Live life a little less scared.

Day 17 of 30. Essays ” The Life of Peggy. A thirty-three year old, Kind Of Single Lady.”
Maybe I am slightly insane. I am most definitely awkward. I imagine all aspects in life with No Pants on.

You are scared? Scared of what?

He is sitting there telling me how scared he is of failure. Of having moved to a new, still close, city to try and make his music work but how he is realizing that he doesn’t want to hit forty and unable to pay his bills. Always asking his mom for money and always trying to move away and not making it, moving back, within two weeks due to his fears. He trolls on and on about the fear of being thirty and starting over and going back to school and jobs and money and music and just making it in life.

I sit there and listen, give some ” you are on the right path” and ” good job on that” friendship support. All the while thinking ” What the ever loving fuck are you afraid of?”
Also, for the between HIM and I moment I was also thinking ” I lost absolutely every single thing I owned, including my ID which I need to get a job and a place to live. I didn’t even own a toothbrush and you never called to ask if I needed a sandwich, or friendship support of listening or asking me just how I am doing.” As in an “I was just there and I did it…with less. I didn’t and still do not have my ID ( it takes an estimated one and a half year to replace when you’ve lost all) I have a job, my own place to live ( though still no bed, or furniture at all and I sleep on a hardwood floor) I don’t have a mom, brother offering me a place to live or about five girlfriends whom you seem to be pretty good at living off of….speaking of which…where’s that $400 you owe me?” In my mind as I continued listening to his rants…his whining…I said these things. At a later date I finally said them pretty much out loud…to which I was told that I am a selfish and self-centered person.

Sigh.

Thus be it. But…drop your balls and live life a little less scared.

She’s human too.

Day 16 of 30. Essays ” The Life of Peggy. A thirty-three year old, Kind Of Single Lady.”
Maybe I am slightly insane. I am most definitely awkward. I imagine all aspects in life with No Pants on.

She’s beautiful. And she can stink up a bathroom.

Even the prettiest girls are human. I saw this woman who was dressed so perfect, hair and jewelry. The whole nine yards. She looked straight out of a magazine. Then I walked into the restroom right after her…and it stunk SO bad….so…coming out I have a pretty awesome looking dude with a handsome flashing smile waiting…and the bathroom still stinks…but now he is going to think it was smelly from me…and then he comes out…I realize he’s with her…and probably went sat down and talked about how the girl before him stunk up the bathroom….all the while she won’t say a thing but the embarrassment still sinks in. Even the prettiest girls stink.

Unconventional Dating.

Day 15 of 30. Essays ” The Life of Peggy. A thirty-three year old, Kind Of Single Lady.”
Maybe I am slightly insane. I am most definitely awkward. I imagine all aspects in life with No Pants on.

Unconventional Dating

How does the unconventional person date?
I am married and divorced twice. No kids. I tried the conventional. It didn’t work out. It wasn’t for me. And now, older, single and no children, I am even more set in my ways. And more unconventional in dating each day.
I like my own space. My own place. My own living and my own plan to spend my own time…often…on my own. But at times…a date…or a lover…or even a person’s who’s eye’s I could look into and see forever…would be lovely. We all watch a sappy romantic movie with John Cusack and think just so for an hour and sixty minutes.

But then I try. And miserably fail, at a relationship…a date doesn’t even make it past a few. And I am sent again into the whole ” I will be single forever…and frankly…the thought is easier. Much.”

But when I do give it a go. And it gets past that first few to even an ” I might be able to keep you for the summer” the thoughts run into….so…where does this go? What is the goal? Do we need one? Well…society since the day of Adam and Eve have had us in get married, get children, die old.

But I am a down town island living, beach running, yoga doing, eat healthy with a side of icecream when I please, art gallery hovering, coffeeshop writing kind of gal. and I am most certainly the do not answer to anyone, go where I want and spend my time how I want. I have a growing anxiety of public and a growing phobia of sorts to making plans…and keeping them. I love love love time by myself. I adore my mornings with a plan by myself and getting at them, not hindered by another there.

