ordinary extraordinary

Therapist-fu

Earlier today, VT and I were discussing the fact that it seems to be National Relationship Drama Week. Though VT and I both have strong therapist-fu, she's had more practice and consequently has these conversations down to a science:

She: . . . i have just had a METRIC FUCK-TON of practice with this
She: sometimes i catch myself thinking, 'hmmm... it's been 17 minutes. we ought to be hitting the 'i just don't know what he's thinking' point of the conversation... oh, yeah, there we go.'
Me: That's both awful and brilliant
She: 'minute 48... ooh, i'm overdue to say DTMFA. better work that in.'
She: and i mouth, 'but you don't know what they're like!' as they say it, or type it.
She: 'yeah, of course i don't know him as well as you do.' [thank all the gods]
She: when they say, 'i just have this feeling that we're somehow supposed to be in each other's lives!' i start waiting until the word 'destiny' comes up.
She: or 'karma.'
She: i ought to make a bingo chart.

She: . . .and then there's the Not Quite Ready To Break Up With Them conversation.
She: which also has its own pattern:

them: Snugglewumpkins is the most horrible person ever!
me: DTMFA.
them: i hate how they treat me like crap!
me: DTMFA.
them: they never do X, or Y, or Z, and i wish they'd stop doing Q.
me: DTMFA.
them: lots of tearful reminiscing about how it used to be good, and wondering what changed.
me, checking the clock: look, you can either go to a couples therapist and work it out, or leave them.
them: oh, it's not that bad.
me: sigh.

She: then it's time for Son of Not Quite Ready To Break Up With Them.

them: i just don't know what i should do!
me: DTMFA.
them: but i love them!
me: news flash -- they don't love you. DTMFA.
them: they're not that bad!
me: okay, look. if 'not that bad' means they lie to you, ignore you, cheat on you, manipulate you, and make you spend time wondering what they're thinking and crying a lot? they're that bad. DTMFA.
them: don't tell me what to do! *stomps off*
me: sigh.

Me: You have the patience of a saint.
She: depending on the person, you can go through: Grandson of Not Quite Ready To Break Up With Them; Second Cousin of Not Quite Ready To Break Up With Them; I Might Almost Be Ready To Break Up With Them;
She: No, Really, I Will Break Up With Them
She: Oh, Shit, I Was Going to Break Up With Them But Then We Had Sex
She: Okay, For Real This Time
She: Not Quite Ready To Break Up With Them, I Know, I Know
She: and HOLY CRAP THEY BROKE UP WITH ME!
She: HOW!?!
She: WHY?!!!
She: and then *those* conversations run like this:

them: they were horrible!
me: yep.
them: they were evil! they lied to me! ignored me! cheated on me! manipulated me! i spent all this time wondering what they were thinking! why did i waste all that time and energy on them?!
me: uh, yeah.
them: why didn't you SAY something?
me: come here and run your head into my fist, won't you?

She: time passes
She: and then, a couple of months later...
She: them: i met someone!
She: AUUUGGGGHHH

I was laughing out loud at my desk as this conversation unfolded; I'm pretty sure my co-workers think I've finally cracked.

A First

Several weeks ago, I decided to hold my breath and jump back into the online dating pool. I was a little reluctant at first (some of you may remember that things didn't work out so well the last time I tried this), but my policy about not dating people with whom I work combined with the number of hours that I work does make meeting new people a smidge challenging (read: impossible).

Since it seems unlikely that the Universe is going to drop Mr. Right on my doorstep wrapped in a bow, I plucked up my courage, threw together a profile, and hoped for the best.

I'm pleased to report that I have not lost my touch with Turkish men over 40; they love me! Also, insecure asshats still think that all women over 120lbs should be taken out to a pasture and shot. It's nice to know that some things never change.

The site I chose has a nifty feature that allows you to see who has viewed your profile and when and the stalker voyeur in me is completely fascinated by it; I like to click through and check out the men who've been checking me out.

