Time after Time

There's always going to be Lucy - and I love that thought. But there's a feeling of emptiness now and then when I think of her. An emptiness that seems to brutally ache and burn through me. I wrestle with my feelings for Lucy; not that if they are real or not, but whether or not I will ever tell her just how much I have fallen for her. There's something special about our connection; and that's such a weak way to describe it. This past week I ventured out to Lucy's hometown to go to a Solstice party at her parents house. She wanted only me there (none of her friends were invited) - as said in an e-mail. Due to a light workload, I was able to do this. It was a beautiful time and of course I soaked up every moment I could with her.

When Lucy drove me back to the train station that night, we talked about how much "this" (never really saying what "this" was) meant to us; I told her that I didn't want to lose it. Lucy insisted that I wouldn't. Of course all I could think about was, "what if I told you I've managed to fall for you?" I wouldn't dare bring that up in a 7 minute car ride to a train station - where I would be getting on a train for 2.5 hours. I'd rather do it in person, where we would be forced to talk out the situation, as uncomfortable as it might get.

That brings us to about 10 minutes before the train arrived in New London. The conversation turned to wants in life. And I mentioned that, "I don't know what I want." I prayed that she didn't see through my lying eyes that fixated on her. My short term memory is blanking on her reply. What I truly meant was, "I know exactly what I want in life. I want you. I want us to be together. I want you to leave him and give us a shot. What I feel with you, every time I see you is something I have never felt and something I want to continue to feel."

We exchanged two deep, prolonged hugs before I left - both times I kissed Lucy on the cheek. The second time, she kissed me on the cheek as well. That was the closest we've been to kissing since the second time we met. Then again, we always share very close moments, moments that take my breath away. It's not just moments with Lucy, it's entire visits, every time time go to arrives, I feel it has come much too soon. I often find myself thinking about how she feels.

I want to tell her how I feel, but I fear the outcome. I don't think I would fear the outcome as much if I had not heard Lucy's history with the guy she is presently seeing. It would appear he has been madly in love with her for years - they've slept together, he wanted commitment and she refused to give it to him (as she has run away from commitment many times in her life - as she has confessed to me). He has left the country a few times over the years as a result of Lucy not giving him what he wants. He simply leaves everything behind and goes away.

Why Lucy has elected to give him commitment this time around I do not know. They have come close to breaking up a few times (the closest being at the end of October), but as a result of a massive fight and a talking of how logically it would make more sense for them to be apart, they decided to fight the odds and try to make it work. Since that time, according to Lucy, the relationship has been solid. Within the last three weeks, I have felt this pull from Lucy that was there before I learned they were together; this yearning feeling that I hadn't felt all that much with her that I had before. Of course I felt it, but this time the feeling was so much stronger.

I wanted Lucy with me, by my side. I wanted her to be sitting with me in my edit room while I worked. It appeared she wanted to be with me as well and that's when I received the invitation to visit her hometown.

If I tell her how I feel, I run the risk of making it awkward between us - a friendship that feels deeper than any friendship that I have had in my lifetime and that is not intended to belittle any of my friendships (including the ones with my best friends). This is a friendship that goes beyond, a friendship that could build a beautiful, everlasting love. We have that sexual chemistry, that fluidity between us - it's natural and it's incredible (again, such a weak way to describe it). If I tell her, I run the risk of her telling me she doesn't feel the same way. Could the aftermath survive my confession? Could I be strong enough to get over my feelings for her and maintain a friendship? The hard part is that we've both established we have something and perhaps one day it could be more; but in the meantime, we love getting to know one another, having our connection deepen with every visit, every e-mail exchanged.

There's a gigantic part of me that feels I am riding these feelings alone. And then I see her look at me from across a dimly lit room and I cannot help but think that gentle smile she sends in my direction is a way of saying, 'I feel it too.' It's the romantic in me I guess. I think about how close our lips were last Tuesday night and while my heart does not race, it feels just right; steady.

Chances Are

These are the lyrics of a song that was sent to me by Lucy today. With every line I could feel my mind trailing off in thought - how romantic, how deep and pure these lyrics are. And then I thought, well this is exactly how I feel about her, does Lucy feel as if this is how she feels about me? I do intend to "fight" or say what I need to say about what I feel for her; and I dare say I might use some of these lyrics to guide me through it.

Chances are you'll find me
Somewhere on your road tonight
Seems I always end up driving by
Ever since I've known you
It seems you're on my way

All the rules of logic don't apply
I long to see you in the night
Be with you 'til morning light

I remember clearly how you looked
The night we met
I recall your laughter and your smile
I remember how you made me
Feel so at ease
I remember all your grace and your style

And now you're all I long to see
You've come to mean so much to me

Chances are I'll see you
In my dreams tonight
You'll be smiling like the night we met
Chances are I'll hold you and I'll offer
All I have

You're the only one I can't forget
Baby you're the best I've ever met

And I'll be dreaming of the future
And hoping you'll be by my side
And in the morning I'll be longing for the night
For the night

Chances are I'll see you
Somewhere in my dreams tonight
You'll be smiling like the night we met
Chances are I'll hold you and I'll offer
All I have

You're the only one I can't forget
Baby you're the best I've ever met

Sitting in the graphics room of Studio 43, I didn't have much of an opportunity to respond appropriately. I managed a simple reply of how the lyrics were very powerful. I couldn't bring myself to say how much the lyrics struck a nerve within me. When I do say how I feel, I refuse to let it be through a letter - though many of my letters have opened the door, paved the way, laid the groundwork.

Who would have thought that Katy Perry's lyrics would also strike a chord within me; especially a song titled, "Teenage Dream". Lucy is more than a teenage dream, she is my missing piece. And Katy sings about that specific feeling towards the end of her addictive song, that I don't find myself ever growing tired of.

My heart stops..when you look at me.. take a chance & don't ever look back.. I finally found you my missing puzzle piece.

And that's just it. Lucy completes me. I know I can see the eyes rolling for the beyond cheesy Jerry Maguire reference, but it's so true. My whole life I have felt as if something were missing - all my puzzle pieces were jumbled; and as I have grown older, the puzzle has come together, inch by inch. Sometimes pieces that looked like the fit, ended up being the wrong one - but such is life. We move on, we grow and we learn there is more out there that help us find the answers, to fit the pieces of our puzzle that is our life.

