Veritas

Finding Meaning

2011-10-03T07:38:00.005-05:00

It's been some time since I needed to write about any of this. Perhaps this blog will become a relic of my 20s, the golden age of dating and casual affairs. Sometimes I like to hope I am "older" than all that, and then I realize "I was so much older then. I'm younger than that now."

I met the Married Man through my museum work. I assumed he was (still) married the first seven or eight months I knew him. One email (under the influence - surprise!) set me straight; she had left some time ago.

We have had three lovely weekends together. Seeing music, dancing, laughing and laughing, museums, ferris wheels, drinking and drinking. Movies and crying and football and hooting and hollering. And more laughing.

But yesterday... it was as if it was over. Perhaps I was out of line in saying "we just got boring." He must have known I was joking - although perhaps not. Perhaps it was impossible for him to know that the boring was comfortable and I was glad we could just eat dinner at home and watch TV.

And yet, perhaps I wasn't. Entirely. I think I was ready to go home at that moment, just as I think he was ready for me to leave. We had both been drinking, so there was no way for me to leave, really - he doesn't drive under the influence at all, and my car was across town. I finally did just go, took the streetcar back to my car, stopped for ice cream and went home. To bed. At 8pm.

The thing I have realized is I'm not sure how well he actually knows me. Despite the fact that I have actually dated (how do you get to your 40s and married and never date?) I still feel I don't know the rules. Or perhaps I am thinking there are rules. I have not been open with him; or rather, haven't volunteered years of my history, my experiences, my life... but only because I haven't felt the need to. And he hasn't asked.

And I have seen the level of self-destruction, and his lack of self-love and it breaks my heart.. but as I said to him, I can't give you that. He is drinking less, or so he says, and having to find other things to do with his time.

In a funny way this whole relationship, however brief, has been about finding meaning. I have been struggling, both at work and at home, to find meaning in my life. And yet, I think I know for myself better than he ... no. That's not fair.

I have to find peace in this. Let go of analyzation and just let it be. Be whatever is it. Let it be if he doesn't like me. Let it be if yesterday was a blip. Let go of the hope of this - let go of the pressure that puts on everybody.

There are few things more terrifying than meeting someone so close to what you thought you were looking for... and not knowing.

Another Brick in the Wall

2011-03-04T19:59:00.005-06:00

Somewhere along the line it stopped being fun.

Three nights ago, I went to my usual techie meetup. My boss was talking about some work stuff, and I wanted to represent. One of our potential clients was in town visiting, and bossman invited him to come hear the talk.

Halfway through the panel discussion, Potential Client starts being disruptive, asking questions, speaking louder than he should. I figured he was just doing the traditional LA douchebaggery -- the grown up class clown who needs attention so he talks too loud and distracts from matters at hand to draw focus to himself - and ruins the experience for everyone else.

So partially as an act of martyrdom, and partially because I wanted to entertain Potential Client, I noticed his glass was empty and asked him to join me at the bar. Outside. So I could "answer his question."

Now: I'd be lying if I said he wasn't attractive. He was hott, straight up. So hot it needed an extra 't.' But again: he's from LA, he's not wearing an undershirt, he's got that misbehaving twinkle in his eye. He must be a douchebag.

So I humor him. For the next two hours and three more drinks.

At that point, we close the bar, call a cab, and head uptown for dinner. After dinner, we catch a cab back to my house, and he gets fresh in the cab, and... well, you know the rest. He's well put together and pretty good in bed - if a little aggressive. Forward was a good word.

It was fun that night, and he clearly liked me, and he was interesting to an extent - recently divorced, running a relatively successful company. That made him cocky, which I just love. And love to undermine. He liked me. He confessed over dinner that half of the reason he had come that evening was because he had seen me in the office and hoped I'd be there.

So he could fuck me. Unfortunately, it was more lascivious than romantic.

We slept for two hours and I was horrifically hungover the next day and my day in the office was a disaster. And work has been incredibly stressful, if only because I'm letting it get to me -- but around 9:30 that morning I thought of what a horrible decision it had been.

Potential Client said, as he was putting his clothes back on in the morning, "Please don't tell Bossman. This is so unprofessional. I have to stop drinking." I found it amusing he was worrying about his own reputation, when I was the one with a clear conflict. I don't know whether I would be fired or congratulated if my work found out. I suppose it all depends on if we land the client.

But what frustrates me the most? It's not that thrilling anymore. I've had these one night affairs enough times now that it's no longer exciting. It's like scratching an itch, more than anything. What I want is for him to actually *like* me. I want him to want to see me again. And while he did say, also as he was leaving, "I'm sure I'll see you again," I'm doubtful. And while he accepted my offer to come visit for Jazz Fest, I'm doubtful.

Have I grown so pessimistic that I assume that all men lie so to get in my pants? Do I now always presume the worst? Or is it easier to believe he's actually still married, instead of just a guy who might have potential if he didn't live in another time zone? Is it better to have been used than to be disappointed?

Work + Booze + Attraction = Disaster

2011-01-17T20:37:00.004-06:00

I have about eight posts in draft mode right now, none of them complete enough thoughts for me to publish them. It will make the chronology of this story a little out of order (as in, I have a new job and am single) - but this one just wrapped itself up in a little bow for me to tell you. Ladies and Gentlemen: The Coworker.

So in my new (now only just newish) job, there is this... guy.

Where to start? He is disarmingly charming, jovial and down to earth. He's got a country accent that seems to put everyone at ease, and disguises how smart he is. He is unfailingly polite, and generous to a fault. As in, I think I have been allowed to buy my own lunch and/or drink twice in the 4 months I've known him. And he looks great in a suit, which doesn't hurt.

So the Coworker was not uninvolved in the dissolution of my last relationship. Well, he wasn't involved, but him coming into my life was. The first day I met him, there was a spark: instant chemistry. I wouldn't start working there for almost 2 months, yet I already knew who my office crush would be.

Life in the office was no better. He'd come visit me in my office, draw on my whiteboard; we'd have big conversations about economics and New Orleans and process. He made me nervous. I was screwed.

I was smitten. I hate to say it, but I was. He made me nervous. Think about the last time you knew someone who walked into a room and their instant appearance made you just a little weak and your heart beat faster and you suddenly got worried you might say something really stupid. Seriously, think about it.

Got it?

Now how often does that happen in life? It's rare. I can count on one hand, maybe two the number of times it's happened for me. Gatsby was the last one. And as soon as I realized that, I realized that I had never felt that way about my Boyfriend. And that was a problem.

So, fast forward a few gut wrenching weeks, where I split up with this amazing human being because I don't get nervous when he calls me... The Coworker and I start hanging out. He uses my breakup as an excuse (same day, no less) to buy me drinks. I start introducing him to my friends, my colleagues from my old job. I begin examining my own feelings about workplace dating. And somewhere in there, I realize that this crush is going to be way more fun the longer it lasts. To quote Cinderella from Into the Woods: "Now it's he and not you who is stuck with the shoe in the goo..." Let this man figure the shit out. I'm just gonna have a good time.

Of course, just has I have come to this realization that I am Not Going To Do Anything, my good friend, the Trainwreck, takes matters into her own hands. One night, after one too many vodka tonics, she corners him at a bar and says something that takes about 9 minutes to say and leaves him looking a little peaked and mumbling... "I think she thinks there's something going on between us." I tell you, I love this girl, and if I loved her any less I would have wrung her neck that night for ruining a perfectly good thing.

After that it devolved, let's say. He casually confronted me in mixed company; I laughed it off. He started dating girls he met through me. He made out with a couple of them in public. My perfectly good thing was no longer fun. So he and I had a conversation about it, wherein he was incredibly flattered, said "that part of him is off at work", and made me promise we'd still be friends.

An aside, at this point. My dearest friend gives me a hard time for the whole "just friends" statement. And he's right. Because the fact of the matter is, friends are pretty awesome, and most of them stick around a whole lot longer than any dude you're sleeping with, and they're generally nicer and less angsty than the guys you date. But the challenge with "Friends" is that there is often that underlying tension - and let's be real, when someone makes you stutter a little, it's gonna be hard to be friends with them. Without becoming Duckie.

I realize you're all beginning to wonder where the Booze and the Disaster part come in (because that's where every story gets fun)... so here we go.

Fast forward a number of parties and drinks and dinners and whatnot, and him asking me for girl advice (see Duckie reference above), we were out a few days ago with another mutual friend. And somewhere, in one of our minds, it sounded like a good idea to have 4-5 beers, and 3 shots of jaeger & patron over the span of 3 hours. We started at 5pm, and I was supposed to be at another party by 8 - but all I could think of at that point was going home and crawling into bed. Which is, turns out, exactly what Coworker wanted. I always think he's less drunk than I am, and I was clearly not driving anywhere - so it seemed perfectly reasonable for me to crash at his place (which, oddly, I have done before.) Everything seems just fine til now, right?

La la la, we're driving in the car, he's very drunk, I can tell, but is being reasonably cautious. And then we're almost to his house and all of a sudden there's a hand at the nape of my neck and he's pulling my hair. (Not in a 2nd grade tantrum kind of way, but in a ... well, you know what kind of way). I respond appropriately, and am sort of baffled when we get in the house and things continue... kissing, general manhandling, fingers in mouths. I unbutton his shirt, and he squares and says "I have to go to bed. You are welcome to come, but I have to go to bed," and stumbles that direction.

In that moment, I knew how bad an idea it was, and I did one of the smartest things I have ever done: I did not follow him. Considering I had spent the past four months on a spectrum between "don't let him know you like him even though your heart comes into your throat everytime he walks in a room" to "I don't really like him all that much, and I can totally talk to him about the girl he's dating without getting jealous... mostly" -- I think this demonstrates an extraordinary amount of willpower, on my end. Mostly, it was just a lot of self respect: after four months of wanting nothing but this, I was not going to let it happen while we were both this drunk and unable to remember it and/or possibly actually DO it.

So I curled up on the sofa, after searching in vain for a blanket. And then I threw up. (In the bathroom.)

Back to the sofa, I was so cold I couldn't sleep... so I braved it, and took refuge in the bedroom. Again, he started - assuming that my presence constituted consent, and when his hand went down my skirt I simply said: "Please don't."

He stopped. We curled up, went to bed. He slept. I don't think I did, mostly, for a long time, so completely confused and befuddled about what had just happened and what it meant and all the stupid shit that girls think about instead of sleeping in the middle of the night.

The next morning, we woke at 7, and the lights were so bright I couldn't handle it, so I went back to bed. He mocked me for being a lightweight at 9 when I got up for good, we watched 2 hours of Law & Order and pretended like nothing happened. Then he took me back to my car.

Then began the endless analysis that only a woman can provide -- is he an idiot? Is he so confused that he doesn't know which of these women he actually wants? Is he conflicted about our working situation? Does he secretly have a crush on me he can't let out until he's drunk? And then it got nasty: Maybe he was just really drunk and I was there. Does he disrespect me so much that he would use me that way? That he would use me being drunk? Worse still, that he would use me having feelings for him?

It goes on from there, but I'll spare you the details -- you get the drift.

So finally, after a full day of the "spin cycle", I realized there was only one thing to do: Call him. If only to figure out if my friend was actually a douche bag.

After a slightly awkward intro, I told him I was trying to figure out what happened the other night. He said "Nothing happened."

"Well, yes, I know 'nothing' happened, but ... wait. Do you remember what happened?"

"Uh. No."

Not a minute of it. Not a hair pulled. Not a finger sucked. Not a hand up my shirt or a cuddle goodnight. He has no recollection of anything that happened.

He apologized. Just enough to make it sound genuine, and not so much that it sounded like it would be something he'd horribly regret. He felt lousy, he said. Yes, well, I have been pretty fucked the past few days so... have fun with that. We both agreed we should drink less.

So there it is. For whatever reason, it makes me feel better to know he doesn't remember. It makes me feels great that I stopped him. And it makes me feel horrible to think what it would be like if I hadn't.

Romance

2010-12-05T21:32:00.005-06:00

It has been 6 weeks. Exactly six weeks. Since the Boyfriend came over, and we talked about It. About all the reasons I left, and why there wasn't any way for me to rectify the things that were wrong between us. And then we had a day of breakup sex and naps, during which he made it very clear that one of the things I thought was unrectifiable... perhaps was. I have seen him once. Just once, and he waved hello.

And I guess I'm only 2 weeks from seeing him again.

I don't think I'll be ready. I'm pretty sure he won't be ready.

So. In the last six weeks, I have had a crazy affair in my head with a coworker, and one wild night with a 25 yearold from Huntsville.

Today, I watched the Saints game with my close friends; one couple who has a 4 week old, one who's 7 months pregnant, and then me and the Other Single One. It's nice that I don't feel like The Single One with these friends.

I came home, and started cleaning house. And all the things rumbled around in my head. Missing the Boyfriend, but knowing we are not meant to be together; at least, not as he is now. Mourning the lost romance with The Coworker. It's silly, really, that we can't date because we work together. And yet, maybe it's not. I'll never really know, I suspect. And then The ... he doesn't really even get a nickname, because I suspect he'll never reappear. A friend of a friend, just in town for the weekend. I can't help but wonder about him; what his story is, and why we didn't have morning sex.

I am in love with Romance.

I am in love with ideas of what could happen. I am in love with ideas of being swept off my feet.

I am watching Sex in the City. God help me, and every single man ever.

Disbelief

2010-08-01T15:58:00.005-05:00

So yesterday I went to see a psychic. I know, it's silly. But there was a "Summer Psychic Show" at the House of Broel here -- and that alone promised to be entertaining between the crazy people who wanted to see the psychics, and the psychics themselves, and the poor unsuspecting ladies who were just trying to look at wedding dresses.

I went with my favorite toddler and her mother, expecting it would simply be amusing. Although perhaps we both were thinking about having a reading done in the back of our minds...

After fighting through everything you have to fight to get a 3.5 yearold anywhere, we finally escaped the summer heat, and paid our $10 for a crescent moon stamp with stars (seriously?) and took stock of the room. The front room was full of the cheapest crystals and fake jewelry you can imagine. An emaciated tarot reader who had no clients was getting his chakras cleaned by a woman who was swirling what looked like two ball point pens around in circles through his aura. She carried a baby and looked none too amused, but the tarot reader seemed to believe there was some relief.

There was an "energy doctor" who had the kind of arrogance one has when you have been doubted your whole life but you are certain that what you are telling people is true. Like that if he puts his hands on you he can correct your spiritual flow it would give you more energy than you knew what to do with. For only $15 for the first 10 minutes. There was a very energetic young psychic with a pink tulle dress and feathers in her hair and too much makeup who seemed to have a ton of people waiting for her to give them a reading.

My friend and I settled on the woman with the shortest line.

I would imagine that being in this "alternative energy" line of work gives you a lot of confidence. Or that you must have an extraordinary amount of faith in your "powers" to continue to do it. Or perhaps you're just crazy enough that all the doubting Thomases don't make you quit and just get a real job making lattes.

So I sat down at this table with a purple tablecloth and then a glittered runner, sitting across from My Psychic. She had lots of makeup. She was married, I noticed. I wondered if she could tell what would happen in the future of her marriage. I wondered if her husband had a "normal" job. Like construction.

She asked my name, and then whether I wanted a specific reading or just something general. I surpressed a chuckle and looked at my friend, and just said "I don't really have any questions... just a general reading." And then she started writing on a sheet of paper. Furiously. In turquoise ink. She would stop occasionally to ask me questions: "is this your first reading?" "do you have a car?" "Are you in a relationship?" She made her way down the sheet of paper and then moved to a second column, writing herself notes with arrows from one idea to the next. I watched her right upside down things like "Water" "blue" "wiper blades" "relationship" "comfortable" and "water" again. And then she wrote down "do something you have never done before," and she stopped to tell me she never wrote in sentences, so we would have to pay special attention to that later.

And then she began my "reading." She said I was starting something new, and then I was anxious about it but it was a great opportunity. She asked if I was planning to get a haircut (I had one last weekend). She said I should do yoga (which I do); that I found a lot of spiritual connection there (which I do). She asked me if I drank a lot of water... and that was when I started to get a little freaked. I did, I told her, and I never feel like I'm drinking enough. She nodded, like she wasn't surprised.

She saw I was in a relationship, and that we had just had a fight, but that things were better. She asked about whether we lived together -- she saw something funny there. I told her we had considered it, but decided against it. She said that was good, that I should keep my own space. She said I could get close to him, but that I needed to keep some space to myself. She hesitated... she didn't want to tell me, but did: "I don't think he's the one for you."

We went on... I should be careful with my car, not to let it run out of gas. (I usually push it way past empty). That I should get my oil changed regularly (I often wait 6 months or more), and be careful with my tires (one keeps going slowly flat). And something about my wiper blades... they are sticking (I have no idea). I told her about my thematic dreams about cars and driving, and how metaphorical they are for me. For 10 years I have been dreaming about cars -- whether because I'm on a long (life) journey, or I'm driving (and in control) or someone else is (and thus I'm out of control)... the last few years I have had dreams about not being able to break, which I suspect has to do with me feeling like my life is going to fast and that I can't control it to keep it safe. She nodded. This all sounded familiar.

Then she mentioned how calming water was to me. Whether it was a fountain or a lake, that I find serenity there. And I have always felt strongly about living close to water -- it's one of the things I love about New Orleans. And we came to the sentence; and she reiterated how important it was for me to do something I hadn't done before... maybe something I had been planning to do or wanting to do for a long time. That now was the time.

Oh, and then she said I was overdue for an eye exam.

I went back and asked her more about the Boy. And she said I was 85% in, but that deep down, somewhere, I knew I was settling. And that if I believed there was someone else out there... just a little... that there was someone out there with whom I could be 250% in. Then we talked about medical stuff and she suggested I take some Aleve.

