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Tuesday, February 28, 2006
I Dreamt About An Old Me.
Last night I dreamed about asthma. It’s been years—college really—that I have had a major attack of any sort. But last night I had several severe dreams about it; one so bad that I woke up and went to see if I had any meds just in case. There is a part of me that thinks the weather is triggering is small attacks and that I haven’t noticed it yet. There’s another part of me that wonders what would cause such flashbacks to such a painful time in my life.
When I was younger I would have lots of attacks—I had everything from inhalers and pills to the big scary bag inhaler that looked like a respirator. And we were never sure what would cause them; it wasn’t until college and they went away that we realized that my mom’s house had several huge factors with the dust and being on the wetlands with all the moisture.
The most vivid memory I have is of an attack my junior year of high school. I was at home and just writing a short story when I felt the attack come on. I remember going into the living room where my dad and brother were watching a Bruins game. They barely looked up when I came in and I started to cry because the attack was so bad and even the inhaler wasn’t working and I was terrified I was going to die. I blacked out and the next I remember I was in bed—my dad had done nothing and just put me in my room.
And ever since then I get paranoid that I’ll have another attack like that. One so huge that everything will just go blurry and stop and there will be nothing I can do to prevent it. But every so often I forget and then I have dreams.
They scare the hell out of me. I wish I knew where they came from. And why.
Last night I dreamed about asthma. It’s been years—college really—that I have had a major attack of any sort. But last night I had several severe dreams about it; one so bad that I woke up and went to see if I had any meds just in case. There is a part of me that thinks the weather is triggering is small attacks and that I haven’t noticed it yet. There’s another part of me that wonders what would cause such flashbacks to such a painful time in my life.
When I was younger I would have lots of attacks—I had everything from inhalers and pills to the big scary bag inhaler that looked like a respirator. And we were never sure what would cause them; it wasn’t until college and they went away that we realized that my mom’s house had several huge factors with the dust and being on the wetlands with all the moisture.
The most vivid memory I have is of an attack my junior year of high school. I was at home and just writing a short story when I felt the attack come on. I remember going into the living room where my dad and brother were watching a Bruins game. They barely looked up when I came in and I started to cry because the attack was so bad and even the inhaler wasn’t working and I was terrified I was going to die. I blacked out and the next I remember I was in bed—my dad had done nothing and just put me in my room.
And ever since then I get paranoid that I’ll have another attack like that. One so huge that everything will just go blurry and stop and there will be nothing I can do to prevent it. But every so often I forget and then I have dreams.
They scare the hell out of me. I wish I knew where they came from. And why.
Monday, February 27, 2006
Rory Randomness
1) My boyfriend got a haircut. With his glasses, a black t-shirt and the new hair all I want to do is spend the day curled up in bed making love and eating ice cream.
2) Edie is back and in full effect. After spending Friday night with her and Ali in Palm Springs—I forgot what fun it is to just go on an adventure because you can.
3) A friend of mine took care of some “unfinished business” and I am dying for details.
4) All my girls are back in town and I am craving a girls’ night of wine and Chipolte.
5) I realized that I am unable to hang with geeks very well per the birthday thing I went to. I feel bad about this.
6) I got to know the boy’s best friend a bit better. And I realized they talk in twinglish.
7) I need to recreate my post card art to make my room feel finished.
8) I feel very slow today at work—like I am pushing through water.
9) I can find any random song on google in 2 seconds. Why I am proud of this I don’t know.
10) I feel bad about not returning all my phone calls or making enough new ones. And it is not cause of the boy but rather I am tired all the time.
1) My boyfriend got a haircut. With his glasses, a black t-shirt and the new hair all I want to do is spend the day curled up in bed making love and eating ice cream.
2) Edie is back and in full effect. After spending Friday night with her and Ali in Palm Springs—I forgot what fun it is to just go on an adventure because you can.
3) A friend of mine took care of some “unfinished business” and I am dying for details.
4) All my girls are back in town and I am craving a girls’ night of wine and Chipolte.
5) I realized that I am unable to hang with geeks very well per the birthday thing I went to. I feel bad about this.
6) I got to know the boy’s best friend a bit better. And I realized they talk in twinglish.
7) I need to recreate my post card art to make my room feel finished.
8) I feel very slow today at work—like I am pushing through water.
9) I can find any random song on google in 2 seconds. Why I am proud of this I don’t know.
10) I feel bad about not returning all my phone calls or making enough new ones. And it is not cause of the boy but rather I am tired all the time.
Friday, February 24, 2006
I Broke A Story Producer—Sorry About That
Well—it’s official. I’m working on ‘Survivor’; not the real one but the production I am currently with has become the real life version. The question is who will finish out the run of this show. Will it be the new story producer who was just told his much needed interview has a punk rock haired star, making the interview useless? Will it be the logger who blew half her hearing with a tape containing a foghorn prank done by the field? Will it be the much put upon post supervisor told to cut a promo today that there is no footage for? Will it be the lowly story assistant who does every job but story? Or does it really matter anyways?
Stay tuned to find out!!!
Well—it’s official. I’m working on ‘Survivor’; not the real one but the production I am currently with has become the real life version. The question is who will finish out the run of this show. Will it be the new story producer who was just told his much needed interview has a punk rock haired star, making the interview useless? Will it be the logger who blew half her hearing with a tape containing a foghorn prank done by the field? Will it be the much put upon post supervisor told to cut a promo today that there is no footage for? Will it be the lowly story assistant who does every job but story? Or does it really matter anyways?
Stay tuned to find out!!!
Life Is Pain?
As of late I’ve come to notice something odd about myself. I have been putting myself in situations that place me on the edge of stupidity and risk. I’m not quite sure why I do these things but there’s a pattern and a reason to them. A timing thing.
Like my foot. See, I basically sprained a major tendon that runs under the bottom of my left foot. I managed to do this on Sunday during sex. (How this happened is more a cocktail conversation than an open entry for my mother to stumble across.) But it’s been rather tender and will take a while to heal—in some cases what I did to it could take a year. And yet I find myself leaning it and placing my whole weight on this sore spot thus creating a slight and (sometimes major wave) of pain.
Why I do this I don’t know except it makes me feel something. I mean, it’s unhealthy and odd but there it is. And when I remove the pressure it’s like a rush of sweet relief that can’t be beat. And I’ve done this in other ways recently—placing pain in my path for the numbness afterwards. And it makes no real sense other than I just do it.
It reminds me of this thing that Agnes Nixon once said about her writing, about how when she created Erica Kane (Susan Lucci’s ‘All My Children” character) that the core of the character is doom potential. I know I have written about this idea before—the idea that the person is their own worst enemy and they don’t need outside forces to ruin their life because they purposely put obstacles in the way of their own happiness and well being.
I guess it breaks down to this idea that if someone thinks they should not be happy then they will create their own means to NOT be happy. I mean, I have a great (if crazy) job, a boyfriend who thinks I am the most beautiful amazing guy in the world (I’m really not) and a group of friends that love and care about me (even if they are just as crazy as my job). I should be happy.
I know that a huge part of this is very much my family history. Trying for happy is like the family motto and yet we all mess it up in various ways. Drugs, sex, divorce, meaningless in fighting are all things that have happened and yet we all repeat the same patterns. My brother and I once joked that we wouldn’t know how to handle happy because we’ve never seen it. Really.
And there is a part of me that says that since I am aware of this that I should be able to grow and move on beyond it. And I have tried in the past with dubious results. I guessing though that part of how we move on is to learn what patterns we have and how to not continue them. Which is hard.
Especially when that post pain high is so good.
As of late I’ve come to notice something odd about myself. I have been putting myself in situations that place me on the edge of stupidity and risk. I’m not quite sure why I do these things but there’s a pattern and a reason to them. A timing thing.
