clarify, I am not interested in anyone catching me doing this - it's just that I CAN do it. I would probably find the same satisfaction in changing my sheets blindfolded or eating soup with a fork victoriously. I'm just easily personally provoked by my "you totally can't do that..." voice.
So since I love a good personal challenge, I have proclaimed this the Summer of No Pants. I think I was egged on when I heard some quote about girls not wearing pants anymore. Like yeah, I'm generally a girly girl but I'll wear jeans on the weekend and trousers to work on occasion. But when I heard some guy talking about how girls don't wear pants...I had to spend a summer trying to prove him right.
I have made it a point to only wear skirts, dresses and leggings/yoga attire from June through September. There have been some bumps in the road - that entire two week fashion disaster called Israel and today I wore jeans to the aquarium because it's "that time" and I felt like this hippo:
But other than that - no pants. I thought I would be annoyed by having to pass over the pants selection in my closet but instead I am simply delighted to be 100% dressed up or in leggings like I'm Lindsay Lohan pre-jail. My Mom *likes* my facebook status whenever I talk about the Summer of No Pants. I think she's delighted with my motivation. I also think she hopes this gets me laid. Either way, I'm glad to have her support.
And you know, just for good measure - I'm losing 20 pounds if the Mets make it to the World Series and 25 if they win it. So God, if you're interested in me with a hot bod - I suggest you help along my sucky ass baseball team and provoke my *DARE ME* attitude. JUST SAYING.
Monday, July 26, 2010
Esreem vitaysha!
So I thought I would do this post differently. I thought I would backdate what I wrote in Israel like I was still there and have important and interesting commentary about the things I saw and the people I met and the feelings I felt.
Instead, I'm a little drunk off the wine I am drinking and am surrounded by pictures I am choosing to go on the wall in my living room. Next to pictures of my brother and my friends and real life. Real life.
Let me begin by saying that Israel is by far nothing as you imagine. I always thought Israel was like the USA except everything was in another language and you'd think nothing of an explosion going off in the supermarket next to where you're shopping for work clothes. This is not true. There is tons of land and tons of desert. You can drive for miles and see absolutely nothing and then all of a sudden come across a small settlement that is categorized religiously.
Everything has history. Everything has a story. You walk with the Bible and with the political storm that is this country's past and present. There is no living in Israel without an opinion. On everything. Here in the US we can blissfully go throughout our day without caring about the BP oil spill or the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. The people in Israel must know where they stand on everything or else they could cease to exist. Literally.
Everywhere I looked there were connections forged. The people on my trip forged connections with one another. Some found connection with their religion. Others found connection with the country. Others still found connections with themselves.
I didn't find any of that. Thinking about it after I got home, I realized what I found. And I found it in the trailer of a movie. In the trailer for Eat, Pray, Love Julia Roberts drabbles on about something and about how boring her life has been and then she says:
"...I want to marvel at something..."
And it clicked. I was able to marvel at something without the complications of anything regarding my real life. In my real life I make incredible connections and am smart and have opinions and love things deeply and passionately and laugh really fucking hard.
On this trip - all I did was take it in and be a listener and a sponge. I got to ride camels! Climb Masada! Raft down the Jordan! Eat hummus every.single.day! Without complication of what reality is or the obligation to even be myself. I just was part of the scenery and let a place bigger than I was lead my life for a week and a half. AND IT WAS GLORIOUS. It was absolutely exactly what I didn't know I needed.
At one point we were in the Judean Desert at the hokiest part of our trip - a fake Bedouin village. It was pitch black and we had some free time to wander around. And we look up and there's shooting stars everywhere. And I just lost it. I literally sobbed for two hours straight because I knew it was *M showing me he was there with me. And it was ok to do it! I had to run halfway across the world to cry like that over my dead brother. And not even at the Wailing Wall but at a fake village with camels snoring everywhere. It felt right. Because *M will never get to go on a trip like that. Because *M would have looked at me to see if he should be afraid of the camels or not. Because every stupid fear I had, he had to have.
