This house, like my skin, begins to feel like home.

Coming home after the divorce use to feel like a sentence
I hereby sentence you to be alone, to never feel like anything is yours,
to always feel like it's too messy or too full
or like you've created it for someone else to feel at home in.
I have dutifully hung curtains and furnished it.

It starts to feel like home.

This house, like my skin, begins to feel like home.

I want...

I want to tell you what I'm reading so you can tell me what you think about it.

I want to ask how you can be Italian and tell me you have faith in the working class of America while me a product of the working class of America doesn't have faith. I lost mine; give me some of yours.

I want to know if there is poetry in your soul. Are you all business or is there softness in all your stern-facedness?

I want to know what your Mother is ill with.

I want to know how your marriage ended. Did she want it or did you? Did it die slowly or in flames? Do you still hurt about it?

I want to know about your first marriage.

I want to take a bath in a large mosaic bathtub with you. I want you to sit at one end and me the other.   I want to see you see me covered in water and bubbles while our bodies brush against each other and the smooth soap makes our skin slip when we rub together. I want to rub against you.

I want to have dinner with you while we sit on the same side of the table and I watch your mouth form words that interest me. I want to have to make the decision: would I rather hear you talk or rather feel you kiss me?

I want to hold your hand.

I want to know what you look like in the sunshine and the dark and how your skin tastes when you've been sweating.

I want to lay in bed with you and talk the way we do. Talking to you is better than most of the sex I've had with other men.

I want to know if you fuck slow or fast.

I want to know how you like it.

I want to know you.

A true soul mate is a mirror...

I googled him. Part of me wishes I hadn't. I refuse to message him today mostly based on the fear he doesn't feel the same.
Part of me thinks 'if you like him Ginger then don't be afraid to say so...don't be afraid to reach over' but another part of me says 'you fool, you will scare him away'. But then that other voice (don't try to keep count of them all) says if you scare him away then maybe he isn't for you.

Sometimes we want things for ourselves that aren't for us.

Like Lawrence, he isn't for me. It's been months since we saw each other in person. I can't remember much about him in that sense. He fades...the smell of him, the sight, the feelings maybe even.

I'm reading "Eat Pray Love" which is almost as bad as I thought it would be. But there were a few nuggets of knowledge I took away. Like this after she says David was her soulmate,"He probably was. Your problem is you don't understand what that word means. People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that's holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet because they tear down your walls and smack you awake. But to live with your soul mate forever? Nah. Too painful. Soul mates, they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave. And thank god for it."- Eat Pray Love by Elizabeth Gilbert




emanuele saccarelli seems to be a very serious man. Don't get me wrong. He does have a sense of humor but overall he's very serious. I am not a very serious person. I'm afraid he will find me frivolous and light headed.

I know I should be myself but I find myself wondering if I should be more serious for him...which would be the worst idea. Maybe Emanuele need a little bit of me in his life and I need a little bit of him.
I want to hold him and our convos in a little safe space so I can still like him and unwrap him when I get to Rome in about 30 days.

Speaking of Rome, my hosts at my airbnb in Rome gave me some apps to download which I see will be very helpful. Roma Bus and Citymapper.

I find myself wondering where Emanuele and I will be in 30 days. Maybe no longer talking but if we are will he meet me at the airport or will he just come over later. I encourage myself not to rely on him so I plan and look and do like I won't know a soul there. That is best I think.

Forbidden Tingles

I would die of mortified embarrassment if the Tinder guy found this journal. I sound like a school girl and he's a college professor but boy does he make tingles in my stomach and other places. Which scares me a little bit because Lawrence did that...Lawrence of the great love affair of '17. That's 2017, not 1917.

I have no business getting tingles about anyone. I forbid it. I forbid it so much I shan't talk to him tomorrow. This is silly.

So what if he and I talked twice today and I was never bored and he sent another pic and he's even cuter than I thought and he wrote two books and I want to lick his brain it's so cute and gorgeous and omlord I heard his voice and I want to listen to it all the time. I'm resisting the urge to get my phone out and listen the recording of his voice again.

My fondest, perhaps I shouldn't be admitting this after TWO days of talking to a guy I met on Tinder...but my fondest wish is that I look back on this as the start of finding my person. But truthfully I might look back on this blog and barely register this guy as a blip on my radar in a year or two or five. That's life isn't it. Or that's me.

My therapist would say we meet who we meet when we are suppose to meet them but that takes away my agency. The truth is that we decide. We make decisions. I could have not contacted him today. I could not contact him tomorrow. I could hate him in a week. I'm in charge. This is not some whim of fate or design. I will decide who remains in my life (as long as they want to) and who goes (whether they want to or not).

He said he was a bit of a political guru. Maybe I should google his books...

Selfless Motherhood Doesn't Exist

When you become a Mother, no light shines down and makes you instantaneously selfless. It doesn't happen that way. It would be nice if it did. Motherhood like anything is a great balancing act between trying to meet your needs and theirs.

I'm going to shock you. Maybe.

I once planned to leave my kids with their Dad for a year. I was going to visit every 3 months for at least a week, probably two. I was planning a year. A year to get over my divorce, to figure out my life direction, to get myself together. I had a plan, a place, a person. I discussed it with my ex. We were thinking of some details, working it out. He sure had a lot of shame to throw at me. 

