She pt 2

I’m not a fair man, I know.  Sometimes I might take more than I give, but in it all, I hope she still knows I care.  I carry myself with this I DGAF attitude that sometimes puts others off, yes, but it’s the only way I know how to push aside the wrong things in life.

I’m romantically laconic, using that loaded word sparingly, and even then, uneasily.  I shy away from PDA, at times walking briskly one step ahead, as if I was trying to escape.  Affection and emotions cause me to tense up, widening my eyes wild with the next chance to bolt.  And it’s not that I don’t care to be leashed; I would prefer it to calm my endless wandering, as long as it’s a long leash that still gives me the freedom of movement.

I feel a bit sad that she might never see the high times that identified my early 20′s, because now I don’t care about those things anymore.  The last minute flights to Europe, just because I wanted to show a girl Paris.  The nights out dancing at a top floor nightclub, overlooking the city.  Swimming lazily in the azure waters of Costa Rica.  No, these things, the money and the who-has-what don’t matter to me, anymore.

But I can promise I’ll care in my own way.  It’s those small, seemingly insignificant gestures that light up my eyes and make me come to life.  We’ll share a deep understanding and introspective view of Life.  And I’ll value the tiniest of moments that others often overlook, quietly understanding her thoughts before she has to tell me so.

And when the wind is calm and quietness surrounds us, I’d still be astonished by her inherent beauty.  How her hair falls on her neck, the slight curves of her body, the subtlety of her light perfume.  Or maybe the corny way she laughs, because with it, her dimples seem to have a life of their own.  And, I think, sometimes words don’t need to be exchanged; most of the time, a smile is enough.

I hope she’d be willing to work as hard as I will, because I know I can’t do it alone.  To build something together that can be quantifiable and measured.  Maybe it won’t include riches, or fame, but those are meant to be afterthoughts, anyway.  There might be men who want the perfect trophy wife, the women who want a Prince Charming that doesn’t exist.  But me, I want to build something great, together, from nothing.  People tend to get caught up and want the prepackaged, and forget that a foundation of mutual respect and understanding is often more than enough.

Everybody seems to have a bulleted list of what they want in the other now, so this is my own.  Yes, the woman that haunts me in my dreams is different from those average girls out there.  She is a real woman.  Honest, encouraging, the firm strength behind my inherent weaknesses.  She’d bring class but won’t forget the sass.  But sometimes I wonder, does she even exist these days?

To the Future

Maybe it’s the fast pace I push myself through, maybe it’s my lifestyle that requires constant stimulation, or the high-strung life of consulting for the last 8 years.  I don’t know.  But Thursday night was a breaking point.  Over a bottle of Hennessy XO and Perrier, the music and crowd just seemed to fade out around me.

For the first time in a long while, I feel so burnt out.  Truly, deeply exhausted.  With my feet up on the couch, I wiped a bead of sweat off my brow.  Leaning over to my friend, older brother, and mentor, the words seemed to come out with difficulty.  “I’m ready.”

For someone who has been in my life for the last 15+ years, I’ve watched him mature with a marriage and children, as he has watched me establish myself in career and life.  The consequence of being 15 years apart in age, I guess.

He knew what I meant, though the words exchanged between us are always short.  Maybe, it’s enough.  Maybe it’s time to settle down, and start something more meaningful than the endless wandering, traveling, friends, women.

I cropped my hair short again.  Looking into the mirror, my youth is still undeniable.  But behind my boyish looks, the wrinkles are creeping out at the corners of my eyes, and the strands of white hair are starting to look a bit too comfortable perched above my temple.  I’m 26.

It seems just yesterday that I was the shy 5 year old kid that tagged along with the older guys.  21 years have really gone by fast…

And in this time, I’ve been blessed with wonderful friends to replace the ones who turned their backs on me.  Continual success in my career in an area that I enjoy.  A chance to see the world, again all over, and then some.  Countless memories engraved into my heart, mind, and soul, both good and bad.

I’m ready, to settle.  I think I understand how to, now.  I’m prepared to open up my mind again, to soften the harsh outlook on relationships that developed over the years, jaded not only from my own experiences, but from those of my friends.  Maybe all a woman needs from me is a chance, and it goes mutually both ways.

Within These Memories

And within these memories, you still inhabit so many of my dreams.  I suppose life has pushed us this way and that way, forced to take parallel, yet different paths.  It’s this intense connection that we probably will always have, for better or for worse, but still there is no congruency.  We’re consistently inconsistent, and I guess that was always our greatest pull towards each other.

You were so captivating.  I remember the first time we met; I was 15 and you were 14.  Already beautiful, but I was chasing other girls and gave you the cold shoulder.  But in the back of my mind I always thought about you.  Maybe I thought you were out of my league and I didn’t pursue you.  Funny how things turned out.

You were such a great dancer.  And then the first time we danced.  I’m not the greatest dancer, but I’m rather okay in my own right.  Your sisters pressured you to dance with me.  We both had that “whatever” attitude towards the other sex that for some reason attracts people, anyway.  And damn, were you a great dancer.  That night, we danced for hours, hiding away from the world at large.  We were in our own world, and it was nice.

You were so exquisite.  You always had this charm about you that drove me crazy.  Sensual, crazy sexy, yet so damn classy.  You were that girl that no man could have, and when I swept you off your feet, I really valued every moment.  The flowing dresses, that accentuated your lithe curves.  The trends that you set, one of the first girls to start the whole retro-scene again.  How your short bob fell around your neckline.

