Back from Del Taco, my lunchtime getaway from customer service. I've found that my tolerance level has been greatly increased tonight. I haven't been short at all. I even found some nice inflection in my voice on one call. I don't know what that was about. It sounded completely foreign.
Wrote a check out to the City of Long Beach for my parking violation. Because street sweeping is an essential function and money-maker for a city.
I'm reading. Yes, reading. "Lies My Teacher Told Me" by James W. Loewen. I used to own the hardcover book, but somewhere along the years it got lent to someone and I never got it back. I ordered this paperback copy on Amazon.com. I also ordered, "A People's History of the United States" by Howard Zinn. I'm taking History 20--American History this semester so I thought I might get in the mood to read some additional material. I'm finally reading for understanding rather than just to be able to regurgitate content. Somehow, I still feel that the factoids will just remain as random trivia that I retain until senility kicks in. Go Ginko!
Randy and I had a short conversation before I left for work. I expressed my anger over the years and defined betrayal. I assessed blame only to the annoying end of him not being able to end things when he knew he didn't want to continue. I confessed to reading his journal entries from the beginning of our relationship until last week. It was painful. It made me cry a lot. It also made me see that there was no reason to continue with this relationship. It confirmed what I already knew intellectually, but did not want to accept emotionally. There's still such a huge cloud of emotion that hasn't moved on yet.
Be honest. Forward. Myself. The Fantasy Island greeting comes to mind. "Smiles everyone, smiles."
Wednesday, January 15, 2003
Tuesday, January 14, 2003
Without You Now--Bic
12:52am
I promise to write. I do. But am I a writer? I read a letter that Steve Harrison wrote me years ago. In it he extolled my writing in a way that I have not heard it talked about in a long time. I may not be so much a writer as I am good at channeling my pain into words or ignoring that pain and using it to create. But without pain.... the writing has many dry spells. So am I really a writer?
But in that thinking, am I a runner? I used to enjoy it a lot but don't go out of my way to do it anymore. Am I a soccer player? Am I a thespian? Am I still Catholic because I was baptized so?
1:22am
I went back and read some of the entries from the Summer of 2000 after I visited Lanny in Florida and made the decision that we were not getting back together. I remember the pain in the decision and the long months afterward. One entry was an IM between Lanny & I about the issue. Still...it was easier with him completely out of sight. Passing nude from the shower to getting dressed isn't exactly out of sight this time around.
2:03am
Got Josh's postcard today from Canada. Sweet. He just sent a text message letting me know he's back in town. He suggests going to Mt. High. I think he was quite taken with learning how to ski. It is fun. Thinking... hmm... when was the last time that I went? It must have been in Washington? NO no no.. it was Dave Weldon '93/'94 when he rented a cabin in Mammoth. Wow... that was the first time I had seen a bidet. Cute.
2:25am
I should take a vacation somewhere, but I want to wait until I know how expenses are going to be and where I'm going to live come April 1st. It seems a long time to wait, but here it is almost the middle of January. The foggy mornings rolling in from see cover time in patches. Fading, thawed, I drive the same streets clearly in developing hills. I await the Summer and the warm sand. I open boxes of band-aids with no adhesive. Make me whole again.
I promise to write. I do. But am I a writer? I read a letter that Steve Harrison wrote me years ago. In it he extolled my writing in a way that I have not heard it talked about in a long time. I may not be so much a writer as I am good at channeling my pain into words or ignoring that pain and using it to create. But without pain.... the writing has many dry spells. So am I really a writer?
But in that thinking, am I a runner? I used to enjoy it a lot but don't go out of my way to do it anymore. Am I a soccer player? Am I a thespian? Am I still Catholic because I was baptized so?
1:22am
I went back and read some of the entries from the Summer of 2000 after I visited Lanny in Florida and made the decision that we were not getting back together. I remember the pain in the decision and the long months afterward. One entry was an IM between Lanny & I about the issue. Still...it was easier with him completely out of sight. Passing nude from the shower to getting dressed isn't exactly out of sight this time around.
