from a few weeks ago that I felt like publishing....unfinished and unlikely to ever be finished but I wanted Lodo to at least know I wrote him an open letter.
14 September
Forgotten but not gone
I've missed you blog. This move has been especially disruptive for writing which is a shame because I'm frankly constipated with all the shit I've been wanting to sit down and sort out. There was the joy of camping out on the air mattress after the movers came, the final messy disjointed Beverly Hillbillies Clampett-loaded car roll out of Philadelphia, the initial separation anxiety over the culture shock of returning to the D.C. metro area, the unpleasant spade work of searching for a place to live, the move in, the power outage, the Soul Twin departure, and today, the 6 hour road trip to Philly and back to tie up that last loose end.
On the subject of today's road trip, I didn't want to do it. I was a little emotional about it really last night when Ashley texted she couldn't unscrew the coax cable on the modem I forgot to return with my cable box. It was my issue and my fault for overlooking it. Still I hoped to get some pay it forward return on investment for all the things I think I do for people just because. *Cue self-righteous martyr mode* Maybe I'm not as considerate as I think I am and only hear what I want to believe about myself but if what I spend my time thinking of is any indication of my priorities, professionally, I obsess over how to get things done and how to help people get things done. That does not seem to be the case for most of the acquaintences I made in Philly and it certainly isn't the case for my family.
Though it's not good material, I have a desire to vent and be vindictive about it. Moving is stressful and I'm off for sure. I feel vulnerable and sad and alone and then I feel strong, amazing, proud and fully capable of taking care of myself. I'm sure my Prius can tow, but it's not built for towing and it will take its toll. That's how I feel today about not coupling. I look at lovely Baloo and her confident well mannered and balanced approach to life; she isn't afraid of anything, she's wonderful and predictable with people and children, she considers every open door to be an invitation. Except as it concerns other dogs. She is anxious around them and projects aggression as a means to protect herself. She grows tall, fur stands up, posture is erect, and she is about the business of letting the other dog know she's in charge and won't accept them as dominant. It they want to test her, she will flip out, say some nasty things in whatever language dogs speak and commence the mount and/or stealing of toys/warm visitation with the owner of the other dog. I look at her and I see myself. Minus the mounting and taking of toys.
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Dear Lodo
I keep composing this in the car or in the shower or while out walking the dog or doing anything that prevents me from writing this down when I know what I want to say and how I want to say it. I addressed this post to you because you are the person with whom I've had the most consistent dialogue on here and you are the only person I don't know who reads regularly. Not only is that encouraging because someone who has no sense of personal obligation/relationship to me is reading, but also because I admire your talent for storytelling and insight. It is hard to tell a good story and you do a great job.
It's been a long month Lodo. I moved, then helped a friend move. I wallowed in a bit of a sad sack feeling not at all helped by my abandonment of exercise and the routine I had going. I'm up late, up early, I'm watching hours of TV, it's spiraling into a full out funk. It's an act of will to bathe. I can't sleep until I do and I won't do it until I'm so tired I ache. I've been thinking a lot of the guy, the guy from over a decade ago who isn't really a guy anymore. He's more a representation of what I thought that had the potential to be. I think he's somewhere in the D.C. metro area and I keep bracing to run into him. I haven't run into the same person twice in the apartment complex I'm living in right now, not sure why I'm bracing to run into that guy.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Challenges: Abstract and Actual
There are many things I believe I'd like to do someday. Having children, rock climbing, writing a book, a safari, visiting Alaska (during a Palin off-season), skydiving... It's not quite a bucket list, I wouldn't be devastated if most of those never happened but if the opportunity presented, those are some of the things I think I would like doing. Learning a language was on that list too. Something about being in on the secret, being an insider to the code of communication somewhere outside of America has always appealed to me. Old Boss would be on the phone sometimes with his parents speaking his mother tongue and I just loved it. I loved it but it also frustrated me because I wanted in. I wished there were some way I could understand what he was saying. Now I have that opportunity and it's daunting.