But I love a cuddle. I love great sex. I love love love…a great partner and friend.

Ahhh, unconventional love. One day, we shall learn it. The balance. The no impending goal or plan. Just the love, commitment, respect that a relationship is in any way, shape or form.

Unconventional Love.

Day 14 of 30. Essays ” The Life of Peggy. A thirty-three year old, Kind Of Single Lady.”
Maybe I am slightly insane. I am most definitely awkward. I imagine all aspects in life with No Pants on.

You left your underware on my bathroom floor.

You left your underware on my bathroom floor. You left without saying goodbye. I asked , through text, a question and you respond with ” I left already.” Days afterwards.
I am heartbroken, no hug. No goodbye. No closure.
Once again you just…stop. And my chest is heaving , I fight back tears in a public place . Happy Sunny Day suddenly dark cloud shrouded.
I never was a top priority, and am even less so now.

My own fault for opening myself up and allowing it. My eye’s tear up , my throat closes . I panic that I will not be able to control my cry until I can leave a suddenly so very public coffeeshop.

I am never anything to you, yet I am who you call for love, when you are lonely or even for encouragement on life , those times when you second guess yourself. When you yourself hurt. I am who you call. But again and again I won’t hear from you the next day when you’ve left my bed. Day’s, weeks may go by, then I’m called, when you so desperately need my comfort.

Always good for a minute. Never forever.

And yet, when you call again I will answer. And I will again and again each time, I always will likely. And why? I love you, is not enough reason. The yearning within me for you, the absolute happiness at sight of you . The feeling in my chest that swells at the thought of you in collaboration of the , still, butterflies in my belly that dance at just the very pondering of you. I believe that, love is a choice…but magnetic attraction and pull…just…is. And I wonder what an MRI would show when mentioned your name. They say we can read all these self help books and the pouring of articles that run through my facebook feed, and learn to find the “right love” the right way to love, the way love should be and the when to let love go. But I’ve read them all and this relationship perfect, will never be. Not fear of being alone or never finding the one or even a just can’t let you go and so I wonder if perhaps this “unconventional love” is just…as it should be. For me. For now.

I’m a Single Cat Lady.

Day 13 of 30. Essays ” The Life of Peggy. A thirty-three year old, Kind Of Single Lady.”
Maybe I am slightly insane. I am most definitely awkward. I imagine all aspects in life with No Pants on.

A Kind Of Single Cat Lady

So…now I foster seven cat’s. Because , hey, why not? They need help. I am doing my do good moment. Karma.

And so I settle them in and realize…I am now single. A single woman. With seven cats.

Funny enough I know more single men with cats than I do woman. Perhaps it’s because we try and stay away from the jokes and snears we get about the whole crazy single cat lady . What bloke invented this whole thing anyway and how did it go viral before the day of youtube and facebook?

Chance at work, told the other guys that he had found the secret, being, “Just meow at her and she’ll take you home.” I walked into the guys meowing at me. Together. Like a Disney Cat movie.

The cat’s make for some fun jokes. Why not? I am likely to be this way forever…so why not get a bit of kitten cuddle?

The Look

Day 12 of 30. Essays ” The Life of Peggy. A thirty-three year old, Kind Of Single Lady.”
Maybe I am slightly insane. I am most definitely awkward. I imagine all aspects in life with No Pants on.

The Look

My probation officer is a frizzy curly haired Jewish woman..and today I got Jew-woman face…now I know what the world deals with with me. That shit is scary.

I often am told that I give “The Face” to not just men but all…all in my life. My friend Beth calls it the “Judgement Face.” the face that says “Are you really considering that? Let’s put down the white Russian and have some water, pet.”

I have been married…and divorced…twice and I am sure the poor men in my life have most often received the look. My friend Joe calls it “The look were I can’t hide when I think you just said something completely stupid.” He says he get’s the look a lot.
He does.

My mother had The Look that could make you whisper out of the corner of your mouth to your friends…please…don’t…go. When really you also worried that it wouldn’t matter and soon embarrassment in front of your friend would surely happen.

