the eighteen hour day

They declared that they knew the thing for them when they realized they could spend eighteen hours doing their job and not notice the time pass.

I am at a loss for that thing in my context. It could be a lot of things. landmark. babysitting. writing. coffee.

As my brain turns this idea between the proverbial thumbs, I keep searching and coming up empty. the only time I am completely absorbed by life is when it has nothing to do with me at all or when I am helping someone else. I am completely enthralled by serving other people.

/

I miss my apartment. I haven't been there in a week. I won't be able to make it there til Monday night. I'm sure my plants are suffering. It feels like I don't have a place of my own. My rent is due. And yet, I am hardly there. I realize this is why I don't have pets.

=

All of my free time is for him. I search him out with a guilty smile. I cannot stay away and I cannot continue down this road. I have never felt so torn. Before, I felt so sure it was no good, but now I don't know.

#

The Brit wants to take me to London, England in February for two weeks to accompany his visit with his family. I felt like I had won the lottery! I am so excited. I will have a few days off to enjoy the town while they take a break in his family's country cottage. The kids love me (except when they both have to vie for my attentions) the mom is finally doing it right and I love his family.

*

I have been reading like a madwoman. Sometimes two books a week. I don't know what it is, but it seems to be a little of having excellent reading material (the birthday books pile is pretty low at this point) and I have been buying random Faulkner books here and there and his work enthralls me about writing.

^

Spreaking of, I have ten good pages of writing with my friend and fellow writer jayme. We've begun to meet twice a week. Thank goodness she is so determined, otherwise, I might get caught up in my day to day life and completely neglect my writing and manuscript and grad school apps.

8

I am a grown-up. It happened overnight. I don't know what it was or when it was that the thing that had been holding me back finally released, but I have never felt like this before. It is a little sad. I feel more complacent, lethargic, easy-going than ever. I may just be in the throes of a terrible head cold, or this is it, I may never be the same girl you used to know ever again.

loss

I miss waking up early to go to work at the cafe. Sometimes it is the lingering night sky I most miss. Prior to dawn it sits dark blue and quiet, its dome dotted with half constellations that the city lights cannot completely hide. In his neighborhood the view is the best I have ever seen: humboldt park provides a respite from light and structures that gives an unobstructed view of the sky. Each time I have seen it, my breath catches in my chest and I wonder how it might be somewhere where the view is clearer and wider. I want that sky and that view. I want that night. I had it once on the cape, and there was nothing more perfect than that first time I saw the Milky Way.

The sky can change so much in a half hour, from dark to light and what I see above the buildings are glimpses of true beauty. Never the same dawn twice, I have seen the gradual lighting of a clear sky, one with clouds that looked like garland, one with clouds that held the light of the sun behind them. I once saw the sun rise on the one day of the year that it points due west, where it lined up precisely with the street the bus was travelling down so that it blinded us all and filled the bus with light.

I miss that sense of secret reverence between me and the day, as if I could be the one person alive in the world, as if I can feel the beating of the few things awake at that moment, a sense of calm and control, a sense that I have witnessed something few have.

In his arms, I tumble through wild dreams and tangled sheets and wake long after the sun has crept past the horizon.

I suppose that raw sensation of tiredness, that complete and ravaged feeling of being rundown is gone, but in its place I have lost some connection I had to the world, some intangible lie that kept purporting I was somehow special for bearing witness to the beginning of each day.

the year-or-so later wrap up

Funny how the world is now. Birthdays, holidays, other anniversaries pass by and what marker I see on the road is the year or so since I began this blog. I suppose it seems fitting since I record so many important feelings and wonderings here. Yet this blog, moreso than any other I have labored over has been, to me, the most interesting yet.

Firstly, let's address my thoughts as I began this spot. Harangued by a most annoying pest, I decided to completely begin anew and conceal myself somewhat from his sharp scrutiny. Now: I have no further communication with him or his various multiple personalities, much to my relief. Also, the idea of a fresh place appealed, perhaps because in my real life I devote such long stretches of time to things (years long monogamous relationships, absurd tenures at jobs, the ambitious plodding through higher education) I feel the urge to move on quickly in areas that seem fleeting in their nature. It wasn't the first time I'd completely pulled up stakes and moved on to a new venue. And it may not necessarily be the last.

My first entry here seems so long ago. That there was a time when Eric was not mine is odd. That there was a time that I did not know that seems even odder. And yet, it was the primary source of so much of my sadness for a long time. Now: We speak on a daily basis, we see each other often, we take care of each other, we are building a life together. There is a still a sense of worry, a lack of some innate and necessary trust that we may never be able to duplicate again, but we still persist in this strange dance of love and commitment and care. I often find myself lingering on the bodies of others, but I often find it unsatisfying and empty, like a habit that no longer soothes me. I have no thirst for someone else. I have no desperation for something else. I am finally, amazingly, astonishingly able to accept the love he provides and demand nothing else.

Even in that first entry, my love for him is enormous. And the possibility of loving him again seemed so tantalizing that I could hardly jinx it by even putting it into words. One of the things that I see has changed about myself is that I have become a more loving person with everyone, but I have especially opened my eyes to the love I have for Eric. The bond that we share comes from so many sources, of course our long fought battles (which we now gently tease each other about), but also our many amazing experiences; the large amount of things we have done together, the many things we still have yet to do and the enjoyment we share from each other's company. Now: for the most part, especially when we are alone together (which we were hardly able to enjoy when we lived with the fun sponges) we always enjoy each other's company. We are still not well in the company of others, when we lose our rhythms and sense of space.