I was thinking this evening about the big talk before the expedition on every documentary ever made; the thirst for knowledge, exploration, good of mankind...blah, blah. Then the journey begins and there's suffering,unexpected challenges, setbacks, pain and exhaustion, worry. Then the questions. Is it worth it? Why are you doing this? What are you trying to prove? But none of that matters once the challenge is underway. The challenge has been accepted. I can still ask those kinds of questions but they are completely irrelevant now. Now it is time for choices. I can chose to forge ahead, I can chose to quit. I can chose to spend precious energy lamenting that the one language I chose to study is the only remaining romance language with three genders or I can devote time to learning them even though I not so secretly think if you're the last language standing using three genders for nouns maybe you hold on to dying trends too tightly.
What I will say is that it takes a special kind of person to teach a language. Not only in skill but in patience. I could not listen to an adult learn how to read English slowly and deliberately, sucking every word and ever sentence dry of its meaning be-ca-use e-ve-r-y l-e-t-t-e-r is r-ea-d l-i-k-e t-h-i-s. Stay in school kids, stay in school. Literacy is a gift.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Transition
I have a Soul Twin. She was the only person in my life who had near unlimited time for me; no kids, no significant other. The person you could always count on to call back the same day. I don't resent other friends with their spouses and kids and hobbies (i.e., lives) but I know they don't have time to hang out with me on the phone while I pick out my clothes and walk my dog or browse the internet virtually with me while I look for shoes and clothes. Soul Twin did. Soul Twin also picked my brother up from the airport when my mom was in the hospital even though she had never met him and watched my dog even though she had two cats and a concussion. Until last Saturday, we talked almost every single day and often several times a day, sharing funny circumstances, consulting on purchases, passing the time while stuck in traffic or cleaning house. As is her custom when starting a new job, Soul Twin has completely fallen off the radar. If she were a plane, it would already be a search and rescue mission as there has been no sign of life since I talked to her as she was boarding her flight. It might be one of my least favorite things about her but no one is surprised to have not heard from her.
Now I have oceans of empty space where there was once conversation and no one to talk to. At least not with the intimacy that comes from long conversations about everything from the random text I got from some guy to when I'm finally going to schedule that surgery I've needed for years. Old Boss and I have been keeping up fairly regularly but there is a part of writing him that makes me sad and frustrated. I don't want to be good friends with married men while I'm unattached. There is nothing untoward about our friendship. It just frustrates me because what I have with Old Boss and all the other guys I'm friends with, I want in my own boyfriend. Doesn't mean I'll stop having men as friends but I want the first person I want to share something gut busting with to be mine. I don't want to derive my joy in life from a random e-mail from Old Boss or a text message from a friend. It is bratty to reject the places I mine for joy since joy is completely optional in life but I can and I do. It's not enough. I want more. I needed this nothing buffer before I got busy again but it's clear my mind is not healthy on idle. Doesn't help I haven't been to the gym either.
Being back in D.C. has me a little messed up in the head right now as well. Last time I checked in an ill-advised late night reckless Facebooking incident, 'the one that got away' was now residing in the D.C. metro area. D.C. is a place you run into people you haven't seen in decades all the time; in the hallway, in the metro, in a meeting. It's the seat of government, it's the Headquarters for everyone. If your past will meet you anywhere, it will meet you in D.C.. Right before I left 3 years ago, I ran into someone from college at the grocery store. They had been living down the street from me. I ran into someone I last saw as a teenager on the escalator of the Metro. That's the D.C. metro area. The potential exists. I don't know if seeing him again would wreck me or heal me but in the idle thought space before starting language, I wonder about it everytime I leave the house. Good thing language starts Monday.
My philosophy remains that transitions suck. I don't anticipate ever savoring the journey and the space between broken and healed, the chaos of trying to organize your old life in a new space, it's just not me. But I think I will keep forcing upheaval into my life, pulling up stakes, throwing my life into disarray simply because for me, it is more interesting than sitting still. If I were to indulge myself and sit still, I think it would be my undoing for sitting still is my default. If I didn't have a dog, I could easily not leave my house for days. Speaking of leaving the house, the lab is moments from silently guilting me with her intense brown eyes to use my opposable thumbs for good and take her outdoors where we have mutually agreed is the best place for her to use the bathroom. Thank God for her. I would be 500 pounds and even more socially isolated were it not for her.
