Naked in San Fransisco

No its not Photoshop - I wanted to release this Facebook picture with a accompanying blog post talking about this decision in some detail.

Yes, I decided to walk naked in San Fransisco and sit in the infamous Jane Warner Plaza.

This post was partly motivated by the fact that SF is now moving to ban public nakedness according to a Reuters article on the topic.

So the back story starts about 6 months ago while in San Fransisco following a conference I participated in. While casually strolling down the street, I noticed a man walking towards the financial district, Naked! I was awestruck, as was everyone in his vicinity yet their surprise took the form of some fairly loud comments such as: "you have nothing to be proud of" and "look at his small di*k." Yet, the 30 something man continued to walk as though he didn't hear it or didn't care.

This experienced reinforced two things in my mind: the first being the value we place as a society on physical appearance or attributes and the second emanating from the shame we feel of our own bodies.

To understand this for myself, I look to my experience teaching Media Literacy which basically consists of critically analyzing the media messages that surround us while realizing that through these catchy words and phrases they are trying to instill values, wants, and desires within our minds. I've come to realize the power of those messages and the effect it has on our societal consciousness as well as its use for judging others. Take this Superbowl commercial for example

What values are being encouraged?

How should we value women based on this commercial?

What body types/races are the women in this commercial?

It is also important to take into account that the average Superbowl commercial will cost almost 3.5 million according to ESPN and have an estimated 90 million viewers. These commercials represent the most well thought out and targeted marketing attempts in history, yet they often focus on objectification of women, money, or alcohol (bud commercials).

What effect does this have on how we view our body and the bodies of others. If these commercials focused on the fact that everybody is different and not everyone falls into the picture perfect physique or is particularly well endowed, what would be the effect?

Question to ponder: If a woman was walking naked in the Castro would she be yelled at and mocked for having a inadequate body?

Contrary to popular belief, the male pecker is not 10-11 inches and cannot wrap around your waist or hang two inches from the floor. According to Dr David Delvin and well established studies "Most authorities now say that the mean length of the erect male organ is between 5.1 inches and 5.9 inches and while the non-erect penis usually measures between 3-4 inches (minus one inch for the San Fransisco wind chill)." So, to come full circle, I would pretty much bet my life on the fact that everyone laughing at the mans "small" pecker are not more well endowed then he, yet they feel the need to vocally attest to the inadequacy of his "package," and it was apparently something worth laughing at for some (what a confidence booster).

Being a member of this culture and and having grown up with this "shame" of my body implanted in my own brain, I thought to myself "I really want to do this, but I'm to ashamed." I simply looked on as he strode past me and down the street, turning every head in his vicinity.

In regard to the proposed ban, I understand that there are two sides. There are people who are genuinely distributed by the men and sometimes women collecting on a corner in the Castro district and creating a public spectacle. Maybe the ban is the best move, I'm not sure, but one thing I am sure of is that having enough confidence in your body to take off your clothes in front of other people and being willing to bear it all including your perceived flaws and inadequacies, takes courage. I experienced it when I walked out of the public restroom naked in SF, it will definitely be an experience I will remember for the rest of my life and I find it regrettable that people may not be able to do it in the future.

I would like to live society where we accept the difference of others and don't feel the need to put others down, especially for their god given bodies. Maybe then, I would have never felt the need to take of my clothes and prove to myself that I have nothing to be ashamed of.

Edit: I just wanted to add part of an interesting conversation that started with a facebook comment about this blog post.

A Facebook comment about my blog post - "Most people look better with clothes on. I tend to think there is as much an evolutionary reason that certain body types arouse our interest as there is a societal reason for our perceptions. Advertisers just use these psychological triggers to sell products. Societal pressures may push us towards healthy body types. It is how one goes about achieving an attractive physique that questions should be raised. It is a healthy nutritious diet and lots of physical activity that developes a beautiful body. But, we live in a sedentary world full of junk food. So we have many obsticals to overcome. And, we can survive quite well without the afore mentioned habits. In fact it seems that competition pushes us to forgo them. Thus the recent trend toward childhod obesety and a crippled and increasingly expensive health care system."

