For the newcomers of Wilton, there is a function happening at the YMCA today…and by the Grace of God…I have plans.  What, you don’t think I would have gone?  I so would of, might, have gone.  I would have added nuts to my two scoops and talked candidly with a possible elderly couple named Margaret and Jarrel who would want me join their Foxtrot dance troupe…and then I would…because…it’s been somewhat difficult creating a social network here…well…ones that do not move away to other countries or to the west.  Not to mention the fact that I moved to Wilton…the home of Mayburry.  I’m actually busy writing an essay on it.  But let’s not be completely hum drum today…for today, I have plans!  And last night, I had plans!  Maybe I’ve broken out of my cocoon?  Maybe I don’t want to be pupae anymore?  (I mean, who would?).  Last night, I went to a dinner party.  It was actually quite lovely (and I don’t throw that word around lightly).  Many of these women had finished a 6 month yoga training course together and they are genuine people.  Before we ate, the hostess, Heather had us each choose from a bowl a card that we had to read aloud.  Mine was so fitting.  I read: You are safe.  This is only change.

I like that.

And today (the reason why I will be missing out talking to Margaret and Jarrel) is because I have my first lesson in rock climbing and then meeting my new friend for some climbing…who lives in Los Angeles.  (because I don’t have enough of those).  But he is originally from CT  and is on the east coast for a small while.

Alright.  After some quick consideration…maybe Sundae Socials mixed with trying new things is a good balance.  It’s the yin and yang..because in both I am learning about what I want and also importantly what I don’t.

]]> http://www.doubtdestinationanddelilah.com/?feed=rss2&p=333 0 http://www.doubtdestinationanddelilah.com/?p=331 http://www.doubtdestinationanddelilah.com/?p=331#comments Fri, 20 Aug 2010 16:48:18 +0000 sdurden http://www.doubtdestinationanddelilah.com/?p=331 It’s actually a very little lucky digit

Look to the left.  Look over to the comments.  Does anyone know an Alyssa?  Technically, I don’t either.  Does anyone really KNOW another person…wait…that’s not the point of this post.  The point of this post is that due to my Six Word Memoirs…well, my 100 memoirs…my blog was discovered by an unknown and possibly by other unknowns.  Which makes me ponder…are there other unknowns out there that existed before Alyssa wrote an article on Smith Magazine website based on individuals who creatively use six word memoirs in their lives?  Even though the “unknowns” are a nice thought what’s really enticing is the odd connecting that weaved this all together.  Alyssa is based in the Seattle office of Smith Magazine…a hop skip and jump away from my old Los Angeles life but she informed me that their main office is in Manhattan…an hour train ride away from my current coordinates.  Who’s in the main office?  Larry Smith who unbeknownst to me was the editor I had been corresponding with pertaining to my initial first six I had submitted accidentally to him.  I knoooooow…the “Smith” should have given me a clue…but aren’t accidents wonderful?  I wasn’t trying to put my best writing foot forward…just yackin’ it up without a care in the world.  Also…another important accident…coming across that Honest Tea cap.  Alyssa told me she hasn’t seen one yet.  Honestly, I think that’s a sign.

And a another wonderful little piece of information…This was Alyssa’s first article.  It was the first time Larry allowed her to write a post.

Thank you, Alyssa.

http://www.smithmag.net/sixwordbook/2010/08/15/six-words-from-tea-to-sea/

So do six word memoirs really exist?  Actually, they do!  Came across this piece of information while gulping down my favorite Honest Tea: Moroccan Mint Green Tea and fiddling with the bottle cap.  I thought I was to read a geographical fact or a random historical evidence on the color of burgundy…but no…a much more enticing sliver of truth: the world of six word memoirs and you (as in me!) (or as in you!) can create and submit them at will.

Now, hmmm…I thought…six words.  memoirs.  that make sense.  Oh!  But if I could only use one more word and then it would be perfect!  Why not seven word memoirs, people!

