Missing Piece of Me

So I wrote this last week on my iPhone, I know, but am now just getting around to posting. Sorry I've been so MIA, promise I'll post something that makes up for it, soon.

I find myself at night laying in bed with my arms out stretched like I'm reaching for something that isn't there anymore. And it feels like there's a part of me missing. And I hate that I feel that way. 'It was only I year' I tell myself. It's been three months, just fucking get over it. And then I think of what it is that I think I'm missing. The feel of his warm skin under my cool one? His deep breathes in the silent night? The feeling that when I wake up I know it'll be to his smiling face?

And so then I think of the time passed with him. The nights we'd lay in bed and I couldn't help but doubt that I wasn't the only one that laid in his arms, about what other girls he was possibly talking to. But then I'd take a deep breath and think, 'this isn't me. I trust him, it's just gotta be the nature of our arrangement.' it was true, part of me was always searching for the one thing that allowed him to be mine...a title, an idea, a concept. I knew what I wanted, I just didn't have it at the time. So I continued with my life, school work and rehearsals, all the while trying to map out my future and trying to figure out where he fit in. So I checked his state for dance companies to see if I could make my dream plausible for us. It wouldn't be any easier then Boston, but there was at least a dance scene. But I had to be rational, it's not like we were dating and although I loved him and only ever wanted that feeling returned, I knew it was crazy to think this way. So I buried those thoughts deep inside like a dark secret, its not like he was suddenly going to love me one day . And then that day came and like the glittering flame of a birthday candle, it was there one second and gone the next. His love. The tiny amount of claim that I held over him.

So I lay in bed, what? Missing...him? Is that why my arms are stretched out? No, I don't think it is. For, though it's taken me almost three months to understand, I don't miss that person that decided on a whim one day to finally utter the words I'd desperately waited a year for them to say. The words that were the response to the words of my tattoo, written in a language he knew how to speak. It was always there in front of him, the thing that I so ardently needed. And for the moment to come and just fizzle out? I use to think it was that, that scared him away and into the arms of another woman. So I'd blame myself, I mean I'd hurt him so bad in the past, why wouldn't it surprise me that the moment he finally admitted his true feelings for me, that he'd run as fast and far away as he could from the one person who could and had hurt him.

So again I ask myself why is it then that I'm not missing him?...to be honest I miss the man he was in the late hours of the night when we'd lay in bed together. There's no mask, no hiding who are, when you're in that moment. So if not him I miss then what? That honest moment? That's what I miss. The ability to have that moment when you're laying in bed, and you can't hide who you are anymore. You muscles relax until your bones sink into your mattress and your mind travels through all the ideas, memories, and feelings that you refused to face during the day. The moment when you can just cry knowing that the other person isnt going anywhere. The moment when you can just stare into a person's soul. The moment when there's no need for words and a simple quiver of your lip or wrinkle of your brow tells the person you're laying next to what exactly is on your mind.


So I lay with my arms outstretched, to remind myself that there was a time when those honest moments truly existed and when my hands finally touch something, those moments will be back.


Someday.

When I was carefree...

This is me October 2009.

This is me Feb 2010.

This is me April 2010.

This is me May 2010.

This is me Sept 2010.

I need to find this place again. I need to find this.

Gertrude.

The thought came to me that if time travel was indeed possible, I know the point in time in which I'd like to change. It isn't a point in my past that I want to change, I feel like I'm way too young to decide if there is a moment worth changing. The moment is actually from my father's past. 1973 to be exact. I don't really know the specific month and day, but the day in which my grandmother died. I know it must seem strange for me to pick this moment. Let me explain...

My grandmother, Gertrude, was killed in Hyannis, MA in a motor vehicle accident in 1973. My grandfather and her were riding with his motorcycle club when a car cut off my grandfather. In an attempt to avoid hitting the car, my grandfather swerved hard causing my grandmother to hit the hood of the car. I was told she wasn't wearing a helmet at the time, which why she recieved severe head tramua when she hit the car. She was only 34. (And this was why I use to get so worried when Nick would ride his bike.)

She left behind five children. My father, the oldest, was only 16 at the time. From stories that have been told to me over the years, it seemed after my grandmother died my grandfather got stricter and meaner. He was no kind soul to start with, but after she was gone he wasn't any better. I've always wished that I could have met her and as a child, when I use to see a shadow figure in my closet that would scare me...I'd always tell myself that it was just my grandmother watching over me while I slept.

