journal

wicked

/ mycatisafrenchspy / Leave a comment

when i walked into my home this evening, i was greeted by this very beautiful fragrance of glade’s enchanted garden which perfumes my home in a most glorious way…. i walked in with a handful of cat food as usual. i was thinking as i walked into the house that i’ve taken myself out of the context recently; like my family and poetry and stripped myself out of everything. stripping myself down to bare skin and coming to a new place in my life and i can actually say, i’ve started growing into a new skin, a new myself really; i keep taking selfies of myself and i can see my eyes are definitely tired, but excited and there’s a new glow in them… my shoulders are curled-in with exhaustion, but i’m arriving at a new place. i even started introducing myself to myself, laughing and there’s a new bounce in my steps and i keep humming and dancing while waiting at the printers and copiers and in front of elevators…

all i want to do these days is the opposite of everything that i have been doing. touching-and going. climbing mountains, breathless in the rain. i’m disappearing into the folds of my blankets as soon as i come home (well after i feed my kids of course) and sometimes i go for a drive through the woods.

i’ve started becoming restless again. restless feet and restless hands. and i keep exhaling and exhaling. march is difficult you know. i’m almost afraid to remember. it’s difficult and it’s still so close. i come here to write but raking through my memories which induce pain and panic attacks, and later spending hours incapacitated, face-down on my woolly rug touching the tiny ridges of the wool of it to make sure that i’m still here, that i have a body to remember to return to.

i feel brave and then suddenly i don’t feel brave at all. i want to call sandalwood and say “let’s go for a walk” and maybe we go for a walk, and treading beneath a canopy of blank branches and endless fallen leaves, and talking about the importance of the smell of dark-green to someone who will let me forget without asking too many questions.

all i want to do is sit in my room and smell the beautiful fragrance and listen to the rain coming from above. hear the rushing noise of the cars outside of my home, the pitter patter sounds of my kids’ feet on the hardwood…  my kids fill me up with warmth. there is no warmth in the memories of what has hurt, anywhere in this little space of mine. even the old letters that have been written to me are stuffed somewhere in a box. the whole of this week i kept ouching and my back still huts and i thought it’s because i pulled my back muscle while exercising but that coupled with lungs hurting as a result of flared up asthma made my life miserable.

i am trying to understand a lot of things about home-making. today i was chatting with a colleague of mine and i was telling her that i am not domestic at all. i am looking for a man who would make me a cup of coffee in the morning and do my laundry; like jace used to. she laughed and i told her that i’m a card carrying feminist. she later emailed me a few webinars from women.

recently i came very close to telling off american boy and that he can go fuck himself. i also would have drawn a diagram of the same. but i didn’t and i swallowed my anger and grew more patient. sandalwood laughed and made fun of me and asked me when i finally tell him off, i should record it on my iphone and that he would provide me the newest version possible.

he is looking to buy an apartment in downtown philly so we can split time between city and country and i’m looking to buy an investment property but not sure if i could afford but i must. but it’s sure is fun though to go and look for houses. he is good to me you know. he keeps me stable and this scares me. i’m a wild child and i’m used to getting hurt and i don’t want to hurt him.

yesterday i was completely pissed and furious, as i was hungry and went to café and that had no decent food and it just pushed all my buttons.. my cafeteria has increasingly became unfriendly towards vegetarians and i see the same stuff day in day out and man, if i have to describe myself as a cartoon, i would be having steam coming out of my reddened ears, eyes and nose, etc. and when i came back to my office, i wrote a very nasty feedback and so, when i went downstairs to get food this afternoon, there were more vegetarian dishes ! squeaky wheel and grease and all that good stuff !

oh here’s an annoying detail of my life. i had a big argument with tom from my work re. pull ups (chin-ups) v pull downs and boy, he just doesn’t seem to understand the difference. he kept telling me that it’s the same motion and i kept explaining the science and i even sent him an article. all this came about as i was bleating to him about my inability to do pull ups and how i would like to be able to do at least one respectable pull-up. i think he was just trying to annoy me.

and here’s a funny detail. today my boss was trying to mail an infant girl dress to someone and i was helping her and she is like, you can’t have that one as you won’t fully fit into it and so i told her, “sometimes you don’t want to fully get covered by anything” and i winked at her while giving her my most wicked and naughtiest smile you could imagine. she laughed so hard at that. she has this belief that i’m very nice and i don’t curse, and the worst curse to come out of my mouth would be shucks etc etc. and gosh if only she knew. to be fair i keep warning her about me that i’m not that nice or innocent and that i’m a total bitch; but she doesn’t believe me.

all my life has been fascinating to me. maybe i should explain, all this learning i do and learning how to live safely and comfortably in a space i designed for myself. i keep picturing open windows and doors in a house with wooden floors and somewhere set in a mountain and the curtains gently swinging with the breeze.