Now I have oceans of empty space where there was once conversation and no one to talk to. At least not with the intimacy that comes from long conversations about everything from the random text I got from some guy to when I'm finally going to schedule that surgery I've needed for years. Old Boss and I have been keeping up fairly regularly but there is a part of writing him that makes me sad and frustrated. I don't want to be good friends with married men while I'm unattached. There is nothing untoward about our friendship. It just frustrates me because what I have with Old Boss and all the other guys I'm friends with, I want in my own boyfriend. Doesn't mean I'll stop having men as friends but I want the first person I want to share something gut busting with to be mine. I don't want to derive my joy in life from a random e-mail from Old Boss or a text message from a friend. It is bratty to reject the places I mine for joy since joy is completely optional in life but I can and I do. It's not enough. I want more. I needed this nothing buffer before I got busy again but it's clear my mind is not healthy on idle. Doesn't help I haven't been to the gym either.
Being back in D.C. has me a little messed up in the head right now as well. Last time I checked in an ill-advised late night reckless Facebooking incident, 'the one that got away' was now residing in the D.C. metro area. D.C. is a place you run into people you haven't seen in decades all the time; in the hallway, in the metro, in a meeting. It's the seat of government, it's the Headquarters for everyone. If your past will meet you anywhere, it will meet you in D.C.. Right before I left 3 years ago, I ran into someone from college at the grocery store. They had been living down the street from me. I ran into someone I last saw as a teenager on the escalator of the Metro. That's the D.C. metro area. The potential exists. I don't know if seeing him again would wreck me or heal me but in the idle thought space before starting language, I wonder about it everytime I leave the house. Good thing language starts Monday.
My philosophy remains that transitions suck. I don't anticipate ever savoring the journey and the space between broken and healed, the chaos of trying to organize your old life in a new space, it's just not me. But I think I will keep forcing upheaval into my life, pulling up stakes, throwing my life into disarray simply because for me, it is more interesting than sitting still. If I were to indulge myself and sit still, I think it would be my undoing for sitting still is my default. If I didn't have a dog, I could easily not leave my house for days. Speaking of leaving the house, the lab is moments from silently guilting me with her intense brown eyes to use my opposable thumbs for good and take her outdoors where we have mutually agreed is the best place for her to use the bathroom. Thank God for her. I would be 500 pounds and even more socially isolated were it not for her.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Optional vs Obligatory
I've been thinking this morning on the stress of commitment and why the older I get, the less I want to commit to anything optional, even something as benign as lunch. It's becoming a thing with me, a 'quirk' which is a nice way of saying an irritating personality trait, that I need an escape hatch for any social/optional activities and I avoid making those kinds of plans if at all possible. Before I stopped making social plans or commitments, it wasn't unusual for me to flake on them, canceling at the next to last minute. Most of the time it was because it didn't seem worth the trouble and I felt I would get more satisfaction from attacking my to-do list than I would from hanging out. That felt terrible and pissed off my friends so I just decided it was better for us both that I just not make plans. Nobody expects me there so no one is disappointed. Or maybe now they are just disappointed that I don't make plans with them. Being friends with me is disappointing one way or another. I am however, good for the spontaneous adventure. If I don't have time to dread it and the moons are just right, I'm your girl. Again, not understanding why I have any friends at all and why the friends I have are so incredible. Probably takes someone exceptional to dig all that is Ava enough to put up with the extra delightful stuff like rare visits and inability/unwillingness to make plans to do the same. Having my girlfriends (most of them) on the east coast has been awesome because I don't have to plan. I just jump in the car or on the train. I can decide that morning.
I didn't grow up making optional trips so it's not something that comes naturally. The one vacation we did take when I was growing up was a shopping trip to Korea which wasn't really a kid vacation. I got some knock-off sneakers that fell apart and smelled like death after I wore them in the rain and my mom bought a lot of shoes. Before we left on that trip, our neighbor's plumbing backed up into our tub and it felt like a sign we should have never planned to leave the house. The only other family trip was every 3-4 years we would spend 30 days sitting around and eating in the stifling sticky heat of a Memphis summer shuttling between grandparents. Understandably my point of reference for vacation is the misery of the journey compounded by a stressful un-fun destination. The destination never seemed worth the journey.
