Someone for Everyone

I love Lost. I absolutely LOVE the show Lost. Last nights episode was probably the best one yet of the season…and not just for the eye candy. See…in addition to great writing and the fact that you never know what kind of weird twist is coming next the one thing that I absolutely love about Lost is the number of extremely good looking ruffians that populate the cast. The show is nothing but eye candy for us lady lovers of the “bad boy”. See the young man in the forefront of the above picture. THAT is my kind of man. The things I want to do to him would shame a veteran prostitute.

Funny enough…he looks a lot like my William. I miss William. We had an interesting night on Saturday. Interesting, confusing, weird, unexpected, wish it had never happened kind of night on Saturday. I haven’t heard from him since then and I’m still trying to process the whole evening. The fact of the matter is…I have been beating myself up over Saturday. Was he wrong? Was I wrong? I don’t know. All I know is that I am not proud of what happened. We are all allowed to “fuck up” now and again…but I don’t take personal failure well. I see what happened on Saturday as a personal failure.

A couple of posts ago I mentioned that I was going to start therapy. Well…it’s not like I don’t already have a “therapist” of sorts. Enter my trainer, Darkus. Darkus is around 50…give or take a few years. He’s an enormous ex-football player who provides for me, in addition to killer workouts and deep tissue massage, “fatherly advice”. D, as I call him, has been in a solid relationship for going on 10 plus years now…but it wasn’t always that way. He has had his share of family and relationship dysfunction so in between sets, as he works out any kinks that have developed since the last time I met with him, I use him as a sounding board. This morning I caught him up on all that has been going on with Will and I…much of it left OFF the blog. He laughed. He told me that we are fine…that we are normal. He told me that this is how all healthy relationships start… that the most important thing is that we communicate with each other. And…we do. I don’t always like what Will has to tell me, and I don’t always like what Will does, but…he has never left me in the dark, and as far as I know he has never lied to me...even when he may have wanted to. I explained to D, in gory detail, the events of Saturday night. I expected a chastising but what I got is D’s laughter. “Baby girl” he said “that kind of thing happens all the time…I’ve had that happen to me…he’ll call you…and I doubt he is mad at you…the person he is most likely mad at is himself.” He further went on to say “Just keep doing what you’re doing…keep letting him know that you’re there for him and that you’re not like the women he is used to…and he’ll learn…all men need to be trained but the good news is…we like it when you ladies take the time to do so.” He told me some other things. Some things I didn’t want to hear…some things that make me nervous. Other than to say that he assured me that I have nothing to worry about I’ll be keeping those things off the blog as well.

Other than that, life is good. My paper is coming along nicely and today is February 29th. A day that happens only once every four years and as I like to say “One year from today doesn’t exist...so anything you do today didn’t really happen!"

So…I didn’t really post this picture of the other piece of Lost eye candy I like to feast my eyes upon…


Nor did I post this one for all the ladies that like a cleaner cut type of man...


P.S. You can have this one…bleh!

I Feel Love...

Last night I worked for a bit…went to the gym…stopped by the store …and finally made it home by 9pm. As I was putting together my veggie/pasta/chicken whatever I had in the fridge mix in some marinara sauce meal Paul put this concert on his brand spanking new HD TV jacked into his killer sound system set-up. It was JUST what I needed to bring me out of my funk and get my tail feather shaking. Chop, dance, stir, dance, sing-a-long, forget that you’re not actually alone and just feel gooood!

How can you help but dance? Venus rocks about 3 minutes into the video but I had to select the one with the intro. Far be it for me to shun Devo and Ozzy…

I Feel Love, Blue Man Group w/ Venus Hum

This, That, and So Much More

I just don’t even know what to write at the moment but I have to. I have to write. I have to tap out words and thoughts if only to hear that comforting clickety clack sound that is so soothing to the writer in me. I begin this post with no purpose and no direction...only a burn to write something anything nothing. So many things on my mind but it all seems so cloudy…so unsure. It was an emotional weekend, to say the least. All things important to me, from my work to my family to my romance feel like a roller coaster ride from which there is no escape.

I had a heart to heart with my boss on Friday in which we discussed my future and what I need to do to achieve my goals. Which perceptions I have about what I need to do to get there are on track and which are not. I get the feeling that he is behind me…that he supports me…but I’m still not sure he hears me. I still think he’s going to push me to reach for stars I have no interest in reaching for. I worry that I will disappoint him. But for the time being we are back on track. We are communicating and I have a renewed interest in what I need to accomplish in order to finish. Perhaps this is because he gave me some tangible goals…lit a fire under my butt as they say. I will admit…I’ve felt a bit like a fish out of water flippity flip flapping around wondering what this new substance filling my gills is. Water having been replaced by oxygen I have felt choked, trapped, fearful of the prospect of a life I have no interest in. I had withdrawn from the whole process. Ready to drop everything and move to Montana to work the night shift at Denny’s…unnoticed…unknown. But I steel myself for the long road ahead, for the doubts and insecurities inherent in pursuing any sort of higher education. A little bit creative…a little bit analytical…a whole lot neurotic…we scientists are a therapists wet dream.

And while we are on the topic of my neurotic state of being lets discuss the last few days.

It was my mothers’ birthday on Sunday. I called only to wish her a happy day and found myself dumping on her all the dark thoughts and feelings that have pre-occupied my mind these past couple of months. I asked her if she knew what borderline personality is. She did. I then asked her what she thought of a borderline diagnosis for my father. She agreed with me. She said she had considered the possibility herself. She asked me if I were OK. I was honest with her when I told her no. I am not OK. I am simply not. I am angry and I’ve been angry. I apologized to her for all of the things I have said and done over the years. For all the blame I placed on her for the situation. That, while I intellectually knew that she was doing for us the best that she thought she could…that I sometimes wished she had been more confident…more bold. I told her that I have been very mad at her for so many things that aren’t really her fault, but that I’m not anymore. I still have resentments, and when she told me she wished I’d had a better childhood I said I wished I’d simply been allowed to be a child. I never was and at almost 35 years of age I am tired. I am tired of being an adult. I don’t even know what it is like to be “care-free”. Does anyone? Do I mourn for a childhood that exists only in sentimental movies about little girls entering “best of show” contests while daddy cheers on from the sidelines? I don’t know…and it doesn’t really matter. This is my existence. This is my reality. This is me.

And people think its all about the boy…

And the boy…well…the boy figures into it, but not so much as one might expect. People ask me about it and I don’t know what to say. Surprisingly enough it is not the primary thing on my mind these days. I know he loves me. I know he cares about me. Yet…I really don’t know where the relationship is at. Some days it is good and I go to bed with a smile on my face and other days I crawl into bed wondering where we stand. Rarely can I actually say that he has done anything wrong. He has never been mean to me or ignored my feelings and emotions. He has addressed every concern I’ve ever had…even if his response was not the answer I was looking for. He’s communicated with me about his feelings and state of being…presumably to head off any feelings of insecurity. Yet, my instinct…the survival instinct that protects my heart as though it were made of fine spun glass says forget about him. Just walk. What if he’s lying to you? What if he’s playing you for a fool?

