12 May 02

Got the computer back. Modem now lets me access AOL … and nothing else! Can’t get onto the Internet from any ISP, so I am gonna rant and rant and rant here in Simple Text, email it to myself at work, and post it from there.

Today’s Mindset: confounded. Mother’s Day … “Coulda Woulda Shoulda,” the “Sex and the City” episode, comes to mind. Hmmm. So many decisions have been thrown upon me during the past year (May 12 and June 23, both in 2001, come to mind). Perhaps that was one of the better ones that I made (although last week’s “Six Feet Under” sobered me, with all those children around Nate). Maybe. Time will tell. At least that was a decision that I made for myself, instead of letting other people’s feelings (and/or lack thereof) guide my future.

And as far as YKW …

Am trying really hard to make sense of everything. Reality came along this weekend and beat me with its ugly stick. I’ve been dying without access to the blog, but it has given me time to digest the bizarre series of events that have catapulted me into this emotional cesspool where I am currently wading. Of course, I almost feel like I am stepping into Denial, and maybe if I hope and wish and wonder enough, it will change the course of events, and maybe I can navigate this sinking ship to shore.

Yeah, right.

There’s also a certain sense of relief, although it isn’t showing yet, that will break through the water’s surface when I am ready to cling to that life preserver. But I’m not completely ready to heal yet … I need to tread for awhile. I’m okay with sitting here, picking at the scab and making it bleed a little more, for now. I have got to drain my body of the bad blood in order for fresh and healthy blood to fill my being once again. Like Lab Rat always says, ya can’t bandage a wound that requires stitches, and for me, I know that I must let the hurt, anger, disappointment and despair ruin me completely before I can rebuild my foundation from scratch. One thing about me, my heart will beat itself to death rather than squelch my myriad of feelings and pretend to move on.

The good thing is, I didn’t build my hopes and dreams upon this working out. More than anything, I wanted (and maybe needed) things to work with him, but I was always prepared to move on with my life without him, if that indeed had to be the case. And after months of hoping that would not be necessary, I see now, more clearly than ever, that it is the only way to save myself, because he isn’t going to be the one to do it for me.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again … his loss.

“I have climbed the highest mountain

I have sailed across the sea

I have wrestled with my demons

And woke up with only me

I have been around the block

Three times, maybe four

And I think I deserve just a little more.”

Melissa Etheridge — “I Want to Be in Love”

I didn’t find it where I was looking. Now, I’m not as dumb as I seem … I really thought it was right there, where I expected it to be. Who was I to know that it was possibly a mirage?

Something bizarre just occurred to me. What if, on that cold September night, I had just let Colin take me home, like he wanted to? What if YKW did not offer to save the day and remove me from the situation? I don’t feel like I would have been any better off, leaving with Colin, to be perfectly honest. Much as I liked him and enjoyed spending time with him, I didn’t want him because to me, he was a little boy who wasn’t ready for a grown-up woman like me. Personally, I figured he was just fascinated with screwing someone equally or more experienced sexually, and let’s say it in unison: all he wanted was a good time. That’s usually what I was in it for, but I’ve been around that block more times than Melissa Etheridge in the above song. Anyway, YKW knew that I was looking for more than that. And when we hooked up, how was I to know that was all he wanted, when he knew that I needed more?

“I never wanted anything

The way I wanted you that night

My love transcended space and time.”

— Bif Naked, “Anything” —

I don’t hate him. I never can and I never will. How could I, when I really thought there was more between us than, in actuality, it seems there was? But what was it that I could have done, or shouldn’t have done, to make him want me more? Was it all a joke? (I hate it when the paranoia sets in … it’s like high school all over again, when the boy you had a crush on doesn’t want you, and you temporarily lose your self-worth, based solely upon his opinion of you.) Lesser people than me have found and maintaned relationships … why am I unable to have the people I want, yet have a movie-theater line of people waiting for me, whom I don’t want? Why the vicious circle?

Was joking with my friend that, too, the love triangle has become kidney-shaped. SE is still in love with me. I am still in love with YKW. And, it seems, YKW is in love with YKW. 🙂 (oh, that was so cruel!)

