love, mutually

i just watched this movie for the second time in two days. nice romantic comedy with enough artsy accessories to make it less embarrassing to discuss. and so the first time i watched it was with my mom, and the second was with my friend, Teresa. i think i took the same sensation from both viewings: jealousy. of course, with my mom, we laughed it off and assured each other that we'd greet each other at the airport just like those happy pepole in the movie. Teresa and i just smirked at Hugh Grant and then became cynics once the credits rolled.

"well, people make movies based on real experiences, so things like that really must happen."

this was the logic of my friend. and she's going to medical school.

i mean, she's right, to an extent. i want that sappy, cliched romance that everyone gags over, yet secretly warms to. that instant *click* may be nothing more than "holy fuck. he's hot." but as long as he feels the same, as long as you have that mutual attraction, you're sailing! that's the only missing link, you know. that essential and undeniable piece to that gajillion-piece puzzle. and force and peel at the corners of the cardboard shapes as we may, in the end, we look foolish for having forced it like a child in the first place.

so why is this something i'm jealous over?

i have found that my world essentially revolves around having this proverbial requited love. the shit in the damn movies. the shit that has made this post so sticky-sweet that no one will dare pass the second paragraph.

i have tried to occupy myself; get a new hobby, immerse myself in my job (or two), write more...but in the end, i actually see them as a means to my end. maybe i'll meet a skydiver that will realize just how kickass i am. maybe i won't meet a massive tool if i look around at work. maybe i'll write this yearning out of my system and wake up cured!

maybe not.

a few months ago, a married man/friend/co-worker, told me he had feelings for me. we were friends. still are. now we're friends that know a secret. and that secret is minor because it's not tangible and it hasn't (nor will it be) actualized. still, i can't seem to get it off my mind, even after two entire months of separation. it's not love. it's not that sweep-me-off-my-feet-until-i-sweat-sugar kind of thing.

our friendship is like watching a romantic comedy and feeling that smile followed by a subtle anxiety. and then you leave the theater and go home. you have helped each other exist; sociologists would have a name for the type of relationship that is, but for me, it's just mutual.

circa 1988

I was best friends with an inanimate object. A pink, bejeweled retro-styled diary with a lock and key and mutli-colored lined pages.

Let us observe:

10/13/88

(in sloppy script)

Dear Diary:

Today is my first day keeping a diary. You would not believe what happened! My mom and me were driving back from the doctor's office and [unnecessary comma] a car in front of us slammed on the brakes to make a turn [unnecessary comma] and we almost crashed into it!! And worst of all we got lost on the way back! Well, out of time for now. Bye!

evidently, i was a very busy 9 year-old that only had time for a brief synopsis of a 5 minute story. at least i was polite enough to bid a fond farewell to my inanimate friend.

11/3/88

(in sloppy script, still)

Dear Diary [no colon]

Sorry I didn't write a lot in a while. But since I started riding on a hadicaped [sic] bus people are say [sic] I'm retarted [sic] and I'm not I just can't walk one mile home from school. [well, that proclaimation didn't do much to help my cause, did it?] And I started this book called The Leftover Kid. It is ["pretty" is crossed out] VERY good. I don't have anything else to say, I might have time to wright [sic] some more tonight. So bye for now.

[time has elapses, as evidenced by a skipped line and change of ink color...]

Hi! Guess what! My mom broke up with Coley and Bill might get arrested for harrasing [sic] her. My Aunt is [underlined] screaming right now so I should go. Bye!

(P.S. I didn't even start my homework yet and its [sic] 3:47 and my mom gets home a [sic] 4:25) (somewhere around 4:30!) Bye for the last and final time!!!!!

at least i was redundant, if nothing else.

reading this thing is quite the trip. my childhood was certainly good, but unstable and bizarre at times. i was not popular, my mother worked long hours for little money and in her off time would search for a new father for us, and my brother was my worst enemy. as i grew older, in my teenage years, i learned to resent this upbringing and did my best (and was successful) at rebelling against my mother. at least i had my pink, bejewelled diary. maybe it saved me.

i think i turned out alright.

what not to do for a living

i am very antisocial. but the irony is that i bartend. i have bartended as a supplemental job for the past 5 or 6 months. i'm not a great bartender, as i work at a beer and shots type of establishment. lots of NASCAR paraphernalia on the walls. regulars that are the non-sloppy, but nonetheless seedy type of characters. the owner drinks heavily; first bud cans, then vodka, and, on an especially wet day, bombay saphire. he only hires female barmaids.

so this is my last time on the schedule at this bar, and i couldn't be happier. now, when i'm there, it's not so bad, i think. i enjoy cleaning, and the place is never too busy, so i wipe down everything and anything to fill the silences or repulsive stares. i'll talk to the customers, some of them are actually friendly. i suppose i've met the kind of people i'd have never met elsewhere, but i'm not sure if i'm better for the experience.

i think i just know that this is something that i'll never want to do.