But I stand here hesitant to walk and I don’t know why. Where is the girl that normally runs for the hills at the first signs of doubt? Where is the girl who at the first sign that my heart may be broken or disappointment served for desert drops all pretense of faith and goes cold? So many times in the past I have become a statue as I turn my back, straighten my spine, and convince myself that this is not the one…that to proceed would be foolish and a waste of precious time…with no words in the English language able to bring the stone back to life…it’s over. This time however, I find myself entering therapy to try and figure out why I respond to things the way I do. I recognize the old emotional patterns, the negative thoughts and fears that have been creeping around the corners of my mind jumping out at me at the most unexpected and inopportune moments. To them I have turned statue so many times these past months, refusing to give into the paranoia and doubt. Sometimes…I simply cannot control the demons. And later…when the dust settles…I am at a loss.

I believe these demons are the remnants of being reared in the home of a man that can care for no one. By a man who never really saw me unless I was doing something wrong or falling short of perfection in my endeavors. Now I’m not sure what is good enough. When am I good enough? Where do I draw the line and say “good nuff”. So...never having received the kind of care and validation that is so important to a developing psyche from the most important man in my life I seek it from my romantic partnerships. Is William a bad boyfriend or am I needy and insecure? I don’t know, but hopefully therapy will provide some insight. Hopefully, if not for this relationship, then for the next, maybe I can relax and be confident that I am worthy of love without questioning every action or inaction…without needing so much validation that I am good.

And who knows…it might even help with some of these fears I have every time I have to design a new experiment, or embark upon a new friendship, or sit down to write a paper for publication.

And I thought I didn’t know what to write…

Out To Get You

I heard this song on the way home tonight. Yeah…just about sums it up.



I'm so alone tonight
My bed feels larger than when I was small
Lost in memories, lost in all the sheets and all old pillows
So alone tonight, miss you more than I will let you know
Miss the outline of your back, miss you breathing down my neck
All out to get you, once again, they're all out to get you, once again

Insecure, what ya gonna do
Feel so small, they could step on you
Called you up, answer machine, when the human touch
Is what I need, what I need is you, I need you

Looked in the mirror, I don't know who I am any more
The face is familiar, but the eyes, the eyes give it all away
They're all out to get you, once again, they're all out to get you
Here they come again

Insecure, what ya gonna do
Feel so small, they could step on you
Called you up, answer machine, when the human touch
Is what I need, what I need is you

Let me breathe, if you'd let me breathe
They're all out to get you, once again, they're all out to get you

By: James

Coffee Talk

When I was a little girl we didn’t have cable television. Our television was a piece of furniture unto itself. It sat in the living room…a large plant stand from which Little House on the Prairie blared religiously on Monday evenings. Mondays were my favorite night back then. After cheering for Laura as she triumphed time and again over the detestable Nellie Oleson my mother and I would sit cross-legged in front of the TV folding the weekend laundry while she watched M*A*S*H. I had her all to myself…even if I did have to sit and match socks. Those were the simpler days. The days when reception depended on this thing called an antenna that sprung from rooftops up and down the street. It wasn’t long before a new item adorned the top of that old T.V. set. Subscription television finally came to my house. We had what was called ON Television, which was a pretty funny name because it was more OFF than it was ON. Broadcasting only between the hours of 6pm to 1am they provided commercial free movies, sports events, and theatrical performances. It came into our home via a small black box that sat atop the behemoth squawking plant stand. In order to view this smorgasbord of commercial free goodies you had to turn your television to an off broadcast channel and then switch the box ON. The commercial free movies were great, but like I said…it wasn’t always ON.

After that…we got cable television. Cable was even better than ON because it was ON all the time. Not only did cable come with movie channels it came with additional television channels. It was here that I was introduced to Alanis Morissette, the woman that stole my diary…turned it into a bunch of really great songs…made a ton of money off of it…and hasn’t even had the decency to buy me a cup of coffee. OK…that might be an exaggeration…she didn’t actually steal my diary but listening to her songs it sometimes seems like she must have. All kidding aside, I did watch her faithfully every afternoon on Nickelodeon's You Can't Do That on TV…though that would be a few years after we actually got cable. Preceding the entrance into my life of a most beloved chanteuse was the premier of Music Television, also known as MTV.

I was 8 years old when MTV debuted. The hype surrounding this premier was so huge that even I…a mere 8 years old was excited to see what this music television was about. I remember standing in front of that enormous television/plant stand when out of the darkness came the words “Ladies and gentlemen, rock and roll," followed by the now iconic MTV man on the moon. Already having absorbed my parents love of music I was familiar with the sounds of Linda Ronstadt, Janis Joplin, AC/DC, The Stones...the list goes on. But I had never seen an actual music video. This would soon change as Video Killed the Radio Star by The Buggles filled the picture screen beneath my mothers plant collection.



Over the years I would get to know the VJ’s well, Martha Quinn being my all-time favorite. But, as a true blue lover of music...I never really got the allure of MTV. Sure…some of the videos were cool, and I seriously wanted to be Martha Quinn, but the sound was atrocious. Those speakers on that ancient console television just didn’t do Pat justice as she informed me, rather astutely I might add, that Love is a Battlefield. It really is.

Perhaps if I had been witness to the birth of MTV on Paul’s new enormous 60” wide screen high-definition flat plasma screen TV jacked into his killer sound system that now adorns our living room I would have a different opinion of it. I’ve never seen Blade Runner look or sound as good as it did last night. The house actually rumbled with the sound. With this baby…there would be no mistaking the severity of Pat’s message…it would be heard loudly, clearly, and accompanied by a high definition dance floor battlefield where ladies of the night layed down their arms and took up the dance in an effort to show the slimy night club owner the power of female solidarity.



Paul seems quite pleased with his new toy. I’m sure he’ll be even more pleased when football season starts again. It will be just like he’s actually at the game only with prime ticket it will be like he is at ALL of the games. The only real problem with this new acquisition is the need to do a little housecleaning. And by housecleaning I mean getting rid of an old broken down big screen television that my other roommate has been storing downstairs. Granted…when it worked Paul made good use of it. However...it hasn’t worked in months...and it doesnt look like the big plans to get it fixed are going to happen so it has simply been sitting in the corner collecting dust.

Paul told Jack (we’ll call him Jack because he’s a bit of a jackass) of his plans and asked him to find a home for it. Jack has had plenty of time to accomplish this but he hasn’t. So now…Pauls old entertainment center is sitting in the doorway and the big screen is still collecting dust in the corner and NOW he’s looking to find someone to take it because he doesn’t want to throw it away (Goodwill…going once…going twice). But, in addition to being a bit of a jackass he is also a complete and total loser so I don’t have high hopes for that big hunk of dust collector getting cleared out anytime soon. I mean…we are talking about a guy that sits around in his underwear playing Halo3 all day when he should be out looking for a job. I guess I shouldn’t be too hard on him. I mean…what kind of job can an aspiring actor with extreme love-handles and a penchant for fast food find if he happens to be dead set on a movie career…leading man roles only thank you very much. And don’t even think about asking him to go find a job where you can enjoy an ooey gooey slice of pizza pie. No. He came here to be an actor and if he’s just going to go work a regular office job he might as well go home…an excellent idea in my opinion.

