Do you think that when you treat someone really well, that they'll always come back to you?
I know I haven't "said" a whole lot about Scooter lately, but it doesn't mean he hasn't been on my mind... like a feedback loop... or a virus...
Mind you, as of late I've spent a helluva lot more time thinking negatively about him, and how we're not even going to be able to be friends. Quite frankly, I've had little choice but to think about all the negative things about him. Here we are in the midst of another break. Another bout of silence, that I'm pretty sure he feels is up to me to break, and come back when I'm ready. But... the thing is... the part of me that wants to do that is really diminished. More so than it's ever been. And right now, I'm just kinda clinging to the idea, that eventually we won't be all that important to one another anymore. It's kind of already happening. I mean, how many times can two people come back to one another to reaffirm they want different things? Especially when one of those people has no sexual boundaries and keeps hurting the other person (who happens to still be in love).
I still flounder back and forth, and fuck knows, I have really, really bad days still where I miss him with a really profound ache, and wish I could just be around him. But then I remind myself how cold and cruel he's been to me, and how he just can't seem to communicate and use the English language to tell me what it is exactly he does want from me, so I find myself more often feeling I've had enough and no amount of growing-up on his part could ever make it worth it to let him get close to me again. But like I say... that's floundering and wavering... and the "giving-up" part of me is just on the heavier side of the scale right now. But whether encouraging or discouraging... that is where I'm more apt to linger these days when I'm driving myself crazy thinking about him.
During our last lengthy break from one another, (which lasted from April to September) he told me he just "needed more time"... though he never specified what he needed that time for. When he contacted me at the end of August, there was no mention of what that time had been spent evaluating... just that he missed me. And when we got together near the end of September, a very romantic kiss, made things very ambiguous for my best intentions of just being friends. I might add, that I think it's both shitty and immature of someone to need "time" to be someones friend. I don't have a disease, and it's not like I can "make" him love me.
I've spent too much time playing the idiot.
Plain and simple.
There are two ways in which Scooter does NOT treat me like a friend: 1) the physicality... the kissing, the holding, the nuzzling, the intimacy. 2) the emotional arm's length... no longer discussing anything of depth, only communicating in person and pretty-much ignoring all else. That is not the behaviour of a friend, and on two levels, it's not something I can work with, adapt to, or accept: 1) I have been in love with him for a long time. I can't be given the physical intimacy I want. I'll never say "no" to it, and he shouldn't want it if he doesn't think of me romantically. 2) we WERE friends before. Friends that spoke and shared and communicated. To roll-back our contact to something less-than what friendship is about seems pointless.
Both paths are blocked and impassable.
When last we spoke (a week and a half before Christmas) I told him I didn't feel welcome in his life. He said (I'm paraphrasing) there was nothing he could do about it. I said, perhaps we needed more time apart. To which he replied that would be fine and that I should just contact him when I'm ready, and I said I didn't think I'd contact him again. Again he said there was nothing he could do, he wasn't "cool with it", but he'd wish me well if that's what I wanted. So... I said good bye.
I'm leaving stuff out... just so you know... but that's the gist. And now we play this ridiculous waiting game rather than discuss our differences.
To see it in print, I know I'm done. He won't hear from me again. But.... and that's a huge BUT... I know he'll be back. And I'm not looking forward to my reaction to it. I'm not looking forward to telling him to "stay gone". I'm not looking forward to telling him "thanks for thinking of me. I hope you're happy and well. Take care." I'm not looking forward to telling him "I have zero interest in being in your life because you feel guilty". I'm not looking forward to ignoring him entirely. I'm not looking forward to saying "what do you want?" or "Fuck you". Because I see all of those things as an unwillingness to forgive him for something I don't think someone needs to apologize for. He doesn't love me. Big fucking deal. That's the way life is. At the same time, I think it shows a tremendous void of respect for myself to even attempt to be his friend. He's proven he can't. He can't respect my feelings and keep his hands to himself. And there's no level of acceptance in between. It's not like I'm being given the chance to be around him and just suck-it-up that we're never going to be together, because we end-up not speaking for months at a time, because I'm not allowed to be around him and in love simultaneously.
His rules.
Not mine.
It just so happens, this time I've chosen to walk away because he called me back into his life to hurt me -yet again- and it hasn't quite occurred to him, that I'm being given every reason to not even fucking "like" him anymore, and why would I return to a friendship with a douche bag and ignore the humiliation of ever being in love with said douche bag for the honour and privilege of being said douche bag's friend?
Sounds pretty cut and dried doesn't it? Simple decision.
Simple decision had I never ever been close to him.
Simple decision if I didn't know how damaged and hurting he is.
Simple decision if there wasn't a delusional core of me that believes he's loved me for a long time and just can't trust that what I feel is real because of the mind-set I was in when we met (after coming out of a 12+ year relationship, and determined that polyamory was for me.)
For all of these reasons, and the HUGE, glaring, life-chewing issue of my sanity being at stake... I stay away. And I will stay away. Far, far away with no real danger of breaching that agreement with myself.
Being in love with someone... like I mean the crazy, movie/romance novel level of love... is as close to insanity as I've ever come. I'm not even convinced I'm not already plummeting to absolute absence of common sense as I type this... a fall set in motion too long ago to ever turn back from or reverse the effects of. I know I shouldn't want it anymore. I certainly shouldn't want Scooter anymore. It's a trap. Being in this kind of love with anyone, is a mind trap.
It's made me afraid of everyone who even smiles at me.
I don't know how I'm going to react on that inevitable day when he comes back to fuck with me again, or try to make amends... whichever the case may be... but I do vow, that I'll never let myself feel this way about someone who doesn't feel exactly the same way about me - ever again.
I'm hoping upon hoping that I won't want him by the time he figures out that I'm not coming back, but I can't even guarantee that.
Absolute madness.
Sweet Nothing - Ashlyne Huff
The sky is grey today
It's like it knows
It knows that it's that kind
A couple highs but mostly lows
Gravity has come
Forcing me to fall down to nothing
You were my conviction
My happiest concern
Then it all came down
When luck was gonna turn
Gravity has come
It's done this once before
And now I'm feeling
Sweet nothing
Sweet, sweet nothing
The atmosphere is cold
I thought I'm feeling more
Now it's more like numb
And I don't care to be yours
Gravity has come
But it hasn't won
And all our memories drift away into the
Sweet nothing
Sweet, sweet nothing
I guess I tried
I guess I'm fine
I think I'll try again sometime
Sweet, sweet nothing
You were my sweet, sweet nothing
I feel sweet nothing
Showing posts with label Scooter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Scooter. Show all posts
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Meaty Doesn't Know I Call Him Meaty
One of the problems with telling tales about real people in your life, is remembering the "nick-names" you give them. Since typing this sentence I've gone back and found the name I gave to Poppycock's lovely man: ..."Meaty". It makes me snicker a little as to why I call him that. I'll just say it revolves around his penchant for testicles and let your imagination do the rest.
I needed to remember because I'm going over to their place tonight for dinner and Meaty's cutting my hair, so I look all nice-nice for my niece's wedding next week in Punta Cana. A beach vacation sounds sooo good right now. I can't properly express my longing for a week of sun, water, heat and nothing to do.
Today was Poppycock's Canadian Citizenship ceremony. I was up bright and early, holding up my right hand and swearing my commitment to Canada and the queen right along with him. Momentous day. I could have done without the judge blathering on about Venezuelan goat cheese, but "Hey"... she's a judge. She can talk about what she pleases. And "no", I'm not making that up. It's out of context obviously, but it was no less a topic of her "greeting/story" to the new Canadians in the room.
Friday night I hung out with Marty. She and Fucktard (that's not me being mean; it's his honest-to-goodness, affectionate nickname) have broken-up again. We had a very long, very heartfelt conversation. I think she appreciates that I listen, but I think I prompt conversation that goes a little darker and sadder than people want to venture. *sigh*
They've been together for more than 2 years now. They've built a house that's almost ready for them to move into. And they've suffered and suffered and suffered a really volatile relationship. Y'know one of those relationships in the movies that every one of a girls friends would tell her to cut and run? Well, I'm not one of those friends in the sense that I know you have to let your emotions run their course. (Look at me and Scooter for fuck's sake.) But I also know she's not really happy, and I lightly, ever-so-gently, acknowledge this with her. She's not unaware. There's just a lot of factors to consider.
Marty and I didn't spend the "entire" evening talking gloom. After I shared my woes, we watched 2 episodes of BBC's "Life" (narrated by Oprah). And when she started falling asleep, I said my good byes and was home by about 2am.
Saturday I was determined to go clothing shopping for formal beach attire that won't make me look like a homeless person or a dreadfully overdressed person when I give my niece away at her wedding. There was a lot of snow Saturday morning, I was lazy and horny and I hate clothing shopping - so, I procrastinated the endeavor well into the late afternoon. But since I needed clothes, I did eventually go. And I'm pleased with the boring pants I picked-up for the occasion. I needed boring pants. Doesn't everyone?
More pleasing, were the sexy athletic long-sleeved shirts I bought for volleyball and football. The strategic striping makes me look like my chest is massive. Me likey! I bought 3 of them for 45 dollars. (total) Which pleases me more.
After the shopping, I met up with Poppycock and we went to the new restaurant that Meaty now works for. PC paid for dinner for my birthday, and we kinda had a somber meal together. It was the first time we'd spoken since last weekend, (we had a scrap) so it was a little awkward. Fights will do that. But I think we were ok at that point.
Sunday, I went for dinner with Eak and used my gift certificate for The Keg that my mother gave me for my birthday. We had a nice meal and then went back to his place to hang out. I got a hero's welcome from the dogs and Eak and I just talked and played cards and listened to the new Kanye West album. I brought a joint with me, so we smoked that, and I have to admit I got a little lost in my own head.
There are still times when I'm around Eak that I just want to throw my arms around him and cry and tell him how much I miss him, and that I wish things could be the way they were before. Times when I miss him so badly because he knows me and loves me.
But that's just the loneliness talking... and the weed... and the nostalgia. We've both moved on, and I wouldn't muddy the waters like that, because I want him in my life, and I know that I don't want him to be my "partner" anymore. I just mourn him a little still. He was my best friend and now he's not. We may get back there some day. But not if I express any doubt in the roles we're developing in each others lives. Truthfully, I don't want him back the way we were. I just got to thinking sadly that many people give a relationship a second chance, and we're just not going to. Luckily, I don't think he wants that, but if he "did", there's nobody who deserves a second chance more than him.
I'm talking all of this sentiment for no good reason. He told me yesterday that he and his boyfriend are moving in together February 1st. There isn't a pang of jealousy or regret in me. So I know that everything is how it should be. Eak's going to be saving $400 a month, which will be good for the dogs, and for his debt. I honestly couldn't be happier for him. My lapse was just self-pity and THC.
For all my visiting this past weekend, I still feel like I've been spending a lot of time alone. But... I'm feeling good about it for the first time since I was single (before Eak) in my early twenties. As I was telling Marty on Friday night, I'm not certain there's anybody for me now. I've grown really wary of letting anyone get close for one thing, and as I've mentioned in here before... I'm a ghost/angel/alien. Who's going to be like me? Better yet... who's going to put up with my identity crisis? I'm better off dating myself for a good long time. The sex sucks, but no one can hurt me.
And sometimes in the time it takes to construct an entry, your plans change entirely. Meaty got called into work, so I'm headed home for a Skype session with Lion. No dinner. No hair cut. Just a chat with someone who "would" have sex with me were it not for the intercontinental boundary of an ocean. Pesky thing, that.
Kanye West - Hell of a Life
I think I just fell in love with a porn star
Turn the camera on, she a born star
Turn the corners in a foreign car
Call the coroners do the CPR
She gave that old nigga a ulcer
Her bitter sweet taste made his gold teeth fake, uh
Make her knees shake, make a priest faint, uh
Make a nun cum, make her cremate, uh
Move downtown, cop a sweet space, uh
Livin’ life like we won the sweepstakes, what!
We headin’ to hell for heaven’s sake, Huh!
Well I’mma levitate, make the devil wait, Yeah!
[Chorus]
Have you lost your mind?
Tell me when you think we crossed the line
No more drugs for me, pussy and religion is all I need
Grab my hand and baby we’ll live a hell of a life
Never in your wildest dreams, never in your wildest dreams
In your wildest
You could hear the loudest screams, comin’ from inside the screen
You a wild bitch
Tell me what I gotta do to be that guy
Said her price go down, she ever fuck a black guy
Or do anal, or do a gangbang
It’s kinda crazy that’s all considered the same thing
Well I guess alotta niggas do gang bang
And if we run trains, we all in the same gang
Runaway slaves all on a chain gang
Bang bang bang bang bang
[Chorus]
Have you lost your mind?
Tell me when you think we crossed the line
No more drugs for me, pussy and religion is all I need
Grab my hand and baby we’ll live a hell of a life
One day I’m gon’ marry a porn star
We’ll have a big ass crib and a long yard
We’ll have a mansion and some fly maids
Nothin’ to hide, we both screwed the bride’s maid
She wanna role play, ‘til I roll over
I’mma need a whole day, at least rolled doja
What party is we goin’ to on Oscar day
‘Specially if she can’t get that dress from Oscar de
La Renta, they wouldn’t rent her they couldn’t take the shame
Snatched the dress off her back and told her, “Get away.”
How could you say they live they life wrong?
When you never fuck with the lights on
[Chorus]
Have you lost your mind?
Tell me when you think we crossed the line
No more drugs for me, pussy and religion is all I need
Grab my hand and baby we’ll live a hell of a life
[Outro]
I think I fell in love with a porn star
And got married in a bathroom
Honeymoon on the dance floor
And got divorced by the end of the night
That’s one hell of a life
I needed to remember because I'm going over to their place tonight for dinner and Meaty's cutting my hair, so I look all nice-nice for my niece's wedding next week in Punta Cana. A beach vacation sounds sooo good right now. I can't properly express my longing for a week of sun, water, heat and nothing to do.
Today was Poppycock's Canadian Citizenship ceremony. I was up bright and early, holding up my right hand and swearing my commitment to Canada and the queen right along with him. Momentous day. I could have done without the judge blathering on about Venezuelan goat cheese, but "Hey"... she's a judge. She can talk about what she pleases. And "no", I'm not making that up. It's out of context obviously, but it was no less a topic of her "greeting/story" to the new Canadians in the room.
Friday night I hung out with Marty. She and Fucktard (that's not me being mean; it's his honest-to-goodness, affectionate nickname) have broken-up again. We had a very long, very heartfelt conversation. I think she appreciates that I listen, but I think I prompt conversation that goes a little darker and sadder than people want to venture. *sigh*
They've been together for more than 2 years now. They've built a house that's almost ready for them to move into. And they've suffered and suffered and suffered a really volatile relationship. Y'know one of those relationships in the movies that every one of a girls friends would tell her to cut and run? Well, I'm not one of those friends in the sense that I know you have to let your emotions run their course. (Look at me and Scooter for fuck's sake.) But I also know she's not really happy, and I lightly, ever-so-gently, acknowledge this with her. She's not unaware. There's just a lot of factors to consider.
