Welcome to the Machine.

"Welcome my son. Welcome to the machine. Where have you been? It's alright. We know where you've been." - Welcome to the Machine by Pink Floyd My first blog entry. Several members of my family are bloggers, and while I have not yet seen the appeal to it, they all seem to enjoy it a great deal. For me, I fear that writing in a blog would only distract me from writing in my journal or attempting to once again find some poetry inside me to ink out on paper. Nevertheless, I am up late at night. I have already written in my journal today, though did not say things needed saying, and so I will give this an attempt, and do not know how often I will write, or for whom I write. I want to speak of one thing. Last month I was messaged on my facebook profile by an old friend of mine, and let me clarify. I was messaged by the first woman I ever loved, the first woman I ever kissed, the first woman to break my heart, all of this 12 years ago, and I have not seen her in over 7 years. Now for you romantics out there you may be thinking that destiny has brought us back, and this woman whom for years I thought the love of my life had somehow found her way back to me. The story does not end so. It was a mere "what's up" type of email, though in a later message she briefly filled me in with the last several years of her life. Why I write all of this is only because it got me thinking of all my former girlfriends, she being the first, and in ways the greatest. I am going to get it out of me, and talk of them. If I could take the best qualities of each of them, no power nor force could bind me nor divert my eyes. My first girlfriend, and I will not use names out of respect, was in ways the greatest of all loves for me. For years, she was the mark by which all women were measured, and still now, I seek for the connection I had with her, but have found nothing close these many years. From her, I would take that connection. I would take her poetic soul, how she moved me to write, to dig deep, to think, to dream, to weep, to smile, to love. She taught me love. I would take from her the power of her words, her ability to express herself, to channel deep and with a pen or some soft whisper she would say it all. I remember dancing in the rain, picnics on the golf course, the night we watched the sun set, the moon rise, the moon set, and the sun rise all while cuddling on my back lawn. I remember dancing on top of empty box cars, balancing on the beams of the tracks. I remember the closeness with her family, being welcomed in, feeling I was an older brother. I remember her long thick hair hanging across her back, her olive skin, the black velvet dress she wore the first time I saw her, her favorite combat boots, walking barefoot, hemp jewelry. I remember the letters she wrote to me, sheltered safely in some beautiful hand made envelope that were themselves extensions of who she was. She was poetry. Her letters, our letters, should be published in some small book. I have waited years to find another woman to speak to me as deeply as did she. It may not exist. I remember the total heartbreak of losing her, the years it took, but the lessons learned, the strength found. Her, I will always think a queen. Girfriend #2. In ways, that was my most genuine and authentic relationship. She, I truly loved. From her, I would take the comfort of being around her, the knowledge of our relationship. I would take the laughter, the caring. I would take her body. I think of it still, sleek and slender, perfectly toned. I would take her playful attitude. How she would tell me she liked certain things, pinch my bum, beg me to snuggle her. Some of the greatest moments of my life were in laying on her floor studying while she worked on her own projects, it was enough just to be close to her, around her, so that I could look up and in seeing her the world was fine. I remember making breakfast crepes together, talking of flowers, and how she discovered my body, and I hers. I remember the heartbreak, the betrayal, the horrid feeling and discovery. She too lasted with me for years, and despite any ending, we remained friendly, and she too will always be a queen to me. Girlfriend #3. She was beautiful, and talented, with a sexy accent that caught the ear of every man, and a smile that caught every eye. She was classy, and stood out, and had a passion inside of her. She threw out every emotion in full force. I knew how other men wanted her, craved for her, the attention she received. When we were together, every person who did ever dream of love envied us, how our eyes locked and did never leave each other. She did not fear it, embraced it, everyone saw it. Her emotions so strong that she had an amazing power to love, but also an amazing power to hate. I will remember how she is the only woman who could hold my gaze and stare me back. Truly she is a beautiful woman, and while she is a queen, I did not hold on to any heart break. Girlfriend #4. Oh, she too was beautiful, and she knew it. She had options, and she knew it. She was passionate and playful and could never seem to get enough of me, my body, my lips, my hands. It was a hunger, a thirst we both did need to drink from. She was strong, independent, strong willed, compromising, and she remains the most mature woman I have ever dated. She surprised me with it, and her flirtacious personality brought out the best of my personality. I knew I was funny and charming and smooth, and I myself desirable, and she knew it too. I would take from her that playful interaction, the witty banter, the comic railery, the laughing and playing. She is a queen, and while I did and do miss her, I did not have the heartbreak, for her rushed attitude never gave me time to truly love her. I wish I could have, would have had time to. Girlfirend #5, and last girlfriend to this point. From her, I would take her thoughtful and personal abilty to give, though it was not for giving sake, but for campaigning. Her small gestures, willingness to show she cared and wished to do what small things she could. It drew me to her, and I found it strange not being the only one to do such small and big things. She lived close to me, and worked a compatable schedule, so we could see each other often. She had friends, and was social, and that was good and healthy for me, though in the end proved a much greater detriment than it was a blessing. She is a queen. I know that, and yet it is difficult for me to think of her as so. It is unfortunate to say that she does hold the honor of being my greatest mistake of these last few years, and I would take it back. I would take it back not for who she was with me or for what we had, but for who she showed herself to be afterward, and for what she has tried to take from me. I thought with her more than any other that I would marry, and yes there was heartbreak, amazing and powerful, hanging in my belly at all hours, keeping me week and tired. I know a talk could have solved it all, had she ever been willing to listen, and yet, I know I must be grateful she never was. I would take much of her, what we each wanted of life. I wish there was more I would have taken. I know there could have been. That is it. I could write novels of each of them, and speak of what wonders they brought me, what heartache or drama they gave. I will try to write more of them later, even if only briefly, and share what remains as reminders. For now, I hope to sleep, but insomnia, she may not let me.