The only thing I can be sure of is there is nothing I can be sure of when it comes to Eric. All I know is what is there for me. And I will tell you, we just weren't done yet. Even though it sucked, even though we needed a break, even though I wanted nothing more than to never see his face again, I missed him when he wasn't there and I wasn't done yet.

As for the other men in my life this year, there have been less than usual. Early on, things with the man of the year died out. You may remember for a couple weeks there was Mumford, who was "bonin'" another girl and was a newly minted drinker. Somewhere in there was the lover I didn't have to love, and we never quite were able to muster up enough enthusiasm about each other. The only thing he ever showed any passion about was that I deleted him from my myspace friends. I let them absorb my attentions and occupy mine, but mostly I knew they were not right for me. My propensity to have a new crush every week has slowed. My heart is unable to thrust into overdrive at a moment's notice. Others who I knew weren't right for me are no longer in my scope. The city is gone. The breath of fresh air avoids me. The old ones are all consumed.

Strangely, in some concentric inner workings of the three dimensional puzzle that is me, being happier with myself has come to pass and as a result, the teeming hordes of would be suitors all seem instantly grey.

How exactly does one come to be happy with oneself? I have been grappling with this since Friday evening in the company of my good friend Pete and I feel I have finally reached a conclusion. It is a matter of taking care of your self and then doing what you can with and for others. I always put myself last mentally and then avoided following through with my agreements in the physical realm, for I learned the terrible affliction of being unable to say no and stick up for myself. In short, I spent a good amount of time (wasted, of course) on being nice. And then I spent a lot of time bitching about how nice I had agreed to be.

A great portion of my misery came from the company of people I called my friends. Just recently you may have read how I expelled an old friend from my life. It is the third time that I have done so. The first was simply a matter of being out of sight and out of mind. The second was like walking through a rose bush. The latest, simply a necessary action that required little emotion. When I acquired these friends, I was young and unformed. I had no idea who I was and they required a shapeless mass to cling to and I provided ample space. I recall many fond memories with all and yet our interactions were clouded by my lack of enjoyment, my inability to appreciate the person beyond the callous, rude and disagreeable behaviors I witnessed on a regular basis. I became friends with these people because they wanted me and I wanted to be wanted. They called me more, they wanted to see me more, they did all the work I didn't want to do and I figured it was just a by product of friendship that you didn't always like the person. We all have our good and bad qualities.

The people I did like and enjoy and just not see as often (because I didn't call them and they weren't as needy) I overlooked in some obtuseness. I thought they were a little fake, sometimes boring (always happy? no freakouts? no dramas?) and more sadly, that they must not like me as much as my "real" friends did.

My ideas of friendships were changed by one man. He actually completely upturned my assumptions about all friendships. At the same time, he was accompanied by a vivacious, charming and intelligent woman. Not long after, I was given the pleasure of knowing another wondrous woman. And still more came. And something in me realized that it wasn't that friendships were inherently bad, I had just made some rotten decisions. The difference was that I made an effort with them unlike anything I had done before. Sure, I have made some effort with people I do genuinely like, but I have made some concessions that we are living at parallel courses and cannot intersect as often as I'd like. And yet, I still do the work of checking in, contacting them, and most importantly, caring about them.

These three have surely disappointed me, behaved badly (though I have yet to see one of them falter much), and have annoyed me somehow. But they have also given me so much more than I have ever received from those so called friends: honest listening, understanding, sympathy, encouragement, balanced conversations, fun, good times and I trust them completely. I know if I ever needed them they would race to my side to help me. I could not say the same for those other three.

I try to imagine that a year ago I was at the end of the school race. It seems so much longer. I may have graduated last May, but I finished classes in December, and honestly, it was no easy task. Given that I had no home for the beginning and then was trying to settle into one, it was difficult. And yet, one of my few true achievements is that I finished that undergraduate degree. As I look forward, I have no idea where I will be next fall, but I feel somewhat certain that I will be a student again.

Another milestone: my time at the cafe is really, truly done. And though part of me will always miss it there, I am so glad. I love babysitting and taking care of these particular children, though it has it's trying times, it is nothing compared to one bad customer at the coffeeshop.

And my apartment is actually a fully functioning environment I can call a home. It is totally me. Every time I see a friend's apartment I realize with a certain small pride that I am good at something and it is creating my own spaces. I recently and finally set up my new printer. I am constantly going through the endless junk I have somehow accumulated. I no longer trudge through piles to arrive in bed. And it is a good feeling when I can have someone over and not be embarrassed at all.

Finally, there was 30. I could easily agree with all the things you always hear, but more importantly, I will say that I always thought it was farther away. I somehow felt like time would go a little slower for me because I was so far behind. Now I feel alright about things. I am okay with being a late bloomer. I will always be a little older than everyone and a little out of place. I don't look at all of this as wasted time, so much as I see what I have learned while it passed.

Thank you for reading this chewed up bubble gum. You are the best part of why I do this.