Last night I had a dream. Honestly, it felt more like a nightmare.
I was somewhere having a great time; drinking, laughing, sharing with my friends. And then I looked up.
There they were; every single man I’ve ever given my heart to. All of them, just staring at me.
And it was at that very second that I wondered whose arms I would run and fall into, in this room filled with all of the men I ever loved?
-Ori
Make me fall in love.
Tell me how close to God you are when you speak about your children.
Make me fall in love.
Allow me to tell you about the stars we’ve seen together in this life and the last.
Make me fall in love.
Remind me of the time we basked passionately in each other’s presence.
Make me fall in love.
I want to make you feel like I did the first time I stared deeply into your eyes and saw eternity.
Make me fall in love.
Make me remember the time we went to the moon and stared at the Universe from the highest point imaginable.
Make me fall in love.
Tell me about the time you loved me so deeply that the ocean felt jealous of our enormity.
Make me fall in love.
Sit here with me and embrace me as if this were the last time.
This way I’ll never stop falling in love.
-Ori
I reminisce.
I reminisce about that night.
You came crashing down on my Earth like a meteor and touched my core
Hands moving like rivers across my body
The suffocating scent of lust filling the room like a warm Summer breeze.
I reminisce.
Kisses on my neck touching down like Spring rain
The taste of your honey still lingering on my lips
Passion so deep that oceans would be jealous
The thoughts of you caressing my mountains still makes my waterfall flow.
I reminisce.
Legs spreading like the Red Sea so you could make your way past them
Hands on the arch of my back as if it were the bridge connecting your soul to mine
My eyes only opening so I could stare at forever in yours
All while you roamed every square inch of my countryside.
I reminisce.
Thunder running down my spine as I felt the thrust of your waves hitting my shores
The earthquake you caused beneath me led me to exhaustion
As I collapsed onto the ever expanding continent on your chest
For a single second, we were one.
But now as quickly as you’ve arrived, you have left
And all I can do is effortlessly reminisce.
-Ori
If you know me, you know how much I love my shoes. They are a staple in my life and quite frankly, I think my friends should jump out of bushes and sit me down for an intervention every time I walk into a shoe store. However, As much as I love my ever growing shoe collection, this weekend as I was rearranging my closet, I stumbled onto a problem that I’ve never had before.
Have you ever loved something so much that reminded you of someone you hated? Ok, hate is a strong word; more like disliked, abhorred, despised…I’m sure you get my point by now. Well, it’s not so much that I hate anyone in my life, but many of the shoes that I came across in my closet this weekend did remind me of relationships that have gone south and people who have since been removed from my life. The worst part is, that the shoes that remind me of those people are actually some of my favorites.
I know that to many of you this problem seems trivial, but we all have certain things in our lives that we love and cherish, although they may not remind us of the best people or of the best times, but maybe just of the best memories we had at the time. For you, it may be a photograph that you hide, or a movie stub of a film you saw, which you might’ve hated but loved the person you went to go see the movie with. Or it could simply be a cologne or perfume, which you no longer like because it reminds you of a person who was once in your life, someone who’s not there now and you can no longer tolerate the scent, regardless of how delicious it may smell.
As often as I think of sex (and we know that’s way too often), this situation with my shoes gets even worse as many of the pairs I have were given to me by a few of my ex’s. I assure you that the last thing I need is to go on a hot date with an even hotter man and when he compliments my sexy pumps, I say: “Oh yeah, my ex and I had hot, sweaty, monkey sex in these” (Ok, I wouldn’t say that to begin with….at least not without four or five drinks in my system, but you know what I mean). The same thing applies when I’m sharing wonderful moments with my friends and the people I love and then I look down and see that the pair of stilettos on my feet were gifted by someone whom I can barely stand anymore. As much as I hate to admit it, I do become overwhelmingly melancholic when that realization happens.
It’s wonderful to hold onto a retentive memory. As humans, we feed off of that energy in order to cope and survive. But what happens when the memory you have isn’t necessarily a good one? And worse, what do you do when the thing that’s causing you to remember that hurtful memory is something you love? It’s hard to disassociate from a memory regardless of how hard we try. In some cases, it’s impossible and we never triumph in actually forgetting. But I’m slowly learning that maybe I can’t and shouldn’t be trying to forget those memories at all. Think about it: memories come from experience and experience is what makes us stronger, wiser and less likely to commit the same mistakes again.
So the next time I jump in my pumps, strap on my stilettos or parade in my peep-toes, I’ll remember that my shoes can only help me move into the future and not step back into my past and that’s where my memories, good or bad, should always remain.
-Ori
During my lunch hour I went to H&M to see if there was anything to tickle my fancy there. As I’m waiting to pay on line, a mother and her daughter (both White) are on line in front of me. The little girl was holding a baby doll that was Black. The cashier, making small talk with the little girl, asks pointing at the doll “and who’s this little person?” The little girl, around age 4 or 5, responds “that’s my baby”. The cashier then says “well you and your baby are beautiful but you two look so different?” And the little girl responds “but mommy says that we look just the same in here” *she points to her heart*
Needless to say this put a smile on the face of everyone who heard her answer, including me. Kudos to you little girl for reminding us what’s truly important and kudos to your mom for teaching you such a wonderful value. Sometimes the biggest lessons come from the smallest people.
Take the lesson and pass it forward. Have a great weekend everyone.
– Orisel
I live with a ghost. He doesn’t look like the ghosts in the movies, he doesn’t leave cryptic messages around the house; I’m not even scared of him. But I know he’s there. He’s always there. He’s there as I watch TV late at night, he’s there when I get on the “A” train in the morning, and he’s even there as I’m sitting at my desk at work. How do I know I live with a ghost that I can’t really see you ask? Easy, because I carry him in my heart.
