Tag Archives: few days

The Frequency of Conversation

The Frequency of Conversation

Conversations either flow or they don’t.  I find it strange when my in vain efforts to initiate conversations leads my counter party and myself to have a conversation over how my behavior has been interpreted as strange to them.

There is just no simpler way of saying it:

“I just wanted to talk to you, so I called, and when you didn’t answer, I left you a message.  When you didn’t return my call for a few days I assumed you didn’t want to talk to me….then when you finally did talk to me, I had already gotten over wanting to talk to you, but I was suddenly stuck in conversation with you and had to processes the two conflicting ideas that 1) I thought you didn’t want to talk to me and now 2) you are talking to me.”

So you can understand my confusion and hesitance because now that I am finally having the conversation that I was hoping to have 5 days ago, I can’t enjoy it because I have a feeling that I’m going have something I want to tell you about tomorrow and I’ll have to wait another 5 days until you are in the mood to talk with me.  At that time I will have probably forgotten what it was I wanted to tell you, so I won’t have anything to say, so I’ll just act nervous because all this stuff is going through my mind because someone in particular doesn’t like having conversations as often as I do.

On Meditating with a Buddhist Monk

On Meditating with a Buddhist Monk

While meditating with a Buddhist Monk in New Zealand, I was watching my thoughts about the recent conversations I’d had with all these foreigners I’d met at this stop in my journey. If someone could take a picture of the thoughts floating around me as I saw them in my mind, they’d see heaps of little scenes floating fluidly around my head:

—-

The french guy talking about how he doesn’t like girls who have square football player shoulders, then, realizing that I do, he backed down off the topic and said, “But with bodies, all that really matters is how it feels.”

—-

The annoying little 11 year old boy, who, after insisting to his parents that he could help me dig a trench across the driveway, didn’t help. He just wanted to tell me stupid dirty jokes that only an 11 year old would find funny.

“Why don’t you find my jokes funny? Everyone else does.” he wondered.

I replied, “Everyone else is just humoring you.” Frustrated, he stormed off.

“Good,” I though, “it worked.”

—-

How the people I was staying with for a few days insisted that I carry buckets of water up the hills on their property from their stream to water the newly planted trees.

“You should really invest in a water pump and a long fireman-type hose, you wouldn’t even need to lay in pipes, just plug it in, walk it up and you’re good.” I suggested to the owner of the property, as he struggled to carry two buckets of water with his back brace on.

“No, a little hard work never hurt,” he said after pouring water over the last of at least 30 newly planted trees that needed to be watered.

“But it would save you’re back,” I said as it started to sprinkle.

—-

The man’s wife asked me to hang up the new drapes she bought.

“Do you have an iron?” I asked, “these creases won’t hang-out anytime soon. I can iron them really fast and it will look so good.”

“Oh no!” she condescendingly said, “you can’t iron this fabric, it’s polyester, a type of plastic, it will melt. The creases will hang out in a week or so.”

“Umm, I’ve ironed plastic before, you just use a low setting.” I replied looking really confused, but then remembering that she just doesn’t know I am the master of fabric, I command and fabric obeys, “But okay, I’ll put them up like this then.”

After hanging the curtains, I smiled at how shitty it looked. And thought, this is business, the customer has to have it their way.

—-

That same french guy who, when asked if he’d want to take home a New Zealand girl with him after his year-long visa ended, responded, “No, I could never make a woman choose between me and her country.”

—-

When the meditation ended, I boldly asked the monk a question. “In yoga they teach to clear the mind of thoughts and to give the mind a break from them, but you said that in Buddhism, one is supposed to embrace the thoughts as if you are one with them and think them through. How do you cope with having too many sad thoughts in succession? How do you keep pushing through the same sad thoughts that come to mind every time?

“You just keep thinking them through…all the way to their end, every time, until the the mind is satisfied with it, then it will no longer plague the mind. And you will be free of it.” He replied.

On Despair

On Despair

I sat on the balcony of a cafe next to my work in Sydney gazing out at the puffy clouds in the sky to the west. It was lunch time, well, the end of lunchtime, I was in the habit of taking lunches later to make the rest of the work day go by quicker. I had tunnel vision, meaning I didn’t care to look around and see if anyone I knew was sitting nearby; all I could think of was how horrible it was to be in this situation.

I just wanted to cry but I was tired of crying, I cried for three days after every phone call because I couldn’t stop habitually ruminated over every detail of the call. He wanted to pretend like nothing was wrong; wanted to call me as if I was happy he dumped me and was now off doing what he thought was what I wanted to do all along. I couldn’t do it anymore. There was no reassurance, no mention that the problem existed other than a Freudian slip followed by a nervous laugh when he accidentally said April 4th (the day he dumped me in a smokey bar) instead of August 4th (the day he was planning some sort of backpacking trip). Regardless of him making such a big deal about leaving me behind for some life experience that he couldn’t do tied to some girl back home, he still insisted on calling me every few days to tell me of his adventures and listen to what I was doing.

It was that day, 4 months later that I realized he dumped me after 7 years to go on vacation.