The Fire Inside

You could have the fullest stomach - eaten the heartiest meal - feel completely satisfied and yet you cannot escape the burn. The burn inside you that Usher sang about. Come on now, don't be ashamed to admit that you know the song and found yourself connecting with the lyrics or singing along pathetically at least once in your life.

I'm twisted cuz one side of me is tellin' me that I need to move on on the other side I wanna break down and cry.

Hmm.. just me? Oh well, fine by me...

The burn has returned - and when I first started writing this entry on NJ Transit this morning, the burn was creeping in now and then. But tonight at 9:50pm from Room 1707 in Midtown Manhattan the burning may just be here to stay. I may need to wallow myself in the burning for an unknown period of time. Or maybe I'll be smart enough to take my hand off the stove.

It's this intense ache, that feels like your insides are going to collapse within you, to close up. It's desert like. Hollow inside - echo, echo, echo... is there anyone in there????

How can you feel so hollow when there is so much inside? How can you feel the burn when you know it can and will get better?

Deep down you know it's best for yourself, but you hate just the thought of her being with someone else...

And that's just it. I cringe, I burn, I abhor the idea of Lucy being in the arms of someone other than me. But why should I get this emotionally invested in someone who, while we have managed to connect deeply - deeper than I have ever connected with anyone in my 30 years - rock my inner core to the extent that it has knocked me flat on my behind. I fell for words on a page and I am the one to blame. Ok, so I fell for more than that - our meeting in New York earlier this month gave me slight hope. Oh hope, you are a bitch.

November 14th Lucy and I are supposed to spend the day together, 'a low key day together, where we can be ourselves...' she wrote to me last week. She went on to say how refreshing that that day sounded and I too was anticipating the day, especially since it would mark the second Sunday I would be living in New York City. There would be so much to explore with Lucy, so much to talk about. I saw us walking quietly side by side, perhaps our hands in our pockets (yes, a deliberate shout out to the lyrical genius Alanis Morrisette), catching slight glances of each other, through our perifial vision - potential blushing (more done by yours truly, because I tend to blush at every thing) - all through the Upper East Side and beyond. Exploring my new home, learning more about this woman I have become utterly fixated on; perhaps I'd reach for her hand or perhaps I would let the day play out.

And now? I fear November 14th. I wonder if I have the ability to stomach a platonic visit from someone I have unraveled my once guarded heart. I saw the warning signs and I kept going full speed ahead. I tried to pull back, but the letters kept coming back with such frequency, such sincerity, such thought...

I am tempted to take a path of silence, but perhaps that might be to suspect. Perhaps instead, I will continue our correspondence, but maintain a level of silence. Erect a wall. Lucy tumbled some of my walls that I erected over long periods of time; and now, it only seems logical to start building them again. I cannot stomach the thought of having my heart ache any deeper than it is presently aching. Then creeps in the thought of stomaching the idea of not having Lucy in my life and that burns like a raging inferno.

Just Say The Word

The gentle notification sound alerted me at 11am. I saw the sea green light in the corner of my eye. I was anticipating a witty reply to my earlier text to my soon to be married best friend; however, when I went to check it, I was met with a most wonderful surprise.

It was Lucy.

I blushed, I felt my heart skip a few beats faster, I managed a smile.

::hugs::

Simple. Beautiful. I could see her smile through the text.

I wasn't expecting to hear from her - especially since she's off camping down South somewhere. Camping, I have assumed, with the guy she's seeing. I'm not certain, but I think it's a fair assumption.

Of course it's not good to look too deeply into anything, especially texts. But it's very hard not to, considering our connection; considering the intensity of our last two letters between each other. We essentially (myself perhaps more so), unmasked our feelings for one another. We put ourselves out there, naked, fearing the response. We took a leap of faith.

For Lucy, the wait time for a response from yours truly needed less than a day. Perhaps it was a bit over eager to reply so quickly, but I knew I could not stay silent. I needed to say what I needed to say. I became the cliched, overplayed John Mayer song.

You'd better know that in the end, it's better to say too much then never say what you need to say again. Even if your hands are shaking and your faith is broken, even as the eyes are closing do it with a heart wide open.

I don't regret my instant reply. I'm through fearing and over analyzing, particularly when it comes to matters of my heart. Lucy and I have something extraordinary and while it's not ours, it potentially could be. Of course, I will continue to go about my routine and look after myself. I will not settle on this. I will make every attempt to go out any meet other women - especially since my schedule these days gives me a bit more flexibility. I do feel a visit to the Village is in the near future. I hope it's ready for me, because I am more than ready for it.

It was I who had to stew in the silence, to marinate in it. It was painful at first, but fortunately work picked up towards the end of the week, as it does every week. Of course, I would be lying if I said I were at complete ease with everything I said in my last letter. I was far from it; I was a wreck. I think I reread my letter (especially the parts previously mentioned in an earlier entry) at least 10 times. I feared the silence, but I also held onto a quiet belief that my words were warmly received. That it was Lucy's trip that kept her from responding. Even still, confessing, bluntly, that you think you have something beautiful with someone already in a relationship is an unnerving experience in itself.

Sea green - a color that has always managed to calm me, restored the calm today. Restored the churning waters to a steady, strong current.

Naturally, I had already started a letter last week that laid out how I hope my last letter wasn't too much. I discussed how I had no intention, whatsoever, to reek havoc on her present relationship. I said I didn't think I could live with the thought of ruining someone else's relationship - especially someone who I cared about. The letter went on to say how I wanted to continue our talking, our sharing of hopes and dreams for our lives, careers etc., that I still want her to visit me in New York - all of it that involves getting to know Lucy even better. To make our connection even stronger. I concluded the unsent letter with,

What I do know amidst all of this, is that as ridiculous as this may seem or sound, I cannot imagine my life without you - especially with this connection we share.

We texted for a short period of time today. I wasn't expecting much. However, in that brief time I learned that my letter wasn't too much, that none of my letters are ever too much. Ok. I'll take this, but I won't believe it until I read Lucy's next letter or when I hear her say those words to me. I won't believe it until Lucy looks into my eyes and tells me, that my words didn't cross the line. I won't believe it until we can both sit across from each other at a dinner table and say that is friendship for now - a friendship unlike any other, with incredibly beautiful potential.