that’s what i want to achieve this summer. i have started a memorial garden you know, for jace… i want to build again this summer and put in a water fountain or may be a koi pond. i  want to plant all kinds of colorful plants with beautiful flowers and i want to romp on the grass with my cats or have a picnic in my front yard with sandalwood and i want to read a bunch of books while listening to the birds sing. looking forward to my june monsoons and july summers.

i want to make vegetable stew and homemade banana bread. last night i took down a piece of fabric i pinned into my wall. i’m planning to fill my house with vases of flowers sandalwood keeps bringing me and i made food. for two ! i took photos. a signifier of my home-making. of my ability to settle. i am not a runner, but i hid before. not anymore. all i want to do is stay, to stay and to have that be okay.

all i want is this smallness, the gentle, tender thing of chopping a potatos and peppers. and preparing something, something small and savory to eat with our hands afterwards. i fantasize about the warm lighting, about the cold rain falling outside, of someone i love looking at me and knowing that he loves me too.

i feel simple and fragile and very small. maybe my dreams have always been leading me to this. to a place that resembles home. safety. where i’m myself, first and foremost, before i’m a daughter, a sibling, a lover and a friend. i’ve got no money. only a mortgage on a good house, nestled in a good neighborhood. nobody knows what i went through to get here. mostly falling, crawling and terrified. hiding a lot. picking myself up, dusting and shaking off loose scales and i’m emerging tho. and in all this i must remember to thank god over and over again; and i think my cats and i (and may be sandalwood) can build happiness and a world with roses, rainbows and glitter… a lot of glitter and, i think my kitties and i are gonna be okay ! i really really think so.

me to you..

/ mycatisafrenchspy / Leave a comment

i listened to your guitar chords on the phone and i opened the windows, tracing familiar notes like a map straight to all the things i have been burying; deep down, way deep down, like what it means to fall for strangers and how i never seem to know when to hold or when to let go or kiss without consequence and i think our hearts are too big to contain all the things we feel and we haven’t experienced yet.

sometimes we just want someone to shake our bones and rattle our soul and travel the distance without anything but conversation that changes things, and life, because we are young and old and we are stupid but we always have a fire inside.

but some nights when you keep rambling into the phone about utter nonsense like the corn fields of idaho or missing the snowstorm which we just had and i am reminded how i’m in a place where it no longer holds the weight of importance, i wonder if all the chords from your guitar you keep mailing me via phone and are pouring out of my speakers are the same ones that cradle me and you when fearful whispers of our minds aren’t drawing us closer to the comfort of finding what we needed the most.

i want you to know that i’m small. i’m fragile. i’m afraid of things like frogs and fireworks. i don’t like to cut onions which make me cry or the way when summer comes to a close, it draws a curtain over fireflies. i like to drift into slumber listening to music, and i like the way the first day of winter, when i walk out how the cold air numbs me & takes my breath away.

i want you to know i’m impatient & i jump ahead quite frequently, my mind races faster than my mouth, but i cross my fingers, and press them on my chest and pressing in all my hope into something brilliant and burning. when i’m scared i close my eyes and ramble neverendingly.

i have this habit of kissing a bit hard and biting the lips of my lover and i listen to sad songs and clean my house sniffling and crying profusely. you already know my love for cats and other small animals, and that i save gummy bears and orphaned books, but i’m also brave enough to pet dogs which are as huge as half a camel and all that time i keep muttering to the dogs don’t bite me. i enjoy coffees & drake songs and rap and i’m never sure of anything really, but i do know that i’m finding myself completely and totally terrified of this, of you, and finding myself, in all honesty thinking of you, but it feels right and i think that is all that matters now…

for climbing rocks and long drives, and i remember feeling the sun on my skin and remember how good it feels to adventure into wilderness with you.

things i’m afraid to admit…. 1

/ mycatisafrenchspy / Leave a comment

yes, i’m still attached to you and i look for you. and it brings me a passion and it feeds my addiction and a need for your approval.  there is a strong attachment but i remove you like bullets with my hands… pain carries souls and stories and hurt is one longest memory.

and it hurts, you know. because you were my favorite part of every day. i made you my sun and moon and every star in my hazy dreamy world. but it just doesn’t matter now. isn’t that bizarre ? you put your heart and soul into someone else’s hands and then it just ends and you have to take everything back. but you can’t take everything back. but you want to. but you don’t. and you can’t. that’s the worst part, you can’t. you make them the air that you breathe and then they’re gone and you have to keep breathing whatever toxicity is left behind, and it hurts. my lungs hurt. but no one is going to save me, and that’s the worst part too. you just want someone to take the hurt away for a minute, just a second, but they can’t. you have to keep living until the pain gets dull. you don’t want to because they were the best part of this life and now they aren’t here anymore and you can hardly bear it. but you have to keep living anyways. and it hurts.