So, one night I told myself I would submit six, six word memoirs.  After a very clunky start, I finished my first six.  I really think I just needed to dust off my creative side…after seven months of not performing live improvisation has caused my juices to revert back to solid fruits…but after those first six…there was no looking back…and within the next three days…I wrote one hundred.  Yes, one hundred.  And those of you who really know me…know that they are real mini memoirs either based on me or those close to me.

So if you have the time…I’ve got something to share.  Enjoy!

Less is more unless there’s Oreos // The scent of puppy breath rules // Let there be light and cheeseburgers // Little hints of love go far // A man child needs his nursery // Take me as I am, please? // The waitress, Sophie said I’d marry // Become a writer: tell all secrets // My body hates me after yoga // Never trust a man’s cartoon nickname // No one loved me more. Crap // If only salt could flavor regret // I’ll forgive again, she’s my mother // He loved me but released me // Old men keep asking me out // Everybody puts baby in the corner // We always come back together // Another night’s rest with my dog //  I used to make people laugh // Wanting that knock on the door // Avoiding a kiss is quite telling // He’s my what if. Why not? // We kissed like young fools again // Kristen and I both fight Kryptonite // We drove down Going Street, Portland //  Mothers, please let men grow up // He got caught cheating with avatars // He had a legalized changed name // His family is no longer mine // My dog does downward facing dog // My father only protects my mother // Packages in the mail delight me // Southern Baptists pray for me constantly // Renee Zellweger has a scrunchy face //  Kelly’s poor heart yearns to travel // Southern accents sexy only on actors // His man boobs couldn’t be hid // I want bubbly bliss filled kisses // White elephant texting me Christmas day //  He quits everything including his therapist //  Please never high five me again //  He fist pumped me. Date Over. // Vicky’s my sister in another life // Metro-sexual or not.  Too exfoliated // Pasta shaped differently.  tastes the same // Double helping of rice pudding, please // Sober is not the answer now // All last girlfriends stopped being attracted // I am a romance novel cover // Reoccurring pajama wearing dream at work // Chasing rabbits while my dog sleeps // Crush, love, marriage, dog, babies, therapy // On to do list: have crush // What lullabies I wish to sing //  Yes tall but he fell short // Ruben saw fat ex at movies // she easily forgets me, it’s easier // balloon tied on wrist feels childlike // Kathryn never tried out the goods // Praying the gay away is hysterical // Jelly Ritz sandwiches with my dad // I often feel skilless, very skilless // Be a dancing monkey for yourself // Bordering on gay is not promising // Unfinishedness should surely be a word // Kaylyn chose life before choosing herself // Say yes to yes and maybe // Southwest corner of room promotes love // Sounds archaic, Kerry having many siblings // My sister: last negative flower petal // Want to give Heather pink quartz // Kristen said I still surprise her // Always knew I had little direction // Falling to pieces without a mess // two babies and husband that cheats // Wish Kerry could go to diner // Waiting to be proud of myself // Always say yes to confusing pedicurists // Delilah carries kibble in her mouth // I have freedom to fail effortlessly // The wing span of a crane // Mac Book Pro hot on lap // My small dog must travel with // Wavering on forgiveness. hate is winning // Pride and Prejudice I shall read // He hurtfully composed me a letter // Crying like a small hiccuping child // Going to confession was never chosen // Mom made us drink holy water // Mom sprinkled holy water into bath // Got locked in Mom’s prayer closet // Be beside me, do not chase me // Never did I desire to gaze // The God within me needs prayer // Director, can you recast my family? // I desire an understudy for tomorrow // A knockoff cannoli not an equal // She loved me most in pajamas // Daily have me seek wise teachers // Good Victorian wives replaced by whores // A croquet set for my birthday // She always promises gifts without avail // The road less traveled always alone?  // Artful penmanship from my Aunt Mimi // Love and life so often contradict // Once a drunk always a drunk // He tuck fat in his underwear (Kristen and Kerry, I wrote that one for you both)

One last one for old time sake:

Keep life simple, say with less.