Like my foot. See, I basically sprained a major tendon that runs under the bottom of my left foot. I managed to do this on Sunday during sex. (How this happened is more a cocktail conversation than an open entry for my mother to stumble across.) But it’s been rather tender and will take a while to heal—in some cases what I did to it could take a year. And yet I find myself leaning it and placing my whole weight on this sore spot thus creating a slight and (sometimes major wave) of pain.
Why I do this I don’t know except it makes me feel something. I mean, it’s unhealthy and odd but there it is. And when I remove the pressure it’s like a rush of sweet relief that can’t be beat. And I’ve done this in other ways recently—placing pain in my path for the numbness afterwards. And it makes no real sense other than I just do it.
It reminds me of this thing that Agnes Nixon once said about her writing, about how when she created Erica Kane (Susan Lucci’s ‘All My Children” character) that the core of the character is doom potential. I know I have written about this idea before—the idea that the person is their own worst enemy and they don’t need outside forces to ruin their life because they purposely put obstacles in the way of their own happiness and well being.
I guess it breaks down to this idea that if someone thinks they should not be happy then they will create their own means to NOT be happy. I mean, I have a great (if crazy) job, a boyfriend who thinks I am the most beautiful amazing guy in the world (I’m really not) and a group of friends that love and care about me (even if they are just as crazy as my job). I should be happy.
I know that a huge part of this is very much my family history. Trying for happy is like the family motto and yet we all mess it up in various ways. Drugs, sex, divorce, meaningless in fighting are all things that have happened and yet we all repeat the same patterns. My brother and I once joked that we wouldn’t know how to handle happy because we’ve never seen it. Really.
And there is a part of me that says that since I am aware of this that I should be able to grow and move on beyond it. And I have tried in the past with dubious results. I guessing though that part of how we move on is to learn what patterns we have and how to not continue them. Which is hard.
Especially when that post pain high is so good.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Game On People--get Serious
SIOUX FALLS, South Dakota (Reuters) - South Dakota became the first U.S. state to pass a law banning abortion in virtually all cases, with the intention of forcing the Supreme Court to reconsider its 1973 decision legalizing the procedure.
The law, which would punish doctors who perform the operation with a five-year prison term and a $5,000 fine, awaits the signature of Republican Gov. Michael Rounds and people on both sides of the issue say he is unlikely to veto it.
"My understanding is we are the first state to truly defy Roe v. Wade. Roe v. Wade," the 1973 high court ruling that granted a constitutional right to abortion, said Kate Looby of Planned Parenthood South Dakota chapter.
State legislatures in Ohio, Indiana, Georgia, Tennessee and Kentucky also have introduced similar measures this year, but South Dakota's legislative calendar means its law is likely to be enacted first.
"We hope (Rounds) recognizes this for what it is: a political tool and not about the health and safety of the women of South Dakota," Looby said.
"If he chooses to sign it, we will be filing a lawsuit in short order to block it," she said after attending the afternoon debate at the state capital in Pierre.
Proponents have said the law was designed for just such a court challenge.
The timing is right, supporters say, given the recent appointments of Chief Justice John Roberts and Justice Samuel Alito to the high court. The two conservatives could pave the way to a decision overturning Roe v. Wade.
The high court said on Tuesday it will rule on whether the federal government can ban some abortion procedures, a case that could reveal whether the court reshaped by president George W. Bush will restrict abortion rights.
In 1992, the Supreme Court reaffirmed the right to abortion in Planned Parenthood v. Casey, the last direct challenge to Roe v. Wade.
The South Dakota law concludes that life begins at conception based on medical advances over the past three decades.
Proposed amendments to the law to create exceptions to specifically protect the health of the mother, or in cases of rape or incest, were voted down. Also defeated was an amendment to put the proposal in the hands of voters.
The bill as written does make an exception if the fetus dies during a doctor's attempt to save the mother's life.
Planned Parenthood operates the sole clinic in South Dakota where roughly 800 abortions are performed each year by doctors from neighboring Minnesota, Looby said.
Two years ago, Rounds vetoed a similar bill, saying it would wipe out existing restrictions on abortion while it was fought in the courts. A rewritten bill lost narrowly in the state Senate.
Some legislators opposed to abortion rights questioned whether it was premature to challenge Roe v. Wade, and said litigation would prove expensive for the sparsely populated state. An anonymous donor has offered $1 million to the state to defray the costs of litigation.
Wednesday, February 22, 2006
It’s Hard Being Sexy Liked and Crazy
The last 24 hours have been a bit of everything. So much so that only a list will do any justice.
--Yesterday morning. Not enough sleep. Realized that the boy is quite over the cold sore and thus kissable. Decide to not smoke and use patch.
-- Early morning @ work. Clusterfuck begins as demands for unreasonable turn around on tapes. Am making labels when I snap and realize I am doing only post work and not any real story work.
--Late morning @ work. Realize that I should just give notice. Attempt to give my two weeks with boss. Am convinced to stay via a combination of compliments and threats.Am also annoyed by e-mail debacle over birthdays and people not being invited. I give up on friends briefly.
--Early afternoon. Lunch with Patty. We talked about her new boy, my old boy, Have salads and soda/coffee. Very “Sex in the City”.
--Early evening. Get ready to leave work after putting out a major fire. Wonder if I missed my calling and should have become an emergency management person.
--Evening. Walking home and remember that I am supposed to stop by Pier One to visit with Charity. Have to give her my tax papers so she can hook me up. That and it would be a nice day to get a hug.
--Mid Evening. Meet up with Charity after being sexually propositioned. Very nice to see her and run into old boss as well. Debate by new entertainment center since on sale and I have my Pier One card still. Charity suggests a late dinner and since the boy works late—figure I can do that.
--Evening cont. Spend time waiting for Charity by shopping in bookstore. End up buying three Jane Austen books and completing my set. Charity and I meet up and head to 4 N 20 for a fast nice dinner.
--Late Evening. Get home—have snippy talk with Mrs. Garrett about needing phone line. Debate slapping her. Restrain self with thoughts of touching her, which grosses me out. Find two messages from boy. Call Samuel and am very disappointed to realize that he will not be coming over. Get snappish due to the fact that with Edie’s return I will not have much time for him over the next week which is why I made a point of wanting to see him that night. Am curt on phone.
--Later evening. Still annoyed and debate going and buying smokes for simple reason that I know continued smoking will annoy him later on. Realize I am not mad at him but really wanted a snuggle/kissing session. Decide to get ice cream cone and coffee instead of smokes and head to 7-11.
--End of evening. Come back with hot chocolate—which is not I—and drumstick ice cream. Jac is outside smoking and we talk for a bit. Break down and have a smoke—almost break down and go with her and new roommate to lesbian bar. Jac gives me another smoke. I head to bed.
--This morning. Wake up REALLY late for me. Jump out of bed and run around getting ready for work. Combined several tasks to make morning routine faster. In shower and realize that I never mopped the kitchen floor which is gross and Edie returns today. After shower I hand scrub parts of kitchen floor. Debate leaving death threat about the clean kitchen to Mrs. Garrett but too late as it is.
--Later morning. Realizing I have not time for food I suddenly remember that I have a drumstick ice cream in freeze since to depressed to eat it last night. Feel ridiculously charming as walk to work eating ice cream. Am still annoyed about the boy and last night but find myself smiling at people as I finish off dessert. Decide that I do want a soda on way into office and end up buying smokes too.
---Noon—Almost get someone fired at work. Also discover that all writing staff will leave soon and so more possibilities await me. Have coffee and write blog for a bit.
The last 24 hours have been a bit of everything. So much so that only a list will do any justice.
--Yesterday morning. Not enough sleep. Realized that the boy is quite over the cold sore and thus kissable. Decide to not smoke and use patch.
-- Early morning @ work. Clusterfuck begins as demands for unreasonable turn around on tapes. Am making labels when I snap and realize I am doing only post work and not any real story work.
