Thursday, November 25, 2010

The Stage

Wishing is for regrets. But, frankly, if I had one personal life-wish, it would be that I could go back to 2007 and get it out of my system. Because, as we're told over and over again, hindsight and all that noise, right? Not that everything was bad this year. It wasn't despite the job thing, the two car accident thing, the break up, the money woes, lost never to be found friends, and strangely, the second break up. Been able to keep my family afloat somewhat since the new job worked out (which hopefully will turn into something more substantial come the new year). Ironically (or not), I'm at my healthiest since 2007. I can afford to, you know, live. And my family - god love them, but they drive me crazy! - is still all intact and my nephew seems to melt my tiny snowflake of a heart every time.

But also with hindsight, I've arrived to a few things about myself that I never really considered, and it's one of the things about Corey, irritating though he can be, I really liked. In 2007, all this would've been much more useful to me (or not, who the fuck really knows?). Thing is, as recently as last week, Golden and I were talking, and I heard myself say words about Terry that I think Corey's friends or his mom probably said to him about me. Over the last couple of years, this happened a lot. And, I'll own up to it: my lack of security, my lack of openness, not just with him but my family, my lack of intimacy, my distance, my insecurity, my wavering commitment. Yes, these are all things that are true and caustic. But all of this isn't anything new. It's old news. And as I told my best friend, it's a wonder why Corey even decided I was a fair gable early this year. Again. It's a wonder why he stuck around as long as he did. Because when it was good, it was pretty much what I suppose people in a cliche sort of way call magic.

Then I get to thinking, why did I even bother. With any of it. All of it. What was it about this boy that made me do stupidly out of character things. Looking back (as I ever do), I guess I really liked being able to laugh and reflect and connect and relate to a person. He's been only the second person I've been with who was my age (everyone else has been younger, and thus, useless), and I thought he got me whatever that's supposed to mean. He was insightful and bright and fun. But, thinking about it, what was I thinking? He was also so very much unlike me, I'm not certain that it would've worked. I have talking this way because it sounds like bullshit like fate and destiny. But so removed from it - and I wondered out loud many times, to be sure - it just looks like a mess. It looks like we both went into it with great intentions and were hoping for the best. Of course, it didn't come, for either of us.

When we were at the train station to go off to San Diego, there was a little bit of an incident. We didn't know where to go to wait for our train so we went in line to ask at the info desk. When it was our turn, he asked the girl where we were supposed to be, she said to him we should just form a line there, and they'll lead us there, he asked if she could just tell him where the train would arrive, she said she didn't know until it arrived, he said she wasn't being helpful, she reiterated again to just make a line, he copped a nasty attitude said she just didn't want to tell him and he nearly stormed away. I saw the black couple a few spaces behind us just look at him in the same manner people look at someone writing a check at the supermarket for $1. I couldn't believe this had happened.

I don't mean to come off as calling him irrational, because I don't think he is, but this little bit has stuck with me all this time because, again, looking back, it was just a precursor. I should've already known what it be like. I should've known that I did not want to go through my own little conflict at the train station over and over and over again. But, I'm sure I said, Fuck it, we're off to San Diego!" And the thing is I hate stuff like that in people: getting all shitty on someone doing their job, getting a nasty ass attitude while complaining, and inconveniencing others. It's so fucking retarded but it's the fucking truth! Before, I'd joke about never dating someone who returns a gift. Getting all up on the train station girl's face because she can't (or won't, who the fuck cares) answer your question is the same.

As I'm sure it was with him, every time he brought up things I entirely disagreed with, however banal or deep they were, I couldn't believe this was the person I felt I should be with. Whether it was clothes, or God, or work, or politics, books, cartoons, marriage, food, kids, strangers, sex, television, music, family, a lot of the time I couldn't believe what I was hearing, what I saw. God knows what he thought of me. And it makes me wonder, why then did I think this was a viable option?

