A letter I can't or won't actually send.

Mama,

When I told you I was engaged, you rolled your eyes. Literally, you rolled your eyes. This was a better outcome than what I expected, which is shocking to most everyone to whom I've told that story. 

Usually my response is to just say something along the lines of, "That's just my mom. She gets stressed out easily. She's still happy for me." The thing is, I believe that. I do think you're happy for me, or maybe I just need to believe that you are. But your happiness for me is blurred by a lens that has only gotten more opaque as the years have passed.

I wonder a lot lately when was the last time you were happy. I realize I can't remember anything in the past decade or so, so I wonder if you do. Was it when Paw Paw was still alive? I can think of times when you've had fun, but I don't remember the last time that you were deeply, joyously happy about something. That is a surprisingly difficult thing to admit. 

It has taken me many years to come to terms with your unhappiness. I'm probably still not there, but at least I have the perception and the toolkit to explain some of it and rationalize it to myself. I'm not quite sure WHY it's there, but based on things you've told me here and there, I have a feeling it began with a string of loves in your teenage years and really took root when you decided that you'd thrown away a lot of opportunities by marrying Daddy. You've told me countless times what you might have been if you'd gone to school--an art teacher, an architect. Even after going into the medical field, a kid at home and a drunk husband made you feel like you needed to be at home after work, instead of going to school for nursing. But even in my childhood years, I feel like you were happy sometimes. I remember dancing with you in the living room and I feel like that was happy. I want to know what broke and why it can't or won't be fixed. 

We've been fighting a lot about the wedding and it occurred to me that I'm a disappointment to you. You'd balk to hear this. You'd tell me how proud of me you are and how much you love me. I don't doubt those things, but I have to reconcile them with your disappointment. I am not who you want me to be. You rolled your eyes at my news because you imagined differently for me. Someone who could "take care of me," to use your words, someone with money who might support me while I got that Ph.D that you're still on me about. To you, my marriage means the end of my possibility too, means getting stuck in a rut that I will spend a lifetime sitting in, a rut so deep that it's not even worth it to expend energy to get out of. Is that how you feel? It's the closest I can imagine. 

You told me once that you wanted me to get my Ph.D because you knew, when I was a baby, that I would go on to do great things. You don't want to hear that people can do great things without a Ph.D, or that a Ph.D in my field would be useless to me, monetarily. You don't really even have a defined vision of "great," beyond "better off than me." You are not great, except through my achievements. I need to be great to somehow be worth all those lost opportunities. I don't think I'm capable of being that great. 

In a way, I think you think my marriage will make me sink lower than you, because I will still be worse off financially than you are. I think your desire to dictate every aspect of this wedding comes from the idea that you can at least make it what you want to see. Maybe that will be enough to make up for that potential greatness I'm flushing down the toilet. You are upset with me that I won't wear your wedding dress. I couldn't think up a better metaphor if I tried. Somewhere along the way (or maybe from the moment I was born), I turned into a vessel for all your lost hopes. I'm not the only person this has happened to--at this point it's a cliche. But it doesn't hurt any less to be held to a standard that judges me as unworthy for not meeting standards I've never been invested in. I quite honestly feel as though you love me less for not being good enough. It doesn't hurt me to not be good enough--I think (with the help of years of therapy, a lot of love, and the power of literature) that I'm just fine. But it hurts to think that you feel that way, that I have somehow thrown away the key that could even possibly unlock your door to happiness. 

Even before I could put those thoughts into words, I knew them on an instinctual level. It took me years to tell you I was going to therapy, because I knew you'd be disappointed in me for being so flawed and for thinking I was flawed. For not just getting over it. It is sickeningly ironic that you live in the kind of unhappiness you do without any help, just so as not to have to admit that you actually are unhappy. 

Years ago, you used to joke that you would never ask your patients, "How are you?" because it would turn into them rattling off their various ailments and complaints. I don't know how to tell you that you've turned into those people, without meaning to, without being old enough to be that damn miserable with life. 

I've had a buzzing tension headache for two weeks now. I suspect it has a lot to do with trying to shove down this rush of emotions and words that have come out of wounds long scarred, now ripped open. These are words I don't want to say to you, because I know you would only see them as a further burden, without ever acknowledging their meaning. I know you would cry and maybe you'd yell. I don't want to hurt you. I love you so much. I just wish that I could make you see. To see that your life is so rich, so full of love. To see that all I want from you at my wedding is to see you happy, for you to celebrate without barriers of anger, fear, and disappointment. You talk a lot of making the most of life, because you never know when you'll die. I don't understand how you can believe that, but treat every day like another step to the grave.

If anything, you've taught me that lesson. I don't always achieve it, but I try not to live in misery, because I don't want to bring down that burden on those who love me. I try to celebrate, to love, to experience, to be my very best, to see the best in people and in life. And I will always try, however useless it may be at this point, to make you see it too.