--Late morning @ work. Realize that I should just give notice. Attempt to give my two weeks with boss. Am convinced to stay via a combination of compliments and threats.Am also annoyed by e-mail debacle over birthdays and people not being invited. I give up on friends briefly.
--Early afternoon. Lunch with Patty. We talked about her new boy, my old boy, Have salads and soda/coffee. Very “Sex in the City”.
--Early evening. Get ready to leave work after putting out a major fire. Wonder if I missed my calling and should have become an emergency management person.
--Evening. Walking home and remember that I am supposed to stop by Pier One to visit with Charity. Have to give her my tax papers so she can hook me up. That and it would be a nice day to get a hug.
--Mid Evening. Meet up with Charity after being sexually propositioned. Very nice to see her and run into old boss as well. Debate by new entertainment center since on sale and I have my Pier One card still. Charity suggests a late dinner and since the boy works late—figure I can do that.
--Evening cont. Spend time waiting for Charity by shopping in bookstore. End up buying three Jane Austen books and completing my set. Charity and I meet up and head to 4 N 20 for a fast nice dinner.
--Late Evening. Get home—have snippy talk with Mrs. Garrett about needing phone line. Debate slapping her. Restrain self with thoughts of touching her, which grosses me out. Find two messages from boy. Call Samuel and am very disappointed to realize that he will not be coming over. Get snappish due to the fact that with Edie’s return I will not have much time for him over the next week which is why I made a point of wanting to see him that night. Am curt on phone.
--Later evening. Still annoyed and debate going and buying smokes for simple reason that I know continued smoking will annoy him later on. Realize I am not mad at him but really wanted a snuggle/kissing session. Decide to get ice cream cone and coffee instead of smokes and head to 7-11.
--End of evening. Come back with hot chocolate—which is not I—and drumstick ice cream. Jac is outside smoking and we talk for a bit. Break down and have a smoke—almost break down and go with her and new roommate to lesbian bar. Jac gives me another smoke. I head to bed.
--This morning. Wake up REALLY late for me. Jump out of bed and run around getting ready for work. Combined several tasks to make morning routine faster. In shower and realize that I never mopped the kitchen floor which is gross and Edie returns today. After shower I hand scrub parts of kitchen floor. Debate leaving death threat about the clean kitchen to Mrs. Garrett but too late as it is.
--Later morning. Realizing I have not time for food I suddenly remember that I have a drumstick ice cream in freeze since to depressed to eat it last night. Feel ridiculously charming as walk to work eating ice cream. Am still annoyed about the boy and last night but find myself smiling at people as I finish off dessert. Decide that I do want a soda on way into office and end up buying smokes too.
---Noon—Almost get someone fired at work. Also discover that all writing staff will leave soon and so more possibilities await me. Have coffee and write blog for a bit.
Monday, February 20, 2006
Um…Yeah…Okay…Alright…
It’s been brought to my attention that I have been holding back as of late. Not just to my blog but to a certain someone. Samuel to be exact. About a week ago we were in bed talking and he brought up the fact that I have never said I love him. At least not here—in my blog.
Of course I was a little startled. I hadn’t noticed the oversight and wondered why I hadn’t done that yet. It stuck in my head for a few days and it wasn’t until after a night of hanging with Kelly and watching ‘Sex in the City’ that I took any major time to sit back and think about this.
I was walking home that night and as I went over the events of the last few days that I realized how much our relationship had changed as of late. It changed more in the days following but all together in this past week and a day there has been some major steps between us and where we are headed.
First of there was the meeting of the parents. I know I got all crazy about the event here before hand but I never really discussed what actually went down. The meeting went fine with a few missteps—I ended up first meeting his parents without him since Samuel had to park the car, I threw up in the bathroom due to nerves, I forgot to thank his father for buying my coffee, that type of thing. But for the most part it was lovely and I definitely learned some things about the boy—outside of the embarrassing stories told—and got a hard look at what we could be like down the road. And I’m okay with that view.
A couple of days later was the return to the free clinic and the results of our tests. Of course there were shenanigans; the building was locked and so none of the staff could getting in leading us to be a bit snappy with each other, which was mostly due to the nerves. The actually reveal only took a few moments and obviously everything is fine (knock on wood) and what trip could be complete without the crazy guy? (Yeah—the cunt is still a cunt. Fabulous.)
Of course the next day was Valentine’s which was laid back and sedate. We did all the things that make us work as a couple—a nap, fast food, debate and discussion of his writing with some time throw in for swinging. (At the playground-pervs.) And as we went to bed that night I realized it was probably the best V-Day ever; even with the lack grand romantic gestures. That just ain’t us.
But the biggest step forward was us finally (finally) having sex. It was a very organic moment that got us there and while we haven’t fully explored everything yet (the cold sore is still in the way of things with the kissing) it was an amazing start. And the fact that I was his first means so much more than I can say. But it does make me wish I had waited too.
Thinking over all these events made me realize something that I already knew. I do love this boy and for all the right reasons. We make sense and we balance each other. We allow each other so much room to be ourselves and yet are seamless close in the right moments. And while it’s not perfect—it’s like Samuel always says, “You don’t have to be perfect—just be Rory” and that holds true for the relationship. We don’t have to be perfect—we have to be us.
And while loving him scares me—there is a lack of happy endings in my family history—I know that it is all I can do right now. Waiting for the other shoe to drop is silly and wasteful and not fair to what we have or to whom we are. So yeah-I guess what I’m saying is I love this boy. Hopefully that is more than enough.
It’s been brought to my attention that I have been holding back as of late. Not just to my blog but to a certain someone. Samuel to be exact. About a week ago we were in bed talking and he brought up the fact that I have never said I love him. At least not here—in my blog.
Of course I was a little startled. I hadn’t noticed the oversight and wondered why I hadn’t done that yet. It stuck in my head for a few days and it wasn’t until after a night of hanging with Kelly and watching ‘Sex in the City’ that I took any major time to sit back and think about this.
I was walking home that night and as I went over the events of the last few days that I realized how much our relationship had changed as of late. It changed more in the days following but all together in this past week and a day there has been some major steps between us and where we are headed.
First of there was the meeting of the parents. I know I got all crazy about the event here before hand but I never really discussed what actually went down. The meeting went fine with a few missteps—I ended up first meeting his parents without him since Samuel had to park the car, I threw up in the bathroom due to nerves, I forgot to thank his father for buying my coffee, that type of thing. But for the most part it was lovely and I definitely learned some things about the boy—outside of the embarrassing stories told—and got a hard look at what we could be like down the road. And I’m okay with that view.
A couple of days later was the return to the free clinic and the results of our tests. Of course there were shenanigans; the building was locked and so none of the staff could getting in leading us to be a bit snappy with each other, which was mostly due to the nerves. The actually reveal only took a few moments and obviously everything is fine (knock on wood) and what trip could be complete without the crazy guy? (Yeah—the cunt is still a cunt. Fabulous.)
Of course the next day was Valentine’s which was laid back and sedate. We did all the things that make us work as a couple—a nap, fast food, debate and discussion of his writing with some time throw in for swinging. (At the playground-pervs.) And as we went to bed that night I realized it was probably the best V-Day ever; even with the lack grand romantic gestures. That just ain’t us.
But the biggest step forward was us finally (finally) having sex. It was a very organic moment that got us there and while we haven’t fully explored everything yet (the cold sore is still in the way of things with the kissing) it was an amazing start. And the fact that I was his first means so much more than I can say. But it does make me wish I had waited too.
Thinking over all these events made me realize something that I already knew. I do love this boy and for all the right reasons. We make sense and we balance each other. We allow each other so much room to be ourselves and yet are seamless close in the right moments. And while it’s not perfect—it’s like Samuel always says, “You don’t have to be perfect—just be Rory” and that holds true for the relationship. We don’t have to be perfect—we have to be us.