So here's the rub. I can't figure out how I feel about all this "psychic" stuff. After I was done and thoroughly freaked out, she read my friend while I watched the terrible-wonderful 3 yearold. Among other things, she told my friend that her child was an evil genius, and that she would shock people for ages about how bright she was, and that people would want to medicate her to made her "like other kids," and no matter what she could not let that happen. So then we were both freaked out, because "evil genius" pretty my describes this kid to a T.

I think in the end, all a good psychic does ("If they're not bogus," as my friend the Trainwreck says) is sense all the things you know for yourself but don't repeat. They see the Jimminy Cricket on your shoulder and tell you what you already know.

And that's a pretty powerful skill. Perhaps the only sixth sense that I would want around.

Languages

2010-04-04T08:55:00.010-05:00

Yesterday the Boy said his name. In Vietnamese. (Did I mention he's Vietnamese?) He was telling me a story about someone else Vietnamese talking to him... and said he name. And I made him go back.

Say that again. He did.

And again. He did.

Is it weird that people mispronounce your name everyday?

In my head, what I was thinking was: I'm your freaking girlfriend and I've been calling you the wrong thing all this time?

It's not really wrong, per se. It's just a pronunciation thing. And he reassures me and qualifies everything by saying that I can't even hear the difference, I can't pronounce the difference. He knows I'm stubborn, so I made him spend the next 3 minutes repeating it back to me, correcting me when I'm wrong. I know I'll still be too afraid to get it wrong to ever say it outloud. He laughs at me when I say it wrong. Well, laughs in an older "my trắng" (white American) kinda of way. I can see myself standing in front of a mirror, saying it over and over and over again. And still getting it wrong.

And yesterday, in a slightly differenet context, I said "Your parents will hate me, won't they?" And they would, he said. I hoped for more just "disapprove" than "hate," and he said yes, probably. And he thought if he were more "successful" now that it would matter less.

So it's more than language, obviously. It's culture. It's cultural value systems. And in my "my trắng" world, it's important for parents to like you. It's vital, actually. And it may be different in other cultures.

We were talking about having your friends like your partner... and he said "I have one friend who won't like you." He is another Vietnamese friend, who is far more typical than the Boy. I asked, "Would he only like me if I were Vietnamese?"

"Yeah, if you were Vietnamese," he said. Then he thought a sec and said, "Or if you were really hot." And I knew what he meant was "typical" hot girl - tall, thin, blonde, made up. And I realized then it was okay if friends like that didn't like me.

How did THAT happen?

2010-02-12T10:14:00.002-06:00

I met someone.

A real someone.

Who brings me beet juice at my office unannounced. Just because he's sweet.

Who picks me up for a date with flowers. In a suit and tie.

Who makes me mixed cds. With a new version of Wild Horses each time.

Who is rational. And loves people. And is really smart. And passionate.

Who is a great kisser. And sweet and kind.

Who, as a said to a girlfriend in a text she wants to "favorite", is almost everything I've looked for and never thought I'd find, but in a package I wouldn't have expected.

Who doesn't have a nickname, except maybe... Boyfriend.

Family Ties

2009-11-14T08:12:00.003-06:00

My mother was married at the ripe age of 28. She had her first of two at 30.

My grandfather had his first of three children at 30.

My great-grandmother, and my namesake, had first of her four children at 30.

So, here I am, having just turned 29. On one hand, I feel free of the imaginary binding that said I had to be married at 28. When I met, and had an affair, with a 40 year-old when I was 28, I was simultaneously excited and frightened (my father was 40 when they were married). Now, I'm 29 and he's 41 and I feel a little relieved that I have dodged that bullet.

But the bullet is him, only, not the prospect of marrying. Not the future life with someone, the pitter patter and all that. I want to get married. I desperately want to have children. And yet. . .

I see what my married friends have and do, and what my parented friends have and do, and for the most part I am not envious. Yes, it would be handy to have someone around to help me fix the ceiling fan, or to take out the trash, or to yell at me for not doing the dishes. But to check in with someone, always, to feel my personal and professional life (after hours) is in direct competition with that someone, to handle the resentment and the checking in and the constant accountability. I have the freedom now to make decisions on a whim, to change my mind, to be selfish.

Most days, I still doubt I'll meet someone I want to marry who also wants to marry me. I know that's trite and everyone else tells me that I'm silly and that's what they thought until they met The One. But it's still how I feel.

More than anything, I worry that I don't actually want to be a wife as much as I want to be a mother. Nothing is less attractive than a woman who doesn't need you, right?

I've got one more year to have a baby. And while I know THAT is silly, based on the genetics, I still seem to believe it.

Resisting Temptation

2009-11-05T20:30:00.004-06:00

It has been a strange few weeks. It's more than me just being "back in the game." It's like I'm back, but on steroids. I wonder if this is simply the confidence of getting older and knowing myself and that I'm great, or if it's something else.

First, there was the liar. Met him in a bar, making a bet about who was older in exchange for a cigarette. He managed to guess exactly the right year, claiming to be exactly my age. And he was cute. And charming. And a good dancer. And, let's face it, I'd been drinking.

So, one thing lead to another, there was a visit to Ms. Mae's, and then it was pouring outside. All of a sudden, we're hot and heavy in a downpour in his backyard.

Hours later, in his bedroom, naked and smoking cigarettes out the window, he says, "So I lied about something..."

Turns out he's 23. All of a sudden, I'm a cougar, except I'm not old enough to be a cougar. And instead of being angry, or leaving, or anything, I just laughed and enjoyed it. And when he tracked me down on Facebook (21st century dating what it is), I wasn't disappointed - just added him as a friend and let him booty text me. Haven't taken advantage of him yet, but it's fun to have one in the bag.

Not two weeks later, my Married Friends had a college buddy in town visiting for Halloween. We had an initial very clear attraction, and I made a playful plan with Wifey to seduce him. Purely to assist them in their attempt to convince him to move to our great city. The next night, I went to their house for the Saints game. After a couple or eight drinks, and on our second or third smoke break, I gave him my 20 minute Joseph Campbell-style life coaching session... and had totally "split his wig." I challenged him to take control of his life. To find the thing that made him happy, and go after it. And it was almost as if I gave him permission to "follow his bliss."

And yes, I knew he had a girlfriend, and no, I didn't particularly care. He needed to be kissed after that, so there it was. The one kiss led to a series of kisses, and a night full of kisses and caresses and no sex. Because I didn't need to, and I knew he couldn't handle it. I had upended his worldview, and it just didn't seem fair to upend his sexview. He was already pretty amazed that I would touch myself while he was in the bathroom.

There are some other little flirtations in there. Other friend's dates. Twitter friends.

I adore all of them, and am enraptured with none of them. They are all resistible.

And yes, when it turned out the Gambler was coming to the same place I was some weeks ago... I fled. I wasn't ready. Is this me not being interested in people interested in me? Getting laid is important, and worth it. And even with the Insurance Adjuster from Columbia, I made a conscious choice to be Present, and enjoy it, and stop thinking I Knew More than he did -- because all that did was keep me distant from him.

I wonder if I'm just ready now. Maybe I have just finally adapted to adult dating.

Class

2009-10-05T21:14:00.005-05:00

It's been a long couple weeks. Clearly.

I went back to yoga today. My favorite amazing teacher was back.

He is not what you would expect. If you saw him walking down the street you'd think... long-haired, hippie who needs a shower. Maybe not the shower part. He's not "built." And yet he makes every pose look as effortless as a stroll on the beach. He has a sense of humor about everything, and this kind of forgiving tone of voice that reminds you: slow down. Stay on the 50 year plan. It's called a "practice" for a reason.

And he's all woo-woo of course, so if you don't like woo-woo, just skip to the end or something.

There is a theme every month at this studio. Latest theme: the power of the story. He integrated some Celtic mythology and stories today.. which was nice. Instead of setting a usual "intention," he invited us to offer a blessing. To ourselves.

"May I release my need to control. May I love everything as it is, and may I love everyone exactly as they are."

And it was a tough class. Apparently my back is a wreck. Poses that usually I can do with no effort - Warrior 3 to Half Moon, for example - sent me into a tail spin. Standing from balances left me lightheated. There was one moment I almost thought I might throw up. THAT is not normal. Dizziness, retiring to child... those are not unusual. But three or four times during a class... that is unusual.

But I kept just repeating that blessing. May I release the need to control. May I love this body right where it is. That also meant finding my edge in poses I have feared... Resting in a pose of discomfort - at the moment of challenge - not pushing past it or backing off. Just getting to that point of growth and sitting in it. Witnessing it.

I have been trying to get there with my feelings for days - not trying to change them, not trying to fix it. But simply witnessing them - recognizing them. Letting them live in here with me for a while.

By the time we got to backbends at the end of class, I knew better than to go into full wheel. My back sent the message. I was just gonna love it, and witness it.

And then in Savasana... tears. Genuine weeping. My heart is broken.

But more than that -- I loved myself, right there. Just as I was. For being unable to fix it. For having a heart so big it should be locked away. Just let go of controlling any of it, and loved myself.

I got out of the studio as quick as possible, not quite sure what would come next.

I have been left with a few thoughts, of late. The first is a collage I found ages ago:

The second is my favorite Storypeople. The text:

"He told me one time he forgot himself & his heart opened up like a door with a loose latch & he tried for days to put it all back in proper order but finally he gave up & left it all jumbled up there in a pile & loved everything equally."

Here's to loving it all equally.

Charity

2009-10-01T20:59:00.004-05:00

It's tough.

This whole man-woman thing.

I had my first Really Good hour in about a week tonight. I had a great meeting with a bunch of young folks doing good things. They're young enough to have hope, and work hard, and old enough to get frustrated. It's the learning thing that's so good.

And I left reminded of why I love what I do. Getting to introduce people, make connections, help make things better. Help them.

I got out of the meeting and had missed texts and calls and voicemails... including one from my favorite two year old. All of it made me smile.

And yet.

There was no one for me to call and tell about this wonderful meeting. Just like there was no one on Monday to just be there. I have great friends, and loving family, but everyone is appropriately focused on their own thing.

I wanted to call Kenny. And I knew then that what I had been doing was right. I told myself two days ago that I needed some time, some distance from that for it all to settle. I have put as much energy in as I can, for now - and it seems I have run out of energy for myself.

That's the rub, really. Even now, I get a call from oldest friend N-, who has finally left her boyfriend. She needs a lot right now, and I simply haven't much to give. I took a little from her, which, in a way, is new for me. It was good.

In the end, what do I do? You guessed right. Call Kenny. And again, it's good to be reassured: he has absolutely nothing to give right now either. And without realizing what he was saying, he confirmed for me everything I was thinking. "Women know what they're doing, because they're women."

"Yes, but we want to believe that we're wrong," I said.

So I know, I see it. The Right thing to do is step away. From a lot of this. To be enough for myself, right now. Only for myself. It is hard to do when you draw your own worth from what you can give other people ("you only have as much as you can give away," right?)

But right now, I haven't got much to give away.

you + me = same person

2009-09-28T19:51:00.004-05:00

I just realized why I have to keep Kenny.

I DO, in fact, see myself in him. It's scary. It's terrifying. It makes me face my own challenges - my own addiction. I can't give him any advice I won't take myself.

I broke the rule today. I gave him the link to the blog. So, hi Kenny. If you come back again, that is. I broke the rule for you. It was probably stupid, and certainly selfish. But you'll learn that about me - I am ultimately very selfish.

But by breaking the rule, I got a clue. He sent me his blog. (Awww, aren't we sweet? Just like trading diaries with sweet S- in sixth grade. Aw.)

This is the important thing I learned, from one simple entry: we both are tragically narcissistic and think we alone have control of everything - of other people, of ourselves, of the world.

He thought he could control a student. He thought if he gave her enough, was a perfect teacher, went out of his way, focused on her -- that she could change. He thought that his will alone would fix it. That he had control.

His own parallel: a poker game. I won't begin to admit that I understood all his card shark lingo, but I got the gist: He's got a 90% chance of his cards being the best ones at the table; pair of 5s. Cards hit the table: 2 5 8. He played accordingly. He's got three of a kind, right? But someone else at the table had equal odds: except his opponent had a pair of 8s. He had gone all in.

So. Here I am. With all this. With him. With life. With work. I go all in, thinking I am enough to win. That if I just play right, if I play just right - that I'll win.

I expect to be able to win, no matter the hand dealt. That if I say to him exactly the right way, exactly what he needs to hear, at exactly the right moment -- he will get help. He will be ok.

Ready for the worst part? That THEN he might be It.

I see 90% and think if I just Work Hard Enough, it'll be 100%. That my will and merit will override pure chance. This is the ultimate spoil of the American Dream. That's not a new thought, for sure. And the If I Am Just Good Enough thought... yeah, that's not new either. Neither is seeing what I want instead of what is there.

So none of this is new. So why does it all feel a little bit like a revelation? Because I've never seen it, quite like this, in another person. By seeing it in someone else, I might be able to see it in myself. Really see it.

Because I definitely haven't been able to see it on my own.

Or maybe I'm just looking for an excuse not to let him go.

The Thrill Is Gone.

2009-09-28T09:31:00.005-05:00

Had brunch with Gatsby yesterday.

He called me out of the blue on Friday, at the end of what was a very rough week, and left a classic Gatsby Message. "I thought you should know I just finished a three-hour lunch at Commander's Palace. I'm in your beautiful town. Call me."

Ugh. My little heart raced, I got excited like a school girl from the surprise and shock - he was 6 weeks early?? - and I ran through all the possible scenarios in my mind.

After the initial joy, though, there I was, back to my traditional Friday night ritual (watching back-to-back episodes of Criminal Minds). And annoyed. Could he have warned me? Returned my phone call from a couple weeks back to say he would be in town? How could he be certain my weekend had room for him?

On top of the rollercoaster that was my silly, dramatic mini-intervention, fixated week: really? Gatsby? Give me a fucking break.

In the end I had to wait two days to see him. We met for Brunch on Sunday. I, of course, obsessed about what to wear, and how much makeup and all that silly girlish nonsense. Finally settled on an adorable designer dress I rarely have excuse to wear (God bless UAL). Went to get him. Had a lovely meal with mimosas and bloody marys and debris and grits and hollandaise and...

He is the same. He is Just the Same. Existential. Living only for the moments he can "fill his vessel." They had been to Harrah's ("what would your (gambler) friend say to the $400 I won on Thursday?"), Commander's, Visions, Lafitte's for The Purple... he was the Exact Same Gatsby.

And I saw him for everything he was, possibly for the first time in our relationship. There is nothing more to him. He's going hunting next week with friends, "Scott and Bobby Khan" - who will be pleased to shoot unsuspecting antelope from the window of their rented truck. It's quite illegal, he tells me. And he is thrilled to do it.

So almost two years later: the thrill is gone. I am no longer enamored with this reckless-yet-charming, boyish-faced womanizer. I am no longer intoxicated by his long eyelashes, his unreliable attention, his rule-breaking grandeur. He is only the surface.

Even now... I still want to believe there is more to him that this. That somewhere in that snarky, fun and funny exterior is a loving, full-hearted man. And yet, if after thirty-four years on the planet your idea of a good time is still strip clubs and craps, hunting down animals from a vehicle, anxiously awaiting the sausage they will become?

Yeah. The Thrill is Way Gone, Ladies and Gentlemen.

And it makes me sad. It has been a particularly sad weekend. I know I am in the rough two weeks. I know it has Been a rough two weeks. I feel in mourning for the love I had for him once. In mourning for the thrill. And I find myself still addicted to the unreliable flicker of something Good that comes from all of them... from Gatsby, from Kenny, from... a history of them.

I wish there were rehab for this.

A Different Kind of Gambling

2009-09-22T18:08:00.005-05:00

It was a pretty perfect night. Went to yoga first, found some comfort about the whole "Kenny" situation. Met my dear married friends for sushi after, then we had ice cream.

At dinner, very wise S- said "Gambling is like the perfect addiction, because the high is totally erratic. There is no guarantee. But once you get it, you'll go back again and again for more, no matter how many times it fails you."

I nodded. I agreed.

And then he thought for a minute, and looked at me, and said "And he turns you into a gambler too."

I nodded. And then it hit me how right he was. How addicted I was to an erractic lover - to many erratic lovers. Those who make me happy once, then disappoint over and over again. And I give them too many chances to give me that little happiness. It was an interesting realization.

And then today, Kenny texted me. Clearly needed something. I missed the text(s) for hours, and then discovered them, asked him what's up.

"I've been up for a Long time. Wanted to know if I could nap at your house for a couple hours?"

And I knew what that meant. He later told me he had been up at 7am, and yes, he had been at the casino since then. All night he had been at a table. A dealer had brought him a sausage biscuit in the morning when he started his shift. He had played poker all. night. long.

And finally, by noon, he was done. Out. Exhausted.

"I can't. I want to talk more about it - in person - but I just can't."

About forty minutes later I got the text: "This is terrifying." He told me he was going to park his car in a safe place. He fell asleep, and when he woke up, a neighborhood homeless resident we all call "The Shaman" was walking by his car.

"Yes it is." I wrote back.

":panic:"

So I told him to come to my office, which he did. I hugged him, and he started to act all cool, and then pretty quickly said "I am really not ok. I'm not ok at all."

I sat downstairs with him, talking. Told him about the residential treatment program in LA for compulsive gamblers: it is 100% free to residents of Louisiana. This amazes me. He was hesitant. Admitted that he hadn't been happy in years, basically since he started gambling. And that he couldn't imagine what his parents would think. And he couldn't make any promises. And I sat with him. I didn't exactly take no for an answer. I told him he was "not off the Veritas-hook", but had to go upstairs to finish my work. He came and fell asleep on the futon.

When I woke him up after 5, when I was leaving, he said if I would not let him sleep in his car tonight, he would have a serious talk about it with me in the morning. I said, that plus: You must promise me you will go to one G.A. meeting. I made him shake on it. Look me in the eye.

