Law Girl

Raspberries

2007-02-03T18:05:00.000-08:00

I miss you. I miss you not locking yourself up. I miss you telling me you miss me. I miss you telling me you love me. I miss telling you I love you. I generally miss you.

Sometimes when you look at me it's there. I can see it in your eyes. I can see it in the way you laugh at me. But then something takes over and you remember you're not supposed to feel like that and it goes away again.

Last night you made me squirm. I liked it. It was almost like we were back to a comfortable place. Were we could just "be" again, and not have all the emotional shit hanging over us all the time. I like that place. I like that place a lot.

We still don't talk about it. I don't want to talk about it yet. I don't know if I'll ever want to talk about it. I don't even know if there is an "it" left to talk about. I do know that I miss you still. When I don't know when I'm going to see you again I panic a little. The jealousy is there...constantly tamped down and hidden. I think you know that though.

But as for the squirming...I like that you can still make me squirm. And I like that you occasionally do. You may just have to make good on it at some point though.

Just

2007-01-29T08:03:00.000-08:00

You asked me last night why. I told you I had other things on my mind. You wanted more of an answer than that. I'll give it to you here.

Here is where you read all of my thoughts. Here is where you read all of my insecurities. Here is where you read all of my deep secrets I didn't really want you to know. There were times when those thoughts and insecurities played on your own. When they caused problems. When you felt bad, or insignificant, or guilty, or to blame. That was never the point. The point was to wrap my head around what happened when you happened. And what you were when you happened. I still haven't figured that all out yet. Maybe I never will.

You never even responded. You just left. You just stopped. No questions. No arguments. No discussion. Done. I understand why. That's who you are. My first thought was "Oh my God what have I done".

The tension between whether I should back down and accept less than I wanted, and knowing that you would be perfectly content letting me go was more than I could handle. That you would let it go without a second thought. Thinking that your stubbornness would outweigh any rational thought. Knowing, without a doubt, that you had the ability to turn off and walk away without a second glance. And the realization that I would really never talk to you again...was more than I could handle.

I curled up on the couch in a ball. I cried for days. I sat on the computer waiting for you to IM me...like a crack head waiting for her next fix. I carried my phone with me everywhere I went, in the hope that you just might call. Words like "the" and "and" became too complex and confusing to study. Getting off the couch made it too difficult to study. Getting dressed became too much of a chore to leave the house. Basic hygiene went out the window. I was lost. I was afraid. I was miserable.

In that time I realized that I need you. I need you in whatever capacity you have. The thought of going back to being a "just" again is excruciating. I want to be more. I have been more. I love being more than just a "just" to you. But it is nothing in comparison to not having you at all. If all I get to be is a "just", I'm not happy but I will learn to be content. I will not push. I will not whine. I will not complain. I will not attempt to change your mind, or remake your decisions. Just is all I will be.

We have had a strict "no discussion on the blog" policy. I don't want discussion. I don't want more conversation. I don't want to talk about it and have the tension hanging over us like an axe man. But you asked. It may be an excuse. It may stink. But here it is.

Just In Case You Were Wondering

2007-01-24T09:41:00.000-08:00

This sucks.

I miss you.

Stubborn one.

Anyone who hasn't figured out the new blog via sitemeter or e-mail or some other stealthy measure, feel free to e-mail me. bslawg at (the dredded) gmail. com.

Reboot

2007-01-22T22:27:00.000-08:00

Blogger sucks. That's right. Blogger sucks. ARGH!

I think I'm starting over.

When all else fails re-boot. Right?

Stereotypes

2007-01-22T06:04:00.000-08:00

I consider myself a very open minded individual. Then again, I've never met anyone who admitted to being close minded. I do my best not to make judgments based on appearance. To avoid the stereotypes society creates based on what people do for a living, where they live, what they drive, or how they dress. It is not my place to make value judgments and classify people as "good" or "bad". We all do good things. We all do bad things. I try to avoid the people who's "bad things" affect me negatively. But I am not the judge, nor the jury. I am simply another human being trying to get by. I do my best to live life this way.

I have a friend, I've mentioned him before, who is a professional piercer. He is articulate, well spoken, well read, intelligent, and generally a hell of a lot of fun to hang out with. I count myself lucky to be one of the people he chooses to hang out with, because on the scale of "cool" we're not even on the same page. He is cooler than I am before he even wakes up in the morning. There is a certain amount of shock value to hanging out with him. He has fantastically long dreads, implants in his face, tattoos everywhere, he's loud, he's outgoing, and he's intimidating. When we're at the bar together I can't help thinking about that old Sesame Street song "One of these things is not like the other". Yeah, that would be me. Because when we hang out, I am the weird one. It's all context.

We had a conversation the other night which once again made me realize I'm not nearly as open minded as I strive to be. To look at him you would assume, I assume, that his "type" would be pierced and tattooed and be rough and tumble like he is. Someone who could go where he goes without standing out. Someone who was equally...well...cool. I think he does want these things, but not on the surface. On the surface he wants the pretty pretty princess. He wants the college educated, well dressed, intelligent woman that every man claims to want. He wants the soft and snugly girly girl. And try as I might, I just can't picture this. I am seriously disappointed in my own preconceptions.

Over the next couple of days I thought about this. I watched couples at the bar. I watched couples at the coffee shop. Looking for the underlying "unknown" below the appearance, the "more than meets the eye". Generally, the punks were with the punks. The rockers were with the rockers. The skeezy guys with the skeezy girls. And I wondered whether they started like this or whether one of them conformed. Which one of the boys started out as the suit and ended up as the punk? Which one of the girls started out as the punk and ended up in the "mom" uniform? Was it a matter of conformity for purposes of the relationship, for purposes of acceptance, because of the sociology of the group of people they surrounded themselves with? Did they all start out the way they are now, purple hair from the womb? Do they flock together like lemmings, searching for each other until they come together in one giant pack of weirdness? And what would happen if one day one of them decided it was cool to run around in Wranglers and cowboy boots? Would the bar be quickly taken over by cowboys?

Yeah...I know. Less people watching, more studying. I'm tryin.

Busted

2007-01-20T12:24:00.000-08:00

Is is possible for someone to be so selfless and protective and giving that they consistently come across as an asshole? Maybe I'm just in denial. Maybe I'm reading too much between the lines. Maybe there isn't anything between the lines. Maybe there weren't any lines in the first place. He'd like me to believe that right now.

Last night was supposed to be girls night out. As planned there were to be about 15 of us dolled up in our girlie finest, out to take on the town. We were going to dance. We were going to eat chocolate. We were going to get hit on by every boy in the club. Because when life sucks, and you feel worthless and gross, nothing makes you feel better than having skeezy sweaty guy hit on you...right? Yeah...I think I seemed like I better idea than it would have been anyway.

Well, as with all good plans, it fell apart. The evening collapsed into three of us sitting at the local hang-out with the same old people drinking the same old things. For the most part it was still a good time. It was low key. It was what it was.

Through a series of events, George and I talked before I went out. We were having coffee waiting for the girls to get ready. He was crabby, he was stressed, he was picking fights where fights could be picked. I think there were about a million reasons he was stressed. I think one of them was simply that I was going out without him. With lipstick on. And my hair did. I was cute.

ANYWAY, as we're sitting there over our coffee, he looks at me and asks "So, are you going to be drunky McKissyface with some random guy tonight?" I told him that it would depend on whether he was still awake when I got done at the bar. See...since New Years he has made the decision that there is to be no more Amazing. None. Period. Ugh. We haven't had the complete discussion as to why. I have my theories. But he just drew a line in the sand and declared one day that the Amazing was over.

So, he said, "You're welcome to crash on the couch if your drunk, but you won't be drunky McKissyface with me." Being frustrated at this point, I asked if he would rather have me making out with someone else than cross the invisible line he arbitrarily drew in the sand. He said yes.

Of course he said yes. That's the point. BUSTED! He thinks that somehow in the course of the next few days I'm going to find someone else, or miraculously get over him, or move on, or somehow become completely comfortable with him leaving. And this is his way of trying to speed up the process. I think. Maybe. Then again maybe I'm giving him the benefit of the doubt.

The thing is, that isn't a possibility. There is no way on earth that any of that will happen while he's still here. I'm years away from that, if it ever comes. At this point I don't really care if it ever comes. I'm not saying there won't be more tumbles in the hay. There will likely be a series of self destructive behavior before all this is over. That's just the way these things go. That's part of the healing process. It's natural. But I'm still months away from even being able to do that. And God forbid something actually happens to him while he's gone...who knows if I'll ever recover.

Either he is completely underestimating my feelings, or completely overestimating his power to push me away. That...or he's just an asshole. At this point...your guess is as good as mine.

A Search For Joy

2007-01-18T15:36:00.000-08:00

I've had a reoccurring thought over the past couple of days. I've had a lot of reoccurring thoughts. This one just seems to be more interesting than some of the others.

One of the things I have spent an inordinate amount of time searching for in the past few years is peace. Peace with myself. Peace with those around me. Peace with my position in life. Inner peace, outer peace, world peace, local peace. Peace. I have attempted fung shua. I have tried yoga. I have meditated. I have little cards taped to my desk that remind me to breath. The search for peace has lead me down a very interesting and convoluted path.

I am not naturally a peaceful person. I am loud. I am slightly obnoxious...although depending on who you ask I may be more than slightly obnoxious. I say what is on my mind, and what is on my mind is what I say. I laugh loudly and often. I cry without reservation. Sometimes all within a relatively short time period. Doing what I do, living the way I live, peace is not something that comes naturally to me.

And in my search for peace I think I have lost joy. In my quest for the calm, the deep breath, the place of serenity, there is no loud gafaw. There is no belly laugh. There is no getting goofy. This, however comes naturally. How much of my joy have I squelched because it would not be peaceful. How much of my mirth have I ignored because it would invade my quiet. I miss joy.

Maybe it is because I just miss being happy right now. I laughed the other night. Truly laughed. I was goofy. I was silly. I miss smiling. I miss making other people smile just because I can.

There is always a time when we need peace. Peace is a good thing. But for now, I need to search for joy. Now excuse me while I go don my pirate hat and search for my map.

Time Suck Thursday Meme

2007-01-18T13:35:00.000-08:00

So...SBS tagged me. I really like these things. Especially now when I'm really looking for an excuse to piss away a few minutes here and there and don't have anything blogworthy except more whining about George. Although I know y'all LOVE to hear me whine about George. Especially George. I think he loves to hear me whine about him more than anything in the world. Ok...all sarcasm aside...Here is my re-named Time Suck Thursday Meme.

1. You can press a button that will make any one person explode. Who would you blow up? I'm seriously supposed to narrow this down to one person in the whole world? How the hell am I supposed to narrow my hatred down to one person? Would the world know it was me who blew them up? Could I be prosecuted? Would I have to claim it on my bar app? Would there be collateral damage? Like, would it be a nuclear explosion? This question is void for vagueness. It cannot be answered in its current form.

2. You can flip a switch that will wipe any band or musical artist out of existence. Which one will it be? Nickelback. I really don't need to explain, do I?

3. Who would you really like to just punch in the face? Depends on whether he's being an ass at the moment or not, but usually George.

4. What is your favorite cheese? Mmmmm....cheese. Yeah, I agree with SBS on this one, I've never met a cheese I didn't like. But generally sharp cheddar. Mmmmmm...cheese.

5. You can only have one kind of sandwich. Every sandwich ingredient known to humankind is at your immediate disposal. What kind will you make? Broiled roast beef with provolone and basil.

6. You have the opportunity to sleep with the movie celebrity of your choice. We are talking no-strings-attached sex and it can only happen once. Who is the lucky celebrity of your choice? Depp, Johnny Depp. Yup...I'm with SBS on this one too.

7. You have the opportunity to sleep with the music-celebrity of your choice. Who do you pick? Jack Johnson. Easy.

8. Now that you've slept with two different people in a row, you seem to be having an excellent day because you just came across a hundred-dollar bill on the sidewalk. How are you gonna spend it? Pedicure, manicure and chocolate.

9. You just got a free plane ticket to anywhere. You have to depart right now. Where are you gonna go? Moscow...wait, it's January, Tahiti.

10. Upon arrival to the afore mentioned location, you get off the plane and discover another hundred-dollar bill. Now that you are in the new location, what are you gonna do? Get a hotel room, because otherwise I'm sleeping on the beach.

11. An angel appears out of Heaven and offers you a lifetime supply of the alcoholic beverage of your choice. It is...? Gin.

12. Rufus appears out of nowhere with a time-traveling phone booth. You can go anytime in the PAST. What time are you traveling to and what are you going to do when you get there? Back to the 18th century to help the drafters of the constitution lay it out more clearly.

13. You discover a beautiful island upon which you may build your own society. You make the rules. What is the first rule you put into place? Women are in charge.

14. You have been given the opportunity to create the half-hour TV show of your own design. What is it called and what's the premise? Jitters. Based around a diverse cast of characters who hang out at a coffee shop.

15. What is your favorite curse word? fucker.

16. One night you wake up because you heard a noise. You turn on the light to find that you are surrounded by MUMMIES. The mummies aren't really doing anything, they're just standing around your bed. What do you do? Call George. He's the only person in the world who would believe me.

17. Your house is on fire! You have just enough time to run in there and grab ONE inanimate object. Don't worry, your loved ones and pets have already made it out safely. So what's the item? Assuming the fire isn't going to reach the garage so I don't have to worry about the cars, I'm going to grab the bears George gave me. My purse and my laptop are already in the car though, so that's kind of cheating.

18. The Angel of Death has descended upon you. Fortunately, the Angel of Death is pretty cool and in a good mood, and it offers you a half-hour to do whatever you want before you bite it. Whatcha gonna do in that half-hour? Send out a mass e-mail to everyone I know saying everything I don't say. Fill in those blanks!!!

19. You accidentally eat some radioactive vegetables. They were good, and what's even cooler is that they endow you with the super-power of your choice! What's it gonna be? The ability to bend space and time.

20. You can re-live any point of time in your life. The time-span can only be a half-hour, though. What half-hour of your past would you like to experience again? I only get a half-hour? It's much longer than a half hour. But...yeah.

21. You can erase any horrible experience from your past. What will it be? Hmmm...I'll plead the 5th here.

22. You got kicked out of the country for being a time-traveling heathen who sleeps with celebrities and has super-powers. But now you can move to anywhere else in the world! What country are you going to live in now? Canada or England...I'm too lazy to become fluent in another language. Plus, free health care would rock.

23. You have been eternally banned from every single bar in the world except for ONE. Which one is it gonna be? I don't know that I could pin it down. I'd hate to have to travel just to go to the bar...but generally I'd have to say Vegas. It's just one big bar anyway, right?

24. Hopefully you didn't mention this in the super-powers question.... If you did, then we'll just expand on that. Check it out... Suddenly, you have gained the ability to FLOAT!!! Whose house are you going to float to first, and be like "Dude, check it out... I can FLOAT!"? George's

25. The constant absorption of magical moonbeams mixed with the radioactive vegetables you consumed earlier has given you the ability to resurrect the dead famous-person of your choice. So which celebrity will you bring back to life? George Burns. He was cool. He was God too.

26. The Celestial Gates of Beyond have opened, much to your surprise because you didn't think such a thing existed. Death appears. As it turns out, Death is actually a pretty cool entity, and happens to be in a fantastic mood. Death offers to return the friend/family-member/person/etc. of your choice to the living world. Who will you bring back? Selfishly I'd want to bring back my Grandma. She was awesome. Slightly less selfishly I'd want to bring back my 8 yr old cousin who died in a car accident two years ago. Even less selfishly than that I'd want to bring back George's Grandma, cuz I know it hit him hard when she died and he'd like to have her back.

Okay, so to keep the game going I need to tag someone. Sean...you're it.

Time Crunched Hungover Ramble

2007-01-17T12:00:00.000-08:00

No rest for the wicked. I guess this is a good point. I've been trying to get to this point for two weeks. You know the point. The frantic deadline's approaching I don't have enough time I'm never going to get this all done how come we don't work off of the Star Trek 30 hour days point. This is the point where I am most productive. This is the point where I actually start getting shit done. I know I need to be here, but I hate it.

And so, what do I do last night in preparation for the time crunch? I get drunk. And not only do I get drunk, but right before I head into the bar for my friend's birthday party, I pick a fight with George. It wasn't really a new fight. Merely a continuation of the fight we've been having for two weeks. We've never finished the fight. We keep getting interrupted. I don't know if we finished it last night either. It doesn't feel like we finished it. He didn't say anything. I don't know.

Anyway, now I'm hungover, I have a headache, I have a million and one things to do, and all I want to do is sleep. And I can't remember the last time I ate anything. I should eat. Then I should take a nap. Then I should study. That's it. That's the plan.

On the up side...I'm really in a much better mood. I know there will be days that are good and days that are bad. The days that suck really suck. But I'm feeling them. I'm dealing with them as they come. It's hard. It's not getting easier yet. It will in time.

I was thinking about it last night. It's like there's a big opened wound, and I keep picking off the scab. And then poking it with a stick. And then smacking it a couple of times for good measure. It will heal eventually. It will leave a hell of a scar. It will likely fester and puss and get really gross before it's all done. And it would probably be a lot less painful if I would just leave it alone. But I don't want to leave it alone. I have years and years of leaving it alone in my future. While he's still here I'm going to poke it with a stick. Thus is love. One big festering opened wound. I love him so much, there is a big part of me that doesn't want the wound to heal. I don't want the scars. I don't want the pain to go away. I don't want to forget. I don't want it to be over. I just want him. Simple.

Wake Me When Its Over

2007-01-15T17:25:00.000-08:00

I need something upbeat to say. I should be more optimistic. I just don't, I'm not. People watching has been uneventful today. Studying, completely unproductive. I think my brain broke with my heart. I hope I can figure out how to fix it by the time I have to take the bar.

If I was a bear I could hibernate. I could curl up into a ball and fall asleep until everything changed. Until all the cold passed. Until it didn't hurt. Until it was time to wake up, rested and ready for another summer before the next winter sleep comes again. But I'm not. I'll go to bed and wake up tomorrow, and very little will have changed. How is it when you need change the most that nothing seems to ever happen?

There will be a time when I can get through a thought uninterrupted by him. There will be a time when the thought of him being gone doesn't cause a physical pain in my chest. There will be a time when I will go minutes...hours...days...weeks without thinking of him. I want to fall asleep and be at that time.

There is so much of this that I haven't even begun to deal with. The shock of the sheer blinding pain has all of my attention right now. But as that dulls then I know I will have to deal with the hole that is left. Trying to get over the hope that some how, some way, I'll see him again. Finding new ways to smile, new friends to share the day. The complete and total loss of someone I love, my best friend, my lover, my advisor, my confidant, and the part of me that he became.

He has always accused me of being bitter. Being jaded. This is why. This is the reason. As soon as I trust enough to let my guard down, believe enough to be vulnerable...love always kicks me in the ass and runs away laughing. Hopefully I learned my lesson this time.

Sunday Morning

2007-01-14T08:22:00.000-08:00

I'm frustrated. Like I spend my entire existence breaking through some sort of barrier only to find another one on the other side. At some point there will come a time where there is comfort and contentment in the now. That's the goal anyway.

I still can't get into a studying groove. I'm going through the motions, as with everything else in life, but I just can't find my rhythm. The first two weeks are the hardest. Sitting and cramming of copious amounts of information without reference for application. Anxiety of not knowing whether this will be enough. Fear of failure sitting in the chair next to the terror of inadequacy to keep me company. I have yet to make friends with them.

George and I are struggling with each other and with ourselves. Just about the time he has pushed me as far away as I can handle, he'll reach down and pick me up. We argued last night. We watched movies until late. I fell asleep for a little while. When I woke up I got ready to go home. Why would I stay? It obviously makes him uncomfortable when I'm there. He can hardly talk to me. He won't come within two feet of me if he has a choice in the matter. Yet, when I got ready to leave he got mad. He wanted me to spend the night. I think. I don't know. He won't tell me.

As I was driving home I was angry. I was frustrated. Once again my eyes were leaking. Telling myself he was just being a twit, he was just being a man. I realized I don't love him any less. I love him as much as, or more than, ever. His frustration and his own emotional turmoil doesn't change how I feel. And I wondered when that will end. When will it stop? If it doesn't stop, when will it at least stop getting bigger? He is giving me no reason to love him right now. He is giving me every reason in the world to be angry. I just can't stop.

So, back to the company of inadequacy and failure. Maybe I'll make friends with them today.

Bad Ass Butt Wigglin Friday

2007-01-12T09:08:00.000-08:00

When I was studying for finals my first semester of my first year of law school I would find the most amazing things to distract myself. I watched the washing machine osculate through the entire cycle...just to make sure it actually worked. I scrubbed the grout in my bathroom. I mopped my garage floor. ANYTHING to prevent me from sitting at my desk studying Contracts.

I'm back at that same place. I am having a hell of a time getting into the groove. Granted, I have a lot more real world distractions now than I did then, but still. Yesterday I decided I couldn't study when I was within walking distance to a couch...so I went to a coffee shop. I ended up people watching for about 2 hours.

Top that off with the fact that I'm feeling completely worthless and lazy and unmotivated and fat and ugly and rejected and generally gross and absolutely nothing is getting done. So...taking a page out of PBW's book, I decided I needed motivation music.

You know the music. The music that makes your butt wiggle. The music that makes you feel like you can take on the world. The music that makes you feel like you are the star in your own movie. The music that makes you feel sexy, makes you feel beautiful, makes you feel smart, makes you feel like a bad ass. Here's my bad ass mix...for those who wonder.

Long Jacket - Cake
You Shook Me - Etta James
Sexy Back - Justin Timberlake (Don't mock me...this song makes my butt wiggle)
Sexy Plexi - Jack Johnson
Extraordinary Machine - Fiona Apple
Take Me Out - Franz Ferdinand
Cold Hard Bitch - JET
Float On - Modest Mouse
Gold Digger - (Feat. Jamie Foxx) Kanye West
Rich Girl - Gwen Stefani
My Humps - Black Eyed Peas
Gimme Three Steps - Lynyrd Skynard
Pride And Joy - Stevie Ray Vaughan
Good Golly Miss Molly - Creedence Clearwater Revival
Night Time Is The Right Time - Ray Charles
426 - The Bleeders (Someday...for now I have to make do with the 383)
American Bad Ass - Kid Rock
Baby I Love You - Aretha Franklin
21 Things I Want In A Lover - Alanis Morissette
1 Bourbon, 1 Scotch, 1 Beer - George Thorogood
Hair of the Dog - Nazareth
The Joker - Steve Miller Band
Boom Boom Boom - John Lee Hooker
Life in the fast lane - Limp Bizkit
Damn It Feels Good to be a Gangster - Ghetto Boys (I love this movie too)

Now I have to go study...again. But I'm in a much better mood. And I have my own personal soundtrack. AND spell check is working again. Whoo hoo! Happy Friday y'all.