The more I type those words, the more I realize, I am almost writing myself a script - for a silent mantra, a repetition, to keep me focused, to keep me realistic, to not let the whimsical, passionate side of me get caught up in the idea, in the dream. I need to continue to remain focused on my career and perhaps even more important to focus on is the fact Lucy is unattainable.

For now.

Connection and Comfort

I have to breathe aloud now and then to remind myself that I am still there. At least that's how it's been since last night when I read Lucy's dizzying, albeit wonderful e-mail.

Lucy. Oh Lucy. You have rendered me speechless and yet all I want to do is give you words. When I mustered up some words, they came from my heart - my every fiber of my being. I wrote cautiously, yet sincerely. I noticed how much my hands were trembling as my fingers ran across the keyboard.

Our e-mails aren't e-mails. They're letters, beautifully written letters - words that dance on the page, that strike a chord or chords within you. They trigger your mind, captivate your soul and overtake your body. Your letter from yesterday will forever be a part of me.

I had to reply in some form and I did. Now there's silence - a silence I knew would be coming due to a trip Lucy is going on for a week. But I thought more than once today, I wonder if she read my letter. I wonder what her reaction was to my words. I wished she would simply text me to let me know that she had read it, but would write more later. I could only be so lucky.

Lucy told me that she feels comfortable with me and loves the powerful connection we have. And we truly do have this. It's undeniable. I can feel it with every letter I get from her, I felt it the moment we met in June. Lucy managed to draw me and I am completely hooked. She went as far as to say,

'I won't lie that the strength of the connection I feel with you (coupled with how comfortable I feel around you) makes me think that being in a relationship with you would be a good thing in my life. And if I were free to pursue one with you, I would be. But I am also happy in the relationship I am already in. Though I know I could be happy with you too.'

I still get dizzy reading that. I want to continue building this beautiful friendship with Lucy - more than anything. And I let her know that. But I also let her know that I feel like we have something beautiful, that right now it might just be a single rose - though perhaps one day it could grow into a garden. That no matter what happens, she has filled my life in a most unexpectedly, breath taking, mind blowing, beautiful way.

Later in the letter, Lucy asked in a series of questions, what was the last moment that took my breath away. I wrote the following,

"I write this cautiously, but sincerely. I was in New Haven, CT and sitting with a group of people at a place called Bar. When this woman next to me (and also diagonally across from me - since it happened twice in one night) looked at me with her piercing blue eyes and titled her head at me with a slight smile. In that instant I felt my lungs tighten, the air escaping - my mind became like slosh, pure, sweet intoxication - it wasn't the beer. It was you."

And now I wait. It's almost unbearable - the thought of awaiting Lucy's response. I'm anxious and yet, I am calm. I want our friendship to grow and I want to continue to write these beautiful letters that allow me to express myself fully. Despite her being in a relationship with someone, I wholeheartedly believe that if things align like they might - that we may have a chance. Wow, could I sound anymore like Lloyd Christmas?

I'm not cashing in all my chips on Lucy, but I certainly wouldn't mind it if the time came. I'll have to distract myself in every way possible this next week and I will have to resist the temptation to reach out. Perhaps she might surprise me with a dinner visit in New York City in the coming weeks on a Friday.

My lungs are tightening. I am scared. My heart is open, my mind is racing and my hands are still trembling.

And lead me not into temptation...

I must be bored... I have this overwhelming desire to look up my ex's current girlfriend on Facebook. I will confess to have done this a few times after everything crumbled between us. I needed to gather information, to verify my own thoughts and suspicions. I was given peace of mind in a strange way - at least over time I was. At first it stung, but I knew deep down that I was being strung along. With every post, with every photo comment I knew we were over - forever.

I struggle with myself again...Quickly the walls are crumbling...Don't know if I can turn away

So why am I suddenly feeling the urge to look her up again - to see if they are still together. I have to be bored. These past few days I have felt my ex in my thoughts - one night my thoughts of her were far from fleeting. I even heard myself say aloud, "I miss you Janice." That's the thing - I don't miss her. I truly do not. I'm certain that it is the fact I miss the comfort of having someone else. I miss the warmth in my bed. I miss arms around me. I miss showering someone with flowers, surprise breakfasts or just lying in bed being still, letting the minutes roll by into hours.

I am better off without her in my life. I don't feel the void I originally felt when we first broke up in 2008. I don't feel that ache of, 'what if we never speak again,' anymore when we completely ended in January 2010. It's fine by me if we don't. If I were to run into her, I'm sure I would be nervous as to how strong I could be. She did manage to have a hold on me, she could just look at me and I knew I was locked in. Doomed.

You might have your reasons, but you will never have my rhyme. And if I'm forced to find another, I hope she looks like you and she's nicer too.

There's a pretty incredible feeling running through me at this very moment, with this simple writing - these brief thoughts, I am lifted - I am encouraged and assured that I do not need to give into temptation. My life story is always evolving, my heart is open - my mind may get cloudy and feel as if the rain might not cease, but I know better. Leave it to writing to bring my feet back onto the ground. I'm sure I will relapse, but I will liken it to curiosity. Human instinct if you will. Soon enough I will be running around with much on my mind, much to distract me even further. It's only natural, it's part of life.

It's almost like battling an addiction. Being on the cusp of caving but trusting yourself enough not to give in. If you can't trust yourself, then you reach out to a friend, your sponsor if you will. Though the important thing is to never doubt the strength that resides within you. So very strong.

Convert me if you dare

With every passing day I feel an overwhelming sense of comfort in my sexuality and coming out to people. I don't feel the need to shout it from the highest point - I just feel comfortable enough within myself to say it's ok to be who I am. As my luck would have it, the people I elect to come out to sometimes tend to push the envelope. Push the needle too far if. Enough is enough.

What is it with men and their mindset when it comes to lesbians? Why do they automatically assume that two women will want a man to partake in their most private of moments? Why do they feel that women need an extra hand? Is it because their manhood has been threatened? Is it because they truly believe that women need that extra hand? Whatever it is, it is a bunch of crap. Two women are more than capable of satisfying each other - fully, I might add. Suck it up boys and realize we don't need you.