I don't entirely believe him. I would drive him to Shreveport in the morning (except my car sucks) - I would do a lot of things to see that he gets help. But this is it.

I'm afraid of a lot of things - that he'll wake up in the middle of the night and leave. That I've been duped. Again. That in the morning he'll wake up and convince me somehow that he doesn't need to go. He's promised to go to a GA meeting. Isn't that enough?

At this point, I think I've done everything I can do. I will have a serious conversation in the morning. Give him his options, but stick to my guns. I am ready to cut him off if that's what needs to happen.

I just really hope not.

Repeat, repeat.

2009-09-20T18:06:00.003-05:00

Sorry about that last string of similar posts written over and over. Although isn't it interesting to see the same story told three ways over three weeks? Right? Humor me.

Even though no one reads this but me, it's nice to occasionally come back and read months of realizations and consideration and ideas that I've written. To laugh at my own clever little jokes. To judge my own casual grammar mistakes.

I've learned a couple new things:

1. I may never learn. I get way too attached to people way too soon.
2. I'm in a hurry. Period. I rush things. It's almost impossible for me to slow down. It's almost Painful to slow down.
3. I'm funny.
4. I went to a "Phoenix Rising" yoga therapy session on Friday. I discovered how important security is to me. Safety, surety. I suppose I knew that already, but not in so many ways.

I don't know what else really, except it really is good to come back and read all these posts over and over again. I wish I were inspired to write more often about things other than how disappointed or brokenhearted the men in my life have left me.

Perhaps one day I will. Perhaps one day I've have more patience. Perhaps one day I'll love a man who doesn't disappoint or break my heart. Perhaps.

Well, there was that.

2009-09-20T15:52:00.004-05:00

A month ago, I re-met this boy. We'll call him Kenny.

Kenny was enamored with my new haircut. He was also too young for me. When the 31 year old I'm dating is too young, 26 is too young too.

So he adds me as a friend on facebook. 21st century dating protocol being what it is... and we FB chat, then we start G-chatting... finally we progress to texting. Before I knew it I had spent every day with him for a week and he was my "bff" and then, all of a sudden, my soulmate.

There were some issues, sure. He was still too young. He was in a "rough spot" - between jobs, sleeping on a friend's couch, broke. But he had Potential. And God love him, he was so smart, and funny, and clever. And he came up with about 500 different puns on my name, which was really fun. My most favorite referenced a popular communist leader.

We tiptoed and then danced around and finally walked right up and acknowledged something had happened between us. Something romantic. "The irony is not lost on me that you are telling me what's best for me while you represent exactly the opposite." I bet him that he couldn't stay single until January 1st.

Here's the real irony: I made a bet with a compulsive gambler. A bet I secretly hoped he'd lose. What an idiot.

Because as soon as he came into some money, he disappeared into a self-described "off-the-radar bubble," and suddenly became elusive, evaporative. Made commitments and just bailed on them. Changed plans at any moment. Became simultaneously self-absorbed and self-abhorrent.

The hardest thing about it is walking away. Clean cuts. Clean separation. If I hear from him again, which is a big IF, I'll let him know my concern. How much I care. And that if he doesn't go to a program, I have no desire to see him again.

Nothing else I can do, really. Very hard to just let go and walk away. But it's both the best thing I can do for him, and the best thing I can do for me. Give him the space to come back here when he needs to, and be ready to be very clear when he does.

We had a beautiful weekend of pancakes, crossword puzzles and football. It was lovely, and I loved him. I still love him for that weekend, and for making me hopeful, even if it was never meant to be.

Same old Same old.

2009-09-14T14:41:00.002-05:00

I've gotten myself all wrapped up in it again.

Did I mention I met my soulmate? I suppose I met him months ago, but really started getting to know him weeks ago. Like Two weeks.

And we started out being BFFs. And after knowing some things about his history, I made a bet with him: I bet you can't stay single until January 1st. Even better, I bet you can't stay single until your birthday (February 6th or 7th; I can't remember). The only conditions: you may have "meaningless" sex. One night stands and the like. You may not, however, call her the next day. You may not text her.

The spoils? Dinner, cooked a la Veritas. If you make it til your birthday, throw in a massage.

I made this bet nearly two weeks ago. I had no idea I would now want him to lose it. I always knew he was attractive, but I didn't think... I don't know.

So here I am, some weeks later, and after him "text-stalking" me last week, he has now left me alone all day. Why is it that I am afraid people will grow tired of me? We did Not have sex, but I did give him a BJ after which he suggested I write a book. Perhaps he simply realizes we both need some time away. Maybe, as he said last week, "you + me = same person."

We both need some distance. We both might be freaking out a bit.

Or maybe it's just me.

Twitterpated

2009-09-09T07:35:00.002-05:00

Nothing on Twitter seems to matter.

Facebook either.

And it's not just exhaustion with the day to day nonsense. Well, it may be that too. It may be downright exhaustion at 4 am.

Is it still possible in my life to be in love with someone after only really getting to know them for one week? It can't possibly be. It can not possibly be.

How is it things that have been extaordinarily annoying in other people are now endearing, amusing? Am I just atwitter? No pun intended. No kissing, no touching, even, except a hug good night. Which is what Friends do.

Am I still simply drawn to the unavailable? He is unavailable because of his circumstance, his... Humanity. He's got much to do and I know it and yet.... How could I already be so entranced?

Part of me has grown weary of second guessing, questioning what's wrong - and instead wants to just "go with it." Despite the bet. Ha!

Who bets the boy she likes that he can't stay single for 4 months?

My letter to Dawn Porter

2009-08-20T16:59:00.001-05:00

I'm seeing this guy. Who's actually kind of useless. That's never happened, right?

He's a vegetarian. And a marathon runner. And very smart and all that and went to Harvard law...

Except he's USELESS. He wants someone to run his life. He recently told me his goal in life is to be that guy that everyone can call when they want someone to do something with... and he'll go. And try to have a good time, and make sure everyone else has a good time.

And he's also VERY confused about Buddhism, in that he thinks Buddhist detachment is about not wanting or needing anything at all, instead of simply being able to witness one's needs and wants and not be ruled by them. So consequently, he's trying to not want or need. Anything. And the other morning in bed, I say to him, "So if you don't want or need anything, where does that leave me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I want things from you. I don't really need things, but I want to see you, I _want_ you. And so forth. If you don't want anything, where does that leave me?"

"Huh. Now I'm all pensive," he says. Then I had to go to work.

So WHY am I telling you all this?

Because he's vaguely obsessed with you. And Prince. Which I think puts you in a pretty significant category.

And even though he doesn't deserve it, because he is useless, I think he would love a signed photo of you. I know he would, in fact.

I'd really appreciate that. "Dear Morgan, Stop being useless. Cheers, Dawn."

Well, it'd be great if you left out the middle part. But I figured you'd appreciate the laugh while you were flitting from LA to London.

:)

Veritas

Bidness

2009-07-24T11:53:00.002-05:00

Time to start writing regularly again, I think.

What has happened since February? Another successful season of my little concert series. Very successful, I might add. I should ask for a raise successful. And stressful. Those 3-5 months really take it out of me. I was better this year, but it's still more than I can handle, I think. I don't Love it.

I think my boss needs to either run for public office or get pregnant so I can hire someone else to do this and take over her job. Oops, did I say that outloud? ;)

A Love Letter

2009-02-13T11:21:00.003-06:00

Dear Kung-Fu-Boy/Martial Arts Instructor,

I'm sorry. And I miss you.

In a way, that's all I have to say. I think you know all the things that are behind the sentiment.

I have thought for hours about the things you said to me, in anger, out of pain, but also out of some level of understanding of me and the world in general.

I am still torn about the notion of "appreciating the things you have" vs. "comparing them to hopes and dreams." I guess, in the end, I think its possible to do both. I sought out yoga in my life to appreciate the little moments; to be more present. That part of me has always been around, but will always need cultivation.

When it comes to lovers, I have a history of getting involved with my fantasy of them and then being disappointed in their reality. I am tragically aware that I do this. But I've spent years knowing that I did it, and making myself painfully aware when I did it. I struggle to keep my eyes wide open and see people for who they are; and consequently to Love Them for who they are.

I doubted it for a minute, but have now had too many people who have known me for decades, some of them intimately; that having expectations is ok. And beyond that, my expectations are realistic. I'm not sure where the line for you is between "settling" and "appreciating what you have." But I do see where my "falling in love with a fantasy" would look like constantly judging and evaluating.

There are so many things that I like and love about you. There are a handful of things that annoyed me or turned me off. None of those things are what led to me leaving. It was an absence of something that is genuinely important to me. And perhaps it is deeply rooted in my own search for self-love and self-knowledge; perhaps I do divorce love and sex the way you say. But WHY I do it doesn't matter. I have found peace and comfort and love in sex before, and sex in peace and comfort and love.

I believe there are a number of things that draw people to one another; and they often are inextricably related. The joy of each person on earth is that your connection to them will be totally unique, like having 100 different levels on 3000 channels of a sound board -- the experience of each person will be totally different.

I am terrified, as you may know, that I am the only one standing between myself and happiness. You pushed that button in a huge way.

But here's what you don't know, maybe, about me: I am happy. I have happiness. I have fulfillment. I also have sadness. And jealousy. And anger. And confusion. I have all of them all the time.

Know that I will continue to look at all of this, and hope we will find a common place to love each other in our own way. And in the meanwhile, in this quiet window; I will miss our closeness. I will miss my confidante. I will miss someone who can protect me in a way no one else has been able. I will miss getting to love you.

Happy Friday the 13th. And Happy Valentine's Day.

CraZier than I thought

2009-02-02T23:05:00.002-06:00

I'm not sure what the deal with me is. Except that a week ago I wasn't
ready to give this up and now I'm just " not that into him?"

I must be crazier than I thought.

2009-01-12T13:18:00.003-06:00

My little heart is going pit-a-pat. I might have had too much coffee this morning.

Or it might be the Thing that is happening with the Martial Arts Instructor.

To recap: Over a year ago, we met, hit it off, text and emailed like crazy over a week, and then I met him in person and he was shorter than I expected and I simply wasn't as attracted to him as I thought I was and... it was over, like that.

We didn't talk for a while, and I avoided him, and he knew what had happened, and things just fell apart. We saw each other in the gym one day, and both of us were weirded out a little by it, but ... there it went.

After a year of here and there and some things and whatnot, we started spending a ton of time together and Here It Goes Again. Working out regularly led to me having a crush on him, and then a week of hot and heavy, an anticlimactic sexual encounter... and then done again.

And here I stupid am again, a month later, starting to feel very strongly for him again and us spending a lot of time together and going to see movies and crying and loving him.

That doesn't mean he's a good match for me, or that there aren't annoying things that make me want to kill him or that he's a good partner for me in our sleep rituals or that he'd be good at parties.

But I love spending time with him, and the more I do the more I want to see him and. What is this? Just a pretend boyfriend until I meet a real one?

A New Year

2009-01-01T12:54:00.004-06:00

2009. Here we go.

So I went out with the Lawyer last night. We met sort of strangely (facebook was involved), but he is perfectly lovely. He's smart, educated, driven, attractive, a great kisser... But when we met for drinks in the afternoon and then had dinner, I said to him, "I like you, so I don't want to spend NYE with you." It's too significant too soon, rushes things, and makes someone jump to the sticking place.

Or, makes me jump right out. He is totally smitten, that is clear, and he should be. But he is not extraordinary; I don't think he's half a super power. I suppose only time with tell, and I will go slow and not push anything. He seems lovely, but...

It's funny to know things like this. Funny to know that the best way to kill something is to let it burn up too quickly. As Gatsby said, "Just wait and see what something will be."

As for that, my Trainer is on his way here, we'll have breakfast and then I'll come sort my house out, I suppose. He is not, afterall, moving to Michigan on a Veritas special. I suppose like him so much because I do not know where it's going, whereas with the Lawyer, I know to a minute.

As for resolutions? The money thing is up there. And 20# would be nice. The running of a marathon. Meeting new people instead of going back to the old. Mindful use of resources. And have even more fun, if such a thing is possible.

Here it Comes Again...

2008-12-01T16:39:00.003-06:00

This familiar feeling. The "I'm done with that," feeling.

My feeling rotates with this one - I remember going through it with him a year ago. He was fascinating and fun and all sorts of things until he wasn't, all of a sudden. All of a sudden, out of the blue, I was vaguely annoyed and did not trust it or thought there was no validity. I have been pushed too far, somehow.

And while it is nice to know that he will understand; or accept it, or whathaveyou... it is still a very disconcerting feeling. Perhaps I got wrapped up in all this, and (certainly) I jumped the gun - just a week ago I thought I had a crush. How did I jump to having a boyfriend who comes to parties and whatnot?

I suppose it is good to be reminded that we never grow out of this, of the feeling. I was never certain to begin with. It hasn't been certain here.

Here's another possibility: I'm integrating all the events that have transpired, and after last night and a strangely unfulfilling sexual experience... Maybe that's just a great big clue to me. I am, of course, concerned it was predetermined, based on my own fear of becoming my mother.

But the fear, of course, is that no matter what I do I will be her. Maybe that's true. How horrible would it be, really?

Ah ha!

2008-12-01T08:57:00.003-06:00

I get it. I finally get it.

This feeling that happens every time I get involved is the feeling of getting involved too quickly; being roped into something before I am sure of it. It's taken me this long to figure it out.

I have that familiar feeling with P-. The "uh oh" feeling, the "what am I doing here?" feeling. The "get out as fast as you can" feeling. It's all related to jumping into something too quickly. My instinct says "this is going to fast, and you don't know what's happening."

We'll see if it's possible to go backwards. Shall be interesting.

In hindsight, I miss Gatsby terribly.

She's Baaack.

2008-11-24T23:03:00.002-06:00

How delightful. Truly delightful and wonderful and fun to be herself again.

I just came back from another evening with P-... You may remember him from being out of alphabetical order nearly a year ago. After many months apart, and then back again working out at my gym, and a rekindled friendship, we have started training. Mixed martial arts training. Yes, the storied male-dominated sport that was made (in)famous on payperview in the late 90s. I decided it was time to stop being afraid and start being comfortable. An extra 20 pounds can only be protection, so I decided to take up a new kind of defense.

And somehow in the midst of this... a relationship has developed. We have spent time together, and I have rediscovered how well suited we are for each other - for whatever it is. We are truly friends, and have a great understanding of one another, and of other people and world view. And perhaps now I understand what that means too, and its importance.

Regardless after weeks of training, and rolling around with him between my legs (how was it NOT sexual?), he kissed me tonight. After admitting weeks ago he was not whole, I suppose I was waiting for him to be ready. And I am not certain of any of it, but he is so careful and kind with me. I suppose whatever happens will be well, and will be what it is.

Not to mention the fact that I dreamt of him last night; going to his house for a "training" session, which was a thinly veiled plot to kiss me and roll around the way men and women usually do. And tonight he got a hard on while we were training (!); and how lovely for us both to handle it so well, and what a surprise that it had not happened yet.

And after arriving home, and thinking of the Gatsby and all the other things -- A card! 3 postcards, in fact, from the Aran Islands. From the sweet young bartender who took a liking to me and what a darling he really was and ... how perfectly dear of him! 3 postcards!!

I have recovered now from hopping around the house like a giddy school girl, and settled down to let my faithful reader(s) know: She's back.

2008-11-19T23:24:00.002-06:00

As soon as I heard "girlfriend," I checked out. Why IS that?

This is a guy I met for pseudo-business. I admire him, admire what he's doing, but I wasn't particularly attracted to him at first, and he's 23 (!) and there were all sorts of things that I was not interested in. But after a few drinks he seemed intriguing to me, as well as more like a peer than a 23 yearold...

And then "Girlfriend" who lives in another state. I just checked out of the whole conversation at that point. I was done.

I'm tired.

2008-11-09T13:03:00.000-06:00

Creative household repair. Do you have a wet vac? What about a metal back scratcher?

What you learn when you travel

2008-10-14T15:25:00.003-05:00

I just got back from Ireland, mostly Dublin. I spent 11 days galavanting about, doing anything I wanted, whenever I wanted. I continue to prefer traveling alone, since it allows so much freedom to really decompress and rest one's tired brain and heart.

I found I was always in good spirits, even cycling in the cold windy rain to end up at Dun Aengus - which was closed. Everything was an opportunity, and all was positive. I had a brilliant time... but I also didn't judge it. It was already fantastic before I started, which made for a really exceptional experience.

I wonder what makes it this way about traveling. Perhaps I am better when I am out of my routine - more kind, more positive, happier. I thought with S- we were always better when traveling. I suppose I thought it was because of him; now I'm realizing perhaps it was because of me. I was kinder, maybe. More patient. I had fewer (if any!) expectations, so everything was a pleasant surprise.

I am also struck by how much I missed The Gatsby. He got in my head before I left; admitting he was interviewing for job at Tulane. It made me revisit all the things I had put to rest before that. He left. He was gone from my life - and it was time to move on. And now... cliffhanger.

Had he discovered, after being away a few months, how much he missed New Orleans? Or that he missed me? Or is he simply continuing to allow life to float him along, and following the lead.

What I have discovered, in the wake of it, is that I miss him. I still miss him. I wished he was with me on countless occasions. Thought constantly of things he would enjoy. And am convinced I would have had a doubly fun time had he been there with me.

So the question lies: what do I do with that information?

Distractions

2008-09-23T16:30:00.003-05:00

I am distracted at work today. I have been distracted for two days.

Or rather, I have had a hard time focusing on the things I need to do and doing them. I suppose that's the problem with working well under pressure and with threat of deadlines. Even deadlines a week away don't scare me.

My brother seemed to think this procrastination was a New Orleans thing, while I have always thought it was a family thing. He mentioned offhand that he was getting better about it after moving to California.

If I have to move to Los Angeles to get better at it, I'm not interested.