As I was scrolling through the list one day, I happened upon Shy Guy. His main picture involved a pirate hat, so I simply had to click through and check out the rest of his profile. Imagine my surprise when I looked at his photos and realized that in one of them he was standing next to someone I knew.

Someone who passed away more than a year and a half ago.

I was understandably taken aback.

I knew I had to email him but I had no idea what to say. I wrote and re-wrote my introduction before finally sending off a message that started: I think my world just collapsed in on itself a little as I was looking through your pictures; I knew Xxxx too...

Hell of a conversation starter.

We got to talking via email and then the phone, and we went out for drinks (and then dinner, and coffee) on Saturday night. I can't say I was at all surprised when a song that reminded Shy Guy of Xxxx came on the jukebox; I whispered Thank you while he sang along quietly.

My friends have certainly orchestrated dates for me in the past, but I can honestly say that this is the first time anyone's ever done it from beyond the grave. Perhaps that's what was missing from all previous set-ups - none of those dates went particularly well, but this one was an unqualified success.

We had so much fun, in fact, that we decided to do it all over again and had our second date on Sunday night!

Life is strange, and serendipitous, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

Preventing Assault

Kevin Apgar has launched his second Grassroots Blogger Book Marketing Campaign for Carly Milne's Sexography, and this time there's a twist:

April is National Sexual Assault Awareness and Prevention Month, and it’s a big month for the Rape and Incest National Network (RAINN). The organization’s goal is to raise enough money to be able to offer victims of sexual abuse, sexual assault and rape an online hotline offering counseling and assistance 24 hours a day, seven days a week. RAINN’s Chelsea Bowers, Kevin Apgar and Sexography author Carly Milne have banded together to launch a one-of-a-kind online fundraising event to help RAINN reach that goal.

So for the month of April, the blogosphere is going to talk about sex to raise money for RAINN. That's win-win, right?

All things considered, my sexual history is largely unremarkable. Certainly there were a few awkward experiences (Um, I don't think it's supposed to do that...) and a few things I wish I'd known earlier (You're married? Really? And when exactly were you planning on mentioning that?), but overall I've been lucky. I've never been raped, molested, abused, or attacked.

My friends have, though.

When I turned 14 or 15 and started to express an interest in boys and dating, my father taught me two things: How to break a man's arm with my shoulder, and how not to fight like a girl - to hit soft, vulnerable tissue as hard as I could with my elbows, knees, and heels. My father is not a violent man, but he is a realist. He was very clear that pleading words or logic would be wasted on an attacker and that the only appropriate response was to fight like a caged wolverine.

Unfortunately, he is absolutely right.

In the fall of my sophomore year of college, my friend S and I went to a party at the TKE house with a bunch of other friends. Being savvy young women, we had a pre-arranged system for staying safe at huge parties; we stuck together. Arrive together, leave together. No exceptions.

This particular party was completely insane; people were packed into the house like sardines and spilling out all over the front and back lawns. S had quickly met up with the guy she'd come to flirt with (a cute second string linebacker from her Calculus class) and dragged him to the middle of the madness to dance, so I stuck to the periphery of the party with a few other friends and kept an eye on S as much as I could.

About an hour later I looked up from a conversation with the guy on whom I had a crush and noticed that S and the linebacker were gone. After scanning the room and finding them absent, I excused myself from Cute Guy and set off to look for them. Since I went to college in the Dark Ages, before everyone had a cell phone, there was no choice but to work my way through the crowd and see if I could find them. I was none too pleased that I had to stop my flirting to go hunting, but it a deal's a deal: we stick together at parties, period.   

I did a lap through the house and started to get concerned when I couldn't find either of them - the party was big, but not THAT big. Thinking that S and the linebacker may have taken off to go get some food or perhaps more beer, I recruited a couple of other friends to keep searching the party while I went to see if her car was still parked on the street.