but then your compassion doubles. and you learn that you give your love to those who have proven themselves worthy of it. someone who empathizes and like you, who looks at life through a dreamy set of rose colored glasses, and you lie under the bare sky and full moon (not today as it’s raining) and you both solve love related dilemmas with poise and style and all the way you giggle in a silly manner.

for the boy with the backpack, i told you today what you wanted to hear. for a person who craves directness, you weren’t direct or truthful. it’s a shame really as you won’t know heaven till you know me. all i wanted you to do is fight for me.

we both are bad actors and we are waiting for someone to ask the questions we skillfully avoid with passion and purpose.

and my darling, i take photographs, and i’ll make a handful of u-turns and that’s just what life is all about sometimes; taking chances on strangers and not worrying about getting lost along the way. there is always a way out, but that doesn’t mean i can’t make a graceful exit.

small reminders

/ mycatisafrenchspy / Leave a comment

for the past few days rain rolled through our little town and now cold winter air is drifting through the open window once again. i’ve been keeping my words quiet because i’m unsure of many things right now.

i’m slowly getting into the meat of things again and i’ve been accomplishing things, all the while fighting through uncertainty and unsuredness and half the battle is to quiet my brain which is screaming fearfully. i keep lecturing myself to breathe and take baby steps.

on friday i had a chat with horus’ doc regarding removing his feeding tube. he asked me to bring him in if my primary vet doesn’t do it. i already checked with my vet but she was unsure of it as she didn’t do it for a while and i was reluctant to drive a screaming and stressed out kitty over 2 hours just to get his stitches out. so i got home and watched a you tube video on how to remove a feeding tube and as i am a scientist and i thought how hard could this be as i have dissected out the brains of fruit flies. so i proceeded to remove horus’ stitches after properly sterilizing my eyebrow scissors and removed the goddamn feeding tube and cleansed the area and put a collar back around his neck so he won’t scratch it. after i removed the tube, he pouted for an hour but he came back to my bed and slept. i checked the wound site on sat morning and it’s healing nicely and i am keeping an eye on it till it’s completely healed. the biggest problem was to keep him steady while i was trying to get at the stitches as he kept moving. i wasn’t sure but i think, he pulled it out himself the moment i snipped the last stitch as he jumped off of the counter and all i saw was this tube flying in the air after him.

my friend jack keeps asking me to go running with him around 5 am on sundays and excuse me ! what’s with white people and running ? it’s well and good for you, as you have flat chest but have you seen me ? my boobs are like halves of a pineapple and there is no sports bra on this planet which would contain them tight enough so they won’t jiggle and move when i run ! even when i was thin as a rake, i had them and i used to look like a stick figure with boobs ! and not to speak of the time jack was proposing ! 5 goddamn a.m. !! is he crazy ? i ain’t getting out of my bed (even tho i am awake for all intents and purposes) at that ungodly hour, on a sunday, unless my house is on fire…. scratch that, unless i’m on fire.

at work one of my colleagues also asked me if i would consider walking from down town to amtrak station which is a few block and i laughed and said, may be ! walking isn’t bad but the humidity in my city is intense and it plays a number on my lungs.

i’ve jump started on my spring cleaning as my kids were home all the winter and quite frankly the air is getting a bit stale. and oh, this weekend an indian movie actress died at a young age (54) and i think it’s a shame. not a very big fan of her’s as she always acted similar to lucille ball you know how bimboish she acted and trying to give an impression of a complete airhead and i don’t like such people and frankly it takes my all to not slap them on their face and say “use your fucking brains”. and oh, i also read somewhere that marilyn monroe put that kind of show in spite of being very smart because that’s what men like; a complete moron who flutters their eye lashes and coyly say “oh sir, aren’t you a genius”. how ridiculous ! it’s just not them who flutter their lashes and at least they have an excuse, but once i was watching an interview with katie couric and she was fluttering her eye lashes like there is no tomorrow and i was super angry. i know men are weaker sex but i would never take advantage of that. i would rather stroke a man’s dick rather than a man’s ego to please him if he isn’t deserving. some men are intelligent and i would genuinely compliment them.

well, this weekend my friend and i made plans for his visit in march and he wanted me to return with him to new zealand for a few days and it’s appealing to me. the traveler in me had to take a hiatus due to my panic attacks which i developed after i lost my child but i am hoping i would be able to travel to all these gorgeous places i have maps for and i keep marking the routes for the same.

i keep wandering off to all these faroff places with the boy i am in love with and keep telling him all these things i haven’t said. being in love with someone from this distance feels more bittersweet than i expected and i keep pressing my fingers to my heart. i think it is okay if you get quiet at the wrong times because i do that as well.  and it is okay if you get wrapped up in moment, tangled in what should have been said, if you tie knots around the word you don’t have courage to say.