Bordom

2007-01-10T12:05:00.000-08:00

I'm so bored I might die.

I don't have anything to say, but I've locked myself away from humanity so that I'll study. I think it may drive me crazy. Or I'll die.

I have learned today that commercial paper is not the one ply cardboard crappy toilet paper you find in the gas station. It is an actual area of law. GAWD this sucks.

Is it too late to go be a tour guide in Italy?

I think I need a nap. Yeah. That's it. I need a nap.

Ugh.

And blogger still won't let me spell check.

This daily grumble brought to you by lawgirl.

F.I.N.E.

2007-01-10T08:11:00.000-08:00

I'm a glutton for punishment. Or he's got some sort of hold on me that I've never allowed anyone to have before. Or I'm sick in the head. Or it's the evil monkeys. I'm voting for evil monkeys. Evil monkeys make me smile for some reason.

I'm back in town for a while. Since I can't find a house, it's easier to crash here than it is to crash there. All my stuff is safe in storage until June, so all I have to worry about is my body. I have a tendency to go a little OCD when I get excited about something. I'm a little excited about finding a new house. So, I've decided I'm not allowed to worry about that until I've finished the whole bar thing. Otherwise I'll burn all my bar studying time on the net designing my new house, looking for my new house, shopping for my new house, or something of the like.

George is still here too.

Since we're both still in town for a while, and therefore don't have to do the long distance thing, and since he loves me oh so very much, you'd think things would settle back in to "normal" for a little while. Um...no. He still wants to hang out. He still wants to talk. He still wants to go grab coffee. But there is nothing normal about it.

I know what's going on. He's pushing me away. I don't know exactly why he's pushing me away, but he is. He's breaking plans when we make plans to hang out. He calls, but then won't talk. We go for coffee and he doesn't have anything to say. I ask him questions and he simply doesn't respond. And the responsive actions I get now are inconsistant with what he told me they would be a week ago. He's pushing me away.

I understand the generals of why. He's doing it to "protect" himself. He's doing it to "protect" me. He wants us both to move on, but not really. The thing is, I can only handle so much pushing before I walk out of the zone of being pushed. He's my best friend. He's the love I never thought I would find. But if he doesn't want me around I'm not going to push the issue.

It's hard. It's hard trying to figure out how I'm supposed to act. How I'm supposed to feel. What picture of me he wants to see. So I'm going to quit trying. I'm a hurt, scared, tired, angry, frustrated little girl. What you see is what you get. I don't lie well. I've never been able to lie well. I can't lie and pretend everything is ok. It's not. It sucks.

Blogger Ate My Homework

2007-01-10T07:14:00.000-08:00

Sorry about the SNAFU yesterday. I was messing around with it and then the evil monkeys got mad and decided that if I was going to mess around with it that no one was going to be able to read my blog after all.

Moral of the story? Evil monkeys really do exist.

Oh yeah...and now spell check won't work either. *grumble grumble grumble*.

Humperdink

2007-01-09T15:42:00.000-08:00

LIER!!! LIIIIIEERRRRRRRRRRR!!! Humperdink Humperdink Humperdink.

I love that movie.

I should know better than to talk to him right now. I should know better than to have coffee with him right now. I should know better than to think that the man who's character I believed was set in stone was more than just a bunch of smoke and mirrors and bullshit for the benefit of the show.

And to that I say Humperdink.

I know better. I'm not blind. I'm not a fucking moron.

There, I feel better now.

Fucker.

Oh, by the way...love y'all too!

Structural Integrity

2007-01-09T03:29:00.000-08:00

I'm back. I spent the weekend looking at houses. Ugh. I've about decided I'm going to have to learn how to live out of the back of my car, and even that would be an improvement over most of what I saw this weekend.

I promise. I'm really not being picky. I promise. I'm not looking for the great family homestead where I will live until I die. I'm just looking for something that will structurally maintain its integrity for the next four or five years and then have some resale value. I don't care if it has two bedrooms or six. I don't care if it sits on two acres or a sidewalk. I don't care if it has hardwood floors or carpet. I really don't. I just want structural integrity and a garage.

Ready Sean....
This is my baby. She needs a garage. I refuse to keep her out in the elements, even under a cover. The garage is non-negotiable.

So, I'm really not picky...I just need a garage, with a structurally sound house attached. I don't even care if the garage has a garage door opener. I would like enough room in the garage for my tools. But if there isn't enough room in the garage for my tools, they can live in my living room for a while. Or in the spare bedroom. Or in the kitchen. I really don't care as long as the house isn't going to fall down around me.

Why the emphasis on structurally sound? I saw two houses this weekend - TWO HOUSES - that were literally uninhabitable. They had cracks all the way through to the foundation. When you went into the basement the basement floor was split like the San Andreas fault. It was horrible. I saw one house that didn't have a front door. In order to get in you had to go through the back yard, up the deck and through the sliding glass door - with no outside lock. I saw one house that had water damage so bad it smelled like crack. And those were the good ones.

I'm becoming frustrated.

So, because of timing I've come to the conclusion that I have to focus on what is important. I have to bump the whole house finding mission until after I take the bar. After all, if I don't pass the bar, even the greatest house in the world is irrelevant. Which brings us back to the original problem.

I am essentially homeless. My baby has heated storage through the winter, so she's ok. But I'm without proper residence. This is what you get when you fly off the handle and make rash decisions. I'm such a moron.

Something will turn up. Everything will be ok. I'm set for now. It's just time to roll with the punches and let life happen while I focus on the big stuff. I've never been very good at that.

I read my post from Friday this morning. I'm alive, just disconnected - pretty much sums it up. I've gotten to the numb stage. I've gotten to the stage where I look at the situation and it feels like someone else's life. I know this is evidence of wall building. I know this is evidence of emotionally shutting down. I know this is evidence of self protective measures I've been trying to avoid. I can't avoid them any longer. I can't handle everything else that's going on and not build walls. Once I came to that conclusion I felt much better. The emotional wall flew up amazingly fast. I'm safe here. I don't have to feel here. Someday I'll deal with the deconstruction. But for now I need something with structural integrity in my life. Even if it is just my own emotional walls.

So that's the latest. Off to study.

Weekend

2007-01-05T14:17:00.000-08:00

I'm off for the weekend. I will be disconnected from technology. Don't worry, I'm alive, just detached.

Have a fabulous weekend!

Half the Battle

2007-01-05T06:53:00.000-08:00

I need a new post. I don't really have anything to say. I don't really feel like blogging. I don't really feel like doing anything. But I need a new post. So it's time to go through the motions, even if the motions are just that...motions.

In an attempt to find something that will occupy my mind and keep me from laying on the couch curled up in the fetal position all day, I have discovered the glories of the Wii. As an admitted technogeek, of course the Wii was acquired at my earliest convenience. It also helps that I have direct contacts within the company thus preventing me from standing in lines to get said console. I am now completely addicted to Zelda. I'm loving the ability to physically strike at my opponents with the controllers. I think I may have dislocated my shoulder and sprained my wrist, but its a fantastic escape.

So today begins the bar study routine. Ugh. I need to scour the half priced bookstores in hopes that I can find the books I need. Which requires me to get dressed and leave the couch. Going through the motions. That's half the battle, right?

Aftermath

2007-01-03T04:45:00.000-08:00

I can't stop crying. Literally. When I stand back and look at myself it is really quite interesting. I didn't know it was possible to wake up crying. I cried myself to sleep last night. I woke myself up crying in the middle of the night. Finally I decided I couldn't sleep anymore and just got up. Even coffee doesn't help, and for me that is saying something. I simply can't stop crying.

I've lived through enough to know the truth that time will make it better. Time is passing so slowly. I don't know how I'm going to get through this. Right now I'm just crying.

He said he didn't understand. After three hours I realized he never will understand. I gave up the fight. I will likely never see him again, and that kills me. Knowing that...and knowing that he is ok with that is...well...I simply can't describe it.

So now I have to figure out what to do. I have to figure out what to say. I have to figure out how to feel. I have to figure out how to get through this without building a wall so high that I won't be able to knock it down again.

As I sat in front of my computer at 4am I re-read through the past year of blog entries. I found this one. Basically, with George I took a leap of faith. I let my guard down. I let him in to places that I had kept guarded and private. I trusted that he was not going to cheat on me. We maintained a monogamous relationship for over a year. I trusted that he wasn't going to lie to me. Even to the point of pain, he has always been brutally honest. I trusted that he was never going to physically or emotionally use me as a punching bag. He never showed signs of lashing out at me in anger, even when I pushed him to the brink. I trusted that he wasn't going to choose a chemical romance over me. He is not an addict.

I guess that means he proved that theory wrong. All men are not cheaters, liers, abusers, addicts or a combination of the four. Not all men are assholes in that way. Some of them just love you, and leave you broken hearted.

It is unrealistic, at this point, in my current emotional state, to make any blanket statements about the future. It is unrealistic to say that I will find someone else, or that I will never love again. But I think it is a perfectly realistic prediction to say that it will be a very long time, if ever, before I let my guard down again. It will be a very long time before I'm ready have someone find me again. It will be even longer before I'm ready to go looking.

I have the ability to be content in my singleness. I enjoy my independence. I have worked very hard in my life to get to the stage where I don't need to be dependant on a man. Now I just need to work on being content without George, enjoying time without George, and getting to the stage where I'm not dependant on George. He's not just a man...he's just the only man who could have broken me like this.

Doors and Windows

2007-01-02T21:42:00.000-08:00

We finished the conversation tonight. It's settled. We're over. Those aren't really the right words. It doesn't feel over, it just hurts. And I am far from settled, I am devistated.

Maybe I was living in a house of illusions. Maybe I was ignoring the reality of the situation. Maybe he is right.

Regardless. It's settled. We're over.

So God...where's my fucking window?

Hello 2007

2007-01-01T10:20:00.000-08:00

I read SBS's post this morning on her New Years resolutions. I've had people asking me what my resolutions are for the new year. I, like many others, have long since abandoned the concept of reinventing my life on January 1. I find that I am completely incapable of sticking to a formulated theory. In other words...I'm lazy. Usually I make "resolutions" for my birthday. It is my own personal benchmark. But this year I think a resolution may be in order.

The other thing that had me thinking was this post. A beautiful post written about boundaries. I often struggle with boundaries myself. My mother was much the same. She still is. I find myself adjusting my own actions and expectations to fit the actions and expectations of those around me. I do this in hope that I will be accepted. I do this in hope that I will be loved.

It has been a year filled with growth. Sometimes painful growth. Sometimes glorious wonderful growth. But growth nonetheless. I have learned many things about myself, about my capacity as a human being, about my own expectations, about the expectations I set for the world. Most of the preconceptions I entered with in 2006 have been shattered. I have met some wonderful people in ways I would have never expected. I have done some outrageous things, I would have never dreamed possible. All in all, it has been an eventful year.

And now, in setting up the new year, I must establish the realm of reason for which I will continue my growth. To accept one day at a time, and be content. To recognize the unrealistic expectations I set for myself based on the actions of others. To act for the betterment of others, without losing the essence of me. To draw boundaries and stick with them. To not build unnecessary walls as a shelter from pain and discomfort. To live honestly and compassionately with those around me. To truly live each day. This is my realm of reason.

I have thoughts swirling inside my head today on the shift of my life. Worries about what tomorrow brings. Stress regarding things that I can control, and stress regarding things that I can't. I still need to buy a house. I still need to study for the bar. I still need to finish the conversation with George. I still need to clean my car, do my laundry, get my hair done, send off thank-you notes for Christmas, take a shower, go running, make a dentist appointment before I leave town again, do the change of address stuff, get tax stuff in order, blah blah blah. I am a whirlwind of emotion.

Yet, I find the center of the storm revolving around George. He is both the calm and the epicenter. The majority of my thoughts revolve around him. The majority of my thoughts branch out from him. The shift in our relationship, in all reality, does not affect the rest of my life. But it affects me.

We talked a little on Friday. He, once again, stated his position. He will not be celibate. He will not do a long distance relationship. He has mentally closed the door on me. He has relegated me to a room in his head where he can lock it away and forget about it. I don't have control over that. The only control I have is what I do.

I don't know if he is doing it because I didn't mean that much in the first place. Or if I was simply a piece of ass that got out of hand. Or if he really loves me and can't deal with the pain. Or if he is pulling away because that's the only way he knows how to deal with it. Or if this is his way of trying to protect me. I don't know what it means. But I know what it is.

So the story continues. Happy 2007.

Goodbye 2006

2006-12-31T15:21:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year y'all!

May you all have a safe one.

I'll be spending it with George...I think. I don't know. Things are a little odd right now. I don't know what he's doing but he's acting really strange. I may end up doing my nails. We'll see.

But may y'all have a very Happy New Year, and be safe!!!

Success

2006-12-30T09:32:00.000-08:00

I went to high school in a small town. There were two high schools there. The public school and the catholic school. We were not catholic, so I went to the public school. I had a graduating class of 236. The other high school had a graduating class of 24.

As in all small towns, high school sports were a big deal. Every Friday night the whole town would gather to watch the varsity team play the game of the season. Basketball, Football, Volleyball, Baseball, Hockey, Wrestling...the sport didn't matter. It was a gathering for the town.

For over 50 years, one of the fixtures at every game was a local man who was severely mentally handicapped. I don't know exactly what was wrong, but he was far from being functional. Yet, every game he was there in the front row cheering on the team. Both teams. And all the players.

He sat in the front row, right at the end of the bench so he could give high-5's to the players as they came off the floor. He huddled with the teams. He cheered with the cheerleaders. He riled up the crowd. He was the honorary mascot. And he never missed a game.

He couldn't drive. And he didn't have the balance to ride a bike. So he walked everywhere he went. He wouldn't take rides from anyone, and often the temperatures were below zero. Yet, everyone knew that if there was a game in town, he would be there.

He died last night. He was 62 years old.

He never held a job. He never married. He never had children. He never learned to read or write. His speech was difficult to understand. But he touched the lives of generations of kids through his dedication to the small things. His life was cheering on the home team.

In my life I have achieved many of the things that he never could. Yet, I doubt I will ever be a fraction of what he accomplished. It is not the size of his mind, but the size of his spirit, upon which he is measured.

Friday Meme

2006-12-29T05:31:00.000-08:00

Thanks to all who responded to my post below...I really would like as much input as possible, so if you haven't commented yet, please do. I'd put in a handy dandy link, but I'm still on my first cup of coffee and that is entirely too difficult for my uncaffinated mind right now.

So...in an effort to blog and because I found it incredibly interesting...I tagged myself with PBW's latest meme...the Bookworm Tag,

1. Books that changed my life:
1L - Scott Turow
The Rich Get Richer, the Poor Get Prison - Jeffrey Reiman
Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee - Dee Brown
Horton Hears a Who - Dr. Seuss

2. Book you’ve read more than once
Cryptonomicon - Neil Stephenson

3. Book you’d want on a deserted island
Cryptonomicon - Neil Stephenson
Perhaps the greatest book of all times. The ending begs a sequel, but after the Baroque Trilogy, I don't know if Stephenson is focused in that direction anymore. I hear he is teaming up with Gaimon for his next effort though...that would be awesome.

4. Book that made you laugh
Straight Man - Richard Russo
Good Omens - Neil Gaimon
I can't just pick one book here. That's not fair.

5. Book that made you cry
Possession - A.S. Byatt

6. Book that you wish you had written
Good Omens - Neil Gaimon
Everything Neil Stephenson wrote except Zodiac

7. Book that you wish had never been written
Anything by John Grisham. I can honestly say I'm simply not a big fan. I think he's singlehandly mutilated the genre of legal fiction.

8. Book that you are reading at the moment
A Game of Thrones - George R. R. Martin
I'm still in my uber geek phase after finishing the Wheel of Time series by Robert Jordan. Martin isn't as captivating as Jordan. And honestly, I'm not much of a fantasy fan.

9. Book you’ve been meaning to read
Bable Tower- A.S. Bayatt.
I've started this book about 10 times. I know once I get over the initial confusion it will be awesome, but I just can't get into it.

10. Book you read in one sitting
I read most books in one sitting. Books are like movies, you can't stop a movie in the middle and go do something else, so how can you put a book down and go do something else? But the last one I actually read without dog earing a page was American Gods by Gaimon.

11. Book you didn’t quite get
Theories of Advanced Property Jurisprudence - Lawton
But that was a text book. As far as actual books? Probably the DeVinci Code. I got the book, I understood the story, but I can't for the life of me understand why it was such a big deal. There are so many better written books on more controversial issues that have been written. I just don't get the hype.

12. Three authors whose books you will always buy or read, no questions asked
Neil Stephenson
Neil Gaimon
Scott Turow

13. Forget the book and just watch the movie
Never. If I wouldn't read the book I wouldn't watch the movie. If I'm going to watch the movie I always read the book first. It's a rule.

Since I tagged myself, feel free to tag yourself. Thanks PBW, this was a blast. It made me go through my mental bookshelf. Now I miss my books. *Sigh*.

So

2006-12-27T18:59:00.000-08:00

So. I've never outright asked for opinions. I've never ever, nor will I ever, dissuaded opinions. I appreciate and respect your opinions. All of them. And to show how much, I am now asking for them.

All my faithful friends - and I call you friends more than readers because you are - are full aware of the situation. I've left town for a new job. George is being called to serve our country. Since August/Septemberish we've admitted feelings, and acknowledged the status of our relationship. We're in love. We're dating. Or at least we were until I left. He does not want to do the long distance relationship thing. He's told me he is not going to be monogamous. You've followed the story. What's your opinion?

Should we stay friends? If we stay friends, how should that relationship play out? Should we talk, and if we talk what should we talk about? Should we e-mail and call...or just send the occasional Christmas card? Should we visit? Should it be strictly platonic? Or if we visit should there be the option for...well...yeah.

Should we just call it good? Should we both just walk away and let fate take over? If it's meant to be let it be kind of thing? Should we take active steps not to talk to each other? Should we take active steps to seek out other people to fill the void? Should we try to forget it ever happened?

Should we keep going? Should we attempt a long distance thing with certain understandings? Should there be no compromise for understandings? Should we take it day by day and see where things go?

Are there other options?

What are the reasonable expectations from both parties in the current situation? What would you consider appropriate conduct? Is it realistic to attempt a long distance relationship at all? Is it realistic to cut off contact completely? Is it realistic to pretend we can go back to being buddies? How is that transition supposed to be made?

Y'all are very bright, educated, honest people. I respect your opinions. So? What is your opinion? Come on now, I seriously want to know.

And So The Story Goes

2006-12-26T21:50:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm on my way back. Christmas is over, and I'm on my way back for New Years. I'm hoping to be there Friday morning, if the weather cooperates. Thankfully I don't have to drive through Denver.

We finished the "conversation" the other night. Basically what it comes down to, at least what I think it comes down to, is this. The reality of life is that we can't be together. Since we can't be together he is not going to live a monkish lifestyle. He's not going to call me his girlfriend while he's overseas.

It's honest. You can't fault him for that. I don't know how I feel about it. It hurts. It hurts bad. But it's honest. There won't be any surprises. There won't be any shock over the girlfriend in Guam. But it hurts.

The thing is, quite frankly, I really don't care if he fucks around while we're apart. I really don't. I just don't want him to find anyone else. He's an honest guy. And while we've been together he's been monogamous. I know that if we ever ended up together again he would be monogamous again. So, if in the meantime, he needs to do what he needs to do, so be it. I just don't want to get the surprise wedding invitation in the mail. You know what I mean?

But at the same time, it hurts. It hurts that he's already thinking about that. It hurts that he knows he's going to do that. It's truthful, but it hurts.

OH YEAH, and remember the married ex-girlfriend? Um...yeah. Evidently it bothers him that I get a little jealous when she pops back into the picture. Even when she pops back into the picture the week after I leave. Even when she pops back into the picture and they talk on the phone. Even when she pops back into the picture and she suddenly declares herself single. Um...yeah. Evidently my little pangs of jealousy bother him. Pfft.

So, that's the skinny on how it's all gone down. Christmas was fairly uneventful. Sad even. But I'm on the road again, and I'll be kissin the man I love for New Years.

Thanks

2006-12-25T06:10:00.000-08:00

I woke up this morning with a headache. I woke up this morning feeling sorry for myself. I woke up this morning laying in bed thinking of all the things that suck about my life. I padded down the stairs in a strange house, to get a cup of coffee from a strange coffee maker, to come sit at a computer that is not mine. All the while, feeling like this had to be the worst Christmas ever.

And then I read Sean's post of the day. Now I feel like a chode.

I am thankful. I am thankful for my family. I am thankful for the health of everyone I love. I am thankful even for George when he is being an ass. I am thankful for all y'all. But most of all I am thankful for all of the experiences that haven't killed me.

Merry Christmas. May you find the gifts that don't fit under the tree.

Merry Fucking Christmas

2006-12-24T21:12:00.000-08:00

Well, we had the beginnings of the "conversation". I guess I should first say...George don't read this. Trust me, you're not going to want to read this.

Evidently I've been wrong the whole time. Evidently I've known from the beginning that this wasn't permanent and that this was just a toss in the hay that got out of hand. Evidently I've known that as soon as I left we ceased being in a monogamous dating relationship. Evidently I've known that we were over as soon as I walked out the door. Evidently I've known that he will not be celibate. Evidently I've known that he does not do the long distance thing. Evidently I knew a lot of things I didn't know I knew.

Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit. And I'll say it again for good measure, Bullshit.

He wants to be "closest of friends" who "talk all the time". But he will not, in no uncertain terms, be celibate. Which, in my mind, loosely translates to "I haven't been celibate and I don't want to feel guilty for it." He says he doesn't do long distance relationships. That's his excuse.

What I can't figure out is what the hell he expects from me. I'm supposed to just chat with him on the phone every now and then and pretend everything is fine? "Hi, how was your day?" "Fine, yours?" "Fine" "Well, then...bye". Yeah. He wants to keep me around for THAT? Bullshit. Bullshit. Bullshit.

So at what point, when there is something that you believe is worth fighting for, do you stop fighting? At what point do you stop making compromises? At what point do you stand up and demand the same respect that you give?

I never expected anything out of him. I never expected anything from him. Maybe that's where I want wrong. Maybe that was my critical mistake. But looking back on it, he never budged once for me. He never compromised for me. He never met me half way.

I know I've said it before. But I only know how to love one way. I love wholly. I love unconditionally. I love completely. There is no half assed in love. I love him. I don't think he loves me the same way. Evidently that is something I should have known.

Context

2006-12-22T19:17:00.000-08:00

When I was 20 I married a Marine. When I was 27 we got divorced, but this story isn't about that. This story is about when I was 20 and I married a Marine.

