Disney!! OMGJ@JKEJ@!!

I’m sitting outside a Starbucks right now.  It’s strange how much of my life revolves around coffee and the procurement thereof.  It’s overcast today, that sort of damp chill that settles on my skin like a wet dog nose.  It has been a truly surreal whirlwind of a week for me.

See, when I started the journey to sobriety, there were certain things they told me to do. Get a sponsor! Get a home group! Read the book! Keep coming back! WORK THE STEPS!

So I did.  Then all this other craziness started happening.  I started getting… dare I say: Happy.  It is still one of the strangest feelings in the world to wake up every day and not feel sick and green and hollowed out from the inside.  It’s always a surprise when people like me for me- not who I thought I should be.  I cleaned my house, then moved, then moved again, and again, and oh yea, two more times.  Each time I had to go through the mantra again: get a new sponsor, get a new home group, get plugged in to the fellowship.  Each time I can feel that part of me that wants to feel cool and accepted start to rear it’s ego laden head, and squash it down firmly.  I’m terrified of crowds.  Really.  I always feel like someone who I think is cool is going to look over at me and point:

You! You don’t belong with us!  We are the cool kids, and you- you are so not cool.  You are a poser! You are a geek, and awkward, and fat.

The list goes on.  But.  It never happens. They laugh at my jokes.  They give me nicknames.  (Dude, nicknames- I am so totally a fourth grader who always wanted one.)  Going to an AA meeting is like pushing yourself face first into the waves.  The ebb and flow of humanity is awesome- in the actual literal sense of the word as well as the slang.  They’ve probed and pushed and pried down my walls.  I can catch myself out in a lie now.

Which I totally do ALL THE TIME.  Example: I was going to stay in a hotel room with Jacob (the ex not ex it’s complicated guy) the night before Disney, but I found myself telling Maria that we were going to meet up the day of and head  up. Weird, right?

Well, it’s like this.  I have arguments and conversations with people in my head that I think would happen if I told them the truth.  It’s always completely incorrect, because yea, I am so not a mind reader.  Also, I am really bad at gambling and guessing.  But the arguments go the way I think they would in the WORST possible scenario.  Which convinces some part of me that I shouldn’t tell them what is really going on, that it would be easier for them (HA!) and me, if they thought something completely different.  I should also mention that I am a terrible liar.  Much like Simon.  I can’t make eye contact, I hedge, and I usually do it over the phone to avoid them seeing the visual tells.  It’s a terrible thing, but now- since AA- I can call back, or own up to the lie, tell them the truth, and feel better.  Which I did.  It’s still hard to own up, but it’s definitely worth it.


Now, Disney.  Huh.  It was insane!  Got there the night before and stayed in the Saratoga Springs Resort Hotel.  Jacob is a total hotel snob, I’m perfectly fine with a thirty dollar a night flop, but he apparently needs something closer to luxury.  As he was footing the bill, I saw no real need to argue the point.  It was AMAZING.  Soft beds, great water pressure, folded point toilet paper, and towels crinkled like origami fans waving hello in the morning.  There was a balcony that overlooked a golf course and I totally felt like a rebel smoking in Disney.

We met up in Downtown Disney, which is a very strange place if I might add.  It’s this semi circle boulevard of shops and bright shiny lights that made me feel like I was in a carnival.  They seem to pump the smell of fried onions into the air to cause massive cravings for deep friend anything.  There’s a circus like building that holds the Cirque du Soleil which I totally want to see, and a dinosaur popping out of the cement with blinking red eyes.  We met up, giggled, walked around and took it all in.  Then the food was needed.  Everything was closed by this point, so we ended up forced to attempt to eat at Planet Hollywood.

I’m a food snob.  Really, I am.  This was sub par.  Rubbery chicken something and overly loud music.  The pasta carbonara was good, but I seriously felt ill at the amount of butter and grease that was pushed bodily into two portions.  The decor was kick ass though, and we spent a good half an hour pointing and awwing as we meandered through the THREE levels. (Which makes the server in me cringe at the ability to keep food warm when trying to manuever up stairs or whatnot.)

So, then back to the hotel, which was confusing.  But we survived and set the alarm for 9:30 which is godawful early to this single/no babies chick.  We ended up talking until 1am however, thus negating the idea of going to bed at a decent hour.  I will cover the odd relationship status thing in a later post.

Morning arrives to coffee and a decision not to plan.  Ditch the electronics at the hotel room and take off for MGM studios.  Started on the Aerosmith rollercoaster.  Um yea.  I hate rollercoasters until I am actually strapped in and moving.  It’s weird. Every picture of me they take on rollercoasters is like OMG I IS DYING!! then I’m laughing my head off two seconds later and loving every minute of it.  Then Tower of Terror.  Once again I maintain that Rod Serling is the closest I’ll come to knowing the voice of God. Wash rinse repeat.   We ate lunch at this 50s diner place that was phenomenal.  Included kitchy decor and black and white predicta televisions.  Our waitress was surly and fabulous.  I had pot roast of awesome and Jacob chowed down on meatloaf. I loved it. We spent most of the meal giggling over old TV shows and plotting to see if we could really do four parks in one day. The meal was large and the day looked like it was going to be just about perfect.  I briefly considered doing the American Idol experience, but just as quickly decided not to.  I loved the little street performers who meander about and accost people with acting.  They were super fun.  I actually remembered to bring the camera this time, so bonus. We then wandered around MGM before deciding to move on to Animal Kingdom to see the fuckoff large fake tree.

