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.