i don’t know if i would be able to leave or if he would stop me. for all those faded friendships… i have a fire in my finger tips and i want to believe in this, in me and in you and the way your eyes burn when you look at me….. why won’t you believe in us ?

for still being here, and i’m not ready to give up the fight

all the stars

/ mycatisafrenchspy / Leave a comment

IMG_2658 (1)

an excerpt from our night. anubis et moi, rocking to “all the stars – kendrick lamar”

i’ve finally submitted my application y’all for an mba and i’m chatting up people so i can move ahead and use my intelligence appropriately. i’m excited to learn something new but i’m already tightly scheduled with no time left for myself but my circumstances have made me work harder so i can’t relax yet but i keep reminding myself that this is only temporary and yes, one of these days i too shall enjoy crème brûlée cheese cakes, and pastel sunsets and hopefully it will be with sandalwood or on my own as “places are so much lovelier when one is alone – du maurier”

sandalwood appeared on my doorstep with a guacamole grilled cheese sandwich and i must say, for a pretentious person, i love grilled cheese sandwich and i ate it for the first time when i came to america and julien and i were visiting one of our friends and she lived on a farm and the sandwich her mum made was yummy and it was julien’s first as well and it was a tremendous joy; but i can’t cook one even if someone put a gun to my head and oh i tried to cook it numerous times but i think i suck in a most brilliant way. but the boy scored again with his brilliant guacamole grilled cheese sandwich feat.

i’ve been spending time plotting my future (mostly financial as i’m broke) but it’s fun though. you know. to earn money and multiply it and invest etc. i dated millionaires before i got married to jace (and after julien) but they all bored me and mocked me because here i was working hard to get a degree and there they are high school drop outs but millionaires. and i actually admired them but they were boring because they wanted a trophy wife, unintelligent and without an opinion, blonde, lounging by the poolside, sipping something alcoholic and having no opinion except for the temperature of the water. and i’m not that person you know. the only way anyone can grab my attention or respect is by challenging my intelligence and they were desperate and i was like no thank you !

julien was an aristocrat but he was as humble as he was wealthy and jace worked hard for his money and i admired his intelligence.

i have so many things still up in the air and some days i just want to give up and curl up in a corner and go to sleep and not wage wars but when i see my pretty little babies faces, adrenaline bursts into my veins.

i got sick on sunday with flu thanks to one of my colleagues who was at work on friday in spite of him going through flu and coughed a lot and i knew in 48 hours i’ll come down with flu (viral incubation is 48 hrs) and so monday i informed my boss i’ll come and collect my laptop and leave and she was like stay put. i spent monday fading in and out.

and there is this girl who kept emailing me all day long with honey dripping right through my laptop screen and who i can’t stand as she is so goddamn fake (and dangerous if you don’t watch out) and once she realized that i’m on a solid ground with my boss (there was a futile attempt to make my life miserable and for a while they were successful till my boss figured out the truth as i refused to talk to her about my pain but just ground up my teeth) and so she is now all lovey dovey and i’m now gagging and wanting to throw up because i’m not fake but i’m polite and i give minimum respect they deserve as a human being in spite of my personal feelings. the most incredulous thing for me is that people underestimate me and my intelligence. and i assess a person’s intelligence by talking to someone for a couple of seconds. i’ve a good mind to photocopy my resume and rent a crop duster or a drone and make these copies rain in my office !

but all is well that ends well… and meanwhile i’m plotting my success in the company and i’ll bulldoze anyone who would stand in my way while charming the pants off of the right people.

an update on the reasons for my existence and the joy and happiness of my life aka my kitty babies. horus has started eating on his own and halle-fucking-leuiah and i’m floating in the nebula with happiness and i’m thinking i would bring him to the vet sometime this weekend to get his feeding tube removed. skittles, my kid with ruptured third eyelid, as i predicted completely recovered and she still has a bit of healing to happen, but she is happy and her eye looks fine and i’m sure her vision is normal. the rest of my children and doing well by god’s grace.

my friend will be visiting me in march and he lives in new zealand and i’m seeing him after many moons and so i’m i thrilled to bits. i am putting together a fun day or two with him.

i’m planning to get acupuncture for my asthma and ugh.. not too thrilled about needles as i would cry shamelessly. and i’ve scheduled a full body massage (which includes massaging tits and tummy, and bum) so i could detox. i try and get this done once every six months but it has been over a year.

i’m miserable slightly as i am trying to move on and as much as i would like to forget ze american boy, it’s hard as i still see him around. but i’m getting better and i scribbled a few lines for him for his birthday.

as usual, this does not belong here, it is not poetic, it is personal and it hurts but i just need to say this before i forget.

it’s your birthday, so i bought you a cake, i would have baked you a cake, a towering one with three layers of raspberry infused chocolate mousse cake.