When I have confronted some of these men on their mindset, they instantly become defensive. They insist they were only joking, that it was all in good fun. Yep, sure - keep telling yourself that, I say to them. They instantly retract with, 'I'm serious. But can I watch?' Really boys? If you were trying to lure me back to your "team" - this certainly isn't the way. I don't foresee it happening anytime soon. And with your actions, your time isn't coming at all. So go cry yourself into a corner and find some serenity - because in the words of P!nk, it's just you and your hand tonight.

Of course then one deals with the reaction that is almost expected when you identify yourself as gay. It's similar to, 'you must need a hand in the bedroom.' or, 'if you won't let me assist you ladies, where might I be able to sit and record this moment in time.' It's mixed in with the male attitude of 'well, you just haven't fully experienced all that a man can offer you, so you can't truly, officially be a lesbian.' I wish I could say I am joking with all these interactions; but sadly as I have grown older and come out to more people, especially men - these are the thoughts running through their heads and to be blunt, their genitals.

I can see it now - these poor pathetic men, sitting quietly (some not so quietly) staring a porno most likely, where it's driven by the male fantasy and male hormonal mindset and parts - thinking that all these women need is a little spice. Sorry boys, we don't need you. We're women, we're creative, we're sassy, we're classy - we're capable. So close your mouths, shut off your dirty porno mind, quit your whining - it's not going to happen.

Get Dirty

Covert Affairs is a fun summer television show that I have grown to look forward to watching every Tuesday night at 10. Last night I nearly backed out due to the cold I have been battling these last few days. But of course the thought of seeing Piper Pierbo hustling after criminals in a suit and stilettos managed to lure me in - and it proved, once again to be well worth the later bedtime.

Piper's character is about 28-30 years old, new to the CIA - actually, she moves up to special operations within days of her arrival at training due to "an extreme need" for someone of her qualifications and zeal for the job. Instantly thrust into this new lifestyle set in our nation's capital - Annie Walker (Piper's character), is left little time to think - she must act on behalf of the greater good. Yet with each episode, we learn a bit more about Annie and her past, her present and what she might feel like she's missing out on in the future. Piper's always been a favorite actress of mine - while she may not fully capture my attention the way a Meryl Streep does (and who truly can - because Meryl is legendary); or make my heart swoon like Rachel McAdams or Keira Knightley does; Piper's acting is sincere, it's genuine. For me, watching Piper is almost like watching a friend figure her way out of a problem - puzzlement, yet enjoying the challenge. Or when she's trying to talk about something that is gnawing at her, there's a realness to her that most actresses of her age and a bit younger seem to lack.

Last night's episode had Annie struggling with trying to get information out of a former CIA operative. She didn't like the idea of using the man to get what she needed from in order to potentially solve her case. It didn't seem clean. Annie talked to a former director of the CIA over scotch and he simply stated to her that everyone plays in the mud in this business. Annie's expression said it all. She didn't know if playing in the mud was worth it, to lose her inner compass, her essence.

Sometimes in journalism, to get what we need, we must take the next step - it may not always be legit, it may dance on the cusp of being unethical - some choose to ignore their moral compass, the ethics they were taught in school - the basic principals of the industry. Fair and balanced television stations scream. Welcome to the mud slinging.

Both these professions have an allure, a mystique - a sexiness if you will. Glamor. When talked about, the response from outsiders is generally the same - "you have the coolest job!" "what's it like working with celebrities?" etc. Push someone in either of these industries enough and you will learn it is far from glamorous; it is not anywhere near sexy. In fact, there's a huge part of me that says, "sure, if you hate your family and want a new, uproariously dysfunctional one - then please, take my job".

These professions can be brutally lonely for the single - and perhaps even those married to a partner outside the industry. Or maybe that's where they get their balance - someone who doesn't know anything about the industry, someone who does not care - someone they can come home to after a long day and talk about something drastically different. But when you are single in these professions and you see friends and family members settled or beginning to lay the foundation for their stability, there's a part of you that cannot help but think when that might come for you. If not now, when; if ever?

So I ask myself how dirty do I want to get in the broadcast journalism industry. How much mud do I want to sling to get what it is I think I want in life? How long do I continue to question my passion without simply just throwing my hands in the air and saying, this is the path designed for me? And that's just it - it's about ME. Not the guy across from me in the viewing room; not the girl who answers the phone with that obnoxious drawl. We may talk about how we are a team - a sports network - we must all come together on game day to produce the best product out there (after all, we are the Tiffany network - nothing but the best should come from our trucks, from our studio). But on the off days, on the practice days - it's every man (er, woman) for themselves. It's a dying breed - remembering those who assisted you in your hour, your moment of need and complimenting them in your review. Your career is like a chess match, making your next power move to conquer the board. It's all about you.

Ironic. I have struggled mightily over the years about making myself the focus of practically anything and everything and I managed to enter one of the most ego driven industries known to mankind.

This season at work will be one of lessons and opportunities. I must not back down, I must not shy away - keep pushing the envelope; keep digging a little bit deeper within. It's not about worrying how the guy two cubicles down is over exerting himself for all the wrong reasons. It's about me - it's about the foundation I have laid within my company; it's about the cement that is drying and about the new levels that are being erected.

Building ones career is like building house - there are many levels, additions, demolitions, substitutions, hesitations. You've got to be open in your career - you cannot close a door simply because it doesn't fit within your blueprint. Grab hold of the paintbrush, swing the hammer, sharpen the ax - you're building something and while it may be dirty now, it certainly has the potential to become a masterpiece.

Sweet Intoxication

I have this ability to fall for people who are either not interested in me in the slightest or are completely unattainable. As I grow older, this gets tougher with every rejection. The stinging sensation is just as intense as a jelly fish bite. You can feel your lungs drying up, tightening, your body weakening, your knees buckling. I will always remember my first jelly fish bite and I’ll always remember every rejection.

The latest is Lucy. I refuse to believe Lucy has rejected me and I do not see it as such. Yes, that Lucy from our romantic meeting at the keg in Stamford, Connecticut. Yes, the girl with those piercing, pulsing blue eyes that I can still see at this moment – penetrating my mind and soul. The girl who I barely know, yet want to know everything about. Lucy is the girl who allowed me to believe in the beauty of silence during intimate moments. The girl who kept me silent in the most intimate of moments. I find this almost unbelievable in that we knew each other for a matter of hours.