I was dealing with overwhelming guilt. BUT THE THING IS we had discussed this very option if my ex went to work overseas or out of town as a viable option. Not to mention for years he had worked a 25/5 schedule where he worked 25 straight days before he got 5 off. WHY as a society do we think it's so much easier or better for men to leave their children than women? I mean I wasn't abandoning them. I was just leaving the with their OTHER parent. A responsible adult. Why the guilt then? It's inherently sexist if you think it's ok for a man to do this but not a woman. 

What stopped me? My kids. I mentioned it to them like I was thinking about it and they fell apart. See...the reason why it's different in my case is for exactly the reason I just illustrated. I had been the kids "psychological parent" for years. To suddenly leave them would be abandoning them. The divorce was already leaving them fragile and they needed me. 

So those plans went by the wayside but in trying to keep the balance I did leave them with my sister for a week and go to Belgium. And I will be going to Italy for two weeks while they are with their 

Dad in July. 

Balance. I can't have a year. 

It's been a year now anyways. 

A hard year but also a year that built me.

In closing what I am trying to say is....my life belongs to me. 

"Don't fool yourself the passion never gets lost..."

“Don’t fool yourself the passion never gets lost for those who live the passion.”
                                        -Pier Paolo Pasolini

I met a guy on Tinder who is in Rome and he had a pic of a mural of Pier Paolo Pasolini and a quote. This is the quote translated. I don't know much about this guy from Tinder. He lives in San Diego but he's from Rome. He's been in the US since 1993. He teaches the NOT dreadful political science which he says is Machiavelli, Rousseau, Marx, and Trotsky. He says dreadful political science is voting polls in Wyoming. Then we bonded over the fact he got a 300$ ticket in Wyoming (because he drives like an Italian) and I lived there for 9 years. It was a great convo that flew by in seconds... and I haven't heard from him since. That makes me sad. I've been thinking about him ever since. 

For him it could have been nothing. Maybe a blurb in a day and he's barely thought of it since but in my free moments (which have been few) I have thought of him. It was that kind of convo that leaves you with warm feelings. You pull it back up and read it again just to remember how easy it flowed, how you smiled, how you glowed, how it feels to be perfectly in sync with someone like your minds are moving at the same pace. They delight you with their responses and how their mind works. 
Is all this too much to ask for in my person?

Isn't it silly to see this much in one convo...? 
Or maybe it's not.
Maybe I live the passion.

Emotional Labor

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B0UUYL6kaNeBTDBRbkJkeUtabEk/view?pref=2&pli=1

I want to finish reading this. I only got halfway through. 

But yes! Two or three things instantly popped into my head. 

1) I am always saying I just want one day where the only ass I wipe is mine. In other words I'd like a day where my needs are the only ones I have to meet. 

2) When my husband cooks dinner he wants endless gratitude and ass pats. I tried to explain to him that I cook dinner all the other nights and not because I need (or will get) endless gratitude but because we have children that have to eat. I wake up thinking about their needs. (Breakfast, lunch, dinner. Who is drinking enough fluids. Who needs to see the dentist. Who needs a new jacket. Are they getting enough social interaction. Do they feel loved.) I have this group thing I go to alone every other Tuesday. When it first started a year ago he would ask me what was for dinner. I would fucking answer and make sure I had a plan, picked up food before I left, or cooked. Then I was like, wait, is he expected to do that when he plans a night away from home? No. Why should I? He's capable of heating a frozen pizza, calling for takeout, or even cooking a meal. He's a grown ass man. So I stopped. Now he figures it out because I didn't give him a choice. Though I've noticed if the kids don't verbally remind him he will FORGET TO FEED THEM. Like, wtf. I could never forget this because that would make me a shitty Mom, right? Plus I just fucking care. I care if they are hungry. 

3) My husband doesn't know the size of any of the kids clothes. Nada. He SAYS he can't even fold clothes because he doesn't know whose clothes are whose. He doesn't know their favorite colors. He doesn't know their favorite music. He doesn't know what their current favorite interests are. Before this thread I use to think I was being too hard on him because I spend all day with them (homeschool which is a whole other EL) and he doesn't but really fuck that. 

4) He expects me to talk to his Mother but honestly it's not even him, it's her. She calls me and expects me to make arrangements for her visits or keep her abreast of her grandkids. I ask him all the time why does she call me. He even reminds me to call her. Just NO. His Mother, he should handle it. He is capable of making arrangements and talking to his own Mother. I shouldn't have to. 

5) I plan all family vacations. If I wait for him to then we never go. I come up with some ideas, get his opinions, find sites, book tickets, do price comparisons, pack all the bags (4 kids and me) and his ONLY job is asking off but he will keep reminding me he needs me to make plans so he can ask off for the right time and acts like that is a huge emotional deal on his part. 

6) He picks up after himself, washes his own clothes, buys most of his own personal care supplies like razors, shaving cream,...basically takes care of himself...and he thinks this alone should get him huge ass pats AND if you listen to other women he may be right. Not only emotional labor but there are so many women married to men who can't even pick up their fucking socks or wash their own clothes, which is like basic adult human being stuff. I sometimes feel like I should be grateful for a man who can take care of his own needs and I'm asking too much if I ask him to share in some emotional labor and giving a basic fuck about the needs of his offspring. 

I day dream about him being forced to care more, seriously. I day dream about him having to wash their clothes, buy them presents, take them to functions and know times and people and shit, buy dance costumes and Christmas presents and Halloween costumes, and have to feed them three times a day plus snacks.