Love, me

Break (v.)- separate or cause to separate into pieces as a result of a blow, shock, or strain

Sometimes I forget how it feels to feel broken. The kind of intensity about it that it brings to even the smallest tasks, because there is a simultaneous attempt to escape it and and resoluteness to bear it out by way of completing these simple missions. Turning the shower on to exactly the right heat. Watching a tea bag slowly seep into water. Minute details become exquisitely important, as you try to will your entire self into them to blur the pounding temples, the rising nausea. Everything must be quiet, quiet so your mind will be quiet too, so it will stand very very still, so those shattered pieces won't fall out of the frame.

you can never stop and see/ what you're doing to me

Being back in Chicago, especially being here without Ravi, has produced feelings so overwhelming that I'm almost in tears on the L.

"who would have known how bittersweet this would taste"

I'm having a bout of melancholy right now. I can't quite put my finger on it but I think a lot of it is the approaching year anniversary of the breakup/move. I've been listening to a lot of sad love songs lately, thinking a lot about living here and, at times, unintentionally recalling and reliving the stress and pain of last summer and winter. This past year has been a period of intense growth for me, something I realized in part at the time but am continuing to grasp more fully now. And, sometimes, that's overwhelming. So I lay on my back in my bed and belt out songs to the ceiling like I did when I was 17.

we don't care about our own faults

I have had an exceptionally good weekend.

On Friday, Christie, Ross and Peter came into town. We had poboys at Parkway, where I'd never been. Ate a delicious but regrettable roast beef poboy (I know better than to eat that much red meat. Ugh.). Being around Bayou St. John always makes me a little nostalgic, because when Ravi and I first started dating, we went to Voodoo Fest together. We stayed in a church with a friend who was working there for Americorps and we'd cross the bayou everyday when we walked to and from City Park. That weekend has always been one of my favorite memories of Ravi (we also saw Smashing Pumpkins that weekend, a teenage favorite of both of ours that added to the idyllic situation).

After Parkway, we briefly went to Cooter Brown's for some pool and ended up at Snake and Jake's. I was incredibly tired, having been up since 6 that morning and I don't remember much about being there except that I was hurting myself in an effort to stay awake and talk to people. I'd dig my fingernails into my upper arms, bite on my fingers, scratch at my wrists...thank god Snake's is as dark as it is, because I probably looked like I was having some kind of psychotic fit. We finally left and sat around listening to Two Gallants, drinking tea and talking on my porch (because of course I got a second wind).

The next morning, Christie and I hung out at Z'otz while the dudes went to watched soccer at Finn McCool's. We wandered over to Maple St. for some Thai food and a visit to the Maple St. Patisserie. I spent part of that day texting my teacher, who has no concept of appropriate behavior. He assigned a book to us without buying it himself. He asked if he could borrow my copy and then, after a failed attempt at meeting up, he asked if I could bring it to his house. Apparently he lives quite close to me. While I was negotiating this, Christie and I walked back to my place to meet up with the guys. Everyone left and I walked back over to Z'otz to do some schoolwork. On the way there, as I crossed Spruce St. (of COURSE it was Spruce St. Teacher lives on Spruce too. I might make a blog tag for Spruce St.), a peacock emerged from a yard and strutted down the sidewalk. I followed it for two blocks until it reached Hickory and took a right. Then I called the police to inform them of wild, wandering peacocks. Around 10:30, Ross called to ask me if I could go pick up his debit card that he'd left at Snake's. I did and walked home down Lowerline, singing Emily Jane White songs and dancing along the sidewalk in front of the Carrollton graveyard.

Sunday was an excellent lunch at Theo's with Alyson and Cain, followed by Pinkberry after a failed attempt to get drinks at St. Joe's (because in our boozy quest, we kind of forgot it was 3pm on a Sunday). When I got home, Shelby was rewiring the lights on our front porches and hanging some lanterns we bought at a yard sale awhile back. I helped him with that (and learned how to rewire a light and met our neighborhood drunkard), then we decided to have a dinner party. Because I live with teh gays, nothing can ever be simple. I came home from Rouses to find that they'd put the upstairs neighbor's dining room table in the driveway, covered it with tablecloth, china, candles and flowers and had a lamp overlooking the whole shebang. We had dinner of lemon chicken, filet mignon, rice and broth, salad and a dessert of chocolate dipped strawberries, while Dave Brubeck blasted from Taylor's speakers (through his open window, which his friend's cat escaped from and caused a brief interruption while we all tried to coax the cat into not jumping off the roof).

