My sister used to make fun of the fact that I said, "I love you" all the time. Like when I was saying good-bye, or just kidding or something like that.
I really didn't think I over used it.
Upon reflection, I still don't think I did.
I used to tell her that just because she can't say it, she shouldn't take it out on me.
Of course that was just a sisterly anger jab.
She can say it.
And through the years, she has said it more often based on her comfort level.
My comfort level was to say it often and to a lot of people.
I meant it.
But not in a heavy way. More in a hey there, you're cool way.
Maybe I did over-use it.
When it comes to relationships, I have NEVER said it first.
Even when the feeling would sweep over me, I would bite my tongue. I felt and still do that the man should say it first.
There are exceptions but in my experience, the relationship seems a little more solid when the guy says it first.
So here I am saying good-bye to my new "friend" at the end of our date (we have only had a few prior to this) and we are hugging and kissing and he says, "I will call you later today" and I say, "okay, sounds good. Bye. I love you."
And as soon as I say the words, I rush my hand to my mouth and pray that he didn't hear me.
He laughs.
"that's sweet. A little premature, but sweet." Um ya think?
I stammer.
"Um...what I meant was....well...um...you heard that? Oh...."
"did you mean it?"
"well, I mean, I am feeling close to you but I didn't mean it in the way it should be said."
And then I start muttering under my breath..."I have never done that. Oh my god. What did I just do?"
He starts laughing and hugging me.
"It's okay. You know I am feeling affectionate towards you too."
But it didn't matter what he said to assuage my embarrassment.
I was in my head and freaking out.
"I think it is cute that you are embarrassed.
I nodded and waved him away, "yeah yeah"
When he called later, I had hoped he would forget it had happened.
But he said, "I have been thinking about your little slip up. It just makes me find you more attractive that you are so embarrassed about it."
"Please stop bringing it up." I plead
"But it was cute."
I blush. He still doesn't convince me that it was a good move.
The next day when he calls me, he freaking brings it up AGAIN. ACK!
Same shit.
He thinks it's cute.
I finally have to just give in to the fact that I made the slip up.
Last year I learned how to hold hands correctly with a boy and this year I learned that my sister may have been right about me over-using the phrase and now it has gotten me into some embarrassing predicament.
I told Mads the story and she laughed that here we were thinking the secret to getting a guy to call you back was to act more aloof and really, it was to say "I love you" when it was way too early to.
Ha ha ha.
That Mads.
My sister.
Everyone has an opinion.
I love them for it.
And I am not afraid to say it.
Growing has never felt good.
I have the stretchmarks to prove it.
I have the scars on my knees from when I was taller than I thought and I got clumsy and fell.
I have the cynicism of a lifetime of dating to prove that after each heartache, the growing, although important, didn't feel good.
But things are shifting.
I celebrated a little baby's first birthday with her. I saw her the day after she was born and here it is a year later. A little person is growing.
Into a person that I think I am going to like.
She kind of rocks the baby smile and it kind of lightens the heart.
I went to an amazing workshop with some very cool people last weekend.
I learned some valuable tools to learn how to grow with ease. And if not ease, then with grace.
I have had a few dates this past week with a variety of different men.
I am finding the fun in each date and not thinking past the moments with them.
I have had very intellectual conversations and very sexual conversations.
I have had very appropriate behavior and then not so appropriate behavior.
I have decided that things are pretty cool.
Chapters in my book are flowing into my brain so fast, I wish I would have paid more attention in typing class. Carpal Tunnel is fast approaching.
Last week was Mads's birthday. Today is my dad's.
I remember when they turned 30 and 60 respectively.
Those were great parties.
But I wasn't necessarily happy.
This year, there were no blow out parties for either of them.
But I am happier.
Not that it is all about me.
But sometimes it is.
Like right now.
When I am telling you how I am growing.
My scars are healed from past growth spurts.
Almost all of them.
And the ones that aren't, I am working on.
And when you see me, I may seem taller.
Because that is what happens when you grow.
Saturday was one of the most perfect weather days.
Clear, windy, cooler and invigorating.
I worked out.
I went to Trader Joes.
