The Cleansing.

 So amongst the extraordinary things i did this weekend, my favorite had to be attending the baptism of one of my co-workers.

It's sort of a long story, something i say a lot lately, but said friend has wanted to be baptism for quite some time and luckily our ordained minister and coworker (who also happens to be the guy Kat is in love with) offered to baptise her this weekend, as his church was performing this first baptism ceremony of the year.

She invited Kat and I to attend because she wanted support from her two favorite girls at work. We promptly invited Marisol, a friend who works in a different department at Le Sad store, to come with us. She invited her friend, Joe (who we all know and love) who then asked Sean if he wanted to go. Though Sunday was his 26th Birthday he said he wanted to support Cynthia and would drive down from the Bronx to bear witness to her baptism.

Outside of Joe and Cynthia, the rest of us aren't really church goers. We actually have, in some form or another, talked about our discomfort with religion and church several times. When The Preacher, it's what we call him at work though technically he is the assistant pastor of the church, heard we were all going he said pretended to faint. 

[ Side note: I was happy that Sean wanted to go. I rarely get to see him outside of work and in his Sunday best. He kept asking if i was definitely going and I told him I was. I wanted to show up on Sunday for him as well, because i wanted to give him his birthday gift after the baptism. On Saturday, when he walked into work, he stopped me in the aisle to block me from walking past him. Instead of skirting around him, I wrapped my arms around his neck and he picked me up and started carrying me to the break room.

The whole way i whispered, "I got you something for your birthday; don't be mad'. Don't be mad. Don't be mad. Is all i kept saying until he dropped me off in the break room. He said he wouldn't be mad but that he told me not to make a big deal of his birthday. I told him i didn't make a biiiiiig deal out of it, but that i definitely did more than i should have. He smiled and said I could give him said gift on Sunday].

 Lately I have been more than a little peeved with god because of Marie. Despite constantly being surrounded by people, I feel lonely and unhappy and sad more than I should. I am confused about so many things. I am overwhelmed by all of my wants. And I miss my best friend every single day. And while the changes in me have been...interesting and even lovely, it doesn't mean that i don't feel bad for having to move on after this trauma. I've come to terms with the fact that her death is trauma. 

But along with everyone else who decided to go, I wanted to be there for Cynthia . I put aside all my whatthefuckisthisreligionshit eye rolling and wanted to support my friend and her deep belief in her faith and her god.

So on Sunday, i wore my favorite polka dot dress and sandals and headed down to this little beach in this little town with my five favorite people and sang church songs in a theater and listened to a sermon about god and the power of christ while i starred longingly (and inappropriately) at the boy of my dreams who kept leaning down to tell me that I wasn't singing loud enough for god to hear me. After singing the longest version of Amazing grace, we gathered our things and headed down to said little beach for the 'cleansing' to begin.

I must admit, these days I'm not much of a believer. I continue to question my faith and belief and the concept of god all the time. But the walk down to the beach was something of a miracle. Surrounded by my best gal and my crush and my coworkers i felt incredibly happy. And the look on Cynthia's face as we walked  down to the beach was enough to let me know showing up for her was the best thing I could have ever done. We were all just happy to be together. And by the time we landed on the beach, her excitement about her new life spread to us.

 The 'ceremony' began as soon as everyone surrounded the beach. We dipped our feet in the water as each person getting baptised wadded in to the water, waiting for their turn to be submerged. The clouds rolled in just as the baptisms started, it began to drizzle, and the wind tossled my hair they way i've always liked it too. Kathleen was to the left of me, Sean to the right, Marisol and Joe were right behind us just as Cynthia's name was called.  When she reached the preacher in the water, whose hands rested comfortably on her shoulder, i remember holding my breath and closing my eyes like i use to do as a kid just before i took a big leap and lunge. A mix of nerves and excitement. A sense of calm before the storm.

When I opened my eyes, Cynthia sank slowly into the water surrounded by friends and family. We yelled and clapped for her. We laughed and teared up for her. And when she emerged, smiling and laughing, we were all there with her.

And  I remember thinking

A thought I have not have the pleasure of thinking some days

I remember feeling a way that I have not felt since Marie passed away

I whispered into the air amongst the cheers and laughter and warmth:

 "thank you for this. thank you for letting me be apart of this'.

Followed by tears.

Updates, Mistakes, Surpises, Comings and Goings.

I'm alive and well. Though very busy and distracted these days.

This is my first proper day off in weeks! weeks! and I have decided to go to the city with Kat. Because when you're broke and young the best thing to do is spend your money in the city.

We are going to see Dinosaurs and space things and take pictures of food and parks. We are going to talk about our current boy obsessions and books (read White Horse, it's amazing) and music. I'm looking forward to it.

Seans birthday is Sunday and in a truly bizarre turn of events we may actually spend part of it together. A mutual friend of ours is getting baptised (long ass story) and he says he wants to go. I am only going to said baptism because Kats crush goes to the church and the baptism is taking place on a beach. I am all for being near water. It soothes me.

Last weekend Sean and I got into a huge fight. By fight I mean I had a hug panic attack around him and he freaked the fuck out. Instead of letting him calm me down, i pushed him away, went to the bathroom and sobbed. Later that night I accidentally cut my hand opening boxes at work. It was nothing serious but one of the managers made Sean go get gauze for me. When he came back with the supplies, he asked me, far away from any managers, if I had cut myself on purpose out of anxiety.

I glared at him. Pulled my hand away, fumed and stormed away.  Not because i was angry at him but because I was angry at myself. Per usual, we made up and he dropped the whole line of questioning. I hate that I am mean to him. I hate that my emotions are dynamite these days. I have no reign on the amount of shit i feel on a daily basis and I have a tendency of taking it out on him, cause as of yet, he hasn't given up on me.

So this weekend, I plan on making it up to him. I'm a terrible friend. A terrible crush. And this boy, when he isn't being a douche, puts up with my shit like a champ. So even though my gift will be small, I hope he likes it.

Anyway, I need to get dressed and make my way downtown. Pictures to be uploaded soon. I promise.

I'm Terrified...

...that i'll never belong to anything. or anyone.

....hysterical, crying in pillow, panic induced breakdown because I am terrified of this.

....i don't know how to connect to people, i want to.

... i don't know how to be a part of things, i want to.

... i am a mess. a mess that no one should have to clean up (fiona apple lyrics)

... i am terrified of being alone. despite the fact that i continue to push people away.

... i need someone to help me

Summertime Happiness.

 There is a carnival down the street from my house. A carnival man! Secretly, I love carnivals. The lights and the food and the sounds of safe screams. I especially can't get over the lights. I can spend all day/night staring at them.

                                      

Pure Bliss.

I Tumble

i haz a tumblr now (called With Love and Squalor) if you wanna check it out. I didn't think i would like tumblr but it's an easier way to blog with pictures and gifs on a daily basis. It's definitely not a replacement for this space but it's something i do regularly and that i enjoy posting to.I apologize in advance for all the vampire diaries pictures but the show is great and my obsession runs deep.


~Beckett

Some Days...

I can't help but be sad.

It's not as if things aren't going well for me these days. Because in a weird, i'm enjoying my 20 something life way, they are. I am okay with not having my shit together. I like hanging out with my friends. I like sleeping in late. I like flirting with cute boys and hanging out in cars with Kat. So, sure,  i don't make a lot of money. So i'm no closer to understanding what the hell i want to do with my life. But for the moment, taking it easy and enjoying the small things is what i need.