And while loving him scares me—there is a lack of happy endings in my family history—I know that it is all I can do right now. Waiting for the other shoe to drop is silly and wasteful and not fair to what we have or to whom we are. So yeah-I guess what I’m saying is I love this boy. Hopefully that is more than enough.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
It’s About Heart and Flowers—Not Heart Attacks.
So Valentines came and went pretty quietly this year. I’m not sure how this quite happened but figure it was a combination of things; Samuel’s being sick, Tuckerville kicking my ass and the fact that V-Day fell on a Tuesday all contributed to the downfall.
That being said—I did give it the old Rory try. When I found out that Samuel had never had a proper Valentine’s Day I changed tactics slightly and got a bit more into things then I normally would.
It started with Patty and I going off on our usual coffee walk and ended up with me succumbing and buying a single red rose for the boy. If you know then you know I don’t like cut flowers and as such this was a huge concession. But romance is what it is. I also decided that instead of going home I should head to his place to surprise him.
Patty helped here again—she dropped me off outside his place though I could have just hoofed it over being that it is closer to work than my place. I was more concerned that I would miss the boy and be at his place without any way to contact him.
So I had Patty called Samuel on the way over to try and see where he was without giving anything away. She left a message as we pulled up to his place. His car was on the street though so he was either showering, napping, or masturbating. (Just kidding.) So as Patty pulled a way I decided to have a smoke to calm my nervous from work and fix my hair.
After a few minutes--and some gum—I snuck down the driveway. See Samuel lives in a guest house on the back of a garage at his cousins place so he wouldn’t see me coming even if I hadn’t snuck my way back. I came up to his cousins dogs—who were freaking out—and listened as Samuel spoke on the phone. I came around the corner and stood at his door. I should explain he has French doors and so I could see him on the floor on the phone.
I was about to tap on the glass before coming in when he looked up, saw me and screamed “Oh Jesus” and fell back on his bed; still on the phone. I burst into laughter and could even stand up straight as I watched him flail on the bed. Samuel continued to look shocked as he picked up his phone and finished the call.
I came in as Samuel got up to hug me. “Where’s the axe? That’s all you needed.” I laughed and we made our in his place. And napped after we stopped laughing and talking. We are very exciting people.
We went out for fast food and spent the night on the swings at my park and talked about his writing. We decided to stay low key if only because of him being sick and me being tired. But that being said—it was a good day. Pranks, food, sleep, working—all my favorite things.
So Valentines came and went pretty quietly this year. I’m not sure how this quite happened but figure it was a combination of things; Samuel’s being sick, Tuckerville kicking my ass and the fact that V-Day fell on a Tuesday all contributed to the downfall.
That being said—I did give it the old Rory try. When I found out that Samuel had never had a proper Valentine’s Day I changed tactics slightly and got a bit more into things then I normally would.
It started with Patty and I going off on our usual coffee walk and ended up with me succumbing and buying a single red rose for the boy. If you know then you know I don’t like cut flowers and as such this was a huge concession. But romance is what it is. I also decided that instead of going home I should head to his place to surprise him.
Patty helped here again—she dropped me off outside his place though I could have just hoofed it over being that it is closer to work than my place. I was more concerned that I would miss the boy and be at his place without any way to contact him.
So I had Patty called Samuel on the way over to try and see where he was without giving anything away. She left a message as we pulled up to his place. His car was on the street though so he was either showering, napping, or masturbating. (Just kidding.) So as Patty pulled a way I decided to have a smoke to calm my nervous from work and fix my hair.
After a few minutes--and some gum—I snuck down the driveway. See Samuel lives in a guest house on the back of a garage at his cousins place so he wouldn’t see me coming even if I hadn’t snuck my way back. I came up to his cousins dogs—who were freaking out—and listened as Samuel spoke on the phone. I came around the corner and stood at his door. I should explain he has French doors and so I could see him on the floor on the phone.
I was about to tap on the glass before coming in when he looked up, saw me and screamed “Oh Jesus” and fell back on his bed; still on the phone. I burst into laughter and could even stand up straight as I watched him flail on the bed. Samuel continued to look shocked as he picked up his phone and finished the call.
I came in as Samuel got up to hug me. “Where’s the axe? That’s all you needed.” I laughed and we made our in his place. And napped after we stopped laughing and talking. We are very exciting people.
We went out for fast food and spent the night on the swings at my park and talked about his writing. We decided to stay low key if only because of him being sick and me being tired. But that being said—it was a good day. Pranks, food, sleep, working—all my favorite things.
Geeking Out Here
Your results:
You are Uhura
Your results:
You are Uhura
| You are a good communicator with a pleasant soft-spoken voice. Also a talented singer. |
Tuesday, February 14, 2006
How Creepy
Rory -- [noun]: A master blogger 'How will you be defined in the dictionary?' at QuizGalaxy.com |
Damn Right
| Your Candy Heart Says "Get Real" |
 You're a bit of a cynic when it comes to love. You don't lose your head, and hardly anyone penetrates your heart. Your ideal Valentine's Day date: is all about the person you're seeing (with no mentions of v-day!) Your flirting style: honest and even slightly sarcastic What turns you off: romantic expectations and "greeting card" holidays Why you're hot: you don't just play hard to get - you are hard to get |
A Very Rory Moment
So it's my mother's anniversery and I call my Nana to remind her. I'm in the middle of a very heartfelt message--reflecting how my mom's wedding is one of my favorite memories with Nana...
Me "So I was thinking back and think of you and"
CO-WORKER jumps and pounds on my desk causing me to--
Me "MOTHERFUCKER--you MOTHER FUCKER."
I then dropped the phone to get after Howell when I realized what I just left on Nana's voicemail. Fortunately she's heard me swear before.
But not quite like that.
So it's my mother's anniversery and I call my Nana to remind her. I'm in the middle of a very heartfelt message--reflecting how my mom's wedding is one of my favorite memories with Nana...
Me "So I was thinking back and think of you and"
CO-WORKER jumps and pounds on my desk causing me to--
Me "MOTHERFUCKER--you MOTHER FUCKER."
I then dropped the phone to get after Howell when I realized what I just left on Nana's voicemail. Fortunately she's heard me swear before.
But not quite like that.
A Tribute to the Boy
Michael what?
Rory pressure
Rory to make it good
Rory man
Rory it's like 90210
Rory and being the David to your Donna
Rory (JK--I'm think you're much better than a Donna)
Michael as do I
Michael besides you know she was giving him head left and right
Rory LOL
Michael: No pressure. Just be Rory
Rory: Really now
Rory: Hmm,
Rory: That is hard too
Rory: We'll talk later
Rory: I kind of wish Kris wouldn't be a round
Rory: I feel like I'm throwing rmoance in her face--romance even
Michael: Well, maybe if Jabba left the house once in a while it wouldn't be an issue. it's her own damn fault
Rory: I just spit out my coffee
Rory: Seriously
Michael: Kris alo Jabba no ha ha ha ha
Michael what?
Rory pressure
Rory to make it good
Rory man
Rory it's like 90210
Rory and being the David to your Donna
Rory (JK--I'm think you're much better than a Donna)
Michael as do I
Michael besides you know she was giving him head left and right
Rory LOL
Michael: No pressure. Just be Rory
Rory: Really now
Rory: Hmm,
Rory: That is hard too
Rory: We'll talk later
Rory: I kind of wish Kris wouldn't be a round
Rory: I feel like I'm throwing rmoance in her face--romance even
Michael: Well, maybe if Jabba left the house once in a while it wouldn't be an issue. it's her own damn fault
Rory: I just spit out my coffee
Rory: Seriously
Michael: Kris alo Jabba no ha ha ha ha
Monday, February 13, 2006
A Very Rory Moment
So it's my mother's anniversery and I call my Nana to remind her. I'm in the middle of a very heartfelt message--reflecting how my mom's wedding is one of my favorite memories with Nana...Me "So I was thinking back and think of you and"CO-WORKER jumps and pounds on my desk causing me to--Me "MOTHERFUCKER--you MOTHER FUCKER."I then dropped the phone to get after Howell when I realized what I just left on Nana's voicemail. Fortunately she's heard me swear before.But not quite like that.
