I am being pulled down by the undertow. I can feel the dragging of the sand through my toes and the power, hinted subtley. I can almost taste the salt water on my lips, drying them, making them thirst. When I open my eyes, I am standing alone, in darkness, nothing but the familiar sounds and quiets of my room. But the undercurrent is still tugging. Not at my toes, or the sand running between them. It is tugging on me. As yet, I have stood here, strong stance, holding my own against the tide.
It comes to this again. It is not unfamiliar, only unwelcome. I try not to involve those others, those that I care about so much. This is my own to do, my own to win and my own to fail. Though, even as I say that, I know that I will need them and call on them and they will be there. It gives me comfort to know that they are there, even if, very deeply, I would never wish myself upon any of them. Whether self-pity or lack of confidence, I can't imagine dealing with myself, and I am the only one that truly has to. Still, they tell me to stop, no more nonsense about such things. They tell me they're here for me, as I am for them. I thank them, and love them more and hate myself for allowing anyone to deal with this.
It is all so low. This undercurrent of constant sadness, hidden so well. I am a master at those things, as my passions drive me to smiles and sarcasms and random. The randomness keeps me alive and sane. It reminds me that not knowing can be beautiful. Ignorance can be bliss. And when reality haunts me again, I will not turn and run. I will let the current tug at the sand between my toes and stand there, laughing at the tides, telling jokes to the wind and smiling an effervescent smile. Challenging the world to take me, challenging my health to fail, challenging my heart to break again, challenging my friends to need me, as I stand here needing them.
Tuesday, May 31, 2005
Thursday, May 26, 2005
Letter Eight
...How could we forget those ancient myths that stand at the beginning of all races, the myths about dragons that at the last moment are transformed into princesses? Perhaps all the dragons in our lives are princesses who are only waiting to see us act, just once, with beauty and courage. Perhaps everything that frightens us is, in its deepest essence, something helpless that wants our love. So you mustn't be frightened if a sadness rises in front of you, larger than any you have ever seen; if an anxiety, like light and cloud-shadows, moves over your hands and over everything you do. You must realize that something is happening to you, that life has not forgotten you, that it holds you in its hand and will not let you fall...
Rainer Maria Rilke
Rainer Maria Rilke
Wednesday, May 25, 2005
Down
I'm feeling down. I just had an amazing 2 days. I just experienced a lot of life. I had a good time. I spent quality time with an amazing friend. I laughed and smiled and joked and talked and talked. And I'm feeling down.
It's the pain. I'm down because I hurt. The same hurt as always. the hurt I don't talk about to anyone, except when it's really bad. I cause it myself, with the way I eat, the way I live and treat my body. I just want normal. So I act like it's normal. I take the medicines that usually work, I do what I want. Most of the time it's ok. The dull aching pain is something I can deal with. But other times, my body reminds me how much it hates me. Like now.
So in all the amazing that was the entire weekend and into this week, I am depressed. It compounds, so I begin to think about other things, and that depresses me more. So I sit here, writing this, and doing a damn fine job of self-depression.
It will pass. The pain will keep me up tonight and it will fade with the morning. I'll have a picky paranoid view of food for a day or two and then the worry and the pain will subside to it's usual place in my stomach as a dull roar.
So I could write about all the things bothering me. I could ramble about the things i'm depressing myself with. Or I could just skip all the secondary reasons and get right to the facts. I hurt.
I just want to curl up into a ball and fucking cry like a child. As sappy and ridiculous as it sounds, that's what this pain does to me. It makes me a weeny, a pansy ass. It makes me remember things I don't care to remember and feel things I can't stand feeling. Emotions, memories and physical discomfort are so linked that it threatens to drive me over the cliff I stand on called my sanity.
From the top of a cliff, the most obvious direction is always the same. Down.
It's the pain. I'm down because I hurt. The same hurt as always. the hurt I don't talk about to anyone, except when it's really bad. I cause it myself, with the way I eat, the way I live and treat my body. I just want normal. So I act like it's normal. I take the medicines that usually work, I do what I want. Most of the time it's ok. The dull aching pain is something I can deal with. But other times, my body reminds me how much it hates me. Like now.