With a tilt of her head, that slight, daring smile and rich blue eyes – I become hooked. Zoned in. Locked in. Lucy just exudes beauty. A beauty I haven’t seen in another. I liken her to sweet intoxication. She is best enjoyed slowly, intensely, passionately, you take her in with ease – you want her to last for an eternity. Let the sensations flow through you like a steady stream. The taste will hit every sense, every nerve - it will trigger feelings you never thought could exist.

Lucy invited me out to Connecticut this past weekend to meet up with her and some of her friends that I have become friends with as well. At first I was hesitant due to the distance and not quite sure as to where I would stay. A part of me silently hoped she would say, ‘with me, of course’. But the other part of me knew better. Sure, we have been exchanging e-mails and texts since our meeting at the end of June – revealing inner thoughts; yet not going too deep. Over the last few months, I have struggled with opening up to women. In the past, I may have been guarded, but I let some in. These last few months I have let a select few in and the more I have been doing that, the more vulnerable I feel. Only natural I suppose. I am choosing to let them in, but there’s a part of me that says, why let someone in on your hopes, fears, past – anything most sacred to you, if you are not going to be nurtured or cared for by them.

I ventured out to Connecticut to meet Lucy and it was worth the journey; though I have learned she now is seeing the guy that stood at the keg with us as we had our first interaction. I shouldn't be surprised, but why does it hurt so much? I have since learned that Lucy spoke endlessly about me before my arrival at the bar and was hard to silence when she headed home with a friend of hers. "She glowed and gushed when talking about you." I was told. Therefore, how does one not get wrapped up in the thought of potential when hearing something like this, this burning intensity?

In certain moments of my day I can recapture a few exchanges between us at our second meeting. All of them involve smiling of course. One has us sitting on opposite ends of the table at the bar - engrossed in the conversation going on amongst all surrounding us. Naturally, I felt compelled to steal a glance at the woman who truly takes my breath away. I can physically feel my lungs tightening, like air being let out of an air mattress. Within the tightness, there's an overwhelming desire to return to some of the moments from the day we first met. In my first entry about Lucy I wrote about the powerful stillness between us, that was coupled by a heavy, albeit very enjoyable silence. I want that back. I want our bodies to gently rest upon each others; I want to touch her rosy cheeks with a gentle graze of my fingers; I want us to dare each other to move, to break the silence with a cautious, yet inviting laugh; or for our eyes to focus in on one another - only trying to figure out who might make the first move. My lips begin to soften, my mouth turns drys. I look at her calmly, silently hoping she will turn her glance my way. Just one look...

My wish is granted. I manage a cool, warm smile despite the intensity felt within my own soul. A smile is returned - it holds a bit of seduction with it and so, I tilt my head while I smile a bit more seductively. I might have winked. My actions are mimicked.

At this moment an ocean separates us and the void within me, while not vast, is certainly present. There is much unknown, but I long for it to become known. I have met Lucy twice and I cannot wait to see her again - whenever that may be. When she returns, two states will be between us - as will that boyfriend. I can see the heads shaking. I can even hear a small, barely audible voice telling me to walk away. If only it were that simple. Some people can walk away with ease. I am not one of those people, nor will ever be. My mind races with excitement when I think about seeing her again. A coy smile spreads across my face when I think about how happy she was to see me - how her arms just seemed to fall around me; how melted together just like the first time we met, 'I'm so glad you could make it.' She spoke warmly, sincerely.

Lucy has me thirsty for more. I walk with a stumble when I think about her; my words fumble when I talk about her; she is my sweet intoxication.

I would love to see you ..I wonder if you know that you and I, could lose control Let's walk, Let's race, Let's ride, the flow, girl let down your hair...

One Third

The days in July are speeding by and with each day gone, I am one day closer to my birthday. 30.

30 years of life lived.

It doesn't seem like such a big number when I think about the elders in my life. My maternal grandmother passed away last October, lived to 100. I always loved to ask grandma about what she had seen in her lifetime - too many wars, the Titanic sinking, the invention of cars, the Great Depression, the Dodgers leaving Brooklyn, Man on the Moon, Civil Rights Movement (and even the Women's Movement), Computers, Internet - countless Presidents.

I was afraid of 30 not too long ago - a mere week or two ago. I felt suffocated by the number. I felt myself going down the route of 'what have I done' and then looked at others around my age and compared. Despite writing about how I embraced that I had taken a different path, I panicked again. But then within a few days my attitude shifted.

Slow down you're doing fine, you can't be everything you want to be before your time.

After my visit to Kristin and AJ in Boston, I journeyed out to the Berkshires to visit Cynthia and Auntie Eve. Even with the amount of outdoor activity and serenity that my hometown offers me, there is something far more tranquil about the Berkshires. Perhaps it is the population's way of thinking that allows me to have this inner calm that only seemed to be within me when I studied abroad in Australia.

My cousin Cynthia has always been someone whom I have greatly admired, for as long as I can recall, she has been an independent spirit. Cynthia likened herself to the 'black sheep' of the family due to her liberal thinking. I admire her for her strength (she had two brothers, both have passed away) in adverse times. I love how every time I have seen her, she is the exact same person - genuine, loving, accepting. Cynthia is as real as you can get - there's no bullshit with her.

On my first night in the Berkshires, Cynthia and I had some wine with dinner and talked about a little bit of everything. My birthday was one of the topics - 'eesk 30!' I think were the only words I managed. And my cousin (who I've now decided is another sister to me), simply smiled, took a sip of her pinot noir and looked at me, "No eesk's! 30 isn't so bad. My 30s were some of the best, if not the best years of my life. I was in the best shape of my life."

To hear that was more than uplifting for me; it was more than enlightening, it was more than refreshing - it was as if I had taken a plunge into the rocky waters and said, "bring it on!"

I'll more than likely have a few more moments of little earthquakes of fear. Such is life. I would like to think I have always realized that age is just a number; but only now has it truly sunk in. It's how you live in the moment, it's how you soak up the little things and how you continue to build your life with experiences, with love, with pain, with laughter. Open up your passport, but leave room for more stamps, for the best is yet to come....

Anyone in there

I feel hollow tonight - perhaps it was my late night adventure from Friday that has resulted in me feeling this way. I became a night owl thanks to my friend who took me to my first Prop experience in the city. This event started off quietly, but as the night's hours unraveled it turned into a most beautiful symphony.