But every now and then, the sadness seeps in. I am consumed by thoughts of Her. I am consumed by all the shit she decided to miss out on. And i get sad in a way that I cannot explain. I have abandonment issues that stem from childhood. My father, a long time alcoholic, choose the bottle over his family (the root of said abandonment issues) and from then on stupid things make me believe people would rather leave me than make things work.

I use to have this horrible fear that my mom would trade me and my brother in for better kids if she had the chance. I remember when I was in the 3rd grade I accidentally knocked over a plant in our house. We had carpet at the time and the plant made a huge mess. I tried to scrub the dirt out with water and soap which only caused the dirt to smear on the carpet, ruining it the  harder i scrubbed. I went into full  panic mood at this point because my mom left my brother and I for a few minutes to go to the store and in small span of an hour,  I ruined the carpet.

The only thing running through my head at that point was that other kids wouldn't have been so clumsy. Other kids wouldn't have knocked over a plant on new carpet. And that my mom would never forgive me for the stain that would always remind her of the time i fucked up. And i thought then, with tears in my eyes, that she had every right to replace me if she ever had the chance too. Because she deserved better than me.

Of course, when she came home, she quickly assured me that the stain on the carpet, and the death of the plant, were no big deal. She did her awesome mom thing and made me feel better about the whole situation. If I remember correctly we ended up moving a desk over the spot and after awhile it became another part of the decor. But i still remember how i felt that night. That dreadful fear that she would abandon me because of the incident. That that is what people do when it came to me. They tolerate me for so long until the opportunity arises where i can be replaced.

This has been a huge delay in the healing process for me. I am devastated by Marie's suicide. There are days when I can't comprehend that she is gone. That she is never coming back. I pretend that we are just taking a break from our friendship because we have grown distant. That she is just in Wisconsin (where she said she wanted to live once) going on with her life just as I am mine. Because that fantasy is much easier than the reality. It allows me to steer clear of feelings that she abandoned me. That I wasn't enough to make her stay.

And while I can write this, and cry, and feel sad, and put my grief into some sort of fuzzy perspective I am not open about this with my friends and family. I smile and grin and have seemingly adjusted well to the death of my best friend. It's hard to conceptualized that in the 7 months since her death i have blossomed into this.... better version of myself (from others POV not my own). I've lost some weigh, grown and cut my hair, become a skirt wearing chick and welcomed social interaction like a champ. I go to bars (irregulary, but more than i have), i'm invited to do things with people i love and adore.... and i have a tattoo! At tattoo! And am getting a piercing this weekend (long story)

Everyone seems to like the new Beckett. The girl with the edge and the crude jokes and the willingness to try new things. The girl who is open and outspoken, polite yet scrappy. The girl who is less timid and self conscious. She is a hit. She is me now in a lot of ways, with her combat boots and low skirts and new attitude. She is the me I see in the morning when i wake up and the me before i go to bed....except when she's not.

Because underneath the bravado and the grin, underneath the adjustment and the ease with which i have slipped into this new life I think about my best friend every day. I think of the me before she went away.And the sadness comes flooding back.

I often go back to the day she died and feel pressure in my head because i remember how hard i cried the night she died. And the old me is back. The facade falls apart. And i am suffocated by grief suddenly. But i don't have anyone to talk to about it because everyone around me thinks that i am okay. Why wouldn't they, i am good at pretending. So when i do get sad they don't even associate it with her death. It's all 'why are you so sad? is it the weather? your period? a boy break your heart? And i give this incredulous look because i am surprised they don't relate my sadness to her death.

On sunday i went to work after a morning of crying because I heard Marie's laugh in my head (memories are often triggered suddenly). I avoided everyone. Kept my head down. Made little  eye contact. My safety net against grief. When Sean came in he saw that I was upset, pulled me to the side, asked what was wrong. I told him that Marie was on my mind, he made a face like 'oh' and said we could talk in the back if it made me feel better. So we did. But he tried to pull me in for a hug first to comfort me. I pulled away because around people i'm not sure how grief is suppose to look. It feels excruciating, sometimes empty. Like a puzzle you've lost some pieces to. This is what the picture, me, is suppose to look like (a girl healing after the loss of her friend. look how well she has adjusted), except you've come to the end of my puzzle and realize a few pieces are missing. No matter how close you've come to the completing the picture, the missing pieces prevent it from every being whole. I will always feel like a puzzle not quite finished.

When i shrugged his hug and attempt to comfort me away he asked me to open up about what was in my head. Since he's working on being more sympathetic i need to work on not being a wall. But i'm not sure  how to do that. Because my grief  isn't as easy as missing her. Marie could be a terrible person. She wasn't nice. She wasn't friendly. She hated everyone. And sometimes I hated her. Not all the time. But some of the time. And my sadness has much to do with her death as it does with anger and disappointment and my own fears that I will end up like her.

But i can't say this. I can't. I can't. I don't admit this. And i wasn't about to to him of all people. So i put on an act. I played angry Beckett first: "i just wanna be left alone, dont touch me" *pushes cute boy away*. I played sad Beckett: I sat down on a stack of boxes and pouted up at him, i teared up and shook my head. He grabbed my hand and slid to the floor with me. He rubbed my thigh and told me that he was there to talk if i wanted him too. That he'd stay with me, in the awkward position, until i opened up. Crying Beckett followed soon after: "i just get so fucking sad Sean. I can't explain it. She's really gone isn't she". And he touched the side of my hair and told me that it was going to be okay.

I cried as much on the inside as I attempted to on the outisde.

Because I felt so numb afterwards. Dumb numb. I felt unresolved. I felt like a phony. Because with Sean I want my grief to look fragile. I need it to look that way with him because I want him to want to take care of the broken girl. I want the thigh touching and comforting stare. And it's not just with him that i am not authentic about my grief. With Kat I want my grief to look like progress. That while i am suffering i am stepping out of my shell and becoming a person again. With my mom I want my grief to look like strength, that Marie's death has taught me to value my own life. And while these are all accurate pictures of my grief (and healing process) these last couple of months, it doesn't capture the full truth. Because I am still struggling with what I need grief to be and look like for myself.

I am conflicted because I miss her and yet i hate what she did. I feel abandoned by her in the greatest sense. That she opted to leave instead of tough it out with me. And her death makes me feel like i did when i was kid, scrubbing away at the carpet with all my might, wishing that it (the carpet, the dead plant, the newness the stain brought) could just go back to the way it was before everything came crashing down.

 Some days, it's all i can think of.

I Wanna Touch You.

I want to touch Sean.

I want to touch him so bad it's all i can think of most days.

Ever since sunday I have been consumed with thoughts of being with him in every which way.

This desire is becoming somewhat of an issue lately because i am developing strong feelings for this boy.And not in an Art Boy, or Music Boy or McDreamy sort of way. I have seen this boy cry. I have yelled and been yelled at by him. I have touched and been touched (playfully) by him using hands and face. We have hung out outside of work. He made me a mother fucking vampire stake. The night before our lunched he called me on his break because he wanted to tell me a funny story. It was ten o'clock and I was just getting ready to play the Sims when my phone rang. I saw it was from the job and thought maybe the wanted to tell me to come in early on sunday or something. So i picked up the phone and the voice on the other end said 'yo' as if i'd recognize who it was off the back. And i did, because i know the sound of his voice like my own. He has a faint accent (he's from the bronx) and speaks with this very soft cocky authority. I tried to play it cool though (who is this) but he knew that I knew it was him. He had a really funny story to tell me and couln't wait until Sunday to tell me this, that's why he called. And for 15 minutes he relayed the stroy with excitement pausing where he knew i'd laugh.

Who calls someone to tell them a joke they'll think is funny.

Le sigh. I want to touch this boy. And be with this boy. And...be....with....this...boy.

