This is How You Lose Her

Here's to all the guys, dudes and gentlemen out there..

This is how you lose her.

You lose her when you forget to remember the little things that mean the world to her: the sincerity in a stranger's voice during a trip to the grocery, the delight of finding something lost or forgotten like a sticker from when she was 5, the selflessness of a child giving a part of his meal to another, the scent of new books in the store, the surprise short but honest notes she tucks in her journal and others you could only see if you look closely.

You must remember when she forgets.

You lose her when you don't notice that she notices everything about you: your use of the proper punctuation that tells her continuation rather than finality, your silence when you're about to ask a question but you think anything you're about to say to her would be silly, your mindless humming when it's too quiet, your handwriting when you sign your name in blank sheets of paper, your muted laughter when you're trying to be polite, and more and more of what you are, which you don't even know about yourself, because she pays attention.

She remembers when you forget.

You lose her for every second you make her feel less and less of the beauty that she is. When you make her feel that she's replaceable. She wants to feel cherished. When you make her feel that you're fleeting. She wants you to stay. When you make her feel inadequate. She wants to know that she's enough and she doesn't need to change for you, nor for anyone else because she's she and she's beautiful, kind and good.

You must learn her.

You must know the reason why she's silent. You must trace her weakest spots. You must write to her. You must remind her that you're there. You must know how long it takes for her to give up. You must be there to hold her when she's about to. You must love her because many have tried and failed. And she wants to know that she's worthy to be loved, that she's worthy to be kept.

And, this is how you keep her.

Best for Last

I've always had this habit of 'saving things for later.' It's cropped up across several areas of my life, translating to anything from food (best bite for last!) to music (I won't listen to this playlist until...) to clothes. And it's this last part: clothes..that I'm trying to change.

Ever since I was little I've reserved my favorite outfits for certain days, especially weekend. There was something about the end of the week and the start of the weekend that felt important, like something to dress up for. And so I would. It's normal, I think, to save certain outfits for the weekend. But somehow, somewhere along the way, I started saving my favorite clothes for..who knows? For some time in the distant future, some time when Possible Event X might require me to look my best. 

See, here's the problem, though: Possible Event X usually comes and goes, and I end up wearing an old standby..because in my mind I think, what if an even better event comes along and I've already sported this fabulous dress? What if I wish I'd saved it? What if it would have been absolutely perfect for this event and I've just worn it? What if? This sounds ridiculous, I know. They're just clothes, for heaven's sake. What's the big deal, huh? Well, the big deal's that it speaks to a larger issue: my absurd forward-thinking.

Saving best for last can be good for some things; the center bite of a hazelnut chocolate, the killer playlist that'll get you through that tough workout tomorrow, and..did I mention the center bite of a hazelnut chocolate? But I'm changing my tune when it comes to clothes. I'm shifting gears, wearing what I love whenever I please, whenever it strikes my fancy..even if it's on a..*gasp*..Monday.

Because sometimes, yes, there's a time and a place to save best for first.

Rain, Finally

I spent the past week soaking up the sunlight, cherishing the bright blue skies and the clear sunsets, knowing full well that the rainy days were on their way. It arrived today, the rain, and I'm surprisingly thrilled. There hasn't been any rain in weeks, hardly any at all since I started teaching, and I've been missing that mood. The mood that can only be found on a rainy day.

I listen to music more often when it rains, quietly, so I can still here the drops. I drink more coffee. I read more, write more, take baths just because. I watch movies I've meant to see for years. I cook; stews and soups, foods that leave you warm and fulfilled. I clean and catch up with friends, occasionally attempt an art, and I lie there, half awake, half dreaming, and watch the water blur the view from my window.

Yes. I've missed the rain.

Some Rules plus Other Things

We talk too much.
This is what you said after asking me to call you. 
We talk too much? 
Yes. It's strange. I don't talk to my best friends as often as I talk to you.
I managed to stutter an OK out while hoping he couldn't hear my tears through my voice. 
I'll talk to you in 7 months then, maybe 10, who knows. Whenever. Whatever.
That's a bit harsh. Don't you think?
I'm merely repeating back your suggestion. It's what you want.
You make it sound so cold.
I don't make it sound like anything except the truth.

I'm tired of the norms and the insecurities and the hiding behind fears. I'm exhausted from reaching out, opening up, and being told that I have to "not care so much." That's precisely what the world needs more of, not less. 

We need to care. About others. Ourselves. The future. The past. Being apathetic is not why we we're here. There's a difference among getting by, being cordial, and being apathetic. A time and place for each. With relationships, I don't want to remain indifferent. One of the most important things in our lives, most influential, how can one remain indifferent? I can't.

I've tried. I've attempted to live a life of being passive, going with the flow, playing dumb, and merely trying to fit in. It was one of the most miserable times of my life. I felt as though I was living one way on the outside, only to suppress my true self within. Never. Again.

And that's what I'm trying to learn and practice and honor this year: caring. Caring so much that I live each moment, each relationship to the hilt. We weren't put on this Earth to be robots. We're not stepford people. I'm me and you're you, and we're here to help each other and learn from one another. How are we supposed to do this if we're all the same? We can't.

And that's one of the saddest things in the world. Do your thing. Own it. Speak it. Live it. And if your thing happens to be..*gasp*..caring about people? Care on, my friend. Care on.

Live to the point of tears.
- Albert Camus

Need a Break

There's something to be said for disconnecting, for letting yourself do just one thing at a time. Such a foreign concept, right? Lately I've been making an effort to dial back on all the multitasking. To walk down the street without checking my phone, to eat a meal without reading twitter updates, to spend each night computer-free because, really, my eyes..and my sanity..need a break.

It's funny. In all of this, I feel as if I've returned to some piece of myself. As if some lighthearted, more carefree and childlike part of my personality has resurfaced. Or maybe I'm just living, you know? Maybe I'm just living and listening and noticing in a way that had been lost.

Being mindful is a pretty powerful thing, don't you think?