Thursday, January 31, 2008

Home Sick

I went home sick yesterday. But I had to return to work at 2:00 for a 30 minute mandatory meeting. So I did. With a scowl on my face, but I did. In the meeting was P, the guy I went out with a couple of times a year ago. I knew he was still working in the building, but this was the first time I had been in the same room with him, so I did what any mature person would do when they run into someone they dated in the past: I ignored him.

To be fair, he ignored me too, but alas, this happy circumstance cannot continue. I will during the session have to interact with him at some point, so I guess tomorrow I'll send him an email to the effect of: "Sorry I didn't say hi the other day. I was feeling under the weather and wasn't in the mood to deal with people. Still, it was good to see you again. We'll have to catch up sometime."

What do you think? Sound mature enough? I don't hate him; I just squirm at the thought of him. He did, after all, practically smother me, both emotionally and physically. He was on the second date talking about having children and buying a house together, etc. A month after I dumped him, he sent me an email to tell me he was now dating a girl at work and they were talking about buying a condo together. So I was mildly surprised to see that he wasn't wearing a wedding ring yet. Of course, in his mind, "they" could have been talking about buying a condo when in reality he was talking and she was cringing, as was the case with us.

At any rate, he's not the worst guy from my past to have to work with. That would be a tie between Crazy Andy and the Big X.

And I'm home sick again today. It's either a cold or a sinus infection; whatever it is, the cough syrup with vicodin sure is doing the trick!

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

Days Since Mission Accomplished--1734; Days Before Mister Accomplished Leaves the White House--365

(I got that title from DailyKos; I'm not clever enough to think of it myself.)

Stacy called me last night around 9:30 and when I said hello, she said, "Are you listening to this bullshit??" I thought she was calling because something horrible had happened to her at work and she wanted to rant, so I told her to go ahead and tell me about it. Turns out she was listening to the State of the Union and was assuming I was too, which I normally would have been except I had my niece last night and I chose not to subject her to such drivel.

Stacy was calling me because she knew that whatever Bush was saying, he was either lying or there was another side to it, and she always relies on me to explain anything political to her. Unfortunately for her, this one time, I was not up on the most current goings-on, so I promised to learn about the SOTUS today and give her a call tonight so I can explain why her outrage was justified.

So far I've come up with:
  • The "economic stimulus" of giving every American a one-time check for approximately $500 is like putting a band aid on a stab wound to the stomach--sure, it might look like it's helping for about 2 seconds, but meanwhile, you're still bleeding to death. But at least you'll have $500 to buy a new Wii or iPhone this Summer.
  • The quote about why we need to go to war with Iran is virtually word for word what he said a few years back about why we needed to go to war with Iraq. Nuclear capabilities, supporting terrorists, blah blah blah, I don't have any more troops and I'm calling back 50-year-old fat guys who've been out of the Army for 20 years to serve again and I'm using the National Guard to fight in Iraq so they aren't available to help with national crises like Kansas's tornado devastation last year. Yeah, let's go to war with Iran too.
  • No Child Left Behind (aka No School Board Left Standing, about which W said, "No one can deny its results" and there was audible laughter from the audience in response to this line)
  • Health Savings Accounts as a solution to our national health care crisis (because the reason no one has health insurance is because no one ever told them to save money before, not because they don't have the money to save...and don't get me started on how we're the only industrialized nation in the world that does not have some form of universal health care)
  • But here's something I actually sort of agreed with him about: We do have to cut pork barrel spending. For those of you who don't live and breathe politics, this is when Congressmen (women) add line items to bills, the purpose of said line items being to bring back (usually) one-time cash grants to states or local governments, usually for capital improvement projects, such as paving roads or building schools. People get upset about this because federal money goes to something that is not of national benefit. In its worst form, things like the Bridge to Nowhere result. I don't think pork barrel spending in and of itself is bad, but it is too often abused.

