little sarah Big World

Tag: self-destruction

February 13, 2012

Happy Birthday to Me!

~OR~

The Lessons I Never Learned

Today is my birthday, and that is a happy thing. I am one year older, one year closer to remembering that I can’t have 7 drinks on a Saturday night and feel fine the next day. Right? This is a lesson I will learn, eventually?

Because hangovers are NOT a happy thing, and yet I’ve devoted the past two Sundays almost exclusively to honoring them. Oops.

Today I am 26 years old and not even stressed about it. I’ve been working on embracing confrontation, on standing up for myself and fighting for what I want. So 26 seems promising. I had ridiculously high hopes for 25 (that being my favorite number and all…), and though it was certainly a year of growth, acceptance, and transformation, it was also kind of a lonely shit fest.

My hopes for 26 are more reasonable. It is more about steady change and movement.

I think Lindsey friend said it best when she said “I always think odd years are going to be awesome, but the even years are usually better.” TRUE.

Especially if you put a lot of value into numbers, which I DO.

Today is my birthday, I am 26 years old, and I have received many lovely, thoughtful gifts, chief among them thing homemade e-card from Kevin. All photos were taken by him, in Madrid, and…

…and the panda thing is a reference to Saturday night. Night of the 7 Drinks. Apparently, in a late night international phone call that I do not remember, I drunkenly lamented that I would “never be as cute as a panda bear.”

Aaand then I fell asleep on the phone.

*       *       *

Oh, but that was back when I was still 25, Friends. Today I am 26, which means that last night I only had six drinks, and today I am only a little hung over. Totally different. Totally mature. Totally worth it:

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Image | October 30, 2011
@ Susie's, gettin' ready

This was Halloween for me, pretty much.

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August 27, 2011

By Any Other Name

I dreamed I had a name that was not my own. Of course, I don’t remember what it was. Something fitting, I remember, in fact so fitting that I’d forgotten for a while that I’d ever been called anything else.  But then I remembered, and I wanted to go back. I missed being Sarah with an H.

Kevin doesn’t put much stock in dreams, but I do. Things have been changing for me. I’ve given up on some old dreams, some old friends. And while I know it’s necessary, to shed this old skin so that I can move forward, it’s hard. Hard to say goodbye, to let go. And I do miss the Sarah I used to be, sometimes, naïve though she was.

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August 17, 2011

New Friends, Part II

Last weekend we got invited to a dance party.

There was face-painting.

And drinking.

Probably too much of that, actually, on my part.

Remember also Melissa’s party? And last night I went to new friend/old acquaintance Stephanie’s house to watch My Girl and drink pink wine. Amazing.

But also exhausting. New friends are exhausting. I have been sick from too much new friendship and too much running, but still, tonight we are going to a farewell party for Paul friend, who is about to do the Camino de Santiago. I baked him my best chocolate chip cookies. Because Friendship is important.

To me, at least.

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September 6, 2010

Lost

I guess this page does look different, so he was right about that. And what can I say? Of course I’ve changed, of course the events and people so violently introduced into my life in the past weeks have left an impression on me, influenced me, caused me to shift.

To lose myself, a little, lose my voice, my words. My Self.

Where are you, little sarah? But I will find you, and I will incorporate even this broken fragment of my life into the whole. And it will all be a part of me.

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August 23, 2010

Stalk

Do you remember me? Probably not. We only met once. I thought you were nice, helpful. I didn’t know then that I would let you burn a hole into my brain, tugging at the synapses (a lurch of the nerves, gut, heart). That you would come to me in dreams, silent. That I would become sick and supple in your hold.

We are not so different, we two, except that I wish I could be more like you. Maybe you would think the same thing about me. Maybe you are doing the same thing, following.

Probably not.

I see you are Beautiful, intelligent, caring, thoughtful, interesting, graceful, above all else (and I do so yearn for grace). Maybe it’s only your words, your images. The impression you make.

I should let you make a graceful impression, instead of a stinging welt: “i should stop comparing myself to other people.”

(Probably not).

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