Just A Girl

This is some good advice

2008-08-17T10:21:00.000-07:00

Unfortunately...I think this guy is right. Not to sound too George Carlin, but people give a fuck about far too many things. While I don't advocate chugging cheap vodka straight from the bottle it has been my experience that many things that people give a fuck about are things that they really have no business giving a fuck about. For example...many people give a fuck about how other people live their lives. Now...if the person under question is planning a mass murder or a coup it might be wise to give a fuck. However...oftentimes the concern is more of a vessel to ignore the things in their own lives that need attention by focusing on the lives of everyone around them. Oftentimes this focus isn't even necessarily on people in their lives but rather on people and things that really don't affect them.

A short list of things people spend too much time giving a fuck about...

Heterosexual people that give a fuck about gay marriage: Why? This is a very strange thing to care about unless you yourself are gay and wish to marry. Provide for me a reasonable explanation as to how two men or two women have an impact on your family and I might get on board. Leave god out of it...if it pisses him off they are going to hell anyway so...why do you give a fuck?
People that give a fuck about legalizing Medical Marijuana (or use of MJ period): Listen...having a toke of MJ at the end of a long day is not so different from another persons nightly gin and tonic. If you don't drink...great, but why do you give a fuck what someone else is doing. Countless research dollars and time have been spent trying to mimic the effect of MJ on pain receptors to no avail. Why do you give a fuck if someone who is sick and possibly dying takes a toke to provide some relief? Really...why?
People that give a fuck about who their legislators are fucking: This is the business of your legislator and his/her spouse. As long as your legislator is doing a good job and not skimming money off the top of the public coffers why do you give a fuck who they are getting naked with? Don't you have anything better to do?
People that give a fuck about other peoples religion or lack thereof: I repeat...if you are right and there is a god who is pissed then the person who doesn't believe as you do is going to hell anyway...so why do you give a fuck?

This is an extremely short list of the things that people care about that don't actually affect their lives. I could go on, but I'm out of time for blogging on this beautiful Sunday afternoon. Perhaps tomorrow I'll post on what people don't seem to give a fuck about but maybe should...

Sore

2008-08-11T09:46:00.000-07:00

Sun baked and sore, that is the only way to describe me today. Spent yesterday riding around on my new wakeboard with bindings that actually fit. It was great...I can finally maneuver the board and I feel like I'm actually participating in the process...not just being pulled behind the boat...an out of control passenger on a wild and crazy ride. There is a metaphor for life in there somewhere but I am too sun baked and sore to attempt the articulation.

Was over at a friends blog today where he has posted a picture of premier Bush checking out some beach volleyball tushy at the Summer 08 games (see below). Not to state the obvious and re-iterate what the other bloggers are blogging about, isn't there something more poignant for him to be spending his time on than beach volleyball? And before you throw down the old argument "Even the leader of country deserves a vacation" I have this to say. First...the bozo has been on vacation ever since he took office...the lights are on but no one is home. Second...you screw things up as royally as he has and you don't deserve a vacation...you don't deserve ringside at the beach volleyball match up. Seriously...when are we going to have some real leadership in this country? If the current contenders are the best we can do is there any hope?

I never thought I'd say this, but...

2008-08-04T14:20:00.000-07:00

OK...I'm going to leave the government conspiracy theory's to those that weave them better than I. Even though I would like to blame our current administration for all the ills of the world whether they affect me directly or not I really can't hang Bush for this one. But I'd really like to. I believe I have lost my ability to drink. 3 glasses of wine on Friday and I felt like crap Saturday. Went to a Birthday party on Saturday and woke up the next morning feeling like I drank twice what I actually did which was far less than I am usually capable of (sans oogy just shoot me hangover). I mean…I couldn't hold down food and I rarely experience that. And I know I didn’t drink more than I thought because my friend is the bartender and she rang me in confirming that I actually drank less than I usually do. She has noticed a change in her ability to throw back a beer herself and we have chalked it up to our new exercise and diet plan that we have been following. Well…it’s not really an exercise and diet plan.

So what is it? I don’t really know but I’m eating better and have lost some of those emotional eating pounds I gained in the beginning in there year.

Here’s the basics of our not a diet diet plan…

We decided that we were sick and tired of cooking something and having a ton of leftovers that you get bored of so we have this food share thing going on. Its fun and we are all eating better and drinking less. Why are we drinking less? Well…our get-togethers don’t necessarily happen in a bar. Often our get-togethers consist of dinner (made by one of us) followed by a session playing on the Wii. In fact…we play the Wii quite a bit. It’s just fun with a capital F. I think I get the whole video game fascination the testosterone set has…though we are using a bit more than our thumbs using the Wii. Sally lives about 10 minutes away so we often get together just to have a little conversation maybe some channel surfing and then its game time. It is actually pretty good exercise and with my competitive streak I’ll keep trying to beat the game no matter how tired or sweaty I am.

So what am I trying to say here? Big thumbs up to the Wii and an apology to all the guys I’ve given a hard time to for all their video game playing time.

And...I never thought I'd say this about a video game system but...I want one!

Subjective Reality

2008-07-31T15:14:00.001-07:00

Well...the boss is back and as I suspected he is ignoring the actual data that I have in favor of his favored hypothesis. Just checked the water...still hasn't turned to wine. Our conversation was actually comical. First he looked a little disappointed that the super sexy hypothesis is not bearing true...actually said that the story that is seeming to be supported by the data is uninteresting. HUH? Its data. It is what it is. THEN he latched onto one little tiny piece of data that gave him a ray of hope...that seems to contradict what I need him to believe (it doesn't...but only if you're not really paying attention). That is when the conversation really got interesting. Suffice it to say...he doesn't want to look at the data...doesn't want to accept what people who have been working in the field for years and have far more experience working with this system than either he or I have to say about what the data means. And...as I went over and over it with him trying to explain how this is analyzed...explain what I have spent the last couple of months trying to learn and understand by speaking with people that do nothing BUT analyze this kind of data he started to get it. Unfortunately...the minute It all started to make sense to him he had to go. He was late. Par for the course and now I will need to begin explaining all of this to him from the beginning...again.

Did I mention that we already did this a couple of months ago...and he accepted it? No? Well...this is the second time I've had this conversation with him...and I'm sure it won't be the last.

What do I do? Continue plugging forward writing the manuscript the way it should be written and showing him the data for what it is over and over until he accepts it. Am I pulling this plan out of my ass? No. This is the advice given to me by his former graduate student...who had to go through the same thing.

Good times!

5.8 is GREAT!

2008-07-29T12:35:00.000-07:00

That was fun...

On another note. Regarding the X-files movie. While Mulder remains my favorite and sexiest man who wants to believe in the existence of life on other planets...save your money. Unless of course you are super jonesing for a two part episode. In that case get your ticket while its still in theaters, as I believe it wont be there for long!

She's alive!!!!

2008-07-26T08:28:00.001-07:00

It has recently been brought to my attention that I haven't been blogging. "Really?" I ask...I wasn't aware that the blog has been sitting largely ignored. Many of the people asking this question know that I have been busy with a capital B. Not only have I been busy I've been fairly happy with little that needs processing.

So, what has been going on? Well...if you aren't in the loop and you are simply stopping by looking for an image or just checking in to see if I've put any of my recent adventures into prose or have a voyeuristic interest in the lives of people you don’t know here goes …

Work- Work has been an up and down roller coaster since March. My boss has been a bit volatile lately...more scattered than usual...prone to outbursts of negativity and beratement...and in general seems to have lost his mind. If I were the only one that had noticed this shift in his normally laid back manner of management and interpersonal interaction I'd think I was the one with the problem but I'm not the only one feeling the edge so whatever is going on with him...is going on with him and we are all simply paying the price. What am I talking about? Well...shortly after my last post as I was nearing completion of the first draft of my first manuscript my boss decided that data that had at one time been perfectly acceptable to him was now not only unacceptable but was in dire need of a host of new experiments to really nail the point home. And not just some quick and dirty easy to accomplish experiments either. He suddenly wanted me to pick up a project that we had long since abandoned as requiring far too much time and money to be feasible to accomplish. Not only that, but in a field as young as mesenchymal stem cells...it may not even be possible to accomplish with what is currently known. But, being the good girl that I am I put down the manuscript and headed off to tissue culture to try and grow these cells. Unfortunately I wasn’t allowed to purchase the necessary reagents for the monster experiment that used to be unnecessary but now seemed to be the one thing upon which my ability to graduate depended upon. In short…our lab is broke so I had to wait to even attempt the experiment. Meanwhile we got some new data that threw a wrench into the argument…data that seemed to suggest that my boss's favorite working hypothesis…the one he’s got me running around in circles to prove…is wrong. So, as I waited for authorization to purchase the reagents needed to complete this new task I dove into the literature trying to make some kind of sense of this data that just didn’t fit with his favorite working hypothesis. I successfully came up with a model that would tie all of the data together and began work to test these ideas. Guess what…I now have MORE data to suggest that his favorite working hypothesis is wrong. Coupled to that the super important maybe unnecessary experiment didn’t work which is really no surprise as working up a new experiment usually takes several tries before you get it right. Or…maybe it didn’t work because the hypothesis is wrong. The only way to tell is to do it a few more times and if we had the time and/or the money to do so I have no doubt I could figure it out, and while my mentor could keep me tied to the bench indefinitely trying to figure this out we lack the funds to actually do so, which means we have abandoned that ship once again.

So, where does that leave me you ask? Well…it puts me right back where I started in March with plenty of good data to write a paper about the less splashy less sexy hypothesis that seems to be bearing true. What is the problem you ask? Well…the problem is that the boss doesn’t want to write that paper. What he wants me to do is make water into wine like I’m some kind of Jesus Christ. I can’t do it. Not only do I not believe the super sexy hypothesis to be true…I have data suggesting that it is not. So…we dance. Not to worry though…I have a committee and have spoken to one member of my committee about the situation. Not only is she is fully aware of what my data does and does not say she is fully aware of “how my mentor can be” quote-unquote. Her husband is hiring for a job that she thinks I’d be perfect for that I am very interested in pursuing, and while I may write on that later suffice it to say she is going to help me navigate these waters and get the paper that should be written out and me behind the podium to defend my dissertation. More on that later…

Play- I haven’t just been working. I have, in fact, been doing a fair amount of playing. In the last few months I have made some really great new friends. People I have known for awhile…in some cases years…but have never really gotten to know until now. Dissociation from Leila, my possessive, paranoid, needy, and self-absorbed “friend” has afforded me the time to spend getting to know these other people and my social circle has exploded. It has exploded in a very healthy and fun way. I have, of late, not had a whole lot of “me” time and funny enough…I haven’t really felt the need for it. I could go on but suffice it to say…I now have a nice circle of friends who know the meaning of give and take. People who do not judge me for my ideas about the world any more than I judge others for theirs and while we may not always understand the reasons why we do or feel the way we do about things…or agree with a particular course of action…there is no judgment. There is no “taking personally” the idea that I or they might not see things the same way or chose to take a different course of action in any given situation. Of particular note, I can express my thoughts about any particular situation, can say the hard to say thing that you know is not what the other person wants to hear and instead of it being met with anger or hostility or having something painful or confusing that I shared thrown back in my face it is simply a discussion…take my opinion/advice and do with it what you will as I will yours. Now…shall we put some music on the jukebox and dance and fuhget about it for awhile? Yes…we shall.

Romance- Nada, zip, zero. And I’m quite happy with it that way. Shortly after my last post I told William off. I called him an asshole to his face…in front of his new "girlfriend". And while that may seem harsh given the fact that I know he’s mentally ill it had to be done. It was like barfing up a huge bolus of poison and after the fact…while I felt a little silly for allowing him to see how he affected me…for not taking the high road…in the end it was good for me to throw off the coat of the martyr and tell him exactly what I think of his behavior. He’s sick but he knows he is sick and he is not even attempting to get help and it is NOT okay that he is drawing people in to it. Plain Jane is a thing of the past and he has moved on to someone else. Someone else that, from what I can tell, is going to end up in the same place all of us did. I could go on, but I won’t. So much has happened and so many lies and manipulations have been revealed…things that hurt me to my very core. And while I do take into consideration that he was honest with me about his illness and warned me that this is exactly what was going to happen and pleaded with me not to take it personally and not to feel bad…I do. And…what really gets me is that he has not afforded this same consideration to these other women. I know that I was not specifically part of his pattern. He treated me with far more respect and consideration than he had/is these other women and quite frankly it is to him I owe much of my current happiness and peace of mind. It was he that admonished me for not caring enough about myself and not putting my own needs before those of others. It was he that did not allow me to repeat the patterns of my previous relationships and actually slapped me in the face with it and forced me to take a good hard look at how I’ve been navigating my interpersonal relationships both romantic and platonic. For that I am thankful but…I don’t like seeing other people confused and hurt. This new girl will…no doubt…be left scratching her head wondering “what the hell happened here” soon enough. In the end…I still care about him despite being very angry with him and I wish things could be different for both of us. It truly pains me to know that no matter what he does…no matter how many hurtful things he has done and will do it is he that is the ultimate loser in this game and it is for that that I can forgive him his transgressions. No matter what my issues are I do not suffer from BPD so I can and have moved past the pain to enjoy the warmth of the sun and the friends I have and accept and grow from both the positive and negative aspects of my interaction with him. It simply frustrates me that there is nothing I can do to stop him from running this hamster wheel and allow the good, caring, funny, intelligent person that I got to know free because all of the garbage that he has pulled isn’t his core being…it’s the BPD at work and its sad. It’s like cancer…only there is no chemo.

Therapy- Going well. I still have a hard time talking about my father but I really enjoy discussing the various situations in my life and getting a completely outside opinion/viewpoint. He often asks me to relate current situations to life with dad which is next to impossible as I don’t remember much. What I have determined is that the majority of the “damage” occurred before my parents first separation. This is the part that I have a hard time remembering. I have no trouble remembering the period after that. The period where I just didn’t exist to him…where I wasn’t allowed to exist unless he needed someone to project his own failures and insecurities on. Unfortunately for him I already knew somewhere in my gut that my dad wasn’t just an asshole…there was something seriously wrong with him so its not the High School years that affect me because at that point I mostly blew him off or if that didn’t work…told him off which typically resulted in either an emotional tear down or a good knock to the head but at least I remember it. I least I can process it and conclude that it wasn’t about me. I think…what happened is that during the first separation I was afforded the opportunity to determine who I was/am. Its like that little breath of being away from the insanity gave me a peek at what life could be like when you’re not waiting for the next time you are going to be the target of some rage for which there is no logical root and once I experienced that there was no going back. There was no belief that dad was right and I was bad. He simply became someone who didn’t love me or care about me but whose behavior I had to manage…as best I could…which pretty much meant I didn’t spend a whole lot of time at home. The key, I think, to moving past this and really working through my issues is to remember the time before that in something other than snippets and fuzzy emotionally charged feelings. I mean…most of my memories of that time are less about what specifically happened and more about how I felt all the time. What I remember is being very confused and sad but I don’t know exactly why. I know that William pinged me…and he pinged me hard. He brought all of those emotions back to the surface and without any sort of event to assign them to I was once again thrown into confusion, sadness, and relying on old emotional coping mechanisms (like emotional eating) that I am slowly but surely crawling my way away from again. With him I felt just like that child and I continue to search for the source of those feelings…for the specific action(s) and events that I subconsciously recognized in William that brought that side of me up to the surface, the side of me that prompted him to muse that “we are a good match because we can help each other with our issues which are similar but opposite.” I didn’t know then what he meant but I do now. This is another thing that pains me about our parting ways on all levels including even being friends and that is the concept of Imago relationships which is so eloquently elaborated in this post on choosing intimate partners. Perhaps he already did what I needed done by an intimate partner. Perhaps just handing me that compass is enough. It feels like enough but I do wish I could talk to him. I specifically wish I could tell him just how much he’s done for me and thank him for it…even if he is behaving like a grade A asshole these days. Maybe it was all I needed and maybe it wasn’t. Though…I suppose we won’t know for sure until I am again faced with a person that “pings” me. How I handle that will be the true test. Until then…I continue to allow myself to feel what I feel without sweeping it back under the rug. It isn’t always easy…but…what worth having or doing is?

And that’s the wrap up. That is my life in a nutshell for the last couple of months. Sure…there is a lot I’m glossing over but you get the picture.

Life. Is. Good.

Bad Mood

2008-05-05T12:09:00.000-07:00

I'm in a bad mood today. On Saturday I found out that I had been deceived. On Saturday I found out that, at least in the early stages of our relationship, William was not 100% forthright with me. I realize that the man is sick and the more I find out about him the more I realize that he was never OK...that he was simply putting up a front. He never was the person he portrayed himself as. I realize that this sort of behavior, lying and manipulation, is part of the pathology of his disorder but I also realize that it is no excuse. There is no excuse for deception. I understand the motivation behind the action. The fear of being alone, of being abandoned, of needing so much that one person can not possibly fill the void but I am a human being and I have feelings too. I have feelings that were dis-regarded. Feelings that I laid out on the table. I was honest. I was 100% up-front and honest about who I am, what I want out of life, and what I expect from a man that I am dating. I let him know how I felt about seeing more than one person at a time. I let him know that if he wanted to see other people that would be OK as I would go ahead and keep my options open as well. It's not like dating two people at once is a bad thing, and in the first few weeks I actually WAS dating someone else myself. But after we started sleeping together we discussed the idea that we would be exclusive until such point that we figured it wasn't going to work out. He agreed to that...even went so far as to say he felt the same way about things and I held up my end of the bargain. Had I know that I was not the only bird in his bush at the beginning I would not have let myself fall. I would have held myself in check. I would not have believed him when he seemed so devastated at the idea of us being over when I tried to end things a month of so later due to his flakiness. I'm no idiot. I know what it feels like when a person really likes you and wants to be with you and it wasn't feeling that way anymore. It wasn't feeling that way in my gut...and my gut is never wrong. But he begged me to be patient. I told him that it all sounded like lines that I'd heard before. He said he understood but there was no one else and there would be no one else and as far as I know all that went on was some kissing with a girl that he started seeing before he started seeing me. I knew about that...I just didn't know that we "overlapped". She was seeing someone else too so when he started not calling her back, which from what she told me must have been around the time that he and I officially started seeing each other, she sorta put him on the back burner but didn't really stop dating him until she and her boy went official. She suspected he was seeing me, though he didn't cop to it until she told him that she was "off the market". Now...all of this would be OK with me if it were all on the table. If I hadn't taken myself off the market per our conversation I would have just casually dated William. It wouldn't have gone to a place where I could get hurt. I wouldn't have even listened to his bullshit when I tried to end it...I would have just said this is over. But I thought the guy really liked me and when he implored me to just be patient and let him get through the holidays I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I really liked him and wanted to believe so I gave him a month to get over his "Christmas funk".

What a damn fool I am.

I can't believe I bought the bullshit. All that I believed was a lie and now I feel foolish. Completely and utterly foolish. He made me feel special and loved and it was all bullshit. I went into it dis-trustful and I let my guard down. I let my guard down because I don't want to be that cold bitch that doesn't trust or let anyone in. I've been that girl for far too long. I've been that girl ever since my ex left me high and dry for Ms. more geographically desireable after six years of dedication to his needs and wants and I'm tired of being that girl. But how the hell am I supposed to continue doing this? How many times can you get sucker punched before the wall around your heart is so high that even you can't scale it? What is wrong with me? Do I have some kind of sign on my forehead that reads "Don't mind her...she's not real...her feelings don't count."

I want to go shout at him "How could you do this to me? I was nothing but nice to you! I was good to you! How could you lie to me like that? How could you lead me on for months knowing that you were being dis-honest?"