But I chose my nomadic lifestyle because I want to experience new things and places and I know that I need an obligation to force that into my life. I love the feeling of being forced into something new; the sense of adventure and possibility, the potential, the people, the experiences. But I know I'm not the person who will endure the cost, discomfort, and disruption to see the world on my own time and on my own dime. There is a part of me I think that needs to abdicate some of the responsibility for my own happiness, that needs a fall guy for my misery or an excuse not to try to have fun and I get that through obligations. The must-do is my security blanket from the potential disappointment of could-do. Maybe I expect too much from fun or as Lodo has pointed out, think other people are having a much better go of it than I am. There is always an obligation or a task on the to do list that seems like a good enough reason to not go to some faraway place that might not even be fun.
Maybe I'm more delicate and sensitive, so the stress of the journey bloodies me more than most. Maybe I'm just lazy. I just know all misfortune encountered during optional excursions feel like punishment for being somewhere I didn't have to be. Misfortune encountered during obligatory trips doesn't really distress me as much, it's part of the challenge of getting through a task and it's not optional so I don't have any sense of 'if only I hadn't come to this place, if only I had booked this earlier, if only whatever...' Everything I experience outside of the mandatory reason I'm there is lovely. Some of my favorite moments are on the margins of obligatory trips. Walking the beach in Savannah, GA (training exercise), the sunrise on the beach in Florida on my birthday (training), napping in the sun in San Diego (conference), visiting Michigan (training exercise), having diwaniya (kind of a picnic kind of gathering) in Kuwait (deployment), the Grand Canyon (work trip). When my mother visited me in Arizona, we didn't go to the Grand Canyon because it didn't seem worth the drive. I know it sounds ridiculous to be within hours of one of the great wonders of the world and think, eh, it's 5 hours away and it's only one thing, how grand could it be? Worth a 10 hour round trip drive? Probably not. I come by my vacation calculus honestly.
Even the lovely of this time in Philadelphia has been during the exercise of my obligations. Walking the dog and running into a street fair or parade, having to find restaurants for meetings and discovering a lovely place, being forced to work with people I would never hang out with and making a great friend. I do however have a spirit of adventure in me; I've accepted a position in a developing eastern European country. There is no good reason for me to go there, I don't know anything about it and I will definitely be a stranger in a strange land. But my job is paying my freight and giving me work to do so I get to live somewhere I would definitely never ever visit. There will be some misery, both of a new place and of whatever developing nation blues there are to be had (brownouts, lack of produce, quality brands...etc) but it will be a great no pressure adventure. I have to be there, anything fun or good that comes of it is a bonus, anything bad just has be be dealt with. I like that. I think I'm much better at making good of a shitty situation; earning my happiness, appreciating the simple gifts, than I am at enjoying the things touted as a traditional good time.
I didn't grow up making optional trips so it's not something that comes naturally. The one vacation we did take when I was growing up was a shopping trip to Korea which wasn't really a kid vacation. I got some knock-off sneakers that fell apart and smelled like death after I wore them in the rain and my mom bought a lot of shoes. Before we left on that trip, our neighbor's plumbing backed up into our tub and it felt like a sign we should have never planned to leave the house. The only other family trip was every 3-4 years we would spend 30 days sitting around and eating in the stifling sticky heat of a Memphis summer shuttling between grandparents. Understandably my point of reference for vacation is the misery of the journey compounded by a stressful un-fun destination. The destination never seemed worth the journey.
But I chose my nomadic lifestyle because I want to experience new things and places and I know that I need an obligation to force that into my life. I love the feeling of being forced into something new; the sense of adventure and possibility, the potential, the people, the experiences. But I know I'm not the person who will endure the cost, discomfort, and disruption to see the world on my own time and on my own dime. There is a part of me I think that needs to abdicate some of the responsibility for my own happiness, that needs a fall guy for my misery or an excuse not to try to have fun and I get that through obligations. The must-do is my security blanket from the potential disappointment of could-do. Maybe I expect too much from fun or as Lodo has pointed out, think other people are having a much better go of it than I am. There is always an obligation or a task on the to do list that seems like a good enough reason to not go to some faraway place that might not even be fun.