So in all the amazing that was the entire weekend and into this week, I am depressed. It compounds, so I begin to think about other things, and that depresses me more. So I sit here, writing this, and doing a damn fine job of self-depression.
It will pass. The pain will keep me up tonight and it will fade with the morning. I'll have a picky paranoid view of food for a day or two and then the worry and the pain will subside to it's usual place in my stomach as a dull roar.
So I could write about all the things bothering me. I could ramble about the things i'm depressing myself with. Or I could just skip all the secondary reasons and get right to the facts. I hurt.
I just want to curl up into a ball and fucking cry like a child. As sappy and ridiculous as it sounds, that's what this pain does to me. It makes me a weeny, a pansy ass. It makes me remember things I don't care to remember and feel things I can't stand feeling. Emotions, memories and physical discomfort are so linked that it threatens to drive me over the cliff I stand on called my sanity.
From the top of a cliff, the most obvious direction is always the same. Down.
Thursday, May 19, 2005
Past Tired
I've reached that state. The state where your mind is asleep but still functioning. Your eyes are half-closed and you're fighting to keep them open enough to finish posting your thoughts. I have been depriving myself of sleep. Trying to squeeze as much living into my life as I can. Long hours of work lead to long hours of play and then short hours of sleep.
I need a vacation. A vacation from more than one thing. Mostly, I need a vacation from myself. From this self that chooses to be overtired, overemotional because he won't just collapse into bed. I am past tired and into exhaustion. So much so that this post is slipping away from me. So I go to sleep and, hopefully, dream.
I need a vacation. A vacation from more than one thing. Mostly, I need a vacation from myself. From this self that chooses to be overtired, overemotional because he won't just collapse into bed. I am past tired and into exhaustion. So much so that this post is slipping away from me. So I go to sleep and, hopefully, dream.
Worth The Glide
Trying...not to fall, fast and hard. To enjoy this experience, this new thought forming in the center of my mind. I'm trying to live, appreciating this situation and not overthinking, overfeeling. My track record for pushing the limit is notorious. I skydive into my feelings, pulling the parachute rip-cord at the last possible moment every time.
This time, though, I'm cautious. I'm callous, maybe, from the experiences of my life recently. I don't want to watch things go awry, out of my control because of things I could have prevented. Spiraling out of control is not an option. This is worth the glide.
This time, though, I'm cautious. I'm callous, maybe, from the experiences of my life recently. I don't want to watch things go awry, out of my control because of things I could have prevented. Spiraling out of control is not an option. This is worth the glide.
Tuesday, May 17, 2005
Orbital Random
This is going to be short. Not because I don't want to make a long post. Only that my observation is a short one.
What's the deal with the random happening? Seriously. It's like I attract random. Especially girl random.
Today, a longtime internet friend sent me a message and said she was working 5 minutes from me. She then proceeded to talk about a set of circumstances that were so coincidental I might actually think she were stalking me. I'm sure she's not. I am just enthralled with the random.
So thank you Marina. Thank you for reminding me that sometimes random is beautiful.
What's the deal with the random happening? Seriously. It's like I attract random. Especially girl random.
Today, a longtime internet friend sent me a message and said she was working 5 minutes from me. She then proceeded to talk about a set of circumstances that were so coincidental I might actually think she were stalking me. I'm sure she's not. I am just enthralled with the random.
So thank you Marina. Thank you for reminding me that sometimes random is beautiful.
Monday, May 16, 2005
Intrigue
I have been intrigued. The simplicity of that feeling has only recently been fully explained through my own experiences. I can see where this path of intrigue might lead. I can see where I'd like it to lead. The path and my hopes for it have not given any big sign as to their intentions. I do not know if I have a chance.
I can hope for the opportunity. I can hope, and pick a new star to have a new wish for. I can stare up at my flat, darkened ceiling and replay the time spent. I can run the video playback in my mind, looking for any possible problems. I can wake up in the morning remembering the intrigue first.
