My first Adult relationship on Steroids.

I need to get a on a regular writing schedule I know- if not for any other reason but to get better at expressing myself because there are too many situations in my life where what I really need is not being attained. I'm the middle of yet another permutations of something that has plagued my life: "the un-relationship." Have you been in this situation? It has so many variations. Sometimes it involves sex and the miming of partner like behavior bordering marriage type performance. Sometimes these dynamics are more of an unspoken bond. Its the best friend of the opposite sex who simulates partnership in every aspect of your life except of course the physical component. The latter was the common type in my life. I've had so many male friendships in my life who loved me for being there emotionally for them and making them laugh and cooking for them and sleeping in their beds with them- but nary would they lay a finger on me or call me their girl. It was a sterile marriage based on mutual appreciation of each other and perhaps a very strong neediness on my part- and an availability of course! These relationships destroyed my self confidence. They turned me into a unich. But at least in those relationships there was a fluidity- a mental conviviality and intimacy that I would take over being someone's lover any day. My last relationship was with indieboy. This post is to be continued.

Cha Cha Cha Changes.

I'm 34. I am a very iron clad cliche - too old to be fun and whimsical and too young to just give up. I'm at that place where I am looking back-looking back hurts my neck. I'm going to admit something. ten yrs. ago to the date I thought I was going to be a very famous screenwriter and possibly director. At that time I was actually writing and doing things. I was not behind - in fact I was ahead of the game. Life was moving forward. I finally made the friends that I had always wanted my whole life in Film School. I finally found the nerve to change my lifestyle and lose weight and become a whole girl by halving myself. I became a fixture in a scene that I felt at home with- and had real dreams. Now I am standing at the precipice of a decision to leave that dream. One may think that this is extreme thinking. After all you can always write. But it's not just the act of physical creation that joins you to this life. It's being present in the scene. It's working the connections it's being "a filmmaker" I was never a film maker. I never felt comfortable telling people that. I was never confident in my ability to write. I was always confident however in my opinions. I thought I had something very important and smart to say to the world. I thought this would be how.

Last saturday I sat through a three hour examination on Psychology. It was the most I had worked in yrs. I studied for a month every aspect of the brain, the endocrine system, the sensory modalities, all 150 yrs. of psychological history and theory, the implicit inner-workings of memory, statistics. To be honest- I needed this test. I needed to know that I still had a functioning above parr brain - it's the one thing I have been lynch-pinning my thread-barring ego onto. I hope I did well. I need something to offer up to my loved ones and say, "here, look at this- I did something!' i don't even know if I will make the deadlines ofr school or if I will be accepted in. I don't know if I will make a great therapist. But i know this- I have no qualms or fear about trying- nor do I doubt the necessity of my calling. What I fear is not that I will fail, but that this success will not heal the loss of my failures. What I fear is that I will not be able to overcome regret and therefore how will I help others to move on past their own life traumas and mistakes. Scratch that- I don't fear that- I'll lie. This is what I fear. What is going to happen every time I see a beautiful film that lifts my soul and is executed so artfully that I come to tears. I use to love that experience because it reminded of what I wanted to make- how shall I love these things now? How shall I honor my colleagues w/out wondering if they are pitying me or worse feeling disdain for me because i am the picture of their worse fear- art impotence- failure. Failure Failure Failure. Its an ugly word I know -but I keep thinking that if I purge it enough from my brain it will somehow blossom into opportunity for change. I'm not quite buddhist enough for this enlightened thought.

And there are the larger implications of these decisions we make- after all i am forming my life views as i make these movements. At what point is it ok to let go and admit that you are not good enough- maybe never was. Is that even possible- or was it always a lack of faith? What is worse is that I just wish I could know of one other person who went through this process with me who is also exchanging the romantic notion of art for something else.

The misconception that you'll figure it all out.

I don't remember the exact moment art and I broke up. It was sometime in my mid twenties but I walked around Brooklyn wearing his ring for years. I had this funny notion that if I just kept having an idea- well eventually art would consume me and elate me and tickle me. But it died in me and I never saw him again. Every year my conception of our relationship was extrapolated and diminished down to a newer less high maintenance relationship from last year's failed attempt. I thought the entire time that art was just not giving me what I needed or that he was acting like he really did not want to be in the relationship but the whole time it was just me withholding. Then one day - it occured to me: Art and I were never going to be together. Art was not mine to own. Others had surprisingly amazing open relationships with Art- but not me. I was just too conservative for Art, too much of a perfectionist. I wanted Art to take me over- but it was me who was trying to take over Art. While others relished in Art's beautiful and freeing presence, I cowered...I buckled. I got scared. Art did not care anymore for me than any other beautiful brained person. Art was a hippy, a polyamorous cad with a pention for making people feel self important when they were able to espouse Art's voice. But not Danielle. I do not know Art any more. I know Story. He's a good guy. He can be interesting. He is just there to help me get by. I miss the wild and crazy days when I thought Art and I were an item. It was intoxicating but I lost interest. Now, I just need story- that is until I get strong enough to be in Art's good graces- Until I get comfortable enough to be with Art with everyone else.