I'm a nice girl. I'm a nice girl that wonders if he ever really did like me. I'm a nice girl that is cringing inside at the idea of he, and plain Jane, and maybe even Leila laughing at the stupid trusting fool of a "nice girl" that I am.

I know that I'm not supposed to take any of this personally. I know...on an intellectual level that none of this is about me. That none of this is about me not being good enough or of William not caring/wanting to hurt me, but today I'm having a really hard time convincing my heart of that.

Today I can hear Leila's voice in my head. Leila telling me I should have known. That its my fault that I feel this way now. That I made a fool of myself. That I should have seen it coming. That I deserve to be laughed at for being such a blind stupid fool. And maybe she's right. maybe I should have just walked and let him go off in to a corner and cry but I really liked him and I DON'T WANT TO HAVE TO WATCH MY BACK ALL THE TIME DAMMIT!!!!!!! I want...no I need...to be able to trust. I really really do...

Why can't people just be real? Isn't that easier than being false?

I'm tired, and I'm fed up.

I'm tired, and I'm fed up and I spent two hours chatting with a new potential on the phone last night. A new potential that seems like a really nice honest guy. A new potential that I am going to have a hard time trusting because I don't trust myself to know the difference between a "good guy" and a "bad guy."

Stupid girl

Dear Blog

2008-04-30T14:00:00.000-07:00

Dear Blog,

I am so sorry to have neglected you so egregiously this past week and a half. But it really isn't my fault you see. The problem, dear Blog, is that I have become completely OVERWHELMED with work. It's not that I don't think about you, and its not that I don't have things I want to write about its just that when I get home all I can bring myself to actually do it have a glass of wine, eat a bit of dinner, and collapse into bed.

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Its not just you, dear blog, I haven't been responding to the nice young men that send me email to my Okcupid account either. In fact...last Sunday, when I normally would have maybe written a post I decided instead to respond to a few of those emails. They are, after all, living breathing men that might be able to satisfy a particular need that you, no matter how hard you try, will never be able to achieve. Also, there are all of the friends and family that I have been neglecting of late. I had to find some time for them too.

So what is it I'm so busy doing that I cant find the time to show some love to my blog? Well...here's a typical day;

Exercise (30-60 minutes plus gear-up time)
I need to fit some kind of physical activity into each day. Not only is this good for the contours of my ass...its good for the state of my brain. Regular exercise= steady serotonin levels= a happier more pleasant Julie to be around.

"Chores" (1-2 hours/day)
This category includes things like making my bed, doing/folding the laundry, bathing, washing dishes, grocery shopping, preparing food, paying bills. You get the picture. All the little shit that has to get done takes about 1-2 hours/day when you average it out over the week.

Commuting (90-120 minutes depending on traffic)
It is too expensive to live within walking distance to campus. I have tried numerous routes to see if it would take me any less time to get here from any area I'd like to live...and it doesn't. Traffic in Los Angeles SUCKS. Unless you can work from home or are lucky enough to work a few blocks from your home you are going to deal with traffic. I'm a lab-rat. It isn't likely that I'll be working from home any time soon.

Biologizing (6-10 hours/day)
Its a lab. It varies from day to day. For example. I should be working RIGHT NOW. I'm not. I'm blogging. Means I'm going to have to make it up at some point. That will probably be Sunday. I'm pretty sure I'll have to come in on Sunday. I was in lab this past Sunday. Its one of the reasons you didn't see a post from me this past weekend, and...one of the reasons you might not see a post from me this weekend either. Then again the way my world works...one can never say for sure.

So, on average we're talking about 12 hours of structure per day. In this I have not included time spent socializing with friends, writing...anything, taking a moment to myself to decompress and process daily stresses, read a book or article, read/comment upon other blogs, watch a movie...have a life. And...forget about sleep. Sleep is for Saturday.

Am I complaining, dear Blog? No. Most definitely not. I like being busy. I like feeling purposeful. I just thought I should let you know why I haven't had as much time for you as I did at the beginning of the year. I want you to understand that it isn't you...it's me. It's me and mi vida loca getting in the way of us. I promise not to abandon you...I just need some space and time. I hope you understand. I hope you'll still love me when I find myself bored and frustrated and in need of a place to vent.

Love and butterscotch sundaes with lots of whipped cream,

The Julie

Lets Change the Subject, Shall We?

2008-04-21T11:49:00.001-07:00

It has been noted that my blog has taken a somewhat somber turn. Following a lovely lunch with Ms. Lydia Valentine on Saturday she informed me that my blog has become a bit of a mental health blog. She’s right. Its depressing. Hell…Im depressed and starting to wonder if I myself am “crazy.” My mother assures me that I’m not. That according to her psyche professor oh so many years ago we all have some traits of various mental illnesses or personality disorders but that it is the degree to which you have them that defines you as “clinical”. She’s a nurse…she probably knows. In any event, for now Im going to leave it up to my therapist to determine if I’m “crazy” or not. That’s not to say you won’t see any more “processing posts” here…its just that its not the ONLY thing I think about.

Another thing I think about is men. I like men. I’d like to have one in my life. Im not quite sure how I’ll really fit a man into my life with all of the other things I’ve got going on but a little dating here and there probably wouldn’t be the worst thing for me to pursue. So when Zabel sent me this link to take an “online dating persona” test at okcupid I decided to make a profile and stick around for awhile…see what there is to see.

What is my online dating persona you might ask? Well…according to their highly scientific calculations I am the Sonnet;

Romantic, hopeful, and composed. You are the Sonnet. Get it? Composed? Sonnets want Love and have high ideals about it. They're conscientious people, caring & careful. You yourself have deep convictions, and you devote a lot of thought to romance and what it should be. This will frighten away most potential mates, but that's okay, because you're very choosy with your affections anyway. You'd absolutely refuse to date someone dumber than you, for instance.

Lovers who share your idealized perspective, or who are at least willing to totally throw themselves into a relationship, will be very, very happy with you. And you with them. You're already selfless and compassionate, and with the right partner, there's no doubt you can be sensual, even adventurously so.

You probably have lots of female friends, and they have a special soft spot for you. Babies do, too, at the tippy-top of their baby skulls.

Im already having fun with it. Worst case scenario I’ll make some new friends and maybe go on a date or two. Best case scenario and I’ll meet “the one”. Who knows…who cares. Life is to be lived and that is what I am going to do. So…What are the odds of meeting “the one” here in Los Angeles? Well…according to the Boston Globe they might actually be pretty good.

Check this out…

A singles map of the United States of America
Which cities have a surplus of single men (or women) - and what that means for the country

WHICH OF THESE two decisions do you think has a bigger impact on someone's life: finding the right job, or finding the right significant other? No one's going to argue
with the notion that where you live affects your employment prospects. But the place you call home has a lot to do with your chances of finding the right partner as well. Having an enticing "mating market" matters as much or more than a vibrant labor market.

It's not just that some places have more singles than others. If you're a single man or a single woman the odds of meeting that special someone vary dramatically across the country.

By far, the best places for single men are the large cities and metro areas of the East Coast and Midwest. The extreme is greater New York, where single women outnumber single men by more than 210,000. In the Philadelphia area and greater
Washington, D.C., single women outnumber single men by 50,000. I met my wife outside Detroit, where the odds were greatly stacked in my favor -single women outnumber single men by some 20,000 there.

In fact, single women outnumber single men in many large cities around the world, even though men outearn women at all ages, according to Lena C. Edlund, a Columbia University economist. One reason young women in the prime marriage years - the 25-44 age range - flock to big cities is to compete for the most eligible men. And smart women who gravitate to vibrant cities are more likely to stay single - for longer, at least - because they rightly refuse to settle for someone who can't keep up with them intellectually or otherwise.

But women do have an advantage in the American West and Southwest. In greater Los Angeles, for example, there are 90,000 more single men than women. In Phoenix and the San Francisco Bay Area, single men outnumber single women by roughly 65,000. There are considerably more single men than women in San Diego, Dallas, and Seattle, too. Each of these regions has grown substantially over the past two or three decades, offering jobs in everything from high tech to construction and
services. As numerous studies of migration show, men - especially those in regions with declining economies - are initially more likely to move long distances for economic opportunity, while women are more likely to stay closer to home and family.

Read the rest of the article here…

So there you have it. There are more men here than there are women.

“To the moon, Alice, to the moon!”

P.S. Lets have a little fun. If you take the quiz...drop me a comment and let me know who your dating persona is...unless you're too shy of course.

Re-defining Art

2008-04-17T15:54:00.000-07:00

I write a lot about mental illness on this blog. How it touches my life both past and present. Here is a present reality that you may have missed. I have no idea if this woman is mentally ill but its the only way I can explain this.

For senior, abortion a medium for art, political discourse
Martine Powers
Staff Reporter
Published Thursday, April 17, 2008

Art major Aliza Shvarts '08 wants to make a statement.

Beginning next Tuesday, Shvarts will be displaying her senior art project, a documentation of a nine-month process during which she artificially inseminated herself "as often as possible" while periodically taking abortifacient drugs to induce miscarriages. Her exhibition will feature video recordings of these forced miscarriages as well as preserved collections of the blood from the process.

The goal in creating the art exhibition, Shvarts said, was to spark conversation and debate on the relationship between art and the human body. But her project has already provoked more than just debate, inciting, for instance, outcry at a forum for fellow senior art majors held last week. And when told about Shvarts' project, students on both ends of the abortion debate have expressed shock . saying the project does everything from violate moral code to trivialize abortion.

But Shvarts insists her concept was not designed for "shock value."

"I hope it inspires some sort of discourse," Shvarts said. "Sure, some people will be upset with the message and will not agree with it, but it's not the intention of the piece to scandalize anyone."

The "fabricators," or donors, of the sperm were not paid for their services, but Shvarts required them to periodically take tests for sexually transmitted diseases. She said she was not concerned about any medical effects the forced miscarriages may have had on her body. The abortifacient drugs she took were legal and herbal, she said, and she did not feel the need to consult a doctor about her repeated miscarriages.

Shvarts declined to specify the number of sperm donors she used, as well as the number of times she inseminated herself.

Art major Juan Castillo '08 said that although he was intrigued by the creativity and beauty of her senior project, not everyone was as thrilled as he was by the concept and the means by which she attained the result.

"I really loved the idea of this project, but a lot other people didn't," Castillo said. "I think that most people were very resistant to thinking about what the project was really about. [The senior-art-project forum] stopped being a conversation on the work itself."

Although Shvarts said she does not remember the class being quite as hostile as Castillo described, she said she believes it is the nature of her piece to "provoke inquiry."

"I believe strongly that art should be a medium for politics and ideologies, not just a commodity," Shvarts said. "I think that I'm creating a project that lives up to the standard of what art is supposed to be."

The display of Schvarts' project will feature a large cube suspended from the ceiling of a room in the gallery of Green Hall. Schvarts will wrap hundreds of feet of plastic sheeting around this cube; lined between layers of the sheeting will be the blood from Schvarts' self-induced miscarriages mixed with Vaseline in order to prevent the blood from drying and to extend the blood throughout the plastic sheeting.

Schvarts will then project recorded videos onto the four sides of the cube. These videos, captured on a VHS camcorder, will show her experiencing miscarriages in her bathrooom tub, she said. Similar videos will be projected onto the walls of the room.

School of Art lecturer Pia Lindman, Schvarts' senior-project advisor, could not be reached for comment Wednesday night.

Few people outside of Yale's undergraduate art department have heard about Shvarts' exhibition. Members of two campus abortion-activist groups . Choose Life at Yale, a pro-life group, and the Reproductive Rights Action League of Yale, a pro-choice group . said they were not previously aware of Schvarts' project.

Alice Buttrick '10, an officer of RALY, said the group was in no way involved with the art exhibition and had no official opinion on the matter.

Sara Rahman '09 said, in her opinion, Shvarts is abusing her constitutional right to do what she chooses with her body.

"[Shvarts' exhibit] turns what is a serious decision for women into an absurdism," Rahman said. "It discounts the gravity of the situation that is abortion."

CLAY member Jonathan Serrato '09 said he does not think CLAY has an official response to Schvarts' exhibition. But personally, Serrato said he found the concept of the senior art project "surprising" and unethical.

"I feel that she's manipulating life for the benefit of her art, and I definitely don't support it," Serrato said. "I think it's morally wrong."

Shvarts emphasized that she is not ashamed of her exhibition, and she has become increasingly comfortable discussing her miscarriage experiences with her peers.

"It was a private and personal endeavor, but also a transparent one for the most part," Shvarts said. "This isn't something I've been hiding."

The official reception for the Undergraduate Senior Art Show will be from 6 p.m. to 8 p.m. on April 25. The exhibition will be on public display from April 22 to May 1. The art exhibition is set to premiere alongside the projects of other art seniors this Tuesday, April 22 at the gallery of Holcombe T. Green Jr. Hall on Chapel Street.

I hope this is just some kind of hoax. It is so wrong on so many levels. How this makes sense to her completely eludes me. I don't even understand how a person could even come up with an idea like this. Not only do I not understand what kind of thinking would conceive such an idea but what kind of person would actually do this...and be so blase about it? I'm absolutely stupefied.

Yale student Molly Clark-Barol is not so stupefied. She sums up my major problems with this far better than I have the ability to do at the moment...

"Congratulations, Aliza Shvarts '08: you have single-handedly trivialized not only an entire generation and a half's fight to gain and retain the right to choose, through harassment and against massive odds, but also history of women's struggles, not only politically, but with the emotional, moral, and spiritual impacts of the choice to terminate a pregnancy. You also spit upon every couple who has tried, and failed, sometimes repeatedly, to have children. it is the emotional impact of these struggles, emotional impact that you shamelessly exploit, not explore, in your senior project."

Weighing in on the hoax aspect an anonymous commenter to the article (186 at time of this posting) had this to say...

"Boy. Terrific reporting here. No verification from the authorities responsible, only claims by a student with a controversial subject matter for a senior project.

Claims. Many of them. Most of them hard to believe at best. (Anyone out there have miscarriage? No? It's not something that normally repeats without any other impact within a nine month period.)

Where are the positive pregnancy test results in this whole grand scheme of things?

I call bullshit. "

Lets hope so Anon...

But if its not a hoax I really don't know what I'd call it, but I know for DAMN sure I wont call it art.

Succubus

2008-04-14T17:10:00.000-07:00

So…I mentioned in my previous post that I spoke with Simon on Saturday night. Early in the evening I told him that I thought his little display on Friday night was quite funny….especially when you consider that we were situated right between both William and Jane. He laughed and said “well…yeah…that was kinda on purpose…but also…you did look damn sexy.” Later on in the evening when Simon was really getting into his vent he said he was sick and tired of William getting all angsty every time I walked in. “Dude…you broke up with her…she’s not bothering you so what is your problem?” He then went on to tell me that William gave him shit for talking to me on Friday night. Apparently William asked “Why do you talk to her…she’s crazy.” Simon said that he told him that we are friends and that he couldnt deny that I looked good (as opposed to Jane I imagine). Simon went on to tell me that after that William was making me out to be some kind of Succubus. “He called me a Succubus?” I said with some amusement. “No” said Simon, “I’m paraphrasing but that’s pretty much what he was getting at.”

From Wikipedia:

In Western medieval legend, a succubus (plural succubi) or succuba (plural succubae) is a demon, who takes the form of a beautiful woman to seduce men, especially monks in dreams to have sexual intercourse. They draw energy from the men to sustain themselves, often until the point of exhaustion or death of the victim. The appearance of succubi varies, but in general they are depicted as alluring women with great beauty, often with demonic batlike wings, and large breasts; they also have other demonic features, such as horns and cloven feet. Occasionally they appear as an attractive woman in dreams that the victim cannot seem to get off his mind. They lure males and in some cases, the male has seemed to fall "in love" with her. Even out of the dream she will not leave his mind. She will remain there slowly draining energy from him until death by exhaustion. Other sources say the demon will steal the male's soul through the act of intercourse.

I honestly don’t know if I should be insulted or flattered, but one thing is for sure; I must be DAMN good in bed. I mean…succubi aren’t exactly known for being bad in bed. In fact…as I understand it…once you have made love with either a succubus or an incubus (the male counterpart) you are forever condemned to feeling un-fulfilled when having sex with mere mortals.

Did I really have this much of an effect on that man? I lured him?

I was un-aware that I had that sort of power, and I'm not entirely sure I actually do, but…its kinda cool because if you’re going to be insulted I would say that being called a succubus…a beautiful and demonic seductress…is far better than simply being called a bitch.

It should be known that I tried to break up with him no less than 3 times. It should also be known that I assured him that he “didn’t have to do this if it was too stressful for him...that I wouldn't be mad at him.” I in no way shape or form made that man stay with me or be with me. I guess he feels bad about how things turned out so he has turned me into a demonic seductress that he just couldn’t stay away from even though I was slowly draining him of his life force.

At least he got the beautiful part right…

Sometimes I wish I Lived in New York

2008-04-14T12:24:00.000-07:00

I just have to share this. According to Venditto, an author at Broowaha this midget Michael Jackson “stands three apples high, wears black leather covered in chains, a geri curled wig, dons a white glove and becomes Michael Jackson. He has a boom box that's bigger than him and he plays Billie Jean over and over again.”

For more on the cultural offerings of the New York Subway system read the rest of the article.

In other news. I had a talk with Simon on Saturday night. Wait...what I actually did was listen to Simon vent on Saturday night. William is a lot more F'd up than I thought. Like...in a very unattractive way. In fact...as I listened to Simon vent all I could think is this would be me. If William had ever let me see the side of him that Simon knows it would be me venting...about my boyfriend. I mean...I actually agreed with how Simon felt about some of the shit that Will has been pulling. William, though very kind to me in sheltering me from these aspects of his personality sounds like a handful. I am so over it. I so hope he gets help but I am sooooo over the whole idea of a relationship with him.

And now…please enjoy “a moment with little Mike”…

A Post: In Two Acts

2008-04-12T18:40:00.000-07:00

ACT I: I am having a hard time with my therapy. I like my therapist. He’s a nice guy and we’ve had some good conversations about things that are going on in my life. I usually leave the session with something to think about over the course of the next week. But I started going so that I could deal with my feelings about my childhood. I want to figure out how these feelings affect who I am today. I want to understand why I foster some relationships while running away from others be they friends or potential lovers. I want to understand why I always seem to reach for the ceiling when I have the potential to reach for the stars. I want to understand why I want I am so content with the short end of the stick while others fight like rabid dogs for the long end. The only problem with this is that I don’t remember much about my childhood. Anything relating to being at home is fuzzy with only brief glimpses of clarity. Most of these glimpses are not the kind of thing you want to re-play. And, in fact, when I do remember these things I see them as a movie and that girl standing there is not really me but is someone else…an actor on the set of some cheesy lifetime movie about “inner grit” where the lead character overcomes all odds to make something of herself. This is not to say that all of the memories I do have are bad. For example…I recall cooking dinner with my mother most nights. Or rather…she would cook while I rambled on about my day. These are good memories and may be why I feel most at peace when I am chopping vegetables, stirring sauce, or washing dishes. During my early teen years this was the only real opportunity I had to spend with my mother as one of my fathers stipulations for “taking us back” after their first separation was that she would eat dinner and spend the rest of the evening with him in their bedroom. Door locked and you better have severed a limb or something if you dared knock on that door. Not that every interruption was met with an outward display of anger but that would almost be preferable to being “dismissed”. Short of being beaten, there is maybe nothing worse than being rejected or made to feel selfish for simply wanting to interact with your parents…nothing worse than walking away from that door and sitting in your room knowing that you could be building a bomb, shooting heroin, or having an orgy and no one would notice.

No one would notice.