Marty and I didn't spend the "entire" evening talking gloom. After I shared my woes, we watched 2 episodes of BBC's "Life" (narrated by Oprah). And when she started falling asleep, I said my good byes and was home by about 2am.
Saturday I was determined to go clothing shopping for formal beach attire that won't make me look like a homeless person or a dreadfully overdressed person when I give my niece away at her wedding. There was a lot of snow Saturday morning, I was lazy and horny and I hate clothing shopping - so, I procrastinated the endeavor well into the late afternoon. But since I needed clothes, I did eventually go. And I'm pleased with the boring pants I picked-up for the occasion. I needed boring pants. Doesn't everyone?
More pleasing, were the sexy athletic long-sleeved shirts I bought for volleyball and football. The strategic striping makes me look like my chest is massive. Me likey! I bought 3 of them for 45 dollars. (total) Which pleases me more.
After the shopping, I met up with Poppycock and we went to the new restaurant that Meaty now works for. PC paid for dinner for my birthday, and we kinda had a somber meal together. It was the first time we'd spoken since last weekend, (we had a scrap) so it was a little awkward. Fights will do that. But I think we were ok at that point.
Sunday, I went for dinner with Eak and used my gift certificate for The Keg that my mother gave me for my birthday. We had a nice meal and then went back to his place to hang out. I got a hero's welcome from the dogs and Eak and I just talked and played cards and listened to the new Kanye West album. I brought a joint with me, so we smoked that, and I have to admit I got a little lost in my own head.
There are still times when I'm around Eak that I just want to throw my arms around him and cry and tell him how much I miss him, and that I wish things could be the way they were before. Times when I miss him so badly because he knows me and loves me.
But that's just the loneliness talking... and the weed... and the nostalgia. We've both moved on, and I wouldn't muddy the waters like that, because I want him in my life, and I know that I don't want him to be my "partner" anymore. I just mourn him a little still. He was my best friend and now he's not. We may get back there some day. But not if I express any doubt in the roles we're developing in each others lives. Truthfully, I don't want him back the way we were. I just got to thinking sadly that many people give a relationship a second chance, and we're just not going to. Luckily, I don't think he wants that, but if he "did", there's nobody who deserves a second chance more than him.
I'm talking all of this sentiment for no good reason. He told me yesterday that he and his boyfriend are moving in together February 1st. There isn't a pang of jealousy or regret in me. So I know that everything is how it should be. Eak's going to be saving $400 a month, which will be good for the dogs, and for his debt. I honestly couldn't be happier for him. My lapse was just self-pity and THC.
For all my visiting this past weekend, I still feel like I've been spending a lot of time alone. But... I'm feeling good about it for the first time since I was single (before Eak) in my early twenties. As I was telling Marty on Friday night, I'm not certain there's anybody for me now. I've grown really wary of letting anyone get close for one thing, and as I've mentioned in here before... I'm a ghost/angel/alien. Who's going to be like me? Better yet... who's going to put up with my identity crisis? I'm better off dating myself for a good long time. The sex sucks, but no one can hurt me.
And sometimes in the time it takes to construct an entry, your plans change entirely. Meaty got called into work, so I'm headed home for a Skype session with Lion. No dinner. No hair cut. Just a chat with someone who "would" have sex with me were it not for the intercontinental boundary of an ocean. Pesky thing, that.
Kanye West - Hell of a Life
I think I just fell in love with a porn star
Turn the camera on, she a born star
Turn the corners in a foreign car
Call the coroners do the CPR
She gave that old nigga a ulcer
Her bitter sweet taste made his gold teeth fake, uh
Make her knees shake, make a priest faint, uh
Make a nun cum, make her cremate, uh
Move downtown, cop a sweet space, uh
Livin’ life like we won the sweepstakes, what!
We headin’ to hell for heaven’s sake, Huh!
Well I’mma levitate, make the devil wait, Yeah!
[Chorus]
Have you lost your mind?
Tell me when you think we crossed the line
No more drugs for me, pussy and religion is all I need
Grab my hand and baby we’ll live a hell of a life
Never in your wildest dreams, never in your wildest dreams
In your wildest
You could hear the loudest screams, comin’ from inside the screen
You a wild bitch
Tell me what I gotta do to be that guy
Said her price go down, she ever fuck a black guy
Or do anal, or do a gangbang
It’s kinda crazy that’s all considered the same thing
Well I guess alotta niggas do gang bang
And if we run trains, we all in the same gang
Runaway slaves all on a chain gang
Bang bang bang bang bang
[Chorus]
Have you lost your mind?
Tell me when you think we crossed the line
No more drugs for me, pussy and religion is all I need
Grab my hand and baby we’ll live a hell of a life
One day I’m gon’ marry a porn star
We’ll have a big ass crib and a long yard
We’ll have a mansion and some fly maids
Nothin’ to hide, we both screwed the bride’s maid
She wanna role play, ‘til I roll over
I’mma need a whole day, at least rolled doja
What party is we goin’ to on Oscar day
‘Specially if she can’t get that dress from Oscar de
La Renta, they wouldn’t rent her they couldn’t take the shame
Snatched the dress off her back and told her, “Get away.”
How could you say they live they life wrong?
When you never fuck with the lights on
[Chorus]
Have you lost your mind?
Tell me when you think we crossed the line
No more drugs for me, pussy and religion is all I need
Grab my hand and baby we’ll live a hell of a life
[Outro]
I think I fell in love with a porn star
And got married in a bathroom
Honeymoon on the dance floor
And got divorced by the end of the night
That’s one hell of a life
Wednesday, January 05, 2011
Happy Birthday Idiot
Hey!
It's the last day of being 37 for me. And I'm not sure how I feel about it. I've been so consumed by other things and feeling insane, that my life has been passing me by actually.
Tomorrow and Friday I'm off work, partially because I want to party for my birthday, partially because I have 2 remaining holidays for 2010 that I have to burn off before the work upheaval, and partially because the holidays have made me lazy and I want to have extra days to stay in bed. A four-day weekend for my birthday after a 2-day work week sounds pretty good to me. Though it's doing nothing for my ability to get up early and start plodding away at my exercise regime again.
Speaking of exercise... In addition to volleyball starting up again shortly, I've also taken steps to sign-up to play football this spring/summer. The season starts in May. It's flag football, not tackle, but still... lots of running and physical activity to keep me active and sorta social. I say "sorta" because, speaking strictly from my volleyball experience, team sports are great for making you feel like you're part of something, but not necessarily for making friends. In my current mental state it suits me just fine though. I don't have energy for the friends I have, much-less for anyone new. ...Not a very sun-shiny disposition for someone so close to his birthday, but honesty is my thing.
Anyhow... a few random things... my friend Kujo and his husband are in India, welcoming their new baby boy into their lives. I got an e-mail with a picture of the 3 of them together over the weekend. We exchanged niceties and I congratulated them with the ever-so-slight edge of envy. Not that I want a baby. (I don't think so anyway.) But I guess it's "human" to see other peoples lives so filled with things they seemingly want, and wish I wanted something bad enough to get it. I am genuinely happy for them. It's going to do Kujo a world of good to create a loving and supportive home for his son, that won't include the conditioning or conditions of his own Islamic upbringing. Right now I can't even imagine being over Scooter long enough to find someone else to love and be with, and marry and try all the domesticities that Eak and I failed so miserably at, much-less add the care of another human being into the mix. Fuck... I don't even want another pet.
For that matter, as lonely as I am, I don't even want another man. I'm so shredded it's not funny. It's going to take a long while. The way I see it, I've got a long period ahead of me before Scooter realizes that I'm not coming back, then his attempt to show me he wants me in his life again.
I've spent the past few days writing yet another fucking letter, telling him I'm done, but I can't decide whether to send it or not. So much of what I feel for him is "protective". I feel like a tremendous failure to tell him "you're hurting me, and I can't let you anymore", and yet I know he doesn't want my support or intimacy because he's afraid of sending me mixed messages. Because all the physicality doesn't confuse me at all. (sarcasm) But the thing about Scooter is, he's got an incredible disconnect-ability when it comes to his body. He'll give you sex. It means very little. He is that damaged. And yet, it's through physicality that he seeks the spark that will lead to a lifelong love.
This letter I've painstakingly crafted and named "the grenade" has gone through many edits. Some of them loving, on the verge of apologetic for giving up, some of them angrily calling him on his shit and being harsh enough to raise his stupid Aries ire of superiority. All of them, wishing him well with great sincerity and bidding him good bye for good.
The potential for "the grenade" to become a "boomerang" is large. So I know if I send it, I must be prepared to stick with it and shut him out. Good bye, must mean good bye. I don't get angry enough at anyone I love to ever shut them out entirely. My anger though toothy, carries the clout of an angry Koala bear. Scooter knows I'll forgive him again, though I do think this time around he realizes how close I am to being hurt enough to say I can't do it anymore. Fuck... what makes me think I know anything he thinks. I'm a nut case.
Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
--Albert Einstein
I need to let go. And I don't need to tell him I'm letting go. I just know it's only a matter of time before he's back again. Which doesn't have to mean I'll accept him back. But I'd rather have closure and tell him to "stay gone". Though, as an idiot slash addict... the last thing in the world I want is him gone, and any attempt he makes to keep me around is going to make me feel gratified and wanted.
Fuck, am I REALLY, actually, honestly having this conversation with myself online for anyone to read on the eve of my 38th birthday, thereby signifying my adulthood as a man of almost 40, and simultaneously affirming my penchant for the rambling concerns of a 14 year old girl?
Are there not bigger concerns in my life? Yes. Yes there are.
This is not love. It's sickness. It's energy and devotion only deserving of reciprocal, healthy relationships... not this bleeding mess of a fuck-buddy obsession gone terribly awry, 2+ years after the one night stand that I didn't know how to have.
How can I possibly love him? I don't do I? Could anyone listen to me and tell me "yes, sometimes that's how love is right before it magically turns healthy"?
Ugh... Happy Birthday to me. Tomorrow is today, and I disgust myself.
"You're a Disaster" - Dragonette
You're a disaster
Does anything matter to you
Do you ever slow down
Touch your feet to the ground underneath
Faster and faster
Straight for disaster
You're a disaster
And it makes all the laughter look sad
So pull up your socks
Or crash into the rocks you're headed for
What are you after if not disaster
Oh if your mind, oh if your mind needs so much alteration
You better find, you better find another medication
The one that you're using is bruising you
If you're fine, oh if your fine and I am just mistaken
You'll walk the line, you'll walk the line
You'll walk right off the deep end
You'll run into something to ruin you
Aah aah aah aah aah aah aah aah
Yeah the outlook is grim, and the shape that you're in is diminishing
How long can you last for
Before disaster
Oh if your mind, oh if your mind needs so much alteration
You better find, you better find another medication
If you're fine, oh if your fine and I am just mistaken
You'll walk the line, you'll walk the line
You'll walk right off the deep end
You'll run into something to ruin you
Oh if your mind, oh if your mind needs so much alteration (Aah)
You better find, you better find another medication (Aah)
If you're fine, oh if your fine and I am just mistaken (Aah)
You'll walk the line, you'll walk the line
You'll walk right off the deep end
You'll run into something to ruin you
Something to ruin you
Something to ruin you
It's the last day of being 37 for me. And I'm not sure how I feel about it. I've been so consumed by other things and feeling insane, that my life has been passing me by actually.
Tomorrow and Friday I'm off work, partially because I want to party for my birthday, partially because I have 2 remaining holidays for 2010 that I have to burn off before the work upheaval, and partially because the holidays have made me lazy and I want to have extra days to stay in bed. A four-day weekend for my birthday after a 2-day work week sounds pretty good to me. Though it's doing nothing for my ability to get up early and start plodding away at my exercise regime again.
Speaking of exercise... In addition to volleyball starting up again shortly, I've also taken steps to sign-up to play football this spring/summer. The season starts in May. It's flag football, not tackle, but still... lots of running and physical activity to keep me active and sorta social. I say "sorta" because, speaking strictly from my volleyball experience, team sports are great for making you feel like you're part of something, but not necessarily for making friends. In my current mental state it suits me just fine though. I don't have energy for the friends I have, much-less for anyone new. ...Not a very sun-shiny disposition for someone so close to his birthday, but honesty is my thing.
Anyhow... a few random things... my friend Kujo and his husband are in India, welcoming their new baby boy into their lives. I got an e-mail with a picture of the 3 of them together over the weekend. We exchanged niceties and I congratulated them with the ever-so-slight edge of envy. Not that I want a baby. (I don't think so anyway.) But I guess it's "human" to see other peoples lives so filled with things they seemingly want, and wish I wanted something bad enough to get it. I am genuinely happy for them. It's going to do Kujo a world of good to create a loving and supportive home for his son, that won't include the conditioning or conditions of his own Islamic upbringing. Right now I can't even imagine being over Scooter long enough to find someone else to love and be with, and marry and try all the domesticities that Eak and I failed so miserably at, much-less add the care of another human being into the mix. Fuck... I don't even want another pet.
For that matter, as lonely as I am, I don't even want another man. I'm so shredded it's not funny. It's going to take a long while. The way I see it, I've got a long period ahead of me before Scooter realizes that I'm not coming back, then his attempt to show me he wants me in his life again.
I've spent the past few days writing yet another fucking letter, telling him I'm done, but I can't decide whether to send it or not. So much of what I feel for him is "protective". I feel like a tremendous failure to tell him "you're hurting me, and I can't let you anymore", and yet I know he doesn't want my support or intimacy because he's afraid of sending me mixed messages. Because all the physicality doesn't confuse me at all. (sarcasm) But the thing about Scooter is, he's got an incredible disconnect-ability when it comes to his body. He'll give you sex. It means very little. He is that damaged. And yet, it's through physicality that he seeks the spark that will lead to a lifelong love.
This letter I've painstakingly crafted and named "the grenade" has gone through many edits. Some of them loving, on the verge of apologetic for giving up, some of them angrily calling him on his shit and being harsh enough to raise his stupid Aries ire of superiority. All of them, wishing him well with great sincerity and bidding him good bye for good.
The potential for "the grenade" to become a "boomerang" is large. So I know if I send it, I must be prepared to stick with it and shut him out. Good bye, must mean good bye. I don't get angry enough at anyone I love to ever shut them out entirely. My anger though toothy, carries the clout of an angry Koala bear. Scooter knows I'll forgive him again, though I do think this time around he realizes how close I am to being hurt enough to say I can't do it anymore. Fuck... what makes me think I know anything he thinks. I'm a nut case.
Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results.
