12/08

I did one dumb thing today, one smart thing, and one sort of evil thing.

My dumb thing was me trying to be supportive and nice and ending up sounding a little too....annoying. Thinking back on it, I would have wanted to punch me in the mouth.

Hopefully, the person on the receiving end understands that I am often more stupid than evil.

 

If I were the celebrating sort, I might appreciate the smart thing more than I do.

 

As for the evil thing, well, I am not sure anyone else can really appreciate my capacity for evil.

The victim of my evil is invisible, for all intents and purposes. If s/he were not, then s/he would likely be surprised that I waited this long to actually perpetuate the evil. I could have done this years ago. I should have done this years ago. But I waited until today.

It was finally the exact right thing to do at exactly the right time.

 

**********************************

 

It starts innocently enough.

I just wanted to move the bed so I could find more room for a desk.

See? No brain surgery here.

Except now everything is upended all over the apartment and I am apparently on some kind of cleaning spree.

I think this happened last year.

Like last year, I got rid of a few more boxes I never opened and shed a little bit more from the past. I am not there yet, but I am getting closer.

It takes seven years for all the cells in your body to turn over.

I am not there yet.

But I'm getting closer.

************************************

 

Let's call this one the Return of the Pancake Breakfast.

Or maybe, we should call it the New Plan for Stepping Back from the Ledge.

In any case, we restarted a tradition in our household.

Pancakes in bed on Sunday mornings.

Of course, it is not a Sunday, but I think that is ok, all things considered.

Instead of a newspaper, we curled up with an itunes movie and enough pancakes to feed 8 people.

And coffee.

It was good, except for the part that I now want to stay in bed the rest of the day.

No one will miss me, right?

 

*******************************************

 

December hates me.

Or maybe I hate December.

We have been locked in combat for so long, I don't remember who threw the first punch.

December shows my every flaw and failure. December reminds me that there is no backspace in real life. There is no way to undo or patch up and make better.

There is broken glass and it cuts, sometimes deeply.

There are clocks stopped.

I never forgive these things.
I never, ever forgive myself.

December shatters me with the strange silver hammer I have polished for it.

I will shutter up for the next few days, waiting out December and hoping that January will be merciful with me.

 

***************************************

 

 

Puppy X and me are both having a hard day.

I tried to tell her that the collar thing is a small price to pay for true sexual liberation. I tried to tell her that she can buck the patriarchy and enjoy a number of sexual partners without the risk of unwanted pups.

She isn't having any of it.

My bad day is a little more diffuse than hers.

I am unsettled. Once upon a time, unsettled would soon chug into a full stop of doom. I don't roll that way anymore.

Now, unsettled means that balances need to shift. I need to shift them.

The next few weeks are a good time to break patterns. I am in between one set of things and about to start another in January. There are new opportunities ahead. There is a chance to finally get rid of some seriously old baggage. There is time to reclaim some important things I put aside for awhile. All of this has the potential to be very good.

But you know that moment, right before you dive from the cliff, when your breath is tight in your chest and all your nerves are painfully poised to fire?

That's where I am, and frankly, the human body is not built to linger in that kind of stress for long.

 

*******************************************

11/08

Teenage boys gather like flies when there is food.

Lila, you are using canned mushrooms.

Technically, they are jarred.

They watch me for a minute.

But you like pizza.

I glare at them over the rim of my glasses.

I am not making pizza. I am also not making your lunch. Go away.

They both stare at my toasted french bread, sauce, cheese, and yes, shrooms from a jar.

Lil, it looks like a pizza.

I decide to gesture with my bread knife.

No. It is a fairly good replica of a pmp mush, which has only a passing acquaintance with a serious pizza, but occupies a critical space of its own in the hot sandwhich made of pizza ingredients continuum.

They are quiet for a minute.

Are you still watching Freaks and Geeks?

I roll my eyes.

Yes. And you don't get a vote. It's not like we are going together or anything.

One pokes the other.

I think you should back off. She's a little inflexible on her days off.

 

*******************************************

Four Dreams I Had Last Night

1. I invented a plug infor a software package that, as far as I know anyway, only exists in TV crime land. Then I wrote a class to teach it at my college, which, as far as I know, does not exist in TV crime land.

2. My class was interrupted by 300 kindergarteners who claimed to need every seat in the auditorium (it was a big class) in order to put on their snow suits. My class stuck around to help. It took 20 minutes to get every kid suited up.