Sigh...okay, enough about politics. I know I rarely venture into them here, but sometimes I just can't help it. I promise tomorrow to write something completely personal, as usual.

Monday, January 28, 2008

Misc. Monday Thoughts

I had a nice weekend. Friday I went out with Rose, and I spent Saturday and Sunday with the MF. Mike and I made up too; I made him promise never to pull that crap again, and I think I'm also getting a free dinner out of the deal.

Mike read one of my posts here about the MF and his response to me was that it's a good thing the MF doesn't read this thing, because if it was him, he'd be pretty mad at being referred to as MF. Apparently, Mike had not read the first couple of posts in which I shortened Man Friend to MF and he thought it was an abbreviation for motherfucker. He agreed after I explained, that Man Friend was not such a bad thing to be called.

Today my friend Raquel started work in my building. She works in a different department on a different floor, but it is still very exciting to have a good friend in the building. We've made plans to eat lunch outdoors in the Springtime, and to go over to Bushnell Park after work in the Summer to hear the free concerts and have some wine. Sadly, there is nothing much fun to do when there is snow on the ground in Hartford so all my happy daydreams must wait until the weather turns warmer.

Friday, January 25, 2008

I'll Think of a Clever Title When I'm Not So Tired...

Mike got really, really drunk last night and texted me like 18 times. I was on the phone with him I think 3 times. I believe the last communication was around 2:30 AM. Meanwhile, I was in bed with the MF...and had work in the AM. I was not happy. . The MF was not happy.

Details later.

Monday, January 21, 2008

I Get Gradually More Angry Because It's MLK Day

So oh boy was probably a bit of an exaggeration in hindsight; I'm just feeling a little overwhelmed right now. Two of my friends are in serious need of help all of a sudden, in a way in which I can't do much but encourage them to get it. They both are suddenly very much in the middle of some serious depression. They both have completely different lives but the reasons for their depression I think are actually quite similar.

They've both been isolating themselves and have developed very low self-esteem, a lot of which has to do with feeling completely alone. They've been wanting and (to different degrees) pursuing a relationship with people of the opposite sex but it has not been working out.

(Okay, I am sitting in a local cafe writing this while doing my laundry, and this is the first time I've been in here when a child has also been here. I like kids as a rule but this girl has started throwing one of those screaming, stomping, all-out tantrums that so many parents think it is perfectly acceptable nowadays to allow them to have in public. If I pulled that shit when I was a kid, my mom would have dragged me out of the restaurant kicking and screaming and dealt with me in the privacy of the car or something, so as not to disturb the other diners. This mother, however, like so many nowadays, just sat there and tried using her nicey-nice voice to calm the girl down, which was so not working, so then she just continued her adult conversation while the kid screamed herself out for another couple of minutes. My mom would not have allowed me to walk all over her like that and her reaction to such a fit on my part would be the complete opposite of nicey-nice. She would have scared the crap out of me so I'd stop and then she would have yelled at me for acting like a jackass in public. But lately moms seem too caught up in making their kids like them and not doing anything that might upset the kids any more than they might already be. And this is why the world is full of brats right now.)

But I digress...

The friends. Anyway, whatever some of the immediate causes of their depression, it is a vicious circle where they don't feel up to going out and seeing people so they sit on the couch and mope in front of the tv, because of which they feel worthless and upset because they never go out. I know. I was there before. There are undoubtedly several other underlying reasons why they got to this point which will require a shrink to figure out, and (as is so often the case) by the time it's gotten to this point where they and the people around them recognize what is going on, it's pretty damn bad.