And when I got off the phone with him, because he had to go back to work, that's all i can think of.

He is not my typical crush. He has sandy blonde hair and blue eyes and is sort of a jock. He tells disgusting jokes and has a temper. He is abrasive and cocky and says things before thinking. And yet, around me he is kind and considerate and funny. He quotes lines from movies and sings songs he hears on the radio. He lets me massage his hands when they hurt and if we have breaks together we share of mug of ice coffee that he piles with marshmellows because i like them.

Yes, I know i am walking a really really dangerous line with the boy and my desire from him. Yes i know this we have the sort of interactions that should not happen between me and a boy with a girlfriend. I know this. I do. But it's hard to explain all that i am feeling for him without sounding crazy. The best expalantion at the moment is...that I am looking to make a mistake with him because i know the relief, though short and fleeting, will feel good. He is the distraction I want from everythinng. He is attractive and smart and he likes me. So I am being selfish and unsafe with my emotions, I know this,  and yet, I want to touch him. I want to have him touch me. I want him to tell me his thinks i'm pretty again. I want him to find comfort in my voice. I want him to call me at fucking 10pm to tell me a story. I want to have him all to myself. And it literally pains me that this is not the case.

I keep replaying our lunch on sunday in my head. The scene and dialogue never change but i am examining everything from a different angle now that I've had time to think about it. For instance we talked about sex briefly. He is privy to my lack of experience in the sex department but I have never and will never admit my virginity to him. I don't want him to hold it over my head. I don't want him to think I am a frigid, no sex wanting ,virgin mary. Because that is not the case. I don't want to give him the impression that i am holding out for religious reason. Because that is not the case. But it's hard explaining to someone, who has had a handful of sexual partners, that my 'former' relationships and lack of sex is related to anxiety.

Because....i....want....to....have.....sex.....with....him. I want this to be an actuality without any consequence.


At one point during lunch though, he complained about his facial hair. It's not a beard or anything, he just hasn't shaved in a couple of days. He turned around and looked in the mirror and complained that his gf wasn't a huge fan of the look. I don't like when he brings up his gf for several reasons. His gf ain't me, for one, and because i don't want to say anything that will make it seem as if i am putting her statement or preference down. But i love the scruff on his face. I like the masculinity it brings to him. I like the way it feels when his face touches mine. I like it alot. So I told him this.

And while he thinks I am terribly repressed and rigid and that my sexual inexperience is related to lack of sexual desire for him (if he only knew) i admitted, then, that I am attracted to aspects of men that make them men. I like the brillo like feel of their facial hair. I like the way they smell. and walk. and carry themselves. I like strong backs and how rough their hands are. And i like that when you touch them, their bodies react automatically; that our touch can stun even the strongest of men. He seemed to like this answer as much as i liked telling him.

On the walk back to the store there were several confessions made. One that he would date me if he weren't attached to the hip. And two that his attraction, to me,is sexual as well. That it is very very sexual. And I couldn't take it man. I can't have him confess these things without being able to reach out and touch him and tell him that i feel the same way. And it's so terrible to want the things you can't have. To be in this constant state of desire for someone who is much better at playing it cool than you.

Kat is no help in the advice giving department. She currently has a crush on the young married preacher who works at our store. We are in the same' longing to be with the one we cant have' stage that has consumed our thoughts and conversations. But i feel so connected to this boy, i wonder daily if he feels the same way. I mean obviously he would have sex with me ( 'i am really really 'attracted' to you'), obviously he would date me if he weren't with his girl but is he smitten with me? He brings up things that makes me think he is or has been. He offered to pay for my tattoo, he bought me a harmonica (because i played it as a kid), he attempts to be around me a lot, he apologizes when he fucks up. He hates apologizing.

He came to work angry as hell one day (his cousin was in the hospital, doctors weren't sure if he was going to make it). He spent the whole day, fuming and yelling at people and being a terror. When i bumped into him he avoided me, told me to stay away from him that day and stormed out of the room we were in. I, being a girl, ignored this. When i ran into him again, I asked if everything was okay, I asked if we were going to ignore each other the whole day or was he going to come to me like a friend and tell me what was up. He looked miserable. Near tears again. But those angry boy tears that just sit in their eyes.

We were standing in the hallway again, our favorite place and he told me that I need to just leave it alone. I needed to stop caring about what was going on with him because i couldn't fix it. I started to tear up and I told him I couldn't do that because i don't know how to be friends with people, i'm still learning how to do that again, and that I care about him and wanted him to know that i gave a shit. If he didn't want to talk that was cool but i wanted him to know that I gave a shit enough to ask if things were okay.

He didn't say anything. He stared at me. Let out a deep sigh. Brought his hands to his face. And then stormed away, asking me to please leave him alone once more. That night i went home and cried. The next day, he came up to me and asked if we could have a minute alone. We went somewhere private and he apologized for how he acted. He told me about his cousin. He told me about his anger issues. And he told me that i don't ever deserve to be treated like he treated me that day. That my opinions and concerns and 'voice' matter. And then i massaged his wrist because he said he hurt and he asked if we were okay and i nodded my head silently as i massaged the knot in his hand away.

Fuuuuuuck. What's a girl to do!!!!!

It is these moments between us that drive me crazy. When he displays these very rare and sincere emotions towards me that i take to heart. I keep hoping that he feels at least a little of what i feel for him every day. That he wants to touch me as much as I want to touch and have him. And tomorrow we close together and I'm going to have to play it cool and forget that he said he would be with me and have sex with me and care about and for me if he could knowing that I am willing and ready for all of this to happen.

Fuuuuuck.

Mush Brain

My thoughts are all over the place.


And because of this writing about my thoughts has become tough.

I have so much to say and yet i am struggling to find comfort in writing my feelings down.
My mom asked me the other day if I still kept an online journal (she knows about this space but luckily is not computer savvy enough to ever find it) and I told her "sort of, but i haven't written in it lately". She asked why and i told her because i don't know how to write anymore. She told me that didn't make any sense. Of course I know how to write. I've been doing it my whole life. And she retold the story, of which i have heard a million times, about the time my 6th grade English teacher told my mom my writings made her happy. That i wrote the sort of things that made her want to sit down in front of her fireplace to read my thoughts. My mom was so proud, and so surprised all at the same time. That girl, she said, that girl has not gone away.

But instead of agreeing with her I told her that my perspective on things are so different now that the tone of my writing has changed. That while that girl is still here, she is sooooo different, her writing has changed with her. And because of this i am struggling to find my voice amongst the change. I'm struggling to make sense of my thoughts now as the way i see things continue to evolve.
I hate admitting this. But this truth is all i have.
It's not that I don't have things going on to write about. Cause i do! So many things actually. Friend things. Job things. Sean things.Life things.New York City things. All of these things are complicated as hell and a pain to deal with but they are things I want to readily write about. I also have so many not so great things to write about. Anxiety. Depression.Grief. But i don't know how to put them all down anymore. I just don't.

Writing has always been about honesty for me. About an awareness of my surroundings and attempt to understand things. But me at 26 is so fucking different from me at 19 that i feel so conflicted about my surroundings and feelings about them. There is an edge to me now that i am afraid to embrace and talk about. The things i want and need to be honest about are so new that i feel anxious while experiencing them and even writing about them: boys, sex, desire, grief, the need to belong, the desire to be left alone. I'm not sure how to write it all down. And it's not to say i won't get back to the place where i was comfortable with doing this...but it's been harder than i thought it would be.

