The ideal is not real.

This morning, whilst en route to an estate sale a hundred miles north, I heard an interview with Nicole Atkins on NPR. She talked about Marcel Proust, and how he had influenced one of her songs with the idea of "the ideal is not real". She talked about how we, as humans, try to idealize our romantic partners, but in the end, it's all chemical and we have no control over who we end up with; that felt empty to me.

Couples were everywhere at the estate sale: sixty-year old antique dealers beside me in line, a man who told me he had to find something for his wife so she'd forgive him for all the junk he bought, wives asking their husbands to bring the trucks around to haul their finds, a hot bearded man with his wife and son that I couldn't take my eyes off of. I wished I'd brought a person with me to hold stuff, haul junk around. save my place in line. I couldn't stop thinking about it as I was alone in that line of fifty people, pushing my box with my feet because it was so heavy.

I ask strangers to hold my place, to watch my stuff. There are dogs and kids, and workers moving around constantly. I love people-watching, but in that moment, I wanted to be share my awesome thrifting life with somebody. But I guess I haven't found that special smelly somebody yet ;)

A beautiful thing :)

Anthropologie sweater from Field Flower

Two and a half months ago, I closed my poetry journal. It has remained on the floor beside my bed, and I have had no desire, or need, to open it, until today. I didn't want to look at all the poems I'd written for a man I no longer love. I didn't want to see the proof that I didn't know enough to say "good-bye". I didn't want to see my tears in words, all over the page, remembering how I cried through most of them, cried through nights for years, wanting the feeling inside of me to leave. But it never left.

It has now left, and I am reborn. I am solid and sure. I am open to radically new things. New has entered my life in a way I never expected, but has been an incredible gift. One day, the burden was lifted. And now there are things I do not know. There are things I have not planned. I am free in a way I've never been. It's a beautiful thing.

The Bachelor.

Vintage boobie shirt- a real winner :)

So as we all know, I love to talk about what I think, and reality television allows me constant fodder for discussion.

This season of The Bachelor brings us much more of the same: people stuck into unrealistic situations, manipulated to produce false romantic feelings, and constant drama and tears. Private islands, diamonds, and couture, do not a real relationship make. Which is fine, I mean, loads of people meet under strange circumstances, and somehow manage to eek out reasonable relationships. But life isn't perfect, and truth is stranger than the falsehood of false celebrity. So by the time the show is over, and everyone has fallen in and out of love, the reality of true life, real ugly human life, shows up, and no amount of célébrité is going to rewind the romance back to the bright lights and giddiness of the television show.

So every time the producers interview some woman who hasn't gotten a rose, and she's asking "Why? Why? Why?" and "What is wrong with me?" and "Why does this always happen to me?", I am screaming at the screen, "There is nothing wrong with you!!!" and "This has nothing to do with who you are - you are beautiful and wonderful and this isn't real!"

Anyhoo, all y'all bachelorettes out there, keep the faith and don't accept anything less than the absolute best.

Thus endeth Megan's brief fore into romantic advice columnist-mode.

Fin.

Way more play...

Made in France! Who knew they loved self-help books?

This guy kept passing me in the aisles today making weird noises, almost like clicking, but not quite. The first time it happened, I figured I was hearing something. The second time, I figured out what was happening, and it did not feel good.

Maybe it's my terrible hair making me more approachable; maybe it's my ever-present smile scowl - but I've been getting way more play in thrift stores lately. Even the female employees are becoming more friendly, and I talk to them about things other than thrift! Isn't that cool? I'm becoming an almost friendly person, perhaps even likeable. Or maybe it's because I shower regularly and have all my teeth. Meh, it's a crapshoot, really.

I'm so into mugs right now. It's a thing. Usually my thing is food-related, but not currently. I can't even remember the last time I ate a burrito. Now how weird is that?

I never want to let go.

The most difficult things I have had to do in my life have been to see people as they really are, not what I imagine them to be, but as they really are. And this process usually ends in tears, tears of regret and grief, and then the ultimate work of figuring how to move on.