My response to the Facebook comment - "I understand where you are coming from Norman and I cannot deny the benefits of healthy eating and exercise as well as the consequences of a sedentary life yet one must also consider the fact that our perceptions about body types have changed with both our progression forward in history as noted in 16th century art ("Venus of Urbino" by Titian) as well as our changing views about diet and exercise. In regards to evolutionary reason for looking fondly upon a woman that would arouse interest (large breasts, small waist, and tanned skin), I'm not sure these characteristics would, in any way, offer a causal link to healthy offspring. Swinging the pendulum to the side of the common man, almost any male including the old and out of shape could produce offspring and maintain his bloodline, therefore fulfilling his evolutionary need to reproduce. So, what would be the evolutionary reason for our society to look favorable upon a man who follows a rigorous workout regimen and has a healthy diet? Chasing down wild game, or fighting off potential threats to his family? Advertising has also shifted immensely, My initial analysis came from my personal perspective as a man who takes great care of his body with daily exercise and a healthy diet, yet I was still ashamed of my body and feared what others would say about it and I doubt that I am alone in my perspective. It was gained, in no small part to what was reinforced through the media. Also, to delve a little deeper into the media base of this conversation, it is now evident that advertisers have used, and continue to use heavily Photoshopped images of women to sell produces. This image, having no basis in reality, continues to be perpetuated as what should "arouse our interest." If you are interested, I collected a movie clip featuring a dove marketing campaign (Dove Video) taking the viewer through the process of full Photoshop modification of a models face, moving away from just fixing blemishes and emerging into modification of eye placement and neck length. Traits that would be impossible to emulate. Moving away from the discussion of the evolutionary development of body type selection and more towards the fact that we favor seeing some with clothes on and others without clothes on in a pubic space; when the body serves a mere purpose of arousal or disgust, I believe it is a result of a societal reinforcement, including the influence of the media outlets, that brings us to tell someone that their body in inadequate for public viewing."

His second response - "I am a little ashamed of my naked body too; even though I try to take care of it. There is naked bike ride in Philly that I thought about doing; but then I just asked myself why? I couldn't come up with a good reason so I haven't done it. On the evolutionary aspect I tend to think that some features do indicate a healthy body which could in turn produce healthy offspring. I don't have scientific evidence to back this; but I am fairly sure it's out there. I am also fairly sure that they are just theories and not conclusive. Evolution seems to be a somewhat meandering path. It favors those traits which allow a species to adapt to its environment. And our environment is constantly changing. Also, evolution is a very slow process for us. The rest of this comes down to asthetics which are quite subjective. I am a photographer and know what is done with photoshop. I think that soon we will not have any actual true photographic memories of anything... I tend to think at some point in life we have to except who we are even if it is less than the media portrays. I tend to think most advertising, TV and movies are a joke and a waste of time which I try avoid. It always amazes me that people like to read People magazine. We are a nation obsessed with stars. Or we are have too much time on our hands. I don't blame the media becuase we have freedom of choice. I also respectfully disagree with you on the issue that societal pressure dictates what I find attractive. "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder." One thing that hasn't been discussed is the issue of hygiene and I think that that is huge."

A third response from someone else - "I agree that we should not feel ashamed of our nude bodies, but I'm not convinced that your being naked in public will make others feel less ashamed of their own bodies. I know that if I get married, I will not want to compare my wife's body with other women's bodies. Likewise, I don't want my wife to compare my naked body to other men's. Seeing other people naked inevitably invites ranking and comparison, whether we want to or not (I'm also anti-pornography). I'm glad to live in a city where if a man shows his genitalia to a random woman on the street, he can get arrested and charged as a sexual offender"

My response to both responders -  
Norman- "Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," yet the rose colored glasses we wear are surely not of our own making. Personal preference is something which cannot be denied yet we must also take into account that it is a collective spectrum of preference that we can choose from within the confines of. To illustrate this, if you were to conduct a study where a number of single "average" American males were instructed to choose a appealing women from group of 5, one of which would be a Karan tribal women from the Red Karen people (famous for neck stretching), I could almost guarantee she would continue to be the outlier in every selection. I’m sure the reverse would be true for a group of Karan tribal men. Why is this significant? It becomes evident that you choose what you know, or what you’ve come to find acceptable. If you lived in America there are a plethora of influences guiding your choice of what you find appealing from clothes to body type. Although, you free to choose from within that limited selection or “box,” we should also recognize that we are making those choices within the larger box of cultural preference and In this case, The “American” cultural preference, which has its downsides.