To be honest, *M would have NEVER gone on that trip but he never got the option and I did. And I feel guilty every day for having options.
There were siblings on my bus. I wanted to tell them how lucky they were and how I wish we could have been them. But I could barely even squeak out anything about myself until one of the last days when I was wearing an Alex's Lemonade Stand Foundation tshirt. Alex's dad wanted a picture of someone at the Dead Sea in one of their crazy bright yellow shirts. I was proud to sport it.
I don't know. I feel like I'd be minimizing this trip if I spouted out names and events. I'm still letting this all sink in. I'm still looking at pictures and smiling and feeling waterfalls on my back. How it felt to not have a hairdryer. I'm remembering how manners don't exist in Israel yet everyone will look at you and say 'welcome home'. Why, thank you...
Instead, I'm a little drunk off the wine I am drinking and am surrounded by pictures I am choosing to go on the wall in my living room. Next to pictures of my brother and my friends and real life. Real life.
Let me begin by saying that Israel is by far nothing as you imagine. I always thought Israel was like the USA except everything was in another language and you'd think nothing of an explosion going off in the supermarket next to where you're shopping for work clothes. This is not true. There is tons of land and tons of desert. You can drive for miles and see absolutely nothing and then all of a sudden come across a small settlement that is categorized religiously.
Everything has history. Everything has a story. You walk with the Bible and with the political storm that is this country's past and present. There is no living in Israel without an opinion. On everything. Here in the US we can blissfully go throughout our day without caring about the BP oil spill or the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. The people in Israel must know where they stand on everything or else they could cease to exist. Literally.
Everywhere I looked there were connections forged. The people on my trip forged connections with one another. Some found connection with their religion. Others found connection with the country. Others still found connections with themselves.
I didn't find any of that. Thinking about it after I got home, I realized what I found. And I found it in the trailer of a movie. In the trailer for Eat, Pray, Love Julia Roberts drabbles on about something and about how boring her life has been and then she says:
"...I want to marvel at something..."
And it clicked. I was able to marvel at something without the complications of anything regarding my real life. In my real life I make incredible connections and am smart and have opinions and love things deeply and passionately and laugh really fucking hard.
On this trip - all I did was take it in and be a listener and a sponge. I got to ride camels! Climb Masada! Raft down the Jordan! Eat hummus every.single.day! Without complication of what reality is or the obligation to even be myself. I just was part of the scenery and let a place bigger than I was lead my life for a week and a half. AND IT WAS GLORIOUS. It was absolutely exactly what I didn't know I needed.
At one point we were in the Judean Desert at the hokiest part of our trip - a fake Bedouin village. It was pitch black and we had some free time to wander around. And we look up and there's shooting stars everywhere. And I just lost it. I literally sobbed for two hours straight because I knew it was *M showing me he was there with me. And it was ok to do it! I had to run halfway across the world to cry like that over my dead brother. And not even at the Wailing Wall but at a fake village with camels snoring everywhere. It felt right. Because *M will never get to go on a trip like that. Because *M would have looked at me to see if he should be afraid of the camels or not. Because every stupid fear I had, he had to have.
To be honest, *M would have NEVER gone on that trip but he never got the option and I did. And I feel guilty every day for having options.
There were siblings on my bus. I wanted to tell them how lucky they were and how I wish we could have been them. But I could barely even squeak out anything about myself until one of the last days when I was wearing an Alex's Lemonade Stand Foundation tshirt. Alex's dad wanted a picture of someone at the Dead Sea in one of their crazy bright yellow shirts. I was proud to sport it.
I don't know. I feel like I'd be minimizing this trip if I spouted out names and events. I'm still letting this all sink in. I'm still looking at pictures and smiling and feeling waterfalls on my back. How it felt to not have a hairdryer. I'm remembering how manners don't exist in Israel yet everyone will look at you and say 'welcome home'. Why, thank you...
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