To be fair, he had some problems with his leg about a year ago and wasn’t able to work out. And while most people would see this as a good reason to cut back on their food intake he saw it as a good excuse to go back on the fast food. But this was a YEAR ago…maybe more. He’s not sick anymore. He can get off his lazy butt and at the very least empty the dishwasher or take the trash out…without being asked. That might expel enough calories to burn off a couple of the french fries he comes home with almost every night (cause sometimes its Tacos). Now…I don’t actually care if the guy is fat but if you can’t work because you are fat and you can’t get off your lazy ass to get “not fat” then what you are saying is…I just want to sit around and play Halo3 in my underwear all day. How is he paying the rent you ask? Well…he part-time bar tends at various dive bars but I know he owes Paul money. How much…I don’t know…that’s Pauls business.

But what really got me going today was the thing about the coffee. Jack…who owes Paul money and doesn’t seem to care that he is putting Paul in a position to either support or boot out a person that Paul used to consider a friend got all uppity about coffee this morning. See, when Paul came down this morning he put the nasty hazelnut crème coffee that Jack made into my thermos, assuming it was mine. I don’t make hazelnut crème coffee so I told Paul that I would let Jack have the rest of his coffee and I would pinch some of his for my ride in to work. Paul and I don’t have problems with coffee. We both drink the same kind and we both make a reasonably tasty brew, though mine tends to the strong side. Not Jack. Jack makes some kind of brown, oft-times flavored, water that he calls coffee. There is nothing coffee about it. Paul shoots off to work and I inform Jack that his coffee is in the thermos by the coffee pot. I was so not prepared for the bitch-fest that came of this comment. You see…this whole situation whereby Paul comes down in the morning and sets the coffee already in the pot aside so that he can make his own “has GOT to stop”. Jack is sick and tired of going down to Starbucks for coffee because he can’t use the coffee pot blah blah blah and if we want to have our own coffees we can just get our own coffee pots!

WELL!

1. Where is he getting the money for Starbucks when he can’t pay Paul the rent?
2. Where the hell does he get off making any kind of demands when he contributes absolutely nothing to the household?

As far as I’m concerned the guy has no rights. And…it’s not even like he just doesn’t contribute. He is actually a negative force in the house making messes and trash that he simply won’t clean up. I am a fairly compassionate person and I usually try to see the good in everyone, but this guy…I don’t care how depressed he is…I have absolutely no sympathy for him. Look up loser in the dictionary and there is a picture of my roommate Jack. He’s lucky Paul hasn’t kicked him out on his ass already.

And that concludes my rant for the day…because you don’t even want to get me started on work!

Eclipse

About 30 minutes after I put up last nights post my phone rang. Guess who? Yup…it was my boy. Apparently I misinterpreted that half dream I had last night. Other than that…all of my assumptions were spot on. The first thing he tells me is that he just spent hours hanging out with Leila. I told him I was sorry and he repeated himself. What did he want me to say…I hadn’t heard from the boy in a week and this is how he opens the conversation? I repeated myself. I’m sorry…why did you do that to yourself? “Because I’m nice” he replies. I didn’t really want to talk about Leila so I simply said “How are you doing?” He laughed and said “You’re overly happy.” I assured him that I was anything but “Happy”. He wouldn’t let it go. So I suggested that maybe I should be yelling at him because he hadn’t called me in over a week. He said that would be OK…that he expected it…that he was prepared for it.

HA!

I told him that I had no intention of yelling at him…that yelling isn’t a productive way of communicating. I told him that he is allowed to cave. That I know he does this. That I figured that is what he had been doing. I further went on to let him know that I wasn’t happy with him for disappearing like that…that I don’t like it. I told him that I wasn’t happy that I had moments where I wondered if he was simply bailing on me…had decided he didn’t want to do this…and couldn’t give me the courtesy of “the talk”…but since those were simply moments and I figured he was just “being William” that I wasn’t mad…just "not happy”. He apologized. Said his life had completely changed in the last week. Oh really? How so? He’d been going through some “deep shit”. Some “deep emotional shit” that he decided to share with Leila of all people but for some reason wasn’t willing to share with me. No matter how hard I pressed all I could get out of him was the same old mind games he plays on himself. The mind games that I had actually started subverting in the weeks prior. I, not being too much of an idiot figured that my hunch was correct. That what he told me might happen should he run into the ex had happened. So…I asked the question burning in my mind, “Did you see ex?”

Silence.

I repeated myself. “Did you see ex?”

“Yes”

And then the phone cut out. Oh holy Jesus Christ on the Cross…is this some kind of cosmic mind-f*@k! Oh wait…Sue had something to say about this too.

Aquarius is a digital sign, so the problems are modern ones. You could send email but mistakenly include a carbon to the wrong person, causing an embarrassing situation. You may be writing an important memo when suddenly your office loses power - and you lose the document. Or you could leave a personal document in the Xerox machine for that annoying gossip girl to find when she comes next to use it. Grrrr! So frustrating! …There may be glitches and miscommunication this month but I wouldn't blame Neptune - that would be due to Mercury, still retrograde and happy to play little gremlin tricks on all of us.

To Hell with Mercury! I trucked my butt back upstairs where the reception is better and called that boy BACK! So…you saw your ex…how did that go? It wasn’t good…in fact it was bad. I see…so what happened? He wouldn’t tell me. So…I did the girl thing and asked the obvious question “Did you guys get back together?” His reply was satisfactory…very satisfactory. And…contrary to what you might expect…he actually didn’t give me any grief for being lame about that. Once he told me that what he had feared would happen…what I knew had happened…had happened…I didn’t really have any more questions. At least none that I thought I would be able to get an answer for last night. But I will…believe you me…I will.

We moved on from that to talk about “What the hell is William going to do with his life?”, which just so happens to be his burning question. I won’t bore you with a play by play account of all that was said but at one point he told me that he had a bad dream. A bad dream in which he couldn’t figure out what to do and couldn’t do what he wanted to do but that in the dream I was there…supporting him. Apparently he’s had more than one of these dreams and always I am there…supporting him in what he is trying to do.

Like a mallet to the head…YA THINK?

If we’d been in the same room together and I’d been holding a mallet I just might have given him a good whack on the head. But…since it was just a phone conversation I simply said “Well…I do support you.” “I know that” he replied. He went on further to say that I’m the only one that does support him…that does believe in him. I told him that he is pointedly wrong in that idea but he would not be dissuaded.

Why does it bother me that he has me in this place? In this “You’re the only one that understands/listens/supports/believes in place. It’s like “this pedestal is high and I’m afraid of heights.” Have a listen…

Alanis Morissette - Not the Doctor



Funny enough…I think William already knows this.

So…this morning I asked Paul what he’s doing tonight. When he asked me why I told him that I’d heard from William and thought it might be a good idea for him to take William out for a beer…

Me: He saw ex.
Paul: (eyes roll) Jesus.
Me: And last night he spent “several hours” chatting with Leila
Paul: (eyes roll higher to the ceiling) Great.
Me: Yeah…and he’s not talking to me so I figure he could use a chat with someone “normal” of the male persuasion (insert big toothy grin).
Paul: Well…we’ll see how I’m feeling tonight. And…I might be raising my rates (receive big toothy grin).
Me: Sure…no worries…just thought I’d put it out there.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have intervened like that. William isn’t stupid. If Paul does contact him he’ll suspect my involvement. Hopefully he’ll see it for what it is. If you won’t talk to me…please talk to someone.

