REPORT A PROBLEM
Knowing that a new baby has entered this world has awakened in me something I never actually forgot but do tend to overlook with the passing of time. Iíll never forget the newness of my baby when he was born. Iíll always remember the infinite love, the overwhelmingly infinite love felt in the first days and months. Many days it was simply unbearable. A child had never been so loved. I think that the love never fades but you get used to the amount and it stops weighing so heavily on you. Especially when you realize how he loves you.
I have caught a cold that for once in my college career I will not blame on school. It started with my best friend who had some nasty bronchitis and kept wanting me to go play with the baby so she could rest but I insistently stayed away. She sounded awful. Then my brothers girlfriend wakes up and has a nasty cold. She looked miserable. I thought it near impossible to stay healthy because God only knows how often she washes her hands. But I survived. Until finally today. I babysat the baby the other night. I coddled his germs.
I cry when Iím sick. I cry as if itís the end of the world. In some ways it feels like it could or maybe should be. But we know itís not. We know that death isnít as simple as catching a cold. Death is dark and complex like cancer. The sniffles and a sinus headache are nothing.
My girlfriend sleeps all of the time. Sheís sleeping right now. I hate it sometimes and it makes me want to just pinch her or maybe, more drastically, smother her with a pillow. But thatíd be cruel. Instead Iím just unduly loud.
My psychology professor made a comment as I walked in to class. He said he was surprised to see me. I gave him a befuddled caught-off-guard look and said
He said he hadnít seen me in a while and didnít know if Iíd show.
that Iím missing so much of that the professor notices. Can you imagine how my attendance in my other classes is? Iíll give you one guess. With the exception of my honors class Ė but only because attendance is vital and I feel obligated. But God, I am fucking up this semester.
Quite a relief to have the elections over. First time in my life that Iíve cared. First time Iíve voted. I didnít want Obama, but I could not sit idly by knowing that the alternative was a republican. I had to vote democrat. I suppose I am a democrat. Or I just canít believe that anyone would want to let another republican into office during a time like this. Bush caused this mess and now a democrat needs to fix it. I only hope Obama has enough common sense to make it through successfully.
Why would anyone wanna be president?
Yeah, I still miss you often and think of what could have been. But Iím pretty sure that it all worked out for the best this way. You left me and I got the chance to be with the super hott girl before settling down with my less than mediocre girlfriend. And I know it worked out for you because youíve finally found a girl you could stay with for longer than 6 months. Yay for us. I hope for both our sakes that these are our forever girls. I know that I, personally, am sick of the futile search.
While mom and I have lived in the new house for over a month we still have many things continuing to occupy the old house. When my moving day came and all my things were taken from my old room I had carefully placed on a kitchen shelf the flowers I saved from my fathers funeral. I thought they would be safe until I could bring them carefully to the new house. I forgot about them for awhile but went there recently to learn that my mother didnít know what they were and so carelessly threw my dead flowers away.
No one understands the love between me and my girlfriend. I canít explain it adequately because on most days I donít understand it either. But whatever. I know that I love her and I like having her around and I like when she goes away and I like when she comes back. I like how our love is so strong that she isnít worried about little things like letting me chase my crush around campus. Itís a love strong enough to allow complete freedom. But people question us. I donít question her nor does she doubt. But everyone questions me.
In all the time weíve been together sheís only lied to me once about something mostly trivial. She said it was allergies because she knew that if I thought for a second that she were really sick that she wouldnít be staying with me. I believed her claim without question because sheís never given me reason to suspect falsehoods, ever. To the point where even as it was becoming evident that she was in fact sick I still naively believed, or wanted to believe that it was just allergies and that she really thought it too. Weeks later it clicked.
I had been deceived, for the first time in our relationship and suddenly I believed nothing when she asserted random trivial facts. I felt certain that she really saw that movie that I hadnít wanted her to watch without me. I was certain that she attended game night at her friends house without me because sheís good for letting me get out of social obligations easily. I was expected to believe these things, which Iím now pretty sure are true, but at the time I was uneasy and unsure. I questioned her and then questioned myself. But doubt begets truth.
