Here's to you Mom and Dad...
So, it's been a long time since I've been online to yip yap and talk shit about my crazy life. I just got hooked up with Yahoo DSL at home and yeah, I'm semi-tech savvy but can I bitch that it was a task to get started. I travel a lot for work and spend an inordinate amount of time at my friend's houses to party (so they don't come over and mess up my place) so I haven't dedicated the time to getting it all set up like I should have. But now, that I'm online, it's nice.I've been up to a lot lately. I'm still working with the fine folks of the NorCal Aids Challenge. Check us out, we ride out in one month to send out our message of tolerance, HIV/AIDS research and awareness to a disease that is of importance to us all. It's been two years since I lost my big brother to AIDS and I miss him everyday. The loss of a brother, a big brother who spoiled and loved you so much, is unexplainable. I think he'd be proud of me, wherever he may be. Here's to you big brother.
http://www.norcalaidschallenge.org
Sponsor a rider, do a good deed. I still need to register myself. See what hanging out instead of training to ride, does to your time. We've been experiencing an abundance of rain, it's been crazy.
The last time I checked in, I was seeing a really funny, smart and self-destructive guy whom I adored. He made it possible for me to forget my ex-boyfriend and move on. Self-destructive guy had more issues than I realized at the time. We had so much fun together though, just hanging out, never arguing or being angry with the other. We just had a blast. I was falling kind of hard which was my mistake and my smoking buddies at work let me know this everyday. When it all hit the fan and he chose to be with his psycho ex-girlfriend (who, can I say, is not nearly as hot as I am, not even close) I was pretty hurt. But you know, that's life....if love doesn't hurt, we'd never feel it. It seems that, in our world, if things don't hurt, cause enormous, time-wasting pain, we don't pay attention. The things that are good for us, allude us, completely. Now, I don't have an answer for why we fall for bad girls or bad guys. I met a really beautiful lady in Los Angeles at an after-hours party and I wondered why I couldn't be into girls. Why in the hell did God fail me (not that I believe in God, but I like to blame him for whatever goes wrong and I may go to some kind of hell but whatever....)? How did I end up in hetero hell? According to my gay and lesbian friends, life is no greener or peachier on the other side.
So, me and self-destructive guy met up by the fate of St. Patrick Day. I was going to a doctor's appt. and leaving work in the mid day. Walking across Capitol Park, I stumbled upon him...didn't blink an eye. I watched him watch me. I got home later that day and prepared for my St. Patty's day party and received a call later on during the festivities. I was too busy hooking up with a very wonderful guy - the one you write Mom home about. I had forgotten self-destructive boy who permeated my mind and well (you know what else) for the months I didn't write in this blog. If I was getting laid, I wouldn't be writing in a blog like all the other internet geeks....but I do like to write and re-read my lines of monotony. I had to pause and clean my glasses (you ever notice how people who don't wear glasses, don't ever notice the shit caked up on your trusty lenses thereby never telling you that you that you're a mess? Yeah, I'm rambling again - must have picked that up from self-destructive boy)....
Self-destructive boy has really gotten me. I was fine...really, moving on and not thinking of how he ruined my art book, lied to me and gave me the greatest orgasms of my life...hmmm...that's what hormones and your heart do to you. So, I made the horrible mistake of calling him back on a drunken night after attending a really great 70s party. I woke up to the phone after my Saturday night call (no, no message left) on Sunday morning about 10am wondering who the hell was calling me and why I was wearing bright pink carnation pants (which are cute, really they are...at least on me) and why I hadn't changed into my pjs. It was self-destructive boy and I was ecstatic, yet I couldn't let it be known, not over the phone. So we caught up. The last time we spoke was mid-January around his birthday. We had this fabulous time and then everything went to shit after he started calling psycho ex-girlfriend and I was history for the moment.