Flux

I am so up and down today…I feel completely spastic. At the core of my nervous anxiety driven lack of energy to do anything meaningful is that I want to be done with this Ph.D. so that I can just start teaching. I seriously don’t want to do research any more. Getting up in the morning to come to work is like pulling teeth. To make matters worse…we recently moved into new lab space and my normally laid back boss is walking around the lab sticking his nose into everything and driving everyone crazy. The only way to deal with this situation is to avoid him and look busy. Herein lies the problem. I am stuck as far as working on the paper that will allow me to finish up this degree. I received some incongruous data on Friday and the guy that can sort it out and finalize everything so that I can decide just how I want to write this thing is gone for the week. Therefore, I’m stuck. And, while I know that this is completely false…I feel hopeless…as though I’m never going to get out of here. I’m just going to be an underpaid graduate student trying to scrape by in one of the most expensive, traffic ridden cities in the country.

Then again…maybe it has nothing to do with me. Perhaps this is all some kind of cosmic fuck-a-roo for February. If you read Susan Miller…you know exactly what I’m talking about. Not that my horoscope was all that bad…it’s just that Mercury has been retrograde AND we have two eclipses this month.

According to Ms. Miller: Normally you would be able to move forward a few days after the date Mercury turns direct, in this case, February 17, but this month also holds two eclipses. Until you know what news those eclipses will bring, you won't have all the information you need to make decisions for the future. Things are in flux on many levels. At eclipse time we see that we can't control everything in life - we have to respond to others' moves, too!

Most of my horoscope pertains to work. Things changing and getting more difficult at work and guess what…so far it’s right on the money. Part of the problem with what is happening in lab is that I’m depending on other people to get data back to me/finalized. And…well…they aren’t. And…we’ll get to other “others” soon enough, but for now…let’s talk about the weekend. The weekend…that started on Thursday.

The weekend was good…mostly. Valentines day, also known as Thursday, William was sick/in his weird head place so I dragged Lydia out for Mexican food and margaritas because if I wasn’t going to get laid I was definitely going to get toasted. I stayed out waaaay past my bedtime but…it was fun so I’m not complaining. But I paid for it. Ooooh yes…I paid for it! Friday I was the walking dead and I didn’t even consider going out that night. As I was approaching home I got a call from my friend Mary who I haven’t heard from in awhile wanting to go running in the morning. Running? Was she serious? We haven’t been running in months…at least not distance running and she was talking about 10 miles with a bunch of chatty Cathy’s. Don’t get me wrong…I love to run but I was tired and hung over from the night before, and even though it was my intention to be in bed early there was no way I could conceive of getting up at 5:30am to lace up my shoes and huff my way through 10 miles. Fully rested and mentally prepared…sure. But she springs this on me at 8pm? Sorry sista…I love you…but this fish was fried and I wasn’t about to take that bait. But there was something in her message that told me I couldn’t ignore her call. I told her that due to my love affair with tequila on Valentines Day that running was out but that I would meet her for breakfast afterwards. Turns out she wasn’t really all that into running per-se…what she was into was venting, and she didn’t know who else to turn to. Breakfast was a three hour affair. We hadn’t seen each other in a while and it seems she has had some wicked situations going on since November. The kinds of things that make you change you email address, phone number, and start apartment shopping. We decided that the best solution would be to get back into running…sans that chatty Cathy’s…and made plans to meet this Saturday at a much more reasonable 8am. I’m actually looking forward to it. Lord knows my ass could use the workout and Mary…well…Mary needs someone to talk to. It’s a win-win.

That afternoon I lolled around. Thought about writing, but just couldn’t get my head into it. I simply wanted to lie in bed and catch up on Lost. So…I did. That night I met up with Mark and Paul for drinks and conversation. We had a great time ending up at The Zone around mid-night. Simon was there sans William and that made me smile. For…while I hadn’t heard from him, and still haven’t (more on that later) this means that while he’s dark on me…he’s also dark on the rest of the world and likely taking some William time. Something he has been denying himself for far too long. But that’s not to say there wasn’t some action on Saturday night. Oh no…I have a story for you dear readers. Lola was there. Yes…Lola. The woman that wants my man so bad it practically bleeds from Lolas eyes. The woman that wants my man so bad she would stoop to speak to none other than…me. She was all over my tip on Saturday…like we're friends or something…trying to get information about me and William.

Lola enters the bar and begins talking to Mark. Then she spies me sitting at their table and that is where it begins. This is the point that she starts...interviewing me…only from my point of view it felt more like an interrogation. Our conversation went something like this...

Lola: OH...did you dye your hair?
Me: Yeah...a couple of weeks ago
Lola: Oh you look pretty...brings out your eyes etc.
Me: Thanks
Lola: What made you decide to do something sooo drastic?
Me: OH...I'd been thinking about it for awhile and then a friend (William...not mentioned by name) said they thought it would probably look better than the blonde and be easier to maintain. And they were right...I love it
Lola: Cool. So...have you been coming into the bar much?
Me: Eh...yeah...I've been around.
Lola: So...what do you do?
Me: I’m a molecular biologist
Lola: OH...neat! What do you do when you're not working?
Me: See friends. Read. Write. Watch TV. You know...normal people stuff
Lola: Oh...cool. So...How's William?
Me: He's good. He's William.
Lola: but you guys broke up right?

Now...the hair on my spine went up and I’m thinking...no way am I going to discuss this with Lola…but she pressed...

Lola: Well...I know you guys were going out but then you broke up.

I continue to ignore Lola. She grabs my arm.

Lola: (desperation written all over her face) I KNOW you guys were going out but then you weren’t and you broke up right?

Finally...I’m annoyed so I looked at Lola and said

Me: We’re fine…we’re still together.
Lola: Oh...well...I just remember asking him how his girlfriend was awhile ago and he told me he didn’t have a girlfriend.
Me: Yeah...well...he probably didn’t want to discuss it with you. He's a private person and quite frankly neither one of us wants anyone up in our business.

Paul...meanwhile...is laughing his ass off. She goes to the bathroom and he says to me "Where's your new BFF?" I rolled my eyes at him and informed him we’d be having story time later on in the evening. When she returns from the bathroom she starts talking to Mark...flirting with Mark...and he is saying something to her in her ear and when I look over and he stops talking. She looks at him and says loud enough for me to hear…

Lola: What...is there something you don’t want Brigitte to hear?
Me and Mark: Brigitte?
Me: Who’s Brigitte?

She thought my name was Brigitte…so I corrected her. Now…William does have a friend named Brigitte but other than being friends with his ex there is no real connection there. Clearly trying to make me jealous or think that maybe William was with someone else as he wasnt in the pub with us she continues…

Lola: Why did I think your name is Brigitte?
Me: Well...there is a Brigitte that comes around. Perhaps you are just confused.

At this point Mark starts talking about his back problems.

Lola: (shocked) OH...you have scoliosis?
Me: Oh yeah...his back is as twisted as a politician
Lola: Really? How did you know?
Me: I saw the x-rays
Lola: (to Mark) How come I haven’t seen the x-rays? Did you bring them into the bar when I wasn't here or something?
Mark: No...They’re at my house.
Lola: (to me) You've been to Marks house?
Mark and I in unison: Yeah...We're friends!

So then...Lola who was apparently not done trying to dig for information about William and I says to me...

