The Love Post

I’ve been thinking a lot about love lately.  Not because I’ve found some new love to fall into, mind you, but maybe because I haven’t.      I’ve just been thinking of all the varieties of love, and how I experience them.   More exactly, what makes those loves most evident?

I also started thinking about this when I felt my heart swell on the 20th.

I’ve come up with a list of loves in my life, and how/when they are most intense.

There’s the Love I see on the television in the faces of millions listening to a man who promises to bring our dreams back to us, restore our values, and reminds us what patriotism feels like.   Love of ourselves.  Love our country.  Love of each other.
There’s the Love I can smell when we hug, that’s just exactly the same as how I remember, even after six years.
There’s the Love in the silence between Girls who know each others’ thoughts, and don’t have to say A Word to induce fits of Laughter from one another.   Even though it’s not been one year, let alone six.
There’s the Love of trusting me with your baby, even though I almost dropped him on His head.
There’s the Love I hear on my speakers when I Rocket Roll.
There’s the Love I see when I feel a heavy chain lowered around my neck, and open my eyes to see a Hardware Jewel in the mirror at Slim’s.
There’s the Love I feel as a fullness in my chest when I think of those closest to me.
It’s just a start of course.   There are as many types of love as their are Mates and Lovers.
Just sayin’.

Thoughts on The A-Word

Last night, I wrote a throw away post on my parents’ anniversary.  I wanted to write something, and I wanted to shout out to them on their special day, but I wasn’t really in the mood to write.    So, here’s what I woulda/coulda/shoulda written last night.  Here are my thoughts on their anniversary, and on anniversaries in general.

  • I sort of forgot that it was their anniversary, until I was on the phone with my mom.   I didn’t feel too bad about it, though, ’cause I think they forgot, too.   My dad got up yesterday to go to work, and he found a note from my mom asking him to pick up milk on the way home.   When he was finishing up his day with some paperwork, he remembered the date.  He said something to one of his co-workers, like, “oh, it’s June 10th.  It’s my wedding anniversary.”  The co-worker asked what he was going to get for my mom, and he told him he was getting her a carton of milk.  My mom gave him a slice of banana bread in return.   I hope to someday be in a relationship long enough that anniversaries are still important, but not anything to break your heart over if it happens to slip my mind.
  • Anniversaries.  The root of the word is ‘annual’.   Meaning yearly.   There’s no such thing as a six month anniversary.  A one month anniversary is also right out.   I think that would be a lunaversary.   And really, it’s just lunacy.   Being able to relate to someone for 30 whole days in a row shouldn’t be that difficult.   Unless you’re me, apparently, but that’s a rant for another time.
  • I don’t do anniversaries.  I was in a long term relationship once.   In two plus years, we could never agree when that anniversary would be, if we were to celebrate one.   When you get married, it’s easy.  It’s the day of the ceremony.   The anniversary of a birth, also very easy to track.    I’ve had anniversaries at jobs, too.  That’s super duper easy.   But when does it start to actually count when you’re dating.   ‘Cause there’s dating, and then there’s dating.    I mean, I could go on a date tonight, and in that sense, I’d be dating someone, but I wouldn’t consider someone my boyfriend on the first date.    So, if I did go on a date (this is a purely hypothetical scenario, by the way), and then down the road, that person did become a significant part of my life and family, when does it count?   What about if you’re with somebody for a really long time before you get married, and the day you consider to be the anniversary is different from your wedding date?   This is why I don’t do it.  It’s too confusing.  As always, though, I reserve the right to change my mind.
  • My parents have been married for 37 years.  They raised two kids.   I use the term loosely, since I don’t feel like too much of a real adult.   They worked.   They moved a few times.   They retired.   Now my dad is working again.    All this stuff has happened for them, to them, and with them.   They couldn’t possibly be the same people they were when they married, at ages 31 and 24.    How the hell did they do that?   I can’t even manage to get anyone to like me for more than 36 hours in a row right now.   I am incapable of being lovable.   And they’ve been in love longer than I’ve been alive.   My mom didn’t even like him when they met!    Seriously!   WTF?    What is wrong with me?
Just sayin’.  

In Which I Decide Internet Dating is Not for Me

I caved to Creeper’s nagging. I posted a personal on Craig’s List. Don’t go looking for it, though, because I already took it down.

What a disaster!

Actually, that’s a complete and total exaggeration. It wasn’t disastrous. It was just uninspiring. My hopes were pretty low, and the response I got was even lower.

