What does a kiss mean?
It's a question I've spent a considerable amount of time pondering lately. It's easy to write a kiss off, to oversimplify it.
When I kissed my wife, it was usually a way of saying, "Hi, I love you," or, "It's good to see you." Sitting on the couch watching TV, I'd lean over and kiss her on her head, if only to remind her, and myself, that I was there, and I loved her.
There's a lot of different types of kiss, and they can all mean different things. A peck on the cheek among friends is a simple expression of platonic affection. A big, wet smooch is a dramatic way to say hello. A soft caress on the neck shows a deep, burning love. Making out is primal lust, pure and simple. A deep, passionate kiss means something else, but a meaning that is not predetermined. The depth of passion can be driven by love, lust, and everything in between. Judas betrayed Jesus with a kiss.
A kiss can say whatever you want it to say.
The trick, my friends, is to not let a kiss fool you. If you're looking for love, you'll find it in a kiss, even if it's not there.
Which brings up another good point: don't let a fool kiss you. We've all (probably) been the fool, thinking we're falling in love over a kiss, and we've all kissed the fool, who doesn't understand.
I have always been told to remember this: don't let a kiss fool you.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Friday, December 4, 2009
Hello, Old Friend
I remembered tonight why I started playing music in the first place.
I was asked by a couple of old friends, with whom I used to play in a couple of bands, to help them host an open jam they had lined up, but had no front man. Play some tunes, make a few bucks, I'm game. The lead up to the gig was particularly stressful for me; it's been years since I've even thought about most of the material we would be playing. My amp didn't work, and most of my gear was sketchy at best. So I got the gear working, went over some songs, packed my car up, and made the trek out to Harrison for the gig.
The gig is somewhere between open jam and open mic, with the fare being somewhere between blues standards and radio favorites, played by patrons between the best and worst of musician and singer. We back them all. One guy played with us for about an hour, playing songs we had all sort of heard, and we made him sound good. I fed off the mutual energy on stage, and the little bit coming in from the audience. I felt a high I haven't felt in years.
But the problem with a high is the inevitable crash.
As I sit here, I feel worn, deeply, as if my soul itself is exhausted. For me, there's a certain emptiness that comes with the crash; I gave of myself, and what I got in return has been spent, and so have I. It's a deep, dark place to be.
But it's worth it.
The high is well-worth the low, by far. I remember why I started playing in the first place. It was nice to see my old friend The Stage tonight, and I hope to see her again soon.
I was asked by a couple of old friends, with whom I used to play in a couple of bands, to help them host an open jam they had lined up, but had no front man. Play some tunes, make a few bucks, I'm game. The lead up to the gig was particularly stressful for me; it's been years since I've even thought about most of the material we would be playing. My amp didn't work, and most of my gear was sketchy at best. So I got the gear working, went over some songs, packed my car up, and made the trek out to Harrison for the gig.
The gig is somewhere between open jam and open mic, with the fare being somewhere between blues standards and radio favorites, played by patrons between the best and worst of musician and singer. We back them all. One guy played with us for about an hour, playing songs we had all sort of heard, and we made him sound good. I fed off the mutual energy on stage, and the little bit coming in from the audience. I felt a high I haven't felt in years.
But the problem with a high is the inevitable crash.
As I sit here, I feel worn, deeply, as if my soul itself is exhausted. For me, there's a certain emptiness that comes with the crash; I gave of myself, and what I got in return has been spent, and so have I. It's a deep, dark place to be.
But it's worth it.
The high is well-worth the low, by far. I remember why I started playing in the first place. It was nice to see my old friend The Stage tonight, and I hope to see her again soon.
Friday, October 30, 2009
XXII - Echo
Okay, so it's been over two weeks since my last blog entry, and quite a lot has happened in that stretch of time. First, I eulogized my stepfather, and I was honored to do so. Second, I lost my job at Ohio Citizen Action. Not a huge deal, I'm not going to die without it, but I miss it; it was fun, it was good exercise, I liked my coworkers, and it was a cause I believe in. (Editor's Note: please write your Reps and Senators and ask them to cosponsor HR. 1310 and S. 696)
Basically, I just wasn't bringing home the bacon, and non-profs are all about the money. I knew that going in. But, the same day, I moved into my new office at Longworth Hall. A friend of mine has a large office suite, and gave me a room that had recently been vacated when the old occupant quit his business. Yep, that's right: I'm open for business. For the foreseeable future, I am pursuing my freelance design work for a living, with my other job as a supplement.
Wednesday was my first full day in my new office, or at least I though it was going to be. I showed up to find my office trashed, and a threatening note left by the old occupant of said office. Apparently, he decided he unquit, and wanted his old office back. And since he's a brother in the family that owns the building, he gets what he wants. All he has to do is act like a child, and he's really good at that, especially for a 40-some year old man.
So, I was forced to pack up and move into a large room down the hall with several of my friend's employees; so, no real privacy, no window, no hardwood floors.
Which brings me to my point: when am I allowed to snap? When do I get to go off? Everyone else gets to trash someone else's office because they can't stick to their decisions. Everyone else gets to behave irrationally, and is coddled and bailed out because of it. Everyone else gets to develop a chemical dependency, and we all have to ignore it.
When's my time? How much weight do I have to bear before I'm allowed to break? I've always been expected to be better than everyone else. "You're smarter than all your classmates," I was told, in the same breath as a scolding for "acting smart." I'm sick of this "higher standard" bullshit, and it is bullshit. There's no other word that quite gets it across.
I think it's time for me to do something stupid. I think it's time for me to go against my better judgement, and do something because it feels right at the moment, damn the torpedoes, to hell with the consequences.
I realized last week that, if a couple of things go right over the next couple of months, I will be able to cut ties with every responsibility I have that keeps me here. My thought for what to do with such a unique situation? Go to Europe. Pack a backpack, grab a guitar, fly standby, and wander around Europe for an indeterminate amount of time. I know a few people there, and they have hostels and other places to stay. And of course, during warmer months, I could always sleep outdoors, under bridges, etc.
This, of course, goes against everything I've ever been about, but maybe that's the point.
I also decided that, likely next week, I'm going backpacking overnight in Red River Gorge, by myself. I need to get my head straight.
My mother couldn't handle that, and all but forbade me from going. What'll she do when I leave the continent?
I don't know what my future holds, but for the first time in my life, I feel like I have options. I can do whatever I want, when I want.
So I guess I'm really starting my new life, cobbled together out of parts of the person I used to be and whatever parts anyone else can spare. I'm actually doing things I never would have done before. I don't know if I'm doing them because I want to, because I need to, because someone talked me into doing them, or if it's just to prove to myself that things have changed. Maybe a little bit of everything. I see echoes of my former self, but he's gone now. As soon as I get to know my new self, I'll introduce him around.
Put down your things and rest awhile,
You know we've both nowhere to go.
Yeah, daddy had to crash,
He was always halfway there, you know.
And no, I don't pretend there's any more of that,
They say one day, you'll look up and laugh and hear the same sad echo.
Basically, I just wasn't bringing home the bacon, and non-profs are all about the money. I knew that going in. But, the same day, I moved into my new office at Longworth Hall. A friend of mine has a large office suite, and gave me a room that had recently been vacated when the old occupant quit his business. Yep, that's right: I'm open for business. For the foreseeable future, I am pursuing my freelance design work for a living, with my other job as a supplement.
Wednesday was my first full day in my new office, or at least I though it was going to be. I showed up to find my office trashed, and a threatening note left by the old occupant of said office. Apparently, he decided he unquit, and wanted his old office back. And since he's a brother in the family that owns the building, he gets what he wants. All he has to do is act like a child, and he's really good at that, especially for a 40-some year old man.
So, I was forced to pack up and move into a large room down the hall with several of my friend's employees; so, no real privacy, no window, no hardwood floors.
Which brings me to my point: when am I allowed to snap? When do I get to go off? Everyone else gets to trash someone else's office because they can't stick to their decisions. Everyone else gets to behave irrationally, and is coddled and bailed out because of it. Everyone else gets to develop a chemical dependency, and we all have to ignore it.
When's my time? How much weight do I have to bear before I'm allowed to break? I've always been expected to be better than everyone else. "You're smarter than all your classmates," I was told, in the same breath as a scolding for "acting smart." I'm sick of this "higher standard" bullshit, and it is bullshit. There's no other word that quite gets it across.
I think it's time for me to do something stupid. I think it's time for me to go against my better judgement, and do something because it feels right at the moment, damn the torpedoes, to hell with the consequences.
I realized last week that, if a couple of things go right over the next couple of months, I will be able to cut ties with every responsibility I have that keeps me here. My thought for what to do with such a unique situation? Go to Europe. Pack a backpack, grab a guitar, fly standby, and wander around Europe for an indeterminate amount of time. I know a few people there, and they have hostels and other places to stay. And of course, during warmer months, I could always sleep outdoors, under bridges, etc.
This, of course, goes against everything I've ever been about, but maybe that's the point.
I also decided that, likely next week, I'm going backpacking overnight in Red River Gorge, by myself. I need to get my head straight.
My mother couldn't handle that, and all but forbade me from going. What'll she do when I leave the continent?
