One true love

We were discussing our belief in the existence of the 'one.' We both felt it was possible there was one other person in the world that was the yin to our yang but also several other people with whom you could find happiness. I've been thinking about this since and am inclined to reject the fantasy of the 'one.' I don't know anyone who has that one. I know many people who have found someone they can build a life with, where the balance of things they could do without is outgunned by things they don't want to live without. The only place I have ever seen something perfectly good outgunned by an undeniably better match is in a movie. I have friends who have experienced the whirlwind movie-like romances and they have without fail ended badly (myself included). What makes us chase that fable may be the same thing that drives us to create fantasy in our lives and in our worlds. The reason Disneyland and Disney World exist. I don't know. I only know every girlfriend I know well enough to know some of their relationship history breaks set with her past relationships in the man they marry. That's of course natural--he has to be different in a significant way from the other men they dated. But it's more than that. If picked out of a catalogue, she would order her man talk, dark, handsome and athletic. She married a wonderful short, fair-haired klutz.

I wonder if part of the reason my girlfriends object when I pick apart a guy, is while I catalogue what thing he did that pissed me off or had me convinced I could move on, I imply I'm holding out for something better than what my girlfriends have. That I am denying their reality, the reality it seems, that he's not out there. There is no fated other intersection, the guys here now are the opportunities to suffer, to explore, to evaluate. No long lost love will be sweeping in, no mutual crushes will be confessed, the dream come true turns out always to be the dream you never actually had. I never dreamed to fall in love with a guy younger than me who listened to death metal and didn't go to church during a time in my life when church was a huge part of my social life. It wasn't a list of things he was or wasn't. It was how I felt when I was with him. He felt like home. I don't know what that was or if it is possible to feel that way again. Maybe you can never go back and there is no home. Maybe I just get a plot of land and some raw materials to build a home with. As my silver hairs increase and I hurtle towards my 40's men are beginning to compete with the increasingly compelling option of having no significant other. Of making my own home. Were it not the best way for me to have a satisfying physical relationship with someone, I don't think I would even consider marriage or even a boyfriend. It's hard to live with people.

Just shut up

Ran into our postman on the way home today. He's been working out at my gym for six months or so and has lost a lot weight. He's always in there for 2-3 hours at a time, working hard and dripping everywhere. He was never fat to me but he is noticeably swimming in his post office parka and I complimented him on how good he looked. All the man had to say was thank you. Instead he said thank you, pointed to my general body area in an up and down motion with his hand, noted I was "getting there" and encouraged me "to keep it up." I told him I wasn't trying to get anywhere in particular and considered exercise body maintenance. He didn't let up, going on about how he had to change his diet and how he doesn't eat red meat or pork anymore. Again I said, that's great, pork and red meat clearly weren't working for YOU. YOU are 50. Still he went on confirming my level of gym attendance and using words like pace and goals and something else equally irritating. He was preaching his exercise and lifestyle religion and it isn't less annoying than people who do the same thing with deity-focused discussions of faith and religion. Just say thank you and shut the fuck up. Now I'm eating tortilla chips and feeling like shit even though I know I look just dandy. Not mailing another mother-effin thing through the post office this year.

Note to self: Don't talk to people.

Now for 3?

Yesterday I was sweating over a guy that I'm not that into for not being that into me. Today I am fending off the advances of a guy from 9 months ago who doesn't remember my name but knows he just has to see me again. Even though I have told him no for nine months without fail. Even though I have told him there is absolutely no wiggle room in my no, that we are not looking for the same things and I don't want waste my time with a random hook-up guy. Even when I call him on not knowing my name, he responds with no sense of shame and asks for it again. I ask him how things are going otherwise. He says they are going well and then gets right back to 'I want to see you again.' He is a total man-child. Or a bad puppy. Annoying as hell and endearing because he just can't seem to help himself. I always think I've picked great unequivocal words and that he'll be done with me once and for all. But not so much. I am NOT apparently the great communicator I think I am. I use words like 'no', phrases like 'never going to happen' and another side of 'no' just to top it off. He doesn't respond and I think he's gone. Three months later he's back. Like a bad penny this one.

So I've got 2 out of my 3 whatever this is covered. Wonder if 3 will be the charm. I don't know but I DO know that today was the antidote to yesterday. Ava's got options... Not good options, but Ava's got options.

