Strange Dreams

After The Breakup, I felt so empty, so drained, an empty shell of a person running on sleeplessness and junk food. It hurt, and it hurt bad. I remember thinking at one point that it hurt so much I would be happy never to love anyone again; that the lack of all emotion would be more bearable than the pain of loss.

And then, after a while, I didn't feel anything at all. I met new people, new men, and they roused no emotion in me. Even the ones I had secret crushes on in the past did nothing to stir emotion. Even the ones I dated only made tiny ripples in what was once a mighty and roaring ocean of emotion.

Seriously, I thought I had forgotten how to feel, how to love. I thought my heart was irreparably broken. Not to be too dramatic here (and let's be honest, I am being quite dramatic), but I honestly considered the idea that maybe, just maybe, one's heart could be so badly damaged that it just couldn't function to full capacity ever again. Get this: I remember watching some Animal Planet thing on swans and hearing how swans mate for life and literally fall into a depression after their mate dies -- and it all made sense to me. I related to damn swans!!!

Anyway. Back to the story.

And then, I had a dream. I had a dream the other night that I had fallen in love. And in my dream, I remembered what it felt like to be in love. I remembered how it felt to be together with someone and feel that warmth and passion and a sense of belonging with someone else. For the first time in over a year, I felt love in my heart.

I woke up and I could still remember the sensation. It was like a flashback: so real yet so transient. The dream didn't make me happy or sad, but it did make me curious: what does this mean? If I can feel a memory of this sensation in my dream, can I possibly feel it again in real life? .....

.... And that last thought took my breath away -- or better said, knocked the air out of me. Because if I feel like that again, there's a chance that I will hurt like that again, too. And is that a risk I am willing to take, again.

Will I be brave enough, again?

Times, They Are A-Changing

Convo from earlier tonight:

Mom O'Phun: So, did you go to the protest [read: Equal Rights rally in DC] today?
Princezz O'Phun: No, I didn't.
Mom: [confused silence].... Really?
Princezz: Yup.
Mom: [surprised silence]

I love the fact that, nowadays, whenever my parents see a liberal-minded DC protest/rally on TV, they simply assume I'm there. And I love how shocked my mom was that I wasn't there today.

I love my parents.

But seriously, I should have been there today. Unfortunately, my over-worked, exhausted ass had too many things on her to-do list to commit herself to more righteous pursuits. Nonetheless, here's to all my awesome GLBT and straight ally friends who are fighting the good fight!!!

Girly Girl

Believe it or not, despite all the work stresses I have been going through lately, a superficial concern that my mind keeps turning back to is: should I grow out my hair.

After prolonged deliberation, I think I want to experiment with my look before really committing to any one course of action. And here is the next experiment: slightly longer choppier bangs.

The Last Time I Had Skates, They Had Barbies On Them

When I was in elementary school, I broke my arm after falling off my roller skates at the park. I think that had a lot to do with my fear of unsteady/slippery/shakey walking surfaces from then on.

But tonight, tonight I saw a roller derby movie which just might get me back on those wheels.

Rough Month

I'm becoming that person I hate: the person who lives for the weekend.

Work has absolutely sucked for the past month, and has drained me of all life's energy. I don't even remember what it feels like to NOT be tired. I get up in the morning, and work is the first thing on my mind. I go to work, stay late, come home, eat, and go back to work. I think about work when I go to sleep, and sometimes I dream about work. I am constantly stressed. I really can't take this much longer.

The problem is not the company I work for, but rather the project I am on, and more specifically, the task I was assigned to on the project. It is killing me. I am leading a very data-focused task, and I HATE HATE HATE HATE data! I hate minute details! I hate keeping track of details. I hate anything that has to do with Excel or queries or data analysis. Some people get more energized by this work, but I feel absolutely exhausted by it. I seriously cannot take it much longer.

My task was supposed to end 2-3 weeks ago, and it keeps going, and going, and going... I fear that I might just lose it one of these days, and have a meltdown at work, which would be really, really bad.

I want to be me again. I want to be happy, and write, and be creative, and travel, and see my friends again. I have turned into this whiney, bitchy, dark, tired, tired, tired shadow of my self. This just might be that final universal straw that breaks the proverbial camel's back, and forces me to take proactive steps toward a profession better suited for my talents.

The only question is, can I support myself being a writer? My goal for this fall was to start writing short articles and creative pieces, and try to get them published in magazines... BUT I AM TOO STRESSED AND TIRED AND BUSY TO HAVE TIME TO WRITE!!!

Advise, dear readers... what would you do?

What a Difference An Extra Room Makes

It's official: I have finally moved into my new apartment! And it's a one-bedroom! I know!!! No more sleeping, eating, watching TV, entertaining, and working all in one room!

I can't even begin to tell you all how wonderful it feels. I really think I'm sleeping better because I get to do it in a separate room, which by the way is painted a pleasant soothing blue color and looks out on tall, tall trees. The living room is spacious and cute and yellow, and it makes me happy. The bathroom and the kitchen are the only things that will take some getting used do since they are both a little bit smaller than what I had in the studio, but still... Overall, fantastic!

So come visit me in DC! You will no longer have to sleep on an air mattress that's half in my kitchen, half in the living room :)

Fugee La La

I had the most magnificent Sunday evening. I spent four hours in Meridian Hill Park, sitting in the grass, listening to the drum circle, and sharing a bottle of red wine with a group of fellow 'fugees. Two weeks ago, when I was flying back from Chicago, I happened to sit next to this super-cool guy on the airplane (we'll just call him Airplane Boy) -- we struck up a conversation and found out we had a ton in common, including our interest in refugee policy -- and the fact that we were both 'fugees from the early '90s -- he from Ukraine, I from Croatia.

Anyway, two weeks and a couple of emails later, we touched base and decided to spend the Sunday afternoon chillin' in our favorite neighborhood park -- Meridian Hill. His friend Glory Girl (play on the translation of her name) joined us -- also a refugee from the former Soviet Union. And then Glory Girl's friend Lionel (from Sierra Leone) stopped by. It was the most fun I've had in a long time. All of us immediately clicked, and were able to connect to each other on a much deeper level than I've found upon first meeting most people in DC. At one moment, I just found myself sitting there, squinting happily as the setting sun cast its last rays over the park, thinking to myself how amazing life is, and what fabulous people I've just had the opportunity to meet.

Glory Girl and Airplane Boy work in refugee processing, so they will be out of the country from mid-October until December, but I hope to see them before they leave. Lionel lives just a couple of blocks away and works in education policy (he knows my former place of work well), so I'm sure we'll hang out soon. Also, Glory Girl knows a bunch of Croat/Serb/former-Yugoslav people in the area, and will introduce me to them! Yay!

Anyway, I feel so connected to my universe, and believe that, finally, things in my life are moving in a great direction.

Here's to great new friends, and lots of fugee la-la-looooove yet to come!