I think it was my weird hop that he would just relax with me. That he would stop taking everything so damn seriously. He was worried so damn much when people I don't know would announce their engagements, I just wanted him to stop. He'd complain about me spending the night, I wish he would just stop. He would talk about how beautiful everyone else was and how much he wanted to be like them, and I wanted him to stop. He worried so much about ticket sales for his show, and I just wanted him to stop. But I never said so, and he never did. It was ridiculous of me, of course, to think that this man would change so much about himself just because I wanted him to. But even then, at some points, when he gave me the out to just not be together, I recoiled at the idea of him being with someone else, and I told him I didn't want him to see anyone else. Why did I do that? Did I really think he'd change in the ways I wanted? Did I think I could do the things he wanted me to? Did I really want him and I to work out, long term? Did I even want that, period? These are the things that I think about a lot.

Funny sort of thing is, now that he decided to just be a stranger with me again, I think back to 2007 because we maybe exchanged a few emails or myspace comments that year (which don't include the ones about HIV). I think he was with someone, and I wasn't even considering anything relationshipy with anyone. But, I remember telling Golden, back then, about this internet friend I'd made. I remember saying to her I liked him because he seemed more interesting than the people I knew personally at the time. I could be mangling it, my memory is terrible. But I remember him being flirty with me in a message or two, and I remember thinking how often I was in West Hollywood and how we'd not met (we'd "known" each other for about a year then, he lives in Hollywod). But I brushed it aside. I thought he'd be a good friend to have, even just on the internet. I remember him telling me he'd call me back this one time when I actually >gasp!< called him, but he didn't, and that was fine. But, after what we've been through together, and due to each other, I think back and wish I could go back to 2007 with him. Because it was easy then, and I didn't know all these things and neither did he. We could've kept going that way for however long we would. And, I, of course, would stop thinking about what a shitty friend he turned out to be.

He's shitty because he hurt me. He set out to do so, and god damn it, it worked.

One of the last times we were out, he took me to his favorite restaurant. He was right: I hated the place. Pretentious atmosphere, douchebaggery at every corner, and a menu that did not seem at all appetizing. But we had a good walk through the art scene (kill me the fuck now!) just before, and he wanted to show me somewhere he loved. As I said, nothing looks particularly good but a Thai burger (say what?), and he always orders steak (there's a reason for that, I'm sure), and he asked me what I was going to have and I told him, and he got this odd look on his face and said, "Really?" and it made me feel like he was saying, "Really? We're at this expensive nice restaurant and you're going to have a burger?" and it made me feel, don't laugh, as if my food order wasn't good enough for him. Isn't that so fucking retarded? Waitress arrives and takes our order. Later, more than halfway through bad chicken, and his steak, he notices it's pink. He's been eating it this entire time and it's only now that he wants it cooked better. Waitress takes it back to do so three times (or was it two? Does it really matter when the piece of meat in question was the size of his thumb?) until it was good enough for him to take home.

You might think me petty, but these are the kinds of things that when I think about them make me see that I should've known better. I mean, I did. But I did it anyway.

Anyway, it isn't all his fault by a longshot. I admit it. But now, I'm just thinking, what I was trying to do. And for what, and for whom. I don't wish bad things for him, but I'm also not insane: he turned out to be girl-levels of crazy, and a bad person. Instead of thinking more like this, because I am pretty tired of myself having this bullshit conversation with my best friend (I'm sure she doesn't want to listen to me bitch, either), I'll do what I wanted him to do all that time, and just stop.

In 2007 I was younger and still believed I was indestructible.

"Everything is so fragile. There’s so much conflict, so much pain. You keep waiting for the dust to settle and then you realize this is it: the dust is your life going on. If happy comes along, that weird, and unbearable delight that’s actual happy—I think you have to grab it while you can. You take what you can get. ‘cause it’s here, and then…gone."