He proposed after two years of dating. I thought I knew everything. I thought I was ready to take on the world. I thought I was all grown up. Promptly after proposing, he left for boot camp. Three months later he came home a different man. Actually, I'll amend that. Three months later he came home a man. He grew up a lot in that three months. I planned a wedding. Twenty-four hours after he got home we walked down the aisle and got married. Four days after that he left again for more training. I spent my honeymoon at Lake Tahoe with my parents. The "me now" wants to kick the "me then"'s ass. I was stupid. But that's not really the point of the story either, just background for context.

See, over the course of the next four years he was gone for about two and a half of them. Over that time I moved us three separate times to three separate states. I finagled with CO's and hospitals. I harassed banks and loan companies. I managed to squirl away enough money so we could buy a house when he got home. I played Martha Stewart. I learned how to cook. I learned how to sew. I cleaned every square inch of my house every week. My entire life revolved around his deployments and returns.

While he was gone, he did man things. He saw a stripper in Japan slice a banana with her vagina. He got a blow job from a toothless whore. He had a girlfriend in Guam for a while. And when I was busy buying our first home with matching linens, he had a girlfriend in California too. At the time, I just expected that to be what Marines did when they were overseas. That's what I heard they all did. I later learned they didn't all do that. I later learned that this was an ongoing pattern of behavior that did not end when his enlistment expired. His behavior never ended, but the marriage did. Again, this is not really the point of the story either, just background for context.

I believe that all lessons in life repeat themselves until they are learned. I don't know why I believe this, but I do. I find myself now, more than ten years later, facing a very similar situation. Not the SAME situation by any stretch of the imagination, but similar. I just haven't figured out what the lesson is that I am supposed to be learning.

The distance thing doesn't scare me. The time apart doesn't scare me. I can deal with both of those things. I really can. What scares me is that I don't know what it is for. I don't want to set myself up for another repeat of the toothless whore incident again. I don't want to go through the "Hi, this is his girlfriend from California" conversation again. Then again, in theory he's free to do what he wants...right?

I know it all comes back down to the "now what" conversation. The "he won't make any promises he can't keep" but "I don't really want promises, I just want reassurances" conversation. The "we've got years of this ahead of us" conversation, mixed with the "I'm not giving up because you are one of a kind" conversation. The "I don't know what to tell you" and the "I don't know what you want to hear" conversation. The "all I know with certainty is that I love you more than I ever knew possible" and the "you have taught me to believe in things I had convinced myself I couldn't believe in anymore" conversation.

And the resolution to the conversation? I don't know. I don't know what I want it to be. I want him to tell me he is working towards a goal in life that includes me. I want to tell him that I'm in a holding pattern until he is in a place where we can be together. I want him to tell me that when the time is right things will be different. I want to tell him that when things are different I will be here.

But I know him. I know how he thinks. I know how he reacts. And I know what's going through his head. I know he loves me. And in his warped view of life, I know that he thinks the best thing is just to let it go. Let me go. Let it all go. That somehow this will be easier on me, or on him, or on both of us. I don't know what to say to that other than...no.

Argh

2006-12-22T07:38:00.000-08:00

Argh. Yup. Argh. And not like the sexy pirate argh. More like the Charlie Brown argh. Which is technically more like an ugh, but that reminds me of the ugly boots, so again I say argh.

I am feeling pissy. I know I'm feeling pissy. I know why I'm feeling pissy. I've been on the road for a week. I still don't have a place to call "home". I'm staying in my brother's house with the rest of my entire family for the holidays. After the New Year I have to start studying for the bar again, find a house, start my new job, and unpack. I haven't gotten any decent knitting done in over a week. All I want to do is go for a nice long run in the rain, but I have no idea where my shoes are. I think I may go barefoot. Again, I say, argh.

And to top it all off, just when you thought the story of George and Law Girl had come to an end...it has but started a new chapter. Maybe it's best described as a new book. Same themes. Same characters. Different setting. Have I mentioned I'm feeling pissy? I'm irritated with him, but I don't know if I'm really irritated with HIM, or just irritated.

I'm having pangs. That's right, pangs. Pangs of jealousy, pangs of insecurity, pangs of fear, pangs of frustration, pangs of longing, pangs of apathy...pangs. We chatted a lot online yesterday. We didn't leave the house much, and he was snowed in. It was nice to be able to chat with him randomly throughout the day. But he seemed frustrated. He seemed irritated. He seemed like he didn't really want to be talking to me, or that he really didn't have anything to say. Which is understandable. I suppose.

I think, after processing time, that it comes down to the same basic problem I always have. A lack of definition. We are at a totally undefinable place right now. But at the same time, I don't even know the parameters. There are three basic conversations that we had over the last three months that keep going through my head:

End of October: He said he didn't want to do the long distance thing. The long distance thing would be too difficult. That he cared for me deeply, and that he wanted to keep me in his life as a friend, but that the long distance thing was not an option.

End of November: He said he wanted to keep me as a part of his life. He wanted to talk to me every day he could, he wanted to chat with me online, he wanted to be able to see me when circumstances allowed. But that he didn't want to make any promises he couldn't keep.

Mid December: As I was leaving, he said he didn't have any answers to what was going to happen, but that we would figure it out along the way. And that he loves me.

He tells me he misses me. I don't doubt he loves me. I don't doubt he misses me either. But the parameters that I relied on for so long have suddenly shifted. We no longer have a physical relationship to rely on. That's ok. I can live with that. To me it is so much more than a physical relationship. But the question in my mind is what are the boundaries?

He is a big fan of relationships with no expectations. I understand that. And despite my best hopes and wishes, I really don't have any expectations for the future, but I would like to know what my expectations should be for current conduct. Are we still dating? Are we doing the long distance thing? Is he free to go about and sew his wild oats? When we meet up again will there still be the safety net of knowing that it's monogamous?

I know he has enough on his plate right now that he isn't thinking about this stuff. He's focusing on one day at a time, getting through what he has to get through. At the same time, I also know that the social norms of dating change when the relationship becomes long distance. So, at some point I'm sure we'll have to have the conversation. The conversation terrifies me. So once again, I say, argh.

This Is My Christmas Wish

2006-12-21T07:55:00.000-08:00

So, I'm back with the whole fam-damily. It is the season of gathering and festivities after all. In the traditional law girl family way, we are all about to kill each other. And much like Thanksgiving, I can't help thinking that it would be that much better if George were here.

I haven't posted much about being gone. I haven't talked a lot about how much I miss him, but the last day or so has been really hard. We're not even a week into it, and I'm trying to figure out how I'm going to do this. So, in true me fashion, I'm going to blog about it. Because that's what I do.

We still talk every day. We chat online almost every day. We chatted online when we lived in the same state. So it really isn't all that different. But it's so different.

He sends me messages that say "I miss you". These messages make me feel bad. They make me feel bad because they make me so happy. I shouldn't be so happy about him missing me. I don't want him to be as miserable as I am. I don't want him to be as distracted as I am. I don't want him to feel as lost and alone as I do. But I really want him to feel as miserable, and lost and alone as I do. I like that he misses me. I like that he tells me he misses me. But I hate that I feel good that he feels bad. Does that make any sense at all?

And I miss him so much it hurts. When I'm falling asleep at night I close my eyes and picture his face. I picture his eyes, with their freakishly long lashes. I picture his cheek, where he lets the stubble grow in. I picture his hands when they are wrapped up in mine. Sometimes I can almost feel him.

To hear his voice, sounding so close, but knowing it is so far away. To hear the background noise of the place where I am not. To listen to the tale of his day. The sounds of his life so far from where I am. It simply makes me miss him.

So, with less than a week apart, I'm already planning a trip. I need to have something to look forward to. I need to know, for my own personal sanity, when I'm going to see him again. I'm hoping the weather will hold so I can road trip for New Years. There is only one man I want to kiss on New Years Eve. And he is a million miles away. I've been a very good girl this year. Maybe Santa is listening.

Tagged, a Delayed Response Six Weird Things About Me

2006-12-20T05:45:00.000-08:00

So about two weeks ago Sean tagged me. Yeah, I know, delayed reaction. Honestly, it took me a while to think of six weird things that y'all don't already know. Between the neurotic fairy tale romance of the last year and a half, and the top 100 list, there really isn't much left. But, as promised...

"According to the rules, each player of this game starts with the title "Six Weird Things About Me." People who get tagged need to write a blog of their own six weird things and state this rule clearly. In the end, you need to choose six people to be tagged and list their names. Don't forget to leave a comment that says, 'You are tagged!' in their comments and tell them to read your blog!"

1. I cannot sleep in an unmade bed. This is not to say that I have to make my bed every morning. I do make my bed almost every morning, just because I like to have a made bed. But I absolutely, positively MUST have a made bed before I get in to go to sleep. Otherwise the sheets are all blecky and get tangled in my feet.

2. I'm a water snob. I only drink distilled water. In a pinch I'll drink Aquifina, but really I prefer distilled. I haven't drank tap water in years. I won't order water at the restaurant. I won't drink water out of a fountain. There is something about water that isn't pure H2O that simply grosses me out.

3. I'm much more comfortable speaking to a large group of people than I am speaking to people one on one. If given the choice I'd give a lecture to a group of 300 over having a one on one conversation with a stranger any day of the week.

4. I hate shopping. I don't mind buying, but I hate shopping. The process of walking through the store, looking at everything on the shelf, filling the cart, and then standing in line like a lemming drives me nuts. If I'm going to the store, I know what I'm going to buy, I walk in, pick it up, buy it, and leave.

5. I have no feeling in the right side of my lower lip. When they took my wisdom teeth out they cut a nerve. So when I'm nervous, or stressed, I chew on my lip.

6. I am now, officially, the only attorney in the county with both piercings and a tattoo. Shh, don't tell anyone.

I would tag a bunch of people, but quite frankly I don't know that I know six people who read the blog regularly who would actually respond. But thanks Sean, this was my first official tag.

In

2006-12-17T19:07:00.000-08:00

Well, I made it. The cars are all in tact. I'm in tact. I kind of want to shoot my father, but all is well.

Now I have to find a house, or an apartment, or a very sturdy box to set up shop in for a while. I really don't need anything fantastic, but the cost of living is so much cheaper here I'm tempted to buy a monster house. Just because I can. Then again, I could buy the house I NEED, pay it off sooner, and use it as an investment property. But how fun would that be? That would actually be...gasp...adult or something.

Really, when it comes down to it, I don't care. I know in time I will care, but right now I really don't. I could live in a shoe box for all I care. Here is a good place to be for now. It's slow paced. VERY slow paced...I can't even buy coffee on Sunday! What the hell have I done!!!

But I know I won't be here forever, anymore than I was "there" forever. Forever is a very long time. I know I'll be here for a while. A year. Maybe two. Possibly three. It depends. Hell, Johnny Depp could come to his senses and realise that I am his perfect woman and come save me from my mundane life. Uh huah. Yeah. I'm holding my breath.

For now, I just need a flat surface to study for the bar. I need a bed to sleep in. I need a roof over my head. Heat would be good too. Yeah. I like heat. And I suppose I could spring for indoor plumbing. But damn, the all original mahogany library with the rolley ladder would be really fricken cool. Oh well. Maybe someday George will build me my dream house with a library and a rolley ladder. A girl can dream.

Out

2006-12-16T08:33:00.000-08:00

The anticipation is finally over. Last night was it. I'm packing up my computer as soon as I finish this post, and then I'm on my way out of town. After months of planning, it's finally here. I didn't sleep last night. I don't want to go.

You know when you're falling, and even though you know there isn't anything there to hold on to, you flail your arms in search of something to catch you before you hit the ground? Or when you're watching a movie and it just simply ends wrong? That's how it feels right now. I'm almost panicky about leaving town. Leaving George just seems so wrong.

Last night he gathered all our friends for an impromptu going away party. It was supposed to be a surprise, but I got an angry text from one of my friends and he let the cat out of the bag. Having moved around as much as I have, I really hate the goodbyes. I cry every time. So, I've kind of just gotten into the habit of telling everyone I'm leaving and then slipping out of town. I've never had a going away party before. It was nice.

But we left the party early. We went back home and cuddled. I held on to him for dear life, like if I held on strong enough I could take him with me. I cried like a baby. He let me. He walked me to the car, I was still crying. I told him I love him. He told me he loves me. He kissed me, and then whispered "go". I wailed like the Taliban all the way home.

I haven't stopped crying yet. I miss him. I don't know what is going to happen with us next. I don't know when I'll see him again. I don't know if I'll see him again. I don't know how I'm supposed to deal with that.

He was supposed to just be a fuck buddy. It was supposed to be just sex, no emotions, no attachments, no expectations. Now he's the love of my life. He's taught me that it's ok to live in the moment. He's taught me that I can love and be loved. He's taught me to be patient, and to trust. I am grateful. I never thought I'd ever find anyone like him. I'm thankful for the time we had. And maybe it's just a coping mechanism, but I am hopeful for something in the future. I don't know how. I don't know when. I don't know where. But if you're lucky you find something like this once in your life. I'm not giving up that easy.

When he did the suspension in October there was a professional photographer who took some amazing pictures. One of the pictures is of George with all six hooks in his back. The angle is straight on at his back, close up, centered on his sholder blades. I bought the picture for him for Christmas. He doesn't have any place to put it right now. He likely won't have any place to put it for a while. So, I think it's going to live with me until he's ready for it. It makes me smile.

So, until I see him again, I've got his back. And he's going to have to come back to get it.

Creative License

2006-12-14T05:59:00.000-08:00

I was 15 1/2 when I got my first driver's license. It was the most exciting point in my life up till then. The fear of failure was overwhelming to the point that I was sure I was going to fail. I didn't. I passed on the first time.

When I left that state and moved to another, I didn't have to retake any tests to get a new license. I just walked into the DMV, gave them a copy of my social security card, my old drivers license and smiled for the camera. I guess they assumed if I knew how to yield to oncoming traffic in one state, crossing state lines wasn't going to automatically erase that piece of knowledge from my head.

Since the original granting jurisdiction deemed me fit to drive, I've held a license to drive in four different states. One of them actually made me retake the written test, but to date none have made me retake the driving test. Therefore, my profound parallel parking skills have only been tested once in my life. And that was nearly 20 years ago. But trust me when I say, I parallel park exactly the same way now as I did then. Horribly.

Now, as a lawyer I have to be licensed in the state where I am working. It seems like yesterday that I was filling out the 40 page application to take the bar for the first, and in my mind only, time. They wanted to know every address - even temporary - for the past 10 years. Every job - even temporary, including periods of unemployment longer than 28 days - for the past 10 years. A copy of my first born, blood samples, and proof that I wipe front to back - in triplicate. I'll admit, I faked it a little. But it went through. After six long weeks of 9 hour days studying for the bar I sat for the exam, passed, and whammo bammo I was a lawyer.

Somehow the logic of driver's licenses does not carry over to legal licenses. Every state requires me to take the bar again until I have practiced in one jurisdiction for at least 5 years. Yeah, like I'm ever going to live anywhere for five years in a row. So, I've spent the last 24 hours filling out yet another bar application to sit for yet another bar. Ugh. And to make matters worse, my deadline is Friday. Yup, Friday. Last time it took me 3 weeks to do the application. I found out on Tuesday night that I had to have the application done on Friday. Ugh.

So, I've decided to stay where I'm at until I get it done. Addresses, phone numbers, names, and dates are simply easier to access here than they will be when I'm on the road. The down side of that is I closed on the house on Wednesday, so I'm squatting at various places until I leave town.

On the up side, I finally know where I'm going. I finally know when I'm going to get there. And for the first time in months, I know for sure what I'm going to do when the dust settles. It's not glamorous. It's not the most amazing, write home to your mom, front page news kinda thing in the world, but all in all I think it will be ok.

Now, with all of that, Tuesday was supposed to be my last night with George. Now that I'm in town until Saturday morning, Friday will be my last night with George. One more page in the "I'm leaving...wait not yet" book we have so craftily written over the course of the past three months.

But, I'll think about that when I get the application done. Back to trying to figure out whether I wore black or navy on November 18, 1997.

Wee Wee Wee

2006-12-11T18:16:00.000-08:00

Gushy gushy mush mush girly girly isn't my boyfriend dreamy?

Yeah. That's about all I have to say. I'm all gushy and giddy and girly right now. We spent the afternoon together. We had alone time. He held my hand when we walked down the street. We ate chocolate and drank mocas. It was fabulous. I cried all the way home. Wee wee wee.

I missed him more than I thought I would this weekend. I thought with all the traveling I was doing that it would be easier because I would have other things to distract me. Don't get me wrong, I was still very productive. I still did what had to be done. But every time I would look at a house I would think about him. Every time I drove by something mildly interesting, I thought of him. Every time I looked at my phone, I thought of him. Every time I stopped thinking about anything else, I thought of him. And sometimes, even while I was thinking about other things, I was still thinking about him.

It was just nice to see him. It was nice to walk in the door and sit down on the couch next to him and have him wrap me in his arms. It was nice to have him just reach over to touch me for no reason. It was just nice to see him.

That said, things are a little up in the air right now. I'm either moving a million miles away, or to a million years ago. The fact that I have to be out of the house on Wednesday morning doesn't help matters any. I'm twittery beyond all belief. I'm essentially homeless, only because some last minute developments came up and I now have a potential different home. And I simply don't know what to do.

There is still a big part of me (ok, all of me that won't listen to reason) that wants to stow away in his luggage when he leaves. Not because I want to marry him. Not because I want to be with him for the rest of my life. Not because I want to be the mother of his children. I don't know those things yet, and frankly they freak me out to even type them. But because I can't imagine not being with him. I can't imagine him not being with me. I don't want to be a million miles apart from him. That's all. Unfortunatly for me there just isn't open combat going on in the midwest right now. So I guess I just have to accept the reality of what is.

For now I make plans minute by minute. I may be on the west coast. I may be in the midwest. Hell I could even be on the east coast. I don't know where I'll be. But wherever it is I'll be there by Friday.

So, if you see a big ass truck towing a super hot muscle car driving down the road with a red faced hystarical blond...wave and be nice. I've had a long month.

A Week In The Life

2006-12-10T22:12:00.000-08:00

I'm alive. No worries. I figured it out, and in a sevin day period I traveled over 3000 miles. And I didn't even get a cookie.

I've visited family. I've re-visited places I swore I'd never go again. I drove roads that were so dark the night seemed to swallow everything outside of my headlights. I drank at a bar by myself...well, for a little while anyway (I'm social, what can I say). The curve in the road of my life that I've been straining to see finally started to show itself. All in all it's been a good week.

But I'm tired. Emotionally I feel like I've been put through the ringer. Physically I feel like a big bag of crap because I've spent the majority of the week sitting in anticipation of arriving at the next destination. I need a couple of days to recover.

As with all things in life, it's either feast or famine. Right now there is so much going on I don't have time to rest. I don't have time to recover. I have to process everything that is going on as it is happening, or it simply won't get processed.

So for now, I sleep. Tomorrow begins a new day. And I get to spend my last few hours with George. I'm looking forward to seeing him.

Livin Like A Rock Star

2006-12-06T16:36:00.000-08:00

I'm livin a bit of a vagabond lifestyle right now. It is an experience I thought I had left behind me in my 20s. Some things are just too deeply ingrained I guess. I've spent about 2 nights in my house since the movers cleared everything out. It's just too...hollow I guess.

Tomorrow I head out of town again for a couple of days. When I get back the clock starts ticking down the hours I have left in this place. As much as I have planned for this, as much as I have mentally, physically and emotionally prepared for this...I'm not ready.

I realised today that I have about 4 hours left with George. I was hoping he would come with me tomorrow, but that didn't happen. After all this time, we have about four hours left. I have about four hours to have him hold me. I have about four hours to look at him. I have about four hours to feel his hand. There won't be time to arrange more alone time, but hopefully we'll get to spend it quietly. Then again, I don't know that it matters.

Where we are going takes us to places where the likelyhood of ever seeing each other again is slim. I know that. Still...I refuse to admit that reality to myself. I refuse to admit that the most amazing thing I have ever found is just over. I cannot accept that the rightness of what we are together can just end. Yet I know it is, and I know it will.

I really wanted him to go with me tomorrow. I really wanted him to travel that path with me. I wanted him to hold my hand and tell me that it was not as bad as I thought it was. I wanted him to be there for me when I went through my emotional wrecking ball. But, I know that even if he was there tomorrow he wouldn't be there after. The path that I have to travel I will have to travel without him. I might as well start tomorrow. It doesn't really matter.

So there may be some radio silence again for a while. I'll be back, I always am.

The Morning After

2006-12-01T07:42:00.000-08:00

The hurry up and wait is killing me.

So, originally George was supposed to be gone a month ago. Now, if all the paperwork goes through he will be leaving around the middle of December. The constant yo-yo of "I'm leavin...wait not yet" is really driving me nuts. But the worst thing is that we've lost our solitude.

Thinking he was going to be leaving the end of October, he gave up the lease on his apartment November 1st. Since then he's been staying with a friend who has been nice enough to let him crash on the couch. For various reasons, my house is not an option. The primary problem with this...aside from the fact that he's crabby all the time because his life is all akimbo, is that we have no place to...well...yeah.

So, after an almost three week celibacy run he arranged some alone time for the two of us last night. It was Amazing. It was wonderful. It was terrific. I could come up with more adjectives but I'm sure that communicates the idea just fine.

But, what I take away from last night isn't the Amazing. The Amazing is always Amazing. What I take away is how wonderful he is. How kind and sensitive and caring he is. How he arranged for the alone time in the first place. How he held my hand. How he focused on me and my sensations until I had no choice but to focus on them as well. How he held me when it was over. That is what I take away with me.

Since it has been a while, I forgot how emotionally vulnerable I feel after a really good romp. How I need to be held and told I'm special. I dozed off in his arms for a while while we were watching TV. At one point I rolled over and told him I loved him. He grunted back. After that I couldn't sleep again. I waited for him to fall asleep and I left.

There is no doubt in my mind he cares for me. There is no doubt in my mind that I am special to him. Through every touch, every word, every action, he communicates how he feels - without ever actually saying the words. But a grunt has the ability to throw me into a tailspin of self doubt and second guessing. It gets me thinking about the last time he actually said it, and whether he still feels it, and whether he has second thoughts, and whether he has someone else, and whether I'm still the woman he wants, and whether I'm the only one who is going to be shattered when he leaves, and whether I'm making a complete ass out of myself.

I know it's just fear. I know it's unfounded, unrealistic, insecurity. Maybe.

I was thinking about it on the drive home last night. For over a year I had to ignore the actions that I perceived to betray his emotions. For over a year he told me he didn't love me, couldn't love me and never would love me. For over a year he explained away the actions that told me otherwise. Now, I suppose I am supposed to rely on the actions - that he has told me don't mean anything - to tell me that he really does care. I know that if we had time I would learn to trust those actions. I know that if we had time I would gain the confidence necessary to let my insecurities go and not need to hear it as often. But the one thing we don't have left is time.