I've been attempting, for my own good, to be a part of the world.  It's weird. There was a time when I was okay with being a loner. Where I was okay with my routine. Because now i am terrified of this. There are nights when I replay my first phone conversation with Marie's mom, they day she died, and her telling me, through terrible sobs, that when they picked her up to move her back home (after she was laid off) they walked into a mess of an apartment. "it was so disgusting. I couldn't believe it".

Marie was against people visiting her house. When I think back to it, I've never actually been to her place. In high school. college. or post college. Ever! I mean i visited her dorm once or twice. And I knew where she lived cause we always drove by it. But she was so guarded about her living space. She use to tell me all the time that the one friend she had in North Carolina would ask to visit her place all the time. But she wouldn't let him. She was much more comfortable in environments other people created. And anytime she did mention her apartment it was always to complain that after two years of living there she still was unpacked.

I bring this up only because when I was in college, i described my anxiety as a house. As this place that was far away from people and interactions and disappointment. Except the house worked against me more than it did for me. I built anxiety to house my depression and my fears of being a disappointment to people. I was afraid of letting anyone in because of the mess they'd find. And when Marie's mom told me that her apartment was in disarray, it clicked that Marie was doing the same thing. Except her house was her enemy more so than her friend.

 And I don't want to do that anymore. I don't want to shut people out from this person that I've becoming.

Cause I'm a mess. And i get sad. and irrational. But I also have incredibly good days. Where i am  happy. And silly. And adventurous. Cause while I miss the shit out of Marie, while I think of her every day, I am afraid of ending up like her. I'm afraid of not being able to see a future for myself through the pain and the anxiety. I'd rather feel crazy about life, boys and general anxiety than to not exist at all.

So I'm attempting to feel everything these days (not all at once of course). And some days it works for me. Sometimes i feel like my brain is a mush ball of emotions. But I'm embracing it because it keeps me going. Recently I've made some friends, gone to some bars, cried on a few shoulders, hugged cute boys, gone to church (a looong story), eaten a lot of cupcakes, joined a zumba class (a looooong story) and developed insanely crazy feelings for Sean.

We went to lunch today. He asked me to lunch! I was heading home after my shift and he was taking his break. He asked if i wanted to grab burgers across the street. He'd pay for me. So we went, and because I'm insecure around him, i figured he would buy our burgers and I'd walk him back to the store so he could eat his hamburger alone while i went home to eat mine. Because why on earthy would he want to hang out with me, despite how close we have gotten lately. But he wanted to sit down and talk because he didn't want to go back to the store. So we ate lunch, while I propped my legs across from his and took sips from his cup of ice tea (which he was willing to share).

 We talked about movies and relationships and sex. We discussed work, anger and childhood. When we were done I walked him back to the store, which is a few blocks away.  I skipped along to his long strides. He said it was weird getting older. I agreed. He said  it's weird how different he is from the boy he was. I agreed. And related. He asked about my insecurities. The ones I mentioned at lunch. About not feeling good enough some days. He said he couldn't believe I'd ever feel that way about myself. I said it was hard to explain. He said girls are difficult like that, no need to explain. He got silent for a moment. I stared up at his face. I like his face, especially when he doesn't shave. When he spoke, breaking the silence, it was quick and direct, that I almost didn't catch his words. He said, to the space in front of us, that if weren't tied to the hip (with his gf), he'd date me because he liked being around me. Silence. He doesn't feel that way about a lot of people. Silence. I blushed and told him he shouldn't say that to me because I'd take it to heart. He blushed and said 'i'm just telling you the truth. I'm sorry".

I wished him goodbye at the doorway. I lost my shit on the way home. I cried and laughed at the absurdity of my life. That moments like this: shocking and gentle are happening a lot lately. And that I am secretly grateful for them all.

Boy oh boy, things are weird and new around here. And if you bear with me, as i try to break this writing block  i promise I'll work on being more honest about these experiences here. Cause I'm still that girl with the dumb musings but my perspective just happens to be a little different these days. I am focusing on my external life first before my internal one. And I'm not sure if am doing anything right these days. I feel clumsy and curious about everything around me. But i must admit it feels nice experiencing all of these things no matter how confusing and difficult it is for me to put them down on 'paper'.

~Beckett.

Movie, Hamburgers, Park.

My weekend was pretty fucking amazing.

I can't lie. This summer I have a lot of things planned. I want to explore more. And take advantage of where I live. And despite being dirt poor i'd like more visits to the city that involve indie movies, food and parks. A lot of parks.

For now here are some pictures of my day. Some days i feel like a lucky girl.

Tomorrow a real post. I promise.

Hanging in There.

Sorry I've been away.

Writing has been a little tough these days. Which sucks because I have so much to say.

A lot has happened. I'm still at my shit job, naturally, but socially things are different. I'm attempting to be a human being again. No more of this numb Beckett shit. I miss feeling things. I desire to be a part of things. But this is more complicated than I thought.

My emotions are all over the place lately. I'm growing up and feeling the pains of getting older. Of wanting relationships. stability and sanity.

Writing it all down would help. It will help. Like it always has. Being able to write what i feel has been a life saver. But I guess i am in the weird stage where I am trying to find and understand my voice again. I guess that's why writing, in and out of the blog world, has been a struggle.

But i will write again. And soon.

I promise.

~Becks

Stage 3: Anger.

There are things that I am good at. There are things that I am bad at. I know this much about myself.

I excel at dancing offbeat to songs. I am silly and effortless. I can analyze my ass off: finding connections between the most extreme things. I am creative and quick on my feet. I am down to earth and witty. I make a mean grilled cheese sandwich. And above all, i am a pro at going with the flow. Sure i get stressed. Sure i break down, but i know how to adapt over time. It's what i am good at.

But i am also very moody. Emotional and defensive to criticism. A loner with intimacy issues. I don't know how to verbalize my thoughts in public. I can be clingy and cliquey. I am disappointed easily. I am careless with my feelings and often others. Oh and I suck at math. Like, seriously, i am terrible with numbers.

Lately 'dealing with Marie's death' is another thing i am bad at. Missing her is the easiest part of my grief. There is literally this big hole in my life where this person use to be. I see two awkward people walking down the street and I'm reminded of her. I hear a deep laugh from out of view and my stomach drops. I smell food and listen to sounds, i view sights and feel emotions that have all be defined in some way by memories of her. And i miss her suddenly. Violently even. Because the reminders are everywhere.

I remember dumb things about her, like the way her gums use to show when she laughed. The freckle near her nose that i use to stare at trying to decipher if it made her face pretty after all. I remember the height difference between us. How she towered over me, this big lanky girl with the wide hips. I remember her long toes, like fingers on her feet. I remember her rust colored hair that matched her eyes. I can't get the sound of her laugh out of my head. Or the way she pronounced my name. She comes to me in particles these days. Bits and pieces of a person i once knew. And ever so often, I forget she's gone. I forget that I cannot just reach out to her to put the pieces of her life and my memories back together again.

Missing her is easy. I am good at that.

Loving her however, that is hard.

I still remain in touch with her mom via text. I check in as much as I can to see how everyone is holding up. I am the only friend her daughter had. And while i am grateful to have them as an extended family I am burdened by the responsibility. Marie has put me in a position where I am living for two now. Her mom has lost a daughter. Her family has lost a sister and an aunt. I feel responsible for them now. Despite the bad relationships she had with her mom, and her hatred for her siblings. Despite her annoyance for/of her stepdad, we are now forever connected because of our loss. We are all lifetime members of a club we never wanted to be apart of.

And this, makes me fucking angry.