So it's my mother's anniversery and I call my Nana to remind her. I'm in the middle of a very heartfelt message--reflecting how my mom's wedding is one of my favorite memories with Nana...Me "So I was thinking back and think of you and"CO-WORKER jumps and pounds on my desk causing me to--Me "MOTHERFUCKER--you MOTHER FUCKER."I then dropped the phone to get after Howell when I realized what I just left on Nana's voicemail. Fortunately she's heard me swear before.But not quite like that.
Friday, February 10, 2006
Thursday, February 09, 2006
A Fun Night?
So last night I managed to not fit just one or two but three of my favorite things into the course of night. It didn’t help that my foot was killing me but Patti was a sweetheart and got me home, which gave me enough time to soak my feet and relax before the fun started.
Kirby and I hit up Baja Fresh for a late dinner and good conversation. We talked about jobs and school and possible dinner with Samuel on Sunday. Which brought me up to my latest concern that I am meeting Samuel’s mother and stepfather on Saturday for some type of coffee/meal/dessert thing. I didn’t go into much detail but I’ve been on pins and needles about the entire prospect if only that I am NEVER good at meeting anyone’s parents.
I’m not quite sure when I developed this issue but it is not just a ‘possible in-laws-these-people-could-be-in-my-life-forever’ sort of thing because I have the same strange reaction to my friends’ folks too. I guess it is because my history is very different from most and I don’t really have close intense relationships with the family. There have been issues in the past but I’ve let a lot go and now I’m just kind of socially friendly with my family—I mean I love them—but we don’t really talk or hang out or even fight that much.
And when I meet friends’ parents I have one of two reactions depending on the dynamic they have. Parents like Edie’s or Kelly’s--that are normal, still married, get along, talk once a week type people--I don’t get it or understand how that type of family works because it is perfect. I spend my whole time either looking for cracks or feeling like I was brought up by some kind of freaks. Especially if they give me that look of pity when they met me—like ‘oh, his parents are…’
The second type is worse—people who have bad relationships with their parents flip me out even more. This usually because my friends have talked so much about them and what has happened in the past that I dislike them from word of mouth. Meeting this people becomes strained because I don’t want to be around them. And while these people make me think of my family fondly—they still set me on edge.
Of course I was thinking about the conversation when I met up with Ruby later and went into a little bit. I guess I just have to realize it is going to be fine. What’s the worse that can happen?
Oh—the third thing was watching ‘Veronica Mars’. That show rocks.
So last night I managed to not fit just one or two but three of my favorite things into the course of night. It didn’t help that my foot was killing me but Patti was a sweetheart and got me home, which gave me enough time to soak my feet and relax before the fun started.
Kirby and I hit up Baja Fresh for a late dinner and good conversation. We talked about jobs and school and possible dinner with Samuel on Sunday. Which brought me up to my latest concern that I am meeting Samuel’s mother and stepfather on Saturday for some type of coffee/meal/dessert thing. I didn’t go into much detail but I’ve been on pins and needles about the entire prospect if only that I am NEVER good at meeting anyone’s parents.
I’m not quite sure when I developed this issue but it is not just a ‘possible in-laws-these-people-could-be-in-my-life-forever’ sort of thing because I have the same strange reaction to my friends’ folks too. I guess it is because my history is very different from most and I don’t really have close intense relationships with the family. There have been issues in the past but I’ve let a lot go and now I’m just kind of socially friendly with my family—I mean I love them—but we don’t really talk or hang out or even fight that much.
And when I meet friends’ parents I have one of two reactions depending on the dynamic they have. Parents like Edie’s or Kelly’s--that are normal, still married, get along, talk once a week type people--I don’t get it or understand how that type of family works because it is perfect. I spend my whole time either looking for cracks or feeling like I was brought up by some kind of freaks. Especially if they give me that look of pity when they met me—like ‘oh, his parents are…’
The second type is worse—people who have bad relationships with their parents flip me out even more. This usually because my friends have talked so much about them and what has happened in the past that I dislike them from word of mouth. Meeting this people becomes strained because I don’t want to be around them. And while these people make me think of my family fondly—they still set me on edge.
Of course I was thinking about the conversation when I met up with Ruby later and went into a little bit. I guess I just have to realize it is going to be fine. What’s the worse that can happen?
Oh—the third thing was watching ‘Veronica Mars’. That show rocks.
good times--though if you're gay it's everyday!
Steak & Blowjob day
Body: Every 14th of February you get the chance to display your fondness for your wife or girlfriend by showering her with gifts, flowers, dinner, shows and any other baubles that women find romantic.
Secret...guys feel left out. That's right...left out. There's no special holiday for the ladies to show their appreciation for the men in their life. Men as a whole are either too proud or just too embarrassed to admit it. Which is why a new holiday has been created.
March 20th is now officially "Steak & Blowjob Day."
Simple, effective and self-explanatory...this holiday has been created so your ladies can have a day to show your man just how much you love him. No cards, no flowers, no special nights on the town-the name of the holiday explains it all...just a steak and a BJ. That's it. This twin pairing of Valentine's Day and Steak & BJ Day will usher in a new age of love as men everywhere will try THAT much harder in February to ensure a more memorable March! It's like a perpetual love machine.
The word is already spreading, but as with any new idea, it needs a little push to start the ball rolling. So spread the word, and help bring love and peace to this crazy world.
Steak & Blowjob day
Body: Every 14th of February you get the chance to display your fondness for your wife or girlfriend by showering her with gifts, flowers, dinner, shows and any other baubles that women find romantic.
Secret...guys feel left out. That's right...left out. There's no special holiday for the ladies to show their appreciation for the men in their life. Men as a whole are either too proud or just too embarrassed to admit it. Which is why a new holiday has been created.
March 20th is now officially "Steak & Blowjob Day."
Simple, effective and self-explanatory...this holiday has been created so your ladies can have a day to show your man just how much you love him. No cards, no flowers, no special nights on the town-the name of the holiday explains it all...just a steak and a BJ. That's it. This twin pairing of Valentine's Day and Steak & BJ Day will usher in a new age of love as men everywhere will try THAT much harder in February to ensure a more memorable March! It's like a perpetual love machine.
The word is already spreading, but as with any new idea, it needs a little push to start the ball rolling. So spread the word, and help bring love and peace to this crazy world.
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
Really now?
| You Are Strength |
 You represent both fiery energy and steadfast will. You are innocent and naive - yet unafraid and undaunted. Perhaps you don't have the most powerful physical strength... But your mental powers make up for any amount of muscle. Your fortune: Lately, you have been a pillar of ethics and moral strength. And while things may be difficult, your faith in yourself will come through. You may need to conquer the animalistic nature of yourself or others, with gentle force. Although this may seem like the darkest hour for you, victory is near. |
How Ironic
You are Ernest Hemingway. You are a classic who
appreciates the irony of every day life. How
funny(in a good way).
What famous author are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
You are Ernest Hemingway. You are a classic who
appreciates the irony of every day life. How
funny(in a good way).
What famous author are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
April Rising
Work has been hard. And as a way to stick it to the man, I have be spending most of my day searching for other work and catching up on all my favorite blogs and web sites. I was a little surprised to find out that my old college friend Richie is about to be undergoing a serious change.
Most Emerson people would barely remember the boy--he was good friends with Irene and hung out with the Asa, Heath, Charles, Carey group that I paired up with towards the end of school. But Richie was around a lot during my freshmen year with his guitar and making up punk songs like "Rory’s Song" played only in the keys of F A G or working with Irene on lyrics for his band "We Burn Witches".