A few years ago, I had to do this over and over again, and it almost killed me. And I never wanted to do it again. I never wanted to be disappointed again, I guess. But then, this year (oh God), I've had to do it again. I've had to see the people I love for who they really are, and figure out whether or not I'm going to accept them, or whether I'm going to move on (fuuuuuuuck).

The thing is (and this is the most difficult thing), I don't have a lot of relationships that I've had for over a decade. And that makes me want to cling to the ones I have left, to forgive and forget, to make it work when I'm pretty sure it won't. Because I don't want to go on in my life and leave everything behind. I don't want to leave my younger years behind me. I don't want that part of my life to disappear; I don't want that part of me to disappear. And I'm willing to compromise big-time to salvage parts of my life that have all but disappeared. I don't want to lose everyone, because it makes me feel like I'll lose myself in the process.

Sad day.

Physical urges.

The ultimate question - "Is it suede?"

I've been sick all weekend, and it's made me kinda crazy. It's also completely taken away any kind of verbal filter I usually have, so I'm saying "fuck shit" whenever something doesn't go my way, which is about every five minutes.

So, I've talked about want before, want in the sense of a physical urge, a primal thing that gets fed when we're young so when we get to adulthood, we understand the process. And the over-consumption of modern wherever is probably some sort of psychological commentary on our ability as a society to effectively cope with that wanting mechanism inside of us.

Well, my want mechanism was extinguished early, so now when I want, I question feelings of want incessantly. If I want something, I try to figure out why, and if I should want it, and what it means that I do/might want it. The whole process is ridiculous, because most people just want something and then they go and get it. But I want something, and then end up cutting myself bangs or professing my undying love to one of several people. Want makes me a crazy delusional person. It makes me illogical.

All of this has to do with sex. So, yeah.

Forever with me.

Vintage Silhouette - Made in Austria

I've written a lot of poetry in my life, lots of terrible wonderful poems about love and loss and longing and anger with God. I'm sick today, and feeling lonely in my sickness, because being sick is always a lonely occupation, isn't it? And I'm trying to figure some stuff out, so I start looking through the last two years of poems to try to get some clarity on my feelings and how they've remained constant in some ways over the years, how my trajectory has, in spite of all obstacles, stayed straight and sure.

Vintage Liz Claiborne - Totally make me think of the early 1990s

I've figured out something really important. My love for other people, my deep unfailing commitment to what some would (and have) declared delusional, has carried me through my life like a bright shimmering string of hope, woven through the mess of my life, inextricably linked to who I was, who I am, and who I will become. These people did not earn that love, nor did they provide it to me. It was something inside of me that kept it going, kept that fire stoked through many stormy times.

Those people can never give me that love that I've created for myself with their names on it. They can never live up to the hype I've given them, because they're human, and I made that hope inside myself so I could keep living when I didn't want to. I deeply want to show these people what they have, with their mere existence, given to me, but it seems to be an impossible task. How do you really love another person? How do you give a person, in a few moments, a decade of hope that you have forever inside you because of them?

So I love them, not because of anything they did, but because at one time, they loved me. And it was everything to me.

Boosting your own ego

Not completely empty, but mostly :)

This week's episode of The Bachelorette made me think about a phenomenon I've seen in heterosexual romantic relationships: Women pressing the man to admit that he is indeed hopelessly in love with her, causing total exposure and emotional nakedness (but only for him). She manipulates the situation because she wants to know that it's a sure thing. She isn't going to go all-in unless she first knows that he's all-in first. It's like, "You show me yours first, then I'll think about whether I'll show you mine."

I call it a phenomenon because I've seen it happen over and over again with my single friends. They agonize over whether or not some guy likes them because they depend upon that knowledge to judge themselves. If he loves them, then they're worthy of being loved. Their worthiness is completely dependent upon that knowledge (Oh man, this drives me crazy).

We use people's vulnerabilities against them in order to make ourselves more powerful! When I make the guy admit his feelings first, then I have the upper hand. I have the power to crush him if I want, and now there's zero chance that I'll get crushed. Self-protection at its worst, my friends. Using other people's vulnerabilities to boost your own ego? Not cool.