I’m sure you live with a ghost too. Yes, you reading this. Don’t believe me? I’ll prove it. Have you ever missed someone? No, like really missed them. You know the type of missing that when you think of that person you still get butterflies in your stomach? The type of missing that even years after you last saw them you still remember the exact words said in your final conversation? The type of missing that makes you realize that they took a part of you you may never get back? If you can relate to any of the above, then you too are living with a ghost.
When I mention a phantasm I don’t necessarily speak of the memory of a significant other either. Maybe your ghost resembles your grandmother whom you so dearly miss, maybe it’s your friend whom you lost too soon or maybe your ghost is only one call away, but you’ve never built the courage to pick up the phone and dial their number. See, that’s the thing about phantoms, they don’t always visit us when they’re gone, often times it’s when they’re alive that they haunt us the most. The ugly sweater they gave you for the holidays, the stuffed animal you still have on top of your bed, the scent of someone wearing their cologne on the street….all reasons we hold on to the retentive memory of someone.
If there is one thing I’ve learned as I’ve gotten older it’s that regardless of how good or bad the times you shared with someone were, our memories are what keep us living. Sometimes we get so caught up in meaningless arguments and in such petty emotion that we end up killing people in our lives before their time. Our inability to forgive, our ego’s incapacity to say ‘I’m sorry’ or ‘I miss you’ are the things that hinder us the most. We are the creators of the ghosts that haunt us.
So how do you get rid of your ghost? I’m sorry, I don’t have the answer. I will tell you this however, every time your ghost appears, quit running away. If they keep coming back, it’s because they made a difference in your life. Embrace the fact that whether the difference was a positive one or a negative one, you are now a better person for it. If you spend that much time thinking about someone, make your memories happy ones, make them worth remembering. Remember, at the end of the day memories are all we get to take with us.
Ever wonder whose ghost YOU are?
– Orisel
I’ll be the first to admit it: I think about sex wayyyyy too much. I probably think about it more than any man does or should. How much is too much you ask? Let me give you a chronological time line of my day; it goes a little like this: breakfast, sex, work, sex, lunch, sex, snack, sex, afternoon commute, sex, dinner….I’m sure you get the point now. No, it’s not because I’m some uncontrollable hornball. No, it’s not because my phone is blowing up with a plethora of men trying to “take me down” (although that does happen often) and no, its most definitely NOT because I’m some type of weird narcissist who’s looking for physical attention….I think about sex so often because I’m not having any. Yup, I said it! I’m not ashamed to say it and I could care less what you have to say about it.
The decision to not be intimate with someone is a personal one, not one imposed on me by others. Let me explain: as long as I can remember I’ve always been in a relationship. Healthy ones, toxic ones, crappy ones; happy ones….but the one relationship I’ve never bothered to devote any time to is the one I’ve had with myself. I’m not embarrassed to say that like many women I’ve spent so much of my young adult life trying to make the significant other in my life feel gratified, that I made excuses as to why I was so unfulfilled. Worse yet, I convinced myself that it was “normal” to feel so unhappy.
Now don’t get me wrong, nothing against my former partners, they are all wonderful people who I learned to love as individuals as well as love interests regardless of our differences, I’ve just now come to the horrible realization that I never learned to give myself the same courtesy. It’s the same scenario every time: boy meets girl, boy chases girl, boy gets girl and then girl fades into some weird oblivion that she never comes out of. Nowhere in there did I mention girl setting boundaries for herself or girl remembering not to give everything to boy in the first 6 months huh?
The hardest part about being alone for the very first time in my life is that I didn’t know HOW to be alone. When you’re so used to always having a better half (or in many cases a worse one) by your side, you tend to forget that you still need to remain enamored with yourself. I, by all means am NO guru when it comes to love, but if you’ve been through the type of pain I’ve been through in the past few months, with very few people around you who truly understand, one day you wake up realizing that survival and healing are the only real options you have.
This brings me back to sex (because I’m sure that’s what you REALLY want to continue reading about). In case you’re wondering: yes, I miss the kissing and touching. Yes, I miss the “morning surprises” *wink* and yes, I miss the passionate moments random strangers couples share in the privacy of their bedroom. I’m human. Of course I miss those things! Sex is great, but what I miss most by far is the intimacy that comes with it. The hugs, the kisses, someone to always hold my hand. I miss somebody always being available to go out to dinners and outings. I miss lazy Saturday nights lying in bed watching crappy episodes of Jersey Shore with a beer in my hand. Most of all, I miss the comfort of having the built-in friend that comes with the luxury of having a better half. I miss everything mentioned above BUT NOT AT THE EXPENSE OF LOSING MYSELF…AGAIN and most definitely NOT at the price of my sanity and/or happiness.
I’m pretty sure I’m not the only person out there reading this right now who feels this way either, I’m probably just one of the few who will admit it. However, as hard as the road has been (believe me, I have scars to prove it), I’m thankful that I’ve been to hell and back in a hand basket. I’ve learned so much about myself and I’ve never felt more comfortable in my own skin. When the time is right, whatever or whoever is meant for me will come into my life and then I’ll be ready. Until then, the only person I’ll continue to learn how to love is myself, after all it did take me 25 years to get here. In the famous words of Carrie Bradshaw “If you can find someone to love the you YOU love, well, then that’s just Fabulous!”
Until next time, my name is Ori and that’s my story.
Just for kicks:
Pop Quiz: It’s time for work…..guess what I’m thinking about? =D
– Orisel
OriWithAStory 