It was, and they were in it. The linebacker had S pinned to the front seat and she was pleading with him to let her go.

S, the tough-talking Brooklyn girl who used to joke that she kept her acrylic nails long so they'd be more effective weapons, was absolutely frozen in terror and very close to being in a lot of trouble.

I don't know what I yelled when I saw what was happening, but it was enough to startle the linebacker. Though truly, I think he was more startled when I yanked the passenger side door open and hauled him out of the car. We ended up in a scuffle on the ground and I was doing my level best to hit him anywhere that would really hurt. S finally found her voice and screamed for help, which brought Cute Guy and a few other friends running. I'd managed to get a few good shots in, but Cute Guy was nice enough to finish the job: he picked the linebacker up by the collar, punched him square in the jaw, and sent him sprawling on the sidewalk.

I don't know what happened after that, S and I collected ourselves and left quickly, but I do know that the linebacker gave me a WIDE berth every time he saw me on campus for the next 3 years.

Later, when I asked S why she hadn't gouged his eyes out with her nails, she said that she didn't want to hurt him, that he was just drunk - as if that were some kind of excuse for his behavior.

When my father stood in the kitchen and taught me how to fight, he taught me so much more than the physical skills. He taught me that an assault is a breech of civilized behavior and that it nullifies all rules of ladylike comportment, and most importantly he taught me that it was RIGHT and GOOD to defend myself, and that I had the strength and power to do so.

Blue

How is it possible that an entire week has gone by since last I posted anything? Similarly, how is it possible that Thanksgiving is next week? Who put 2007 on fast forward all of a sudden?

I've been in a bit of a funk for the last week for a variety of reasons. We've been busy at work and my raise is still under negotiation, as it has been for the last 6 months. Money remains a constant source of stress, especially since my Treo committed ritual suicide during a meeting yesterday and I had to scramble to get a replacement. My knee is healing well, but I'm frustrated that I can't train as hard as I'd like to until I've built up more strength in my legs. The Fireman and I have been talking a lot lately, which is both wonderful and heartbreaking since it's very clear that we both want to be together but it's just not in the cards right now. Two of my friends are going through some icky health stuff and I'm worried about them. And, my friend James was killed on the 5 last week. Though we weren't terribly close, he was a shining spirit and the world is a bit darker for his loss.

Thanksgiving (my absolute favorite holiday) is only a week away and once again I find myself unable to treat a houseful of friends and family to food, drinks, and football. I love hosting Thanksgiving, but I haven't been able to do it for the past couple of years because of money & work issues. While I know that's not the end of the world, it still sucks and I'm bummed.

So, yeah. I've been a bit blue lately. There's a lot going on in my head and I've retreated while I struggle to sort through it all. There's a lot to sort.

I am so grateful that I found Muay Thai when I did - it allows me to shut off my brain for a couple of hours each night and that has been invaluable in keeping my sanity.

Beauty From Ugliness

My friends are remarkable people.

I was catching up with Grayson yesterday, with whom I haven't spoken in quite some time, when he dropped this casually into the conversation as his explanation for why he is now pursuing a degree in Human Services Management (quite a digression from what he's been doing up until now):

He: We adopted a (now) 17 year old who was going through hell in his life. After he was awarded to us I decided the system needs to be fixed and here I am.
Me: OMG!
He: LOL His name is Xxxx
He: It is funny telling people "hey this is my son" because he is black... You should see the shock it is great!
He: I have seen the ugly side of racism since he has come to live with us. My boss does not like him because he is black. He didn't know at the time that Xxxx was living with us and we were getting custody. That was an argument like you would not believe.
He: Still is at times.
Me Wow
Me: How did you meet this boy?
He: At the mall. He stopped in our store with a friend who told me was trying to keep him busy as he had tried to commit suicide
He: His mother is a piece of work. Alchoholic drug dealer who had never been caught. Xxxx is gay; she tried to have it beat out of him. He decided there was no reason to live if no one wanted him around
He: He does not know what a family is. Until recently he had a terrible time eating in groups.
He: He has post traumatic stress disorder from standing next to his best friend and first boyfriend when he got shot in a driveby
He: it is a story and a half
He: astounding of course and often times when I talk about it seems far fetched. But I am living with it and learning that people.... some people are truly just ugly on the inside and should never be allowed to have children

Let that sink in for just a second.

