And · then · I · was · awake

Sittin' in the Denver airport, waiting to leave on a jet plane for Austin, Texas. It's one of my favorite places to be - the airport, a transitional space, where no one really knows where I am (unless I tell 'em on LJ) or when I'm there, where I'm not supposed to be doing anything but waiting and thinking, neither here nor there and therefore more in the present than I ever am.

So what am I reflecting on during my forty minutes of smoking Parliament Lights in a cowboy-themed bar and drinking club soda with bitters to settle my stomach? The same things I've been rolling around in my brain the last few weeks:

1. Money. I don't have enough, ever. And I spend too much, always. Sometimes this is mildly annoying. Sometimes it's absolutely devastating, as it was recently when I had serious car trouble and had to call Mommy and Daddy to bail me out. Last night I had drinks with an old friend from high school who moved his family (three kids and a wife) from So Cal to Reno so he could have a house. He bought his car with cash. I was so jealous of his stability I almost cried. Then he told me he was so jealous of my freedom, my fun job (he manages a retail store), my spontaneous lifestyle, that he could've cried. If only neither of us felt like we had to choose one or the other...

2. Time. I'm awfully good at spending it - not so much at spending it well. Sometimes I feel like one of those toys that can only move forward, and when you pick it up and change its direction, it just keeps on going until it hits a wall. I'm so used to the pace of my life, to the routine of going out with certain people to do certain things, or to climbing into my bed so I don't have to do anything, that I squander all kinds of opportunities to do the things that really feed my soul: making art, staying in touch with friends I care about, dancing, writing alone in coffeeshops, reading magazines.

3. Friends. I have so many good ones, and I'm often not a very good one to them. Or rather, I'm a fantastically awesome, wonderfully reliable, emotionally available friend to one or two or three at a time - and I basically leave the rest in the dust. Which is fine in the grand sense - I'm old enough now to know I'm not the center of everyone's universe. But the relationships I cultivate aren't always the ones I like best. And even if I spent my energies where they're most deserved, there are more deserving people in my life than there is energy to spend on them. How do I maintain a large number of friendships with people in different social circles, different cities, different levels of connection to me? How do I avoid the guilt I inevitably feel when I flake on people I really really like (I still feel like a shithead for missing yoga with RPS), the disappointment when I can't make it to all the events I want to attend (Slash 'n' Gin, anyone?), the shame I feel when I realize the phone call from someone really fucking awesome and IN MY TOWN has gone unreturned for MONTHS (I'm sorry, Alecia)? How do I only make commitments I know I can keep? Why can't I do everything, be everything, love everyone?

4. Guilt. A week or so ago, I sat down with an ex's new girlfriend to try to clear the bad/awkward air between us. I was quite drunk, so I'm not sure what I said - but I think it was relatively innocent. That night, I had nightmare after nightmare about what I could have said, how she could have reacted, all the ways I could have royally made a fool of myself not only to this girl, but to her ex who is still my friend. I woke up feeling as guilty as if I'd actually said those things. "Wow. Even if you don't fuck up in real life, you torture yourself in your dreams," another friend pointed out when I told her about it. "You just don't give yourself a break." and it's true. If there's anything I have enough of, it's guilt. In fact, I've got extra. Anyone need some?

5. Life. In the last month, I had a fake lesbian wedding (Yay! Bryan came!), helped start a bicycle dance troupe, cared for my wife whose eye infection (from four sties) almost went to her brain, sat in the ER until 5 am with another friend who sliced her nose open getting wine glasses out of the cupboard, cancelled a trip to New York because my dad was in the hospital, kissed a German guy and then was too chicken to call him again, went on my first date with a stranger in ... um ... ever, watched every episode of the L-Word and Lost that's been released, spent 9 hours with an ex-boyfriend and 48 crying about it, helped a friend get out of an abusive relationship, got dumped by someone I wasn't even dating, stayed up way too late once, got up radically early (8!) once, and had one spectacular dream about being a ghost and having ghost sex with my rockstar lover before leaving him to go on with his life.

And now - nothing but time and space to think about it all. And my impending trip to Austin to hopefully jog my brain, and this spate of bad luck, out of its rut. Anyone want to meet up in Austin? Anyone have advice about bands and parties not to miss in SXSW? Anyone have advice about how to figure my shit out? You know how to find me.