i met you at a very strange time in my life. i felt a little sad and nostalgic for new years where i was ready for so much and so little all at once. if life went the way i wanted, i probably would have hung out with you, laughing and may be shared a bag of chips with you; i have a love affair with bottles and i would have given you a blue bottle from an antique store.

i loved you yesterday and i loved you today. i loved you in a complicated and compromising and confusing way that made me uncomfortable and unapologetic for my actions. i loved you and i was stupid, so stupid in a confusing way, stupid in the way i’d never be able to keep my hands off of you, stupid in the way i had spilled my secrets i never knew i had, stupid in the way i’d cry every time i thought of letting you go, stupid in the way i would have been reckless and bold. but i loved you. i am sure of that, no matter how many silences, awkward half-conversations, nights when i  soaked the sheets with hot salt water tears.

i was careless and consumed, you know.

but happy birthday my darling !

‘

 

 

either way, i’m here

/ mycatisafrenchspy / Leave a comment

months of late night emails and candid small talk. i never shared my secrets with you, just the facts and blatant observations. i keep plotting day dreams of how things could be if i had my way and but the truth is i don’t know how to transition to you.

i spend too much time talking about distance: the way two people can be separated by things both tangible and intangible, not just points on a map and miles on road markers, but also the emotional secrets you can keep from someone. there’s been this theme sparking everything i touch lately, a lingering notion that throughout my life, i’ve been spending my time picking and choosing my romantic entanglements based upon how far i can keep someone away from me. it’s been tripping over strangers. it’s been sending my feelings through black letters on white screen and stealing looks and sighing. it’s been avoiding confrontations and making excuses. it’s been holding my breath for a possibility to pull through when i’ve been nervous over the american boy since mid-may of last year.

you sat on the edge of my bed telling me how much you would love to kiss me (and fuck me) and i laughed and told you if i did that it would be for wrong reasons. you laughed as well and teased me about my absurdity.

all my big talks about wanting to get fucked (too true) but when the moment came, i remembered all my rules about premarital sex and i’m glad you are patient and understanding and more importantly, you are kind. i conflict between desires and the plain logic.

but the reality is, i miss my life with boys who accepted me for my crazy, and fucked up ways; my habit of making blowjob jokes at the most inappropriate time; didn’t mind me when i was feeling lost and alone and horrible and laughed at the way i mocked the girls who take themselves far too seriously; and who shared books with me and comforted me when i was at my lows and slowed me down when i was going a super sonic speed; i miss singing really bad songs with them and let me know when it’s raining because they know i smile when the weather is cold and let me dream a little and save me from myself.

nostalgia comes in phases, of course and billowing in when i’m not paying attention, lying quiet some days and hitting hard on others.

but i have learned to be thankful for the things that are mine to take: like text messages you send and elaborate stories you told in excited voice (sometimes leaving them on my voicemail), spontaneous visits and emails spilling things you won’t admit out loud yet. but, i am not there yet. in the last few months, i’ve found myself in several separate moments where i’ve had opportunity to share something with someone i’m in love with and i always hoped to stumble into moments to say things i was afraid of saying and always showing up at his doorstep with empty hands full of potential.

in one year, my entire life changed because of one person’s triggering familiar features. though i’ve hinted at it before, i don’t know if i can fully explain how much that scared me. i was not expecting to rearrange all the plans i had set in stone, the concrete ideas plotted out in order.

i wasn’t ready to bump into you. since then, my world has been reeling and burning and challenging me to exceed all of my faults, to unearth the past and speak it without a shaking voice, to build towards something new, something bold.

last night i sat in the dark listening to mozart, something i always do when i miss me when i was happy. it is a small reminder of the strange and wonderful coincidences that happen to fall upon us quite frequently. we spoke for a brief time earlier about nothing in particular, and then you said you would marry me if that’s what it would take and i felt that familiar swarm of emotions well up inside of me, something that starts in the chest and makes my heart come to life, each beat moving faster than i expected until i have to count my breaths just to calm down. i could lace this up with all the poetic nonsense my mind can spin, but all i can think about is how this is big.

i am afraid of drowning in nostalgia, reawakening the haunting memories i tried to bury deep down inside my rib cage. i was afraid maybe i’d regret letting go of all the things i had lost. instead, now i sit in the dark and i don’t feel a goddamn thing. i cried in the shower because i had forgotten the way the water burned my eyes and laughed at all the jokes still being told in a world where time had seemed to stop: everything was exactly the same.

sometimes i feel like maybe i could explode.

for now tho, i need you to know that i would say yes if i thought i’m right for you. but you have to wait. i repeat this to myself when my heart feels heavy and my mind sputters with exhaustion from counting unknown days on my fingertips. i have told you some of my secrets printed on paper in my handwriting and you have apologized for being nervous when we talk and i cried once, but i don’t think you could tell and you get quiet when you are unsure about things. we are close, but never close enough. but we have time. we have so much time.