I am avoiding the conversation I am supposed to have with best friend J- who has been frustrating and angering and upsetting me of late. I have avoided it since he came back from his extended tour of the Cape. I have avoided him, really. I thought some time away would help. Instead I got mad at him for offering me a cookie the other day.

Let me be clear: I wasn't angry about the cookie. I was angry that he was telling me to do something other than what I had just told him I wanted to and Was Going To Do. I just wanted to shout: Stop telling me what to do! Stop telling me the things I want to do suck! Stop telling me all the things I'm doing wrong! Stop telling me the people I like are stupid! And MOST of all, stop telling me that the real problem is that I'm Not Nice to myself, and that I need to get a thicker skin, and you're just looking out for my best interests.

Because what you're doing THERE is telling me it's my fault I'm getting upset. Which is just shitty.

And ALL of it might be true, but damnit, with friends like that who needs enemies?

And why is a less-attractive, vaguely annoying girl I met only in passing but just saw on facebook married? And why am I not?

And why can't I just meet someone to crush on for a while because it would sure help?

And when will I stop telling myself to stop whining?

What I've Been Up To

2008-09-09T11:27:00.012-05:00

I sent Gatsby an email with the following pictures (identity blocked to protect the innocents):

The title of the email was "What I've Been Up To." The Bathroom Demo, of course, speaks for itself. The other photo, however...

Harold Pinter once wrote a play called Betrayal. They made it into a movie in the 80s that I've never seen, but I did a lot of work on the play when I was getting my acting training. I will not give the whole thing away, but there is a very pregnant scene in which a man makes a pass at his best friend's wife.

About 3 weeks ago, before all the Gustav nonsense, and in the midst of some other craziness, I kissed one of my closest friend's husband. While she and the baby were asleep in the next room. Drunk though I was, I wouldn't have had to be drunk. He neither, from what I gather from other conversations and g-chats and whatnot. His wife has even referred to me as his "Second Spouse." She has one too.

And I let it go that far, and I let him kiss me and we kissed again. And it was great. That's the horrible thing. I have "borrowed" him and their daughter at least twice, and it's nice to live vicariously through someone else. It's nice to have a husband and baby and dog and house and life, if only for one night.

But before I could spiral downward into a self-centered blaze of shame, Little Baby got sick and went to the hospital. Thank heavens I'm not superstitious, so I didn't get the idea in my head that me kissing her father had made my little darling sick. But the thought did, obviously, cross my mind.

So then the hurrication, and my Second Spouse makes out with one of his wife's co-workers. She sweet, but young and oh so slightly awkward. After some prodding, and obvious admission, My Friend gets it out of him. And he feels guilty and so she in turn tells him she has kissed Her own Second Spouse AND her High School Ex-Boyfriend. And yet Husband doesn't mention me to her? No need to, I don't think. But all the same...

Drunk though I was, I went home that night and emailed him: "I cannot be alone with you until I have met someone else." I know part of it is having the attention and attraction of someone I find attractive. And it's also being able to live a fantasy in real life, and in a semi-safe place.

And that's the rub, I think. SS is safe - a way to try out all the things I want without having to commit to them and give anything up. Like my freedom.

But I would be lying if I didn't think sometimes that he and I are better practically suited and we both have acknowledged that, tacitly. Is it just my own need to be better than...? Do I really think I could do a better job than she is doing? Not really the way I want to be thinking about my friends. She is, after all, one of my closest friends. Right?

Post-Disaster Disaster

2008-09-07T13:06:00.004-05:00

I forgot so many things about this.

Today, I am coming to terms with the post-evacuation depression. I need to remind myself this was not an actual vacation. I'm tired. I've come back home to a house that is a total disaster, even if it wasn't hit directly by our latest natural disaster.

After being relatively high on the anxiety of hurrication - what will happen, how long do I have to be gone, what will be there when I get back? - I'm back at home. And I'm so sad today. I can't explain what it is exactly, except again the general pointlessness of existence that comes.

Nowhere else is like New Orleans. Partially because this is my home. I have a home here, and friends, and a network and a Life. But also because nowhere else is like New Orleans. The people, the smells, the food, the sound, the music of life. And yet... this is part of New Orleans. Evacuation. Underlying dread that The Big One will come and level the whole place.

It's like loving someone who's in remission from brain cancer.

And it is Much Harder to do this alone. And I feel completely alone nowadays, and lack my usually energy to force myself to reach out. What would I say? Who would understand? All my friends have someone. Except J-, perhaps, but he's no help in times of stress.

I guess sitting on the sofa, drinking an Abita, and watching the Saints is about as good as I can do.

ReRouted

2008-08-31T18:00:00.004-05:00

I was supposed to fly to Dublin at 9:50am on Friday August 29th.

Friday was the third anniversary of the big K. It wasn't entirely by accident that I let my departing flight fall on that day.

And then late Thursday night, I was on the phone with my dad, getting ready to start packing and getting ready. I pulled my passport out of its very safe place, and looked at it briefly and froze. It did not expire on my birthday - as drivers' licenses do - but 10 years from the date of issue. May 11th 2008.

After tearful conversations with my dad and poor J- (who called at the right moment to bear the brunt of my sobbing) and Continental, it became clear I was Not, in fact, leaving for this fantastic Hibernian trip the next day.

Instead, 48 hours later I packed everything up, and got everything at least three feet off ground level (thankfully just the front room), and drove outta town. Fleeing Gustav.

There are too many parts of this that are reminiscent and bring back memories and flashbacks and all that. I guess it's good that I am now a veteran evacuator. I know the pitfalls of being exiled from home. I have learned how Not to gain 15 pounds fearing the destruction of my city. Unfortunately, I have discovered that alcohol really does help, while chocolate does not.

After two days in Nashville, I have landed here in the middle-of-nowhere Ohio. Dad and Mi Madrasta are here, so at least I'm with family. Did I mention, however, I am in the middle of nowhere?

This week has run me through the gamut. I was genuinely afraid of what might happen again, and have tried to stay calm until I knew what was happening. No point being devastated over a possibility. And I have been anxious, and started working out the other day and unable to stop. I found the patience to get a manicure and pedicure in a bizarre resort in Opryland, and welcomed back that old familiar Katrina feeling: Guilt.

Because those of us who didn't lose anything, or lose much; we felt guilty. People sent us gifts, showed us great kindness and generosity, and we thought: No, I don't deserve this. There are thousands of others out there who need this more than I do. Send it to them.

And yet, I suppose this is how I got here in the first place. Best Friend J said to me, "If you had been planning this trip for someone else, you would have already checked the passport twice." And that is true. I have learned to do little things for myself, like have manicures and eat cheese and manhattan suppers, but I still feel like there's someone else who needs it Much, Much more than I do.

I wonder how many evacuations it will take me to get over that.

Another Long Distance Letter

2008-08-12T13:13:00.004-05:00

"11 August 2008

The renovation marathon continues. The tile in the shower is gone. Sometimes I wonder if I do this to torture myself. I have bruises on my shins and nicks from flying porcelain everywhere. Here's hoping the shower pan is lead and not asbestos.

Dublin is calling - I'm torn between planning day trips to Galway & the Burren, Belfast & Giants' Causeway - or just Cork for their cheese - or just walking the street of Dublin sipping pints.

Clearly, now is a wise time to undertake a bathroom renovation.

Either way, I've gotten my wish to find a new positive past time. It distracts me from your absence. Am I allowed to admit that? And yet, a lightning storm woke me at 5:30 the other morning, and I laid in bed for an hour thinking of your kind embrace your tickling caress, mouth on me, hot breath in my ears - and the look in your eyes when I looked up at you from my knees that day --

I have met other folks, but none enough to distract me. Call when you get hired. I will need a current address, as well, when I go abroad.

xoxo
Veritas"

Dreams are Out of Control

2008-08-01T07:42:00.002-05:00

Last night I dreamt, twice, about men telling me they were going back to their ex- girlfriends. Or trying to, at least. One was Gatsby, the other was a guy I had just met and hit it off with.

And then I dreamt that my brother and I realized there were homemade gallows in the chimneys of our house. Three chimneys, three makeshift gallows, three hanged. We decided it was a coverup from a hit and run, but... needless to say, disconcerting. More disconcerting was the fact that we couldn't call the police because we had hidden a the skull of someone we killed (is this a throwback to past dream?) in one of the chimneys.

The dreams are out of control, and I've met about 6 men in the last three nights while I was sleeping. I'm sure this is the sign of my psyche ready for it, however long it takes the universe to give it me.

Traveling

2008-07-29T10:04:00.004-05:00

I dreamt last night an epic of a dream.

In the midst of the daily grind, I woke up one day and decided I was going to take off. Take a vacation. Get the hell out of dodge. I wasn't going to ask anybody. I was going to take my bike (or car, or something) and cross the country to Los Angeles. I started out on this trek on a bicycle - I would ride cross country. I came to a stop in the road very soon. There was some emergency drill (we thought?) of all the responders, including a boat, a helicopter and a huge tractor-trailer that was blocking traffic. (It was blocking a wedding in progress as well... the bride and father-of-the-bride looked on, frustrated. They were negotiating with the driver about getting out of the traffic).

I got out of my car (off the bike?) and walked in to explore the cluster. I walked into a huge container, like container ships carry but bigger, to discover a whole crew of folks - they apparently traveled with the cargo to transport it, but now their container was empty. I pleasantly informed them I was coming with. I left the bike/car behind and started making friends.

During the trek, I developed a relationship with one of the guys... he was sweet, lovely, and as soon as I got to Los Angeles he pretty much evaporated from the dream. Originally he was part of my plans for visiting, but he got lost somewhere along the way.

I bought a scooter as soon as we got to LA, but I only used it once. I met up with my brother, and my mom was there, and one more friend... and spent a good part of the end of the dream walking through confusing streets and finding my way back to them. I felt lost the whole time - the streets made no sense to me, they had no apparent layout (think San Francisco meets Boston), and I was disoriented time and time again. And I knew that it was a huge city, so I was afraid everything would be very far apart.

When I called my brother, he met us within 5 minutes, so I knew he lived close. I separated from the group to run an errand or something of that nature, and had rely on my own sense of direction to get back. I had no phone, no way to get in touch with them, no plan for when and where to meet. I walked through neighborhoods, including a park with a performance space (theater or opera house?), but realized that was the wrong direction... and ended up going through this huge entertainment center - like Dave and Busters but outside. It was almost like a Disney Theme park, and so crowded. Once I made it through that, suddenly around the corner the landscape flattened and it was almost swampy - I swear I remember seeing Spanish moss covered cypress. I turned a corner in what was now a quiet neighborhood - and a straight street! - and there was Judson, Mom and friend.

Needless to say, I was very proud of my sense of direction.

------

The dreams of travel are significant. I am going through some kind of trek lately, but the route and destination are hugely unknown.

2008-07-25T20:06:00.002-05:00

I can't figure out why I still miss him.

He's been gone nearly a month. Perhaps a month this weekend.

And yet, tonight, driving home, I started reminiscing with myself about the first time I met him. It's been so long, now, that I don't really remember all the details - not all the silly things I first romanticized. But I do remember going home with him and its almost impossible for me to fathom doing that again with anyone else.

I'm sure it will happen again - I'm sure I will be attracted to other men again. I don't feel particularly attractive myself now, so that's part of it, perhaps.

I just want him to figure out whatever he's got to figure out and then figure out that he left one of the best things behind and come Do something about it. And he won't because he's not The One but if he was, that's what he'd do.

2008-07-17T20:53:00.003-05:00

Why is life a series? Why is there a first, next, and then, finally... We are taught from children about beginning-middle-end, and then here we are, in lives, waiting for the next step. The big conflict. The denoument.

I am sitting in my kitchen, eating chocolate cake, wondering what I will do next. This is an idea I have been batting around ever since Gatsby left. I need something new to focus on, some next Big Project.

1. I am fat. It would be good to be the next Ms. Universe. I am considering it. Although I don't enjoy every workout nearly as much as I should for a hobby to which I would consider devoting a significant percentage of waking hours.

2. I could revisit the plan to watch every Academy Award Best Picture-winning film. Hrm. It would require renewing my blockbuster subscription and replacing my DVD player.

3. Finishing the house. Which will never be done and will forever be an ongoing hobby, really. The joy of homeownership.

4. I have been invited to sit on the board of a local theatre company, which it seems I will end up doing. I don't want to commit to them before I really have the faith that I believe in what they are doing. Maybe that just means I should go see their show this weekend and figure out if they deserve my energy.

5. There is always My theatrical sidebar. The production of one-woman shows. The preparation of audition pieces. Taking of headshots. I'm not so good without deadlines.

6. Honestly, I have seriously considered taking up golf. I might enjoy it.

For christ's sake - here I am, desperately searching for something to do that has two major qualities: (A) it is new (and therefore, I can learn something, which I find very fulfilling) and (B) it is fun.

Why is this such a hard target?

I Slit His Throat With a Bread Knife

2008-07-15T10:21:00.002-05:00

So that was disturbing.

Just had a flashback of last night's dream. I remember sleeping fitfully, as I've been sick. But the most striking part of the dream was about killing a man. Who it was, I don't remember. I don't think he was anyone, and yet he could have been anyone.

First, it was a nick. Then I slice a C-shape into his abdomen. It was totally effortless. Finally, I reach over and slit his throat. With a serrated bread knife. I watched as I made contact, but close my eyes when I hit the adam's apple - I couldn't watch that much.

What had he done?

Another Academic Dream

2008-07-13T19:44:00.002-05:00

How many dreams do we all have of being back in school and realizing we are unprepared for an exam? Last night:

Not only am I unprepared, but I am behind in all my schoolwork. I have reenrolled in a university, getting a Master's, but still undecided in what. I am much more conscious of the Return on Investment, and am constantly aware of the ticking tab that I am running up. I am taking history and literature classes, and ones I don't really have much drive or interest in - but there I am, again, way behind, overwhelmed.

Add to that unsure what I'm doing or what I want to do. I think perhaps I should switch schools and do Psych services as I once considered years ago.

And then I was going to the coffeeshop, on the corner of my street, and got inside and there was a "green" fast food store that charged me $8.50 for a sweet potato glazed in white icing, and then got to the coffeeshop only for it to be a McDonald's. Ugh. And as I was leaving, there was a man in the parking lot who really intrigued me and did something and I tried to give him my card... but in an instant, he was gone.

As I was studying for, or preparing for, one of the many classes in which I was behind, I was laying in bed with a gay male friend of mine. There was some history there - because he was gay he was "safe," I had kissed him on occasion after being drunk or some such. But there we were laying in bed watching something or reading, and he asked if he could "hug me" and before I knew it he was putting the moves on me and in a more-than-pushy way and...

He was supposed to be safe. I trusted him, and even he took advantage of me.
-----------------

This dream has me so disturbed. I was sad and weepy all day today, which is linked to being sick and tired and not having the energy to do all the things I wanted. Or rather, all the things I Intended.

My life has grown very practical, very efficient. Didn't I learn from Gatsby how important Fun is? Even my Fun is weighed down by cooking for 20 people and working for days to clean the house. When will I allow myself something to do that is simply joyful.

I'm not sure I know what that is.

My Neighbors: the Grandfolks I Didn't Know

2008-07-08T21:24:00.003-05:00

or, Why I love New Orleans.

My boss asked me to drop off a present at her fiance's cousin's house. It happens to be about 2 blocks from my house, so being kindly and respectful of said boss's hesitance to waste gas, I agreed to drop off said present.

After a long day of meetings and frustrations and Anger at Things Beyond My Control, I went to the gym, to discover my Pilates class was canceled (Grrr! I mean, Get well soon Pilates teacher!) and I had to go to spinning instead. There are worse things, actually, since the cardio was probably good for my mood. When I got home and returned bestfriend J-'s call, he reminded me to Eat Something. "Hey! When was the last time you ate, Low Blood Sugar? Go have dinner."

And then I walked down to My Neighbor's house. They live two blocks down the Avenue, and from the front porch it didn't even seem like anybody was there. I hung it on the door and rang the bell and considered leaving, but I was pretty sure that would be rude. And they'd wonder why Boss & Fiance didn't stop to say hi. So a woman came to the door, I explained who I was and what I was doing there, and she insisted I come inside.

No, really, I resisted. I just got back from the gym, I don't even have a bra on. Well, I omitted the last part, but you don't really want that to be the first time you meet anybody, right? You want to at least be confident you smell vaguely appealing.

Yes, really, she insisted. She leads me through two parlors, two kitchens, until we emerge into the hidden back dining room, where I come upon GrandPo and GrandMo and the woman's partner and they are just finishing dinner. This makes me feel much worse, but instantly GrandMo welcomes me, insists that if they had more wine they would make me drink it. They reminisce about how wonderful Boss's Fiance is (his gifts, fwiw, were terrifically thoughtful and kind considering GrandPo is having surgery tomorrow) - and GrandMo brings me to the kitchen to show me the mugs he gave her, and gets teary eyed thinking about Jazz Fest. She is slightly embarrassed, but not so much that she stops crying, and we both know its because her GrandHusband-Po of many many years is having surgery and we are all getting old and dying and why does that have to happen and yet people still love us and bring us incredibly thoughtful gifts.

She walks me out to the door, and thanks me again for coming, invites me back anytime, and tell me to thank Boss for choosing me to send as the messenger.

My two blocks home were totally different than my two blocks there. Maybe it was my blood sugar evening out, but I felt so grateful to live here and sorry for the folks who were gone or who weren't from here originally and didn't have our disease. Because I would have invited me in and offered me wine and told me a story. I will, in 50 years, when I am GrandMo's age.

2008-07-06T20:19:00.003-05:00

I still think about him. I mean, on the one hand: Duh. He left a week ago. Of Course I still think about it. On the other hand: Hello! He left! He hasn't called! If he wanted to be with you he would be!

