Wednesday, July 28, 2010


My body is sore. Jiu jitsu is kicking my butt lately...
Jiu Jitsu is the first "sport" I have ever truly involved myself in. Prior to jiu jitsu, I had no idea what it meant to rise to the physical and mental challenges of...well, anything really. I am constantly playing tug-of-war with my body and my mind in jiu jitsu, fluctuating between love and frustration. It has been...not necessarily a "struggle" to keep going, but definitely a struggle to push myself and learn and not brickwall all the information being presented to me.
After a month and a half of inactivity, I am finally back on the mat, thankfully. My body already hurts, but I guess that's jiu jitsu.

On a different note, I am frustrated. Mildly. Or, I suppose more accurately...let down. I have a hard time with being stood up, no matter what the occasion may be. And as I write this, I am in the process of being stood up. Not cool. At least it will give me an opportunity to work on my inability to healthily deal with these situations, because in my recent exploration of self, I have discovered that that is in fact one of the more pressing problems I possess...

Sunday, July 25, 2010

The Parade

This time alone really does call nostalgia and deep thought from their cool, dark corners. Though sleep would be most welcome, he never visits until after I've put pen to paper for a moment or two, as if to say that I am not allowed to see him before divulging some confession or revelation. Only after the many secrets of the day are laid bare does he see fit to close my eyelids and shut out the last pale light. Now, inspired by the prize of sleep, words form, warm and pressing against my fingertips.
Solitude and silence walk hand in hand, nostalgia and deep thought following close behind. Always, whenever these two emerge for their nightly stroll, their cherubs trail at the tails of their shadows.
Tonight it is a warm melancholy that fills the air, a thick quiet that embraces the heart and spreads its inky solace throughout the body. As the sun of the day's ambitions set behind silhouettes of wish and want, that small parade strolls quietly, contentedly across the horizon.
That solemnly blissful pair, Solitude and Silence, lead a quietly playful Nostalgia and Deep Thought as Sleep trails a little farther behind, bringing the close of yet another day lived.

Friday, July 23, 2010

FNAs and Life Insurance?

About a week ago, I served coffee to a couple I forgot as soon as I turned around. Later the same night, they called my workplace to speak specifically with me. Of course, the woman on the phone began by telling me that her and her husband had been in earlier. I, of course, couldn't begin to imagine who they were. She complimented me on my friendliness and warmth towards customers, and then switched gears and offered me a job at the financial advising company where she and her husband worked. I agreed to join them for a cup of coffee (at Starbucks of all places) the next day. It turned out that they were employed by a large company called Primerica, an absolute beast of a financial advising corporation.
Suffice to say, after two coffees and a trip to their office in West Seattle, I am now a part-time Primerica representative.
I would never have pictured myself doing FNAs and debt consolidation. But this could prove to be an incredibly interesting opportunity for me.
I suppose I never pictured myself doing anything like this partially because I didn't believe that I was capable. Only now am I beginning to understand that the only reason I can't understand and embrace certain challenges, is because I do not fully let myself. Several days after my realization, this opportunity (seemingly a gift of some sort for my revelation, as if to say "congratulations, you finally got it.") dropped right into my lap.
Being a natural skeptic, I am eager to find the catch, the flaw, the lie in all this. But thus far, I have found now. So, in light of my new perspective, the next step is to embrace this challenge laid before me and see how I do in the days to come.