I recently reconnected with Richie via Myspace purely by accident. I ran into him while searching for various Emerson people and we quickly exchanged a few short funny notes. I hadn’t really spoken to him much since college and while I almost saw him at Ruby and Heath’s wedding--we haven’t had face time in years.
As I looked over his page I had to laugh. He has always been a bit funny and odd and a little into the drugs and so seeing him in a dress or reading that he was 'unsure' with his sexuality struck me as something he would do to screw around. But as time went by I started to question if he was joking since he kept making the references and posting the girly looking pictures.
And then today he wrote an open blog to all of his friends explaining that he was about to start the serious process of becoming a woman. I was a bit shocked--only because I thought he had been joking around--but also quite a bit happy for him. (Or rather--her.)
See--regardless of how silly and indecisive I seem at times--when it comes to the real choices I am always good for a quick and solid answer. If there is one thing I learned growing up was how to make a decision or someone will make one for you (the one you don’t want). It’s hard for me to understand what it must have been like living in limbo, not sure of what to do but knowing that you are not in the right. Or how hard it must be to make a choice that literally changes everything everyone seems to know about you.
But I do get the feeling of relief and fear that Richie talks about in his blog--about how hard it was for him to tell everyone--but about how easy the choice suddenly became. That sudden weightless feeling that makes you feel like you are on an amazing high, that life can be perfect and is yours for the taking. And I'm happy for her.
And if April Alyssa Reed is one half as cool then she'll be more than alright. Puts everything else in perspective when you see what real things there are to deal with in life. Best of luck girl!
Work has been hard. And as a way to stick it to the man, I have be spending most of my day searching for other work and catching up on all my favorite blogs and web sites. I was a little surprised to find out that my old college friend Richie is about to be undergoing a serious change.
Most Emerson people would barely remember the boy--he was good friends with Irene and hung out with the Asa, Heath, Charles, Carey group that I paired up with towards the end of school. But Richie was around a lot during my freshmen year with his guitar and making up punk songs like "Rory’s Song" played only in the keys of F A G or working with Irene on lyrics for his band "We Burn Witches".
I recently reconnected with Richie via Myspace purely by accident. I ran into him while searching for various Emerson people and we quickly exchanged a few short funny notes. I hadn’t really spoken to him much since college and while I almost saw him at Ruby and Heath’s wedding--we haven’t had face time in years.
As I looked over his page I had to laugh. He has always been a bit funny and odd and a little into the drugs and so seeing him in a dress or reading that he was 'unsure' with his sexuality struck me as something he would do to screw around. But as time went by I started to question if he was joking since he kept making the references and posting the girly looking pictures.
And then today he wrote an open blog to all of his friends explaining that he was about to start the serious process of becoming a woman. I was a bit shocked--only because I thought he had been joking around--but also quite a bit happy for him. (Or rather--her.)
See--regardless of how silly and indecisive I seem at times--when it comes to the real choices I am always good for a quick and solid answer. If there is one thing I learned growing up was how to make a decision or someone will make one for you (the one you don’t want). It’s hard for me to understand what it must have been like living in limbo, not sure of what to do but knowing that you are not in the right. Or how hard it must be to make a choice that literally changes everything everyone seems to know about you.
But I do get the feeling of relief and fear that Richie talks about in his blog--about how hard it was for him to tell everyone--but about how easy the choice suddenly became. That sudden weightless feeling that makes you feel like you are on an amazing high, that life can be perfect and is yours for the taking. And I'm happy for her.
And if April Alyssa Reed is one half as cool then she'll be more than alright. Puts everything else in perspective when you see what real things there are to deal with in life. Best of luck girl!
I Really Want To…
I really want to quit my job today. I sent out e-mails to the right people, have been searching Reality Staff.com. I’m an idiot. I should have just taken Abe up on his job offer last week.
But seriously people—I might just quit.
Is it okay for me to ask them to change my job title from Story Assistant to Post’s Bitch. I think I really need to borrow Valeska’s shirt. At least for today.
I really want to quit my job today. I sent out e-mails to the right people, have been searching Reality Staff.com. I’m an idiot. I should have just taken Abe up on his job offer last week.
But seriously people—I might just quit.
Is it okay for me to ask them to change my job title from Story Assistant to Post’s Bitch. I think I really need to borrow Valeska’s shirt. At least for today.
Monday, February 06, 2006
The Mystique Goes
(AP) Betty Friedan, who championed the once-radical assertion that women needed more than husbands and children to find fulfillment, was eulogized Monday as a feminist pioneer and loving mother — if not always an easy one to live with.
"I truly believe that Betty Friedan was the most influential woman, not only of the 20th century but of the second millennium," said Muriel Fox, one of the co-founders with Friedan of the National Organization for Women.
Colleagues from the American women's movement as well as her three children and their families were among more than 300 mourners at the funeral for Friedan, who died of congestive heart failure Saturday on her 85th birthday.
Friedan's son Jonathan remembered his mother hard at work writing "The Feminine Mystique" — the 1963 manifesto that shattered the cozy family ideal of the prosperous postwar era — while her three children bounced around their New York City apartment.
"Betty was not the perfect mother," he said. "Emily, Daniel and I ate TV dinners growing up way beyond the recommended limit." But when tens of thousands of people cheered his mother at a rally when he was 17, "my heart, despite its adolescent shell, burst with pride."
Friedan's daughter, Dr. Emily Friedan, called her mother "a mass of contradictions."
"She made so many connections and yet was exquisitely lonely," she said. "Maybe the ultimate contradiction was that Betty just didn't fit into this world. That was her curse, and yet she started a revolution."
Former Congresswoman Elizabeth Holtzman said she struggled to keep up with Friedan at women's rights marches because Friedan "had enough energy for all of us."
"Betty liberated our minds, and the gift of freedom is one of the most important things that we can have," Holtzman said.
Several speakers remembered Friedan as a loving person who could also be feisty and difficult.
"She was always very sweet and loving to me but when it came to other people she just didn't take any (expletive) from anyone," said her 23-year-old grandson, Raphael Friedan. "She was definitely the coolest grandmother that a young guy like me could ask for."
He recalled how his grandmother took him to Cuba and let him throw big parties at her summer house in Sag Harbor on Long Island, near New York City.
Six of Friedan's nine grandchildren accompanied her plain wooden coffin out of Riverside Memorial Chapel in Manhattan after the service. She was to be buried in Sag Harbor.
"I truly believe that Betty Friedan was the most influential woman, not only of the 20th century but of the second millennium," said Muriel Fox, one of the co-founders with Friedan of the National Organization for Women.
Colleagues from the American women's movement as well as her three children and their families were among more than 300 mourners at the funeral for Friedan, who died of congestive heart failure Saturday on her 85th birthday.
Friedan's son Jonathan remembered his mother hard at work writing "The Feminine Mystique" — the 1963 manifesto that shattered the cozy family ideal of the prosperous postwar era — while her three children bounced around their New York City apartment.
"Betty was not the perfect mother," he said. "Emily, Daniel and I ate TV dinners growing up way beyond the recommended limit." But when tens of thousands of people cheered his mother at a rally when he was 17, "my heart, despite its adolescent shell, burst with pride."
Friedan's daughter, Dr. Emily Friedan, called her mother "a mass of contradictions."
"She made so many connections and yet was exquisitely lonely," she said. "Maybe the ultimate contradiction was that Betty just didn't fit into this world. That was her curse, and yet she started a revolution."
Former Congresswoman Elizabeth Holtzman said she struggled to keep up with Friedan at women's rights marches because Friedan "had enough energy for all of us."
"Betty liberated our minds, and the gift of freedom is one of the most important things that we can have," Holtzman said.
Several speakers remembered Friedan as a loving person who could also be feisty and difficult.
