stars in a blender

sort of - ingrid michaelson

Sun, 22 Nov 2009 15:08:14 -0800

baby, you’ve got the sort of hands
to rip me apart
and baby, you’ve got the sort of face
to start this old heart
but your eyes are warning me
this early morning
that my love’s too big for you, my love

baby, you’ve got the sort of laugh
that waters me
and makes me grow tall and strong and proud
and flattens me
I find you stunning, but you are running me down
my love’s too big for you, my love

and if I was stronger then I would tell you no
and if I was stronger then I would leave this show
and if I was stronger than I would up and go
but here I am and here we go again

baby, you’ve got the sort of eyes
that tell me tales
that your sort of mouth just will not say
the truth impales
that you don’t need me, but you won’t leave me
my love’s too big for you, my love

tell me what to do, to take away the you

and if I was stronger than I would tell you no
and if I was stronger than I would leave this show
and if I was stronger than I would up and go

but here I am
and here we go again.

bad timing is the story of my life

Sat, 03 Oct 2009 19:27:00 -0700

This evening Adam said to me a million things he should have said to me while we were still together. He told me all the little romantic confessions I should have been able to hear when I was still his loving, loyal girlfriend.

It is not fair that only now do I find out how unequivocally and unconditionally he loves me. Only now, when my head is screwed on all wrong. My heartstrings pull me towards people who have no intention of loving me even nearly half as much as Adam does. I know this, yet still I do not resist the pull. Still I have not learned.

He asked me to let him pick me and Nova up tonight and take us back to San Jose for the rest of the weekend. I told him no. I have a feeling I might have just made the worst mistake of my life.

But I sure hope not. I sure hope I will be given another chance to resist the pull. Next time I swear I will be smarter, or stronger, or whatever I need to be in order to not fuck up the next time.

utter defeat

Sat, 03 Oct 2009 08:01:00 -0700

He laid it all out on the table, all right. Pure and simple.

“I’m not trying to be mean but you were drunk and I did what I had to to get home. That’s all. I’m sorry if you feel there’s something else but there isn’t.”

I am indescribably disappointed in myself.
I feel like I threw aside so much in such a little amount of time for this prospect that apparently was only in my head.
There were no perfect moments, no mixed signals, no subtle hints at interest.

There was nothing.

There was just me, a sad, pathetic little girl with terrible timing looking for love in all the wrong places.
The MINUTE he does something that I mistake for affection, I am off and running to set myself up for heartbreak.
For the longest week of my life, I fell head over heels for someone who I saw amazing things in. I failed to see the flaws in him.
Possibly the worst part of it all is that he tried to warn me.
He really tried to warn me.
I didn’t listen.

I didn’t listen and now my pride is in the gutter, and I am embarrassed and angry and shocked that I blindly brought this upon myself.

And it feels ridiculous to cry over someone who, in the long term, will be a completely insignificant fling. I tell myself that I refuse to do it… but I am doing it anyway, and it only serves as a reminder of how foolish I can be. Still, even after all these years.

What the fuck is wrong with me.

I never want Nova’s heart to break. I know it is going to though, because things just happen sometimes. I just want her to know herself, and always look inside herself for the love that she needs, and look to the people who will love her unconditionally, the friends she will make permanent bonds with, me, her father. I want her to always try her best, so that when her heart does break, she will not have to deal with the realization that it was really her own fault.

that horoscope nonsense

Thu, 01 Oct 2009 08:20:07 -0700

October 1st, 2009:
A friend may be pressing you about a decision that affects the both of you, Virgo, but if you can, put making the decision off for a few days. There is a chance that after three more days, they will see things your way and decide to go with your opinion about the issue at hand. Also, you can expect a bit more attention than usual today, as well as tomorrow. This is not crazy stalkerish attention either, it’s real interest. It seems that someone has you in their sights and is ready to fire.