Now Iím more certain than ever before. This is my life now, she is my life. Weíre unable to hurt each other and weíre simply still in love after all this time. I swear. Itís one of those times where you just know and not only that but you really just know that you just know. Thereís no margin of error and it becomes a less and less scary and intense thought. Sheís gonna be the one that I grow old with. And that choice is about equivalent to my dogs fate of growing old with me and my mom.
Speaking of intense moments, my crush, library girl, finally talked to me. She digested the fact that I have a giant crush on her and now I see her going out of her way to see me, to talk to me. But to engage me in conversation is hard. The moment was fucking intense and as soon as it started I was scheming on ways to end it, to make a smooth getaway. It was ironic but humorous. I waited all semester to talk with her and I finally get the chance but immediately try to find my way out.
So how, you may wonder since I had never before spoken to her, does library girl know that I do indeed have a giant crush on her? It was my girlfriend. My fantastic girlfriend put herself out there on my behalf. And somehow this didnít scare library girl away but instead has drawn her to me as I never could have imagined actually happening. The real beauty of this situation is that she knows I have a girlfriend. She can clearly see us together on campus so clearly immersed in love for each other oblivious to all surroundings except her.
The way in which my mother and girlfriend enable me is really quite simple yet entirely overlooked by them. Itís more than just how they take care of me and warm-heartedly submit to my random whims or needing something rewashed or simply not being able to eat something. Itís more than them working around my stubborn personality. The way they enable me is by suggesting things that they think I hadnít thought of yet. Iím okay with some things, Iím randomly okay with dirty silverware or unkosher meals. They enable me by suggesting that these things shouldnít meet my standards.
Iím ready to admit that I am bitter about my friends mom not really having leukemia. Not in a hostile
I wanted her to die
sort of way. Only in a
Iím so very jealous that my dads cancer wasnít just a quick scare.
Is it understandable? During those few days I was there for my friend in a way I did not want to be at a time when what I wanted was to curl in a ball and forget that death exists and that cancer can strike like lightening.
I want(ed) his death to have been a scare.
You texted me tonight because you had a vibe and wanted to see if I was okay. At first it was nothing but I thought on it for a moment. I tried to get you to come over and while I did I became increasingly aware that I felt in need of a friend. I have no one outside of A&E and the spiciest drug dealer in my city. A&E donít even count and you know that. They drained me this weekend with our mutual callous coldness where everything but the baby is concerned. I think I needed
We bicker. Sometimes she gets randomly cranky. Itís never anything serious. Weíll go back in forth in the manner that makes people watching say
aw, isnít that adorable.
Every one in this house can attest to that. (Is it attest that?) Weíve never stayed mad for longer than a minute. Our relationship is incredibly flawless. Sickeningly flawless. Itís the kind of perfect that should have me working hard to sabotage it for myself. But Iíve been there done that and we only get stronger. She is infinite whereas all previous loves were finite with their predetermined time slots. Weíre forever.
This past February my college had a performance of the Vagina Monologues. My girlfriend was in it. This show was the very first social engagement that I blew off with her. It was the beginning of her learning about my social phobias and how impossible it was for me to go to the show despite the fact that I wanted to see her in it. For the past couple (at least) weeks I have listened to my girlfriend work on plans for this school years performance. All the while all I can think is
itís really been almost a year?
Iím running out of time for everything because everything always comes down to the thinnest wire. Procrastinate, procrastinate,
So simple yet so hard, close but far, black but white, up.. yet.. down. Down on the inside not the outside because I still hate myself like that, in that one particular self-sabotaging way. Itís easy to suspect that I donít want to be happy, ever. Or that I have an inclination toward not being successful because success might put me too close to the limelight or even just someone elseís pedestals. If I donít writeÖ just donít write.
If I donít write then I wonít be an author. If I never allow myself to perfect the art then I will never make it anywhere. Why would I want to rest, dustily, on a bookshelf? Most times, I never get around to reading that great terrific amazing book the second time. We all have good intentions. How else does one
explain the need to save books, to keep them and store them and later pack up 40 pound boxes of books when they move? I have never once wished to be remembered
Well, maybe at least once.