Now is the time to cut the ties, to let this one go, time to move on and make a life with yourself and without Him. And yet... I still keep coming back to it. I guess when I know for sure I'm not pregnant, I'll move right on. Except I'll still spend notes and expect to get one back or to hear from him or something.

I think it was the last time we had sex, he said aftwards "That was wonderful." It was. It was every time. I am much more prepared to let go of him than nearly any other man I've dated, and yet... he was the closest to best for me, right? But again, watch the movie til its over!

And it ain't over yet, and that's the weird thing.

In other news: I have cleaned the bedroom, kitchen, and much of the living room. Actually, the living room is probably less clean, but that's hard because there still so much Work to be done. I still haven't been inspired by the next Project. Joining a charter school board, or learning to play golf. I need to find a Project that's Fun. That might be harder than I think.

2008-07-04T21:57:00.004-05:00

This morning I took a pregnancy test.

I'm not scheduled to start for at least 5 more days, but I feel fat and the girls are painfully swollen and I thought, Ha! Wouldn't that be ironic?

It was negative.

So that's good news, I guess. Even though, of course, I have made up the conversation with Gatsby at least three times. "Are you sitting down..?" or "Ha, so are you ready for the funny part? Right? I'm pregnant. No, really. That's hilarious, right?"

And it's not very likely that I'm pregnant at all. I've just put on 5-10# from the stupid concert series and the end of the stupid concert series and stupid Gatsby leaving and throwing stupid parties and generally not caring about myself at all. I guess throwing my back out didn't help, but I did finally see the Chiropractor yesterday and he put everything back in order and it's amazing because today my back is Completely Normal. One might argue it was on its way back to completely normal anyway, as the pain was subsiding day by day - but I like to thank my chiropractor.

And this morning I made a deal with myself that I would make my bed every morning. And I would dedicate one day to cleaning each room of my house. That way, when I got overwhelmed or distracted from one room to the next... well, I could say, "No, the living room isn't until Tuesday." I think the living room will be Sunday, actually.

Although it feels very hard to clean a room that's still not finished. And the living room isn't, with its half-installed crown moulding and weird closets with amateur mudding. It all begins to get very overwhelming, and then some days I decide I want a dishwasher so I take all the doors off the cabinets and measure and...

At least I put the doors back on the same day. There have definitely been periods of my life where I would have just stacked the cabinet doors against each other away from the refrigerator and the sink and the trash can and I wouldn't have done anything about it for weeks.

So this is all to say I have been very tired lately. Very tired. Sleeping 12 hours a night and having a hard time getting up. Last night I dreamt I drank from an antique champagne bowl my brother bought only to discover the glass was breaking out of the decorative pattern, and then it was too late when I realized it had finishing nails in it and I now had finishing nails stuck in my throat. And then I got furious at him for leaving the antique flatware (that was glass, maybe?) in the dishwasher with dishcloths over it because clearly it would mold or rust or something, and then I realized halfway through yelling at him that he had set the dishwasher to "soak" them and I was yelling for no reason. And then I just started bawling inconsolably.

Maybe I shouldn't mix gin with chocolate martinis and four-cheese fries.

Afternoon Entertainment

2008-07-02T15:02:00.002-05:00

1. Send winks to really hideously ugly Match.com guys, to brighten their day. I can't decide if this is cruel or not.

2. Call 911 and make my coworker look for the cute Cop she just met.

Bye Bye Baby

2008-07-01T09:15:00.004-05:00

I miss you.

That's it, mostly. I'm sad you could leave me, but I understand why.

I wonder how you really feel about me. I wonder if I made as much of an impact on you as vice versa. I wonder if there are real emotions under that nonchalant Gatsby exterior.

Because it would help me to see them now, and it would make it much harder. I don't know why I expect people to change after I've known them for a period of time.

Generous to a Fault

2008-06-24T11:59:00.003-05:00

This thing I've been saying lately, and I think it might be entirely true for me: You only have as much as you can give away.

Last night in my yoga class I had a rewarding realization about my practice and my life. Open your heart but watch your back.

My lumbar spine is too flexible, which has caused all sorts of interesting injuries and aches in my hips and knees and back. Because of this, I have to be careful in back- and forward-bending postures to make sure I'm not overarching or extending that part of my spine. I have to conscious think to distribute the flexibility across my whole spine, into my hamstrings and hip flexors and so forth.

I'm going on at length about this to explore the parallel for myself. A primary goal of yoga is to "open your heart", both figuratively and literally. You do this by binding your hands behind your back in forward bend, and humble warrior, separating your interstitial spaces, and lengthening your pecs, biceps, traps, and the deep muscles underneath. Eventually the hope is to give your heart and lungs more room and support from their casing.

I'm rambling on about this just to say: Watch your back. Don't bend over backward trying to give your heart away and destroy your foundation. Stretch only as far as is safe For You. It is a balance. It doesn't mean you can't push yourself some days, to love more people, love greater, and give more than the day before. But those days must be balanced with the days when you are careful with yourself, and practice your life gently.

More often than both of these days, however: before you throw away your foundation trying to Love, make sure you've got the support. Keep breathing into that back body, with just as much awareness there as in all you have to give.

The Best Part

2008-06-23T13:53:00.003-05:00

More than five months later, I still get butterflies in my stomach when he calls me. Or when I'm calling to listen to his message, or to leave him a message.

He STILL makes me nervous.

How does that Happen?

Letter to a Gatsby

2008-06-19T17:09:00.003-05:00

"As if I would write you a note before you ever left New Orleans.

The other day I went back and read the "Secret Blog" entries I have written about you and this - perhaps one day I'll share them. Likely not. But I realized it was sort of sad I had written all this about you, and little to you. So I may write you little notes until I meet someone else or am convinced you will view them as some crazy woman you used to fuck.

You surprised me yesterday when you called - and thank you. I have spent a lot of time loving and hating the uncertainty of this, and every now and then you have given me little "gifts" of clarity.

You said the other night "I have nothing to offer," and it stuck in my head. All you will ever have to offer anyone is yourself. The other stuff is both fleeting and imaginary and relative. In a way, you "did right by me" by never really offering that - because it is the vulnerability we love in other people. So, very kindly, you never let me fall in love with you. Now: I am generous to a fault and I love you - but we both know the difference. You already have everything you can ever offer anyone.

xoxo, Veritas."

Part of what I like about little cards like this one is they restrict how much you can say - really, one or two thoughts, and then you run out of real estate. I could extrapolate about this topic for a while, but it forces me to streamline it into the above.

As Heard on NPR

2008-06-18T08:30:00.002-05:00

"Everyone has fits of peak that get moralized in email."

That's how I heard it. As I read it now, it probably was "Memorialized", but I much prefer this one.

Read more at http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=91625695

The Last Weekend

2008-06-16T12:14:00.006-05:00

I got gussied up on Friday. Had a new Party Dress that I got with intention to wear it to the Gemini birthday party. Went home for a nap after work, but was still up and ready far too early. Gussied. Complete with eyeliner.

I called Gatsby to let him know; "Should I go out and buy new shoes, or can we get a cocktail?" We had a lovely nosh at Delachaise (including an incredible Valdeon: Spanish blend bleu), then hit Tip's for Bingo. I was a little disappointed with the show, to be honest - it was sub subpar for them, but the venue and the crowd (damnable free shows) make it a little more forgivable.

I drove downtown to Blue Nile for Gemini's, which I should not have done. I thought I was a grownup, right? I managed to knock my first drink all over my Adorable Party Dress. Second drink I gave to Gatsby before he drove home. He has a bit of night vision, but there is No Way I would have gotten us home in one piece. Again, I thought I was a grown up?

We went home and had amazing sex. And again the next morning. I will miss that, our evening/morning pairing.

At noon, Gatsby says to me "Let's have breakfast at Elizabeth's." Nothing sounds better to me. We take showers (poor thing had to shower at my house. He once said of my bathroom: "Does a man live here?"), throw together some real world clothes, and head out for beautifully poached eggs and pecaned bacon and mimosas. We have breakfast with the devil, who eats fruit first and pays with a gold Amex. I leave a $6.66 tip, out of coincidence (our total was $33.34) and homage. Then the devil walks home in beautiful snakeskin boots.

We take a tour of the Pilot Houses, and on the drive back into the quarter Gatsby says, "This is an awesome place." Yes it is, my dear. Yes it is.

Then off to the quarter to start drinking. We wander around, have Pimm's cups at the Napoleon House, then take a tour of my gym. Have another drink in the bar there. Only in New Orleans, my friends, does a gym have a bar in it. A full bar. And they only make one kind of smoothie.

Dinner at Coops (or perhaps that was lunch?) It was 5ish, I guess... Next it's off to the Chart Room, where we watch Round Three of the U.S. Open as well as Trixie taking home her John, Gary and George taking a stop in their carriage tour, and Chip who was looking to talk to anybody with little luck since his shirt was tucked into his briefs. We just watched everybody and made up wonderful stories.

I forget what prompted us to go to Stella. We read the menu on the way back from Coop's I guess. It was so tempting then, I guess I suggested it on our way to get Purples at Lafitte's. Those famous last words will go down in history: "We'll just get a couple appetizers."

1. Foie Gras on toast with a berry compote and roasted bananas,
2. the Most Incredible (square cut) Gnocchi that Gatsby continued to rave about into the next day; with a lobster and shrimp cream sauce and fresh fava or baby limas and corn,
3. (raw) Spearfish salad with three pepper puree and baby chard,
4. "Squash puree" that we both thought would be a mash; it was a soup of a squash our waiter defined as somewhere between butternut and pumpkin with a savory chocolate garnish,
5. then we split veal with baby vegetables.

I started with a glass of champagne to clear the palate, Gastby had a manhattan with a "real bing cherry" - none of that maraschino nonsense. Then a glass of 1978 Sauternes, recommended to complement the foie gras. I don't think I've ever drunk something older than I am: out of this world. And the bottle of white burgundy that I could still taste the next day.

Oh, and dessert! Homemade ice cream (toasted almond, fresh blueberry and cinnamon) in an ice shell, which we both thought was sugar. And the most absurdly rich "grilled cheese" of triple cream cheese and chocolate granache in a boysenberry compote.

There is nothing more incredible than the endorphin rush you get from eating incredible food and drinking outstanding wine and laughing and loving the whole night. We didn't leave the restaurant until nearly one - we have a terrific habit of closing down restaurants that I will miss very much - and after a brief stop at Mimi's to dance with the 16 year-old hipsters (when did we get so old?) I was in bed by 2am, and slept, like a rock, for twelve hours.

I have never slept past Gatsby. I rarely sleep very well with someone else in bed with me until after I'm used to them. And for whatever reason, men always sleep better than I do, even though I have slept through fire alarms and transformers exploding overnight. Sunday morning I slept through a 7 inch flash flood that made my dad call me twice. On Father's Day.

I woke at 2pm, and the bed was empty. I considered going back to bed, until I realized that I had never done such a thing before: never woken up without him in his bed. He greeted me with his standard irony-laden "Good Morning!" when I peaked out of the bedroom door. He was watching the TV on mute, and reassured me he had only just woken up.

We read last Sunday's New York Times, and watched the US Open (exciting!) (No, really, it was.) and then ate tuna fish sandwiches. I tried to seduce him while he was dicing scallions, but he's a very devoted cook. When Tiger putted a birdie to TIE Rocco, he turned off the TV, turned on some solid oldschool, took my hand and led me to the bedroom.

"Great minds think alike," I said.

I fully intended to go to a Father's Day barbecue, but instead made a final stab at the crossword while we watched the Celtics lose to the Lakers (I called it!), and finally went home at 11ish.

"Thank you for a wonderful weekend," he said before I left. I had just been thinking the same thing. Thank you for the most wonderful 5-month weekend I've ever had.

The 100th Post

2008-06-09T08:29:00.002-05:00

Today I am grateful.

And I am also 100% myself. I finally realized that was the secret with this Gatsby stuff. I have played by his rules this whole time... or at least, I've been learning his rules.

I adore him. And I am the most honest person - and its time to start saying this stuff. To him, instead of anyone else.

If you think about it, I've got nothing to lose now.

Penultimate Century

2008-06-08T20:45:00.005-05:00

Gatsby is moving to Denver.

That may be all I have to say really. There's enough in that one sentence that I don't really have to parse it all out.

Doesn't Gatsby know he belongs in East Egg with all the other old money? West Egg is not the place for him. Although he says he has to return to his mountain roots. There is something to be said for natural beauty. And living near family.

And he Is Moving. End of the month, he told me yesterday. Which leaves me with one good weekend, really, since he's off for a wedding the 21st. I'm throwing a party on the 28th, which looks like it will be his going away party. Or Gone Away party. If he doesn't stay for that, he's ridiculous. I suppose I should ask him to come. What's an extra day, when your lease is up at the end of the month? Why not leave on Sunday instead of Saturday?

It all makes plenty of sense for him. I'm very empathetic about this. His family is there. He wants a job that will pay off his loans. His friends are all moved away. I'm here, yes, but so it the boozing and all that. And it's summer. That's a hard time to want to stay in New Orleans. And he's out of money. All of those things point West.

Back to the mountains, and away from me.

And yesterday I was sad and weepy and today I was angry and yelling. But not at him, at Best Friend J-, who was his usual un-sympathetic self. He usually says something to the effect of "I told you so." And yes, he did, and yes he's right, but damnit that's not what I want to hear right now.

So there it is. What to do next is kinda up in the air. Now I have a "friend" in Denver, but likely not. I am very fond of him, that's true, but I think he will have another girl on the hook within a matter of weeks. And yes, he'll never meet another Veritas, but... that is that.

That, as they says, is the Truth.

Learning

2008-06-02T21:30:00.002-05:00

I'm slowly, slowly learning. Learning that time is the only thing that will keep me from getting too attached to someone before I'm ready. Or getting attached to ideas of him instead of him.

Yoga today is about Shiva. About the destructive energy of the universe, and Shiva as "veiled destruction". Shiva is a the cosmic dancer, the Lord of the Dance. Minus the clogs. A few things to remind myself: only with a stable base are you free to fly and dance. And stability comes from opposition, it comes from balance.

The strongest stance you have, whether it's in Virabradasa II or Forearm Stand, is the inherent opposition in your body. Your legs pulling towards each other without moving. Your tailbone weighing straight down to the ground, while your head floats high to the sky. One arm pulls forward and the other pulls back, one reaching into the future and the other caressing the past. Forearm stand is just as much about pushing your arms into the ground as the ground pushing back. About setting your humerus into your shoulder socket, and the energy of your muscles pushing the opposite way into the ground.

And even in stillness there is movement.

The other night, a guy I had never met before asked me if I was in a hurry. I said 'I don't know.' He said if I didn't know, I wasn't in a hurry. And then, he asked me Why I was in such a hurry? And that's the question, again. Why am I in such a hurry? What's wrong with the 50 year plan?

Dreaming: Tired and Overwhelmed

2008-05-29T09:56:00.003-05:00

I don't think I am, or I certainly don't feel nearly as tired nor as overextended as I did two weeks ago, but my dreams say otherwise.

For two nights I have dreamt about being overcommitted. Last night, it was school and running late. Two nights ago, it was still school, although I had so many "extracurricular" commitments, I had to let some people down. I had bailed entirely on my schoolwork, having a typical anxiety dream about taking a final exam in a class I hadn't studied for or even attended in Months. This is a regular dream for me - showing up for class, or suddenly realizing that I am still enrolled in a class I mentally checked out of months before.

But also two nights ago I dreamt I was exhausted, the whole night. I went from one place to another, so tired - just how I felt weeks ago. Except then I remembered, in my dream, that I had been diagnosed and treated for some form of cancer (a kind of lymphoma, I think). No wonder I was tired! I was sick. And on top of being sick, I was in treatment which made me sicker and more tired and... Sweet J- was there, and was taking care of me, but mostly just encouraging me to keep doing, and disappearing when distracted the way only J- can.
--------------------

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little baffled by these two nights of recap. I was beginning to feel like I was getting better, both at not overcommitting myself AND and at adjusting to my current schedule. And obligations. Perhaps it was having my review on Tuesday -

Damnit, my boss is ridiculously demanding. She is almost absurdly demanding. I have never Not excelled, and I'm beginning to wonder if it isn't her as opposed to me. Her standards are so ridiculously high, I begin to wonder: if I can't meet them, who can? It's quite a conundrum. I also came from a work environment that was so laid back and accepting, that I wonder if I ever have been in an 'appropriate' situation. And, again, Boss says that she is hardest on me because she sees the most potential in me. And while I accept that I have room for improvement and all that, I wonder how "fair" that really is. Actually, I know it isn't fair. Perhaps its good to have someone believe so much in you - she is trying to groom me to take over for her while she's away. This is a bit of trial by fire in this year, and talk about a year of growth!

I always excelled in school, and perhaps this is why I keep dreaming about school. I am so used to doing so well, that in the times in my life when I have not done well it's such a blow to my identity and my ego that it feels like a little "failure" even when it isn't.

I am slowly learning to ask for what I need. I need the YLC to pay for my phone bill. I need a raise. And I need WATS to be over so I can focus on where my real strengths lie. Perhaps that's the rub - I was hired to do something that does not accentuate my true strengths. Or I was hired to do something without the support I need.
-------------

And then there's Gatsby. After a lovely Friday night/Saturday, I have not heard from him. And he's going out of town this weekend, and Damnit, this game is no fun anymore. I'm past this point of disinterest or waiting or whatever it is I'm supposed to be doing. Shit or get off the pot already. And while I know there are all sorts of extenuating circumstances... Tough. I'm too good to be ignored, or allowed to fall by the wayside. As Alton said in the coffeeshop, when I said I was seeing someone, He is a Lucky Man. And if he doesn't know that, shame on him. And if he knows and is unable to express it, double shame.

Some grand romantic gesture? Maybe not, but a phonecall or a thank you note would be great. Any gesture at all, really.

