What is the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach?

Oh, yeah, it's jealousy.

OMG. Seriously. I'm about to write an actual coherent post on LOMB, but I had to get this out first.

Dear John,

I am so grossed out with myself right now. Let's see if I can describe this concretely, like I was trained so well in poetry class to do.

It started in my stomach. Butterflies isn't right, and it's also cliche. And "nervous" isn't concrete. But everyone knows what nervous feels like, right?

Well it started as nerves, in the outer film of my stomach, but seeped deep and rose high to my throat really fast. Except once it was in my throat, it sort of felt feverish. My eyes blurred a little bit, and I got a mini-chill.

I wanted to throw my laptop at the wall. But instead of moving the offending thing from my eyes, I kept clicking through - looking at picture after picture.

I'm talking about Facebook stalking, of course. Of you. On a "semi-formal" sort-of-maybe date. With another girl.

Well, duh, of course it would be another girl. And technically - technically!! - this is a-okay. Perfectly acceptable. Definitely encourageable, actually! I, of course, tried to rationally tell one of my other girlfriends this when she was apalled at her ex's Facebook pictures with other girls. "It's his right! You broke up with him!" I told her in a text message. She did not text me back. I wonder why.

Because she had this god-awful feeling in the pit of her stomach.

Because even though she (we, totally we, especially me) - because we're hott and girls and selfish humans and OH SO WORTH IT - are allowed to date, flirt, and otherwise online stalk other boys...our exes are SO not.

Because even though I traveled to Philly for a sleepover date, made out sloppily with a hottie mchotterson in public on Halloween, was surprised I didn't get a kiss at the end of my date last night, and am actively flirting with like 20389471 different guys, YOU, of course, are not allowed to do any of these things.

Because even though YOU broke up with ME, you obviously must be pining away over me. On the other side of the country. Like an a-sexual being. Because any woman after me is just a mere girl. Or something.

Well this is just silly. Because I am a 21st Century woman. And I love you (in all definitions of the word). And I am above all these games (sort of). I am mature with high, but realistic expectations about our "future" and our "relationship." We're on the freakin opposite sides of the country, for cryin' out loud, and we're human.

So I won't point out that she's not that cute (well, actually, she's adorable, but I could make up stuff I don't like her if I wanted to). I won't point out that we had a fantastically away-message leaving conversation over the weekend (barf). I won't point out that you broke up with me because you didn't know how you felt about relationships.

(Oops.) Instead, I'll blame it on Facebook, and how I jump all over conclusions and get all upset for absolutely no reason.

And I'll take back my thought process I had last time I was dancing with a cute boy. Because we had mutual friends there, and those mutual friends were taking pictures. Of me. Being dipped. By said cute boy. Tons of fun! And I thought, "I hope they put this on Facebook. And I hope Dear John gets jealous."

I take back that thought process because I really don't hope that. Jealousy is rare for me, and now I know why it's a deadly sin. It feels horrible. I wouldn't wish this uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach on my worst enemy (my poetry teacher would be really annoyed with how many cliches I've stuck in here). And you're not my worst enemy. Far from it.

Much love,
Heart

(I just wish I did know what you are. Not that it should matter. Just like not that I should feel jealous. Should, should, should. Blah.)

Lyrics

Dear John,

There are a lot of good breakup songs. And there are a lot of different styles to them. And I've learned recently that most of the ones written by girls - even really talented ones, like the Corrs - end up sounding super whiny. And as I and my cohort have started writing awesome lyrics ourselves, I am very conscious of sounding too whiny.

But I keep listening to a ton of music in general and I keep realizing how many of them are breakup songs. Especially those by John Mayer (my fav). Now, I am convinced that like 90% of his songs are about Lydia (who I named my GPS device after for some reason), but that's another story.

This story is about Split Screen Sadness, and how I think it's the closest a breakup song will come to our situation. Every situation is unique, of course, but every breakup does involve well...heartbreak. So it's always easy to relate. But John hit me hard just now:

One hand on the trigger of a telephone
Wondering when the call comes
Where you say it's alright
You got your heart right

Now that we chat - i mean, uh, have super-deep conversations via AIM. Really? AIM? Yes. I mean, I guess I'm blogging to you, so I can't really complain about textual conversation channels - occasionally enough, I sort of crave talking to you more. I am always tempted to call, but don't know if that's...."allowed."

One of my friends and I were commiserating literally the day after our breakup, and he said something like "Oh yeah, do not call him. I called the SHIT out of whatsherface when we broke up. It just doesn't look good." I just think that's a hilarious way to put John's beautiful telephone-trigger image. What is the best way to use that weapon? When will you use it to your advantage? Will you use it on me?

All you need is love is a lie cause
We had love but we still said goodbye
Now we're tired, battered fighters
And it stings when it's nobody's fault
Cause there's nothing to blame at the drop of your name
It's only the air you took and the breath you left

These lines are the worst for me, because I - and I know you too - are a huge believer in "all you need is love." My definition for that though must be shifting to sort of a general "love your neighbor" love, not romantic love. The same way I think 1Corinthians 13 is taken out of context.

It is so easy for my girlfriends to blame each others' exes. And bitch about how lame and ugly they were. And I know it is all to build up the girlfriends. But, just to let you know, I fought with them this weekend for you. I yelled at them, explaining your virtues and kindness and love. Because really, our breakup wasn't either of our "faults." It was distance. And it was timing. And it is confusion and definitions and maturity levels and life changes and exploration and youth.

"If I could I would punch timing in the face" is the little ditty-saying I had stuck in my head for a month after our breakup. It's being replaced by other tweet-ables, but it still makes sense. We share the silence.

