So, I've considered a few things lately:
1. I am obsessed with email. I do love it, as a form of communication. But, in reality, it's just a bunch of monologues. I can Shakespeare it up all I want, but without the back-and-forth, it's not all that much fun.
2. My long emails can scare people off. First, there's the guy that seemed like a perfect match. He was kind of a ridiculously-crazy match, even, in part because: he emailed big emails back! I guess the problem with folks like this is: eventually they get busy. I guess I get busy too, but I always seem to find time for email.
(I started this blog because I wanted to have a better place to funnel all my energy into, so that I'm not just having elaborate conversations with potential sweeties, that I wind up scaring off with my lengthy prose. If it's not my primary sense of internal spiritual prescience, it's my big emails. I can't help that I'm a size queen!)
Anyway. Perfect Match emailed 1.5 weeks ago, to say that, oh, actually, he's not ready to start dating again. Even though I'm really freaking awesome, and he totally feels conflicted, and half wants to jump right in...
In the end, he says, he can't. *blink*
And I realize that I'd been smelling something rotten, and it's the whole idea of me writing, and the other person not writing back, or writing back begrudgingly. He'd become one of -those- people, in the days leading up to this.
*thinking*
3. Another potential-sweetie, who does a lot of travel with work, pointed out that, he loves my emails, all the trains of thought, all the lines of conversation, but, gosh, it's daunting.
4. I think I have too much free time on my hands. And, I need to find a way to funnel that time, and that writing energy, into something Positive.
5. I was told last week, by a Yoruban priest and community chief in the Ifá tradition, that I am a writer, and that I need to speak my truth, and unreasonably generous wealth will follow.
That's hard to hear. It speaks to my tendency to procrastinate. There is no time to procrastinate, in front of Yemaya and Ogun.
....
Meanwhile, I realize that I have 3 sets of friends, with little overlap. They use Twitter, Facebook, and G+. They each tend to scoff at the other platforms. I have started using all 3 platforms. God damn it.
So, there you go. I am contemplating buying a Mac laptop, even though I don't see myself using a laptop out in the world. I want simplicity at home, and a smaller footprint for computer space.
Here's to getting it all out. I'm preparing for next week, when I spend a full 7 days on Mt. Shasta, 3 days/3 nights of that on my own, with a sleeping bag, a staked-out meditation spot, a tarp, and maybe a shovel to dig poo holes. ... Match Boy didn't write back. Other Potential Sweetie has email access next week, when I don't... *sigh*
Here's to not having menstrual cramps during my visionquest. Today I hope to see a Chinese herbalist, and I hope for relief!
xxoo
Showing posts with label communication. Show all posts
Showing posts with label communication. Show all posts
Tuesday, August 2, 2011
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Pen Pals
So, I met a lady on OKCupid, who wants to be pen pals. I agreed, after noticing she's incredibly attractive, and a professional poet. We started writing.
I told her some of my recent thoughts, about relationships. She responded by telling me to journal more, that I share unfinished thoughts, or that they will seem unfinished to a generic audience. I've been told this before, by a dear local friend, who finds my "pastische of words" off-putting at times.
My life of email-writing, stream-of-consciousness, and, well, rants, I can see that maybe, maybe I could think twice, write once.
That said, I'll do a little journaling here, away from livejournal, away from most prying eyes:
I met a nice person. We went on a couple of pretty amazing dates. I thought I had a lock-down on being grounded, being self-aware, and not falling head-over-heels for someone just because we get along famously well.
Email is becoming a true obsession. It doesn't help that I'm suddenly, after two years of taking continuous-use hormonal contraceptives, having my first true menstrual bleed.
Everything feels more tender and exaggerated. I'm tired. I'm sore. My uterus aches. My dreams feel debilitating.
Lately I find myself thinking of my ex from last fall, whose wife is due next month with a first child. I've cut off communication with him, after a series of emails leading me to understand he still doesn't get my notion of self, and doesn't respect my values. *blink* Meanwhile, my sister-in-law is due end of August, in rural Pennsylvania. She'll deliver in Manhattan, where her mom lives.