I guess this comes to mind as I just read a post at Untreatables blog that sparked a memory. In it he describes the feeling of “escaping prison” every time he left his house. I know that one well…only from a slightly different perspective. What I remember is the feeling that my house existed under a dome…a dark dome that upon entering would evoke feelings of emptiness, loneliness, and depression. No matter how happy or at peace I was just prior to setting foot on the driveway the moment I saw the house a feeling of dread would come over me. I didn’t want to go inside. Sometimes I would simply sit at the end of the driveway in order to put it off. It got so bad that eventually I simply stopped going home unless one of my pseudo-sisters was with me. Throughout high school we were like nomads that shuttled from one dysfunctional situation to the other…choosing the one that felt least threatening or opting for sitting on the corner between our houses smoking cigarettes when both were intolerable. This did little for my grades and I sometimes wonder if it was the report card in which I went from straight A’s to practically flunking out of high school that finally gave my mother the impetus to leave my father. She tried to ground me but it didn’t work. I simply left via my bedroom window and since she was back in the bedroom with dad she never really knew what the heck I was doing. And my grades didn’t improve.

I was 17 when we were finally free. We moved back into the home purchased during the first separation and I no longer felt like I didn’t want to go home. Home actually became a nice place to be. I could come home and be myself. I could read, or watch TV, bake a cake, or even *gasp* do my homework. Perhaps someday I’ll post on how significant that is…how actually enjoying the learning process was not tolerable in my fathers eyes, but that is for another day. The point is…I was finally in a place where I could have friends other than my sisters over without having to constantly watch my back wondering when my father would notice that I’d come home. I didn’t have to worry that he would notice me and decide to point out one of my many flaws (as being smart, pretty, and popular simply wasn’t good enough) or to remind me in some way of how deeply I was failing him as a daughter. To this day I am not sure what it was he wanted from me or where I failed him. During our last reconciliation when he was able to admit that he’d done and said some pretty terrible things he told me that the reason he acted the way he did toward me was because of something I said when I was seven that hurt his feelings. Yes…I said seven. I said something at the age of seven and was treated to 10 years of emotional torture. I don’t even remember being seven let alone something I said, and lets face it…whatever kind of child I was at the age of seven is a direct reflection of what I learned from my parents about how to interact with people. And that night…I told him as such. He would later deny both having had this conversation or of ever being a bad father. And I still refuse, on at least an intellectual level, to hold myself accountable for anything I did or said at the age of seven.

But all of this leads me to the reasons I started seeing a therapist in the first place. (1) The mini-breakdown I had upon reading the section in SWOE about protecting children from a parent with BPD and the flood of memories it unleashed, and (2) my insatiable need for validation from men in romantic relationships. For, while I knew on some level that William cared for me and actually did want us to work out I had a strong emotional reaction to his refusal to spend time with me. Even though I knew he was going through shit of his own and was having a hard time with it I was unable to see past that and take it as anything other than rejection. Just like that bedroom door being closed in my face when I was 15 years old.

ACT II: And I felt that twinge of rejection last night when I saw him at the pub playing pin-ball with plain Jane. Have I mentioned plain Jane? She is a girl that he may or may not have been dating. He may or may not still be dating her, though last night they didn’t appear to be anything other than buddies. So much I have left off the blog but the last couple of times I saw William at the pub he had a very emotional reaction to my presence. No longer aloof or seemingly un-affected by me he would appear fine and then quickly deteriorate. I suspect that whatever was or was not going on with plain Jane ended after the first night he saw me. The night that he kept looking at me as though he wanted to talk to me…the night that I heard Sally remind him that what happened on that fateful night 6 weeks ago was an accident…right in front of Jane. I suspect this because after that night, this girl who has been shooting me dirty looks for the last month or so, who smiled at me sadly as I walked out the door that night seemed desperate to talk to me the following evening. I made sure she didn’t get the opportunity.

When I saw them playing pin-ball I looked at Paul and said “If only he would have hung out with me the way he is hanging out with her we never would have had any problems.” This is actually false. The more correct statement would be that “I wouldn’t have had any problems.” Paul said “Yeah…I never really understood that but you know…maybe she is better for him than you are.” Not at all what I wanted to hear and I suppose he could see that in my face as he quickly said “Look…she is far less threatening than you. She is not going to challenge him or call him on his shit as she is probably grateful for any bit of attention he does give her. You’re not like that…and you deserve better than that” He’s right. I looked at him and said “Yeah…all things considered I know you are right. Not only that, but I doubt William will have to worry about other men approaching her.” To which Paul replied “Well…maybe if you knock the white stick out of the way or get them really drunk.” Sad but true…she is not the kind that attracts much attention either for her looks or her personality. Normally I would feel bad about having these thoughts about someone I don’t know but…I have little care for women that shoot me dirty looks simply because I exist.

As I sat there sipping my drink I was reminded of some of the things William said to me during our time together. Things like “I don’t normally date women that I am attracted to.” Huh? Maybe I get it now. And in the last week that we were still together he told me on the phone that he wished things were different. When I asked him what he meant he said he just wished everything was different. He wished he were different…that he felt like he should be where I am. We both suffered at the hands of our fathers (some of his stories rang eerily familiar to me as I’m sure mind did to him) and to quote him “And you’re making it happen…I’m not.” If he was comparing himself to me and coming up short that couldn’t have been good for him. Even if you don’t have BPD that is not a good state of mind but if you do…well…if I understand all of this properly then it’s even worse. I imagine he feels more comfortable in a relationship where he feels superior…one where, as Leila is wont to say, he “holds the ring”.

A little while later Simon stopped by to say hi and gave me a friendly kiss on the check. I imagine he “got in trouble” for talking to me last week so he made his visit brief and kept the remainder of his interactions with me to tugging on my hair as he walked by. A little flirtatious but far nicer than hanging all over me whilst trying to suck on my ear which is how he used to behave. I guess we’ve become some sort of friends. And William seemed more like himself than I’ve seen him since that night 6 weeks ago. He was neither overly happy nor overly melancholy and it looked like he was sticking to beer, which…if you’ve ever had a drink at The Zone…you know is like having a water.

At the end of the evening I hung back as Paul said his goodbyes to the table that included Simon, William, Jane, and a few assorted no one I’ve ever seen befores. My intent was to wave a good-bye to Simon as I headed out the door but Simon had other ideas and I got to tell you…I could kiss him for what happened next. Simon called out to comment on my ensemble. It was a very Carrie Bradshaw kind of get up that showed off a lot of leg and as far as Simon was concerned he could have done with a little more show of the stems. As the rest of the boys in the vicinity chimed in with their favorable opinions of my appearance last night I asked if my dress was too short. William was facing me to my right and Jane had her back to me on the left. Amidst assurances of “no…it’s perfect,” Simon…in an ever so Simon way…let me know that not only was my dress not too short but that it could be even shorter…like Porn star short. Jane looked over and gave what must have been meant to be a half smile but looked more like a grimace. William kept silent, keeping his gaze off the table and definitely not on me. Simon then said that what he’d really like is for me to need to pick something up off the floor. “Like this” I said as I started to bend over but then stood straight up to exclaim “Sorry Simon…no cheap thrills for you.” To this he replied “How about an expensive one?” I laughed and said “Leave it to you not to miss an opportunity to cross the line.” I drew an imaginary line on the table and said “This is the line” and then pointed to a spot somewhere across the bar and said “and that is Simon town.” I looked over at William to see how he was reacting to this little exchange. He wasn’t actually looking at the table and his expression was hard to read but if I had to take a guess I would say that he was amused. I gave Simon a pat on the hand and said “one day you’ll learn.” I turned to leave and called out “Good-night boys” over my shoulder. “BOYS!?!?!?!” came the cry from the peanut gallery. I turned, smiled, and with a slight curtsy said “I’m sorry…Good-night…MEN.”

And that…got a chuckle out of ‘ol William. And for that…I could have kissed Simon.

It was a good end to a good night. From dinner with Zabel…to seeing old friends at Farts and Darts…to charming the pants off of some boys…err…men at The Zone. I went to bed feeling good and woke up feeling good.

And no…I still have not called my father back. I don’t think that I will.

Just Rambling

2008-04-05T20:58:00.000-07:00

So...I've been a little busy lately. Wait...scratch that...I've been A LOT busy lately. I have so much on my plate right now I feel like I’m eating for two (which is impossible as I am currently celibate). The focus of my life at the moment is getting my first research paper out the door. It's a lot of reading, writing, and trying to decide if there are any more experiments I should have done (or should be doing). I'm not going to lie to you...this terrifies me. I am terrified that my work is "not good enough". I am terrified that I've missed something, confused something, or simply don’t know enough to call myself a "scientist". In short...I am terrified that I am going to put this out into the world and it will all be found to be false. This is a completely retarded mind-set. I've presented this work to people that know what they are talking about and it has been well received, but that does nothing to make me feel right about putting my name on a paper as though I know what I’m talking about. But I have to. I have to because if I can't get my paper accepted I can’t graduate and I really want to graduate.

The other newsworthy item in my life is that I've been put on a vascular biology training grant. This is great but...and there is always a but...I’m not a vascular biologist. What does this mean? It means that I have to become a vascular biologist. I now have to publish in that field in addition to my work on bone development. This is extremely exciting as I absolutely love learning new things and hey...I've been immersed in bone for a few years now…so the change is likely to galvanize me and get me excited about research again. However...this is also stressful because it makes me wonder if the one year target to graduation is actually going to happen. I really need to start making more than the grad student stipend. I am tired of working my butt off and being poor. I don't know if I can handle two more years of this and that is likely what it will take to get any sort of publication in a field I know relatively little about.

If only I had a long lost rich relative that would die and leave me a fabulous inheritance.

In other news…I am officially one year older since my last post. I had a most excellent birthday...probably the best birthday I've had in 10 years. It was the kind of birthday that makes you realize how many wonderful people you have in your life. In fact...it's been the kind of week that makes me feel like a fool for ever doubting that there are people in this world that care about me not because they want something from me but just because I’m me. I’m sure much of these revelations have a little something to do with the fact that Leila, the woman who went to great lengths to make me feel as though no one cares, is gone from my life. And its not so much that she was trying to make me feel bad it’s simply that one of her many tweaked views about people and relationships in general is that "no one cares about anyone but themselves", and of course…I had to believe as she does or I’m “crazy”. She honestly believes that people don’t actually care about other people and that all actions are inherently selfish. And really...this is just another example how she projects who she is onto everyone around her. It’s OK for her to be selfish because…hey…everyone is selfish. Those of us that do go out of our way for our friends and loved ones simply because they are our friends and loved ones know that this isn’t true. Try telling that to her.

And what about William? Hmmm. William. Well...he is neither in my life nor out of my life. There is much I could say about him. Many thoughts in my head and stories I could write but I can’t. I see him around. He doesn’t run out of the pub the minute I walk in anymore and he isn’t exactly keeping his distance as he joined (and I use the word joined loosely as he was not really with us but was actually in his head) the group I was with last night. He is still not talking to me. I know he wants to, but he won’t. Not right now anyway…maybe someday. I just can’t bring myself to write about how I feel about all of this in any great detail as my feelings are so conflicted. I don’t even really like talking about it. I still love him and I probably always will. I read the blogs of people that are struggling to recover from the same disorder that William has currently given up the fight against. I want to learn more about it. I want to understand. I want to believe that people with this disorder are not...as they say..."untreatable". I keep hoping for some kind of miracle. I keep hoping that he will wake up and decide its time to change, that being with me is worth doing the work that would need to be done, though I know that it is not likely. Then again, stranger things have happened in L.A.

And some days I think this is all for the best. I’ll get over him eventually and I won’t miss him as much or as often. Like I said…my feelings about all of this are fairly conflicted. For the time being I don’t have to do anything to resolve this conflict as he has walked away. It's a little like the situation with my father. For a long time I didn’t have to feel bad or guilty about not having or even trying to have a relationship with my father as he wasn’t speaking to me. All of that changed when I got a call on my birthday. After 18 months he calls me as though he hasn’t deigned to speak to me for all this time. I still haven’t called him back and I’m pretty conflicted about that decision too.

Try again? Try one more time to have some kind of relationship with my father? He is my father after all…

And all of this has made me want to know everything I possibly can about BPD so I have been doing a fair bit of reading on this. “Stop walking on Eggshells” was a fairly decent read and it is certainly a good place to start if you know little about BPD but it was more about learning techniques to deal with the behavior of the person in your life with BPD than an examination of what BPD is. It doesn’t ask the reader to understand the disorder…it simply says leave the relationship or learn to depersonalize the behavior. “Surviving a Borderline Parent” was decent. It was nice to read that other people have had similar experiences with a parent that I have had with my father. It allowed me to forgive myself for being a “bad daughter” as I now realize I actually wasn’t. A pub med search for “Borderline Personality Disorder” nets 3,809 papers on this subject. Everything from treatment of BPD to structural differences in the brain of people with BPD to single nucleotide polymorphisms in genes that may account for these changes (helloooo gene therapy!). But none of these things really help you understand the person that you care about. I can depersonalize behavior; I am…in fact…a master at depersonalization but I’m also a scientist. I am a person cursed with an analytical mind so I can not just accept what is…I need to understand.

Do I need to understand for Leila? No. She and I don’t have enough in common for me to find it worthwhile to try to have a friendship with her. We have radically different opinions and completely divergent ways of seeing the world and while I don’t feel a strong desire to convince someone that my viewpoint is correct I also don’t have a strong desire to defend it either.

Do I need to understand for my father? I don’t know. I honestly don’t know. Though…enough time has passed since he called me that I would guess I’m on his shit list again (if I was ever really off it).

What about my brother? Does he have BPD? He certainly acts like it…I mean…he is a lot like my father and if the disorder has a genetic component it might explain why my brother acts the way he does sometimes. The mood swings, the anger, the irrational thinking that he has about certain events and people. For my brother I need to understand. Not only is he a good, kind, and caring man, he is my baby brother and I really don’t want to ever say the words “I haven’t spoken to my brother in X number of years” again.

Do I need to understand for William? No. For William I want to understand. Even if he never speaks to me again I want to understand what he is going through. What was he trying so hard to fight when we were together? Was he trying to fight? Was he, as he said on the phone one night “trying to change for me?” I didn’t understand what he meant then, but maybe I do now. Furthermore…did he/does he care about me? Is my therapist right in his assertion that people with BPD can’t care about others? I might believe that about Leila…hell she is pretty up front about her lack of concern for anyone but herself. I might believe that about my father though I can’t really say that I know my father all that well. But can I believe that about my brother? No. Can I believe that about William? No.

I can’t. I won’t. I refuse.

So…in my quest to understand I have added a few blogs to my daily read list and I’ll give them a shout-out here in case any of you are as interested in this disorder as I am.

Untreatable's Blog: This blog is great if you want some insight into how the mind of a person with BPD works. If you have ever known someone with BPD, gotten into a confrontation with them, or been enmeshed with them it can explain some of the confusion surrounding “Why does he/she act that way”.

BPD in OKC : A personal blog and the girl has a great sense of humor. It was here that I learned that May is to be "BPD Awareness Month". If you want to see what celebrities would look like if they moved to Oklahoma click here. A bit rude to the state of Oklahoma but funny nonetheless.

Borderline Crazy : She doesn’t have BPD herself, but is the child of a borderline. This one I read because I can commiserate and it’s nice to know that I’m not the only one that grew up dealing with the same kind of shit I dealt with. I’m not the only one that grew up feeling like they were “bad”. Unfortunately it seems that there are a lot of us out there…

And…so we don’t end this on a somber note I would like to inform you all that if I were a dog I’d be a golden retriever.

You are a Golden Retriever!
Laid-back, sociable and well-groomed, you've got your own hip little pack of groupies who just love to be around you. You have a brain inside that adorable little head of yours, though you use it mostly to organize your hectic social calendar. You never poop out at parties, and since you're popular with ladies and men, as well as children and adults, you dish out your wit, charm and luck to whomever is close enough to bask in it. The top dog likes you and wants to be your best friend, despite the fact that he doesn't really know what the heck you do. No one does, in fact, but everyone loves you all the same. A true foodie, you’ve got your keen ears fine-tuned to make sure you don't miss out on the opening of a trendy new place to nosh. But your youthful days of being able to wolf down food 24-7 are wagging behind you, meaning you've got to watch what you eat so you don’t pull a Brando and outgrow your coats.

And if that last line isn’t the gospel truth…I don’t know what is!

Happy Egg Day

2008-03-23T11:03:00.000-07:00

Still not really ready to write but since its been a few days since my last post and my stat counter keeps getting hits I figure I’d let the world know that I am still alive and kicking. When last I signed in to blogger it was Wednesday. On Thursday I hit a wall…a thick, high, re-bar re-enforced cinderblock wall. After three weeks of getting almost no sleep I found myself completely unable to function. Thankfully, I was pretty much done with everything I had to get done by Friday so I left work early. I hit the sheets around 6:30pm and I barely moved the rest of the evening. Not because I didn’t want to...I simply couldn’t. My body was like lead and I was literally stuck to the bed. I would think to myself “Move your arm”…but I couldn’t. That night I slept for 12...yes 12…hours. And it still wasn't enough. I am still exhausted…mentally, physically, emotionally exhausted. I have spent the better part of the last three days in bed, and while this might normally be some sign of depression its not. I’m just oh so very tired. I've been watching TV, reading other peoples blogs, and finally allowing myself to process some of the events that have occurred in my personal life over the past month. And while writing is great therapy and really forces you to see events clearly…you can get a lot more done if you just stay in your mind. And that is where I’ll remain for the time being.

In sum...I have a lot to write about...but I’m just not going to do it right now. I finally feel a little more like myself and I look forward to Monday when I can get up and start living a more normal existence again. But today I am going to just be. I am going to spend the rest of this day just being. I might do some laundry…but I’m really not committed.

So to all the folks that have been stopping by let me just say Happy Easter (complete with embedded humor)!

And if you’ve ever wondered what the Easter Bunny will be doing tomorrow…

Ah, L'Amour

2008-03-19T17:12:00.000-07:00

OK...Normally I wouldn't do this, but I've been really busy and have had no time to blog. Also...I'm not sure I really want to blog about what's going on in my head at the moment. Nothing bad really. Mostly work related stuff. The boy does play on my mind here and there. I guess all I can say is that William is acting like an asshole but the reality is he's being a bigger asshole to himself than he is to me. Sad enough to say.

So, while I would normally actually make an effort to write something I wont. I did however want to share the following video with you. Personally...I think we all know that this goes both ways but for now...without further ado...

May I present to you L'amore, or "how evil women fuck up good men."

OH...and if you've got 10 minutes to kill this is pretty funny too. Rejected...a look into the sick and twisted mind of a cartoonist rejected....

I've really got to get back to work but before I do allow me to remind you of why drugs are bad.

Don't let this happen to you...

Blank

2008-03-16T11:14:00.000-07:00

Last night was weird. I went out for a couple of beers with Paul. We almost just went home. Almost. But at the last minute we decided to head over to The Zone to cap off the night. All the usual suspects were there. Sally was behind the bar. Molly was chatting with “guy ju jour” and if I didn’t know better it would appear that Leila and William are now a couple. I don’t really think so, but that is what it looked like. Bothers me not one bit on an intellectual level but you know I’m lying if I tell you it didn’t disturb me emotionally. Both of them were so drunk that they could barely walk. Watching people you used to care about spiral downhill is never easy, and there is way too much dirty water under the bridge for me to really care about Leila anymore…but William? About him…I don’t know. I mean…I don’t even know that guy that I keep seeing in the pub these days. I really don’t. That is not my William.