I am hoping this is true. Haha.

the basic suggestion effect

Sun, 27 Sep 2009 11:08:57 -0700

I am doing my psychology homework and I just read about something called the basic suggestion effect of hypnosis. It is the tendency of a person under hypnosis to act as though their behavior is automatic and out of their control because it gives them an excuse to do things they might not otherwise do, since the burden of responsibility for their actions falls on the hypnotist.

I am pretty sure this effect is also applicable to myself when certain people buy me drinks.

sweet, sweet relief

Sun, 27 Sep 2009 01:29:00 -0700

I realized something tonight. He does not play games. He is honest and simple in his motives. There are no deceptions in his actions, no hidden messages. There is nothing more to it than what there already is. I analyze and analyze, and complicate things to no extent, and he simplifies it all without even trying.

Tonight I was scared that by being too bothersome lately I had screwed up our friendship and had to confront him about it in order to fix it. I had been scared for nothing. The confrontation was not a confrontation at all. Just a simple over-analyzed misunderstanding on my own part and a carefree laugh from him, reassuring me that I had done nothing wrong.

And that’s when it came to me: He is the epitome of balance.

So we drove around together again - this seems to be the starting point to any story with him involved - and talked about sand in our shoes and country music and other completely insignificant things, and I came to yet another realization that “those little moments” are all I need. Me needing more is not a factor.

Sure, I miss him whenever he is not within my presence, and all I think about is spending time around him because I like the way life feels like an apple in his company: crisp and light and refreshing.

But that’s okay. I have learned my lesson. It is better to savor and ration.

This is a very new feeling for me. My mind, for once, does not need to work around the tangles of a man’s actions to figure anything out. Everything is laid out on the table pure and simple. There is nothing to figure out because there are no excess layers, no useless excuses in the way. I am presented with a sharp, clear, humble view. And because I know just what is there being offered to me, I do not need to take any more than is given. Never before has this happened.

I almost don’t know what to do with myself. But I do know my shoulders feel unaccountably lighter.

In fewer words, tonight I learned how not to expect so much - something I’ve been trying to master my whole life - within a matter of minutes.

hoping for a small catalyst

Sat, 26 Sep 2009 10:28:00 -0700

Yesterday: He and I are sitting in his car, driving to go pick up a friend. He changes the CD at a stoplight and puts on a song. “Sunshine” by Atmosphere.

I start singing along, and he turns to me and says, “You know the lyrics to this song?” I nod, smile. He says, “That’s amazing,” with this wonderful childlike happiness. The light turns green. We sing along, bumping our heads to the music. He gives me occasional glances that I catch out of the corner of my eye. I don’t know what kind of glances they are for sure but I like to think his heart is slowly melting.

Yesterday the fog had seeped in everywhere. The entire day was chilly, gray and overcast. But for three beautiful minutes, the sun came out and warmed us up, and I’d like to believe it was all because of this song, and I am incredibly satisfied knowing this pretty much perfect moment happened with him by my side.

Sometimes I feel as if these little moments are all I need, but then there are times I just feel like I deserve more, just because I have spent so long enjoying them all by myself. It gets lonely like that.

Oh, hopeless romanticism, I’ve missed you. And yet I also haven’t at all. I’ve managed to avoid you for months now, and at this inopportune stage of my life you show your face and demand that I befriend you again, even though you know current circumstances will make this extremely difficult for me to do. But you know I will do it. Very, very infuriating.

last night: yet another tragic chapter

Fri, 25 Sep 2009 09:19:00 -0700

It’s 6:41 am. I should still be sleeping and hungover but I am neither. I feel the need to get up and write about last night before I forget. The taste of alcohol is still on my tongue but I haven’t done anything yet but turn on my computer and begin this.

He bought me a drink last night. An Adios Mother Fucker, to be exact. That name is not to be underestimated. I was GONE. He knew it would happen. But he said I deserved to be drunk for my birthday, since it had not happened yet - at least as far as he knew. I didn’t argue. (Of course I didn’t.)