I don't know what my future holds, but for the first time in my life, I feel like I have options. I can do whatever I want, when I want.
So I guess I'm really starting my new life, cobbled together out of parts of the person I used to be and whatever parts anyone else can spare. I'm actually doing things I never would have done before. I don't know if I'm doing them because I want to, because I need to, because someone talked me into doing them, or if it's just to prove to myself that things have changed. Maybe a little bit of everything. I see echoes of my former self, but he's gone now. As soon as I get to know my new self, I'll introduce him around.
Put down your things and rest awhile,
You know we've both nowhere to go.
Yeah, daddy had to crash,
He was always halfway there, you know.
And no, I don't pretend there's any more of that,
They say one day, you'll look up and laugh and hear the same sad echo.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
XXI - Losing Time
Sorry I haven't been writing. My stepfather died Saturday morning. The time spent at the hospital last week didn't lend itself to writing, and as I'm speaking at his funeral tomorrow, I have other things to write.
That being said, I had to mention something very odd I saw yesterday. I was canvassing in Springboro, Ohio, in an upper-middle class neighborhood. As I was walking down the street, I heard a ton of loud, banging noises and music coming from a garage. I got closer, and saw what was going on. About six or seven teenage boys were in their garage with the door open, practicing skateboarding tricks while listening to "You Were Meant For Me" by Jewel.
The moral of the story? Never assume anything.
That being said, I had to mention something very odd I saw yesterday. I was canvassing in Springboro, Ohio, in an upper-middle class neighborhood. As I was walking down the street, I heard a ton of loud, banging noises and music coming from a garage. I got closer, and saw what was going on. About six or seven teenage boys were in their garage with the door open, practicing skateboarding tricks while listening to "You Were Meant For Me" by Jewel.
The moral of the story? Never assume anything.
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
XX - I'll Never Fall In Love Again
I noticed recently that the initialization of the title of this blog is "tome." Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines "tome" as "a volume forming a part of a larger work." To me, that's a pretty apt description of this blog. What I've been describing is a cross-section, a segment of time which is part of the larger work that is my life. Someday, this volume will close, as this part of my life comes to an end. Maybe at that time I'll begin another tome. There's always more to write.
But I didn't come here to write about that.
Isn't falling in love wonderful? I'm not saying I have, but I've been reexamining my history of relationships, and remembering the journey of falling in love. There's the moments, when you feel a new connection, when you're sitting on a porch, watching the moon travel across an empty sky, and you work up the nerve to put your arm around the one you're with. It starts getting cold, but you don't want to leave, and you remember that you can just get closer. It's a beautiful thing, and I'm looking forward to it again.
Sure, as soon as you open up, you just make yourself vulnerable again. You set yourself up for another fall. I've spent a lot of time questioning if I'd ever try to open up again; if I'd even be able to trust someone again. But I've seen that guy. I don't want to be the fifty year old, desperately alone, pretending everything's okay, hiding behind a lifestyle of drinking and anonymous sex. That's not a life I want to live.
I had a beautiful evening yesterday, and you know who you are. Thank you. Some of you are going to want to know more. All in due time. That's another volume in the larger work that is my life. So, I'm moving forward with extreme trepidation; I'm scared of the prospect of being hurt again, but I know I have to take that chance.
What do you get when you fall in love? You only get lies and pain and sorrow. So far at least until tomorrow, I'll never fall in love again.
But I didn't come here to write about that.
Isn't falling in love wonderful? I'm not saying I have, but I've been reexamining my history of relationships, and remembering the journey of falling in love. There's the moments, when you feel a new connection, when you're sitting on a porch, watching the moon travel across an empty sky, and you work up the nerve to put your arm around the one you're with. It starts getting cold, but you don't want to leave, and you remember that you can just get closer. It's a beautiful thing, and I'm looking forward to it again.
Sure, as soon as you open up, you just make yourself vulnerable again. You set yourself up for another fall. I've spent a lot of time questioning if I'd ever try to open up again; if I'd even be able to trust someone again. But I've seen that guy. I don't want to be the fifty year old, desperately alone, pretending everything's okay, hiding behind a lifestyle of drinking and anonymous sex. That's not a life I want to live.
I had a beautiful evening yesterday, and you know who you are. Thank you. Some of you are going to want to know more. All in due time. That's another volume in the larger work that is my life. So, I'm moving forward with extreme trepidation; I'm scared of the prospect of being hurt again, but I know I have to take that chance.
What do you get when you fall in love? You only get lies and pain and sorrow. So far at least until tomorrow, I'll never fall in love again.
Friday, October 2, 2009
XIX - Fall
It's been a long week. It's been a long month. It's been a long life.
Today is the one month anniversary of when Nancy told me she was leaving. One Month. I made it this far. Somehow. I have to give a lot of credit to my friends, who have been there for me every step of the way, especially those who have been fielding my calls, texts, and emails at all hours, and taking my neuroses in stride. You know who you are, and I can never repay you (I'll still try, though).
I paid the rent yesterday. By myself. I didn't think I could do it, but I did. I did what I had to do to survive, and, at least for the time being, it worked. I have to say I'm proud of myself. It's been the little things in which I find comfort, joy, and beauty, like I did yesterday while out canvassing.
Stepping onto a porch, I caught the sweet perfume of flowers hanging in a basket on the porch, the last vestiges of a spring long forgotten. The scent transported me to somewhere I'd never been, to the memory of a life I'd never lived; not a memory of a place or time, but of feeling and emotion, and one that briefly overtook me. Leaving the porch, I pulled in one, last, deep lungfull of the enchanting attar, and was on my way. It set my head right, and I had a great night of canvassing.
Earlier in the day, during our round of introductions, we were asked about our favorite part of fall.
Autumn is time of ending, bringing with it the promise of the coming death of winter. But there's more than that. The trees shed their verdant leaves in a glorious explosion of color, and those very same leaves become part of the soil, covered by the snows of winter, so that they may bring life again in the promise of spring. In the reality of death, there is the promise of life.
That is eternity.
When you fall, you will arise again. That's what I love about fall.
Today is the one month anniversary of when Nancy told me she was leaving. One Month. I made it this far. Somehow. I have to give a lot of credit to my friends, who have been there for me every step of the way, especially those who have been fielding my calls, texts, and emails at all hours, and taking my neuroses in stride. You know who you are, and I can never repay you (I'll still try, though).
I paid the rent yesterday. By myself. I didn't think I could do it, but I did. I did what I had to do to survive, and, at least for the time being, it worked. I have to say I'm proud of myself. It's been the little things in which I find comfort, joy, and beauty, like I did yesterday while out canvassing.
Stepping onto a porch, I caught the sweet perfume of flowers hanging in a basket on the porch, the last vestiges of a spring long forgotten. The scent transported me to somewhere I'd never been, to the memory of a life I'd never lived; not a memory of a place or time, but of feeling and emotion, and one that briefly overtook me. Leaving the porch, I pulled in one, last, deep lungfull of the enchanting attar, and was on my way. It set my head right, and I had a great night of canvassing.
Earlier in the day, during our round of introductions, we were asked about our favorite part of fall.
Autumn is time of ending, bringing with it the promise of the coming death of winter. But there's more than that. The trees shed their verdant leaves in a glorious explosion of color, and those very same leaves become part of the soil, covered by the snows of winter, so that they may bring life again in the promise of spring. In the reality of death, there is the promise of life.
That is eternity.
When you fall, you will arise again. That's what I love about fall.
Monday, September 28, 2009
XVIII - Beyond the Sea
Somewhere beyond the sea,
Somewhere waiting for me,
My lover stands on golden sands,
And watches the ships that go sailin'.
Our wedding theme was "Beyond the Sea," for no reason other than we both loved the song, and had three different and equally fantastic versions of it to include on our Wedding Mix CDs (that we used instead of a DJ): Django Reinhardt's gypsy jazz take on the tune, Kevin Kline's rendition of the original "La Mer" from the French Kiss soundtrack, and of course Bobby Darin's preeminent version. The song seemed to take on a life of it's own in our relationship. Sometimes, if we were out shopping, and the gentle tone of the opening horn riff would waft through the air, I would take her hand and try -and fail- to get her to dance with me in the middle of whatever store we were in. The film, starring Kevin Spacey, was on our short list of must-see movies; we made a date of it on opening night.
Now, when I hear the song, it feels different, as one might expect. There's the bitter pain of loss, but overwhelmingly, I feel warm, happy, the way I did on our wedding day. It was a beautiful day; 70 and sunny, surrounded by our friends, monarch butterflies fluttering by. To call the day "perfect" would be to grossly overstate the meaning of that word.
My lover still stands on golden sands. They are the golden sands of a port from which this ship has sailed, never to return. In my darkest hour, a friend told me, "Large ships at sea turn slowly, and this life-boat you've found yourself in will not suddenly find paradise on a tropical island. By keeping your paddles in the water even if it seems you're going backwards you will find the shore. I promise."
So for now, I'll sail on. They say there's lots of fish in the sea, and someday, I'll meet someone beyond the shore, and we'll kiss just as before. Happy we'll be beyond the sea, and never again, I'll go sailing.