Lola: Did you see that William got his hair cut?
Me: Yeah...I did...it looks good
Lola: He's been talking about that for a long time. I thought he'd get more of a buzz-cut or something.
Me: Oh no. He called me when he did it and thought it was too short.
Lola: OH...so you haven’t seen it?
Me: Saw it a couple of days later and assured him he looks hot.
Lola: Oh...I've only seen it from the back...but it still looks long.
Me: Yeah...he can still put it into a ponytail if he so chooses.

And that was pretty much the end of it. She said she had to get going and left…obviously realizing she wasn’t going to be getting any more information out of me than she already had. And all she really succeeded in doing was letting me know that he hasn’t spoken to her in quite some time. I mean…I know that he told Lola to go away when she was trying to barge in on one of our conversations...flaunting her bosoms under his nose and suggesting that things weren't working out between us. And I also know that the last time she was in the bar begging for his attention he ignored her and told her again to go away. At least...that's what Paul told me.

Feeling like William, despite his failure to contact me should know that she was trying to pump me for information received a text message from me on Saturday night. It was short and sweet. I let him know she was there and what she was doing and that I simply told her that "we are fine...he's a private person...and that we don’t want people in our business. Hope you’re feeling better" It was a little bit covering my ass and a little bit letting him know that as far as I was concerned we are OK. He didn’t return that text…and I still haven’t heard from him but I figure he’ll call me when he’s got his head on straight. Hopefully it wont be a month from now, but he did warn me that he felt some cave time coming on and I have to have faith in my own judgment that he isn’t the kind of guy to just leave me hanging. In fact…I know he’s not that kind of guy...and since we didnt have a fight...I have to assume he's just doing his thing.

But, there is one little thing about all of this that bugs me. One little thing that I don’t like to think about much less talk about and it has a little something to do with Brigitte. It has a little something to do with Brigitte and the fact that she is friends with his ex. It has a little something to do with Brigitte and the fact that she is friends with his ex and the fact that I’m pretty sure that she’s the one that told William the ex was coming for a visit. It has a little something to do with Brigitte and the fact that she is friends with his ex and the fact that I’m pretty sure that she’s the one that told William the ex was coming for a visit and that I am worried that Brigitte may have arranged an “accidental” meeting of the two. William professes to hate his ex but…we all know what hate is…right? Hate is simply the opposite of love and while I don’t think William would just get back together with her “just like that”, what if…what if…what if?

I know…I know in the pit of my gut that this has not occurred and he did tell me that if he ran into her he would simply get mad and then go into a “hole”. But I wonder…is that what would happen? And I know that when we last spoke…when he called me from his weekend with the boys…that everything was fine…and normal. But I do wonder what occurred after that…on the rest of the weekend. What made him go dark? And what I hate the most. What really chaps my hide…is that sometimes…sometimes…I am…just a girl.

Shoving those kinds of thoughts deep into the pit of “just not going to happen” ridiculous kinds of scenarios we head into Sunday. Sunday was relaxing. Had lunch with Lydia and figured out what I would get William for his birthday. Went home that night and fell into a deep dreamless sleep. Blew off work on Monday in favor of some serious cave time…in fact…I think I’ll be caving most of the week. I have no intention of making any plans with anyone until Saturday night when I imagine I’ll head out for drinks with Paul. I need it. It’s far over due. But before I end this post I’ll tell you about the strangest “dreams” I had last night. One of those dreams that you wake from not being sure if you were actually asleep or not, but you’ve lost time so you must have been asleep. I was sitting at the table at which I’d spoken to Lola. A man walked past me and turned to look at me as he motioned his head toward the door and said “I’ve got to go…I’ll call you later.” Or was it “see you later”. I don't remember. All I know for sure is that it was William. And I woke bolt upright in bed. I do not ever remember dreaming of William…in any capacity.

And…I don’t really expect to hear from him tonight…but I will soon…that much I know. Lord only knows what he’ll have to say. For now he remains one of the “other people” whose moves I have to…or no…whose moves I choose to respond to.


For as Ms. Miller reminds us

“Until you know what news those eclipses will bring, you won't have all the information you need to make decisions for the future. Things are in flux on many levels. At eclipse time we see that we can't control everything in life - we have to respond to others' moves, too!”

And while I don’t put a whole lot of stock in astrology…I do feel that things are in flux on many levels. I do feel unsure…about so many things. The second eclipse is scheduled for tomorrow, February 20th. According to Sue…it’s my work situation that will be most affected. Of course…she doesn’t rule out a “make or break” situation in a romantic relationship.

I do so wonder what the weekend will bring. Good or bad…I hope it brings an end to the waiting and wondering and pondering and worrying and well…just being a girl.

Just Breathe

William is in a hole. I have not heard from him since Sunday. I can’t go into why I believe he is in a hole as that is simply too personal and too much information to put out there about him but…I know in the pit of my gut that is where he is. He spent time with Simon this weekend…a lot of time with Simon this weekend…he was away from Sunday to Tuesday with Simon of Technological Blunder fame. There is much about Simon that I have not written about as I care not to delve into his dark world but Simon is Williams Leila. And that is all I have to say about that.

I know that Williams refusal to respond to me is not about me so I’m worried more about him than worried about us. I also know that his going dark on me is about protecting me from his dark place, and quite frankly…that only makes me love him more. This weekend came on top of some other difficulties my sensitive boy has been dealing with. He warned me weekend before this last that this might happen and he warned me that he simply wouldn’t let me in if he went there. I’ve placed one un-answered phone call, one un-answered text message, and one as yet un-answered email. All of them say the same thing. I’m fairly sure you’re in a hole and that’s OK but please let me know that you’re not dead. All of them are meant to convey the same message; take care of you and I’m here when you feel more like yourself. Hopefully I will get a sign of life soon as Paul hasn’t seen or heard of him being down at the Pub.

Some people might think I’m absolutely crazy for dealing with this kind of thing and you might be right. Then again…maybe it just means that Will is not the guy for you…but he is the guy for me. And…maybe these feelings I have for and about him are simply a manifestation of my own neuroses...but is that truly wrong? To quote Friedrich Nietzsche:

There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness.

*******
As I wrote this I got my answer. In my email I gave him three choices…all he need do is reply with the letter that best fits my assumption.

A- I’ve lost my phone. I'll call you when I get moment to get a replacement.
B- I turned into Bl@ck Spid3y this weekend and have gone into a hole...I’m not taking you with me so I will call you when I feel like myself again.
C- I wish the whole world would just forget I exist. Why do you care so damn much?

Answer: C with a dash of the flu.

I responded “Not much I can do about C but let me know if I can do anything for you about the other thing.”

I feel better now. I suspect there's a bit of B behind that C but at least I know he’s relatively OK. And by that...I mean…OK in a very William way.

(Do) I Enjoy Being A Girl

People keep reminding me that Valentines Day is coming up and it’s annoying me. I don’t care about Valentines Day. I think Valentines Day is stupid. Why do I have to judge William based on what he does or doesn’t do on Valentines Day? I’d rather he just step up and quit hanging out with his loser friends on any other day of the year than this one day.

The fact that I woke up feeling like my body had been filled with cement and cramps strong enough to cripple Hercules probably isn't helping. And while we're talking about Hercules...what makes him so special? I wonder if he could deal with the kind of pain I'm dealing with right now.

Lets consider the trials of Hercules:

First he had to bring King Eurystheus the skin of an invulnerable lion which terrorized the hills around Nemea. Wow. He fought a lion.