I got only 8 responses. Of those 8, one was a Republican, two were exceptionally devoid of punctuation, one guy only wrote of himself that I would be “glad that I met him,” and one guy seemed way too into Emo. Of the lot, I think I would have possibly hung out with one of them.

But really, when it came right down to it, I just didn’t really feel like writing any of them back. I pretty much already knew that I didn’t want to find someone to date, but was just kind of curious to see if I got any really interesting responses. It was more like a crazy single girl experiment than an actual attempt at dating.

I think I’m cool with my lot in life right now, and I’m not looking for anyone else to add to my cast of characters. Besides, I’ve already got one guy to flirt with. How much more could a crazy single girl ask for?

Everybody Needs Somebody to Love

Creeper has been trying to talk me into “getting out there” and his big suggestion is that I peruse the ads on Craiglist. He also suggested that I post a few ads of my own, and at one point threatened to write one for me. I am curious to know what he would write, and what the response would be, so I might make him do it.

First off, I have to say, this is not encouraging. Have you seen these ads lately? They used to be good for a laugh, but now they’re kind of sad.

And so it is, that I came across my guy Charles, who posts a version of the same post every day. Charles is a 59 year old from the East Bay. He’s a self-described “Jack-Outta-Da_Box,” and a “City Cat / Nature Boy hybrid.” He admits that, “I partake of herbal sacraments for medicinal comfort on occasion. . .” And he’s looking for a “Different drummer,progressive,iso conspirator for rhythm and resonance.”

Each of his posts includes at least these two photos:

Is it just me, or does Charles look/sound familiar to anyone else?

This is what I’ve been missing these many years. How many other golden opportunities have passed me by?

A Party to End All Parties

Alli says to me today that she hopes I will ping her some day when my life is finally normal, and I’m bored.   She says that when the day comes that I have no boy drama, no health drama, and no family drama, she will throw me a party.  I am working towards this party.

So far I’ve eliminated all boy drama.  He dumped me, and I’m pretty much over it, at this point.  I have my moments, but it’s not like it was a month ago.  He hasn’t called me at all.  All the lose ends (i.e. the motorcycle, the lease, and the spare keys) have been dealt with.  I doubt I’ll ever hear from him again.  Onward and upward, as I’ve finally realized that what all those people were hinting at all along, that I could do much better, is probably very true.

On the health drama front, I got some good news today.  The results of last weeks test came back normal.  I have more tests this Friday.  I’m still eating healthy like, and am currently roasting veggies and salmon in the oven.  Look out world; I’m cooking!!  Also, I’m still on the same routine in the morning, so I’m peeing like a fountain.

My family is still holding their collective breathe.   My uncle is quite ill, but my fingers are crossed for him.  Cancer blows.   Good news, though, my dad got a job, so that takes a lot of stress off me and the folks.  My mom is going to come down for a visit, and will be staying with me for just about a week.  Just in time for test results!

So, when that day comes that I’m A-OK, and my family is A-OK, and I’m either enjoying being single or loving being in the arms of the next one, Alli and I are going to paint the town red.

I’m shooting for June.

Letting Go

This was my motorcycle:

This motorcycle was given to me by my then boyfriend for Christmas. He was going to pay for the insurance, and he paid for me to take lessons. I failed the lessons the first time around; I fell and I couldn’t keep up with the pace they were teaching. I was going to go back and retake the class once I had more time, but with work and with Cinderella, it wasn’t looking like I was going to get a shot. I had wanted to learn how to ride first, and then get a bike later. I wanted to make sure I actually liked riding before I put any money into it. I had even specifically told him not to get me a bike. He put the horse before the cart, so I had a motorcycle that I didn’t have the slightest clue how to ride for about three months. Then he broke up with me last month.

I’ve spent the last month trying to decide what to do with the bike. I wanted to keep it. It’s pretty. Then he said something about always being available to help me with the bike, and that freaked me out. I didn’t want it if it was going to tie me to him. I want the clean break. I want the space and time, at least for the time being. I waffled back and forth about whether I could keep the bike, and cut the strings attached, too.

But then I also thought that it would be cool to learn how to do it all by myself. I thought it would be easier to learn how to ride it without all the pressure I felt from him. He’d told just about everyone about it, so I felt like they were all staring at me. It made me want to talk to the bean dip. I seriously felt like all of his friends were judging me. Not to mention all the snide remarks. “I know you want a scooter, but this is so much better, so GET OVER IT!” etc. It seemed like his whole ego was wrapped up in me riding that motorcycle, and it didn’t really have anything to do with me. Anyway, I thought I could learn to ride it, go back and take the class. Then I imagined myself pulling up in front of my local coffee shop, and turning heads with that paint job. I also imagined showing up at a bar where his friends were hanging out, just to show them that regardless of what they think, I’m never going to be a speed demon.