Your move

I really thought I would be the girl who didn't play games. But every relationship is a game. The ones that don't feel like games are the ones where you don't care about winning. But they are all still games, not in the sense they shouldn't be taken seriously but in the sense that there is always the dynamic of 'hand' playing. When this-whatever "this" is-kicked off, I had hand. I did not care and I was content for him to pursue me and entertain me. Now I'm curious about him and I really don't want to be because he honestly isn't curious about me. He's curious about my calves (in a way that kind of makes me adjust his serial killer potential) and about all the things winter clothing presents a challenge in discerning. But about me? Not so much. Not even a I-just-want-to-get-in-your-pants-but-how-was-your-day gesture.

And baggage. Ugh. Tonight as I wondered if he was coming by and wondered why I had not heard from him, I recalled the time Cliff said he was coming to meet my parents and I cooked and then waited. And waited. And called without reaching him. And waited some more. Long after I had stored the leftovers, he called with an excuse or explanation which did not matter. It hurt me physically. Pain radiating out from my core to my extremities. I thought it must have been my heart or my soul for it to actually hurt that bad. This guy not picking up some leftovers is not the same thing as cooking dinner for him and my parents. But I was disgusted both with him for not communicating with me about his intentions to come or not and for my waiting. And for the way I felt while I waited as those ghosts of relationships past swirled in the room. I don't EVER want to wait for a guy again. Ever. It is a terrible terrible feeling. That's why you see it in movies so often. There you are waiting and they never come. But you keep hoping they do come or they want to come and simply can't because they are trapped in a well. A well with poor cell reception which is why they didn't call. But they aren't trapped in a well and you don't have to wonder about people who are actually into you. In my movie, the guy is not busy overcoming obstacles to be by my side, he just found something else he would rather do.

Something to talk about

Arg. There I was not giving two shits if this guy called me or didn't call me and I've done talked him into my head. Shit. So we're having a moratorium on girlfriend deconstruction of my social life, such that it is. I don't know what's on his mind but I do know if I'm wondering what's on his mind, it's probably not me.

Take a chance on me

Someone asked for a link to my blog today. I haven't decided if I'm going to send it. Full disclosure, I obliquely mentioned that I had a blog. By obliquely I mean I told them I had a blog. I told them I would send them stuff I had written, the angry funny stuff, not the angst-y will I-won't I ever fall in love and sing and dance and have woodland creatures help me do laundry like in the Disney movies.

They didn't ask if I had a blog, didn't say they love reading blogs in their free time, I just decided it was time for them to know I had one. I don't know why I treat a blog-reveal like blogging is something no one else does. Fake characters on TV shows have real blogs. I guess a part of me feels lame for blogging. I kind of want to call it something else so I don't feel like this poster applies to me.




But it's kind of true right?

So I should never tell anyone who I want to think I'm cool that I blog because they will read my blog and know without a doubt that I am a hot mess. Then they will stop talking to me, gravity will stop working and the world and everything on it that survives exiting the atmosphere will be hurled into space. Or maybe just the first thing and possibly nothing bad at all.

So I'm lame and blogging is lame. So is The Big Bang Theory and yet I still watch it while waiting for 30 Rock even though I keep wondering how in the world The Big Bang Theory became such a hit and resent that someone gets paid to write it.

Bottom line, part of getting known is giving people an opportunity to reject me. I have a tendency to take that decision away from people by beating them to the punch or closeting myself so there is no opportunity to know enough to care one way or another. I need to take a chance on me, to let me *not* be some one's cup of tea, to let them roll their eyes at something I write like I roll my eyes at others and judge with my judge-iness.

Not trying to get caught up in a wave of carpe diem tra-la-la, I'm too something (cynical/sarcastic/sleepy) to grab a stick and hobo handkerchief and set out to find wisdom from some off the grid guy chilling on a mountain top. But I want to get better at failing. Not in a douche bag 'I want to be less awesome and allow some humanizing error into my excellence' way. I'm excellent at failure, I want to get better at risking it and not internalizing it.

All this over sending a url. Overthink much?

No, no, no! You're doing it all wrong!*

"It's like getting a bad massage, you know when they rub all over you without really working out any knots? Just leaves you agitated and wanting a good massage even more."

--Ava to friend after date.

