I feel like I need to process a bit about my 10 day FB retreat. It was totally different than I expected. It was really good, in the end. I have been able to disconnect a bit from FB. I don't check it as often, and I don't feel obsessed about it as much as I was. So, these are my thoughts (in random listy form, of course):

1- It was painful at first. The internet in all of its forms has been a gift to me. When I have felt so completely alone, I have been able to make community via the internet. It has really gotten me through some tough times.

2- That said, it has always been the cause of communication issues. I fear I use FB or other forums to avoid real human contact. FB can feed my social anxiety. FB can also lend to communication issues.

3- After some time (maybe 3 or 4 days), I stopped obsessing. I didn't need to post or check in constantly. By day 8, I almost didn't notice. I got ready far faster in the mornings and went to bed much quicker too.

4- So, what did I miss? Not surprisingly, I missed hearing what was up with my friends. I wanted to know what they were doing and how they were. I am sure I missed b-days, and other important announcements. That was hard. I wish people had've been able to contact me about these things, but I know that would be impossible. I have a few friends not on FB, and I find I just don't keep up with them. FB is the land of the tiny, everyday.... I love the tiny everyday stuff. That's what makes me feel close with others. So, not getting that was the hardest part.

5- What was surprising? It made me think about how I engage in my relationships with others. I realized that FB changes the way I engage in starting, and more, ending friendships. In the pre-FB days, I just ended a friendship if it wasn't working for me. I would stop communication without a big fucking deal. Or, if it was a closer friendship, I might have a discussion. Ending friendships is often hard for me. I value my connections with others. As people have died, I find I am more and more hesitant to end friendships. I have lost so many people to disease, drugs, and depression... I don't want to lose more, unless it's truly the right thing for me...
     But, FB has blurred those boundaries. It's so much more of a big deal to end a friendship-- no matter how small. Perhaps that's a bit self-absorbed. Who am I to say that these people even notice my disappearance? I just feel those ended friendships so much more. To "unfriend" someone seems like a bigger deal that just stopping communication.
 
6- The other thing I realized is that before FB, I might not notice certain aspects of someone's personality.... now those aspects are magnified. When someone says something sexist or racist or homophobic or classist, I see it. On one hand, that's a good thing. I don't want to be friends with people like that. On the other hand, I feel really torn about the fact that there are people I think I genuinely like whose FB personalities totally suck.... I don't like debating, so when someone posts something effed up, I don't really want to confront them about it. That said, I think it's a good opportunity for discussion. But, I am so bad at articulating myself and others often jump to conclusions (so do I...). Conflict happens.
      These conflicts seem important to me. I don't believe that it's *just* FB or that conflict on FB is "drama." In fact, I think that kind of statement completely disregards the impact of social media on our methods of communication. I think that statements like that are dismissive. Yet, I still struggle with that kind of thought myself. I wonder if it's my standpoint-- I am on the cusp between the generation that hardly uses FB and the generation that uses it for everything. And that is a hard place to be.... I don't always know how my friends feel about it. Was that discussion just FB drama to them or something more important? When is the appropriate time to approach a friend to discuss a conflict that started on FB? I truly struggle with the answers to these questions.

I guess, in the end, I came up with no answers. There are people I am considering deleting.... Some are acquaintances I don't really want to see anymore. Others are people I consider good friends, and in order to preserve the friendship, I think that it shouldn't be on FB.... It's those relationships with which I really struggle. I know I am more analytical about these things than many, but I also know that this analyzing is what will help me to be more balanced about my connections now and into the future. :)

Dear you,

I get it now.

Sorry I wasn't there for you. I wish you were here now. More than anything.

xoc

Do you remember what it was like to wear primary colors? I want to remember you living out loud in full spectrum, but now I see you in muted earth colors, and I know that time is gone; faded away like the rainbow fades into the rainy day... 

I think that's why I have drunk emailed you twice now. I just can't accept that this full-spectrum you is so completely gone, replaced by shades of shit brown, with hair matted down, each part of you blending together like your mind is your arm and your arm is your hip, tattooed with words of moss green and dirt.... 

You used to move with quick jerking playful jumps. I could spot you from across a field. I remember you laughing about riding bikes with your ex, each of you in primary colors. I could imagine your legs lifted our straight, weaving and bobbing with each turn, laughter emanating from your body. 

Now, you just blend into the background, moving in an almost stealth mode. You're always gone as soon as I notice you; home to stuff yourself into a burlap sack of your psyche no doubt. And while I am glad to see you finding some ground, I wish it weren't burying you. 