Somewhere waiting for me,
My lover stands on golden sands,
And watches the ships that go sailin'.
Our wedding theme was "Beyond the Sea," for no reason other than we both loved the song, and had three different and equally fantastic versions of it to include on our Wedding Mix CDs (that we used instead of a DJ): Django Reinhardt's gypsy jazz take on the tune, Kevin Kline's rendition of the original "La Mer" from the French Kiss soundtrack, and of course Bobby Darin's preeminent version. The song seemed to take on a life of it's own in our relationship. Sometimes, if we were out shopping, and the gentle tone of the opening horn riff would waft through the air, I would take her hand and try -and fail- to get her to dance with me in the middle of whatever store we were in. The film, starring Kevin Spacey, was on our short list of must-see movies; we made a date of it on opening night.
Now, when I hear the song, it feels different, as one might expect. There's the bitter pain of loss, but overwhelmingly, I feel warm, happy, the way I did on our wedding day. It was a beautiful day; 70 and sunny, surrounded by our friends, monarch butterflies fluttering by. To call the day "perfect" would be to grossly overstate the meaning of that word.
My lover still stands on golden sands. They are the golden sands of a port from which this ship has sailed, never to return. In my darkest hour, a friend told me, "Large ships at sea turn slowly, and this life-boat you've found yourself in will not suddenly find paradise on a tropical island. By keeping your paddles in the water even if it seems you're going backwards you will find the shore. I promise."
So for now, I'll sail on. They say there's lots of fish in the sea, and someday, I'll meet someone beyond the shore, and we'll kiss just as before. Happy we'll be beyond the sea, and never again, I'll go sailing.
Sunday, September 27, 2009
XVII - For Your Lover, Give Some Time
Saturday, July 22, 2000, was the first time I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with Nancy. A friend of mine invited me to his wedding reception, and advised me to bring a date, since I wouldn't know many people there. I had been hanging out with Nancy a lot, and I, not thinking of anything other than taking a friend to a shindig with an open bar, asked if she wanted to go. On a nondescript Tuesday in the kitchen of the house on Coy Street, she said yes.
I arrived Saturday to pick her up, and we drove out to the house hosting the reception in Indian Hill. We spent most of the evening off in the corner, eating, drinking, talking, and laughing. Late that night, as I walked her to her door, she informed me that I was in no condition to drive, and I was to stay there that night.
I walked upstairs and picked out a spot on the couch in the common room, but no; she told me I could sleep in her bed... with her.
Nothing happened that night, and yet, everything happened. We never really slept, but when the sun rose in the morning, opening my eyes and seeing her there seemed right; more right than anything I had ever known. I never in my wildest dreams could have imagined the amazing journey we would share.
It was a beautiful journey which brought us to where we are.
I recently purchased the new record from Richard Hawley, Truelove's Gutter. Besides being an absolutely amazing, deep, intense record, it also contains what may in fact be the most apropos song to how I feel: "For Your Lover, Give Some Time." I don't really have anything profound or beautiful to say about it, other than please enjoy, and I hope you'll hold the one you love just a little bit tighter tonight, and for your lover, give some time.
I arrived Saturday to pick her up, and we drove out to the house hosting the reception in Indian Hill. We spent most of the evening off in the corner, eating, drinking, talking, and laughing. Late that night, as I walked her to her door, she informed me that I was in no condition to drive, and I was to stay there that night.
I walked upstairs and picked out a spot on the couch in the common room, but no; she told me I could sleep in her bed... with her.
Nothing happened that night, and yet, everything happened. We never really slept, but when the sun rose in the morning, opening my eyes and seeing her there seemed right; more right than anything I had ever known. I never in my wildest dreams could have imagined the amazing journey we would share.
It was a beautiful journey which brought us to where we are.
I recently purchased the new record from Richard Hawley, Truelove's Gutter. Besides being an absolutely amazing, deep, intense record, it also contains what may in fact be the most apropos song to how I feel: "For Your Lover, Give Some Time." I don't really have anything profound or beautiful to say about it, other than please enjoy, and I hope you'll hold the one you love just a little bit tighter tonight, and for your lover, give some time.
Friday, September 25, 2009
XVI - Understanding
I wrote to Nancy last night. I needed to explain a few things to her that I had already explained to you, my readers, and I felt she needed to know.
I told her about how lucky I feel to have known her, and shared the time with her that I did. I told her about how much I learned from her about myself, and about the world in general.
I told her...
There was more, of course, but somethings, even for this blog, are too personal. But the general point was that I understand why she had to leave, and I let her know that I'll always love her, and will always remember the good times.
And I will.
I'm still sad, of course. I've lost my best friend. What we had was amazing, beautiful, tumultuous, warm, and loving, and even if I would have known on day one that it would end this way, I'd still go along for the ride. Life will bring us enough unhappiness and pain on its own; it's up to us to find the joy in life. Nancy was my joy, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. I wish she didn't have to go, but I understand why.
I'll leave you with the words of (the wonderful) Morgan Freeman from The Shawshank Redemption:
I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up DOES rejoice. Still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone. I guess I just miss my friend.
I told her about how lucky I feel to have known her, and shared the time with her that I did. I told her about how much I learned from her about myself, and about the world in general.
I told her...
There was more, of course, but somethings, even for this blog, are too personal. But the general point was that I understand why she had to leave, and I let her know that I'll always love her, and will always remember the good times.
And I will.
I'm still sad, of course. I've lost my best friend. What we had was amazing, beautiful, tumultuous, warm, and loving, and even if I would have known on day one that it would end this way, I'd still go along for the ride. Life will bring us enough unhappiness and pain on its own; it's up to us to find the joy in life. Nancy was my joy, and I wouldn't trade it for anything. I wish she didn't have to go, but I understand why.
I'll leave you with the words of (the wonderful) Morgan Freeman from The Shawshank Redemption:
I have to remind myself that some birds aren't meant to be caged. Their feathers are just too bright. And when they fly away, the part of you that knows it was a sin to lock them up DOES rejoice. Still, the place you live in is that much more drab and empty that they're gone. I guess I just miss my friend.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
XV - A Little Rain Never Hurt No One
I have a new favorite phrase: "I'm not interested in anything." I hear it time and time again from people I'm canvassing. Sure, I know what they actually mean. But at the same time, maybe they're not interested in anything. My first thought is, "that's sad. Everyone needs a hobby."
But that's not what I came here to talk about.
It's been rainy and gloomy here lately, and it's starting to get to me. I really didn't want to get up today -not like that's a change from any other day these days- and I just feel run down. It takes a lot of energy for me to hold it together and keep going, and days like this, especially several at a stretch, and especially when it's as humid as it's been, I just don't know if I can keep going.
I wonder sometimes if I'm doing this right, but I guess there's no right way. My mom tried to keep me from taking off my wedding ring; she said it was too soon. Maybe she was right. I can't stand to be without it, so I wear it on a chain around my neck. But I digress.
It's supposed to start being nice again Sunday. The temperature will cool down, the humidity will go away, and the sun will return. For now, I have to fight even harder to keep the willpower to keep going. I know I'll be okay, I know I'll make it through, but it's hard to keep going. So today I guess I'll be back out hoofing it in the rain.
But a little rain never hurt no one.
But that's not what I came here to talk about.
It's been rainy and gloomy here lately, and it's starting to get to me. I really didn't want to get up today -not like that's a change from any other day these days- and I just feel run down. It takes a lot of energy for me to hold it together and keep going, and days like this, especially several at a stretch, and especially when it's as humid as it's been, I just don't know if I can keep going.
I wonder sometimes if I'm doing this right, but I guess there's no right way. My mom tried to keep me from taking off my wedding ring; she said it was too soon. Maybe she was right. I can't stand to be without it, so I wear it on a chain around my neck. But I digress.
It's supposed to start being nice again Sunday. The temperature will cool down, the humidity will go away, and the sun will return. For now, I have to fight even harder to keep the willpower to keep going. I know I'll be okay, I know I'll make it through, but it's hard to keep going. So today I guess I'll be back out hoofing it in the rain.
But a little rain never hurt no one.
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
XIV - Coffee
It occurred to me recently that I don't remember how to start talking to people, (yes, I saw House last night, and I caught the bit about starting with "Hello") and I'm extremely intimidated by women. I realize, too, that this isn't a huge concern right now, but at the same time, as with any skill, it never hurts to practice. So that's what I'm going to do.
I'm going to practice talking to women.
My goal is a low-key coffee date. Simple. Just two people talking, with no expectations and no strings attached. I'm not looking for a relationship right now, although new friends are never a bad thing. But I've learned recently that I have to face my fears head-on. It's not something I would have ever done on my own; I'm playing a forced hand. But I think I'm playing it well.
When Nancy left, I remember thinking, "What am I going to do? How am I going to live?" I was scared to death, I had no idea where to start, and I was convinced that I'd never be able to cobble together a living, especially immediately after being so devastated. Then I looked up and realized I had already done what I needed to do. I found another job, got lines out for better jobs down the road, and figured out a rough (and very conservative) budget, all basically on instinct. I took my fear, and redirected the energy into taking care of business. So, why not tackle another big, looming demon?