A Day of Rest

2008-05-26T16:11:00.004-05:00

I've been resting all weekend, really. Watching tv, cleaning a little, but mostly just lazing about. I watched good will hunting yesterday, Men in Black today. Why is it that I only watch movies I've seen before?

Today has been a typical day when I didn't quite know what I wanted to do. The days have just flowed from between my fingers, and yet the weekend has seemed to last forever. All day Saturday with Gatsby doing a lot of nothing set the pace. It was pretty lovely to just lay on the sofa and nap while he read news. And eat egg salad sandwiches. I just wish we had spent more time having sex. But perhaps that's a part of having a relationship that's beyond sexual. I mean, twice should be enough, no?

I've spent the rest of the weekend having imaginary conversation with him, and getting advice from other people about what to say and what not to say. Or whether to say anything at all.

I am in love with him, I think. I don't know what to do with that information at all. I thought I was old enough to not fall in love with people who didn't love me back. And yet, this whole situation seems like more than I've ever had to handle before. Maybe it's that he's the first "equal" I've really dated. The first one who I really liked for who he was, rather than who I wanted him to be. He is not perfect. He is not the most moral or ethical person. And he is not as generous as I, or altruistic, or romantic as I might have otherwise hoped.

J- may be right, there is never a point of no return. Or the first point is the point of no return.

I'm not sure what it is that I want, though. That's what's fascinating. I don't care, really, if he's my "boyfriend". I want him to call. I want him to make the efforts as often as I do. I want him to make plans. I want him to prove to me that there's something bigger going on here. I wonder if, looking back on that first silly horoscope interpretation, it's not true - we need to not have any expectations of each other.

I want some great romantic gesture. It's amazing that just the kiss of my hand at dinner seems like almost enough.

Dreams of Flying

2008-05-24T19:10:00.003-05:00

I keep having dreams that I'm going somewhere. Far away. Two nights ago I was going to DC for fun, but then forgot to book my return flight, then forgot I had plans with Gatsby so had to come back for the night. Then I was in the airport and had neither my itinerary nor my boarding pass. I had to go back for all of it, and then my whole family was going to Egypt or Marrakesh or somewhere far away, and the man at the currency exchange was the only one who knew anything. But he stepped in and helped me and got me straight and gave me cash and dinner.

Last night I was going to... Mexico via Canada? Who knows, I certainly didn't. I had to connect in NC and then the west coast, and I was on my way to Vancouver when I realized I didn't have my computer. So I just went home for a second; except home was my bedroom on Zimpel, just as it was before we moved out. I kept making connection after connection. But when we flew into Canada, just as you crossed the border, there were fields and fields of poppies. They were so beautiful.

Last night, I was going with the flow. I was okay that I didn't know quite what the next connection was, or when it left or if I was going to make it. I thought I'd just get bumped to the next flight. Two nights ago, I was freaked out.

I'm still not sure what this is about today. Maybe everything. I am on this path, lately. It's been very clear that I am in the midst of a journey, a growth - learning to balance and how to be. Without my medication, it gets much Much more complicated, and that's clear.

And some days I freak out because I don't know my current itinerary, or even trajectory. Then other days, like today, I am totally calm and cool with not having a plan or an agenda and just being, and enjoying it. I sat on the sofa with Gatsby today until 5pm, doing a lot of nothing. And it was lovely.

I am falling in love with him, and that's a trajectory but I haven't the faintest clue about the destination. Or even the itinerary.

The Conversation

2008-05-23T10:21:00.003-05:00

I almost had The Conversation with Gatsby, but he shut me down. I called before my dinner plans on Tuesday night because I realized I didn't want to talk about it on Friday and ruin our dinner out. But I was also avoiding it and wasn't making time to have what was becoming an important Conversation. The "What is this, and where is it going?" Conversation.

I just wanted to get it out of the way, so I called and asked if he could get a quick drink. He just woke up from a nap, he said. So instead, I brought over a bottle of bourbon. We chatted, made small talk while he made a manhattan.

I finally just said "I want you to stay." Or Maybe it was "I don't want you to leave." Bless him, he led right into "Well, after this morning's interview, I may be next great shipping magnate of New Orleans."

He dodged. He totally dodged it. Which was brilliant, because I drove over there thinking "This is going to ruin the whole thing. All the fun will be gone when I know exactly what is happen. But I need to know...."

At the same time, he told me everything I needed to hear as other conversations progressed. In the course of all that:

"I'm the most passive aggressive person on the face of the planet"
"This isn't just a sexual relationship"

And when I said, as we were falling asleep (so much for dinner) "You're going to break my heart" he said:
"I don't really think so."
"Well, I do" I said.

J's explanation for this is that he sees me as Strong, so doesn't think such a thing is possible. My current take: he likes me. He'll keep me, for now. Which, ironically, is how I feel.

Maybe I'll care at some point that I tend to be the one to make plans. I tend to be the one who calls. I tend to make the effort. As J says, Free milk is Free milk.

Fears and Fantasy

2008-05-18T17:16:00.008-05:00

After my bizarre dream the other day about Board President making strange advances and listening to me bitch about my project leaders, just got word from a friend that his wife speaks very highly of me. I've never even met her!

So that's good news.

I took a long tiring run, then worked in the garden, and am exhausted. The exhaustion is leading to sadness, unfortunately. I'm not as sad or overwhelmed as last week, but I'm also back on meds and halfway through my period.

Gatsby's parents have been in town. And he graduated from business school yesterday. And I have no idea what's going on now, except that (yet again) after a week of being ok with not seeing him, I really want to again. His mom is still here, although the rest of the gang left today, I believe.

After being pushed in all sorts of directions by so many people... I really like him. That's not news, really, but it makes itself more and more clear. I don't want him to leave New Orleans; I was, in fact, so excited by the prospect of him having an interview in New Orleans that when I told J- and he teased me by saying "You love him and you're going to marry him," I couldn't do anything but grin stupidly.

I have all sorts of fantasies about what the future holds with this thing. I don't want him to be a "boyfriend", because I fear that makes me complacent and expectant and I'll lose the excitement and fun we've had. But I want to see him more often, and I want him to want to see me more often.

It was the other night, sleeping with him, and suddenly understanding when an ex- said one night that he loved the way my breath smelled. I love the way Gatsby snores, and how his breath smells and how he cuddles the bottom of my feet with his. Love the way he always holds me when we're sleeping; if I roll over so does he. And I think he did genuinely like the handkerchiefs, although even if he didn't he faked it pretty well.

I'm trying not to let my fantasies of the future get too carried away. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't falling in love with him. I almost want him to leave New Orleans, or leave me, or tell me he doesn't want kids - just because I know its easier to walk away now than later. Not inviting me to meet his parents almost let me off the hook... and I guess I'm still afraid to put my foot down and ask the real questions and hold him to something. Ironically, I'm afraid if I do he'll reject me outright: much more frightening than the implicit rejection of not introducing me to his parents. I still don't trust him further than Brunch, and that's a problem. I don't know if it has anything to do with him, or if it's all me.

Since the last two men I've dated haven't wanted me when they got close. And yes, in hindsight, I don't want to be with them either. Looking back, I can't even imagine WHY I would have.

And maybe I'm still looking in the wrong places......

Anxiety Dream. Just Maybe?

2008-05-13T07:44:00.004-05:00

I came home, and the fleas had led to caterpillars, spiders, roaches, and the occasional scorpion in my bed. They were behind the mattress, so I could theoretically sleep in it, but..... I went searching for bug spray. Everywhere. Didn't want to leave the house, and started searching. Married Young Mom E- came over, I asked her if she had any - I think I didn't want to buy any. Something.

In the midst of all this, the sun is coming up, and people are all over the neighborhood. They start just coming in the house, and I spend the next two hours keeping people out of the house. They sneak in anyway they can, including climbing under concrete to slip into the front room (different house, obviously). I stand on them, do anything I can. They are fearless and impossible to reason with.

---

So I guess I'm anxious. The bugs are thematic for me; just under the surface and I can't find a way to kill them. Not sure what all the people in my business are... except trying to serve too many masters. Perhaps Mom is right that I'm forgiving of everybody else without being forgiving of myself. And perhaps this is just what the next 6 weeks will be like. Almost 5 weeks. Patience.

Here she comes again...

2008-04-20T12:17:00.004-05:00

So it's been one of those weekends. Haven't had it this bad in a while.

My body is scheduled to start the big P on Tuesday. Left the house yesterday only to workout with Sue, then returned to my pjs. This morning I successfully went to the grocery, and then came home. And am, again, back in pjs.

Stupid Gatsby called at nearly midnight last night in response to me "I want to spend all morning in bed with you" - and reported it was 'disappointing' that I had already gone to bed. Yes, dear, for both of us. I promptly had a dream about going to his house in the middle of the night in my nightgown. With drunk friends, including Jackie D-. How odd.

I don't know why laying in bed with another breathing human being would make me feel better, it just would. Or maybe it wouldn't, and I'm just setting up for more disappointment. I'm having a hard time getting excited for Jazzfest or anything, really.

This is it, folks. This is depression. It's not really all that fun.

So I've done half the dishes. And yesterday I halfway sanded the front door. Maybe I'll finish something today. Or maybe I'll just go back to bed. I have, indeed, started drinking already. So at least THAT's Healthy, right?

*sigh*

Cleaning House

2008-04-05T22:48:00.002-05:00

I went to sleep at 10pm last night. At 3, I was awoken by a truly apocalyptic thunderstorm. Then I slept til 3pm.

I suppose the sleep did me good. Although I'm hoping it won't keep me up tonight. Gatsby told me he felt "wrecked" yesterday - but he seemed to be recovering quite well. Perhaps it was something we ate. Or drank. Or whatever it was.

Today I walked to get the car, saw some friends, and came home to clean up. I have a list 13 lines long of all the adult tasks I have to do, including my taxes and talking to my insurance agent. Ugh. I cleaned the house and drank champagne and watched The Godfather.

About an hour ago I laid on the couch, reading my grandmother's poetry and weeping. I put on Gatsby's shirt he lent me two days ago, and I wish he were here to sleep with me, curled up against my back all night. It will be days before I see him, for sure - and I am tired. I have 11 long weeks ahead of me, although I hope I get this all wrapped up very shortly. I at least hope I get it down to a science of sorts. Or at least, well-rehearsed. Perhaps mom is right, perhaps I have to stay all night.

I certainly need to visit the drug dealer, Dr. R. And get more rest. And workout again. Get new running shoes.

And weeping is probably good for me. Wearing his shirt. Knowing that I cannot trust him and might like to all the same.

Ah the irony!

2008-03-24T22:28:00.001-05:00

My last serious boyfriend sold boxes. What went in the boxes? Amunition.

The guy I dated after him is now selling coffins.

Spring Cleaning

2008-03-23T20:20:00.003-05:00

Happy Easter, everybody.

I am at the end of day 2 of a 3-day liquid fast. Fruit and vegetable juices, broths and all that. I just accidentally ate the pinenuts in my lebanese iced tea. So clearly, I'm quite hardcore about this.

I have spent a rather rejuvenating weekend cleaning things out. The closet. The garden. My colon. Well, not really, but.. that is the point of all of this after all.

I have not cleaned out my emotional nonsense, really. Except to realize and admit that I really do like Gatsby. Last I saw him, I broke a Baccarat tumbler. And I was perfectly happy to replace it. Its little Baccarat box is tied up with grosgrain ribbon.

And Okie (AKA TrainWreck) told me that his friends have said he is a different person this last month. She wants me to believe it's me. I think I want to believe it's me too.

I like him. I genuinely like him. He's been gone for a week and it feels like a month. And yet, I don't know him that well at all. I don't know him well enough to know where I stand. At all. The last night we spent together, the sex was amazing (again). But it was amazing in a new way; in the I'm About To Cry way. And I know what that means. That is the sign that I am falling for him, but through my vagina instead of my heart. Not really the best way of going about it.

The sex stopped being recreational. It started having consequences before he left for China. And I wonder if it will be different now? Now that he's been in China for two weeks. I suppose he's about to learn how he really feels about me, since I think I've realized something about him. I miss him. Well, no. Because a week is how long I usually go without seeing him. I simply want to see him. And I really don't want to have to wait for a week. More than a week, really, I'm afraid. I do not think he is coming to the party, and then it's the week and...

Couldn't he send a fucking postcard?

And yet... and yet. I love me. I love my friends. I have a very full life that will not be empty without him or anyone else. I guess I'm realizing that I just might be willing to make a little room for him, in this busy little calendar of mine.

2008-03-10T16:09:00.001-05:00

2600 danneel @ 4pm every afternoon. They drag a table into the street and play great cards

All In The Timing

2008-03-07T07:06:00.003-06:00

After fondly remembering my Gatsby date last Sunday all week, I woke up this morning thinking I was being had. He was using me, or playing me, or whatever other gerund you can find to describe this feeling. He's shagging at least one other girl, I think in my head. Why wouldn't he? What else would he fill his empty graduate school days with?

And I knew when I sent him my oh-so-clever thank you card it was to encourage a response from him. But I got it, and probably in short order...

Am I just in a hurry? I have always been in a hurry, that's clear. But is this no exception? I've been so proud of myself for just relaxing and taking it as it comes, and all of a sudden I realize:

I care. I care if he likes me. I kinda even care where it's going, although I have given up on trying to predict the future. I like him. I enjoy his company, and the sex is outstanding. I am not sure how I actually feel about Him... re: Using his powers for good or evil. But I still want to know that I'm not being used as some sex slave around for his enjoyment.

Although, I guess this runs both ways, right? I have been >this close< to calling him for a quickie in these last few days.

The jury is still out on this one. I did, however, have drinks with The Republican last night. And I think I am slowly getting better with all this. Each one seems an improvement on the last.. and I am editing out The Silver Man and all the duds.

Verdict for Saturday night? Rock out with the girls.

Mardi Gras 2008.2

2008-02-24T14:12:00.004-06:00

So things just kept getting more interesting.

Sweet M, The Carpenter, did call me, was interested, but I told him my Not Dating story. Texted it to him, actually, which I know is very Lame on my part. But he proceeded to call me on pain killers at 2 o'clock in the morning. And has again, weeks later, started calling me again. Every time he calls he leaves marathon messages, the first inquiring if I had any work for him. My empathetic self would offer it if I did, but the sane part of me says Don't give this guy Any hint of interest.

Then there was The Great Gatsby (S-, previously mentioned). He continued to haunt me the week after I met him, until we exchanged poetically-inspired emails and he got my number.

Saturday was Endymion. And it was back in MidCity, which was thrilling. So I decided that I should have a party at my house - at 9:30 in the morning. We went through bottles of vodka and nigh on a case of champagne in the end, I think... And had omelets made to order. My new girlfriend, The Train Wreck, came and we ended up spending all day together. Made our way to parties closer to the route, and ended up dancing in the neutral ground on Orleans, but totally abandoned the Parade. After all that, it didn't really matter. Saw C- and his new Girl, and was happy to see them and they were confused, at best. C'est la vie. Then went to a party in an old converted gas station with TrainWreck, and we had a lovely time and I left early and she began her love affair with a 50 y/o artist. I think it's totally reasonable, but she's 30 and... well, you know.

Sunday. Sunday I made it to The Old Southern Family's yearly Thoth party, and had a grand ol' time. Prom Date came by, and we all hung out together, as we always do... but by the end of the parade the Married Darlings (S&A) were sleeping, so PromDate and I set out on our own. I had had a bit to drink at this point, and kept drinking and we made it, after one party stop, to my friend the Cyclist's house on St. Charles. I proceeded to get more drunk, and all of a sudden I'm making out with my Prom Date. It took 10 years. (!) I mean, really. Watched the superbowl, slept through the 3rd quarter, and eventually made it home.

So Monday was supposed to be a day of rest, right? This is what I had advised Great Gatsby, and why did I not take my own advice? Went to a "Masquerade" party at The King Pin with TrainWreck. I'm sitting at the bar, and can't figure out how I know this guy, and I ask after him and finally, as he's walking inside I just say "How do I know you?" This is a trick that Oldest Friend N- taught me, but I've never used it as a trick. Note to self: It works. He and I ended up chatting all night and then I want to the parade with him and he was a lovely guy with some interesting (read: strippers) but lovely friends. And I went home with him. *sigh* We eventually figured out we work out at the same gym. So Gym Guy at least listened when I said No sex, but that didn't keep him from coming on my stomach. Fair enough. No real damage done. I have seen him at the gym a couple times since... but still haven't mustered the courage to say hello. It's remarkable to me: I don't actually want to date him or get to know him, so saying anything seems pointless.

So then Tuesday rolls around. Whew. Tuesday. I dress up as Nancy Sinatra without realizing it, and head down for St. Ann's with enough rations of alcohol to get myself started. At Marcus's House I meet Silver Man, who makes me laugh and quizzes me about American History. I take a photo of him somewhere along the route and go on my way.

An Aside: I love doing Mardi Gras day this way. I loved being free to go where the wind took me, and to meet people or not. It gave me a freedom to walk around and talk
to all sorts of people and meet friends and end up on a balcony at the pontalba.

So the middle of the day is blurry - I think we went from there back to frenchmen street, and finally found the Krewe of St. Ann's, and there was Krewe du Jieux and all my other lovelies and favorites for the day. I was pretty pleased and satisfied at 2pm when I got a call from... none other than the Great Gatsby. At this point, my giddiness finally pops the last safety pin that has been keeping the back of this vintage dress that is older than I am together. I am changed immediately into a little puddle of sweet happy girlishness. He is coming down to the Quarter, he says. I should meet him. All of this sounds very good to me.

I hang tight til about 5. At this point, I'm with Oldest Friend and her boy and my de facto New Year's Eve date (sweet boy that he was, is now dressed in GREAT drag) - listening to crazy music at CheckPoint. Finally, I get the call from GG, although I have almost gone home about 20 minutes before. Thank heavens I stuck it out.