Time Warp

2006-11-30T03:32:00.000-08:00

Randomly, a couple of weeks ago, I rediscovered Ani Difranco. I was on a big Ani kick sometime in the early to mid 90's. It was an interesting phase of my life, in general. I was rebelling against what society told me I should be as a wife and a mother and a woman in general. I had dreadlocks. I had dyed my hair red for the first time. In an attempt to discover the true feminine power within I became a little militaristic in my feminist ways. I indited the patriarchy and the dichotomy of the capitalistic middle class society. I wore boots. I stopped shaving my legs.

Eventually, like boiling a frog, conformity snuck in. The dreadlocks got cut. The legs got shaved. I stopped spelling women with a 'y'. The Ani CD's floated to the bottom of the pile along with the Clash and Bob Marley.

But a couple of weeks ago the goldfish song crept into my head and I needed to hear it again.

"Goldfish have no memories,

I guess their lives are much like mine.

And the little plastic castle

Is a surprise every time.

And it's hard to say if they're happy,

but they don't seem much to mind."

For the next two days I drove around singing at the top of my lungs. Reliving the memories of rebellion and discovery. Wishing I was a goldfish.

Then I found one of the CD's I hadn't liked as much at the time. I don't know why I didn't like it as much, it's a little darker. A little more angry. A little more beat down than I wanted to feel at that stage in my life I suppose. Now I have found new understanding and self discovery through the music, that I didn't have the experience to understand at the time. My brain woke me up this morning with these lyrics:

"I said if you don't come any closer

I don't mind if you stay.

My thighs have been involved in many accidents,

and I can't get insured

and I don't need to be lured by you.

My cunt is built

like a wound that won't heal.

Now you don't have to ask

cuz you know how I feel."

It's raw. It's rough. But in the word's ability to show both vulnerability and strength it is beautiful.

I don't know why my subconscious decided that this needed to be my wake up song today. I know this is how I am feeling. The raw, wounded part of me is lashing out in self defensiveness right now. But, as with all good Ani songs, it's also got a rhythm that just simply makes my butt want to wiggle.

So, the day is off to a good start. I have about a million things to do and I can't sit here and ponder words and life and history and song any longer. But I will be singing "Both Hands" while I'm in the shower this morning. I will be humming "Imperfectly" while I'm working. And if I turn the music up loud enough, I sound JUST LIKE Ani.

Agnostic Death

2006-11-27T17:32:00.000-08:00

I'm home. Well...the place that serves as home for a little while longer. I traveled all day yesterday to come home and hit a brick wall of transitional anxiety. Everything I have been dreading will come to pass within the next three weeks. We're still waiting on a firm date for George to leave...typical military style. My house is set for closing the second week of December. At that point I am essentially homeless. I will go my way, and he will go his.

I find myself editing my thoughts. Much like Chris talked about in one of her posts the other day. At times, when real life discovers the blog it seems to almost encroach on the blog. I find that I edit what I write and who I write about, knowing who is reading. I edit my thoughts when I think past Christmas. In all reality I try not to think past Christmas as much as possible. It simply hurts too much. I edit what I say, knowing that words are wielded like swords and can cut even when used in defense. I edit my hopes, knowing that if hopes were wings turtles would fly.

In time all things fade. Enough has faded in my life for that truth to be real. I simply don't want this to fade. I don't want it to be over. I don't want him to be gone. I don't want to be gone. In time that will fade too. For now, it makes a lump in my throat that won't go away.

Last night we cuddled for hours. Last night we talked about random subjects that crept into our minds. Last night we held hands, and locked legs, and we just were. By this morning the feeling of his body against mine was just a memory. The recollection of his fingers wound in mine just a fading recollection. It is against this fading that I fight. This is all I will have left of him soon and I don't want it to go away. Yet, I can't even manage to keep it for a matter of hours. How am I supposed to hold on to that for years.

He asked me last night what I wanted for Christmas. All I want for Christmas is him. I want him to be there. I want a hug on demand. I want to be able to see him three times a week like I have grown to need. I want every Sunday night to be spent curled up on the couch watching tv together talking about whatever comes up. I want now...to last.

We have had the discussion about what comes next. What happens after we go. There will be no long distance relationship. There will be no promises that cannot be kept. There will be no hope, no dream, no wish. It will be like an agnostic death. Simply over. No explanation. No place beyond. No "and then". I don't know how I feel about that. Part of me is grateful that there isn't any false hope. But part of me wishes I could be left with something to hold on to when the days are like today. Something beyond nothing.

Most days I do ok. Most days I wake up and go about my life one step at a time. Most days I can get through the day minute by minute, task by task. Most days I can keep myself busy enough that I don't have to think about tomorrow. Today was not one of those days.

Evidently I Was In The Closet

2006-11-25T18:40:00.000-08:00

ARRRGGGHHH. There, I feel better now. I just need to vent I think.

At some point I think my father forgot I passed the age of 12. My mom and I have always had this weird relationship where we're more like sisters than mother and daughter. And not really in a good way, more like the we fight all the time kind of way. There have been many times where I have been placed into a parental role by my mother, years before I was ready to be there. (Therapy is great ain't it?). But to my father, I think I stopped ageing at 12. Add that to the fact that I was fortunate enough to be born with a vagina, which is seen as a disability in the eyes of my father, and I am a complete moron incapable of ordering her own food at the taco bell drive through.

Don't get me wrong, I'm a lucky kid. My dad has always attempted to treat us equally, lovingly, generously, and to raise us with values. But some people are simply a product of their own upbringing. At least for me it's easier to blame it on my grandfather. He was kind of an ass after all.

That said, mom and dad don't know details about George. Not that they should know details, but they don't know we're dating. Ok, so until today they didn't really even know he existed. They generally knew I had friends of different genders, but I was always careful to keep the conversations so that the names changed enough that they couldn't pin point anyone in particular. Today, however, when dad asked me the "are you seeing anyone" question, it just seemed...well...like it was time to let them in on it. I mean, I have met his parents, it is at least fair that mine know he exists isn't it?

So, back to the question. We're sitting in the living room, watching the baby toddle around on the floor and dad asks me if I'm seeing anyone. I answer with a simple "yes".

Uncomfortable silence ensues.

And continues.

For

A

Very

Long

Time.

And then my mother pipes up..."well...does this person have a name?"

Enjoying the drama just a little more than I probably should...me, in my smart ass way, answers back "yes".

Uncomfortable silence ensues.

[Insert uncomfortable amount of time here]

My father looked at me with a stern look, crossed his arms, scratched his chin. He took a deep breath, looked at my mother and then asked "It is a boy isn't it?"

Now, at this stage of the game I'm almost having fun. I know where my father's mind is going, and although it kind of grosses me out to think that my dad even knows what a lesbian is, it is also kind of fun to think that I could actually have him going for a while. I mean, MY GOD, I'm 30someodd years old. You think they would have figured it out by now. But NOOOOO, if I'm not married the only other alternative (at least to my father) is that I must be a lesbian. So...just for fun, I play into it. I know, I'm a bitch.

So, I answer "no, not a boy".

Because, seriously, we have all read the posts. We've all kept up on the story. He is far from a boy. He is a man. Never get into a semantical debate with a lawyer.

My mother actually squeaked. My father humpfed like he got kicked in the gut, and then launched in to a lecture about how he loves me for me and that my choices of lifestyle will never change that. At this point I'm almost giggling.

So at the first opportunity I interrupted my dad and told him that the someone was not in fact a boy, but was a man named George. That George was in the military and so our relationship was kind of up in the air, but that he is a very special guy and if the opportunity arises I expect them to be nice to him because he's very special to me and I'd like him to be around for a while.

I don't think he believes me. I think dad still thinks I'm a lesbian. Oh well.

Tradition

2006-11-22T22:53:00.000-08:00

So I'm with my family for the great Turkey Day tradition. I am thankful that I came from a family of computer geeks and my brother's house has ample laptops just laying around and a fantastic wireless connection.

I love my family, don't get me wrong, but time and time again I am reminded why we all live in different time zones. My brother has the most amazing sense of humor I've ever been around in my life. But he drives me crazy and stresses me out. My sisters are almost as crazy as I am, and make me even more so. And my parents...don't even get me started.

But tomorrow we will feast. In the traditional Law Girl family way we will stuff our faces until we feel like we can't eat another bite and then make "wafer thin mint" jokes for about an hour.

In all of this chaos, I look around at the faces that look so much like mine, and I wonder. I wonder if they think the same things about me. I wonder if they think that I'm the crazy one who lives in fly over land. I wonder if they talk about me when I'm not here. I wonder if in 40 years we'll still be doing the same things. The traditions that mom and dad have forced on us our whole lives, that we have all rebelled from, will they hold true once they are gone? Will we come up with our own as replacements?

I watched the kids sliding across the hardwood floors in their socks. The baby toddling around, wanting to be like the big kids. It reminded me of all those thanksgivings when we were younger. The years where one of us would beat on another one and there would be a screaming match ending with mom threatening to pull out the paddle. The years where we brought in people who had no place else to go, and the weirdness an extra person brought to the table. The years where one of us would bring the new significant other of the month to introduce to the family. The faces that have all passed from memory.

That, of course, made me miss George. I wanted to bring him with me. I wanted to introduce him to my family. I wanted him and my dad to sit and debate electric currents and copper wire. I wanted him and my brother to sit and geek out on the new laptop. I wanted to watch my sisters size him up and decide whether he would be worthy of their best behavior. But...well...yeah.

So, I sit. The family is all sleeping now. The strange house making unfamiliar noises. Curled up in an odd bed, typing on an unfamiliar keyboard. Missing.

Christmas Is Comming...I Need More Yarn

2006-11-20T19:55:00.000-08:00

I am a knitting machine....

And here is what I have been doing since I rolled in from the great tundra on Saturday...yes...Saturday.

This is my first attempt at lace. Isn't it pretty? I really like it. I may not give it away. I haven't decided yet. Then again...

I haven't quite mastered blocking. This is what it looks like when it's not stretched out by the chair. It kind of looks like used pantyhose. I haven't decided how I'm going to fix it yet.

That...and my office is REALLY dirty.

Then there is the Zebra scarf. I still have to sew the buttons on for the eyes, but I can't find the buttons I want to use. All in all I'm not displeased with this one. I kind of wish I had made it out of real yarn and not the crappy remnants that had been laying around in my stash though.

Next up is my first attempt at illusion knitting.

If you look at it straight on it looks like a normal boring scarf. But if you look at it from a different angle you can see the pattern. (Hearts). I stole the pattern from a sock pattern. I really want to do the socks next...but alas I have to wait until I get all of my other knitting done first.

This is the coolest hat in the history of the world. I LOVE this hat. The picture does not do it justice. There is a lace brim all the way around and then it's just snug all the rest of the way up. I used about half a skein of soy silk yarn (YUMMY). I may not give this hat away. I don't know. I finished it about 20 minutes ago and I'm already casting on for another one. Maybe I'll keep that one instead.

This was my first attempt at colorwork. It's a bag that still has to be felted. I'm hoping some of the wonkiness gets worked out in the felting process. If not...oh well.

This is the other bag I did. The colors totally didn't show up right on my camera though. It still needs to be felted too. I suppose I'll have to do another round of pictures.

Generally I shy away from felting. I've felted before, but it hides the stitches and generally I find it a waste of yarn. HOWEVER, it is a quick way to knock out some fast Christmas gifts.

So...that's all I've been up to. I think I have carpel tunnel now.

Two sweaters, three hats, two pairs of socks and I'm done. Ugh.

I AM SO EXCITED I COULD SPIT!!!!!

2006-11-18T11:13:00.000-08:00

Chickapea is finally home! Let the blogasphere rejoice!!!

I have never met SBS in person. It is likely that I never will. But her trials and tribulations of bringing Chickapea home have kept me on the edge of my seat for near six months. I know I am not nearly as excited as she. I know there are stresses that have happened, and stresses yet to come. But I am so excited and happy for her, that I can hardly sit.

Congrats dear. You are a wonderful mother, and she is a very lucky little girl to have been found by you.

And yes, I expect updates and pictures. I want to be the first blogatious Aunt in the world.

Selfishly Silent

2006-11-17T20:02:00.000-08:00

I just got home from camping. Ok, so it was about the wussiest camping trip I've ever been on, but between the martian death flu refusing to leave my body, and the fact that it's fricken cold outside, I don't feel bad about cutting it short.

Occasionally I go on sabbatical. I throw the sleeping bag in the back of the truck, pick up some beef jerky and some caned fruit, and head out to the hills. Ok...so not really "hills" but you know what I mean. With everything going on right now I just needed some silence. It didn't happen the way that I wanted, but it was a good trip nonetheless.

I don't really have anything else to say about that. I still need some silence. I still need to sit in the middle of nowhere and sleep when it's dark and wake when it's light. I need to be able to silence my mind to the sound of the wind. At this stage of the game I'm probably going to have to wait till spring.

I've wrapped up the semester. My kids all passed. Ok...there are a couple who are right on the boarder, but I think they'll pull it together next semester. I've got all my work wrapped up. The house is packed...pretty much. My work here is done.

I am starting to look forward to the next great adventure. I've realized, in the past few months, that I no longer define myself by my profession. I no longer define myself in terms of my relationship with other people. I have begun to define myself for who I am. I think that is part of why I have been feeling so lost and ungrounded. It has been a long time since I have had to define myself based on me alone. And it's taken me a while to figure out who I am, and to be comfortable with that. It is so much easier to fall into the role of daughter, sister, girlfriend, lawyer, teacher, mentor, friend. Before you realise it you have lost your own definition.

So who am I? I am me. I am an ever changing composite of everything I have ever done. I am a mosaic of the people who have touched my life and who have left their mark. I am an empty vessel waiting to be filled with experience. I am scarred. I am ugly. I am beautiful. I am loved. I am unlovable. I am a conundrum wrapped in a riddle. I am me. And it is time for me to be.

Hook Line and Sinker

2006-11-12T10:23:00.000-08:00

Growing up in about a million look alike small towns, one of the things I enjoy in adulthood is diversity. I truly enjoy the individuality of people who have been cultivated in places where their individuality has been allowed to grow rather than repressed into the oneness of the Norman Rockwell painting.

Because of this urge to find the truly unique and cutivatedly different, my peer group is a montly crew of people. I have friends who dress up in suits, wear coveralls, wear the white uniform of the medical profession, are unemployed, are starving musicians, are punk, are heavy metal, are emo, are country, are conservative, are liberal, are straight, are gay, are somewhere in between. These wonderful people with their glorious blends of humanity have allowed me views on life my sheltered childhood prevented.

One of my favorite people is a professional body piercer. He also happens to be my own personal piercer. He is amazingly talented, and although humble, probably one of the top 10 in the nation. He looks like you would expect a piercer to look. He's kinda creepy looking. He has dreadlocks down past his waist. He has more tattoos than I've seen outside of a magazine. He is obviously pierced, but he also has an assortment of implants distorting the natural shape of his head and hands. And he is extremely intelligent. He knows the cultural significance of each of the markings on his body. He knows the historical beginnings of the art that he does, and what he does is art, any way you look at it. I don't like needles, but I adore this guy and have come to really enjoy what he does.

This weekend he did a suspension show. It's not his first suspension show, but it was the first performance show in front of a crowd in the area. There were some glitches, but all in all it was amazing. His set went off between a couple of bands. In theory the show was supposed to be about the bands, and his act was supposed to be the filler during set-up. But, he stole the show.

There were four bands. One of the bands simply sucked. They had put all of their artistic energy into the attempt to be as offensive as possible. And I have a pretty high tolerance for offensive. They weren't even artistic. They just sucked. The other three bands were pretty good. The cool thing about the other three bands is that the members of the bands kept mixing up and they all just played together. One of the lead singers...we're going to call him black fairy man (because he was dressed all in black including his black goth fairy wings) was clearly out of it.

During the suspension black fairy man kept acting like a spoiled child. It was like he was personally offended that the entire crowd wasn't watching him during the set change. He even went so far as to encourage the crowd to break down the barriers set up for the safety of the people suspending. All of that would have been marginally excusable but for the fact that it was obvious that the guy was completely fucked up at the time. Art is art, be it music or some other form. If you don't have enough respect for what you do to do it without stumbling around on the stage I have a hard time taking you seriously. Sorry.

That said, about 45 minutes later, as the really horrible band was playing, I was sitting in the back of the room with Ms. Twinkie watching the crowd bounce around. I was watching the "I'm too cool to be here" emo kids sit on the side of the room bobbing their heads to the bass. I watched the "I can't believe they bought the fake ID" kids clearly out of their element. I watched the "I'm WAY to fucking drunk to still be on my feet and I'm going to give a lap dance to the table" girl fall over when she forgot she was wearing heels. And I watched black fairy man stumble in.

He walked in from the back of the room, weaving and stumbling, trying to stay on his feet. The crowd was pushed up towards the stage, so there was a pretty good clear space towards the back. He wove his way towards the wall, held on to the wall for dear life, and then just slid down on to his ass and sat there. His pasty white face a beacon against the broken black wings smashed against the brick. We watched him, making sure he was still breathing. The crumpled mass of the leader of the crowd sitting, ignored, in the back of the room.

From my vantage I could see the crowd worshiping the stage. Thrashing their bodies in rhythm to the performing band. Backs turned on the developing scene inches behind them. Black fairy man likely didn't even know where he was. He had been drawn like a moth to the flame, back to the crowd. Back to the noise. Back to where he felt he belonged. But absent the microphone, absent the stage, absent the bright lights, he was nothing. Left isolated in the corner, laying in a pool of his own vomit.

Tomorrow I go back to the world of blond hair and navy suits. Of briefcases and nude stockings. Of American made cars and suburbs, and discussions of global economies and supreme court rulings. But are the worlds that much different? Once we take off the costumes, once we jump down from the stage, once the lights turn off and the microphone is taken away...we're really all the same. Searching for the place where we can be accepted. Searching for the people who won't leave us in the back of the room laying in a pool of our own vomit.

The imagery from that evening is extremely powerful. The complete relegation of control by those hooked and hung in the suspension. The hungry eyes of the performers searching for acceptance. The complete bottom of the black fairy man. And yet, the pictures all fit in the album of my life.

PS. Thanks for letting me use your pic George.

"Just" Is Not Justifiable Anymore

2006-11-09T21:29:00.000-08:00

"Hey Doc, it hurts when I do this."

"Then don't do that."

We all have strange reactions to pain. I have a friend to actually giggles through pain. I know people who scream and cry and lash out in violence at pain. I know people who become defensive, I know people who become offensive. Human reaction to pain is not uniform.

My reaction is to run. If it hurts, don't do it. If it hurts get away from it. If it hurts pull away. And the easiest way to pretend it doesn't hurt is to pretend it never happened in the first place. Unfounded, delusional, denial is not the healthiest of all emotions. I'll be the first person to admit. However, it works. It's either that or a bottle of gin. And I really don't want to go there.

I tried to run this week. On Monday I took affirmative measures to begin the disappearing process. To allow myself the ability to pretend George never happened and was simply a figment of my imagination. It hurts. It hurts to have him leave. It hurts to watch him make the preparations without giving me a second thought. I recognize that I should not really be a second thought, but at the same time there is a very selfish part of me that wants to know that he hurts too.

He's mad at me. He's hurt and angry and scared that I'm going to just disappear. I can understand his perspective. I understand the feeling of abandonment. I understand the feeling of being completely helpless to change a situation that causes more pain than you knew you were capable of feeling. Welcome to the club.

We both want reassurances. He wants the reassurance that I will be his friend when he goes. I want the reassurance that (a) he loved me in the first place and it wasn't just a bunch of bullshit he handed me to keep me from walking away a month ago and (b) that what we have is something special.

These are reassurances that neither one of us can give at this point.

So, once again, we are at an impasse. In practice what each of us wants is not that different. However, emotionally they are worlds apart. I have been relegated to the world of "just friends" for over a year. I finally broke free of that label. We are more than just friends. I don't want to go back to a "just". It hurts to go back to a "just". I don't ever want to be his "just" again.

But I don't know how to explain it. I don't want to get married tomorrow. I sure as hell don't want him to propose before he goes. I don't want to move to Afghanistan and be a military wife. I guess what I really want is affirmation and hope. Affirmation that we really are something. Affirmation that I mean something to him. Affirmation that I am not just a footnote in the history of his life. Hope that someday, if circumstances permit, that we could play an important role in each other's lives. Hope that what I've come to believe in is true.

He wants just a friend.

So I think he broke up with me today. I don't know. I can't tell. I don't know much of anything anymore.

On Your Mark

2006-11-06T21:05:00.000-08:00

He's home.

Denial is a wicked wicked mistress.

Now the hard part starts.

There will likely be a little radio silence from Law Girl land for a while. No worries. All is well.

Fuzzing

2006-11-06T09:13:00.000-08:00

My brother is a techno geek. I generally grew up in a techno geek family. Where most families poured over the latest car magazines, or the NY Times, my family poured over PC Magazine and Engineers Weekly. Believe me when I say I'm the idiot of the family, and I'm the lawyer.

That said, my brother and I were on the phone the other day. He was explaining the latest in software development and a technique called Fuzzing. I, being the sicko that I am, of course had to make an off color reference to furries. Not at all the same thing...still a funny techno joke in there somewhere I think.

But it's an interesting concept. Evidently the theory behind Fuzzing is that you take a piece of software, or hardware, and just throw a bunch of inputs at it to see what happens. The goal is to see how far it will last before it crashes, or to test it's outward capability. Yes, there is a much more technologically complicated way to explain it, but I think that about covers the basics for my purposes anyway.

So, I spent the weekend Fuzzing my brain. This was the big weekend. George left on Friday to go tell the kids. He's physically coming home today, but I don't expect him to really be here. This was the last step in his emotional preparation to leave.

As my preparation to him being gone I Fuzzed. I alternated between listening to every Ani DiFranco CD I could find, and watching Princess Bride and When Harry Met Sally. I knitted. I cried. I screamed at the walls. I cried. I looked at all the pictures I had of him. I cried. I re-read every conversation we had on IM that was stored in my archives. I cried. I re-read all of my texts from him. I cried. I finished packing away all of the movie stubs, concert tickets, receipts, and stuffed animals I had acquired from him over the past year. I cried. It was my own personal emotional fuzzfest.

I don't know if it worked. I don't know what I expected. But it was an interesting experiment. This does not mean, however, that I will experiment with furries at some point. But it does prove that I have a warped ability to mutilate technology to my own evil purposes...bwah ha ha ha.

To Dream The Impossible Dream

2006-11-04T09:22:00.000-08:00

A few months ago I started having these dreams. I've heard of people who have had reoccurring dreams. But these aren't exactly reoccurring. They just continue. Like I'm living a separate life while I'm sleeping. When they started I would have one dream every few weeks. Then one every week or so. Then a couple times a week. Then almost every night. Then a couple of times a night. Now, it's almost every time I close my eyes. It is seriously driving me nuts. My subconscious is trying to tell me something I think.

