Monday, June 14, 2010


I’ve been 30 years old for, oh, about 9 hours now and the desire to nest and have a baby has really gone into over drive. It wasn’t but 24 hours ago I was singing the praises of the many forms of the opposite sex. And now, the biological drive for monogamy and procreating is pulsing through my veins. I’m tired of trying to control any of it.  With modern medicine, I could have children way into my 40s. But would I want to be in my 40s with young children?  Oy.

Today is the day of my birth, the day I took my own first breath. Well, maybe not. I was born with complications; I think I was put on a respirator. I overcame a lot to be here today, says my mother. Statistically, I should have perished. 

I’m in a lovely place in my life. I’m actually at a bend in my road, but I’m excited for what ‘s to come. I don’t know what that is quite yet, but the mystery has me intrigued. I know what I want, but I’m also open to what I don’t know what I want… yet :D

So my party was fun. That’s what the attendees say. What do I think? I don’t really have a feeling about it. I’m sad that I passed out in the middle of it. I guess the shots hit me hard. And the champagne, and the rum, and the sake.  I wish I had more of my own memories and recollections. I have been piecing my night together by what others have told me. I feel really blessed that so many of my old and new friends were able to be present. I wish Carla’s “driver” didn’t get tired and she could have stayed longer, like she has done in my birthday’s past. I felt like she wanted to stay.

I’m glad Alice and Eddie had a good time. They are soooo keen.

Marissa and Cher. They are good together.

And of course new Crossft friends. What can I say? I’m so lucky. I really am. To have found true friends this “late” life.  Not every one of them has pure hearts, but they all act with good-heartedness. I’m perplexed that Patrick didn’t show up. I figure he’s going through some healing. Or he’s back with Olivia and is ashamed to share it with me since I told him my piece of mind of how I think she’s “abusing” him. You don’t break up with someone to figure out if you want to be with him or her. Maybe when you’re like in college and there are many dating options out there. Which kind of brings me to the conclusion that maybe she had another suitor in the wings. One only acts with 2 motivators: FEAR or LOVE. And she’s obviously acting in fear. I know Patrick believes he loves her (or at least loves what he knows of her) and wants to give her her chances… but I don’t feel good about how she is hot and cold with him. It’s a cycle of abuse.

If you truly, truly care about someone, you are present and available; you don’t pull away to figure it out. I was just having this conversation with C-rose.  Both of us are traditional women, with traditional values. The men lead. If a man is interested in getting to know you, he will “rise to the top;” he will seek you out, and desire your companionship.  Once the lead is established, it is then the lady’s turn to reciprocate, if it so moves her.  The dance of courtship is a complicated one. I don’t have it figured out by any means. I have my values and I’m steadfast in them.  I know my worth. I will not settle.

Zeb and I were talking about what we’re attracted to in the opposite sex, and his response was, “I don’t get to choose. I don’t know whom I’m going to be attracted to until I meet that person.” It was simple yet insightful. And he’s right.  I’ve never chosen whom I’ve had that energy with. You just lock eyes and know.  It’s an amazing phenomenon. Those feelings in the pit of your stomach, the headiness,  that floaty feeling; all the things going around you seem to blur as your attention is locked into that one person.  Your pupils dilate, your mouth opens slightly, as you catch your breath. Those feelings, chemical and biological reactions, are so strong that sometimes you can’t look into their eyes cause it’s too much.

If they look into my eyes they will betray me and reveal all that I’m feeling.

I’m still a romantic at heart. 

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