Some days you just can't win for losin'
Two months before leaving for the wedding I had a date who might have been something more.
One month before leaving for the wedding I had a date who was just a friend.
Three weeks before leaving for the wedding I had an date with someone I might ask, till it turned out she was young, and practically begging for trouble.
Two weeks before leaving for the wedding I had someone I thought might be interesting to try to get to know well enough to ask, until I noticed the wedding ring.
Thirteen days before leaving for the wedding and I've got the sad songs playing and I'm staring up at a darkened ceiling trying to find the spot in the pattern where it can break.
and it's going to be a awesome time
and I'm going to be the "crazy single friend" again.
and that's OK.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Thursday, October 8, 2009
What is It About Smell?
You left the smell of you behind on my shoulder, just where your head pressed when we hugged goodbye. I looked forward, all the way home, each time I turned my head to the right, to breathing you in.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
The Suavest Motherfucker on The Planet Pauses for A Moment And Reflects
All told, things are pretty good. I'm off the 5:30 AM bandwagon after being talked out of it by a friend. Frankly, I didn't need much convincing. I like having a life, you see. I like staying up late and reading sometimes and I like seeing my friends (yes, even those that don't ride bikes or show up at the cove). I've managed, after a week of sleeping in, not working out much and feeling even more tired than before, to get myself on a 6:30 AM kick instead. I'm not working out when I get up-- hopefully I'm doing that later in the day-- but I'm getting more done. I'm getting scheduled... organized.
Not that this is important.
I had a few moments, when I saw someone struggling with the kind of busy schedule that I had before lavaman-- work, working out, yoga, extracurricular work, fundraising, classes-- where I was jealous of such a full life. Then I remembered, as much as the experience was worth it, how drained and cranky it made me sometimes. I remember, towards the end, feeling that I'd bitten off more than I could chew. I vowed that, after the race, I would slow down. I didn't and now my body is forcing me to as tendons swell and crunch and joints creak and remind me that I am not, spandex notwithstanding, actually a superman.
There are times to push ones limits and times to listen to one's body. Sure, everyone should bite off more than they can chew every now and again (or so I am informed by the "Most Interesting Man" Dos Equis billboard ads), but everyone should remember to take time to be kind to themselves as well.
It's time to shift focus. It's time to relax the body. It's time to exercise the mind again. I fear it's gotten out of shape.
Not that this is important.
I had a few moments, when I saw someone struggling with the kind of busy schedule that I had before lavaman-- work, working out, yoga, extracurricular work, fundraising, classes-- where I was jealous of such a full life. Then I remembered, as much as the experience was worth it, how drained and cranky it made me sometimes. I remember, towards the end, feeling that I'd bitten off more than I could chew. I vowed that, after the race, I would slow down. I didn't and now my body is forcing me to as tendons swell and crunch and joints creak and remind me that I am not, spandex notwithstanding, actually a superman.
There are times to push ones limits and times to listen to one's body. Sure, everyone should bite off more than they can chew every now and again (or so I am informed by the "Most Interesting Man" Dos Equis billboard ads), but everyone should remember to take time to be kind to themselves as well.
It's time to shift focus. It's time to relax the body. It's time to exercise the mind again. I fear it's gotten out of shape.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Suave
And then she invites me for a drink and I remember that I am actually, really, pretty good at this stuff.
Sort of.
It may be that, in the three hours between getting her message and meeting up with her I rushed out of the house to the liquor store to pick up a bottle of wine I thought she might like, as a Bastille day present (she's French, if I haven't mentioned that-- or even if I have), fretted over the variety and origin of said bottle, vacillated on what to wear, decided, discovered that the shirt I had chosen was dirty and our laundry machines were in use, washed my shirt in the sink, drove to the laundromat to dry it, played some Ms. Pacman, fretted some more, ate dinner, showered and then packed up the wine with two glasses and a corkscrew in an old messenger bag and headed over to see her.
It may have been that all of those things happened. The affect, however, is that I showed up in my awesome new pants with a demi-bottle of wine that happened to be from a town 5 minutes from where she grew up and she suggested that we take it to the park and drink. So we did.
We sat overlooking the city, with bunny rabbits prancing all about and other magical woodland creatures, I'm sure. We were not bothered by homeless meth-addicts. It was all very romantical, except I didn't really give a shit about the setting so much as just about being close to her and listening to her talk and making her laugh when I could. I think I did OK.
Score one for me.
Sort of.