Okay, I just went across the way to move my clothes from the washers to the dryers, and I left my purse directly behind me because my washers were on opposite sides of the aisle so I was between them and some dude that works there came up and started yelling at me because someone could come by and snatch my bag. Was he right? Yes. I was turning around every time someone approached to keep an eye on it but yes, if it wasn't actually being held in my hands I suppose I could have had it stolen. Did I need the public embarrassment of him screaming at me about it in front of everyone in the laundromat? Fuck no. Then as I was getting change out of the change machine, he started screaming at some dude to get the hell out of the store before he called the cops. At this point, some other white girl was leaving and she turned to me and said, "See, that's why you hold tight to your purse at all times." I was so incredibly pissed. I'm not some fucking idiot. I was quite aware of my purse and anyone who approached it. HOWEVER, it was impossible for me to hold onto the purse while reaching into the gigantor washer and pulling out the wet clothes into the basket. I am an adult who has somehow managed to live in the city this long without ever having my purse snatched, and maybe it's because I actually know what I'm doing or maybe it's because I'm lucky but either way, I am thirty fucking two years old and don't need to be yelled at by some laundromat attendant.

Phew. Deep breath. Digressing again. Suffice it to say, I miss when I was unemployed and could do my laundry at 2 in the afternoon on a weekday that everyone else didn't have off so no one but me and 3 other people were in the place. And when I came over to Tisane to sit and have coffee or a drink while my clothes dried, there wasn't a screaming two-year-old giving me a headache. Basically, my life would be so much nicer at this particular moment if I was still unemployed and didn't have to do my laundry on a holiday when everyone else has the day off too.

The depressed friends...I wish there was more I could do to help them besides just listen and tell them to get help, but there really isn't. I'm not smart enough to be their therapist. Too frustrated with the world right now to think any more on the nuances of the situation. I think I need to switch from coffee to wine right now and try to calm down, because now the yuppie couple sitting next to me is annoying the shit out of me and that is just stupid on my part because this place is full of yuppies; that's half the reason I come here.

Oh Boy...

Just oh boy.

Wednesday, January 16, 2008

Frigging Guys

The MF came home on Saturday and we spent time together then and Monday. He brought me a book and a very pretty necklace and earring set from India. The book, No Full Stops in India, is by a British journalist who lives in India, and it is a collection of essays that touch on different aspects of Indian society and culture. I started it last night, and it’s bringing back some things I had forgotten I knew about the country and at the same time showing me how much I still have to learn. The MF also mentioned that he’s reading another book about India that he’d like to lend to me when he’s done. I like that he wants me to learn about his country.

I am very happy with him but cautious. I wish we had never had the Conversation about not moving too quickly (that part I was fine about) and him not wanting to hurt me (that is the part that concerns me) because now I’m probably overly concerned that he will hurt me so I am holding back in a way that is hard to explain. I’ve talked this through with a couple of friends because what it comes down to is definitions, the biggest one right now being, are we or are we not exclusive to each other at this point?

I had a couple of other guys pursuing me when I first met him, and right at the time it would have been inappropriate and silly to say to them, “Hey, I’ve been on one date with this guy and I have a good feeling about him so I can’t talk to you anymore.” Then a week or two went by and we had seen each other several times so at that point I probably would have said to the other two guys, “I’ve started seeing someone and it might turn serious so I want to see where it goes and I’ll contact you if it doesn’t work out and blah blah blah . . .”

But the pesky Conversation happened and it made me cautious because what does that mean, he doesn’t want to hurt me? Does it mean he needs to take things slow? Does it mean he’s still seeing other girls (which would have been perfectly understandable at the time)? Does it mean he doesn’t see the possibility of a future with me and knows this is just temporary (which again would have been ok if I knew that was what he meant and knew it up front)? Or any number of other possibilities, which because I hate those conversations, it didn’t even occur to me at the time to bring up.

At any rate, when the MF left for India, we had not put any sort of definition or label to what we were doing, and these other guys were still pursuing me and I didn’t know what to do. So I talked with a couple of friends and of course everyone had their own opinion—some felt that if it had not been specifically stated that we would not date other people, I would be stupid to not keep my options open and I shouldn’t feel guilty about going out with other guys when he was gone; others felt that if they had been seeing someone for three weeks that it was sort of implied that they were exclusive and they’d be really pissed if they found out that there was dating of other people going on. I, of course, being the consummate love ‘em and leave ‘em type up until now, have no personal experience in this matter from which to draw.