But resistance is not an easy task. It means making up your own mind. It means a whole hell of a lot of risk on your part, with the possibility that there is only pain on the other side. But the cool part is, you get to become a whole person in the process, and that's worth every painful moment, and every tear.

Happy Saturday :)

This bird's nest fell out of a tree in my front yard :)

This has been a tough week, but the past several have been tough, so that really doesn't mean all that much. I hate the depression of summer, but it keeps me from going over the edge and collapsing the rest of the time, so it's worth the difficult days, usually. Mostly I just sit in my apartment with my mini fan pointed directly at me, doing eBay schtuff and listening to talk radio. Television makes me feel a lot more guilty, so I try to take it in small amounts (I don't know where I got the idea that summer television was shameful - probably my mother). Also, I drink a lot of smoothies, which makes me feel like a rock star. They're full of spinach and berries. I figure my iron and antioxidant load is now back where it should be.

Tonight, I am going out with friends to see Magic Mike (I later read this, and had some brain waves to the contrary). I am telling you so that you know that I have no shame (I think). Oh man, at the end of Dear John, when Channing Tatum and Amanda Seyfried's characters end up together after her sufficiently hot first husband dies tragically, gives me hope that love can truly conquer all. I'm not kidding.

Differentiate yourself.

I'm not exceptionally good at describing jewelry yet.

So I'm reading this book called Passionate Marriage, by David Schnarch. I guess you could say that it's a book about sex, but it's not really. It's more a book about how sex reflects our intimate relationships in both positive and negative ways. I've pretty much decided that I'm going to give it to people as a wedding gift, maybe two copies, because the book is all about differentiation, and how we can have better relationships when we don't expect the other person to define us or affirm our worth.

In most of my relationships, I don't need other people to give me worth. That's not a hard thing for me. Maybe at one time it was, but now not so much. However, that is not the case in my closest relationships. I have so much trouble saying, "This is where I end and you begin...This is you...This is me." I take on people's problems because I "love" them, but when I do that, it communicates that I don't think that they can handle their own problems, that they need me to function properly, and that's exactly what I do not wish to communicate.

Truly intimate relationships are difficult to navigate. They take constant work, and pain. Sometimes there are easier times than others, or else we wouldn't be able to cope, and we certainly wouldn't stay together. But if being human is hard, in and of itself, then being human with another human has to be exponentially difficult.

So to all y'all out there in long-term partnerships, more power to ya :) You are each a testament to the possibility of love to triumph.

I'm engaged.

I've been eating a lot of spinach lately. I put it in my fruit smoothies. I eat it on all of my pizza. Good stuff. It makes me feel like I'm a relatively healthy person, and I guarantee that my sister gets deliriously happy every time I eat it.

So today, this totally cute guy at the rescue mission thrift store said "Hello" to me, then said, "You're a regular. I've seen you before...Do you mind my asking your name?"

"Uh [what is happening?]. Megan."

That was pretty much the end of the conversation, but I definitely was impressed that he just came out and asked. I'm a sucker for men who speak to me. It's become more difficult lately. The whole masters degree thing doesn't exactly work in my favor. I'm tall, always thinking and using big words, and now I have an advanced degree. I'm stuck between men too intimidated to believe they could be with me, and men too narcissistic to make me happy.

Oh dear. Maybe I'll marry spinach.

Have you ever been in love?

I don't have relationships with exes. I imagine that some people do. As I said before, I am like a sponge, and I don't do well managing feelings without slipping into old patterns. I doubt it's always the healthiest option, but for me, it's the best one. It protects my heart, and in odd cases, the hearts of other people (I just don't imagine anyone is too hung up on me post mortem).

And it works well. I leave, try again, mess up again, and no one is destroyed in the process. I was finding that every time I went back to my ex-boyfriends, my heart only became more attached, and more difficult to pull out of the relationship. Where once we might have been able to make somewhat of a clean break, re-entering the fray only made it more difficult to leave a second time without major trauma to my heart. Maybe our hearts were made for monogamy. I don't know. Sometimes I imagine that they are. But I don't think that our human-ness makes us able to not hurt eachother, and sometimes moving on is the best thing for everyone involved. Maybe in a perfect world, we could all mate for life, but I doubt anyone makes it to adulthood without breaking a heart or two.