I thought I honestly didn't care about partnership. I thought it was a weakness, a crutch people lean on to prevent themselves from going out into the world and -living-, fully, passionately, unto themselves.
This weekend I spent Saturday and Sunday involved in exploring wilderness for my earth medicine group, or meeting with folks to discuss a quest I'm going on in August, and an intensive workshop on ancestral guidance. *blink* This work has basically taken over what therapy used to do for me, but it feels much more participatory, and directly helps me communicate with my inner path.
The new boy I met (OK, there were actually two new boys, but one's only available on a very part-time basis) brings up some inner conflicts: I am an independent person. I am not dependent on my relationship to define me. I have avoided being in relationship, or identifying by my relationship, for decades, now!
But, golly, this is a shiny new thing. I have to palpably resist the urge to check my email 10 times a day, awaiting new input.
Instead, I need to remember my old skills, which I get better at with time (and with separation from tempting date-prospects): sublimate sexual desire into art, into academic pursuit, into work. Express, but do not regurgitate on those near me!
I remember a man living in Gainesville, across the hall from an apartment I stayed in for a month or so, while a friend was on art therapy sabbatical. He pointed out that he used to be like me, until he started chanelling his energies into music, and antiques collecting.
I was too manic at that point of my life to even recognize if he was flirting with me. I pursued a man who was basically an intellectual asshole; we competed at local performance art dives. We got into a white-people fight, and he tripped me, and I hit the ground with my face. He drove off, and crushed my glasses, inadvertantly, I believe. I nursed my wounds in the gay dive bar where we'd just performed, and wound up getting solace from a sweet bisexual boy, Tom. Tom knew enough to identify as straight or gay, depending on the circumstances. He was a good person to me. I think he had stinky breath, or I'd have been much more into him. :) Or maybe I was just...overwhelmed. That was an intense summer!
I have things to focus on: making approximately 600 more prayer ties before 8/7; finishing and submitting my application for an expressive arts therapy program, which I may or may not pursue; advertising more for my favorite new project, gender-free Scottish country dance...
He's a really sweet boy. I can tell I like him a lot. I just can't lose myself in him, or in the thought, of whatever potential might exist there. I cannot afford to lose myself in anyone. For all the sweetness, I need my own personal rock, or I am asea forever.
I told her some of my recent thoughts, about relationships. She responded by telling me to journal more, that I share unfinished thoughts, or that they will seem unfinished to a generic audience. I've been told this before, by a dear local friend, who finds my "pastische of words" off-putting at times.
My life of email-writing, stream-of-consciousness, and, well, rants, I can see that maybe, maybe I could think twice, write once.
That said, I'll do a little journaling here, away from livejournal, away from most prying eyes:
I met a nice person. We went on a couple of pretty amazing dates. I thought I had a lock-down on being grounded, being self-aware, and not falling head-over-heels for someone just because we get along famously well.
Email is becoming a true obsession. It doesn't help that I'm suddenly, after two years of taking continuous-use hormonal contraceptives, having my first true menstrual bleed.
Everything feels more tender and exaggerated. I'm tired. I'm sore. My uterus aches. My dreams feel debilitating.
Lately I find myself thinking of my ex from last fall, whose wife is due next month with a first child. I've cut off communication with him, after a series of emails leading me to understand he still doesn't get my notion of self, and doesn't respect my values. *blink* Meanwhile, my sister-in-law is due end of August, in rural Pennsylvania. She'll deliver in Manhattan, where her mom lives.
I thought I honestly didn't care about partnership. I thought it was a weakness, a crutch people lean on to prevent themselves from going out into the world and -living-, fully, passionately, unto themselves.
This weekend I spent Saturday and Sunday involved in exploring wilderness for my earth medicine group, or meeting with folks to discuss a quest I'm going on in August, and an intensive workshop on ancestral guidance. *blink* This work has basically taken over what therapy used to do for me, but it feels much more participatory, and directly helps me communicate with my inner path.