So the situation remained unresolved and I still talked to the other guys but tried to keep them at arm’s length so that we didn’t get to the point of a first date before the MF returned, thinking that when he did, we could clarify things then. Well, the truth is, one of the guys did push for a first date soon after New Year’s and I tentatively agreed but then put off finalizing plans so we never ended up going. But these guys are still talking to me, clearly with the hopes that getting to know me will result in a romantic situation. And I still haven’t dashed those hopes. And I still haven’t had the conversation with the MF about frigging definitions. Because I hate the fact that we have to even have definitions and I especially hate having to talk about all that squishy stuff.

Also because of the Conversation. I sort of decided that since he brought that stuff up, I would not talk about anything resembling moving forward/defining things/(insert here any other term you can think of that may cause someone who wants to take things slowly to panic), that I would let him set the pace for now and bring that sort of stuff up the next time whenever he was ready. But that leaves me still stringing along these other two guys, and I’m realizing the main reason I’m doing that now is out of fear—fear that he is seeing other women or doesn’t see this going anywhere or something like that; fear that if I cut off these other options—they are both perfectly nice guys or I wouldn’t still be talking to them—he’s not making that same level of commitment to me or he’s thinking that there is an end in sight here, and I’m going to be alone again in a few weeks or a month and will have passed up on these other two opportunities in the meantime.

Of course, the most telling conversation I had with friends about this while the MF was gone was with Rose. She asked me, “Do you want to go out with either of these other guys romantically?”

“Not anymore,” I said. “Right now I’m only comparing them to the MF and I’d rather be spending time with him.”

So she told me that I’m not really missing out on any opportunities here because my mind isn’t in the right place to start anything with these other guys right now anyway. And yet, I’m still afraid because of everything else I’ve written in this post. I told you, I frigging hate dealing with feelings and labeling things and all the technical crap that goes along with trying to be with someone that you sort of like and might want to see a future with someday if you can successfully navigate all this other crap in between here and there and still end up liking each other.

Frigging guys.

Wednesday, January 09, 2008

I Re-enter the Working World

I am no longer gainfully unemployed. Sadly, I had to end my long, self-imposed vacation from the working world. Today is my third day back to work full-time, and don't get me wrong--I am grateful for the job, as I was soon to be kicked out onto the street for not paying rent if I didn't find income soon--but I do miss my days of couch-laying, book-reading, Netflix-watching laziness.

You know those people who retire and then say, "Gee, I'm so bored! I don't know what to do with myself!" That will not be me. I will always have a talent for filling my days with nothingness, given the opportunity. For instance, my blog entries had become more frequent of late. Sadly, now I have not had the energy these last few nights to write that other post I had wanted to about defining things with men.

I do like my job so far; my co-workers seem nice, and despite the fact that I have FOUR bosses, I am pretty independent in what I'm doing. Soon, I will have a bunch of temporary employees working for me as we head into our busy season so that will be nice, as I always enjoy bossing someone around at work. And this summer, I will have the ability to take lots of time off. I even think by the end of the week, I may be caught up enough at work to begin figuring out how to screw off sometimes. And tonight, I might just get relaxed enough to start posting good stuff here again, rather than this stream-of-consciousness blather I'm posting at 7:30 this morning because I woke up early and couldn't get back to sleep.

Saturday, January 05, 2008

Grieving Alone

When the Big X and I broke up, my dad was at a loss as to what to do, how to help me. He (like most fathers, I'm sure) was never comfortable with my love life. So he left me alone mostly. The trouble was, I was not just getting over a boyfriend; I was also just beginning to deal with the fact that we had been told that my mother was dying. My dad shared his grief with my sisters and tried to help them with theirs, but I for the most part was exempt from sharing my pain with him. Consequently, that was how I learned to deal with what was going on with my mother for the three years since then. On my own.