Do you remember walking to the bus from Public speaking class talking about whether it was nature or nurture? I felt safe in that conversation; like I could struggle with words and ideas, safe in the liminal. I want to remember you with that tiny bit of softness, as caring as you were fierce. 

I think that's why I keep trying to be your friend. I just can't accept that you have completely lost that compassion and love you once had for others... for me. 

Now you just throw out accusations, communicating in double binds and guilt-by-association. You always leave a lasting bitter taste in my mouth, reminding me of other harsh accusations, lobbed out without thought. And while I am glad you appear to be working on yourself step by step, I wish it weren't at the stake of your humanity. 

Do you remember wanting to be near me? Yeah, me too.... which is why this is so hard. 

Goodbye. 

Love, me

A year ago, I existed in your world physically; pretending I fit, but knowing I did not. I remember laying in your bed, writing about something I entitled "the true story of what was and is." It was all about the myths you told yourself about what things were like when we were 19, 21, 23, and beyond. It was all about the myths you continue to tell yourself about those times and now... In order to support the ultimate myth that how you act is ok; not mean....

It reminded me that I was not insane, despite everything you and your friend did to convince me that your truth was my truth, and the real truth. And I wanted that to be true because if it was, I could believe that you actually did love me, and that your fucked up behavior wasn't as fucked up and self-supporting as it was.

I remember writing that I had always told myself I would not be one of those stupid grrls that fell for your bullshit;  supporting your ultimate myth of victimhood with passive voice sentences and pathetic half-truths... and how I was, at that moment, one of those stupid fucking girls. I felt like the worst feminist in the world not only for thinking of those womyn who fell for your bullshit as stupid, but also for being one of those stupid girls. 
But the "True Story of What Was and Is" is now gone; deleted in a desperate attempt to free up space on my hard drive, both physically and metaphorically. 

It's a shame, because I think it was pretty smart.

So, that's how I ended up here, reminicing about 1 year ago... sad and pissed off; wishing I didn't give a shit; knowing that I made the right decision; dreaming of others; cleansing myself of you.... finally not falling into the trap that all stupid girls seem to fall into... 

moving on. 

and that is the true story of what was and is.... 

Clouds stretch out over the sky, like lovers stretch out in my history; rare, thrown away and wispy; blown into the Pacific ocean. 
I carry the half-empty trash to the bin, all dressed up in red, with nothing to do and no one to call. 
My stomach pulses at the thought of you, knowing it is done; pissed off, sad, and angry over it all.
I can't decide if I feel more alone with or without you.
I look up at the sky, noticing how the clouds blend together in that way they sometimes do... when I can't tell where one ends and the next begins.
And I wish that was how it was with you.
Instead, there is a distinct moment when you began. I can picture exactly where I was, where you were, what we were doing and how it felt.
And then suddenly, you were everything in my life-- my thoughts, movements, ideas, and body were filled with you.
I lived like that, not allowing anything else in, not even myself for some crazy long time...
It felt like longer than I had done anything.
I became exhausted and empty... All that once filled me had been replaced by you and everything you needed and wanted. The line between you and me had completely disappeared.
And then suddenly, just like it had began, it was over.
I remember exactly where I was when it ended; how it felt and what I was doing.
And then everything turned wispy, like the clouds on Thanksgiving, blown into the Pacific Ocean.
Now I can barely hold onto anything. My grasp is a complete failure and I spend almost every moment alone, looking up at the sky, reminiscing about lovers blown into the Pacific ocean like the wispy clouds of the San Francisco bay.

When I first found out, I was furious. I felt betrayed, though I am not sure why. Clearly any "intuition" or "sense of people's energy" was a delusion she fosters in order to support her own sense of power in the world full of power struggles under the guise of "dominance and submission." Why I trusted her much less you, I have no idea.

After a few hours, that rage transformed into sadness. I felt like you were dismantling the home I built brick by brick and I felt an overwhelming sense of isolation and loneliness, though I did not miss you for even a second... But it was in that realization that the seed of understanding sprouted.

This is you trying desperately to control just one thing when you know you are powerless over everything...and that one thing is me. I can see the ideas hovering over your head, like cartoon captions, even though I suspect these ideas are actually buried deeply in the fucked up mess that is your subconscious. If only you could become what I want, then I would love you and you could be happy again.
 
As the understanding grew into a tiny bud, I saw everything more clearly. This is you, not trying to fuck with my life. This is you, completely oblivious to difference between me and not me; you and not you; love and boundaries. This is you, completely lost without the map dozens of other women and I have served as over the years. You have never completed your “on the road” style Jack Kerouac journey, so you figure you will become what you think we want you to be... me, her, or them... it's really all the same delusion.