--Albert Einstein
I need to let go. And I don't need to tell him I'm letting go. I just know it's only a matter of time before he's back again. Which doesn't have to mean I'll accept him back. But I'd rather have closure and tell him to "stay gone". Though, as an idiot slash addict... the last thing in the world I want is him gone, and any attempt he makes to keep me around is going to make me feel gratified and wanted.
Fuck, am I REALLY, actually, honestly having this conversation with myself online for anyone to read on the eve of my 38th birthday, thereby signifying my adulthood as a man of almost 40, and simultaneously affirming my penchant for the rambling concerns of a 14 year old girl?
Are there not bigger concerns in my life? Yes. Yes there are.
This is not love. It's sickness. It's energy and devotion only deserving of reciprocal, healthy relationships... not this bleeding mess of a fuck-buddy obsession gone terribly awry, 2+ years after the one night stand that I didn't know how to have.
How can I possibly love him? I don't do I? Could anyone listen to me and tell me "yes, sometimes that's how love is right before it magically turns healthy"?
Ugh... Happy Birthday to me. Tomorrow is today, and I disgust myself.
"You're a Disaster" - Dragonette
You're a disaster
Does anything matter to you
Do you ever slow down
Touch your feet to the ground underneath
Faster and faster
Straight for disaster
You're a disaster
And it makes all the laughter look sad
So pull up your socks
Or crash into the rocks you're headed for
What are you after if not disaster
Oh if your mind, oh if your mind needs so much alteration
You better find, you better find another medication
The one that you're using is bruising you
If you're fine, oh if your fine and I am just mistaken
You'll walk the line, you'll walk the line
You'll walk right off the deep end
You'll run into something to ruin you
Aah aah aah aah aah aah aah aah
Yeah the outlook is grim, and the shape that you're in is diminishing
How long can you last for
Before disaster
Oh if your mind, oh if your mind needs so much alteration
You better find, you better find another medication
If you're fine, oh if your fine and I am just mistaken
You'll walk the line, you'll walk the line
You'll walk right off the deep end
You'll run into something to ruin you
Oh if your mind, oh if your mind needs so much alteration (Aah)
You better find, you better find another medication (Aah)
If you're fine, oh if your fine and I am just mistaken (Aah)
You'll walk the line, you'll walk the line
You'll walk right off the deep end
You'll run into something to ruin you
Something to ruin you
Something to ruin you
Friday, December 31, 2010
At Year's End
Last day of 2010. It feels like it just got here and it's gone.
Poppycock asked me last night what my greatest impression of the year was. I said it was a year of growth and learning. I'm in a stage of my life where I'm either going to continue to change significantly and be more willing to be happy, or I'm going to languish in stagnant behaviour and be an increasingly miserable person. ...I think not.
My birthday is coming. Next week. I'm going to be 38, and it never ceases to amaze me how each approaching birthday comes with the triumph of defeating some previous neurosis that means nothing now, and new tawdry concerns that do a dance in the corner until the day passes and I realize I'm older, wiser, and simultaneously not as old as I feel or as wise as I think I am. Hopefully that's genuine evolution and not just running on the hamster wheel.
Final song of the day spits in the face of that wisdom. It's a song for Scooter. The insanity in my life. We're on another indeterminate break. I can't go back. And yet I know he's not gone. We're not done. I can't be the one to ask for anything more, and my nature will never see me turn him away. It's neither good nor bad. It's merely the narrative between us. There's nothing I can do but stay away. Loving anyone is insanity. If we were wise we'd keep our distance from everyone, and yet the ultimate foolishness is isolation for the sake of fear.
For now... I let everything be. I have no control.
Happy New Year!
Shayne Ward - Obsession
Baby baby what can I do? I need to know that I belong
Poppycock asked me last night what my greatest impression of the year was. I said it was a year of growth and learning. I'm in a stage of my life where I'm either going to continue to change significantly and be more willing to be happy, or I'm going to languish in stagnant behaviour and be an increasingly miserable person. ...I think not.
My birthday is coming. Next week. I'm going to be 38, and it never ceases to amaze me how each approaching birthday comes with the triumph of defeating some previous neurosis that means nothing now, and new tawdry concerns that do a dance in the corner until the day passes and I realize I'm older, wiser, and simultaneously not as old as I feel or as wise as I think I am. Hopefully that's genuine evolution and not just running on the hamster wheel.
Final song of the day spits in the face of that wisdom. It's a song for Scooter. The insanity in my life. We're on another indeterminate break. I can't go back. And yet I know he's not gone. We're not done. I can't be the one to ask for anything more, and my nature will never see me turn him away. It's neither good nor bad. It's merely the narrative between us. There's nothing I can do but stay away. Loving anyone is insanity. If we were wise we'd keep our distance from everyone, and yet the ultimate foolishness is isolation for the sake of fear.
For now... I let everything be. I have no control.
Happy New Year!
Shayne Ward - Obsession
Baby baby what can I do? I need to know that I belong
Teacher be concerned
I want it so bad right now it hurts
Teacher be concerned
I don’t think my lesson’s been learned
Cause I... I’m more than in love
Baby I’m in obsession
I... I’m more than in love
Baby I’m in obsession
Baby this ain’t love
It’s obsession
Baby this ain’t love
It’s obsession
’session
’session
’session
’session
Cause I... I’m more than in love
Baby I’m in obsession
I... I’m more than in love
Baby I’m in obsession
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
Sheepless Goat
I cannot wait for the holidays to be over. If that makes me a Scrooge, so be it. There's a certain level of "normal" I'm hoping to rediscover by the time February or March rolls around. ...Pending the luxury of still having a job by then.
Poppycock hung out with me on Friday night. I've missed him. Since he's been in "new relationship" mode, he's been justifiably preoccupied. I don't hold it against him, but it doesn't change the fact that he's pretty absent from my life. We had a good time though. 'Ordered pizza, drank wine, talked, smoked a joint. I cried a little over Scooter to him. He talked to me about the stresses of his job. (He has a really emotionally taxing job, working with people who abuse and are abused.) And after introducing him to the amazing Sci-Fi show that is Farscape, he did a Tarot Card reading for me. The cards unanimously agreed that I am one sad panda, and that I need to love myself more. Granted, one doesn't need Tarot to determine these things about me. One only needs to be a close friend... which Poppycock happens to be. So I do take these readings with a grain of salt, but I've seen his gift with matters supernatural, so that grain of salt, comes with a considerable amount of respect. That, and PC knows, my stubborn goat heart is gonna do, what it's gonna do.
The first round with the Tarot cards is always a question of detail. I asked them if I should be worried about my job. The second round is a "Yes or No" question, of which I inquired (very uncharacteristically) if I would be coming into any money soon. PK, had a firm picture in his head that the cards wanted to talk to me about my love life, even after the reading when I told him I asked about money, he was insistent that the four cards pulled were very distinctly about 2 boys in my life. I'm presuming Lion and Scooter. One of them was definitely Scooter. The other boy could be someone who's about to enter my life within the next 2 months.
Nonetheless, I didn't ask the cards about my love life. I quite simply didn't want to know. Partially because as much as I love PK, his Cancerian nature is all-too-willing to dispense advice in matters of the heart, and I already know where he stands on Scooter. But the "Yes or No" was a "Maybe". In PK's mind, that was pertaining to who I would end up with. He said it could still go other way, but I need to consider my happiness.
If the cards were truly trying to answer my "actual" question... y'know... about whether I'd come into any money, a "maybe" isn't really helpful. But considering my earthliness, I don't really have much business consulting cards when I know that things like finances don't just fall in your lap. Well, rarely. Truthfully... I'd like to confess that I was in a round-about way, asking the cards if the uncle who recently specified in his will that I was to receive half of everything he owns when he passes, would indeed be passing anytime soon. Not very nice of me. I certainly don't wish him any ill.
Time to go. The days before Christmas are certainly full of places to be and people to see.
Song of the day, in favour of the holidays is Count Your Blessings. It was originally made popular by Bing Crosby in the movie "White Christmas". This rendition was in Amy Grant's most recent Christmas special (which was about 9 or 10 years ago at this point). It's so peaceful, and the set is Christmas personified.
Count Your Blessings (instead of sheep) - Amy Grant and Cece Winans
When I'm worried and I can't sleep
I count my blessings instead of sheep
And I fall asleep counting my blessings
When my bankroll is getting small
I think of when I had none at all
And I fall asleep counting my blessings
I think about a nursery and I picture curly heads
And one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds
If you're worried and you can't sleep
Just count your blessings instead of sheep
And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings
If you're worried and you can't sleep
Just count your blessings instead of sheep
And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings
Poppycock hung out with me on Friday night. I've missed him. Since he's been in "new relationship" mode, he's been justifiably preoccupied. I don't hold it against him, but it doesn't change the fact that he's pretty absent from my life. We had a good time though. 'Ordered pizza, drank wine, talked, smoked a joint. I cried a little over Scooter to him. He talked to me about the stresses of his job. (He has a really emotionally taxing job, working with people who abuse and are abused.) And after introducing him to the amazing Sci-Fi show that is Farscape, he did a Tarot Card reading for me. The cards unanimously agreed that I am one sad panda, and that I need to love myself more. Granted, one doesn't need Tarot to determine these things about me. One only needs to be a close friend... which Poppycock happens to be. So I do take these readings with a grain of salt, but I've seen his gift with matters supernatural, so that grain of salt, comes with a considerable amount of respect. That, and PC knows, my stubborn goat heart is gonna do, what it's gonna do.
The first round with the Tarot cards is always a question of detail. I asked them if I should be worried about my job. The second round is a "Yes or No" question, of which I inquired (very uncharacteristically) if I would be coming into any money soon. PK, had a firm picture in his head that the cards wanted to talk to me about my love life, even after the reading when I told him I asked about money, he was insistent that the four cards pulled were very distinctly about 2 boys in my life. I'm presuming Lion and Scooter. One of them was definitely Scooter. The other boy could be someone who's about to enter my life within the next 2 months.
Nonetheless, I didn't ask the cards about my love life. I quite simply didn't want to know. Partially because as much as I love PK, his Cancerian nature is all-too-willing to dispense advice in matters of the heart, and I already know where he stands on Scooter. But the "Yes or No" was a "Maybe". In PK's mind, that was pertaining to who I would end up with. He said it could still go other way, but I need to consider my happiness.
If the cards were truly trying to answer my "actual" question... y'know... about whether I'd come into any money, a "maybe" isn't really helpful. But considering my earthliness, I don't really have much business consulting cards when I know that things like finances don't just fall in your lap. Well, rarely. Truthfully... I'd like to confess that I was in a round-about way, asking the cards if the uncle who recently specified in his will that I was to receive half of everything he owns when he passes, would indeed be passing anytime soon. Not very nice of me. I certainly don't wish him any ill.
Time to go. The days before Christmas are certainly full of places to be and people to see.
Song of the day, in favour of the holidays is Count Your Blessings. It was originally made popular by Bing Crosby in the movie "White Christmas". This rendition was in Amy Grant's most recent Christmas special (which was about 9 or 10 years ago at this point). It's so peaceful, and the set is Christmas personified.
Count Your Blessings (instead of sheep) - Amy Grant and Cece Winans
When I'm worried and I can't sleep
I count my blessings instead of sheep
And I fall asleep counting my blessings
When my bankroll is getting small
I think of when I had none at all
And I fall asleep counting my blessings
I think about a nursery and I picture curly heads
And one by one I count them as they slumber in their beds
If you're worried and you can't sleep
Just count your blessings instead of sheep
And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings
If you're worried and you can't sleep
Just count your blessings instead of sheep
And you'll fall asleep counting your blessings
Wednesday, December 08, 2010
Hello December
I've been really sick, and really depressed. Those are my only two excuses for the blog lag.
Happily all went well with the neurologist appointment. He was a very kind doctor. Kind and compassionate, and intuitive. I found myself wishing he were my therapist rather than Dr Truth. But at any rate, he acknowledged/diagnosed my condition and told me I would be seeing him once a year to monitor its progress, and assured me that it's no cause to worry, and I do not display the symptoms of Parkinson's or MS. (Which were what I was largely afraid of.) To say I was relieved is putting it mildly.
Today was the first day this week that I went to work, but I left early because I'm still pretty ill. For 5 days now I just can't seem to feel comfortably warm. The weather's turned cold since the weekend and took my blood with it, it would seem.
So right now I'm wrapped in a blanket (doing battle with the wheels on my desk chair) and waiting for my laundry to finish, so I can throw it all in the dryer. I really had no desire to venture into the cold basement, but given the alternative of running out of clean underwear, I have braved the laundry room in the name of Joe Boxer. The real trick here, will be resisting the urge to bury myself in toasty-warm clothing when all that laundry comes out of the dryer. I may do just that before I do any folding.
On the Scooter front, we had a date on November 29th. As per usual, not as planned. Originally, he had said he'd take me to some great restaurant he loves (his treat) but when it came down to it, we went to Subway because he spends all his money on weed and his Christmas shopping has only just begun. No matter. All I've ever wanted is time with him. I got to meet his 3 month old kitten, Zoey. I took pictures of her with my new camera, that I got from Airmiles that day. We spent the evening watching The Munk Debates which I both fascinating and frustrating. I loved that they could have SUCH a civilized discussion with opposing view points for one. But I found it frustrating that such a poised and eloquent man as Tony Blair could be arguing in favour of religion. I don't know if someone less civilized would have satisfied me more, or what. But I found it strangely non-gratifying that his points were (in my opinion) so lame and candy-coated. Christopher Hitchens barely had to speak at all to debunk everything Blair said. In itself, I should find that rewarding given my stance on religion. I'll just leave it at that. I really enjoyed that Scooter wanted to watch it though.
By the end of our evening, he was of course high, and I was rubbing his feet. Putting him to sleep with a foot rub was preferable to getting him sexually aroused with a back rub, which he requested and I declined, knowing it would only lead to more mixed-messages and time apart. When he did fall asleep, I kept rubbing his feet for a while, watching he and Zoey asleep in his chair, and reminiscing about nights we've spent together in the past, that I'd probably sell my soul to repeat. Then, I gently woke him and told him I was going home.
We hugged. We kissed. We nuzzled. And I headed for my coat and shoes.
We kissed again, more passionately, which he ended.
I said good bye.
He said we'd talk soon.
I left, feeling more sexually aroused than I've ever felt.
We have not spoken since then.
And that... leaves me thinking yet again, with little doubt, that he is fucking with my heart yet again.
I don't understand it. I don't want to delve into it. I just know that the pictures of Zoey I sent him on the first (before the appointment, I expressed so much fear over - to him as well) is the last e-mail I will send him. There was no reply. Not even a "thanks". No inquiry into how I am after seeing the neurologist. And no discussion of further plans to see one another.
Long ago (weeks) was the last text message from me, and weeks before that was the last phone call from me. I just can't try anymore.
