This was my answer.

To a friend's question, how do you know you're over someone. Not sure it's perfect, but it's what I think.

You give yourself time.
You don't push it.
You fill your days with people and things you love and you love to do.
You allow yourself to feel, but don't get too involved.
You are nice to yourself.
And you don't stress about it.

I think, and some may disagree, that those memories stay tender for a long long time, something you shouldn't poke at, those become old wounds which just stop mattering. If I think hard, they are still there and upon feeling that tenderness, I get worked up. As if the fact that the pain still exists negates or calls into doubt any happy emotions I may currently feel. Its not the case at all. In each of us is a huge capacity to feel. Those feeling can both exist. I just refuse to give the old, achy ones any time or mental energy. I get to choose what matters.

Faith. Hope. and Love.

Isn't this wonderful.

Truly right?









This sweater is made of hand spun and most likely hand dyed yarn. My Fiber Based-BFF (FB-BFF) may be nutzo sometimes, but hell, the girl is talented. The buttons are pictures of Scorpio, my Zodiac sign, Mother Theresa, a well dressed Indian man who might be a god but I don't really think so, and George Washington. (She's also sorta funny). It's soft and warm and gender neutral by design. It is a baby sweater and it was part of my 30th birthday present. It made me cry. The beauty of such a gift and the faith it held in it was more than my lonely heart could process.

My most deeply held belief is that happiness is a choice. (I know, I mention this over and over) The world isn't always exactly what you want it to be, but you choose whether to be mired in the ugliness and disappointment or to should deal with what you have in a way that allows you to continue to be happy. I try to do the second.

But somedays it's hard, and other days it's just impossible. On days like this it's nice to have people around who will carry the burden of faith for you. FB-BFF has offered to do that for me. Literally. Most days I want babies and some wonderful soul around to help me raise them. I want them to have long hair and cloth diapers and play in the sand by the river. She knows this about me. Her own children are so beautiful and she is such a good hard working parent, it sometimes kills me to be around them (although, I get far, far to few opportunities). She knows I fear this will never be part of my reality. She knows this and has graciously offered to carry the faith for me, to believe for me when I'm not sure that I do. This sweater is the talisman of her belief.

I started thinking about Faith and Hope (as big ideas worthy of capital letters) after reading a few of my friend Andrew's blog posts. He was talking about the placebo effect and religion. Which I get. I am neither as well educated nor as well opinionated on this subject, but I get what he's saying.

Here are his exact words which I'm fairly certain he will not mind me re-posting. (Sorry, Andrew) "The major gripe I have with religion is that instead of encouraging others to have faith and hope, they insist others have faith in hope in the same things they have faith and hope in."

I love the simple, eloquent and perfectly exact phrasing.

It made me think of a friend I had when I was younger. He was the son of a minister, a Chinese missionary, who had married and brought his wife back to the United States where he led congregations of Chinese Americans. He lived in the same city as me for about four years. He moved to California sometime during high school and we kept in touch, over the phone, for several years. For some reason, he was the first person I opened up to when my parents were splitting up and I felt like I couldn't hold anything, especially myself, together. And we talked and I cried and he told me he'd pray for me.

I felt no cynicism or irritation at his offer, instead, I felt incredibly lucky. I have never been a follower of any religion, and my own spiritual leanings are a rather complicated mess, but when my friend told me he would pray for me I felt thankful. We both knew I didn't believe, but in praying he was holding me up to his highest power. Offering assistance in the form he felt would do greatest good. This was sincerity and love in a pure form. He couldn't help me, but hoped that maybe his prayers could.

(Quick note, I've had other people say this to me and I did not feel as grateful. There was nothing shallow, pandering or overly pious in his offer and his support, which was crucial to it's importance.)

I feel this way about FB-BFF's offer of faith. She knows my limitations. She loves me anyway and still chooses to believe for me. That is love.

This seems critical to me. Love gives shape and support to faith and hope. All can exist simultaneously, but strength comes when the three are fused. In order for that faith and hope to have a shape and substance, there must be love backing it up. Which is why religion sometimes makes sense to me. I understand how all three can be wound together; I understand how such an idea would be enticing. Though I myself cannot believe, I can understand how someone would want to. What I don't understand is religious doctrine that is based on hate or fear....how can hope and faith, both necessary to maintain and grow a religious following, flourish under those conditions? Or why should it when love is so much...easier, freeing, warmer, softer, more welcoming... pick one. I'll be overly simplistic and just go with better. Love is so much better.

My heart is not so lonely these days. The sight of her magical talisman, in my underwear drawer wrapped carefully in tissue paper, seems more sweet than bitter these days. Her faith is still stronger than mine and I am content to let her hold on a while longer, especially because she has not yet asked me to relive her of that particular burden. My handsome friend fills me with a sort shapeless hope that is happiness. Gaining in both strength and consistency I'm in no hurry to mold, poke or prod it into anything more than what it wants to grow into.

My FB-BFF can hold onto the faith, I will nurture the hope, and continue to appreciate that I am surrounded by love.

(Note, I worked on this post off and on for almost 3 weeks. That fact speaks more to my current lack of focus than any other thing. Oh, and Andrew's blog is here: http://oudevoida.blogspot.com/)

Don't look at me!

Being the center of attention is hard for me. I am not attention seeking and sometimes even talking about myself in front of a group of people makes me want to crawl behind something and hide. As a general rule, oversharers or attention seeking personalities irritate me. That's not to say I don't talk to people, there are lots of people to whom I whine, bitch, moan, and ramble. But, things that are truly important are not what I want to discuss with a large group.