Dan - My initial impetus for walking naked was solely for the purposes of waging a war with my internal feelings of bodily shame. When I think about the impact it could have on others I look back to the original Rueters article, which I linked to in my blog. The article addresses some points on both sides but what struck me was a paragraph about who decided to take off their clothes, “The nude protesters, including one using a cane and another in a wheelchair, walked with DiEdoardo two blocks to the federal courthouse.” This diverse group of protestors did not only include chiseled men and attractive women, it included people of all races and shapes from the handicapped to the obese, people who would not normally feel confident in their physical appearance. This motivates me to realize that my body is not something to be ashamed of and I believe that this will also motivate others. PS: I'm glad to have visited a city where a person, regardless of physical attributes, can display their naked body.  

IS IT REAL?

"Jennifer wants to be friends on Facebook." This sentence greeted me as I logged onto my email, immediately followed by a queasy feeling in my stomach and a loss of appetite.

I don't think she will ever understand how painful this is. I cant be her friend. I loved her, I cant just friend her and watch her life progress without being a part of it.

If this were the matrix I would would beg Morpheus to stick the probe in the back in my head and erase my memory of our relationship. Its not that I genuinely don't still have strong feelings for her and think about her on a daily basis, its that I've become imprisoned by it. Just like when she told me of the rape a few months ago, I subsequently lost 10 pounds from my already thin frame and feel into a depression. I cant control her, and at times, she cant control herself. I cannot be apart of that, for my own mental sanity.

Why do I LOVE???????

Yet, words do no justice. This process is unfair.

Does this really have to last this long?

Does the pain really have to persist?

My heart yearns for her but my mind knows the reality of her lifestyle and the havoc it wrecked on my world.

What is wrong with me?

Can I not just make a decision and mentally and emotionally stick by it?

Why do these bouts of regret and longing slowly tear away at my emotional stability.

Jennifer, please......................CHANGE

*Edit: I can see why people turn to alcohol or drugs. Dealing with sadness and depression is a really tough and overwhelming process.

Inevitable

Im some ways I've been dreading this time, yet knowing it was inevitable.


The vibrations were met with confused recondition as a made a mental check of the location of my phone during class. I knew it was not a students phone because it was on my left near the floor where my bag was placed. "But why did it vibrate?" I thought to myself, "I turned off email notifications."

After my last class, I casually started to clean up my belongings and looked at my Iphone. I had a notification on Skype.

I must admit, I really didn't think it would be her but it was and a small (7) was next her name signaling the number of times she tried to call. Being suspicious, I immediately checked the time difference from Los Angeles to Japan which is 16 hours and calculated that it was about 3:00am when she called me, she was drunk, I'm absolutely sure of it and here it how it panned out...

At the bar with her friends, she was now fairly intoxicated, yet she started to feel a creeping depression settling in. It came to life in the form of a single tear struggling to form past her mascara, tearing its way from her eye and down her smooth milky skin onto the harsh wood surface of the bar table. Looking down at her phone, she saw her way out. She dialed once, twice, and a third time only to be meet with a dial tone.  In desperation she continued to dial, only after 4 more attempts did she realize, I would not (or could not) answer.

---I would like to think I'm genuinely a optimistic person and believe in the potential of others to change but I don't think...actually I know she will not change. I can no longer invest my future in this fleeting possibility, nor should I. My mother once said "when someone shows you who they are, believe them, the first time."

----I also realize that my heart still yearns for her and I'm sure it will for some time and I accept that. This process has been a interesting one, I must admit.

The Dichotomy of Human Nature

I've been told part of the healing process after a relationship is recognizing the lessons that have been learned in the process.