Saturday, July 17, 2010


At the tender age of eighteen, I often forget that these are the times to be bold. My fear of failure and embarrassment keep me from progressing, from moving toward what I want. In recent days, I have found myself harboring feelings of jealousy at other people's accomplishments and skills. But why? I do understand that jealousy is the most worthless sentiment and results in nothing more than self-pity and bitterness, but I could not keep myself from sliding down that slope. And so, in my effort to discover the root of these ridiculous feelings, I remembered that I have been trying too hard. I want so badly to be good at the things I try, and not only that, but be good at them within the first several attempts, that I don't have patience for my own mistakes. Yet, how I am to get good at anything if I am constantly giving up?
I had this same mental block as a child learning to draw. I would see the picture of the horse in a magazine and set about drawing it, intending for my picture to come out exactly like the one I was copying. When I finished my rendition, I was almost always disappointed that mine was so much less than I had wanted it to be. So instead of going back to the drawing board and figuring out what I had done differently and what needed fixing or adjusting, I would give up and decide that I was bad at drawing.
Learning anything is a challenge, and it takes work. Often times I underestimate the real meaning of that challenge, and thus set myself up for disappointment again.
When I see someone who plays an instrument well, or is particularly good at making small talk, or performs well at a sport, I feel a small pang of inadequacy, because I have nothing like that. And the only reason for it is my own unwillingness to take my failures in stride. It takes a lot of effort for me to swallow a if everyone involved thinks of me as so much less because I couldn't do something right.
So I the weeks to come, I will have to make a concerted effort to step to the challenges I have undertaken. Coffee, jiu jitsu, writing, and humbleness. These things don't come naturally for me, and improvement is impossible without first realizing there is change to be had.
And so the search for the better me continues one step at a time. Maybe one day I'll have it together...

Friday, July 9, 2010

Hurray for Me

Rita, you're a tactless ass.
Contrary to popular opinion, you have no consideration for anyone but yourself. You'd rather open your asinine mouth than hold your tongue for someone else's sake.
If falling off the face of the earth again will keep you from wrecking other people's lives, then do it. Please just do it.
Because if you haven't learned by now that decisions are best made using thought and restraint, then you're an idiot. Which I already believe you to be.
After all, it only took twenty-four hours for you to obliterate your so-called "reconciliation", and here you are again feeling like an ass. A complete ass.
Have fun at work tomorrow, you selfish bastard.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010


My dad came to visit me tonight. His visit was unexpected, but so very welcome. What with my situation being as messed up as it is, I need all the distractions I can find.
When I called him in response to his text about having dinner tonight, he said he would be at my apartment in around thirty five minutes. The first thirty of the those minutes were spent sobbing in despair and writing the last post, because it would have been nearly impossible for me to maintain my composure without a little release.
Sadly, my period of catharsis left little time for cleaning, and I had to present my father with a dirty apartment...shame on me.
Thankfully we didn't spend much time in my home. Instead, we visited my favorite local pho place and ate. It was good to see my dad, and good to hear the stories of his life turning out so wonderfully for him. Perhaps all Van Briesens are doomed to live most of their lives in struggle and short coming, only to live the last bit in near perfect bliss.
My dad is such a wise man. Tonight, he proved yet again to be the messenger of my Father's words. Everything I needed to hear came from his lips, and suddenly...things are a tiny bit better.
That his visit finally worked out is a miracle in itself. I am glad to have him here, and the races to take my mind off my own life.

Day Two

I'm falling apart.
Today was spent half-heartedly trying to keep my composure in front of people I had no interest in being around. Last night was considerably more hellish...spending six hours in a room with myself took its toll.
I hadn't cried when I left that night. I knew that at some point, the tears that hid deep in my chest would well up and spill forth as only they could. There was nowhere else for them to go. When they find that home in the empty cavity of my chest where warmth and hope and self-respect once were, they stay. They settle in like an angry, bristling beast, sensitive to the most delicate touch. And all night I fought those tears, feeling them rise up only to somehow lull them back to complacency again.
But the moment I laid down, that moment I pulled the soft pink blanket up under my chin, I fell apart. The tears squeezed themselves out and filled the corners of my eyes, running down my temples and getting caught in my hair. Those hot, salty tears felt like an admission of guilt, as if me telling myself what I had done was wrong was not enough. I needed to cry to truly understand the weight of my actions.
I couldn't convince myself to sleep. All I could do was turn back and forth and back and forth...
Every time I opened my eyes, there was no more than a second or two of normalcy before that bitter, horrid feeling would shake its way through my entire body and remind me...yes, you are wretched.

Work felt like hell today. I had to quell the urge to cry every time I was alone, and around every corner I just hoped and prayed to see a happy man, not one who was disappointed in me. My phone seemed always ready to ring, though no one ever called. I wanted so badly to answer the phone and hear a warm "come back home", but nothing.
When I escaped work, all I could think about was him. I forced myself to drink some juice earlier that morning, and forced a bagel into my stomach later...nothing seems appealing. All I can focus on is not messing this up...