But the dreams terrify me. They scare me so much I wake myself up out of the dream. Many times I'll wake up in a cold sweat. Most of the time falling asleep after I've woken up is almost impossible. And I always wake up at the same point. The point where my mind finally registers that it is in fact a dream, and I can in fact wake up.

See, when the dreams started they were about me and George. They were about the two of us doing normal things. Waking up together, making dinner together, fixing stuff around the house together. Normal things. But in every dream it would pick up where the last one left off. We would just continue fixing what we were fixing in the dream before.

Then one night, in my dream, I started planning our wedding. Yup. That's right. Our wedding. So far, in the dream (and like I said, it just keeps continuing where it left off...so it is pretty much one dream), we've picked out the invitations, the flowers, and the tuxes. We've decided on who will perform the ceremony, but we're still debating where the ceremony will be performed. His sister and I have gone shopping for dresses. His mother and I picked out the flowers (gladiolas, day lillies and white roses). His mother and my mother decided on the wording for the announcement in the paper. They also have discussed shopping for dresses together. We've decided who will be in the wedding party. We've picked out the reception hall. We've listened to bands for the reception. Seriously folks, this has been a very long, very complicated, very detailed dream.

And it's seriously eating into my beauty sleep.

I don't know what it means. It scares me. Seriously scares me. I don't believe in weddings. I don't believe in happily ever after. I don't believe in all that anymore.

I'm sure it has something to do with my subconscious wanting to know that he will be a part of my life for a long time. I'm sure it has something to do with my subconscious enjoying the time I spend with his family and not wanting that to end. I'm sure it has something to do with my fucked up perspective on relationships in general. And I'm sure the dream will eventually stop. At least I hope it does.

Part of the scariness of the dream is that while it is happening I like it. I like the planning. I like seeing him smile when I ask him about the cake. I like the concept that he's chosen me. I like that our families get along. I like that I get to hang out with his mom and his sister. I like looking at pretty dresses. I like decorating our living room and picking out kitchen stuff. I like it. And when I realise what it is that I like...and why it is that I like it...that's when I wake up in a cold sweat.

On Dreams...A Preamble

2006-11-03T18:50:00.000-08:00

I have worn many hats throughout my life. The hat that labeled me daughter, sister, wife, aunt, friend, and yes I have worn the hat that labeled me wife.

I don't talk about my marriage in the blog. I feel the need to make some sort of disclaimer on that. I was too young when I got married. He was too young when we got married. And by the time we finished growing up, we looked at each other and decided we had not grown into people who could be compatible. That...and he never quite got the concept of monogamy.

The divorce shattered me, and my fundamental beliefs on life, in many ways. I took "forever" maybe just a little too literally. When I walked down the aisle I believed it was the only time I would be a bride. I still held strong to the fairy tale romance of "the one and only". It has taken years of therapy to come to terms with that shattered reality.

Then I went to law school. Now, a major portion of the work I do is divorces. Primarily those involving domestic abuse, substance abuse, or child abuse. The whole concept of happily ever after is something that I simply don't believe in anymore. I've seen too much. I've lived too much.

With that said, the concept of marriage is something that gives me the heeby jeebies. I understand it, but I don't believe it. When it comes to long term lasting relationships I am about as jaded a person as you can find. Seriously. But there are times, times when I least expect it, perhaps times when I am least able to cope with it, when the ideology of my youth tries to break free.

And that leaves me befuddled.

Befuddlrey

2006-11-01T19:47:00.000-08:00

I'm befuddled. Yes, that is an official word. I haven't been sleeping again. I go through random periods of insomnia. Mostly, right now, it's because I've been going through a period of intense vivid dreaming. More on that in a bit. But then again, there's all this befuddlrey going on...which leaves me befuddled.

First, George's parents are in town. If you remember I met them a few months ago. It was a nice meeting. One of those "Hi, this is my friend Law Girl, Law Girl, this is my mom" kinda things. But this time it's a little different. Now we're hanging out. And I like it. Um. Yeah. His mom is one of the most adorable people in the world. She's nice, and sweet, and real, and down to earth, and someone I would totally hang out with and be friends with even if I didn't know him. His dad didn't remember my name, and I'm pretty sure he's trying to figure out exactly who I am and why I was there. His mom will fill him in later I'm sure. Fill him in with what? Hell if I know.

Second, we haven't been talking much. I mean we see each other almost every day, but it's extremely superficial. "How's your day?" "How's your coffee?" "How's your sandwich?" "How did you sleep?"

"Fine"

We're living in the world of fine. And every time either one of us says it I just want to scream. It's not fine. It's not fine at all. It may never be fine again. It sucks. It's horrible. It's awful. But we don't talk about it.

Third, I've been dreaming. I rarely dream. Seriously, I'm just not one of those people. My sister can tell you in vivid detail every dream she has all night long. I, on the other hand, rarely remember anything between the time I turn off the light and the time I start beating on my snooze button.

But lately...the dreams. And they're so vivid they literally wake me up. Sometimes I wake up in a cold sweat with my heart racing! Don't get me wrong, there are no scary monsters or bad guys chasing me...but they're just as terrifying. I'd tell you, but then George will read this and he won't be able to sleep for a week. So I won't tell you.

Anyway, with the dreaming I've been waking up almost every hour all night long. Usually between about 3 and 3:30 I just give up and make the first pot of coffee. The nice thing is I have time to get in a good three pots of coffee before I have to be anywhere. The down side is by the time I get anywhere I'm ready for a nap.

That said, we had a wonderful evening with his family tonight. His dad has wonderful stories to tell. His mom makes me want to hug her. His sister cracks me up and makes me feel like one of the cool kids. And his brother-in-law is a chef...need I say more? Too bad you can't have in-law's without getting married. Maybe I can just adopt them.

Transition

2006-10-30T15:50:00.000-08:00

Saturday was effectively our last night together. He moves out of his apartment on Tuesday. He goes to tell his kids on Friday. When he comes back he will be shut down. He will still be here for a bit, but he will not be able to be the man he has grown to be.

I understand why. I understand the process. But I also understand that as of Saturday night I am back to the corner of his world where he can handle me. He can't handle a relationship. That's what we've become. He can't handle a woman breaking down into tears every 15 minutes. That's what I've become. He needs me to be strong. He needs me to support him. He needs me to understand. And I do.

So, it's time to let go. Part of letting go is letting go of what was and looking to what is. Part of letting go is allowing him the ability to shut down the way he needs to. Part of letting go is recognizing that the sun will still rise tomorrow and I will have to face the day without him.

I miss him already. I miss my best friend. I miss my lover. I miss the one person who understood my inconsistencies. I miss the man who very well may have been my soulmate. I miss the future we could have had. I miss the nights that might have been. I miss that he isn't the one who will be holding my hand when I am old and gray. I miss that I won't get to see his kids grow up and become the men I know their father will see that they will be. I miss the holidays we won't have together. I miss the mornings we won't share breakfast together. I miss that I won't be the one to celebrate his victories and accomplishments. I miss that I won't be the one to hold him and catch his tears. I miss that its over, even though neither one of us wants it to be.

But with all endings there is a new beginning. This, therefore, is it. My move date is approaching as well. It is time for me to figure out what's next. Time to decide what I want to be when I grow up. Time to find that comfortable place of solitude again. With that comes it's own bundle of emotions. I feel like I'm lost. I feel like a kid playing dress up, who accidentally ended up in the office. I feel like I don't know where to start. It will come in time, I know. But for now I feel like a shell. Empty, alone, and drifting.

A Pondering on Aging

2006-10-29T16:13:00.000-08:00

One of the things that has changed significantly about me over the past few years is my position in a crowd of people.

In my younger days, I was most comfortable being in the middle of the throngs of people. I was most content when I could bounce from circle to circle and talk to everyone at the party. If there was someone I didn't know, I would be best friends with them after a couple of shots and a beer. Rarely did I sit at the same table all night. Hell, rarely did I sit. I don't know that I would go so far as to say I was the life of the party...but I was sure living the party.

But the older I get, and perhaps this is jaded by years and years of drunken assmaking, I have found that I am less comfortable being in the middle. I much prefer sitting on the sidelines and watching the interactions. Watching people move from group to group. Watching one set of eyes cast around for another. Following the stories of individuals as they develop through the evening. The sociological study of the average American drunk is highly underrated.

Through this "new" observational status I have seen people do things they don't remember (or at least don't want to remember) in the morning. I have seen new relationships bloom. I have seen old relationships fall apart. I have seen sexuality identified for the first time. I have seen the desperate attempts to connect with someone, anyone, at 1:30am. I think I am beginning to see the world through the eyes of the bartender. And it is a fascinating world.

The other night we went to a show to watch some bands who were being promoted by a friend of ours. It was a typical bar...dark, poorly decorated, kind of dirty. As long as all you wanted to order was domestic beer they had anything you wanted to drink. But, evidently the news that the legal drinking age is 21 had not yet reached this bar. We were the oldest people in the bar by at least 15 years. And I'm not even 35 yet. It made for a fantastic evening of people watching.

However, at one point there were a couple of kids (and yes, I say kids because they were) who decided to do tequila shots. Now, don't get me wrong, I love a good tequila shot. I can lick and slurp and suck with the best of them. I've done more tequila shots in more ways than most people ever think of. Comes from living in California for a while. But these kids...damn.

They decided that the appropriate way to do the shot was to snort the salt, drink the shot, and then squeeze the lime in their eye. Yup. That's right.

I hate to think I'm getting to old to go to shows and party and have fun anymore. But THAT my dear reader, did not appear even remotely fun to me. In fact, it made my eyes water and my nose hurt for about 20 minutes afterwords and I just WATCHED!

I guess you have to be careful watching the crowd too. You never know what you're going to see. And some things will just be burned into your retinas forever.

Snakes On A Head

2006-10-28T18:27:00.000-07:00

So, I'm a copy cat. I'll admit it. I got a last minute invite to a Halloween party and I copied Trouble's Halloween costume. I'd link to it, but she...well...yeah.

The only thing that kept going through my head as I looked in the mirror tying little snakes to my corn rowed hair was "Now playing in theaters...you thought it was scary when they were on the plane. It's even scarier when they're on your head. Opening October 28, 2006...Snakes On A Head."

I'm a dork.

Picks forthcoming. I'm too much of a dork not to.

Beta

2006-10-27T13:58:00.000-07:00

Has anyone tried the new Blogger Beta?

I switched today.

It sucks.

I'm not a fan. At all. Maybe I will become a fan.

Doubtful.

Ramble of the Week

2006-10-27T09:38:00.000-07:00

This week PBW had writer's block. I can relate. The difference is, even with her writer's block she's more eloquent than I.

I feel like I've been stuck on a repetitive ramble for the past few weeks. George has been the topic of pretty much all my posts. Then again, with everything going on, he is pretty much the topic of most of my thoughts. The rest of my thoughts are bound by confidentiality required by the rules of professional responsibility. So, I continue the rut, I continue the ramble, for the story is almost done.

The time is coming where I can count the hours until the moment I have been dreading. It's no longer expressed in weeks. It's no longer expressed in days. We're down to mere hours. And I'm getting panicky. I'm clingy. I feel the need to soak up every last molecule of him that I can get before he is gone. I know, at the same time, that this pushes him away.

Yet, there is a certain amount of anticipation as well. Anticipation for all of this to be over. For the pain and the hurt and the heartbreak and the drama and the crying and the agony to be gone.

He doesn't leave tomorrow, but tonight is effectively our last night together. I am pulling at the last reserves of emotional strength I have to get through this weekend. I don't want to spend the weekend crying. I don't want to spend the weekend lamenting about the time we don't have. I will cry and lament when he is gone.

As humans, we are adaptable creatures. I am constantly reminded of our ability to adapt and overcome obstacles in our lives. Physical obstacles, emotional obstacles, mental obstacles, psychological obstacles are just that...Obstacles. They are not boundaries which define us, or limit our abilities. I will adapt. I am fully aware that I will adapt. In the grand scheme of things it is a relatively small adaptation to make.

So, appropriately for this time of year, this weekend I will put on my mask. I will hide behind the facade needed to mask the fear, anger, disappointment, hurt and frustration. I will load my mental camera with film to record memories to look back on when I am able. And I will look forward to my human ability to adapt.

This Just In...

2006-10-25T15:45:00.000-07:00

I just realized something. Yes. I just realized it just this second. Right at this moment. This is seriously late breaking news folks.

Um...I'm in love. And it's freaking me the fuck out. Between the "is he gonna say it", and the "he could be leaving any second now", I kind of forgot about the whole love thing. Well, I didn't really forget about it, it just kind of got accepted before I could freak.

So...um...yeah.

Now I'm having a panic attack. Not literally, ok, maybe my heart is racing a little and my palms are mildly sweaty, but I am just getting over the Martian Death Flu.

But, I can't be in love! Love implies...well...THINGS! Love implies...STUFF! Love implies responsibility for someone else's emotions. Letting them into your life. Letting them into the deep dark recesses of your mind. Letting them see you before you have COFFEE!!!

In all seriousness, this is scary. I know it's not a new thing. I know I should just go with the moment. But I'm terrified.

Seriously, terrified. See, I don't love easy. I can count on one hand, with fingers left over, the number of times I've been in love. And I believe love is something that is endless. Boundless. Without reason or sanity. I don't love half way. I don't know how to love half way. Maybe that's my problem. But I only know one way to love. Unconditionally, totally, and completely.

But with all that sappy theoretical stuff, in order for me to love I have to trust the other person. Trust him that he's not going to take it for granted. Trust him that he's not going to take it as a trinket or a play thing. Trust him that he's not going to use it against me. Evidently I do trust him. No, I know I trust him. But that scares me too.

And then...throw on top of it all the whole "leaving" thing.

Yeah...late breaking news...I'm done for.

Take A Walk With Me...I'll Tell You A Story

2006-10-25T02:17:00.000-07:00

Not last summer, but the summer before, life was going along quite smoothly. I had a job I enjoyed. I was involved in projects which fulfilled the liberal thinker in me. I had put the worst of Mr. Jackass behind me, and accepted that it was time to move on. I was content with my singleness, and was not looking for attachment to fulfill my life in any way. I had a mass of good friends who ranged from those who would make me laugh, to those who make me think, to those who would make me drunk.

But one day it changed. I can't tell you the exact date it changed. With any certainty I can't even say which month. I think it was August. It might have been September. It could have been as early as late July. I don't really know when it changed but it did. And it hit me like a freight train.

Don't get me wrong, I should have figured it out before then. At least one person had asked me before then. But honestly the thought had never crossed my mind. See, my friends...all my friends...are anatomically incorrect, at least in my head. I'm sure they have the necessary pluming, I just don't think about it. When you spend as much time as I do around the opposite sex, it helps to not think of them as a sex at all.

I don't think things changed for him then. I don't know when things changed for him. And to say "changed" amplifies the reality of what it was. It wasn't a change as much as an awareness. It wasn't that I "liked" him. I just started noticing him. I would notice how strong his hands were. I would recognize the ripples of muscles under his shirt. I noticed the everchanging blue of his eyes. Hell, I realized he had eyes! And all of that took me down the logical course to thinking about...well...his pluming.

For weeks I sat pondering the oddity of what was happening. Being the overanalyzer that I am, I looked at the situation from every angle. At that moment in time I didn't want to be attached to anyone. I didn't want a boyfriend. I didn't want a relationship. I didn't want someone to want to move in and take over my life. I didn't want someone who would want to become part of me, and I didn't want to let anyone in. But, the undeniable fact of the matter was I was horny. It had been a long time. A REALLY long time.

All in all he seemed a safe bet. He's not the relationship kind of guy. I knew him well. I knew he didn't have any creepy diseases. I knew he didn't have a wife tucked back away in the woods somewhere. I knew he wouldn't try to infringe on my life anymore than I would try to infringe on his. It seemed the perfect solution. I'd get some, and then he could go back to being anatomically incorrect.

Simple, right? Hardly. We spent weeks and weeks dancing around the issue. We both knew what we were after. We'd "wrestle" around on the floor, and then stop. We'd chase each other around the apartment, and then stop. We'd play footsie, and then stop.
For weeks.
And weeks.
And weeks.
But during this time we developed routines that we still hold on to. Tuesday nights are our "hangout" nights. Friday nights are "movie/go out drinkin/non-date nights". Sunday nights are thrown in there just in case one of the other nights falls through. There's almost always a bottle of gin in his freezer for me. And we each have our own end of the couch.

Then one night...I can't tell you with certainty exactly when, sometime in September or October, it finally happened. We were cuddling on the couch, watching a movie, the same as we did most Friday nights by that point. He moved a little. I moved a little. He rubbed my back under my shirt a little. I moved a little more. I rolled over to look at him, we started kissing, and it was like an avalanche. We couldn't have stopped it if we wanted to. I don't know how long he had been thinking about it. For all I know the thought had just crossed his mind. But I had been waiting for EVER!!!

And it was horrible. Awful. Terrible. The worst. Indescribably bad. Now I don't even remember why it was so bad, or what it was that made it so awful. But it was. Seriously. Awful.

We didn't talk about it then. I fully expected that to be the one and only time that ever happened. At that point I was kind of hoping it would be the only time it ever happened. But as time went on, the competitive side in me popped up. I don't do things bad. I do not fail. It is in my nature. I could not let the only time we had sex be BAD! I couldn't let him think I was the reason it was bad, and I knew he would think it was me...because...afterall he is a man.

A few weeks later we tried again. It's never been like the first time again. Thank God.

We've had many times along the way where we could have jumped ship. There have been many occasions where we both could have shook hands and gone to our own corners. This was one of them. I wonder now what would have happened if we had. I don't wonder with regret, I don't regret anything. I just wonder what would have been different, and why we didn't.

Martian Death Flu

2006-10-23T10:23:00.000-07:00

I have the Martian Death Flu. I don't say that for sympathy, but to tell you why I likely won't be around much for the next couple of days. I feel like death. God/Allah/Buddha/Vishnu/Snoopy hates me.

On a lighter note...this is my horoscope for the day:

"If you have been struggling with an emotional conflict, it may be time to let it go. Of course, this may not be so easy to do, since your emotions run very deep. Don't look for the fast fix. Sometimes the real magic in a relationship stems from those differences that won't go away. Recognizing this dichotomy and respecting each other's beliefs sets the stage for creating common ground instead of fighting over that which cannot be solved."

It made me giggle.

By the way...he let me sniffle and whine about being sick last night. He's adorable. He even offered to make me tea. The fact that he has tea to make is a little shocking in and of itself. And he makes me smile, even when I'm pissy and sick. I love that.

But, even though I'm sick, work doesn't stop. I have about 75 pages worth of (*&^% I have to have read and comment on by the end of business. Unfortunately the Martian Death Flu makes it so I'm having a hard time even sitting up. Ugh.

No rest for the wicked.

Weird Search Terms

2006-10-21T14:17:00.000-07:00

First...go participate in the debate in the post below...it's ok. I'll wait.

Now, being bored on a Saturday afternoon, I'm playing around on the web. One of the headlines on Yahoo is that the accuser in the Utah polygamist case was 14. Ok, that's creepy, but being who I am, I wanted to read the court documents. So, like a good net junkie I went to smoking gun to see what I could find. After entering the search term "polygamy", figuring if the documents were posted, that would pull them up, I came up empty.

But on the side...you know...where they have the paid advertisements? Evidently you can find polygamy on ebay.

I simply don't want to know.

Let's Debate

2006-10-21T09:28:00.000-07:00

Doing what I do, I love a good argument. A well framed, thought out, intelligent debate is akin to good sex in my book. I know...I'm a geek. With that said, one of the ongoing topics of debate between George and I has been the role of women and men. Not necessarily in society...but specifically in the home. He's laid out his position in previous posts. I believe I have laid out the opposing position both to him, and in previous responsive comments. But it always makes for a good debate...So...come on all...join in the fun!

Affirmative Position - (Simply because this is the position that generally starts the debate, therefore by definition, is the affirmative position. The author makes no warranties as to the validity of this argument.) In order for a household to run decisions must be made. There will be times when decisions are not agreed upon. Therefore, there must be a final decision maker within the household. That final decision maker should be the man.

Point one. A man is not just a "man" by virtue of the fact that he was born with the correct genetalia. He must also step up to the plate. When he becomes a husband and a father he gives up selfish considerations and must then put the considerations of the family first. Therefore, a "man" is defined as the person who steps up to the plate to consider the family's needs first.

Point two. Times will arise in the course of every family's path where impasses occur. Where there is a decision which must be made. Where reasonable people may differ on what is good for the family, someone must make a decision. That person should be the pre-determined "head" of the family.

Point three. If the husband/father/man is truly acting like a "man", by definition, then he is the person best situated to consider the needs of the family when making decisions. Therefore, he is the person best situated to be the pre-determined "head of the family" and should therefore be the one to make the decisions.

Point four. All major family decisions should be discussed as a family, with each party able to submit input and opinion. However, when unable to reach a consensus, the head of the family should be the deciding vote, or the position holding veto power.

Point five, caveat. The "head of the family" does not presume specific genders, simply that in the opinion of the person who generally starts this debate, he is the one who is best situated to be the head of the family, therefore it should be him. Further, in the absence of a two adult containing family, the adult is by definition the head of the household and no further debate is needed.

Negative Position. (Same disclaimer as above). A family does not require a "head" or a "leader". A relationship in this form is a partnership comprised of the two consenting adults who have made the commitment to share life. To presume that one party has the final say and "veto" power over another in al final decisions presupposes an imbalance of power in excess to that already established in society. Promoting an imbalance of power leads to breakdown of communication, resentment, and affirms in the minds of any children present societal structures which have broken down in the past 30 years.

Point One. Power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely. Human nature trends away from conflict. Eventually, there will come a time in the relationship where it is simply easier for the "man" to make a decision without having to go through the process of allowing "input" from the "woman". Thus, further marganilizing her opinion and breeding a need to escape.

Point Two. Veto power, required from the beginning, presupposes an inability to communicate. In a partnership parties must reach compromises. Compromises are reached through communication. If compromises are not required, communication becomes less essential. Further, a presupposition that communication flows will be unable to solve issues related to the family necessarily requires the belief that one party has the family's interest in mind, and one party does not. If this is a fundamental belief from the beginning then perhaps the partnership should not be formed in the first place.

Point Three. Not all decisions fall within the realm of expertise held by the head of the household. To allow decisions impacting the family unit to be made by a party, simply by virtue of the position they hold in the household, and not because of superior knowledge or expertise, is by definition not in the best interest of the family.

Point Four. If the best interest of the family is truly the issue, and it is not simply an issue of control, the family should be run as a partnership with open and honest communication. To allow veto power and absolute control in the hands of one party will not be in the family's best interest. Therefore, TURN (old term from my debate days) even if you follow the affirmative's arguments, you must by definition allow for a full and complete partnership in order to be a "man" simply because it is the only way for all decisions to not only be made with a result in the best interest of the family, but also in the process that benefits the family.