I had Memorial Day off. I started it by walking over to my professor's house to furtively drop that book on his porch. That whole situation cracks me up and made me think of B's old jokes that I was fucking the professor. People are totally going to think so if shit like this keeps happening. Amusingly, prof. seems to have no understanding that it would be considered strange in most circles to ask a student to come by your house to drop off a book you assigned because you couldn't be bothered to purchase said book. After that, I went back to the grocery and then spent most of the day in the kitchen, baking wheat bread, banana/cherry/almond/bourbon bread, cooking up some chicken sloppy joe mix, making an incredible potato salad (I subbed in spring peas for the sugar snaps and asparagus and green onions for spring onions), and soaking the remaining dried cherries in some leftover vodka I had (we'll see how that turns out). My friend Mike, who has been in the Marines for 4 years, called to ask if I wanted to go out that night. We ended up back at Cooter Brown's and I made the mistake of drinking 4 beers...3 of which were Andygator. We closed down the bar and then I came home and apparently did a bunch of stuff, including slicing that loaf of wheat bread and slicing my finger open in the process. I must have been too drunk to realize it, because I went to sleep with my bloody hand and woke up with blood all over. Also, with an intense hangover that didn't let up until well into the afternoon. At one point, I texted Blair to tell him what an exemplary employee I was, after I fell asleep at my desk. hoo boy.

Goals: Finish thesis proposal. Hang chandelier that Shelby gave me. Pay off credit cards. Don't eat out in June. Look into new bed set. Rearrange dining room to accommodate shelves that someone randomly left on Shelby's porch. Make curtains. Make A's this summer. Have more fantastic weekends.

2010 highs and lows

This is a post I meant to make before the new year but, obviously, did not do.

In 2010:
-Ravi's practice space (The Caterie) burned down New Years' Day and resulted in instrument loss for about 9 bands
-Haiti earthquake
-The Saints won the Super Bowl
-Erin and I visited Mike in Columbus (marking my first extended exposure to snow)
-Healthcare reform passed
-Had my wisdom teeth pulled
-Erin, Ravi and I went to New York for Becky and Dorian's wedding
-BP oil spill
-Ravi got into pharmacy school and I got into grad school
-Erin moved to Chicago
-Ravi and I went to Chicago for Pitchfork festival
-Got in a wreck
-Ravi and I broke up
-Quit my job at LCA
-Moved to New Orleans
-Was unemployed for 2.5 months and went through my savings
-Started first semester of grad school
-Got a paying job with Tulane Ortho and a non-paying job with goodnola.com
-Forced myself to conquer social anxiety and made some friends
-Turned 25
-Had a wee breakdown, brought on by stress, depression and exhaustion
-Recovered and drank sloe gin 'til the midnight hour

I keep talking about 2010 as a shitty year, because in a lot of ways it was for me--I exited this year broke, single and more than a little shaken. But I also had a lot of fun this year, met some really great people, reestablished and improved on some friendships, kissed a dude or two, (re)learned that I'm able to be self-sufficient and alone, and I'm living in a city that I enjoy. In a way, 2010 wasn't so much shitty as it was just hectic and full of upheaval, which was, occasionally, pretty overwhelming. I don't think there's ever been a year where I've challenged myself so much, but in the end, I think it's paid off. I feel less stagnant. As I told Christie earlier today, even in the worst parts of this year, I never regretted the choices I've made, because as hard as things have been, I feel like I'm on my way to being a lot happier with myself.

I think now the key is building on those things--doing more things that I want to do but have convinced myself that I can't for whatever reason (time, money, anxiety, etc.) I want to make more friends or at least meet people. I want to write poems (I got started for a bit but then stopped again when I became unhappy with what I was writing). I want to volunteer. I want to write and get paid for it. I want to make changes to my body that will make me happier with it. I want to get my health issues in order. I want to better stay abreast of politics. I want to go to a bar alone and not break into hives over it. I want to be more comfortable with the person I am, on my own terms.

I'd also like to stop being redundant, but that may not happen any time soon. :)

motivational speaker

R: so i got really depressed last night. "we make our own gravity to give weight to things, and then things fall and then they break and gravity sings" showed up in my feed as one of ___ statuses

i googled it and realized it was an ani song that you listened to a lot while we were breaking up
hour follows hour or something

me: yeah
I'm sorry

R: it's ok
not your fault or anything

me: I will say, it was a song I listened to because it made me feel better about the breakup

R: just an association

me: its one of those "no one's fault" songs

R: that's what songs are for

me: yeah

R: it's a pretty song

(...)
me: I liked the line "the most we can do is see each other through it"
you know, not to be...callous? but it's weird for me to hear that you were depressed
not that I don't think the breakup didn't affect you

(...)

me: but you're a lot more stoic than me and I'm not used to the idea of you getting depressed
and it kind of surprised me for a second, the idea that you might still get sad about it even though I still do and that's kind of obvious

I never really realized how much that song resonated for me until I just listened to it again.

Hour Follows Hour
Hour follows hour like water follows water
Everything is governed by the rule that one thing leads to another
You can't really place blame, 'cause blame is much too messy
Someone was bound to get it on you while you were trying to put it on me.