It may be that, in the three hours between getting her message and meeting up with her I rushed out of the house to the liquor store to pick up a bottle of wine I thought she might like, as a Bastille day present (she's French, if I haven't mentioned that-- or even if I have), fretted over the variety and origin of said bottle, vacillated on what to wear, decided, discovered that the shirt I had chosen was dirty and our laundry machines were in use, washed my shirt in the sink, drove to the laundromat to dry it, played some Ms. Pacman, fretted some more, ate dinner, showered and then packed up the wine with two glasses and a corkscrew in an old messenger bag and headed over to see her.
It may have been that all of those things happened. The affect, however, is that I showed up in my awesome new pants with a demi-bottle of wine that happened to be from a town 5 minutes from where she grew up and she suggested that we take it to the park and drink. So we did.
We sat overlooking the city, with bunny rabbits prancing all about and other magical woodland creatures, I'm sure. We were not bothered by homeless meth-addicts. It was all very romantical, except I didn't really give a shit about the setting so much as just about being close to her and listening to her talk and making her laugh when I could. I think I did OK.
Score one for me.
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
Do You Remember That Time?
That time in-between?
You are ready. You are so ready after that first date that went so well, after you've called and left your message and then are waiting. It can begin to build up inside you while you wait for that call. You can do crazy things, wondering. This is the time when things most often go awry.
My friend pointed out that this is because it is also the time when things are most fragile. When you still know so little about each other, so there's a tendency to read everything into each little action or lack thereof.
Damn straight.
I wish I could say that I take this part all in stride, that I leave my message and then promptly forget about it and that I never allow myself to vacillate between fantasies of entering into a real relationship-- of travelling together, of waking up on a Sunday morning and listening to the radio in bed-- and then of those where I simply never hear from her again. Outwardly, I think, I'm able to manage a certain grace. I can strike a balance between calling when it's appropriate, without trying to wait the requisite number of days to look cool, and then waiting for a response without becoming overbearing. Inside though, I'm spinning. It's all gone pear-shaped from this point on too many times for me not to have negative associations attached to it. If I'm not careful, the inertia of my own worry threats to topple me and I must remember that I am lucky to be able to feel this way. I am lucky to have the luxury of this chance.
And I am grateful. I really am.
You are ready. You are so ready after that first date that went so well, after you've called and left your message and then are waiting. It can begin to build up inside you while you wait for that call. You can do crazy things, wondering. This is the time when things most often go awry.
My friend pointed out that this is because it is also the time when things are most fragile. When you still know so little about each other, so there's a tendency to read everything into each little action or lack thereof.
Damn straight.
I wish I could say that I take this part all in stride, that I leave my message and then promptly forget about it and that I never allow myself to vacillate between fantasies of entering into a real relationship-- of travelling together, of waking up on a Sunday morning and listening to the radio in bed-- and then of those where I simply never hear from her again. Outwardly, I think, I'm able to manage a certain grace. I can strike a balance between calling when it's appropriate, without trying to wait the requisite number of days to look cool, and then waiting for a response without becoming overbearing. Inside though, I'm spinning. It's all gone pear-shaped from this point on too many times for me not to have negative associations attached to it. If I'm not careful, the inertia of my own worry threats to topple me and I must remember that I am lucky to be able to feel this way. I am lucky to have the luxury of this chance.
And I am grateful. I really am.
Monday, July 13, 2009
These Are My Wishes For You
That you will be able to go home and see your grandfather before it is too late.
That "too late" will turn out to be not for some time still.
That you will get lots of work that you enjoy.
That your days will be full and busy and fun.
That contentment will be yours.
That I will see you soon and often and have a chance.
...
Oh, wait. That last one was for me.
That "too late" will turn out to be not for some time still.
That you will get lots of work that you enjoy.
That your days will be full and busy and fun.
That contentment will be yours.
That I will see you soon and often and have a chance.
...
Oh, wait. That last one was for me.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
A Movie First, Then Dinner
A woman walked into my apartment in stripper heels and a slinky black dress that didn't quite cover the bottom of her ass. In this, she made me dinner, clomping around, bending over occaisionally to afford me a view of her black, see-through, frilly panties...
...and that, gentle reader, is where the comparisons to a Penthouse Letters submission will end, because I didn't. It wasn't unreasonable for her to expect it, because we've had somewhat of a thing from time to time, but you see the thing is this: last night SHE leaned across her car seat unexpectedly and pulled me in for a kiss, and when I felt HER lips on mine my first thought was simply, no one else. *This* is all I want.