He gets to the bar later than the rest of us because he is in class until 10. I had already had a screwdriver before he arrived and had a couple sips of everyone else’s drink. Double Bailey’s, tequila & pineapple, some fruity drink that tasted like coconut. He and I share a Miller Light. And then he says he’ll be right back and walks off to the bar. My eyes keep straying over to where he stands at the counter. I think he is getting another beer but he comes back with a blue drink in a plastic cup with two straws, hands it to me, and says, “Happy birthday!” My friends all tell me to drink it slowly. Naturally, I nearly chug it down.

I’m still sipping at the ice cubes when there is nothing left. I’m a little dizzy and a lot giggly. He takes the cup out of my hands, places it on the table next to us, and tugs me gently towards the dance floor. The rest of our friends are telling us to come out there, too. “Come on, let’s dance, you’ll feel better,” he says. And I do. We are pressed up against each other, moving together, and the music is pounding throughout my entire body, just the way I like it. We are talking in each other’s ears and laughing a lot. The conversation topic eludes me. I do, however, distinctly remember laughing at how ridiculous it was that he just successfully one-handedly got me drunk, and he just laughs with me and tells me it doesn’t matter, nothing matters, just dance.

My friends offer me a cup. I lean into it and ask what it is. It’s water. The small part of my brain that hasn’t yet been affected by the alcohol tells me I really need it so I take gulp after gulp, and then he and I dance for a bit longer. His hands travel down, warm on the skin of the small of my back. It gives me the good kind of chills. There is some unspoken extent of desire between us, but still I already know that this night is not going to end like the other one. I tell him I feel safe with him, but that since he’s the one who got me this way he had to be the one to get me out of it. He laughs and says into my ear, “Let’s go home.”

We say bye to our friends and I grab his hand so as not to get lost in the giant crowd. He intertwines his fingers in mine. I cling on very tightly, the lights unwieldingly bright in my eyes, as he leads me through the dance floor, through the tables outside, up the stairs into the bar, through the hallway past the crowd in there, until we’re outside. The walk to his car feels long, and I can hear myself talking really loudly, or maybe it just seems loud because it’s much quieter outside now that there isn’t a pair of speakers in my ears. He opens the passenger door for me and for some reason that I can’t recall, I’m refusing to get in, so he sweeps his arm underneath me and picks me up and places me in the car.

He takes the long way home, avoiding the freeway. I proceed to talk. A lot. I am telling him about the problems with my current relationship, about how I felt about life pre-Nova, how I feel about life post-Nova, about everything. And he listens. And responds, even. When he gets to my house I tell him to park somewhere. He obliges. And then a long, long conversation ensues. He is only half willing to have it. He has class at 7:30 the next morning and he wants to go home and sleep. I apologize but tell him I’m pretty selfish when I’m drunk, and he just laughs in that good-natured way of his and seems to have all the patience in the entire world for me.

“You’re probably never going to buy me a drink again now,” I say, laughing.

“Of course I will,” he says. “Just not one as strong. And besides, I don’t see why we can’t just have these conversations when you’re sober.”

“Because we won’t have it. Because I won’t say these things if I’m sober.”

He understands. And leans back in his seat ready to let me talk. Our friend texts him asking if I’m alright and if I’m still with him. I lean against him and watch him send back, “Yeah, we’re conversing.” and then he looks at me and also sends, “And having sex.”

We laugh for a while and I say, “You just did that because I was watching you reply, didn’t you?” He laughs and says yes. And then I let it go at that. No need for a repeat of last Tuesday night.

Then somehow, we get on the subject of what a relationship between me and him would be like. Things are said that I don’t remember much of at the moment, although I’m sure throughout the day bits and pieces will keep coming back to me. Perhaps I will record these as they resurface, if they seem worth it. It’s a little odd that I don’t recall this part very well, considering it felt like the entire point of the night.