3. A subterranean floor was discovered in a trap door under the carpet in the student lounge and several offices and classrooms were moved there so that the Student Affairs office could be turned into a yoga studio.

4. a manuel of all college rules and practices was written and distributed to every office with instructions to place it on every desk. However, the book was electrified and could not be touched. If you wanted to refer to it, you had to fill out a requisition and turn it in to the registrar. If approved, someone would come by and unplug the book.

Apparently, I have a very active nocturnal life.

 

**********************************************

 

M. carries the phone up high, as if we are in a flood zone, and she delivers it with something that looks like relish.

I take the call, of couse. It is H.

I'm sorry I left so quickly, Lily. I miss you. You know. Every day.

I don't say anything right away.

I love you, Lily. No matter what.

I think about all the no matters what and the whathaveyous and I decide that I am very very lucky.

*

I love you too, H.

 

*************************************************

 

I am not feeling reasonable, at the moment.

I am not feeling secure, warm and fuzzy, or otherwise deep and meaningful.

Instead, I am out of sorts, slightly cranky, and not a little homesick.

I want cardamom ice cream, a good meal (without auto audio, I assure you), and just a little bit of revenge.

(Ok. Maybe not. I am not so dedicated with the revenge.)

*

G comes over on his second pass and we are awkward for all of 26 seconds before he asks me why I am not back home permanantly.

I capitulate, or maybe I hesitate. In any case, I make excuses and he rolls his eyes and gestures dismissively.

What you don't get...what you have never gotten...is that it was you that made him interesting.

This is not true, objectively.

Not even a little.

But when G says it, I remember that there are at least three sides to every story.

*

We talk for almost an hour.

He tells me that all my place are belong to us.

*

I groan loadly and punch him in the arm.

Some things never change.

 

*******************************************

 

Every important thing to know I learned from Jack Bauer.

1. Travel light. You can always trade up, weapon wise, when you kill one of the henchmen with a machete.

2. Make your goodbyes quick and emotionless. Chances are your compadre will be blown up in the next few hours.

3. There are sinister forces in the government. It is probably a good idea to let a 202 number go straight to voicemail.

4. If you must resort to hand to hand combat, punch your attacker in the kidneys.

5. Torture is more common than you think.

6. Always back up your secret data codes because someone will always jam your email/steal your thumbdrive/killfile your desktop/blow up the server room.

7. When someone asks you to destroy financial records, consider leaving town. Right away. Don't even go home. If you go home, someone will probably be waiting to electrocute you.

8. There is always a kill swtich on an explosive device.

9. Wear comfortable shoes. You never know when you may need to run.

10. 24 hours is a really long time.

 

****************************************

 

Well, do you want to go?

He tacks this onto the end of a monologue so lengthy I had long ago autopiloted my listening.

Where?

To the opening. And, you know, the after party.

Like a date?

He shrugs and then nods, reluctantly.

Yeah, sort of. Like a date.

Nope.

No, you don't want to go? Or no, you don't want to go on a date?

I don't date.

He gives me the furrowed brow.

Ok...so let's just go like usual.

Nope.

Why?

Because you brought up the date word and you can't unring that bell.

Lily, it isn't like you and I haven't ever...

That's not dating.

It isn't?

Nope. It isn't. Dating involves...paraphernalia.

Paraphernalia?

Yeah. Paraphernalia. You know. Like shoes and stuff.

He shakes his head slowly and laughs at me.

You are one odd birdlet, Lilian.

 

*********************************************

 

10/08

What can I say? You bring out the fuck you in me.

You guessed it.

A Weeds marathon.

It was a busy weekend. Class yesterday and a make up class today.

Twelve hours of teaching.

I don't like the idea of listening to myself that much. I can't imagine how horrible it must be to have to listen to me that much.

It's over now. All quiet on the eastern front.

Tonight is all about the tv and the vegetable stew.

 

****************************************

Where are you?

I think on this.

Home.

What are you doing?

I think some more.

Sleeping.

Are you ok?

I think about thinking but then change my mind.

The line is quiet for a long time.

If you want, I can bring some Chinese food.

I want to say no.

Instead, I remind you that I don't like scallions in the wonton soup.

 

************************************************

There is a knock at the door at 6am.

I know who it is and I am kind of surprised. I am not usually awake at this hour. But almost every time I am, he shows up.

He brings bagels this time. And gin.