This makes me fucking angry at the girl I spent the last 13 years being best friends with. The one i went to prom with. The one i talked about boys and life with. The one I made plans with. I am disgusted by her pride. Her inability to come to me once shit hit the fan. Her selfishness and eagerness to give up. And now more than ever, I am just so angry that she couldn't conjure up some (fuck ONE) ounce of hope and endurance to stay. That she didn't consider how fucking miserable we'd all feel now that she's gone.

The other night, after a (anotherr) boy related meltdown (things in the boy department are getting murky), i went to text Kat about Sean and my feelings and something random James Franco lookalike said that made me antsy.When i got to my phone to vent to Kat there was a text from Marie's Mom and I felt so guilty, because i haven't texted her since Easter. I don't know what to say to her. Every time i send her a text i remember the day Marie died. I remember the numb felling. I remember not crying at first, because I sort of had a feeling that something terrible had happened. I remember then pain that came suddenly. Like a cut, that doesn't really hurt at first until you look down and see the blood. And I can't help but wonder if her mom feels the same way every time she sends me a text. Does she relive the morning they found her?  Does she relive the same sadness of that day? Our communication is almost tortuous because of this, because if Marie were alive her mom would just be her mom, instead of someone i send 'how are you doing?' texts to.

She asked how I was doing (okay?). What my plans were for the summer (job hunting. photo taking). And when I planned on coming home to visit (fall. maybe. If i can save the money). I asked her the same questions as well. Neglecting to write Marie's name but alluding to her and how weird it feels that five months have passed. And then we promised to text again (as we always do). And to stay in touch (as lifelong members must). And I went to the bathroom and cried. Not out of sadness. But anger.

I am coming to terms with Marie's death. I am. I understand now that there was the Marie who worked hard to be a part of the world and the Marie who thought often of death and ending her life. The suicidality of her being was such a big part of her personality that I regret not seeing the signs too sooner. But it doesn't make me less pissed at her. It doesn't make coming to terms what her death easier. Instead, I am angry and frustrated and disappointed.

I struggle daily to understand who i am now that she is gone. Life some days feels like one bland taste after another. Sometimes, I feel dulled like the days right before I have the flu. When all of my senses are fucked because of the impending virus. Everything taste bland, everything smells the same. I still can chew the food, swallow the contents, muster the energy to stay afloat but i am going through the motions. I smile, I laugh, I joke, I love, i grieve but it's all a jumbled bland mess of existing.

And it doesn't make it easier now that I have to take in account being a part of another persons family. I want to remain in touch. I have to. I need to have that connection to the people who knew her as well. But i am anxious about my new role. By proxy, I can't be the daughter/aunt/sister that they lost. I am already failing miserably at doing so with my own friends and family (that's a dramatic stretch but you get what I'm saying), I'm not sure how to handle the weight of living for two. I am not fond of the position that Marie has put me in. There is this book called Carry the One about a loss and redemption that I've wanted to read for awhile. The title stems from the characters feeling of guilt and disconnect that stems from a pivotal death that has had an affect on them. And no matter what the characters do, achieve, fail at in life 'when you add [them] up, you always have to carry the one'.

I am angry at Marie for giving up on her life. I am angry that she was so consumed by her own depression she didn't consider how her death would affect everyone she knew. I am angry. fire spewing. red seeing angry because i didn't sign up for this.
  

Infinite Stress

Too stressed to write.

Too stressed to sleep.

Too stressed to eat.

Too stressed to function like a human being lately.

I am a slippery (declining) slope of emotions and anxiety lately.

Ugh. I wish I had better news to post here.

~Beckett

P.S.I hate Gotye. I loathed him. And that dumb "someone I use to know' song that keeps playing every where. It's all over the goddamn place. Work. Check. Supermarket. Check. In the Car. Check. Facebook Newsfeed. Check.But then I hear "Save Me" at work the other day (because the whole album is an in-store play) and I cried.

 Hardcore.

Sobbing.

In the aisle.

I miss having someone around to tell me that every thing is going to get better. I hate that i am full of doubt that things actually will...get better, you know.

F*cking Gotye.

Damsel in Distress.

I have money woes.

And boy woes.

And other general woes which make me weepy and tired and just plain exhausted from all the thinking, over thinking and fretting.

I am literally the poorest I have ever been in a very long time. All of our hours have been slashed at the store, we've been told not to take it personally, but I cannot understand why I am working these crap 12 hour work weeks. I make enough money to eat. Pay my rent. Go to the movies.That's about it.

I do not like living paycheck to paycheck. It's the worse feeling in the world. I am very responsible with my money. I never buy things just because i want them  (except for the occasional cheap cd/dvd) and even then I don't have enough money to cover basic necessities.

I've been at the store for 3 years. I don't think I should have to fight for decent hours. I feel like I am being punished because occasionally i talk to much to Kat or disappear with Sean for an unseen amount of time. But when I am there I get my work done, I put a smile on my face, I put in a little bit of an effort.

Yesterday, I almost came to tears when I walked into the break room and there was Evil Manager giving an orientation to some new chick. Excuse me? Wtf? For some one who spends the morning or evening shifts emphasizing the lack of hours at the store, why would you bring in a new person. Sure we've lost a few people since January. But I don't understand why she wouldn't just spread out the available hours to the people already there. Instead of hiring someone new.

And I admit, I've been slacking on the job search (which makes my lack of hours at the store even more frustrating. Cause i have the time to actually look for a new job). But I am at a point where I am depleted by the search. I've been staring at the puzzle, mystery for too long and I just need to step back for a while so I can attack it with vigor and enthusiasm again. But with my money situation I don't have time to take a step back and see what I am doing wrong. I have to continue despite my lack of interest in doing so. This has me frustrated to no end.

On the boy front...well, I don't see him that often (because of my hours) but when I do, I am completely and utterly smitten with him to the point where I hate what he is doing to me. I think about him all the time. How can I not when there is so much flirting and touching and eye ogling when we are together. Last weekend, we got away with spending our whole shift together. When I kept trying to look busy he'd ask me to stay with him for a while. For no reason. Just so I'd be near him. And like a chick in lurve, I stayed.

During one of our conversations he was struggling to remember something 'important' that he wanted to tell me. He was doing that 'i had something on the tip of my tongue to say to you, but now i can't remember'. After awhile I told him it probably wasn't anything important and that it would come back to him in time. He turned to me and said 'but it was something really funny to make you laugh. I thought of it specifically because I'd knew it'd me you laugh. I like when you do'.

At this point I don't even care what head he is thinking with. I like him. I like him a lot. I want to smooch and hold him and have him be my boy. I want him to think of ways every day to make me giggle. I want him to think of me when he doesn't have to. Clearly there is a huge roadblock in that department and it leaves me sad and depressed about the whole situation. While he has a girlfriend NOTHING will come of this attraction. And I feel like I am cutting myself short by investing all my energy on a boy I can't have. But in all honesty, i have thrown rationale aside when it comes to him. I am clearly being ruled by my emotion rather than my head.

I feel consumed by life lately. I am stressed about by so many different facets of living in new york, wanting financial stability, wanting a relationship with a certain boy that i at a standstill. I don't know what direction to take. I don't know what comes next. I don't know how to get what i need (a new job, more money) and I'm not sure if what i want is good for me (Sean) despite the insane physical attraction.

And sometimes I wish someone else could just take the reigns on all the issues that are piling up. I wish someone could tell me what to do with the boy and the job situation and the money woes. Head under covers, I would listen intently to anyone that could for a moment bear the weight of this incredible sense of dread cause I don't have a clue on what to do.

I know there are things I can control. I can control the number of applications I send out. I can write more. dance more. take more pictures. I can ask my mom for financial help.I can inquire about my lack of hours. I can stop touching Sean in the break room. janitors closet. and in the aisle. I can Control these things.