]]> http://www.doubtdestinationanddelilah.com/?feed=rss2&p=323 2 http://www.doubtdestinationanddelilah.com/?p=318 http://www.doubtdestinationanddelilah.com/?p=318#comments Mon, 02 Aug 2010 00:55:36 +0000 sdurden http://www.doubtdestinationanddelilah.com/?p=318 it would have bitten me.  Boa constricted me.  Swallowed me whole.

And then regurgitated me for the next snake.  As much as I don’t want to post this post…I must.  I must document it.  And even though I didn’t per say repeat a pattern and left with my head held high…I still am shaken.  I still am…winded.

The ex before the ex…the one I dated for four years who mirrored very much the same roller coaster I am on with a few family members contacted me to meet him in Manhattan for a New York exploration.  I always loved him the most.  I can honestly say that…but the love was filtered between walking on egg shells and consoling his cracked ego.  When I met him nine years ago,  I already knew his face well.  He was once a child actor from a very popular 80’s adventure movie consisting of treasure hunting and an octopus that was cut out on the editing floor.  When we first started dating he had nothing…an old used red car and extra weight from his former years.  He now boasts of being invited to the Emmy’s and wearing Dolce and Gabbana shoes.  But nine years ago was the man I fell in love with and believed in.  He was the one I adored.  He was also the one and only one I ever broke up with…finally coming to terms with the idea that no one was taking care of me in our relationship…we both were shining the spotlight on him.  And any extra light he cared to share…went to his entertainment clients.

I was SO excited to see him.  We had kept in touch, slightly, in the past five years after the scars had healed on both ends.  I too was just so happy to see a familiar face…hadn’t seen one in awhile…  And his face glows when he smiles.  It glows.

We caught up over wine.  We laughed.  We easily laugh…we always did.  He texted me earlier saying that he was completely free for me and we would have a wonderful time.  We talked about Buddhism and his views of children and marriage has changed.  He now is healthy and exercises and watches what he eats.  In my mind, I think…maybe we both just needed to find ourselves separately.  And looking back it now…it was as if I was asking this from the universe and I was answered equivalently to a gorilla pounding his chest and mine at the same time in the middle of Central Park…wait isn’t that a movie?

He said he needed to meet a client for drinks at 8pm and asked if I’d go…Without much thought, I agreed.  Five and half hours later we still were with him.  I had asked all the correct production questions and crew inquiries that made me look like I was halfway interested.  I was playing the part.  I was the outstanding girlfriend from years ago.  But wait…I didn’t have to be her…I was done being her…but I played her with ease…until I couldn’t anymore.  And as I started to get so angry at this man who has not changed…I stopped….because I knew I had.  I had planned to stay the night with him at the W but at 3am I left in my car departing Manhattan.

Comically, my GPS couldn’t find a signal for 10 minutes but I had to drive away from the parking garage with or without my magical map.  I had to drive away from the man who looked at me with defensive drunk eyes.  But also sadness and loss.

As we walked to my car and he still talked like I was staying…I calmly said…and truly, there was no anger in my voice…I said, “I will put myself first even though you never have.  I’m leaving.  You do not get to put me on the back burner and then get rewarded for it”.

And the universe rewarded my actions with hundreds of VERY angry aggressive yellow cabs down one way streets through Upper West Side.

Have been reading for some time now a little book called If The Buddha Dated by Charlotte Kasl, PH.D.  It definitely is a small read that could easily take a few days or an intense long afternoon.  I bought it months ago not because I was in the market for dating but because there is an underlining message about self awareness that is always a nice refresher.   Yes, of course there is ample amount on dating too.  Today there was a section on accepting loss and a fragmented sentence I cannot shake: Step into the fear.  It reminds me so much of the self defense class I took in Pasadena, CA a year ago.  We were taught that if you are grabbed by the arm of wrist, our automatic instinct is to pull away because it is scary and of course you want to flee…but it’s actually better to throw the attacker off kilter and step into him.

So, fear is inanimate not like an attacker and I’ve been pondering on how I can step into it and look it straight in the eyes.

I talked about cutting the rip cord…but what if too, I cut off parachutes?

We all have parachutes…those devices we keep around to keep us safe…often they come in packages shaped as people or momentous or the very elusive patterns we keep repeating (they can be caught by first recognizing them).

