sunday morning, coffee cup and cigarette in hand -- ahh, the great american laxative. i'm very awake, very motivated today to do the domestic and mundane chores i need to take care of before dad's day dinner tonight. i'm wearing the T-shirt yogaman left at my place the other night; it smells like him. i've been all kinds of girlie lately.
and all's better since the last post. thanks for the lengthy commentaries to those who indulged my self-indulgence. moved on from it, into the great beyond that lies ahead of any setback. nowadays, i'm trying to steady my focus on the job hunt, as i need a major injection of mulah right about now. (if anyone wants to send me money, feel free.) i have some leads, but my jewish superstitions prevent me from discussing them too openly.
i'm also gearing up for my big birthday party this weekend -- should be a ball -- and monday kicks off my birthday week. that's right, i give myself an entire week to celebrate my life, so i'll be in a good mood for a while. i also have the entire week off from freelance work, which leaves me plenty of time to again do virtually nothing until july, when the dorks in culver city will call me in for more copy-editing. july should also hold a weekend getaway to SF and maybe that trip to new york, if i can squeeze it in somewhere.
shit, this post has been kinda boring, sorry guys.
Sunday, June 20, 2004
Saturday, June 12, 2004
The Ex-Games
met the ex last night for what was supposed to be our first drinks date as friends. i suggested the idea, figuring it was time, that the four months apart provided enough distance and perspective to have an honest conversation. and as i'm steadfast about not making enemies out of ex's, i wanted to merge us onto the friendship superhighway. so we met up at the bar, exchanged CDs and began our chat, which was incredibly cordial, pleasant, with him telling me about his big trip to asia, me talking about graduation, yadda, yadda. it wasn't all that awkward and the conversation flowed. and in those first 10 minutes, i remembered everything i loved about him; i even thought of giving him a kiss (but didn't).
then something happened. alcohol happened. the honest coversation happened, and then quickly descended into an exercise in cruelty. it started with the best intentions, with us discussing when and why the cracks began to form (when i started school and had no time for him, which only worsened when he started school the following year), how we felt about being single again (both loving it, better at 30 than at 20), where we were in the getting-over-it process (healing, both far along and strong).
and then... i don't know. it got darker as we got drunker, and all the healthy honesty turned into an opportunity to shine a spotlight on all the things we couldn't stand about one another. it was brutal. he turned into a mean drunk, a belligerent ass, and i matched him insult for insult. and wow, what great insight it produced: his mother never liked me; he felt trapped and bored and wanted to end it a year earlier; i never felt the sex was satisfying and thought of cheating on him way before he cheated on me; he thought my writing was cliche; he didn't regret his own cheating and doesn't feel guilty over it; i thought his stories were boring; he thought i nagged him too much.
and trust me, it got MUCH nastier, but those details are not for public consumption. there were some low fucking blows, and i found myself frequently slamming my hand down on the bar table, which startled him, but it was the only thing i could do to keep from slamming it against his face. so i just kept staring at that handsome face of his, looking deep into his hazel eyes, trying to see behind them in hopes of recognizing that man i once fell so hard for. but i couldn't find him. all the tenderness that ever existed between us seemed to vanish, go up in the cigarette smoke we were producing. (ouch, was that a cliche?)
and i hated myself, too -- pissed that i sank into that mode of hurtful one-upmanship. we never said a single nice thing about each other. it was sadistic on both our parts, sitting there from 9pm until the bar closed at 2am, just playing this ping pong game of cruelty, talking about how wonderful our new (sex) lives are. saying all those things better left unsaid not because you'll regret them later, but because they're all true and carry the most punch.
we then spilled onto the street, by now fully wasted, and began a playful tussle. he pushed me, i punched him in the stomach, he put his hands around my throat and gave a squeeze, i just stared him dead in the eye. nothing really gets out of hand; it wasn't a violent exchange, but the intent was clear. we hated each other at that moment.
i come home, throw up and pass out. this morning, i wake up with the biggest hangover, my body dehydrated, my belly full of anger. i cuddled with juice for a bit, easily the best thing that came out of that four-year relationship. she's all i have, all i need.
i've been a mess all day, canceling my plans and just staying in, processing. it's set me back some. i IMed with pablo this morning, and we both apologized for our vitriolic behavior last night, coughing it up to the alcohol. we agreed not to speak or see one another for a long while.
but it's ok, all this bloodletting. i think it'll get me closer to the next level, where i can really let it all go. (new mantra lately has been 'detach and be free.') perhaps it was too soon to meet and try to be friends, but i thought we were ready. four months out, i really do feel strong and solid. there's no longing or desire to have him or the relationship back, hasn't been for a while. i understand the whys and hows of our split, and am very much enjoying the new life i've carved out for myself. i don't doubt all this.
yet i still need some closure. i guess it'll come with time, even though my rational mind wants it now. last night did much to diminish the sentimental love i still carried in my heart for him, but it shouldn't have happened that way. i don't want to replace that love with anger. my heart has hardened enough. i want to love without fear and live without baggage. a healthy life.
then something happened. alcohol happened. the honest coversation happened, and then quickly descended into an exercise in cruelty. it started with the best intentions, with us discussing when and why the cracks began to form (when i started school and had no time for him, which only worsened when he started school the following year), how we felt about being single again (both loving it, better at 30 than at 20), where we were in the getting-over-it process (healing, both far along and strong).
and then... i don't know. it got darker as we got drunker, and all the healthy honesty turned into an opportunity to shine a spotlight on all the things we couldn't stand about one another. it was brutal. he turned into a mean drunk, a belligerent ass, and i matched him insult for insult. and wow, what great insight it produced: his mother never liked me; he felt trapped and bored and wanted to end it a year earlier; i never felt the sex was satisfying and thought of cheating on him way before he cheated on me; he thought my writing was cliche; he didn't regret his own cheating and doesn't feel guilty over it; i thought his stories were boring; he thought i nagged him too much.