He doesn't contact me. He doesn't reply when I contact him. He does... not... care... about... me.
I can only conclude, that he invited me back into his life after almost 7 months of silence, just to show me yet-again, how little he cares about me. And I let him do it.
I can flip-flop between indignation, and determination on the head of a pin. Excuse his behaviour because he's just so fucking dysfunctional and damaged, and condemn his behaviour for the same reasons, but in light of what would seem a pretty cut-and-dried decision that he doesn't deserve anything I have to offer... I still love him. And though for my own good, I'm not going to try anymore, I will be here for him if he needs me. At least that's what I'm saying in this five minute interval. Ask me again in the next.
I guess I did want to delve into it. Of course I did.
Move on Johnny. Move on. Don't just walk away. Run.
There is nothing he could do at this point in time to make me believe he loves me in any capacity, as a friend or lover. I just can't give up on him. WHY!!!!!???? Why is my learning curve so long and slow? Why do I value this broken boy over my own self-worth?
Ugh.
If I've never mentioned before, my bedroom is aligned with the building's elevator shaft. I hear the movements of all 3 elevators diving and raising, night and day. Over the past few days, much of which I've spent in bed, I've noticed one of them making the most disconcerting noise. It's alarming. Almost like a metallic "yelp". I don't know which one obviously, or even whether it's ascent or descent. But is that the kind of thing I should report to the superintendent? I think I just answered my own question. And I think I'll do it right now. ...There. Did it. And the super, (ever-charming) said with a sigh, he'd call the elevator company tomorrow. Whether or not he does is another thing entirely, but at least an accident won't be on my conscience.
In other boring news, I'm quite pleased with myself that I replaced a CD/DVD burner in my computer. This is noteworthy because I have never opened a computer casing before, much-less removed or installed any hardware. I wouldn't have done so at all, had I not been tutored and assured by "Totty", our computer engineer at work. I did it, perched high on my balcony on Saturday, before I was feeling so deathly ill. (catalyst perhaps - 'cause it was so fucking cold.) I had to do it out there because "Totty" told me the casing would be filthy, since it was a dusty tomb that had never been opened in four years. Which it really was.
Since I did the deed though, and got it all back together successfully, my computer has been running so QUIET - Holy cats man! The fan has either been disabled (not beyond the realm of possibility) or doesn't need to run anymore because the circuit boards were cleaned with a can of compressed air. It's made talking on Skype with Lion so much more easy. (because I don't have to mute my microphone after everything I say to drown out the sound of the fan) - Nice.
Though I still haven't taken it upon myself to burn a CD to see whether the hardware works. *blush*
Tonight I may just finish off Season 3 of Arrested Development and go to bed early. I've cruised through so many episodes, so easily because it really is as good as it's acclaimed to be. Hysterical really.
I leave you with a song by Canadian indie artist Peter Katz, whom I first heard on CBC 2 months ago. There are no (written) lyrics for me to share with you (if only because I'm too lazy to transcribe it.) but he sings with great clarity, so you should be able to hear the words pretty well. This video contains a story of how the song came to be and the recording of Peter's part. It's pretty touching. 'Something I needed to finish a "why not give up" day with. I encourage you to give a click and listen to "Oliver's Tune" (this link contains the finished song) (but use the mp3 player in the top right hand corner, not the video, which is a tutorial of how to play the song).
Happily all went well with the neurologist appointment. He was a very kind doctor. Kind and compassionate, and intuitive. I found myself wishing he were my therapist rather than Dr Truth. But at any rate, he acknowledged/diagnosed my condition and told me I would be seeing him once a year to monitor its progress, and assured me that it's no cause to worry, and I do not display the symptoms of Parkinson's or MS. (Which were what I was largely afraid of.) To say I was relieved is putting it mildly.
Today was the first day this week that I went to work, but I left early because I'm still pretty ill. For 5 days now I just can't seem to feel comfortably warm. The weather's turned cold since the weekend and took my blood with it, it would seem.
So right now I'm wrapped in a blanket (doing battle with the wheels on my desk chair) and waiting for my laundry to finish, so I can throw it all in the dryer. I really had no desire to venture into the cold basement, but given the alternative of running out of clean underwear, I have braved the laundry room in the name of Joe Boxer. The real trick here, will be resisting the urge to bury myself in toasty-warm clothing when all that laundry comes out of the dryer. I may do just that before I do any folding.
On the Scooter front, we had a date on November 29th. As per usual, not as planned. Originally, he had said he'd take me to some great restaurant he loves (his treat) but when it came down to it, we went to Subway because he spends all his money on weed and his Christmas shopping has only just begun. No matter. All I've ever wanted is time with him. I got to meet his 3 month old kitten, Zoey. I took pictures of her with my new camera, that I got from Airmiles that day. We spent the evening watching The Munk Debates which I both fascinating and frustrating. I loved that they could have SUCH a civilized discussion with opposing view points for one. But I found it frustrating that such a poised and eloquent man as Tony Blair could be arguing in favour of religion. I don't know if someone less civilized would have satisfied me more, or what. But I found it strangely non-gratifying that his points were (in my opinion) so lame and candy-coated. Christopher Hitchens barely had to speak at all to debunk everything Blair said. In itself, I should find that rewarding given my stance on religion. I'll just leave it at that. I really enjoyed that Scooter wanted to watch it though.
By the end of our evening, he was of course high, and I was rubbing his feet. Putting him to sleep with a foot rub was preferable to getting him sexually aroused with a back rub, which he requested and I declined, knowing it would only lead to more mixed-messages and time apart. When he did fall asleep, I kept rubbing his feet for a while, watching he and Zoey asleep in his chair, and reminiscing about nights we've spent together in the past, that I'd probably sell my soul to repeat. Then, I gently woke him and told him I was going home.
We hugged. We kissed. We nuzzled. And I headed for my coat and shoes.
We kissed again, more passionately, which he ended.
I said good bye.
He said we'd talk soon.
I left, feeling more sexually aroused than I've ever felt.
We have not spoken since then.
And that... leaves me thinking yet again, with little doubt, that he is fucking with my heart yet again.
I don't understand it. I don't want to delve into it. I just know that the pictures of Zoey I sent him on the first (before the appointment, I expressed so much fear over - to him as well) is the last e-mail I will send him. There was no reply. Not even a "thanks". No inquiry into how I am after seeing the neurologist. And no discussion of further plans to see one another.
Long ago (weeks) was the last text message from me, and weeks before that was the last phone call from me. I just can't try anymore.
He doesn't contact me. He doesn't reply when I contact him. He does... not... care... about... me.
I can only conclude, that he invited me back into his life after almost 7 months of silence, just to show me yet-again, how little he cares about me. And I let him do it.
I can flip-flop between indignation, and determination on the head of a pin. Excuse his behaviour because he's just so fucking dysfunctional and damaged, and condemn his behaviour for the same reasons, but in light of what would seem a pretty cut-and-dried decision that he doesn't deserve anything I have to offer... I still love him. And though for my own good, I'm not going to try anymore, I will be here for him if he needs me. At least that's what I'm saying in this five minute interval. Ask me again in the next.
I guess I did want to delve into it. Of course I did.
Move on Johnny. Move on. Don't just walk away. Run.
There is nothing he could do at this point in time to make me believe he loves me in any capacity, as a friend or lover. I just can't give up on him. WHY!!!!!???? Why is my learning curve so long and slow? Why do I value this broken boy over my own self-worth?
Ugh.
If I've never mentioned before, my bedroom is aligned with the building's elevator shaft. I hear the movements of all 3 elevators diving and raising, night and day. Over the past few days, much of which I've spent in bed, I've noticed one of them making the most disconcerting noise. It's alarming. Almost like a metallic "yelp". I don't know which one obviously, or even whether it's ascent or descent. But is that the kind of thing I should report to the superintendent? I think I just answered my own question. And I think I'll do it right now. ...There. Did it. And the super, (ever-charming) said with a sigh, he'd call the elevator company tomorrow. Whether or not he does is another thing entirely, but at least an accident won't be on my conscience.
In other boring news, I'm quite pleased with myself that I replaced a CD/DVD burner in my computer. This is noteworthy because I have never opened a computer casing before, much-less removed or installed any hardware. I wouldn't have done so at all, had I not been tutored and assured by "Totty", our computer engineer at work. I did it, perched high on my balcony on Saturday, before I was feeling so deathly ill. (catalyst perhaps - 'cause it was so fucking cold.) I had to do it out there because "Totty" told me the casing would be filthy, since it was a dusty tomb that had never been opened in four years. Which it really was.
Since I did the deed though, and got it all back together successfully, my computer has been running so QUIET - Holy cats man! The fan has either been disabled (not beyond the realm of possibility) or doesn't need to run anymore because the circuit boards were cleaned with a can of compressed air. It's made talking on Skype with Lion so much more easy. (because I don't have to mute my microphone after everything I say to drown out the sound of the fan) - Nice.
Though I still haven't taken it upon myself to burn a CD to see whether the hardware works. *blush*
Tonight I may just finish off Season 3 of Arrested Development and go to bed early. I've cruised through so many episodes, so easily because it really is as good as it's acclaimed to be. Hysterical really.
I leave you with a song by Canadian indie artist Peter Katz, whom I first heard on CBC 2 months ago. There are no (written) lyrics for me to share with you (if only because I'm too lazy to transcribe it.) but he sings with great clarity, so you should be able to hear the words pretty well. This video contains a story of how the song came to be and the recording of Peter's part. It's pretty touching. 'Something I needed to finish a "why not give up" day with. I encourage you to give a click and listen to "Oliver's Tune" (this link contains the finished song) (but use the mp3 player in the top right hand corner, not the video, which is a tutorial of how to play the song).
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Swing Pendulum Swing
Scooter and I didn't have our "date" last night. He called me up with a list of things he needed to get done and the things he didn't tell me were just as loud as the things he did. He's troubled. Which of course makes me want to rescue him. Which of course he does not want. So of course I will not offer.
What I did offer was to postpone our evening together til next week, which he initially accepted, and rescheduled for Monday... he then said we could get together last night, just to eat and part company -and- get together on Monday. I said "sure". He said "call me when you get off work" and I was happy that I was going to violate my own boundaries and see him twice in the span of a few days. But then, 10 minutes before I was going to call him, he called me, said he "was running late" and needed to just get together Monday.
He also expressed that he broke up with his boyfriend, really wanted to talk to me and had lots to tell me about.
It's funny how I could spend the better part of a week thinking of ways to tell him that I don't think I can give him anything anymore based on how he treats me, and within the span of a few minutes on the phone I surmise he thinks the distance between us right now is strictly for my comfort and doesn't know that anything is wrong. He tortures me. Or is it just "me" torturing me?
Far more likely the latter, with a good dose of the former.
He's such a private person, and so guarded. What little he gives me seems to be such a sacrifice for him, like he thinks he's giving me way more than he actually is.
If I didn't love him, I wouldn't be here. But then, it's not my feelings I question.
He's 25 years old, irresponsible, messed-up, repressed and directionless.
Head says run. Frequently. Heart says he's the one. More frequently. Almost constantly. Head says all I want to do is rescue him. Heart says he's an amazing man who hasn't realized it yet. Head says he'll never know what he wants unless you cut and run and let him come back to you. Heart says he needs a friend more than a lover right now, and I can't seem to detect the presence of any other man with a soul so like mine.
Tick tock. Stay, go. Tick tock. Love, run. I wonder if there's any Libra in me? That I can't make the decision to walk away. A Capricorn will believe in love with his last breath, even if it's the cause of his last breath, I'm thinking.
Do I deserve someone who loves me unconditionally? Yes. Am I convinced that person isn't Scooter? Absolutely not. Am I fucking delusional? Probably. But I'm only a danger to my emotional self.
Ray LaMontagne - "Let It Be Me"
There may come a time, a time in everyone's life
Where nothin' seems to go your way
Where nothing seems to turn out right
There may come a time, you just can't seem to find your place
For every door you walk on to, seems like they get slammed in your face
That's when you need someone, someone that you can call.
And when all your faith is gone
Feels like you can't go on
Let it be me
Let it be me
If it's a friend that you need
Let it be me
Let it be me
Feels like you're always comin' on home
Pockets full of nothin' and you got no cash
No matter where you turn you ain't got no place to stand
Reach out for something and they slap your hand
I remember all to well
Just how it feels to be all alone
You feel like you'd give anything
For just a little place you can call your own
That's when you need someone, someone that you can call
And when all your faith is gone
Feels like you cant go on
Let it be me
Let it be me
If it's a friend you need
Let it be me
Let it be me
What I did offer was to postpone our evening together til next week, which he initially accepted, and rescheduled for Monday... he then said we could get together last night, just to eat and part company -and- get together on Monday. I said "sure". He said "call me when you get off work" and I was happy that I was going to violate my own boundaries and see him twice in the span of a few days. But then, 10 minutes before I was going to call him, he called me, said he "was running late" and needed to just get together Monday.
He also expressed that he broke up with his boyfriend, really wanted to talk to me and had lots to tell me about.
It's funny how I could spend the better part of a week thinking of ways to tell him that I don't think I can give him anything anymore based on how he treats me, and within the span of a few minutes on the phone I surmise he thinks the distance between us right now is strictly for my comfort and doesn't know that anything is wrong. He tortures me. Or is it just "me" torturing me?
Far more likely the latter, with a good dose of the former.
He's such a private person, and so guarded. What little he gives me seems to be such a sacrifice for him, like he thinks he's giving me way more than he actually is.
If I didn't love him, I wouldn't be here. But then, it's not my feelings I question.
He's 25 years old, irresponsible, messed-up, repressed and directionless.
Head says run. Frequently. Heart says he's the one. More frequently. Almost constantly. Head says all I want to do is rescue him. Heart says he's an amazing man who hasn't realized it yet. Head says he'll never know what he wants unless you cut and run and let him come back to you. Heart says he needs a friend more than a lover right now, and I can't seem to detect the presence of any other man with a soul so like mine.
Tick tock. Stay, go. Tick tock. Love, run. I wonder if there's any Libra in me? That I can't make the decision to walk away. A Capricorn will believe in love with his last breath, even if it's the cause of his last breath, I'm thinking.
Do I deserve someone who loves me unconditionally? Yes. Am I convinced that person isn't Scooter? Absolutely not. Am I fucking delusional? Probably. But I'm only a danger to my emotional self.
Ray LaMontagne - "Let It Be Me"
There may come a time, a time in everyone's life
Where nothin' seems to go your way
Where nothing seems to turn out right
There may come a time, you just can't seem to find your place
For every door you walk on to, seems like they get slammed in your face
That's when you need someone, someone that you can call.