— Joss Whedon

Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Drafts

Here and on Tumblr, my drafts folders have grown considerably. I usually don't save anything because I write shit down and hit POST and that's the end of that. I don't edit or rewrite anything on stupid blogs because I just don't (and I'm sure it's evident considering the horrible spelling and half-thought ideas throughout. But mostly, I'm kind of sick of myself and I don't want to hear myself talk about the same stupid thing over and over again because...well, duh, right? However, I have one more post I want to write about it because I do. Was on the phone recently with Golden, and we talked for quite some time about her friend Terry, which, as ever, made me think a lot about the boy, and, seeing as how at work all I've is my brain (stupid bitch-ass brain!), I think I came up with a few things.

Ahh! But that would negate this non-post about me being tired of me.

The curious bit about the drafts folders, the bit I'm really enjoying as much if not more than unsent emails, is that I get a chance to spout on and on to my little blackened dried raising of a heart's content and feel satisfied. Just because you think something doesn't mean it gets to be on the internet immediately. Really it doesn't. You know, like THIS post.

Wednesday, November 10, 2010

?

There's something wrong when you choose not to answer a seemingly innocuous question and suddenly you're keeping such a huge secret the person(s) asking MUST KNOW RIGHT NOW!

What's so wrong about not answering a question? The fact that it is asked is not a voucher for an answer. Is it really that important for you to know? Is what I don't want to share necessary to your daily life?

Whatever happened to some things being just mine and not for anyone else? Can I have nothing?

Monday, November 8, 2010

Read: American Gods

what neil gaiman does in AMERICAN GODS is point out what traditions mean in the new world, and what happens when we try and establish new ones - or ideas of traditions without understanding the power they hold, the meaning they carry over the centuries. shadow, ever us, not understanding the reasons why he must do the things he does, comes to the conclusion that in the same way american cares not for the old gods, the old gods don't care very much for us. but it's not necessarily a toxic relationship, not so much that pure belief in them is a bad thing, but there ought to always be a questioning of their word.

AMERICAN GODS is also about the old world relinquishing its grasp on our daily existence. it's not about forsaking your history - a mighty sacrilege - but rather recognizing that time moves and so we must adapt to it. it's about the stubbornness of the old guard to realize that the old ways, simply, undeniably have no more the value they used to other than decoration, and it is also about how the young willingly make sin and call it 'new'. they revere the perverse ostentatious and maligned and cancerous like an odd badge of rebellion while not seeing that it isn't rebellion but conformity.

lastly, AMERICAN GODS is about a man who made several mistakes in his life, and who has to live with them. it is about the woman who loved him and whom he loved, and about being unable to make things right. neither one of them can. so what else is there to do? live or be dead. the latter thinks she wants to be alive again, and the former chooses death to live.

thematically, AMERICAN GODS could be the much older brother of cormac mccarthy's NO COUNTRY FOR OLD ME.

[cross-posted on facebook.]

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Junk Drawer

I should be sleeping: about two months into the new gig, and waking up at 3am is getting tougher. This morning I ran a little late, and by the time my lunch hour is done, so am I. I think cutting back on the caffeinated drinks is the reason. But now, it's so hot I can't sleep. Took a long cold shower, masturbated, cut my hair, and turned on the fan. I'm smoking and sipping on fat-free sugar-free milky coffee.

So, things:

* * *

A couple weeks ago, I went to my summer/fall doctor's appointment. Everything was surprisingly good: my numbers were all spot on (my doctor said my t-cell count's the highest it's been since I started seeing him in 2007), I lost somewhere between ten and twelve pounds since I last saw him, and the liver sonogram I had in the spring revealed nothing serious, but the caveat is that I've a fatty liver, which, he said, could lead to cirrhosis. Doctor said I HAVE TO EXERCISE MORE AND EAT BETTER. When he said it, I imagined it all in capital letters, yes. He's never really said anything as far as exercising nor adjusting my diet - he always said before how I was in excellent health. But I think, and he knows, that all the down time I had in the middle of the year definitely affected my body. Now, obviously, he wants me to go back to there. I've had two failed attempts at regular exercising in as many weeks, and my diet's still the same. I start, yet again, on Sunday.

