I'm Totally Hibernating

Boston's public transportation is really quite good, but there are certain things about it that aggravate me to no end. My main issue with it is that everything stops running around 1:00. I think the T should at least run until all the bars close, but hey, I don't make the stupid rules.

When I hang out at my favorite Irish pub, like I did Friday night, in order to get home, I have a ten minute walk, 3 trains and a bus ride ahead of me. On a very good night, I can do it in about an hour. Friday night, I boarded the T around...12:50 and finally got home around 2:15. I guess that's not too too bad really. It was interesting though.

See, what happened was, I decided to do the 3 trains and then catch a cab, since I figured that would be quicker than waiting for the bus (the bus runs really infrequently that time of night). My cab driver, however, was driving at approximately 5 miles per hour. So, I asked as nicely as possible, "Um, excuse me, sir, but could you please drive a little bit quicker?" He sort of laughed me off and slowly explained to me that driving faster was not going to get us through this red light any quicker. We kept hitting lights and it kept not making any sense to go faster. I felt like a jerk, so I apologized and explained that it's just that money is tight right now and I'm impatient by nature.

We started talking and the conversation progressed to politics and then to family and life and people and all things deep and inspiring at 2:10 in the morning. His name was Eddie, he was from Haiti and he was sweet. He told me I am "a young woman of solid substance" and that if his daughter had half the sensibility I have, his life would be so much different.

Wow. I really needed that. I have been feeling kind of down lately, so I welcomed his flattery with open arms. It was really nice speaking with him, even if I was in that cab for 45 minutes instead of the 10 I was anticipating.

I slept until I couldn't sleep another moment on Saturday. Finally got out of bed around 1:30. I have a cold and am Captain Snot right now, so after running a couple of quick errands, I holed up in my apartment and watched 8 or 9 hours of television.

Today, I started the day with some laundry, then finished it with some wine and painting. I have never really tried my hand at painting, but I was pleasantly surprised to discover how much I enjoyed spending the evening doing it. That, coupled with the big bowl of dumplings I just had, really made today a good day.

I love being alone and having weekends like this. Where every decision I make is all mine and I can do whatever I want. Sometimes, the idea of having to incorporate someone else's ideas/agendas with mine kind of freaks me out. I almost feel like I've been single for so long that I no longer know how to be in a relationship at all. I'm terrified of having to compromise my freedom.

Is that weird? Am I just making excuses or something?

I don't know. Whatevs.

Nicotine Recovery, Day #4

I’m feeling pretty good today. My throat just now started aggravating me at 4:40 p.m., so that’s interesting.

I cried my eyes out last night. Like a baby. More on that later.

I’m hanging in there.

One of Those Moods

My sister asked me how I was doing today. My response: "I'm fine. Sort of in one of those "fuck you, motherfucker" moods, but other than that, I'm good."

It has just been one of those days. I don't know exactly why I wake up sometimes feeling like I could kill someone. It just seems to happen occasionally. And not necessarily at times when I'm particularly ... anything. There isn't a pattern to these emotions. At least not that I've noticed.

Perhaps I just need to start documenting my every thought and feeling and entering the dates and emotions into a chart. Perhaps then I'll notice a pattern and be able to tell my friends, "You are going to want to avoid me on the 14th, the 21st, and the 25th of next month." That would be helpful.

A new cafe opened near my house, and I happen to be there at this very moment. Here. The television is blaring a language I don't understand. I don't even know which language this is. I'm having jasmine tea and a "savory crepe" filled with all kinds of delicious goodness: feta, tomatoes, greens, roasted red peppers. Free wireless internet. This place is the bomb-diggs. There are five people in the building. It is quiet and the light is a reddish, mysterious hue. There are comfy couches and big tables. I like this place.

How's This For Your Sign

We finally talked last night. I asked what his plans are after he finishes working out East. He’s going back West to tie up some loose ends and then he doesn’t know where he’ll be headed from there. He is waiting for a sign telling him where he is supposed to be. A stupid sign.

I told him this has been really hard on me. Having him here. Seeing him. I told him I love him. He told me he loves me too. He hadn’t thought about things from my point of view. I asked how he would feel if I were dating someone else. He was obviously quite upset by this idea and asked whether I am. I’m not. I sort of lied and told him I had been seeing someone. Not entirely true, but not entirely false either. He didn’t like this. Not one bit. I told him I won’t date anyone else.

He said that he was surprised that our connection is still so strong after so long apart. It’s like we never missed a beat. He said it is so easy for us to be together. He said I need you right now in my life. I need you. I love you. I’m not sure where this is going though. I need time. I need to talk face to face.

It’s always about what he needs, isn’t it? Screw that. I need some freakin’ answers, that’s what I need. Damn it. It shouldn’t be this hard. He should want to be with me enough that he doesn’t need some stupid sign, he just needs me. I should be enough, but I’m not.

