Casino, Self-Sabotage, Sneakers.

So, its no secret that Casino might be one of my all time favorite movies, everyone loves the glitter and the swagger but I think my passion for Scorsese’s film goes beyond the Bob Mackie gowns and fly suits, the film reminds me to be mindful of my tendencies to sabotage myself.

Post Secret.

Case in point, coming face to face with Post Secret every Sunday morning, I usually pull my eye mask off, and while still tangled in my sheets, I grab for my phone, usually knocking over a bottle of water or vitimins, and pull up Post Secret so I can browse while still laying in the silence of my bedroom, my own little Sunday morning rituital. This week a secret posted made me confront feelings I had attempted to lock away months ago. While the secret isnt mine, it has served as a jarring reminder that I havent completely dealt with behavior that is emotionally devistating. I guess the story was never told, which is my way of acting like it never happened, before I moved to Atlanta last year I started a relationship with a man who ended up being married, for a very long time I felt ashamed, not that I had played party to his infidelity but because I had always had this inflated sense of ego, and never in my my wildest of dreams did I ever think I would have been stupid enough to be fooled. Hell, I had been raised by the smoothest ladies man ever, Frank Ward, suave in all the right ways but ruthless in the way he treated the women he juggled, I thought surely after growing up watching him spin tales to his menagerie that I would never fall prey to that kind of man. But of course, my desire to sabotage kept me blind to the fact that I was just a play thing, and even after I realized what had happened I decided to stay, lying to myself, which was easier than it should of been.

Now, however, I am hugely greatful that I had this man as my lover, without him I think I might of permanently kept my heart closed, not just romantically, while I wish I could conspire to hate him, over time the memory of our tryst has faded but the power I have as result of coming to terms with being his mistress has inspired growth, and even when growth comes at such a high cost it’s still growth none the less.

“My ego’s like my stomach, I keep shitting what I feed it…..”

I plan on spending the rest of the day doing massive amounts of laundry, tidying up my bedroom(which seems to be housing a large number of empty waterbottles and change), cleaning my sneakers as they need some love and hopefully seeing Carlos who is in town from SF.



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