I don't have a time frame for this new goal, however. It's unrealistic and unfair to myself and anyone I might come in contact with. Sure, I could take a contrived, callous approach, and get what I want, but that's not me. At least, I hope it's not me. This exercise is as much about getting to know me and how I think, feel, and interact just as much as it is getting to know someone else.
I'm not looking to replace right now, but I need to get my legs underneath me. If you plan on running a marathon someday, you might want to get up off the couch and take a walk. So I'll go out, feign smiles when I have to, and relearn human interaction. And according to Michael Caine in Batman Begins, "You start pretending to have fun, you might even have a little by accident."
I'm going to practice talking to women.
My goal is a low-key coffee date. Simple. Just two people talking, with no expectations and no strings attached. I'm not looking for a relationship right now, although new friends are never a bad thing. But I've learned recently that I have to face my fears head-on. It's not something I would have ever done on my own; I'm playing a forced hand. But I think I'm playing it well.
When Nancy left, I remember thinking, "What am I going to do? How am I going to live?" I was scared to death, I had no idea where to start, and I was convinced that I'd never be able to cobble together a living, especially immediately after being so devastated. Then I looked up and realized I had already done what I needed to do. I found another job, got lines out for better jobs down the road, and figured out a rough (and very conservative) budget, all basically on instinct. I took my fear, and redirected the energy into taking care of business. So, why not tackle another big, looming demon?
I don't have a time frame for this new goal, however. It's unrealistic and unfair to myself and anyone I might come in contact with. Sure, I could take a contrived, callous approach, and get what I want, but that's not me. At least, I hope it's not me. This exercise is as much about getting to know me and how I think, feel, and interact just as much as it is getting to know someone else.
I'm not looking to replace right now, but I need to get my legs underneath me. If you plan on running a marathon someday, you might want to get up off the couch and take a walk. So I'll go out, feign smiles when I have to, and relearn human interaction. And according to Michael Caine in Batman Begins, "You start pretending to have fun, you might even have a little by accident."
Sunday, September 20, 2009
XIII - The Luckiest
I don't get many things right the first time,
In fact, I am told that a lot.
Now I know all the wrong turns, the stumbles and falls,
Brought me here.
And where was I before the day,
That I first saw your lovely face?
Now I see it everyday,
And I know,
That I am,
I am,
I am,
The luckiest.
--"The Luckiest," Ben Folds
I've spent the last twelve blog entries trying to find the right words to say. This has presented several problems, one of which being that what I was trying to say changed on a regular basis, often while I was writing. Other times, I would think of the perfect thing to say, only to forget it when I tried to write it down. But, as is so often the case, somethings are best left to the professionals; in this case, Ben Folds, whom I discovered through Nancy.
The song "The Luckiest," from the album Rockin' the Suburbs, has most accurately expressed the core of how I feel. Sure, there's plenty of pain now, and I feel lonely and abandoned, in a generally manic sort of way, but there's more to it. "It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," is not just a clever phrase. It's true. The time I spent with Nancy over the last 9+ years was fantastic. Sure, there were plenty of bad times, but, to me, it was all beautiful.
I've struggled recently with knowing what to do now. Sometimes I feel like, things I want to do, things that I like, I can't do anymore, because they aren't mine. Things I like because Nancy introduced them to me, or things we discovered together, aren't mine. I'm learning now that I'm still allowed to like them; they didn't belong to anyone to begin with.
I don't remember a lot about who I was before I met Nancy. To be honest, I didn't really know who I was then, anyway. I realize now I have the opportunity -or challenge, depending on your perspective- of self-discovery and reinvention. But I know now that I don't have to abandon what I know now. I'm still who I am, but I can rebuild me. I have the technology.
I have challenges in front of me that I never thought I'd face. I thought Nancy and I were different. I thought, "We're not like everyone else. We have something special." But I realized something: we're just like everyone else. We're the same confused, frightened mass of humanity that's screaming, crying, fighting and dying our way through life. The only difference is that most people aren't able to see the beauty of life. Most people aren't able to take the pain, and feel alive because of it. But I am.
I am. I am the luckiest.
In fact, I am told that a lot.
Now I know all the wrong turns, the stumbles and falls,
Brought me here.
And where was I before the day,
That I first saw your lovely face?
Now I see it everyday,
And I know,
That I am,
I am,
I am,
The luckiest.
--"The Luckiest," Ben Folds
I've spent the last twelve blog entries trying to find the right words to say. This has presented several problems, one of which being that what I was trying to say changed on a regular basis, often while I was writing. Other times, I would think of the perfect thing to say, only to forget it when I tried to write it down. But, as is so often the case, somethings are best left to the professionals; in this case, Ben Folds, whom I discovered through Nancy.
The song "The Luckiest," from the album Rockin' the Suburbs, has most accurately expressed the core of how I feel. Sure, there's plenty of pain now, and I feel lonely and abandoned, in a generally manic sort of way, but there's more to it. "It's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," is not just a clever phrase. It's true. The time I spent with Nancy over the last 9+ years was fantastic. Sure, there were plenty of bad times, but, to me, it was all beautiful.
I've struggled recently with knowing what to do now. Sometimes I feel like, things I want to do, things that I like, I can't do anymore, because they aren't mine. Things I like because Nancy introduced them to me, or things we discovered together, aren't mine. I'm learning now that I'm still allowed to like them; they didn't belong to anyone to begin with.
I don't remember a lot about who I was before I met Nancy. To be honest, I didn't really know who I was then, anyway. I realize now I have the opportunity -or challenge, depending on your perspective- of self-discovery and reinvention. But I know now that I don't have to abandon what I know now. I'm still who I am, but I can rebuild me. I have the technology.
I have challenges in front of me that I never thought I'd face. I thought Nancy and I were different. I thought, "We're not like everyone else. We have something special." But I realized something: we're just like everyone else. We're the same confused, frightened mass of humanity that's screaming, crying, fighting and dying our way through life. The only difference is that most people aren't able to see the beauty of life. Most people aren't able to take the pain, and feel alive because of it. But I am.
I am. I am the luckiest.
Friday, September 18, 2009
XII - Hot Air for the Cool Breeze
Things will always get better, just like things will always get worse, and then better again. It's just the way of things.
The sun yesterday was hot, and the neighborhood I was in had almost no shade. The heat radiating off everyone's dark painted doors felt like an open oven, and I have a small burn on my knocking knuckle. Those of you who know me know I'm not a fan of heat; I hate it. Something in me, though, allowed me to push it aside and keep going. Good thing, too, because yesterday, I blew my fundraising and letter writing goals away. With a goal of $150 raised, 12 letters to Congress, and 5 email addresses, I raised $206, got 23 letters (including 2 from children with mountain drawings), and 7 email addresses. It was a very productive day.
But that's not what I'm here to talk about.
As I said, the sun was hot, but onward I pressed. I couldn't give up, so I kept going. I don't know where the will came from, not just to keep moving yesterday, but to keep moving everyday. Then, at around 7:30, just as the sun was going down, I looked west, and saw a beautiful sunset, and a cool, comforting breeze swept gently through the neighborhood. I suddenly realized that was my reward; the sunset, because I took the time to look for it, and the cool breeze, because I earned it. That same breeze would not have been so comforting if I hadn't been sweaty and hot from a day spent hoofing it under the sun. I wasn't looking for it, I wasn't asking for it, but I got it. And how sweet it was.
I'm not saying that everyone who works hard will be rewarded, and I'm not here to debate whether or not there's some Great Justifier who doles out payment and punishment with any semblance of fairness. I could have stewed on what I don't like about my life right now, and kept my head down, but I wouldn't have seen the sunset. I could have sat home, and not felt the breeze. Sure, tomorrow, the sun will be hot again, I'll feel the pain of loss and loneliness again. But as sure as the sun will rise, it will again set, and I'll be there, trading hot air for the cool breeze.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Part XI - Fresh-Baked Cookies & Old Piano
The olfactory is tied to memory, more so than any other sense. Tonight, while out canvassing, I caught the scent of lavender growing in someone's yard, and I remembered, vividly, how I felt when I received a lavender-scented eye pillow from a dear, old friend. I smelled the water from a sprinkler on the pavement and grass, and it took me back to a very particular day the summer I turned five. Scent is powerful.
Today was a rough day. I had to "retrain" at work, which basically means I had to follow a seasoned veteran for half my shift, and then go out on my own later. I can handle the canvassing when I'm out doing it; the people I talk to are here and gone, but I struggle with the interactions with coworkers.
The turf (that's what we call the area we're canvassing) today was Green Township, and I had a particularly affluent section of it. As the old saying goes, "Money don't make good people." I had doors slammed in my face, I was called terrible names, etc. I don't really care, but after a while, it was starting to wear on me. Then I reached a house I'll never forget.