One things that eludes me in this process is the ability to categorize Jennifer. We often take for granted the ability to quickly categorize others, often because of its subconscious nature. Such as in the case where I would categorize Jennifer as a mere Alcoholic and justify my decision to move away from her as a respite from a person who is desperately addicted to a substance and is bound for destruction. The problem lies within the confines of that label becasue although I could blame most of the catastrophic situations on Alcohol, can I also blame the love we shared on Alcohol? The answer is I cannot, which is why these posts seem to be manic depressant.

One the one hand I ruefully pulled away from her entrancing love and genuinely wish that were not the case but on opposing hand I know what it is like to shake, nearly to the point of paralysis, out of fear for the safety of another who occasionally lacks regards for their own well being. I am too familiar with the pain in my chest, yet I am also familiar with her entrancing presence and feelings of pure unhindered love when I can look into her eyes and see truth in her gaze.

We were two genuine people who met and shared a love which cannot be replaced. Let this love not sit on a shelf and rot, nor let us use it as shackles to imprison us.

The lesson I am learning summarizes the complex essence of human nature which squirms away from classification and moves towards simple existence.

"Life is about walking the tightrope between unfiltered passion and absolute logical thought."

I Remember

Something...something triggered the thoughts.

Somethings triggered the memories that continue to plague my mind.

I remember when I first pulled away from you, sure that your habits were something I could not deal with. 

I remember the first party you took me to.

I remember pacing outside the front door, pushing off comments of concern from others. "Whats up?" they said, "just getting some fresh air" I gleefully responded. But you know what I was doing. I was falling apart inside, falling into pits of regret and hatred as I watched you start to stumble.

I remember watching you stagger to the kitchen table and fall to the ground, narrowly missing the corner of the table with your beautiful face.

I remember everyone immediately staring at me with a expectation that I would rush to your aide.

I remember looking at you with such anger and hatred as you arose, one awkward and strained movement at a time.

I remember the car ride back to your apartment, your unconscious body swaying with the curves of the highway.

I remember getting home and looking for the keys you lost in your drunken haze.

I REMEMBER LOOKING AT YOUR PHONE AND SEEING A TEXT YOU SENT TO YOUR FRIEND, "I SPIKED MY BOYFRIENDS DRINK, AM I A BAD GIRLFRIEND?"

I remember the trust I had for you melt into the Vodka you dripped into the juice you offered me.

I remember the words you told me only a few months ago. "I knew I was the person whom you were describing, the person that you didn't want to be with but I deserved to feel good."

I remember you Jennifer, I remember you every single day.

The Fix I Need

Saying its a addiction is putting it lightly.

Its been almost 2 months of absolutely no communication yet when I accidentally, or intentionally, navigate to her Facebook page my heart melts and I once again lower into a pit of regret.

Maybe it will work, I tell myself, maybe this time she actually is different. Maybe she wont lie about alcohol and slowly destroy herself with this noxious substance.

All I have to do is send her a message; tell her how much I love and care for her.

STOP---I know she has not changed. How can she possibly stop relying on the substance that was destroying her life?

The reason is simple, its because it was not the substance which slowly melted into her brain, it was Jennifer who raised the bottle to her mouth.

I miss her, that much I know and I wish sometime in the future I am able to once again see her and hold her.

Life is one big amazing, confusing, and exciting experience.

My Fianl Email Response to "Her"

It has been almost two months since since I talked to the person I referred to in the last blog post. I want to stress this this is completely uncharacteristic of my previous behavior while I was in a relationship with her. I cannot even recount how many times I returned to her after I promised myself that I would leave after some drunken episode, it is almost unbelievable how many times I lied to myself and accepted her promises of recovery.

Before I enter into my draft of an email response to her, let me give some context. I have been receiving messages from her each week for about two months. These messages ranged from general inquiries about my day to crying voice mails begging for my response. They have all found their way to my heart and once again branded my heart with the mark of pain. The most recent message was received two days ago which was basically a letter of resignation. She stated that she would not contact me anymore and "I don't know why you chose to ignore me." The last line really left some painful emotions lingering in my head and heart for some time so I crafted a very visceral response to her email which I will finally release from the stale storage of my Gmail drafts folder. I do not want to persecute her anymore and I do not want to talk about addiction, alcoholism, or anything related to it so let this message both be born here and die here.