And when all your faith is gone
Feels like you can't go on
Let it be me
Let it be me
If it's a friend that you need
Let it be me
Let it be me
Feels like you're always comin' on home
Pockets full of nothin' and you got no cash
No matter where you turn you ain't got no place to stand
Reach out for something and they slap your hand
I remember all to well
Just how it feels to be all alone
You feel like you'd give anything
For just a little place you can call your own
That's when you need someone, someone that you can call
And when all your faith is gone
Feels like you cant go on
Let it be me
Let it be me
If it's a friend you need
Let it be me
Let it be me
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Open Letter to Scooter
Tomorrow we meet again for dinner, and precious time spent together. You have no idea how much it means to me.
I wish you could see me the way I see you.
I wish my love were tangible and enveloping.
I wish I could properly convey how beautiful you are and how you consume me. I wish my words could be spoken. I wish you could know how I ache for you, only so you'd know how deep it goes and how safe you would be with me. How I long to keep you safe and give you everything I have to offer.
My love is so true.
It's so real.
It's so unrealized and forlorn. I wait for you.
I wait for you to see me and to love me back without any doubt or fear of abandonment.
I wait for you.
Or I wait for some other man to free me from the sad delusion I suffer from, that my waiting will be with reason and that we would be strong and true together.
Such a delusion. Like you can't break "broken".
I love you so much.
So deep.
So relentless.
So nurturing.
With such lust.
With such single-sighted longing.
With such a desire to think of you as my family.
I love you.
I love you.
Though it may yet break me.
Though you may never love me back.
I love you still.
I wish you could see me the way I see you.
I wish my love were tangible and enveloping.
I wish I could properly convey how beautiful you are and how you consume me. I wish my words could be spoken. I wish you could know how I ache for you, only so you'd know how deep it goes and how safe you would be with me. How I long to keep you safe and give you everything I have to offer.
My love is so true.
It's so real.
It's so unrealized and forlorn. I wait for you.
I wait for you to see me and to love me back without any doubt or fear of abandonment.
I wait for you.
Or I wait for some other man to free me from the sad delusion I suffer from, that my waiting will be with reason and that we would be strong and true together.
Such a delusion. Like you can't break "broken".
I love you so much.
So deep.
So relentless.
So nurturing.
With such lust.
With such single-sighted longing.
With such a desire to think of you as my family.
I love you.
I love you.
Though it may yet break me.
Though you may never love me back.
I love you still.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
How Would a Goat Say Amen?
"To know what you prefer instead of humbly saying Amen to what the world tells you you ought to prefer, is to have kept your soul alive".
-- Robert Louis Stevenson
I read this this morning in the subway and it really spoke to me. There are many inspirational quotations in the margins of the pages of The Artist's Way. Others have been really poignant to the recovery process I'm working towards, but this one in particular, speaks to my aching Capricorn soul.
If there is one thing I've learned over the past few years, it's that I do not enjoy advice. That's not to say I don't like hearing people's opinion, or that I don't think there's any wisdom to be found in the perspective of another. That would be foolish, and just plain goat-stubborn-stupid.
But, as I've pointed out before. I am a very unusual person. I don't always see why things should work the way people say they should... and therefore, I dig in my little hooves and lower my horns and defiantly bleat a sad little "goaty" tune as I take the difficult path.
Often I feel that people feel the need to solve your problems for you just as readily as they'd like someone to solve their problems for them. And really, I'm sure we all wish at some point in our lives that someone could wave a magic wand, but that's just not how things work.
As well-meaning as people are when they'd like to solve my problems... I quite frequently find myself annoyed at how quickly they're offering-up solutions when they don't even know the scope of how I feel or why. I find my annoyance with people offering advice has altered the way I talk to friends about their problems. I'm far more apt to ask question after question, and very seldom say what I "think" they should do. After-all, in most cases, we all do exactly what we're going to do, or would have done anyway.... ....don't we? Perhaps my thoughts on that are distorted by Capricorn arrogance.
At any rate, I wish sometimes that friends would try to understand my hurt instead of charting their course out of my journey.
Lion told me on Monday, "Oh JohnJo, you take a look around you, you spot the most complicated thing, and head straight for it." And that was pertaining to a sexual escapade I had on Friday night, that I detailed to him, but not to this blog. He's totally correct in the assessment of that circumstance, but let's keep in mind that he, at 25, has more experience sexually than I do at the ripe old age of 37. I'm allowed to experiment and I don't have to answer to anyone as long as I'm not hurting anybody.
And of course, as everything in my life swings back 'round to Scooter, I have overwhelmingly refused to "humbly say Amen" to what other people say about my love for him. I look for ways to justify the way I accept everything about our damaged (and perhaps, damaging) relationship in the name of believing that sometimes you must hold on, and not give up on someone. The difficulty with Scooter, for me, comes with discerning whether or not he wants me to give up on him.
If he did. I would.
And until I eventually detail the Johnny and Scooter saga from start to finish (which I'm working on in my "Yellow" notebook) and everyone knows every reason why I love him, how lovable he is, and the circumstances of every hurt we've caused one another... ...I really don't want any advice... ok? *wink*
I will not say "Amen". Not yet anyhow.
Kate Havnevik - "Kaleidoscope"
You cut me out in little stars
and place me in the sky.
I lose my sense of time
You know me
How troubled I can be
but through your kaleidoscope
I let go.
'Cause you show me
the world as it could be
through your kaleidoscope
it's beautiful
A tingle travels up my spine
a cluster of colours and twine
as we melt into wine
You know me
How troubled I can be
but through your kaleidoscope
I let go
'Cause you show me
the world as it could be
through your kaleidoscope
it's beautiful
-- Robert Louis Stevenson
I read this this morning in the subway and it really spoke to me. There are many inspirational quotations in the margins of the pages of The Artist's Way. Others have been really poignant to the recovery process I'm working towards, but this one in particular, speaks to my aching Capricorn soul.
If there is one thing I've learned over the past few years, it's that I do not enjoy advice. That's not to say I don't like hearing people's opinion, or that I don't think there's any wisdom to be found in the perspective of another. That would be foolish, and just plain goat-stubborn-stupid.
But, as I've pointed out before. I am a very unusual person. I don't always see why things should work the way people say they should... and therefore, I dig in my little hooves and lower my horns and defiantly bleat a sad little "goaty" tune as I take the difficult path.
Often I feel that people feel the need to solve your problems for you just as readily as they'd like someone to solve their problems for them. And really, I'm sure we all wish at some point in our lives that someone could wave a magic wand, but that's just not how things work.
As well-meaning as people are when they'd like to solve my problems... I quite frequently find myself annoyed at how quickly they're offering-up solutions when they don't even know the scope of how I feel or why. I find my annoyance with people offering advice has altered the way I talk to friends about their problems. I'm far more apt to ask question after question, and very seldom say what I "think" they should do. After-all, in most cases, we all do exactly what we're going to do, or would have done anyway.... ....don't we? Perhaps my thoughts on that are distorted by Capricorn arrogance.
At any rate, I wish sometimes that friends would try to understand my hurt instead of charting their course out of my journey.
Lion told me on Monday, "Oh JohnJo, you take a look around you, you spot the most complicated thing, and head straight for it." And that was pertaining to a sexual escapade I had on Friday night, that I detailed to him, but not to this blog. He's totally correct in the assessment of that circumstance, but let's keep in mind that he, at 25, has more experience sexually than I do at the ripe old age of 37. I'm allowed to experiment and I don't have to answer to anyone as long as I'm not hurting anybody.
And of course, as everything in my life swings back 'round to Scooter, I have overwhelmingly refused to "humbly say Amen" to what other people say about my love for him. I look for ways to justify the way I accept everything about our damaged (and perhaps, damaging) relationship in the name of believing that sometimes you must hold on, and not give up on someone. The difficulty with Scooter, for me, comes with discerning whether or not he wants me to give up on him.
If he did. I would.
And until I eventually detail the Johnny and Scooter saga from start to finish (which I'm working on in my "Yellow" notebook) and everyone knows every reason why I love him, how lovable he is, and the circumstances of every hurt we've caused one another... ...I really don't want any advice... ok? *wink*
I will not say "Amen". Not yet anyhow.
Kate Havnevik - "Kaleidoscope"
You cut me out in little stars
and place me in the sky.
I lose my sense of time
You know me
How troubled I can be
but through your kaleidoscope
I let go.
'Cause you show me
the world as it could be
through your kaleidoscope
it's beautiful
A tingle travels up my spine
a cluster of colours and twine
as we melt into wine
You know me
How troubled I can be
but through your kaleidoscope
I let go
'Cause you show me
the world as it could be
through your kaleidoscope
it's beautiful
Monday, November 15, 2010
Alien, Angel or Ghost
I'm in a place right now, where I feel nothing good will ever come from my relationship with Scooter. It will always be my effort for his apathy. And yet, I'm not the type of person who gives up on people that I love. I genuinely wish we could have some kind of friendship. I just can't see that far. And being the person I am, it's always an issue of letting go.
"Let go" of those who can't give you what you want. "Let go" of those who don't care for you the way you want or need them to. Where is the balance of accepting people for who or what they are, and what they can provide you ...with valuing yourself and not allowing people to take you for granted or abuse you? How many people simply walk away from everyone the moment something isn't right? And how many people stay long beyond what any sane person would tolerate?
After our "date" on the 24th, I'll let it die. I'll let it fade. I'll speak when spoken to, and leave an open door, but turn off the flashing neon sign. That in itself should satiate my need to "not give up", but no longer chase the affections of someone who just doesn't care whether I'm around.
I "think" that I'm open and giving, and forthright and genuine... and yet... I fear I don't let anyone in. Furthermore, I don't truly believe anyone "wants" in. I am that odd. I am that "unique". I am that egocentric and arrogant to obsess over it too.
I'm an alien, or an angel or a ghost. I am something otherworldly that doesn't belong here. More and more, I believe there is no one for me in this life. This time around the cogs my goal is to achieve happiness in solitude and enjoy the gift of life as an observer. I say this with only a sparing amount of self-pity, and a whole lot of awareness of what I've been through and how I'm treated.
I quite simply, do not fit in. And I'm largely ok with it, if a little lonely for my knowledge of it.
That person in the conversation who's always listening? That's me. If I don't pipe up and offer my thoughts and opinions on things, no one will ask. Of this there is a guarantee. I could wager money on it.
Of course, there's the possibility that I'm merely uninteresting. This makes me hold my tongue on occasion.
I am forever the pursuer, and never the pursued. And yet, when I stop trying, I am still not pursued; I'm merely given to solitude.
For anyone not following this, I assure you, I'm no longer talking about Scooter exclusively. He's just one of the many.
Whatever...
Like I said before... I just haven't spent enough time alone yet. "Do good and good will come to you."
I have friends that love me, even if I still manage to feel alone in their presence. And if my purpose in this life is not to discover how to live happily alone, then I will cross paths with a man who matches my paradigm - or blows it out of the water.
I am certainly a "strong" personality. There must be some guy out there hurtling toward me at the speed of gravity, that I won't have to "try" to love or be loved by.
It's hard to sound convincing saying you "don't want a boyfriend" when you obsess over loneliness that way I do. I don't view "being alone" as a bad thing. It's just a state of things. And I wouldn't have to be alone if I were willing to settle for the efforts of guys who just don't make the full grade and friends who don't give what they get. I swear I'm not sitting here saying "poor me". I'm just wishful. Longing even. It's not easy to be alone. And I know it's not exclusive to me.
How many people throughout history have pondered the same self-consumed things? Tiresome.
When you hear from me tomorrow, I'll be in a better state of mind. I have my dogs for the week while Eak is in Las Vegas for business. I'm really looking forward to having the boys. They'll be good for my soul, if not my social calendar.
*note to self* Just live your life Johnny. Live it for you. Happiness within. Dig it out. There's gold in them there chasms.
Song of the day is Jann Arden's new song from her live album "Spotlight". Sadly the audio clip I've linked to on YouTube is ridiculously sped-up, probably for copyright purposes. The song is still "listenable", but it's the Jann Arden "chipmunks treatment" to be sure.
Jann Arden - "I Can't Make You Stay"
"Let go" of those who can't give you what you want. "Let go" of those who don't care for you the way you want or need them to. Where is the balance of accepting people for who or what they are, and what they can provide you ...with valuing yourself and not allowing people to take you for granted or abuse you? How many people simply walk away from everyone the moment something isn't right? And how many people stay long beyond what any sane person would tolerate?
After our "date" on the 24th, I'll let it die. I'll let it fade. I'll speak when spoken to, and leave an open door, but turn off the flashing neon sign. That in itself should satiate my need to "not give up", but no longer chase the affections of someone who just doesn't care whether I'm around.
I "think" that I'm open and giving, and forthright and genuine... and yet... I fear I don't let anyone in. Furthermore, I don't truly believe anyone "wants" in. I am that odd. I am that "unique". I am that egocentric and arrogant to obsess over it too.
I'm an alien, or an angel or a ghost. I am something otherworldly that doesn't belong here. More and more, I believe there is no one for me in this life. This time around the cogs my goal is to achieve happiness in solitude and enjoy the gift of life as an observer. I say this with only a sparing amount of self-pity, and a whole lot of awareness of what I've been through and how I'm treated.
I quite simply, do not fit in. And I'm largely ok with it, if a little lonely for my knowledge of it.
That person in the conversation who's always listening? That's me. If I don't pipe up and offer my thoughts and opinions on things, no one will ask. Of this there is a guarantee. I could wager money on it.
Of course, there's the possibility that I'm merely uninteresting. This makes me hold my tongue on occasion.
I am forever the pursuer, and never the pursued. And yet, when I stop trying, I am still not pursued; I'm merely given to solitude.
For anyone not following this, I assure you, I'm no longer talking about Scooter exclusively. He's just one of the many.
Whatever...
Like I said before... I just haven't spent enough time alone yet. "Do good and good will come to you."
I have friends that love me, even if I still manage to feel alone in their presence. And if my purpose in this life is not to discover how to live happily alone, then I will cross paths with a man who matches my paradigm - or blows it out of the water.
I am certainly a "strong" personality. There must be some guy out there hurtling toward me at the speed of gravity, that I won't have to "try" to love or be loved by.
It's hard to sound convincing saying you "don't want a boyfriend" when you obsess over loneliness that way I do. I don't view "being alone" as a bad thing. It's just a state of things. And I wouldn't have to be alone if I were willing to settle for the efforts of guys who just don't make the full grade and friends who don't give what they get. I swear I'm not sitting here saying "poor me". I'm just wishful. Longing even. It's not easy to be alone. And I know it's not exclusive to me.
How many people throughout history have pondered the same self-consumed things? Tiresome.
When you hear from me tomorrow, I'll be in a better state of mind. I have my dogs for the week while Eak is in Las Vegas for business. I'm really looking forward to having the boys. They'll be good for my soul, if not my social calendar.
*note to self* Just live your life Johnny. Live it for you. Happiness within. Dig it out. There's gold in them there chasms.
