the israel docket. November 10, 2009
Posted by feeltoflyy3 in Uncategorized.Tags: create, creative writing, Feel., fiction, finding oneself, Fly., israel, televiv
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in no specific order. and yet needing to be said. the first in a series that’s still needs edits or reconsiderations. ((which can never stop… because, then it means it’s over)) and while we live vicariously through insufficient words, at the end of the day… it’s all we have to help paint the unpaintable picture.
slide on shoes and digitcal camera memories.
my hearts in israel. pray to the letters for direction.
+++
Beaches in Televiv and sweet kisses in the dead sea.
Conversations hugged by the hot tears burning behind my eyes while we stare up at the stars and know the inevitable is coming. The countdown begins, and the anticipation is heavy upon my chest. I feel like I could spontaneously combust at any moment, and I pull his hand closer to mine. Save me from my life of a million regrets. Please take me with you; let’s stay, or run, or just sit here quietly and pray to the Western Wall that it never disappears. The ambitious bells loud songs ricochet across the quarters of the old city of Jerusalem, the chimes so vibrant and strong to the point where they could be considered distracting.
And then the chills roll down my spine now as I look back in quiet retrospect – I don’t remember noticing that they ever stopped.
And I’m back to feeling like more of a stranger here than I did when I first began my journey in Israel. Before I met some of the best friends I have ever know. Before I fell in love.
And to think I’ve come this far without knowing who I’ve become .
(these words don’t exist to me)
A stranger to the Sunday night at dusk. September 28, 2009
Posted by feeltoflyy3 in Uncategorized.Tags: a new earth, creative writing, Discovery, eckhart tolle, elizabeth gilbert, Mid-Twenties, San Diego, search, Self discovery
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i press my feet to the ground. the black pavement feels cool against the hot afternoon. ipod on. clear screen, and only the faint whisper of a thumbprint. deep breath. maybe this will shake the ceaseless expedition. my thoughts blocking my 5 minutes from now. Eckhart Tolle says that “seeking is the antithesis of happiness”… and I hear his words, I close my eyes and picture them on my wrist, countless corners of scratch paper filled with notes from meetings. i know the writers block is still there. I know the seeking still lives within me. I stretch my legs in front of me, feel the pull of my hamstrings – the harmless pinch of excercising once a week.
it feels like the empty houses next to me are watching. waiting for me to run. pick up the pace and just go.
and so, i propel.
i feel the wind shoot through my lungs, my legs feel insubstantial against the chaos spilling behind my eyes. the eyes that i’m constantly trying to perfect. the right eyeliner. the perfect shade of bronze to make the green stand out just a little bit stronger.
i run by another house that looks exactly the same as the previous 15 before. the concrete jungle of track housing reminds me why i wanted to leave in the first place, and yet i stayed. and i turn my head as i pass by the mother who is relieving her 2009 white highlander of groceries spilling out of plastic bags, her 4 year old little girl peering at me with big blue eyes, her white blonde hair – a stranger to the Sunday night at dusk. It’s almost as if I could read her eyes, “Who is She?”
I turn to look ahead, look down towards the black pavement that continues to absorb my relentless pounding of frustration.
And as I look ahead all I can think to myself is… “God, I have no idea.”
I roll the wheel on my bright red ipod flushed, skip to the next song – hoping that this will be the one that will push me to the point where i can stop focusing on how hard it is to breathe. it’s lonely but it could be worse. i stop briefly, slowing down my pace to an apathetic sail of what appears to be a speed walk.
a car comes from behind me, passing by and i peer into the rearview mirror. Maybe that will be him. Maybe that will be who I am looking for. Maybe he’ll pull into his driveway and be 27 years old, perfect, dark hair, dark eyes. And Tolle’s words crush me again, seeking is the antithesis – krysten, you need to stop thinking; stop seeking. God damnit. just stop looking.
i start running again. blasting against the heavy anticipation of unforgiving reminders that i’m not approaching the world right. the sun is beginning to muffle it’s excessive heat and i can feel my cheeks turning to the crimson red of my ipod. just me and my ipod. how far have i gone now? i’m on my way down the ridge, the the air hinting the pungent smell of freshly laid bark in someone’s front yard. A lemon yellow sign puncturing the front yard with “Grandparents Crossing” filling it’s frame.