But the fatal flaw in that tangled mess of your subconscious is that I never wanted you to be anyone other than who you were; that I wanted only for you to know who you are so much so that you could be you and I could be me and we could support each other in that way adults do coming together at the intersections of life. I never wanted you to pretend to be more intellectual or less angry. I never wanted you to take on a role in that world. I just wanted you to see that space between you and me and honor it.

As this bud started to open, I thought back to our first date and how you told me you were destined to be with her. Not 12 hours later your tune had changed and the silhouette of "her" turned into a silhouette of "me," though it could have been her, or anyone really. 

Now, as I fight the urge to write you a scathing response that I may or may not send, I try to think of you as a small child. You see me playing with this doll, and you want that doll; not because you actually want to play with it... you don't even like dolls-- something I suspect her "sense of energy" will realize soon enough. You just want what I have, because you don't know what it is that you want. 

So, even though I feel angry at and rejected by her; frustrated with and betrayed by you, I choose to sit in this moment. This is how it is right now, and even though I can't go to meditation, because you stole that too, I know I have dozens of other homes, hundreds of communities that I have built and nurtured. And more than anything-- so as to not to confuse this with a me versus you battle which it is not-- I have me. I have this sense of self that allows me to walk into and out of communities based on my needs and my boundaries... I have this self love that helps me to know who I am with or without you. 

And eventually, you will find someone else to guide you, wandering aimlessly through the world based on nothing but someone else's identity and your identity in relationship to theirs. And I will be right here-- in my body-- no matter how angry, sad, or content I feel. Although I hope that one day you too figure out who it is that you are, so you can stop stealing my spaces and start recognizing and respecting boundaries, I won't hold my breath. Instead, I will sit here, in my skin, exhale, and say "this is how it is, right now."

Love, me.

 

you worm your way into my life, one event at at time, one community at a time, one care at a time... secretly stalking me in a passive-aggressive attempt to get me to love you again.

But what you forget is that I have love for myself.

I do not need these external bits to reflect my identity.

I have an identity of my own, and this just serves to drive me further and further away from you and closer and closer to me.

Get a life of your own... my life will never be yours.

We lean back in the white leather couches shooting the shit about love, life, and the pursuit of happiness... I look over and see my genetics hovering over my shoulder. I tell you about the difficulty of maintaining it all and you say "do you think it will all change after a month or so when she goes back?" It seems so fucking perfectly timed as I see what I see in an almost ironic moment...
and I crawl back into the ice-layer cape of my genetics, knowing that my destiny is not my destination.

I look back on my hungover and confused body; sitting there on the bench by the beach in Ventura. I ask, "am I a bad girlfriend?" You say "no. You just need the time..." and I look back over my shoulder....

remembering and longing for our full moon song from those three months a couple of years ago, as I plan to board a plane back to philly.

SFO-PHL

the name of our full moon song.

I miss it still.

I dreamt about you last night. You were still a womyn, and I saw you outside the gym. You looked a lot like her and you combined, but I knew it was you. I told you about her and me and I cried, collapsing in your arms as I never did in real life. You weren't terribly surprised and it felt good to get some closure on it all.

I dreamt about you last night. You were still alive, and I saw you at the tattoo parlor in Oakland. You looked like you had before the transplant, but super healthy. I asked you how you were still alive, and you told me you had just moved. I cried while I got tattooed; grief and relief filling my chest with each breath.

I dreamt about you last night. You still hated me and played the victim, even though we never spoke, as I saw you at the Civic Center MUNI station. You looked good, even though your hair was longer than I like it, and you had lost a lot of weight in a passive aggressive kind of way. You ignored me while reading a book about crime and drama, like you like in your daily life. I hardly noticed you, till you were almost gone, and I felt pretty much as destroyed as I feel every moment anyway.

I dreamt about you last night. You weren't afraid to hang out with me in real life, and I saw you in a public yet private venue. It was one of those dream-only spaces that was both completely out and completely in at the same time. We fell onto a bed and made out in the most intense connection I've ever felt. I wasn't afraid, despite the fact that I am utterly aware of the fact that you run away for 4 days to 1 week every time I ask you to be with me for real.

It felt good, despite it all.

I dreamt of you last night, despite the complete distance between us-- physical, corporeal, emotional, or mental... in spirit, we were together, trying desperately to make amends in the space of our souls and the here but never quick here time/space continuum of the dream world.

I dreamt of you last night.