I walked up the drive and along the white picket fence that followed the impeccable yet subtle landscaping up the walk to the porch, stepped to the door, and rang the bell. As the door opened, I smelled what had to be fresh baked cookies and old piano. The lady at the door seemed somewhat rushed but pleasant, and let me get through my bit. As she was signing, a buzzer went off in the kitchen. She apologized, and said she'd just be a moment. Turns out she was baking cookies. When she came back, she donated and agreed to write letters (that's all 3 parts of our campaign, by the way). I commented that when she opened the door, I swore I smelled fresh baked cookies and old piano. She looked astonished, stepped to the side, and pointed at her 5-foot grand in the living room. She asked if I could smell how old, and I guessed over 100 years. Apparently I nailed it, and she offered me a cookie while I finished her receipt. She came back with two, fresh chocolate macadamia nut cookies. They were exquisite.
I swung back by the house later to get the letters, which she dutifully placed outside at 8:30 on the dot. I made it about a half mile down the street, and realized that I needed to go back; I had to thank her again.
I rang the bell and told her, on a personal note, how much her hospitality and kindness meant to me, in my non-specific hour of darkness and need. She blushed and reminded me that there are still good people in the world.
That's true. And I'll always remember that good when I smell fresh-baked cookies and old piano.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Part X - Two Weeks
Two weeks ago tomorrow, my world changed forever. The first week wasn't as bad as I expected, and I thought I might be lucky, and handle this thing better. But mourning isn't linear. A good day does not necessarily precede a better day. Today was a bad day.
I got an email about an upcoming sale and event at Ikea - the kind of thing we would have made it a point to go to - and I lost it. I cried at my desk for about ten minutes. I'm glad I can close the door to my office... I didn't want to disturb anyone.
The weight of what lie in front of me is too much to bear. Like an addict, I can't handle the rest of my life without Nancy. I can't imagine a month or more of canvassing. In fact, I can't imagine making it through the night. But I can do the next five minutes. Once that's done, I'll see what else I can do. Right now, I don't have to live the rest of my life. I just have to handle now. One day, one hour, one minute, one breath at a time.
It's tough, but apparently I'm tough. I didn't think I could make it this far. And two weeks has been a longtime.
I got an email about an upcoming sale and event at Ikea - the kind of thing we would have made it a point to go to - and I lost it. I cried at my desk for about ten minutes. I'm glad I can close the door to my office... I didn't want to disturb anyone.
The weight of what lie in front of me is too much to bear. Like an addict, I can't handle the rest of my life without Nancy. I can't imagine a month or more of canvassing. In fact, I can't imagine making it through the night. But I can do the next five minutes. Once that's done, I'll see what else I can do. Right now, I don't have to live the rest of my life. I just have to handle now. One day, one hour, one minute, one breath at a time.
It's tough, but apparently I'm tough. I didn't think I could make it this far. And two weeks has been a longtime.
Monday, September 14, 2009
Part IX - Empty Closets
Yesterday, I noticed that Nancy's closet was empty. An empty closet is a powerful statement; an undeniable, powerful indicator of loss. It was a tough thing to deal with.
Speaking of closets, I dug through my closet and pieced together a suit that recently started fitting again, a nice shirt and tie, and some shoes, in dire need of a dusting, shine, and new laces. I trimmed my beard, cleaned myself up, and actually was able to make myself look like something. All this in time for this morning's interview.
I did okay in the interview, but left feeling cold about it. The lady who interviewed me seemed distant and disengaged, though I was able to get her to smile and open up a couple of times. But in general, she was hard to read. She told me someone would contact me in 7-10 days, and, if I get it, the start date is October 12th. Which brings me to problem #2:
I hate canvassing.
I can't deal with doing this job for a month. I can't deal with doing this job for a week. Not even two days. So I went minute by minute. By the end of my day today, I felt a bit better. I rearranged my schedule today, too. I work at TBNK on Mondays and Tuesdays (10.5 hours each day), and Wednesdays, Thursdays & Fridays at Ohio Citizen Action (about 8 hours each day).
Combine that with playing/singing at Nexus church, and I'm cobbling together a living. It's the first step to a new life. And that's something... something I might be able to fill that closet with. Someday.
Speaking of closets, I dug through my closet and pieced together a suit that recently started fitting again, a nice shirt and tie, and some shoes, in dire need of a dusting, shine, and new laces. I trimmed my beard, cleaned myself up, and actually was able to make myself look like something. All this in time for this morning's interview.
I did okay in the interview, but left feeling cold about it. The lady who interviewed me seemed distant and disengaged, though I was able to get her to smile and open up a couple of times. But in general, she was hard to read. She told me someone would contact me in 7-10 days, and, if I get it, the start date is October 12th. Which brings me to problem #2:
I hate canvassing.
I can't deal with doing this job for a month. I can't deal with doing this job for a week. Not even two days. So I went minute by minute. By the end of my day today, I felt a bit better. I rearranged my schedule today, too. I work at TBNK on Mondays and Tuesdays (10.5 hours each day), and Wednesdays, Thursdays & Fridays at Ohio Citizen Action (about 8 hours each day).
Combine that with playing/singing at Nexus church, and I'm cobbling together a living. It's the first step to a new life. And that's something... something I might be able to fill that closet with. Someday.
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Part VIII - Orientation
I don't know where to start.
Friday was my volunteer "Orientation Day" at Ohio Citizen Action, where you follow the canvassers around to see if they like you, and if you like the job. Near the end of the day they revealed that you promised money isn't guaranteed: it's dependent upon raising a certain amount of money. Otherwise, it's minimum wage. Also, they let me know that, during training, the day starts at 1pm, not 2, as was previously described. For the time being, they're allowing me to come in at 1:30, so I can still work at TBNK from 9 - 1. 9am to 10pm, 5 days a week. 13 hours a day, with a half hour off to drive from one to the other. 62.5 hours a week, and not much money to show for it.
The job was miserable. I can't even begin to describe how hard it is to try to talk people out of their money when you just want to curl up in a ball and cry. Of course, knowing that I had seen her for the last time, and she'd be gone in the morning, made the day a bit more difficult. Drained emotionally, mentally, and physically, I made it back to mom's. She seems to be taking the whole thing pretty hard, too. But it is what it is, and nothing's going to change it.
Saturday morning. I got up, showered, drank some coffee, got my stuff together, and headed "home." The place was empty; not really, there's still stuff everywhere, but Nancy's absence is palpable. Some friends came by to hang out and take me to lunch. We headed over to a favorite little tea house of theirs in Oakley. I looked at the menu, thinking the entire time, "Nancy would love this place, I'll have to remember to bring her...." I had to leave. We ended up at IHOP, with, apparently, the entire population of New York, LA, and Chicago combined. The place was slammed; they were out of glasses, silverware, but somehow, not tables. The food was... food. I couldn't finish two eggs, hash browns, and two sausage links.
We headed back to the apartment, and I had them pick through our rather large collection of board games. They took most of them, the rest, who knows. We hung out, watched some South Park, and they left. I sat looking at what's left of my life, and realized that there's some more I need to get rid of.
Before Nancy left, she said she was leaving some books and DVDs, and she suggested I sell them. So I did. I packed up two laundry baskets of books and DVDs (some hers, some mine) and headed up to Half Price Books. I got a decent amount of money for them. Then I headed over to my sister's house for my niece's birthday party. I gave her my old cedar chest; not much use for it anymore. I borrowed (long-term) my sister's old 4 cup coffee maker, stopped to get some cheap coffee at Big Lots on the way home, and called up another friend. We hung out around the apartment while I folded laundry, watched some more South Park (hey, it's free online). Then we headed up to Sorrento's for a drink. We sat and watched the bulk of the OSU / USC game, drank a couple of pitchers, and staggered home. My friend went home, and I went to bed. I didn't sleep much, but I laid there pretending to sleep, hoping I could convince myself to fall asleep. My alarm went off before that happened.
I sang with Nancy's old church band this morning. My buddy, the bass player, picked my up at about 8:15 am, and we headed up. It was an easy $50, and it looks like I'll be able to do it every week, which is an easy $200 a month. Add that to everything else, and I'm making a living... 70 hours of work a week, but it's a living. I just wish staying busy would keep my mind off things, but it doesn't.
I miss her more than I can describe, and I don't know what's going to happen; it scares me. I know I've got great friends and family around me, but there's just too many questions, and I don't know if I can do this canvassing job. I don't know.
I just don't know.
Friday was my volunteer "Orientation Day" at Ohio Citizen Action, where you follow the canvassers around to see if they like you, and if you like the job. Near the end of the day they revealed that you promised money isn't guaranteed: it's dependent upon raising a certain amount of money. Otherwise, it's minimum wage. Also, they let me know that, during training, the day starts at 1pm, not 2, as was previously described. For the time being, they're allowing me to come in at 1:30, so I can still work at TBNK from 9 - 1. 9am to 10pm, 5 days a week. 13 hours a day, with a half hour off to drive from one to the other. 62.5 hours a week, and not much money to show for it.
The job was miserable. I can't even begin to describe how hard it is to try to talk people out of their money when you just want to curl up in a ball and cry. Of course, knowing that I had seen her for the last time, and she'd be gone in the morning, made the day a bit more difficult. Drained emotionally, mentally, and physically, I made it back to mom's. She seems to be taking the whole thing pretty hard, too. But it is what it is, and nothing's going to change it.