I hate that a man I will never be with continues to be my benchmark. Naturally I stalked him down on Facebook (naturally, isn't that what YOU do on Saturday night?). Looks like he's got a kid now in addition to his lovely wife and in Facebook-land couldn't be happier. When I saw his picture, I thought, eh, not really doing it for me. I'm glad I found him because it reminded me that I didn't want him. Though I was primed to, I couldn't begrudge him his apparent happy ending, I just wish I had mine too. It is too much to ask for a toe curling kiss every decade or so? You don't even have to buy me a drink. Just be an excellent kisser. I need a glimmer of hope that I can feel that good again. A consolation prize of sorts. I suspect like most women, I'm wired in a way that makes that nearly impossible without some kind of emotional attachment. Annoying.




*Quotation from one of my Military Training Instructors to our flight. He said this to us so often it became a part of our cadet skit and still resonates with me. Nothing like hearing someone yell that at the top of their lungs. I think every kid should have the experience of being away from home, living like a prisoner, and being yelled at by strangers. So much fun to look back on.

Ava's dating; don'ts

Don't express your physical interest in a girl by 'charging' her for services rendered, like movie tickets or waiting with her for a bus with physical tariffs (e.g. you know this is going to cost you some kisses, right?). Maybe I'm a freak for thinking so but it's freaky with a dash of menacing to suggest I owe you jack shit for anything, even if you're joking. Seems like one of those playful sayings that ends with me punching him in the throat and telling him that no means no. Where it's not annoying and creepy, it's a turn off. It's like he doesn't have the nuts to just try to kiss me or the ability to read the cues that suggest I'm open to it. He's got to make a point of saying something which just leaves it hanging in the air instead of allowing it to evolve naturally. I told him I didn't understand the new math that figured I owed him anything, questioned him on whether the pleasure of my company was enough, and then told him we was provoking my ire. I also told him I would rather want to kiss him than joke about having to kiss him. Oh and I and threw in a side note about being on a steroid regimen (true story) and that I would crush him if he acted up. So yea, tomorrow should be fun. I think he's really looking forward to it.

Alibis and context

*Note: this is a work in progress but it's been three days so time to push publish already*

I learned the word loquacious when I read it in a note from my high school best friend (HSBF) to someone else. She was talking about me. That note, found about a year into our friendship, rocked my world. HSBF was commiserating with another girl about me; how loquacious (she used this word and I had to look it up to figure out how insulted I should be), how needy I was. She said she understood the other girl's frustration with how I monopolized HSBF's time. I felt foolish, here I was turning my soul inside out with this girl, fearful I was taking too much time, needing her too much, talking too much and bam, I was right. I wasn't someone she wanted to spend time with, I was someone she had to spend time with, an obligatory friendship. I moved out of her locker, I wrote her an injured and sarcastic letter, and we were through. She responded to my note within the same note and just for kicks included corrections of my note for grammar and spelling. She was dead to me.

HSBF was a girl everyone loved. She was a force of nature from the moment she arrived at our school, one of the rare people anyone knew about before school even started. I remember hearing about her and wondering what the big deal was but I didn't expect much intersection between us even though she ended up living right next door. She was unique, able to move seamlessly between all the strata of the high school caste. She wore men's blazers with safety pins where buttons once were or big floppy witchy hats. She was studious and athletic; outgoing and pensive. She was substantive and light. She seemed to exist above it all, free from insecurity, able to love people freely, able to be herself. I saw her sometimes as we both left our houses to sprint for the bus but never really talked to her until she approached me one day after school. She told me she was looking at me in typing class that day and thought I was pretty and just wanted to let me know. Well that was just the best darn thing you can tell a 13 year old girl. To have someone go out of their way to tell you that you are pretty, someone you don't even know and who was so well liked, did my head in.

She was instantly someone I needed to know. Needed to be my friend. Needed to be her friend. And so it went. We had the normal girlfriend courtship with note passing, clothes swapping, and locker sharing. Our notes to eachother were tomes, dredging of the soul. Her friendship was a privilege. Knowing she chose me as a friend made me think better of myself. Everything she thought of me was important to me. She was my reference point. If she thought I was a good writer, a good singer, a pretty girl then maybe I could put something out there for everyone to see instead of protecting my fragile esteem at all costs. Everyone loved her, and I got to be her friend. But I wasn't as much a friend to her as I needed her to be a friend to me. Even before I had confirmation of how she felt, I was sensitive to monopolizing her time, to needing her too much. I knew deep down there was a lack of balance but she always assured me away from my worry of bothering her with the unburdening of my soul even though she never really invited me into hers.

