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tuesdays with tara – volume seventeen

By On August 3, 2010 In life, music, people, tuesdays with tara With 2 Comments Permanent Link to tuesdays with tara – volume seventeenPermalink

[this isn't me writing. this is a girl named Tara writing. she should have her own pudding flavor and you should like her as your friend.]

Can one think too much?  As one who thinks, I’ve thought about it, naturally.  I have come to the conclusion of, well, sure.  You see, you can think yourself in circles.  You can think yourself into a corner.  You can think yourself out of doing what you ought to be doing instead of thinking.

I was born with an overactive mind.  It never really shuts off.  Needless to say, I am hopeless at meditating.  Give me something to ponder and watch me burn.  Observe the smoke coming out of my ears in cartoon fashion.  Try to stop that process once it’s been put into play.  I dare you.

The upside of all of this thinking is that the brain stays nice and limber.  I rarely get caught with my mental pants down.  I’m all up for answering your questions or giving you my two cents on any number of subjects.  My mind is like a twenty-four hour Laundromat.  It could be three o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday night and there are still things tumbling around in there on spin cycle.

Here’s the rub for me:  I’m not a cool logical aloof kinda’ gal.  My intellect is occasionally shackled by my damned heart.  So not only do I have to think about things all the time, but I have to be feeling them, too.  It often feels like a pretty sucky karmic arrangement, and yet, I have accepted it as my lot in life.  No sense in feeling forlorn about something that’s never going to change.

So it sometimes also comes to pass that I am prevented from speaking my mind because my heart has sprayed some sort of paralyzing fluid all over my brain.  If it sounds dramatic and violent, good, because that’s how it feels.  I sit there clutching my throat and gasping for air because my heart is lodged there and no oxygen can get to my brain.  It’s debilitating and more than a little humiliating.  After all, I don’t wanna’ go sullying my reputation as a straight shooter.

You know what can be a lifeline in such a situation?  A patient person who cares enough about you to not stomp all over your feelings in your delicate predicament.  Yes, those people can be awfully handy at times like those.  Somebody who takes the time to gently coax the words out from the dark place where they have been cowering.  A person like that’s a mighty good thing to have in your corner.  A person like that just could ease your worried mind.

Megafaun – ‘Worried Mind’

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tuesdays with tara – volume sixteen

By On July 27, 2010 In life, music, people, tuesdays with tara With 4 Comments Permanent Link to tuesdays with tara – volume sixteenPermalink

[note: some people think this is me, Aric, writing. it's not. it's Tara. don't think things like that - it'd be an insult to her gift. girl has a way of looking inside herself and seeing all of us. seriously]

An open letter to love:

It’s time we had a talk, quite honestly.  We need to discuss our relationship.  These are words that cause most hearts to seize up with terror, but I think you can handle it.  Someone once said you were kind, though I never quite believed that.  It was also suggested that you were patient.  Well, you might be, but if I am not, where does that leave me when we collide?

I know so many people who are afraid of you; who will do whatever they can to avoid having to deal with you.  I always felt sorry for people like that.  Stay on the sidelines, opt out, watch what other people get themselves into.  Go ahead.  See how much you learn about yourself that way.  How much do you expect to grow in a personal sense if you never put yourself out there in any meaningful way?

So I have always gone running after you.  The very thought of you thrilled me to the point of blind abandon.  I have a rather sharp mind, you know.  It often serves me well, though it sometimes causes more trouble than it ought.  My heart, on the other hand, is a fragile unknowable thing.  The very idea of this heart that I carry within me is enough to give me night sweats.  Thinking about the state of it feels like icy fingers at my throat.  It causes me so much panic when it aches, when it longs.  Its power is beyond my reasoning which is why I am so suspicious of its motives.

Oh, but you know this all too well, don’t you, love?  It’s also been widely suggested that you’re a bitch.  I would be lying if I said I hadn’t agreed with that sentiment in the past.