So...what do you think? I'm seriously interested. I won't tell you my opinions, as opinions are irrelevant to debate. But I'd like to know if I missed any points on either side. Further...based on logical argument and past experience, what is your opinion?

Anyone? Anyone?

Don't Even Read...Just Skip To The Comments and Tell Me I'm Being A Girl, Because I Am

2006-10-19T14:47:00.000-07:00

So, in keeping with my inability to go with the flow and tendency to overanalyze EVERYTHING, I'm in a bit of a quandary.

Shocking, I know.

One of the things about George that convinced me I could never - ever in a million years - date him, at least in the beginning, was an ongoing conversation we've had regarding the roles of women in society.

In short, he's a patriarchal bastard. Now, I say this from the point of view of a raging feminist. Yeah, I know. I told you the odds have been against us from the beginning. Generally, here is his point of view:

Men should be the head of the household. Women belong in the home taking care of the children and their husband. (Excuse me, I have to vomit a little, I'll be back. Ok, I feel better now.) Furthermore, the woman should do all the cooking and cleaning and caring for the children because that's her "job". The man should go to work and bring home the paycheck. He should also be the one to control all the finances, because he's the man. (Insert grunt here). After paying all the bills he will then divide what is left over so that both he and the woman can have equal spending money. (Um...hang on...nevermind, I thought I was going to hurl again.) Finally, in all matters relating to the family, the man should have the final deciding vote. The couple should discuss matters, he should take her opinion under advisement, but ultimately he is the final decision maker. (My gag reflex is seriously earning a gold medal here folks)

Now, we can all jump on him about how totally wrong he is. About how this is now the 21st century. About how women and men are equals and should be regarded in the relationship as such. About how it's unhealthy for any relationship for there to be an imbalance of power in any area, much less every area. About how, aside from ordering a bride over the internet, this is simply not a possibility in modern day society. But, between Ms. Twinkie and I we've already had this debate with him about a thousand times. I think now he just does it because he knows it makes me feel like singing slave songs and picking cotton.

ANYWAY, that's not really the point, that's just background.

Yesterday Ms. Twinkie, George and I were having lunch. And the "I'm a man hear me roar, go get me a beer bitch" debate started again. Except this time, as the debate heated up the words changed a little. Instead of the debate being about "the man" and "the woman", or "the husband" and "the wife", the debate phrasing changed to "I" and "you" and "we" and "our" and"us". Uh hua. That's what I said. Yup. All in all it was kind of fun. We laughed and picked on each other and ripped on each other and generally had Ms. Twinkie looking at us like we were nuts.

AND THEN

Last night we were chatting online. I finally asked him how long he was going to avoid "discussion". I know I probably shouldn't push it, but that's just how I am. I need to talk everything out. I need to have everything out in the open. I need to know what's going on in his head! OH...and not only THAT, but he hasn't said "it" again since Saturday. So, now I'm a little confused. Is he having second thoughts? Is he doubting? Is he thinking he shouldn't have said "it"? Was there too much external pressure? Did he really mean it? SEE? This damn man has turned me into a fucking girl!

Anyway, I digress. So, I asked him how long he was going to avoid "discussion". He answered with "Until everything is solidified". Meaning his ship date, the final paperwork, etc. We're still doing the military fuck fuck dance by the way. If you don't like today's plan, wait till tomorrow because it will change.

So, I asked him why. His response was that things could go a couple of different ways depending on how things worked out.

Um. Uhhhhh. Ok. And I'm not supposed to overanalyze THAT? Yeah, whatever.

Don't get me wrong, I love the man. I really do. He's wonderful, and terrific, and amazing, and knows just what to say to make my mind whir into overtime. That's one of the things I love about him. But damn boy! What does that MEAN?

Men. Pfft.

Trimethylxanthine

2006-10-18T09:16:00.000-07:00

The chemical compound commonly known as caffeine is scientifically known as trimethylxanthine. I can't even pronounce that. I much prefer caffeine, the nectar of the gods.

I love coffee. I love espresso. I love latte. I love caffeine in any form that comes from the glorious roasted bean grown in the tropics of the world. I much prefer it with a shot of chocolate, but I'll drink it black. I'll drink it hot. I'll drink it cold. Really...if I didn't have a huge fear of needles I'd just tap a line in the morning and go about my day.

That said, my dependence has grown to a level bordering on ridiculous. I do not have the ability to even find the front door until I've had my first morning cup.

This morning I came down stairs and my sister was standing in the kitchen. I have no recollection of this event by the way. According to her, as I was reaching for the coffee she asked me about my evening last night. I looked her straight in the eye and said "I can't knit yet, I need to put gas in the car". I then proceeded to fill my cup and stumble back upstairs to get ready.

I don't know what it means either.

I think I may need to check myself in to a treatment program. There has to be a 12 step program for caffeine. What would they serve to drink at caffeine anonymous meetings? Beer?

By the way, last night was great. We laughed, we chatted, we cuddled, we picked on each other. But he is proving that he will go to any lengths to avoid having this "discussion". Or any "discussion" for that matter. Pfft.

Second pot just finished brewing...gotta go!

Trials and Tribulations Part I

2006-10-17T14:47:00.000-07:00

Around Christmas last year "they" (they being the corporate beings who secretly run the universe and are probably alien) began running ads for Tom-Tom. The navigational device you could plug into your car. The ad would be a driver asking if the next turn was a right or a left, or some such thing. I haven't watched TV in a while. "They" may still be running the ads.

When I bought my car I had the choice between XM radio and a navigational system. I could have gotten both, but I didn't want to spend the money for two splurgy extras. So, feeling frugal, I opted for the XM radio. Of course.

Yeah. I'm directionally challenged. Severely directionally challenged. Like, I get lost getting out of my driveway, directionally challenged. I live in a decent sized metropolitan area. For the most part, as long as I stick to the freeways I'm ok. Then again, I have a tendency to get lost getting out of my driveway. All this would be well and good if my directionally challengedness was limited to when I was driving, or even if I was smart enough to keep my mouth shut when someone else was driving. But it's not. And I'm not. Needless to say, I should have gotten the navigational system.

Often my disability is minorly annoying and simply leads to me exploring neighborhoods that I would not have otherwise seen. It's kind of fun. Sometimes. But it drives George nuts. He likes to be on time...which means 15 minutes early...for everything. My wondering has a tendency to negatively effect punctuality. Punctuality is another issue. We'll talk about that later.

All of this to say, George has become my "Tom-Tom". As we're driving, in the middle of conversation, he will interject "in about two blocks you will need to turn left", and then the conversation keeps going. We could be in the middle of a fight and he will pipe in "take your second right", in the middle of whatever is being said. It just occurred to me today that when this happens neither one of us blinks. We continue on with the conversation as if someone else said that. And, regardless of whether I've been wherever we are going a hundred times, he will still tell me where to turn. Because he knows if he doesn't we will be lost.

When he commented he said he wouldn't blog about the trials and tribulations of dating Law Girl. Which immediately made me wonder "What trials and tribulations? I'm perfect!" I know that my directional deficiency drives him nuts. However, isn't it beautiful how we've adapted? I told him the other day that he is going to have to keep his cell phone on him while he's in training. He asked why. I told him it was because I would likely be calling him from my side of the world wondering which exit I need to take.

I'm going to be so lost when he's gone. In more ways than one.

Unraveling the Pieces

2006-10-16T14:48:00.000-07:00

Tonight I knit. Tonight I tie series of knots to allow my mind time to unknot the knots it is in. Tonight I process the "then", the "now", and the "next".

He needed to say it. I think he felt better once he did. But I think saying it allowed him to begin emotionally blocking. Either that, or now I make him nervous. I don't know. We still haven't had a conversation about it. And the lack of conversation is driving me nuts.

Things, as they do, are starting to unravel. And these aren't things I can stitch back together. The military is messing with him. I know that's what the military does, but it's really pissing me off. This is why I was a bad military wife. I get so frustrated by the fuck fuck dance they make you do, and there's no choice but to try to find the beat and follow along.

So, tonight I knit. Because then there is a pattern. Then there is order. Then there is sense. Then I know what the finished product will be. That...and Christmas is coming and I have two sweaters to finish.

Poof

2006-10-15T11:11:00.000-07:00

Isn't he adorable. Ok...so I recognize that I'm a little biased, but seriously folks, he's adorable. There are three things I have to say. Not because I really expect a response, because they are schmoopy doopy and kind of annoying, and because I don't want to risk forgetting them.

First. On Thursday night, about 3:00 am I was doing what most normal people were doing at that time...sleeping. I was snuggled down in my blankets, trying to stay warm, content in the middle of a dream. I rarely dream. I'm sure I dream more than I think I dream, but I rarely remember my dreams. And the dreams I remember almost never mean anything. But, I was dreaming that George (FKA Stonecold) and I were driving down the road. The car stopped. He looked at me. He smiled. He said "I love you". The shock in the dream was enough to wake me up for real. I looked at the clock. It was 3:10 am. That's when he commented the comment that shook my world.

Second. He has now told me directly twice. Three times if you count the "I love you, but only because you're my best friend" that came months ago. Four times if you count through the blog. I don't count those two though. The first time he told me for real, on Friday night, I cried like a fool. I couldn't help it. In my defense I was already crying at the time. It just made me cry harder. But when he told me it was like an electric shock went through my whole body. From my toes to my fingers, tingles upon tingles. I just thought I was tired. But when he told me again last night, the same thing happened. That's never happened to me. Ever. It's weird. It's cool, but it's weird. It's kind of like when you stick your finger in an electrical socket, but it didn't hurt. I wonder if that will ever go away.

Right now it's so fragile. I want him to say it over and over and over. I want to text him throughout the day and tell him. I want to shout it out my front door. But it's fragile. I'm scared I'm going to do something to break it. I'm scared I'm going to do something to make it go away. I'm scared he's going to change his mind. I'm scared I'm going to break the most precious gift I've ever gotten.

Third. Now comes the hard part. The "what next". The "now what". And this is a thought that has been plaguing me since I realized I really loved him. I'm not trying to over romantacize the situation. He's not perfect. He has done some things that have been majorly assholish at best. He will likely continue to do assholeish things in the future. But I love him. And I don't say that easily, nor have I ever been as sure of anything in my life.

That said, I know how the story plays out from here. I know what happens when he leaves. I know that despite all the words and good intentions, the distance is all but insurmountable. I don't know what he's thinking about this. I don't know that he is thinking about this.

I made my mind up when I found out he was leaving, that we would continue on as if everything were normal until the day he left. But that once he left he would be gone. Period. Poof. Our numbers will change. Our e-mails will change. And with nothing more interesting than office gossip to talk about, the blog will likely disappear. With the virtual disappearance, so will I. Is this the cowards way out? I don't know. It's kind of like ripping of a band-aid. You have to do it all in one rip or it hurts more.

It's also to protect him. The only way the whole situation is bearable is knowing that what he is doing is going to make him happy. I don't want him living with the "what if's". I don't want him living with the regret of what he left behind. I want him to be able to move forward, and find the happiness that has eluded him for so long. Maybe now that he has learned he can break down his walls and survive he will find that. But as much as I want him to be happy. As much as I need him to be happy, I'm not strong enough to watch that happen without me. Maybe I'm just selfish. I don't know. I truly want him to find it, I just can't handle knowing about it when it happens.

With that mental debate raging in my head, he's very unhappy with my decision. I know he is very unhappy with my decision. I understand why he is very unhappy with my decision. He told me the other night that I thought I knew what was going to happen. He told me that he understood that I had been through this before and that I thought I knew the outcome. But that I had never been through it with him, and therefore I don't know shit. This is a very good point. By all estimations we should not be where we are today. We should not be friends, much less more. We should have stopped talking to each other and gone on about our lives months ago. But we are here. Despite all the odds. Maybe the odds are in our favor. Maybe, just maybe...we...could...

Someone once said that the only thing more dangerous than fear is hope. I understand.

Drum Roll Please

2006-10-14T08:48:00.000-07:00

He said it out loud. I cried. I'm a dork. Then I asked him if he meant it like "that" or just as friends. He laughed at me.

Then he said "like 'that'".

Yeah...so...huah

2006-10-13T07:53:00.000-07:00

Wow. Um. Yeah. So...how 'bout those Broncos huah? They won last week. Looks like a good year. Even though I'm not a huge Plummer fan...I don't know why I just can't get over my Johnny bein gone.

I'm not a huge fan of drama. Based on the evidence presented I know that is difficult to believe, but usually I do my best to avoid the subject so that drama doesn't occur. That's one of the reasons for the blog. So that I can have my own emotional drama in an anonymous setting without it bleeding into my "real" life. Sometimes my real life just bleeds into my anonymous drama.

The other night, before his physical, Stonecold and I hung out for a little bit. We "discussed" some things. We didn't really discuss anything, but we talked about things we should probably talk about at some point. We alluded to things we didn't want to talk about at any point. One of the "alluded to" issues, at least based on my interpretation of the conversation, was how we are feeling about each other right now.

I've said before that I don't know how to read him when it comes to how he feels about me. Hell, that's the subject of 95% of the entries since I started this damn thing. I've said before that I assume everything is still at baseline until he tells me differently, and that everything else is just in my head. And now he goes and says things...things that he's never said to me in person. Things that change the baseline significantly. Things that recognize that the baseline has been changed already. Damn it.

After we hung out the other night I was so befuddled I called Ms. Twinkie because I needed to talk. I told her generally about the discussions. I told her that he admitted we have been "dating". I told her how much this whole thing sucked. She smiled. She asked me three questions and told me she didn't want to know the answers yet. I've been thinking about the questions ever since. And after yesterday's comments, I'm thinking about them even more.

She asked (1) Is it the worst thing in the world if you love each other? (2) Is it the worst thing in the world if he...(I still can't say it) "consider something more permanent"? and (3) Would you wait for him?

First, obviously none of these things are the worst things in the world. Starving children, war, the current government administrative messup...those are the worst things in the world. Feelings are not.

As for (1) Evidently we already love each other...at least in his head. He still won't say it out loud...but that's another issue. That brings a whole mess of issues all it's own. We talked the other night about a big issue. THIS was the big issue. I didn't know what to expect to the answer to this. In my head I hoped he loved me...but then again I've thought he had feelings for me for a while. And that's usually when the "I don't love you like that and I never will" conversation occurs. I didn't want to go through that again.

But...well...we all know how that turned out now don't we. So now what? That's the next big scary thing. I'm in love with my best friend and it's the most amazing thing I've ever had. He's the most amazing guy I've ever met. In all possibility he's the only one who could ever break through to the part that he's broken through to...simply by being stubborn. That's how he is. That's how I am. We work well together.

But, he's leaving. And when he leaves he has said he's not coming back here. And where does that leave me? It leaves me here. Alone. In love with a man who will never come back to get me. A man who sees no future beyond getting on the bus to go away. And that makes me sad.

At the same time...holy shit. I don't believe in futures. I don't believe in happily ever after. I don't believe in soul mates. I am the person who believes love is a mental chemical imbalance. FUCK! What the hell. The fact that I even consider past tomorrow with this guy scares the living shit out of me. Sorry SBS...I'm swearing.

That said...I think I've addressed all three points. None of them are the worst things in the world. I don't know that I have a choice in waiting for him, but I don't expect him to come back. I just know I will never find another man like him. I will never find another man stubborn enough to break through my walls. I will never find another man who is my best friend, makes me laugh and cry, and makes me want to kill him after I hug him to death. And I don't even want to look.

That's all I have to say about that.

Fears

2006-10-11T19:21:00.000-07:00

As he prepares to leave, he is a whirlwind of emotion. It is driving him nuts that he is a whirlwind full of emotion. He is used to containing his emotions. These are not containing.

That said, I don't know exactly what those emotions are. We "discussed" the fact that he's starting to emotionally distance himself. We "discussed" the fact that he is having a difficult time containing the emotions and locking them away. We "discussed" the fact that there are issues that we haven't "discussed".

He's worried about leaving his kids. He's worried about having to tell his kids he's leaving. He's worried about not coming home to his kids. He's pretty much generally worried about his kids. He's a fantastic dad. I've said it before, and despite all his faults, I'll say it again. He's an amazing father. Their reactions are going to rip his heart out, one way or another. It's a conversation he's been avoiding. Their mother is not particularly supportive of their relationship with him. I heard her on the phone today as he explained the situation to her. I understand her perspective. I understand her frustrations. I understand her hurt and anger. But I don't understand how she could possibly want to block a relationship between those kids and their dad.

He's worried about not coming home. Not here home, he's already decided that this is not his home any longer. He's worried that he will become a statistic. He's seen war. He's seen pain. He has memories of things that humans should not experience, much less remember. This is a rational fear.

And he's worried about saying goodbye to me. He's worried about me not talking to him once he leaves. He's worried that when he gets on the plane that I will not respond to e-mails, change my phone number and "disappear". Because that's what I do. I leave to avoid being left.

First, an explanation. Every man I have ever loved, who I do not have a blood connection to, has left me for the military. Every man I have ever loved has waived to me at the gate of the plane to go fight for our country. With him, I now have every branch of the military covered except the coast guard. I understand what happens. I have seen it enough. Once he leaves, the man I know will cease to exist. And in time, I will cease to exist for him as well.

That said, in preparation for the inevitable I have an arsenal tucked away in the back of my head. Issues that we haven't discussed so that they can be brought forth and remembered once he is gone. Things that I am angry about. Things that are unfinished business. Things that I know will make me less fond of the memory of who he is. You don't miss what you don't like. When what you don't like never comes back it doesn't hurt as bad.

There is one issue which we should probably address before he leaves. I am terrified to have this discussion. I'm terrified of his responses. I'm terrified of my own. Because of that fear, if the conversation doesn't happen I will not push it. I don't know if he will.

I don't know what's going to happen in three weeks. I don't know what's going to happen in three months or three years. Hell, I'm not particularly sure of tomorrow right now. I've come to rely on him holding me when I'm sad. I've come to need his advice when I'm feeling lost. I can't imagine facing what's coming without him. And that is my greatest fear right now.

So, in preparation of leaving I stockpile my own arsenal. I tuck away the things that will allow me to forget, and allow me to be forgotten.

Vortex Coming

2006-10-11T10:13:00.000-07:00

Swirls of time pulled thin to the point of breaking. An artificial time watch ticking down the seconds until the buzzer rings. I feel pressed for time, when at this point I have nothing but time left.

Adult discussions with Stonecold are happening at a dizzying pace. They make my head spin. They make my stomach lurch. They make my eyes leak. And I want nothing more than to be able to capture them all here so that in the months of solitude that stretch before me I have a thread of him to grasp.

But the thoughts are spinning. I can't contain them long enough to pin them down to the black marks on the white page. He is leaving. The brief view of solidity in the mess of confusion.

We have re-traced, with light fingers and testing minds, the path of the past year. We have discussed misunderstandings that occurred along the way. We have alluded to shadows of what may be ahead. But for now it is all a swirl.

Integrity

2006-10-09T15:07:00.000-07:00

As far as maintenance goes I'm a pretty low maintenance girl. I learned a long time ago that societal expectations on relationships are rarely met. I don't expect remembrances of high holy days such as anniversaries. I don't expect a mental scrap book entailing our first movie, dinner, song, dance, etc. And I do not get jealous without reason.

I have male friends. I have female friends. I do not have sex with them. They remain anatomically incorrect to me. Occasionally, when the conversation turns that direction, flirting occurs, but they remain anatomically incorrect. I do not have the expectation that any man I am with give up his female friends simply because he is with me and they have a vagina. Nor do I expect him to not flirt with, oogle at, or generally harass a pretty girl in the way that men harass pretty girls. I assume that any man I am with is an adult and capable of not acting like a dog in inappropriate ways.

I do have one unwavering, unbending expectation. I expect unbridled honesty. Because of that expectation, I trust that the expectation is being met until proven otherwise. As far as proof goes, the burden of proof is beyond a reasonable doubt.

I have no problem whatsoever with any man I am with, "hanging out" with anyone else. Ex's, women, men, strippers, hookers, friends, animals...I have no problem. But (a) don't lie to me and tell me you weren't with them, and (b) if you fuck them and then expect to fuck me, I have a right to know. Yes, I'm going to get mad. Yes, I will probably scream and yell. But trust me, it won't last long because then I will walk away.

I don't expect you to lie to me and tell me my ass looks fabulous when it doesn't. I don't expect you to lie to me and tell me I'm not being a bitch when I'm PMSing. I don't expect you to lie to me and tell me my hair looks great when I look like a clown. I expect honesty in everything. That is how I judge honor, that is how I judge integrity. Then again, maybe I set my standards too high.

Enharmonic Interval

2006-10-07T08:54:00.000-07:00

After one particularly amazing "Amazing" I posted that there are those moments in life that you never forget. Usually those moments are significant not for the moment, but for what the moment signifies. For example, prom night, your wedding night, your first time. Last night was significant not just because of what it signified, but because of the moment. It was beautiful. He continues to ruin me in ways I didn't know I could be ruined.

The evening itself was the textbook perfect first date. He looked wonderful in his suit. He looked at me with almost a shy smile when we got in the car. We were both nervous. I chattered nervously trying to break the silence and he laughed at me.

The symphony was beautiful. He opened all the doors for me as we were going in. It made me giggle every time he did. He offered me his arm as we were walking. He put his hand on top of mine and smiled at me. I kept waiting for my mom to call and tell me I needed to be home by 10. I felt like a teenager again.

As the lights dimmed and the music began he reached over and took my hand. He held my hand in public. It took a few minutes after that for the blood to stop rushing in my ears so I could hear the violins.

When intermission came we joined the mob of people heading for the exit doors. His hand on the small of my back let me know that he was behind me and he wouldn't lose me in the crowd. We talked about the music. We talked about the people in the crowd. We talked about the moon and the weather. And it was time to go back in.

Again, as the music started he held my hand. I lost myself in the crescendo of the strings. I found my heart racing to the staccato trills of the flutes. The waves of music carried me along down the path the composer had chosen to go. And I willingly went along for the ride. It was beautiful.

After the symphony we were to meet up with some of his friends at a benefit show at one of the local bars. He had told them he would be late because he had a date. When we got there we posed for pictures. We had a drink. I chatted with some of his friends who told me how nervous he had been. He was adorable.

We were hungry, so we decided to grab something to eat. By then it was midnight so our options were limited. We grabbed subs and took them back to his house. We sat indian style on his bed in our dress clothes and ate subs off of paper wrappers and drank soda out of paper cups. It was wonderful. We debated censorship by the military in the media. We giggled and laughed. He had taken off his coat and tie and undone a few buttons on his shirt. As he lounged on the bed sipping his coke, I looked at him and my toes shook. He was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

After we ate we didn't talk much. We cuddled. We just layed in each other's arms and listened to the sounds of the world outside. There was no "Amazing", it was the first date afterall and I have SOME values. But it was amazing nonetheless. And that was the end of our first date. The only way our first date could have been better would have been knowing that there could have been a second.