And i close my eyes; The Temper Trap’s inside out harmonies and melodic sweeping against the gentle hushing movement of trees that have yet to succumb to the copper encrusted hello of Fall.
Legs burn. Lungs screaming to dismiss the smoke from a Parliament light that I had yesterday. I hold my hands to my waist, waiting now for my feet to kick start my body again. My head continues to swirl, despite the frustration that physically pains me. I dip back into the dramatic twilight, feel myself fall back into the music that feels like a siren serenading to me while I float aimlessly in a sea of neutral colored garages.
Not like I needed another but Elizabeth Gilbert pops into my head and I’m thinking about the part where she is seeking spiritual enlightenment in India – and she’s fighting against her thoughts too, and she feels like I feel right now, in this moment, this angst – this utter dissapointment of not being able to abide to a concept that should feel so seamless. easy. simple.
And i wait for it, her thoughts – her words, and they come as easy to me as red droplets of wine cry themselves down a wine bottle after an imperfect pour. Cease your relentless participation. Watch what happens.
I breathe again, my lungs feeling a little more whole now… Cease your relentless participation… I have no idea how.
the search begins. September 8, 2009
Posted by feeltoflyy3 in Uncategorized.Tags: Decisions, Discovery, Love, Mid-Twenties
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The search begins.
i wonder. September 7, 2009
Posted by feeltoflyy3 in Uncategorized.Tags: Decisions, Love, Mid-Twenties, Robert Frost
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I wonder what my story is going to be.
How I’m going to end up. If I’ll fall in love. When I’ll fall in love. Where I’m going to be in a year. If I’ll be happy. If I’ll like what I’m doing. I changed my mind again. No Italy. No quitting my job. In all honesty, I’m really fucking sick of changing my mind… ALL THE TIME. Where do you find conviction? Passion with enough intensity to drive a decision, passion with enough intensity to make you feel good about it when all is said and done. Where do you find these things?
Heart hurts. I’m in mourning. Grieving over what it could have been like if I could just walk away. So now that I’ve made a decision, do i feel good about it? Now that I’ve made (yet, another decision) will I wonder what things could have been like? will i regret?
And this is why I wonder how I’m going to end up. If there was a reason behind this move that will make me happy a year from now… if that by some instance of fate I decided this.
And I honestly don’t know. And i find it harder to move on, pick myself up and keep going… because it’s too much to walk away right now. All I really do know – is that i have an ounce of inspiration back. something that is making me feel less robotic.
words are less empty, and hold so much more that i wish i could explain today.
…and it’s such a heavenly way to hide. Robert Frost called it. And to this day, I don’t know which road was better.
barefoot travel August 29, 2009
Posted by feeltoflyy3 in Feel..add a comment
and i feel more lost than i did before. and i thought i had all the answers.
but now i feel like it was a giant misspelling. an error in how we decorate the lies that have kept us so secretly disengaged for the last year. you demand that i rise above and beyond.
and i finally said NO.
because it is the antithesis of rising for myself. pushing for me. i vote for ME. and my dreams are so haunted because i didn’t know people had this in them. it’s like dogs fighting over a filet mignon in their last 3 weeks of survival. TREAT ME LIKE I’M A HUMAN FUCKING BEING.
and that’s where i draw the line. the line has been drawn.
i’m trying to find calm waters after this torrential rain. my heart beats with a little more fear now. a second guessing. an unfortunate fear.
perhaps that’s where i now must find strength.
and so i move forward towards barefoot travel. across the universe. into cities that don’t know me, into places where they don’t demand that i sit, robotically evaluate and deliver the unsurpassed experience. these places i’ll go… i’ll be a normal girl. maybe i’ll find some innocence again. maybe i’ll find my inspiration.
dear barefoot travel, please help me find me.
I am lost. August 18, 2009
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And I’m trying to breathe. Beg the intense afternoons for their unforgiving depth, suffocating in my office. Hint to the broken pieces.
Closed eyes to picture dreams without SEO. HTML. and push for the new beginnings. Escape me. Leave me. Let me be.
Sharp words, greeted by even sharper actions. Everything just feels so… sensitive, and sad.
And i’m still trying to breathe. So i don’t feel the ache. so i can practice being strong. so i can lose the minutia, the minutes, and the marks as much as i want.