I’m not trying to give you a hard time, really.  I’ve always been a big fan of you, truth be told.  It’s just that I am the kind of person that calls a spade a spade and well, there are plenty of things about you that bother me.  If we are ever going to have an honest relationship, I think I have to air these out.

First of all, you’re fickle and it makes me crazy.  Seriously.  You have harnessed this power of randomness and you wield it with such little responsibility.  You give and you take away and sometimes, all of this happens before the stupid human has had time to process what the hell has happened.

And you know, I have given this particular trait of yours a lot of thought.  I have come up with a theory that helps me sleep a little better at night.  The idea is that there are as many varieties of love as there are people who will move through it in your lifetime.  There are some people who will occupy a space in your heart and have an affect on your life, but once that work is done, they will move on and leave you to sort through the wreckage.  That’s a life lesson that I think you are responsible for, love, and though I have often shaken an angry fist at you because of it, I wish to now make amends.  I get it now, so thank you.  I regret that there was so much carnage in my wake before I finally did, but what can be done of it now?

What I find most intolerable about you, though, is your grip.  I invite you in.  I admit that.  So why then do you treat me so abrasively?  Why then do you dash me against the rocks?  I come in peace, you know.  I do not want to abuse you.  I only want the benefits of you, same as anyone.  You are so bold and you scramble my brain and make me feel so very helpless.  I don’t do helpless well, thus I have begun to fear you, as I would anyone who put me in such a position.

We’ve had some really good times together, love, so please do not get it in your head that I don’t appreciate what we’ve had.  I also don’t mean to sound ungrateful.  It’s just that romantic as I am, I believe in you too much.  It makes me feel vulnerable.  I don’t do vulnerable well.

So, if I asked you to be patient, if I asked you to be kind, do you think you might consider it?  I’m much wearier than I once was.

Jason Collett – Love Is A Dirty Word

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tuesdays with tara – volume fifteen

By On July 13, 2010 In family, life, music, people, tuesdays with tara With 5 Comments Permanent Link to tuesdays with tara – volume fifteenPermalink

[not taken by me]this is quickly becoming the most popular visit on this little blog. and I feel the need to explain to the new-comers. it ain’t me, babe, this is Tara Noble writing. and gosh, can she write. she has 433 books in her head [studies have been done] and is nice enough to share a few chapters with us. not to mention her music is better than your music, meaning you should listen up as well. listen to Tara. then listen to the music. then re-listen to Tara while re-listening to the music. shit starts to make sense then. there are now fifteen ‘tuesdays with tara’, which is more than 4 months worth. fifteen is also an arbitrary number used to refer to a large quantity of things, but that’s neither here nor there. the funniest part of all of Tara is that she and I have never met – and I seriously can’t remember how we met. I just know we did. and I know how happy I am about it.

aric

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Every now and again, we all earn the right to just blow it out.  This feeling can erupt suddenly or it can be a creepy sneaky thing that pokes its head around the corner and retreats, only to come back when you least expect it.  When we feel as though a little celebration might be in order, it’s important to first recognize how beautiful that feels; that piece of knowing.  It’s a something that deserves to be savored because it encompasses so many things.  Maybe it’s a lot of hard work that you’ve put into a project.  It could be that a lot of sacrifices you have made to some end have finally produced fruit.  It may well be the satisfaction that one feels when they understand with absolute certainty that they “finally get it.”

Epiphanies are surely as good a reason for a little celebrating as anything else.

When I was home for Christmas, my father tried to have one of his words-of-wisdom talks with me.  This usually happens about every five years or when I seem to have fallen off track a bit too much for his comfort.

What he said to me this time around was that his greatest wish for me was that I could take some time just for myself to think about what I wanted out of life and not allow someone else to dictate the direction in which I moved (literally and figuratively).  I knew what he was saying, of course, and it hit me like a ton of bricks, but instead of reacting like an adult who appreciates the knowledge and love of her father, I got overly emotional and acted as though I had missed the point entirely.  And my dad is a pretty typical guy in that once the waterworks start, all bets are off.  He backed away and we rode in silence until the subject had dissolved into the air.