After that he had to kill the Lernean Hydra, a monstrous serpent with nine heads, which defended itself with poisonous venom. Not an easy task when you consider that one of the nine heads was immortal and therefore indestructible. That sounds a little like Leila. She's pretty scary so I'll give him this one.

Next he had to kill some special deer that had golden horns and hoofs of bronze. Not such a bad thing really but this deer happened to be the special pet of Diana, the goddess of hunting and the moon. She was pretty peeved about the whole thing but once Hercules explained the situation she forgave him. It must not have been her time of the month.

Then…Eurystheus ordered Hercules to bring him the Erymanthian boar alive. In case you are wondering…a boar is a huge, wild pig with a bad temper. This particular boar supposedly had tusks growing out of its mouth. Sounds like quite a task but Hercules just chased the thing until it got really tired and then he impaled it with a spear. I could do that.

After this Eurystheus gave Hercules a break and simply ordered him to clean up King Augeas' stables. Sure…he got dirty and smelly and it sucked to be him for a while, but it’s not like he was asked to clean up after my other “not Paul” roommate. Even Hercules couldn’t have accomplished that without collapsing from exhaustion and disgust.

So…after he cleaned up the stables he had to get rid of some pesky birds that were gathered at a lake near the town of Stymphalos. Apparently these were no ordinary birds but were in fact vicious man-eaters. Yeah…well it’s not like Hercules was asked to date one of the vapid money grubbing latte sucking vampire queens that populate the greater Los Angeles area so…I don’t feel too bad for him.

Next he had to wrestle some bull. Men still engage in this kind of tom foolery so I don’t see why Hercules is so special.

Then he had to go round up the some man-eating mares that belonged to some Thracian king called Diomedes and bring them back to Eurystheus in Mycenae. What I want to know is…what is with all the man-eating animals in this story? I was under the impression that horses are vegan. This sounds like one of those "I once caught a fish thiiiiiis big" stories. I dont buy it.

For his ninth task, Hercules was ordered to bring Eurystheus the belt of Hippolyte…queen of a tribe of warrior women known as the amazons. It should come as no surprise that today I’m sitting here rooting for Hippolyte but we all know how the story ends. Hercules defeated her and then stole her belt and brought it back to Eurystheus just like the little man-bitch that he was. It probably was her time of the month.

Once he fetched the belt Hercules had to journey to the end of the world in order to bring Eurystheus the cattle of the monster Geryon. That better be some tasty steak for a journey to the end of the world. Especially when you consider that the world is round and therefore has no true end. Maybe this is the origin of the phrase “we’re just running around in circles and not getting anything done.” As I understand it though…Hercules did get those cattle…and the steaks were quite tasty. So he was sent to the store. Big deal.

Now things get really dicey for Hercules. Now he has to go up against Zeus, king of the gods, in order to bring Eurystheus some golden apples which belonged to him. So off Hercules goes…this time heading to the northern edge of the world…and it took like 30 years and he had to kill an eagle and trick Atlas into letting him take the apples but…he got them there…even if only for a moment. I might give Hercules this one. We are talking about Zeus after all.

And last, but not least, Hercules was sent to the underworld in order to kidnap the beast called Cerberus. Cerberus was a vicious beast who had three heads of wild dogs, a dragon for a tail, and heads of snakes all over his back. Somehow, Hercules faced this monster sans weapons and so Cerberus was defeated with a hug. That’s right…a hug. Some monster that Cerberus turned out to be. What a wimp! I'd like to see how Hercules holds up in the ring with Leila. I guarantee it would take more than a hug to subdue that monster. Therefore...I remain un-impressed.



So...I’ll give Hercules some props for being pretty brave and fairly tough, but I still think he’d have a hard time with feminine cramps…little man bitch that he was.

Sometimes...Even Cowgirls Get the Blues

August 30, 2003. That is the date of the last stamp in my passport. That is the last time I’ve been out of the country. I am feeling the need for a vacation…the need to get lost somewhere south of the border. I need to go somewhere decidedly lacking “status” cars, Starbucks, people with cell phones glued to their ears, hipsters, and women wearing full make-up to purchase organic milk at one of the many overpriced grocery stores that decorate the Los Angeles landscape. Los Angeles is wearing me down…absolutely wearing me down. Unless you have a lot of money this is a hard city to live in. The streets are crowded…it can take over an hour to travel 13 miles. The rents are high and the wages low. The people are tweaked…many most likely feeling just as downtrodden as I. But Thursday is the day that it really hit me just how done I am with this life I’m currently living.

Let’s re-cap. Wednesday night on my way home from an evening trying to comfort and help my friend Lydia through a most painful event I saw helicopters circling over a home near my own. Not thinking too much of it as there is almost always a helicopter somewhere looking for someone here in Los Angeles, and being both physically and emotionally exhausted I did not investigate. I parked my car and dragged myself to bed where I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. The following morning the street on which I live was barricaded and swarming with news vans. It took me over an hour to travel the 13 miles must cover to get to work…at 10:30am in the morning. That’s right…it wasn’t even rush our. I get in to lab and check the news. It seems that the commotion I witnessed the night before was the beginnings of an all night stand-off between police and a 21 year old man that had shot and killed his father, two older brothers and would later kill one SWAT team officer and injure several more…one quite seriously. It was all over the news. My normally quiet little neighborhood was the focus of this metropolis that is home to about four-million people. The whole thing made me very sad. Who was this kid? Why was he so angry? Why would he do such a thing? Why does this kind of thing have to happen in the world?

Am I too sensitive? Maybe I am. Is that a bad thing? It probably is. Especially if you are going to live in a city where most shrug it off and say things like “What a terrible tragedy…want to get a latte?” Well…my heart and sympathies go out to the surviving members of his family and all of the families directly affected. I can’t just shrug it off…even now.

And I don’t know why this affected me in the way that it did. It’s not my family, they aren’t my friends, and unlike Mark who at one time had this kid as a student of his I don’t even know any of the people involved. But this, on top of reports of violent robberies and attempted kidnappings around campus in conjunction with the day to day difficulties of living in this town caused something to snap in my head. I’ve been drinking too much. I’ve been eating too much. My figure…or lack thereof is taking the brunt of my frustrations which isn’t helping matters any as I am very self-conscience about my appearance. I hate it when I allow what I’m feeling inside to show up on the outside. Things need to change. I need to get out of here.

I texted Will about my feelings on this shooting. I let him know that I was sad. Monday evening when we talked he told me that I needed to start reaching out to him more…so I did. Then I sat down and actually started writing my paper…the paper that I should have started a month ago. I started writing the paper that will bring me one giant step closer to graduating and getting out of here. I made really good progress. I got my figures organized, approved by my mentor, and the results section started. I’ve been thinking about how this paper should look for some time now so it just flowed out of me. I left work not really feeling good…but at least a little better…like I had accomplished something important for myself.