2:03am
Got Josh's postcard today from Canada. Sweet. He just sent a text message letting me know he's back in town. He suggests going to Mt. High. I think he was quite taken with learning how to ski. It is fun. Thinking... hmm... when was the last time that I went? It must have been in Washington? NO no no.. it was Dave Weldon '93/'94 when he rented a cabin in Mammoth. Wow... that was the first time I had seen a bidet. Cute.
2:25am
I should take a vacation somewhere, but I want to wait until I know how expenses are going to be and where I'm going to live come April 1st. It seems a long time to wait, but here it is almost the middle of January. The foggy mornings rolling in from see cover time in patches. Fading, thawed, I drive the same streets clearly in developing hills. I await the Summer and the warm sand. I open boxes of band-aids with no adhesive. Make me whole again.
Monday, January 13, 2003
I'm wishing...
Last night was another where I couldn't stop the flooding. It's the death of dreams and expectations. I hurts so much. I had a few very good days, but the reality of what is happening--has happened--pains. Even as I type here at work my eyes well up. It's an enhanced breathing technique that keeps them from falling. On lunch I drove around aimlessly. No room for hunger in a body starved for feeling. I drove by the apartment not knowing what I hoped for. I hugged him goodbye before I left. The sun will rise and so will he and when I come home the room will be empty again.
I forgot to put wetting drops in my eyes so now I'm blinking every few seconds to try and get the foggy film off my contact lenses.
What history will reflect is that this relationship ended in June of 2000, or perhaps November, but definitely by December of that year. The next year was a concerted effort based in love, but always carrying around the betrayal. What is happening now will someday be seen as the only logical choice; one past due.
There is so much anger in me and rather than taking it out on other people, I take it out on myself by recreating these relationships of abuse. The psychology is simple. Grow up in an abusive household. I turn that anger inward and excel in school, sports, drama, volunteering. I get out in the world and break free of the abusive home only to seek out similar abuse in my intimate relationships because that's what I know of love. Yes, simple. Now breaking the cycle is where simplicity loses. Here's where at the first hint of feeling truly drawn to someone I have to step back and go the other way. But it's not all I know of love. There's the warmth of my grandmother that hugs me tenderly. It's that feeling that I search for in someone else. Someone that can take care of me as much as I can of them. I briefly talked to Juan about this early Sunday morning. These new people in my life emerge. Become.
School begins tonight. Two years of focus. Please not the Ford kind. So much of me wants to unravel, but I think experience has taught that I've passed that time.
I forgot to put wetting drops in my eyes so now I'm blinking every few seconds to try and get the foggy film off my contact lenses.
What history will reflect is that this relationship ended in June of 2000, or perhaps November, but definitely by December of that year. The next year was a concerted effort based in love, but always carrying around the betrayal. What is happening now will someday be seen as the only logical choice; one past due.
There is so much anger in me and rather than taking it out on other people, I take it out on myself by recreating these relationships of abuse. The psychology is simple. Grow up in an abusive household. I turn that anger inward and excel in school, sports, drama, volunteering. I get out in the world and break free of the abusive home only to seek out similar abuse in my intimate relationships because that's what I know of love. Yes, simple. Now breaking the cycle is where simplicity loses. Here's where at the first hint of feeling truly drawn to someone I have to step back and go the other way. But it's not all I know of love. There's the warmth of my grandmother that hugs me tenderly. It's that feeling that I search for in someone else. Someone that can take care of me as much as I can of them. I briefly talked to Juan about this early Sunday morning. These new people in my life emerge. Become.
School begins tonight. Two years of focus. Please not the Ford kind. So much of me wants to unravel, but I think experience has taught that I've passed that time.
Sunday, January 12, 2003
Tide pools rising
8:57am
I feel like a Chuck pawn at this moment. In a way it's kind of funny. I'm laughing on th einside. It really is funny. Ha ha ha.