Friends were somewhat helpful, but only somewhat. The couple of short term boyfriends I had were also only somewhat helpful. The biggest problem, what would anger me even, was everyone else's lack of acceptance. Hell, when I was still with the Big X, even he wouldn't accept what I was telling him. The worst was last July, when we were told she was going to finally die. Everyone else around me who was not in the family--their way of "helping" was to try to convince me that it wasn't true. How could the doctors just tell you you're going to die, soon, and there is nothing left to do? It was inconceivable to them--I think because if it wasn't true for my mom, for me, then it could never happen to anyone they loved. If no one else had to hurt like this, then that meant they would never have to, either.

Honestly what I needed most right then, those few nights in July of last summer between the day that the cardiologist told my mother that she was going to die, and we got the same opinion from the oncologist--and the surgeon--and the rounds doctor at the hospital, and anyone else at all . . . what I needed most those few nights between that day and the day my mother died was for just one person who wasn't in my family to accept that all hope was lost and to just hold me.

What I got was friends who meant well frantically asking second opinions of their cousin's brother-in-law who was an oncologist or their uncle's best friend whose wife had cancer ten years ago, as if we hadn't already tried every possible outlet. Or people like Crazy Andy, my boyfriend at the time, who just blindly would not accept that it was even possible for someone my mother's age to just die while under all these doctors' care. Didn't they think it was hard enough for me to get to that point of acceptance, without having to try to talk all of them into accepting the truth as well?

Here we were, at the end of a three-year road, my mother laying in a hospital bed because she could no longer swallow anything, not even water, without aspirating (choking, for those of you fortunate enough not to have had to learn all the lingo). And even if we fed her intravenously (which is what we ended up doing for the remaining days), she could aspirate on her own spit. And even if none of that happened, let us not forget the rapidly growing tumor in her heart that would soon stop her blood from flowing and kill her that way. And no, they couldn't just operate. Everything is not like a Grey's Anatomy episode. There was still the lesions on her liver, on the bones in both arms, the new ones forming on her lungs, on her back. The shadows in the scans of her brain that soon would become tumors as well.

We--and when I say we I mean my mother--had fought this fucker for three goddamn years; we had beat all the odds. She should have been dead in 2005. The doctors had just been winging it for the past 2 years because nobody had ever made it that long. But last July, this fucker won, and I just needed someone who would accept me, accept my pain, and not try to make it better. There just is no making it better sometimes. And I didn't get that, so I guess the beginning, back in January 2005, where my best friend left me and my family couldn't help me, was good training for the end as well. I dealt with it alone.

* * *

I was thinking of all this stuff because tonight I used my mother's death as an excuse to my father for why I didn't want the Grandmonster coming to my birthday dinner next Sunday. I told him that since this will be my first birthday without Mom, that I just want it to be the immediate family, that I think it's going to be hard for me, and I don't want any extra people. It's not an excuse entirely; I do think it will be hard for me, and I do think that with the Grandmonster there it would be that much harder. That is entirely true. However, I also have never wanted the Grandmonster at these things; I just now have a valid reason to use that won't hurt my father's feelings.

So I was thinking on my drive home after I talked to my dad about that, and all these thoughts I've written down tonight ran through my head. And one other one. I haven't talked much at all with my new Man Friend about my mother, but I'm sure he's put it all together by now, or at least the big pieces. And that's kind of the point--I never had to sit down and have this big talk with him where I told him all about the pain that was my life these last three years. He just took the parts I told him and accepted them. I know, of course, that accepting this is all much easier once my mother has died, but still the way he is about it helps a lot. I don't have to feel like I have to explain everything; it just is.

There was once in the three weeks we've spent together that I cried about it. I had been telling him a story that was supposed to be funny but when I got to the point where my mom was dying of cancer, it suddenly wasn't funny. And I got a little bit weepy--not big all-out bawling, just sort of silently leaking a few tears. And he didn't say a word; he held me and touched me and kissed me and just let it be. And in a minute, it was over. I don't have any clue if he even has any idea how much that was the perfect thing for him to do in that moment; probably, he just didn't know what the hell he was supposed to say so he didn't say anything.