And then I thought, what the hell, why don't I head to the Griffith Observatory since they have lifted the ban on self driving up there.
You no longer needed a shuttle bus.
I love it up there.
So I drove up there with this excited idea of looking at the view.
I see someone about to pull out of a parking space.
I try and back up.
But the car behind me won't back up.
It is clear that I am waiting for the spot, so I move forward to let the car whose spot I want, out.
It pulls out.
The car behind me pulls in.
I start yelling.
A little British woman with her little dog watches this and says, "Well that wasn't very nice, was it?"
"No" I say still fuming.
"I am parked right next to him."
So I wait for her to pull out.
And while I do, Mr. Snag-My-Spot and his family pour out of their mini-van with their dog.
I give every family member the stink eye. Including the dog.
The last one to emerge from the car is the driver. Mr. Ick Snag-My-Spot.
I say to him, "Hey, that was rude"
He ignores me.
"Hey you...rude guy"
He still ignores me.
"I know you can hear me and I know you can undertand me. That was really rude to take my spot."
he still ignores me.
"That was a jerky thing to do."
He turns to me makes a stance that resembles him about to hit me through my car window. His arm is cocked back.
I stare him down.
I am a woman who has not had her morning coffee yet but I have had a work out so I am warmed up. I will take down his might.
I would lose.
But I was ampped enough to try.
Interrupting our stare-off, he shrugs and says, "Too bad, someone did that to me."
"Awesome that you are passing on your bad energy and making a great example for your family. Truly awesome."
So I am still waiting for the little British lady to pull her car out and I hear Mr. Ick's teenage daughter go, "Just bad ju-ju for her"
"You mean bad ju-ju for you"
"Why me?" I can't believe she is going to be a future adult.
"Because you guys stole MY spot."
They all snicker in the way that crowds do when they know they have numbers on their side.
And I try and calm down because looking all mad when the numbers aren't on your side makes you look crazy.
And besides, it negates the reason I drove up there in the first place.
So I pull into the spot. Next to them.
And they linger.
And I linger.
I am afraid they may key my car because they seem like the variety to do so.
I decide that waiting in the hot car to see if they will or won't do anything is not as much as fun as I thought, so I take off for the observatory.
With every step, I breathe a little lighter.
I go around the building.
There is a photoshoot going on for a bride.
There is also a photoshoot going on for someone doing yoga poses on a picnic table.
I take a few pics for some tourists.
I take in the view of the Pacific (it was THAT clear, people)
and I try and remind myself that those kind of interactions test me on where I am in my growth.
And then I think of the word "Growth" and gag.
I go back to my car and the family is finally taking off for a group hike.
I look at my car for any slashed tires or key marks.
My growth is not much.
I am clearly still in war-mode.
But I figure I will get over it.
And as soon as I have driven down the hill, heading back to my apartment, I already am. Over it.
I get a coffee and sit on the balcony facing Vermont.
I watch a car honk at another where the honk-ee gets mad and yells at the honk-er.
I shake my head.
People are unpredictable.
And being an outside observer but a recent participant makes me realize that it's just not worth it.
Traffic will always be there.
People will always be unreasonable.
But weather days like this in LA aren't forever, so I put on my headphones, sip my latte and just enjoy exactly where I am.
PS - later that day, I totally got rock star parking.
I guess my karma was redeemed when I took pics of the tourists.
I love how this yin yang thing works.
I used to dread the drive to San Diego.
It's only 2 1/2 hours from here, but when I would visit my dad, it seemed to take forever.
The ocean to my right was no conciliation.
Now my dad lives north of Phoenix and that drive is even longer.
The first time I drove it last year, I was all gung ho.
The few times after, however, seemed to quell my enthusiasm.
Last weekend, I drove there again. But this time, I had my original excitement about the trip.
Perhaps it was all my new downloaded music.
Perhaps it was because I needed to blow the popcorn stand of LA for a wee bit.
Perhaps it was because I haven't really been in touch with my thoughts.
Or maybe I have been too much in touch with my thoughts and the idea of looking at cacti and old people in sweatshirts at rest areas would take my mind off my mind.
Who can really say?
It was my car's first road trip with me.