I have that face that, when I am not smiling I look not happy but often I am also smiling…or as many put it, writing in the corner of the coffeeshop looking fiercely intense. But then…there is That Look . And today, I think I received it. And that shit is scary.

Survival of Mothers Day.

Day 11 of 30. Essays ” The Life of Peggy. A thirty-three year old, Kind Of Single Lady.”
Maybe I am slightly insane. I am most definitely awkward. I imagine all aspects in life with No Pants on.

When Mothers Day Means You Survived A Mother.

Mother’s Day has a different meaning for me. I don’t have a mom to call and say happy mothers day to. I don’t have a mother who would ever call me and say it if I had a child myself. My mother isn’t dead or passed on. She is alive and well…and in her own fantasy world of having been a perfect mom who sure made mistakes but for what we should pat her on the back for as it made us stronger. Yes. She has said that.

My mother is a Gemini is this makes any difference. She can one minute being a loving person with great understanding and advice.
And the next she is who I am telling my therapist of breaking a riding crop on my four year old self.

Now I face a tragic time in my life and she…chooses to keep condemning past the point of allowing it. To not be in my life and to not be helpful, loving, caring, supportive or even understanding and advice giving. Just…throw some memorized but certainly not understood, or followed, bible verses at me. And tell me that I deserved more than what I got.

I see others with their mom’s. Celebrating their mom’s. Mom’s proud to be a mom. Even of the children who have made plenty of terrible mistakes. And I hold a sadness that I just don’t have that mom. And so….Mother’s Day isn’t about celebrating a loving, supportive mom who carried me through to adulthood to be the woman I am now. But is instead a story of a journey of survival. Of the woman who is my mother. To this day, writing of my mother is the hardest struggle, aside from being loved by my mother.

Unfit Piece.

Day 10 of 30. Essays ” The Life of Peggy. A thirty-three year old, Kind Of Single Lady.”
Maybe I am slightly insane. I am most definitely awkward. I imagine all aspects in life with No Pants on.

When you love him but the puzzle doesn’t fit.

He calls you…when you needs you. You think that your life together works because there are many of the same things that you both want in it….art…music…writing…no children yet family…travels…yet….you are both so different that…

Your puzzle pieces just don’t fit. He….is different than you. And you. Are different than him. You both try…and try…and try. You have passion…because you are both passionate people…but is the passion really for each other? Or will you both have passion for any other such passionate person?

When do you let it go? Admit that the puzzle pieces in this box are mixed and not all go together and to…try another?

The Sadness.

Day 9 of 30. Essays ” The Life of Peggy. A thirty-three year old, Kind Of Single Lady.”
Maybe I am slightly insane. I am most definitely awkward. I imagine all aspects in life with No Pants on.

The Sadness

Sometimes….sometimes there is such a deep sadness in a person and you just can’t reach them. You see the pain in their eye’s but you can’t fix it. You can not take it away. You can not help. But you feel them slipping away, out of your grasp. Slipping away from this very earth. Slipping into the scary quiet of space that is beyond your reach. Into a space with no oxygen, and you feel the need to breath air for them. You hold your breath on their thoughts and you try to reach out to bring them back, back from a lonely quiet that exists in their minds. To wipe tears away from their eye’s, to embrace them and let them feel your love for them. Hoping that will save them.

But the more that you reach, the more out of reach they become. Until their fingers slowly slip from your grasp. Until their finger tips hover….for just a second… on yours. Before you’ve lost them into their empty, quiet, doom of space and your heart aches… because you try. You try so hard to bring them back to you but you can’t and you feel as if you’ve failed them and your heart breaks with their hurt but you….just..can’t…save them.

And you are standing in an empty field on earth looking up into the sky , imagining them in their space, out there, alone. In their sadness , they have left you alone, torn, your heart broken, and tried. But you failed…

Having given you so much love. Having tried so very hard to save you from slipping so fully away that when you did…that when you left….you took the last that they had in them with you and now they are left standing, bound on earth, alone…without their hearts left to let them go on.