Saturday morning. I got up, showered, drank some coffee, got my stuff together, and headed "home." The place was empty; not really, there's still stuff everywhere, but Nancy's absence is palpable. Some friends came by to hang out and take me to lunch. We headed over to a favorite little tea house of theirs in Oakley. I looked at the menu, thinking the entire time, "Nancy would love this place, I'll have to remember to bring her...." I had to leave. We ended up at IHOP, with, apparently, the entire population of New York, LA, and Chicago combined. The place was slammed; they were out of glasses, silverware, but somehow, not tables. The food was... food. I couldn't finish two eggs, hash browns, and two sausage links.
We headed back to the apartment, and I had them pick through our rather large collection of board games. They took most of them, the rest, who knows. We hung out, watched some South Park, and they left. I sat looking at what's left of my life, and realized that there's some more I need to get rid of.
Before Nancy left, she said she was leaving some books and DVDs, and she suggested I sell them. So I did. I packed up two laundry baskets of books and DVDs (some hers, some mine) and headed up to Half Price Books. I got a decent amount of money for them. Then I headed over to my sister's house for my niece's birthday party. I gave her my old cedar chest; not much use for it anymore. I borrowed (long-term) my sister's old 4 cup coffee maker, stopped to get some cheap coffee at Big Lots on the way home, and called up another friend. We hung out around the apartment while I folded laundry, watched some more South Park (hey, it's free online). Then we headed up to Sorrento's for a drink. We sat and watched the bulk of the OSU / USC game, drank a couple of pitchers, and staggered home. My friend went home, and I went to bed. I didn't sleep much, but I laid there pretending to sleep, hoping I could convince myself to fall asleep. My alarm went off before that happened.
I sang with Nancy's old church band this morning. My buddy, the bass player, picked my up at about 8:15 am, and we headed up. It was an easy $50, and it looks like I'll be able to do it every week, which is an easy $200 a month. Add that to everything else, and I'm making a living... 70 hours of work a week, but it's a living. I just wish staying busy would keep my mind off things, but it doesn't.
I miss her more than I can describe, and I don't know what's going to happen; it scares me. I know I've got great friends and family around me, but there's just too many questions, and I don't know if I can do this canvassing job. I don't know.
I just don't know.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Part VII (part II) - (dis)connections
Got a call from Nancy tonight. A lot of final details, etc. She suggested we get together one last time. We met up at Barnes & Noble in Kenwood. I knew where she'd be, over in the notebooks and stationary. We walked over to the coffee shop. I got a cream soda, she got a decaf vanilla latté and a scone. We grabbed a table, and we talked. We talked as friends; two people who genuinely like, love, and care about each other. Sure, it was bitter, but it was also sweet. We finished our beverages and walked outside. I stood staring off, trying to find words to express the weight of the situation, and came up empty. Nancy, however, expressed it perfectly: "I'll miss you."
We embraced, and she cried on my shoulder. As we stood there, in our perfect moment together, the dulcet tones of Gene Autry's "Don't Fence Me In" drifted through the air from Johnny Rocket's. The irony wasn't lost on us. Then, a peck on the cheek, and we parted.
The whole scene was, for me, almost nostalgic. I guess I'm just having a good day, but today, I feel optimistic about the future. Tomorrow, or even later tonight, I can't say the same.
But for now, I think I'm going to be okay.
We embraced, and she cried on my shoulder. As we stood there, in our perfect moment together, the dulcet tones of Gene Autry's "Don't Fence Me In" drifted through the air from Johnny Rocket's. The irony wasn't lost on us. Then, a peck on the cheek, and we parted.
The whole scene was, for me, almost nostalgic. I guess I'm just having a good day, but today, I feel optimistic about the future. Tomorrow, or even later tonight, I can't say the same.
But for now, I think I'm going to be okay.
Part VII - Connections
I really didn't want to get out of bed this morning, and I suspect I'll be dealing with a lot of that for a long time. I had an early appointment with a client. I'm tired of freelance work. It's just becoming more stressful, especially as the dollar amounts go higher, and I still end up barely making enough for how much time it takes. I think I just want steady income. I don't mind the daily grind, and the certainty might be exactly what I need to get my head together.
I had an appointment at Ohio Citizen Action today to fill out an application, followed by a brief interview. They're looking for canvassers to go around signing people up in opposition to mountain top removal mining. They pay $375 a week, and it's Monday - Friday, 2pm - 10pm. I'd still be able to maintain about 20 hours a week at TBNK, and make a decent buck. Tomorrow is my "volunteer day," where I go through the motions to see if they like me, and if I like the work. I'm not being picky, and I hope I can start for real Monday.
I checked my email later, and I had a request from Macy's (with whom I had recently applied) to schedule a phone interview. The earliest slot was 3:30, so I took it. While I waited, I applied for a few other jobs. Then the phone rang.
I have to say it went well. I have a face-to-face interview Monday at 10:30 am with the Hiring Manager. I need to be on my A game. I need this gig for my own survival: emotional, mental, and physical. Having something to be optimistic about has really improved my mood today. Hasn't been a ton of good news, lately. I ate a bit of food, and feel what could almost be described as "okay." Of course, it only seems "okay" relative to how it's been, but it's a start.
Nancy wants to talk later, to "iron some things out." I don't know what that means, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. In the meantime, I'd love to know why my phone, which works in the basement in Greenwich Village, doesn't work in the heart of Blue Ash.
I had an appointment at Ohio Citizen Action today to fill out an application, followed by a brief interview. They're looking for canvassers to go around signing people up in opposition to mountain top removal mining. They pay $375 a week, and it's Monday - Friday, 2pm - 10pm. I'd still be able to maintain about 20 hours a week at TBNK, and make a decent buck. Tomorrow is my "volunteer day," where I go through the motions to see if they like me, and if I like the work. I'm not being picky, and I hope I can start for real Monday.
I checked my email later, and I had a request from Macy's (with whom I had recently applied) to schedule a phone interview. The earliest slot was 3:30, so I took it. While I waited, I applied for a few other jobs. Then the phone rang.
I have to say it went well. I have a face-to-face interview Monday at 10:30 am with the Hiring Manager. I need to be on my A game. I need this gig for my own survival: emotional, mental, and physical. Having something to be optimistic about has really improved my mood today. Hasn't been a ton of good news, lately. I ate a bit of food, and feel what could almost be described as "okay." Of course, it only seems "okay" relative to how it's been, but it's a start.
Nancy wants to talk later, to "iron some things out." I don't know what that means, but I'll cross that bridge when I come to it. In the meantime, I'd love to know why my phone, which works in the basement in Greenwich Village, doesn't work in the heart of Blue Ash.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Part VI - Magic
I keep thinking I've come to the realization that this is actually happening, and that there's nothing I, or anyone, can do to change it. I keep thinking I've got it, and then I have a day like today.
The day started out rough; not bad, considering, but I really didn't want to get out of bed. I got up, got dressed, and finally got myself to work. It was so quiet this morning. It was just me and Mindi for most of the morning, and I had to go sit in Mindi's office and just talk for a while to keep it together. The day picked up later, and kept me distracted for the time being. After work, I needed to stop at the apartment to pick up a few things, and go through some stuff.
When I walked in, it looked like a different place; the Don Quixote print gone from over the fireplace, the Mingus poster gone, as well. There was a big pile of everything she'd packed up in the bedroom. I got a box, took down our wedding portrait, a picture of us from the mantel, and my Spongebob wedding cake topper, and put it all away. I figured it would be a good idea to do it now, instead of on Saturday. I went through some old mail and documents, and dug out what was hers. Then I took the three owl drawings I had done for her years ago off the refridgerator, and put them in a folder. Then I laid down on the couch and wept... and wept.
All the while, I had been trying to reach her on the phone, to see when she'd be home. She finally got back to me, and met me at home. I was still on the couch crying when she came in. And I begged. I begged and pleaded, and cried. We talked, we cried, we argued a bit, and at the end of the day, everything's still the same.
I panicked this evening, mostly about what I'm going to do. (When I start thinking about losing my home, I panic about losing Nancy. Then when I shift to thinking about losing Nancy, I panic about losing my home.) I felt the immensity of everything around me weighing down on me. We have stuff everywhere, and that's part of the problem. And she's right, of course: I'm the reason we have all the stuff. I just thought I was doing the right thing.
It turns out it isn't just a difference of opinion on what life is about. I'm too controlling, and can be too negative. I know this, and have worked on it, and even gotten better about it, but I can't change who I am. She still tells me there's nothing I could have done different. It's just who I am, and she doesn't expect me to be someone different.
Like I said, I begged and I pleaded. I said I could change. I said I could give up and be what she needed, but that's not what she needs. And of course, I'd be miserable. In my head, now, it seems worth it to be with her, but she's right: it would be worse.
But that leaves me, still, in the same predicament.
Barring some miracle (starting a new job with sufficient pay in the next week), I'm probably not staying at the place in Norwood. I have the option to sublet, and I should probably do it before I burn through every dime I have. I guess there's worse things than packing up, storing what I can, selling or giving away everything else, and repairing to the nurturing home of my mother and stepfather. It might be what I need to get my head right, and get back on my feet. But I don't know what the right thing to do is. I've never done this before.