...and that, gentle reader, is where the comparisons to a Penthouse Letters submission will end, because I didn't. It wasn't unreasonable for her to expect it, because we've had somewhat of a thing from time to time, but you see the thing is this: last night SHE leaned across her car seat unexpectedly and pulled me in for a kiss, and when I felt HER lips on mine my first thought was simply, no one else. *This* is all I want.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Week Two/Too Weak
This morning I rose at 5:30 AM for the 10th weekday in a row. Not having a group bike ride or Master's swim class planned, I took my time about getting ready, drinking my breakfast smoothie and tried to enjoy the morning. Mostly I enjoyed tossing around the idea that I could go back to bed if I wanted to. That, my friend, would set a precedent with which I was not entirely comfortable, so instead I put on my gym shoes and headed out to lift heavy objects off the floor. This will probably be my only weightlifting day this week. Despite the early mornings, I'm still having trouble finding enough time in the day to fit in multiple workouts.
I'm grumpy in the morning (surly, some would say) and often during the day I'm hit with sudden bursts of self pity. Pathetic. We've got to get motivated around here. I'm combating this with orange juice and additional calories. I need to make sure I'm eating enough.
Is this boring you? It's boring the hell out of me. Last night I skipped out on what would probably have been a fun social outing in favor of drinking a beer, reading a comic book and falling asleep by eight. This does not bode well. I slept upside-down on the bed, mostly on top of the sheets, as I am at times wont to do. At some point in the middle of the night, I woke, crawled to the top of the bed and slid under the duvet (Yeah, I have a duvet. What are you going to do about it?). I slept right up until the alarm. Nine and a half hours of sleep and I'm still tired.
Why am I doing this, you ask? Fuck if I know. Because I can? Maybe I want to see what happens if I try. Maybe it's some form of guilt or feelings of inadequacy. Maybe I want to look down on mere mortals with an insufferable sense of superiority. Maybe I'm doing it to meet girls.
Yeah, it's probably girls.
What's your excuse?
I'm grumpy in the morning (surly, some would say) and often during the day I'm hit with sudden bursts of self pity. Pathetic. We've got to get motivated around here. I'm combating this with orange juice and additional calories. I need to make sure I'm eating enough.
Is this boring you? It's boring the hell out of me. Last night I skipped out on what would probably have been a fun social outing in favor of drinking a beer, reading a comic book and falling asleep by eight. This does not bode well. I slept upside-down on the bed, mostly on top of the sheets, as I am at times wont to do. At some point in the middle of the night, I woke, crawled to the top of the bed and slid under the duvet (Yeah, I have a duvet. What are you going to do about it?). I slept right up until the alarm. Nine and a half hours of sleep and I'm still tired.
Why am I doing this, you ask? Fuck if I know. Because I can? Maybe I want to see what happens if I try. Maybe it's some form of guilt or feelings of inadequacy. Maybe I want to look down on mere mortals with an insufferable sense of superiority. Maybe I'm doing it to meet girls.
Yeah, it's probably girls.
What's your excuse?
Monday, June 15, 2009
Seriously?
I got home from my first masters swim around 7:30 this morning, pulled into the driveway, turned off the engine and slumped my head into the steering wheel for a nice, long sigh. How do people do this? I thought briefly, before catching myself on my way down a typical slide into self pity. I shook it off, told myself to get over it. I'm not that sore. Other people do this shit every day, and they have kids and a busier work schedule than mine. besides I thought. feeling this way all the time will be good practice for when you're old.
All jokes aside, "what the fuck am I doing?" you might ask. Or I might ask. One of us should ask. And the answer is, "I don't really know." Most of my friends think I'm nuts for working out this much, and they're right. Then again, my triathlete friends would probably scoff at how little I'm doing and how much of a toll it is currently taking on me. I guess that's your answer right there. I'm doing this, because it's possible, and I want to see if I can.
If it all gets to be too much, if I start to wither and fade and that becomes a lasting condition rather than a state of a few months, I promise to tone it down. We can't, after all, let this whole thing interfere too much with my drinking. In the mean time, I'm keeping with it. It's tiring where I am, but I want to see what's on the other side.
All jokes aside, "what the fuck am I doing?" you might ask. Or I might ask. One of us should ask. And the answer is, "I don't really know." Most of my friends think I'm nuts for working out this much, and they're right. Then again, my triathlete friends would probably scoff at how little I'm doing and how much of a toll it is currently taking on me. I guess that's your answer right there. I'm doing this, because it's possible, and I want to see if I can.
If it all gets to be too much, if I start to wither and fade and that becomes a lasting condition rather than a state of a few months, I promise to tone it down. We can't, after all, let this whole thing interfere too much with my drinking. In the mean time, I'm keeping with it. It's tiring where I am, but I want to see what's on the other side.
Friday, June 12, 2009
In retrospect...
..."do you think the moment that drove her away was when I put your phone down my pants, or would you say it was when we started talking about your herpes?"