As I understand it…William is being “melodramatic” about the whole incident between us…blowing it way out of proportion. I spoke briefly to Simon about the interesting new twists. He says he keeps trying to pull William in off the edge but he can't and he doesn't know what to do any more. I told him there is nothing to do. To which he replied, “I love the guy but he is some kind of a sociopath or something.” His words…not mine. Its pretty clear that no one gets it and everyone thinks he’s nuts. I stumbled…he lost his footing. That is what happened. That is what people saw. And William is looking like an ass in all of this.

I honestly don’t know how I feel right now. I really don’t. All I know for sure is that this is not of me. This is what my William didn’t want me to be a part of. It isn’t of me and it doesn’t involve me. It is not my world they are living in. Never was…never will be. I am a spectator at this point…and I’ll just bet the show is about to get interesting. Very, very interesting.

I still have a bunch of term papers to grade and my life has become the Jerry Springer show.

ROCK ON!

Can't Stop The World

2008-03-15T14:03:00.000-07:00

There really isn't a whole lot to report. Had a nice dinner with Sam on Thursday. Filled him in on recent events in my life. His take? I need to stop going to "that bar". Ya think? I know he's right. I also know that I won't stop going there entirely. I like it...just not all the time. Its one of those places that you really only need to go to every once in awhile to relax and catch up with your friends. The drinks are cheap...and its down the street. But I'm not really a "bar-fly". The funny thing about it is that back in September I really didnt go out to the pub all that much. Maybe for a beer or two after work a couple nights a week, but I really had no idea of the goings on with all of those "Norms" and I didn't really care. When I did go I restricted my interactions to people like Paul, Mark, Molly, and the dreaded Leila. In other words...I only hung out with the people that I knew outside the bar. It wasn't until Leila started setting me up that I ended up back in the mix. If I never went again I seriously doubt I'd miss it. But I will...because I enjoy throwing back a drink or two with Mark and Paul...and that is where we go. Its convenient. Thankfully enough...both of them have about the same feelings on the matter and since we do things together that don't involve the bar I should soon find myself back to my September status of "Oh look...haven't seen Julie in here for awhile...what ya been up to kid?"

Went out last night to help a friend celebrate her birthday. Not the birthday she wanted but we all had a good time regardless. The food, the drinks, and the company were good. The conversation later was tough. I hate being "the bitch". I hate being the naysayer. But at some point you have to call a spade a spade and that is what I did. I mean...I really try to be positive for people. I try to find the good in all situations...my own included. But sometimes...you just gotta take a hard look at what is actually going on. Like with William. I knew that relationship wasn't the relationship I wanted. I was hanging on to a promise...to an idea that William would come around given enough time. Would I have done that if he hadn't asked me to? Would I have done that if he hadn't acknowledged that things were supposed to be different and would change...that he knew they had to change? How long would I have hung on had the situation not come to a point of no return?

Not long. I can guarantee you that.

Some people might find me cold in my ability to turn my back and look forward. How can I have the feelings I have for William and not feel some sense of loss at this point? To that I say...easy. There are a lot of great things about him and we had some good times. But it wasn't what I wanted. It wasn't making me happy. Its almost a relief that things ended the way they did because they were going to end at some point. It was either going to be me walking away because I want a real boyfriend...one that is ready to move forward in a relationship at a reasonable pace...or it was going to end exactly the way it did because the man has an illness that he simply won't get treatment for. Only...maybe it wouldn't have ended for a year or two, a point at which it would have been an even more devastating experience. Hello...goodbye...not my problem...that is all she wrote.

Paul is in a down mood. I don't blame him...he has a situation he has to deal with and he doesnt want to. A situation he should have dealt with months ago and is now beating himself up about it. Perhaps I'll give him some attention this evening. Be there for him. He's certainly been there for me when I've needed a shoulder or an ear. Then again...he might just want to be left alone. I can do that too.

For now I am spending my Saturday in "term paper hell". Some of them are well written entertaining reads. Others...not so much. My plan was to finish them all this weekend but I may need to amend that. I may need to decide that I'm going to get as many done as I can before my brain melts and then finish them up during the week while I work on my fellowship application.

Happy Happy Joy Joy.

I so look forward to next weekend. Next weekend I am going to make VERY good use of that netflix subscription.

Raped

2008-03-13T17:38:00.000-07:00

My talk…the one I had to get home and get some rest for last night…is done. I now sit here feeling like my brain has been raped. Early reports are that I did a good job. I feel like I did a good job. People seemed excited about my research it was received well. This bears well for the idea that my paper might get accepted and I can graduate soon…or even ever. Later I’m sure I will feel a sense of pride for what I’ve accomplished but at the moment I am mentally exhausted. After spending an hour fielding questions and trying to sound smart I just don’t want to think about anything real…and I especially don’t want to think about doing any of the additional experiments that were mentioned. Leave that for the next graduate student…I am done working up new protocols and delving down additional lines of inquiry. At least until they hand me that diploma that says “You have reached the highest level of education attainable…please go away and get a real job now”. Pile the new stuff on Higher and Deeper after that…just not now. And, its not that I’ve spent a tremendous amount of time stressing about this thing but I have been working late and not doing much in the way of relaxing since I woke up Monday morning knowing I’d have to make up for the loss of time this weekend. Work until I cant think anymore…blog a bit…catch up with a friend or two…grab something for dinner around midnight and then start hitting the snooze button a mere 5-6 hours later.

And all this after the weekend I had.

I am ready to just go lay on a beach with a margarita. Or simply take the weekend off and make good use of my netflix subscription. But no…Julie must grade 40 term papers and put together a fellowship application. All due by the end of next week…and none of it even started.

I suppose I should be grateful for the busy. The busy keeps my mind off the crazy. But in those rare moments when I allow myself a little time to think…my thoughts drift to my father, my brother, and my now former lover. All lost to me…quite possibly to the same disease. I am so tired of being strong. I am so tired of being alone.

Today after my talk I felt alone. All I wanted to do was go out with someone tonight. Go out…have a nice dinner and drink way too much wine. I felt like I needed to decompress and I couldn’t reach anyone. Not one of my friends was available to chat with dear ‘ol Julie at 2pm today. It’s those times that I wish I had someone that was obligated to pick up the phone...like the kind of boyfriend I’m used to having. The kind of boyfriend that never lets you wonder where you stand and always makes you feel like you are somewhere near the top of the priorities list. And for as much as I swear up and down that I’m done with men for the time being it is these times that give me pause to remember why we put ourselves out there in the first place. Why we dare to hope that this time it can be different.

We want someone to answer the phone. We want someone to hold our hands.

And then I got a text. It was from Sam. He thinks dinner sounds like a fine and dandy idea! So now I am off to have a nice dinner and drink way too much wine with a great friend…and while he may not be a boyfriend his company is exactly the kind I need tonight…is exactly what I want.

Manic

2008-03-12T18:46:00.000-07:00

Do you remember manic panic hair colors? If not...it was hair dye that came in a variety of "off-the-wall" colors. Red wasn't just red...it was fire engine red. And don't even get me started on the blues, greens, and violets that could be had. If this still isn't clear in your mind just check out the swatches to your left.

Today...if I could...I would dye a section of my hair each and every color on that swatch. One color for each day my emotions shift.

Snow White is definitely my pick for Saturday. Saturday I was in shock. I couldn't...and still cant really believe the events of Friday night. I talked about it, processed it, went over it again and again in my mind but I don't think I really accepted it. How could I? It was like something out of a Kubrick film...like a dream...or a nightmare...or a trip to OZ. Into no convenient category did it or does it fit. There were no words that could comfort or explain or analyze. It was and is what it is. At the end of the day...physically and emotionally spent, all I could do was sleep.

Shocking Blue would do well for Sunday. Sunday I was sad. I spent the entire day completely and utterly sad. Accepting that what had happened on Friday was real I was forced to deal with the finality of it. Every time my thoughts drifted to the normal break-up mind journeys in which he and I would casually bump into each other three months later only to re-discover the magic we had once known I was forced to remember the events of Friday night. There would be no reconciliation. No re-thinking of the final decision. No putting the past behind us. It was over...for good. Without the aid of fantasy futures there was no release. Yes...blue for Sunday is perfect.

A little bit of Red for Monday. Even though I'm starting to resemble a flag I choose red for Monday because Monday I was pissed. I was really really pissed. What readers may not understand is that this was not the first time this has happened with William. It was Monday that I came to the realization that he had not been completely honest with me about his past including his role in the events that occurred between he and his ex. How could he? How could he get me involved in all of this? How could he risk it? How could he do this KNOWING that the longer we went on the HARDER it would be for me to get over him...to get used to him not being in my life. I told him in December that if I walked then I would be OK, but a few months from now maybe not. Yet...knowing...and likely already dealing with the issues that would bring about the eventuality of our tryst he grabbed me as I walked out the door and begged me to be patient. Maybe he really liked me that much that he thought he could change...or maybe he was just being a selfish jerk. On Monday all I saw was the selfish jerk. Red. Red for Monday is absolutely perfect.

Mix red with blue to make violet for Tuesday and you have confusion soon to become indifference. Tuesday I started out feeling a little sad that William and I wouldn't be able to be friends. I had liked him. He could be a funny guy, and he was really smart, and patient. I really liked him and couldn't fathom that I wouldn't know him anymore. We don't have to be a couple to say hi to each other now and again, right? I really didn't and still don't understand how you can go from being so close to someone to "I'll never speak to you again". I've never not spoken to an ex again. But then after my therapy session in which I deconstructed this whole thing I realized that I had spent an entire session on William. And I didn't do it because I wanted to process my feelings about it. I did it because I wanted my therapist to tell me what he thought was wrong with William so that I could find some way to get him some help...even if he wouldn't speak to me. But later that night I thought....where was I in all of this? What am I doing here? I wasn't getting what I needed and now I'm REALLY not getting what I need so why the hell am I worried about someone that refuses to help themselves? This...will be the topic of my next session with the therapist.

And for today? What color do I chose for Wednesday? Green. Green is the color of spring. Green is the color of fresh starts. Green is the color of good things to come. I love green. I love green almost as much as Lydia loves green. Green is a good color for a girl who remembered today that she is...in general...a happy person. A happy person who hasn't been happy for awhile now. For as much as I care(d) about William he was making me sad. He tried to be happy for me, and he tried to affect normalcy for me but his problems and his maudlin Morissey song moods eventually won the day. Couple to that the fact that he wasn't there for me in any way shape or form. Not even to cook a pot roast, watch a video, and maybe do me proper. All this maudlin bullshit and I wasn't even getting laid. Hell...I was "spoken for" so I didn't even have the prospect of going out and getting some. No wonder I've been depressed.

But not today...today I'd dye my hair green because I am feeling more like myself than I have in months. Leila is gone and has been gone for a couple of months now. Its been almost 2 and a half weeks since I've been in daily contact with William so I'm no longer being yanked forward and backward then side to side. I don't think I've truly felt this way for almost nine years. I went from a suffocating and isolating relationship with a man to a suffocating and isolating friendship with a psychopath after which I hopped on Mr. Toads Wild Ride with William. I really honestly can start living my life for me.

Maybe for the first time in almost 10 years I can live my life for me.

Weird.

Orange. Orange is a weird color. Most people don't like orange. I like orange. I always have. I believe I'll chose orange for tomorrow because starting tomorrow I'm going to put more focus on me and damn the orange haters to hell...I'm saving a section of hair for that most maligned color because I like it. And if you don't...just remember...this dye job isn't about you...its about me.

Now...me has to go home and get some sleep because me has to give a talk tomorrow. A talk that I only just finished putting together and haven't even gone through once. but...I'll get up early and run through it a few times and even if it isn't GREAT...it will still be good.

Ping Pong

2008-03-11T15:45:00.000-07:00

Today I feel indifferent. Back to the whole idea that "something is wrong with that boy...it's not just an act" so its best that we're not together. I still think he could have handled it a lot better than he did. I vacillate about whether or not I'd one day like to be friends. I vacillate about whether or not I should send him a birthday email. Right now I say no. Its an olive branch that I don't really want to lay down. The work just keeps on piling in and I expect the rest of this month to be extremely busy. With all that I need and want to accomplish I wouldn't really have time for daily phone conversations with William right now anyway.

Tonight I meet with my therapist for the first time. I intend to discuss these happenings with him. See what his professional opinion is. I guess the thing that I cant wrap my mind around is that he'll "never speak to me again". I can completely understand him walking away given what's going on in his head, but what I really don't understand is the "I'll never speak to you again" thing. Why...if on some intellectual level he knows that I did nothing wrong...as he indicated to me when we spoke...can we not chat every now and then? Be civil. Have at least some of what we had...even though It will never be what it was. Which...I don't even want at this point. I honestly don't understand the depth of his anger with me...over something so small...so ordinary...so common. Its as if he feels I've betrayed him in some way. All of the things I said that I didn't like about William, that I am not sad to see leave my life still hold and I don't want him back. I want a more suitable mate for my future. But what I do miss and am having a hard time letting go of is that we had so much in common on both an everyday and spiritual level. That he understood me on a level that very few people really do. That I could say something vague and he would get exactly what I meant without further explanation.

But, as Zabel just reminded me. So what. Eventually I wont even think about this...it will be in the past. And if history bears true she's right. I don't miss talking to the guy I dated before William. I really liked chatting with that guy too. We too got along great and had things in common. Funny enough...now that I think about it...William and he weren't so dissimilar in their selfishness. In fact, I can think of only one man that I've gone out with that wasn't selfish. Perhaps therapy will help me figure out why I seem so drawn to men that take but don't give. Why I push away the ones that do. Many things to think about in the coming months. Things that need to be resolved before I attempt to date again.

For now, though...I just need to make it to March 21 and all the deadlines that loom on that day.

God...that's only a week away! Panic attack anyone?

Boys Suck. Throw Rocks at Them. (Addended)

2008-03-10T15:59:00.001-07:00

I'm feeling better today. I don't much miss William today. In fact...I'm a little pissed off. That might sound weird, but after I spoke to Lydia last night I thought really hard about it. What am I actually missing here? When we met he was great. It was the start of a basic normal relationship. He or I would phone the other, make a plan to do something and then we'd do it. If I phoned him he would answer the phone or call me right back. If he told me he'd call me on his lunch break to firm up a plan he would. But that all changed Thanksgiving weekend. After Thanksgiving he didn't seem interested in me anymore. That's not to say the didn't contact me. He did. He called me pretty much every day. He just didn't want to see me. I would ask him if he wanted to do things and he wouldn't.

By mid-December I was fed up and I tried to break it off with him but he pleaded with me to be patient. So I was. I gave him until after Christmas as he asked. But...nothing really changed after Christmas. In January when I let him off the hook and told him it was OK that he walked after we had a fight he called me right back. And I decided to try and be patient again. I mean...I really liked the guy and we had a lot in common. We talked on the phone for a couple of weeks before he finally asked me to see a movie with him. And then that was it. He never made another overture to see me. Just called me every night. Yes...he was busy. Yes...he was taking care of things that needed taking care of but he had time to go out with his friends. Just not with me. That really bothered me and in all truth I was getting a little tired of being the last on his list of people to see. We spent more time talking on the phone about things we might do together than actually doing them.

This isn't what I want out of a relationship. I was hanging on to a promise that I'm fairly sure now was never actually going to be fulfilled. And I can beat myself up as much as I want over what happened but it was going to happen eventually. Better now than a year from now. I was never going to have that man and he knew it. Its not like this problem he has just cropped up. From what I understand...from him...this happened with his last girlfriend and this is why he's not going to do it again. THIS HAS HAPPENED BEFORE!!!! I now wonder if she was really as bad as he made her out to be because he is certainly demonizing me at this point and I KNOW I was a good woman to him. Can't be with me? Fine. Never going to speak to me again? That hurts. That really hurts. I was a really good woman to that man and I got almost nothing back...and I didnt even ask for much. And I guess right now I'm sorta forgetting about the whole mental illness aspect going on here but for crying out loud...HE KNEW! And he didn't let me walk when I had the chance to not be affected by it. When I could have just said "Just another LA jerk-off that wasn't really into me in the first place". We might actually be friends today if he had let me go back in December.

And that's what pisses me off. I don't even get to know him in any way shape or form now and I really liked the guy...as a person! I am mad. I hate this part where you have to get used to not knowing the person. It was one thing to just do my thing and thinking eventually maybe we'd find our way back but this finality sucks! Its like being given a gift and then having the giver steal it from you. Arrrrrggghhhh!

I'm glad this thing is over. I'm glad I get to move on now. What William was offering is not what I want. He was maudlin, depressed, paranoid, selfish, and unable to make a decision about anything other than what time he should get to the bar. I was fine for comfort and support but when it came right down to it he preferred hanging out with his buddies. He cared about me...that much I know. He loved me...that much I know. But that's not a reason to stay with someone. There are other men that might be able to find it within their power to love and care about me. THEY might even want to spend time with me. THEY might want to go have a drink with me every now and again. THEY might actually make a plan with me on a Friday or Saturday night.

I have needs too and its high time I start asserting them, attending to them, and believing that they matter.

To hell with boys.

Single is better.

Addendum: I feel like a god damn freak going from one emotion to the next. Yesterday I'm sad and worried about the guy. Today I am so mad at William. I don't feel sorry for that guy anymore. How could he do this? What kind of jerk strings a girl along for months and then because of one little mistake....an accident...says the things he says to me? Just say you want out. Its not like I've ever forced the guy to be with me. When I've tried to leave...he's told me he'll cry...or to be patient...he cares for me soooo very much. Whatever. I almost want to write what he said on the blog. Send out to the world the horrible scary things he said to a woman that has done nothing but care for him. I almost want to tell people he knows what that he said to me. I want to tell them all that he has been calling me every night bitching about them to me. Using me for emotional support and then he has the gal to demonize me like this? He says he's not...that he just cant do this...that he doesn't even understand what's going on in his head, but I wonder...is it all just a bunch of B/S? Is it really possible that he is THAT sick in the head and noone has noticed or is it just an act to get me to leave him alone? And even if he is...he knew this could happen. He had this problem before with his ex. Does he really think there is a woman out there that is NEVER going to upset him? That is ridiculous! Its not like he's currently in therapy and for the condition he THINKS he has which I'm not even sure he does he really ought to be. He once told me he wanted to be an actor. He told me a lot of stuff actually. I'll just bet that if I dug I'd find out it's all a bunch of lies. I am too trusting. I am too forgiving. The jaded on men girl is returning. Is there anyone in this world that you can trust? Are all men psychos in one way or another?

Right now...I want to throw rocks at William. Right at his tweaked little head!

Not really, but it felt sorta good to write.

Boys are Stupid. Throw rocks at them.

A Beautiful Mind

2008-03-09T13:25:00.000-07:00

The weekend started out good. Dinner with Mark and Paul in celebration of Marks birthday on Friday, a Party on Saturday night, and get some work done on Sunday. So many things to do that there was no time to worry about what was going on with William and I. I had 22 CD’s sitting on my floor that suggested things would work out eventually and I’d just live my life and do all the things that needed doing in the meantime. That was the plan. But…as is often the case things didn’t work out quite the way I’d expected.

After dinner on Friday we went for drinks. William was there…still not speaking to me. He didn’t look particularly inebriated so I figured it would be a good time to confront him and simply say that he’d have to speak to me eventually…end this the proper way…and I did. Without going into too much detail it is over. It is so over it is like a death. And it isn’t because William doesn’t love me…it’s because he does. There is so much to say. So much to write about…but I can’t do it here. I simply cannot send this out into the universe. I love William too much to do that. He is a good man...just not a man that I can ever be with. He recognizes this and is walking away…to protect me. You might be reading this thinking to yourself “sure…she was probably fed a bunch of lines that she is lapping up like a kitten does a bowl of fresh milk”. But if you had been a part of the conversation we had you would know that this is not true. My William…the man that now lives in my memories…is dead. Even he doesn’t understand what is going on in his head. He once told me that if what has happened ever happened again…I should leave him. He grabbed my hands, looked into my eyes, and said “Leave me…don’t walk…run...I love you too much to let you get hurt”. I have never in my life had an experience like this; have never counseled a friend that has had an experience like this, nor do I ever want to. All that was confusing about us is now crystal clear. It all makes perfect sense…perfectly sad sense.