Will texted me around 11 to say he hoped I was doing better and that I was OK. I didn’t want a text. I wanted to hear his voice. He didn’t answer his phone when I called so I texted him back that I called because I wanted to chat…that I had missed him Wednesday night when my phone died while out with Lydia and I missed his call. I asked him to call me if he could. My phone didn’t ring until 2:20am. He too has been having a bad week with work being overly busy and family issues to deal with so he had stayed out way past his bedtime hanging out with Paul, Mark, Leila, and Molly. I was a little annoyed but at least it wasn’t Simon…at least he sounded like his normal even keel self. He told me he was on his way over and wanted to make sure it was OK. Wanted to make sure I’d be able to wake him up for work. Of course, I told him. And I did wake him up for work. It only took 90 minutes of prodding but he finally dragged his hung over butt out of bed and went to work. I asked him what his plans were for the evening and he told me he’d be going to the pub. OK. What are your plans for tomorrow? “Laundry”, he replied. “You’re doing your laundry tomorrow night? Why don’t you just tell me you have to wash your hair or something?” “I’ll probably do that too” he said. “Well…its code for I don’t want to see you.” “I don’t” he said. I didn’t say a word. He looked at me and said he really needed to get going. Hug and a kiss and he was gone. Oooooh…the anger…the hurt. How dare he tell me he didn’t want to see me after all the times I have been there for him? And he just used me as a fail-safe alarm clock to get to work on time after a late night out. Jerk. I went inside and dialed his number. He didn’t pick up. So I texted him that I really wanted to spend some before the drunk/just after the bar time with him soon. That while I like that he comes over I need to be 8 o’clock girl as well and that I’m sure he understands. Then I sent a second text telling him to have a good day and not to hurt himself at work or anything. He called me almost immediately after the second text was sent. He got the message. He understands. But I’ve heard this before and things haven’t changed so I spent the rest of Friday feeling very negative about my man…ready to walk negative about my man.

That night I went to dinner with Zabel and her sisters. Her sisters are great…young and bubbly and full of life. Chatting with them really took my mind off things and also made me realize just how little I know of Armenian culture having been educated by a white America fearful of all things “Middle East”. They told the stories of a Christian Armenia rebelling against attempts by Persia to convert them to Zoroastrism and the origins of the Armenian alphabet. I don’t know how much of the stories I absorbed, but it was fascinating to say the least. After that I met up with Mark and Paul for drinks first at Farts and Darts and then heading over to The Zone to finish up our evening. Still feeling negative about the state of my relationship with Will I vented to Paul in between spurts of Mark just mading me laugh…something he has quite a knack for. As we were leaving Farts and Darts I said to Paul “Is it OK if I actually hope Will doesn’t call me tonight and doesn’t want to come over?” I honestly just wanted to go to sleep and spend today doing my thing. I didn’t want to see him last night or be there for him today. Paul smiled and said “Of course it’s OK.” But just as we got to The Zone my phone rang. It was Will. I answered with no intention of going off on him, and I didn’t. He asked me where I was and when I told him he told me that he had just come from The Zone having been too tired to stay out. I told him that if he wanted to come over he should come back to the pub as we weren’t ready to leave. “No” he said “I’m home now. I really just wanted to call and see how you were doing…you were pretty emotional about the shooting the other day and we didn’t get a chance to talk about it last night.” I was floored. Apparently he had come over the night before not because he needed me as I had previously assumed…but because he thought I needed him and he didn’t feel like he’d really been there for me. WOW. I felt like a heel. We discussed it briefly and I assured him that I was OK. He was just about ready to walk upstairs to his apartment but told me I could call him when we were done with our drinks…no promises that he would hear the phone as he figured he would pass out the minute his head hit the pillow…but that if I wanted to talk I should try. I told him that I didn’t think I would. That I was going to go finish the evening with my friends and to give me a call tomorrow. Then we said good night. And it didn’t really hit me until this morning that he had heard me. He had heard me a helluvalot clearer than I thought he had. Not necessarily about getting together more as that remains to be seen, but about how I need comforting sometimes too. And I think maybe I rushed to conclusions about his not wanting to see me. I’m now wondering if he doesn’t want to see me this weekend for the same reasons I didn’t really want to see him last night. He’s got a lot of emotional things going on around him and like me…he wants to just deal with himself right now. Maybe I’m just making excuses because that’s what I want to believe, but I do have to admit that he’s been more available to me lately and in a lot of ways we are getting closer. Maybe not in our physical proximity as it pertains to “dating” but emotionally closer because if that man can figure out how badly I needed to talk and be held from an email and a couple of texts then he knows me a whole lot better than I thought. And he did come over Thursday night...and he did hold me. And I know he didn’t intend to be out so late. But…I’m pretty sure he needed that just as much as I needed a hug.

So…I guess he’s out of the doghouse…for now anyway.

Daddy Dearest

It’s been a week since my last post and what a week it has been. It hasn’t been a particularly bad week…but an emotionally charged one nonetheless. Trying to get a grasp on the relationship that I’ve had with Leila over the past three years I started reading the book “Stop Walking on Eggshells: Taking Your Life Back When Someone You Care about Has Borderline Personality Disorder”, and I have to tell you…the descriptions fit. Maybe not exactly…Leila may simply have a moderate case of the disorder as not all of it fits, but again…she doesn't really let people get too close to her and I’m no psychologist. However, in the course of reading this book there have been many passages relating to “un-chosen relationships” or more specifically…addressing the question of how to deal with a child or parent that has Borderline Personality. When I started reading chapter 9 entitled “Protecting Children from BPD Behavior” I lost it. Right there in class I completely lost it. Thankfully I was sitting in the back row and was able to gain control of myself before the professor dismissed the students.

I have not up until now written about my father, but he and I have never had what could be termed a normal father-daughter bond and I think I know why now. I have come to believe that my father may have been, or at least displayed traits similar to, Borderline Personality Disorder. When I began reading that chapter a landslide of memories washed over me. Not only of the kinds of behavior my Father displayed as my brother Andy and I were growing up, but of my Mothers efforts to protect us from him. The following day I began my internet search looking for clues and found a book specifically related to being the child of “a borderline”. I ran out immediately after work to buy it…and I started reading. If the general book about BPD fits Leila to a great degree…this one is almost spot on. Not only does it describe in almost word for word detail some of the experiences I had growing up with my father it describes almost word for word thoughts and feelings I’ve had about myself over the years. It has described my personality, having grown up in this environment in an eerily familiar way. And while re-living some of these memories has been hard…and many tears have been shed…I almost feel relieved. I mean…how refreshing to finally have something in print telling me why I’ve never believed my father loves me. It’s not because I was a bad, ungrateful, overweight and un-attractive person not deserving of love…it’s because my father most likely has un-diagnosed BPD.

To be clear…I walked away from my father at the age of 21 after a particularly “bad” night and did not speak to him again until I was 30. In those nine years I “got over” many of my childhood demons. I proved to myself that I am a worthy and capable person and when I felt strong enough I contacted him…he is my father after all. Much like any reconciliation with a borderline personality the reunion was great. Wow…dad really has changed. He seemed to care, and he even apologized for the wickedness of my childhood. This would last all of two years. I mean…looking back on those two years I can see the traits. Once again I had to start screening my calls lest he be in one of his moods where either myself, my brother, or my mother would be the targets of his tirade of derogatory characterizations. I needed to hear the message to see what frame of mind he was in before I would call him back. As with Leila…I figured this was a good way to “manage” the relationship.