But I'm trying not to think too far ahead, at least for a few more days. I have an appointment in the morning with a client who, maybe, by some miracle, will give me enough money to get me through for at least a few months. Or should I sublet anyway and get a smaller place? Or move with my mom? I need answers, and right now all I find are questions. I guess that comes with the territory.
I'm hoping for a certain someone, like some old-time magician, to pull a rabbit out of his hat, but unlike the toppers of those great performers of old, I know the hat's empty. I'm hoping for real magic.
The day started out rough; not bad, considering, but I really didn't want to get out of bed. I got up, got dressed, and finally got myself to work. It was so quiet this morning. It was just me and Mindi for most of the morning, and I had to go sit in Mindi's office and just talk for a while to keep it together. The day picked up later, and kept me distracted for the time being. After work, I needed to stop at the apartment to pick up a few things, and go through some stuff.
When I walked in, it looked like a different place; the Don Quixote print gone from over the fireplace, the Mingus poster gone, as well. There was a big pile of everything she'd packed up in the bedroom. I got a box, took down our wedding portrait, a picture of us from the mantel, and my Spongebob wedding cake topper, and put it all away. I figured it would be a good idea to do it now, instead of on Saturday. I went through some old mail and documents, and dug out what was hers. Then I took the three owl drawings I had done for her years ago off the refridgerator, and put them in a folder. Then I laid down on the couch and wept... and wept.
All the while, I had been trying to reach her on the phone, to see when she'd be home. She finally got back to me, and met me at home. I was still on the couch crying when she came in. And I begged. I begged and pleaded, and cried. We talked, we cried, we argued a bit, and at the end of the day, everything's still the same.
I panicked this evening, mostly about what I'm going to do. (When I start thinking about losing my home, I panic about losing Nancy. Then when I shift to thinking about losing Nancy, I panic about losing my home.) I felt the immensity of everything around me weighing down on me. We have stuff everywhere, and that's part of the problem. And she's right, of course: I'm the reason we have all the stuff. I just thought I was doing the right thing.
It turns out it isn't just a difference of opinion on what life is about. I'm too controlling, and can be too negative. I know this, and have worked on it, and even gotten better about it, but I can't change who I am. She still tells me there's nothing I could have done different. It's just who I am, and she doesn't expect me to be someone different.
Like I said, I begged and I pleaded. I said I could change. I said I could give up and be what she needed, but that's not what she needs. And of course, I'd be miserable. In my head, now, it seems worth it to be with her, but she's right: it would be worse.
But that leaves me, still, in the same predicament.
Barring some miracle (starting a new job with sufficient pay in the next week), I'm probably not staying at the place in Norwood. I have the option to sublet, and I should probably do it before I burn through every dime I have. I guess there's worse things than packing up, storing what I can, selling or giving away everything else, and repairing to the nurturing home of my mother and stepfather. It might be what I need to get my head right, and get back on my feet. But I don't know what the right thing to do is. I've never done this before.
But I'm trying not to think too far ahead, at least for a few more days. I have an appointment in the morning with a client who, maybe, by some miracle, will give me enough money to get me through for at least a few months. Or should I sublet anyway and get a smaller place? Or move with my mom? I need answers, and right now all I find are questions. I guess that comes with the territory.
I'm hoping for a certain someone, like some old-time magician, to pull a rabbit out of his hat, but unlike the toppers of those great performers of old, I know the hat's empty. I'm hoping for real magic.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Part V - Pieces
I'm trying to piece things together right now, whether it be the pieces of my psyche, or the components of a new life. I don't have much certainty right now, but I have a few ideas. And that'll have to do for now.
I talked to Nancy today, as I do most days; we have a lot of logistics to figure out, and not a ton of time to do it in. But I asked her if, after the hard part's over, if we could still be friends. She wants to, as well, but who knows. It's on the table. I'd like to stay in contact with her. It's almost a reflex. I see something interesting, and my immediate reaction is, "Oh, I have to tell Nancy."
We had a great relationship. We had our own language, a sort of blend of baby talk and twin speak. I'll miss that. It took a long, long time to build to that point. The trust and understanding we had, it's hard to imagine it happening again. Everyone tells me it will, that I'll meet someone else, and everything will be okay. It's hard to believe. I don't know how I got to where I was, so how do I get it back?
They say it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all, and I believe it. I am the luckiest man in the world to have loved Nancy. She gave me love and happiness beyond my wildest dreams. I only wish I could have been what she needed. I wish I could be now.
I hate that I can't be with her anymore. Sure I wish I could go back to last Tuesday when we were still together; back to last Sunday, at Oktoberfest, smiling and laughing with friends, cheering on our favorite teams in the Tug-o-War, drinking in the sun, and eating cream puffs; back to the last time I held her, and breathed in her scent, felt her warmth; back to the last time she drove me insane; back to the last time she took up too much of the bed. I would gladly give her that and more. But the things I can give aren't what she needs. And for that, more than anything, I cry.
Today was an okay day. I went back to work, although I didn't get much done. It's too hard to focus, and I had a lot of phone calls to make. I felt pretty good when I got back to my mom's apartment. I ate a little bit of food, talked a bit. I'm kind of getting back together, but we'll see what happens Saturday.
Saturday, I go back home to the apartment. I don't know if I'm ready to call it "home" again. It's where I live. It's where I'll probably be living for at least a few months. And that'll have to do for now.
Part IV - Not Knowing
I don't know. I was really hoping at this point I'd be starting to work on dealing with my emotional issues, but the practical and financial issues won't go away. I don't know.
The 401k money isn't coming until, at the very earliest, late October. I have a little money in the bank, enough to pay rent on October 1st, but, barring any other developments in income, I'll have to leave, and I'll have to talk to the landlord about subleasing the apartment. I'd get the deposit back March 1, 2010, and then look at getting my own place, but it's just so hard to comprehend right now. I don't know where I'd go. I'm at my mom's right now, but I feel in the way; mainly because I am, and several months of it aren't going to make it better.
Then there's the issue of moving. I don't want to do it if I don't have to, but I may not have much choice. Maybe I'll hear some good news about a job in the next few days, but I'm not holding my breath. I also have a meeting with a client about a freelance gig Thursday morning, but that's not going to be enough for very long. A month or two at best.
So, here I am.
I say "I don't know" a lot these days. I just say it, because I don't know. I don't know what to do, I don't know what's going to happen, I don't know if the sun is going to keep coming up in the east. I feel like my life has been a series of abandonments, this being yet another.
I'm going to need a lot of help. I haven't done this solo thing, at least not for a long time. Other than that, I don't know.
The 401k money isn't coming until, at the very earliest, late October. I have a little money in the bank, enough to pay rent on October 1st, but, barring any other developments in income, I'll have to leave, and I'll have to talk to the landlord about subleasing the apartment. I'd get the deposit back March 1, 2010, and then look at getting my own place, but it's just so hard to comprehend right now. I don't know where I'd go. I'm at my mom's right now, but I feel in the way; mainly because I am, and several months of it aren't going to make it better.
Then there's the issue of moving. I don't want to do it if I don't have to, but I may not have much choice. Maybe I'll hear some good news about a job in the next few days, but I'm not holding my breath. I also have a meeting with a client about a freelance gig Thursday morning, but that's not going to be enough for very long. A month or two at best.
So, here I am.
I say "I don't know" a lot these days. I just say it, because I don't know. I don't know what to do, I don't know what's going to happen, I don't know if the sun is going to keep coming up in the east. I feel like my life has been a series of abandonments, this being yet another.
I'm going to need a lot of help. I haven't done this solo thing, at least not for a long time. Other than that, I don't know.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Part III - Mornings
Mornings are the worst. That seems to be generally true for everyone, but seriously: mornings are the worst. If I stay in bed, keep my eyes closed, and pull the covers up, I can ignore reality for a little while longer. Tomorrow I have to go back to work. Might be good, might not. Hard to say.
Yesterday I got some good news. Nancy offered to cash in her 401k, and give me money to pay the rent for the rest of the lease. We won't know until tomorrow when the banks open what the options actually are. If we can get it, I have some time, in my home (or what's left of it) to figure out what to do next.
In the meantime, I'm just trying to... well, I don't know. Manage? Everything either annoys me, or sends me over the edge. I need some time alone, but I'm scared to be alone. I think in the back of my head, part of me thinks that this whole things about to blow over. I'll go home in a few days, and everything will be okay. I'll wake up in the morning, and Nancy will be there laying next to me. But then I open my eyes.
It looks like, no matter what, I'll be back "home" Saturday. Nancy's leaving either Friday night, or Saturday morning. Then I guess I'm on my own.
I don't know what to do. I've always been the one that clipped the coupons, made the grocery lists, and cooked the meals, but faced with doing it alone, I feel like I don't know what to do. Ramen's cheap and easy, I guess. Maybe once I have some questions answered about what's going on, I'll be able to focus on my big problem: getting on with my life.
Yesterday I got some good news. Nancy offered to cash in her 401k, and give me money to pay the rent for the rest of the lease. We won't know until tomorrow when the banks open what the options actually are. If we can get it, I have some time, in my home (or what's left of it) to figure out what to do next.