"Definitely the phone."
"Yeah."
I know by now that I've told you this already. I'm a bit of a jackass. Last night it was on in full force. I wasn't toning it down for anyone, come hell or high water, including the cute girl who came over to our booth to chat me up. She was able to hang for about 15 minutes before the color drained from her face and her body posture assumed that of a frozen animal, folded upon itself in helpless surrender.
"Did she really just up and tell you she was going to leave?"
"Yeah, she tapped me on the shoulder, said, 'excuse me, I'm going to go now' and asked if I could get up to let her out of the booth."
"Hmmm. She didn't even say goodbye."
"D. You had a hot, smart girl, totally interested in you and you blew it."
"Hey! If you can't hang with *this* now, it's not going to work out anyway."
and then we proceeded to dance in our seats to the bad techno music while making cheesy faces at the young dems.
Sometimes it's good to have jackass backup. Go us.
"Definitely the phone."
"Yeah."
I know by now that I've told you this already. I'm a bit of a jackass. Last night it was on in full force. I wasn't toning it down for anyone, come hell or high water, including the cute girl who came over to our booth to chat me up. She was able to hang for about 15 minutes before the color drained from her face and her body posture assumed that of a frozen animal, folded upon itself in helpless surrender.
"Did she really just up and tell you she was going to leave?"
"Yeah, she tapped me on the shoulder, said, 'excuse me, I'm going to go now' and asked if I could get up to let her out of the booth."
"Hmmm. She didn't even say goodbye."
"D. You had a hot, smart girl, totally interested in you and you blew it."
"Hey! If you can't hang with *this* now, it's not going to work out anyway."
and then we proceeded to dance in our seats to the bad techno music while making cheesy faces at the young dems.
Sometimes it's good to have jackass backup. Go us.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
So, what have you been up to?
It always seems like I should have a better answer to this question. Have I blogged about this before? I've blogged about this before. Tough. People ask me this and I have no idea what to tell them. "You know. Working," I say. Sometimes I add, "working out a lot," even though I feel like that makes me sound like an asshole. It's the truth though (the working out, not the asshole part. OK, that too). Weekdays are a struggle to balance work with getting in shape while still trying to maintain a social life and wedge in a few hours for myself. I drive to the cove after work for a swim, then hit the gym. I sneak out mid-day for a yoga class or a bike ride. One of these days I'll get up early enough to start riding my bike in the morning. Really. I've just joined the tri club, maybe that will help. I'm trying to step it up from one workout a day to two or more and moral around here has been flagging. Some days I just want to sit on the couch.
On weekends, I volunteer. I spend hours driving foster kids around, trying to prevent them from beating each other to death in my car, trying to keep them in school, out of trouble, and vaguely entertained at the same time, but I don't really get into that with people I don't know well.
Sometimes I go to the movies. Often I go to the pub. I drink too much. I don't cook enough. Sometimes I stay out until 7 in the morning dancing with strangers (what am I, 19 again?) Changes need to be made around here. Do I tell them that?
I'd love to say I'd been writing, or even keeping up with my reading, and yet The Grapes of Wrath sits on my bedside table, the bookmark sitting in the same place-- just a few chapters away from completion-- that it's been in for months. (NOTE: It's not that I don't care what happens to the Joads, I just have a feeling it's not going to be happy). My blog is neglected and the story I started a year ago sits neglected on my laptop at about thirty desperately poor pages. Truth is, I barely have enough time in the day to get three meals in me and a few hours of sleep. I'm not complaining, mind you. A full day is better than one spent sitting on the couch looking at porn on my laptop.
Yeah, I find a little time to do that too.
On weekends, I volunteer. I spend hours driving foster kids around, trying to prevent them from beating each other to death in my car, trying to keep them in school, out of trouble, and vaguely entertained at the same time, but I don't really get into that with people I don't know well.
Sometimes I go to the movies. Often I go to the pub. I drink too much. I don't cook enough. Sometimes I stay out until 7 in the morning dancing with strangers (what am I, 19 again?) Changes need to be made around here. Do I tell them that?
I'd love to say I'd been writing, or even keeping up with my reading, and yet The Grapes of Wrath sits on my bedside table, the bookmark sitting in the same place-- just a few chapters away from completion-- that it's been in for months. (NOTE: It's not that I don't care what happens to the Joads, I just have a feeling it's not going to be happy). My blog is neglected and the story I started a year ago sits neglected on my laptop at about thirty desperately poor pages. Truth is, I barely have enough time in the day to get three meals in me and a few hours of sleep. I'm not complaining, mind you. A full day is better than one spent sitting on the couch looking at porn on my laptop.
