Lemon, with a side of ginger.

Destruction of material things is always a fun way to evade your emotions. For example, a long time ago, after I decided a silly little boy (who now in hindsight seems oh so much sillier) didn't adore me enough, I came home, removed a single drinking glass from my wooden kitchen cabinet and threw it as hard as I could into the sink. Then, through my watery eyes, I stared down at the sink, which was scattered with pieces of varying sizes of sharp glass. I felt empowered. Like I had regained control of my life and my emotions, like I had seized a sort of power back from the silly boy. But I only felt this way for a mere moment, as I soon began the process of collecting the pieces with my bare hands as to hide the evidence of my craziness from my roommates. With the sink empty and pristine I crawled to my room and feel asleep on my floor, fully clothed. The next morning I awoke and went into the kitchen where I found my roommate Molly was standing in front of the sink, unmoving, with the cabinet doors below the sink ajar. She looked at me.

"The sink is leaking."

After playing dumb for a few minutes, I eventually told her what I had done. I then had to call the landlord and get him to come out and fix it. (Vincent is his name by the way. He is Italian and large set and I am unbelievably attracted to him. Every time he comes by to fix something I put on makeup and do my hair. I love his thin-from-wear, gray t-shirt with damp spots underneath his broad shoulders) Vincent had to take the pipes apart underneath the sink and once he disconnected them he found many pieces of glass that had managed to push their way down the drain.

"In the future, you may want to try to avoid putting glass down the drain."

I became defensive and lied, saying it wasn't done on purpose.

But it was worth it. Breaking things is fun. But just material things. Breaking bones and breaking hearts simply aren't as fun. Though I am just assuming, as I know for certain I have never broken anyone's bones and I am pretty damn positive I have never broken anyone's heart. Except for maybe a boy's in the sixth grade. (I was obsessed with him for months and when he finally asked me to be his girlfriend I dumped him the next day. I remember he had a small mole next to his mouth that looked like a peanut butter smear, like perhaps he hadn't efficiently wiped his face after his morning toast. That is not why I dumped him, though. I was just in it for the chase. Once I got him I was disinterested, immediately becoming distracted by his fraternal twin brother. But, I doubt that broke his heart more than it just annoyed him.)


Maybe it isn't so much about breaking something as it is about using more physical strength than you would normally. After another hard break-up I installed an air conditioner in my bedroom window. Those units are incredibly heavy and hard to lift, so boxy and awkwardly shaped. And sweating in the hot, stale air of my room I diligently drilled and screwed for two hours until I safely secured the appliance in my window. (I wasn't sure I installed it properly until autumn came when I removed it and realized that it had stayed put, not having come loose and fallen three stories to crush some unaware pedestrian.) I turned it on, closed my bedroom door and laid on my bed, flat on my back, looking up at the ceiling. While waiting for my room to chill down to sixty degrees as drops of sweat slowly evaporating off my body, the pain of the breakup slowly crept back into my mind. I didn't move, but waited, allowing the full weight of the melancholy come over me. I let the pain set in on me and it was heavy, physically massive, like there was the body of a full-grown adult on top of me. I got up, turned the AC off and immediately set off on my bike, to meet a friend who had Valium and an extra ticket to a Godard film that was playing at BAM.

So, I guess this is my guide to getting over the pain of heartbreak. Just try these three simple steps:
1. Break something that will shatter.
2. Lift heavy things or exercise.
3. Valium. (Or some generic, more affordable version of it.)

If the above fail, casual sex is the only sure bet to evade your emotions.