Simple Pleasures.

I am trying to be okay again. I am trying to be okay with needing to be okay again. That is my life these days.



Last week Marie's mom and I sent a couple of text messages back and forth to see how the other is doing. She is sad. devastated. and struggling to cope with Marie's death. As I am. She said people at work are trying to help her through this but she wishes they would stop. As do I. She said she misses Marie every day. As do I.



I feel guilty for not actually 'talking' to her mother these last six weeks. I've wanted to. I've even tried several times (at the last minute deciding not to). Because while texting is a form of communication it is so impersonal and I know talking to her mom will help. But I'm not strong enough, at the moment, to speak. I'm not strong enough to hear my voice talk about Marie in past tense. It is hard enough talking about Marie to my mom. It is even harder trying to write about her. I can't imagine, at this moment, hearing her mother's voice or having to hear my own talk about how much I miss her.





Because, while I am getting 'better', I am still very angry and fucking pissed that Marie killed herself. Everything reminds me of her, and what she could have been, and what has been lost now that she's gone. I can be a very difficult person because of this. I am sometimes sullen. moody. and down-right livid.

I am angry at girls who can smile and laugh and have dumb conversations about things and still fit in (like *dumb stupid face co-worker who I loathe* who represents everything Marie and I felt made us strange) while my interesting complicated, stubborn best friend is gone. We were strange together. And unique together. And different together. And I am troubled by her loss because it feels like a rejection of the things we valued. And this is where I get so upset I want to smash things.

My bad days are fewer than my good but when they are bad they suck.



But I am trying to counter my negativity as much as I can. I've been supplementing the depression and grief with spontaneity and self discovery. I trying new things and re-evaluating what makes me happy . I am being selfish and self indulgent and concerned with creating something out of my grief. There was a time, when I thought I was suppose to have things all figured out by 25. I've all but erased that thought from my head. For the moment, I am not interested in that. For the moment i want to wear skirts and take drum lessons and be emotionally available to people. I want to get a tattoo and learn how to dance and take a trip somewhere really far away. I'm okay with just experiencing things.

And I'm not sure how long this pursuit for simple pleasures will last. I'm not sure when or if I'll feel the need to buckle down and go back to the job worrying and writing worrying and general life worrying. For now I just want to find things that make me happy and focus my energy on that.

It's not easy. By any means. But I don't have a choice. I just don't. So I'm sewing (i totally made those flags!) and taking pictures and heading to the city more often these days. I've decided to get a buffy tattoo for my birthday. Just the "B" on my wrist because Buffy represents strength and survival and kickassness.
I've also been 'hanging' out with people. Or trying to. When I'm up for up, I'm making myself available for the occasional outing and human interaction. I've had several diner dates with friends where french toast is usually consumed. And I've played awkward drunk scrabble games until 2am. Angie came up last weekend and we just drank raspberry beer and talked about our lives and Star Trek and ate a lot of food.
And last night Sean, another co-worker (Dylan) and I met at a mutual friends apartment so we could watch some Pay Per View wrestling match (royal rumble) that she has been talking about for weeks. I don't know much about wrestling but she said there would be pizza and drinks and cupcakes and naturally I was sold. And everyone i know seems to be into the campiness that is men, wearing little to no clothing, rolling around in a rink performing wrestling moves with weird names.

I've debated going to this thing for weeks now; mainly because Sean and I continue to have our ups and downs. We sometimes argue like friends, sometimes we argue like two people dating. Regardless I am often attracted and aggravated with him. But this week we've been on good terms and I was looking forward to hanging out with him outside of the bookstore.

And surprisingly we had a really good time. Some guy in really tight underwear won the Big Match and I ate a lot of pizza. Sean and I sat next to each other on the lovesick where i curled up in the corner and rested my feet on his legs (it was nice. wrong. but nice).

Sean was polite and funny and considerate the whole night and totally into the wrestling match. It felt nice to be around people so excited about dumb things. And every once in a while, just watching them (Dylan, Miranda, Sean), made me feel less sad and less strange and less lonely.

At the end of the night, Sean drove a very tipsy Dylan and I home (mike's lemonade is no joke). Before we entered Sean's car though Dylan noticed something in the back seat.

Underneath a jacket or shirt behind the passenger seat was a small wooden object that jutted out from the rest of the crap in his car. I couldn't see what Dylan was staring at but it definitely caught his attention.

"dude is that a fucking stake in your car?"

Now it's dark outside and really late and we are all sort of tired and Sean looks all sorts of adorable in this black leather jacket and his scruffy facial hair and suddenly he looks exasperated at the sound of Dylan's voice and stake inquiry.

"just get in the car" he says, trying to unlock the car so he can open the doors for the rest of us.

"dude, you totally have a stake in your car"

So now I'm all interested and peering into the car and i too see the wooden stake peeking out but am not putting two and two together, even tho Sean is visibly pissed at Dylan for bringing it up.

"You're such an asshole man, I was going to wait until later and surprise her....thanks".

The motherfucker made me a vampire stake.

My very own vampire stake.

Holy Crap!

Sure it's dumb and silly and not practical but it's mine. and he made it for me though he didn't have to. And i love it. Absolutely love it.

And like my life these days, the stake and the diner's and the scrabble games and human interaction are things that I suddenly need to be a part of because i want to be a part of them. I need, more than ever, very subtle, simple, uncomplicated pleasures to keep me going. I need them to remind me that in some weird way the life that i am creating for myself can still have value and meaning and be lovely through the pain and loss.