Finally, a month after the break up, I can think about that motorcycle, and detach it from the feelings of rejection and insecurity surrounding my ex.

To insure the bike myself, it would cost about $550/year. That’s not much, by insurance standards. However, I had to look at it as what would be the personal cost to me. What would I have to give up in order to pay for the insurance? What else could I spend $550 on this year?

The band I’m talking with could cost me $550 this year, easily. I have my sax, but it needs some work done, and I have no idea what that will cost me. It would cover at least five and a half months of lessons. There’s also the cost of transportation and rehearsal space and what not.

My mounting medical costs could also easily total $550. Actually, it’ll probably be even more. I’ve already spent $160, and I haven’t gotten the bill for the ultrasound, yet. I’m also having another test done this week, and I have no idea what that will run. This is all just for tests. Who knows what treatment could cost?

That money would cover half of the new MacBook that I want, or the full cost of a MiniMac. My computer is falling apart. The CD burner doesn’t even work anymore. Plus, it’s just really old and slow. One of my favorite hobbies is this blog. So, it would take me twice as long to have a new computer.

So in exchange for giving up music lessons, being able to pay my medical bills, or a computer (keep in mind, that’s just the insurance), I would get a motorcycle. So what would I do with a motorcycle, assuming I could complete the lessons or pass a test at the DMV to get my license? I don’t like the idea of riding in traffic. I never liked doing it on the back of the ex’s bike, so I know I wouldn’t use it to commute. I couldn’t get the sax on it, so I couldn’t ride it to and from band practice and gigs.

So, I’d basically just be using it for pleasure trips, like when I go out in the evenings or weekends, but then I couldn’t dress nice and my hair would be a mess. So that usually wouldn’t work, either. When I really thought about it, I mostly saw myself tootling around town on the bike, and only on very nice sunny days.
Really, I could get myself a bicycle for that, and i wouldn’t have to pay for insurance or gas.

I see now that it was really much more about holding on to that man and that life, and I don’t have to do that any more. The motorcycle doesn’t fit my budget and it doesn’t fit my lifestyle. I just wanted to look cool on it, anyway.

So, I emailed the ex earlier this week, and I told him that he should keep the bike, as he would get more out of it than I would. He never should have given it to me in the first place, and he should have known better. I’ve been accused of “rewarding bad behavior” by giving him the bike, but really, it just means that I get to let go of the last piece of emotional baggage.

Besides, it’s twice as pretty to look at in the picture than it would be six months from now when I had never washed it, and I’ll look three times cooler wailing on my sax with healthy girly guts than I ever would with helmet hair.

One Night in North Beach

I headed out to Grant & Green in North Beach this evening.  Warsaw Poland Bros were playing.  As I parked my car, I realized something, that the chapter of my life that’s ending started on a night in North Beach, just a little over two and a half years ago.

I was out to see a show, what else.  It was Deal’s Gone Bad and King Django.  Life had already started to make a turn, as Dieter had left our house that week.  I didn’t really have any expectations that night, besides seeing some friends and dancing to some music.  Little did I know that that night was going to steer my life for two years, or that I was going to go with the flow on a wave that dumped me head first on another beach last night.

There was a friend of a friend at the bar that night, and before I knew it, everything became so serious and so necessary.  I found myself on a plane to South Carolina within a few weeks.  My whole world was heading in this direction and then just as quickly, Dez was gone.  The whole thing was over in a flash.  I never intended to be without him, and it was like someone punched me in my chest when I read the last words he ever wrote to me.  I was terrified of my life, so I went out and did the scariest thing I could think of.

Of course, shortly, very shortly, afterwards, I was scooped up and set up as a girlfriend I wasn’t sure I could be.   It lasted much more than I thought it would back then.   All along I was afraid, and all along, I felt like I had to prove myself.  Going with the flow, again, but this was more like a roller coaster most of the time, up and down, pull me in and push me away.  Yes, I’m shocked, again, and scared of my life, again.  It should never be easy to hear your lover tell you that they don’t love you anymore.

And it all goes back to that one night in North Beach, and I didn’t see it until tonight, what a turning point that was. Tonight I parked my car in the same spot I did the last time I saw Dez without ever realizing it until I was walking across the street.  Then I realized I was wearing my Deal’s Gone Bad shirt.

I’m right back where I started, I suppose, and in a weird way, it’s like time stood still.   I still have no expectations.