It seems the only thing I cannot do is have confidence. I cannot believe that I should be given a chance. It's self-defeating and ridiculous. I do deserve a chance. I still find myself attempting to soften a non-existent blow.
I'm intrigued and helpless. I could say I'm surprised, but I'm not. I could say this will end badly but I don't think it will. Still, the future
is still the future. And the video tape in my mind is still just the past.
In the present, thinking of the laughter and the good times shared. As i'm thinking of the random and the conversations about nothing and something, my intrigue sits inside my head, legs crossed, eyes closed and smiling.
I can hope for the opportunity. I can hope, and pick a new star to have a new wish for. I can stare up at my flat, darkened ceiling and replay the time spent. I can run the video playback in my mind, looking for any possible problems. I can wake up in the morning remembering the intrigue first.
It seems the only thing I cannot do is have confidence. I cannot believe that I should be given a chance. It's self-defeating and ridiculous. I do deserve a chance. I still find myself attempting to soften a non-existent blow.
I'm intrigued and helpless. I could say I'm surprised, but I'm not. I could say this will end badly but I don't think it will. Still, the future
is still the future. And the video tape in my mind is still just the past.
In the present, thinking of the laughter and the good times shared. As i'm thinking of the random and the conversations about nothing and something, my intrigue sits inside my head, legs crossed, eyes closed and smiling.
Thursday, May 12, 2005
The First Time
I'm listening to "Of Love and Hope". If you've been reading the blog for a while you'll know that this CD has been hard to come by. Until my friend Ms. Twist decided to send a copy to me. Now i'm sitting here listening. Now i'm sitting here with my tears. Tears of remembrance, of happiness and sadness and melancholy. Tears that remind me of who I am again. They remind me of the beginnings of things. My first times.
How fitting that Ms. Twist would send this to me. The first woman I ever fell in love with. The first person I ever knew I'd love forever that wasn't related to me. Her lullabye is on here, as are some of the poems i loved when I was younger, poems I listened to like they were scripture.
"Acquainted with the Night" and "You Darkness" taught me to cherish the night, the darkness, to exist in it and cherish it for it's perfection.
This was the first time i had ever heard Sonnet CXVI (116). I have had it memorized for years now.
I bought "Letters to a Young Poet" because of this CD. Rainer Marie Rilke is still a favorite of mine...
...I fell in love with this CD ages ago. So much here is a part of my life, so much a part of the deepest pieces of who I am. Once again Ms. Twist has made me smile and remember. Thank you m'lady, for helping me remember. Thank you for still being here, after all these years. Not all of us are so blessed to still be friends with the first person we cared about so deeply. You helped me through some times when all I needed was an ear, or to hold your hand. I hope you know how precious this is to me. How precious you are to me. I remember rewriting lyrics in the darkness of my room, one candle burning on the bed side table. So many things are lost now, but some, even in the fog of memory, break through and echo...and I remember and smile and cry for beauty's sake.
"The voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses.
Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands."
How fitting that Ms. Twist would send this to me. The first woman I ever fell in love with. The first person I ever knew I'd love forever that wasn't related to me. Her lullabye is on here, as are some of the poems i loved when I was younger, poems I listened to like they were scripture.
"Acquainted with the Night" and "You Darkness" taught me to cherish the night, the darkness, to exist in it and cherish it for it's perfection.
This was the first time i had ever heard Sonnet CXVI (116). I have had it memorized for years now.
I bought "Letters to a Young Poet" because of this CD. Rainer Marie Rilke is still a favorite of mine...
...I fell in love with this CD ages ago. So much here is a part of my life, so much a part of the deepest pieces of who I am. Once again Ms. Twist has made me smile and remember. Thank you m'lady, for helping me remember. Thank you for still being here, after all these years. Not all of us are so blessed to still be friends with the first person we cared about so deeply. You helped me through some times when all I needed was an ear, or to hold your hand. I hope you know how precious this is to me. How precious you are to me. I remember rewriting lyrics in the darkness of my room, one candle burning on the bed side table. So many things are lost now, but some, even in the fog of memory, break through and echo...and I remember and smile and cry for beauty's sake.