A large amount of the conversation also consists of him trying to convince me to go inside. He says we both need to get some sleep, and he needs to do the responsible thing and help me inside and then rest in order to get up and get to his class early the next morning. He says it’s not that he wants to do any of that, it’s that he has to. He says if it was his choice, we’d still be back at the bar, being stupid and drinking and dancing. I ask him why that would be his choice… it’s a shame I can’t remember his answer. (I always wonder why it is that when I am recalling drunk conversations, I really only remember mostly my own side of it. It is an utterly useless ability.)

I mention something about wishing he’d drank more, and he says he wishes he had been able to also (at least I think he said this). I ponder vaguely this snippet of conversation, wondering if he had been wishing the same thing for the same, immoral reason I had been.

Finally I realize two things: 1) he has impossible amounts of self-control and respect for me, and is a much better man than I have originally given him credit for, and 2) I have kept him here and awake far too long. So I get out of the car. Or at least attempt to. My head is spinning a little bit and I’m clinging to the door and afraid to let go of it. He comes around from the driver side and offers his hand.

We make it down the sidewalk very, very slowly, both of us laughing at the ridiculousness of the situation. Or at least I was laughing because of that. He may have been laughing because I could not walk straight to save my life. He sweeps me up into his arms again when we reach the driveway and says, ” ‘…And then I had to carry her to her door because she didn’t have any balance.’ What a great story this is gonna make for everyone.” I nuzzle into his neck and laugh softly and say against his skin, “Yeah right. You’re not gonna tell anyone about this.” And he says, “You’re right, maybe not. I may like having the memory of this part of tonight all to ourselves.”

He’s carrying me down the steep driveway and he says, “This hill is hard”, through breaths that are getting heavier, so I tell him he can put me down, that I can walk as long as he holds my hand. So he puts me down and I am holding on to his hand as he walks backwards slightly in front of me, just smiling at me in that “you are ridiculous but I’ll take care of you” kind of way.

Making it up the stairs takes forever. We’re both shivering in the frigid 2:00 am air. Finally we’re at my front door. He is saying goodbye but I wrap my arms around him, holding on tightly, not wanting to have to deal with myself alone just yet. I tell him so. He whispers into my ear, “You can do it. You’re a strong person, I know you are. You had Nova, you can do this, right?” But one arm is around my waist, tight and secure, and the other is stroking my back softly, and I am taking in his scent and the chain of his necklace against my cheek, and I don’t think I can be alone at all.

He turns me around to face my door. I try to twist back around but he holds me firm. “Go inside, Ash. You have to go inside,” he says gently.

And then I feel myself shaking with some sort of completely irrational drunken fear, and I am scared to go inside for some reason. I fight his grip suddenly and turn back towards him, collapsing against his chest, shaking my head back and forth, and he closes his eyes and holds me again, and it is quite possibly the best feeling on earth, him holding me like that.

I remind him of what I said earlier, how he has to be the one to get me out of this drunken state because he is the one who got me there, and he laughs and I laugh a little bit and he is holding me and we are shivering still but I’m not entirely too sure it was only because of the cold by now. I am taking short, sharp breaths and he is whispering to me, “Calm down,” in what I must say was a very calming voice indeed, except I am not really calming down because all I can think of is how he is taking such good care of me and I am feeling tears of an unknown emotion somewhere in the back of my head that I am very, very unwilling to let come.

So I am breathing fast and he is trying to create friction on my arms to warm me up, and then in a quick moment that even in sober retrospect I still do not understand, I feel his hands on my neck searching for my cheeks, and he finds them and lifts my face up to his and he presses his lips against mine, hard, and my breathing stops, just… stops as he is kissing me. And everything is imploding and intense and his kiss is very long and very… purposeful, though I cannot imagine what purpose it was for. I just know I have never experienced any kiss like this. It is filled with something. Spontaneity, passion, longing, a craving for unfamiliarity, an intense desire to understand, a beautiful tension. It is consumed with all these things and it is with which I also become consumed during this one piercing moment.