And tonight, as I left jiu jitsu each step brought forth more sadness and hatred for myself. Those tears kept pushing and pushing and pushing, until finally, with my hand on the doorknob to my apartment...I let it out.
There is no one in my apartment to see me cry. No one to ask me why I am crying. No one to tell me to stop. All there is is me and my tears and my regret.
All I wanted was that phone call from him.
And I couldn't think of anything else...
So, against all the rules I have for myself, against all the rules of dealing with people who need space...I called him.
As the phone rang, I hoped that he wouldn't answer...I hoped that I could leave the message I so desperately wanted to leave..."I miss you...I probably shouldn't be calling you, but I need you know how important you are to me...I miss you so much..." and hope that it would somehow make a difference in my trial.
But he answered.
Each word was strained and unnatural, forced through a wall of choked back sobs...he sounded alright. He was with friends. I didn't want to keep him. We said goodbye...
I fell apart again.

All I know is this...he answered.


Here I am. Lying in my own bed for the first time in months. And sadly, it is not by my own choice.
I am such an ass...
One small lie...that turned out to be bigger than I thought it would be, has left me heavy hearted tonight, sitting sleepless and worried about the future. If I am to learn anything from tonight, it is that lying has never helped me.

For some reason rooted deep within my subconscious, I felt that for a split second it would be a good idea not to tell the truth. In the past I have had similar problems. But now I can't keep myself together enough to even tell a lie. Because I already know that the truth is the better route and there is no reason why I should not go that route.
And tonight is yet another testament to that logic. I lied through my teeth on the way out the door, already knowing as the words were coming out of my mouth that it was wrong, wrong, wrong. And then I disappeared for 75 minutes, only to come back and know that I had no other choice but to tell the truth.
The first words out of my mouth were, "I have something to tell you...but you have to promise not to get mad."
And then I took a moment to consider that statement...Knowing what words were going to follow that statement, there was no way I could make him promise not to get angry.
So I followed with a quick, "Nevermind, I can't make you promise that."

And I had hoped, oh I had hoped, that he would not react badly...but he did. The irritated pacing and exhales of disbelief radiating from a man who has just discovered an awful truth make the stomach turn sour.

My only qualm now is that I didn't do anything wrong. Aside from my unnecessary and reckless lie, I did nothing. My actions were carried out with good intentions...and the only part where I screwed up is when I decided not to be straightforward.
Damn me!
I have such a wonderful man...he has been so gracious and tender to me, so supportive and genuine. He takes  better care of me than any other man I could hope to meet. He gives me perspective on my own life and mind, which few people can do.
And I messed it up. The damage done tonight is irreparable, and all I can do is wait. The ball is in his court, and I can do nothing but try to sleep and hope that he finds it in himself to forgive me.

Please, God...don't let me ruin this.

Friday, July 2, 2010


Ever since you said that its been so long since I wrote that you stopped checking my blog, I've been thinking. Thinking that I do, in fact, need to write more. It means a lot to me, but apparently it means something to a few others as well.
There has been so much going on. When I fell behind with my own life, it made it difficult to find the time to sit and put it all on paper...
But if I am to start anywhere, it should be at the beginning.

When I moved here, to Seattle, all my time was my own. I planned my life around what I had created and nothing else. And I wrote a lot during those first few months. September, October, and December were pretty productive months for me. But then came Darren. Our relationship didn't take away from my time or my writing at first, but then I shifted. I shifted from my apartment, to his house. My laundry became our laundry, and time became our time.
And so I fell behind in my own life. All the empty spaces, my precious empty spaces, were filled with other things, other obligations, other noise. Primarily the pass from one atmosphere to another, each filled with voices and faces and breath and bodies, took its toll on me. To wake in the morning next to another warm body and hear their sleepy voice as you slip from beneath the covers...immediately noise. To appear at work where the volume of bodies is highest and maintain the mask of absolute perfection...noise! To return from work to the waiting lips of the man from that morning...Noise!
And it is not the man that bothers me, nor the work. I like my man and my job...but it is the lack of emptiness, silence, slowness that my mind cannot handle.
Now...I am sitting in my little empty room where the bulk of its space is filled with thoughts rather than things. My roommate is gone and so this apartment is silent. And perfect.
Because I can find nothing more consoling than silence these days. When every day is filled with something, it is the empty spaces that mean the most to me.