Oh nostalgia.
You sneaky little bastard.
The thing about aging, is that you tend to collect things.
You hold on to things. I guess, you get more sentimental.
When suddenly faced with your impending death, and more traumatic, sagging titties, you keep little things that make you feel young and lovely.
For example, tonight:
I'm wearing my Metallica t-shirt, that I used for a Halloween costume about 4 years ago when I was Axel Rose. (How ironic) with my best friend Desiree.
Best costume in the world. And best friend in the world. All the tears, and makeup and vomit she's cleaned up of mine over the years haha. Woman needs an award.
I'm wearing two of my grandmothers rings that I promise to never remove. (RIP Esther)
I don't believe in magic, but they bring me some sort of focus and clarity. It's all mental I know, but each time I look down, I think of what advice she would give me, or what she would say about whatever situation I was going through.
I still remember her last words to me, "Ohhh la la".
I know right?! How fucking perfect and french. She was reading a sweater I was wearing. She loved it. She always loved my crazy fashion choices. And I, hers. We were both way too fabulous for sad realities of khaki and crocs and boring colors.
So now when I find myself in a particularly fucked up situation, I look down and think of Esther. Moving here from Germany with her black american husband. In a time when it was not cool or legal in most states to be A. A mixed-race couple B. A Post WWII-Era German in America C. A black serviceman in America through the MOST fucked up wars, (hey, Vietnam).
And then I think of myself. Nervous to speak up at work or agonizing on why some dude didn't call me back. And I imagine Esther giving me that look. Like "bitch if you don't act like you are my grand-daughter and get some damn sense." And I do.
And of course, I'm drinking White Hennessy. Brought back from the Dominican Republic. Which is what pretty much ended this relationship for good. But, which, I don't need to speak about.Know why? Because it was for the SAME FUCKING REASON it ended two years ago.
The LAST time I blogged and absolutely ZERO changed in our relationship.
Esther is in Heaven spitting on me right now.
That is the biggest lesson I've learned this year.
Although it's ok to hold on to things that make you remember old times. Little keepsakes for past memories.
It's NEVER ok to hold on to the memory of "what used to be." Because it will never be that again.
"There are many kinds of love, but never the same love twice" - to loosely quote F.Scott Fitzgerald. Who drank himself to death by 44 feeling like a failure, so,you know he knows torment.
Anyhow, enough self-indulgent bullshit for the evening.
Please, go and kiss a baby and remember that life is actually beautiful. Just not this part. But, this too,shall pass. Or whatevs.
You sneaky little bastard.
The thing about aging, is that you tend to collect things.
You hold on to things. I guess, you get more sentimental.
When suddenly faced with your impending death, and more traumatic, sagging titties, you keep little things that make you feel young and lovely.
For example, tonight:
I'm wearing my Metallica t-shirt, that I used for a Halloween costume about 4 years ago when I was Axel Rose. (How ironic) with my best friend Desiree.
Best costume in the world. And best friend in the world. All the tears, and makeup and vomit she's cleaned up of mine over the years haha. Woman needs an award.
I don't believe in magic, but they bring me some sort of focus and clarity. It's all mental I know, but each time I look down, I think of what advice she would give me, or what she would say about whatever situation I was going through.
I still remember her last words to me, "Ohhh la la".
I know right?! How fucking perfect and french. She was reading a sweater I was wearing. She loved it. She always loved my crazy fashion choices. And I, hers. We were both way too fabulous for sad realities of khaki and crocs and boring colors.
So now when I find myself in a particularly fucked up situation, I look down and think of Esther. Moving here from Germany with her black american husband. In a time when it was not cool or legal in most states to be A. A mixed-race couple B. A Post WWII-Era German in America C. A black serviceman in America through the MOST fucked up wars, (hey, Vietnam).
And then I think of myself. Nervous to speak up at work or agonizing on why some dude didn't call me back. And I imagine Esther giving me that look. Like "bitch if you don't act like you are my grand-daughter and get some damn sense." And I do.
And of course, I'm drinking White Hennessy. Brought back from the Dominican Republic. Which is what pretty much ended this relationship for good. But, which, I don't need to speak about.Know why? Because it was for the SAME FUCKING REASON it ended two years ago.
The LAST time I blogged and absolutely ZERO changed in our relationship.
Esther is in Heaven spitting on me right now.
That is the biggest lesson I've learned this year.
Although it's ok to hold on to things that make you remember old times. Little keepsakes for past memories.
It's NEVER ok to hold on to the memory of "what used to be." Because it will never be that again.
"There are many kinds of love, but never the same love twice" - to loosely quote F.Scott Fitzgerald. Who drank himself to death by 44 feeling like a failure, so,you know he knows torment.
Anyhow, enough self-indulgent bullshit for the evening.
Please, go and kiss a baby and remember that life is actually beautiful. Just not this part. But, this too,shall pass. Or whatevs.
Santayana said 'Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it'. It holds true for a lot of things. Holding on to memories of 'what used to be' is definitely one of them. Someone once said that its OK to do that as long as you remember what got you to the end point; when you can reconcile that, then it doesn't hurt as much. That's fine, but its a painful process (been there)...because the busy mind will go through all of the possible outcomes: the way things were vs the way things could be vs the way things should have been. In the end, you are stronger and wiser for the experiences and can hold your head up high for all that you have accomplished since, and for the beautiful person and mother and friend you are and continue to be.
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