Over and out.

So I've been meaning to send individual messages to many of you all week, but since I'm currently INSANE with work (above and beyond my normal level of insanity) and still EXHAUSTED, I figure a public update is better than no update at all. So.

What the hell happened to Molly last weekend?

Molly had a fantastic Friday and an even fantasticker Saturday, thanks in no small part to a lovely back-of-the-bus nap and some life-saving French fries from Matt Shaw. Then Molly and Lulu went home to take a break, with a full intention of meeting back up with the crew. But Lu went to sleep. The crew went home. And Molly was whisked away by a just-finishing-up bachelor party that needed a ride to the El Circo Party.

And then on Sunday, Molly died. Or rather, that's what it felt like. I spent the whole day in bed, trying to gather the energy to watch Buffy (you wouldn't think it'd take much energy, mmm?) In fact, I stayed in bed until work on Monday. So to the individuals:

Matt Shaw, my darling Buffy buddy, I am so sorry we missed each other. Each time you called, I was either dead, or awake but unaware that my phone had actually died. I suck. I owe you a trip to L.A. to watch Season Seven.

Djinnaya and Jason, my favorite new Villains (well, new to me), I'm sorry you had to see me all clammy and disoriented in my glow-in-the-dark star pajamas. If I'd had any amount of fight in me, I would've made it all happen anyway, so happy I was to have you at my house. But as we were debating what to do, I had the very distinct sensation that I might soon be sick. And since you're new friends, I didn't think it appropriate to ask you to hold my hair. Terribly sorry you couldn't reach me by phone either, and that you had to come all that way.

Kmo, I don't know if we had plans to meet up on Sunday. But I'm just sad I didn't get to say goodbye to you. It was so lovely to see you, and MUCH TOO SHORT.

So, in conclusion. Yay to ponies. Yay to my fabulous friends. Negative yays to exhaustion and my own retardedness (which is different from spacetard-iness, which we all know is a good thing). And a projected Yay to the time when I make it up to all y'all, preferably with a little bit of grrr...argh....

1. I'm lazy.

2. I write for a living, and sometimes doing it for fun isn't...well...fun.

3. When I do write for fun, I do it over here.

4. Beer.

But I do log on every once in awhile to check in on all of you. And even though I rarely comment, I am reading. And caring. And feeling disproportionately close to you considering that I'm staying connected to you even if you're not connected to me (or even know that I'm there). As good as reciprocity? Certainly not. As good as real, in-the-flesh connection? Not even close. But better than nothing? I'd like to think so.

When I was a kid, my sister and step-sister and I used to sit in the back of my step-mom's van and sing along to the radio. When Madonna's "Spanish Love" (or Spanish Eyes?) came on, we'd all sing the first verse together: "Last night, I dreamt of some pickle..."

Years later, I figured out she was saying "San Pedro," not "some pickle." But by then, it was too late. The song would forever be about marinated cucumbers for me...

(click herefor the rest of the post)

maybe I'll stick with this one. I kind of like the typepad format.

http://ballyhoo.typepad.com/mollyblog

(P.S. Anyone know how to expand the width of the center column?)

1. A facial from Tree at Celtic Carma
2. massage. any kind. ever.
3. reading magazines with no regard for time
4. crossword puzzles
5. good earth tea
6. frozen grapes
7. yoga
8. learning something new
9. dancing
10. reading a page-turner
11. being alone
12. painting
13. bottled water (a new obsession. wish i'd had it back when i having my little dehydrate-til-i-need-an-iv experience at bm)
14. clean sheets
15. new sheets
16. new, clean, fluffy towels - several in a stack
17. colored fabrics, organized in rainbow color
18. same goes for stationery and tissue paper
19. pens that write smoothly
20. a good haircut

the rest are too vain for me to admit in public. or rather, they aren't necessarily things that make me happy, but things that would help reduce some of my anxiety about aging, about gaining weight from quitting smoking, about a general, age-old personal insecurity. i'm usually pretty good about keeping those things under control, but giving up my security blanket has really brought all the old stuff - the criticisms, the doubts, the potentially crippling fascination with my appearance - to the surface again. Funny, though. This feels a lot more like my eating disorder did when it started than it did in later years. When it started, it was a welcome relief from my misery--a beautiful way to feel better, productive, like I was doingb something to change things. It didn't become connected to self-loathing until much later. And that's what's happening now. a strong desire to get anti-wrinkle cream for the corners of my eyes, but without that element of looking in the mirror and hating what i see. a too-strong satisfaction in giving up the mashed potatoes, but no extremes yet.

ug. even thinking about it is making me tired right now.

so off to bed. day four and smoke free. and yes, i promise some day i'll post as regularly about something else. but not for awhile. a long while. a long long long while. jesus this is hard.