Women everywhere - and attractive women. I realized that this was my moment and I soaked it in. I'm sure to have countless more moments, but this was one that stamped my mind and soul. You left your mark on me, it's permanent - a tattoo.

I met Randi on line for the bathroom. The pounding music made it hard to hear her, but I was drawn in - her face released sensuality, her hair made me want to run my hands through it. I'm not sure who made the first move, but before I knew it we were sitting on one of the couches, soaking in intense looks and then our lips found each others like magnets.

I went home with Randi - something I've never done. And I don't plan on ever doing it again. It's not me. I thought I could handle it, but for not even completely giving myself over, I feel stark. I found myself looking over at Randi while she slept and thinking to myself, 'so cute.' I'll text her tomorrow - I wouldn't mind seeing her again, learning more about her and having fun. I need fun right now and yet, there's a minute part of me that is saying you need seriousness.

I've never been easy on myself - in fact I've been absolutely brutal. Ironic considering the signature on my e-mail account Be gentle with yourself. Everyone deserves a little tenderness, especially from themselves. I find myself pushing for answers rather than simply letting go. But at the same time, I am painfully relaxed. Calm on the surface, paddling like the dickens underneath. When I met Milena at Stiletto for our first brunch after meeting, she commented on this side of me. She noticed how calm I was at one point and then how I would tense up the next. She went to massage my shoulders and I instantly put up my shell - X-men style.

But the hollow feeling might also be rooted to my work. I have been afraid to open up this can of worms for awhile, but it's almost impossible not to. I work for a major sports network as a Broadcast Associate - something most people who work in the industry would do anything for. I'm very lucky. Or am I? I find myself getting lost in my work - questioning my passion for my work - and then also silently freaking out what my life would be like without it. The intensity level of my job is the only drug (not including alcohol) I need.

There are a few paths my job could take this August and I'm hoping it's a similar one to last year, but in a new role. One role I do not want, is the road crew Broadcast Associate. Being on the road 3 to 4 days of the week just doesn't sound appealing to me - a different city every time. Living out of a suitcase. It just doesn't scream fun to me. I guess if it does happen, I cannot turn it down - I have no choice, because it is my career. And that's the path my boss selected for me. I will embrace the challenge, but I know for a fact I'll be out of my comfort zone. Though as my friend who took me to Prop last night said about doing things outside our comfort zones, we open ourselves to something magical. She's pretty smart.

People keep saying to me, "You are so lucky to have a job that is your passion. A job that you want." Hmm.. do I? The hours are brutally intense, the 6 day weeks and more often than not working from home on your off day - it's not entirely fun. I have been spending a lot of time with my nephew in my hiatus and it's a blessing, but I'm getting sad at the thought with my schedule returning - I won't be able to spend nearly as much time with him, my sister and brother in law that I would like. He'll grow and take steps without me. I don't like that feeling.

My passion is documentary film - at least I think it is. I have a lot of passions (laughter, food, music, movies and writing are a few). I was very adventurous and the first one to push the envelope in college and grad school. In my mid-twenties I became, I don't want to say mature or responsible, I'll say, different. Perhaps it was the moving home with your parents and simply feeling as if there were rules to follow. But that was then.

My passion, my heartbeat. The more I think about it, I truly believe I may have missed my calling (though it's never too late) as a teacher. One of my tape runners that helped me out during the NCAA Basketball tournament told me I would make a terrific teacher - patient, funny, thoughtful, thorough in explaining things, etc. I have always loved helping people, I love seeing the smiles on people's faces when they see a wheelchair ramp made for them; or seeing the smile on a kid's face when he finally hit his first forehand over the net in tennis after I had worked with him on it.

I saw a commercial tonight that struck me and maybe it was because it was about Harlem - Randi lives in Harlem - but it was more than that. It was a commercial that featured a man whose goal it was to change Harlem, one block at a time. You saw kids painting murals with teachers, kids in school with their hands raised up excitedly and of course playground time. I instantly felt drawn and was trying to think about how this would be more rewarding than my job.

What I should have done in the early part of my hiatus was look up charity work in New Jersey and New York - maybe a LGBT teen center or a habitat for humanity or even the Food Bank. My days would have been filled with a bit more excitement and I'd be giving back. Nothing finer. Maybe when I move into nyc, I will look into an organization where I could volunteer on my day off.

It's not that I am scattered and torn about, I simply need more in my life to quench my thirst.

The heart of the matter

This Sunday marks the New York City Pride Parade. I was planning on going - as I went last year and had a most incredible time. I spent today hitting the pavement (yet again) for apartments and I do believe I have found my spot. I mentioned in conversation about the apartment, with both my parents that we need to upgrade our cell phones - which was agreed upon, after I mentioned I would likely be going into New York on Sunday.

The conversation came to screeching, gut stabbing halt courtesy of my mom...

"i would rather you not go to the parade to not be seen & potentially embarrass our family."

The latest zinger from my mom about her refusal to believe that I'm a lesbian shouldn't come as a surprise, as I have listened to her doubts ever since I came out on December 23, 2004. Nevertheless, it doesn't make it any easier. I will confess, Icried hysterically for nearly 20 minutes. It wasn't a pretty sight.

There's an overwhelming sadness when I think about how my mom refuses to accept my being gay. She just cannot seem to wrap it around her head that I could love another woman, that I have been happy with other women. Sadly, I must say her denial and refusal has caused me to have a bit of neuroticness in relationships. I have lost relationships - not necessarily women leaving me (maybe in part, Janice left for that reason - but Janice and I weren't destined to have the path we both felt we were originally destined for); rather, I have shut down in relationships due to the fact I was practically stuck. Quick sand. I was out, for the most part - working in New York; but I had to come home. Or maybe the women I was seeing weren't right for me. Regardless, I will be hitting the scene with a vengeance as soon as I move into the city that never sleeps. Hitting the scene with a brutally tight budget.

Returning to my mom's refusal - I have talked to my dad quite often about it. My dad was my champion supporter on that December day. "Love is love Lindsay, no matter what." I can still hear him say that - and I remember exactly where we were in the house. As the years have gone by, I have been hit with mind boggling reasons as to why my mom thinks I am not a lesbian. Perhaps most preposterous is, "You were hurt a lot as a kid, picked on and for once, you have found acceptance with a particular group." Yes, that's it. That's exactly it.