So there I sat, plagued by cyclical emotions. The current emotion I was in was rather analytical and dry of energy. I realized that the only reason my mind was sick was because this voice kept creeping into my life from far away offering nothing more than a hint that it might come visit. The thought of which only filled me with dread.

Then the phone rang again, as if on cue. There it was again, apparently sitting in some cafe in Tibet or some country near there, expecting to get what it wanted out of me for the time being without leaving me with something of value in return. I was mad at it, but I didn’t know how to get rid of it. So I just started talking about all the boys that I’ve encountered to make him jealous (because I knew it would work regardless of how he denied ever being jealous). I went into detail about how the boys all loved me and complimented me on the strangest things and how they were all so different and all such good friends even though I had only known them for the few months I’d been in Sydney, and how I was really fascinated by one in particular.

Then I just came out with it and asked, “Why are you calling me?”

There wasn’t much of an answer, so I just kept talking, “I don’t understand why you are calling me, you were so mean to me, you said such horrible things, and now you want to call me like none of it ever happened, you just want to go on as if nothing happened.”

Somehow the subject of another girl came up, who I knew he had a crush on because he hadn’t stopped talking about her for an entire year. Then he said, “you always get in a such a rage when [girl] is mentioned, you know you’re just going to have to get used to her and I being friends.”

“No,” I said, “I don’t because I don’t want to talk to you anymore, this whole situation is driving me crazy and I don’t want to deal with it anymore.”

“Whoa…. What!?!” he responded almost with a slight laugh over me saying I was being driven crazy because he always called me crazy for having normal female emotions, “But [girl] and I were going to come visit you!”

“What the fuck do I care about seeing [girl], why the fuck does she have anything to do with this?” I said.

It was at that point someone (the fascinating one in particular, of all people) walked by and tapped me on the head with a rolled up newspaper, as if to say what specifically I am not sure, but I perceived as if, to say “hey I’m here and take it easy.”

“Great,” I thought, “I tried to keep all this away from new people, I tried as much as I could to not be broken, but I’ve failed by being stuck in this tunnel vision of a fog all because the phone happened to ring when someone I knew was nearby.” If I wasn’t pissed off at my situation before I definitely was now. And I wasn’t going to put up with this shit any longer.

“But I’ve been carrying gifts for you for three weeks until I could get to a post office, what am I supposed to do with them now?” the voice pleaded.

“Throw them away, I don’t care, I don’t want them anymore, give them to [girl] sounds like she’ll appreciate them,” I snapped back.

“Well okay,” he said, “If you’re going to be like that then I guess this is goodbye.”

“I guess so!” I retorted.

“Okay, then, bye.” were the last words from the voice I’ve ever heard.

“Bye,” click.

Then sometime later… the phone rang back in Huntington Beach, California.

It was the voice on a train to his next city, calling a friend back at home.

“Friend! It’s [the voice],” came a solemnly desperate voice

“Hey man, What’s up?” asked the friend.

“Stephanie,” sob, “said she doesn’t want to talk to me anymore,” he cried.

Just as the friend was about to respond the call was dropped and there was silence.

Liking Myself in Someone Else’s Eyes

Liking Myself in Someone Else’s Eyes

I think a major factor in determining if I am enjoying the people I am with in the moment (any moment) is the image of myself that the other person expresses back to me. Sure I can read their facial expressions, get feedback about how they interpret what I am communicating to them, or even see whether or not they personally like me, but regardless there are those comments, gestures, glances, etc. that paint an underlying picture in my mind of how they view me. When that matches my own idea of how I’d like people to view me then, well, the other person gets me! hooray!

Okay so, on the flip side, (this is the story that got me thinking this), I made a series of comments (2 or 3 maybe over a few days) to a friend of mine way back when and in my mind it was a sarcastic joke in lieu of something better to say, maybe not the best choice, I admit, but I could tell the person wasn’t comfortable being viewed as my comments suggested. I would think the other person would be thinking, “shit, I don’t want her to think that way about me. Game over.”

I just want to know why I act the way I do, or at least, to enjoy thinking about it.

Constantly Creating New Things to Look Forward to…

Constantly Creating New Things to Look Forward to…

I’ve been shooting magic arrows at falling stars for weeks now, and no matter how many stars I hit in this brainstorm, I have yet to actually climb up and bring my, so-called, great ideas down to earth where they may actually prove useful.

For a time in my life where so much possibility exists I am really having a hard time pushing myself to get started onto something next. I have plenty of ideas, heaps of them to keep me looking forward, but just no real drive to act on them. I never thought I’d say it, but going to bed at 4 am and sleeping till noon or 1 pm really does nothing to motivate me into action.

Lately, by the time I get out of bed and piddle around with the idea of taking action, the sun is setting, leaving me to a world of endless night which encompasses a world of endless dreaming. So, whenever I end up going back home (I’m in Phoenix for a few days) I’m going to kick my own arse into shape and do more than eat, sleep, and go to yoga. I’m going to make myself a list of things to get done each day and actually cross off everything on the list, simply for the sake of completing something: the list.