The new boy I met (OK, there were actually two new boys, but one's only available on a very part-time basis) brings up some inner conflicts: I am an independent person. I am not dependent on my relationship to define me. I have avoided being in relationship, or identifying by my relationship, for decades, now!
But, golly, this is a shiny new thing. I have to palpably resist the urge to check my email 10 times a day, awaiting new input.
Instead, I need to remember my old skills, which I get better at with time (and with separation from tempting date-prospects): sublimate sexual desire into art, into academic pursuit, into work. Express, but do not regurgitate on those near me!
I remember a man living in Gainesville, across the hall from an apartment I stayed in for a month or so, while a friend was on art therapy sabbatical. He pointed out that he used to be like me, until he started chanelling his energies into music, and antiques collecting.
I was too manic at that point of my life to even recognize if he was flirting with me. I pursued a man who was basically an intellectual asshole; we competed at local performance art dives. We got into a white-people fight, and he tripped me, and I hit the ground with my face. He drove off, and crushed my glasses, inadvertantly, I believe. I nursed my wounds in the gay dive bar where we'd just performed, and wound up getting solace from a sweet bisexual boy, Tom. Tom knew enough to identify as straight or gay, depending on the circumstances. He was a good person to me. I think he had stinky breath, or I'd have been much more into him. :) Or maybe I was just...overwhelmed. That was an intense summer!
I have things to focus on: making approximately 600 more prayer ties before 8/7; finishing and submitting my application for an expressive arts therapy program, which I may or may not pursue; advertising more for my favorite new project, gender-free Scottish country dance...
He's a really sweet boy. I can tell I like him a lot. I just can't lose myself in him, or in the thought, of whatever potential might exist there. I cannot afford to lose myself in anyone. For all the sweetness, I need my own personal rock, or I am asea forever.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
In Which I Get Schooled in Communication
I am the first to admit I don't have everything figured out. I am not always a clear communicator, and I do not always draw clear lines when I describe things to others. A friend once called my descriptions "a pastiche of words", and I had to agree at the time.
In the past nine months or so, I have tried becoming more aware of how I communicate, and making a stronger effort to communicate effectively, thinking about the words I use, not flying entirely by the seat of my pants, but aiming for cohesiveness, and consistency.
When I meet people that work differently than I do, it makes for a humble moment. I think of myself as so communicative, yet what historical knowledges do I have? How fluent am I in world politics, or conversation, or... anything? There is so much in the world I do not know about. My crocheting and dancing skills can take me so far; beyond that, I'm not sure. I'm slowly learning Nordic runes, and studying the history of old religioni of the Norse people. There's a whole other Old English set of runes I know almost nothing about, and have no clue if there's a metaphysical background to these runes, as there is for the Norse set.
I feel a bit fluffy, really. All my passion and exuberance doesn't help if I have no Pithy Content to back it up.
I am considering the consequences of my actions and inactions. I hope to find some balance, in the meantime.
In the past nine months or so, I have tried becoming more aware of how I communicate, and making a stronger effort to communicate effectively, thinking about the words I use, not flying entirely by the seat of my pants, but aiming for cohesiveness, and consistency.
When I meet people that work differently than I do, it makes for a humble moment. I think of myself as so communicative, yet what historical knowledges do I have? How fluent am I in world politics, or conversation, or... anything? There is so much in the world I do not know about. My crocheting and dancing skills can take me so far; beyond that, I'm not sure. I'm slowly learning Nordic runes, and studying the history of old religioni of the Norse people. There's a whole other Old English set of runes I know almost nothing about, and have no clue if there's a metaphysical background to these runes, as there is for the Norse set.
I feel a bit fluffy, really. All my passion and exuberance doesn't help if I have no Pithy Content to back it up.
I am considering the consequences of my actions and inactions. I hope to find some balance, in the meantime.
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