Noon--12:00pm
I had a great time last night. Hung out with Mark and Ian. Went to a SMALL party in Long Beach. I drank red wine and text messaged Josh. Later...INSOMNIA. Met up with Juan there. Four different DJ's, one short & cute played a remix of "Send Me An Angel." The music kept me moving--even when limbs drooped in sweat. So much sweat. Drenched shirts. Shower. Clean. To become dirty again.
White hot chocolate and doggy style. Eros.
Okay. Not great, but fun. Tired. Talked to Juan about Josh. Then I talked to Ian about both of them. I played him Bic Runca. He had never heard her before.
Now the bathroom is available. Shower again.
7:10pm
I re-read the e-mail from Lanny and broke into tears.
I feel like a Chuck pawn at this moment. In a way it's kind of funny. I'm laughing on th einside. It really is funny. Ha ha ha.
Noon--12:00pm
I had a great time last night. Hung out with Mark and Ian. Went to a SMALL party in Long Beach. I drank red wine and text messaged Josh. Later...INSOMNIA. Met up with Juan there. Four different DJ's, one short & cute played a remix of "Send Me An Angel." The music kept me moving--even when limbs drooped in sweat. So much sweat. Drenched shirts. Shower. Clean. To become dirty again.
White hot chocolate and doggy style. Eros.
Okay. Not great, but fun. Tired. Talked to Juan about Josh. Then I talked to Ian about both of them. I played him Bic Runca. He had never heard her before.
Now the bathroom is available. Shower again.
7:10pm
I re-read the e-mail from Lanny and broke into tears.
Saturday, January 11, 2003
A brave front
Milk" - I'm waiting, I'm waiting, For you.
Last night I saw "About Schmidt" with Mark at the AMC Centruy Plaza. The movie let out about 1am so dancing didn't really happen. Passing Mickey's, RAGE & settling in The Abbey, it was both pleasing to be single and unsettling. I can still look in their eyes and see the searching; like lighthouses our eyes guide toward each other, but I see the rocky shores and their boats move blindly. Or perhaps I am the rocky shore that they have to hit to understand the purpose of the lighthouse at all.
We left rather quickly. I drove Mark home and waited until I could see he was in his apartment before leaving. I thought as I did this. I have always waited for my friends to get into their livign spaces before pulling away.
Home was my empty bed. An empty bed in a room full of noise. Too much for Randy trying to sleep. I slept seven hours straight through without remembering any dreams.
Last night I saw "About Schmidt" with Mark at the AMC Centruy Plaza. The movie let out about 1am so dancing didn't really happen. Passing Mickey's, RAGE & settling in The Abbey, it was both pleasing to be single and unsettling. I can still look in their eyes and see the searching; like lighthouses our eyes guide toward each other, but I see the rocky shores and their boats move blindly. Or perhaps I am the rocky shore that they have to hit to understand the purpose of the lighthouse at all.
We left rather quickly. I drove Mark home and waited until I could see he was in his apartment before leaving. I thought as I did this. I have always waited for my friends to get into their livign spaces before pulling away.
Home was my empty bed. An empty bed in a room full of noise. Too much for Randy trying to sleep. I slept seven hours straight through without remembering any dreams.
Friday, January 10, 2003
A transition begins
These are the times when I feel myself leap, not caring where the next stone will be; splashing water up into the air and in my eyes. Sparkling crystal musical instruments to play an omminous lament in an empty room full of clothes. -jmp
"Solace for me now would be a labotomy."
What have I absorbed? That's a scary thought. All transitions being relatively positive, maybe music.
I thought about a letter, but no more words. No more drama now. The love & pain can be shared as friends if that day should happen sometime.
Sometimes I stretch an image in my head and the canvas tears so I paint the picture again and try to find a frame.
"Solace for me now would be a labotomy."
What have I absorbed? That's a scary thought. All transitions being relatively positive, maybe music.