Aah. Or should that be Eerg! In my head, when I make the actual frustrated sound itís more like eeerrr in a deep darkly pitched voice. When I write it I add the g at the end, even in my head and it seems okay. But I think the in the moment sound is er, dragged out. Er, as I started. Today I wonder if Iím really happy. On the rare occasions that I get cranky she ends up telling me that sheís not good enough for me. Today I thought: Keep saying it and soon I might believe it.
I think that more often than I realize I am actually thinking of her pros and cons. I toss them around in my head daily. It seems no big deal Ė maybe because they seem to even themselves out. Neither out weighs the other. It adds simplicity to a complicated situation. But should it even be complicated. Or, should it even exist as a situation at all? In the same moment that I think these things I also think about forever. Oh, itís probably the pros and cons of forever. That puts a new spin on it and makes it logical.
Nothing makes me more joyous than having my two beautiful Godsons together. Our shared loves trump any other reality that may exist outside of this gathering. Itís us and no one else. They both flock to me as if Iím some kind of awesome person or something. Somehow, to them, I am awesome. For some reason, they adore me dearly. Maybe itís simply the love they canít help but feel coming from me to them. I dote my affections onto them. They eat it all up. I sit in awe of myself when I remember that their love is unconditional.
ďWe could have the whole world in our hands when we get her in our pants.Ē It was in reference to Christmas and how awesome it would be to show up for dinner with the family and show off two girlfriends. Itís a huge pipedream, obviously. But the theoretical event would still be insurmountable. Everyone, at least in my family (as far as the cousins go) would be extremely jealous. I would be a sort of God for achieving the impossible.
The thing is that nothing is impossible when youíre me. Things are merely far off when they seem impossible.
The strained distorted bonds of love that run through the story Beloved by Toni Morrison. Her will strained and her perception distorted. Her reality: unreal. She had to do what she had to do in every scenario. Maybe itís the author forcing our senses to see no other way. All avenues crossed and rivers swum, everything out of necessity for life. She killed so that they might live. Someone always has to die in order for life to persist. Is that a distortion of love? The distortion is probably the real necessity in making this reality the only way out.
I want to bludgeon my way through these words this month. Take an axe to them and call it completed. Nonsense split lengthwise because it doesnít matter anyways. Everyone is torn between many things and many other things. More than just this and that. This, that, that and that etc.. Some things and some other things. Relating something to nothing and vice versa. Seinfeld on a universal scale. Only, he didnít know that weíre all just a part of nature and so is all that fate plays out. So, written or not, everything is forgotten in the cold heartless wind.
Sitcoms display the realities of life in snippets quick enough to not be over analyzed by anyone other than the over-analytical. Someones parent dies and the other characters (of whom one can assume hasnít lost a parent) say, in their most sympathetic tone:
oh thatís so sad.
And Iím sure they and the non-sitcom people really truly mean the sentiment of
Iím sorry for your loss.
But then they walk away or the episode is done. And the one who has lost is left knowing that their predicament was sad
while the rest of the world changes the channel.
My older Godson, ten years old (eleven in less than two weeks), told me that he misses my dad. He was seven when he died. My dad affected the entire family but yet no one but the innocently young dare to say how they miss it. In that moment I wished to bring my father back for my Godson. I realized that I would bend over backwards for this kid and getting my dad to him meant more than getting my dad back for myself. Iím beginning to forget minor things, like the way in which he interacted with children.
The ultimate thing is though: Who, really is good enough for me? Whoever it is, I am sure that I am not good enough for them, i.e. the hott girl I was with before my girlfriend. The ultimate thing, the final word, is that Iíll spend forever with her if it happens. I will fall in love elsewhere if that happens too. But I wonít ever leave her unless Iím absolute sure that Iíve truly found forever elsewhere. It worries me that this could happen. It also worries me that this might be it, she might be perfect for me.
Insert a huge sigh of relief for the completion of this month. It looked really bleaks on some days. And Iím easily convinced to not write next month. Itís odd though because Iíve actually felt my writing rejuvenating this month. I had this spontaneous burst where I wrote a great three paragraphs for my last honors English paper. I expected more. I just said expected and I just realized that yeah, that was like last week and thereís been nothing since. Grr.. a sound of frustration to go along with the lessened sigh of relief for finishing these here words.
The Tip Jar