In the end…he is sorry that he is the way he is. He is sorry that he drew me into it. He tried. He couldn’t. He can’t. He has spent the last 8 years single. He hasn’t gotten involved with anyone. What he thought was healed was only dormant. He wouldn’t have gotten involved with me if he weren’t so taken with me. He would be with me even now if he weren’t so taken with me. This I know.

We left it with a hug. Him telling me he’s sorry as I tell him he can have his stuff back whenever he wants it. “Thank you” was all he had to say to that. He walked out the door and I re-joined my friends. They asked me if I were OK. OK? At the time I didn’t even know. I was in shock. There is no other word to describe how I felt when I walked away from that man on Friday night. I told them I was fine…that it’s over…that I’m OK with it being over and that it’s some “crazy shit”. Mark looks me and says deadpan “Just stay away from him Jules…he’s crazy”. Molly does not press me for details. Simply tells me that he has been confiding in Leila about his past and lapping up her bull. Molly, who has since broken ties with Leila herself, agrees with me that this is a bad combination. With Leilas personality type…and where William is in his head right now…he is likely to subject her to what he will not subject me too. Ask me if I care and I’ll tell you no…and mean it.

I broke down on the way home, confiding in Paul all that I would not say in the pub. Saturday afternoon I went to lunch with Lydia. I laid out in gory detail the events of the night before. It’s heavy stuff that I have shared only with them. I feel that I have burdened them both with this. This is not your normal break-up scenario. I am not OK right now and they both know it. Neither knows what to say, or do, to help me get through this. I have a couple of other friends I will need to share this with, and a therapist to talk to on Tuesday. The jumble of thoughts and emotions that course through my head will be sorted out eventually. For now…I hold to the one thing that is keeping me from completely losing it. And that is the memories. The memories of when things were good and I was falling for a kind, caring, funny, and intelligent man…a man who would look at me with such love in his eyes that my heart would melt. Up until this weekend he was a man with a painful past afraid of getting involved…getting hurt again…but he was trying. And while at times it seemed he wasn’t…I now know that he really truly was. At least those memories are real. None of it was a lie. A bittersweet romance that that was over before it even began. Hopefully he and I can one day be friends, though that will not be happening anytime soon. He tells me that he will never speak to me again but who can say. Crystal balls exist only in the movies.

I love him. I miss him. I mourn all that could have been. I will not tolerate anyone saying anything mean about him. Despite all that happened, all the inconsistencies and confusion, all the ways in which he has apparently wronged me…he was and is being a good man to me. As good a man as he can be.

It will take some time to get over this…to process all of this, but I will go on. There will be other men…but I will always hold a place in my heart for William…a man with a beautiful mind.

22 CD's

2008-03-05T08:24:00.000-08:00

Sitting on the floor of my bedroom are 22 CD's in a target bag. 22 CD's that William loaned to me. 22 good CD's. Some are things that I once owned on record or tape. Some are things that William thought I would like (he was right). All meant to be loaded onto my iTunes/iPod so that we would have music we'd both like to listen to in the car or here at my home (not all of my stuff is fit for his ears).

Back in the early days...the first time we had a disagreement...he asked me if I'd sold them. I had laughed and said "No...who would do something like that?" "You'd be surprised" he'd said. Seems William has had some real quality women in his life.

The first time we "broke up" I told him he could have his stuff back whenever he wanted it. I had sent him a letter after a big argument. I was letting him off the hook. I told him that if and when he felt ready he could knock on my door. He called me almost immediately. I look back on that conversation from early January. A conversation that once graced the pages of this blog and will now grace it once more...

Me: Hello…this is a surprise.
Will: yeah…I figured as much…And you’re awake…as usual.
Me: yeah…I'm writing.
Will: (chuckling). Gooood.
Me: Yeah…I’ve got a lot on my mind…a lot that needs to be put on paper….things to process. I’m thinking I should re-start my blog.
Will: That’s probably a good idea.
Me: Yes.
Will: I wish I were a writer…but I can’t write the way you do.
Me: Have you actually read anything I’ve written (and I’m thinking of some of my stories and articles)
Will: Well…I read your letter.
Me: Oh right…the letter.
Will: Are you sitting down?
Me: Yes.
Will: Are you ready for this?
Me: (my heart fluttering because I knew what was coming) Yes.
Will: Are you sure?
Me: Please just say what you have to say.
Will: I want to thank you for that letter. It was long, but I read the whole thing.
Me: Yeah…I know…sorry about that.
Will: No…you expressed yourself very well…I appreciate it…and I owe you so much more than what I have given you.
Me: Yes.
Will: The thing is…I need to be selfish right now…and I think you understand that.
Me: Yes…I do. That was the point of “if/when you are ready.”
Will: Yes…but I owe you an explanation. I’m not happy right now. And I’ve been trying to get happy…trying to date you…and I just can’t get there. Things were so good for me not so long ago and I need to get my life back on track.
Me: Yes…you do….and I completely support what you are doing.
Will: I know that it’s just…I need to be this guy right now. I need to be this unhappy person. I just don’t even like myself right now.
Me: You have no idea how well I understand that. But…can we get to the point? Is this a break-up speech?
Will: You are sooo good at expressing yourself. I’m trying to. It’s hard.
Me: It’s a simple question Will…is this too much for you right now?
Will: Yes…it is. And I don’t want to get in the way of all the things you are doing. I know you have been where I am and I am sooo proud of you for all that you have accomplished. I don’t want to get in the way of that and I don’t want to bring you down.
Me: You might not believe this…but you really don’t…and there isn’t any way that you actually could.
Will: You are so strong.
Me: No…not really…I am…as you know…just a girl.
Will: Yes…you are definitely a girl. I just need to do this on my own…and I think you understand that.
Me: Unfortunately…I really do.
(Pregnant pause)
Me: OK. Well…your stuff is still here right where you left it. You can have it back any time you want it. I understand where you are coming from…and I’m going to miss you…but I want you to do what you need to do and I’m going to be OK.
Will: Are you running away now?

Me: (Thinking HUH?) Nooooo. I thought that is what you wanted…to do this on your own. I’m sorry…you’re really confusing me here.
Will: I just don’t feel like a man. I just don’t. And you have explained perfectly well how you feel about that…and I know none of what matters to me in that respect matters to you but I just cant wrap my mind around it. I have to feel like a man again and I don’t know how to do that…it could take years.
(Pregnant pause)
Me: Look. I know you’re struggling. I know you’re scared. I know surfing the bottom…feeling worthless…and that you’re afraid of dragging me into your funk but the fact of the matter is…that isn’t possible. I have such a full life. I have practically everything I want. The only thing I lack is someone to take care of…someone to bring coffee in bed too. And I need that. The mother in me has been underfed for so long and you filled that gap…for however brief a period it was…and I miss that…truly and completely miss that…it’s like a hole that I didn’t even realize was there until you came into my life. And I want you to need me more than I want anyone else in my life to need me. And I don’t fully know why you are the chosen one, but you are. And I know you don’t believe this, but I’m really happy when we’re together…even if when you’re depressed. Call it co-dependent…call it what you will…but we have a connection that I’ve just never felt with anyone else and when you feel that connection you can’t deny it.
Will: I know…I know just what you mean. We do have something special.
Me: (quietly) I don’t want to give up on you. I want to be with you.
Will: That is just so hard to believe…I don’t even want to be with me right now.
Me: Oh honey. Yeah. I know that one too. (Insert pause) What is so funny about this situation is that even though you won’t admit it you need someone to care for you and support you....and I need someone to care for and it’s just so amazing that two puzzle pieces that should fit together just don’t seem to be able to lock.
Will: I know.
Me: So what are we going to do?
Will: I don’t know…and I’m sorry I have to say this…but its really late and I have to be up really early.
Me: Yes…you do.
Will: Can we finish this another time?
Me: Yes. Get some sleep. Talk to you soon.
Will: OK. Good night.
Me: Good night.

He tried to end this then...and for some reason didn't. This isn't about me. It's about him. Funny enough...right now I feel free. I've been sitting on this fence for a long time. I don't want him to come back to me right now. Maybe someday...but not right now.

Those 22 CD's are still sitting on my floor. Those 22 CD's that he was so concerned about. Those 22 CD's that he saw or commented on every time he's come over since. Those 22 CD's he never grabbed on his way out.

Those 22 CD's still sitting on my floor.

The Fence

2008-03-04T23:09:00.001-08:00

I had begun a long post detailing events of this most recent weekend and the weekend before but have decided instead to keep it short. Things have reached a turning point with William and it’s not good. Or is it? I don’t know. After the conversation I just had with Paul I will leave the details to my own memory and the memories of the friends with whom I have processed. In my last post I alluded to an incident that I felt might mean the end to us. On Friday I spoke with the dreaded Simon for quite some time. It was actually a very good conversation in which I cleared up some misconceptions Simon had about me, and while I still don’t entirely trust him…I found out that William was indeed quite mad at me. I probably told him too much without telling him nearly everything there is to be told. At one point I said “I think there is a lot you don’t know about.” He agreed. Said William is so tight lipped and since all he sees is us interacting when he’s around he didn’t really get what was going on. There is much that I am leaving off the blog but at this point Simon feels like maybe William is wronging me in this, that maybe William hasn’t been fair to me. He confided to me that he doesn’t really understand Will and is trying to figure out what makes him tick. Upon hearing that I sit on the fence about this whole thing wondering if I should stay or go told me that he hoped William could get past this and suggested I just ride it out.

On Saturday, when I actually saw William he looked over at me. His look was expressionless and he moved to the other side of the room pointedly avoiding me. It was what I expected as I have not heard from Will since said incident. Simon suggested I not try to talk to William as they had been in the pub for quite some time and this was not the time to do so. I agreed with him and assured him that I would not. Simon confirmed for me that William was still mad and when I asked him if I should just leave Will alone…not contact him…and just walk as we had discussed on Friday. He said “No…call him…find out what’s up…just don’t do it tonight.”

A good idea, I thought.

Sunday was hard. The way Will was acting Saturday disturbed me. Not the fact that he wasn’t talking to me…I knew he wouldn’t. It was that he was overly happy…not his usual calm and brooding self.

Over the course of these events I have texted, emailed and called…all to no avail. What I want is closure. One way or the other I want to know where we stand. On Monday I sent the following email...

I’d really like to talk to you. What happened last Saturday night was an accident. I did not push you on purpose. I threw my hands up in frustration and stumbled into you. I know what you're thinking, but I also know that deep down you know that I’m not like that. You know that no matter how upset I’ve been…or how emotional our conversations have been that I’ve never raised my hand to you in anger. And I’ve only ever really yelled at you once…and that was more about Leila than you…you know that. Have I lost my cool at all since I cut her out of my life? No…I haven’t. I would never hurt you. I would never cheat on you. I would never disrespect you or talk shit about you behind your back. All I have ever done is be there for you, listen to you, support you, and care for you. Even if this cant be fixed. Even if we can’t move past this can we at least talk? Can we at least clear this up so that we can move on without hard feelings? Hope to hear from you soon.

After the incident that I mention in that email, “Oh my god…William” were the first words out of my mouth. At first he refused the hand I was holding out to help him up…looking up at me in shock. It took a few “C’mon Williams” to get him to take it and when he was on his feet he was out the door as fast as his legs could carry him. I was mortified. I followed him outside to apologize…tell him it was an accident…that I didn’t push him on purpose…remind him that we both had been at the till. At first he wouldn’t speak to me. He kept saying “I can’t do this right now…I can’t do this right now.” I implored him to hear me out and finally he did. When I said I’m sorry he wouldn’t look at me…he simply said “I know you’re sorry…but I can’t do this right now”. I said “Will it was an accident…you know it was an accident”. At first he didn’t look like he believed me but I kept saying c’mon…you know I wouldn’t do that and I saw a look on his face that seemed to say he recognized that I spoke the truth. I went on further to say that I was sorry that I’d pushed him to come over but I really needed a hug and I seriously didn’t understand why he didn’t want to…that if he cared for me, that if he loved me he would just do it. He said that he did care for me and did love me but that he “just can’t do this right now” interspersed with a bunch of “you deserve someone better”. So I said…so what…you’re never going to talk to me again. He said “no…I’ll still talk to you…I just can’t do this right now.” I looked at him. Just looked at him and he looked right back at me…eyes locked. Finally…I said quietly “OK” and I turned to walk to Pauls car.

Tonight I spoke with Paul. He saw William on Sunday night. He told me that William spoke to him. Apologized for how weird things had got between he and I. Said that we were not speaking, though Paul can’t remember if he said “at the moment” or not…a key detail if you ask me. Paul asked him the question he knew I wanted answered most. “So where does that leave it? Is it done?” Paul says Will hesitated and then said “Pretty much”. This was before the email I sent and I was unaware of this conversation when I did so. I asked Paul if he thought he meant it. A hesitation and a “Pretty much” is a lot different than a firm “Yes”. Paul could give me no answers though he did say “With William you just never know…he vacillates all the time…if anything it may be at a balance point.”

Who knows what my email will do to tip the balance one way or the other. My gut tells me that this is not done…that his failure to call me is his way of buying time for making a decision one way or the other. The only words less non-committal than “Pretty much” are “I don’t know.”

In any event…the least he could do me is the courtesy of a call, and a talk. Give me some closure. You may think I’m an idiot for not simply hardening my heart, calling him a jerk, and hating him for not being man enough to call me. But none of those things are true. I understand William and know that if he were really ready to end this…he would have called me by now to do so. He too…sits on the fence. For how long I don’t know but I always felt that this was maybe not the right time for us. That at some point we could be a stellar couple…just maybe not now. And while I have many times considered walking away these past couple of months I haven’t actually initiated the conversation as every time I tried to end it in the past I have been met with protest. He didn’t want me to leave him…wanted me to be patient…assured me that he would get more comfortable with the idea of a relationship.

In short…I know that William loves me deeply…he’s just “fucked up” and he’s far to “fucked up” to be with anyone right now. This I know.

Space and time is what my gut tells me. If it’s meant to be, it will be. I will make no further overtures or requests to talk. He knows…I don’t need to remind him. In the meantime…I have a really wonderful life full of great friends and a promising future. I will focus on that and not worry about the boy. Let the boy figure his shit out while I do mine. And if someone else comes along…or my feelings change…so be it. But I know myself. That will be a long time coming. I will hold him in my heart until someone…or something pushes him out. Call me a fool and I’ll tell you to mind your own heart while I mind mine.

If you love someone…let them go.
If they don’t come back…it was never meant to be.

Or…as I always like to say…

If they don’t come back…hunt them down and shoot them.

Someone for Everyone

2008-02-29T14:23:00.001-08:00

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...

2008-02-27T14:30:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-26T16:23:00.001-08:00

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

2008-02-21T21:39:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-21T19:02:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-20T13:32:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-19T23:04:00.001-08:00

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

2008-02-14T12:51:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-12T12:43:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-09T17:08:00.000-08:00

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

2008-02-06T00:03:00.000-08:00

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.

Absent Angst

2008-01-30T00:59:00.000-08:00

After my last post Lydia says to me “I read your post and it was good but while I respect Will I miss the guts”. I knew what she meant, but wasn’t completely aware of what she meant until I re-read what I’d written. It’s not bad, but eh. She’s right. There was a certain quality missing...a certain something gone from the prose. And that certain something is angst.

Angst- a feeling of dread, anxiety, or anguish.

In previous posts I had spilled my guts upon the page detailing my tortured feelings about an important relationship gone off tracks. I had omitted key details from my description of my date with William in deference to his desire to remain anonymous. In short…I betrayed my voice for the man I l-l-l-l-love. But is it angst? Do I have an overwhelming feeling of dread, anxiety or anguish with regards to Will at this moment? Put quite simply, the answer is no. We had quite a talk that night…a talk in which I detailed how I felt about things that had been happening in our lives. In the course of this discussion I put myself out on a limb when I told him that I felt he and I were supposed to be together in this place…in this time. Can one truly feel angst when the person whose touch they’d craved for almost a month looks them in the eye and says “I think so too.” Or is that just mushy gushy pea soup for the romantic soul? Is it angst when that touch finally comes and it is all that you remembered it to be…all that you had been hoping for that had not been lost?

The answer, my friends, is no. That is not angst. The fact that not a day has passed since that night that I have not seen or spoken to Will is not angst. It is not angst I speak of when I tell you that he texted me on his way home from his evening on Saturday to ask “Are you ok”. My heart swelled when I realized that he wasn’t asking if I were very drunk, or very tired, or very angry, but was asking if I’d had a confrontation with Leila. He was asking if I needed him. Was the evening without incident? No. Did I need him? No. But I wanted him, and when he turned his car around at my request and headed to my house through pouring rain and flooded streets I knew…I knew he wanted me too.

Saturday night Paul and I went for drinks. We began our evening at a small beer pub down the street before heading over to the Zone to finish out the night and see our friend the bartender for the night, Sally. When we got there the first thing I saw was William, and the second…Leila. Paul secured seats at a table far from where Leila sat with Sheila. When I first approached the bar William kept his gaze straight ahead, though I know he sensed my presence. My hello either not heard or ignored I returned to my seat wondering if Wednesday had actually happened. I kept my disappointment to myself when Paul finally joined me at the table having spent a few minutes chatting with Will. When the time came for my second round Paul followed me to the bar and got Williams attention…effectively forcing Will to put me in his eye line. Again I smiled and said hello. This time I was rewarded with kind eyes and a soft hello. Wednesday had happened. I made some silly small talk with the two of them before returning to the table where I observed Will making a few adjustments to his appearance that he personally doesn’t care for, but knows I find appealing.

Shortly thereafter Will left with his drunken and obnoxious “friend” Simon for Loons and Goons. I approached him and asked if he were leaving. “Yes” he said “I have to.”…no doubt recalling previous times when this action would send me into spiral of insecurity. I ignored his look of trepidation, smiled and said “Have a good time. Come over or call me when you’re done”. I tickled his tummy when he told me he didn’t think he’d have any fun and that he’d call me in a bit.

If you are waiting for the part where I tell you of fireworks between Leila and I you are just going to have to wait for it never occurred. She snubbed not only me, but Paul as well. Paul who had joined Molly and her for drinks on Thursday night didn’t even rate a hello for his association with me. To this day I have no idea what is going on in her head…why she has not characteristically tried to mend fences…broken by what I don’t know. Perhaps broken by my desire not to have her dictating how I live my life, who I associate with, and what I feel about situations? What I do know is the broken tie between Leila and I has not gone unnoticed by the various norms that populate The Zone. This fact was made pointedly clear to both Paul and I as we sipped our after hours beverages.

“What’s going on with you and Leila” belted Patsy, the drunken barfly of this tale. A bit taken aback by this question from a woman I know not from Adam I replied “Nothing”, hoping this would put the issue to bed. But that was not to be and what follows is the condensed version of what followed.