And don't fool yourself into thinking things are simple
Nobody's lying, still the stories don't line up
Why do you try to hold on to what you'll never get a hold on
You wouldn't try and put the ocean in a paper cup

'Cause I have had something to prove
As long as I know there's something that needs improvement
And you know that every time I move
I make a woman's movement

And first you decide what you've gotta do
and then you go out and do it
And maybe the most that we can do
is to see each other through it

Hour follows hour like water in a river
And from one to the next, we don't know what each hour will deliver
We just call it like we see it, call out loud as we can
And then afterwards we call it all water over the dam

Maybe the moral high ground isn't as high as it seems
Maybe we are both good people whove done some bad things
I just hope it was okay, I know it wasn't perfect
I just hope in the end we can laugh and say it was all worth it

'Cause I have had something to prove

As long as I know there's something that needs improvement
And you know that every time I move
I make a woman's movement

And first you decide what you've gotta do
and then you go out and do it
And maybe the most that we can do
is to see each other through it

We make our own gravity to give weight to things
Then things fall and they break and gravity sings
We can only hold so much, is what I figure
We try and keep our eye on the big picture
And the picture keeps getting bigger

And too much is how I love you but too well is how I know you
And I've got nothing to prove this time, just something to show you
I guess I just wanted you to see
That it was all worth it to me

where you went when you were alive

I've been shitty about updating lately, but only because I've been super busy. Between a full time job, full time school and trying to maintain a social life, things have been...cramped. But I'm not complaining, because this has been such an excellent month.

One of my best friends from high school, Chad, came to visit me. It was sort of strange seeing him, because I last saw him three years ago, after he moved back from Florida. He'd moved there to be with a girl I couldn't stand and he didn't really talk to me for about 2 years. But when he came to visit, we fell back into our old camaraderie and inside jokes. We went to Angeli's and the aquarium and we got ice cream at Haagan Daaz. It was just so good to see him and reminisce.

I found out my friend Nancy works in the same building as I do, and we've been having lunch together a lot. I've gone to a couple events at her place (a movie night and pumpkin carving), which has been nice both for hanging out with people and for having a fun evening for free.

My hot water inexplicably stopped working for about a week, which sucked. I was telling a girl in my class about it and she insisted that I come take a shower at her house if it didn't get turned back on soon.

I volunteered at Hollygrove Market and got free produce. I wrote a story for Goodnola.com about it, which should be published very soon. I'm working on another piece about why I volunteer and then I'll do another one on Nancy's theatre company, Girl Next Door Theater.

I did a lot of hanging out in Baton Rouge and I slept on Christie's couch and loved on my wonderful friends. I went to a wedding and ate brunch, I (re)met a guy(!), I went to Carlotta, I got drunk.

I had a series of conversations with Ravi about potentially starting to date other people and he has been nothing but awesome and loving and supportive. I told other friends about this and they were amazed. But it's really important to Ravi and I to be friends above everything else, to give each other mutual respect and support. I'm not being smug and saying my breakup is better than yours, but we were lucky to have a strong basis for our relationship and enough love between us to maintain it.

I went to Bourbon St. with another old friend, Michael, for Halloween (its been the month for reuniting with people) and we drank hand grenades, danced at gay bars, got loud and silly, screamed in shock at a girl walking down Bourbon with NO SHOES ON (NEVER DO THIS.) and got Popeyes' fried chicken at 1am. This morning, we went walking, had lunch at Panchitas and bought vintage t-shirts at Skip 'n' Whistle.

The job has been good and things are going really well at school. My lit. crit. professor invited me to a seminar, being held by a very prominent critic. He specifically mentioned that only certain students were being invited. :D I'm sad that I can't take any English classes next semester, but I'm scheduling 4 MLA classes, so it might actually be possible for me to complete this degree in a year and a half, like I want to do.

Today, I was walking down Carrollton, to go get an iced coffee from Z'OTZ, and I was listening to BSS. It reminded me of when I first moved here. I'd walk to Oak St. a lot, just to get out of the house, and those walks were sort of wondrous for me--the idea that I was walking around MY neighborhood in New Orleans, my new home, coming to terms with being alone and unemployed. I was so sad, but also happy in a burgeoning way, confused, lost but determined. All that washed over me as I walked and then I thought about how much better things have gotten in the past few months, how happy I was right there, right now. This is bliss.

movin'

This weekend I:
-Baked a loaf of bread
-Read and got tipsy on my porch
-Received an excellent critique on a paper ("This is an excellent essay. I love the different levels of analysis and how you resist the easier interpretations of the speech. (...)You make a number of insightful points about Gorgias and Protagoras, and your conclusion is very suggestive, since it represents precisely the problem with treating this group of thinkers as belonging to a “movement”. This is a very good start and I look forward to reading more of your work. You have the right focus on subtlety and nuance to excel in this course.")
-Went to a party that I was really nervous about attending and ended up having a very good time.
-Got lost in Algiers Point
-Met up with friends at 3 am and had more fun.
-Twice lured Fred the cat out from under the house with Suzanne Goin's leftover chicken after said friends let him out.
-Had breakfast at Oak St. Cafe
-Took a 3 hour nap
-Applied for jobs
-Dusted
-Had a breakfast of homemade toast, homemade stewed peaches and tea
-Unpacked more boxes
-Tried in vain to set up my electronics (how I've lost 3 RCA cables, I do not know)
-Listened to a lot of Motown-esque music
-Had a good talk w/ Ravi about relationships
-Made plans with two friends for this coming week
-Bottled (jarred) some corncob wine
-Worked on a paper for school

All in all, it's been a very productive holiday weekend.

one

Today marks one month that Ravi and I broke up. A month ago, I stood in my grandma's driveway and hugged Ravi goodbye. We both cried and promised to always be there for each other and said "I love you." He came back 2 days later to help me move but, there we were. Single.