My friend Grayson met a teenage boy at the mall, realized that he was truly in mortal peril, went to court to legally adopt him, and and from that experience decided that he needs to do everything in his power to change the system that overlooked and neglected his (now) son in the first place.

Holy crap. I'm not even in a position to adopt a dog at the moment but Grayson saw someone in desperate need and up-ended his entire life to help this one young man.

This is why I say that I have little faith in humanity as a group, but every faith in the individual. A person, every person, has the power to work miracles.

Catching Up

It's Tuesday afternoon so I'm just about on time for my DaveL.A recap!

Oh c'mon, cut a girl some slack. Not only did I work 148.5 hours in ten days (and then 15 more yesterday), somewhere in there my dining room ceiling started leaking pouring water, my car battery died, and The Fireman and I called it quits. Oh, and I came home Friday night to find my landlord up on my roof trying to find the cause of the dining room waterfall; when I asked him how bad the problem was he just shook his head and said "Bad, very bad. Very not good at all." Awesome! (Dear Universe, WTF? No love, Me)

Given all that, I think it's safe to say that by the time Saturday afternoon rolled around I was NOT feeling terribly social. In fact, I was feeling like crawling into bed with a bottle of bourbon was the best idea I'd ever had. However, I'd RSVP'd for DaveL.A. weeks earlier and didn't want to be that blogger - the one who tries to attend but mysteriously never makes it (*coughPaulycough*) - so I dutifully threw on some clothes, brushed my hair, and headed over the hill to Lucky Strike.

Boy am I ever glad that I left the house; Dave throws a hell of a gathering, let me tell you. (And he looks awfully dapper while doing it, all dressed up in a zombie t-shirt and snappy blazer)

I'm always a little trepidatious about blogger meet-ups. Though I've had very good luck with the ones I've attended so far, there's something slightly nerve-wracking about meeting people you know (and who know you) only via blog.  A blog is not a person, it is a creative medium that reveals a small, edited fraction of a person. Consequently, gathering a bunch of bloggers together without the safety of an edit feature, or our thin veils of anonymity, can either go fantastically well or horribly awry.

Fortunately DaveL.A. fell into the former category and we all had a smashing time! Smashed being the operative word here as everyone had two or three (or ten) drinks while we ate dinner and bowled threw brightly colored balls in the general direction of some pin-shaped things.

Since the guest list was super-duper top secret, I was curious to see who would attend. I was pretty sure that Hilly would be there (And she was! And we got hit on! And now we're lovahs!), but I was pleasantly surprised by everyone else: the Atomic Bombshell and her Ninja, Neil and his lovely wife Sophia, Liz, SJ and her pro-bowler Bret, Catherine, Foo, Peggy, and of course our Master of Ceremonies - Dave!

(Why do I suddenly feel like Dorothy? And you were there, and you were there, and Toto - you were there too!)

Being in such exalted company, I was surprised and flattered that anyone at the table had ever read my blog; I very nearly blushed myself to death when Neil told me that he'd been reading for a couple of years. Citizen of the Month is one of my very favorite blogs so I was touched to hear that something I'd written so long ago stood out in his memory. Thanks, Neil :-)

We had PLENTY of time to chat both before we ordered our food and while we were waiting for our lanes (Lucky Strike is not known for its prompt service), which worked out well because there wasn't ever a pause in conversation longer than the span of time necessary to take a sip of beer or lemon drop. Since I was sitting in the middle of the table, I actually had the problem of being between conversations and wanting to take part in both! I should have followed Catherine's lead and hopped from one end of the table to the other.