“I remember how I spent

All my energy and time

With affected conversation

Trying to pry inside your mind

You are as beautiful as truth

And as empty as a shell

And I came to you one night

And you made me feel like hell.”

— Indigo Girls, “Left Me a Fool” —

SE has been so good to me, for as long as we have known each other. So good. Hell, he treats me exactly the way I treat YKW. I hate this feeling, of being so fucking blind and stupid. But really, I don’t believe I was blind. I saw something there in his eyes, for the entire time we have known each other. What I don’t believe is that he was playing games with me … I think he really did feel something. But I also think he’s a man who was forced into early adulthood, and now that he’s older and more settled, he’s clinging the youth that he never truly had, and while on one hand I am someone wild and untamed, I am also someone who is getting older as well and who would like a little bit of consistency and groundedness. Again, I’m not mad at him for that, but regardless, I got hurt, and even if it was never his intention to hurt me, well, he did.

As Leslie said, I am his lesson to learn. I gave him my heart, and I would give him my life, if only he wanted me to. As I was discussing with my friend yesterday, it is my hope that someday (sooner would be better than later), he will realize that all he ever wanted or needed could have been his, and he didn’t take advantage. It is my friend’s hope that I will be already be married to somebody fabulous when that day arrives.

“And it hurts to want everything

And nothing at the same time

I want what’s yours

And I want what’s mine

I want you

But I’m not giving in this time.

Goodbye to you

Goodbye to everything

I thought I knew

You were the one I loved

The one thing that I tried to hold on to.”

— Michelle Branch, “Goodbye to You” —

At the very least, I kissed him again. And again. But this time, and maybe I might have realized it at the time (or maybe I didn’t), I was kissing him goodbye. But again with the mixed signals, first he said “don’t get carried away,” and in next breath, he put his lips upon mine. I hate it that I liked it … I hate it that I told him that I missed him, that I like kissing him, that I wanted for us to kiss. I hate it that I, to this very minute, wish the story had a different ending.

But what I do not hate is that I laid it on the line … that I let him know that I wanted him. Perhaps I should regret it, but I don’t … I deserve to have the things I want in life, and I can’t get them without trying. I tried. And I failed. I can live with that … what I couldn’t live with would be harboring the feelings for fear of rejection. Further, I am so proud of myself for saying that I didn’t want to kiss him because I was afraid I couldn’t stop. So damn clever.

Was I really rejected, though? Did I really lose anything? I don’t know. Will he ever come around? Will I be around to see it happen? I’ll never forget the look in his eyes when he was with me. But the words and actions really didn’t back it up. He penetrated me so deeply, in so many ways. Yet I will always wonder if I ever really got through to him.

“You know I’d still hold you, if I could

It’s hard not to try and change

Try to change your mind

I’m a pillar of salt

I want you to understand

This is the last time

The last time I ever look behind.”

— Indigo Girls, “Walk Away” —

Here’s an old post that was trapped on my computer while it was in the shop:

4 May 2002

Heavy drinking usually renders most individuals ineffective for at least a day. Then you have me, someone who can only achieve clarity when imbibing and subsequently nursing a hangover.

I’d told Lab Rat that yesterday was a perfect waste of scandalous underwear. She said that it is never wasted unless it’s a day you have your period. 😉

At happy hour last night, I am pretty certain I had about eight drinks in the first 90 minutes. Then I bought a beer that got me through the rest of the evening. The majority of the crew moved from our Strip District haunt to an obscure place in Brentwood, but I decided to skip that. I did call Dave V. to see what they were doing, and Beth got on and told me that they were going to end up at a bar in Homestead and that I should call back in an hour to get directions to it, because she knew I was too drunk to drive all the way to Brownsville Road, not knowing where Acapulco Joe’s was. I said she could call me when they were ready to head toward Sandcastle. Truly, I did want to hang out at home, sober up, and go out again, but I wasn’t even awake long enough to know if they tried to call or not. 😉

Point of Clarity #1:

I am disgusted by the Land of Mixed Signals from a certain someone. I want him and probably will for a long time to come, but waiting for him to send a clear, consistent message to me is like waiting for Incoherent Twit to speak a properly conjugated sentence. (Update: for those of you who remember my post that she wants to develop/teach a public speaking class, would you FUCKING believe that our Training Department, which has not returned any of Lab Rat’s or my calls/emails in nine weeks, met with her to pursue the idea further?!?! TWICE!!!!!!)


