first day i've washed my hair since we got here. in the US that = DIRTOCHIO. in mexico, it just means that i had a vicious italiafro with the added excitement of dreadlocks. hair washing is highly overrated anyway and i only do it about once every four or five days as it is.
aaahhahahahahghghghgh i just ran outside JUST NOW because people were yelling and there was a pod of massive adorable dolphins frolicking in the ocean outside the house. so amazing. no words.
i'm feeling a little sad and weak today. last night we went for dinner at the yoga retreat up the street. it's basically a tripped out wonderland of beautiful young ex-pats high on mota at a five star resort. they have an american bulldog puppy named Bodhi (of COURSE they do) and little paths and bridges and palm tree islands all lit up leading out to a deck overlooking the ocean where they were playing Walk the Line with spanish subtitles. Idyllic much?
i had raw coconut pad thai which was off the hook but at 230 pesos it was a little more than the 40 peso tacos we usually get from Jannet up the street. (ya-neh).
walk the line made me sad. i cried during part, not sure which part or why i was crying, really. i don't cry usually. i could decide if i was pissed at walk the line or jealous of june and johnny's story or what the deal was, but when you are sitting at a gorgeous ocean retreat watching a movie overlooking the ocean, you should probably have a good reason to be crying.
being in love with an addict was a little glorified in walk the line. (of course it was.) it is not glorious. it is not heartwrenchingly beautiful. it is disgusting, horrible, sickening, annoying. love does not conquer all. being in love with an addict is cleaning puke off the walls on a tuesday afternoon and being the scapegoat for everything that is wrong. it's being a mother to a grown man you are also supposed to have sex with which makes your love life either 0% happening or totally incestuous. addicts by definition are narcissistic and needy, and loving one is exhausting because they often have no love for themselves. or at least no self respect. (and i'm speaking from my personal experience, not making generalizations.)
but at the same time, there is something so desirable about the doglike loyalty of june and johnny. it makes me LONG for that kind of love and also makes me scared that i'm too independent to actually give it - or, even harder, receive it. i don't like to depend on my partner. i don't like my man to need me. it makes me feel smothered and annoyed and i start to pull away. love doesn't have to equal NEED, does it? i always feel that once i get past a certain level of closeness with a dude, i stop desiring to be around him. it turns out that my favorite part of a relationship is when i am independently being me, and the lover is independently being him, and there's still some distance between us. once we become a "unit" and begin operating together, i freak out. i don't like it. and time and time again i forget how much i dislike it, and end up getting close to someone, hurting them, and breaking free to run away and feel like myself again.
in other news, this week i have seen dolphins jumping out of the ocean, driven through a tarantula covered guava plantation to get around a fallen powerline in the road which won't be fixed until the mexican government can get some dudes out to fix it (will be never), taken a horseback ride on the beach and conquered my fear of horses, surfed at La Salidita and got totally humbled by the gorgeous ocean, seen sea turtle nests and eggs, rescued approximately 47 crabs from the pool, and eaten more tacos than in all my life put together. this evening i will do "restorative yoga" (it's "really chill, so awesome" says CJ, the gorgeous yoga instructor with the puppy) on a wooden platform overlooking the beach. not so bad.
i'm feeling a little sad and weak today. last night we went for dinner at the yoga retreat up the street. it's basically a tripped out wonderland of beautiful young ex-pats high on mota at a five star resort. they have an american bulldog puppy named Bodhi (of COURSE they do) and little paths and bridges and palm tree islands all lit up leading out to a deck overlooking the ocean where they were playing Walk the Line with spanish subtitles. Idyllic much?
i had raw coconut pad thai which was off the hook but at 230 pesos it was a little more than the 40 peso tacos we usually get from Jannet up the street. (ya-neh).
walk the line made me sad. i cried during part, not sure which part or why i was crying, really. i don't cry usually. i could decide if i was pissed at walk the line or jealous of june and johnny's story or what the deal was, but when you are sitting at a gorgeous ocean retreat watching a movie overlooking the ocean, you should probably have a good reason to be crying.
being in love with an addict was a little glorified in walk the line. (of course it was.) it is not glorious. it is not heartwrenchingly beautiful. it is disgusting, horrible, sickening, annoying. love does not conquer all. being in love with an addict is cleaning puke off the walls on a tuesday afternoon and being the scapegoat for everything that is wrong. it's being a mother to a grown man you are also supposed to have sex with which makes your love life either 0% happening or totally incestuous. addicts by definition are narcissistic and needy, and loving one is exhausting because they often have no love for themselves. or at least no self respect. (and i'm speaking from my personal experience, not making generalizations.)
but at the same time, there is something so desirable about the doglike loyalty of june and johnny. it makes me LONG for that kind of love and also makes me scared that i'm too independent to actually give it - or, even harder, receive it. i don't like to depend on my partner. i don't like my man to need me. it makes me feel smothered and annoyed and i start to pull away. love doesn't have to equal NEED, does it? i always feel that once i get past a certain level of closeness with a dude, i stop desiring to be around him. it turns out that my favorite part of a relationship is when i am independently being me, and the lover is independently being him, and there's still some distance between us. once we become a "unit" and begin operating together, i freak out. i don't like it. and time and time again i forget how much i dislike it, and end up getting close to someone, hurting them, and breaking free to run away and feel like myself again.
in other news, this week i have seen dolphins jumping out of the ocean, driven through a tarantula covered guava plantation to get around a fallen powerline in the road which won't be fixed until the mexican government can get some dudes out to fix it (will be never), taken a horseback ride on the beach and conquered my fear of horses, surfed at La Salidita and got totally humbled by the gorgeous ocean, seen sea turtle nests and eggs, rescued approximately 47 crabs from the pool, and eaten more tacos than in all my life put together. this evening i will do "restorative yoga" (it's "really chill, so awesome" says CJ, the gorgeous yoga instructor with the puppy) on a wooden platform overlooking the beach. not so bad.
and mexican salt is fantastic.
the end.
the end.
2 comments:
I am deeply jealous. Except the tarantula part.
"my favorite part of a relationship is when i am independently being me, and the lover is independently being him, and there's still some distance between us."
i couldn't agree more. perfectly put.
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