Maybe I'm more delicate and sensitive, so the stress of the journey bloodies me more than most. Maybe I'm just lazy. I just know all misfortune encountered during optional excursions feel like punishment for being somewhere I didn't have to be. Misfortune encountered during obligatory trips doesn't really distress me as much, it's part of the challenge of getting through a task and it's not optional so I don't have any sense of 'if only I hadn't come to this place, if only I had booked this earlier, if only whatever...' Everything I experience outside of the mandatory reason I'm there is lovely. Some of my favorite moments are on the margins of obligatory trips. Walking the beach in Savannah, GA (training exercise), the sunrise on the beach in Florida on my birthday (training), napping in the sun in San Diego (conference), visiting Michigan (training exercise), having diwaniya (kind of a picnic kind of gathering) in Kuwait (deployment), the Grand Canyon (work trip). When my mother visited me in Arizona, we didn't go to the Grand Canyon because it didn't seem worth the drive. I know it sounds ridiculous to be within hours of one of the great wonders of the world and think, eh, it's 5 hours away and it's only one thing, how grand could it be? Worth a 10 hour round trip drive? Probably not. I come by my vacation calculus honestly.
Even the lovely of this time in Philadelphia has been during the exercise of my obligations. Walking the dog and running into a street fair or parade, having to find restaurants for meetings and discovering a lovely place, being forced to work with people I would never hang out with and making a great friend. I do however have a spirit of adventure in me; I've accepted a position in a developing eastern European country. There is no good reason for me to go there, I don't know anything about it and I will definitely be a stranger in a strange land. But my job is paying my freight and giving me work to do so I get to live somewhere I would definitely never ever visit. There will be some misery, both of a new place and of whatever developing nation blues there are to be had (brownouts, lack of produce, quality brands...etc) but it will be a great no pressure adventure. I have to be there, anything fun or good that comes of it is a bonus, anything bad just has be be dealt with. I like that. I think I'm much better at making good of a shitty situation; earning my happiness, appreciating the simple gifts, than I am at enjoying the things touted as a traditional good time.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
Late Bloomer
If I'm lucky, I will live a long healthy life. I need the time because I arrive at the best things years after everyone else has been there, done that, and long since given away the t-shirt. I arrived at blogging after it peaked, I'll probably rejoin twitter soon just to stay behind the curve, I've not been in a grown up relationship just yet but still rocking the high school crushes like it's 1999; though I was long out of high school by then, sadly my love life was/is not. Motherhood, if it comes at all, will probably make the record books at least for whatever town I live in at the time. I have thought as recently as yesterday that it wouldn't be so bad if I had a short life either because the future could just be a long wash, rinse, repeat of what I've got going on right now and I'm already largely over it. If soul twin locks it down with someone, I will be on the periphery of every important relationship in my life and I've frankly had my fill of three wheeling and of one of the two wheels telling me I need to get over being a third.
I do wonder though sometimes. Really? I'm that bad at connecting with men or rising to a person of interest? I connect with homeless guys on the regular. What's the magic I'm working there and with other random people I don't invite into my life? I was walking in the mall a week or so ago and made passing eye contact with a guy who turned around, grabbed my arm, hugged me, held my hand, and asked if he could go home with me before I could even process what was happening. I told him I didn't know him, asked who he was, and all he had to say to me was 'can I go home with you?' When I said no, he politely kissed my hand and walked away. Seriously, eye contact can not possibly explain that can it? I make eye contact and even say hello to the various cute men of the neighborhood and most don't even return my greeting. Why only the crazies and the homeless Lord? Why are they dialed into my station and the rest of universe is only aware of my existence enough to avoid running into me on the sidewalk?
I was sitting in the window of a frozen yogurt place last week. I was people watching and occasionally the favor was returned with a 'I noticed you glance.' Then this white girl came in and she was right out of a classic (white) American beauty J Crew catalogue. Casual but well put together and seemingly crisp in the wilting heat. She ruined everything. I had been happily imagining myself as a cute girl having yogurt in the storefront window and this chick showed up and I got to watch 8/10ths of the men who walked by do double takes at her. Now I was just a chubby chick with crazy hair eating next to a pretty girl. I left in a foul mood. As I walked up the street sweaty and wilted with crazy hair, I again made eye contact from across a street with a likely homeless man. I didn't look at him again hoping to get past him when I crossed the street without being hit up for money or a strange and aimless conversation. Didn't work. He yelled at me as I walked past, not making eye contact, that he liked my hair. Jesus. Really? I told him thank you and kept walking while I'm sure people thought, yea, you've got to be crazy to like that hair buddy.