The day after the breakup happened to be August 4--what would have been our 3 year anniversary. Ravi sent me flowers at work, with the following card:
Thank you for making the last 3 years so wonderful! I've tried my best to remain stoic to make the last couple of weeks more bearable, but it's been really hard to hold it together. I love you and will miss you more than I can explain. I feel like I'm leaving a part of me behind. I hope no matter what that we will always have a close friend in each other. Please come visit.
Love always,
Ravi

I almost went to visit him this weekend, but we agreed it was still too soon. I hadn't even thought about the date significance. I'm glad I didn't go just yet. It would have been heartwrenching.

I guess this is the part where I say this has been the hardest month of my life or something, but it hasn't. It's not even been the saddest (though really it's only second to some very significant deaths). This breakup has been very strange for me, in that I'm not reacting to it in a way I'm familiar with. I'm not down in the pits of despair, fantasizing about suicide or running away (though the thought of never having existed occasionally flits across my mind). I'm sad, but I've only had about a week or so of that kind of desperate I-will-never-feel-good-again sadness. I feel guilty about it in a way, like I should feel so much worse about this breakup. But I realize that I'm just sad in a different way, what I think is a healthier way.

But I'm still sad. And I miss my companion. And a huge part of me wishes that I was in Austin right now. So I'm cooking and listening to music and doing what I can to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

self sight

If you keep digging and digging, eventually you'll hit upon some little nugget of truth about yourself.

Ravi: how do you feel like i would forget you?
you're honestly the 1 person i talk to the most
Mandi: oh I guess I don't mean forget
but I will become less important to you over time
and part of that happening is establishing new relationships with people
a life that I'm not a part of
I don't say that bitterly
but it'll happen
and I think that's what I'm having trouble letting go of
the relationship, I've come to terms with a long time ago
but losing you in general, not being a part of your everyday life
that's quite another thing
and made all the harder because I don't have anything new yet
I have much more trouble meeting people and building new things
Ravii: but you put forth much less effort in doing so
i'm not criticizing you, just stating
Mandi: i put less effort into it because it makes me anxious
I'm not good at it
Ravi: i used to be the same way
probably worse
Mandi: but yet, you're not now
Ravi: and it still affects me now to a certain extent
you just have to work at it i guess
Mandi: but I have no idea how to
and, honestly, I'm not...interested in it
I'm not interested in having a thousand friends on facebook or knowing a ton of people
its not something I really care about and that probably inhibits me
but. there's still the fact that without it, I don't have any new roots to put down
Ravi: but you're complaining about it now?
or am i misunderstanding you
Mandi: I'm not complaining about it
'm saying there's a kind of catch 22 where I need to meet new people to build a new life but I don't have the ability or desire to do that
there's just something weirdly inorganic and kind of selfish to me about making friends with people for the point of needing them as a distraction
I know that sounds weird and is probably reductive in some sense
but I like things to just...happen. and when they don't, I don't have it in me to push it because that's when the doubt sets in.




postscript:
Mandi: btw, I posted that last bit of our convo to my blog
just because it was something I hadn't realized about myself until I started talking about it to you
and I wanted to keep it there for my own reference
if you want me to take it down though, I will
Ravi: i kind of felt like you were attacking me but you don't have to take it down
Mandi:no, I wasn't
honestly
I didn't even think of it that way
I was just kind of...marvelling at that difference
Ravi: like specifically this part: (excerpt part where I talk about my feelings of the lack of authenticity of forced friendships)
Mandi: I guess I can see the first part
but not the end of it
but that's not how I meant it
Ravi: like it sounds like you're implying that i do all those things for the purposes you stated
Mandi: no. nooo
I'm sorry
that's not what I meant at all
Ravi: i don't think you did, but when i reread it, that's how it comes off
to me anyway
Mandi: no I meant that for someone to whom making friends doens't come easily (me), pushing it feels inorganic and inauthentic

read me the letter, baby/do not leave out the words

I really want to write an entry here but all I can think of are little fragments that don't work well together in paragraphs. So, here:

-The best advice I got today was "Be kind to yourself." Actually, that's the best advice I've gotten through this whole mess. It may sound silly, but I needed to hear it, to remember that it might not have been productive to spend two days reading on the couch, but it made my mind calm down.

-I got a wonderful, even tender, email today from a somewhat unlikely source and it made me feel a little less mixed up.