Song of the day is Jann Arden's new song from her live album "Spotlight". Sadly the audio clip I've linked to on YouTube is ridiculously sped-up, probably for copyright purposes. The song is still "listenable", but it's the Jann Arden "chipmunks treatment" to be sure.
Jann Arden - "I Can't Make You Stay"
Not going to lie across the subway track,
Not gonna pin you to the floor
Not gonna bind you up or pull you down
So what are you waiting for
After all we’ve been through,
I’m not gonna beg you
So go on, go on
If you wanna run run
I won’t try to stop you or stand in your way.
My love, my love
It will never change, no.. change.. oh
Seems your mind is made up no matter how I pray
I can’t make you stay.
I’ve given you what’s left of me
Everything I am.
I try to be the ocean you could float on baby
The fuel that made you fast.
If I’m not the dream you dream,
If I don’t make you happy
Just go on, go on
If you wanna run run
I won’t try to stop you or stand in your way.
My love, my love
It will never change no, change.. oh
Seems your mind is made up
No matter how I pray
I can’t make you stay.
Don’t need to see it in your eyes
To know it won’t be long, it won’t be long
Don’t need to hear your goodbyes
To know you’re already gone
So go on, go on
If you wanna run run
I won’t try to stop you or stand in your way…
My love, my love
It will never change no, change.. oh
Seems your mind is made up no matter how I pray
I can’t make you stay.
I can’t make you stay.
Oh no, no….
I can’t make you stay.
I can’t make you….
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Friday, November 12, 2010
I Dreamt I Dwelt Between Chris Pine's Thighs
Ain't got nothin' much to talk about today. But I suppose that's not much different from any other day.
Right now I'm listening to CBC Radio 2/Pacific online to catch a beautiful Opera piece that I heard on the radio a while ago. I heard it on Tempo, so I'm hoping it will repeat and that miraculously, I'll hear who performed it so I can hunt it down. Fridays are "Music That Rocked Your World" days, and I'm not a huge fan of opera, but it was one of the prettiest things I've ever heard. It will likely be one of those instances where I'll never hear it again. ...Or hear it again months from now and forget that I've heard it before. Hide your own Easter Eggs kids.
The situation with Scooter is somewhat resolved. Though he had me FUMING mad. On my way to volleyball last night I couldn't help but start giggling, at the way he called me up in a huff, saying "What's this bullshit about me being rude and you being mad at me?" Because I know he was concerned, and yet trying to put up some bravado. In spite of his nonchalance, I could tell he was concerned, because he verified with me, not once, but twice that we were still on for our "date" (of sorts) on the 24th. It bothers me that I so readily forgive him. I was ready to throw up my arms and say "you're too much work" yesterday. I was expecting him to call "drama", and rehearsing the retort that if I was too much drama then he should just leave me alone. But of course, I am always more drama than I ever have the opportunity to act out.
I love him so much. I can't help it. I'm pathetic. He calls me up indignant, and still manages to score points for confronting my anger head-on, apologizing and pledging to do better in the future. Whether or not he does, remains to be seen. He may stop texting me altogether. Which wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if I'm self-campaigning to get over him.
Sexual frustration is my greatest affliction right now. And I'm satiating one craving with another solution: I've eaten half a large dark chocolate bar. 72% Cacao. Not dark enough, but satisfactory. (It was on sale at Shoppers Drug Mart.) And in ode to my cravings, I give you pictures of Chris Pine. Oh the things I would do.
Yes, the new Captain Kirk does it for me in ways I cannot describe. And probably because he reminds me of Scooter. Yes. Scooter is this good looking. If a little chubbier in recent times.
Oh!!! They're playing the opera piece again!!! It's so gorgeous. I wish I could share it. I know she spoke about it before it started to play and I completely missed who it's by - AGAIN.
*time passes*
Eureka!! I did a little hunting and discovered what it is: "I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls" Act 2 of Bohemian Girl, as performed by Elina Garanca. You cannot imagine how pleased I am to find this.
I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls
With vassals and serfs at my side,
And of all who assembled within those walls
That I was the hope and the pride.
I had riches all too great to count
And a high ancestral name.
But I also dreamt which pleased me most
That you loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same.
I dreamt that suitors sought my hand,
That knights upon bended knee
And with vows no maidens heart could withstand,
They pledged their faith to me.
And I dreamt that one of that noble host
Came forth my hand to claim.
But I also dreamt which charmed me most
That you loved me still the same
That you loved me
You loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same.
Right now I'm listening to CBC Radio 2/Pacific online to catch a beautiful Opera piece that I heard on the radio a while ago. I heard it on Tempo, so I'm hoping it will repeat and that miraculously, I'll hear who performed it so I can hunt it down. Fridays are "Music That Rocked Your World" days, and I'm not a huge fan of opera, but it was one of the prettiest things I've ever heard. It will likely be one of those instances where I'll never hear it again. ...Or hear it again months from now and forget that I've heard it before. Hide your own Easter Eggs kids.
The situation with Scooter is somewhat resolved. Though he had me FUMING mad. On my way to volleyball last night I couldn't help but start giggling, at the way he called me up in a huff, saying "What's this bullshit about me being rude and you being mad at me?" Because I know he was concerned, and yet trying to put up some bravado. In spite of his nonchalance, I could tell he was concerned, because he verified with me, not once, but twice that we were still on for our "date" (of sorts) on the 24th. It bothers me that I so readily forgive him. I was ready to throw up my arms and say "you're too much work" yesterday. I was expecting him to call "drama", and rehearsing the retort that if I was too much drama then he should just leave me alone. But of course, I am always more drama than I ever have the opportunity to act out.
I love him so much. I can't help it. I'm pathetic. He calls me up indignant, and still manages to score points for confronting my anger head-on, apologizing and pledging to do better in the future. Whether or not he does, remains to be seen. He may stop texting me altogether. Which wouldn't be the worst thing in the world if I'm self-campaigning to get over him.
Sexual frustration is my greatest affliction right now. And I'm satiating one craving with another solution: I've eaten half a large dark chocolate bar. 72% Cacao. Not dark enough, but satisfactory. (It was on sale at Shoppers Drug Mart.) And in ode to my cravings, I give you pictures of Chris Pine. Oh the things I would do.
Yes, the new Captain Kirk does it for me in ways I cannot describe. And probably because he reminds me of Scooter. Yes. Scooter is this good looking. If a little chubbier in recent times.Oh!!! They're playing the opera piece again!!! It's so gorgeous. I wish I could share it. I know she spoke about it before it started to play and I completely missed who it's by - AGAIN.
*time passes*
Eureka!! I did a little hunting and discovered what it is: "I Dreamt I Dwelt in Marble Halls" Act 2 of Bohemian Girl, as performed by Elina Garanca. You cannot imagine how pleased I am to find this.
I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls
With vassals and serfs at my side,
And of all who assembled within those walls
That I was the hope and the pride.
I had riches all too great to count
And a high ancestral name.
But I also dreamt which pleased me most
That you loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same.
I dreamt that suitors sought my hand,
That knights upon bended knee
And with vows no maidens heart could withstand,
They pledged their faith to me.
And I dreamt that one of that noble host
Came forth my hand to claim.
But I also dreamt which charmed me most
That you loved me still the same
That you loved me
You loved me still the same,
That you loved me
You loved me still the same.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
O Canada Tree, O Canada Tree
I am pooooooped. So frickin' exhausted it's not even funny.
Peachy called me up yesterday and we decided to hang out last night. He and his boyfriend "McMac" are good company and we had a nice time just hangin' out doing a whole lotta nothing at Peachy's place. He has a really nice apartment, and kindred that he is, he's a music fanatic, so we always have plenty to listen to or talk about. About a month ago, Peachy bought a new turntable to allow him to actually enjoy his rather sizable record collection. There's something organic and fun about listening to actual LP's, and examining the album art and enjoying an entirely different sound quality. My favourite selection of the night was INXS "Kick". Though I did enjoy being introduced to the music of Morrisey. I've never really explored his stuff. It seems wrist-slittingly honest and raw. I'm not sure how much of it would be good for my outlook on life lately. But I did like it.
Staying entirely too late for a work night is my specialty. Last night was no exception. I left at 11:45 and got home at 12:30. I then turned on my computer so I could leave Skype running for Lion to wake me at 6am like we planned. My computer was misbehaving, so I contacted the tech support that I pay for and asked them to take a look at my computer via remote. After much process and puttering around, I got to bed around 2 and awoke to the "beep beep booping" of Skype, and a smiling, mid-day-hyper Lion at 6:30.
He filled me in on some drama involving his mother's employees, and showed me some things he bought on a recent shopping trip. 2 beautiful jackets, some nice gloves and some cute character-emblazoned boot-slippers (just for women) that he scored in his size. He was giddy about the boot-slippers, and how nice and warm they were, and he started my day with joy.
Coincidentally enough, I was treated to some of his singing, and in classic Lion form... it was him proudly singing "O Canada" ...to the tune of "O Christmas Tree". It's always the first melody that comes to mind for him. Our founding fathers would laugh, and hug him for the light in his eyes and how much he wants to come back.
He's so easy to talk to.
I'm running on a mere 4-plus hours of sleep though. And I'm emotional and on-edge because I confronted Scooter this morning via text. Stuff I feel distraught and hopeless about. We're always a stone's throw from good bye it would seem. It's a stupid issue really. He sucks about text messages and I told him how it made me feel last week, and he was up to the same bullshit last night. So today I told him he's rude, and that I'm mad at him. No word from him yet. If I'm right, he'll use it as an excuse to stay away. Part of me expects him to. Part of me wants him to. Just to call it over, y'know? It is getting late in our game for me to not speak my mind about his behaviour. If he is a lesson in letting go, I have a feeling things are going to come to a head very soon. I will be hurt, and sad, yet again... but I know this time will be easier to just walk away and say I tried. Not everyone is meant to remain in your life. He's always had a question mark.
Lion... is a different story. He'll be around with an exclamation point. Even if it's from the other side of the world for the rest of our lives.
Take solace Johnny. Take solace. You will never be important to everyone you show kindness to. It's just not possible. And the hurting will end. Like everything else.
Click on this one and dance! It's impossible to be still when this song's playing.
Janelle Monae - Tightrope
Whoaaa
Another day
I take your pain away
Some people talk about ya
Like they know all about ya
When you get down they doubt ya
And when you dip it on the scene
Yeah they talkin' bout it
Cause they can't dip on the scene
Whatcha talk about it
T-t-t-talkin' bout it
When you get elevated,
They love it or they hate it
You dance up on them haters
Keep getting funky on the scene
While they jumpin' round ya
They trying to take all of your dreams
But you can't allow it
Cause baby whether you're high or low
Whether you're high or low
You gotta tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
T-t-t-tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Baby, baby, baby
Whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Baby whether you're high or low
(High or low)
You got to tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Now let me see you do the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
And I'm still tippin' on it
See I'm not walkin' on it
Or tryin' to run around it
This ain't no acrobatics
You either follow or you lead, yeah
I'm talkin' bout you,
I'll keep on blaming the machine, yeah
I'm talkin' bout it,
T-t-t-talkin' bout it
I can't complain about it
I gotta keep my balance
And just keep dancin on it
We gettin funky on the scene
And you know about it,
Like a star on the screen
Watch me tip all on it
Then baby whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
Baby whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Ooh, you gotta tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Yeah, tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Baby, baby, baby
Whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Baby whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Baby let me see you tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
And I'm still tippin' on it
Big Boi
You gotta keep your balance
Or you fall into the gap
It's a challenge but I manage
Cause I'm cautious with the strap
Doing damage to your canvas that a doctor cannot patch
See why you don't want no friction
Like the back of a matchbook
That I pass as I will forward you
And your MacBook
Clothes shows will shut you down
Before we go-go backwards
Act up, and whether we high or low
We gonna get back up
Like the Dow Jones and NASDAQ
Sorta like a thong in a ass crack,
Come on
I tip on alligators and little rattle snakers
But I'm another flavor
Something like a terminator
Ain't no equivocating
I fight for what I believe
Why you talkin' bout it
S-s-she's talkin' bout it
Some callin' me a sinner
Some callin' me a winner
I'm callin' you to dinner
And you know exactly what I mean,
Yeah I'm talkin' bout you
You can rock or you can leave
Watch me tip without you
N-N-Now whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
Whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
I'm gonna tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
MMMMMM
(Tip, tip on it)
Baby, baby
Whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
High or low
(High or low)
I got to tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Now baby tip on the tightrope
You can't get too high
(You can't get too high)
I said you can't get too low
(We can't get too low)
Cause you get too high
(You can't get too high)
No you'll surely be low
(No, you'll surely be low)
1, 2, 3, Ho!
Yeah, yeah
Now shut up, yeah
Yeah, now put some voodoo on it
Ladies and gentlemen the funkiest horn section in Metropolis
Yeah, oh
We call that Classy Brass!
Ohhhhhhh
OH!
Do you mind?
If I play the ukulele
Just like a little lady
Do you mind?
If I play the ukulele
Just like a little lady
As I play the ukulele
If I play my ukulele
Just like a little lady
(Happy birthday fades to end)
Peachy called me up yesterday and we decided to hang out last night. He and his boyfriend "McMac" are good company and we had a nice time just hangin' out doing a whole lotta nothing at Peachy's place. He has a really nice apartment, and kindred that he is, he's a music fanatic, so we always have plenty to listen to or talk about. About a month ago, Peachy bought a new turntable to allow him to actually enjoy his rather sizable record collection. There's something organic and fun about listening to actual LP's, and examining the album art and enjoying an entirely different sound quality. My favourite selection of the night was INXS "Kick". Though I did enjoy being introduced to the music of Morrisey. I've never really explored his stuff. It seems wrist-slittingly honest and raw. I'm not sure how much of it would be good for my outlook on life lately. But I did like it.
Staying entirely too late for a work night is my specialty. Last night was no exception. I left at 11:45 and got home at 12:30. I then turned on my computer so I could leave Skype running for Lion to wake me at 6am like we planned. My computer was misbehaving, so I contacted the tech support that I pay for and asked them to take a look at my computer via remote. After much process and puttering around, I got to bed around 2 and awoke to the "beep beep booping" of Skype, and a smiling, mid-day-hyper Lion at 6:30.
He filled me in on some drama involving his mother's employees, and showed me some things he bought on a recent shopping trip. 2 beautiful jackets, some nice gloves and some cute character-emblazoned boot-slippers (just for women) that he scored in his size. He was giddy about the boot-slippers, and how nice and warm they were, and he started my day with joy.
Coincidentally enough, I was treated to some of his singing, and in classic Lion form... it was him proudly singing "O Canada" ...to the tune of "O Christmas Tree". It's always the first melody that comes to mind for him. Our founding fathers would laugh, and hug him for the light in his eyes and how much he wants to come back.