Maybe I hope now for a short life with good stories. Less time alone, more assumed potential had I lived instead of the 'wow, made it all the way to 90 without ever having a significant other or doing or being anything different that you were at 35, 25, even 15.' Yea, I'm liking that; good stories that will remain novelties because they can't be repeated and scores of great things that could have been had I lived longer.
I do wonder though sometimes. Really? I'm that bad at connecting with men or rising to a person of interest? I connect with homeless guys on the regular. What's the magic I'm working there and with other random people I don't invite into my life? I was walking in the mall a week or so ago and made passing eye contact with a guy who turned around, grabbed my arm, hugged me, held my hand, and asked if he could go home with me before I could even process what was happening. I told him I didn't know him, asked who he was, and all he had to say to me was 'can I go home with you?' When I said no, he politely kissed my hand and walked away. Seriously, eye contact can not possibly explain that can it? I make eye contact and even say hello to the various cute men of the neighborhood and most don't even return my greeting. Why only the crazies and the homeless Lord? Why are they dialed into my station and the rest of universe is only aware of my existence enough to avoid running into me on the sidewalk?
I was sitting in the window of a frozen yogurt place last week. I was people watching and occasionally the favor was returned with a 'I noticed you glance.' Then this white girl came in and she was right out of a classic (white) American beauty J Crew catalogue. Casual but well put together and seemingly crisp in the wilting heat. She ruined everything. I had been happily imagining myself as a cute girl having yogurt in the storefront window and this chick showed up and I got to watch 8/10ths of the men who walked by do double takes at her. Now I was just a chubby chick with crazy hair eating next to a pretty girl. I left in a foul mood. As I walked up the street sweaty and wilted with crazy hair, I again made eye contact from across a street with a likely homeless man. I didn't look at him again hoping to get past him when I crossed the street without being hit up for money or a strange and aimless conversation. Didn't work. He yelled at me as I walked past, not making eye contact, that he liked my hair. Jesus. Really? I told him thank you and kept walking while I'm sure people thought, yea, you've got to be crazy to like that hair buddy.
Maybe I hope now for a short life with good stories. Less time alone, more assumed potential had I lived instead of the 'wow, made it all the way to 90 without ever having a significant other or doing or being anything different that you were at 35, 25, even 15.' Yea, I'm liking that; good stories that will remain novelties because they can't be repeated and scores of great things that could have been had I lived longer.
Monday, August 1, 2011
Just wanted to let you know
That I'm up too late again and tomorrow will suck accordingly. I also wanted you to know I am sowing bad karma by being cold to the new girl because she's like a nervous overcompensating unpredictable puppy. Since she isn't actually a puppy, I don't think she's cute and she doesn't get the same latitude I would give an actual puppy. My demeanor with her can best be described as permanent newspaper to the nose. Lord help me avoid her mistakes and help me strike that tone that says we're not friends but I don't hate you. Keep her from wanting to braid eachother's hair and confess all her hopes and fears but still not being shitty to her in a way that makes her feel alone in a new place.
I have the house to myself now and it's wonderful. I believe the last of Ashley's things are out and now I have the privacy and space I craved. Ashley is creating her space and I think she is happy too. I miss some of the boundaries she forced into my life, like how long I could stay up watching useless T.V.. She also distracted me from thinking about men by taking up my mental energy on being irritated with her artifacts (hair, spills, messy room), and through her presence making it impossible to have anyone over. So now it's just me by the sea and I do wish I had a hand to hold. Philly has not turned out to be the place for love I hoped it would be but when has any place ever been that place for me?
Three weeks and counting, the Philly adventure will conclude. I didn't wring out the towel on my Philly experience; a stone's throw from the theater and I never went to a play or concert, a comedy club. I met some new and different people all of which I expect I will keep in touch with as often as I do people from high school via the occasional comment on Facebook. I think I will miss more the sense of community and of being known and knowing. Knowing where to go for dry cleaning, for groceries, for walking the dog, all the little things you have to learn anew every time you move.