It was Thanksgiving of 2006 when the relationship went completely off the rails once more. I asked my brother what the plans were for the Holiday as we had gone to see our mother the previous year and neither of us could afford to in 2006. He didn’t know for sure…all he knew was that my father and his new wife were not having Thanksgiving at their house and had been invited elsewhere. It sounded reasonable so I suggested to my brother that we host an orphan Thanksgiving for our gaggle of friends that couldn’t get to see their families either. My brother didn’t feel we needed to invite our Father as he was sure they had other plans and most of our friends, aware of his “moodiness”, wouldn’t want to come if they knew he would be there. When Andy suggested we save some money on supplies by asking "dad" if we could borrow his I was unsure but Andy assured me that it would be OK. “Dad has plans…he wont be upset we didn’t invite him”. I relented and allowed Andy to place the call. When we went over to pick up the Roaster and casserole dishes my dad informed me that he and his wife would be joining us for the holiday. We dissuaded him, telling him that he was welcome to join us but it wouldn’t really be his scene. Besides, we told him, what about the woman you agreed to have dinner with? What will she do if you don’t show up as you are her only invitees? This was of no consequence to him, but the message was clear…we didn’t want him. And to tell you the truth…we didn’t. Neither of us has a great relationship with him. My brother is far closer as a consequence of actually working with the man, and he has by far received the lions share of the deplorable treatment, but both of us are scared of him and his temper and his inappropriate behavior. Oh…I could go on and on for days about why we might not want him around our friends but suffice it to say we have good reason.

In the end, he and his wife elected not to come to our feast. I have no doubt she was at the receiving end of his rage…I’d seen it the previous Christmas. Andy received the onslaught of insults and character defamation with a dash of guilt while I got lucky. All I’ve gotten from the man is one message letting me know that “I may have made the worst mistake of my life” followed by the silent treatment…fourteen months and counting. Keep your “money” dad…if you even have all that you say you do. I’ll take sanity over any potential inheritance thank you very much. Many people upon meeting me don’t understand why I don’t have a relationship with my father and I am reticent to share with them as stories of emotional and physical abuse make people uncomfortable. I am thankful for my sister friends in Sacramento who do know...who lived it with me...who formed with me the family that got us all through our dysfunctional home lives. I am thankful for the book as it has exonerated me from any blame in the matter. I am thankful for my mother for all she did to shield us as children…often at her own expense. I weep for my brother who is still doing “the dance”. He is hard to reach. He is not doing well. He is blind as a consequence, not only of his own troublesome behavior in response to life with dad, but also because my father refused to pay for his medical insurance or purchase his insulin for him. I wish I could give him this book. I wish he would let me help him but he is prideful and often when he sees me it is therapy…even before I got this book…and boys…well…boys just don’t cry.

But I also wonder how this has affected my relationship with Will. If maybe this is the reason I have such a desire to help him and make him happy…to fix everything. I mean…that is one of the personality traits that “survivors” share. Over the years I have learned to set boundaries with people and accept that sometimes I don’t have the answers or the solution to any given problem. I have come to grips with the idea that I am not responsible for the happiness of others. But, is this why I feel such a bond with him? Is it because he is so in need of someone to listen…someone to care? And if it is…does that matter? Or…am I kidding myself. I honestly don’t know.

The weekend wasn’t bad. We had separate evenings Friday and Saturday. Paul was in need of some TLC so I emailed Will to let him know that I would likely be out and about with him but that he shouldn’t feel like he wasn't prohibited from nor required to join us should we show up at The Zone, but was welcome to call or come over after if he so desired. A little neurotic but given our past history with pub miscommunications I make no apology for my weirdness. Friday he came over very upset over some news he had received. Not really the thing that should send a person into a tail-spin, but with Will…this is no surprise. Simply being with me at my house was enough to make him feel better…in fact, when I asked him if he needed to talk he put his arms around me and said “No…I’m fine now that I’m here”. We went to bed and had a nice lazy Saturday morning. Saturday afternoon I enlisted Pauls help to get my moms Piano from the people who can no longer keep stewardship of it. I’ll admit…its nice having it back in my possession. Showed Paul my gratitude by taking him to dinner and then went to the Zone to hang with Sally and get silly on cheap drinks. Will was there talking to some guy I don’t know and he didn’t look good…and it didn’t take me long to figure out why for there in the bar was the dreaded Simon. Wills terminally single alcoholic #&#* of a friend/roommate who always puts him in a bad mood and Saturday was no exception. In spite of his protests I picked that man up and brought him home with me so that he wouldn’t have to wake up to Simon and his need to have his 30 something year old ass wiped for him. Despite the fact that Will was not happy that I ventured out into the rain he didn’t make a huge protest and I know he was happy once he got to my house.

But...the following day was Super bowl Sunday. And we all know what that means…right? Yup…Will wanted to go home early as he had his plans with the boys. I was bothered none as I'd had very little female company, so I hooked up with Lydia for spicy salsa and fatty comfort food in a girl-fest of a protest directed toward the pig-skin ritual. I was still at Lydias when William put in his nightly call and as is par for the course when it comes to time spent with Simon he was fit to be tied. I asked him if he wanted to come over. “Yes I do, but I can’t” he told me. I sighed and said “Fine…I won’t press the issue tonight as I’m over at Lydias anyway but you really need to start spending more time with me and less time with Simon.” “I know”…was his reply. Seeds. First you plant and then you sow.

But Monday…as my feminine cycle pulled on my emotions in the same way the moon pulls on the tide I started thinking why does he spend time with these guys that drag him down when he could be spending time with me. He says he wants to…but can’t. What is that about? Is he lying to me? Does he not really want to spend time with me? Am I wasting my time here? And despite knowing that I do in fact make him happy and he didn’t really want to leave on Saturday when I had to go take care of my business nothing anyone said to me about my emotional state could dissuade me from sending him an email letting him know that his decisions to spend time with Simon when he could be spending time with someone that makes him happy is making me insecure. He didn’t take it well and when Lydia texted me well past the time he would usually put in his nightly phone call I was ½ asleep but that didn’t stop me from hitting the speed dial to call my man. I was genuinely worried that he hadn’t made it home the previous night since his last words to me were all but drowned out by Simons drunken blather. I was also a bit concerned that he had taken my words wrong so I was surprised when he actually answered. He let me know that he already felt bad about the weekend and my email hadn’t helped matters. After a bit of conversation I was able to convince him that I wasn’t mad at him…just that I didn’t understand his choices. I told him that it is less about a cry for attention and more of a curiosity as to why he insists on surrounding himself with negativity. We ended the conversation on a good note and today I sent him an email suggesting he come over so that he could be around someone that doesn’t drag him down. I said that we could chat about things he and I could do together and I included suggestions of things that would be both inexpensive and fun.

No reply…and I wasn’t even sure I would get one…I didn’t even expect one. Really…I was simply planting another seed…putting an idea in his head…being an annoying little angel on his shoulder whispering in his ear “come to the light…come to the light…I like you…come to the light” as I wave my hand in a semi-seductive come hither sort of gesture. But as I was writing this post I was interrupted by his call. He’d had to go to his parents tonight and he’s sorry he didn’t take me to a movie last week. I assured him that the movies are unnecessary as all I really want to do is spend time with him. “I know” he said “but I would still like to actually take you out from time to time.” He was his normal non-Simon infused self and we teased each other and had some laughs. No mention of my email asking him to come over some night this week or a suggestion of a movie, but I’m pretty sure his schedule won’t allow it anyway…and I’m OK with that. Those seeds will sprout sooner or later…I feel sure of it.

Having said that…lets just hope I don’t hear about another bad night with Simon before I actually bleed or there might be a fireworks show that would dazzle Martians in the next galaxy over.