Patsy: Well…you guys used to hang out all the time and I see that you guys didn’t speak tonight.
Me: Oh…yeah…well…we haven’t really been speaking lately…I’m not sure what’s up…she hasn’t called me and I haven’t called her.
Patsy: Why not…you guys used to hang out all the time.
Me: I don’t really know but I don’t see that it’s any of your business anyway.
Patsy: Oh…c’mon…she’s hurting.
Paul: She’s hurting? Patsy…you have no idea what you’re talking about.
Patsy: Well I could tell she was upset…she didn’t even say hello to you guys.
Me: Well…that’s her problem.
Patsy: Oh can’t you guys just kiss and make-up.
Me: No…I don’t think we can.
Paul: Patsy…you are way out of line. You don’t know Leila and you have no idea what you’re talking about. She’s a really hard person to be friends with.
Patsy: Oh…I think I know Leila…I’ve known her for years.
Me: Chatting with her at the bar from time to time doesn’t really constitute knowing a person and if you were as close to her as Paul and I are you would understand why we have no interest in mending fences.
Paul: Yeah…Leila has no concept of give and take and until she can learn that both of us are done with her shit.
Patsy: Oh…I know she can be difficult but she’s lonely…she needs you…give her what she needs.
Me: (fire blazing in my eyes) Give her what she needs? Give her what she needs? What about what I need? What about what Paul needs? I’m empty…done…used up…tired…I can’t continue give give giving and getting nothing but crap in return. You don’t know what you’re talking about…just mind your business.

I saw Sally looking uncomfortable as she was experiencing her own troubles trying to get the bar closed down. I put my face in my hands and chanted to myself “Just shut up Julie…just let it go”. At this point Paul put his hand on my shoulder signifying he would handle the situation from this point forward. He, unlike me, actually knows Patsy well. The above conversation played like a loop and continued on into the car as we gave Patsy a ride home. Finally…tired of hearing Paul defend me…defend himself…I turned around in my seat and said “Patsy…I don’t know you, but I appreciate that you care about Leila…believe me…we do to…and we wish her well…we just cant continue giving up ourselves trying to make her happy…as it just isn’t possible”. My words either finally sank in or Patsy was too drunk and tired to continue her defense of this woman who she barely knew as she finally said “I guess I don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Really? Ya think?

After we dropped Patsy off we headed off to get some post bar grub. As we waited in cue we discussed the conversation with Patsy and how I still really didn’t understand why Leila had set me up with William if she thought he was such a bad guy…did she want me to be happy or not? As Paul was conjecturing that she wanted me to be “happy, but not too happy” my phone beeped. It was that text from William asking “Are you ok”. I turned my phone to Paul and asked “Is this the kind of thing a bad guy does?” “No” he replied with a smile. I texted back letting William know that I was indeed OK, and it actually wasn’t a lie…I really was.

That night when Will came over I didn’t mention the conversation with Patsy. Nor did I mention it the following day as we listened to the rain pelt the ground outside, safely cuddled up watching movies, laughing at each other and chatting about this that and the other thing. After he left to go do “guy stuff” Lydia came over and we shared girl talk and a meal with Paul. And while you might expect that Will would skip his nightly check-in call having spent the entire day with me you would be wrong. I still have not gone a day without hearing from him...tonight included.

And I know that Will still worries about pleasing me, and he still worries about being the man he feels he needs to be. I know that he can’t make any promises about the future and I know that he has too many worries about his own future to worry about us, but what I said to him when he voiced these concerns to me on Saturday night was, “You have nothing to worry about with us. This is the one thing you don’t have to worry about…because us is just fine”. And I meant that as much then as I do now because I know...I mean...I really know that he feels for me as I do him.

And that…is a wonderful thing.

Social Sociability

2008-01-26T21:06:00.001-08:00

Wednesday night I went to see the movie Cloverfield. When Will asked me if I’d like to go with him to see it I had no idea what it was about but said yes anyway…because even though it sounded like some kind of horse whisperer make me want to puke fare when the object of your affection asks you on a movie date you do not pass go…you do not collect $200…you just go.

So, since I didn’t know what the flick was about, not only did I not have high expectations I had no expectations. And you know what…I liked it. I liked it a lot. If you are like me and don’t get out to the picture show often then you might have as little clue what I’m talking about as I did when I walked into the theater. The whole movie is centered around a Godzilla like attack on Manhattan yuppies. Filmed in the style of “The Blair Witch Project” there is never a moment that you wonder if this could possibly a real event. If it had…you would most surely have heard about it. Unlike “The Blair Witch Project” this movie was actually good. Borrowing on the accidental genius of Steven Speilberg in Jaws you don’t really get a good look at the monster until the end of the movie. But that doesn’t matter because all you really need to know is that it’s big…and it’s angry. This thing is hungry baby I want a toy throwing a tantrum angry. Aside from the fact that the general public would have been made aware of such an attack long before the tape surfaced there were a few things that let you know that there is nothing real about the events that took place in this movie.

First off, the movie opens with our gang attending a going away party for the hero of our tale. The first thing I noticed was the complete absence of any unattractive people at this party. Where were all the ugly people? Surly this guy had to have at least one visually unappealing comrade…or is our hero Rob a complete and total snob? Secondly, why does Hollywood always show women running from things in heels? Toward the end of the movie I noticed one of the heroines scaling a wall still wearing her party shoes…her heeled party shoes. This is despite a clear shot of the gang standing outside a shoe store while trying to figure out what to do next? I’d like to think the next thing on my to-do list at that point would be to grab some trekking shoes…even if they didn’t quite match my Mizrahi party rags. And finally…the whole reason these cats are still running around Manhattan instead of boarding the evacuation copters is to rescue Rob’s best-friend/jilted lover who has fallen and can’t get up. Now…I really like Will. I like him a lot. But…I wouldn’t trek a block down the street with Godzilla close on my heels to lift a bookcase off of him much less journey through the dark deserted subway tunnels snaking underneath Manhattan where just about anything can lie in wait. He’s a big guy with rather nice fore-arms. He can lift the damn bookcase off his own self…he doesn’t need me risking my life for that. Besides…who would there be to mourn demurely at his subsequent funeral if I get myself torn in half by some hungry baby Godzilla. Nope…he’s on his own and I would hope he’d do the same. Though…I must admit…such gallant efforts to save my life would only deepen my affection for him…while at the same time making me wonder if I’m not falling for a complete and utter fool.

All in all…it was a good movie and I’d recommend it to my friends. Afterwards we went for drinks and conversation where I found that non-bloggers don’t fully get blogging. While he completely understands “the writing process” he isn’t completely comfortable with being a character in my story…even with all of the names changed. The following evening Lydia and I double teamed him trying to explain that not only are very few people reading this and of those it is highly unlikely that anyone that knows him is reading this and of those it is highly unlikely that they would know it’s a blog written by yours truly much less that he is the hero of this tale. But…despite our efforts he remains bugged. We are at an impasse on this and as I told him that if I’m going to write about my life, and he is going to be a big part of my life that he would also have to be at least a small part of my blog tale. Un-fazed he told me that he’s not mad…it just gives him a bit of anxiety thinking “he’s out there”. I assured him that he really isn’t and challenged him to find this blog. I told him that if he could find it I would remove any and all reference to him. He laughed and said he didn’t think he’d take me up on that challenge but was curious to know his blog name. Nice try there buddy…I refused to ante up the information and then rejected his idea for a blog name. It was pretty bad and conjures up images of this gay guy I used to go clubbing with. No thank you…don’t want to think of William as a pasty faced gay man…even it he is a hilarious pasty faced gay man. We ended that part of the conversation with him knowing that he wouldn’t be an absent figure from my blog but just in case any of you run into him on the street…don’t tell him I told you any of this.

Rounding out a busy week (and let me tell you…there is much I could blog about) I had dinner with my friend Zabel last night. She’s a fellow grad student and wanted to check out this Armenian restaurant for some student government function she’s spearheading. The food was great and while the dishes were pricey you could feed 3 people off of one plate. I barely made a dent in my food so in addition to the leftover pizza from my evening with Lydia I now have roast lamb/rice/tahini/humus in my fridge. If I’m not careful I will become a house. We had a great time chatting…I almost never see her. She, being so busy with all of her extra-curricular activities and me being wrapped up in all of the Leila drama we rarely get together. It was only recently that I found out she is Iraqi. Last night toward the end of our time I asked her how old she was when she moved here and she told me she was 15. Doing some quick math in my head I said “So…you lived under Saddam?” Yup…she sure did. We talked for a little bit about that…my impression being that it wasn’t so different from living under Bush except that you can criticize our government without fear of getting thrown into prison or…worse. Basically…Saddam is an idiot not fit to rule and I have no doubt that if our country didn’t have rules against cruel and unusual punishment there really wouldn’t be much difference between the two “leaders”.

It was a good time, and as I drove home I thought to myself that despite all the difficulties of living in a city like LA the diversity of the people you can meet and get to know is really quite astounding. I mean…if I were to get all of my friends together in one place it would resemble a UN sub-committee meeting. Present would be representatives from several states within the United States in addition to England, Spain, Cambodia, Israel, Cuba, Iraq, Mexico, Canada, Chili, and Argentina. And those are just the folks that immediately come to mind as I’m sure I’m forgetting one or two of the countries from which my crew hails. I do love all of my friends and I have to tell you…I don’t miss Leila one little bit. I have actually been more social since cutting ties with her than I was before.

What was I so afraid of? Change? I don’t think so…especially not given the drastic change I gave my appearance today. I’ve gone from blonde to a dark chestnut red brunette. I love love love my new color and I cant wait to show it off tonight as I go for a beer with my English representative, Paul who I haven’t had much chance to chat with this week. So now I must go put on some purple eye-shadow to bring out the green in my eyes. Yes…I’m going to go with Paul over to farts and darts. Leila might be there later but I cant avoid the place forever…and I miss it just a little.

Hopefully she won’t show up…though I doubt it. Im just not the kind that wont do what I want to do simply because I want to avoid someone. But no worries…while I might be polite should the occasion arise, I won’t be letting her back into my life. I don’t really have room for her anyway!

Six Non-Important Things/Habits/Quirks About Me

2008-01-23T17:57:00.001-08:00

UNO: I am a klutz. Not just any kind of klutz either…after 34 (almost 35…oh jeez!) years I am still like a newborn colt learning to walk. I walk into things a lot and I bang my arms on tables and door jams when I walk by them. I am so used to it that it doesn’t even faze me anymore. One night after an evening at the pub Mark gave me a ride home. As I was exiting his car to go inside he called out “Pole!” I thought he was giving me a hard time about my heritage so I turned my head to give him a dirty look and promptly walked into the pole that has been outside my complex for the entire three years I’ve lived here. He just shook his head and drove away. It doesn’t faze him anymore either.

DOS: Speaking of heritage…I am ½ Polish, ½ German. My Great Grandfather came here from Poland in 1914 passing through Ellis Island at the age of 14. He was alone. When he was 80 or so he had open heart surgery. The nurse asked him to remove his dentures before they put him on the gas. He refused...insisting the nurse do her job and remove the teeth for him. Finally persuaded, the nurse reached into his mouth and yanked to no avail. It should be noted that when my grandfather died some years later it was with his full set of adult teeth. When he would visit us he used to walk us to McDonalds for a happy meal…every day. When we would get home we would sit in this old car that my dad had stored in front of our house. It was very warm. Grandpa liked it that way…chilled to the bone in the house he used to tell me. Sometimes in the summer when it is very hot I sit in my car and think of my Grandpa. He always had spare change for us and he never let us have more than ½ a can of ginger ale at one sitting. I inherited his teeth. He died when I was 12 and I still miss him.

TRES: I bruise really easy. Like…please don’t hit me with a pillow easy. This is somewhat problematic given UNO. I always have some kind of bruise on my body and I almost never know where and/or when I got them. It has always bothered my boyfriends. They think that people will assume I’m being battered. Perhaps by the general public but…anyone that knows me well knows that I accidentally abuse myself. Because of this, actual abuse would be hard to prove.

QUATRO: I’m not afraid to eat weird things. I ate cuy (guinea pig) when I was in Peru. It was greasy and tasted like gamey chicken. My ex and I witnessed a deer get hit on the way to school once. We put it in the car, took it home, and had venison that night. It was a lot of meat for two people so we smoked the remainder. The jerky was excellent…though the consistency was a little like liver. I’ve had liver but I don’t really like it. I ate alligator in New Orleans, Iguana in Belize, and “the special” in Guatemala. I think it may have been tripe. It was pretty good, but I don’t think I’d like to eat it again. William wants to go camping. Like…put a pack on your back and hike but let’s not bring a tent (huh?) camping. He suggested that we’d eat bar-b-que crickets. That might be a little further than I’m willing to go…even if the legs and wings are removed. I smell a negotiation a coming!

CINCO: I used to sleepwalk. Once, while staying at a friends house during my high school years I went downstairs and emptied out the refrigerator while her parents watched. They tell me they were quite amused. I have no memory of this. Another time, I woke up in the bushes of the people across the street. They didn’t see me. I often woke up in the morning with scratches and cuts on my legs. I wonder what I was doing. I don’t think I sleepwalk anymore.

SEIS: I love anything hot. Curry, hot sauce, salsa…you name it. The hotter the better…or so I used to say…before that time I stopped at a little restaurant in a border town in New Mexico. I ordered the enchilada platter. She asked me if I wanted it medium, mild, or hot. I replied “HOT!” She raised her eyebrow and said “Are you sure?” “Yes…definitely…as hot as it comes.” She brought me my food and I dug in. It was hot. I mean…it was HOT! I don’t remember tasting anything other than the chili spice. It was so hot that it made me sweat bullets. My first bite was a zinger. I thought…what have I gotten myself into. My pride forced me to eat the entire thing. I couldn’t taste anything for two days after that.

OK. That was fun. Thanks to Lydia for “tagging me”. As part of this little game I tag Mark, Skip, and Always Aroused girl. Hers is a new blog for me, but it gives me comfort to know that not everyone in a mommy and me group thinks porn is a dirty word. I don’t really expect her to play…really just wanted to bring attention to her blog!

Here are “The rules”

1) Link to the person that tagged you.
2) Post the rules on your blog.
3) Share six non-important things/habits/quirks about yourself.
4) Tag at least three people at the end of your post and link to their blogs.
5) Let each person know they have been tagged by leaving a comment on their blog.
6) Let the fun begin

Really Wasn't Expecting This

2008-01-22T18:23:00.000-08:00

My 10 is now 9.

He might not be a rocket scientist, and he might not have been the most talented young actor in Hollywood but he was on my list. You know…that list you have that if you ever in a million years had the opportunity you could…ya know…get horizontal and not get into trouble with your husband/boyfriend/part-time lover or whatever you’re calling him these days.

Heath Ledger is dead. Dead of a drug overdose. I don’t usually get too worked up about this kind of stuff…and I normally wouldn’t take the time to write about it, but I really liked this actor. I liked his movies and he seemed like a pretty down to earth guy. Was it intentional or was it an accident? At this point they aren’t calling it one way or the other. According to The New York Post online edition a bottle of sleeping pills was found next to his body. Yeah…it would take a lot to get me to believe that was an accident. Even if he wasn’t consciously trying to end his days it was no accident. I’m an insomniac. I have some sleep aids. I take a pill and put the bottle back…I don’t cuddle up with it. Or perhaps it had something to do with the bottles of anxiety medication, Diazepam and Alprazolam that he had in his home. We won’t know until the coroners report is released.

What is most upsetting about this story…aside from the fact that now there isn’t even a snowballs chance in hell I’ll ever get to see that man naked in the flesh…is that his parents found out the same way the rest of us did…on the news. Can you imagine? You’re fixing up a late lunch…maybe surfing the internet…nothing seems out of the ordinary…and then WHAM! You find out that someone you love is dead. You find out via the internet or a breaking news story on television. It’s hard enough to hear the news from a trusted friend or family member. Hard enough to see the look on their face or hear the tone in their voice as they prepare you for the bad news. But to find out about it with no warning along with god only knows how many people. I can't even begin to imagine.

And…while I know that the media is just doing their job…and we as Americans seem to lap it up like cats with bowl of fresh milk…can we have some kind of moratorium on releasing this kind of information? Can we have maybe a little respect…if not for the celebrities themselves…the family that surrounds them? I mean...couldn't the rest of the nation/world have found out about this tomorrow?

Last week it was Brad Renfro…he wasn’t on my list. This week it’s Heath Ledger…he was. By the rule of three we’ll be losing another young man of Hollywood soon and I could be down to 8. Hopefully the family of the third will find out through more supportive channels than this.

And no…you don’t get to know who the other nine are!

Oh Happy Day!

2008-01-21T22:15:00.000-08:00

My cell phone beeped and I was awoken by good news. Sam got his weight watchers key ring signifying a loss of 10% of his starting bodyweight. Anyone who has ever tried to lose weight knows that this is no small accomplishment and I honestly can’t tell you how happy I am for this guy. Like my William, Sam is a really good man who two years ago, fresh out of a marriage to a “Leila”, and having made a drastic career change was beat down and unsure of his life choices. His mid-west family didn’t understand him, his ex-wife hated him and he was, put quite simply, a mess. I mean…even 6 months ago he sang the song of the bitter. His dogs were better company than any woman ever could be, he really wasn’t an actor or a writer, and fearing he’d never be able to retire if he continued plugging away he’d figured out a way to go back to his old job in a way that he could manage. But today…he’s happy, and at peace with himself. He’s finally losing the weight he’s been unsuccessfully trying to shed for the past two years…has a new love in his life flying nary a red flag…and he’s excited about his career prospects. He sent me a photo of he and his new lady and you can just see it written all over his face. Everyone loves a success story…particularly when it’s happening to a good friend. Congratulations Sam…you deserve it!

This afternoons lunch date with Mary didn’t happen as she is experiencing some car trouble, but that was OK with me as I didn’t get to bed until 5am having stayed up most of the night chatting with Lydia. She took me to her favorite burrito stand. It’s the kind of place where a couple of blond Caucasian girls stand out like a sore thumb. It was the best burrito I’ve had since spending a summer doing an internship in the R&D department of the Dole salad processing plant in Salinas. Real slow cooked chicken, pinto beans, fresh lettuce, and spicy hot chili sauce all wrapped up in a giant tortilla. I was in heaven. Leila would never go to a place like that. Not in a million years. She’d think it too dirty and funny enough…I’d bet dollars to donuts that place is cleaner than the Taco Bell crap she finds so superior...and it certainly didn’t cost as much as the garbage Toxic Hell dishes up. Next time…I’m going to try the tacos…or maybe the enchiladas.

After dinner we headed back to her place and as we were sitting on the couch with a bottle of wine deconstructing that fiendish message from William my phone rang. It was him. He told me what happened on Friday night, and I wont bore you with details but it essentially boiled down to him having a really bad night with a couple of his friends and letting his mind spiral down into a pit of anger toward these individuals that seem to care more about themselves than they do him. And his point…which I know so well having dealt with Leila…was that he didn’t have to go out with them. These are the guys who, after only the second time William and I got together they gave him a ration of sheit about how they “missed him”. Gimme a break!

The conversation turned toward the bright side when he told me about hanging out with Paul the following evening. Sounds like he really enjoyed himself and I honestly want to hug Paul because William was almost cocky last night. And, while I usually find that to be a rather un-attractive quality here it was a welcome change. At one point he even said something to the effect that he wasn’t perfect but was about as close as it comes. “Oh yeah” I said. “I don’t know about that, but you can rest assured that little comment is going on my blog tomorrow.”… “I’m sure it will” he replied through his laughter.

(Sidebar: I absolutely love that he knows about this blog, and knows that I write about him but has never asked to see it. I mean…he’s never even asked me to tell him exactly what I write about be it about him or anything. I love that he “gets it”. And its not just that he “gets it”…he supports it.)