He's so easy to talk to.
I'm running on a mere 4-plus hours of sleep though. And I'm emotional and on-edge because I confronted Scooter this morning via text. Stuff I feel distraught and hopeless about. We're always a stone's throw from good bye it would seem. It's a stupid issue really. He sucks about text messages and I told him how it made me feel last week, and he was up to the same bullshit last night. So today I told him he's rude, and that I'm mad at him. No word from him yet. If I'm right, he'll use it as an excuse to stay away. Part of me expects him to. Part of me wants him to. Just to call it over, y'know? It is getting late in our game for me to not speak my mind about his behaviour. If he is a lesson in letting go, I have a feeling things are going to come to a head very soon. I will be hurt, and sad, yet again... but I know this time will be easier to just walk away and say I tried. Not everyone is meant to remain in your life. He's always had a question mark.
Lion... is a different story. He'll be around with an exclamation point. Even if it's from the other side of the world for the rest of our lives.
Take solace Johnny. Take solace. You will never be important to everyone you show kindness to. It's just not possible. And the hurting will end. Like everything else.
Click on this one and dance! It's impossible to be still when this song's playing.
Janelle Monae - Tightrope
Whoaaa
Another day
I take your pain away
Some people talk about ya
Like they know all about ya
When you get down they doubt ya
And when you dip it on the scene
Yeah they talkin' bout it
Cause they can't dip on the scene
Whatcha talk about it
T-t-t-talkin' bout it
When you get elevated,
They love it or they hate it
You dance up on them haters
Keep getting funky on the scene
While they jumpin' round ya
They trying to take all of your dreams
But you can't allow it
Cause baby whether you're high or low
Whether you're high or low
You gotta tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
T-t-t-tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Baby, baby, baby
Whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Baby whether you're high or low
(High or low)
You got to tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Now let me see you do the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
And I'm still tippin' on it
See I'm not walkin' on it
Or tryin' to run around it
This ain't no acrobatics
You either follow or you lead, yeah
I'm talkin' bout you,
I'll keep on blaming the machine, yeah
I'm talkin' bout it,
T-t-t-talkin' bout it
I can't complain about it
I gotta keep my balance
And just keep dancin on it
We gettin funky on the scene
And you know about it,
Like a star on the screen
Watch me tip all on it
Then baby whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
Baby whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Ooh, you gotta tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Yeah, tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Baby, baby, baby
Whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Baby whether you're high or low
(High or low)
Tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Baby let me see you tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
And I'm still tippin' on it
Big Boi
You gotta keep your balance
Or you fall into the gap
It's a challenge but I manage
Cause I'm cautious with the strap
Doing damage to your canvas that a doctor cannot patch
See why you don't want no friction
Like the back of a matchbook
That I pass as I will forward you
And your MacBook
Clothes shows will shut you down
Before we go-go backwards
Act up, and whether we high or low
We gonna get back up
Like the Dow Jones and NASDAQ
Sorta like a thong in a ass crack,
Come on
I tip on alligators and little rattle snakers
But I'm another flavor
Something like a terminator
Ain't no equivocating
I fight for what I believe
Why you talkin' bout it
S-s-she's talkin' bout it
Some callin' me a sinner
Some callin' me a winner
I'm callin' you to dinner
And you know exactly what I mean,
Yeah I'm talkin' bout you
You can rock or you can leave
Watch me tip without you
N-N-Now whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
Whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
I'm gonna tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
MMMMMM
(Tip, tip on it)
Baby, baby
Whether I'm high or low
(High or low)
High or low
(High or low)
I got to tip on the tightrope
(Tip, tip on it)
Now baby tip on the tightrope
You can't get too high
(You can't get too high)
I said you can't get too low
(We can't get too low)
Cause you get too high
(You can't get too high)
No you'll surely be low
(No, you'll surely be low)
1, 2, 3, Ho!
Yeah, yeah
Now shut up, yeah
Yeah, now put some voodoo on it
Ladies and gentlemen the funkiest horn section in Metropolis
Yeah, oh
We call that Classy Brass!
Ohhhhhhh
OH!
Do you mind?
If I play the ukulele
Just like a little lady
Do you mind?
If I play the ukulele
Just like a little lady
As I play the ukulele
If I play my ukulele
Just like a little lady
(Happy birthday fades to end)
Tuesday, November 09, 2010
Best Keep Moving
Heaviness is all I feel today. It's remarkable how I can feel sadness like a weight and yet ignore it. It's a new skill I think. Mind you, saying I "ignore" it isn't quite succinct. I feel it. I acknowledge it. But it's almost like I say to myself, "Ok... today's a sad day... best keep moving".
I've described it in conversations before but I don't think I've ever actually written anything down about it. For me... depression is just something carried around.
Some people are really angry all the time. Some, negative. Some bitter, critical, aloof; you name it. Some people are more one mood than they are any other. I just happen to be a sad sort. Chances are, even when I'm hiding it well, there's a sadness at work in me. And it doesn't even have to be over something tangibly mood-altering. I guess that's called depression. At any rate, I feel the heaviness today. For no significant reason.
I mean, yeah, I miss Scooter. I miss Scooter all the time. I'd be with him every day for as long as I could if he wanted me to be. But I tend to think that's influenced by the fact that he doesn't want me to be. Though he does contribute to my sadness, it's not even him that's weighing on me today. I'm just plain down.
And to that I say "oh well".
My latest homework assignment for The Artist's Way, is to write a thank you letter to the champions of my creative self. I don't think I mentioned that the previous assignment was to compose a list of champions and describe how they got the title. I was supposed to come up with 3, and I stopped at 8. It took me pages of writing. And all of it, had me welling with fond memories and admiration. I may be taking this course at my own pace and doing it slow, but I have to say it's really good for drumming up gratitude, and finding pride in myself. Even when I'm trudging through hurtful things.
On another note, I (with a few other co-workers) got a tour of our new office today. The move won't be happening til the end of January or beginning of February, but it's kind of nice to get a look at where we'll be. It's going to be a shorter commute for me. I have mixed feelings about that. I enjoy my commute. But I guess it will be a lesson in taking the time that I need for myself from other time, and not just because I have nothing better to do. ...That or I'll have to move farther away.
Ugh... just had a huge verbal scrap with a co-worker. I overheard him picking on someone and tore a strip off him. He went back to his desk fuming, and called me to tell me that it was none of my business, so I tore another strip off him and told him how "unliked" he is in the office. I think it was news to him. The truth hurts. I've had a rotten relationship with him for years now, but I've kept my venom largely at bay. I think it's on now. And I really don't care. If there were an HR department here, I'd haul his ass. His interpersonal skills suck. That boys-club-bullshit-I'm-just-teasing attitude burns my ass. One of my co-workers (the victim of abuse) has been growing his hair for months and it's been driving him crazy. I know he's self-conscious about it, because we've talked about it, and I have to listen to this other jack-ass tease him every day. I've told him to stop, and he doesn't listen.
It amazes me how often I'm willing to charge into conflict these days. I think I'm just tired of letting people behave like assholes unaware.
Song of the day... a lil hip hop. I won't bother with the lyrics, but I do like the word-play. I apologize if it's offensive. In all honesty, I just heard it for the first time today, so I haven't listened all that closely. Jeremiah "Down on Me". I just really like it. : )
I've described it in conversations before but I don't think I've ever actually written anything down about it. For me... depression is just something carried around.
Some people are really angry all the time. Some, negative. Some bitter, critical, aloof; you name it. Some people are more one mood than they are any other. I just happen to be a sad sort. Chances are, even when I'm hiding it well, there's a sadness at work in me. And it doesn't even have to be over something tangibly mood-altering. I guess that's called depression. At any rate, I feel the heaviness today. For no significant reason.
I mean, yeah, I miss Scooter. I miss Scooter all the time. I'd be with him every day for as long as I could if he wanted me to be. But I tend to think that's influenced by the fact that he doesn't want me to be. Though he does contribute to my sadness, it's not even him that's weighing on me today. I'm just plain down.
And to that I say "oh well".
My latest homework assignment for The Artist's Way, is to write a thank you letter to the champions of my creative self. I don't think I mentioned that the previous assignment was to compose a list of champions and describe how they got the title. I was supposed to come up with 3, and I stopped at 8. It took me pages of writing. And all of it, had me welling with fond memories and admiration. I may be taking this course at my own pace and doing it slow, but I have to say it's really good for drumming up gratitude, and finding pride in myself. Even when I'm trudging through hurtful things.
On another note, I (with a few other co-workers) got a tour of our new office today. The move won't be happening til the end of January or beginning of February, but it's kind of nice to get a look at where we'll be. It's going to be a shorter commute for me. I have mixed feelings about that. I enjoy my commute. But I guess it will be a lesson in taking the time that I need for myself from other time, and not just because I have nothing better to do. ...That or I'll have to move farther away.
Ugh... just had a huge verbal scrap with a co-worker. I overheard him picking on someone and tore a strip off him. He went back to his desk fuming, and called me to tell me that it was none of my business, so I tore another strip off him and told him how "unliked" he is in the office. I think it was news to him. The truth hurts. I've had a rotten relationship with him for years now, but I've kept my venom largely at bay. I think it's on now. And I really don't care. If there were an HR department here, I'd haul his ass. His interpersonal skills suck. That boys-club-bullshit-I'm-just-teasing attitude burns my ass. One of my co-workers (the victim of abuse) has been growing his hair for months and it's been driving him crazy. I know he's self-conscious about it, because we've talked about it, and I have to listen to this other jack-ass tease him every day. I've told him to stop, and he doesn't listen.
It amazes me how often I'm willing to charge into conflict these days. I think I'm just tired of letting people behave like assholes unaware.
Song of the day... a lil hip hop. I won't bother with the lyrics, but I do like the word-play. I apologize if it's offensive. In all honesty, I just heard it for the first time today, so I haven't listened all that closely. Jeremiah "Down on Me". I just really like it. : )
Friday, November 05, 2010
I'm Like This Sometimes
I got the letter "from me" "to me" in the mail today. And an interesting thing happened: I typed it out to share, and then realized it truly was just for me. There was something very affirming about the process and the decision.
If I had to give it a name, I'd say self-sanctity.
Sorry, not much for blogging fodder, but something I can look back on some day.
Nothing worse than telling someone about a surprise and then never revealing what it is. Nasty goat bastard that I am.
I'm feeling really cerebral today, and I know how boring that is. But I don't really have any readers, which makes this for me. 'Kinda nice.
I wrote something on July 24th of this year, that I'm going to share instead... it's from the "Pink Notebook". I'm not mentioning real names of course... so that may detract from the heartfelt nature of the words. Hopefully one can imagine full, given names substituted for the privately assigned nicknames.
July 24, 2010
No one in this life has loved me the was "Lion" has. May I keep him close and show him nothing but love in my days. Even as I explore love and reconcile love.
May there never be any doubt in my heart that I have loved three men deeply... "Eak", "Scooter", and "Lion".
Each of them have pieces of me known by no other men.
Each of them occupy my soul and being with the purity of wanting what is best for them and to know them the rest of my days. To forgive and be forgiven, to tread with courage to be vulnerable, and the willfulness to do them no intentional harm through life's inevitable transgressions.
.....
It's so singularly meaningful to only me, even now. Perhaps especially now. But I feel blessed to love the way I do and not know any other way to feel about them. I want to know them and love them and give them myself. Maybe one day there will be another name to add to that list with whom the chemistry will be mirrored and perfect. Thus far something has always been just out of reach.
My heart's a vast place. My head's a black hole. Disparaging things could be said, but not by me anymore.
If I had to give it a name, I'd say self-sanctity.
Sorry, not much for blogging fodder, but something I can look back on some day.
Nothing worse than telling someone about a surprise and then never revealing what it is. Nasty goat bastard that I am.
I'm feeling really cerebral today, and I know how boring that is. But I don't really have any readers, which makes this for me. 'Kinda nice.
I wrote something on July 24th of this year, that I'm going to share instead... it's from the "Pink Notebook". I'm not mentioning real names of course... so that may detract from the heartfelt nature of the words. Hopefully one can imagine full, given names substituted for the privately assigned nicknames.
July 24, 2010
No one in this life has loved me the was "Lion" has. May I keep him close and show him nothing but love in my days. Even as I explore love and reconcile love.
May there never be any doubt in my heart that I have loved three men deeply... "Eak", "Scooter", and "Lion".
Each of them have pieces of me known by no other men.
Each of them occupy my soul and being with the purity of wanting what is best for them and to know them the rest of my days. To forgive and be forgiven, to tread with courage to be vulnerable, and the willfulness to do them no intentional harm through life's inevitable transgressions.
.....
It's so singularly meaningful to only me, even now. Perhaps especially now. But I feel blessed to love the way I do and not know any other way to feel about them. I want to know them and love them and give them myself. Maybe one day there will be another name to add to that list with whom the chemistry will be mirrored and perfect. Thus far something has always been just out of reach.
My heart's a vast place. My head's a black hole. Disparaging things could be said, but not by me anymore.
Thursday, November 04, 2010
Balls Harvey
Before I start in on my real thoughts...
did you know...
that the "Happy Face" was created by a commercial artist named Harvey Ball in 1963? He got $45 dollars for the job, and then got royally screwed. Because it became public domain before he could trademark it.
That, my friends is why the stores aren't called Ball-mart!
Fuck that would suck.
Anyhow, today I'm in a visibly better mood. I spent a better part of 3 hours engaged in a text message frenzy with PJ, who is campaigning to get into my pants. I keep telling him "no". He doesn't quite see this as an answer so much as an obstacle. Evidently I need to get over myself. Which makes me laugh, heartily. He thinks, I think, he wants more. He's incorrect. I know he wants more. And I can't give him more. I'm not even sure I can give him sex.
We've fooled around. We've made out. I've even given him a blow-job. But it was all too soon, and I have a working theory that "sex ruins everything" when it happens too soon. I need to see a sex therapist for a shitload of reasons. I have too many issues. I'm not even sure I'm attracted to PJ. He asked me if I was, and I said "a little bit", "I don't know". He's persistent though. And heaven help me, he's soooo sweet. He's the sweetest guy.
But wanna know how I know he wants more than just sex? I have proof. "If there is one thing I realized from meeting you. It's that I know there is still a spark in my heart, and it's not totally broken. So thank you." He texted those words to me today. I texted him back, "That's a beautiful gift PJ. Thank you. I know someone will see that spark and not run from it like me." And I told him he shouldn't be bargaining to give his heart to someone who doesn't want it. To which he replied, "I'm not trying to give you my heart. I'm trying to give you my cock."
Touche PJ.
I wouldn't be so leery if I hadn't campaigned for Scooter quite so diligently with some of the same arguments, that "I'm a grown man"... and "I have no expectations".
It's all fun and games til you lose 65 pounds because you can't eat or sleep at night. True story.