* * *

Last night's med-term elections always bring up something I hate about people. Not so much the voting or lack thereof, nor even the outcome (although mr Dean Trippe does a damn good job in covering the same bases I'd in mind): it's how, suddenly, from everywhere, the day of election, everyone's about get out and vote and get out and vote, and I ask what their positions are and they really have no clue what the hell they're even voting for. What any long-term situations my arise, what outcomes in other states could have in California, or even who the fuck their district representative is. It's such mindlessness and superficiality that blows me away. I hate to say that lots of people I know personally are like that, and I'm not saying that I'm perfect by any means, but I think it's okay to say, "I don't know," every once in a while instead of pretending otherwise. James Robinson put it best in STARMAN.

* * *

Over on 405, I've been posting not-so-random songs. Because I listen to them ad nauseum because of what I described over in the previous post from two weeks ago or so, and the break up. First, the obligatory Atmosphere, FUCK YOU LUCY and Then, Smashing Pumpkins's HELLO KITTY KAT, TV On The Radio's AMBULANCE, LCD Soundsystem's I CAN CHANGE, Mikey Dread's SCHOOL GIRL, and Amanda Palmer's LEEDS UNITED. I had a conversation with Golden a couple weeks back where of course I said to her I'm not over the boy, but it's not like I want him back. I'm a weird sort of lull as far as he's concerned. My awkwardness when recently we saw each other notwithstanding, I'm not sure I even want to talk to him again. Which is so counterproductive: wish I could ask why, you know, but then I think, fuck it: I'll keep hitting REPLAY when these tracks come on.

* * *

I think I'm lonely.

* * *

Saw David Fincher's THE SOCIAL NETWORK and Mark Romanek's NEVER LET ME GO last week. Both were so abso-fucking-lutely fantastic. The former was such a machine gun spray of dialogue and story and movement and laughter and, even, a bit of sympathy. It perfectly encapsulates what this supposed generation has to offer the world, and at the same time, how they distance themselves from each other as a social norm. At the same time, for me, it put into perspective why I was the last person I knew who used Facebook and how, even now, I don't think I get it. Lastly, I think it made a pretty decent point about how everyone everywhere in your circle can know everything about you without you even knowing, and how it takes away some of few unique qualities your life may have by having it shared and diluted by your 'friends'.

NEVER LET ME GO on the other hand had me in tears throughout. Because it is about the brevity that is life and how you go through it, the span you get. Either as an icy bitch who will only realize she's a bad person at the very end, or as an idealist and optimist who's willing to put his heart on the line every time and who is willing to be willfully naive that life will always be better if only you wish hard enough, or as a realist who can see before her what life really is and all the types of people who surround her, even her friends and family, and realizing that it's not all games and ice cream, and still venturing out into the world with steady steps, a little heartbreak, courage, and lost relationships.

Next week I'll see Danny Boyle's 127 HOURS.

* * *

Still hoping to make it to Las Vegas for my birthday. Doesn't look good right now, but if I do, Golden says Chuck Ragan and Lucero will be in town then. This is where praying would come in handy if it was at all useful.

* * *

At work, my boss and her boss have briefly discussed what I might want my future to be with the company. Both will be in tomorrow. And, as I think about these small conversations, it becomes rather obvious to me that I'm overqualified for my job, and that I can do my boss's assistant's job a thousand times better than he does. Which isn't to say he's bad at it, but I know I'm better. Hopefully, as time moves toward December 3rd, I'll be able to gauge better where I want to be if there are possibilities. Because I feel older every day and I'm tired. And maybe, frankly, putting some thought into MY future is more than due. I like that everyone who can do something about work for me is talking about me in this manner. Because even though most anyone else would simply just kick back, I know it will pay off. I always know it will and then does.

* * *

Finally, this is my favorite book of the year: COMING & CRYING. It made me cry and it made me think and it made me laugh and it made me cheer and it made me nostalgic and it made me yearn and it made complete when I needed it the most.*


*it may still be available!