I’ve just recently come to the realization that I am presently doing exactly what my father suggested that I do for myself.  Not only do I have the luxury of time for self reflection (in my currently unemployed state), but I have the benefit of people in my life with whom I can relate these discoveries and victories.

The long and the short of it is that I am feeling pretty darn good about myself these days. I am beginning to feel validation about my most recent life choice to give up the comforts of life abroad to come home and start from Square One.  It took a lot of courage, but courage I have always had in spades.  What feels so glorious about now is the fact that everything seems to be falling into place for me and I have a sense of harmony that I may never have truly known before.  Years of crying and struggling and confusion and paying my dues in ways I never imagined have all apparently paid off.

The Head and The Heart – ‘For The First Time It Sounds Like Hallelujah’

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tuesdays with tara – volume fourteen

By On July 5, 2010 In family, friends, life, music, people, tuesdays with tara With 5 Comments Permanent Link to tuesdays with tara – volume fourteenPermalink

I am at what I believe to be a distinct crossroads in my life at the moment. I’ve come home and it doesn’t get more literal than that.  But even more, I think I am attempting to finally grow the hell up, quite honestly.  I have come to a place where I am no longer content to be self-absorbed; where I want to honestly give myself to a truer listening instead of running my mouth all the time.  God knows I have talked and  been listened to.  I want to now give my ears and my heart to others in a much more meaningful way.

I have always been a compassionate person – I was raised that way.  My parents have taken in so many lost souls over the years. When I was growing up, it wasn’t uncommon for my parents to be sheltering one of our friends from school or a wayward cousin.  To this day, my parents run into people who thank them for helping out their child at a time when they needed it.  So I was raised that you open your heart to other people and reap the benefits of a richer life because of it.

I have always tried to be a good sounding board for my friends.  I am often the go-to person when someone needs a good kick in the butt.  I am known to be a straight shooter, doling out the ugly truth.  I am no sugar coater and people who aren’t ready to face the facts avoid sharing their problems with me.  It’s a role that I am happy to play. I think we ass-kickers have our place in the world.

But there were times in my life when helping other people proved to be problematic.  For the longest time, for example, I gave to others with the expectation that something would be returned.  And in a perfect world, that would be the case.  I don’t need to tell you that it is not only naïve, but just the wrong motivation altogether.  Inevitably with this attitude, you are bound for heartache.  People will often disappoint us or take advantage of our kindness.  This is a risk that you run when you offer to help others. Better to be pleasantly surprised when a kindness is extended to you in return one day.

Another misguided attitude of mine was becoming a bit of a compassion junkie.  I’ll admit it: fixing other peoples’ problems, lending an ear, being sought out for advice, all of it became a way for me to get high.  Even when people weren’t coming to me directly, I was always on the lookout for a wounded bird; someone I could repair; a place to put all of my energy [instead of doing  something boring like dealing with my own life].

I think one of the benefits of getting older is the ability to have this sort of perspective about ourselves.  I know I have done a lot of soul searching in the past few years.  I have managed to see both things I love about myself and things that I would really like to dig out, or at least tame.  You have to look at yourself as honestly as possible before you can get down to this kind of deconstruction.

I’m not going to lie to you: this process is often painful and uncomfortable.  While it may be rewarding, you are going to end up with some bruises.  There will even be days when you don’t like yourself very much.  There may well be tears and silent apologies into your pillow.

In the end, I think all we can do is keep our eye on the prize and that, for me, is knowing that by investing in the cultivation of our higher selves, we will one day reap the benefits of a much fuller, happier life.  As far as carrots on sticks are concerned, that one’s not half bad.

Bon Iver – Talk To Me

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Tara. now officially brilliant in two countries.


a catch-up. of sorts.

By On June 22, 2010 In family, films, life, music, people, travel, tuesdays with tara With 3 Comments Permanent Link to a catch-up. of sorts.Permalink

this a picture of a cow.