So, a minute hobble was made this evening…I’ve released myself from facebook.  How will people find me?  More importantly, how will I find people?

Maybe by just walking into them on the street.

Recently, I have dreamt twice of the man who inspired this blog.  Two separate times promptly sprung from my reality.  It doesn’t take two years visiting with my therapist to see the connection.  First was after a hurtful disagreement with my mom and secondly during a night while the Gentleman caller was in town.  See, he (the man who once was my person) was my family in Los Angeles.  He represented my constant familial structure especially when my own continually hardened my heart.  He also was my comfort, support and the one I searched out when I needed a hand to squeeze.  He was my person.  He was my other half.  But together we weren’t whole.  I knew that our deep friendship was not on path towards a complete union…but he was my person nonetheless.  And when my world here…miles away…got shook…I dreamt of him.  twice.  When I felt exposed and unsafe my sleep reached out towards him.

It’s obvious that many things in my life are pointing to me.  just me.  Casey is gone…Kaylyn has left.  Again, it’s just me.  They say the most important steps you take are the ones you take all by yourself.  Okay.  I see.  (deep sigh).  Then.

It’s time for me to be my person for me.  I don’t think I ever have.  When I moved out to LA I was so young and still so very dependent on others for emotional support.  What if I just cut the rip cord?

Dig deep, Durden…I believe in you.

As I let out a sigh of relief, I also look around the room to make sure no other surprises are abound.  So, I’d like to blame this whole thing on Trey who told me not to shoot all the dogs just because one has fleas…remember that?  Well, thing about that Trey is the fact that the one who had fleas…has had them for 45 years for a reason…and most often those red flags are there to us to take notice…or fleas, what have you.

Gentleman caller came out.  Gentleman caller has left…early.  THAT WAS A TRAIN WRECK.  And he is not a gentleman…just so that we’re clear.

Kathryn was appalled by the whole insane story.  The fact that he nearly attacked me within seeing me for the first hour to not answering my phone calls for 14 hours to ending it on the high beautiful note of “you need to have Jesus in your life” (prior to his sweeping blanketed judgment calls on my life).  Ugh.  And as Kerry cried out laughing “Hooray, he didn’t let me down, I knew he’d go all crazy religious on you”.  Kristen made me feel better, “you are taking chances and your moving forward with you life…yes, it didn’t work out as planned but I’m so proud of you putting yourself out there”.  Kaylyn was so disappointed in him for she has been his number one fan for awhile now.  Kelly had me laughing through tears while she shared with me how she has almost signed up to one of my “packaged deals” but she saw that her guy looked like a chicken and couldn’t pull the trigger.  ”At least your guy looks like a Greek god…however he sounds like Forest Gump”.  Kathryn apologized profusely for not discouraging me from it all.  She knew him from years past but she was hoping for the best.  The best was hearing Robin’s silence on the other end of the phone and saying “when I think it can’t get worse, it just does”.

I want to roll around in sage.  I’m somewhat confused to why any of this happened.  But here’s what I know…my instinct said no to this and I didn’t listen it…well, I did but I then went back and changed my mind…discarded my instinct…pushed my beautiful bold instinct aside and forged ahead.  Yes, Kristen, I did take a chance but I also appreciate so much of what Kerry said “Just because someone is a nice guy doesn’t mean you have to give him a chance…there are plenty of good ones out there…don’t waste your time on ones that haven’t cut the apron strings.”  Yep.  red flag.  bag of fleas.  instinct radar alerted.

Can someone actually roll in sage?  Or does it only do it’s job if it’s on fire?  If so…I’ll pass on rolling in it…but I must cleanse myself from this odd bizarro experience.