Be kind. Being a grown-up means sacrifice, usually the sacrifice of things we thought we needed to survive. Maybe it can be okay to let go, if it means that in the end, you save a heart or two.

Thrift Share Monday :)

So I was at the special-item-case at the rescue mission thrift store this afternoon, and the woman behind the counter said, "Men are weird. [To me] Tell me they're weird."

I responded, "Um, it is difficult for us to understand one another."

"Ha! You know they're weird; admit it. My husband is a man, and he is weird. He is the weirdest person I know."

"Well, share your wisdom with me. How do you manage to stay married to such a weird man?" Oh man, I hooked her with that one.

"Well listen up girls [There was another woman behind the counter]. My husband is the love of my life. We can talk about anything. But he is weird. That's just how it is. I didn't have another choice - I couldn't marry a woman! And he thinks I'm weird. But I never would have married him if he hadn't been in love with Jesus. That's the most important thing."

So girls, take note. Marry a man who's in love with Jesus, and never marry a woman. I don't know about you, but I sure learned something today. I love it when people share their wisdom with me. Thrift store wisdom. I need to start writing all this stuff down. The people need to hear!

I think it's so funny that so many thrift stores are "christian" organizations, and assume that everyone who shops there must share their beliefs. I'm good-natured about it, but I highly doubt that everyone is. Hey! Here's a fun topic. Share your experiences with advice-giving thrift-store employees/volunteers in the comments. Let's see what we come up with.

Linking up with Apron Thrift Girl :)

Saddened silence

Vintage Mug - Bernad Creations 1950

I am super sad right now. Yesterday, I was confronted with my emotional limitations, and I don't think I've eaten in almost 24 hours. I don't know what I'm going to do to make things better, or how I'm going to do it. I had a date last night, and now in the chilly light of day, I think I'm going to choose to be single for the rest of my life, not because it's what I want, but because it's just plain easier, and any other alternative requires emotional energy I don't have, or perhaps don't have to give.

For those who know and love me, I am just wallowing in self-loathing and self-pity. I am continuing the cycle that began a very long time ago, and it doesn't appear to be ending anytime soon. I used to cry when I thought about my limitations. Now I just sit in saddened silence.

Hope for better.

Vintage Christian Dior Eyeglasses - yeah buddy :)

There's a Lori McKenna song that I listened to on repeat last fall. I couldn't get enough of it. It made me feel like someone was speaking from my heart; someone understood how it felt to always be the most honest and vulnerable person in the room.

It seemed like I'd always been in a relationship with someone who cared enough to sleep with me, but not enough to be seen with me. And over and over I felt alone in my feelings, judged by my friends for staying with men who treated me badly, and judged by the significant (?) other for always being too much.

I suppose those experiences taught me to be less expectant, less dependent upon other people for supporting my emotional well-bring. And that's a good thing, no matter what. Today, I'm pretty glad I had a tough time after my first big heartbreak. It's been thirteen years, and I've learned so much about life and love and other people. It's difficult to be bitter when so much good has come out of so much pain. But I'd never tell that seventeen-year-old that her heartache was a good thing. I'd tell her that it was going to hurt more than she ever expected, but that many many years later, things would get better.

Online Dating Update #4

Sandra Boynton mug :)

Okay, so I haven't given an online dating update because I suddenly feel very vulnerable writing about what has been going on. Suddenly I'm extra nervous about people reading my blog, and people finding my blog. A few months ago, I found out that a very unpleasant person was reading my blog and then using it to manipulate me. That was enough for me, but now this is different. This is new and scary and should I have a pen name? Should I change the name of my shop and blog so that I do a better job concealing my identity? Yikes. Ack! Anxiety! Waking up at 6:30 every morning with dark circles under my eyes!

Phew, okay. That's all you get.

"The Grape Harvest"

Based on a mosaic of a Millard Sheets piece in Southern California

After a party last night, I'm in a weird place in my head. I spent some time this afternoon wrapped up in my hammock. My friend helped me put it up this morning. Everything is better with my hammock up in a tree. How have I gone five years without it?