But it is the things I can't control that make me feel distressed. and helpless and eager for someone else to think for me. I can't control getting a new job. I can't control the lack of hours the store apparently has to give. I can't control feeling depressed even after a good dance.I can't control my feelings for Sean. I can't control the feeling I get when he sees me unexpectedly and seems generally happy to have me around. Like my face is a break from reality.

Ugh. I am a damsel in distress. And I don't even have a  knight to save me from all the heartache it is causing.

Crafty Weekend.

My Weekend:

Pros: bust craftacular fair w/Kat

         cupcakes from Crumbs

         saw Damsels in Distress

         devoured tasty street vendor food

         laughed nonstop 

         visited a sex shop (a first)

         found a small bookshop to browse

         snapped pictures of parks and interesting faces

Cons: bailed on nice boy's birthday bash.

          money woes kept me up.

          disappointment in sean department (this happens often).

          feelings of dread, angst and general anxiety

          letter of rejection from job i interviewed for

          inability to decipher if my exhaustion is making me depressed,

               or if depression is wearing me out.

                   

            



Nothing Stays the Same.

I'm thinking about giving this space a face lift.

I've been eyeing the new templates for quite some time and I am eager to change the look of things here. I've been a little lax on writing these days. I apologize. I must admit my head is all over the place. My thoughts are constricted. My voice has no direction.

I feel overwhelmed more than usual this week. I am stressed about money (lack of), about what to do with my life (I need a Plan G) and men ( Sean, idiotic flirty customers and one boy whose feelings i will have to hurt in. I'll explain later.).

I am a little anxious. A little worn out. And seriously consumed with so many new emotions and wants and desires that I've been taking a break from thoughts because they are all over the place. This is not to say I feel out of control. Because i don't. It's the exact opposite. I feel more in tune with my environment these days than i have in quite some time. I am interacting with people. Trying new things. Contemplating new projects and another tattoo (I want the sparrow tattoo depicted in the picture! it's so pretty. Tattoos are addictive. Everyone is right) Accepting the loss that change brings. For the most part I am taking each day with care and ease.

But I do sometimes feel like I am suspended in the air. Like a trapeze artist moments before I am to take flight. I am dangling from this thin bar of  'what the hell i am suppose to do next' as gracefully as I can. I am filled with uncertainty and anxiety that being at such great heights and expectations brings. I know there is a net beneath me. I know that that all the safest precautions are in place to protect me from harm. But nonetheless the idea of letting go is as terrifying as it is exciting. I am trying to remain calm despite the nerves. despite the fear of propelling myself  into the air so i can grasp on to the next phase. the next bar and challenge.

I'm not sure if this feeling of being overwhelmed is a good thing or not. But it sure is forcing me to reassess some things in my life currently. My job continues to suck and I make little money these days so I am shopping around for new employment as usual exploring my professional and creative options. The boy(s) situation is just a hot mess of affections and sexual frustration and possibly one sided emotions. I am trying to get my feelings in check, willing myself against the inevitable broken heart and halting all temptations to get wrapped up in to the well sculpted arms of a boy who isn't mine to have.

More importantly, I am just trying to figure me out. Without my best friend and voice of reason to guide me i feel so lost these days. I have so many questions about life, love and the pursuit of happiness that I want to discuss with the person who knows me best. And she isn't here to do that so I have to go it alone. I am having to figure things out through trial and error.

A very current and urgent example is my relationship issue. My emotions are all over the place and I admit my interactions with the opposite sex has not been healthy. Nothing sexual of course but the tension between a couple of gents (Sean is just the main issue) is more than a little distracting.

Particularly, there is a guy who use to work with us at Le Sad Store who has a crush on me. Like hardcore. I can tell because he looks at me the way I look at Sean. He comes in for a hug the way I hold on to my crush. His hands linger, he says things that can double for other things.  While he no longer works at the store he makes a habit of coming in on his break (he works nearby) to stop in an say hey. He'll aisle stalk the store until he finds me and then it's this long drawn out interaction of hugging, flirting and careless words.

It's apparent that he likes me. I mean the whole store knows. And I am not doing much to deter his crush. I admit this. For some reason I am always nicest to the boys I have no intention of ever dating. Which is something I am trying to fix. But now I feel he is at the point where he is going to ask me out and I am going to have to turn him down. I am not mentally attached to him, physically attracted or emotionally interested in pursuing anything with him. And it has nothing to do with Sean. Despite my obvious feelings for him.

The truth is, I am not in the position to be anything to anyone these days. I am only equipped to deal with and process my own emotions and reality and expectations for myself. I am not the same since Marie's death. I'm not. And I'd like to have a grasp on who I am now before I contemplate being someones someone. And in a weird way I'm not just talking about the boy situation, I'm talking about everything in my life. Everything that is requiring me to make a decision. Work, Men, Friends, Writing. I am a complicated, emotional, reckless girl these days. My tears run heavy, my thoughts are chaotic, and some days i feel like i am losing grip on the bar my hands are holding onto. But I'd like to be remain in this position of choosing who and what is good for me based on my wants and needs a little longer.

I'd like to be in the position to control aspects of my life and desires and emotions at my own pace, independent of any one's expectations except my own.

Easier said than done, i know, but I'm working on it.

A proper post soon. I promise. After much needed sleep though. I have a busy week: craft fair, work, babysitting and an awkward dinner party, I'll need all the rest I can get in order to live and document it all.

Until then,

Beckett.

Say What?!

I have to write this down before i go to sleep. Before I go to dream world only to wake up and convince myself that tonight did not happen.

Tonight I had a closing shift with Sean. I haven't seen him in awhile because my hours are wonky. Wonky hours mean less time flirting in the aisle with him and making inappropriate jokes.

So needless to say, it was nice seeing him and being around him and generally having him around.

We were heading out of the break room just as he was making a joke that he was aware that I 'wanted' him. He said this because he is doing some dumb intense workout routine that has beefed him up a bit. The few times we've worked together he makes sure that I get a peak at his flat stomach. Yep, I said it. He lift up his shirt, baring a very flat, toned stomach and ask me if I can see the difference in his body.

(Yessir. I do).  

He asked me again tonight. To check out his newly toned body so that I could do my dumb girl thing and compliment him. I said i didn't want another sneak peak of his body (liar), so he stopped abruptly in front of me I bumped into him and pretended to be offended (at first)

"Aren't you a little bit interesting in looking"

(Of course. I am a girl w/desires and needs).

"No! And why do you care what i think of your body" I laugh patting him on the back and moving around him to go back to work.

"Because I know that you think of me"

(Please. I don't want to have this conversation now).

"No I don't"

"Oh, come on, yes you do".

"You have a girlfriend which means you are pretty much off limits, whether i think about you or not isn't going to make a difference at the end of the day"

He looked  hurt by this for some reason. The nature of our conversation suddenly went from funny to semi-serious. He turned to me with his very stoic face like as if he is trying to pull the truth from me with his eyes. And I felt guilty for lying to him but too guarded by my feelings to admit that I like him. More than I should.

"You're right. I do have a girlfriend. But are you saying, outside of that, that you really don't think about 'us' at all"

"I mean-i do-maybe, like--it's....."

"....cause i do. think about us.

".....really?"

"A Lot actually. And I do, you know, consider us. If things were different I would want an 'us'. I just wanted you to know that"

Uh, asaywhat?!?! excuse me?!?!?! Did you just say this?