I just realized the time changed tonight. Funny. But that's not what I was going to write about. What I was going to say is how strange it is that I'm awake at 2:30am (or what would be 2:30 if the time hadn't changed), still with tons of energy after hours of rearranging my room. It's like when I was a kid, reading til 4 in the morning and moving my furniture myself while the rest of the family slept. There's a natural restlessness in me, I think, or a natural love of productivity. I like to think it's because my brain is so active, it's just impossible to turn off. Or in other words, that I'm just too smart to sleep. But I think the reality is closer to an inability to relax, to sit, to let things be. And especially right now, with 48 hours of nonsmoking under my belt. Not that I'm faulting myself for the hyperactivity or anything. I've already decided that my full-time job for the next few days is to not smoke. Whatever that takes. I have NO OTHER GOALS this weekend than NOT INHALING TOBACCO PRODUCTS. It's refreshing to have this kind of focus, and this kind of self-awareness project. It's been awhile.

But I'm irritable now, annoyed that I can hear the bf's coughing from across the house, wondering when I'll sleep --if I'll sleep at all.

It’s Day One of quitting smoking, and it’s surprisingly the best day I’ve had all week. Which realy isn’t saying much considering my week. After two days of unbeatable malaise and depression, I finally crawled out of my hole on Wednesday to get some work done. At 3pm, while I was interviewing someone for a story for a job I’m not even sure I want, a sixteen year old girl hit my parked car—crunching the entire back side of the driver’s side and flattening my tire. The tire I just bought a few months ago. Now I have matching dents on either side of the trunk – the other is from where someone hit me in the parking lot of Elsie’s before we went to Europe-and I had to ask myself what it is that the universe is trying to tell me that I’m not getting? What was I supposed to realize from the first bump? Why did I need a bigger hit into my parked car? Am I the parked car? Am I stagnant right now? Do I need a big push to make a change? I’m thinking yes, maybe.

And so add that onto the fact that the house is still a mess and the bf really wants me to be helping do more stuff around the house but I’m so overwhelmed by life and work that the last thing I want to do is think about furniture I can’t afford and then and now suddenly there’s some problem with the electricity where any time we want to use more than one appliance at a time—like the refrigerator and the microwave, or the refrigerator and an electric toothbrush—the whole damn thing blows out. And not just the little fuse thingy you can switch back on, but something in a little glass case that looks like a doorknob and screws into something else like a lightbulb and baffles me beyond belief.

Which brings us to tonight. Me, alone in the house, electricity blown out again and half-sautteed onions and peppers and garlic on the stove (it was really weird when the only light in the house was the gas flames coming from the burner) and little tealights everywhere. This is exactly the time I’d want to smoke. I could just sit outside in the dark, puffing away, waiting for the bf and our Spanish midget (temporary roommate from Madrid, not really a midget but just cute and little) get back from the grocery store. Instead I’m inside, whacking the patch on my arm in hopes that the force will direct more nicotine into my bloodstream, wondering how I’ll make it more and more days like this and also realizing that I already feel quite good. Remarkably good. More energy. Better breathability. More motivation to do other things. After all, I’m writing this post, right?

So there you have it. Maybe this week was designed to make quitting smoking less painful. Because if this week had rocked, today would’ve been a fuckwind. I don’t know what a fuckwind is, but it sounds like what I think this day would’ve been. But since Monday through Thursday was pretty much miserable, today was only mildly annoying. I just wish I had a secret way to get rid of this anxious feeling in my body. Maybe I need to exercise.

Strange how we often want the things that slowly kill us.

Hm.