i could spend years getting to know you over and over again, and may be i could grow into you, wrapping my branches around yours.

and the answer is always yes but wait for now.

a drizzly day ennui

/ mycatisafrenchspy / Leave a comment

hello it’s a cold, gray and misty sunday… how is your sunday ?

i woke up thinking (for whatever reason), autumn is to say goodbyes and winter is to forget and spring is to have rebirths.

on friday one of my best friends has died of brain cancer and i’m a bit gloomy. mainly because in spite of my endless begging, she wouldn’t let me visit her. i first met ingrid at my current church. (i was a lutheran before i became an adventist) and i bonded with her as she was as outspoken as i am. she was born in germany and had a very unhappy childhood and a nazi as her father; we used to spend our sabbath afternoons having picnics and hiking and having bible studies. this was before i got married and then we drifted apart as i moved away and they moved and you know, life happens. but then i found out that she got separated (or divorced) after she had an affair and stuff. even though this pained me immensely, i’m not gonna judge because remember “happy families are all alike; every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way – tolstoy”. i wanted to sit with her and giggle and reminisce as for me there are very few happy memories and she was one of them. but now she is gone and well….

yesterday i was at church, and after the sabbath worship services and an elder who knew that i was ingrid’s friend, told me to talk to someone as “i’ve gone through so much” and this adds to my sadness and to try and be not so detached. easy for him to say but i am still processing. i’ve been processing my feelings for a long time now and my “inbox” is actually full.  actually i don’t know how to process my feelings.  i can speak about them, from a third person point of view or as an observer. i am able to analyze and offer my thoughts and i am able to summarize them. but i can’t feel them. i put my life on pause and i wallow in silence. (“i, too, remember that feeling. you are caught between all that was and all that must be. you feel lost…” murakami, hard-boiled wonderland and the end of the world.)

life goes on, life goes on, life goes on… i keep muttering to myself

friday afternoon, while coming home from work, dropped by the market to get a roast chicken for my kids and i was wearing my flyers hoodie and this guy in the check out line before me said “i work for them”… and i was chatting with him and discussed their miserable loss the day before and he was like they were all in the vacation mood… i wish i could go and slap each of them, but they are still my boys. i told him that flyers can come and sit in my cubicle anytime they want and he was like “where is this cubicle” and i told him where i work….. and oh, on friday, my boss did the sweetest thing, she hung a flyers idk what you call it but it’s like a flag (from years ago) in my cubicle and it warmed my heart.

i am eagerly waiting for superbowl sunday to rally behind my boys “the patriots”. my friends on facebook and i are fighting and chad is like are you from boston that you are patriots fan and i said, i like boston cream pie does that count ? at my work they are having a super bowl party and i have half a mind to bring some of those pies as all of the people at work (except for tim) are eagles fans… and i need to make sure there are plenty of tissues ready for them for the day after superbowl so they can wipe off their tears… :p

in my kitty news update… horus my child is now officially plump like his mama and he keeps flicking off the top of his feeding tube (the one with white tip) and i spend loads of time looking for this and this morning, i spent two hours looking for the top and i gave up… i plugged his tube with a crudely home made top (i just rolled a piece of paper towel and stuffed it into the feeding tube)

cheeti, my calico kitty who i rescued in 2002 and was so traumatized when we got her, that she wouldn’t let us (now me) touch her or pet her unless she wanted to, now finally trusts me and started spending time with me and now a days sleeps next to me and lets me massage her little body and she has the softest of fur and my eyes turn misty with emotion. i used to ask her if she would ever let me show affection before she or i die.

my skittles girl is definitely a super smart kitty. i feed my kids in paper plates and when my kids lick off the food from the plates the plates tend to move and so my other kids chase the plate. i observed skittles today and when the plate was trying to move away from her, she put her paw on the plate to hold it down and finish her breakfast…i was so fucking impressed with her !

currently, i am running around my house, white rabbit style, washing my bed sheets, clothes, vacuuming, trying to dry my body and my hair and dancing to the pixies and trying to write something philosophical in between and i need another coffee…. and oh oh oh, i want to go for a drive very badly on kelly drive just to feel the cold air hit my face & make me feel alive…

good morning y’all and more later…

persimmons and pancakes

/ mycatisafrenchspy / Leave a comment

12/05/2017

they are actually crêpes but persimmons and crêpes didn’t rhyme well… 😊

grateful for the colors i fill my life with. it’s important for me to cultivate a safe home for myself. last weekend, for an empty sunday afternoon, i decided i would sweep up my wooden floors and open up the windows (to let the crisp cold air in). i just had a good breakfast a home-made crêpe and a hachiya persimmon…… yes ! a hachiya !