Somewhat related, I have already mentioned my lack of interest bordering on hostility for the obligatory going away and I just remembered that I also have a birthday coming up--double terrible. I am really becoming crotchety to the point of rudeness as it concerns suffering acquaintances seeking to celebrate milestones with me as friends. We really don't have to go out for my birthday, it makes me sad to celebrate something like that with people I don't otherwise really hang out with. I feel like I did my senior year of high school. I only went to the school I graduated from my senior year so it was kind of a tough transition. I met people and made friends but they weren't forever friends. At the end of the year, I remember someone writing or telling me that they knew I missed my friends from my old school but they hoped I had made some good friends there too. But really, I didn't. That connection just didn't happen and it wasn't anybody's fault. Same here. I spend more time on the phone with my Soul Twin than I ever spent in the company of anyone here. When it hits the fan, the people who have my back don't live here. Truthfully I'm not even around the people here enough for them to even notice I'm splattered in shit.
Which is all to say, a goodbye thingy isn't called for here. We were friendly but we weren't friends so let's not force this moment. Same goes for work. The only person in Philadelphia who I would have been hurt had he just shook my hand and wished me well has already left (Old Boss). I realize it may be a diss for anyone (if they exist) who will miss me to essentially tell them they don't matter to me the way I matter to them. I don't think that is the case here, I just think people reflexively insist on luncheons or whatever regardless of how they feel because that's just what convention calls for. Age is definitely finding me less flexible or interested in pleasing people or accommodating optional shit. Just wanted to let you know.
I have the house to myself now and it's wonderful. I believe the last of Ashley's things are out and now I have the privacy and space I craved. Ashley is creating her space and I think she is happy too. I miss some of the boundaries she forced into my life, like how long I could stay up watching useless T.V.. She also distracted me from thinking about men by taking up my mental energy on being irritated with her artifacts (hair, spills, messy room), and through her presence making it impossible to have anyone over. So now it's just me by the sea and I do wish I had a hand to hold. Philly has not turned out to be the place for love I hoped it would be but when has any place ever been that place for me?
Three weeks and counting, the Philly adventure will conclude. I didn't wring out the towel on my Philly experience; a stone's throw from the theater and I never went to a play or concert, a comedy club. I met some new and different people all of which I expect I will keep in touch with as often as I do people from high school via the occasional comment on Facebook. I think I will miss more the sense of community and of being known and knowing. Knowing where to go for dry cleaning, for groceries, for walking the dog, all the little things you have to learn anew every time you move.
Somewhat related, I have already mentioned my lack of interest bordering on hostility for the obligatory going away and I just remembered that I also have a birthday coming up--double terrible. I am really becoming crotchety to the point of rudeness as it concerns suffering acquaintances seeking to celebrate milestones with me as friends. We really don't have to go out for my birthday, it makes me sad to celebrate something like that with people I don't otherwise really hang out with. I feel like I did my senior year of high school. I only went to the school I graduated from my senior year so it was kind of a tough transition. I met people and made friends but they weren't forever friends. At the end of the year, I remember someone writing or telling me that they knew I missed my friends from my old school but they hoped I had made some good friends there too. But really, I didn't. That connection just didn't happen and it wasn't anybody's fault. Same here. I spend more time on the phone with my Soul Twin than I ever spent in the company of anyone here. When it hits the fan, the people who have my back don't live here. Truthfully I'm not even around the people here enough for them to even notice I'm splattered in shit.
Which is all to say, a goodbye thingy isn't called for here. We were friendly but we weren't friends so let's not force this moment. Same goes for work. The only person in Philadelphia who I would have been hurt had he just shook my hand and wished me well has already left (Old Boss). I realize it may be a diss for anyone (if they exist) who will miss me to essentially tell them they don't matter to me the way I matter to them. I don't think that is the case here, I just think people reflexively insist on luncheons or whatever regardless of how they feel because that's just what convention calls for. Age is definitely finding me less flexible or interested in pleasing people or accommodating optional shit. Just wanted to let you know.
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