I stared at him with a stupid look on my face. And then I giggled uncomfortably. And then mumbled something incoherently that resembled 'yeah, me too'

I don't understand boys. I don't understand why he'd tell me he thinks of being with me in 'that way' or 'this way' or 'some way' knowing that nothing can or will come of it while he is with his girlfriend. Maybe he is trying to test me. Maybe he is throwing ideas out there to see which one I'll latch onto. I'm not sure. I'm just not.

And I'm not use to attention from boys. Sexual, emotional or otherwise so i misinterpret everything. But he looked all cute and 'do you think of me' adorable and I wanted to say "Yes! Yes! I do think of you. in the way you have just admitted you think of me! Now break up with your girlfriend, let's make this happen and carve me another vampire stake baby!!!'.

But things with him are complicated. Things with me are equally complicated. And my needs vs. my wants are completely confused by this boy.

Why must he be so cute. and unavailable. and so tempting. Why must i be so needy and wanting of his affection.

A Change of Seasons.

I'm uber anxious tonight. You ever get that sense that everyone/thing around you is going through some universal change. That there is a newness in the air. That things are going to be different, not really better or worse, but just New. This feeling excites and scares the crap out of me. These last few months I have been so comfortable in my everyday that I've been ignoring the changes around me. I've fallen into a routine that doesn't necessarily make me happy but that makes me feel safe.

But safe is boooooring. While I am content with it these days because of all that has happened these last few months. I am not happy about stagnation. At all. Of course these thoughts/fears/worries are running rampant now as mutltiple changes are occurring to people around me. "James Franco" look-a-like is going to New Zealand for 8 months this summer. 8 whole months! What the what?! Another friend of mine just announced he got a desk job at some crap company that makes lens. People are coupling up, breaking up and forming new and stronger bonds (me included). The weather is warming up. Everyone is packing away the old to embrace for the new. Things are suddenly in bloom.

And lately I feel stuck at the starting line.

I am not a girl who settles. I want to try new things and see where this potential can get me. And now that Spring is at my fingertips I crave change more than ever. I mean sure, I like my life these days. I like my friends and my crush( a lot) and the change in my personality. I am less hard on myself. Okay with making mistakes. Content with being a fearless explorer of simple pleasures. But i absolutely loathe everything else about my days. I hate all this free time (the store cut hours again). I hate my job. I hate never having money. I hate the lack of creativity. And direction.

I want to balance the loves of my life with the needs of my life. But this is an easier said than done.

I need newness in my life. Something to restore the drag that often cast its shadow overhead. I need to start making goals again. I don't' want to be left on the wayside as things begin to bloom and change shape.

And I'm not talking my usual dumb abstract goals either. I need to have concrete aspirations that I can accomplish within a decent amount of time. Goals that reflect my current needs: monetary stability, dedicated free time to finish short story anthology, a change of venue (I'd like my own little studio at least before my 27th birthday) and an available cute boy to date.

I simply need a new routine that is so outside of my current one.

For once if things are going to change around me, I'd like to be apart of it. I'd like to be apart of the transition into a new more exciting way of existing.

I am capable of this.

Life After Death

Today marks 3 months since Marie committed suicide and I'm not really sure how I'm dealing with her death/my grief these days.

I do know that missing her has not gotten easier. Sure I don't cry as much. Sure that empty feeling in my stomach is no longer there. Sure I am not throwing things at people and being an impossible wall to talk too. But I miss and think about my best friend every day. I carry her life and death on my shoulder like a badge and Scarlett letter. I am conflicted by my love and rage towards her.

Today I was cleaning up my room when I found a Christmas card Marie sent me two years ago.
It's this silly holiday card with a hand drawn picture of a muscle-y dude holding various handy tools. The guy of my dreams for the holiday she writes. A present from her to me.

I forgot i even had this card in my possession. Since her death I have been in search of physical items of hers to keep nearby. My memories feel faulty. My life with her even more complicated when I do allow myself to go to the time when she was alive. Because of this i find comfort in the physical things she left behind rather than the emotional. The concrete rather than the abstract.

Like the GRE and cookbook she mailed me my first year in New York. Or the stuffed animal she bought me in the 12th grade. His name is George ( i name every stuffed animal George. seriously) and he sleeps in the reading nook i created in my room. I have this ugly scarf she bought me when my hair was uber crazy that i wear every day at home. These physical properties, that she touched and possessed, are my reminders that she existed outside of the memories that plague me.

Cause while my life continues to go on and i form new/meaningful relationships and bonds with people they can't begin to understand the weight of my grief and loss. That the person I felt the closest too in the whole wide world took her life a few months ago.

So naturally when I found this card, I sort of fell to pieces. I gasped and then ran my fingers across her handwriting and brought it close to nose to see it still carried the scent or essence of her. And it doesn't. It's just another thing (along with myself) that she left behind. Another thing that i will add to the rest of the objects I'm collecting and hanging on to that will conjure memories of our time together.

It's hard dealing with her death because i feel so guilty about moving on. I feel guilty about the experiences i am having and the life i am creating and the daily knowledge that for me to deal with her loss it is necessary for me to take charge of my life and happiness. I feel like I am relearning how to live all over again.

The other week I went to a hotel party with a friend (Chris) from work who happens to be Sean's cousin. I've known him longer than Sean and generally like being around him because he's a creative and introverted and sincere platonic guy who i get along with. And the complete opposite of my current crush, which is a good thing.

The party we went to was thrown by a mutual friend whose birthday was that weekend. Because neither of us wanted to go separately we decided to go together. To make it less awkward and so that we would have an out when we both got tired of drunk people and loud music. And while I was a little hesitant about going to this party, I wanted to do something different on a Saturday night. I knew that Chris and I would have a good time regardless ('we can make paper cranes if you feel uncomfortable).

We stayed much longer than anticipated though. We never got to make paper cranes. I was tipsy and and lightheaded because i forgot to eat earlier that day. Some more people from work showed up and we sort of sat around and talk for a long time. As more people started to join the party (many I did not know), it seemed harder to find an excuse to leave. I was concerned because Chris looked like he had no intention of heading home. He sort of fell into the 'jovial talkative' guy early on and I didn't want to leave without the person I came with, even if he decided to change the 'we bail early' plans.

Around midnight though, I was wearing thin. And he immediately took notice. There were several complaints about the noise level in the room, so we took this as our opportunity to bail. Of course by this time, I was above and beyond tipsy. The alcohol had gone straight to my head and I would have failed any 'walk in a straight line' tests. Everyone kept asking how I was going to get home and to be honest I had no clue. I didn't think this part of the night through. But Chris, being the gentleman that he is, offered to walk me all the way home.

I declined his offer at first. I live about 30 minutes from the hotel and I was worried about how he would get home because he would miss his bus or train by walking me all the way to my house. But he said he didn't mind. He told Sean he would take care of me and that is what he intended to do. So he extended his arm out for me to grab and we started the stumbling, drunk walk to my house.

On the walk home we talked about everything: Sylvia Plath, how to sober up in the morning, the lack of hours at work, what it is that we are suppose to have figured out in our 20's. It was sort of nice. The moon was out, there was a nice wind blowing and he let me rest my head on his shoulder as he practically dragged me home. As we started the walk up the big ass hill that leads to my house he started to talk about writing. Current and old projects. He wanted to know how my writing was coming along. And i said (something along the lines of):

My best friend killed herself 10 weeks ago. She was my everything. And everything I use to know about writing and myself and life feels uneven. I don't know who I am as a writer anymore because she was such a big part of my life as one. So the writing is not coming. I can't think anymore. I have no words anymore. For anything.