And we made a nice pair.
I was going 100mph. It didn't feel like it. The music was mellow and I wondered if cops stop you more if you look like you are ampped up on your music or if you look like you are calm, regardless of your speed.
It didn't matter.
The driving gods were on my side as I watched car after car get pulled over but mine seemed to be in stealth mode.
There is a Better Than Ezra song called "Coyote" and the lyrics talk about what seems to be a road trip. My dad wondered if the lyrics pertained to smuggling illegal aliens into the country from Mexico. Hmmm. I wondered if I had listened to the lyrics wrong.
No matter.
As soon as I was crossing into Arizona, I made sure my ipod played the lyrics from the song where they go, "...raise your feet, as you cross the state line", but I actually didn't cross the state line at that point in the song because I was too busy singing and missed the synched up moment.
No matter.
I was in Arizona.
And I still had 2 hours to go until I reached my dad's.
What I would find there, I wasn't sure.
The company that he moved to Arizona to work for has folded.
My dad is a master of not letting things get to him.
I, however, am a master of taking on shit that isn't mine.
Hmmm.
This would be a very interesting visit.
I took a road west of Phoenix that headed me north to my dad's. It's off the highway and is an amazing scenic route my dad told me about.
I could naturally feel my breath change to a more relaxed pace.
Such wide open spaces.
Such a sunset.
I got to my dad's and he had margaritas and guacamole ready for me.
We went to dinner shortly after and told our waitress that she looked like Sarah Palin. I actually thought she looked more like Tina Fey looking like Sarah Palin. I don't know if she was complimented or not. I mean, this IS Arizona.
After days of swimming and eating and movies, we took a day trip to Sedona.
I had never been there before.
My dad and I agreed not to talk about the impending decisions he had to make
"Dad, what are you going to do?"
"I don't know, honey."
"But what are you going to do?"
"I. Don't. Know."
"Do you want me to keep asking you?"
"No. Not asking me would be better."
Agreed.
And I stopped asking.
And Sedona was beautiful. The photos don't show how red the rocks were.
It also doesn't show how ugly the tourists were and it definitely doesn't show my irritation at their lack of intelligence.
Heading back to my dad's, the sunset was one of the most beautiful I had seen in a long time.
There was a sadness around us. Of wide open spaces. I think that I always feel a little sad in the desert. Or is it the idea that anything is possible?
Weird that I would mix the two up.
Sadness. Possibility. And it's not like I can tell you one is better than the other. Sometimes I like the sadness just as much as the possiblity.
There is a reason I see a therapist.
My drive home back to LA was just as fast as my way there. No traffic.
No cops.
But this time, the music was less mellow.
I sang the whole way home.
At the border, my plan was to play that Coyote song again but I forgot, since I was caught up in other songs.
At Palm Springs, with 2 hours still left, I laughed thinking that was the entire drive to San Diego that I used to dread and now it was what I had left and I was thankful.
I stopped by the dinosaurs west of Palm Springs.
I took some pictures.
I was ready to be home.
My dad's life is about to change.
And something tells me that change is coming for me too.
Not sure what.
Not sure how.
But with a little road trip, some R&R and some new perspective, I am ready for it.
This heat.
It can get to you.
But it's a dry heat.
I sleep with the window open.
The fan makes a white noise that helps me fall asleep.
I dream crazy shit and wake up tired.
But none of that is a problem.
I am exercising every day. Feeling the burn from boxing.
Listening on repeat to Blind Pilot's "3 Rounds and a Sound"
Work is not a problem.
Friends are not a problem.
Family (with the exception of my mom calling EVERY day to tell me to be careful in this economy because she has been watching the news and things are bad - the vm she always leaves me "Hey Kirsten, I have a quick question, call me back" in a chipper voice fools me every time when I call her back and her question is usually something like, "Are you cutting up your credit cards?" or "Are you watching the debates?") is not a problem.
I worked out some stuff with my therapist.
Life feels real.
In a good way.
I don't have to play a role for myself or anyone.
I am taking a road trip this weekend.
Getting away from Dodge.
Letting the road take me to a pool.
September was hard.
October is hot.
But it's a dry heat and it feels good.