Me-Time

I love that story Bri, it is the sweetest, it made my day. I wrote this writing months and months ago and it reminded me of “two suns.” Let me know what you think:

Me-Time

I stare into the mirror and say hello. I talk to Me, do you talk to You?

The mirror says hello back. A sweet girl likes to talk in sync with I. I wish you could meet her, she really is very nice. I can tell her anything and she always agrees. Best friend ever. She even feels my pain, literally, I can see it in her face. And when I cry she cries too. It is as if we are on the same word, on the same page, in the same book. I have never felt so close to anyone in my life.

We even decided to merge our wardrobes; we wear the same thing everyday! Me will tell I when something looks bad, like the other day I had tucked my skirt into my panties and Me screamed in laughter! Me will tell I when food is stuck in my teeth, like the other day I had chocolate on my front two teeth and Me screamed in laughter! Me giggles a lot, just like I. Do you have a friend who always tells you the truth in how you appear?

I will tell Me anything. And everything. Me will tell I anything. And everything.

We have long conversations about life. Me usually agrees with I and allows anything that comes to mind to be said, with no judgment. It truly is a blessing, because I have never met anyone that I can say anything to and never have to worry about what they are thinking. I know Me will understand and if she doesn’t, she says right away, and I always agree with her point of view.

Conversing without an ounce of hesitance has truly opened us into a new frequency of exploration. I can tell Me all about life and theories that I have kept secret within the mind, and Me always has more to add. I said that sometimes I get confused why life is so serious if all of us could die in an instant. Me said that making life serious is mankind’s way to fill their mind with the known, so they do not have to think about the unknown. Me then said that changing what you know is the utmost scariest moment that could ever happen to mankind. I told Me that I want that moment. Me told I to never tell anyone that.

I promised Me to never tell anyone. Me promised I to never tell anyone.

I can’t stop thinking about the unknown. I keep wondering why our day is structured strictly to the known. It is as if the unknown does not exist. I asked Me to tell me something that I could not think of. Me said that she could never die. I asked her how. She said that I could smash my mirror and she would be gone temporarily. Yet, I could always find her next door in my bathroom mirror. Or in any mirror, in any reflection, in any surface bouncing with light, or simply in any light. Me said she has seen I check her out in reflections, she takes it as flattery. I take it as embarrassment. She said that I looking at her is an irresistible curiosity that her need for flattery will never shoo away. Me said that I always have her so that I don’t ever have to find someone to hold on to.

Me said that we are taught to look for comfort in others that we can only ever find within ourselves. This is taught to further our aimless quest of not thinking about what we really want. Me said that that the best part of that is that she is everywhere. Me said that that is her gift to I, so that I never have to look far. Invisibly, Me and I are everywhere.

Me said that the reason why I cannot see my face is so that I can find myself in every aspect of the world. Me said that if I could see my face I would be forced to surrender to personal curiosity and instinctual vanity. Me said that there is a reason our eyes face outward and there is a reason why they have lids. Me said that is how she cleared the space in my mind to think of what I want to think of.

I love Me. Me loves I.

I now have space in the mind to think of anything I want to think of. Me asked why I always talk about what I have to do. I said it is because there are certain things I have to get done in a day. Me said that I think too much about what I have to do rather than just doing it. Me then said that I like thinking about what I have to do in a day so I can subconsciously justify my existence. I told Me that she was slightly over reacting. Me told I that she hit a soft spot of truth.

I asked, why I am so obsessed with I do. Me said that most people like the chains of “doing” that hold their mind captive. Me said that I started our conversation with sentence after sentence as to why I did not get everything done in my day. Me said that she never asked and that is was quite boring. Me said that if I had just shut up and understood that there is time for everything (only if I believe in it) – then I could have started our conversation with a smile. Me then asked how many people in my life tell me things that truly do not matter. I told Me – many. Me told I to spend the next day deleting out my “boring talk” of to-dos.

I said nothing all day. Me laughed at I. I freaked out.

All day I had to stop myself from saying useless words. Me said that she has never seen I so silent. I said that she has taken away my will to talk. Me said that not even God could do that because I like the sound of my voice too much. How much time do you spend talking to the mirror she asked.

I laughed. Me laughed. It’s true.

I asked Me if this is dangerous. This whole “I talking to Me” all the time. Me said that the world has made it seem dangerous because everyone is afraid to see his or her own truth. She said that running away is easy, only it is pointless because she is everywhere I go. I asked Me what I am supposed to do in my life.

Me said that I have all the answers. I said Me has all the answers.

Two suns.

The Blue Hit came to New York last night and I went to see them at The Living Room in the Lower East Side. Grace, the singer, lulled me, her voice seduced me into a hypnotic nostalgia about Austin. What followed was satisfying and interesting conversations that carried until outside my door in the Upper West Side where I said goodbye and  to my friend and then declined a man's offer (at 3:30am) to buy a snickers bar from his briefcase.

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I had high, frantic, selfish sex on Monday. My friend asked, or assumed, if it had been desperate. I don't see how I can describe something as frantic and selfish without it too being desperate, but somehow that word has more negative baggage. The sex wasn't negative to me. I feel like I haven't had much of an opinion or stance on the previous sex I've had with this person until this evening. And I found myself more exclusively wrapped up in what made me feel good more than anything else. I still haven't orgasmed, but this doesn't mean that I leave sex unsatisfied.

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I was babysitting a girl this week. In the basement playroom of the building, she was coloring with three other girls. They were all drawing similar pictures, the younger girls mimicking the older ones, except for the youngest girl of all. She was oblivious to this big sister cycle. She drew two suns in her picture and giggled about it, pointing out how silly it was. One of the older girls looked at the picture and said that it was beautiful, and that it wasn't silly at all. In a reflection off water, there is always a second sun.

Takeout Menu

this is a blog post I wrote a while ago, and never finished. But upon rereading it, I don't think it needs to be more. It captures something comical and desperate about my life :)
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I've been thinking about life a lot lately. That sound's kind of lame, but I don't have another way to put it. It is kind of lame, actually. But when you have free time, you have free time to contemplate.

It's the same for me. I think about food all the time. I go to bed reading takeout menus and anticipate my next meal. For example, on the train ride home tonight, I couldn't decide whether I wanted a cookie or taco truck. I kept going back and forth in my head, trying to remember where I could possibly get a good cookie at 11pm in the four blocks between the subway stop and my house. Or did I want a tamale? What was I craving, savory or sweet? 

I ended up browsing cookies, sampling cookie frozen yogurt, and settling on a sweet tamale in those four blocks. I forgot about the gourmet 24 hour super market across the street from me. They probably would have had my cookie. 

What even is a sweet tamale? I wasn't sure, but anything with the word tamale I automatically love. This one had sugar mixed into the masa along with the occasional raisin, and bright pink/red food coloring along the side. 

Next, I spent my shower thinking about what I could have for breakfast and then even for lunch. My train of thought arose out of knowing where my casting would be, my need to stop into my agency, my need to do government homework, and my need to not spend much money. Where could I work in the area that had good cheap food? I'd rather eat where I could work, so I wouldn't have to spend money on food and also on a tea or coffee too if I could help it. One or the other. But I get through all of that in 0.2 seconds and then just think and think of the possibilities of consumption.  

I was so full in the shower though. My belly was adorably swollen with satisfaction. Why am I non-stop thinking about more food when I'm not hungry at all? 

Strangely enough for me, I think part of it is because I had been wearing tights and had just eaten, both of which heighten my awareness of my stomach, internally and externally (since the tights are, well, very tight). So I think just being aware of my fullness triggers my food thought.