The last thing I said to him was: "I hope she fucks you up" and guess what? She did. A good a-ha moment for me. He recalled that more than I believed he would. It was one of the first things he put out there. I laughed. Sure, I was happy he suffered during that time. I sure as hell did...writing bad poetry, getting drunk for no other reason than to be drunk and having to hear the wrath from my very good friends who let me know "See, I was right." Yeah, they were...friends usually are. But when you are as hard-headed as I am...you don't give a fuck. So, we were back to being friends again. I don't know wy I gave him a second chance but I felt he deserved it somehow. He apologized profusely and I was still numb. We ended up having the afternoon that we used to have....watching bad movies, talking shit about the people we knew and people we don't really know. It was great. Really great. I woke up the next morning, kissing him goodbye as he dashed off to work. Sunday grew into a week of me not answering messages or being at home at all.
My big brother called from Vegas and wondered if I was dead or getting laid...the second one was correct. One morning that I will never forget, is waking up and staring at the curtains in his bedroom and hearing him run around, cursing the morning and lack of hot water. I turned my head and smiled. It was nice to be in his bed, warm and comforting like him. He leaned over and kissed me just as I heard the door open and I knew that was the last I would see of him for the day. I thought, I should call out and say something to him...but that would be really cheesy, which I detest....being cheesy is just wrong. While these lines pervaded my morning thoughts, he walked back to his bed and leaned over just as I turned my head to be brave enough to say what was on my mind and he kissed me. It was long and slow and sweet. It was like three kisses encompassed in one long kiss. Those are always the best. That is my last memory of him.
He told me a week ago that his ex-psycho girlfriend had somehow (miraculously, and believe me, she doesn't strike me as that bright) discovered his new phone number. Well, I'm not buying it. As soon as he mentioned her, things changed like they had before. He asked for some time alone and I knew he wanted the time alone by his demeanor and resolve. He said yeah, I just didn't know how to say I needed some space. He's really bad about being co-dependent and so am I - in a way...but not really. When I first moved into my new apartment last September, I was good with being alone. I told people to bounce as soon as I was ready and all of my parties ended at midnight (being kind to the neighbors as well as myself).
Mostly, I was proud of him for letting me know that he needed his space. He's never been particularly good at letting his feelings be known. So, he walked me home last Monday and I haven't heard a peep from him since. The same guy who left me messages all weekend while I was in L.A. visiting my friend Michael. I remember checking my voicemail at home and thinking, that was sweet. No, it was bullshit. I wasn't looking for a new relationship or anything more than what we had. He asked me if I missed him over the phone while we talked. My friend Michael smiled at me and teased me for talking to "my sweetie" long distance as he prepared for our after-hours party.
I responded yes. I did miss him. I just saw him the morning I left on my supershuttle for L.A. Friday morning. How could I miss him? But, yeah, I did.
The good guy stopped by my house to say hello and that he wanted to show me some pics from ski trip. I thought it was sweet that he called me to tell me he was on my porch, wanting to say hello. We had a great date and went for pizza. He is handsome, bubbly, happy and would make anyone forget self-destructive boy....but not me.
Today is my mom's 66th birthday and the anniversary of my dad's death. He passed away thirteen years ago when I was sixteen. My dad was a lot like the self-destructive boys I like to date. I haven't really mourned his death, not since the funeral. This year, I was awakened by my big brother in Vegas. He's without both parents now. Mom died last year....so he's feeling the pain of being an orphan of sorts. I don't ever want to be there. I'm not ready to be alone. I know that my big brother in Vegas has become my dad in many ways but he'll never replace the real thing. For the first time in my life, I'm ready to forgive him and miss him like anyone would miss their father. I'm ready to forgive him for being an abusive, philandering, liar. That's a lot to forgive but it's time. I made a promise to myself a long time ago that I wanted to be healed by 30 years old...really whole...This September I turn 30....so, I'm right on schedule....
Next year, I'll be in New York City...struggling, pursuing and trying out a whole new life. I cannot wait. For now, I'll settle for middle of California mediocrity. Hey, it's growing on me.
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