I have approached all my friendships since with a certain amount of caution. After my experience with HSBF I'm my most unkind and aloof with people I perceive to be uber-social because it's harder for me to figure out where I am in the strata of their myriad of relationships and I'm always prepared for my position to change. I have no idea what about someone with so many friends makes them want to be mine and I never will. So I don't want to depend on them and be wrong. A part of me is always passively alert for indications that I have overestimated the type of friendship I have. If you are doing something for me and seem put out, it will be the last time you are put out by me because I will never ask you for another thing. If you're doing a million other things on the phone and call me when you only have three minutes to talk, in my universe, that's shorthand for 'I want to manage talking to you (because you talk so damn much) by forcing this conversation to be only 3 minutes. Maybe you'll get better at getting to the point and not building me a watch to tell me the time.' I know I talk a lot. It's who I am but I try to manage it so every interaction with me doesn't take a half hour if you don't have a half hour. I'm not very good at it though and not sure I ever will be.

My lesson in the HSBF incident was to make sure subsequent friends were getting as much from the friendship as I was, in essence, keeping score. If I called them more than they called me, I dialed back because I did not want to bother them. If I felt I was the friend they called only when they had 5 minutes to talk, I made a note of it; they were my 5 minute friends. No one ever has to be anything other than what they are. 5 minute friend doesn't have to set aside extended time because I tell stories like a Tarantino film, she gets the Reader's Digest version of events and everyone gets to move on. Friends are 'as-is' for me, I don't feel comfortable asking them to do things or change things or even noting what things they do that irritate me. As Soul Twin puts it, she wants organic relationships, all that we have is what the other gives willingly.

HSBF and I made up 6 months or so after we washed our hands of one another. I credited her for years with making me a better friend to everyone by making me concious of the balance of the friendship. Perhaps that was just a sour experience with a person when I was younger and more inclined to be grateful for having such a friend everyone wanted to have. Thinking I was the lucky one and I was less than the person who chose me. I recognize only now the destructive message I took from that about what a person has to put up with to be my friend. For all the good it may have brought into subsequent friendships, it has colored my perspective of friendship, perhaps forever. I remain sensitive to managing my friendship footprint and try to gauge how much of me they have room for so I don't overdo it. It's more pragmatic than it is anything else but I also realize as I've been dredging this up to write about it, it's also a way to control relationships and protect myself from their inherent creation of vulnerability. While any relationship creates a certain sense of obligation, I can not handle the thought of being a part of the constellation of people in a friend's life that are simply tolerated.

Shelter in place

The sun is shining. I know it's still cold out there. I probably have 20 minutes or so before Baloo begins her stretching routine which ends with her posting at my bedroom door in what I call her civil rights sit-in posture willing me to get dressed and take her out. I woke up with a headache this morning, sometimes I just kind of have a headache that lasts for weeks. Since this is a three day weekend, I feel like I have a day to waste, where I don't have to get out there in the mix running errands and consuming almost as fast as I try to pare down my possessions. I don't even have to shower. I kind of wish Ashley had somewhere else to be today. Sometimes I just really don't enjoy coming back from my morning walk to see her half naked in my kitchen making messes. She always waits for me to leave before she gets up. I'm sure she enjoys moving around in a space without me in it, pretending for 20 minutes or so that she has her own place.

I just want to shelter in place today. I don't want to think about or navigate the weird passive aggressive waters between me and my neighbor/friend, I don't want to try to have a conversation with another friend which is constantly interrupted by all the other things and people more important to her in that moment than me. I often wonder what makes her call when it's clear (at least to me) her life is packed tight with other people and activities and our substantive conversations are few and far between. If I'm being honest, I am grateful for that friendship but am often reminded of why I resisted it. I do a lot of things because I feel I have to but I am not routinely compelled to devote much energy to people outside of my core confidants. And to my core people, I feel I don't give them nearly as much attention and time as I want to. I don't visit as much as I would like, I don't make as big a fuss as I would like on their special days, I think of them far more than I actually talk to them. Distance does make it harder. Marriage and family make it harder. Work makes it harder. What that means to me though is I am less inclined to make space for secondary and tertiary relationships because I am not the greatest at tending to the relationships that actually matter quite a lot to me. A part of me thinks she would be more available to me if she were less available to secondary and tertiary relationships. But that's me and I am the person who has not visited my extended family in 8 years. I'm not even sure if she goes 8 weeks without seeing a cousin, uncle or aunt so we are clearly operating from different frameworks.