I’ve been busy.

and not writing.

well, not writing here, at least.

shame. for shame.

I’m sorry.

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here’s what’s happening:

Tara moved back to her home to warm arms – she’ll be back next week. she also wants you to listen to this because she thinks it’ll make you happy. or, maybe understand… be excited for her. I am.

the sailing is coming along nicely – still scary, I still don’t know a fraction of what someone should know by this point, but it’s coming along. Mel bought me some pretty fabric to pretty up the not-so-pretty inside. it’ll be very pretty soon.

Nick is doing a good job of blogging; including this one about the ‘big plan’. which I’ll be following in my little red boat.

I’m sunburnt. it’s a good feeling.

this song came on the radio today and it made me happy. I don’t care if it doesn’t make you happy, because it should. Tina Turner on back-up vocals, for gosh-sakes.

bi-sexual people confuse me… and I think that’s kind of the point.

the World Cup. it’s all about the World Cup. only in England would you have 3 years and 300 days of eternal optimism only to constantly be followed by a ‘we never win anything‘ all-truism.

I’m headed to Venice in a few days. being flown there and put up. crazy.

Converse called today – they want more stories. I took that as a big compliment.

there’s a very good chance I’ll be watching ‘Up In The Air’ tonight.

‘your Mom is still incredible’ and ‘I love you and am glad you’re my son’ – two excerpts in an email from my Dad… of all the fortune I’ve had in my life, two parents who adore each other outweighs them all.

there’s a certain girl who’s giving me a bit of trouble. not bad trouble, per say, like… throwing rocks at me, but trouble-trouble, like… well, throwing rocks at me.

my sister comes to visit in a few weeks. she’s bringing her new boyfriend. I love when a new boyfriend comes to meet the older brother. it means I drink free.

The Inkspots will make your life a better life. pretty sure that was the band’s name but they had to change it as it wouldn’t fit on vinyl. I probably listen to them at least once-a-day.

CBS emailed me today asking if I ‘knew anyone in Berlin who was a neo-Nazi’… always though that was more of a Fox News question.

is it me or is there a recent epidemic of people spelling ‘losing’ with two ‘o”s?

there has not been one cigarette in my mouth now for 3 weeks. there will be again, but it should still be mentioned.

4000+ people visit this site every day. I don’t know most of them [you]. I find it strange. hi, by the way. I won’t ask you to introduce yourself, but just please buy the book. even you, my stalker[s].

speaking of my stalker[s] – rest assured you’ll get to meet a few of them. quite soon, actually. not the new one just yet – but a few old favorites.

the other day in the cafe, I told a party of three that ‘there was no room’. and there wasn’t. but that didn’t stop everyone from shouting at me. apparently, we always have room for P.J. Harvey. sorry, Polly, I’m not used to seeing you not being weird.

if you need a quick fix to a crap day, or a quick top-up to a good day, or a… you see where I’m headed with this. revisit this guy.

one of my best friends of my teen years passed away a few days ago. he left behind a wife and two kids. he was halfway into being interviewed for ‘the friday cinco’ when he passed. he will be, and is already, missed.

~a

tuesdays with tara – volume thirteen

By On June 15, 2010 In family, life, music, tuesdays with tara With 6 Comments Permanent Link to tuesdays with tara – volume thirteenPermalink

“And the point is to live everything….live the questions now.”

I’m a really stubborn somebody.  It’s done me both harm and good.  I have come to a place in my adulthood where I understand how stubborn-for-nothing but its own sake and satisfaction can only hold you back in life.  When your mother says to you, “You have to pick and choose your battles in life”, listen to her.  She’s talking about conserving energy for doing good in life, like taking care of yourself, looking out for people who care about you and lending your abundant strength to those who may need a hand up.

You don’t have to stomp around like a petulant child, either.  In fact, it’s ill-advised behavior at any age, in my opinion.  Standing your ground is alright.  Facing up to what needs to be done and dealing with what life has handed you in a timely fashion are both activities that I highly endorse.