I'm not going to stop looking for my person. I'm not waiting for him.

Mental/Spatial Reorganization

I rearranged my bedroom today. It's such a great feeling once it's completed. I've essetially inventoried most of what I own and know where everything is. The dust balls are gone. The floor is clean. It looks enormous. So much space. So much floor.

I love it.

I think that the process of rearranging the bedroom facilitates a mental cleanse as well. In college, if my room was a mess, I wouldn't be able to write. Homework came second to a tidy workspace. I'm hoping I will be able to think more clearly now.

I'm sort of in the middle of an emotional disaster waiting to happen. My ex-boyfriend has made a sudden and jolting reappearance in my life. He visited me three weekends in a row, this being the first he hasn't made the trip since it began.

He was planning on visiting in September and I told him I didn't think it would be a good idea for me. I told him I still loved him and that it would be too hard for me. He would have a great time and I would too, but in the end, I'd be miserable and he'd be fine.

I cancelled the visit. And then received a call during a night of drunken debauchery. He's going to be working nearby, he said, and I said, why don't you swing by my house on your way. I was drunk. The next day, the next two days, I didn't even recall the conversation. He called on a Tuesday and told me he figured he would get in around 11:00 on Friday. What? I didn't even remember he was coming here. What was I supposed to do? I invited him!

So he came and it was great. It was really nice, actually. Of course it was! I'm so stupid sometimes. It was great. He came the next weekend and the next.

Argh. I don't know what to feel. I want him to want this. To want me. I want him to move here and be with me. But then I don't.

I like being alone. I like having my time all to myself. Having no one to answer to. No duties to another person. I like waking up and thinking, what do I want to do today? Or, what do I have to do today? Not, what do you want for breakfast? Because, of course, I can't do anything until I know he has been taken care of.

I guess that is the mother in me----lying in wait. I was designed to nurture.

Argh. Not sure what happens next.

A Back-Scratching Good Time

I got to the train station this morning and nearly ripped my shirt off because my back was itching so bad. Wicked dry skin this time of the year in MJLand.
I remembered:

I used to work the register at this place that shall remain nameless. One of my coworkers there was hot. I mean h-o-t, hot. He was recently divorced with two children and I knew from the moment we met that we were not meant to be. But, boy, oh boy, how I loved working those shifts with him. Watching him bag the unnecessary crap that people purchase, seeing him fight with the register and win, watching him hold the door open for old people. He could dance too. Mmmm. I had such a terrible crush.

So one day, I am at the register doing my thang and my back starts itching like crazy. I turned into a contortionist, trying desperately to reach that one inaccessible spot on my back without success.

He came up behind me, I didn't even know he was there, and started scratching my back. It felt so nice.

That's all I want. I want that moment when my special someone has anticipated and realized my needs and without speaking, takes action. It is so nice to be cared for and seen and to reciprocate in turn. For all of my coupled friends out there, you are lucky. Be appreciative and be good to each other.

I Will Now Subject You To My Very First Blog

(Written October 19, 2005)

Welcome to my first blog ever. I've never done this before, so be patient, dear readers.

So, I've begun to feel like I must not know myself very well because I am having the damnedest time filling out my myspace profile. Everytime I type something in, I think, nah, that's not me or that doesn't sound right. Then an unexpected error occurs and shuts me down and I just plain give up. This time will be different. I can feel it in my bones.

I am at a weird point in my life. I feel like I have all these things going for me, right? Like stuff is right where it is supposed to be. Work is good. School is time-consuming but worthwhile. My bedroom is clean and my bills are paid. I even have clean underwear in my drawer and the makings for a decent sandwich in my refridgerator. But yet, something is lacking.

I was grocery shopping on Sunday and I nearly broke down in the chip aisle. I wanted to buy a jar of salsa con queso, but realized that there was little chance that I alone would be able to consume the entire jar before it got all weird and coagulated. If I had someone to share my life with, a partner, a man, he would eat the salsa con queso and I wouldn't have to worry about it going bad. He might even go halfies on it with me. But there is no one.

I'm not really sad generally. I go about my life, doing my own thing and I'm happy. I feel good really. But that stupid jar of processed cheese goop really fucked with me. It brought to mind a post on craigslist (my bff) that I read some time ago (not sure when, I read so many posts each day...yes, I am a junkie). This girl was talking about how the thing she misses most about being in a relationship is knowing that if she buys a loaf of bread, it will all be eaten before it goes stale. You see, she alone could not consume an entire loaf before it got stale or moldy. I never understood her plight better than Sunday, standing, staring at the salsa con queso.

Everyone says, "be patient. it will happen when you least expect it". I don't expect a thing, but god damn! And sure, I could probably meet someone tonight to play with, but I don't want to play. I want to get comfortable with someone.

I am throwing a pity party over a jar of salsa. I should have just purchased it and let the damn stuff go bad.