When we finally got down to the lanes we split up into two teams and promptly laughed, danced, and high-fived our way through two games. I did my part to make sure the gutters were working properly and was very proud when I broke 70 on our second game. (Seriously, I cannot bowl. SJ has proof.) It all ended much too soon, but this is what happens when a bunch of old folks like us start drinking at 6pm. We're trashed and ready to call it quits by 11! OK I wasn't trashed, I was driving, but Dave & Hilly were fulfilling that role for all of us. Off we stumbled to our various cars and away into the night we went.

I came away from the evening with an official DaveL.A. lanyard, a handful of fabulous Artificial Duck pins, a gift certificate for an Artificial Duck t-shirt, a nifty Everyday Goddess sticker, some truly fantastic new friends, and a lesbian lovah. It was hands down the best Saturday night that I've had in quite some time.

Thanks, Dave, for giving such good party!

The Bounce Effect

I don't think I've mentioned it here yet, but one of the challenges that The Fireman & I are facing is the fact that we currently live about 1000 miles apart. I've been in a long-distance relationship before so I know what we've gotten ourselves into, but that knowledge doesn't make it any easier. The plain truth is that it can be emotionally exhausting to be so far away from the person you love.

However, The Fireman will be here for a week-long visit starting Thursday and I am absolutely giddy at the thought of seeing him in just a few days. I'm trying not to irritate nauseate my friends with my excitement, but Teece is very patient and lets me bounce at her for the good of all humanity:

Me: *bouncebouncebounce*
She: yay!
Me: *bouncebouncebounce*
Me: (Um, I'm going to be doing that a lot this week - sorry)
She: no.... believe me, it's totally fine
She: it's a nice counterpoint to this place. (manager girl walked out of big boss's morning meeting on the edge of tears... never a good indicator of his mood)
She: young happy love gives me hope for the world
She: so you bounce... bounce like the wind... for the good of all humanity
She: a butterfly flaps its wings and a breeze goes around the world. Someone has the love bounceys and ... well, that's got to cure somebody's cancer somewhere, ya know?
Me: LoL! *bouncebouncebounce*

Memento mori

dum loquimur, fugerit invida
aetas: carpe diem quam minimum credula postero.*
-Horace, Odes 1.11

It's a little after 8 on Sunday night and there are a lot of things I "should" be doing.

I "should" be hauling my clothes down to the laundromat. I "should" be cleaning my kitchen, or tidying up my living room. I "should" be scrubbing the ceiling in my bathroom so I can paint it (finally). I "should" be getting a head start on the absolute mountain of work that I'm facing come tomorrow morning.

Instead, I spent the afternoon reading and now I'm sitting in my un-tidied living room, thinking about the evanescent nature of life.

Our lives are so achingly short, and they can turn in an instant.

Though I haven't said much about it in this public forum, I have been reminded more than once in the last year that tomorrow is promised to no one.

• In June, I buried my friend Curtis.
• In September, Apollo's betrayal ended ten years of love and friendship in less than twenty minutes.
• In November, my father was diagnosed with Prostate Cancer. Although his doctor caught it very early and prostate cancer responds extremely well to treatment, he's still my father and cancer is a scary thing.
• In March, a member of my Santa Barbara family found a growth in his lung that, for several terrifying days, appeared to be extremely aggressive lung cancer. (Fortunately it turned out to be a rare but treatable infection instead)
• This month, a dear friend's wife had a miscarriage and Natara lost her best friend to a sudden heart attack.
• Next month, Rauri deploys to Baghdad.

Those are just the things that have happened to me personally, nevermind the ongoing tragedy of lives being lost in this quagmire of a war, or the casualties of a marginalized madman with a gun.

How many times must the Universe show us in brutal detail that life is so fragile, so tenuous? Why do we continue to cling to things that are so small, so petty, so completely inconsequential?