So when I was sitting in History class senior year in high school staring at Ms. Walsh's legs, thinking about what it would be like to kiss her, to lie in bed with her, while she wrote on the blackboard, I was finding acceptance?

Or when I did anything and everything to spend time with Kerri, my tennis captain in college - she always got to practice 45 minutes early - so I did too. Or when she invited me over for dinner and we sat on her bed drinking wine, when she started playing with my hair - I was looking for acceptance. Right. More like looking for my first real kiss.

I have tried countless times to explain my feelings for women to my mom but it always, ten times out of ten results in an argument. Arguments that lead me cry, to crawl up, plead with the man upstairs that somehow, someway it MUST get better than this and yes, for awhile I doubted my own sexuality. That maybe, just maybe my mom was right. I blame those feelings on my living situation, my work situation - not giving me more than enough time to be the twentysomething I was. I drank beyond the point I shouldn't have drunk anymore. I woke up hungover, disheveled and disgusted with myself. I put on the fakest smile at work and yet, somehow I found pleasure with my job. The glasses of wine decreased and the smile returned for real. I met women. I fell in love. I had my heart gutted and broken.

Last January when I was still in a rut with my break up with Janice (September 2008), I found myself drinking more again. I was a sad sack - listening to incredibly sappy music, wallowing in self pity, thinking I couldn't live without her (boy, was I ever wrong). I found myself talking more and more to my dad about how I wanted mom to understand that my being a lesbian wasn't a phase, that while yes, it seemed to come out of nowhere, was something I had suffocated within myself for over 10 years and the guilt of keeping that from them had caused me such terrible, unspeakable pain and shame. My dad encouraged me to write my mom a letter. And so I did. Alas, it didn't illicit a response - no response actually. Even when asked about it, I was met with refusal to discuss it. Oh the analysis I could unleash.

The following is part of the letter I wrote in January 2009 to my mother:

Dear Mom:

I wish I could avoid writing this letter, but i'm afraid I no longer have a choice. i think we both know by now any attempt to talk this out might result in yelling. quite frankly, i don't want to and I'm more than positive you don't want to yell either.

I know you have doubts about my sexuality and you are welcome to your opinion. However, it's quite hard hearing it. I do believe the change within me - the anger, the "retreating", the no longer letting you in on my life was a direct result of my feelings for women.

These feelings completely caught me off guard and they made me feel scared and ashamed. I didn't know who to talk to and more often than not, I got annoyed and angry with myself for having these feelings. I tried to ignore them, but they managed to constantly creep into my life. I realize that my lifestyle is foreign to you and in a way it is still foreign to me. I realize that they way I live and love is not the way you do and that might scare you; especially if you had a certain vision for my future. I accept your fear and I hope to one day show you that love is truly love, no matter the form it takes.

---
I guess the only thing I can continue to do is believe in myself, love myself and live my life. I'll try to practice patience in the meantime. And guess what, I'm going to that damn parade.

Out and proud !

Feels like Fire

We met at the keg - it's where all great romances for the day start. The clock hadn't even hit noon and I picked up the spout of the keg, it was slick due to it resting in the ice surrounding it's goodness that awaited us all within the sliver trophy. The spout flew out of my hand, the beer squirted a bit over my shirt. I heard a laugh and I looked up, "Clearly I'm too sober to be handling this keg." That was all I could think of to say. "Well you best get drunk then." That was the simple reply. Smiles exchanged and we parted ways.

We would meet again an hour later, at the keg - to refresh ourselves from the penetrating sun and raging humidity. She was standing with someone I had spoken with earlier. It was asked how I was connected with the people hosting the party and for some reason, I felt comfortable enough to come out. No hesitation. No second thoughts. It's a pretty marvelous state to be in. "Ethan, JR and I went to college together. It's ironic, JR and I didn't really know each other all that well at school, but he's been a great friend the last year or so and he's helped me a lot with my coming out process."

"I'm bisexual." she said, almost too casually. It just fell out of her mouth, like food, but so much more attractive loooking. My reaction was priceless. I was instantly peaked in interest, my body language shifted, I turned my hips into hers, leaned in a bit closer and said a bit too excitedly, "Really?" I sounded like a teenage boy learning to adjust to his new pipes. My cheeks dimpled up and naturally, they flushed. So much for playing it cool.

I wish I could say I remember every moment I spent with Lucy; I wish I could remember every conversation. But when there's alcohol involved, things get a little hazy and they get a little hot. Walls come tumbling down. I remember Lucy's piercing blue eyes, penetrating my mind and soul. It almost sounds cliched, but her eyes plused through me - I hadn't felt this fire like intensity through a pair of eyes in years. Just sitting here at my desk, I can close my eyes and feel them looking at me, undressing me, daring me, making my heart skip a few beats, making me tremble in the most lovely of ways.

I remember the wild moments with Lucy - and yes, my stomach still flips, I burn inside, I coyly smirk. I think about the wind raging and our hair meshing together - her looking at me, tempting me and yet there was a hint of sensualness, of polite seduction. There was a certain warmth to the playfulness despite our drunken nature.

I remember the quiet moments with Lucy, where absolutely no words were exchanged. For me that's almost short of a miracle. She made me feel confident enough to let the silence dangle, to let the silence dare each other, to inch ourselves closer. No words, just simple smiles, tender hair tucks, gentle grazes of skin. The only sound I could hear were our breaths collecting themselves, in sync. Pulsing. That's when I could merely manage a few words.

"You're so beautiful."

I let the words hang in the air, I let my body stay put (for the most part). It was a slow motion moment. I cooly swallowed in an effort to get some moisture back in my throat, I could feel our bodies inching towards each other, temperature rising with every moment; I steadied my breath and our lips managed to tango once again.

The tango would continue to burn throughout the rest of the day, into the evening and early hours of Sunday morning. My Sunday morning song who departed far too soon. This fire hasn't smoldered, in fact I don't think it's anywhere close to being put out. Lines of communication are open and while it might not be an eternal flame, it's certainly enough to light my candle.