-LCA sent me a check for my first and last paychecks, but they paid out my first paycheck at the salary of my last one ($5.25 more an hour), which will certainly help with bills. I put aside rent and utilities and paid bills out of it. I'm still sitting on that $900 nest egg until I have to get my car fixed, which is something I don't even feel like thinking about or dealing with.

-I'm nervous about school starting. I need to go to Tulane and find my classes. I need to hear something back about a loan or figure out what the next step is. They keep putting me off on the phone. I think I'll just go there on Monday. However, academically, I have some hope because the professor for one of the more difficult classes I'm taking has sent out a reminder for the reading assignment three times, which makes me feel like this might be easier/more supported than I had imagined. On the other hand--three times? If people can't do the reading assignment, perhaps they need not be in grad school. Ho hum.

-I keep reading the final scene between Catherine and Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights. I used to hate Heathcliff and think he was nothing but an egocentric asshole, but this more recent reading has been pretty beneficial and more heartwrenching.

-I still don't have a job but I *think* I have an interview for Tuesday and a couple of slim but existing leads.

-I'm going to a party/show tonight and I, strangely, don't feel that buzzing nervousness that I normally feel when I'll be around Ravi's friends.

-In that vein, I've noticed I've become, in some ways, less concerned with the opinions of others lately. I got rid of some shitty people in my life and some others who, while not totally shitty, weren't really what I was looking for in friends. I told a few people off who told me I needed, basically, to "stick my [my] man" and give up my dreams. I wholeheartedly invite those people to go fuck themselves. I am more able to laugh at myself when I do socially silly things and I feel more comfortable, in general, around people I'm not used to deriving comfort from. I told someone something that normally would have been cripplingly embarrassing and I felt better after I did. I am more at ease with myself and I think that has a lot to do with being forced to be alone again for awhile. It was a nice lesson to (re)learn.

-I have lost upwards of 15 pounds. This was, briefly, an issue because I reached a point where eating anything felt like a concession to having to eat, which is some old ED-logic. Then I was so stressed that food made me sick. And now, I am taking my medication and walking a lot more and eating with an eye toward my budget (which means generally eating toast and coffee for breakfast and a late lunch/early dinner, usually of soup). I feel better.

-To end this on a silly note and to tie those last two together, here is a story. There is a guy who hangs out at the Rue. The first day I saw him, he asked me to watch his stuff three separate times, while he smoked, went to the bathroom, and smoked again. He kept trying to make small talk, but I had headphones in and wasn't into it. At one point, he asked me if I knew of anyone hiring and I may have given him a derisive look. I saw him again another day and he smiled and waved. I did the same but went back to my job search. Today, as I was walking to Rue, I passed him going the opposite direction on his bike. He braked and said hello and I waved and continued on my way. Then I looked down and realized that my pants, which have become too big for me, had slid down to expose a fairly large swatch of my hot pink panties.

escape

Last Friday, I got to a point where I started to worry myself, so I threw some clothes in a backpack and drove back to Baton Rouge a day earlier than I needed to be there (Saturday was a 50th/80th birthday party for my dad and grandma; respectively). I spent time with friends and slept on Christie's couch a couple of nights and on T n T's guest bed another night. I drank a lot and spent time with people I love and/or adore and cried a lot and slept very little. I lost 3 pounds.

On Monday, on my way back, I stopped to see my mom and some family members were there. I was told I looked tired and depressed. My mom asked me, "why are you depressed?" I said, "My boyfriend broke up with me, I don't have a job, all my friends live in other towns." She said, "you'll find a job soon." I didn't know how to reply to that, so I muttered, "I know." We went for a pedicure and that was nice until I threw up in the salon bathroom, since all I'd "eaten" that day was juice and that never interacts well with my medicine.

All that to say that when I finally got back to New Orleans, where I thought I was escaping on Friday, I felt better. Driving up the Causeway in 5 o'clock traffic felt relaxing. Walking in to my apartment felt like coming home. I'm still depressed and probably not taking care of myself as I should, but I felt worse in Baton Rouge, surrounded by all those people, than I did alone on my couch. I don't mean to devalue those people, because they didn't cause that breakdown and I think it would have been worse without them. Rather, I think having them help me through it enabled me to come back home and be okay with being alone again, for awhile.

an accounting

Mandi: I got really depressed yesterday and called christie and asked if I could come in
I just feel really fucking out of place
everywhere
and alone
and...yeah
I don't know.
I'm not doing very well
Ravi: i'm sorry. i know it's rough
is there anything i can do?
Mandi: no 
I mean, I know its something I just have to get through
because even being around people is depressing me
everything is fucking depressing me
the idea of getting dressed and going outside is depressing
because I just feel like "what am I accomplishing?"
I keep trying to do things, for the sole purpose of feeling like I'm doing something. and then I start thinking. "I am only doing this so I am not lonely." and it feels lonelier

we still have a lot left to do

the last movie we watched was raising arizona.
the last place we went was whole foods.
the last party we went to was at josh's.
the last place we went out to eat was louie's.
the last night we will still be in a relationship is tonight.
the last time I cried was 25 minutes ago.
keep going going going.

doting

Today, Ravi and I were chatting and I made a comment about how it would be nice to "have a gas stove again--they're good in case of storms or hurricanes," and he asked me, "Would you really stay in New Orleans during a hurricane?" I replied that I'd evacuate to my parents house and he said, "No, you should go to Al's house" (mu uncle's house nearby, a far sturdier shelter than my parents' trailer that they are currently living in while the build the house-that-I-am-beginning-to-doubt-will-ever-be.)