I open the door, pour the last cup of coffee, and return to my perch on top of the armchair. It isn't high enough, so I climb onto the table to get a better look. The arrangement, for lack of a better word, covers most of the living room floor.

Puppy X is not happy about it.

After he puts up more coffee, he wanders in, takes a look, and sits down. He thinks I want to talk.

How are you?

I ignore him.

He probably won't read it.

I decide to reply, but not to look up. I don't want to encourage conversation.

I think that would probably be a good idea.

Then why did you write it? If you think he won't read it.

I wrote it because I cared about her, once. Not in the way anyone expected, but I did.

I move some pieces around.

What if he gets mad?

I shrug.

What if he writes something back?

I block him.

You do?

I nod.

I don't want to talk with him.

Why did you bother? Why did you even bother to look?

I blame the painkillers.

You aren't listening.

I am quiet for a minute.

You're right. I am not listening. Frankly, I think that's a sign of growth.

Lucky for both of us, he shuts up.

*****************************************************

 

9/08

You do the equivalent of zipping up my rainslicker and handing me my lunch while reminding me to be careful out there and call if I need help.

We both know I won't, but you always remind me that I can.

We are easy with one another.

I hesitate, slightly, before I leave.

You are a safe harbor and I am someone not often safe.

You never rush me. You'd let me stay all day, if I wanted to.

But I don't want to, really, and we both know that, too.

I take a deep breath and then I am in motion, saying goodbye and already thinking about the next thing.

If I glance back at the end of the hall, though, you will be looking up, reminding me that I don't always have to do everything alone.

Thank you.

***

I have settled into something.

It is something good, I think, because it is something I have chosen. Affirmatively.

(I am not someone with a track record of choosing affirmatively.)

I have spent the last few days rolling this choice around in my head, and the implications of living it and how much work it will be to unravel the consequences of past decisions.

I remember reading somewhere, years ago, about change and how people around you react to changes you make in your life. Even if the changes do not impact them directly. I remember it sounding sort of pessimistic with regards of acceptance. The theory went something like this: People are more comfortable when they know you, or think they know you. How you are with them reinforces their own view of themselves, as well as their view of your relationship. When you change, you break an implicit promise in the predictability of your relationship. They will resist that. They will also resist your change because it may remind them of changes they would like to make but can't, or won't. So while you are trying to become someone new, they need you to be who they perceive you to have always been.

Or something like that.

Mostly, I think that is crazy talk. People are always changing. Sure, that change is usually pretty subtle, but there is change. Is it really so earth shattering that people can undertake a huge change project in themselves?

Anyway.

I am not sure any of that particularly applies to me. I have few close friends, and they are, by and large, involved in their own lives and not likely to pay that close attention to my day to day. Which is just how I like my friends. I need to be alone most of the time. I always have. It is just that now, I am not ashamed of myself for that.

I have something important to do.

I am preparing to do it.

This is the first step.

***

Sometime after the memorial service is over, we are both in a room that is too hot and too full.

He laces his fingers in mine and tugs gently.

I follow him out to the garden, far back, near the fence.

We don't speak. We have been over this too many times. Today, we are smart enough to stay quiet.

He pulls out an ipod and puts one earbud in my ear, one in his, and he wraps himself around me.

Stompin at the Savoy.

This is one of her favorites.

We alternate between dancing awkwardly and rocking slowly.

I feel him shudder and sob.

I have no words so I do the only thing I know how to do.

I hang on.

 

**

I am folding and unfolding a piece of paper.

On it is a map. And a phone number. One I may not call. Or maybe I will.

I have decision making issues.

**

This is serious. Do you understand that?

I don't answer.

Serious is a continuum and I am not willing to give away my exact location.

 

Staying silent keeps me in one reasonably whole working piece.

 

~

It is chilly when I slip in the pool.

The sky is almost clear, save for a few thin cotton clouds. I see stars, but only five of them.

I think of Ireland now, and how many stars I could see at night.

I think of other things, better left unsaid.

I swim laps in the dark and try to stay here. This place. This minute.

I should not be here, right now. I take risks. I remain generally unimpressed by myself.

~

When I am done, I float on my back and realize that I have not had a vacation in three years.

I really want a vacation.

~

When I get out of the pool, I wrap myself in a big beach towel and shiver a little, even though it is almost August in the swampiest place on Earth.

 

This is the season of remembering.

I am not happy about this, of course, but it is what it is and I am not someone who goes all bobcat on the status quo.