the idea that men are staring at my cleavage, or just my curves if i'm not wearing a revealing top. or that they're constantly hitting on you just because you have to remain near them. it's terrible. i had a casual boyfriend that would jokingly equate it to prostitution, and i would get angry as he chuckled. and i think i was annoyed because there was truth to his analogy. they're giving me money, tips, for the opportunity to daydream, stare, and chat. and i let them. of course, to not let them would mean to be a horrible bartender and kick most of the customers out. they're not all like that, but there are enough that are to make it a burden.

i suppose, like anything in life, this is an experience. but there are some that just may make you worse for the time spent. i feel dirty. i feel weak and powerless, a traitor to my sex.

but i'll get dressed in an hour and put on my makeup and go through the charade until 4 in the morning, and not really think too much about what i'm doing or what i've done. maybe i'm too sensitive, maybe it's not a big deal.

but at times, i enjoy the attention.

I love this song right now...

in fact, i think i just love Robert Plant right now. he's fucking brilliant.

On the floating, shipless oceans
I did all my best to smile
til your singing eyes and fingers
drew me loving into your eyes.
And you sang "Sail to me, sail to me;
Let me enfold you."
Here I am, here I am waiting to hold you.
Did I dream you dreamed about me?
Were you here when I was full sail?
Now my foolish boat is leaning,
broken lovelorn on your rocks.
For you sang,
"Touch me not, touch me not, come back tomorrow."
Oh my heart, oh my heart shies from the sorrow.
I'm as puzzled as a newborn child.
I'm as riddled as the tide.
Should I stand amid the breakers?
Or shall I lie with death my bride?
Hear me sing:
"Swim to me, swim to me, let me enfold you."
"Here I am. Here I am, waiting to hold you."

"Song to the Siren" - Robert Plant

welp...

so, this was going to be a long post about empowerment and relationships and fidelity and honesty, but i had too much to drink while hashing out the aforementioned topic with my friends...and now i'm eating Rice Krispie Treats and Connolis.

i guess there won't be any insights shared tonight, unfortunately. though, what would have made them so special? we've all been burned, and it seems to be the duty of the single to find that one person who will play them like a funky bass guitar.

so, i found that person.

and when i confronted him, he wasn't even man enough to just let me have that moment. just let me yell, let me hurt, verbally. and i think i'm glad he hung up on me. that made him all the more dispicable. all the more repulsive and easily convertible into energy for my new movement. the movement of not settling for shitheads. some breakthrough, huh? too bad i already thought i was a part of that motion since my fiancee dumped me. i guess there's a difference between being aware and taking action. what is that difference? how to we take that impossible step between realization and hustling that ass to a change of scenery?

it's so much easier to resolve oneself to just like cats. lots and lots of cats. they're not so bad really.

*this is a little awkward*

i just sent out a mass email to friends and family (thankfully not co-workers) with a link to a porn video. i did not do this on purpose.

i went skydiving a week or two ago. it was phenomenal. but that needs to be another story in itself. today we're talking about my solicitation of pornography.

when i went skydiving, i got the video and photographs for the additional fee. it's really a great video, aside from the Creed that accompanies the second half of the little flick. again, that could be an entirely separate blog; my hatred of Creed.

so, my brother is a computer genius (he'd deny this, but anyone smarter than me is immediately declared so by myself) and i'd asked him if there was a way for him to get my video online so that people could watch it. it's an amusing 5 and a half minutes and it would give me more people to talk about my foolish behavior with. so he uploaded it, compressed it, zig-zagged it or what-have-you, onto a website that he has. he sent it to me via AIM and i was able to view it. i sent it to a friend via AIM and he was able to download it, but had to postpone watching it for some reason...he was busy, evidently. since i am impatient and eager, i sent out a mass email with this link. my aunt kiki, my cousin mikey, ugh. they all recieved a cute little message from their nutty relative about some fantastic sport she'd just fallen in love with. i can imagine them each smirking in their own way, deciding to be a few minutes late to class or to that meeting or for submitting that paperwork just to see that goofy girl jump out of a "perfectly good airplane."

then, moaning. penises. breasts. pubic hair.

oh my god.

how does one overcome such a cyber mishap? i have no idea what happened to the link.

i'm going to kick my brother's ass.

"excuse me, you have to leave"

OK

now, this story took place about a week or two ago, but it's such a fantastic (literally, surreal) little ditty.

I'd been seeing this guy very casually. He's moving to California, so it was one of those relationships that was doomed from the start, but we went for it anyway, for some stupid reason. the result was this love/hate relationship that stemmed from us both being surprised and intrigued by our similar personalities and annoyed that the other would no longer be around in a month or so. we often drank together and this further encouraged our passionate behavior.

so there was a Modest Mouse concert at the Hammerstein Ballroom. my friend had bought 4 tickets, two for her and her boy, and the other two for me and whomever (preferably not the love/hate dude, as she'd suggested, but i didn't listen). my friend, her boy, and myself meet up with love/hate boy in the city. he puts his bag in our car and we stand in line for 25 minutes to get in, observing how fucking young and 80s-fashion influenced the crowd is. we wonder if we're the oldest people here, but then see a man with a heavily receeding hairline and decide we aren't. love/hate boy forgets that he has some kind of knife on him, so i hide it in my purse so that we can make it through the pat-down at the door. it's kind of a thrill to smuggle weapons.