This is a harder post than most because I know she will recognize that I'm talking about her and I know how hard she works to keep all the burners warm. I know her inclination will be to try to be more present when we talk and that it will create yet another obligation and consideration in her running list of what the world wants from her. At no point have I wondered or considered what she needs from me because she pursued our friendship for reasons that remain a mystery to me. In practice I guess I just assume she's getting everything she needs from me because she has me. I am very tempted to hit the backspace key and make those sentences go away. It's like the scores of unflattering photographs I have, reflections that I wish I didn't look like but from that angle at that time, it totally is who I was. I've never been terribly photogenic so I guess I shouldn't be surprised my soul doesn't photograph that well either.

My feet are cold but it's time to make a go of it. Launch into my partly sunny Saturday by picking up some poop.

Beware the banter zone

Right now I'm enjoying the stuff of sitcoms. I write this guy and within minutes my phone is zinging with a return volley of witty repartee. It's all word play and witty, very nerdy and not at all flirty. Girlfriends closely following developments with these tremors of a social life, and especially Soul Twin want this to be more. She wonders why two people who obviously love playing with words aren't producing zoo noises in the bedroom and already joking about names for our children. She encourages me to 'put myself out there' which when I look at the phrase, just cracks me up. I picture I'm being shoved out to work the corner in a pair of shiny pink hotpants.

What I keep telling Soul Twin is guys are not mysterious when they are interested in you. I don't have to wonder if he likes me or likes me the same way or really think much at all when it's mutual or he just wants me more than he cares about me possibly rejecting him. I don't have to wonder if or when it's okay to call him and I'm not crushed if I have to leave a message. I don't believe in pins and needles anymore. That's the stuff of movies, helping women believe a man who wants you would be mysterious and restrained, friendly perhaps but never flirty, attentive without being stalk-y, and handsome. It's true both men and women can be intrigued but not ready to jump in with both feet but within a pretty reasonable timespan, it's clear where he'd like to go with things. My guess is we are in banter zone and are much better on paper than we are in person. If we kick sex out of the equation (e.g., let's decide it will never happen), then I think we could become friends if he's interested in having more friends.

The point is, when you do more talking than anything else, you're in the banter zone and that only culminates into making out when your life is sponsored by the writing staff from Moonlighting. I checked with my writing staff before this post and I don't know who these writers are or if they are any good but they are definitely not working on a romcom and feel the banter-leads-to-make out-session shtick is beneath their considerable creative talents. So onward and upward I guess. At least he's funny.

Outlet Store Post

All the posts this could have been were composed throughout the day in my head. They were insightful, sometimes poignant, sometimes funny (she said modestly). Those threads are still kind of in my head but imperfect and not quite right, like the discount bin at an outlet store. There was the one reflecting on what a good day it was today because my suit fit nicely and didn't choke out my waist all day and give me gas (TMI?). I further reflected on how that motivated me to work out tonight so my pants could continue to fit. I rested on my laurels a bit as I recognized I was actually living my goal. I was stronger, I had made exercise a part of my life without turning it into my lifestyle, and it was actually making my life better. I am aware that weight has been lost though it's not terribly dramatic but I have no idea what I weigh and still have no interest in knowing that number because that was not my goal. I still desperately need an adequate sports bra. I'm sure I took a good 2-3 years of perk out of my boobs tonight with the crap bra I had on while running.

Another would-be post reflected on how over the moon I was with tamara's comment. I felt good about being me today. My hair acted right, my pants fit, my meeting went well, the drive went well. I had a great dinner with my dear Soul Twin last night and she told me all the reasons she loved me which were random silly reasons like buying her licorice. This after last weekend when I pouted for a day over missing a phone call and her response was to pepper me with completely unrelated barrages of 'this is why you're awesome' text messages. tamara's comment reminded me of something Soul Twin sent me last weekend in that barrage. And that made me feel good. I really do feel blessed and highly favored today even if everything I wanted this post to be is trapped between my ears.