You understood my soul.  The quiet nights by the harbor still burn in my memories.  You understood my appreciation for the simple moments.  And in return, I always encouraged you to meet your goals.  I guess I’m a facilitator.  Beyond my outside outrageousness, I’m content with being the secret protector, nurturing possibility with quiet hope.

I don’t think anyone expected this.  Too bad no one will ever know, we two included.

So it’s a shame.

Nearly a year later, it’s still a shame.

Beauty

I think back on my years.  To be completely honest, I’m not physically too old, but mentally I feel the strain of the years, forced to become old before my time.

Since my childhood in the 1980′s, I’ve traveled much, seen much, experienced even more at each momentary stop along my life.  The sands of time keep sifting through the hourglass, grain by grain, but to me it feels more like a single fluid strand, as oxymoronic as that may seem.  I see my life experience as a continual connected string of events, memories, occasions for laughter, moments for sadness, all coalescing together, unified despite all their imperfections.

And this world, even with all its flaws, is really a beautiful place.  Even though I’ve seen insurmountable happiness, cherished a love that was irreplaceable, and predicted my own downfalls, I still feel optimistic for the tomorrow.  The world keeps spinning, and each revolution seems to sling me higher into orbit, and it’ll be soon that I can escape this gravity.

I can almost taste the sweet elixir of bliss.  And though it feels that each time I get closer it pulls away from me like the sultry tease of the the burlesque dancer with her beads swaying, I know I’m near.  I see it like through the eyes of a child, wide and filled with wonder, sitting at the edge of my seat anticipating the next moment to come.  It’s things like this that force me to live.

It’s almost like standing on the pure white sands of Oʻahu, before plunging down into the warm amethyst waters of the reef.  Like gazing down from a 747 above the stratosphere on the thick hills of Andalusia, splashed deep with the vermilion and Indian yellow of the Fall.  How the long streamers sway-sway in the breeze around the streets of Rio, as the happy shouts and laughter fill every possible crevice during Carnival.  Two people distant in life but close in possibility, tracing fingertips across the Sierra night sky, each star along the way brightening as the dots connect together while the musky freshness of pine envelopes.  Or the hauntingly sweet tones of a Montagnard shaman’s song, the wind rustling through the bamboos joining him in solemn unity high in the mountains of Ratanakiri.

I believe in love.  Maybe not how the regular societal view sees it, but as a connection between life forces that surround us.  Every and each creature, even the inanimate objects such as the trees or the wind contributing to the greater whole.  I believe in love, for the sake of love itself.  The intensity of its energy that flows within us, the belief that tomorrow holds endless possibility.  How we build paths, though imperfect and broken, are still bridges toward eventual destiny.

And despite all my apparent cynicism, somewhere underneath it all I’m optimistic.  And still, the years wander on like a meandering stream, carving out its own path, leading towards the ocean.

Inconsistencies

The ice in my glass of coffee melts slowly, watering down the bitterness.  I take another sip, letting the smooth elixir run over my taste buds before it dissipates.  My forehead is scrunched up in thought; there are just so many things on my mind tonight.  Things that are beyond my control, things that I cannot explain.

After last weekend, the surety that I slowly built up immolated itself on its own pyre, leaving only the bleached skeletons of the past behind.  Once again, I push myself towards my career.  My life, and my escape.  It feels strange sometimes being so young but handling multi-million dollar projects.  There is a team meeting tomorrow morning that can decisively make or break the next year of my life.  It’s funny how I can handle the stress of the career with relative ease, but my personal life with its swirling emotions that haunt my nights, I’m not even sure of when to begin.

It’s not that I don’t try.  I think I tend to approach my personal life with great caution, but optimism and wonder.  There’s this thing about the chase that invigorates me.  It breaks down the mundane days with spontaneous and new excitement.  I want these things; the magic ending, the defying the odds to obtain the impossible prize, running the system and winning.  But in the end, I just find myself being so very tired.

June 16th.  I turn 26.  And honestly, for the last 12 years, there seemed to follow me some unexplainable spectre that snatched away my hopes at the last minute.  I always thought that by my mid-20′s, I’d be in some sort of meaningful relationship and well on my way to marriage and settling.  I guess, if the last one worked out, I would still be thinking this way.  It’s these small things that cause me to become more and more jaded.

I had a talk with an older friend, and she told me that if two people didn’t live in constant fear of losing each other, nothing meaningful can ever come out of it.  But I don’t really want to live my life like that.  I guess I’m a settler, but I still refuse to settle just for anybody.  I just want a simple life, yet I live a crazy one.  I want a normal girl, but I continue to search for excitement subconsciously.  I’m such the definition of a hypocrite.

I think back on what happened on Sunday.  How for a day, things seemed simple again.  I yearn for that.  But I also know in my heart that it was a inconsistent solution for our underlying problems.

I dive myself into career again.  I continue to be the fast talking young businessman.  Quick and straight to the point, and people respect me for that.  But on my off-days and nights, I’m the proud wanderer.  The young man who is musing slightly at the club or bar, isolating the noise from the crowd and analyzing its meaning.  The moment sweeps me off my feet and carries me along in the wind, and I really do enjoy it.

But I think, though, that on my 26th year I had better double down on figuring myself out.  Maybe toning down the intensity on which I attack situations.  Because I should think that I’d like to know myself first before I attempt to share it with someone again.