All in all it was a good conversation and I absolutely adore Lydia for not caring that I sat in her house for over an hour talking to my guy. Its not like she was any more bored than I would have been had the situations been reversed as there are plenty of ways to occupy oneself when not the center of attention...and I know that situations reversed I wouldn’t care if she were talking to her boy…in fact I’d be as happy for her as I am about the text I received from her this evening. Things seem to be looking up for both of us. And if Sam is any indication of what is possible then it really can happen.

Maybe broken birds can find their wings and learn to fly again.

Everything But The Kitchen Sink

2008-01-20T19:21:00.000-08:00

Last night as I was finishing my post I received an email from Lydia. I emailed her back and shortly thereafter my phone rang. No…it wasn’t Will. It was Lydia. In the time it took me to email her back something had happened and she needed some re-assurance…which I am more than happy to provide. We chatted for awhile and then I wanted to get off the phone so I could eat and relax. She laughed and apologized…saying she’s not usually this nutty but that it had been a long time since she had someone intelligent that got what she is going through to talk to. I assured her that I completely understood and that I felt the same about her. I mean…we’ve both been involved with women that we thought were friends but turned out to be “frenemy’s”.

But it got me to thinking. We…and I’m talking about the collective we of womenfolk…often talk about the damage and baggage that we carry around due to failed relationships with men. But what about the damage and baggage that we carry around due to failed relationships with women? Last week I dashed off a series of un-answered emails to Lydia…some with the intent of providing inspiration…some giving un-solicited advice…and then others attempting to qualify said advice. It was very Mike Peters from the movie Swingers leaving message after message on a girls answering machine trying to explain his goofy behavior. As I was doing this I thought…she must be thinking I’m nuts. She’s not going to want to be my friend if she thinks I’m nuts. Stop, I told myself…just STOP hitting send!

And then there is my friend Mary. We met while training for the Los Angeles Marathon. Distance running certainly gives you plenty of time to get to know someone and as I got more and more comfortable with this person, realizing that we shared a lot of common ground, I wanted to “hang out” with her when we weren’t lacing up our running shoes. At the same time I didn’t want to intrude on her life…so I never mentioned it. Eventually we started to go out for breakfast after our runs, but she herself was a bit stand-offish and for the past year we have been doing this little dance of trying to become each others friend without seeming “needy”. Not too long ago she confided in me that she needed a girls night…she has few female friends, and of those she does have she doesn’t really get them nor they her. She asked if she could go out with me and my friends. Well, never one to ignore a friend in need I put on my Julie the cruise directors hat and organized a little evening of rock-n-roll sushi for her, Leila, and I. It was strategic. The place is loud and more about being entertained than actually having a conversation. My real intent was to make sure I could bring her around Leila…that Leila would accept her.

Friday night, when I spoke to Mary solidifying our plans to meet for lunch this weekend I told her that my schedule was pretty wide open these days as Leila is no longer in my life. She was a little surprised so I gave her the super short truncated version of all that I’ve been blogging about here and told her that the whole reason I organized that dinner we had the way I did was to “vette” her to Leila. Mary completely cracked up. She said she totally knew what I was talking about…that she too had “possessive” friends like that and the best she had figured was to not let them get to close. Through my laughter I said, “OH…now you tell me!” We decided we’d meet for lunch on Monday and laughed that since it had been so long, and she too had things to share with me that lunch might segue into dinner.
And I wonder. How many of us are there out there? How many women sit feeling isolated in their homes wishing they had a close knit group of friends ala the Sex In The City gang? I’m beginning to think…quite a few.

Note: If you like the modern painting of friends holding hands you can purchase this or similar work at art by wicks.

Technological Blunder

2008-01-19T23:13:00.000-08:00

If you’ve been reading this blog you may recall a little piece of mind I found early last week. You may also recall that after my heart to heart with William I promised that the neurotic mess I normally am would be back.

I’m baaaaaack!

The neurotic over-analyzer has re-taken possession of my psyche and is currently driving me bonkers. Welcome to the dollhouse.

Allow me to preface this by saying that I had a GREAT time last night. Went out for curry and beverages of the adult variety with some of the coolest people I know…Mark, Paul, and my new friend Lydia who through a six degrees of Kevin Bacon was brought into my life via Mark. Mark doesn’t remember giving me her blog address…but Mark doesn’t remember a lot of things. We had a great time sniffling our way through our curry and cooling our palates with Indian beer. After dinner we went to a pub down the street where we continued the merriment. The place was packed and the drinks were overpriced but it was nice to do something different. I love the cheap and stiff drinks that can be had at Farts n Darts or The Zone but there was plenty of eye-candy and it always does the ego good to notice the cute guy that keeps looking your way hoping to catch your eye.

Toward the end of the evening I reached into my purse to get my cigs and saw that my phone was blinking. I had just missed a call from William. Figuring it was his usual end of the night check-in call I sent him a text letting him know that I was at a very loud place and would be home late but would call him later unless he was heading to sleep. As I was sending this text a message came through. It was from William. I finished my text and put my phone back in my purse as I figured I could listen to his “just calling to say hi” message when I got home. But then a feeling came over me. A feeling that something wasn’t right and that maybe William wasn’t OK. When the lights came up signaling the end of the broadcast day I finished my drink, and went outside to listen to my message as the rest of the gang finished theirs.

Hey Julie…its William. I guess I feel (30 seconds or so of silence)...

The rest of the message led me to believe that he was upset. Upset at what or who I do not know. I don't think he could be mad at me for anything...I haven't even seen the man for almost a month. He hoped I was doing well and hadn't woken me, but when a key component of a message is missing, and you dont know who he may have spoken to...you've almost got to accept any possibility...no matter how far fetched you think it might be.

What is in this vortex of silence? Curse…no curse is not quite right…damn to hell…the black hole that sucked away the words that may be crucial to figuring out his state of mind when he left me that message. I might say it was simply a pause but when his voice finally played in my ear again it sounded mid-sentence…mid-thought. I mean…I know it was mid-sentence. That is the one thing I am sure of. I phoned him back but he did not pick up. Left a message letting him know that we were finishing up…that he didn’t sound good…and I would be up for a couple of hours if he wanted to talk. I also sent two other texts letting him know #1 that I was worried and here for him and #2 that I didn’t know who he was pissed off at? …I’m confused…what happened? I knew he’d been at the pub…so I’m sure he left that message and then promptly fell asleep so I wasn’t really expecting a reply. Safe in that knowledge I momentarily put it out of my mind and bid my friends farewell. On the ride home I told Paul about the message and chewed his ear off about it. He assured me that William was just being his typical broody self and that I should not worry about it. That he had been out at the pub and we both know there is almost always some kind of drama there…that he is likely quite inebriated and might not even remember this message in the morning. But I wonder. Still feeling the sting of back-talking and deceptive maneuvers by people that are supposed to be my friends I wondered what happened…what sent him into such an emotional state. As you may guess…I didn’t sleep well last night…but I did sleep.

This afternoon I send a final text and for the sake of any non-texters out there I’ve translated the text jargon into English. It read,”Thinking about you. Don’t know who got you upset or about what. Hole in message. Hope you’re feeling a little better today. Call me when can”

And now I will wait patiently for him to return my communiqués. But that doesn’t mean I won’t obsess.

What is in that silence…that length of un-recorded message…is whatever it was he was feeling when he left m e that message. Deceived? Hurt? Confused? Like an ass? Depending on whom he spoke to and what they had to say it could be any of those. Was Leila there? Did she feed him lies? Did someone else speak kindly of me and make him feel like a heel for keeping me at arms length for so long? Or did he simply sit and ponder some of the things we’ve conversed about over the past week or so coming to some revelation that had previously eluded him? What and/or who is he pissed at? Does he think he’s in trouble with me or someone? Or...did he simply have a bad night and was wishing he'd not chased me off...wishing maybe he'd seen me last night instead of whoever it is he spent time with? Is there a place that lost messages go? Are these missing words currently residing next to the one pair of sunglasses I own not being held together by a safety pin or paper clip?

Oh yes…I am most definitely a girl. I am 100% all the way…girl.

My gut tells me that he is not upset with me. If he were would he “hope I’m doing well?” Would he hope he hadn’t woken me? I doubt it. My gut tells me he was reaching out. But what has made him pissed? And why is the evening inching toward midnight with no phone call? No clarification? I have no idea what is going on in that mans head. I emailed Lydia and told her I wished I could be like J. Lo in The Cell and actually go rooting around in his head...see what's hidden in all the trunks in all the corners of his mind. And if I could…would I really want to know? I would guess not.

Well…there’s not much I can do but wait to hear from him. Even if it takes a month…I’ve got a life to live…work to do…and friends to see. Now I will retire to a bath, a late night supper and perhaps a chick flick.

Will my phone ring tonight? Will I have to wait a month to find out what was going through that mans head when he phoned me last night? I really don’t know.

But I won’t think about that now.

And in the immortal words of Miss Scarlett O’ Hara; “I'll...I'll think about that tomorrow. After all, tomorrow is another day!"

Note: If you like the painting of the young woman on the couch you can purchase this or similar work online at banayat fine art.

Incorporeal Consciousness- Addended

2008-01-17T22:44:00.000-08:00

Last night I went to dinner with Sam. Shoving my way past the paparazzi waiting to get a glimpse of the trailer trash-like tabloid diva, Ms. Britney Spears…who just happened to be having a couple of empanadas at the Gaucho Grill next door…I finally saw him after almost over 3 months. Much has happened in both of our lives since the last time we shared a meal. He has started seeing what sounds like a wonderful woman and I have started seeing William. There was much to discuss. He filled me in on his new squeeze and I told him about mine. Of course…I gave him the readers digest condensed version.

Me: He had a high pressure job...burned out...is now back to his first love
Sam: Been there (he had a high pressure career and burned out...decided to follow his dream of being a writer…and had misgivings about that decision)
Me: Right...so he's making a lot less money than he used to...
Sam: Been there...
Me: Right...and his parents are old school pick something, make money, get married, and be miserable for the rest of your life
Sam: Right...been there too. So what you're telling me is he hates himself and he's internalizing all of his self loathing and feels worthless like he has nothing to offer anyone...
Me: Right

After telling him some of the stories, both good and bad, he said “Having been there…it sounds like everything is fine...he just needs to work through his shit.” Then he said “Why do you think you keep attracting people like this into your life?” to which I replied “I don’t know that I attract them at all…I think I’m sent.” I reminded him of how unsure he was of his decisions and postulated that my friendship might have been at least some help in getting him to a more happy head place.

I, myself, have been fortunate enough to have been sent people that have helped me become the person that I am today. Take Sophie, for example. We met when we were 16 years old. My new boyfriend took me on a double date with his best friend and Sophie. We became instant friends. I don’t even remember the boys that night as Sophie and I sat across the table from each other barely paying attention to them.

After that night we were practically inseparable. At the time, I was a bit of a damaged bird. Shy and unsure of myself, she really brought me out of my shell. It was summertime so we spent our afternoons at the beach and our evenings driving here there and everywhere singing and car dancing to bands I’d never even heard of up to that point…The Violent Femmes, The Cure, The Smiths, The B-52’s, and the Ramones to name a just a few. She was the first person ever to ask me why I hid my face under so much hair and my body under baggy clothing. She taught me to dance in front of her floor to ceiling mirror and before you knew it…I was the life of the party right alongside her. I blossomed. Both of us eventually broke up with the men that had brought us together, but we remained friends through it all.

But, it wouldn't last forever. 2 years after we met...she was gone from my life. I'll never forget the night I found out she was gone.

When I got home that night the first thing I saw was my mothers’ new furniture. Commenting on how nice it looked I noticed our mutual friend Dan sitting on the couch…wearing a suit. “Gee Dan…what’s with the get-up” I asked. He stood…and with a grim look on his face he said “I have some bad news.” When he told me that Sophie had died 4 days prior in a plane crash I didn’t believe him at first. Plane crash? She wasn’t in any plane. And then I remembered. I remembered that phone call I’d received Friday morning. Sophie whispered into the phone “I'm going to tell my parents I’m spending the night at your house tonight. Peter just got his pilots license and he is taking Beth and I on a double date to Santa Barbara…”

I collapsed into Dans arms. I couldn't believe it. When is the funeral? The funeral was to be in Chicago 2 days later. He’d just come from the memorial. In all the confusion no one had thought to call me and since we didn’t go to the same school I didn’t find out through the normal channels. When my absence was realized the gang drew straws to see who would have to tell me. Dan drew the short straw.

She never saw her 18th birthday. She was and always will be young and beautiful. But she left a piece of herself here and anyone that has ever spent time with me has spent time with a piece of that girl. But she is not gone.

In the weeks that followed I would still dial Sophies number whenever something happened that I thought she’d want to hear about…things she would normally be the first person I told. A few times I even let the phone ring a few times before I remembered that she was gone. Several months after her death she started appearing in my dreams and I would run from her. I don’t know why but something in me knew she was dead and shouldn’t be there…even in dreams.

One night, while indulging in after-hours coffee shop grease I told Ben, her ex and my friend still, about the dreams. I told him that sometimes…when I’d run from her I would find myself at a house. And old abandoned house surrounded by trees and overgrown with brush. His eyes widened. He beckoned me to his car and drove me through the canyons. He took me to the house I had up to that point only seen in my dreams. It had been their spot, he told me. He grabbed my hands and said “next time…talk to her.”

And I did. The next time I dreamt of Sophie we sat at her grandmothers table in her kitchen in Italy. We spoke for what seemed like hours and then she looked at me, covered my hands with hers, and said “I have to go now…but you will be OK…I want you to know that.” She stood and walked out the door into…I kid you not…a whitewashed landscape…or…in other words…a very bright light. I woke bolt up-right…as though I’d never been asleep.

I had never been to that kitchen in Italy but later…when I saw a photo of it…I knew I had been there in my dream. That bright yellow kitchen in a country I’ve never physically set foot in.

Over the years she has come to me often…usually when I have been at cross-roads in my life. She comes less and less these days…and it’s been years since she has visited me in a dream. But I sometimes feel her presence. And sometimes…I just suddenly change my mind about something I had been dead set on…only to find out later that it would have been the wrong or dangerous thing to do.

Last Tuesday as I was lying in bed trying to sleep but having hard time as I kept mulling over a conversation I had just had with the leading man in my life, wondering if I were making a mistake in trusting him when my cat jumped up on the bed and curled up between my legs. She lay there quietly as I pondered whether or not I was going to put my energy into “fixing” this man only to have him run into the arms of another. Would my association with him do just what he fears and bring me down…hold me back? I simply couldn’t sleep. I was arguing with myself. Telling myself I was being silly for having faith in this man. I was chastising myself for naively believing words that have not been backed up by actions.

When the time came to change positions I reached down to move the cat out of the way. Only…she wasn’t there. She wasn’t even in my room. I got back into bed and as I settled down in a solo spoon position I felt the pressure on my back...the breath on my neck, and Sophie was there. I couldn’t see her, but I felt her. She stroked and curled my hair between her fingers until I fell asleep.

When I woke up the next morning I felt sure that I am on the right path. I don’t know if this is the right path because he is the man I’m going to grow old with or if it’s because I need to be there for him during this time in his life. Maybe I need him...even in this capacity...or maybe I have been sent to him. Maybe he was supposed to meet me right now when he needs someone…someone like me…that can make him feel loved even if he doesn’t think he deserves it.

I don’t know. But it doesn’t really matter. I trust Sophie. She has never steered me wrong. I don’t think she ever will.

You might think I’m crazy. You might think I’m grasping at straws here. But I’m not. I honestly don’t know why I need to stick with him right now…and I have no illusions that this is “all going to work out.” All I know for sure is that it feels right and that I do so without peril to myself, and that is all that matters…at least to me.

And…as arrogant as this might sound…I believe that I am sent into people’s lives when they need a supportive voice…a hand to hold...a shoulder to cry on...a witness to the struggle...and a cheerleader for the effort.

At least…that’s what I hope I am.

P.S. As I was finishing this post my guy phoned me. He asked if I'd like to see a movie with him next week. I told him I'd love to. Experience tells me not to hold my breath...as I haven't seen him in almost a month at this point, but I'm hopeful that I will see him soon...and breathe in his scent that is like aromatherapy for me. That would be nice...very very nice.

Addendum:
Last night I was really tired when I was writing that post. I almost considered just curling up in bed and watching a movie....but for some reason I really wanted to write about Sophie.

I woke up this morning and realized that yesterday would have been her 35th birthday. Happy Birthday Sophie!

Balance

2008-01-16T18:00:00.000-08:00

I have a confession to make. I don’t really like my job. In fact…sometimes I hate my job. When I tell people what I do…and I never volunteer the information…but when they ask me and I say “Oh…well…I’m studying growth factor signaling in mesenchymal stem cells” they are oftentimes interested, and almost always impressed. I mean stem cells are such a hot topic of discussion these days…that it must sound pretty sexy. Wow…a real stem cell biologist…and she can hold her liquor! But I’m here to tell you that it’s not and if you can learn how to fix a car you can learn how to extract DNA. Now…I will admit…I am proud of my accomplishments…and the real work is in determining what experiment to do next which is where all the years of education come in. I do like the respect I often get from people because I have achieved this level of education, but it also disturbs me. Sometimes I wonder if people listen to what I’ve got to say about the world simply because I’m about to have those three little letters tacked onto the ass of my name. This is why I never volunteer the information as I want to be considered “just part of the gang”. No better and no worse than anyone else in my blue collar world.

(Sidebar: Leila always liked to tell people what I do for a living. Whenever a man would come over to talk to me she would interject this information somehow. When I asked her to stop…to allow me to reveal myself to people in my own time she would say “But I’m proud of you…and I’m proud that you’re my friend…and it’s a reflection on me…you know…cause you’re not just some secretary that I’m hanging around with.” Proud of me my ASS! She knows that most men…no matter how enlightened…don’t like to feel intimidated. And that’s what it was…a form of intimidation. And no…I wasn’t…as she accused…trying to “lower” myself for men. I just want people to get to know me before they get to know my credentials. And…really…isn’t it my decision what I want to discuss with a potential suitor…or a potential new friend? And honestly…what is wrong with being a secretary? Is there something I’m missing here?)

Anyway…the whole reason I came to graduate school is because I want to teach, and I knew I didn’t want to teach High School. Professors make better money than High School teachers so I knew that I would be able to support myself whether or not I walk this life solo…and for the most part…the kids actually want to be there. I love teaching. I really and truly love interacting with the students, and from what I can tell…I’m pretty good at it. In fact…I’ve been told numerous times that I am good at breaking down complex ideas and presenting them in a way that is understandable to the layman and therefore I should be a teacher. But when I emphatically agree and say “Well…that’s why I went to graduate school in the first place” the following statement is invariably what I get back; "Oh…but you could do so much more for the world in research!”

So?

What if I don’t like doing research? What if I hate doing research? What if I don’t want to dedicate hours upon hours of my life to fretting over whether my data is good enough…whether I’ve missed some crucial publication in my field that blows holes in my model…in my theory…in my hypothesis? What if I don’t want to continue doing the same experiment over and over and over again just to make sure the result is real? What if I don’t want to worry that my lab will shut down because the NIH is under funded or this year its all about bio-terror and stem cells are soooo passé?

Do you have any idea how much good solid research is not being done because of these kinds of issues?

There is no doubt that there will never be enough money to fund all of the good ideas…all of the valuable science that could be undertaken so that is not whats buggering my mind today. And this is not why I don’t want to be a bench researcher and that is not why I don’t want to run my own research lab.

I don’t want to do it simply because I don’t want to do it. Period. I’m not giving up…throwing in the towel…or selling myself short.

I simply don’t want that life. Is that OK with everybody?

What do I want then?