"She was always very sweet and loving to me but when it came to other people she just didn't take any (expletive) from anyone," said her 23-year-old grandson, Raphael Friedan. "She was definitely the coolest grandmother that a young guy like me could ask for."
He recalled how his grandmother took him to Cuba and let him throw big parties at her summer house in Sag Harbor on Long Island, near New York City.
Six of Friedan's nine grandchildren accompanied her plain wooden coffin out of Riverside Memorial Chapel in Manhattan after the service. She was to be buried in Sag Harbor.
When Does Hip Become Hypocrite?
Okay. I know I shouldn’t be writing about this. I’m supposed to be better than this—over all the past shite—and have moved on with things. But really, I’m not going to let this slide, if only because I catch myself thing about it very so often.
See, I went to a party on Saturday night that I swore up and down I wasn’t going to go to and I had this moment where I was wondering if I was being fair. I mean, the party was at Skylar’s place but the event was for Ernie (Yeah name change) and so I felt compelled to come after last year’s Super Bowl disaster. I guess it wouldn’t seem like such a big deal but there’s history behind my feelings.
Way back in the day—Skylar and I were pretty social and hung out every so often, enough to say hi and have a small talk or two. At lot of our relationship had to do with his dating Eddy and me being her roommate but regardless; we got along somewhat. Yeah, there was a bit of snipping back and forth but for the most part things were good.
It wasn’t until the aftermath of his and Edie’s break up that things started to become strained between us. I admit that I had a HUGE part in the change in our relationship though I really did try to work things out with him. I guess I just wanted to be considered an equal, which I never stood a chance at being.
Things quickly blew out of proportion—a blog entry, a comment there—which lead to us just both being done with each other. It went unsaid but was understood. We didn’t go out of our way to talk or invite each other to things but rather we maintained a code of silence that seemed to work.
I did try to fix things for a little while but when I realized that he didn’t care about where we stood I just was over things. So much so that I decided that I didn’t need to make any effort at all with him-for good or bad. I even started avoiding events at his house because I felt it was hypocritical for him to invite me out of obligation but even more hypocritical for me to show up.
So how did I end up at his new place this weekend? It wasn’t because he invited me—Kelly did that—but because I felt bad that lat year I ignored Ernie because he was staying with Skylar. I made my way to the party with Johnny and Kelly just to try and catch up with Ernie and to see what happens.
Skylar was friendly and nice to me; we had a brief conversation in the kitchen, as well as a scolding talk about my part in Ernie’s adventures in the reading nook. It was actually more fun than I expected and possibly more fun than I deserved. I was surprised but a lot of what happened at the party but mostly because he seemed up to have me there.
So why do I think I’m a hypocrite? I had a conversation with Ava on the balcony about how our group seems to work and how hard we tend to be on each other. That I try to understand where people come from and not where I want them to come from. But if that is the case then why have I been so hard on Skylar? And should I still be? No.
I guess that is where the hypocrite comes in.
Okay. I know I shouldn’t be writing about this. I’m supposed to be better than this—over all the past shite—and have moved on with things. But really, I’m not going to let this slide, if only because I catch myself thing about it very so often.
See, I went to a party on Saturday night that I swore up and down I wasn’t going to go to and I had this moment where I was wondering if I was being fair. I mean, the party was at Skylar’s place but the event was for Ernie (Yeah name change) and so I felt compelled to come after last year’s Super Bowl disaster. I guess it wouldn’t seem like such a big deal but there’s history behind my feelings.
Way back in the day—Skylar and I were pretty social and hung out every so often, enough to say hi and have a small talk or two. At lot of our relationship had to do with his dating Eddy and me being her roommate but regardless; we got along somewhat. Yeah, there was a bit of snipping back and forth but for the most part things were good.
It wasn’t until the aftermath of his and Edie’s break up that things started to become strained between us. I admit that I had a HUGE part in the change in our relationship though I really did try to work things out with him. I guess I just wanted to be considered an equal, which I never stood a chance at being.
Things quickly blew out of proportion—a blog entry, a comment there—which lead to us just both being done with each other. It went unsaid but was understood. We didn’t go out of our way to talk or invite each other to things but rather we maintained a code of silence that seemed to work.
I did try to fix things for a little while but when I realized that he didn’t care about where we stood I just was over things. So much so that I decided that I didn’t need to make any effort at all with him-for good or bad. I even started avoiding events at his house because I felt it was hypocritical for him to invite me out of obligation but even more hypocritical for me to show up.
So how did I end up at his new place this weekend? It wasn’t because he invited me—Kelly did that—but because I felt bad that lat year I ignored Ernie because he was staying with Skylar. I made my way to the party with Johnny and Kelly just to try and catch up with Ernie and to see what happens.
Skylar was friendly and nice to me; we had a brief conversation in the kitchen, as well as a scolding talk about my part in Ernie’s adventures in the reading nook. It was actually more fun than I expected and possibly more fun than I deserved. I was surprised but a lot of what happened at the party but mostly because he seemed up to have me there.
So why do I think I’m a hypocrite? I had a conversation with Ava on the balcony about how our group seems to work and how hard we tend to be on each other. That I try to understand where people come from and not where I want them to come from. But if that is the case then why have I been so hard on Skylar? And should I still be? No.
I guess that is where the hypocrite comes in.
Keeping up With the Jones?
I have this thing—in the grand scheme of my many issues I do have one slight problem that has recently come up. I’m awful with boyfriends, or to be clear, awful with mixing them into my friendships. See, I’m just not that good at it and haven’t really had to in the past all that much.
I spent all of college single and outside of a few dalliances here or there I was pretty much a single for those four years. I didn’t really do this on purpose as much as it just seemed to happen. I didn’t really want to date and so I didn’t. What this means is that most of my friends never really had to deal with dating Rory.
Then in Los Angeles things were slightly different. I dated Enrique for all most two years and during that time he only met with my friends a handful of times. Part of this had to do with the fact that he didn’t like most of them and the part was I was in a weird retail world that really prevented me for having normal social interaction at points. My status with him was so bad that Henry didn’t even know I had a boyfriend until the day after I broke up with him.
After Enrique there was a long string of casual attachments or doomed hook ups. There was the fiasco with Nick (I like him, he likes me, we hook up, we don’t talk to each other, he gets sober and we both realize it was a mistake, then he gets all cutesy with me and throws me briefly into a tizzy.) This served as a distraction from real dating and then I continued the same pattern with Chance. (Except he didn’t get sober and we never really figured out why we couldn’t be together. Que sera.)
And now there is Samuel—my first real boyfriend in what seems to be a lifetime. He likes me and I like him and so I have been slowly trying to get him in the swing socially. I have be having a hard time getting him into small group interactions due to all the parties but decided that I needed to try and work on getting him alone with my key peoples.
So Saturday Kelly, her long distance boyfriend Johnny, Samuel and I went out for brunch at the Farmer’s Market—mostly to get fruit for the Super Bowl sangria—and get started on project boyfriend. Outside of a bit of awkwardness in the car—we were tired and sleepy—we ended up talking and joking around on our way there in Kelly’s car,
I was surprised at how easily it all went—no weird silences or stunted moments. We ate delicious crepes and made small talk as we picked our way through fruit and toy stores. I was so happy watching Johnny’s mild amusement with Samuel as Kelly and I looked for star fruit among other things. My favorite part had to be Samuel giving Johnny and Kelly bites of his truffles as we made our way through the market. It was fun and silly and I realized it is not as hard as I thought.
Cause I rally do like him and I think my friends are starting to like him as much as I do. They don’t have to but it’s nice that they seem to. It’s rather important to me.
I have this thing—in the grand scheme of my many issues I do have one slight problem that has recently come up. I’m awful with boyfriends, or to be clear, awful with mixing them into my friendships. See, I’m just not that good at it and haven’t really had to in the past all that much.