If you weren’t aware, there is a fuckoff large fake tree:

It is made of something not tree and has all these animals carved into it.  We were right in front of an entire paddock of lazy kangaroos who would not bounce no matter how many times I attempted to show them what bouncing looked like.  I’m sure I looked insane, but dude, BOUNCING KANGAROOS!

We had just wandered past a couple of seemingly empty um, cages? Before being accosted by an anteater.  Seriously, and anteater.  They are LARGE! with tails like dusting fans.  Jacob casually mentioned at this point that he’d been sort of mugged by one in Peru.  I wanted to kick him, but settled on just listening to the fact that he’d been in Peru, and mugged by an anteater.  Apparently they just walk around and stick their long noses in people’s pockets looking for ants and leave anteater snot in their wake.  On second look, maybe no anteater peru stories for me.  Yet.

And then the rain hit. We bought what basically amounted to seven dollar condoms of useless.  They ripped, the hoods did not stay on, and there went any attempt I had made to keep the hair looking shiny and nice.  But, on the upside, everyone cleared out and we got to ride Everest and the Dinosaur trail ride of dark and explosiony with only a five minute wait.  There were otters doing cute otter things and huge fish.  Also, my digital camera ran out of juice right after this picture.  Lame.  So we bought disposables and I am waiting for them to get developed.  I always forget how much fun it is to have no control of how a picture turns out.  There is no delete on a disposable.

First thing to do at Magic Kingdom was change our reservations from 5:30 to nearer 9pm.  Pot roast takes a while to digest and I needed room for the delicious French food that Epcot had in store for us.  It was surprisingly easy.  We headed directly to Future Land, do not pass go, do not collect 200 bucks.  I love future land.  It has space mountain.  Which is terrifying in that “Oh god we just derailed for realz” kind of way.  By this point we were holding hands and being obscenely adorable.  It’s different in Disney, there is no eye rolling, just happy smiles from onlookers and hordes of babies to play peekaboo with.  We romped.  We rode the teacups.  We rode the carousel.  We ate funnel cakes and licked powdered sugar from our fingers.  There were pictures in front of the princess palace and the feeling that everything is wonderful.  At least for right now.

Disney really is a magical place.

Finally we moved to Epcot.  I love the monorail, my inner five year old thinks they are badass.  We were stuffed in with an entire troop of toddlers and strollers and Jacob got teary eyed at the idea of kids.  I think it just about made my heart break with happy.  Then we wandered epcot, poked around the Wall-E toys.  (It was our semi official first date movie after all, the first time around.) And rode the space flight ride that made me feel like the kid who went to Space Camp was still alive and well inside of me.  Then we travelled the world and I almost bought an obi from the ridiculously adorable japanese girls infesting the japan store.  Seriously. ADORABLE.  Then we were mystified by the bag of salted dehydrated crabs before moving on to France.  I had a dress, in a bag, with shoes.  They’d been carried around with me all day waiting for the Ally Sheedy moment from the breakfast club.  He went to see if the upstairs fancier place could take us while I changed.  I came out and it was worth every moment to see his face.  There will be a picture soon, I hope.

Dinner was amazing.  The whole day was amazing.  I’m not doing it justice right now.  Really I’m not.  I had blisters on my heels and wet jeans.  I had sore cheeks from smiling so much.  It was just about the perfect day.  We both thought so.  I can only hope that this is just one point, not the high point, of things to come.  I’ll keep everyone posted.


Also, I am ridiculously pleased that I blogged when I was happy.  Wasn’t sure I could do it.


Just enough rope to hang myself…

Okay, so for those of you who don’t actually know me, here’s a little story:

Once upon a time over starbucks, in a city not too far from here, a girl met a boy.

She’d been born in April, a sweet faced child with honey colored hair that darkened as she got older.  She laughed loudly and played with GI Joes.  She grew up happy in a small two bedroom brick house that squatted close to the ground.  She clambered up the spindly dogwood tree in her backyard to look in the kitchen window at her parents.  There were always dogs bounding through the grass and cats strewn lazily around the furniture.  She grew up happy and loved.

He’d been born in March.  He grew up in a huge two story house with a bay window that overlooked the river.  His family fought with firsts and harsh words.  He grew up sharp and angry.  He had the violence of love and the stillness of the picture perfect pretend.  He played hockey and learned to be shrewd.  His best friend was a lopsided beagle. He knew the words to every Beatles song, ever.

Years passed and they grew up different, but the same.  He learned to love, but flee.  She learned that love meant heartbreak and pain.  She learned the value of walls and burned bridges and made huge bonfires from her rage.  He learned that the safest place to be was alone.