Regarding Point of Clarity #1, I have to be sappy and quote a Bon Jovi song:

“I can’t write a love song

The way I feel today

And I can’t sing a song of hope

I’ve got nothing to say

Life is feeling kind of strange

Since you went away

I send this song to you

Wherever you are

As my guitar lies bleeding in my arms.”

— Bon Jovi, “My Guitar Lies Bleeding in My Arms” —

I don’t blame him for anything … maybe he realized our friendship is good and should have remained untouched. I blame myself for allowing myself to feel so safe and happy when I am near him. I hate myself for not feeling that good when he isn’t in close proximity.

On a final Bon Jovi note, “If you don’t love me, lie to me/’cause baby you’re the one thing I’d believe/let it all fall down around us, if that’s what’s meant to be/right now if you can’t love me baby, lie to me.”

Point of Clarity #2:

I hate my employer. It was while lunching yesterday with Victor, a new case aide (and a 23-year-old Italian hottie!) that I realized how bloody jaded I am. He’s so excited to be working with the kids, and he sees that these kids have nobody in their lives to give them the helping hand that our agency does. The corporate bullshit doesn’t affect him the way it does the leadership team — we don’t have those intimate moments with our clients that allow us to realize the difference we are capable of making. No, those of us who are confined to meetings and paperwork don’t get those points of inspiration. Granted, I have no desire whatsoever to hang out with the kids and families, because I’d tell them that I’ve had to struggle too, and you just deal with it and quit expecting handouts from the world. But once in awhile, a story like the one Victor told me (where the child said, “You’re my best friend. And you’re my only friend.”) seeps into my arid veins. That alone would have sent me sailing above the sea of lies and deceit upon which our agency operates, and it would have made me want to work even harder. Absent that, I am ineffective.

Point of Clarity #2B:

Why on earth is my employer gonna force me to take a grammar class that will cost them $125 for my seat alone, when they can hand me the $125 and let me take a vacation day while all the illiterates are asking why bring/brang/brung isn’t a proper conjugate? Further, hand me $500 and I will teach the fucking class for them. You know, I used to hate the Pittsburgh accent … now I long to hear the drawl and the stupid colloquial phrases, which at least loosely translate into English. While everyone’s in their grammar class, I need a course on Ebonics instead, so I can figure out what the fuck certain coworkers are saying to me. (It must be noted that a majority of my colleagues speak perfectly well; it’s the younger ones who flaunt their street vocabulary, thinking they’re so cool, when all it shows is their utter unprofessionalism.) And while I have no problem telling my staff or others to shape up and act right in the workplace, I do not touch anything remotely related to things indigenous to people of color. I’d be tossed out on my head. (Like that would be a bad thing.)

Point of Clarity #3:

I need to move out of this town. No further explanation required.

Point of Clarity #4:

Monkey Boy and I have exchanged some thought-provoking emails, encouraging each other to not feel so alone in the world and to not dwell upon those with whom we feel/felt were “the one” for each of us. I realize that I have an inability to practice what I preach. Granted, I have been doing just fine as a swingin’ single party gal for 27 years (28 at the end of this month!), but it would certainly be nice to have someone hold me and kiss away my problems at the end of the day. I know a relationship can’t make you feel whole, but I’d like to give it a try instead of just wondering about it.

Point of Clarity #5:

Pizza and ice cream are the best fucking comfort foods ever invented!

Pink’s “Don’t Let Me Get Me” video is on VH1. That’s the song for the day. I might have to pick up her CD when I go out today. If only I could pick up a new life while I’m at it. …

One final note:

“I can’t take any more of this

I want to come apart

And dig myself a little hole

Inside your precious heart

Oooh, and it’s always raining in my head

Forget all the things I should have said.”

— Staind, “Epiphany” —

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