I told myself today that I have to start writing again. Get all sticky and messy with words coming out of my ears. I haven’t been sticky since I started on with Frank. Life is, in essence too easy. He is great, perfect most days, just what I always wanted in someone and he makes life easy and fun. It’s pretty hard to write angsty love songs and blog entries when you are having fun all the time, and I have absolutely no idea how to write about happy stuff, so it scares me a little. Like when I couldn’t stop playing classical piano, even though I kept trying to write pop songs, all I got out was these sonatas and waltzes. Finally I just quit piano and picked up a guitar. Now I can write pop songs on the piano, but I had to learn a new way to write first, and I had to have a different kind of sound and feeling to do that. But that was easy, that was just changing out ivory for wood. Now I have to change out a tear for a smile and translate that into music. How the hell do I do that?
I am not very good at talking about good love. I’m not even very good at feeling love. Most of the time I just ignore it. I think I have done the unrequited love thing so many times that I have trained myself to love from a distance and to keep denying love so that I won’t be heart broken by some unsuspecting guy, the problem is
Frank is more than suspecting, he is demanding of my love. Love I am used to hiding and talking myself out of. I am lucky when it comes right down to it, that Frank doesn’t just get tired of me, always reminding myself that this love is right, and is already known and exposed, and I am the only one breaking my heart this time. So I press on, I love without realizing it most of the time. Its amazing how natural it feels until I have a day when I am alone too much or I’m particularly emotional, and then I start hiding again. Emotionally checking out, out of fear that any day now I will wake up and this will all be some silly joke to see if I would actually risk my heart on someone. You see the biggest pain is being made a fool in front of someone you think is cool. And Frank is infinitely cool.
The thing is he actually seems to think I am cool! It’s quite nice!
I think the hardest thing to do is to be loved by someone who you think is cooler than you.
It doesn’t matter if they are or aren’t, or are and just don’t know it, or whatever….But if you think someone is cool, not just a great person, but COOL (because lets be honest here, it’s easy to be loved by great people who aren’t cooler than you, because you know that no one else thinks its silly that you are loved by them.) then you figure you have to be cool too for it to be right. I think I am a great person, funny, smart, pretty even, but I have never thought of myself as “cool.” But Frank says I am. And Frank is cool, so if he thinks so then I guess I will just have to get used to the idea.
Back to the love songs. I think the reason why I can’t write happy love songs is because I don’t know any words that really do it justice. It’s the same reason I can’t write about God, it’s too much. But saying it’s too much in a song is just what everyone else says.
How many ways can you say you don’t have enough words to say what you mean? It’s just ridiculous. What’s the point in writing about something if you can’t really describe it?
I tried to write about poverty, politics, social issues. I failed. As sad and disgusting as what I am about to say is, it’s just the truth-
I don’t care enough. I feel so far from that at the moment. My thoughts are centered on everything from how good franks new haircut looks to what I should make for dinner to are the kids I baby sit going to be a pain today? It’s hard to think about the big issues when I have a million little ones.
I need inspiration. It’s hard to write when your most interesting story is about one of your shoppers at the clothing store you work at and how this fat lady shaped like a very large jiggley egg walks in griping about how all the pants legs are the same width all the way down.
“peoples legs aren’t shaped that way, why should the pants be?”
she whined in a high annoying voice that only the most un-jolly and bitter of fat people have.
I wanted to reply “they are shaped that way so giants like you can actually look somewhat proportionate”
Don’t misunderstand my prejudice. I am a proud member of the “Extra Cushion for the Pushin’” club and I know a lot of very large, very beautiful, very happy and cool people, But some people seem to relish the fact that they have problems with their bodies and heaalth. Just because you won’t make healthier choices in life, doesn’t entitle you to be a bitch. Anyway, like I said bitchy fat people is about as exciting as anything around here.
Anyway, like I said I have a form of writers block and I don’t know how to change out keys for strings in the case. I guess I will just have to let it all sort out.
Meanwhile I am going to work on enjoying being loved incredibly well by a very cool very sweet man.