Ninjas can take back anything

Even a perfectly proper kiss at the bus stop after a guy who took you out waited in the dark cold windy night for you to catch your bus home. So cold his left eye wept quietly as my insides shuddered. So cold I wanted him to hold me and I wouldn't otherwise wish for him to touch me at all. When I texted him that I was home safely, he thanked me for the kiss and told me I couldn't take it back. I responded with the title of this post.

Mirages and movie dates

I want to talk about love. The only time I've ever thought I loved a man, whatever that means, he was defending himself telling me it was my expectations that were doing my head in, not him. He was right and he was wrong. Someone kicking you in the ribs telling you that your expectations about not getting kicked in the ribs are the source of your pain and angst denies their very active role. But he was right in recognizing my inability to reconcile what was going on with us had a lot to do with my expectations, not just of him but of relationships and love. After years of turning that stone smooth around in my head, I decided that relationship could have been everything I ever thought I wanted and more but it didn't mean it had to last. It was how I reconciled what was so very real for me with the dissonant outcome that had me doubting my judgement and ability to recognize what was or was not happening in a relationship.

So here we are, 2011 and the notion of never being married is starting to settle in my head and it's not a bad thing. I don't dream about being swept off my feet--ok, I do still actually dream that sometimes--but it isn't something I believe exists outside the vacuum of my imagination. I don't think I would trust being swept off my feet anyway. I don't want to be swept away, intoxicated in hormonal, reason-stealing stew. I don't want to have something I'm terrified of losing. That's not just in love but in life. So this guy I'm going to a movie with today, I care what he thinks in the sense I don't want him to think I'm ugly but I'm not hoping for butterflies or attraction. I don't need the distraction. I don't want the distraction. I don't want to be vulnerable to anyone's whims. I don't want to approach any situation in love or in life with any sense of idealism because the ideal is a mirage. A reflection of the tired thirsty hope of paradise projected into the desert.

The way

Isn't that the way? The guy you want either doesn't know who you are or is merely polite, the guy you are ambivalent about is up your ass.

I like not caring if he calls. I like not being attracted to him. My Soul Twin laments, encourages me to keep an open mind, implores me to refrain from giving him notes on his film, to consider the possibility of physical attraction. But I don't want to. I think things will go far better if I treat him like someone I never expect to kiss.

God there's a lot of crap out there

So there are stars whose talent is matched by their ambition and there are the rest of us who are ambitious and passionate but not particularly talented. At least not talented enough to quit the 'ol day job and go all in. But you know what keeps me dreaming? The amount of crap out there. I see a really shitty movie (like 27 Dresses or almost anything Kathryn Heigl has been in) and I think, wow, someone wrote that and someone else actually made that into a movie. Well, shit then, guess I'll keep blogging. I recently 'met' a guy online who is a film student-seems like a decent guy-his head is really pointy and the girl in me fears having pointy headed children with him-but a decent guy. I viewed the trailer for a movie he is trying to raise funds to make and while I understand there are no new stories, I was kind of underwhellmed with the plot line. Brother taking care of mentally challenged sister, has to make big choice between work and family with monumental consequences for both...bleep bleep bloop bloop. There some Scott Pilgrim-esque fantasy/comic elements to the plot based on his sister's belief in superheroes and fairies but there was nothing particularly compelling about the acting. Seemed more like a filmed play. Yet, if it is made, it will be a festival entry somewhere. I am very tempted to make a donation that will give me some production credit for the film-not because I want production credit but because I want to be able to shape the story and be a part of the process. If Tyler Perry can become a jillionaire with tired plot lines and high school drama club acting, there's room for everyone. Including me.

non-sequiter theater

Going to note for the record my outrage about the whore houses built and maintained by the Army during WWII in West Africa. I was watching the History Channel show on Sex and WWII and the short version is to deal with all the VD and malaria felling the black company soldiers stationed in West Africa through contact with the locals, the Army got local girls and built a bordello for the black soldiers (no whites were allowed). The company consisted of about 70 white officers and hundreds of black enlisted troops. The program was super secret and was only declassified in the 80's and clearly not well publicised when it was declassified. It was only after someone who was there wrote a book that anyone took any notice at all. I had never heard of it until tonight, but was annoyed especially because the author of the book so staunchly defended how the Army dealt with the problem. Holy crap.

I love my dog. We walked home tonight off lead. That is my buddy for real right there. She's an enormous pain-even now I am thinking of her nails clicking on the floor in the morning willing me awake to feed and walk her, but she's awesome. I never get sick of looking at her and wondering what she's thinking about. Dogs are magical.