last week after work i hopped on an acela and went to new york, because my friend came to nyc from san fran for a conference and of course, we have to meet and when i arrived at the penn station, she met me with a hachiya persimmon and it made me giddy with happiness. hang on to your friends who meet you at a railway station with a persimmon ! we went to east village and roamed around holding hands and i found some hachiya persimmons and bought them… i am admiring my bounty as we speak !

she was put in a days inn hotel by some mistake and she and i giggled so much over this and i wanted to share this with everyone on facebook and she threatened me that if i did this, she will tell our network of friends about my love for terry…

she and i decided we would color our hairs with purples and so we bought the colors and dyed our hairs but as we have black hair (and we should have bleached our hairs first) it kind of gave a hint of color but not drastically and now whenever i wash my hair it bleeds purple. i’m convinced my work gym people will throw me out as i keep purpling their towels…

i’ve decided i will work out at the gym (at work) as increasingly i am not finding time to go to my gym after i get home from work, as jack decides not to as he was feeling lazy or as my kids are all having sniffles i’m running around hosptial or pet store and i have oodles of time at work and i am not the one who sits and twiddles thumbs and so i started going to the gym and started working out with the weights and stuff and my lungs are still problematic which makes me get bloated on and off depending on my lungs, but i think i need to just bite the bullet and work out even when i am unable to breathe.

and i usually warm up on the treadmill to get the target heart rate before i hit the weights, and i usually wipe down the equipment before and after using them as i am germaphobe and one time, one of the superiors from my department was there on an elliptical opposite to me and when he was done he proceeded to wipe down the entire machine and i wanted laugh so hard, i mean, men just are so full of y chromosome… !

this week’s accomplishments included me making 14,000 steps and i have found a co-relation between the heart rate and racking up the steps. i’ve this habit of salsa dancing if i am not tired enough and so the other night i was happily dancing and i forgot to remove my fitbit and in half hour i racked up 2000 steps and when i achieved my goal of 14,000 steps fitibit threw out some fireworks… so yay !

jack’s daughter (yes he is a bisexual and now gay and married to a guy) got her first period and a very panicky jack called me and i went to the drug store to get some cups as liz wanted a menstrual cup and i am not really fond them myself but i taught her how to use them and i get to be a mum for a whole hour and i was quite please with this.

i went to dinner with the italian and he talked about how he’s listening to christmas  songs and talked about christmas the whole time and when he asked if we can meet again, i said no. and no, this time it’s not about terry at all. his conversation had no substance and he actually isn’t currently reading any books (remember, he said he reads books ! he lied, the bastard). and also, i found the italian’s voice is super annoying and i can’t deal with that. i need a man who has a sexy voice which would make me swoon. like when i talk to him on the phone, i shouldn’t be trying to hang up… 😊

funny story; my voice on the phone is quite sexy (i am not sure about it now as i sound stuffed up) and i know this for a fact because many people have said this (men) and my aunt one time called me to talk about something and she was like you should tone down the sexiness in your voice… umm, i wasn’t trying to be sexy ? my husband used to tease me saying i should become one of the 900 persons, you know who talk sex to people on the phone. one time i said it’s not enough to have a sexy voice, one should also say sexy things like take off your panties and shit like that and i would just read some scientific article and men don’t pay to hear me read a scientific journal about alzheimer’s and my boy went, i would pay you even if you read me the phone book… lol and yeah, well, i am not saying that i’m a prude and actually it’s quite the opposite as i am quite a slut in bed but i don’t end up bedding anyone i am not in love with so….

my kitty boy zazie is now fully upgraded to be one of my kids ie utterly spoiled and moody and bratish. his name evolved from zach to z to zz and to zazie…. zazie is one of the french pop singers and z fell in love with her songs and he wags his tail to her songs.

it’s been quite a handful of days these days and i can’t explain to you, even if i tried, that i traveled a distance in reasons beyond needing a selfish conclusion to this murky feeling i had been swimming in for the past few months. there is a fate which drew us together, connecting us despite distance and time. i let you into my life without complaint, allowed myself to be more vulnerable than ever before, showed you my world and mistakes, hoped to allow you to do the same. i walked into something i knew would end with a truth that would leave me unable to hold onto something anymore, the consequences of falling in love with someone when the burden i’m carrying is too heavy and the result of the right person in the wrong circumstances;

when i saw you yesterday after you returned, you looked so tired and old and i wanted to smooth those creases away and kiss your tired eyes and hold you close to my heart  and i wanted to care but wouldn’t because of the things tugging against us. i wondered how long a person can keep quietly caring, silently praying with pleas of desperate hope to fates unknown, the foolish hopeful thoughts we move towards fearlessly.

is there any other way ?