Love,
Heart

Lyrics

Dear John,

I already had started to become obsessed with Something Corporate right before we started dating. I think Pandora introduced me. And then after our first date, I was so giddy and "Punk Rock Princess" became my favorite song, you musician, you.

Later, after I started my job and then you moved, I just felt sad every single time we talked on the phone and "Down" became number one. As soon as our conversation veered towards actually breaking up a week ago, the same song automatically popped into my head.

Let's get drunk
You can drive us to the harbor
Wish upon a star
But do you know what stars are?
Balls of fire
Burning up the black space
Falling from the landscape
Exploding in the face of god.

Lets get crazy
Talk about our big plans
Places that you're going
Places that I haven't been.

This line always spoke to me. You've been everywhere, and I felt like a sheltered little brat. But I was so excited to go on a moving adventure with you. Which, of course, now may have come to a halt.

Build my walls up
Concrete Castle
keep this kingdom
free of hassle yeah.

I hear sound echo in the emptiness
All around but you can't change their loneliness
Look what you've found
I've fallen down.

Ahhh this chorus. So beautiful. I always try to sing it - usually when I get off the train on my way home and I'm walking to my car parked alone on the third floor - but for some dang reason I can't get the rhythm right and it always sounds funny in my voice!

Taste the saline
Rolling down your cheekbone
Tell me that you're alone
Tell me on the telephone
Feel your heart
It breaks within your chest now.
Try to get some rest now
Sleeps not coming easy for a while
Child

I never could figure out why I ended every one of our phone conversations, even when you were only an hour and a half away, in sobs. It was either:

• I am a huge slut and can't deal with not touching you
  
• You were really bad at phone conversations? (not really)
  
• They always turned super-philosophical and I felt like an idiot
  
• I just super-miss(ed) you

I think these lyrics kind of tease it out: I'm telling you that I'm alone...on the telephone. It's still being ... alone. Bah.

I hear sound echo in the emptiness
All around but you can't change this loneliness
Look at what you've found
I've fallen down.

Jalisco, Mexico

Our airplane shrank above the ground, a rainbow

Blessing our tropical journey with the flock

Of students bobbing sleepy heads to balk

At napping. I turned my eyes down below,

Where I imagined Mexican farmers sow

Their fields of patchwork quilts and ticking clocks,

Nested in pop-up mountains being mocked

By an American vacation’s shadow.

At the hotel, bare chests distract me by day

While it’s tequila squared that gets me at night.

Add to the list green waves and smiling faces

And I’m a camera-happy tourist who pays

No mind to local salesmen dressed in white,

Like saviors to our money and Spanish phrases.

Rescue by Eve 6

Though I'm in a poetry-writing class now and have come to appreciate the art form much more than I did back in high school, I still generally enjoy song lyrics as my favorite form of "poetry." Lyrics can be just as witty and visual as poetry (especially Eve 6's), but most poets would probably argue lyrics are too cliche. But cliches just give us something to understand and relate to!

(My dad is an avid musician who goes to a lot of open mic nights. Noticing the "emo" trend, he often comes home and says "Someone needs to tell these kids that not every page in their diary can be song lyrics! Give me a cliche, give me something to hold onto!" I am probably biased by his classic rock bias.)

Listening to Eve 6 while writing a brief homework assignment - but my poem about spring break in Mexico up behind that - these lyrics hit me. It's almost exactly what happened to me last week in a bar in Puerto Vallarta filled with multinational non-JMU (yay!) attractive men (and of course two of my amazing sexy, but spoken-for roommates):

Well I kind of sort of knew what was going to happen
When she put her number down on a restaurant napkin
She said goodbye I think the words were when you're back in
Town lets have each other again I'll come around and see you again

Long story short, I had a more-innocent-than-normal (for spring break standards anyway) rendez-vous with a beautiful Canadian (could he be any more geographically unavailable?). When we met, trying not to rely on expensive roaming cellphones, Eve 6 explains exactly what I did - wrote all my information on a napkin for him.

The boys of Eve 6 wrote this song 8 years ago, so of course now we can rely on cell phones and email more and there's always facebook to socialize long-distance. Or so I hope.

"I definitely want to keep in touch with you. There have been facebook marriage proposals before, right?" he half-joked with me on the second-to-last night of our vacation.

After a long goodnight, we made plans to meet the next day. Here the napkin plan hiccuped - he only had my information. So when I didn't hear from him, I had no other option but to wait. And go home. And not know his last name. And not be able to stalk him on facebook (uh, I mean friend! Friend him on facebook!).

Here's the chorus of Rescue:

Like Jessica Rabbit she collects bad habits gets her drinks for free
Animated vixen stole cupids arrow and came to rescue me
In the blink of an eyelid my lid opened up and I could see
That she'd come to rescue me

First of all, I'd always thought the "drinks" in the first line was really "trix." Rabbit, you know? Yeah yeah... I can be naive. On the other hand, I know I have a tendency to want to rescue boys, so am I turning into Jessica Rabbit? Developing the bad habit of only dating geographically unavailable men? I don't like how these lyrics sound...

Hookah

Pursed between flushed lips
like a bulb in its socket
she lengthens her ribs to a triangle.
Its smell climbs
but doesn’t knuckle the nose
until the final ounce
escapes lungs and mouth
without need of a doorknob.
Passed to the chimney
whose lips last left moist residue.

She lifts a shoulder.
Bends a knee.
Undulates through to the hill-like hip.
Catching the highway to her ear,
a giggle produces a sinuous partner.
Then two
(knot-hair).
They lift choreographed ostrich legs.
Then three
(mole-cheek).
They descend to the floor like rodeo ropes,
paunches sucked in.

But the onrush breaks
for the smell alerts, addictive.
Pursed again, the mature call it mango
but memory rouses childhood days of cherry.