I'm having this sudden insecurity brought on by the online dating thing. Suddenly it matters what I say and what I do, and how others perceive me. It's why I'm so bad at interviews, but great at my job. There's something inside me that just shuts down when I know I'm being watched and judged. I wish there were a cure, but there isn't. It's a big part of who I am, and a large reason I put forward a strong sense of self most of the time. I'm afraid of being watched and being found wanting.

So I recycle things that have been discarded by their previous owners. In doing that, I challenge the world to tell me that it's trash. I don't believe it's trash, so how can you? I approach myself in the same way. I'm a bad ass. I dare you to say otherwise. Most of the time, I'm okay. But it's also why I haven't interviewed in over a year. It's my ultimate fear so I find every way I can to avoid it. But now I'm in a place (back to dating again) where I don't want to be avoidant. I want to put myself out there. But the fear is palpable, and in some ways, paralyzing.

I'm going to have a talk with myself right now, see if we can get this all sorted out.

Peace out.

I'm hooked.

House of Lloyd - 1988

I'm currently drinking out of a mug that says You're Sensational with a rainbow shooting star. I figured I needed some more positive energy with my morning coffee. The news just isn't doing it for me.

I think I went on a thrifting binge today. Three stores. $50. If it helps, I donated a huge box of stuff I'm done with. I really need to go through my clothing. One of my drawers is way too full. I think I've accumulated more clothing that I like and look good in than I have in the past. However, I just saw a photo of myself and it was not so great. I think I need to figure out how to just deal with what I look like. It's a lifetime of work.

So there's this guy that I'm talking to from my online relationship forays. We've sent several emails back and forth, and I kinda like him. The process is making me more of an adult. I'm usually more like a horny child (see here-oh no, now I've distracted myself with SNL). I don't know what it is. I'm trying to figure it out. I think it has to do somewhat with preconceptions about the process and how it works. We act as if we care. We put forward our best selves because that's what we want to be seen. Yikes, this sounds like dating in general. Maybe I've underestimated my own abilities, or maybe I'm reaching some sort of synergistic epoch where all of my wisdom and knowledge are working together for the first time in synchronicity instead of some sort of haphazard experiment.

I'll be in touch. Stay tuned.

Online dating update (it sucks)

Frye Boots, baby! This model is no longer made.

So when I started setting stuff up for the flea market, organizing and such, I realized that I have a lot more than I could have imagined, and my booth should look really nice and full on Saturday. I'm a little bit concerned about my own energy level, and my ability to get through the day, but I'm committed and will do what needs to be done.

The online dating thing is lame. I hate it. I want a refund. All I think when I look at it is, "This is not what I want". I don't know at what point it's appropriate to do something I don't want in the interest of having sex a meaningful relationship sometime soon. I don't know how far to push myself in this area, when nothing else has been fruitful, so I don't have other, better, options.

I want a man I'm deeply attracted to. I want a man who's at least as strong as me. Those are the two hardest things to find. All of the other stuff is way easier. My therapist and I talked today about how capable I am. I have quality friendships with men. I've had intimate relationships with men. All I have to do is put the two together, and I'll be in business! I told her she was being too positive; she said she wasn't trying to be.

I'm tired of it being so hard.

[That's what she said :)]

Online Dating #1 of ?

If I dress like this, maybe life would be better.

I'm sorry to say it, but I've begun the process of online dating. I began about 36 hours ago, and I'm already reconsidering my decision. Who do I think I am? Someone who could possibly be attractive to other people, namely one other person? I can barely remain attractive to myself. I feel like listing all of the reasons that I'm undateable. Shall we?

Remember to pronounce the two 'u's separately.

1. My apartment is a mess, like no-one-should-come-in-here-ever. I don't remember when I changed my sheets last, or vacuumed. There are holes in the walls that I said I would fill months ago.
2. I have a job I can't be completely honest about (i.e. I'm a CIA spy. That's what you thought, right?).
3. I have a weird diet that makes me seem like a fascist, and in some ways, I feel like one.
4. I have life-long chronic conditions for which I will always need treatment.

Okay, this is boring. If the worst things about me are that I'm messy and don't eat animal products, I think I'll give it another day or so.