The following is my hastily drafted email response to her

"This is the second email I drafted to send you.

I was doing my best to give us both space and although it hurt both of us I thought it was best. I will tell you how I honestly feel.

I listened to you last voice mail and had a hard rest of the day. I wanted to comfort and console you. I wanted everything to be okay but part of me was also angry. I remember begging you on my hands and knees to stop getting drunk, I remember crying to you with the same intensity of emotion in the bathroom of the septa train on the way to New York to get my Visa after a conversation we had where you did not know where you were or who you were with and I remember going back to you wishing it would be better, hanging on your every word about "recovery."

I did not want to email you because I needed time to get through this. I still feel pain and think about you and this situation daily. I'm angry that the great times we've had was often punctuated by situations related to alcohol.

First, let me clear up some things. I'm not ignoring you because I have a girlfriend, nor am I ignoring you because I do not love you.

During our last conversation, I told you that I went to Tokushima and decided that we cannot be together. Let me shed some light on this. While in Tokushima, I had 12 days to think about this situation and reflect on our past and future together, what has happened and what will happen.

I reflected on one experience many times. A few months ago when I first arrived in Japan, I enjoyed my first traditional Japanese dinner with a friends family. At the house there were many people including a couple who were expecting a child. Dinner time came and we all sat on our knees on the tatami mat and everyone was given a beer glass including myself. I was hesitant but I accepted a glass of beer and did a few toasts with the family.  Anyway, sitting across from me was the young couple, the man was drinking beer and his wife was drinking iced tea. For some reason that really resonated with me. I thought, "wow, he trusts her enough to know she would not even consider drinking, although everyone who was around her was drinking." After I left that night, and up until a month ago I did not think much of it but during my trip I realized that that I've made a choice to stay in a situation where I could not say the same about my trust regarding the person I love and alcohol.

I reached a breaking point during one of our last conversations. The conversation that you reveled to me that you were potentially taken advantage of. After that conversation, I was not able to eat for days, dropped 10 more pounds, and fell into a state of depression. Now, whether or not you were taken advantage of or or you voluntarily undressed yourself while you were apparently drunk and unconscious on a couch, what ever the case, it does not matter. It reached a point that made me question the future and the pattern that I saw emerging in myself.

I would base my happiness on the decisions you made and the consequences of those decisions. I do not want our relationship to revolve around alcohol, regardless of what the label is we attach to it. I do not want to ask you about your weekend, really trying to find out if you drank. I do not want you to hesitate when you talk to me because you realize that if you let "it" slip you will cause me pain. It is too much and too much has happened because of it. I realized that I cannot rescue you from yourself or your habits, no matter how much pain I feel or tears I shed, nor should I.

Its a complicated situation but I genuinely want both of us to be happy.

I love you, miss you and wish I could hold you once again. I truly wish it didn't come to this and we could live the life we wanted to.

I wish this were easier but I feel this is the only option. "

Walk into the Room

Update as of 9_25_2012: This post was originally made somewhere around January 2012.

"What are you up to" I as at 5:12pm, to which she responds "still on the computer" at 5:20pm.

Pina 3D would be a good movie I think to myself, shes a dancer. I decide to go over the house and surprise her and take her to the movies. I arrive at around 6:10 and slowly walk upstairs, so as not to give it away from the sound of the cleats on my bikes shoes, knocking the wood with every step. I open and door and turn on the light, only to see a empty bed.

Im beginning to feel it once again, it returns like a ravenous animal smelling fear; something is wrong. I stand motionless, taking in all that I can. I smell it, the aroma seeping into my nostrils; something has been burning in the room, but she doesn't smoke she told me. I walk to the left of the room, and instinctively go to the trashcan, and there it is.

A box of cigarettes, some hastily balled up tinfoil. I open the box of camels and find a small plastic bag...

Here is comes, I drop the bag in a frantic dash to do anything that will take my mind off the obvious. I cant believe it, its not true. "Why are you so fuckin stupid?" I say to myself, "Why do you do this to yourself?"