I walk down to Lafitte's, with a brief stop at R Bar to say hello to Pumpkin Boy, and settle in with GG and his un-costumed B-school friends. They are... boring, to be honest. I encourage the adorable wife of one of them to dance with me, my back hanging out... and we take lovely photos of the hilarious couple to our right. They are both 100+pounds overweight, he in drag, and she in a plus-size cheerleader costume. Apparently, they are divorced since he came out. Ha!

It doesn't take long for Gatsby and I to make our way through 2+ "purples" (frozen grain alcohol and sugar - UGH)... and then we go home. To my house, which is a disaster, but I didn't really care at that point. He skipped class the next day and I didn't make it to work until 3pm. I left him with a bj that deserved a standing ovation. I was very proud. We walked across town to my car, then I drove him home... all the way very cloudy-headed from all the drinking and dehydration.

It was a brilliant carnival time. Now, 2 weeks later, I am still loving the story of it, and pleased that I did only have sex with one of them. Dates with Silver Man have come and gone. He thinks we "really connect", I know it's not right. Prom Date finally tried to ask me out. I have to have that conversation with him. Gym Guy and I have parted ways permanently. Although it was fun. If either of us wanted to see each other again, we could. To be quite honest, he's just not smart enough.

And then there's Gatsby. We had another perfect night & day last weekend. He came for a Sazerac, and then we had brunch the next morning at Degas and walked on the bayou and spent all day at the Track betting on ponies. I lost a bet about Alligators being bigger than Crocodiles, and have promised him dinner at Patois. And I can't wait. The first week I was practically casual about it. I knew I'd see him again... and now my hormones are getting the best of me and I have come about 70% of the way to calling him after a cocktail for a quick one. And yet, both times, I've thought better of it.

There is something special about him - no, that's not right. There is something special about us together. We are both infectious, both have a sparkle and make each other vaguely intoxicated. I am truly curious to see how it will end, although I think I already know. I don't trust that anything real will come of it - and I have said as much to him. But in the meantime, I love spending time with him, love how much fun we have together, love how he touches me, and how great the sex is.

I just keep judging myself for having this purely casual relationship with someone who has the most potential to be absolutely perfect for me as anyone I've met, maybe ever. But maybe, just maybe, that's ok for now. That may be all I can handle right now.

Mardi Gras 2008.1

2008-01-28T20:54:00.000-06:00

As this blog nears one year old, I am reminded of why I started writing it. At a post-MG party about a year ago, my friend S charged me with writing a blog of what it was like to be the sober one in our group of friends. Alas. How far we've come.

My friend B- had a party on Saturday, to celebrate the beginning of Mardi Gras. I intended to go for the day parades, go home, throw together a costume, and head off to a party at J & R's house: the artist. Instead, I stay at B-s all day... go out for night parades, because it's that time again. By the time we get back at the end of the parade, they're playing some raucous drinking game. Chandeliers, or something. It's some variant of quarters that doesn't require a whole lot of thought, but is remarkably fun (as opposed to the regular quarter, imho).

They ask where we're going next, and I say, Fat Harrys, because if we go anywhere else I have to drive, and if I'm driving I'm going home. I end up there with S-; when did we connect? I don't remember. At that point, I had been drinking for nearly 12 hours, so needless to say my short term memory was pretty nearly shot. After an hour at the bar, he leans in to kiss me, and shortly after we're on our way home.

We both say we won't sleep together. I lay down the rules about no clothes coming off, no Sex, no anything.

*sigh*

He wears me down.

And then, it was lovely, to be quite honest. We talked the next day, in between sessions of great sex. Smart and fun and funny.... and I begin to realize what I knew when I let him in: I've blown this. If I had wanted to see him again, I would have stood strong. Maybe next time I'll learn not to go "back to my place."

And here I am, 24 hours later, still regretting it a little but also trying to figure out if I'm really unhappy about it. I'm not sure what I would have done differently. I am learning things about myself; I have no desire to sleep with anyone only once. I could take a lover, but I'm not interested in one-night stands.

But then, after C-, I wonder if I could even handle that? I can't control how I feel about things, or about people; that's against the point, right? I've learned that I have these control issues, but when will I learn there's gotta be another way to do this?

Perhaps if I had gotten laid more recently? But isn't 2 months a healthy period? It is, I thought. It's the drinking; the alcohol is what does it. And now, looking back, oh so vaguely, at last carnival (wasn't that the 3 different men in 5 days?)... and I begin to realize why maybe I stopped drinking for 40 days.

Only time will tell. And patience. And a little less alcohol, maybe.

Or maybe....... just maybe... it's all just fun and games until someone loses an eye?

Carnival 2008

2008-01-20T15:30:00.000-06:00

it's started again.

Against my best intentions, i have been out three nights in a row, staying busy, meeting people and being (perhaps?) the center of attention. Or maybe i'm just the center of my own attention.

Met m- last night. Nice guy, very smart, interesting interests (ha!), but am Not dating. I wonder how I'll explain that to him when he calls. Which he will.

There is a little fear that I might be missing something. What an interesting fear it is. What if I meet someone in the this time who is The One? Is that the fear? When will I realize that Time is part of what makes someone right. So far, the time hasn't been right with any of them.

Saw H last night - how wonderful! I adore her and she me and it is nice to occasionally reinforce that we are soul mates and will be 'together forever' as strange as that sounds, and ... how lovely. How just really lovely.

And despite "not dating" I am still reading CL, including personals (!). I don't know why I'm doing that. Am I just keeping the hope alive here? Keeping these little disney fantasies alive and awake in my head?

Anyway... there is more to clean and do and Be Productive. Hungover though I may be.

My Craigslist Missed Connection

2008-01-15T21:17:00.000-06:00

I want to post it. Just don't have the balls.

"My Coffeeshop Boyfriend M4W - Poydras"

I come to see you almost everyday. You, along with the caffeine, give me an afternoon pick me up. I've all but fired my neighborhood coffeeshop because I like seeing you. We couldn't ever really date, could we? I love your attitude and how grownup you seem, even though I have no idea how old you are.

Thanks for brightening my days. I'm hoping the only reason you haven't made a move is because you'd be fired for hitting on a customer.

If I'm not crazy and you like me too, tell me what I drink.

Losing Friends

2008-01-15T19:41:00.000-06:00

It's been an interesting (and busy) first two weeks of this year.

Started the new job, which has taken up a ton of my time, but I'm really enjoying it and I find myself looking forward to work in the morning. It's been a ridiculously long time since that's happened. I'm working hard to balance my time, but the prioritization is coming, if slowly. I keep having to remind myself of the difference between what I have to do and what I want to do. And to remind myself that sometimes I'll be late to the office and if that's my biggest flaw, then so be it. New boss A- put something in my personnel file this morning, which I fear was a note that I was late. But perhaps it was an email from Board Member A or M that I went above and beyond the call of duty this weekend.

But I still keep coming back to this thing that happened with J, now a solid month ago. Other friend J hurt her enough for her to really never talk to me again. Just realized she deleted me as a friend on facebook. The last time I did it, it was S-, who I have since readded.

I realize that I made a mistake, but the volume of her reaction is so huge.. I'm not sure how to process it. I hurt her feelings terribly, so much so that she has doubted the entire fabric of our friendship enough to sacrifice it entirely. It was as if I had made the remark. I don't know... is this me trying to control everybody? I told C, you can only treat people with respect, and let people feel how they'll feel. Am I really that much more forgiving? And isn't part of a friendship getting past the part you struggle with? I'm not Jewish, and that was part of what she appreciated, but now she's realizing that I don't understand a lot of what she goes through. Her Jewishness is more important than our friendship, I guess.

There's one line of her email that keeps ringing through to me, that makes it easier for me to let go, I guess... "His ignorant remark only made him look ridiculous and ignorant to an educated person like myself." This sounds... like high school to me? I kinda want to tell her to get over herself a little.

But I hate that it means I lost a friend.

Now, with time, C- I understand. We never really were friends. We spent some time, and shared moments or whatever, but weren't really friends. To me, one of the things that comes with friendship is working through things like this - I have gone over and over again to her side, trying to understand where she's coming from. As giving and generous and kind as she can be, I haven't seen her do that for me once. I don't see her trying to understand where I'm coming from.

And yet, I still find it hard to let her go. There were so many things that I loved sharing with her, and I miss that. This is not to say I will not have other friends, but it's the first time I've ever really been dumped by a friend. I guess it was bound to happen sometime. But it's hard to get used to.

Lower Nint' World

2008-01-06T17:09:00.000-06:00

It doesn't get any easier.

Went to Brad Pitt's little pink village in the lower 9th world. Ward. World.

Driving across Claiborne on Forstall, and walking in past the Common Ground center, it does feel like the Lower 9th World. We're a 9th World Country. There are still make shift community centers with bottled water and hand-painted signs. It feels like it's no different than it was 2 years ago, walking through my childhood neighborhood and seeing uniformed soldiers walking in formation. With uzis.

Today walking past what used to be a neighborhood that is now an overrun field with the occasional concrete slab that has been dressed up with pepto pink pipe and drape... really? Is this supposed to make us feel better?

And does rebuilding the ninth ward make sense? There was one, no two, "real" families there today. One was in their house, working. It was brick, and like the third little pig's house, it's still standing. In the midst of devastation dressed up in magenta plastic. But as I was leaving, there they were, gathering up and going home, to where they really slept at night, and they were the only people there who felt real.

The rest of the neighborhood is abandoned. There are structures that are now falling down, after two years of weather on top of the Queen of all Weather. Walking through those streets, just another observer, witness, tourist, voyeur - all I could do was weep. There's a beautiful tombstone, brand new, carved in pure white marble, honoring a married couple who perished at "Sunset August 29, 2005."

I remembered today that I will tell my children that I lived through the greatest natural (or government-made) disaster in the history of this country. And I stayed. And half my family was proud, and the other half tried to talk me out of it. Out of love for me, they try to convince me to go to a "normal" place.

And today is Twelfth Night. Here we go again. Epiphany. The end of the holiday season and the beginning of Carnival. I missed the Phunny Phorty Phellows because I wasn't feeling very Phunny, phrankly. I made barbeque pork for sandwiches for the BCS championship game tomorrow, from the leftover suckling pig I roasted on New Year's Day.

Epiphany. I'm waiting.

2007-12-28T11:07:00.000-06:00

dream. Changed my own oil. Grate for house and earring. Saw chris, couldn't help ourselves. He came and left.

2007-12-26T15:08:00.000-06:00

'what do you intend to do with the property once you demolish it?' 'throw it away.'

2007-12-23T13:32:00.001-06:00

smart and final. Faster donuts. And ugly everything.

2007-12-22T23:52:00.000-06:00

perfectly coifed poodle with perfectly flumoxed owners. LAX is an asylum.

2007-12-21T22:21:00.000-06:00

me neither, i say. What's that about?

2007-12-21T20:52:00.000-06:00

what do people have against reality?

2007-12-21T20:11:00.001-06:00

'i don't think it's over,' J says to me. A republican can be converted. I don't want it to be over, I say. 'i don't know what that's based on,'

2007-12-20T19:59:00.000-06:00

Last night was fantastic. Went to meet friend B, who I haven't seen in forever, then a cocktail party/meeting for my new job. Saw a guy I went to high school with who I've had a crush on since he lived across the street from my ex. Wore a killer mini skirt, and my legs looked great and I looked great and felt great and was workin' it and... I was on the way home and J called, turns out he had tickets to Kermit's birthday party at HOB. Went there, rocked out, danced, saw N, who bought us a beer. I was at home in bed by midnight and thrilled.

Today, I was tired and sad and dropped right back down again. The drinking is something, for sure. And I didn't really eat dinner. And forgot my meds this morning. I'm still thinking about C-, but manage to restrain myself from calling or texting or whatever. I can make it until Jan 1. Or whenever.

And I'll have a party for Endymion. And everything will be great - but DAMNIT, I find myself waiting for something, and feeling not quite right, instead of just being happy with where I am and what I've got. Why must I always look forward to something? Maybe my brain just needs a nap.

Hibernation

2007-12-17T10:04:00.001-06:00

What a bizarre weekend. I should focus on the people and the time that made me reassured in the great friends and friendships I have. And the honesty of the people in my life. J and S are so terrific... and we had the best Saturday night ever.

But then the party for J on Friday, and girlfriend J took a comment the wrong way and... I just don't want to deal with it?

And yesterday I went to go watch the stupid football game with stupid C... And then sweet little R came in, in her little santa hat and arm warmers and all of a sudden it became very clear what was actually going on here. And he started seeing her before we "broke up" and when I realized THAT at 1am after waking up from the vague drunkenness, boy was I furious. Texted him, and he called. Twice, in his defense.

And he apologized. And should he get a gold star? I told him it wasn't smart for me to be friends with him now. Which it isn't. It might not be smart at all for me to be friends with someone who either "doesn't have the balls, or isn't grown up enough" to do the right thing. Which was to Tell me about her before I met her in a bar.

And he told me I did the "right" thing - which was to stay and be cool and whatever and not leave and blah. Fuck that, frankly. I probably should have left, should have gone off to whole foods, except I was so drunk by that point..... And I did go back to see the other boy, to flirt with him, but he was 100% and he could see it all over me or us or whatever. "I would have flirted with you, but I'm very bad at it, and there's clearly something very Weird going on here that I don't want to get into the middle of." "Me neither," I said.

And I forgive C, sure. As I told him, I forgave him as soon as I could tell him I was angry. But it might not be smart to have a friend who'd do that? He doesn't think about other people? Is that it? Is he just so selfish that there's no consideration at all? Perhaps that's it. Regardless, right now, the negatives are outweighing the positives. It's no fun to compete with another girl when I already know I've lost.

Especially when she's an idiot who doesn't know that the Red Sox can't play the Saints, or that Minneapolis is in Minnesota. Are you kidding me?

And yet, she's got "Namaste" as her religious beliefs on Facebook, and I did like her, she's a sweetheart and ... but, c'mon. Indianapolis. The name of the state is right there.

Oh, and did I mention I was his 50th, and "the best sex in recent memory?" Fuck that, man. Fuck that.

Letting Go

2007-12-12T16:50:00.001-06:00

So this I don't understand.

I spent 2 weeks trying to play it cool with C. I knew he wasn't the cats pajamas, but I liked him and liked spending time with him. I knew it too, when he wasn't treating me right, and somehow avoiding me and ... And when we had the conversation 10 days ago when I said "If you want to see me, see me. If you don't, don't," I barely heard from him for a week. That was a pretty clear message to me, right? Right. I knew it was over. It was just a trial, and it was clear that we weren't right.

And then a week later, I ran into him at a bar on my side of town, and we hung out and had a great time, but when he walked me to my car and tried to kiss me goodnight... I turned the other cheek, as they say. He tried to go in again, and said 'C'mon, gimme a kiss." I simply asked, "Why?"

I was furious that he had left me hanging for a week. I'm still angry he didn't realize that would hurt my feelings. The non-kiss did make him call me, and spit out the scary words "Let's just be friends." I'm great, he says. I'm fantastic. He loves how we are together. He's just "Not ready."

I said I respected that. And I do. And when he asked me to lunch the next day, I told him it wasn't a good idea. And it wasn't. And it wasn't a good idea for me to go over there today.

And damnit, it's not a good idea for me to still be texting him all day. Do I need the drama? Is that the way this is? Do I need something to be thinking about? Do I need a BOY to be thinking about? I guess I've always had it... since I was in Kindergarten, I can almost trace for you the crushes and the "this is who I was thinking abouts." And the relationships, failed though many of them were.

I'm secretly hoping that now that we aren't dating, we'll both just be ourselves. And ironically, let our guard down. Which I sorta have. I guess it's incredibly dangerous to do that when he probably isn't. Since that's what he wasn't ready to do. And that's clear.

I do want to help people. And I do like him, and I do think it's important to help people through what I went through. I wanted to help J.S., would have helped S-, and here comes this next one. No, I don't want to change you. I just want you to be who you are.

That may be the problem. How could I possibly know who any of them were? How could I know who C is? He may not even know. And maybe Brother J is right: Maybe there is this penumbra; but that just makes me hope he's on the cusp of it.

It is so easy to stick around when you already know what's going to happen. I already know it's not going to work, so I'm somehow safer with the devil I know. I've grown so used to having the secret hope - and kidding myself into it.

But it makes me so sad to have to let go of it.

2007-12-11T18:16:00.000-06:00

take me as i am

RAAAAGH!

2007-12-03T15:00:00.001-06:00

I am so tired of this. I'm so ANGRY. I'm frustrated at everybody for getting their panties in a bunch about NOTHING.

The girls are freaking about what the musical will be, when I've got bigger fish to fry.

Every time I come into ex- ex-work, they seem to be afraid that everything will fall apart without me. I have too many responsibilities to hold their GODDAMNED hand anymore!

I have eight lists running in my head, and the stupid boy is STUPID and I probably should just fire him and move along.

The fact of the matter is, he doesn't express his feelings for me in a way I get. Maybe that will change? Maybe not. After feeling frustrated and left in the lurch all weekend (and him waiting for me to say something?), I laid out the: you don't fuck me, you tease me, and you don't call. So what should I think? Really, should I just assume you like me because you grace me with your presence? How fucking delightful of you.

Maybe J is right, maybe I should just cut him loose if he can't appreciate what he's got. Or doesn't care to spend time with me. She's right: I deserve someone who, even though he has plans, wants to see me the rest of the time. He asked me what I meant by "casual dating"... "If this is casual dating..."

But we're also talking about a man who's never been in a relationship longer than 6 month. He doesn't know what that means. 6 months is his version of serious. Don't know how much credibility I can give to someone who's not stuck around past that point. Even if he has been betrayed. Perhaps the women he dated went out in search of what they weren't getting from him?