I am thankful for the memory of last night. I am thankful for the memory of every moment we have spent together. His role in my life has changed me. And when he leaves a piece of me will go with him. Tomorrow he starts moving. Sorting through the things that will be stored until he can claim them again. Throwing away the things he can't keep. Giving away the things that are still useful. I wonder which pile has a place for me.

'Bout Damn Time

2006-10-06T08:01:00.000-07:00

Tonight's the night. After a year of not dating. After a year of not going on a "date". After countless fights on why we can't "date". After heartwrenching conversations about why we're still not "dating". After the realization that this is likely our one and only. Tonight is our first date.

This is the guy who has seen me cry...a lot. This is the guy who has seen me drunker than drunk should be. This is the guy who has seen me while I was studying for the bar. This is the guy who has seen me in sweats and a ponytail. This is the guy who has seen me with car grease on my nose. This is the guy who has seen me with pale pasty white legs in the spring. This is the guy who's seen me PMS and stress out and cry and laugh all in a 10 minute time frame. And I'm nervous.

My nails are done. My shoes are picked out. My "little black dress" is steamed and ready to go. My make-up is ready to go on, and my hair is prepped and ready to go up. And I feel like I'm 15 again. Why? Because I'm a girl, and I can.

That said, I can honestly say I'm not picking out baby names. THAT's not going to happen. I am not wearing socks this evening, so I don't need to worry about the lucky ones. And I haven't had a practice date with a "pro" in preparation. BUT...I am chanting "don'tfuckthisup", and I will leave you with promises to update tomorrow!

Happy Friday y'all!

Bittersweet Symphony

2006-10-04T10:36:00.000-07:00

As with all things military, the game has been "hurry up and wait" since Stonecold broke the news that he's leaving. "When" has been the big question. Now we know it will be sometime around the end of the month. He found out yesterday. I cried again.

We talked about the whole "date/non-date" issue from last week. He was appalled that I would actually consider the dinner thing a date. It's a conference. It's a dinner at a conference. And to him, it is not anything remotely appropriate to consider a date. I believe his exact words were "I'd throttle my kid if he tried to call going to a conference dinner a date".

But here is the news...he asked me on a real, true, respectable, honest to God DATE! He got nervous. It was adorable. He fidgeted. We're going to the symphony on Friday. We're getting dressed up. I'm getting my nails done. After a year, we're going on our first date. On Friday. To the SYMPHONY!!! How fantastically wonderful is THAT for a first date? Can you tell I'm a little giddy? It's also the first real date I've been on in a very long time. I'm unreasonably nervous.

We also had the "dating" conversation again. To recap, his definition of dating is "seeing someone with the expectation of more". We're not dating by his definition. We can't be dating by his definition. There can be no expectations of more because he's leaving. And that makes me cry.

As with life there are the ups and the downs. And sometimes when they go as planned you don't like the plan once it happens. We've done the whole thing bassakwards. But we're going on a date. And it will be fantastic. Even if I use the wrong fork. Even if I have a bad hair day. Even if my shoes are uncomfortable or I break a nail. It will be fantastic not because of the symphony, and not because I get to get all dressed up. But because I get to go on a real date with the man I adore before he leaves.

Blonditis

2006-10-02T18:34:00.000-07:00

Ever have one of those days where you got to the end and wondered why you even got out of bed? One of those days where you wait 10 minutes for the coffee to brew only to figure out you forgot to put the beans in? One of those days where you pull up to get gas and you forgot what side of the car your gas cap was on? One of those days where you go to get out of the shower only to remember you forgot to rinse out your hair?

Yeah, me either. I have NO idea what that's like. Usually I chalk it up to having a blond day. Even blonds aren't as scatterbrained as I was all day.

I don't really know why I was so ditzy today. I haven't been sleeping good. That could have something to do with it. I haven't been eating good, mainly because I've been too lazy to go to the grocery store and get food. There is only so long your body can survive on cold cereal out of the box apparently.

Mainly I'm pissed at Stonecold and I can't get over it. I should get over it. I know I should get over it. But I'm not getting over it. I suppose, as with all things, it will just take time. In the meantime I guess I'll just keep putting toothpaste on my curling iron and trying to brush my teeth. That or I'll cut off his fingers joint by twitty little joint. Actually that sounds like a lot more fun.

Anyway, here's to one more Monday being over and the hopes that blonditis isn't infectious.

Flights of Fancy

2006-09-30T11:30:00.000-07:00

A while ago I won Osquer's word of the day contest and she wrote me a refrigerator magnet haiku. I saved it in my pics because it made me smile. Thanks Osquer.

Today is my self proclaimed "self" day. I'm being selfish. I am laying around the house in my pj's. I am eating cold cereal out of the box. (I love capn' crunch.) I am alternating between reading and knitting. I am petting my dogs and sitting in the sun, and occasionally looking at my computer screen to see if anything is happening in the world. I'm so freeken content I don't know what to do with myself.

It's a bright sunshiny day. I may not be flying, but I am definitely exploring joy.

Which, for me at least, brings ponderings of the stormiest sky. In the grand scheme of things I recognize that the storms are required for balance. The storms are required for growth. The storms are a natural part of life, not to be weathered, but to be rejoiced because of what they bring. But what will the storms bring this time? Will they bring the destruction of a tornado? Will they bring the fresh smells and new growth of a spring shower? Or will they simply be the thunderstorm that passes with nothing but a lot of noise? I don't know yet. Time will tell.

A lot has happened in the past few months. I have lost my mentor. I have had to reshape the dreams of my future. I have had to develop new hopes and goals to achieve. I have learned I am capable of emotions despite my unwillingness to be capable. I have loved without the hope of the love being returned. I have faced the loss of my best friend. I have contemplated running away. I have looked into the eyes of my own mortality. Yet, on the other side of the storm I still have faith that there is sun. And for today, at least, I will explore joy.

Footnote Expanded

2006-09-29T08:18:00.000-07:00

Yesterday's post was a little saccharine. Yeah. But I warned you all.

My blog has always (well since January) been my catharsis. I go here to purge the unreasonable girly feelings I don't particularly (a) enjoy or (b) express. Until pghguy came along no one even read it. Stonecold didn't know it existed for a couple of months, and after he found it the first time he was so emotionally scarred he said he would never read it again. Well, we all know how far that goes. Now, to the best of my knowledge, he reads the blog regularly. Hi sweetie. Now quit reading.

Not you, him.

Last night, after I posted, he read the blog. We were chatting online, as we do, and he pops up and says the dinner thing is part of a conference and it was my idea to get dressed up. Without actually denying that it's a date, he said it's not a date. And then he said that the invitation to the birthday thing came because his friend hadn't seen me in a while and wanted to see me too. I, in my defensiveness, shut down. I told him I didn't want to talk about it. He did finally concede that "we" were invited. And the the subject was dropped.

Whatever. This is the same old bullshit which starts the bullshit that leads to the bullshit that I'm sick of bullshitting. He does one thing, and then says another, and when confronted on it plays it off like it's all in my head. I'm not crazy. I'm not stupid. I know what I see, I know what it means, and I know how to interpret the actions. I just don't know why he plays twit in the end.

He is dreamy (except for the currently yellow hair). He is wonderful. He is amazing. He is thoughtful and intelligent and respectful and inciteful and caring and compassionate and truly unique. But there is a switch that gets thrown when this topic comes up. And he turns into a twit. And I don't like him very much then.

The reason I don't like him very much then is because it comes down to two options. Either he's playing games with me and he's the biggest asshole I've ever met, or he's just plain stupid and doesn't see what he's doing. I've tried to believe he's stupid, but he's not. He is very analytical. He plans out each action with decided clarity. He thinks through each angle of an issue before taking any affirmative step. He knows exactly what he's doing.

Thus, here are the facts as stated in the light most favorable to the non-moving party: We are friends. I am his best friend. He is my best friend. We have been in a monogamous sexual relationship for about a year. I have emotions involved. He is aware of the emotions involved. He cares about my feelings. We talk every day. We see each other almost every day. We have designed dream houses together. I have met his whole family. I have hung out with his whole family, including his kids. He has never admitted we are dating. He has conceded reluctantly that we are "seeing" each other. He has never asked me out on a "date". He has never given me flowers. He has never given me a card. He has never acknowledged a holiday with a present. He has continuously stated that he does not date. He has, on numerous occasions, stated that he does not have romantic feelings for me. He does not hold my hand in public.

It's obvious. I know. Time to move on.

Disclaimer Made, No Blame Laid

2006-09-28T21:20:00.000-07:00

I'm warning you right now, gagfest ahead.

You can stop reading now.

And I couldn't get spell check to work.

And I was kinda distracted while typing this.

Last chance to back out.

You were warned.

So, my "non-boyfriend/emotionally unavailable manfriend/guy who's leaving any day now" is absolutly dreamy. We've hung out the last three days. We've spent more time together in the past three days than I think we did the entire first year we knew each other. But I digress.

Neither one of us had work today. So we had coffee with Ms. Twinkie this morning. Then we were going to clean out his garage, but we decided we were cold and needed to warm up first. Uh hua...we got warm.

And then we spent the rest of the day...just...together. We had coffee, we snuggled, we browsed around various bookstores all afternoon. We found books on physics. I found a book I've been hunting for weeks. I found a book on cd that I can listen to while I'm knitting. We found books on making potato cannons. We just played. It was the most perfectly amazing wonderful day in the history of wonderful days.

I don't know what I'm doing. I know he's leaving. I know he's kept me at arms length for the past year for a reason. See, we have this agreement. There are ground rules. Neither one of us is supposed to become emotionally attached. When the situation changes we are to inform the other party. (I know...shut up...I'm a lawyer). I informed him a few weeks ago. We've had that discussion. On my part. He's pretty much said we won't have that discussion on his part. I know he cares. I know he gives a rats ass...but damn.

Here's the confusing twist of the day. Ready? He asked me to go to dinner with him the second week of October. That's right. He asked me last night. And then today he asked if he could borrow my iron so he could iron a shirt for our "big dinner out". So is this a date, or are we just going to dinner? If it's just going to dinner why are we going someplace fancy and getting all dressed up? Trust me...he's not the gettin dressed up fancy dinner kinda guy. I mean, he CAN be, and looks fantastic doing it, it's just not what he prefers. But if it is a date then isn't that kinda changing things? Or is that simply a recognition of the changes that have already happened? I just really need to know whether I need to get my nails done.

It's more my confusion than confusion in reality. We go to dinner all the time. We hang out all the time. Dinner isn't an odd thing. The odd thing is the fancy part and the part where he's actually asking me weeks in advance. But in reality, it's just dinner.

OH YEAH...AND, his friend is having a birthday party at the bar tomorrow night. She called to tell him about it and told him that we were invited. WE. We have become the "We". She invited "US". "We" have become "US" somehow. I'm getting dizzy.

But he is dreamy.

Where Troubles Melt Like Lemon Drops

2006-09-26T15:25:00.000-07:00

There are just some things you shouldn't try at home. One of the fantastic things about our relationship is the fact that we have independent friends. He hangs out with his friends, I hang out with mine. We don't have to be together all the time. But, after last night he may need a chaperone.

So, Stonecold went over to his friend's house to watch a movie last night. For the east of the story let's call his friend Big V. So Big V's lady friend decided it would be a good idea to color Stonecold's hair. First, Stonecold has very dark brown hair. Second, I don't know if she's ever colored anyone's hair before. Third, I can only assume altered mental states were involved.

His hair is now yellow. Not blond. Not white. Not even bronze or red. I'm talking Lemon Head yellow. And he doesn't like it when I laugh. I couldn't help it. It looks like his head is trying to give birth to a school bus. He's in his mid 30's and he has yellow hair. It still makes me giggle. We'll fix it tonight. It will be ok. But in the mean time I have to not laugh. HA!

So, next time you go drinkin with your buddies and their girlfriends...remember, friends don't let friends use bleach.

Knottin Honey

2006-09-25T11:04:00.000-07:00

Wow, what a weekend. I'm a knitting goddess. Not really, but I like to think I am. I've about decided I need to start a knitting blog just to keep up with myself. I've almost finished my third pair of socks. These are by far my favorite, but earmarked for someone else. I'm working on a sweater for a friend of mine, and I almost finished the back last night. I started a third sweater this weekend out of a fantastic alpaca silk blend. And then I ordered more yarn. Like I need more yarn. But in my defense it was on sale. Needless to say, with all the knitting, I've been stressed.

The move is quickly approaching. I'm starting to have second thoughts. But I packed, I sorted, I got my change of address list ready to go, I figured out the travel plan, and I generally made good headway on gettin out of Dodge. Stonecold was out of town for the weekend. It's the first time he's gone out of town since he found out he's leaving. I missed the hell out of him. He was supposed to be leaving again yesterday morning to be gone for the week, but it didn't happen. When I found out he wasn't leaving for the week I actually bounced. BOUNCED damn it.

It was kinda funny though. We hung out last night. He missed me too. There was this almost giddy despiration for the both of us to get caught up in the days we missed. We were both talking at the same time at one point. And then the conversation turned, as it always does, to the inevitable end.

As much as he is trying his damndest not to show it, he's having hell with me leaving. We did the "stare accross the pillow" thing again last night. It made me teary eyed. He wiped the tears from my face as they fell. He wrapped me up in his arms and burried his face in my hair. He told me that statistically it took half the duration of the relationship to get over it, and in six months I'd be all better. I told him it would likely take me longer than six months because this is different. And then I asked him, if he thought he'd be over me in six months. Almost inaudably he mumbled "no". He cares.

He cares more than he wants to. He cares more than he knows how to. He cares more than he can. But he cares. And the bitch of it is, he's leaving. So, in the little time we have left together I have to soak up as much of him as I can get. Because, as with everything, this too shall pass. But in the mean time I'll keep knitting. And when asked what's wrong, my reply will be "knottin honey".

Boxes

2006-09-22T20:49:00.000-07:00

Um...yeah. So it's Friday. I'm working. It's 10:44 pm. I'm old. I'm boring. On the up side I'm finally not putting something off until the last minute. On the down side I'm not really working, I'm blogging...as you can well tell.

I packed today. I managed to clean out closets that haven't been touched since I moved in. For some reason when I moved in I decided I needed to have the plaid flannel jacket my ex left here "just in case". In case of what? God knows. I found old photo albums. I found old bills I had paid but for some reason not thrown away. I found old letters sent by people I had forgotten. I found my undergrad degree, still in the envelope. I'm organized. What can I say.

Yet, as I packed I couldn't bring myself to throw some of these things away. I know they have no value. I know they are dead weight. I know they mean nothing to anyone but me, and even for me many of the memories have been lost. But they are mine. They are the pieces of me that I pack up in boxes and move every few years. They are the pieces of who I was at the time that I thought I would never be able to change. They represent the hopes I had for a brilliant tomorrow. They represent a yesterday that was not as bleak as I thought it was at the time. So I put them in a box, tape them up and mark them "Stuff". Ready to move into the back of the next closet. Ready to be unpacked again the next time I move.

Am I the only one who does this?

Response Manifesto

2006-09-20T10:18:00.000-07:00

I've been pondering my next blogworthy thought for a couple of days. Thankfully Johnny Depp took the pressure off of me yesterday.

First...a comment on comments and responses. The other day, Paperback Writer posed a very interesting question. Whether she is the only person who responds to all of her comments. Which made me feel guilty for not responding to all of my comments. The problem is, I'm so wordy that a comment response won't do, thus I just create a new blog entry. Trust me when I say, I read you all regularly, even if I don't comment. I don't comment because I don't have anything intelligent to say. If I don't respond to the comments you have left, please don't take it personally. I read those too. I love comments. The other thing I should point out, I'm terrible with correspondence. I'm the world's worst at sending thank you notes, actually returning phone calls, writing people back, or anything remotely related to that genre of communication. Responding to comments is lumped into that genre. So with that said...BPI...don't be mad, I'm just lazy.

Second...on Mr. Stonecold. After Monday's post and corresponding responses (that sounds redundant, but it's not), I was floored. I hadn't thought about it in the same way as everyone who commented. I got called out on the shit that I needed to be called out on. As I said before, thanks. I was upset as the comments kept rolling in. I was chatting online with Mr. Stonecold (as we have a tendency to do when we're not together), and I had him read the comments and asked him if I was over reacting. Of course I was...but there is more.

He said he felt like an asshole. Which opened up a whole dialog that neither one of us really wanted to have at that point. I haven't lied in any of my blogs, they are simply my emotional purging of an emotional situation. I haven't hidden the truth, only transmitted the truth as viewed by me.

After two excrutiating hours online, here is what I learned in a nutshell. He never wanted to hurt me. It is killing him that he has hurt me in any way. He cares deeply about my feelings. I am his confidant, his best friend, and his partner, and he's as torn up about leaving me as I am about leaving him. We were not supposed to become emotionally involved, fall in love or get hurt. And he is not going to make any declarations of feelings before he leaves because that is only going to make leaving that much harder. Those are his words, not mine.

Third...in my defense. I recognize I have given him control over areas that are going to leave me scarred and in pain for a very long time. That is part of love. I don't know if I will ever be given the opportunity to love my best friend like this again in my life. I don't know that I would take it if given. But, I know that it was an exercise I needed to go through. I needed to see that love has to go both ways. I needed to see that I can't just have sex and not be emotionally involved. I needed to see that I could love, and lose, and deal with the pain and not crumble. I learned a lot with him. And there is no one else I would rather have learned it with.

And I've come to realize that I rely on the sounding board of my readers. I need the comments of those who have followed the story to keep me level. I appreciate all you have to say, even when I don't really want to hear it. So as one general response to all the comments...thanks. Love you all.

Me Timbers Are Officially Shivered

2006-09-19T06:39:00.000-07:00

Happy Talk Like A Pirate Day!!!

Torture

2006-09-18T11:31:00.000-07:00

I remember now, that I go through a stage. I don't know if I'm unique in this stage, or if it is some kind of mental defect. When I've accepted that I have feelings. When I've let my walls down enough to care. When I have finally relented to the voices in my heads. I get needy.

I need to know that it's ok. I need to know that I'm not making an ass out of myself. I need to know that I'm not being toyed with. The thing is, it's not ok, I am making an ass out of myself and I am being toyed with.

Unconditional love, loving without expecting love in return, being secure in your own emotions is just something I can't do. I'm insecure. I need to know that he cares about me too. But he doesn't. He can't. He won't.

And to prove that he's distancing himself. It's getting weird. We have a hard time talking. We want to be together, but when we are it's odd. I suppose it is natural. We both need to pull away at some point. We're leaving. We will likely never see each other again. We will likely never talk again. We will likely never know how the stories end. And as much as we try to ignore that reality, the closer it gets the harder it is to ignore.

So we've fallen back on what is comfortable. We've fallen back on what we know. And wow...um...yeah. I make a concerted effort to keep the blog at a PG-13 level. Occasionally I'll swear. I've reduced the Amazing talk to "Amazing". But...damn.

Stonecold has a bit of an evil streak. He has a tendency to be a little bit of a control freak. Sometimes I like that. Sometimes it's nice to have someone flip you over and tell you what to do. Right now...I don't know if I like that so much. Actually, right now I'm loving it. It's kind of a love hate thing I guess.

So last night we were Amazing. I...well...sometimes it happens easier for me than it should, if you know what I mean. I'm talented like that. So, he decided I need to learn some self control. Uh hua. Self control. AAAARRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHH. So he got me all riled up...and stopped. And said I can't finish until he finishes for me. On Tuesday. And there are all sorts of rules that keep me on the edge of my seat in the mean time. Like...but that would break the PG-13 rule.

So as I sit and type, on a Monday afternoon, I'm squirming in my chair. I seriously feel like I'm going to die. I don't know how I'm going to make it. As if I need more of a constant reminder of him. As if I need to think about what he does to me any more than I already do. As if THIS is supposed to help me shove him into the back of my mind.

Damn him. I love it.

A River in Egypt

2006-09-17T09:40:00.000-07:00

Ahhh...now I remember. I can't believe I ever forgot. I guess that's a good sign. Maybe I'll forget again. Then again...maybe I'll be smarter next time.

I remember now why I was in denial for so long. I remember now why I refused to admit my feelings even to myself. I remember now why I stuffed them down in the deep dark corner of my mind. NOW I remember.

It sucks. Yup. That's right. It sucks. It's not fun. It's not exciting. It's not fantastic. It sucks. Why you ask?

I don't know. I'm touchy, emotional, neurotic, crabby, angry, and generally upset. I know what's going on. I know what he's doing. I know why he's doing it. I even expected him to do it, and I shouldn't be surprised. I'm not really surprised. I'm just touchy, emotional, neurotic, crabby, angry, and generally upset.

So, now that the grading sheets are back. Now that I have the results and realize I failed that test. Now that I remember the right answers. It's time to go back to what works. Denial. It's not just a river in Egypt.

Two Years Ago

2006-09-16T20:03:00.000-07:00

Mr. Jackass is an alcoholic. I found out shortly after I met him he was an alcoholic, but he had been three years sober at that point. I didn't know anything about recovery. I knew very little about addiction. I knew next to nothing about AA and the community of addicts. I learned a lot.

About a year after we started dating he relapsed. I was devastated. I had no idea someone could change so completely. When he was using I didn't know who he was. When he was using, I didn't want to know him. I stayed with him through the three months of relapse. I sat by his side as he cried when he sobered up. I held his hand when he had to call his family and tell them. And while he was using, we went to the bar together. I was the worst possible girlfriend for an addict to have during a relapse.

One night Mr. Jackass and I headed for the bar. I don't know how, or why, but somehow Mr. Stonecold ended up with us. The boys decided on a blue collar hole in the wall dive bar. Mr. Jackass pouted and drank, and did his normal relapse Dr. Jekell Mr. Hyde thing. Mr. Stonecold and Mr. Jackass talked about old times and caught up on the happenings of life.

As we sat across the table from each other, in the dim smoky light of the bar, it was the first time I had really looked at him. I stirred my G&T awkwardly, not knowing quite what to say. He sipped his Cap'n Coke, while looking around the room, trying to avoid conversation. Mr. Jackass sat on my right, rambling on about the food being too hot, or too cold, or his back hurting, or someone did something that pissed him off or something. Stonecold's eyes met mine over our drinks and we smiled.

At one point the conversation turned to the subject of the perfect relationship. Mr. Stonecold leaned forward on his elbows, swirled the ice in his glass, looked me in the eye with a twinkle, and declared that women belonged in the home making his dinner and cleaning his house. I kicked him under the table. We laughed. We debated about the gender roles appropriate in the 21st century. We drank.