Sex and the City: a fantastic written show.  Can’t recall the season but remember when Miranda began chocking and she had to ram herself into a table to give herself the Heimlich?  And then she expressed to Carrie how she could die alone and then her cat would eat away at her dead body and nobody would be the wiser.  Yep.  not a pleasant thought.  But it was my EXACT thought after I had brushed my teeth in my violet painted mini bathroom and like a ninety year old woman or an infant, I totally forgot how to swallow and began to go blue.  I could not get air into my lungs.  Instead of a cat, Boo dog trotted in because he knew something was wrong (Delilah was later found playing with a ball on the bed, unconcerned).  As I should have been putting more concentration on oxygen my short lived Connecticut life flashed before me.  Couldn’t call KC because she was in Sweden and in a few days if this happens again, I won’t be able to call Kaylyn.  (side bar: another klan member is relocating) (side to the side bar: I will miss her so much) and then a swooshing thought: what am I doing here??  And then I began to nearly gag which must have broken the seal and in tiny gulps, I began to breathe.

They are all Miranda moments because at the end of the day, everyone must go it alone…right?  Even if your married…I think…at the end of the day, by ourselves we have to ensure that we are breathing life (events, choices, actions, relationships, battles, break-ups, changes, chances, moves)…at the end of the day…we still have to function as individuals.

Kaylyn says “why does life have to be this hard?”  I don’t know, love.  But at least outside of the Miranda Moments they are sandwiched with lasting friendships and glasses of chardonnay.

Okay, so we warn our girlfriends about red flags.  We read about red flags in self help books (yeah, I said, it…yeah, I read ‘em and you can just suck it if you want to judge) (sorry, sometimes my petite gangster comes out without warning).  So, do these red flags really hold validity?  And more importantly how do you decipher between a red flag or  the knot in your stomach that may only be hang ups from past relationships?  Without doubt, I can look back and see those red flags attempting to beat me to a pulp with the ex…I’m surprised I do not have scars.  Need examples?  (again, don’t judge…well, you should judge…I needed to be bitch slapped (gasp, I think my petite gangster just turned on myself).  I was told “I find intimacy in snuggling vs. anything else” or “I don’t want to have children” or  ”I take a very long time to do anything…it takes awhile for me to put things in motion, that’s just who I am” or when he cried when another dog ate one of Delilah’s dog toys…it was tiny bunny and it was her first little toy…Ouch! That red flag from the past just smacked me.

So…yes, I don’t want to repeat patterns.  Hopefully none of the above will ever be repeated or I will then be convinced that playing russian roulette is totally not my thing.

But what about the red flags that I see lurking in the distant?  How do I breathe and stay in the moment but still be smart? How do I not go into an internal monologue about all the imaginary “what ifs” that are unresolved?

Or do I just listen to my girlfriends that are married or about to get married who say things like “he will never be perfect, you will never get everything you want” or “sometimes I think he is such a brute” or “We just don’t have anything to talk about”…

Okay, writing the above did not make feel better.

This post is a downer.  I think I should flag this one.

Boo and Delilah

Boo Radley has joined us.  I never considered D being a nugget of a dog…but she is…she is a nugget.  I’m still startled when Boo leaps onto the bed like a wild antelope that has decided to join me.  Not only do I have four little feet following me into the kitchen to cook or to the table to eat or to my single chair to computer, I now have an additional set of four big hooves with a sloppy wet nose and slightly gassy back end…but I couldn’t be happier.  Without having a back yard that they can freely run, I am now taking many walks.  D is a more spritely while Boo will tend to stop in a heavy stance when he feels the need to test me.  In a low demanding “BOO” he returns to join the pack as we travel around the bend.  I do not care that I use my swiffer twice a day to collect fur bunnies that congregate near the dinning chairs and under the bed.  Nor do I care that I diligently cut raw meat and carrots each and every night or that it takes two plastic bags to clean up one of Boo’s potty breaks.  (small dogs equal small poo…hence the choice of a doxie mix)…none of it matters because Boo Radley is a big love and I cannot imagine him not being here.  Who knew that Boo from LA would be a part of my life one day.  Who knew?  Well, Peter knew…Peter also knew a year before it happened that in February I’d be leaving the first week in my own car, departing the state of California.  Who’s Peter?  He’s for another time.  No…he’s not for the R rated version of this blog…but truly, for another time.

Boo Radley…thank you for accepting Delilah and I as your own.  We sure do like you.

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