I felt him tense up against me. He was quiet for a moment and I feared that I'd gone too far by bringing her up. By admitting my current issues with writing. But baring such a private thing to him. But he continued dragging me up the hill, matching my sloppy steps and said (something along the lines of)

I heard. About your friend. And, um, I wanted to say that I was sorry. When you came to me and Sean that day, we didn't know, that she would...you know, we weren't trying to be, dismissive, we just didn't know...I'm sorry.

You ever hear something that you didn't know you needed to hear but when you do a huge weight is lifted from your shoulder. I must admit that is what I felt when he said this too me. He validated my loss and grief and sadness while validating her existence and impact in my life. I wanted to cry when he apologized because i felt so alone and unsupported that week when i thought she'd gone missing and there I was because comforted and held together by another friend who is stepping into help me deal with this loss.

We safely made it to my house, where i finally let go of his arm and thank him for walking me home. He wished me a goodnight not before saying that in the morning I'd probably feel like shit and that:

whatever you feel you've lost (writing wise) since her death will resurface. It'll be different maybe but it hasn't gone away. Start from where you are now. You'll find your way back to writing again.


And I feel like that goes for everything in my life these days. Everything, absolutely, everything I thought about life, love, friendship, death and myself has all changed since Marie died. Since her death I feel like I've been dropped off in some strange, new, world where i have no other choice but to adjust too the new things around me. Some days it is easy. Some days it is hard. But eventually i hope that on the other side of this grieving process I find myself back to a version of me that's renewed, a tad different, essenstially the same, forever shaped by the time i had with her.

I just got to start healing from this point. The point where the cracks have yet healed.

I miss her everyday. I miss us everyday. And that fact that it's been three months since she died is unbelievable. But i'm getting better. I feel stronger. Sometimes fragile. But better. I know this much at least.

Beckett the Vampire Slayer.

So I may not have gotten a Buffy tattoo but guess who got a vampire slaying kit for her birthday.

This chick. I'm in awe.

Le Boy did not make this for me.Though i guess the original vampire stake ( my first and most important one) he made was the inspiration for this kit that a good friend of mine put together.

It's an all out slayer kit, with everything a slayer would need to well, slay things. A cross necklace, a few stakes, 'holy' water and garlic!


I knew in advance that I was getting a vampire kit for my birthday. But the final product turned out better than i expected. He even threw in two books about vampires so i can read up on them, just in case, i should run into one.

I love that my friends indulge me in my Buffy obsession.

I love that I have friends.

Today was good. I hope my days continue to get better.

My Birthday in a Nutshell

What an extraordinary, tiring, emotional draining though euphoric birthday week i had. I don't think I've ever felt this loved and appreciated by people before. I am a little worn out and exhausted after everything but of course I managed to take some pictures in between the celebrating.

My mom bought me a Kindle! Sure, I've been a little weary about getting an e-reader because I am fiercely in love with actual books but did you know you can borrow books from the library on an e-reader? I didn't. It's the coolest thing ever, especially because going to the library has been a little awkward this days (it's a long story).

I also got my first tattoo. Kat took me on Thursday and I am now the owner of a paper crane on my wrist. I still intend on getting a Buffy tattoo but the (paper) crane symbolizes endurance (among other things) and that is something I've learned that I possess these last few weeks. So i decided to get that as my first tattoo instead. It's a really awesome tattoo. A small and feminine paper crane captured in flight. I'm in love.

I was a little upset with Sean this week because he failed to wish me a happy birthday. No text, no dumb facebook comment. Nada. When I got to work on Saturday, I was a little peeved about this. It's not like he didn't know it was my birthday. He's asked me repeatedly what I wanted. I brought it up to him several times so that he'd have no excuse. And yet March 1st came and went without anything from Le Boy.

Sometime during my shift on Saturday he pulled me aside to wish me a happy birthday (finally) and he also apologized for not reaching out on the actual day. It's pretty hard being mad with him when he's around so I said it was okay, that i wasn't that upset at him anyway. He wanted to see me tattoo and after teasing him about what I got I showed him my crane and he was completely smitten with it. He held my wrist in his hand for a solid minute or so, turning it back and forth in his hands.

Sean: how much did it cost?

Me: 50 bucks. But I was expecting to spend more

Sean: Did someone help you pay for it?

Me: No. Why would someone do that?

Sean: Because then it could be their birthday gift to you, some people do that.

Me: I didn't think of that. I should have huh, would have saved me fifty bucks.

Sean: It could be my present to to you. Let me give you the money back that you spent on that tattoo. You said 50, right? Then the crane could be my gift to you. If you want.

I was dumbfounded. He offered/wanted to pay for my tattoo! It was sweet and caught me off guard and I was tempted to say 'sure, that would be the most awesome gift you could give to me'. But I have an issue with taking money from friends/crushes/potential boyfriend material. And I like looking down at my wrist and knowing that this was a gift to myself for my birthday. I like the ownership and bond i have with my new ink.

So i had to decline his sweet offer but instead said that he could take me food shopping one day with the money he would have given me for the tattoo. He said that was a fair enough trade. Me. Sean. In a supermarket. Cart and all. I look forward to it.

My friends and family were complete gems this year. From Monday to Last Night, everyone went out of their way to make sure my birthday felt spectacular. And it did. I had cupcakes and meatball sandwiches, torchwood marathons and Buffy gifts. I didn't feel alone and unwanted or devalued once. I was surrounded by people who love and care for me as much as I do them.

It was a perfect week outside of the obvious missing link to my happiness, but I enjoyed every minute of my 26th birthday I have so much to say and so many pictures to upload but i am uber exhausted and drained and hungover (another long ass story) to do so tonight.

Luckily I have the next three days off, so I'll be able to re-tell every amazing detail from this week.

~Beckett

Celebrations.

My birthday is tomorrow. March 1st. I'll be 26 years old. Boy oh boy, how time flies.

I'm not going to lie the days leading up to my birthday have been rough. It is the first birthday in 13 years that I've spent without Marie. And knowing this has made me weary of any and all celebrations.

Her death has altered me. You can never prepare for something like this and i am surprised by how I have dealt with my grief these last few months. I am stronger and more resilient than i thought, I am just as fragile and delicate as I've tried to downplay.

But i haven't been able to suppress how weird and sad it is and will be to celebrate my big day without her. I miss her every day. I think about her every day. And I wish that she knew how much she meant to me. And I wish that people could understand how extraordinary she was and why her death and my loss will not be things I can easily overcome.

I've been filled with guilt this week for having to continue on without her but I simply don't have a choice, no matter how difficult it is for me to do so. And this week has been sort of overwhelming because all eyes are on me. Instead of ushering in another year with only my mom, Maire and a few friends remembering my special day everyone seems to know about my birthday and have plans to celebrate it with me.

Yesterday my aunt and baby cousin took me on a girls day adventure around town. I spent today at my friends house celebrating my special day with pizza, cupcakes and an awesome Buffy present. Tomorrow, the big day, I'm getting my first tattoo and then off to the city with Kat. Friday another gathering of small friends to receive presents and drink lightly.

And i am overwhelmed/joyed by all the love. Just three/four years ago I was a very depressed college senior with little to no social life. I felt alone and misunderstood and unsure what a future for a girl like me would look like. I'm still not sure. Especially now that Marie is gone. But figuring it out each day has been the challenge I need I guess to realize what is best for my life now.

And I can't get over how different life is these days for me. I am so different. My wants are so new. And the change is beautiful and painful. And as I sit here, hours away from my special day I am grateful, sad, weary and elated for another year with great friends and family. I don't think I would have made it this far without them and without this space (and your support) to share my thoughts and life with.

I hope everyone has a great March 1st. All of you will be in my thoughts as I celebrate another year.

~Beckett