and trust me, it got MUCH nastier, but those details are not for public consumption. there were some low fucking blows, and i found myself frequently slamming my hand down on the bar table, which startled him, but it was the only thing i could do to keep from slamming it against his face. so i just kept staring at that handsome face of his, looking deep into his hazel eyes, trying to see behind them in hopes of recognizing that man i once fell so hard for. but i couldn't find him. all the tenderness that ever existed between us seemed to vanish, go up in the cigarette smoke we were producing. (ouch, was that a cliche?)
and i hated myself, too -- pissed that i sank into that mode of hurtful one-upmanship. we never said a single nice thing about each other. it was sadistic on both our parts, sitting there from 9pm until the bar closed at 2am, just playing this ping pong game of cruelty, talking about how wonderful our new (sex) lives are. saying all those things better left unsaid not because you'll regret them later, but because they're all true and carry the most punch.
we then spilled onto the street, by now fully wasted, and began a playful tussle. he pushed me, i punched him in the stomach, he put his hands around my throat and gave a squeeze, i just stared him dead in the eye. nothing really gets out of hand; it wasn't a violent exchange, but the intent was clear. we hated each other at that moment.
i come home, throw up and pass out. this morning, i wake up with the biggest hangover, my body dehydrated, my belly full of anger. i cuddled with juice for a bit, easily the best thing that came out of that four-year relationship. she's all i have, all i need.
i've been a mess all day, canceling my plans and just staying in, processing. it's set me back some. i IMed with pablo this morning, and we both apologized for our vitriolic behavior last night, coughing it up to the alcohol. we agreed not to speak or see one another for a long while.
but it's ok, all this bloodletting. i think it'll get me closer to the next level, where i can really let it all go. (new mantra lately has been 'detach and be free.') perhaps it was too soon to meet and try to be friends, but i thought we were ready. four months out, i really do feel strong and solid. there's no longing or desire to have him or the relationship back, hasn't been for a while. i understand the whys and hows of our split, and am very much enjoying the new life i've carved out for myself. i don't doubt all this.
yet i still need some closure. i guess it'll come with time, even though my rational mind wants it now. last night did much to diminish the sentimental love i still carried in my heart for him, but it shouldn't have happened that way. i don't want to replace that love with anger. my heart has hardened enough. i want to love without fear and live without baggage. a healthy life.
Sunday, June 06, 2004
Hooray for June
i loves me my birthday month, and if you're local and we're tight, expect an invitation to my birthday party, scheduled for the last weekend of this month. i will be 28 and, oddly, this fact doesn't bother me much. i had my oh-my-god-i'm-getting-old freakout when i turned 24 and realized that i wasn't the new kid on the block anymore and that MTV slang now escaped me. that also marked my final year in the coveted 18-24 demographic, with the realization that i would now be grouped with people in their -- gasp! -- thirties in my new box: 25-34. well, it hasn't been so bad after all. things only seem to improve with age, largely because you quit sweating the small stuff and learn to trust life and yourself to take care of what's important. at least that's how it's been for me. i can only hope that my 30th birthday will come and go just as seamlessly (though i have a feeling it will make me panic a bit).
anyhow, not all that much is new. spent the week copyediting. partied some, have had trouble sleeping these past few weeks. the bad news is that juice has been sick all weekend. not sure what she ate, but i came home from work on friday to discover a ruined armchair and the realization that i would have to spend the evening in mopping every square inch of my hardwood floors. twas a nasty sight and she's still not fully recovered.
on saturday, i attended the wedding of my best friend's little sister. strange to see her all grown up and getting married, when i can still remember torturing her in grade school, a fact she constantly reminds me of, saying that i used to throw food at her in the school cafeteria. funny thing is that i caught the bouquet at her wedding, something that's never happened to me before at any wedding. but when i looked up, the flowers were racing right toward me like a bullet and just seemed to land in my hand.
saturday was also the birthday of three very special people who deserve shout-outs. so best of birthday wishes go to mr. david williams, the bestest boss in the world, a dude i like more with each passing day and year that we know each other (how 'bout that raise now, dave?); ms. sharon mor, my estranged israeli soul sister who's living a fabulous life in SF while i miss her terribly back here in LA; and ms. ann dela cruz, an old friend from high school who's still a friend indeed.
anyhow, not all that much is new. spent the week copyediting. partied some, have had trouble sleeping these past few weeks. the bad news is that juice has been sick all weekend. not sure what she ate, but i came home from work on friday to discover a ruined armchair and the realization that i would have to spend the evening in mopping every square inch of my hardwood floors. twas a nasty sight and she's still not fully recovered.
on saturday, i attended the wedding of my best friend's little sister. strange to see her all grown up and getting married, when i can still remember torturing her in grade school, a fact she constantly reminds me of, saying that i used to throw food at her in the school cafeteria. funny thing is that i caught the bouquet at her wedding, something that's never happened to me before at any wedding. but when i looked up, the flowers were racing right toward me like a bullet and just seemed to land in my hand.
saturday was also the birthday of three very special people who deserve shout-outs. so best of birthday wishes go to mr. david williams, the bestest boss in the world, a dude i like more with each passing day and year that we know each other (how 'bout that raise now, dave?); ms. sharon mor, my estranged israeli soul sister who's living a fabulous life in SF while i miss her terribly back here in LA; and ms. ann dela cruz, an old friend from high school who's still a friend indeed.
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