And I like this guy. Funny.

Obligatory retrospective

I spent this New Years Eve in the company of Baloo. It was so nice. I went to the laundromat, I started chipping away at the crap I need to throw away before this move, I rocked out to the iPod. I enjoyed myself. I kept the promise I made to myself last year to never willingly hang out with the same group of people I had spent my last 2 New Years eves with. Life is too short to hang out with people you have nothing in common with just to have a place to go or to have company. I considered venturing to my favorite neighborhood bar for a commemorative drink but as Yael Naim sings, "how can you stay outside, there's a beautiful mess inside?"

Though I predict there will several times in the coming year where it will feel like New Year's Day, where I will feel I am transitioning between something old and some new landscape of possibility, today is actually the first day of the year and thus, I shall take a look back.

Last year I finally got my pump on. After a debilitating back spasm that really scared me for its implications for a woman who will probably live the rest of her life alone, I got my chubby ass back in the gym. I continue to work with the trainer who I initially wanted to smother and I like her more than any other female I've met here, a surprise to both of us I think. She's grounded, smart, and relatable even though she's slim and blond with an ass that simply isn't fair. I'm the black girl, I should be packing like that but nope, I got boobs instead. I've noticed most women with one, don't have the other. Some don't have either but where there is ass, there is usually less chest and vice versa. Guess it keeps us humble.

I drew closer to my Soul Twin which has been lovely. The circumstances in her life that gave her the time and space for me to fill have been tragic but it has been wonderful to become even more woven into the fabric of eachother's lives. It is not unusual for us to talk several times a day with important updates on grocery shopping or car repair. I am grateful for her. I am grateful for all of my friends. I had the best long lunch date ever with another one of my girlfriends over Thanksgiving and it still makes me smile to think of it. I had several get togethers with our girlfriend trio (which includes Soul Twin) last year including a surprise visit that touched me deeply. I didn't get out to see my oldest friend last year and in fact did not get on an airplane at all last year. I feel bad about that. I feel when I do talk to her it's about the other women in my life and the things I have done or plan to do with them. Our relationship is in need of reconnection. With our lives diverging in focus and things in common, we need time together to remind ourselves why we are friends even though I consider her family. It was otherwise a banner year for bonding with the important women in my life including the always interesting Ashley.

No retrospective would be complete without an Ashley highlights reel; strangers in my bed, bongs found, pot confiscated, booty shorts, record breaking consumption of toilet paper, towels, and plates, juice (on my countertops and spilled on my rugs), destroyed air mattress x2, quotable quotes like "direct deposit doesn't mean dick", belching and farting, giggling and talking, her excellent cooking, our settling into a groove of sharing such a small space. She's a tornado of contradiction and I love her. Maybe I am making it up to convince myself it has been worth it but I do think she is better off for having come here. I think I am too. I certainly clean more than I did before and have a greater drive to create order in my life because she is so the yin to my yang.

Baloo was declared cancer-free. I have found new lumps but I am hesitant to put her through surgery again. That was really tough on her. She's almost 10 and she's spry and happy. I bought her an orthopedic bed for Christmas. My dad made fun of me.

With so many changes ahead this year I don't have goals, determinations, or resolutions in mind. My Philly bucket list is an abandoned notion-Philadelphia doesn't cease to exist after I leave. You can never go back but I can always visit. There is a freedom in knowing I will soon leave this place even as there is a wistfulness. I live more honestly. Opportunity is more terminal, there probably won't be a next time, at least not with this person in this place. At work I am looking at my projects and considering how to move them along or terminate them. New opportunities are being triaged or given to someone else. I am hoping the madness that gripped the last six months of the year at work subsides. Already I have trips planned in January so the madness will probably continue. I am certain I will be suffering the pollen of spring before I'm done complaining about the cold and dark of winter.

So there you have it, Ava's 2010 in review. 2011 is sure to have laughter, tears, surprises (not the least of which will be where I end up this fall), and my psychic metronome, Baloo. There will be walks, there will be poop, and there will be sidewalk chicken bones snatched from her mouth. Thank you especially Lodo, tamara, and Megan for reading, your comments, and your virtual friendship. It means a lot to have people who don't know me and thus have no pressure to patronize. :-) Happy New Year!