"The voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses.
Nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands."
Tuesday, May 10, 2005
Priorities
You may notice that one change to the blog is the lack of what blogger calls the "Profile container". That's the spot that has my little icon and a couple of things about me. My name, my place of residence and a link to my blogger profile. In other words, stuff you don't click on very often. Which means it's worth it to rethink the priority there.
A friend recently turned me on to One.org. I'm not the activist type. Somehow though, this hits a chord with me. This is important. Just like the Lance Armstrong Foundation, they are doing the bracelet thing. And they are working for a worthy cause.
I don't want to hear about how the bracelet thing is a "fad". I'd gladly give these two organizations my money with no product to be had afterward. If I can show a little support and possibly make one other person aware, then I'm the activist I never was before.
Not sure why this hit me so hard tonight. I'm thinking of Benny I guess. I'm thinking of friends that have AIDS. I'm thinking of my dad's friends, some of whom didn't win the fight against AIDS and some of whom are still struggling. I'm thinking of my children. I'm thinking of the world I would want, do want for them.
I'm thinking of all those things. I may not drop everything and join the peace corps tomorrow, but my priorities just got a kick in the pants.
A friend recently turned me on to One.org. I'm not the activist type. Somehow though, this hits a chord with me. This is important. Just like the Lance Armstrong Foundation, they are doing the bracelet thing. And they are working for a worthy cause.
I don't want to hear about how the bracelet thing is a "fad". I'd gladly give these two organizations my money with no product to be had afterward. If I can show a little support and possibly make one other person aware, then I'm the activist I never was before.
Not sure why this hit me so hard tonight. I'm thinking of Benny I guess. I'm thinking of friends that have AIDS. I'm thinking of my dad's friends, some of whom didn't win the fight against AIDS and some of whom are still struggling. I'm thinking of my children. I'm thinking of the world I would want, do want for them.
I'm thinking of all those things. I may not drop everything and join the peace corps tomorrow, but my priorities just got a kick in the pants.
Monday, May 09, 2005
Moved In
Looks like this is going to be home now. Welcome to my website that i've had forever and done nothing with. Yeah, there's a few pictures on here. Yeah there's a place for my resume. But honestly, who reads those things? So now I'm dragging you here, dear readers, and forcing shadolight.com down your throats.
Thanks for sticking around. And, once again, if you know anyone who has a problem getting to the blog, let them know I am updating, just at a new location.
Stay tuned for more tweaks to the template as I continue down the path of integration with my own website.
Now I'm off to drive with the Jeep top down. I'll take every moment i can get with the decent weather. Every moment.
Thanks for sticking around. And, once again, if you know anyone who has a problem getting to the blog, let them know I am updating, just at a new location.
Stay tuned for more tweaks to the template as I continue down the path of integration with my own website.
Now I'm off to drive with the Jeep top down. I'll take every moment i can get with the decent weather. Every moment.
Moving...
This blog may be moving to a new location. I'm fairily sure it will all carry over, but I'm not so sure that THIS site will update anymore. The blog will be moving to
www.shadolight.com/blog.html
I'm gonna try. If it sucks i'll move it back. Stay Tuned and thanks for the support.
www.shadolight.com/blog.html
I'm gonna try. If it sucks i'll move it back. Stay Tuned and thanks for the support.
Saturday, May 07, 2005
Counting Demons
I can count my demons. It takes more than my hands can manage, but I can count them. They've been inventoried, categorized and made to wander only within their specific, confined locations. I've made peace with some and won the battles with some others.
Tonight, sitting in the lounge with the Fuz and GrenadeBoy I realized that there was a demon whispering in my ear. He was remembering, he was reminiscing about his time of glory. His time, when I listened and did as he asked. His time, when I almost ruined my life. I'm not sure why he was remembering. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, or the company, or just the stars glittering above us on the ceiling.