What I really really want is to teach biology to undergrads at a small teaching university in a small college town. I want to grade papers with a glass of wine by my hand while the ghee I am making slowly simmers on the stove. I want to spend my weekends walking my Labrador and taking afternoon naps. I don’t want to live rich. I don’t need a 5 bedroom house or a fancy car.

What I need is peace of mind…and balance.

Because without that…what is the point of living at all?

But before I can do that I must finish this degree. Not that I couldn’t just start teaching now at some of the smaller colleges. I’ve advanced to candidacy…and I have an M.Sc. It could work. But…I owe it to my boss…who has done so much for me over the years…who was a complete and total pain in the ass today. I owe it to him to finish my dissertation and get those three little letters tacked onto the ass of my name.

Things That Make You Go Hmmmm...

2008-01-15T19:46:00.000-08:00

Today I presided over the first student led discussions in the bioethics course Im TAing, and while I was droopy eyed from having stayed up way past my bedtime…it was fun. The “kids” did an excellent job, and the discussions were lively. Honestly…most times when your boss asks you to TA a course it’s a horrendous chore…as you are usually trying to do it all on top of your already harried regularly scheduled programming. However with a class like this it is more like being a kid let loose in a candy shop…particularly if you are a kid with a lot of opinions. I actually can’t believe I’m getting paid to do this. Today we discussed the dreaded Abortion issue and Euthanasia, or "right to die". And as with any hot button topic there are strong opinions on both sides of the fence. Mine tend toward the liberal side.

The Greek translation of Euthanasia is dying well. This makes sense as I always think of this in terms of an end stage cancer patient for whom morphine no longer dulls the pain. I am fairly certain that if I had a terminal diagnosis and had to live out the rest of my days in pain I would want the right to die…painlessly. Kiss me goodbye and shoot me up…I’m gone.

Of the 50 states in this nation only two actually have legislation addressing a person’s right to die. They are Oregon and Texas. Leave it to Texas to lead the way in providing an excellent argument against these kinds of "dying with dignity" provisions with their Advance Directives Act of 1999 (AKA The Texas Futile Care Law). It seems that in Texas a health care provider can withdraw care to a patient irrespective of the wishes of the patient upon determination that life-sustaining treatment is medically inappropriate or futile by the attending physician(s) provided said health care provider give 10 days notice to the family or legal guardian. Say WHAT????? Take the following case for example:

NEW YORK — While Americans were riveted by dramatic events unfolding in Pinellas Park, Fla., a five-month-old Houston baby took his last breath after a hospital let him die despite his mother's objections.

Sun Hudson was born Sept. 25 with thanatophoric dysplasia, an incurable and fatal form of dwarfism. Doctors said his tiny lungs would never fully grow and that he would never breathe on his own.

Hudson's mother, Wanda, put up a fight when doctors advised removing Sun from a respirator. She said she did not believe in sickness or death.

But on March 15, a Texas law signed by then-Gov. George W. Bush in 1999 allowed the hospital to go ahead and take Sun off the respirator in defiance of Wanda Hudson's wishes.

While the battle over Terri Schiavo has drawn dozens of outraged protesters to her Florida hospice, Sun's story made nary a bleep on the nation's radar. The few media outlets that picked up his story predictably drew parallels to the Schiavo case, and some experts have charged the president with hypocrisy.

I invoke my bloggers right to comment: Bush…a hypocrite? The hell you say! Carrying on…

The Texas statute that Bush signed authorized the ending of the life, even over the parents' protest. And what he's doing here is saying, 'The parents are protesting. You shouldn't stop [treatment],'" John Paris, a medical ethicist at Boston College, told Newsday. But some experts said the two cases are quite different. As is true of other state laws, Texas' Advance Directives Act of 1999 privileges the input of the patient's spouse over that of adult children, followed by the parents if there is no written directive.

But ultimately, the decision to extend treatment is made by the doctors and hospital.

Supporters of this Act claim a utilitarian viewpoint stating that sacrificing this one life which has little chance to survive benefits the greater good by freeing up hospital resources for patients that are likely to recover from their ailments. I can see that argument, and it certainly is sound, but I fear that this is a slippery slope. Will there come a day when it is determined that the poor or indigent do not have as much right to live as...say...a business man with an insurance card? I am reminded of a story written by one of the writers at Broowaha. In it he recounts his "tale of the bum knee". Apparently his health care provider...Kaiser Permanente...assured him that the only reason for his pain was a few extra pounds and a lack of exercise. After getting a new job and a new insurance carrier, but no relief of pain after losing ~45 lbs, he went to see his new doctor. X-rays revealed that the knee was completely missing any sort of cartilage and was...in fact...bone-on-bone. Asking the new doctor if Kaiser may have made a mistake when they looked at their x-rays the physician replied "a 4-year-old child could see that the knee was wasted...A pre-med student with one good eye would be able to tell that the knee was basically shot almost immediately after viewing these x-rays." Is this a little like your new hair stylist telling you that your last hair stylist didnt know what he/she was doing? I dont know, but one thing is for certain...hospitals are big business and managed care has turned doctors into nothing more than trained monkeys.

I am sorry, but "greater good be damned". Hospitals…get their money from insurance companies, which we all know by now are far more concerned with the bottom line (as in $$$$$$) than they are with patient care and as such they should not be allowed to determine who lives and dies. That should be up to the family.

This brings us to the great state of Oregon. Ah…Oregon…the land of many trees. So many trees that once while driving inland from the coast I began to feel claustrophobic and happy that trees are rooted in the ground lest they decide payback for all that logging should be due. But I digress…the topic of conversation is the right to die.

What does Oregon have to say about the right to die? Well…Oregon figures that if a patient, determined to be of sound mind, can find two doctors to confirm the terminal diagnosis then that patient should be allowed to die. Painlessly…by drug overdose…the way I would like to if I’m ever in horrific pain and not likely to recover.

Why then did John Ashcroft…a member of the Bush administration oppose this measure? I mean...seriously...Why would a member of the Bush administration, working under the man that signed legislation giving hospitals the right to deny care in some cases...while requiring that care be given in another...suggest that doctors who administered such treatment would be prosecuted under some antiquated federal law that didn’t really apply anyway? Which side of the fence are these people on?

Could it be because it was the patient that was given the power and not the corporatized practice of medicine that exists in this country today? And while the Advance Directives Act supposedly levels the playing field between the rich and the poor...why is it that all of the cases in which the hospital denied care against the wishes of the family/patient comprise those that were either elderly or members of a minority class? Hmmm....I wonder.

It sort of brings to mind the following from Nazi Germany.

Translation: “60,000 Reichsmarks is what this person suffering from hereditary defects costs the People's community during his lifetime. Fellow German, that is your money too.”

And that's all I have to say about that.

But before homeland security comes to arrest me I’d like to discuss the Abortion issue. Now…most women I know want the right to make the most difficult choice they hope they never have to make. So…most women I know are on some form of birth control when engaging in intercourse. And there are many things to discuss when it comes to Abortion rights, but what I want to bring up now is…birth control. If birth control were used more often there would be little need for abortion, which was the suggestion of the kid with the blue mohawk. Allow me to paraphrase his words:

“Why do we have to even make abortion an option…I mean…sure…If a woman is raped or molested or something then It should be an option but why do we have to talk about it like its an alternative...like there is no other choice? Why don’t we talk less about abortion and more about prevention.”

LOVE the kid with the blue mohawk. He is absolutely right. Teaching abstinence doesn’t work. Nor does burying our collective heads in the sand and saying things like “My little girl would never do such a thing…we raised her right” doesn’t work. Prevention…in the form of birth control....now THAT? That works. Of course we have to get past the morality of certain groups that dont believe in birth control...that see it as a sin against god or the poison seeping into the ground and killing the roots of the traditional family structure, but they typically don't believe in abortion either...which presents an entirely different conundrum for society to deal with.

Lets not go there right now. Lets stick with the issue of birth control as an alternative to abortion.

And that issue is the issue of access. What am I talking about? Well...if you live in a large city then you may not be aware, but unfortunately, there is a movement in this country to allow pharmacists that have a “conflict of morality” with the whole idea of birth control to refuse to dispense it to women with valid legal prescriptions. This scares me to no end, and there is an article discussing the arguments pertaining to this issue that you can read here, but allow me to share with you my favorite passage:

Not surprisingly, many of the pharmacists that claim a conflict of conscience in regards to dispensing birth control are also opposed to abortion. The fact of the matter is that pregnancy prevention, by default, prevents abortion. If a woman, denied birth control, becomes pregnant and chooses to terminate the unwanted pregnancy is the pharmacist then an accessory to what he or she would consider murder? When viewed in this light you almost have to wonder if there aren’t greater issues at play. The ability of a woman to control when and how many children she bears is integral to our emancipation from the myopic role as homemaker. Therefore it could be argued that this is less about morality and more about rolling back the clock to a time when women’s choices outside the home were limited to that of nurse or teacher. If so, would these pharmacists be making a decision "based on politics, expediency, or self-interest"?

Yeah. Things that make you go hmmmm...

Oh…and since no post would be complete without some mention of William…it just so happens that he is a Republican. He voted for Bush the first time…but not the second. Hey…everyone’s allowed to make a mistake once or twice in their lives. Right? Right?

Crickets…

Unsociable Sociability

2008-01-14T17:45:00.000-08:00

This quarter I am a teaching assistant for a Bioethics course. It was a last minute assignment, but they desperately needed a TA and my “boss” thought it would be right up my alley. It almost scares me how well this man knows me…but then again…I’m pretty much an open book. I am not giving the lectures…rather I am moderating the discussions, which amount to little more than debates on issues such as abortion rights, animal research, eugenics, euthenasia (right to die) etc. etc. etc. Essentially…I am getting paid to do what I sit around and do with my friends while throwing back cocktails. I am, however, supposed to attend the lectures so that I know what the “kids” are learning.

Today we discussed Kantian philosphy.

Kant, 1784, Idea For A Universal History With A Cosmopolitan Purpose
(Idee zu einer allgemeinen Geschichte in weltbürgerlicher Absicht)

Man has an inclination to associate with others, because in society he feels himself to be more than man...But he also has a strong propensity to isolate himself from others, because he finds in himself at the same time the unsocial characteristic of wishing to have everything go according to his own wish. Thus he expects opposition on all sides because, in knowing himself, he knows that he, on his own part, is inclined to oppose others.

In other words:

We seek company yet wish to be "left alone".

This made me think of William. We spoke on the phone last night. Nothing too heavy…just conversation but the one thing that bothered me was that he hung out with Leila for a couple of hours last night. Not because he wanted to, but because she was at the pub and “insisted”. I told him that he can tell her he just wants to be alone, that he is not required to speak with anyone he doesn’t wish to. He said that he had told her that the last time and it was really OK because he just let her do most of the talking. As he went on about the evening, and her name kept coming up, I started to get really annoyed.

(Sidebar: What really got to me is that I hate that she forces herself on people. The first night Leila and I went out after Will and I started dating she automatically assumed that we would sit with Will. He was at a table with a confidante…a trusted friend…an older man in whom he seeks advice and guidance. I knew this would not be a time or a place for me to be running up on him, but before I could say anything Leila went on over and sat down. I mean...we're all regulars...right? I could tell by Wills body language that he was uncomfortable but didn’t want to offend me or her. And before you say it…we never used to sit with Will when we would go to the Pub together. I told her later that it wasn't cool and after that...just about every time that she and I were in the pub together while William was there she would give me shit because we didn’t sit with him. “Its weird Jules…why wouldn’t he want to sit with you?” I told her that early on he and I had discussed the pub rules. We both frequented the same haunts before we got together and there was no reason in the world we had to start acting like conjoined twins just because we’d started seeing each other…that it was perfectly OK to come over and say “Hi" and we should never be afraid to “butt in” but that our friend time had to be respected. This was a mutual desire on our parts, but no matter how many times I explained this to her she never “got it”. And the fact of the matter is he often would come over and join us after awhile. Usually after he had decompressed from his day.)

But...back to the subject at hand. After awhile of listening to his re-cap of the night which included some rather astute observations of Leilas particular style of controlling a situation I said “Ya know…you could just go somewhere else.”

“Where” he asked and then listed his reasons for not going to certain other spots more often. All good reasons I might add…but it bothered me still.

“Why don’t you go somewhere else when she shows up?” to which he replied “Normally that would be a great idea, but she’s in the pub every single night these days and I cant afford loons and goons every night”. My annoyance reached a fever pitch…enough so that I said “Well…we are either going to have to get off the phone or change the subject because Im starting to get really annoyed…and it really pisses me off that you’re off hanging out with her when you and I havent communicated face-to-face in almost a month blah blah blah.” And as I went on I realized that it wasn’t that I was annoyed…I was jealous. Jealous that she was seeing him when I had not. Surely this fact was evident to him as well as he cut off my rant with a “Jules…calm down…she and I have been frequenting that place and doing this little dance for years, and I understand where you’re coming from but don’t forget…this his how we met…and I don’t know why she’s in the pub so much these days, but I can only brush her off so many times before there’s bound to be trouble.” Right. He was completely right. I forced myself to calm down and said “You are right…Im sorry…I shouldn’t be annoyed…its not my right or my place…but…” And…god love the man he cut me off and said “You are allowed to have any emotion you have…its just an emotion…better to share it then bottle it up…its OK to flip-out sometimes…its not like I don’t know where you’re coming from.”

We changed the subject. He told me about his day which was mildly stressful and then told me he “needed a hug”. I told him “I’d be happy to give you one but since this is a phone call…you’re just going to have to settle for a virtual hug.” He replies “That’s just not the same.” So I said “Well…what can I say. You're the one that wanted some space” and I gave him some shit about how he used to really enjoy seeing me…that he used to be really comfortable in my presence…and that I honestly didn’t understand what the problem was. He said “I know…I don’t know…I know…its hard to explain and quite frankly I cant believe you are sticking by me.”

Hmmmm. I said. I didn’t tell him about the post I had finished only 30 minutes before he called me. I didn’t tell him all the reasons why I felt he could have this space...why I figured he’s worth the wait. What I did tell him is…as long as there will come a day that you can be in a room alone with me I am fine with waiting. He laughed and said he didn’t know how much longer he was going to be feeling “funny” but that it wouldn’t last forever and I said fine…as long as there is an eventually I could wait…but that I wouldn’t wait forever.

After that we changed the subject and I made him laugh and we had a really good time just chatting about pie in the sky and nothing that important. When we said goodnight I told him he could “come on by for that hug any old time you want.”

Today, when I saw those words up on the screen during lecture; “We seek company yet wish to be left alone" I thought of William...a man who covets his alone in a crowd time so.

And as she went on to explain what that meant I got it.

Its not Leilas opinion he cares about…its mine. And this…this thing that he is going through…he has to figure out for himself without opposition from me...real or perceived. And I suppose the phone conversations are a good way to figure out if Im on page with him.

So much easier to hang up a phone than walk out of a room...no?

Ah...LIGHTEN UP ALREADY!!!!!

And now...for your listening enjoyment may I present...

So Unsexy

2008-01-13T22:23:00.000-08:00

Last night, finally finished putting the saga that sent me back to blogging onto paper I met up with my new friend, Lydia, for dinner and drinks. It was our first meeting in real life. We met through her blog and as with any online connection comments led to emails led to chatting on the phone until finally we met in person. Bonding over shared experiences we discussed life, love, fear, personal-baggage, and the intricate forces that bring people together and break them apart. In our case, a common experience with the leading men in our lives is what has brought us together…well...that and having a helluvalot in common!

Discussing matters both heavy and light…a key point that we touched on is the foundations upon which any solid relationship is formed be it between friends or lovers. In committing all of my thoughts about some of the people that have been shaping my life over these past three years or so it became clear to me why my guy had walked away from me for over a week. Why, if I had not sent him that letter that prompted him to call me, he may still remain dark.

What I realized in going through all of this is that I have not been a healthy person. I realized that I have been operating from a base of fear as opposed to a base of strength and faith in myself. That in not really dealing with my feelings about my toxic friend Leila, that in not doing the hard thing and walking away from a relationship that was causing me stress because that was easier than trying to fill the void left by the loss of what seemed…at times…to be a good solid friendship I was allowing my fear of becoming isolated once more to rule my actions. I mean…my plan up to this point has been to finish my PhD and get the hell out of here. To move far enough away from Leila that she couldn’t continue stepping back into my life after an episode. To be able to keep her at arms length via email or something once I had completed my business in LA. And while I do intend to move closer to my sisters when I finish that is no excuse for allowing myself to be miserable and walking on eggshells during my time here simply because I was afraid of spending too many Friday nights curled up with my netflix subscription.

Meeting my guy changed all of that. Meeting him forced me to realize how wanting I had been for real care. He came into my life and made me feel as though I had a reason, other than my career to be in LA. He makes me feel loved and appreciated for who I am; the good…the bad…and the ugly. He is a person that I do truly connect with on a level that I’ve never experienced. I feel completely comfortable being myself around him and I know that I can’t say that about Matt…the man I spent six years of my life with. When I look back at my time spent with Matt I realize how much of who I truly am that I gave up to be with him. Again…this was not his fault, but mine for accepting it. William accepts me as is. He has never tried to change me in any way shape or form. He has not asked me to lose or gain weight, start or stop dying my hair, change my political affiliations, or renounce my membership in NOW or the ACLU. He has not asked me to quit watching romantic comedies, reading pop fiction or girlie magazines, vote for his candidate, buy a different car, drink a different drink, stop loving Alanis or Avril, or become fascinated with football. And nor have I asked these things of him. He is a wonderful person, not a perfect person, but the sum of his parts makes him worthy of all the good things this world has to offer…whether he believes that or not. The bottom line is…he makes me feel good.

And understandably, I latched onto those good feelings. I wanted to get lost in them. I wanted to replace my toxic relationship with Leila with this wonderful relationship that was developing between William and I.

I wanted to replace Leila with William.

What I wanted him to do…and I stated this in my letter to him…was to save me from Leila. But…as I also stated in my letter I know that that is not his job…that is not what a new romance is supposed to accomplish. Aside from all of that he has enough to do to get his own life back on track…get his own head back to a happy place without worrying about my happy head place. It’s a lot to ask of a person…and it’s not attractive…its not sexy…it is…in fact…frightening! So, while I would love nothing more than to spend some time with him I have not asked when we might see each other again. Truth is, I’d like to get myself to a position where I feel comfortable standing on my own two feet, without Leila in my life, and only allowing time for those that accept my imperfect self as is before we try to re-establish that part of the relationship.

William phoned me last night when he got home from a concert with his buddies. I was still at Lydias house letting the tequila make its slow exit from my bloodstream. We chatted for…well…a good long while. He told me that Leila was “overly happy all night” and Molly was ingratiating to him…almost flirting…going so far as to suggest that William might like to f*ck her. She may have just been joking around but he, of course, took it seriously and told her that he doesn’t go around just f*cking people for the sake of f*cking. Should this apparent cry for attention on Molly’s part bother me? Yes. But it doesn’t…that is Molly, and I’ve never really considered Molly a friend…more someone I’d chat with when I saw her at the pub. Of course…the tequila still coursing through my veins, I made a snarky comment reminding William about some nasty things she said about my size 10 frame and less than perfect breasts when compared to her size zero perky as all get all tatas. William said the perfect thing to make me feel better. he almost always does.

This afternoon I met Mark for drinks at The Zone. I filled him in on recent events with Leila. We discussed our writing, teaching, and spent some time catching up with each other since we’d not had any face time since before Christmas. As we were finishing up our last drink Leila came in with Sheila. Mark stopped by to say hi on his way to the loo, but we didn’t join them nor they us. When we left I stopped with Mark to say goodbye. Leila and I exchanged a very cordial hello and goodbye.

Works for me!