I guess you could say that I have had a delayed adulthood. Sure, I acted forty when I was fifteen, but that was all going on inside my head.  We all think we know what’s going on in our teens and then we secretly begin to suspect in our twenties that we really don’t have a clue.

And I guess you could also say that I have given myself an awfully wide berth when it comes to figuring out exactly who I am and what I want out of life.  I got married, but that didn’t suit me, so I bailed.  I’ve never owned a house because the idea of a mortgage looks exactly like a fat noose around my neck in my head.  The closest I’ve ever gotten to allowing myself to being pinned down in any way was owning a cat.  You get the idea.

Five years ago when I quit my career (horticulture), sold off my worldy goods (including an amazing orchid collection I had been nursing for years), left the loft apartment of my dreams (twenty foot ceilings and all windows), I wasn’t sure what I was doing. I knew nothing of my new adopted homeland (Turkey) at the time and had no idea what sort of life I had signed on for.  I went in blind, as per usual, “all balls”, which is just my ninja style.

What I never could have imagined was that I would be walking out of this country with the most precious gift imaginable.  Something that I was beginning to fear might be unattainable for me: a solid sense of self, a confidence in myself that is rock solid, and mostly, the belief that no matter where I might find myself in life, I will make the best of it. I go home knowing that I can brave any storm and come out with plenty of tales to tell to boot.

This was something that I needed so very much to progress in life.  This was something that I needed in order to properly take care of myself.  I will always have Turkey to thank for that and so we part on the fondest of terms.  The friendships I have forged here have also done their part in this fundamnetal shaping of Kick Ass Tara (that’s my new super hero name, by the way.  Catchy, no?).

I’d just like to close this with a poem by my favorite poets of all poets, Rainer Maria Rilke:

Be patient toward all that is unresolved in your heart & try to love the questions themselves like locked rooms & like books that are written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given to you… And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually live along some distant day into the answer.

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Colin Hay – Waiting For My Real Life To Begin

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[Tara Noble]

tuesdays with tara – volume twelve

By On June 8, 2010 In music, people, tuesdays with tara With 1 Comment Permanent Link to tuesdays with tara – volume twelvePermalink

[Tara Noble. even better than her musical outreach.]

I probably have one of the broader tastes in music of anyone you know.  Music, for me, serves so many purposes.  The mood of the day, the occasion and, most importantly, the current state of mind all come into play when I select a song or album to sink into.  Sometimes, there’s no telling what’s going to touch me until I find myself falling off the edge of it.  I never fight it.  I am going to go wherever your song decides to take me with nary a regret.

But when it comes down to brass tacks, I’m a person concerned with lyrics.  Your lyrics can be trite if your song is a mindless ass-shaker on a day when I have excessive energy that needs burning off.  That works.  But the fact of the matter is that I am a lover of words, first and foremost, and if your words are, in fact, just poetry disguised as lyrics, consider me sold.

Kristian Matsson is only twenty seven years old.  It’s also worth noting that as a Swede, English is his second language.  That doesn’t stop him from writing like William Carlos Williams or sounding like the love child of Tom Waits and Carly Simon.

This song comes from his sophmore effort, The Wild Hunt. Kristian has toured alongside the likes of Bon Iver and John Vanderslice, both of which I would consider fantasy double billings.

I think it might be best if I let Kristian’s words speak for themselves.

Tallest Man on Earth – ‘I Won’t Be Found’

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Well if I ever see the morning
Just like a lizard in the spring
I’m gonna’ run out in the meadow
To catch the silence when it sings

I’m gonna’ force the Serengeti
To disappear into my eyes
Then when I hear your voices callin’
I’m gonna’ turn just inside out

Well if I ever get to slumber
Just like a mole deep in the ground
Hell, I won’t be found

Deep in the dust forgotten gathered
I grow a diamond in my chest
I make reflections as the moon shines on
Turn to a villain as I rest

Well if I ever get to slumber
Just like a mole deep in the ground
Well, I won’t be found

I know there is a hollow
I need to fill it with a draft
Of all the words I have to say
And with a quiet whisper
I send a curse upon the day
That never used the sun to see
The light

I’m gonna’ float up in the ceiling
I built a levee of the stars
And in my field of tired horses
I built a freeway through this farce

Well if I ever get that slumber
Ill be that mole deep in the ground
And I won’t be found


boyfriends.