Later, I helped him pack boxes and I made some lentil soup, for which he asked the recipe. As I typed it up to send to him, it dawned on me how glad I am that we still care about each other and are concerned about each others welfare enough to make a concerted effort to help one another. In a way, I suppose, it's sad to leave someone for whom you care so much, but it's also comforting to know that even though we can't (or won't, which we also discussed this weekend) make this work, we still have that friend in each other. It's also a nice realization during a time when I sometimes wonder if it wouldn't be easier to just avoid each other as much as possible until all this is done, so we can spare ourselves the constant reminder that we are splitting up.

I don't mean for this to sound sappy, but with all the underlying depression in many of these posts, I wanted to have this to remind myself that I haven't always been muddled and sad during this breakup; I've found bright spots and good things to fall back on.

"the end must be drawin near"

I feel like I'm just having myself a quiet little nervous breakdown.

awakening

Last night, I went out with one friend I haven't seen in a long time and another who I haven't seen in even longer. We ended up back at the apartment that I'm half ass (could half ass be a hyphenate? Half-ass? Doesn't look correct.) occupying, already tipsy. We kept drinking and decided to go for a walk, which brought us to Red Star on karaoke night.

The night was going along nicely and I was really happy until, suddenly, I wasn't. Thinking back on it, I think it happened when a guy hit on me. This guy has hit on me before at Red Star (though I don't think he remembered me): My friends had left and I was finishing up my drink and decided to do some reading, when he approached and asked, "are you really reading a book? I'm not real big on books!" Suffice to say, I wasn't impressed.

So anyway, I'm dancing to someone singing a The Who song, when this guy grabs me and twirls me around. I kept twirling and he stopped me and said "you're so beautiful. Can I talk to you outside?" He grabbed my hand and I'm terrible at saying no, I'm shooting eyes at my friend, who grinned at me like this was a good thing. We walk outside and he takes my hand. I blurt out, "I'm seeing someone." The guy was pretty drunk or pretty mellow; he smiled and I walked back in. But there was just this horrible moment where I realized how horrified I am of "the scene," of dealing with guys I'm not into, of not truthfully being able to rely on the boyfriend backup. Something more than that too that I don't quite have the words for; a simultaneous desire to be loved and to be alone. I started thinking about all these relationships ending in my life and things changing and I knew I needed to get out of there, so I told my friends I was ready to leave and we started the walk back.

I walked out feeling overwhelmed, nervous almost, between the extreme humidity that left me feeling like I was breathing underwater, the alcohol, the sadness, that I just wanted to run. So, after awhile, I took off, in my dress and sandals, down 9th street, trying to just...get rid of it. I quickly realized Christie was running behind me, that I was probably worrying she and Josh, so I slowed back down to a brisk walk until we got back to the apartment. I'm not some manic pixie dream girl (copyright: Jezebel.com), but there's something so escapist about being wildly desperate, uncaring and selfish, running down a street away from people just because you're sad, that I can see where it could be addictive to be that way all the time.

I came home in tears and when Ravi asked what was wrong, I half-screamed at him, "I'm just SAD!" We haven't talked about it since. I feel better today, but off. Like I needed to get all that out yesterday and some of it is still backed up inside of me. Tomorrow, I'm going to New Orleans with my mom to look at my soon-to-be place, thanks to the wonderfully amazing Ann, and to have lunch. My mom has really been this grounding force for me lately. More than ever, I find myself turning to her for friendship and advice. I'm hoping spending some time with her tomorrow will set me back to rights.

"when she walks down the street/she knows there's people watchin"

I feel a bit paralyzed lately, as though I'm waiting for everything to happen before I can keep moving. It's not quite like being depressed, but more of a deep weariness of dealing with tedious bullshit. I tend to do one of two things when I get stressed: I go into hibernation and "wait it out" (doing only what needs to be done day-to-day)or I get huge bursts of energy and drive to complete things that need to be done. Generally the latter only occurs when I'm very close to a deadline. I'm trying to switch myself out of the former and more into the latter. After all, deadlines ARE looming--they just aren't close enough for panic yet.

In that vein, I've resolved to get back to taking my PCOS meds correctly. I keep straying from the prescribed schedule, either because it doesn't fit into my day or I don't feel like taking them. But I feel much healthier, both physically and mentally, when I take everything on schedule. It's not a solution but it's part of the path to one. When I don't feel like garbage, I get more accomplished.