I thought about a letter, but no more words. No more drama now. The love & pain can be shared as friends if that day should happen sometime.
Sometimes I stretch an image in my head and the canvas tears so I paint the picture again and try to find a frame.
Wednesday, January 08, 2003
in the end
Cleaning the filing cabinets over the past few days, I have come across letters from the past. Someone famous in some speech said to save old love letters. I think they were right. Reading them now makes it worth the experience of the time. I have to remember that in this separation between Randy & I. The pain I'm feeling now is everything, unyielding. I'm reminded of the days when I couldn't function at Ingram after Lanny left. It was a hollow time, but it was helped by his being removed from my life.
I wanted to believe the best--as I do in most people that I meet. I see the world that way. Naive...perhaps. This is my natual state. I do not wish to alter it with the so called "realities" of the world. That is not the reality that I live in, nor ever forsee being in. But seeing the best, I can often ignore the worst. If not ignore, at least tolerate to some extent. When is enough, enough? According to the dialogue in "The Mexican," if you truly love someone then "never" is it ever enough.
So the cleaning continues to make room for a bed I haven't slept in in almost two years. Everything is a decision. If I drink coke instead of water there are different immediate gratifications & tastes and then later consequences. The water is better for me in the long run, but the coke will help me stay awake if that's what I need. Being in a relationship fulfills, creates a happiness. Being single fortifies my strident independence and exercises my free spirit. (The free spirit I never knew until Steve Tanny called me on it.) I can't feel completely stupid for the past two years because I was entering into something new for me. I was stretching the comforts of the box I live in and learning that certain comforts were never meant to change.
Instinct comes back into play. It's the first thing to go out the window. It's the mechanism that points out what to avoid--survival. There's a biological component to the brain that overrides this safety feature design. It consistently overrides. If I know it's happening, then in theory, I can make it stop. For instance, Josh. I sense all of the confusion and complexities going on in his life. I see the potential and need in him to be loved--really loved. His advances are flattering, espcially now. But for me to involve myself in his world would only serve to escape my own. It's that simple, so my instincts will win on this one, though so moves me to take part.
What I hope for right now is that when he looks back, he'll see the good that has come of the experience. I hope that for myself as well.
Physical exam scheduled for next month. Call the eye doctor when I get home from work. School orientation set for later this evening. There's never enough to do.
I wanted to believe the best--as I do in most people that I meet. I see the world that way. Naive...perhaps. This is my natual state. I do not wish to alter it with the so called "realities" of the world. That is not the reality that I live in, nor ever forsee being in. But seeing the best, I can often ignore the worst. If not ignore, at least tolerate to some extent. When is enough, enough? According to the dialogue in "The Mexican," if you truly love someone then "never" is it ever enough.
So the cleaning continues to make room for a bed I haven't slept in in almost two years. Everything is a decision. If I drink coke instead of water there are different immediate gratifications & tastes and then later consequences. The water is better for me in the long run, but the coke will help me stay awake if that's what I need. Being in a relationship fulfills, creates a happiness. Being single fortifies my strident independence and exercises my free spirit. (The free spirit I never knew until Steve Tanny called me on it.) I can't feel completely stupid for the past two years because I was entering into something new for me. I was stretching the comforts of the box I live in and learning that certain comforts were never meant to change.
Instinct comes back into play. It's the first thing to go out the window. It's the mechanism that points out what to avoid--survival. There's a biological component to the brain that overrides this safety feature design. It consistently overrides. If I know it's happening, then in theory, I can make it stop. For instance, Josh. I sense all of the confusion and complexities going on in his life. I see the potential and need in him to be loved--really loved. His advances are flattering, espcially now. But for me to involve myself in his world would only serve to escape my own. It's that simple, so my instincts will win on this one, though so moves me to take part.
What I hope for right now is that when he looks back, he'll see the good that has come of the experience. I hope that for myself as well.
Physical exam scheduled for next month. Call the eye doctor when I get home from work. School orientation set for later this evening. There's never enough to do.