Launching Pad

It's only a matter of time until I move into the city that never sleeps - so close I can taste it. Taste the freedom, taste the new life. It's a whole new ballgame. I'm going to finally be able to go out after work (at least with no limitations of a train schedule), to meet more women - potentially date more as well. One would think I would be ecstatic, climbing the walls. In a way I am, but I'm also a bit irritable. Hard to believe, but I am. I just want things to happen with a flick of a wrist. I know Rome wasn't built in a day and that the best of things take time, but it's time. It's not even funny how much I am ready for this move, this change in my life. It's a similar feeling to when I went off to college. Cleaning and packing up your closets, your memories - bringing them to some place new. I'm ready.

Yet this move is far more life-changing than college. This is the delayed step towards independence that most, if not all of my friends have achieved in the years since we have left college. My journey towards independence has been delayed due to a direct stop over to graduate school. That was 5 years ago. Even I meet those words with an audible sound of disbelief. I try not to think about that it has taken me 5 years to break away - 5 years on a launching pad. I was faced with delays, complications and perhaps the most annoying - false starts. I could feel the rumblings - the tiles ripping off and then something would pull me back onto the dock.

Independence has been delayed since graduate school due to jobs, while in my field of interest,were so low paying, that I would have essentially lost money. This isn't to say I haven't been able to have independence - it's just a limited form of it. That's fine, for we all take our own paths. It has been far from easy, especially within the last three years. In that time, three people very close to me (including my sister) got married, I was in a relationship with someone I loved and could see a future with and I began working for a major television network. So how is that far from easy one may ask?

I felt so disconnected at each of the weddings - lost, confused and even miserable. OK, so maybe miserable is pushing the envelope a little too much; but there was a feeling of nothingness - and just thinking about that feeling, haunts me, it causes me to tremble slightly. How could I feel such a way for my sister's day of bliss or for two of my best friends? It didn't seem right. But it was there. And maybe it was there because I wasn't there - I wasn't ready to open my life to another. That always has appeared to be my life story - not ready to let someone in.

I don't believe it's my career anymore that is keeping me from letting someone in. It is this overwhelming, borderline suffocating fear of letting someone into my heart, into my mind. Who in their right mind would dare to break into me? I often wonder this. I guess it also comes down to me; to whom do I feel at ease with enough, to listen to my fears, hopes and dreams. I've always been self-conscious and it's only now, as I have aged, that I realized my self-consciousness has been one of my greatest hindrances.

I'm scared for what lies ahead. I'm anxious in a positive way. I'm chomping at the bit. I'm ready to be released from the starting gate at the Kentucky Derby. It's now or never. It's time that these walls around me come tumbling down. It's time to feel, it's time to journey, it's time to walk into the bar and sit down and look into the eyes of a woman and say, "hi, I'm Lindsay...."

i'm off on a rocketship.. prepared for something new...ecstatic with the view, i am scared for the things coming and i want for the things i don't have.. cannot stand to be one of many..i'm not what they are.

Hold me, leave me

When did this love hate relationship of wanting to let someone into my world begin? One moment I am sky high, feeling masterful, invincible - like the Champ. The next I am sinking like the Titanic on that April night in 1912.


I haven't lost sight of my new found objective - far from it. I'm on the cusp of something great - I can feel it in my bones, I curl my toes in the wet sand and let the Atlantic Ocean waters trickle through. Its coldness is a sensation unlike any other, it's stirs my body, it awakens me. I'm ok with being awakened for it always seems to bring me a dose of reality.


Yet tonight, I am in the mode that I have struggled with since graduate school. One moment I say, hold me, don't ever let me go. The next it's- set me free, get out of my life. Tonight I feel the ache. I can feel it in my shoulders - raised up. I can feel it in my posture - tense. I cannot seem to unwind, despite the fact I have had some wine. I am locked up and yet all I want is for someone to break me open. It might take more than the sledgehammer to the break open the Master lock.


"Can you handle what I'm about to do? Betcha thought I was soft and sweet, that an angel swept you off your feet but I'm about to turn up the heat..."


I feel hollow tonight. Tin man style. Or maybe it's a combination of the tin man and the scarecrow... I'm not entirely sure.. but whatever it is, everything I seem to consume or imbibe in runs through me like a river - fast and directionless. But every river has a destination - or a feeding point that opens up to something bigger and greater. Where these feelings are opening up to is anyone's guess. I'd love to know myself.

A new beginning

To say that I am at a turning point in my life, is an understatement and it's oddly refreshing. I titled my blog Ocean Waves because of the uncertainty ocean waves bring. Some waves are gentle ripples along the turf, others come crashing down. In life, we are taught to ride the waves, to realize that life isn't meant to be one steady stream. Life is choppy, life is joyous, life is painful - life is what you make of it.

Ever since I was a child I have loved the water - the sense of freedom it brought me. I spent hours upon hours in the Atlantic Ocean in the summers of my childhood. Anywhere my family went on vacation I would hope there was some kind of body of water I could be a part of (pool, ocean, lake and yes, even a stream). I loved the sensation of water running over my body, a cleansing - body, soul and mind. As I got older, I grew to love the powerful presence of the ocean, for its vastness serves to remind us just how small and sometimes how powerless we are.

I divided my time in the water between swimming and boogie boarding, though as I entered my adolescence, boogie boarding dominated. The appeal of the boogie board was likely the whole, 'riding the waves of life' was rumbling through my head. I tried to carve out the perfect ride from each wave. Needless to say I wasn't successful - so I kept going back out for more, to get that perfect ride, that perfect high. On top of the world. There's nothing finer than coasting on top of a wave and feeling yourself cutting through it to make the ride last longer. A rush followed by anything - an unexpected fault, another wave right behind it throwing you off your board or perhaps the greatest ride of the day. You'll never forget that wave.

I'm at a new wave in my life and I'm not backing down. There was a period of time I backed down from new waves and at the time I was extremely hard on myself for not even trying in the least. I'd dip my toes in the water with my board behind me, but I could not seem to bring myself to take the plunge. This time it is different. I have an entirely new perspective and I feel a certain confidence within me that has not been there in years. I'm not saying I'm not confident in all areas of my life, far from it. It simply wasn't my time.

My time is now, I can hear the ocean crashing against the sand, I'm standing with my board attached to my wrist - pressed up against my hip, the water's trickling through my toes. I'm smiling with my hair flying behind me, steady breath, full heart, nothing to lose, everything to gain...

this is more than a plunge. this is a tidal wave with most incredible possibilities.