So if given the chance to change one moment, I'd make it so that they never went for that motorcycle ride. And prehaps things would have been different for my father and his siblings. Maybe the things that tore them apart when they got older wouldn't have happened and I wouldn't have grown up with a spilt family. Then again prehaps it would have also meant that my parents would have never met and I wouldn't exist. I don't know though, I feel pretty confindent that I was/am meant to exist and that if I could indeed change that moment, I'd have grown up with a biological grandmother, who would have loved me...and she'd tell me stories about what it was like to grow up in Germany during WWII,  stories about how my father was a crazy little boy, and stories about what I was like as a child spending weekends at her house.

Maybe I would have had that or maybe she was meant to die young...sadly. RIP Gertrude Beiersdoerfer.

9 days

It has been 9 days. You'd think I'd have stopped counting after four. Nope. In the grand scheme of my life this is hardly anything, but every time I have been driving or riding in a car...my mind has wondered to this. I'm getting tired of thinking about this. Clearly it's over and even if it's not...maybe it should be. Maybe this has gone on for too long. A year is a very long time, and even though I'd love to talk to you about this, I'm not sure I'm at the rational thought stage. In the car my ideas and thoughts make sense, but the second I'm out of the car I doubt what I've been thinking. So maybe I need a little more time to just myself, even if it is a similiar sensation to having a cat scratch on a sunburn. You don't really remember it hurts until you hit it again. And I'm just not sure I'm ready to really hit this burn yet. I am not over analysising this or looking too deep into 9 days. I'm just reflecting on the times that have passed and making some choices about my future. I wish I knew what was going on with you, but then again probably not. I don't need to know the details about her until I'm a hundred percent sure I even want to meet her...at your birthday party in 2 weeks. Sigh. There is a very strong part of me that wants to get my new hair cut & color before your party, so I can look like hot shit in front of her. And then I remember that no matter what I wear or how I look at your party that will not change how you currently feel about her and how you use to feel about me. Sometimes we just have to learn to adjust when life stops going in a direction we like. I liked being with you. You now like being with her. And I'm not a hundred percent sure I want to go back to our arrangement, this break has got me thinking that I might want it all or none at all. Although that thought scares the shit out of me, I have to at least acknowledge this thought. I guess I just need more time to process. It seems all I'm doing these days is processing my choices, processing my past, and processing my future. It seems that I've finally left the wonder and amazement of childhood behind and jumped head first into adulthood. Yay me.

I will be loved.

Alright. I'm thinking postive. I will be loved...because I love myself. I'm going to list 20 things I love about myself. Here we go:

1. I think outside the box.

2. My awesome curly hair.

3. My BEAUTIFUL green eyes.

4. My scuplted back.

5. How great I look in heels.

6. How I generally look good in anything.

7. My intellect.

8. That I enjoy reading.

9. That I'm in college as a dance major.

10. How I can come up with choreography.

11. That I'm content with just staring at the stars.

12. My fierce rocker chick look.

13. That I'm not afraid to travel.

14. My hips.

15. My thin physique.

16. How I can lead a group.

17. How I can let someone else take the reins.

18. My diy-ness.

19. My endless dreams.

20. How I never let anyone or anything keep me down.

I am important. I am worthy. I am vaulable. I am not a piece of meat. I am not a piece of ass. I am more than some people give me credit for. I am something to covet. As my roommate Jenny said to me earlier this week, "fact: sarah garceau is awesome and the boy who takes her off the playing field will be one VERY lucky boy." Fuck yeah.

To get an MFA or not to get an MFA?

I woke this morning with an aching in my body. I want it to be september so I can move back into school. I love learning and exploring my craft. I was attempting to help a friend find some volunteer job earlier this morning, when I decided to look at the admission's page for the graduate school he is looking at. Low and behold what do I find? His school offers a MFA in Dance. It got me thinking about graduate schools again. About a year ago I'd decided that when I went to grad school it be in London at the Laban school, but now I'm not so sure. I've now found three MFA programs that perk my interest: Smith, Sarah Lawrence, and Hollins. Hollins is high on my list since grad students work with the American Dance Festival and study abroad as part of the program, the only draw back is that it's in Virginia. Can I be so far from home? NYC is one thing, it's a mere 3 hour train ride back home, but Virginia? I want to move to NYC to be in the heart of the dance world, but now I wonder if LA would be just as good for me. Should I just jump into a graduate program or should I experience the real world for a bit first? I'm lost at my options. As silly as this sounds, if I keep my Walmart job over the next year and I get into a graduate program in another state, I can transfer to a Walmart down there and have a job already when I move. I thought I knew what I wanted, but now I feel completely lost. I know I have a little less than a year to figure out what the fuck to do with my life...but things make me question my choices: can I really move across country?; can I survive in a place that I know no one?; can I leave all my friends behind?; will it kill a part of me to start over somewhere new? I wish I had some of these answers. I wish when the time comes I won't have to move alone, I don't want to be alone. I'm afraid to be alone. What if I'm always alone in this new place? What if I fail? Failing would be the death of me...