Fuz knows me quite well for the short amount of time I've known her. I've let her in much quicker than anyone else. She's very important to me now. I realized that when I left her apartment toinight, dropping her off and watching her and GrenadeBoy walk up the stairs. I've told her things. Things I would not, do not and will never tell the public in general. They are my demons, my skeletons. I may not be in control of everything, but I am allowed to decide who knows me, inside and out.
A pang of jealousy? Of course. The Fuz is a rockstar. I want to see her happy more than anything else. I want to see her have an honest, open relationship with GrenadeBoy. So, of course, a pang of jealousy. But also, throughout the night, a good vibe. To be around two people who are so intense to me in their own way was almost overwhelming. I can't wait to do it again.
I was in my element. I was afire with eyes roaming. Sitting there, at that bar, with the stars hanging above, I felt good, content, almost unquestionably happy. That's not usual. Though my eternal fire is made up of the bold, directness...I can take it all in, process and play in a very short amount of time. I hope I get the chance again soon.
And now my eyes are heavy...forgive me dear reader if it's messy, or incomprehensible. I wrote fast, stream of consionsness. And, like so many stories, you'll have to wait for the end.
Tonight, sitting in the lounge with the Fuz and GrenadeBoy I realized that there was a demon whispering in my ear. He was remembering, he was reminiscing about his time of glory. His time, when I listened and did as he asked. His time, when I almost ruined my life. I'm not sure why he was remembering. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, or the company, or just the stars glittering above us on the ceiling.
Fuz knows me quite well for the short amount of time I've known her. I've let her in much quicker than anyone else. She's very important to me now. I realized that when I left her apartment toinight, dropping her off and watching her and GrenadeBoy walk up the stairs. I've told her things. Things I would not, do not and will never tell the public in general. They are my demons, my skeletons. I may not be in control of everything, but I am allowed to decide who knows me, inside and out.
A pang of jealousy? Of course. The Fuz is a rockstar. I want to see her happy more than anything else. I want to see her have an honest, open relationship with GrenadeBoy. So, of course, a pang of jealousy. But also, throughout the night, a good vibe. To be around two people who are so intense to me in their own way was almost overwhelming. I can't wait to do it again.
I was in my element. I was afire with eyes roaming. Sitting there, at that bar, with the stars hanging above, I felt good, content, almost unquestionably happy. That's not usual. Though my eternal fire is made up of the bold, directness...I can take it all in, process and play in a very short amount of time. I hope I get the chance again soon.
And now my eyes are heavy...forgive me dear reader if it's messy, or incomprehensible. I wrote fast, stream of consionsness. And, like so many stories, you'll have to wait for the end.
Friday, May 06, 2005
Longing...
This is where I long to be. This is where I'm in my element again. Where I remember how to be quiet. Where I remember how to speak without speaking and smile without reason. This is where I'm content and subtle and gentle. Where I'm in love with everything and nothing. This is home, even if I never live there.
3:15AM - Seis De Mayo
You said nothing good
Ever comes when I call
That I'm headed for failure
And I should graciously take my fall
Ya I'm the horse I'm kicking
I'm the lie I'm thinking
I am the drink I'm drinking
And this is the love I'm making
You have given me
Fuel and I'm gunna burn
This bridge we built
I don't need it anymore
Cause I'm a wicked good swimmer
Watch me dive
---Melissa Ferrick
Ever comes when I call
That I'm headed for failure
And I should graciously take my fall
Ya I'm the horse I'm kicking
I'm the lie I'm thinking
I am the drink I'm drinking
And this is the love I'm making
You have given me
Fuel and I'm gunna burn
This bridge we built
I don't need it anymore
Cause I'm a wicked good swimmer
Watch me dive
---Melissa Ferrick
Monday, May 02, 2005
Toll Booths
If it's random that you're after. You've come to the right place. This weekend has been, for lack of a more eloquent word, bizarre. It has been intriguing and tiring and fun and hard to wrap my brain around. I'm not even sure how to explain it all. I'll try.