Maybe I do want his validation. Reassurance. I know that I deserve what I asked for yesterday, and frankly I shouldn't have had to ask for it.

And I just went on a tour of a building that I don't think I'll work on. Or work in. I think they need someone over my head, and I don't believe in raising money for an artist zoo built by people who DO NOT live in reality.

And my Grandmother died today.

Better stay away from people I like.

Impatience

2007-11-28T09:04:00.000-06:00

I'm tired of waiting for everything!

But it's not really that. I spent all day yesterday on my way from one thing to another. I have felt overwhelmingly lately like I am living in limbo, in the midst of life, not able to exhale. My anxiety level rises, and I get crazy. Is it just hormones? Is it the holidays?

I suppose it could always be both. I am tired of trying to figure out what it is, though, since knowing doesn't always help. It's half the battle, yes, but the other half is DOING something about it. And that is how I have felt helpless lately.

C- is ... fine. You date a boy for a month, and you don't know a lot about him. I feel like he knows even less about me - and it's partially because he doesn't ask. He's either waiting for me to volunteer information, or he's not as interested as he pretended to be. In so many ways there are so many good things about us - but it is the Us I'm unsure about. I feel like I can't let go around him. I feel always on my toes which makes me much less interesting than I think I am naturally. I'm afraid of being wrong - afraid he'll call me out or walk away or .. any of that.

I think he and I are both afraid of what might come. Doesn't mean that WE are what might come, but if the sex is any indication... And i continue to be fascinated that he's dreaming about me. I haven't been tracking the dreams of late, but I'm pretty certain he's not been in any of them.

I feel like I'm living with 4 lists, slowly figure out which to do, what to prioritize. And the thing is, I'm not unhappy. But I have been anxious. And Anxious is my 2nd least favorite feeling, second only to depressed.

I think, in the end, I am not spending enough time with myself, for myself. Cleaning the house was a great effort and great energy. And the car. And I'm really proud of myself for maintaining that.

I have not spent enough time with myself. Writing. One must write. Even if it's only little bits here and there for myself. I think I may return to writing the novel. Perhaps I will write each chapter for a different man I know, with all their bizarre makeup.

I am stretched far with all the things I'm doing, and it's going to work, I'm just not being patient enough with myself. I keep expecting myself to know immediately, to adapt immediately, to respond immediately. This is a learning curve, with all of this. And it's ok for me to not know what I'm doing just yet.

2007-11-18T10:05:00.001-06:00

baby and her sister. So tiny but confused the two. Sweet angels.

Dream

2007-11-18T10:04:00.001-06:00

It was opening day at the race track. I had friends who worked there, and I walked down the day before, and snuck in - I may have even climbed through a window. I kept walking around pretending I belonged there, but afraid I would be found out. I think I may have been, in the end. I was talking to my friends, and watching them set up... all of that. They were getting ready for an art opening.

What about S's mom? I saw her... my ex's mother. From 2 years ago. She's crazy, to say the least, and was as much of the reason I left him as anything else. She was yelling at me; it was as if I was in trouble for something. She bought blinds? I had to return them? I don't remember the details.

Then we went to the art opening on the day of - I ran into my best from K. C dated her in highschool, so it was a slightly awkward situation. Years have passed, all of that, but it's still odd. K walked in with her "new husband" (who is not her husband - they were the perfect suburban couple instead of being who they actually are). K was pregnant - very pregnant! I realized how long it had been since I had seen her. I walked out of the room, and walked back in to see C laying across a table, or a bench, head rested on his hand, lounging sideways. He was wearing a hawaiian print shirt and striped pants - the loudest of island wear. He was talking to K and her husband, just cutting up. I was embarrassed of him, and wanted to rescue them from him.

Then I went to a party that T&A were hosting - it was out on the gulf. There was some sort of boat being raffled. I went swimming in gulf and got perfectly sunburned - it was in a perfect U shape around my chest - but it was because of the water?

Decisions

2007-10-29T16:50:00.001-05:00

For the first time in my life, I'm actually dating more than one guy at a time.

So the trick here is: Is it possible to give honest attention to more than one person at a time? Is it possible not to favor one over the other? That seems to be the real issue.

I find myself favoring one over the other, only to be disappointed. C & I watched the Red Sox sweep the series (Woo Hoo!) on Sunday night, had an outstanding time, and I think all is well and good. At the end of the night we both want to hang out more, so I spend the night, although we do not Do It. And I'm thinking... OK, this just might work. And then I think "Poor B, (who I met on Saturday night), who I think thought I really liked," but A is enough to give him a run for his money.

Let's be frank: B picked me up at a party: he saw something he wanted, an went to get it. There is something very intoxicating about being pursued so adamantly... about a man who takes you to an upstairs bathroom only to pull up your dress and try to have sex with you on a stranger's vanity. I mean, third base is one thing... but I know better than to ruin a good time with a one night stand, right?

That, and I didn't have protection in my purse, and I made H a promise.

And in B's defense, C was in the same position... well. Except we were laying down. Both boys get to third base... but I behave myself. And let me just tell you, C gave some pretty great head for a 26 y/o: enough to make a girl want to go out with him again, for damn sure. He did all kinds of great uterine massage... Let's just say the boy's got skillz.

But back to the matter at hand: both boys waited the prerequisite 24 hours to call me, although plans with C for yesterday got wrenched over and over again. And now I'm going out with B tonight. How do you carefully tell a boy that you already have another date?

No matter what, I'm still afraid of being forgotten or overlooked. Still in my head rumbles around this idea that if I just "do the right thing" the boy will like me. I know I have to be ME, but the game is part of the game.

Perhaps the game just has to be the FUN of it, no? Halloween, here we come!

Chuck Perkins

2007-10-18T09:01:00.000-05:00

Heard his spoken word on WWOZ the other day, and while this isn't it, it gives you an idea. Just wish artists like this would come back to New Orleans.

Chuck Perkins
New Orleans

If your American dream is painted on a canvas
Neatly folded in the corner of Andy Warhol’s mind
New Orleans is a hurricane beating down your coast

If you close your eyes
And feel the easy ride
Of the St. Charles Street Car
Where a solo tuba
Blows the scent of magnolia
Down narrow streets
and everyone plays possum with the heat
and no one’s too big or too small
to paint their tongue with a snowball

where former slaves pay homage to the first Americans
by masking in suits of rhine stones and bright colored feathers
that transform security guards into Indian Chiefs
doing rain dances on Congo Square
where the drums drum
and the wine drink
and the big chief sing
somebody give me a quarter
cause pretty big chief want some water

if you can envision the souls of yesterday
living in the music
that rises from the cracks in the sidewalks
New Orleans is your dream
With a heart as soft
As the spanish moss
Dripping from centuries old oak tress

She’s a pretty face with dirty feet
The good witch of lake Ponchartrain
The spice god of shrimp and crawfish
Keeping the spirits fed

Communities of windowless monuments
Masquerading as cemeteries
Tower above ground
No earth or worms to cover the flesh
No silver bullets to turn out the spirits
That still dance with her

Spin your umbrella
And wave your bandanna
It’s Mardi Gras time
And everybody’s happy

Armed with a blue print of civilization
The new world stormed in
With enough asphalt and cement
To pave a boulevard back to Paris

the spirit of the swamp still hasn’t submitted
Leaving mildewed kisses of disapproval
On every thing foreign to the wet lands

Catholicism could not turn out the spirit of Marie Laveau
The wrecking ball could not turn out the spirit of Storyville
And death could not turn out the spirit of Louie Armstrong
When yesterday hangs on to forever
Tradition is a temple.

Chuck Perkins

2007-10-17T11:11:00.000-05:00

I'm in a hurry.

The problem with being in a hurry is I'm not ready. I had that final realization over the weekend: I'm not ready to meet someone new. I'm not totally ready for a job that will take over my life and be "the most fulfilling thing ever." The last time all that happened I got pretty overwhelmed and nearly had a little breakdown when it all came crashing down.

When S- left, I was crushed. I cried for a week. I didn't eat, and then I did again. Isn't that always the way? Once I got far enough away, I started meeting new people. Jumped right back in again. And now, I've got these poor boys stringing along, getting to know me and whatnot, and I'm really just foundering a little.

There's B-, the accountant. Sweet as can be, but also young and overzealous - moreso in his general life than with me. So that's fine. He knows what to say, right down to the textbook "you look cute today." It's like being back in high school a little. But he's cute, and he likes me, and I like being around him. It's nice. The attention is nice.

There's C-, the .. I don't know what he does, actually. He loves music and the red sox. And we were supposed to get together, but then we didn't, and I since realized I'm not ready and the prospect of going out to meet someone new.. well. I'm tired.

Then there's P-, who is out of alphabetical order. He's asian, and repairs saxophones, and so far seems very funny. Which we like. We like funny. But he's a little older and JP is the only asian guy I've ever been attracted to... and well, he's only half-asian! Both C and P are match guys... so I haven't actually Met them, yet. But they seem like fun, I guess.

Maybe that's all I want right now; and what i"m drawn to. Fun. I'm terrified I'll get attached again, so scared to be hurt, or to lead someone on the way S did with me. He didn't intend to - he had all the best intentions, really - but he did. He ended up saying a lot of things he didn't mean in the end, or he didn't know he could mean. And I'm learning that I develop emotions about everybody I meet. I could Not do that, as J recommends, or I could simply come to terms with it and accept it and learn to live around it. Or with it.

And I can't get my hormones on track and work is hard and life is harder and I need to get paid. Guess I'm just bitching today, huh? I guess that's why I write it down. Need to get it out.

The short story is: I'm trying to give myself permission to simply live my life, without expectations. Make the best decisions I can right now, and find a way to live according to my own internal ethics. It's the only way to really be both successful and fulfilled, I guess.

I Thought I Was Ready

2007-09-26T13:10:00.000-05:00

So the boy left me last week. I wish I could explain it, or go into more detail, but that's all that happened. We were together, and in the beginning it was beautiful. And then... it wasn't. It's stopped being. He lost interest. And it's not anybody's fault, I guess, but it sure as hell feels lousy. As I said to my mother "I just want a break. I've done all this work, and everybody tells me I'm great - so why does this keep happening to me?"

Last tuesday morning, he found time in his busy schedule to see me and tell me it was over. We exchanged belongings, and I commenced weeping for a week. Made it through the weekend. He was out of town. He sent me a text message over the weekend, asking how Friday's services (yom kippur) were. I thought "What's going on here? What does he want from me?" Maybe he's missing me, maybe something's changed again. Maybe...

Not. On Monday, we had a frightening exchange, in which it was clear that the opposite of love really is indifference. Getting together "just isn't a top priority" for him. So when I told him to lose my number, he said "What if I have questions for you? What is this, a one-way street?" Yes, I said. When you lose 5 pounds and cry every day for a week, then we'll talk about one way streets.

And Monday Sucked.

And Tuesday was hard.

And today, Wednesday, at lunch, I was talking about him/it, and realized that it simply is what it is. I keep realizing this. I keep realizing that there are all sorts of explanations, the most likely is that he had too much to handle emotionally and so just cut some of it out. I felt the same overwhelming way - but instead cut out the job stress instead of the love stress.

In the end, he made his choice: and it wasn't me.

So I was feeling good at lunch, although on Monday I deleted him from my life: my myspace, facebook, gmail chat, phonebook... I didn't burn things, and I don't return gifts, but I have tried to clear my consciousness of him.

I thought I was ok. And then I looked at his myspace, and wondered what he was "anticipating" and became terrified it was another woman: had he moved on so quickly? He had "meetings" tonight and tomorrow: were they dates?

Why am I still so wrapped up in this?

Clearly I was wrong for him, and therefore he for me - whether right now or ever, it doesn't matter because right now is all I've got - but why is it even more devastating when someone could move on so quickly?

Devastating.

And I don't even know if he has.

2007-09-18T17:37:00.001-05:00

Thing that fall together unexpectedly also fall apart.

2007-09-18T14:43:00.000-05:00

only in new orleans do you see the musician-coffee shop owner you know riding a vespa with his legs crossed

Labor Day

2007-09-04T20:13:00.000-05:00

This is back to old times. Fo' sho.

Yesterday morning, my good girlfriend S calls me and says she wants to go out to breakfast. I oblige. Nothing like a good omelet first thing in the morning to start a holiday.

So she comes to get me, we go to this great little breakfast joint, and run into her personal trainer, who consequently joins us. We all talk about how everybody is depressed lately. (Sidenote: a friend tried to convince me this had something to do with Saturn today; not that it has anything to do with the 2nd Anniversary of the Thing).

At the end of breakfast, S says, c'mon, let's go to the beach.

I told her before I wasn't going, but something about that moment... "Sure. Vamanos a la playa."

So we hop in the car, about 10am, and drive to the beach. Florabama, specifically. Because Pass Christian is just a little too close.

We get to the Florabama bar, have some lunch, and go out to the parking lot where we run into fellow New Orleanians, in full costume. They're 2-degree friends of S, and therefore mine. So we chat with them, exchange some Hot Damn and Pucker, and then offer to us our own costumes! S takes the sailor suit, I take the prison stripes, and off we go. Santa, Security guard, Boy Scout, escaped mexican, and then prisoner and sailor. The Security Guard dug himself a hole in the sand, while the sailor built a sand sculpture of Santa.

Ahhhh. Vacation.

Tonight

2007-08-31T21:48:00.000-05:00

Tonight I officially became grownup.

I went out with friends, and had three glasses of wine.

And after three glasses of wine and more dinner than I should have had, I was still far too toasted to drive. Too toasted to walk, even, really. Not that I couldn't walk, I was just far too tired.

So I took a taxi.

And tomorrow I'll walk the 2 miles to my car, and I'll call it exercise.

When did I become a grownup?

Dream

2007-08-31T06:38:00.001-05:00

So I officially quit the new job. And realized how good a salesman my boss is. But I still stayed strong, and thank god I had talked to my folks, including dad who predicted the exact tactic that R- would use.

But don't forget the dream that he talked to the "higher ups" and then went back to 30 days. Said it wasn't reasonable for me to only do two weeks.

This man is not to be trusted - my subconscious knows it, and knows he is a controlling manipulator. It's not a healthy relationship for me, and I'm out. 2 weeks and counting.

Giving up?

2007-08-28T09:23:00.001-05:00

So after nearly three weeks of deliberation and trying and weeping and feeling lousy, I sent a massive text this morning: "I think I'm going to quit my job."

I feel like I've surrendered. Half of me. The other half asks "why should I be miserable?" Yes, I have to find a better way to deal with conflict and be less sensitive, especially at work, but nobody said I had to be miserable doing it.

And at the same ironic time, knowing I'm willing to quit makes it easier to go in today. Almost lets me off the hook: whatever happens happens. And you can't change a situation until you can see it for what it is.

R has a way of disarming me. I'm afraid to talk freely to him - I'm constantly on guard. A lot of that comes from getting such a harsh email from him after the first day of trying so hard to please him.

Maybe the problem is that 90% of this job is about making him happy, and I simply don't care to do that anymore. I stopped kow towing to people who were hurtful to me a long time ago. Or at least I made a promise to myself that I would.

And while its terrifying to set out on a new path (again!) and not knowing what the next stepping stone is, I'd rather be happy and confused balancing on one foot looking, than miserable and mired.

Or I'm making a huge mistake and will default my mortgage and be living in a cardboard box within a year. There's always that.

Dreams about Controllers

2007-08-26T09:31:00.001-05:00

I had somehow become involved with a controlling, abusive man. I realized I couldn't go anywhere without his permission, and he had cut me off from all my friends, etc. He was a polygamist, and was physically abusive to his other, smaller girlfriend. I watched him throw her from the roof of where he kept us.

I finally realized that the only way to get out was simply not to come home at night. I was allowed to go out for work, and I just didn't go back. I was terrified he would hunt me down and find me, and I did everything in my power to stay away from him. My car was towed because of a neighborhood parade, and then I ran into like a surrogate family... they took great care of me, and offered to drive me where I needed to, and then their car was also towed. We also had to go downtown to get the cars out - but when we got there, hundreds of people were ahead of us. I realized it was the beginning of carnival season, and the city was ramping up for it.

In the end, it turned out this man was some sort of religious fanatic - they had started a sect of episcopalianism or something equivalent that was very exclusive, rude, elitist (white), but also tortured people and animals - animals especially. They killed small animals, kittens and cats, for the sport of it, after very arbitrary selection.

I could see him from far away after I left, but I was genuinely afraid of him, and afraid of what he might do to me. And I couldn't believe I had gotten into that situation - because he seemed so kind in the beginning and did all the right things.

How scary is it, after 2 glasses of wine, that your mind combines the two frustrating relationships in your head and brings them to their worst possible end? Although, the good news is I did get out, despite the loss of control (car).

It all works out in the end.

Boundaries

2007-08-24T19:43:00.000-05:00

So six weeks into a new relationship and 2 weeks into the new job, I'm learning the importance of No.

But it's more complicated than No. KLC had a great way of phrasing with her own nightmare boss: "If I take on this project, then I won't get X done." Makes it a lot easier to give them a choice rather than an ultimatum. What a brilliant idea.

So "I can't give this much and not get in return. My feelings for you might change if I keep this up."

and

"I won't be as effective in this position if I don't have downtime."

Been doing well enough, and laying down the law with R helped, of course I didn't do it in the best way. With S- it's harder. I don't want to leave him alone, because I know he needs someone, and I have to admit I need to be needed. But I also need to be able to relax, let go, and give my stress away. He has too much of his own to take it.

Even though I've backed off, and told him I would back off, but I'm still leaving presents on the stoop. It's partially because I know he needs it. But also because I want him to work through this and get back to me. I can't make him change. And I know he wants to change; but I can love him, I guess.

Just lately, I haven't felt like I loved him so much.

2007-08-08T14:36:00.001-05:00

I love that the palm trees on carrollton arc away from the oaks for light. How did i never notice that before?