My 21st Birthday

My first legal alcoholic drink. =] I had one of the best birthdays I've had in a while and it was surprisingly simple for a 21st. The stroke of midnight on the 14th of July I received a text from my favorite Ginger in the whole world. Her awesome text was followed by mind blowing sex. I must say I cannot recall a time where I couldn't form a sentence like I couldn't then. The sensation of my wits vacating my mind like that is oddly liberating and pleasureable. I must repeat the experience more often since I throughly enjoyed it. After a rather peaceful and refreshing sleep, we hopped in the shower. I shall admit the idea of being this completely open and vunerable (as much as a shower can be) with the other person was a bit nerve racking. There's something oddly intimate for me about actually showering with another person and I'm not talking about sex in the shower. I literally mean showering with another person. Body and hair washing were taking place. It was pleasant to allow myself to be taken care of since I hardly let my guard down. Overall it was an experience I wouldn't mind repeating with the right person. After the shower we went back to laying in bed and watched a television show called In Treatment. The show is rather intelligent and interesting in the way a car accident is. My only interest in watching the show besides the fact that my partner enjoys it, is that I want to see how the patients on the show tear apart their lives in therapy. My partner then suggested that we see Twilight Saga's Eclipse, since I had yet to see it. I agreed of course and off we then went to see Eclipse. I knew he wouldn't enjoy the movie at all, but it was amusing to think that he was seeing just because I wanted to. He survived the the two hours and we then found ourselves at dinner. We ventured to the Texas Roadhouse, which made me miss the actual state of Texas and the San Antonio Riverwalk. It's funny that the only two times I've been out to dinner with just him, we seem to run into someone that he knows working at the resturant. Of course I immediately feel out of place. I wonder if I'll ever get over that sensation, I fear I never will. I order my first drink and got carded. It was liberating knowing that when I handed over my ID I didn't have to worry about it being rejected. The drive home was the longest 30 minutes of my life. I was definitely buzzed singing the music on the radio was we drove down the highway. And then we ended the day with the same way we started it. A simple enough 21st and yet the most rewarding in my eyes. The only part of the night that I wished hadn't happened the way it did was when I finally uttered the phrase that's been plaguing my thoughts. I cannot tell you how many times in the last 3 weeks I've wanted to confess them. However, I just always felt that in bed was probably the worst place to say them. I did it though. I said, "I love you." As much as I'd like to tell myself that its a useless emotion, its not. Loving a person allows you to learn how to open yourself to the world. In the context of my partner, the feeling plays little in our relationship. We allow ourselves to take from each other what we need and desire. I desire the physical intimacy and the emotional bonding he gives me. What I give him, only he can speak for. I realize people may disagree with my laidback view of giving myself away...to be frank, I don't give a fuck. I'm tired of trying to live by other people's definitions of love, relationships, and social interactions. Life is a journey of struggles and experieces. This is what I want to experience. This is what I want right now. When I no longer want this lifestyle or decide to become more conservative then I will listen to some of the people in my life. And I don't know how this blog started off as one detailing my 21st birthday and is ending this "fuck you" note to some people, but alas I can never seem to control my stream of consciousness.

Jump.

I have this idea in my head & I want it so bad. It scares me. I feel like this idea is almost the same as jumping off a cliff...until my feet actually leave the ground, I'm going to be terrified, but once my feet do I'll be grateful. Here's to hoping that when I land its not on the rocks.

I'm Late, I'm Late for a Very Important Date...

"But it's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then..."




"I wonder if I've been changed in the night? Let me think. Was I the same when I got up this morning? I almost think I can remember feeling a little different. But if I'm not the same, the next question is 'Who in the world am I?' Ah, that's the great puzzle!"
-Alice

Tick Tock

"Change is the law of life. And those who look only to the past or present are certain to miss the future."
John F. Kennedy




"Time passes. Even when it seems impossible. Even when each tick of the
second hand aches like the pulse of blood behind a bruise. It passes unevenly, in strange lurches and dragging lulls, but pass it does. Even for me."