In the meantime, I'm just trying to... well, I don't know. Manage? Everything either annoys me, or sends me over the edge. I need some time alone, but I'm scared to be alone. I think in the back of my head, part of me thinks that this whole things about to blow over. I'll go home in a few days, and everything will be okay. I'll wake up in the morning, and Nancy will be there laying next to me. But then I open my eyes.
It looks like, no matter what, I'll be back "home" Saturday. Nancy's leaving either Friday night, or Saturday morning. Then I guess I'm on my own.
I don't know what to do. I've always been the one that clipped the coupons, made the grocery lists, and cooked the meals, but faced with doing it alone, I feel like I don't know what to do. Ramen's cheap and easy, I guess. Maybe once I have some questions answered about what's going on, I'll be able to focus on my big problem: getting on with my life.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Part II - Fast Old Train
I think I might be coming to the full realization that this is in fact happening, and she's not coming back. Reality has started to infiltrate my dreams, which in this case I think makes them nightmares. At least for the last few days the little bit of sleep I could get was an escape.
I felt almost decent last night. I read few an hour or so before going to sleep, and laid down with a sort of general sadness, instead of the heart-wrenching pain I had been experiencing. This morning, I woke up with a weight on my chest, pressing. I haven't been able to eat since yesterday afternoon, and that was only a handful of Combos.
This week we have to handle some practical issues; car insurance and cell phones split up, figuring out what she's taking with her. Then I have to figure out what to do.
I think I'm going to move out, and sublease the apartment. My landlord suggested that, and said he's had a lot of success doing that in the past. We'll see. I've got a lot of stuff, and at least right now, I don't really want any of it. I'll store some stuff in various basements, and some in my office. Oh yeah. My office.
Wednesday, September 2nd, 2009, was a great day, up until around 5pm. Around 4pm, I was at Longworth Hall, where a friend of mine was setting me up with an extra office in the space he has that he didn't need. My very own office, at Longworth Hall, legitimizing what I do. In no time, I thought, I'll be making enough from my freelance work to actually say it's what I do. Then my phone rang. Nancy's ringtone. As it was ringing, my friend, recognizing the ringtone, asked me how she was. "She's good," I said as I answered the phone. Little did I know.
"When are you coming home?" she asked, sounding like something was wrong.
"From the sound of things, right now," I said, concerned.
She began to cry. "I have some terrible news, and I want to tell you in person."
"I'll be right there."
The 20 minute drive home seemed to take forever. I kept thinking someone died, or she lost her job, but either way, I knew we would get through it... together.
I got home, and she was standing in the kitchen. I asked her was what wrong. She walked up to me, reached out and said, "I love you." No news from anyone you care about starting with "I love you" has ever been good. The next couple of hours aren't very clear to me, but it doesn't really matter.
So, here I am. I'm not really sure where that is, and I definitely don't know where to go. All I know is where I was is where I wanted to be, but you can't go back. It's not there anymore. Memories can seem so real, but it's the past, and it's gone. To quote Townes Van Zandt:
Time, she's a fast, old train,
She's here and she's gone,
And won't come again.
I felt almost decent last night. I read few an hour or so before going to sleep, and laid down with a sort of general sadness, instead of the heart-wrenching pain I had been experiencing. This morning, I woke up with a weight on my chest, pressing. I haven't been able to eat since yesterday afternoon, and that was only a handful of Combos.
This week we have to handle some practical issues; car insurance and cell phones split up, figuring out what she's taking with her. Then I have to figure out what to do.
I think I'm going to move out, and sublease the apartment. My landlord suggested that, and said he's had a lot of success doing that in the past. We'll see. I've got a lot of stuff, and at least right now, I don't really want any of it. I'll store some stuff in various basements, and some in my office. Oh yeah. My office.
Wednesday, September 2nd, 2009, was a great day, up until around 5pm. Around 4pm, I was at Longworth Hall, where a friend of mine was setting me up with an extra office in the space he has that he didn't need. My very own office, at Longworth Hall, legitimizing what I do. In no time, I thought, I'll be making enough from my freelance work to actually say it's what I do. Then my phone rang. Nancy's ringtone. As it was ringing, my friend, recognizing the ringtone, asked me how she was. "She's good," I said as I answered the phone. Little did I know.
"When are you coming home?" she asked, sounding like something was wrong.
"From the sound of things, right now," I said, concerned.
She began to cry. "I have some terrible news, and I want to tell you in person."
"I'll be right there."
The 20 minute drive home seemed to take forever. I kept thinking someone died, or she lost her job, but either way, I knew we would get through it... together.
I got home, and she was standing in the kitchen. I asked her was what wrong. She walked up to me, reached out and said, "I love you." No news from anyone you care about starting with "I love you" has ever been good. The next couple of hours aren't very clear to me, but it doesn't really matter.
So, here I am. I'm not really sure where that is, and I definitely don't know where to go. All I know is where I was is where I wanted to be, but you can't go back. It's not there anymore. Memories can seem so real, but it's the past, and it's gone. To quote Townes Van Zandt:
Time, she's a fast, old train,
She's here and she's gone,
And won't come again.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Part I - Exposition
Wednesday, September 2nd, 2009, at around 5pm; it's a date that will haunt me forever.
For those of you who don't know, Nancy, my wife of 6 years, 1 month, 2 weeks, told me she can't be married to me anymore. It wasn't me, it wasn't us, it's her. I know it sounds trite, but it's true. What she wants out of life and what I want out of life have just become too different. She quit her job, is leaving town, and us (I wonder if she got the idea from Ken Nordine). Practically, this leaves me in a pinch: I can't afford to live here by myself. I have offers of plenty of places to go until I get back on my feet, but I can't handle moving. And then there's the real problem...
I feel like my heart has been torn out of my chest, and everything hurts. Well, that's not true. Sometimes everything's numb. I still love her. She still loves me. I'm the naive, romantic type who foolishly believed that would be enough. And for me, it was.
When I'm asleep, I don't remember my dreams, but the moment before I wake up, I'm back to Tuesday, September 1st, when my life was good. As soon as my eyes open, the cold, cruel hand of reality knocks me right in the ribs. Wednesday night (and every night since) I stayed at my Mom's apartment. As you might expect, I cried, no, wailed myself to sleep. As my cellphone alarm went off, familiarly vibrating and playing "Sweet Georgia Brown," I for the briefest of moments thought I was home, and like any other day I could roll over and there would be Nancy. Then I opened my eyes.
Today I went to the OSU game with a dear friend of mine. I didn't want to go, but I had a good time while I was there. The calm of the ride back was bad. I drifted off briefly between Grove City and Lebanon. Then I opened my eyes.
The whole thing is pretty amicable; there was no fight, there's no fighting over who gets what. Friday, September 11, 2009, is her last day at work, and ostensibly her last day here. She'll be packing a few things into her car, and heading back to New York to live with her mother, at least for the time being. We'll be separated for a year, and then we'll make it official. In the meantime, I have to figure out how to keep my life together, and I don't really have a chance to grieve.
She is my everything. We had a great life together. She told me when she met me, she had no idea what she wanted out of life, and I did, and that's what attracted her to me. I still want the same things, but she found out she doesn't.
I don't know why I'm publicly declaring all of this.
For those of you who don't know, Nancy, my wife of 6 years, 1 month, 2 weeks, told me she can't be married to me anymore. It wasn't me, it wasn't us, it's her. I know it sounds trite, but it's true. What she wants out of life and what I want out of life have just become too different. She quit her job, is leaving town, and us (I wonder if she got the idea from Ken Nordine). Practically, this leaves me in a pinch: I can't afford to live here by myself. I have offers of plenty of places to go until I get back on my feet, but I can't handle moving. And then there's the real problem...
I feel like my heart has been torn out of my chest, and everything hurts. Well, that's not true. Sometimes everything's numb. I still love her. She still loves me. I'm the naive, romantic type who foolishly believed that would be enough. And for me, it was.
When I'm asleep, I don't remember my dreams, but the moment before I wake up, I'm back to Tuesday, September 1st, when my life was good. As soon as my eyes open, the cold, cruel hand of reality knocks me right in the ribs. Wednesday night (and every night since) I stayed at my Mom's apartment. As you might expect, I cried, no, wailed myself to sleep. As my cellphone alarm went off, familiarly vibrating and playing "Sweet Georgia Brown," I for the briefest of moments thought I was home, and like any other day I could roll over and there would be Nancy. Then I opened my eyes.
Today I went to the OSU game with a dear friend of mine. I didn't want to go, but I had a good time while I was there. The calm of the ride back was bad. I drifted off briefly between Grove City and Lebanon. Then I opened my eyes.
The whole thing is pretty amicable; there was no fight, there's no fighting over who gets what. Friday, September 11, 2009, is her last day at work, and ostensibly her last day here. She'll be packing a few things into her car, and heading back to New York to live with her mother, at least for the time being. We'll be separated for a year, and then we'll make it official. In the meantime, I have to figure out how to keep my life together, and I don't really have a chance to grieve.
She is my everything. We had a great life together. She told me when she met me, she had no idea what she wanted out of life, and I did, and that's what attracted her to me. I still want the same things, but she found out she doesn't.
I don't know why I'm publicly declaring all of this.
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