Sitting here at work, nursing a Diet Pepsi and feeling hung over even though I haven't had a thing to drink since Saturday afternoon. Wondering if this is what it means to be older, or if I have some kind of unnameable disease, or if somehow depression is creeping its way around my anti-depressants the way water used to seep invisibly through the seals in my car trunk and make everything smell like mildew. It seemed to make sense that I'd be tired and drained on Sunday, after two days of highschool reunion bachelorette party fun (and the accompanying drinking and sugar-and-chocolate ODs), but it seemed strange that I needed to spend all night last night in bed too. And even more so that I'm still unmotivated, exhausted and apathetic today. Emotional overload? Left over toxicity? Or is something else going on here? Yesterday I tried to attribute it to the fog and chill, but it's gorgeous today and I'm wearing cute boots and a cute skirt and actually took a shower and went to work and am trying to act AS IF I feel good and it's just not working. Not well enough, at least. Sigh.

Or perhaps it's the lingering effects of watching North Country the other night. Not sure why exactly, but that movie hit me in a soft, soft place. Got me sobbing about what it's like to be a woman in this world, what it's been like for me. Recognizing the pain all my girlfriends have had to endure, and my mom, and my grandmother. Not just subtle discrimination, but rape and abortion and objectification and self-loathing and all the small, intimate ways patriarchy commits (knowingly or unknowingly) crimes against us. I still remember the smell of the much-too-much-older-boy who gave me my first kiss, at a party after getting me drunk for the first time. I still remember all the times I said no and then yes, still meaning no, and then tried to laugh off the shame and guilt and anger and ickiness. I still carry it in my skin, in my belly, in my pelvis. And how much of my ancestors' pain am I carrying too? And how many of the women I know are carrying their own? No wonder we have such a hard time relating to each other, when we remind each other of our own agony.

short versions of long thoughts:

1. I'M GOING TO BARCELONA! I'M GOING TO BARCELONA! I'M GOING TO BARCELONA!

2. I have the most amazing boyfriend.

3. I'm very sad I'm not going to BM.

4. I have the most amazing friends (esp. k'mo and dr. whoa).

5. I think I'm growing up.

6. I hope I don't grow up too much.

7. I'm scared.

Yup, I moved again. Which is yet another reason why you haven't seen or heard from me in awhile (both here and in the real world). Also having Burning Man debates, so please send your stories of not going (whether you're glad you skipped it or not) and your stories of deciding to go in spite of a ridiculous list of reasons not to. And if you wanna hear about the new place, check out http://studio.impossible.com/molly.

-m

Last person who...

1. Slept in your bed: bf

2. Saw you cry: bf

3. Made you cry: bf

4. You went to the movies with: bf

5. You went to the mall with: um what? i can't remember the last time i went to the mall. unless you count paseo nuevo, which is an outdoor mall, and i only went there to 1. go to the movies and 2. go to victoria's secret. fuck. i guess that counts as the mall. okay, that's the bf too.

6. One thing you could take back: a drunken mistake (actually, several...)

Have You Ever...

1. Said "I Love You" and meant it: yes

2. Gotten in a fight with your pet: no. neglect is usually my problem with pets.

3. Been to California: um, yeah.

4. Been to Mexico: yes. we got our car towed. it was a pain in the ass. then it was funny.

5. Been to China: no

6. Been to Canada: yes. i heart Vancouver. And Victoria Island. Not sailing on a too-small ship with my friend and her mother (who were fighting the whole time).

7. Been to Europe: yes

8. Danced naked: yes, but not enough.

9. Wish you were the opposite sex: yes.

1. Do you have a crush on someone: yes.

2. What book are you reading now: Cloud Atlas. and One Space Living.

3. What is the worst feeling in the world: helplessness.

4. Future KIDS names: Hannah. Cody.

5. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal: not anymore. (as in, not since last year)

6. What's under your bed: six feet of storage space

7. Favorite sport to watch: cheerleading (don't laugh. okay, laugh.)

8. Location: CA

9. Piercings/Tattoos: only ears. oh, and that scar from a tattoo i got at 18 and then promptly tried to remove myself.

10. Do you drink: yes

11. What are you most scared of: my own power. ax murderers.

12. Where do you want to get married: no clue.

13. Who do you really hate: i'm not sure i really hate anyone.

14. Do you have a job: yes

15. Do you like being around people: love it. but i also looooove my own space.

16. Have you ever liked someone you had no chance with: yes. but rarely did i realize i had no chance at the time.

17. Have you ever cried: um, yeah.

18. Are you lonely: usually

19. Song that's stuck in your head a lot: Inexplicably, Mary Had a LIttle Lamb. I hum it while I'm painting my floor.

Have you:

1. Been in love: yes

2. Played strip poker: yes.

3. Gotten beaten up: no.

4. Pulled an all nighter: lots

5. Been on radio/tv: only for that commercial for my dentist when i was six years old. and i think that was cable.

6. Been in a mosh-pit: yes. that's where i lost my favorite black and white flannel at a violent femmes concert. now they scare me and make me feel clausterphobic, though.

7. Do you have any gay/lesbian friends: yup.

In the last 24 Hours have you...

1. Cried: yes

2. Bought something: yes

4. Sang: yes

5. Been kissed: yes

6. Had sex: nope

7. Felt stupid: not in the last 24 hours. but i expect to in the next 24.

8. Talked to an ex: no.

9. Missed someone: yes.

10. Hugged someone: Yes. constantly.

And okay, since I'm already here, a brief update:

Just moved. Again. Now in SB in another weird space. Love this one, but it's weeeeeiiiiird. 6 feet by 50 feet by 15 feet. And yes, the 6 feet is the WIDTH of the space. full wall o' windows, though, and a view of the mountains. just painting the floor and getting things situated. also going in to work tomorrow to find out if i'm getting a raise. since the editor wants to talk in person tomorrow, and not on the phone this afternoon, i'm guessing the answer is a big fat no. which is humiliating in some ways, because i can understand why not. and also frustrating, because i also think i'm worth it. arrrrr.... still on the fence about bm too. not even a should i/shouldn't i but a do i/don't i want to? Who else is going? Not going?

sitting at mom's house, pseudo-paralyzed by laziness and procrastination and a general feeling of apathy. often, when i'm avoiding work this much, it's because i'd rather be watching TV and napping - but I don't even really want to be doing that. Just tired and uninspired today. Spent all yesterday playing nursemaid to the boy, who got two ginormous wisdom teeth pulled (one actually had roots that looked exactly like a mini carrot, with threads coming off it and everything. i didn't know when they said 'roots,' they really meant ROOTS.) and was miserable. Also turned in an essay for the Indie that I'm not exactly proud of, but I can't think about anymore...Just not sure what the next step is going to be. Actually, yes I do. It's probably going to be getting some rest, finishing my work, and reaching another pinnacle of contentment - the way it always happens. But for now, I'm gonna keep watching the digital clock on my mom's microwave, drinking decaf coffee with sugar-free vanilla syrup and hoping that somehow this 2,000 word feature for the VC Reporter will write itself when I'm not looking.

but before i get to the chain letter part, i'm gonna answer it for myself. so here are some things i'd like to do with myself someday soon:

-have a breakfast, eaten alone, of strawberries and/or mangoes and baguette dipped in black tea
-paint
-snuggle into my own bed in my own apartment with a bathroom in it (the apartment, not the bed)
-spend a weekend alone somewhere i've never been
-go on some kind of spiritual retreat or quest
-quit smoking

Okay, now the part that you have to answer:

I'd like to ask that anyone who reads this add to the comments something they would LIKE to do with me SOMEDAY.

Then post this in your journal to find out what i want to do with you. Thanks!

but all that's gonna change. now i have my own blog over herethat I will be updating regularly. as i'm doing this, i may start using lj more frequently for personal-type posts as well. right now it's all in the development stages, and i'd love feedback, advice about design (the hope is to evetually use this as a functioning online magazine-type site) and recmmendations for links and content. i'd love to host essays, photos, fashionspreads, any kind of art y'all are making on the site, whether as part of a blog post, as a link or as a more static link. so send content and/or ideas my way.

and i'm fine.

and i miss you guys.

xo,
m

p.s. anyone in my area should come to bollywood night at jeff's tomorrow night. bollywood movies projected onto a screen in his backyard...BYOC (bring.your.own.curry.)

for the outpouring of support about the La Conchita slides. I'll get to your messages individually soon, but wanted to send out a big hug and kiss to all of you for now, and let you know your warm wishes have been received.