I had Hypnotherapy and Reiki done (by my cousin) for the first time ever on friday.
It really opens you up, leads you down the dark pathways of your subconcious and shines a flashlight on the nooks and crannies.
I realized how tight my heart was. I thought I was healed, but I was so wrong.
Heart, whats wrong? My heart says "I miss you"
My heart misses the me who I was before the messy breakup. The girl in love with the world. you know, like the elliot smith song. I haven't felt anything fully, I haven't gotten attached. Not really. I get close and then I lose emotion, or they reject me, or some other equally shitty thing happens.
It's time to do the dirty search again, whisk out the can opener and start on my metal heart.
Speaking of missing, my grandma got citizenship. and she's going to Iran for a year. No more waking up to the smell of that day's dinner on the stove, no more fixed zipper, no more beautiful wrinkles, no more sweet scent and persian TV sound from the basement, no more crazy lady running around muttering conspiracy theories and good natured criticisms.
This weekend was lovely.
Danced at the burlesque show with the hottest girls. burlesque crowds really know how to make you feel appreciated as a performer. Went to a gay party I've been meaning to go to for a while, made out with a girl, went home with a boy. You know how it goes...
On friday I was a squat kid/crust punk/junkie's girlfriend for about two hours. Had some time to kill in Tompkins- I was writing when the crust kids and neighborhood dopeheads all arrived to buy the goods. I got to watch 30 people shoot up, and one particularly cute kid hit on me because I looked lonely. Some on-the-road piercer. took me to starbucks and got me a frapp. walked me down st. marks introducing me as his significant other. I helped him spange for money for detox pills and left him with a kiss on the cheek.
New dilemma: when dating (biological) boys, all the self-image issues I thought I'd dropped are somehow still there. I have this instant desire to lose 20 pounds. I compare myself to exes and oh's. When I'm with girls we can revel in the imperfections, but with boys- I feel them highlighted. Or maybe it's because the boy I have a crush on is the scrawniest tattooed boy around, carries hair products with him, and has a thing for girls who are about 100 pounds.
In the works:
Job (still. economy played me for a fool)
Art show (looking to curate one!)
Bartending (learn it)
IF I DON'T HAVE A JOB THAT USES MY BRAIN IN TWO WEEKS I'M APPLYING FOR STARBUCKS OR BECOMING A STRIPPER.
That is my disclaimer.
Needle in the hay is out and over.