When he pulls away from me I open my eyes, completely disoriented, and my heart is pounding nearly out of my chest and then the tears come. I am leaning against my front door. He is apologizing with entire sincerity, saying “Please don’t cry,” but it’s too late, and I tell him he can go, I have kept him here longer than enough. He says, “I want to see you go inside before I leave.” But I shake my head and tell him just to go, I’ll be fine. So he puts his hand on my back and says, “I’ll see you tomorrow…” I feel his hand slowly trail off my back, what I hope is reluctantly, and I hear his footsteps down the corridor, down the stairs, up the driveway. I hear his car starting quietly, driving down the road. I see his headlights as he turns the corner onto the other street.

And then I go inside, and I lay in bed for four hours but I don’t fall asleep, not once. My mind is hazy and then suddenly at 6:30 it’s not. It’s very sharp and clear and I need to get up and write, write for however long it takes to sort out the mess of last night’s story.

And I can very easily fall back into that all-consuming kiss, but I cannot figure out its meaning. I can’t even use alcohol as the explanation because he was completely sober in that moment.

Therefore, I am perplexed.

blatant sarcasm

Thu, 24 Sep 2009 19:07:00 -0700

Why am I so drawn to you? I mean, besides the fact that you are incredibly good-natured and an intriguing person to hold conversation with. Besides the fact that you text me in the middle of the day asking where I am just so we can keep each other company. Besides the fact that you offer me your jacket when it’s cold and ask if I want to try riding your skateboard when you know perfectly well I will need to hold your arm to keep my balance. Besides the fact that you not only accommodate me when I suggest you scoot closer to me for body warmth because it’s cold outside, but you snuggle right up against me to make sure you are blocking the wind. Besides the fact that you always remember everything I say and genuinely surprise and impress me when you bring it up later. Besides the fact that we can drive around in your cute little blue car chatting it up and you try to find CDs to play for me and assure me you will play it for me next time if you can’t find it.

I mean, all of these minor details aside… what makes you so great?

We have known each other for ten years and been friends for seven of them. Why is it that I am only just now getting to know you one-on-one? It doesn’t seem fair. Not at all.

It doesn’t help either that you are an attractive perfect gentleman.

I have terrible timing.

heated

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 23:26:47 -0700

alkdfjiea;slkddcjxinvdgfhg

being discovered

Sun, 20 Sep 2009 11:11:00 -0700

I close my eyes and my senses are flooded. I’m in the studio again with you that night, an idea of what is about to happen floating around in my head. Our words flow freely, the result of one too many games of beer pong. I find you a refreshing change of pace, strange and new and different. And forbidden. You find me an unlikely source of inspiration. You write something that I say on your white board of lyrics. “Be Discovered…” I watch you cap the pen and I wonder faintly whether or not there is a double meaning to that phrase.

I’m in your room with the Blink-182 posters and the mirror as long as the wall, and the three acoustic guitars that were our excuse for coming in here. I sit on your bed and look around, surprised at how neat you are. You’re playing me something and I’m attempting to play along. It strikes me how similar this moment is to the last one I wrote about like this. It’s not long before you’re dimming the lights and my thoughts are spinning but at the same time my head is perfectly, extraordinarily clear and I know exactly where I am and what I’m doing and why I’m letting it happen. I hold a desire for you that came out of nowhere, or out of being really good at drinking games, and pretty soon it is skin against skin in the darkness and it thrills me. An electric shock is running through my body. Your silhouette against the wall as the lamplight outside shimmers through the curtains - the laughter and voices out in the kitchen of the party that sealed our fate - our whispered words getting lost in the midst of the passion -

You remind me of something that I can’t put my finger on, you and everything you stand for, so I think of you all the time in order to figure it out. I wonder how long it will take me.

"True enlightenment comes not with a new thought, but with understanding of all the old ones."

Sat, 05 Sep 2009 08:30:03 -0700

“True enlightenment comes not with a new thought, but with understanding of all the old ones.”

regression

Thu, 03 Sep 2009 21:46:52 -0700

So many things I told myself I wouldn’t do, and I am doing them.