What is it with blogs anyways? August 18, 2009
Posted by feeltoflyy3 in Internet Marketing - Organic.Tags: Blogs, Innovation, Internet Marketing, Strategy, Vino, Web
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Blogs. Webcasting. Perhaps it’s the notion of American society. Build anything from nothing. Freedom at your fingertips. Fight for what’s yours.
Blogs are super hot button right now – I cannot TELL you how many eye-rolling, thread bouncing emails that have been coming through the queue lately. And, the crazy part is – I get it. Ironically enough, the blogger gets it.
I understand how it can be so effective in the marketing webisphere, but my question from the consumer standpoint is: how do you find a blog you love? Sure, there’s the good ol’ handy dandy browse button, perhaps word of mouth (but to my experience has really been limited to my sister updating her baby blog, and of course sharing with me her friends updates as we speak – YAWN). So, I think what we really need to ask, is where does the bridge really truly, connect?
One of the most effective blogs I’ve seen really is the masahble website (http://www.masahble.com) and the occasional spill of wisdom from another article that gets forwarded around the interoffice webmail. Gotta love those interoffice email threads, btw with another friendly caption of “Oh my GOD, an expert of his craft!” type subtle-ties. Now this can only really be, because I am a marketer, but the question stands: how does the normal, average, daily consumer find a blog of interest and what would keep them incentivized to follow without being sold on a product or brand principle? Read a really great article the other day about how marketers are always aiming for the influencer, but what about the masses? What about the fans, the depth of conversation, and the overall quantity of chatter? What about the response, the sincerity behind such, and the vivacity of engaging content? I think there is something to be said about these simple basics. Perhaps this is the feed for influencer-type blogging. Perhaps this is a strategy to help pull people back into your website. Get them to follow. Come back. Continue on.
Back to the vino. And on to another night of sleep to day-dream through the hustle of web technologies and social media launch and innovation. Sweet dreams.
Finding Joy. August 12, 2009
Posted by feeltoflyy3 in Fly..Tags: Craigslist, Julie and Julia, Krysten Isaac, San Diego, Self discovery, Spain
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Tonight I went and saw Julie and Julia. Long day at work. Rough day. A “wanting to punch my new internet marketing manager” in the face, kind of day. Chaos built on chaos, layers of stressed out minutes, seconds, office vent sessions, and a random drug test I had to take because of gaming compliance. Oh, and did I mention the 25 phone calls i had on my car? Oh the joys of Craigslist. On a sidenote, what the hell is up with people calling me/texting me/emailing me, speaking in a totally foreign language that sounds a lot like Vietna-Spanish – and demanding me to drop my price by $1k? Nobody ever warns about Craiglist. That’d be a good “For Dummies” addition, absolutely.
Btw, I’m really trying not to make this this blog whiny or tetchy. I’m a blog virgin, new to all of this. My intention is to not to write for venting, although it does feel good, I’m not gonna lie. 
{I’m writing for answers. I write for answers because i have nowhere else to go…unless you know someone who sounds like the following person wanted.
WANTED: A mid-twenty something person who has dealt with the same things that I feel like I’m dealing with right now. The anguish of not living up to the expectation that American society sets out for you, the mind crushing smile you have to fake when another person mentions the fact that I’m still single and not having babies, the sadness you feel when you check Facebook and everyone seems to be living these happy, shiny, driving home in their car with the new baby – kind of lives. I’m not doing the expected. I hate my job. And at the end of the day, running off to Spain is the only way that I can find happiness and joy again.
Oh ya, and did I mention I’m moving to Spain on October 6? I booked my airfare the other night. It’s official. October 6 I leave San Diego for a year and embark on a blog-worthy Barcelona style adventure.
Maybe that can be my little Julie/Julia project style countdown – anything to help these days go by a little faster, a little less laden with anxiety; a teeny bit happier with a desperate pinch of [[joy]].
Days left until I leave for Spain: 56.
(Holy Shit, how am I going to make it for 56 MORE days?) You can do it. You can do it. You can do it.
I just need to know how to flip the switch that everyone else has seemed to find in their young/old age. How do you become more robotic, when you’re a person that thrives on feeling?
A song for validation: “Fly One Time” by Ben Harper & Relentless 7
feeltoflyy3