we get inside and swiftly order drinks. three of us are drinking Red Bull and Vodka very heavily, and my girlfriend is drinking nothing. she wants to wait until we go out afterward because Bud draft is beneath her and Red Bull is gross. the two opening bands are atrocious, we decide. we watch one person in the crowd get ejected for throwing popcorn at the singer. we laugh, somewhat loudly, as we are drunk. i argue with a short couple behind me because apparently i'm swaying. she tells me to "have another drink." love/hate boy curses at them, and i feel good because he's supporting me, which is different. more Red Bull and vodka. I lose track of my drinks and my girlfriend tells me that i'm acting like i'm on speed. i tell her that i feel like i'm on speed. we laugh. i tell her i won't have any more Red Bull and Vodka, but i keep drinking them.

here is where it gets fuzzy. i instantly became drunk and my love/hate boy was taking too long to get our drinks. i'd given him a 50, and he comes back, 30 minutes later with two drinks and no change. he has no idea what happened to the money. i tell him he probably bought chicks some drinks. he gets annoyed.

transport to the bar...love/hate boy and I are arguing and i'm not sure what it's about. i reach for him and he grabs my arm and twists it. it hurts, and i deduce that since i'm drunk, it shouldn't hurt, so he must have really really hurt me. i begin to cry and storm out of the venue. my girlfriend and her boy follow me. there is no re-entry. for some reason, i'd assumed love/hate boy would've followed. he didn't. he texts me "wait, what the fuck" i text back "come out." he doesn't respond. he's the only person i've ever texted on a regular basis and that makes me resent him.

i call him and hear a girl in the background. he says he's staying with her tonight; she's a lawyer and has a place in the city. i'm fucking furious. i start crying more heavily now and plead with security to let me in. they do; i must've looked pathetic. i find him talking to the girl at the bar and resist the urge to punch her. it's a good thing i didn't. love/hate boy and i exchange words loudly, then i follow him to the bathroom. i tell him he hurt me and that's why i left. he said, "fuck that, next thing i know, you'll tell me i raped you." i'm shocked at his behavior.

suddenly, we're no longer fighting. we walk up the stairs to watch MM, as they've just come on. i'd forgotten about my two friends waiting outside. they weren't allowed in because my girlfriend's boy is acting violent, screaming at security and random people on the street. at the top of the bathroom stairs there is a big security guard. he grabs love/hate boy by the arm and says, "you have to leave." love/hate boy complies, "ok." we leave the venue, not having heard more than 5 seconds of the headliner. love/hate boy instantly calls female friends and begins proposing marriage. i try calling some male friends to make him jealous, but none answer the phone. i am crying again.

we walk to my friend's car and get in, apologizing. her boy is still acting violent, but i'm oblivious. she decides it's best that we just go home. we all agree or just don't care. love/hate boy is now all over me in the back seat of my friend's car.the next day, the two boys claim they must have been slipped something. i don't believe them.

i realize that i am stuck on thrilling events, regardless of how they happen. it was a bad evening, but i can laugh at it. i still talk to love/hate boy and let him manipulate me into thinking i'm also flawed. i must be. why else would i interact with this person? i think of college when i'd hang out with dealers. i knew i wasn't at the level they were, but i liked the thrill. and it made me feel superior, i guess, despite my obvious addictions.

i'm not sure if i'm in control and tweaking the knobs to get rid of that annoying buzz or if i am in fact being spun. admitting your weakness is only part of the process, but it's startling when you think you enjoy it.

2:43 PM - 0 Comments - Add Comment - Edit - Remove

so I went on a hike with my friend and two dogs. it started as a beautiful hike! a new trail, deep in the woods, great weather. the Shawangunk Ridges. stunted trees. critter holes. crevices. greatness.

then, my friend developed blisters and promptly began to whine and get cranky. the views were less pretty. civilization seemed dead on my heels. we had to turn around. they were "that bad."

my dog, Angie, is normally very energetic, spastic, even. she does this thing that I've dubbed "the jackrabbit" because she'll just get hyper and run in circles with her hind legs under her the whole time in some sort of jackrabbit-run fashion. this is important because when she slowed her pace during our descent, i noticed. she eventually stopped walking completely. i had to carry her much of the way, as my friend whimpered ahead, cursing at the other dog for cutting her off as he meandered down the trail.

my dog weighs 54 pounds. she licked my face when i carried her and i apologized like an awful mother. i'd catch up to my friend and she'd smirk, and i'd snap "it's not fucking funny, dude." much of the decent was covered in silence.this was a few days ago. my friend keeps showing me her blisters that she won't pop. they're big and gross on her heels. my dog had thrown out her back, according to Dr. Winters, and is now on muscle relaxers. I kind of want to take some myself. my upper body is vey sore. still. plus the vet visit cost $180.