As the night wore on, a group of women came into the bar, clearly celebrating something. They had an assortment of beads around their necks. They were middle aged midwestern mothers, attempting to pretend they didn't have children at home and PTA meetings the next day. I don't remember how it happened, or why it happened, but somehow I infiltrated their group, and convinced them that they needed to give up some beads to see Mr. Stonecold take his shirt off. They did. He did. We laughed.

The evening came to an end. The lights in the bar harshly told us it was time to leave. We gathered our things and walked to the car. I dropped off Mr. Jackass so he could go home and get high. As I drove Mr. Stonecold home, the awkwardness of the beginning of the evening returned. We talked about his kids. We talked about his brother. We talked about Mr. Jackass.

When I stopped the car in front of his house, he told me to pull out my cell phone. He watched me as I programmed his number into the phone book. He told me to call him anytime I needed to talk or go drinking, because I shouldn't go drinking with Mr. Jackass alone. And then he went inside. That's the first time we went drinking together. From then on we were drinking buddies.

My Next Bold Move

2006-09-15T08:47:00.000-07:00

Um. Yeah.

I've been trying to come up with the words to communicate what's going on in my head since last night. I know the words. I don't like those words. I'm trying to come up with other words. The words I know scare me.

I know he can see it in my eyes. I know he can tell by the way I look at him. I can't help it. I've tried. At one point, while we were snuggling, looking at each other across the pillow he asked me "What?" He had the twinkle in his eye that said he knew damn well "what", but he wanted to hear me say it. I just like looking at him across the pillow. I like playing "Where's Waldo" looking for the grey hairs on his chest. I like the feel of his lips when he kisses my eyelids. I like the feeling of being wrapped up in his arms, watching the ceiling fan spin around.

There are a lot of things I've quit trying to hide. It's all too out in the open now and I'd look like an ass anyway. I get a jealous streak when his phone rings and its a girl. The little green eyed monster flares up when he tells me about the people he went drinkin with the other night. Sometimes he's just so adorable I have to say it, no matter how hard I try not to. And when he looks at me...in just that way, I can't help but to kiss him.

I've thought a lot about the comments I got on the last posting. Specifically the ones suggesting that I just let it go and love while I can. I don't know that I have a choice. I know he won't love me back. But love isn't about loving just because someone loves you back. At this stage in the game it doesn't matter whether he ever loves me back. I don't know that I want him to love me back. It would only hurt that much more when he leaves. But I can love him.

The interesting thing about it is he hasn't been putting up much of a fight lately. As much as I know he doesn't want me to love him, he seems to have accepted it in some way. He seems to have come to terms with the fact. He doesn't love me. I've accepted that. But he seems to be ok with letting me love him. Maybe that's his small gift to me before we leave.

And the preparations to leave are going well. I have a plan. I think I have job lined up. I'm going back to the southland where I can actually get biscuits and gravy at the drive-through. I'm selling my soul to the highest bidder. I'm becoming a cog in the machinery of the legal mechanism. The semester ends the first week of November, and I can finish grading papers from "there". My poor little first year law students will just have to make due with a new teacher next semester. Maybe I can find some new first years to torment down south.

I'm looking forward to the seventy hour work week. I'm looking forward to having no time for a social life. I'm looking forward to having money in the bank and no time to spend it. I'm looking forward to billing the client being the only thing on my mind. I'm looking forward to being able to forget, or at least not have time to remember.

Glimpses of Might Have Been

2006-09-13T08:43:00.000-07:00

First things first. I don't have cancer. Thank GOD. I don't know what it says about your life when the best news you've gotten in a long time is that you don't have cancer. I guess it means life is going along just fine. My thyroid decided to stop working a while ago. And then it blew up to four times it's normal size. Turns out, it's just lazy (like me). I'm on day two of my new drugs and feel awesome. Phew.

Last night we had a fantastic dinner with the in-law's. HA...that was funny. Not my in-law's, Stonecold's brother-in-law (the chef) made dinner. It once again pointed out how far down the domestic ladder I am. Don't get me wrong, I can boil water...but not the way he does it. We enjoyed a fantastic evening of wine and good food and conversation. Seriously, it was a good time had by me at least.

So here's where it got interesting. About a week ago I notice an odd hit on my sitemeter. Normally I don't spend a lot of time looking at my sitemeter, but I noticed someone locally had been on my blog for a long time. Long enough to read the blog...the whole blog...and nothing but the blog. In an attempt to keep my life private, the only people in the state that know about my blog (that I know that know me) are Stonecold, Ms. Twinkie and me. The strange visitor was not one of the above three.

I was chatting online with Stonecold when I noticed the hit. I mentioned it to him. He denied knowledge. He denied knowledge for the next couple of days. Until he finally 'fessed up and told me that the mysterious visitor was....drumroll...HIS SISTER!!! That's right. Something possessed him to ask her advice on something (I'm still trying to figure out what), which required her reading a couple of blog posts. She read the whole thing. Honestly, I don't know who's more embarrassed by the fact, him or me. Now his baby sister (who is in her mid 20's but still, to him, his baby sister) knows about (a) all the Amazing, (b) all the emotional shit I've managed to figure out along the way and (c) that he has an unequalled ability to be a twit. HA!

So at dinner her husband made a comment, which was a loose reference to Stonecold's virility. Stonecold blushed. HE BLUSHED!!! And then he left the room for about 15 minutes. While he was gone she asked me if it bothered me if she read the blog again. I told her it would probably bother him more than me, but she was more than welcome. So, she'll likely be back...HI!!!

Anyway, then I taught her now to knit. The boys argued politics. It was all very domestic and homey. That was dinner with the in-laws. Sigh.

We went home and snuggled. We talked about the problems we're having on the restore with the car. We talked about the night. We talked about the move. We talked about life. As I got up to go, he asked my why I had to leave. I told him it was because I'm crabby in the morning and I didn't want him to see me like that, and he had to work today. He didn't buy that. I told him I had to go home to take my meds. He bought that.

The truth is, I don't want to get used to sleeping with him. I love sleeping with him. It's the best feeling in the world. The feeling of having someone there while I'm drifting off to sleep. The feeling of his pulse under my cheek. The change of his breath on my forehead as he falls asleep. The pressure of his arms wrapped around me as I drift in the place between sleep and awake. The way he wraps my legs in his. The way he tickles my back and caresses my arm. The way he reaches around to find my hand. The way he doesn't just passively lay there, but actively holds me even when he's unconscious. I love sleeping with him.

But I almost never stay the night. I'm afraid if I get used to sleeping with him now, once he leaves it will take me months to be able to sleep on my own again. I'm afraid if I get used to having him hold me all night long I won't be able to sleep without it. I'm afraid when he leaves it will be just one more thing I will miss. I don't need one more thing at this point, there's already a million.

So, once again I left. Like I always do. To protect myself from the inevitable pain of being left, I left.

The Only Post on The Internet NOT About 9/11 Because I'm Too Self Absorbed

2006-09-11T07:54:00.000-07:00

It's Monday morning. I should be working. I have plenty of things to do, but I sit here blogging. Damn blogger and it's time suck capabilities.

I don't find out the results from the tests on Friday until tomorrow. I think I'm going to call the doctor anyway and see if they are in early. I hate doctors. Ugh. All of my research (and YES, I am the research queen) has shown that even worse case scenario, I'll survive. Then again, Steve Erwin died from a sting ray. Who'da thunk.

Stonecold and I had a discussion last night. It was not a knock down drag out. It was a discussion. It was enlightening. It was heartbreaking. I'm still wrapping my brain around it, and you all know I wrap my brain around things here...

First, and foremost what he said.
He is putting himself through a major guilt trip right now for what is going on. He doesn't want me to end up jaded and cold and unwilling to love again.

A while ago I got drunker than drunk should be. We were at the bar, and it was the night he had told me for the first time that he would never love me. I ended up making out with random guy at the bar before Stonecold drove me home. Despite his statements to the contrary, he admitted last night that this bothered him. Depending on how much wiggle room I give him, his story changes on WHY this bothered him. But it bothered him.

His ex, the psycho married bitch from hell, is the last woman he loved. He doesn't now how to knock the walls down he built up to protect himself after she left.

He said he had noticed the signs of me falling for him months ago, and he should have left then. I asked him why he didn't. He said he tried, but when we stopped the Amazing he missed his friend too much. That even when I was there, I wasn't really there. (Which I think I said about him about the same time too.) So, he went back to the Amazing so he could get his friend back. He said if he told me this I was going to get angry. I was angry. I asked him why I should be angry. He said that a statement like that would make a person feel used, abused and objectified. I told him he was either the biggest liar I had ever met in my life, or the biggest asshole. More on that in a bit.

Then, there is what he did. I said in an earlier post that what he does and what he says are often in opposition with each other. Last night was no exception.

Lately the Amazing has been less than Amazing. It's still been good, just not Amazing. We've been off. Last night we were really off. We're both under an extreme amount of stress. I don't know about him, but everytime we're together there is a big neon sign flashing in the room with a count down of the days we have left together. It's hard to be sexy when you know your time is running out for good. But for someone who supposedly has the ability to emotionally disconnect himself from sex, this just doesn't make sense. If there are not supposed to be any emotional strings to sex, then why is the sex suffering because of the emotions going on?

He held me. He held me in a way that no one has ever held me before. He held me like a drowning man lost at sea. He held me like if he let go we would both go under. And when I tried to get up to leave he wouldn't let go. I don't mean just a little resistance, I mean at one point it almost turned into a wrestling match. And I thought he was sleeping.

He cried. He didn't want me to see him cry. He didn't want me to know he was crying. I don't know why. I don't know if it is because he knows how much it is hurting me to have him leave and it's not hurting him and he's sad. I don't know if it is because he's going to miss me. I don't know if it is because he's under stress and he finally broke. I don't know if it is because he wants to care but doesn't know how.

I know him inside and out, as much as he doesn't want to think I do. I know what he is capable of, and what he is not. I know what he wants and what he fears and what he hopes for and what he is to scared to dream about. I know what makes him laugh, and now I know what makes him cry.

And I know that he's not an asshole, but I know he is capable of lying to himself. I know he cares about me more than he is willing to admit to himself. I know that at some point in the future he will rewrite history so that I am not an important factor to him. He will rewrite history so that I am just a blip on the radar screen. Because if he doesn't, the pain and regret will be more than he can handle.

At one point last night, while we were crying and holding each other for dear life, he said he would be happy for every last second we had left. I am too. Regardless of whether he will admit why it hurts him so bad to leave and watch me go. Regardless of the Amazing or lack thereof. I am thankful for him. I am thankful for the lessons he taught me. I am thankful to know I still have the ability to feel this way, and that I had that experience with him.

Why I Went To Law School

2006-09-09T11:41:00.000-07:00

I hate doctors. I'm sure they are fine and fabulous people on their own, outside their profession, but I hate doctors.

I spent the whole day at the doctor's office yesterday. I've had some symptoms, which I tried to ignore, which couldn't be ignored any longer. So, I broke down and went to the doctor. It was bad. I got poked and prodded and pinched and generally felt invaded by the end of the day. And when it was all said and done, I'm broke.

I won't know exactly what's wrong with me until the tests come back on Tuesday. It could be as little as a gland malfunction, or as major as cancer. You would have thought with the advances in modern medicine that they would be able to narrow it down more than that. But, alas, I must spend the weekend in a panic, waiting to find out exactly how broke I am.

But, with the aid of the handy dandy intranet, I'm feeling a lot more optimistic today. But I still hate doctors.

It's in the Details

2006-09-08T13:59:00.000-07:00

Today I was granted a major shift in perspective. That which is truly important is sometimes revealed at times when you least expect it, but when it it most needed. I needed the perspective shift.

There are things in life which outweigh all the crap that our imaginations tend to over concentrate on every day. The piddly little shit like how our hair looks, and whether the dog got a bath. The mundane such as the dishes and the dusting. The ordinary such as the bills and the yard. These things don't matter. They are the time suck which occupies our mind so that the big picture, which is scary, can remain out of focus.

Today, the big picture came into focus, in a very real way. It's time to quit stressin the small stuff. The small stuff is for joy, not for stress. The small stuff like the first cup of coffee in the morning. The feel of cool clean sheets on your bed at night. The sound of the car that you've been working on for three weeks when it turns over for the first time. These are the important joys in life. Everything else is a distraction.

In every day there are the small joys. I can't overlook them anymore.

Blond Moment?

2006-09-07T15:50:00.000-07:00

Stonecold and I have had a record number of knock down drag outs over the past couple of weeks. We're both getting tired of them. At least I am. And if I'm getting tired of arguing I know he's at his wit's end. I just don't know what else to do.

I'm mad. I'm sad. I'm upset. I'm angry. I'm irrational. Then again, so is he.

The thing is, despite all of the knock down drag outs, we've been spending a record amount of time together. We see each other almost every day. On the days we don't see each other we chat for hours online. But regardless of whether we're together, or chatting online, there's a big pink elephant in the room.

Up to this point we've been able to downplay the discrepancy in our feelings. He doesn't love me, and he never will. I'm emotionally attached. Which is fine, as long as all we're doing is hanging out, cuddling on the couch, crying on each other's shoulder about how sucky life is, laughing about funny things that happened throughout the day, playing with the kids, visiting his sister, watching TV, playing video games, or having sex. But when we start talking about "now what", or "next month", or "I'm leaving" things get bad. Because we both have to face the reality of our emotions.

He has none. Don't get me wrong. I'm sure he has some emotions. Just not the same emotions I have. I have been able to deny and ignore the feelings I have for him because it didn't matter. I couldn't bring it up. I didn't have to bring it up. And I knew if I did bring it up he'd be gone. But now that he's going to be gone anyway, and with all the "L" word discussions in the past couple of weeks, I've had to face my feelings. I've had to look long and hard at the way I really feel about him. And it scares the living shit out of me.

I am terrified. I don't know when the wall fell and the emotions got involved. I don't know when I let my guard down enough to love him. I don't know how I didn't notice it was happening along the way. I don't know how I didn't catch it, or stop it, or make it go away. I don't understand why I didn't walk away six months ago when I had the chance. I don't know what to do to keep it from happening again, and I don't know what to do to make it go away.

I am devastated. I don't know how, after all we have been through together, our feelings are so different. I don't know why I'm not good enough to be loved by him. I don't know what I did to make him decide not to fall for me in the first place. I don't know how to be happy for him when he finds someone good enough for him. I don't know how to help him love a woman who is not me. I don't know how to not care.

I am embarrassed. I don't know how I became this person. I don't know how I allowed myself to become so weak minded. I don't know where my "fuck you" attitude has gone. I don't know how to face him knowing he knows how I feel. I don't know why I let that bother me.

I thought at my age I'd know a lot more. Maybe it's a blond thing.

Coming or Going?

2006-09-06T19:43:00.000-07:00

I talked to my realtor today. The house goes on the market on Friday. The listing price will be higher than I expected. Very exciting.

Having managed to break the news to almost everyone, I'm in the process of being verbally berated by my friends and family for making a "rash" decision. So, what does my sister do? She calls in the big guns.

One of my favorite people in the world moved away a while ago. There's a long history there, but suffice to say he's like my little brother and my 26 year old child all rolled into one. He had moved here for a while, and the he moved back home, promising to come back someday.

He showed up at the door for dinner tonight. Unannounced. With his car full. He moved home. And now...he's staying here for a while until he finds a place. He knows about the plans. He doesn't know about Mr. Stonecold. He'd kick my ass if he did. But I'm excited. I missed his stupid face. We'll talk about the move tomorrow. For tonight, it was just good to have him back.

Running

2006-09-05T15:02:00.000-07:00

We ran today. Literally, we ran. It was funny. We're old. I needed to run. I haven't run in about a week and a half, and I needed to get into that zone where my mind quits working. The zone where the only thought running through my head is "pound pound breath breath pound pound breath breath". I need the zen.

I'm confused. I'm trying to figure out what I'm confused about. It really breaks down into two major categories. Work Life and Private Life.

Work Life. Included in this category is moving. It's time to move. I move. That's what I do. I have a couple of job leads which would require relocation. I don't have any reason not to move. I should move. I hate moving. I don't really want a real job. Ugh.

In all reality I'm looking for an excuse to run away. I know that. I'm looking for an excuse to pick up that which is a bare necessity, throw it in the back of my truck and drive to a new location. I need to start over. Which brings me to the second major category.

Private Life. Oh. My. God. Yeah. So, a year ago all I wanted was a no-strings-attached, nothing but sex relationship. Truly. I didn't want to feel. I didn't want to deal with the crap that went along with a relationship. I didn't want to worry about tomorrow or whether he'd be around. I just wanted to get laid.

I got laid. And then I got attached. About the time I thought I was emotionally ok with being attached I realized I was more than just attached. But for a year he has consistently told me that he doesn't like me like that. That I don't mean that to him, and that I never will.

And then he decided to leave. I don't know what's going on now. I really don't. I don't know if he's admitting to himself that he has feelings. I don't know if he still doesn't like me like that and never will. I don't know. He's always been the guy who did one thing and then said something different where feelings are concerned. I know there are many reasons for that. But, I don't know what he means by what he's saying now. And it's driving me crazy.

Part of me would drop everything tomorrow and go with him. Part of me wants him to ask me to. Part of me wants to greet him at the door with his pipe and slippers and ask him how his day was. Part of me can't stand the thought of losing the part of me that he has become.

And then the other part of me smacks that part of me upside the head. That is the image of everything I have been revolting against for years. That is the image of the woman I have most feared becoming. That is the image I attempted to live up to at one point in my life and failed miserably. Which is why I am where I am today.

The shitty thing is, it doesn't matter. He's leaving. It doesn't matter whether he loves me or not. It doesn't matter whether I love him or not. It doesn't matter whether we would have ended up very happily sitting on the front porch making fun of the paperboy in 40 years. Because that's not going to happen. He's leaving.

Which is why I need to go too. I can't stay here. He needs a clean break. He needs to be able to go on and not wonder about what he left behind. He needs to be able to move on in his life down the path that life has chosen for him. I just can't watch him walk away. I can't watch him fall in love with somebody else. I can't give him relationship advice on the next one. I can't hear about the new fuck buddy. I can't be here when he comes home with his wife. I can't deal with him being sent into combat. I can't read his death notice in the paper. I'm just not that strong.

So I'll go. Fully admitting that I'm running away. Fully admitting that I'm weak. Fully admitting that I'm a coward. And fully admitting that if things had been different I might have been able to stop running.

Scenes From a Coffee Shop

2006-09-04T08:50:00.000-07:00

After law school I had to take the bar exam. Preparation, in true over achiever fashion, involved 8-10 hours a day 6 days a week of solid study time. There is only so much time you can spend in the library before you want to become the unibomber. So my study buddy and I found a little hole in the wall coffee shop and started planting ourselves there.

Like all good hole in the wall places, this coffee shop contained a society of it's own. We soon became accepted as "regulars" and got to know everyone else. This is when I met and started seeing Mr. Jackass. Mr. Jackass was a fixture at the coffee shop. He had been a fixture for a very long time. He knew everyone, everyone knew him, and through him I learned about everyone's dirty secrets and their life history's. It was a very interesting sociological study to tell you the truth.

One of the people he told me about was his friend who was in Pennsylvania with his kids. Mr. Jackass didn't know if his friend was coming home, but he really wanted me to meet his friend. He said we would get along very well. We liked to debate the same way, so he said.

After I finished taking the bar exam, I took some time off to recover. Trust me, recovery was needed. One Wednesday afternoon, about 3:30 I was hanging out at the coffee shop, waiting for Mr. Jackass to show up. I was reading the first book in the Baroque Trilogy by Neil Stephenson. I was sitting at a round table in the corner, with a view of the door and the bar. It was sunny. I was wearing capri's and a blue shirt. My favorite barrista was working. I was in a bad mood.

I had been sitting there for a while, not really reading, just watching people mill around. Listening to the conversations going on around me. There was a stranger sitting at the bar. At this point I knew all the regulars, and new people were odd. The barrista was talking to this guy like he was a long lost friend, so I assumed he was a regular too. But he didn't belong there.

The stranger exuded poise. With an air of confidence worn only by men who can make the world stand on it's ear, he sat at the bar sipping his coffee. After a while he got up and came over to my table. I watched him over the top of my book. His eyes never wavered. His step never faltered. Intently, without intensity he came over. My stomach lurched.

The impression I had at first was not a good one. He didn't fit in with the rest of the slackers at the coffee shop. He was dangerous. Not only dangerous in the "I can kill a man using only my thumb" kinda way, but in the way he made my head spin. I knew it was a bad idea to be around him. I knew he was a player. I knew he was the break your heart and leave you cryin kinda guy. I had heard all the stories.

He introduced himself. Mr. Stonecold. The friend Mr. Jackass had told me about. He told me he had heard about me from the barrista and he was glad to have finally met the "lawyer". I told him I had heard about him from Mr. Jackass and asked about his trip. We chatted for a bit. Mr. Jackass showed up. I left. I didn't see him again for a few weeks. When I saw him again I couldn't remember his name.

That was almost exactly three years ago. Strange, the things that play in your head when you're trying to fall asleep.

Once Upon a Time...

2006-09-03T12:53:00.000-07:00

Two posts in one day. *Gasp* Yeah, I'm looking for things to do.

So, Sean posed an interesting question. Have you ever had that "someone" who was perfect for you, and who you were perfect for? And if so, did you ever make it work? At least, that's the gist of it.

In Jr. High I went to church camp every summer. (I keep telling y'all I'm a geek). In about 7th grade I met this guy...let's call him, um, Boy. So, Boy and I were friends. Just friends. He was a flirt. I was a flirt. He had his camp girlfriends, I had my camp boyfriends, but we were always buddies.

So, all the way through Jr. High and High School we kept in touch. We lived about 200 miles apart, and this was WAY before e-mail. We would visit each other on breaks. We would make sure we were at the same camp each summer. We would call, and write, and all that stuff.

After graduation we ended up at the same college. We didn't really just end up there, we kinda decided together that's where we were going. We hung out. We dated each other's friends. Throughout this time, occasionally things would happen where we would look at each other and wonder if maybe we should go for more. It just never happened.

And then I got engaged. And he got engaged. And he got married. And had kids. And became a soccer dad. And now he hunts all the time. We still talk. We still get together and hang out every now and then. But in all reality, we weren't meant to be together. He's one of my best friends, and always will be. But if I had ended up with him I would have shot him already.

And that's the story of a Boy and a Lawgirl.

Socks

2006-09-03T07:59:00.000-07:00

I've determined that my stress level is directly correlative to the amount of knitting I get done. The higher the stress level, the more I knit.

I finished socks today. They're warm.

Off to knit.

Oh by the way, I'm home. I'll post more later. Maybe a pic of the socks if I'm feeling productive.

And I'm working on a post in answer to Sean's fantastic question.

Happy Sunday y'all.