By On June 1, 2010 In friends, music With 3 Comments Permanent Link to boyfriends.Permalink

I love boys.

take that however you wish.

the boys I love are not the manliest of men – apologies to those who think they are.

not that they’re girly [well - most of them aren't]. if they play softball, no doubt it’s to impress their kids. and if you find them fixing anything mechanical, rest assured it’s something that doesn’t belong to them.

but my guys, my boyfriends… I love ‘em.

after a lifetime of trying to impress, to be cool and know things others don’t – but should, I’m finally resting comfortably in what I love.

my boys bein’ one of them.

most nights, I take lots of time making dinner, pick a bottle of wine and walk upstairs to a hard drive full of Boston Legal. see, that’s a show about men-loving-men, and there’s not a night on the balcony when I don’t wish for being able to do that with my friend Tim, drinking and laughing about things others might find not funny. the occasional discussion about girls, religion or the adverse affects of Tramadol. a nightly celebration of friendship.

a long, long time ago, there were 3 friends, friends I loved so much that I had no problem walking in-between them holding onto their arms. I liked it. I think they did too – save for the few weeks I had a sarong-fetish.

even Ryan, my high-school b.f.f. and I, seemed to be hugging in every photo as well – when we weren’t running around naked… raise an eyebrow if you will, but I love any male friend who doesn’t mind dropping normal guidelines we’re meant to follow.

[eyes still straight-ahead when making a public #1 though - man's got to have some sort of principles]

but boys.

my boys.

boys like Tim and the 2 former pals and Ryan

… I love my boys.

this morning, I was blue. it doesn’t happen much. but sometimes it does. another boyfriend of mine, Adam, had, a few days prior, sent me an email with some questions about some things. I didn’t have time to write him back then, but this morning, as Leonard Cohen tried to convince me that even guys like him have problems, I wrote Adam back. my answers had nothing to do with his questions. it had nothing to do with my blues. it really just had to do with Leonard.

see, had it been a girl I was writing, my admittance of listening to Leonard might earn me an ‘awwwww, honey’ or ‘how sweet’ or something that could be said during hugging or need to be italicized… which is nice.

but it wasn’t what I needed today.

Adam, on the other hand, will know exactly what I’m going through by my early-morning admittance of having Leonard Cohen on. I don’t need to tell him it’s ‘Ten New Songs’, because, well, he could probably know that by the hour of the email I sent him. he might write me back about me, him, the blues, Leonard or something entirely different… it doesn’t really matter – not when you reach out to the boys.

these boys of mine are hand-picked. and they’re good. they’re my boys.

so, go ahead with your high-fives and tequila shots, your quotes from The Hangover and button-up shirts. if that’s where you find your need during the random blues, but me – I’m gonna go love on my boys.

putting my and Tim’s face on Denny Crane and Alan Shore.

and responding to Adam’s questions with album answers.

stuff like that.

’cause, let’s be honest…

Leonard never wrote a song about light beer.

tuesdays with tara – volume eleven

By On June 1, 2010 In life, music, people, tuesdays with tara With 2 Comments Permanent Link to tuesdays with tara – volume elevenPermalink

It was a long hard day, kids.

It started when I banged my head on an open cabinet and it went downhill from there.  There’s been nothing but sad news and heated words in this part of the world today – a day that I normally would have spent thinking of Memorial Day weekends past.  As a kid, this meant cookouts in the backyard, of course, with beer-soaked brats on the grill.  In my twenties, it meant trips to places like Assateague Island on the Eastern shore to feed apples to the wild horses and coolers overflowing with Woodchuck cider.