I will never play fast-and-loose with someone's heart.
I need a hooker. Hookers get you off and move on. (So I'm told.)
Speaking of Scooter... last night we went to dinner at Lonestar Texas Grill. I confronted him about "the kiss", and we had our first conversation of depth in almost a year. He fed me ambiguity, and promised to alter his behaviour. I showed my hand and told him I'm still getting over him. We talked neurosis and insecurity. He made me laugh, as always. I felt my love for him reaffirmed, and simultaneously felt the sinking feeling that I'm that much closer to the necessity of letting go. I will let go. I will be his friend. It just hurts.
I had a really great time with him though. And I felt better for having spoken my mind even if he's not brave enough to give me honest answers. It's enough. The fact that we are "not meant to be" is sinking in. I hope.
I also went with a game plan. We're now only going to get together once a month. He said "twice". But I've got distance to cover.
This one's for Harvey Ball. :-)
"Hide And Seek" (Roksonix Dubstep mix) - Imogen Heap
,
Where are we? What the hell is going on?
The dust has only just begun to fall,
Crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling.
Spin me round again and rub my eyes.
This can't be happening.
When busy streets a mess with people
would stop to hold their heads heavy.
Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines.
All those years they were here first.
Oily marks appear on walls
Where pleasure moments hung before.
The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this
still life.
Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines. (Oh, you won't catch me around here)
Blood and tears,
They were here first.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that you only meant well? Well, of course you did.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's all for the best? Because it is.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's just what we need? And you decided this.
Mmm what you say?
What did she say?
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
did you know...
that the "Happy Face" was created by a commercial artist named Harvey Ball in 1963? He got $45 dollars for the job, and then got royally screwed. Because it became public domain before he could trademark it.
That, my friends is why the stores aren't called Ball-mart!
Fuck that would suck.
Anyhow, today I'm in a visibly better mood. I spent a better part of 3 hours engaged in a text message frenzy with PJ, who is campaigning to get into my pants. I keep telling him "no". He doesn't quite see this as an answer so much as an obstacle. Evidently I need to get over myself. Which makes me laugh, heartily. He thinks, I think, he wants more. He's incorrect. I know he wants more. And I can't give him more. I'm not even sure I can give him sex.
We've fooled around. We've made out. I've even given him a blow-job. But it was all too soon, and I have a working theory that "sex ruins everything" when it happens too soon. I need to see a sex therapist for a shitload of reasons. I have too many issues. I'm not even sure I'm attracted to PJ. He asked me if I was, and I said "a little bit", "I don't know". He's persistent though. And heaven help me, he's soooo sweet. He's the sweetest guy.
But wanna know how I know he wants more than just sex? I have proof. "If there is one thing I realized from meeting you. It's that I know there is still a spark in my heart, and it's not totally broken. So thank you." He texted those words to me today. I texted him back, "That's a beautiful gift PJ. Thank you. I know someone will see that spark and not run from it like me." And I told him he shouldn't be bargaining to give his heart to someone who doesn't want it. To which he replied, "I'm not trying to give you my heart. I'm trying to give you my cock."
Touche PJ.
I wouldn't be so leery if I hadn't campaigned for Scooter quite so diligently with some of the same arguments, that "I'm a grown man"... and "I have no expectations".
It's all fun and games til you lose 65 pounds because you can't eat or sleep at night. True story.
I will never play fast-and-loose with someone's heart.
I need a hooker. Hookers get you off and move on. (So I'm told.)
Speaking of Scooter... last night we went to dinner at Lonestar Texas Grill. I confronted him about "the kiss", and we had our first conversation of depth in almost a year. He fed me ambiguity, and promised to alter his behaviour. I showed my hand and told him I'm still getting over him. We talked neurosis and insecurity. He made me laugh, as always. I felt my love for him reaffirmed, and simultaneously felt the sinking feeling that I'm that much closer to the necessity of letting go. I will let go. I will be his friend. It just hurts.
I had a really great time with him though. And I felt better for having spoken my mind even if he's not brave enough to give me honest answers. It's enough. The fact that we are "not meant to be" is sinking in. I hope.
I also went with a game plan. We're now only going to get together once a month. He said "twice". But I've got distance to cover.
This one's for Harvey Ball. :-)
"Hide And Seek" (Roksonix Dubstep mix) - Imogen Heap
,
Where are we? What the hell is going on?
The dust has only just begun to fall,
Crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling.
Spin me round again and rub my eyes.
This can't be happening.
When busy streets a mess with people
would stop to hold their heads heavy.
Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines.
All those years they were here first.
Oily marks appear on walls
Where pleasure moments hung before.
The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this
still life.
Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines. (Oh, you won't catch me around here)
Blood and tears,
They were here first.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that you only meant well? Well, of course you did.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's all for the best? Because it is.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's just what we need? And you decided this.
Mmm what you say?
What did she say?
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.
Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
Wednesday, November 03, 2010
Heartsblood and Letters to Yourself
I addressed and mailed a letter to myself today. Like actual snail mail, in an envelope with glue and a stamp and a dirty Canada Post box and everything.
Entertaining huh?
It's a personal growth and emotional recovery exercise in "The Artist's Way". Which incidentally, I'm finding really engaging in ways I didn't anticipate.
I think there's a concrete/physical/psychological element to receiving and tearing into a letter you've written yourself. That's strictly my hypothesis as to why it's an exercise. I've never actually written a letter to myself before. ...I've left messages on my own voice mail to remind me of things, but that's about as close to this (brand of) crazy I've ever come. Though I have heard it's a cheap way of copyrighting your material to mail your work to yourself, and not open it.
At any rate, it was a "letter to the editor" of sorts. Intended to defend my creativity against the enemies of my creativity. You wouldn't think one would have many enemies of their creativity. I managed to think of a few. It's all about wallowing in your own damage to find out where and how it happened. Bring on the healing. I'm ready.
I wrote Scooter a 3 page letter yesterday, and kinda finished it off today. No, I'm not going to give this one to him either. I've written soooooo many letters to him. You have no idea. He's received maybe 4 or 5 total out of at least 50 to 75. I'm not joking. As I said, they are my therapy. They allow me to say all the things I want to say without making a complete ass out of myself time and again. He doesn't respond to my letters. Not verbally, not written, not emotionally. I get no response. Sooooo... they go in a box. Out of my head, onto the paper, into a box.
This particular letter came really close to being given to him tonight. I'll have it on me when I meet him for dinner. Astounding proximity. But I always run the "fever" letters past my friend "Marti". Fever, as in I'm running one, and delusional enough to send it. She's been following the Scooter saga for well over a year now and knows just how crazy-in-love I am. And she sympathizes, though she's close enough to me to tell me I really should run or let go. As she did today, when she read this Fever Letter. A barrage of text messages and some loving advice later, I've decided I need to sit on this for a while, if only because I'm not sure I want to try so hard anymore. Really, maybe I should let things fade if they're going to. I don't want to campaign for anyone to love me. What would it be worth to win it?
I say that now, but my angst will spike again and I'll be in "all or nothing" mode and licking envelopes in the name of true love.
*barf*
Scooter is a train wreck. He needs me as a friend more than I need him as a boyfriend. Truthfully, there has to be someone better for me. I realize this. I can recite it with sincerity. But Fuck I love that boy. No one will ever convince me not to. Not even him. I need to do it on my own. I'm a stupid, stupid, masochistic Capricorn. Big yellow sign on the lawn of my mind... "Caution: Goats Obsessing".
He may yet get that letter. It's pretty hardcore heartsblood.
Another Scooter song.
"How" by Maroon 5.
I have been searching for your touch
Unlike any touch I've ever known
And I never thought about you much
Til I'm broken down and all alone, ohhh
Though I don't understand the meaning of love
I do not mind if I die trying, ohhh
Took it for granted when you lifted me up
I'm asking for your help
I am going through hell
Afraid nothing can save me but the sound of your voice
You cut out all the noise
And now that I can see mistakes so clearly now
I'd kill if I could take you back
But how?
But how?
I can feel it in my guts
What's going on with him now
And don't patronize me with lies
I'm a man, be a woman now, ohhh
I have been bound by the shackles of love
And I don't mind if I die tied up, ohhh
Took it for granted when you lifted me up
I'm asking for your help
I am going through hell
Afraid nothing can save me but the sound of your voice
You cut out all the noise
And now that I can see mistakes so clearly now
I'd kill if I could take you back
But how?
But how?
But how?
But how?
Ohh yeah
Why must we be so ugly
And please do not think ill of me
Why does the one you love
Become the one who makes you want to cry
Why?
Why?
Why?
And how?
How?
But I don't understand the meaning of love
I do not mind if I die trying
I do not mind if I die trying
I do not mind if I die trying
Entertaining huh?
It's a personal growth and emotional recovery exercise in "The Artist's Way". Which incidentally, I'm finding really engaging in ways I didn't anticipate.
I think there's a concrete/physical/psychological element to receiving and tearing into a letter you've written yourself. That's strictly my hypothesis as to why it's an exercise. I've never actually written a letter to myself before. ...I've left messages on my own voice mail to remind me of things, but that's about as close to this (brand of) crazy I've ever come. Though I have heard it's a cheap way of copyrighting your material to mail your work to yourself, and not open it.
At any rate, it was a "letter to the editor" of sorts. Intended to defend my creativity against the enemies of my creativity. You wouldn't think one would have many enemies of their creativity. I managed to think of a few. It's all about wallowing in your own damage to find out where and how it happened. Bring on the healing. I'm ready.
I wrote Scooter a 3 page letter yesterday, and kinda finished it off today. No, I'm not going to give this one to him either. I've written soooooo many letters to him. You have no idea. He's received maybe 4 or 5 total out of at least 50 to 75. I'm not joking. As I said, they are my therapy. They allow me to say all the things I want to say without making a complete ass out of myself time and again. He doesn't respond to my letters. Not verbally, not written, not emotionally. I get no response. Sooooo... they go in a box. Out of my head, onto the paper, into a box.
This particular letter came really close to being given to him tonight. I'll have it on me when I meet him for dinner. Astounding proximity. But I always run the "fever" letters past my friend "Marti". Fever, as in I'm running one, and delusional enough to send it. She's been following the Scooter saga for well over a year now and knows just how crazy-in-love I am. And she sympathizes, though she's close enough to me to tell me I really should run or let go. As she did today, when she read this Fever Letter. A barrage of text messages and some loving advice later, I've decided I need to sit on this for a while, if only because I'm not sure I want to try so hard anymore. Really, maybe I should let things fade if they're going to. I don't want to campaign for anyone to love me. What would it be worth to win it?
I say that now, but my angst will spike again and I'll be in "all or nothing" mode and licking envelopes in the name of true love.
*barf*
Scooter is a train wreck. He needs me as a friend more than I need him as a boyfriend. Truthfully, there has to be someone better for me. I realize this. I can recite it with sincerity. But Fuck I love that boy. No one will ever convince me not to. Not even him. I need to do it on my own. I'm a stupid, stupid, masochistic Capricorn. Big yellow sign on the lawn of my mind... "Caution: Goats Obsessing".
He may yet get that letter. It's pretty hardcore heartsblood.
Another Scooter song.
"How" by Maroon 5.
I have been searching for your touch
Unlike any touch I've ever known
And I never thought about you much
Til I'm broken down and all alone, ohhh
Though I don't understand the meaning of love
I do not mind if I die trying, ohhh
Took it for granted when you lifted me up
I'm asking for your help
I am going through hell
Afraid nothing can save me but the sound of your voice
You cut out all the noise
And now that I can see mistakes so clearly now
I'd kill if I could take you back
But how?
But how?
I can feel it in my guts
What's going on with him now
And don't patronize me with lies
I'm a man, be a woman now, ohhh
I have been bound by the shackles of love
And I don't mind if I die tied up, ohhh
Took it for granted when you lifted me up
I'm asking for your help
I am going through hell
Afraid nothing can save me but the sound of your voice
You cut out all the noise
And now that I can see mistakes so clearly now
I'd kill if I could take you back
But how?
But how?
But how?
But how?
Ohh yeah
Why must we be so ugly
And please do not think ill of me
Why does the one you love
Become the one who makes you want to cry
Why?
Why?
Why?
And how?
How?
But I don't understand the meaning of love
I do not mind if I die trying
I do not mind if I die trying
I do not mind if I die trying
Tuesday, November 02, 2010
Love: the Disease
Countdown to an evening with Scooter tomorrow night.
He brings out my neurosis full force. ...And the deepest sadness I've ever known.
November 7th marks the 2 year anniversary of when I met him. I've never loved anyone as much as I do him. And he keeps me at arm's length. And breaks my heart over and over.
I let him. Like a complete bitch with no self-esteem, I let him. Just to have him in my life. Just in the off chance that I can show him how much I love him.
He draws me in... And pushes me away.
From one day to the next I waffle back and forth between showing him nothing but love... and telling him good bye for good. Good bye is winning today.
Everblue
Love doesn't come alone, now does it?
Present perfect tense
So you made yourself a new world
Where even strangers make more sense
I pay the pain up right straight ahead
And with the beat
You can ease yourself into the light
Or keep that record on repeat
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
Everblue
Everblue
Fought away the sleepless hours
Unsettled dreams will make you keep
You can paint them all your brilliant colors
Just don't fall off into the deep
Happiness is not a burden
Oh, how the pendulum will swing
I have felt the ground, I've seen the seeds
Out of which grew golden wings
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
Everblue
Everblue
High above the stars are dancin'
To a soul, one bird is singin'
And it's you, my Everblue
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
You know I love you
My Everblue
Everblue
Everblue
Everblue
He brings out my neurosis full force. ...And the deepest sadness I've ever known.
November 7th marks the 2 year anniversary of when I met him. I've never loved anyone as much as I do him. And he keeps me at arm's length. And breaks my heart over and over.
I let him. Like a complete bitch with no self-esteem, I let him. Just to have him in my life. Just in the off chance that I can show him how much I love him.
He draws me in... And pushes me away.
From one day to the next I waffle back and forth between showing him nothing but love... and telling him good bye for good. Good bye is winning today.
Everblue
Love doesn't come alone, now does it?
Present perfect tense
So you made yourself a new world
Where even strangers make more sense
I pay the pain up right straight ahead
And with the beat
You can ease yourself into the light
Or keep that record on repeat
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
Everblue
Everblue
Fought away the sleepless hours
Unsettled dreams will make you keep
You can paint them all your brilliant colors
Just don't fall off into the deep
Happiness is not a burden
Oh, how the pendulum will swing
I have felt the ground, I've seen the seeds
Out of which grew golden wings
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
Everblue
Everblue
High above the stars are dancin'
To a soul, one bird is singin'
And it's you, my Everblue
What if I loved you?
What if I loved you?
You know I love you
My Everblue
Everblue
Everblue
Everblue
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