I spent all of college single and outside of a few dalliances here or there I was pretty much a single for those four years. I didn’t really do this on purpose as much as it just seemed to happen. I didn’t really want to date and so I didn’t. What this means is that most of my friends never really had to deal with dating Rory.
Then in Los Angeles things were slightly different. I dated Enrique for all most two years and during that time he only met with my friends a handful of times. Part of this had to do with the fact that he didn’t like most of them and the part was I was in a weird retail world that really prevented me for having normal social interaction at points. My status with him was so bad that Henry didn’t even know I had a boyfriend until the day after I broke up with him.
After Enrique there was a long string of casual attachments or doomed hook ups. There was the fiasco with Nick (I like him, he likes me, we hook up, we don’t talk to each other, he gets sober and we both realize it was a mistake, then he gets all cutesy with me and throws me briefly into a tizzy.) This served as a distraction from real dating and then I continued the same pattern with Chance. (Except he didn’t get sober and we never really figured out why we couldn’t be together. Que sera.)
And now there is Samuel—my first real boyfriend in what seems to be a lifetime. He likes me and I like him and so I have been slowly trying to get him in the swing socially. I have be having a hard time getting him into small group interactions due to all the parties but decided that I needed to try and work on getting him alone with my key peoples.
So Saturday Kelly, her long distance boyfriend Johnny, Samuel and I went out for brunch at the Farmer’s Market—mostly to get fruit for the Super Bowl sangria—and get started on project boyfriend. Outside of a bit of awkwardness in the car—we were tired and sleepy—we ended up talking and joking around on our way there in Kelly’s car,
I was surprised at how easily it all went—no weird silences or stunted moments. We ate delicious crepes and made small talk as we picked our way through fruit and toy stores. I was so happy watching Johnny’s mild amusement with Samuel as Kelly and I looked for star fruit among other things. My favorite part had to be Samuel giving Johnny and Kelly bites of his truffles as we made our way through the market. It was fun and silly and I realized it is not as hard as I thought.
Cause I rally do like him and I think my friends are starting to like him as much as I do. They don’t have to but it’s nice that they seem to. It’s rather important to me.
Wednesday, February 01, 2006
You’re Number One—At the STD Clinic.
So Samuel and I took the next big step in our relationship and decided it was time to go and get the big check up. That’s right—time for the STD clinic with the one you love. What’s always funny to me is how much this seems to be a gay guy thing—I have never heard of any straight couple I know going off to get tested together. Hell—I think most straight people barely ever set foot in one of those clinics. (Outside of marriage testing which you do for legal purposes more than anything else. Women get their tests done at the gyno already and most men don’t go to the doctor ever.)
Now if you have never been to a clinic—it’s next to impossible to describe how weird an experience this. Between the badly produced videos warning of the ‘dangers of casual sex’, to the weird pairings of people waiting, to the one person always in a big hat and sunglasses which makes everyone study them ten times more—it’s fun in one of those creepy, weird ways. Like the BR on a Tuesday.
The part that always throws me is that weird moment when you have to go and do the interview/pre-screening questions. The staff of the free clinic is always interesting for the simple fact that they most likely work there because of their complete lack of social skills. I have had people who have used the word cunt in my pre-screening because they decided that they should talk about their ex-wife, people who shook their head at me because of the number of partners I had, and one woman who thought it was great that I was honest about my drug use—and then gave me suggestions on what drugs to try next.
Where it gets even trippier is when these people ask such serious and thought provoking questions about your personal life. Have you been in jail? Has your partner? (Never occurred to me to ask Samuel this question) How much do you drink? Does it lead to casual sex? Do you remember all your sexual partners? Even after drinking? (God—have I blacked out in the last year? Would I remember if I had?) Doe your partner hit you? Do you hit your partner? (Not yet—at least not that I know of… Unless I blacked it out after drinking…) Have you ever be an intravenous drug user? Has your partner? (Well I have a phobia of needles… But Samuel could be a heroin addict and I would never know….) And do I understand the choices I make as a sexual active person? (Yeah—I thought I did.)
And just when it has gotten too weird and too real—you are sent back to the waiting area to be alone with your thoughts or worse—to stare at your smiling partner as you rethink every question and every answer. I mean—he could be a convicted felony with a history of spousal abuse and a hard to break coke habit. Would I know for sure? Then you chase this jarring moment with a physical exam by someone old enough to be your grandfather who admires your lack of gag reflex and a blood drawing that reconfirms your fear of needles and 2nd year nursing students. It’s traumatizing. Then they just turn you loose on the street.
It’s at that moment, back in the sunlight and watching the cars go by, that you suddenly wonder what if? What if things aren’t okay? Even if you have been totally safe, clean, sober, chaste—what if something is wrong? What will you do? How will you handle things? Who will take care of you?
And then you shake the thought off and you move on with your day. Cause in that moment, it’s all you can do but every so often you’ll notice the bandage on your arm or remember a question and you’ll realize how long 14 days are—and how little you know about people and how little you can do. But at least you did the right thing. Which is good enough to get you through. It has to be.
So Samuel and I took the next big step in our relationship and decided it was time to go and get the big check up. That’s right—time for the STD clinic with the one you love. What’s always funny to me is how much this seems to be a gay guy thing—I have never heard of any straight couple I know going off to get tested together. Hell—I think most straight people barely ever set foot in one of those clinics. (Outside of marriage testing which you do for legal purposes more than anything else. Women get their tests done at the gyno already and most men don’t go to the doctor ever.)
Now if you have never been to a clinic—it’s next to impossible to describe how weird an experience this. Between the badly produced videos warning of the ‘dangers of casual sex’, to the weird pairings of people waiting, to the one person always in a big hat and sunglasses which makes everyone study them ten times more—it’s fun in one of those creepy, weird ways. Like the BR on a Tuesday.
The part that always throws me is that weird moment when you have to go and do the interview/pre-screening questions. The staff of the free clinic is always interesting for the simple fact that they most likely work there because of their complete lack of social skills. I have had people who have used the word cunt in my pre-screening because they decided that they should talk about their ex-wife, people who shook their head at me because of the number of partners I had, and one woman who thought it was great that I was honest about my drug use—and then gave me suggestions on what drugs to try next.
Where it gets even trippier is when these people ask such serious and thought provoking questions about your personal life. Have you been in jail? Has your partner? (Never occurred to me to ask Samuel this question) How much do you drink? Does it lead to casual sex? Do you remember all your sexual partners? Even after drinking? (God—have I blacked out in the last year? Would I remember if I had?) Doe your partner hit you? Do you hit your partner? (Not yet—at least not that I know of… Unless I blacked it out after drinking…) Have you ever be an intravenous drug user? Has your partner? (Well I have a phobia of needles… But Samuel could be a heroin addict and I would never know….) And do I understand the choices I make as a sexual active person? (Yeah—I thought I did.)
And just when it has gotten too weird and too real—you are sent back to the waiting area to be alone with your thoughts or worse—to stare at your smiling partner as you rethink every question and every answer. I mean—he could be a convicted felony with a history of spousal abuse and a hard to break coke habit. Would I know for sure? Then you chase this jarring moment with a physical exam by someone old enough to be your grandfather who admires your lack of gag reflex and a blood drawing that reconfirms your fear of needles and 2nd year nursing students. It’s traumatizing. Then they just turn you loose on the street.
It’s at that moment, back in the sunlight and watching the cars go by, that you suddenly wonder what if? What if things aren’t okay? Even if you have been totally safe, clean, sober, chaste—what if something is wrong? What will you do? How will you handle things? Who will take care of you?
And then you shake the thought off and you move on with your day. Cause in that moment, it’s all you can do but every so often you’ll notice the bandage on your arm or remember a question and you’ll realize how long 14 days are—and how little you know about people and how little you can do. But at least you did the right thing. Which is good enough to get you through. It has to be.
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