summer update
is it all memories now? will it always be the lingering numbness on my tongue where the electricity shot right through me, the flash behind my closed eyes of the once-upon spark of a kiss? or is it just that i will always be such a feeling junky that This Moment can only ever be Magic or the sad, soulful memory of it?
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i used to write as if it were a necessity. as if that were how i processed life, the universe, and everything. now the writer in me hulks about, this tiny, sober thing with drooped shoulders just waiting, just biding her time until she can weigh enough to pull the grateful, clever, singing amanda down into her darkness.
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i fell in love a couple of months ago. it wasn't the plan. when i met michael, it was a saturday night in february. he wasn't what i thought i was looking for, but i was dating a few people and completely open about it and we'd been texting back and forth since like november and i had nothing to do on a saturday night, so we went bowling. aaaaaaaand i spent the night. for a couple of months, i kept dating other people, but i think i was just doing it after the first few dates as a defense; i knew very early on that i wanted this thing with michael to go somewhere. so i told the other boys i was seeing that i had met someone, that i couldn't see them any longer, and about a month and a half ago, i told michael i was in love with him. drunk. on a beach.
'that's not a fair thing to say when you are still talking to other boys,' he said.
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so that's where i am now. it's summer. i just finished teaching the first session of summer school, and it was hectic and exhausting and now in this, my first week of only three i get off this summer, i'm already wishing i didn't have the time off. i think entirely too much when i am alone. and sometimes my brain goes to happy places. but mostly when i get thinky, i get lonely. and scared. and livejournal-y.
i'm only now realising that i might have trust issues. when i get weirdly anxious about my boyfriend (i think that's what he is, but it's such a weird word coming from a 32-year-old single mother), it just might be because i have been betrayed a time or two. or ten.
so we wait. and work. 'if we're lucky, we'll have 50 or 60 years together,' michael says, 'so what's the rush?' i hear that, and logically, i get it. but a part of me, and increasingly larger part, gets suspicious.
it's not a part of myself i like. it's not one i knew before.
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also, i wrote a (short) book and published it on the kindle site. it's called 'abandon,' and i'm working on the second volume now.
http://www.amazon.com/abandon-ebook/dp/B008DZO7HG/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1341950231&sr=8-1&keywords=abandon+amanda+cooper
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i used to write as if it were a necessity. as if that were how i processed life, the universe, and everything. now the writer in me hulks about, this tiny, sober thing with drooped shoulders just waiting, just biding her time until she can weigh enough to pull the grateful, clever, singing amanda down into her darkness.
----------
i fell in love a couple of months ago. it wasn't the plan. when i met michael, it was a saturday night in february. he wasn't what i thought i was looking for, but i was dating a few people and completely open about it and we'd been texting back and forth since like november and i had nothing to do on a saturday night, so we went bowling. aaaaaaaand i spent the night. for a couple of months, i kept dating other people, but i think i was just doing it after the first few dates as a defense; i knew very early on that i wanted this thing with michael to go somewhere. so i told the other boys i was seeing that i had met someone, that i couldn't see them any longer, and about a month and a half ago, i told michael i was in love with him. drunk. on a beach.
'that's not a fair thing to say when you are still talking to other boys,' he said.
----------
so that's where i am now. it's summer. i just finished teaching the first session of summer school, and it was hectic and exhausting and now in this, my first week of only three i get off this summer, i'm already wishing i didn't have the time off. i think entirely too much when i am alone. and sometimes my brain goes to happy places. but mostly when i get thinky, i get lonely. and scared. and livejournal-y.
i'm only now realising that i might have trust issues. when i get weirdly anxious about my boyfriend (i think that's what he is, but it's such a weird word coming from a 32-year-old single mother), it just might be because i have been betrayed a time or two. or ten.
so we wait. and work. 'if we're lucky, we'll have 50 or 60 years together,' michael says, 'so what's the rush?' i hear that, and logically, i get it. but a part of me, and increasingly larger part, gets suspicious.
it's not a part of myself i like. it's not one i knew before.
-----
also, i wrote a (short) book and published it on the kindle site. it's called 'abandon,' and i'm working on the second volume now.
http://www.amazon.com/abandon-ebook/dp/B008DZO7HG/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1341950231&sr=8-1&keywords=abandon+amanda+cooper