It begins on Friday. Not the evening even, the daytime. I went into work on Friday ready to graduate another day class. I was excited. It's been almost a year since I began working here. It felt good. It felt like an accomplishment. I've progressed far in my year and I hope it gets better. I may complain about work, i may lament about the problems. I may get upset at certain things, but I'm glad I'm there. I'm especially happy teaching. It feels right.
So Friday was a graduation. It was a cook out and some wiffle ball. It was fun and relaxing and not relaxing. My deadline was looming and I knew that it would be waiting for me when I sat down at my desk on Monday morning. I wouldn't change anything about this weekend. Starting with Friday.
Friday night was Melissa Ferrick in Northampton. I will not begin to attempt to explain the practically religious experience I had while watching her play. She is exquisite. Her music is beyond words to me. I understand my friend's obsession with her. I wouldn't take my eyes off of the stage or Melissa the entire time. I didn't want to risk something she did with her guitar, or her overly-animated legs and feet as she bodily conducted herself into chord changes and finger patterns and tunings and grace notes. I am in awe.
Then Saturday morning. "I'm going into work" turned into "I'm going to get a small amount of relaxation in this morning and leave a bit earlier for NH than I planned." My deadline still loomed and I shrugged. So I stayed home, played a game, organized some of my life and my finances and packed for the weekend. I left at 12 or so. I had no idea what I was in for.
I had an uneventful drive to Katwoman's house. I met her parents and had lunch. We went out to visit a friend of hers, we went to dinner, we went to a movie (Sahara, good flick). We talked and talked and laughed. She smiled. I can see it, burned there behind my eyelids. I remembered that she was lovely. I had forgotten how much so.
We talked about everything. We talked about the past and the future and looked at pictures and tried to catch up on three years of life. It was fun. It was intriguing and enlightening. I hope that her Malden boy works out. She deserves happiness and love and flowers and candle-lit dinners.
We crashed early. The next morning (Sunday morning) I got up, quickly got ready and assembled my stuff. Breakfast awaited me and I thanked Katwoman's parents in depth for the hospitality. They need not have done anything, I was already staying in the house. They did though, and my appreciation abounds. She led me out of her winding neighborhood and into Manchester. I met up with a friend of mine after finding out that I had an hour to kill. We went to a local diner, had some food (breakfast number 2) and did a little catch up. I'm always so happy when i see her. She keeps me real, and I always forget that until i see her again.
Then I followed friends to Maine. To a wedding. To a beautiful house in the middle of nowhere. I saw friends I haven't spent time with in a long while. BioGeek got married. They are happy and I'm happy for them. The wedding was super-extremely-informal. I thoroughly enjoyed it.
I lamented a couple of times about my plight. The plight of the nice guy destined to be single because girls all want bad boys to treat them bad and force them into treating them right or something. Though I did meet two people, girls, women, females and we did dance a part of the twilight away because none of the other guys (Save for one, though i didn't actually ever meet him) would dance. I was danced with, danced around, twirling two girls at once, and smiling. They were both beautiful, both enjoying my making a fool of myself. One is far and young, the other taken. But I had to stay. I had to experience that. Then I left, preparing for the long drive home.
Then the toll booth.
The long ride on the highway often shows recurring vehicles. None so recurring as the Jeep Liberty that I saw throughout my drive. Around 45 minutes before home, there is a toll. As I pulled up, handing the 50 cents to the booth person, he handed me something saying "She said to give this to you." I thanked him, confused.
It was a phone number with a simple message atop the note. "Call me." I smiled at the randomness, at the daring that it took to do something like that. And, naturally, wanting to see how far random could take me this evening, I called.
We talked the entire ride home. Her in one ear, asking questions telling stories, and the lords of random in the other laughing. Didn't I just say at the wedding how hard it is to meet people? People,
"just friends" types and "more than friends" types, are not so easy to meet as they once were in high school and college. But here I was, on the phone with a total stranger, sharing a bit of my life. I loved it.
That was the best toll I ever paid.