 

left and leaving…

/ mycatisafrenchspy / Leave a comment

12/03/2017

hi… i decided i am going to make my blog private (from dec. 10) and that means if you want to continue to read my writings, you would need permission from me.

with a heavy heart i have to do this. because i am missing him more than i should and i keep swallowing the lump in my throat and the broken heart in my chest and the knot in my stomach.

maybe this is what it’s all about. you love a person for as long as you possibly can, until you run out of love. you love them even when they don’t love you. and then you can leave, as quietly as you came, knowing that you gave all you had, knowing that you couldn’t have been any more than what you were and that it was pure, that it was full and that you were honest with it all. goddamn, love is beautiful but quite a torture when it’s one sided.

well, i didn’t run out of love but i decided it’s best if i said my goodbyes. so here i am leaving and saying goodbye and shutting the door firmly on any hopes i have.

i miss you today and i will keep missing you, and the internal dialogue kept crawling like acid up the back of my throat. but i’ll keep quiet, leaving the burning words to settle some place until they fizzled and faded. and i am making my blog private.

i don’t know how this works as i was told if you have a wordpress account already you may send me a note to request access and i am not sure how it works, if you are already following me but please jot down this email in case something doesn’t work right to contact me at heavyheavyboots0317@gmail.com

thank you for reading the bits and pieces of my life so far and after this week, when my blog goes private, i’d love it if you joined along,  but don’t be surprised if it is heavy and sad or full of drake lyrics and photos of me lying very flat on the floor or the backyard or photos of me and my kitties…. what can i say, somethings never change, right ?

bises

 

anatomy of me being scared and being brave

/ mycatisafrenchspy / Leave a comment

12/02/2017

i write stories to survive… i write stories to remember that i am still alive. this year is weird. this year is being scared and being brave. a few years ago, when i found myself all alone, i thought it was like the whole universe was shaking its fists at me, at us (my kids and me). sometimes i forget about the times silence filled up the house, and sometimes i forget about the nights i didn’t sleep and sometimes i forget about my shaky legs carrying me around from one empty room to another empty room trying to find comfort.

people probably are under the impression that i walk around with these things tucked in my pockets, and that i wake to my sadness and greet them in the morning; but i think my grief, and sorrow has a way of hiding themselves in the gaps of my bones, living under my skin like a itch that doesn’t go away and they only rears their head now and then.

there are other things hiding there as well…. things i don’t talk about, because when you give them words, you give them weight and they are already heavy enough on the nape of my neck pushing me down into the earth. i don’t need to share the weight. and i’m not afraid of them, but they are unnecessary, unerasable reminders on the path behind me. i am not claiming i won’t look back. but i’m trying to not let the things from my past falter my steps forward. there are a lot of things i could tell you about.

like all those sliced up thighs and thin red lines on my wrists and the time the only boy i ever loved telling me to turn around and never look back. there are a lot of things i could tell you about, you know ? my friend screaming at me to stop me doing something stupid and the night at the hospital i sat next to julien knowing that it was the last chance to say goodbye.

but i don’t think it’s something that i’ve got to do because those stories are just stories and their effect has already been filled.  i am what i am but i am filling into the details and i am still learning. like how i’m realizing how there’s something attractive in distance, to me. there’s something harrowing and beautiful about getting in the car and just going. which is what i do. often. and, one day, what i think i’ll do. i think, because of the ways that changed me, running as far away from things as possible and holding them at arms length feels right, even if it stifles the way my eyes shine, and the way i am trying, ceaselessly, to bridge all of these gaps and stitch up these miles. it’s not just about love. it’s about owning up to all of the things that i feel, which is something i am bad at and which makes my lips stutter and my hands shake.

so the things i’m learning to be brave about? they’re not about the suicides or the hasty goodbyes or leaving a home i thought i knew. and not about all those things that people shoot me sideways glances about. it’s about the feelings i tucked inside my chest and didn’t tell anybody about–not because i was ashamed but because i didn’t think they were relevant or that anyone cared.

so i’m growing up and still learning, and i’m getting to the place where words are always burning that the tips of my tongue. it feels a little uncomfortable, but how else am i supposed to deal? i’m gonna find a way to let them go. and it’s not brave in a “baring your soul for the world to judge” type way. it’s brave in a “finally becoming comfortable with being who you are and not letting anyone, namely yourself, tell you that there isn’t worth in that.”

i have been trying to be brave for a few years now and i do this over and over again every december… i have a little post it note on my bathroom mirror which says “become committed to being scared and being braver” and i’m gonna start living by it, or i’m going to be doomed to a life of sidelining myself, and only ever being brave for other people.

so i’m showing up here again with my heart on my sleeve and a handful of things i want to tell myself and to let go. i hope i’m ready to listen, i hope i’m ready to believe. it’s not a process, it’s not a step-by-step program. it starts the second i want it to, the second i step up, and that second, for me, is right here. right now.

hello again, december !