Feet steadily reaching a fast cadence as I race through the city, my fix is approaching. I feel light as I push harder on the pedals, water rising from the street and being thrown onto my back as I speed through the rain. What if I get hit, i think... Its not enough, faster, FASTER!!

ITS NOT GOOD ENOUGH, I NEED A BETTER FIX!!!!!!!

***Update 7:11 PM - Waiting for my GoPro battery to charge***

Since I did not update this post since the January 2011, the results of my "Fix" was a bike ride in a speedo bathing suit in below freezing temperatures for about 30 minutes in Center City while it began to snow. It was probably the stupidest thing I've done and literally almost resulted in Hypothermia but its all part of the learning experience. I will post a pic of it soon.

The Truth

Let me start where my last conversation ended, Rape.

Before I expose this information, let me assure that this was not done in haste. I contemplated the effects of my action and the effects of inaction. I've thought about this cancer that is now festering inside of me and the pain I feel every second. I'm not writing this for empathy, nor am i writing this for advice. I'm writing this because I know of nothing else to do. This anger and depression that now follows me every second is almost palpable. I thought about blocking this from some people to save face, yet it feels as though I'm lying to myself if I do that.

As this point I ponder three questions:
-Do I really want to tell you?
-Do you really want to know?
-How deep do you want to go?

Throughout our lives we very methodically construct our outward images for others to see. We build our resume to give us professional credibility, and we build our circle of friends to give us support and justify our beliefs. We have our personal and professional lives, which remain separate.

I've learned many years ago during my three year stay in military school, regardless of the situation you find yourself in or the barrier that you face, you perform. The collective is more important then the individual. This perspective has been slowly leaking into my mind and emerges whenever I face trauma. I internally shut down and force myself to "forge ahead" as they used to say in "The Forge" or Valley Forge Military Academy and College. This mantra is not only blindly repeated my military school cadets but is has nearly become societal dogma proliferated by our social and educational institutions in this country and abroad.

I recently taught my students the function of a common American professional greeting. I taught them to first start with a greeting like, "how are you" followed by their full name, etc. When I moved to the part of possible responses to the question "how are you," I wrote two answers on the board: I'm fine and I'm well. One of my students asked "what if I'm not fine." I was caught off guard. I leaned back in my chair and pressed my hand against my chin, starting to sarcastically smile, "well unfortunately, no-one cares if you are not doing well." I think about my response and realize that it's the truth. When someone asks you "how are you," you don't respond with, "horrible, let me tell to about it," you put on you or best face and say "great."

Well let me be painfully honest with you, I'm not fine, as a matter fact I'm feeling pretty bad and hopeless.

You probably have a image of me that was fostered by my successes, both professionally and personally. If you know me personally, you know that I am very particular with my life. I choose not to drink, smoke, do drugs, drink caffeine, and am a practicing vegetarian. Also, I do my best to be very cautious of the influences that surround me. I now have a new career teaching English in a foreign country, pursing a dream of travel and cultural immersion.

Part of the story, or at least the part that you don't know, consists of me running away from Philadelphia, running away from something I did not want to leave. Running away from the person I loved. Japan was convenient because it sounded like a great opportunity and I would be so far away that nothing which happens in the states could affect me, yet I have been found.

I've held on so tight, embracing the pain that tears through my soul like a tiger through a carcass. Shred by shred, I watch my hopes and dreams of a life I thought possible, be devoured by the beast of alcohol addiction, yet as I stand begging her to stop, I am powerless.

The irony of life is sometimes astounding. I recall, almost 6 months ago while working for a non-profit in high crime area of North Philadelphia, I witnessed something which I've just gained enough insight to understand. During one of my daily walks from Subway sandwich shop to the main office, while approaching some abandoned housing, I saw him. First a shaking hand which materialized into a shaking body that was perched upright on the front stairs of sone abandoned row housing. I started to move away when I noticed a hand clutching his chest and one wrapped tightly around his arm, this was the arm of a woman, holding him with all her might, tears of hopelessness streaming down her face. As I passed, she didn't even avert her glance as I passed within a few feet of her. "I can't imagine that" I sad to my friend who was walking with me, "I can't imagine trying to hold to something that is already lost." She was holding with such determination, she was holding on with all the life in her body.