Part of this lack of momentum comes from the fact that Ravi still has not moved out. We both expected that he'd be out by this time and my desire to spend time with him before he goes usually ends up trumping my desire to do something productive for myself. It's been bad for me, in a way, that he's still here because it skews my emotions about him leaving. I've gone from a kind of steadfast resoluteness to a "one more day, one more day!" frame of mind. People can say what they want about "just take things one day at a time," but that never works for me. I always fuck myself when I try to take it one day at a time, because not seeing results toward a goal really fucks with my frame of reference for what I want and what needs to be done.

Anyhow. Big Sky played their last show this past Saturday, helping me finish one chapter. The show went well up until the cops showing up (for the second time) and, later, someone firing a bottle rocket in the house. I left shortly after.

interesting

Since Facebook has decided to fuck shit up, I'm copy/pasting my profile here for safekeeping, in the inevitable event that it gets edited.


Networks: LSU Alum '08
Sex: Female
Current City: Baton Rouge, LA
Birthday: November 13, 1985
Hometown: Pride, LA
Relationship Status: In a Relationship with Ravi Davuluri
Looking For: Friendship
Political Views: Liberal
Religious Views:latent Catholicism/Literature

Likes and Interests

Activities: working, long walks, cooking, cat-wrangling, english majoring.

Interests: reading, writing, photography, poetry, vinyl (the musical kind), saying "seriously" way too much, superlatives, rarities, large amounts of pillows, english classes, boyfriend, naps.

Favorite Music: you know, most of it. Lacking the death metals.

Favorite TV Shows: Grey's Anatomy, How I Met Your Mother, LOST, The Daily Show, The Colbert Report

Favorite Movies: Ghost World, The Virgin Suicides, Heathers, Frida, Donnie Darko, Natural Born Killers, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, What's Eating Gilbert Grape?, Gummo, The Breakfast Club, Girl Interrupted, Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, Big Fish, 28 Days Later, Napoleon Dynamite, American Beauty, Jawbreaker, Sideways, The Motorcycle Diaries, Like Water for Chocolate, Me, You and Everyone We Know, Amelie, RENT, more that I can't remember.

Favorite Books: The Discovery of Heaven, Critical Theory Since Plato, The Portable Dorothy Parker+ 20th century poetry (particularly the ladies) + a lot of short stories + some of the classics unless it's Melville or Hawthorne + the Russians + stuff you might not expect + omgwtf amount of books. My life plan is to read books for a living. Honestly though, way too many to list.

Favorite Quotations: What I fear most, I think, is the death of the imagination...If I sit still and don't do anything, the world goes on beating like a slack drum, without meaning. We must be moving, working, making dreams to run toward; the poverty of life without dreams is too horrible to imagine.
-Sylvia Plath

"I will have my serpent's tongue-- my woman's voice, my sexual voice, my poet's voice. I will overcome the tradition of silence."
-Gloria Anzaldua

And one day we will die
And our ashes will fly from the aeroplane over the sea
But for now we are young
Let us lay in the sun
And count every beautiful thing we can see
Love to be
In the arms of all I'm keeping here with me, me
-Neutral Milk Hotel- "In The Aeroplane Over the Sea"

"Spring is still Spring. The atom bombs are piling up in the factories, the police are prowling through the cities, the lies are streaming from the loudspeakers, but the earth is still going round the sun, and neither the dictators nor the bureaucrats, deeply as they disapprove of the process, are able to prevent it."
-George Orwell

I dream a dream where man
No other man will scorn,
Where love will bless the earth
And peace its paths adorn.
-Langston Hughes- "I Dream A World"

Erin: i just got this message on myspace: dam boo u like a freak dats my type wats up?
Erin: i wrote him back: I am a freak for good spelling and grammar.

Katie: she ruined your childhood
Katie: hhaha
me: ahahahhaa
me: I'M GLAD YOU THINK THAT'S FUNNY
me: HAHA RUINED CHILDHOOD.
Katie: hahaha

Erin: oh my god
Me: I KNOW
Me: GOD I CAN'T
Erin: THAT DOESN'T COUNT
Me: I AM SO LAME.
Erin: YOU FAIL AT LIFE
Me: I KNOW.
(the context of this doesn't matter)

public urination is always a strong candidate for ridiculous.
-Nancy Schmitt

Ravi: You should've thought about that before you bit me.

It is better to receive a flower from a casual friend than a can of succotash from a hoodlum.
-Erin M. Kyles.
________________________________
About Me:
"If I abstain from fun and such,
I'll probably amount to much,
But I shall stay the way I am,
Because I do not give a damn."
-Dorothy Parker, "Observation"

I like russian writers, italian food, indian boy, american poets and french music. I'm multi-cultural like that.


It occurs to me that I'm going to have to update a lot of this stuff anyway: network, current city, relationship status, about me. I still can't figure out when would be a good time to remove my relationship status (I don't feel like seeing "Single" just yet and I don't need the pity of FB), but I guess as long as R and I are sharing a house and bed, it should stay as is. This whole situation is, at times, difficult to wrap my mind around.