I’m thinking of everything at once. It hurts.

not getting it

Wed, 02 Sep 2009 23:18:07 -0700

How is it possible to party until 4 in the morning, knock out until ten o’clock, suffer a seemingly interminable hangover for most of the day, and then still be voluntarily awake and cheerful at 11:30 at night?

one of many forms of torture

Wed, 02 Sep 2009 21:50:00 -0700

I am working on English homework and I am only partially concentrating. I am also hyped up on caffeine, with a little bit of the monstrous hangover left from this morning. All of these things together equal what I’m pretty sure is an alternate version of hell.

It’s so bad that I need to take a break from writing, to write. What the fuck.

Plus it’s very hot in this room. I’m thinking of migrating outside but that’s as far as I’ve gotten with that.

I need to finish this homework. I need to turn it in tomorrow, complete. I need to calm down and drink some water. I need to maybe sit outside in the fresh air and take many deep breaths.

I have many things on my to-do list, as you can see. I just can’t fight through to my productive side tonight. Something’s blocking the way.

It is extremely infuriating. A week and a half into the semester and already I’m struggling. It’s always the struggle.

you

Wed, 02 Sep 2009 21:03:21 -0700

are not oblivious. I was mistaken.

just breezing by

Mon, 31 Aug 2009 16:29:16 -0700

There are so many things to say but I don’t know where to start. I am in a love/hate relationship with coming back home… but that’s nothing new. I constantly miss Adam and Nova. I’m wondering how I’m going to handle an entire semester of this, let alone an entire year.

Unfortunately, this was my own decision and I’ve just got to suck it up.

Worth noting: I’ve found this odd new love of learning. I get honestly, genuinely excited to go to class. Or maybe I have explained that the wrong way… what I mean to say is that I dread going to class, but once I’m in there, I’m attentive and fully focused and ready to be productive and learn something new.

And considering I am taking basically all repeat classes this semester, I guess that’s a good thing, right? I am taking this to mean that I am maturing, somewhat, maybe, possibly.

I got to spend yesterday with Nova. A week away from her is almost unbearable. It refreshed me yesterday to be able to be with her again, but now I’ve got to deal with another week, and I am almost positive that by Friday I am going to feel just as I did near the end of last week: irrationally lonely and depressed.

I don’t really get it.

Oh well. One day at a time.

I just spent an hour and a half in the library at school doing (and completing!) English homework. I am now on one of the computers upstairs, rewarding myself with blogging, although I should really be rewarding myself with a good meal. Having a permit but not a license sucks. Having no car to practice driving with sucks. The sum of these things, having no immediate transportation, sucks the most of all. I am always stuck here for longer than I’d like to be.

I was also planning to go to the gym today and run, but that is clearly not happening today. I feel utterly and completely exhausted. Had to get up too early, and not even for anything worthwhile.

At least I did some homework and got to eat some ice cream. The latter really always makes any day worthwhile. Any day.

the aftermath

Thu, 27 Aug 2009 23:18:44 -0700

Tonight was a scary night. I had to deal with myself tonight, with no help from anybody or anything. It was very difficult and very saddening. I have a feeling that there will be many more moments like that throughout my time here. But inexplicably, I also have the feeling that sooner or later (preferably sooner), I will learn how to fight them off.

I’m going to have to. I have no choice.

Let me rephrase: I have a choice, but I am not giving myself another option. This has to be the way things go.

there is no end in sight

Thu, 27 Aug 2009 17:27:00 -0700

You are driving me absolutely positively insane. I realize now that it’s just going to be like this with you and me always, from now until possibly eternity. The dynamic between us hurts me. It pulls at me. It’s a current I could maybe lose myself in if I am not careful.

And you, you are so oblivious. So beautifully, wonderfully, tragically oblivious. And you always will be, and it breaks my heart. You are perpetual heartbreak. I feel it everywhere, in my soul, in my bones, and you just float on…

And I know it’s unintentional, but you weigh me down, darling.

and still not giving up

Wed, 26 Aug 2009 20:06:06 -0700

Why is this always a constant struggle? Why, after all these goddamn years?