Yeah, I find a little time to do that too.
Friday, May 8, 2009
Saturday, April 25, 2009
The Nightly Grind
I clench and grind at night. Bruxism, they call it. Could be stress, but I'm a pretty mellow guy. Could just be that I should finally go get my wisdom teeth out on the right side. It may even be the source of the gum recession, which leads us to our current problem.
Normally the grinding is dealt with by wearing a night-guard. It's nerdy and I'm always hesitant to wear it at the beginning of a relationship when we start with... [ahem]... sleepovers. Well, there aren't going to be any of those for a while, the way things are going, but I haven't been wearing it anyway. I can't. I've just had surgery-- a gum graft-- and there's currently so much other software in my mouth, there's no room for the guard. The procedure was pretty knarly, so I'll spare you the details, but all and all not too painful... except when I grind at night.
We've tried muscle relaxers, but even with them I wake in the morning still bleeding. Best sleep I've ever had though. I wake up before 6 AM-- sometimes even before 3 feeling refreshed and relaxed. Even though I'm still able to get back to sleep with no problem, it doesn't feel like I have to. I certainly don't feel like the world is ending when I get out of bed, which is pretty much how most mornings go. A fellow could get used to this stuff if he's not careful.
Monday, April 20, 2009
"Keep Your Head Above Your Heart"
the doctor advised. "Until you heal".
Wiser words have never been said.
Wiser words have never been said.
Friday, April 17, 2009
I Have A Secret...
...and it feels very big. No, you don't know it, but I would wake with it every morning on my lips and carry it in my heart all day, like a weapon. I could feel it, sharp and effective , but perhaps too frightening to ever be used.
So I wrote it down on a piece of paper, folded it up, and hid it away where you won't find it-- secret and safe-- and then slept for the first night in many without it trying to cut its way out.
So I wrote it down on a piece of paper, folded it up, and hid it away where you won't find it-- secret and safe-- and then slept for the first night in many without it trying to cut its way out.
Monday, April 13, 2009
It Wouldn't Make Me Sing
Yeah, it wouldn't make me king.
I got a call today during which a very adult conversation was had (no, I don't mean talking dirty. Get your mind out of the gutter). It was very kindly explained to me that a date wasn't going to be in the cards right now. It was handled well by both of us, mostly by her. She had class. She had grace. She told me in the way that I would like to think I would tell someone else in a similar situation. We spoke for a while after about this and that. We laughed. We get off the phone and I feel-- oddly enough-- kind of happy.
It's nice to know I can still feel this way about a woman. It gives me hope. And now, to my one and only reader, I will say this: remember that long period of abstinence I told you about? Here she comes.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Hi
So, it's been a while. Sorry I haven't written. I was in this thing and it was good, but it wasn't enough. I gave it everything I had, but I didn't have that one thing that I needed and she deserved so now, here we are.
Did you miss me? I missed you.
I'm at home now, watching a movie. I should be doing my taxes, but I'm watching a cop movie instead. This guy is in the witness protection program and they want to go after his girlfriend and she's probably going to die, which isn't right, what with her being Eva Mendez and all. You don't kill Eva Mendez. I can think of a lot of things to do with Eva Mendez, and all of them are much nicer.
Also, there's this girl. I know. I know! Too soon, right. I just got back and you're worried about me going away all over again, but this is different. This one makes me want to write. This one makes me want to fucking sing for chrissakes. I can't remember a time when I got this excited about spending time with a woman. Who knows how this'll all turn out. I haven't even asked her on a date yet. I don't even know if she'll say yes if I do. For now, though, for now, I am happy to feel this way, just to feel excited. It makes me want to write and, if she says no, if it doesn't work out, well that will make me want to write some more too.
So I'm back.
Did you miss me? I missed you.
I'm at home now, watching a movie. I should be doing my taxes, but I'm watching a cop movie instead. This guy is in the witness protection program and they want to go after his girlfriend and she's probably going to die, which isn't right, what with her being Eva Mendez and all. You don't kill Eva Mendez. I can think of a lot of things to do with Eva Mendez, and all of them are much nicer.
Also, there's this girl. I know. I know! Too soon, right. I just got back and you're worried about me going away all over again, but this is different. This one makes me want to write. This one makes me want to fucking sing for chrissakes. I can't remember a time when I got this excited about spending time with a woman. Who knows how this'll all turn out. I haven't even asked her on a date yet. I don't even know if she'll say yes if I do. For now, though, for now, I am happy to feel this way, just to feel excited. It makes me want to write and, if she says no, if it doesn't work out, well that will make me want to write some more too.
So I'm back.
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