This relationship I have found myself in is important to me. I am so excited about it that it scares me. When things scare me, or I get overwhelmed, I tend to retreat into myself to process or protect whatever I'm excited about.

I don't generally overshare with strangers or acquaintances. I don't like my shit out for all the world to see. (Yet here I am "discussing" it....stupid irony.) In other words, the idea of changing my relationship status on facebook from "single" to "in a relationship" is equal parts stupid and scary to me. But, I did it to make someone happy. (He doesn't know this blog exists, not yet.)His reasons for wanting me to change it seemed more sound than my hesitations. My favorite crazy friend (who immediately knew that changing such a thing was not done independenly of my own volition) reminded me that relationships are about compromise.

In response, I asked her, "What the hell do I know about such things?"

What I do know is that the interest from people around me is warm, friendly, and should be taken with more grace than I can generally muster up. I also know, that for as happy as it made him (even if I don't understand the reason) it was a minimal gesture.

Now suck it up Sara and deal!

and then life happens

in this case resolute beginnings were upstaged by the holidays, and strangely a new romantic interest...I met this boy, Eric, via internet dating site.


Let me explain my internet dating experience. It goes like this:

1. I am single and just fine with it (or at least I've tricked myself into believing so.)

2. I become single and bored. I consider how to remedy the situation, lesbians offer assistance. I ignore them, this is not a good solution.

3. I become so bored I attempt internet dating. Insert whitty "ads" and carefully cropped pictures here.

4. Strike up "conversation" via carefully crafted emails and use these emails as a screening test in order to pass the test the potential internet date must correctly use all forms of "their, there, and they're" AND "your and you're". No, I'm not kidding.

5. Arrange date.

6. Hate myself as I'm getting ready. A STUPID amount of thought goes into the getting ready process. I hate this part. I feel literally sick and hate that the only way I can get a date or any possible interest ever is via this forced dog and pony show. It is so not me; sadly I've done it enough times that I know how to do it. This doesn't help.

7. Go on date. Endure awkwardness. Hate myself and the universe.

8. Decide that this whole thing is not worth my time, figure out how to tell date that it's just not going to go anywhere....repeat from step one.


Sure, there have been some notable exceptions such as the gay guy and the dude who'd lived his whole life in the Portland metro area but spoke with nostalgia about visiting Seattle...really, go! Get in the car, it's RIGHT THERE.

And yet, I find myself dating. Now, full disclosure dictates that I mention that steps 1-8 still occurred...with a strange twist at the end. I decided that, while he probably wasn't worth my time, he might be worth a second date.

The story of the second date deserves it's own post and I'm running out of time anyway.

It took seven dates for me to decide I liked him; with a chorus of pep talks along the way, and now I'm quite certain I do. I have no idea what that means, and I'm convincing the crazy girl in my head that at the end of the night, I don't have to know anything besides if I want to see him again. So far, the answer has been yes.

a post that's not about internet dating

I really want to write a long post about internet dating. But, I'm trying to determine if that falls into the TMI and don't post too much on the internet rule I only follow some of the time.

I do realize that having a blog at all, makes that seem just a tad bit hypocritcal.

But, internet dating, I'm conflicted about it in general and annoyed/exasperated that I attempt it at all. I sort of a hard time talking about the idea of it at all or about(gasp) my string of unsuccessful attempts.

The whole thing is rather exhausting, or maybe it's just that having my mom and step dad in my space zaps the creative energy out of me. But am teetering on the edge of annoyed, making a concerted effort to be nice. Maybe being nice and being creative cannot co-exist in my puny brain....how's that for a cop out explanation.

stupid crazy girl

So, I posted for almost two weeks straight. I even had a topic and every intention of posting last night (pesto sauce), but an impromptu offer of a bbq, complete with patio table fire pit, consumed my evening. It was a much more interesting plan; I didn’t get home until after one, without actually knowing how that happened.

Anyway. I have a friend who has read much more extensively in eastern types of philosophy and often has a much broader and kinder outlook on the world than I do. She and I have talked about the idea that everything we have in our lives is a result of what we are outwardly projecting to the greater universe. On consideration, this train of thought is tied directly to my insomniac post a few days ago, but I didn’t grasp the connection until I sat down to write it. I have been playing with this idea for most of the day. So, the idea, and again, I’m paraphrasing, is that if I am stepping into impossible dating/relationship scenarios then something in my action or though pattern is projecting that that is what I want.

We get in our live that which we outwardly project.

Okay, I can go with that idea. But the one that follows becomes problematic. What exactly am I projecting that is yielding such depressing results. One is forced to examine the negative thoughts, which often spin uncontrolled inside our own heads. In other places I’ve called it the crazy girl in my head. Different than my own consciousness this crazy girl’s outlook on the world is negative and really when it comes right down to it, she’s mean, and I am most often the recipient of her attacks. No, this is not a public airing some inner psychosis. There are no voices in my head, but this crazy girl is the personification of my self-doubt and all the ugly inner speech that I may have bumping around in my brain.

The question still stands. Am I, who is proud and strong, projecting these thoughts that are bringing about these impossible or just plain silly situations or has the crazy girl hijacked the mic? Have the negative thoughts, self-doubt and self-flagellation become that which the universe picks up on? And if so, the next question is how to change it. How to reassert my own voice the one that will bring about the results that I want?