But whatever his reasoning for that was, it doesn't matter to me. It was just what I needed.

Wednesday, January 02, 2008

Man Friend Feelings

I've got two things I want to write here about the new guy, to whom a couple of my friends have been referring as my Man Friend. First I want to talk about the idea of feelings--chemistry, love at first sight, etc., and second I want to talk about defining things. These are two completely different things in a relationship, though it would seem that one goes hand in hand with the other. For today, I'm going to write about feelings; the other will have to wait til tomorrow.

I don't believe in love at first sight. I believe in lust at first sight, in instant chemistry. I believe in knowing after you first meet someone that you really like them and want to know them more. But love I think takes time to grow. So I don't love my Man Friend, god no. I don't mean that to sound like I'm repulsed by the idea; I think in time I could grow to love him, but it is ridiculous and immature to think that within just a few weeks I would be in love with him.

The first night, at the end of our date, in the middle of all the kissing, I told him I like him. And I have said it several times since. I have said, in the heat of passion, that I love his . . . ahem . . . (insert penis euphemism here). That is the closest I have come. I am reminded of a dream I had about a year and a half ago. What I know I feel is that I miss him. He's been gone for about a week and a half now, and he'll be back in another week and a half. I liked him more at the end of our 3 weeks together than I did at the beginning; he is definitely growing on me. So yes, I can see where one day I might love him.

But I had a dream that he came back and told me he loved me right away, and I . . . was silent. I'm just not there yet. The good news is that, in the dream, I did not flip out like I did when P. started talking about moving in together, or when the Musician said he was being exclusive to me and wanted a picture of us together "as a couple". I'm not scared of how he might feel toward me, and I'm not scared at the idea that someday I might love him and be in a real, long-term relationship. I'm also hopeful about things--hopeful that this one might take. You know, so long as it takes slowly.

So my feelings for my Man Friend right now? Like. Comfortable like. Mixed with hope. And I want him to come home. And that, my friends, is a big step for me.

Tuesday, January 01, 2008

A Short Missive on Deception

I just finished reading a book I picked up to keep me busy during the holiday, gods in Alabama. It was much better than I expected, with actual themes and symbolism and foreshadowing involved. I was just looking for a little brain candy to keep me busy for a few days, but I lucked out. Anyway, one of the themes of the book was different ways of being dishonest. The protagonist (fancy word, huh? You'd think I'd wasted 4 years of my life getting a degree in English or something...)....ahem. The protagonist for complex reasons involving rape and murder makes a promise to God that she will not tell a lie ever again, and she doesn't for ten years. Ever. Not once, does she tell a lie (not even "No, that dress doesn't make you look fat"). Instead she perfects the art of dishonesty by omission, by selective truth-telling, by careful wording. The author seems to be positing that in many ways a straight-forward lie is less deceptive and less hurtful than this deception by pointedly, cleverly, carefully not lying.

I don't know; that's a bit of a stretch for me, but...I do both--though I notice I engage in the dishonesty by selective truth-telling whenever I sense a risk of being caught. That way I can always fall back on the technical argument that I did not lie. Though that is the essence of it--I'm trying to get off on a technicality. And everyone hates someone who gets off on a technicality, probably more than someone who is proven guilty. Because everyone knows that the one that got off did the same thing as the one who was found guilty; it's just that the one that got off outsmarted us. So we hate him more than the other guy, even though they actually did the same thing, because he did it better.

Who knows, maybe that was Joshilyn Jackson's point when she wrote gods in Alabama--not that it is less deceptive and less hurtful to tell the straight-forward lie, but that if you're going to get the same result either way--dishonesty--that you might as well do it the straightforward way, because at least then people will hate you less.