They each were twisted.  They each learned to cut first.  They believed they were unworthy.

Years later, trying to become healthy and happy, they met in the dark, telling secrets among strangers.  They met in a room filled with love and sobriety.  He’d gotten there first, and she was still fumbling through her first year.  She didn’t notice him and he fled the room quickly to get away from her.

They met again when she was left by his friend.  He watched her drive off with dark eyes and waited.  She packed her exboyfriend’s things in a box and came to believe that it was for the best.

They met for the last time over a deck of cards and a pack of Camel lights.  The night was low and close under the branching tree that flowed up from the pavement to spread and reach toward the green starbucks canopy.  The table wobbled as they played.  She laughed and sparkled.  She danced and wrote words like a swelling thumping jazz song that he couldn’t get out of his head.  He had a wide smile and broad shoulders decked with a smokey voice that tasted like licorice.  She couldn’t stop thinking about him.

She tried to set him up with her best friend.  He was dangerous.  He had to be unavailable and the easiest way to turn him off was to place him with someone she could never betray.  It failed spectacularly.  She sat in the movie seat, eyes wide and glowing- hyper aware of his shoulder so close to hers- and believed that robots needed love too.  She bought the little Wall-E toy, and it reminded her of that night.  They ate, the three of them, her, her best friend, and the boy.  She watched her plan fail as they picked at each other awkwardly and talked to her all night.  She had planned that she would lean back in her chair and watch them fall in love.

But her plans never did work right.

He threw a party for her when she’d wrestled herself to nine months sober.  He cooked ribs and invited everyone to watch Zombie movies.  He had a knack for morbid irony. He left her bits of poetry stashed in small places in her purse, her books, her pockets.  They piled like puppies and shot pellet guns until dawn.  They managed to keep the fire between them light and friendly for exactly two days after that.

Then it was slick kisses and clutching fingers.  It was the feel of broad shoulders and hands against soft pale skin.  She shivered.  He growled.

The little girl woke up one day and realized she was in love.  The little boy had found someone who laughed as big as the sky and sparkled.

The story doesn’t end like they do in the movies, or the story books.  Those never talk about the little battles.  It never touches on the fact that she doesn’t like doing laundry.  It doesn’t talk about the nights when the sex becomes routine and bland.  It doesn’t talk about the jealousy and the self doubt.  They lie.  It never shows the end. It never shows the secrets kept to keep from hurting each other that destroyed the core.

It never shows the little girl opening presents that tell more truly than any word that he just did not know her.  It doesn’t show the moment when she feels her heart break while she fingers the cheap abalone shell earings shaped into silver hearts.  It doesn’t show the boy cry in front of her for the first time when he unwraps the Wii she thought he would love.  The packing, the pain, the Budget trucks and the mess left behind when love doesn’t last forever.  The story neglects the nasty text messages sent from a place of pain and fear.  It doesn’t include the letters and poems he wrote some other little girl that wasn’t her.

I miss the way you used to dance around the classroom.  I thought you were lucky to know me, but now I’m starting to realize how lucky I was to know you.  I’ll tell you one day.

The movies always panned away before the little girl found herself outside her apartment in a strange place screaming and unable to breathe as her world crashed down.  All of this is glossed over.

But the girl loved him.  He was beautiful, brilliant, and a good man.  He tried as hard as he could to keep her happy and punished himself when she wasn’t.  She wasn’t happy alot.  She’d uprooted her life and followed him instead of standing firm.  They’d both given too much and tried in all the wrong ways.  They’d lost track of the people they loved.  Not her for him, or him for her.  They’d lost track of how much they loved themselves.  She’d stopped dancing.  He’d stopped writing poetry.  She’d gotten complacent and it matched his.  Theirs was a romance of mistakes.

This is the love story of Meagn and Jacob.


He called me this morning and it was like a cloud moved out of my chest and wafted away.  I miss him.  He was my best friend.  He’s the one who held me when I cried over my grandmother passing.  He’s the one who leaned against me, a solid weight of trust.  But that’s broken and we’re awkward and trying to not let all that we shared end up just being another: “And then we never saw each other again.”  I know it’s dangerous.  I know I’m asking to be hurt all over again.

But I’m going to try.  I’m not going to try and get him BACK.  Well, that’s not true.  Shit.  I’m not going to actively pursue him, my heart is too fragile right now, but I’m going to let him back in.

We’re going to Disneyland on friday.  I just want to take a break from the craziness that is my life and run around like a hooligan.  I want to laugh with him again.  I’m selfish.  I’m weak.  I’m heartbroken and damn, I really do miss the sound of his voice.

But I’m not stupid.  I’m going into this honest.  I’m keeping my friends in the loop.  I’m not going to hide it from them expecting their stern disapproval and disappointment. I’m terrified right now, but I’m learning to just let go.

I’m not in control.  I’ve never been good at making plans.  I have to trust that the beautiful vibrating center of the world that keeps atoms in chaos without collision will keep me from shaking apart too.