In your hurt, you’ve hurt the person who loved you most. Who gave themselves to save you. And you aren’t there to wipe the single tear from their face or to give them your embrace.
Alone…
which you fiercely feared most…
now you are …
and alone…
you have left them…

The brightness of the sun will consume them, and you…are still alone. Broken…Breaking…in the darkness of your space.

Stop chasing the dream. Start cultivating it.

Day8 of 30. Essays ” The Life of Peggy. A thirty-three year old, Kind Of Single Lady.”
Maybe I am slightly insane. I am most definitely awkward. I imagine all aspects in life with No Pants on.

Why is there always a ” where should you live?” quiz.

Making where you live where you want to live rather than “If I could live anywhere in the world it would be” Is different than where should you live.

I read articles about the reasons why a person, a woman in particular, should live where and I wonder if our reasons aren’t always fit for us. The typical reasons written or polled in studies and articles:

The job and paycheck:
The rent:
The men:
Healthy lifestyle:
Mental health:

As soon as we hit 18 we are out the door,suitcase in hand, er, at least I was. I lived in New York City and discovered myself…that I made my own choices…the smallest of all growings up. I spread my wings and tread lightly though. I didn’t learn any profound lessons and I enjoyed life itself…perhaps that was the lesson.
I ate what I wanted and I enjoyed a bit of running in early mornings. The good health and the bad. I wasn’t about drinking even when everyone would shove a martini into a 16 year olds hands without question. I enjoyed good foods immediately and most of my money and travel tourings went to finding the good stuff and critiquing menu’s.
I loved loved loved art and art in unusual places. I wrote a piece about the many stone Angel’s I’d find in New York. I learned how to travel and the art of traveling stylishly yet comfortably…though I never did learn to travel light and with less shoes.

Now I live on Galveston Island…a long story of how I ended up here via Sugar Land,TX. Houston St. in Manhattan and Burbank, California, but…I like it. I will admit, it’s a different breed of people. But I love architecture. I love flowers and gardens. I love down town living and I love being in walking distance of the beach and a fantastic coffee shop. (MOD) . I love that I can easily live a car-free lifestyle and also a small living idea. That there are community gardens, juice bars and Greek food.

But it’s not always easy. I , for one, deal with personal reasons that leaving would have been great. Leave. Start over. Fresh. Forget the humiliation and start somewhere else. But…I chose for several reasons to stay. One being. I simply love the island. It whispers to you like a lover. The sound of the ocean on a late night walk. Early mornings during February and March in the dense fog and walks past beautiful blooming gardens, jasmine in the sweet air. The sound of gulls over head and past old buildings full of character that can tell you more secrets than your creative mind could ever hold. Artists galleries or paint splattered artists walking dogs.All types of people riding bikes…wearing skirts, wearing scrubs, wearing suit and tie..wearing shorts.
To work in something that feeds the soul…to surf an evening in the gulf of Mexico.

This is the place in which I live. It lacks a few things…it doesn’t have a wide variety of restaurants…there is no Indian food on island and this is often heart breaking for A Car-Free Living Lady. Dating here…sucks. Just…sucks in so many ways . Small island. Small town. Gossip and well…small pool to choose from ,and…friendships just aren’t…what they are in other places of the world. Bars are a big thing here and so often friendships can become hard to come by for the non-bar soul. The island does have it’s down falls but still…no one place does not and I would trade some for others. I might be landlocked, higher rents, harder jobs, more people to compete with, less relax time way of thinking (we call it island time) no coffeeshop in walking distance or frankly filled with a bit too many hipsters and not enough diversity. All of it…everywhere…can have it’s own downfalls. And so I choose my down falls…I do hold hopes that one day the island will open an Indian restaurant…or I will meet a good Indian boy with a loves-to-cook-mother…or learn how to make my own samosas and saag paneer and as far as dating goes…I now foster seven cats. Need I Say more?

So…one can keep running to their happiness, chasing their dreams or one can make their home where they are and plant their roots and build and grow from there. Making where they are…home. From the girl who’s lived all over the country…this is now where I choose to be.