Im angry... no I'm furious at this situation. How can this happen to her? This doesn't fit into our story. This doesn't happen to the person I'm investing my heart and soul into but the truth is someone also tore into her, only while she was unconscious, passed out drunk on a couch. I will spare you the grotesque details that plague my mind.

Cheating would of been easier to deal with, at least I could come to the realization that she intentionally destroyed my trust and gave her body to another man, but what now?

She didn't give her body to another man, yet she blacked out in a house she didn't know, with people she had never been acquainted with. I think back to the time, December 24th to be exact, yes the day before Christmas, when she called me crying and screaming my name, asking for my help. Chills shot down my spine, as I ran into the cold night air at 4am to my car. I was able to make out an address in her screams for help. It was a police station far from where she was drinking in center city Philly and when I arrived, she had no idea what happened. From that day, I told her that if she continued this behavior she will either die or get raped. Well now the only other option is death.

Part of me is angry at her for drinking to the point of blackout, to the point where someone can remove her clothes while she lay unconscious and drunk on a couch. If someone were to get her drunk with the intention of taking advantage of her or slipped something in her drink, I'm not sure how i would process that besides wanting to find that person...but she drank so much alcohol her body shut down and she did this of her own fruition.

One of my students brought up the topic of Love and asked if I had ever loved someone and I sad yes, "I actually love that person now." Progressing through the usual line of questioning, the conversation moved to, "why are you not together"? "Well," I said "that's a complicated story." She leaned in as though wanting me to divulge the details to which I hesitantly responded "it's a painful love, a very painful love." She shook her head and said "you are too young for a painful love." I only wish that were true.

So if you ask me "how are you," I will delightfully respond "fine." I will hold the facade we create for ourselves, less the seething anger and pain that festers in my heart and mind starts to ooze from my pores, then my body will have given me up.

Just Be

We become so invested in our perceptions and beliefs that we often forget that they can be as biased as the one at whom we are pointing the finger.

I finally get this quote: You cant see the forest from the trees.

*The self fulfilling prophecy is alive and well in my life, especially with my views of alcohol. I spend a substantial amount of time learning the negative effects of the behavior, which does not leave any room free of judgement.

Some of the best advice I had been was just, in the last 10 minutes, told to me and can be summed up in two words: Just Be

If You've Only Died Once, You've Never Lived

I know ONE thing for sure, that I don't know anything.

Her red lipstick still smeared on the neck of the small plastic vodka bottle. The hopes of our relationship lingering in the ounces that have been left by careless swigs of intoxicating passion. A passion that grows so deep, it consumes you and can stare you in the face as though you don't exist.

Looking at its red cap peering out of her bag, I grabbed it, squeezing it as to diminish any possibility it possessed of entrancing my love again. The plastic bottle that was in my hand as I left the house, now sits next to my computer as I write this.

Its amazing, the meaning we attribute to mundane objects. This 7" bottle of No. 21 triple distilled Vodka has taken on a life, or better yet a story, that gives it meaning; like a gun that just fired its slug into an innocent victim.

Its a story I know to well. A story that starts with a call at 5:00am, inaudible words can be heard above the screams for help. A sharp pain in my stomach followed by cold chills as though I just emerged from an ice shower. I layer up and drive to the location, a police station. My body trembles with fear and anger as I peer through the door and see the tip of a boot that I recognize. "Fuck" I angrily say to myself as I grit my teeth, I open the door and see the girl I love laying on the bench. A silence falls over the room, the screams for help forgotten in the haze of drunkenness. I stand over her for a few seconds before I call her name "Jen, Jen its Mike," to which she doesn't respond. "JEN" I yell, as she peers up, blinking and rubbing her eyes. She stumbles to hug my shivering body, "I miss you" she says with such empathy.

I'm addicted to her. Her essence entrances me when lock eyes, followed by a false hope that everything will be fine. I have become dependent on her, but for what I have yet to establish.