The old wisdom of What would you do if you won a million dollars? Why aren't you doing it right now? holds true. There is no perfect time, perfect place, or perfect set of circumstances. We will never be as ready as we think we need to be and there is no reason to waste time waiting. The Universe has reminded me of these things time and time again during the past year.

So perhaps you all will understand why, when The Fireman called me to tell me that he loves me, that he has always loved me, it ended up being the simplest thing in the world to let myself fall.

I have never felt my heart open the way it did when he said:

I have wanted you since the day that I saw you sitting under that tree. I couldn't say anything because I was with **** . . . But I'm single now, and so are you, and I needed to tell you. For years, I've needed to tell you. I wish I could have kissed you that first day and I've wanted to kiss you every day that I've seen you since.

I fought against it at first. I tried to be logical and cautious, to live within the walls I've built out of past hurts, but he & I were talking one night last week and suddenly I just felt my resistance break. It was palpable, as though I'd been bound with rope and suddenly cut free, and I drew what felt like the first truly deep breath I'd ever taken.

It was, without a doubt, the strangest and most wonderful experience of my life.

Memento mori my friends; remember that you are mortal. Whatever you've been meaning to do, or to say, do it now. You may not have the opportunity tomorrow.

-----
*Even as we speak, envious time runs away from us: seize the day, for you can believe very little about the future.

Who was I to make you wait?

I know... I've been cryptic lately.

Lets just say that you'll probably be hearing a lot about The Fireman from now on.

Thanksgiving

This year, as every year, we celebrate with our family before we celebrate with our relatives.
-Mongo, toasting the start of last night's annual pre-Thankgiving bash

It's been difficult to feel thankful this week.

Though I know academically that I am far luckier than many people, this week has worn me down. As I write this it's 55 degrees in my living room because my furnace is out again and, because of the holiday, won't be fixed until Monday. I've just lit the pilot on my water heater and am hoping that it will warm up enough water for a shower before it shuts off again (it also won't be repaired until Monday). Tomorrow I'm supposed to take my car in for one of the necessary repairs that I can ill afford. I'm worn down from a crazy week at work and stressed out about everything that needs to be done before I leave for the marathon and Nutcracker Weekend.

Try as I might, the ability to be thankful for the big things has eluded me this holiday.

As I was driving home from Mongo's party, though, I realized that I have lots of little things for which to be thankful. Little things that make coping with the big things so much easier.

• I am thankful for Mongo and his roommate Matt for including me in their family and for offering up endless amounts of wine, laughter, and deep fried turkey.


• I am thankful for friends who know exactly where to rub in order to unlock the tension in my shoulders.


• I am thankful for Boober, Boy 2 & Teece, all of whom included me (or offered to include me) in their Thanksgiving plans


• I am thankful for Firebug, who has always let me ask for help.


• I am thankful for Chana, who always has an ear and a fresh perspective.


• I am thankful for my cats, who have suspended hostilities in light of the cold temperatures and curl up peacefully next to each other on my lap.


• I am thankful for Teece and Tag, who have offered to buy me new running shoes (to replace the old ones) as an early Christmas present.


• I am thankful that I leave for Hawaii in ten days, even if I haven't quite figured out how to feed myself while I'm there yet *g*


• I am thankful for Ab, the Gas Company technician who came back to my house twice to try to fix my furnace & water heater - even going so far as to replace my regulater & gas meter at 9pm by flashlight. When it was clear that neither appliance could recussitated, he taught me how to light my water heater (and gave me the necessary tools) so I could at least have moderate amounts of hot water over the weekend.


• I am thankful that, although both other gas-powered appliances are dead, my stove still works perfectly.


• I am thankful for my co-workers, who always ask me how my marathon is going and who have donated nearly 80% of my fundraising total thus far.


• I am thankful (today and every day) for my family, both chosen and blood-related, who provide me love & support for no reason other than because they are my family.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!