It begins on Friday. Not the evening even, the daytime. I went into work on Friday ready to graduate another day class. I was excited. It's been almost a year since I began working here. It felt good. It felt like an accomplishment. I've progressed far in my year and I hope it gets better. I may complain about work, i may lament about the problems. I may get upset at certain things, but I'm glad I'm there. I'm especially happy teaching. It feels right.
So Friday was a graduation. It was a cook out and some wiffle ball. It was fun and relaxing and not relaxing. My deadline was looming and I knew that it would be waiting for me when I sat down at my desk on Monday morning. I wouldn't change anything about this weekend. Starting with Friday.
Friday night was Melissa Ferrick in Northampton. I will not begin to attempt to explain the practically religious experience I had while watching her play. She is exquisite. Her music is beyond words to me. I understand my friend's obsession with her. I wouldn't take my eyes off of the stage or Melissa the entire time. I didn't want to risk something she did with her guitar, or her overly-animated legs and feet as she bodily conducted herself into chord changes and finger patterns and tunings and grace notes. I am in awe.
Then Saturday morning. "I'm going into work" turned into "I'm going to get a small amount of relaxation in this morning and leave a bit earlier for NH than I planned." My deadline still loomed and I shrugged. So I stayed home, played a game, organized some of my life and my finances and packed for the weekend. I left at 12 or so. I had no idea what I was in for.
I had an uneventful drive to Katwoman's house. I met her parents and had lunch. We went out to visit a friend of hers, we went to dinner, we went to a movie (Sahara, good flick). We talked and talked and laughed. She smiled. I can see it, burned there behind my eyelids. I remembered that she was lovely. I had forgotten how much so.
We talked about everything. We talked about the past and the future and looked at pictures and tried to catch up on three years of life. It was fun. It was intriguing and enlightening. I hope that her Malden boy works out. She deserves happiness and love and flowers and candle-lit dinners.
We crashed early. The next morning (Sunday morning) I got up, quickly got ready and assembled my stuff. Breakfast awaited me and I thanked Katwoman's parents in depth for the hospitality. They need not have done anything, I was already staying in the house. They did though, and my appreciation abounds. She led me out of her winding neighborhood and into Manchester. I met up with a friend of mine after finding out that I had an hour to kill. We went to a local diner, had some food (breakfast number 2) and did a little catch up. I'm always so happy when i see her. She keeps me real, and I always forget that until i see her again.
Then I followed friends to Maine. To a wedding. To a beautiful house in the middle of nowhere. I saw friends I haven't spent time with in a long while. BioGeek got married. They are happy and I'm happy for them. The wedding was super-extremely-informal. I thoroughly enjoyed it.
I lamented a couple of times about my plight. The plight of the nice guy destined to be single because girls all want bad boys to treat them bad and force them into treating them right or something. Though I did meet two people, girls, women, females and we did dance a part of the twilight away because none of the other guys (Save for one, though i didn't actually ever meet him) would dance. I was danced with, danced around, twirling two girls at once, and smiling. They were both beautiful, both enjoying my making a fool of myself. One is far and young, the other taken. But I had to stay. I had to experience that. Then I left, preparing for the long drive home.
Then the toll booth.
The long ride on the highway often shows recurring vehicles. None so recurring as the Jeep Liberty that I saw throughout my drive. Around 45 minutes before home, there is a toll. As I pulled up, handing the 50 cents to the booth person, he handed me something saying "She said to give this to you." I thanked him, confused.
It was a phone number with a simple message atop the note. "Call me." I smiled at the randomness, at the daring that it took to do something like that. And, naturally, wanting to see how far random could take me this evening, I called.
We talked the entire ride home. Her in one ear, asking questions telling stories, and the lords of random in the other laughing. Didn't I just say at the wedding how hard it is to meet people? People,
"just friends" types and "more than friends" types, are not so easy to meet as they once were in high school and college. But here I was, on the phone with a total stranger, sharing a bit of my life. I loved it.
That was the best toll I ever paid.
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