Now, of course, I live in a land far, far away that doesn’t celebrate this holiday, so it’s business as usual… Except it wasn’t today.

When life beats me blue like this, I need to cuddle up with some music.  And Mr.Prine here has seen me through some mighty bad storms, as I’m sure has been the case with many others.  After all, Johnny Cash is quoted as saying that he rarely listened to music on his farm unless he wanted some inspiration for song-writing, and he often chose John for that purpose. Bob Dylan thinks Prine writes “pure Proustian existentialism” – I don’t know about all that, but I know he’s one of those voices that can rock me like a baby. His songs  make me feel like it’s alright to hurt sometimes because the next smile you have, the next hug you get, the next time you punch out a laugh, will feel that much sweeter.

It’s been a long Monday.

John Prine – Long Monday [Live]

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just now finding out about Tara Noble? shame on you. volumes one-thru-ten are here. you’ll be better for it.


tuesdays with tara – volume ten

By On May 25, 2010 In music, people, tuesdays with tara With 2 Comments Permanent Link to tuesdays with tara – volume tenPermalink

“And I never wanted anything from you

Except everything you had

And what was left after that too.”

The dog days: we’ve all had ours.  Traditionally, dog days were a reference to the hottest summer days; days which were so brutally hot that we couldn’t be bothered to stir.  It’s a fitting enough analogy if you’ve ever had a dog.  I would extend the analogy to say, “If you’ve ever fully experienced your humanity enough to the extent that you have loved and subsequently lost the energy to move forward.”

I’m a romantic at heart, so there’s no telling how many times I’ve thought I was in love.  It’s been proclaimed in any number of ways over the years to however many partners I might have deemed worthy of such proclamations on my behalf.

But there’s dress rehearsal and then there’s the real thing.  And the real thing didn’t hit me until I was thirty years old.  Incidentally, by that time, I had been married for four years and divorced for another four.

There may have been men before that man who thought they had qualified for such a lofty position, my ex-husband included, but I assure you, I am absolute about the timing.

Before the fateful event, I was the boss.  I fell in love, sure, but I remained in charge.  All was orchestrated according to my plan, for the most part. Why that might have been, do you ask? : Quite simply, because the weight of the emotion was equally balanced on both sides.  Whether it was a meeting of the minds or an exercise in apathy, both parties in the equation were satisfied with the arrangement.

But I think you cannot truly understand the full power of love until you have given it to someone who is incapable of receiving it.  At least, that has been my experience.

When you pour all of your utmost energy into such a union only to have it spat back into your face, well, that is the moment when you feel humanity at its basest.  I basically crunched myself into a hyper-ball of manic energy for about two weeks (wherein I vented to all of my friends about how stupid I was/what a fool he was), did a hell of a lot of crying and introspective cyclical thinking and then?  Then I curled up into a ball for another month or so, licking my wounds.

At long last, I got back out there.  What else can you do?  Live and learn and all that.  So you got gutted like a fish?  So you felt depleted to the point of non-existence?  And?  You can either decide to be a victim or you can get on with the business of living.

And if I had a voice like Florence Welch, AKA Florence and the Machine, here, I would be ringing my badass gospel throughout the land.  Alas, I am a mere mortal who has not been blessed with such sultry vocal chords.  So my only recourse is to “pick up my pen”, or rather peck at the keys, and say a little something along the lines of this:

If you feel in your gut that you are not getting back the love you are giving, extricate yourself from that situation.  You will tell yourself that you have invested too much to just leave, but that’s bullshit.  It is.  The fact of the matter is that very few of us change.  We are who we are for the most part.  There comes a point when you can plainly see that you will never receive what you have given, and when that happens, gets to steppin’.  Every day that you hesitate is a day that you will suffer unnecessarily.

“Leave all your love and your loving behind, you can’t carry it with you if you want to survive.”

Take it from a sister who knows.

… and you’re welcome.

Florence and The Machine – The Dog Days Are Over

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Tara Noble.


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