I am in Maine seeing J. I missed the first flight Friday morning so I spent a long day waiting at O'Hare for the second flight. Luckily I got on the next one at 1pm or I'd have to wait standby on the next one at 4pm. When I landed I was tired and grumpy, after only sleeping for two hours because I hung out with C the night before.
It's beautiful here. So often I've wished I had my camera with me. It's more like New England than any other part. Delapidated barns, changing leaves, seagulls, amber skies; very picturesque. So often I've considered moving to such a place to settle down but I think I'd go nuts here. It's far too remote, I need more activity to keep me sane.
It's spooky too, so much of New England is. A lot of it seems abandoned or shut down. Lots of dark woods and at this time of year it's creepy.
We've been to Kennebunkport, Freeport, York, and are staying in Eliot. The house we're in is beautiful, very nicely decorated and homey. I think the owner spends most of her time decorating.
Freeport is a surreal place. Everyone there looks like they stepped out of an LL Bean catalog. The town is full of clothing stores and expensive shops and everyone is wearing tasteful, modest camping and outdoor clothes. Most of the people in Maine are older; middle aged and seniors because all the younger people move out to live somewhere with more excitement but it's perfect for older people. It's a very calm, sedate place. As long as you have a good fire and a lot of winter clothes it's not so bad. Nothing is open past nine here.
I finally got a winter coat. If I didn't get one in the next day or so I'd be miserable. It's a pretty good one too, it should keep me warm for most of the winter. It's good to have a nice jacket again.
I'm only writing in this site for me now. I've told very few people and those that I did have most likely forgotten. I'm going to put exactly what I feel, which has been like shit lately. I'm not going to try to hide it or censor it. I want to know exactly how I'm thinking right now if I look at this down the road.
I've decided that if things don't improve I'm going to give away what little I have left, say goodbye to all those that I've cared about in my life, rent a car and drive off a mountain. Whenever I've pictured killing myself it's always been in the desert. It's huge and empty. By the time anyone finds my remains there'll be too little left and I can just disappear, which is how I want it. I can't seem to find my place in life so I'll just take myself out of it. I think more and more I should have died in my accident at age 12. Things haven't been right since. I keep feeling like I shouldn't have been here. I probably shouldn't have. I was meant to die then but by some fluke I survived but there was no room for me.
Before, when I was a kid, and thought of this I always did it out of spite. I wanted attention so badly I thought maybe at least I could get it at my funeral. I don't care about that now. I just want out. Thank god I never had any kids and won't leave everyone behind. Most people will forget about me in a couple of months, which is how I want it.
I feel bad about leaving Kam and J, they will be the only ones that will really be hurt by it and I'm sure that fact will keep me around longer.
My dad seems so sad anyway, and has gone through so much, I don't think this will cause any lasting harm.
My brother will be sad but I know he's the type of guy that can handle it. My SIL probably already expects me too sooner or later. Thankfully my niece and nephews are still kids so they probably won't remember me much.
My oldest brother I hardly see anymore anyway.
I miss my mom. If she was still around things would be so much different.
Nothing is going especially wrong now, I just feel so removed from the world. I don't talk to anyone all day, I just float around. There's no reason to be here. I don't feel comfortable around people at all. It's getting colder and that always depresses me. I see all that people have in their lives- a house, car, friends and I wonder how they got all that and why it is so difficult for me to get any of those things.
Last night was bad. Everything I am worried about seemed to hit me. I have many more concerns than I usually realize. Everyone has them to some extent, so I'm not that different, I just let them consume me.
I worry that I've squandered all the good things I've had. I worry my life is slowly going to worsen and the good parts of it are over. I have very few friends, my family is far away and cares little for me, I have difficulty finding a job. I don't know if I'll ever find the solutions to those problems. It's hard for me to trust, I don't know what I can do to help my job situation that I haven't already done.
Writing is a miserable way to live. To be good at it you have to lock yourself away and focus you entire life on writing and improving your style. Writers by trade are very anti social, mostly miserable people. Your life focuses on your work. If it's not going well nothing in your life seems to be. Every wonder why so many writers are junkies, drunks or otherwise fucked up? Burroughs, Hemingway, Faulkner....
Today my writing is going ok.
My life bleh. I have felt like I've been on the verge of something serious for years. I keep feeling like I'm one step away from a major catastrophe. For too long I've thought that but for the luck of the draw I could be homeless, diseased or dead. Being alone isn't a problem, I constantly think of suicide. I just go through periods where I think of it less.
I wear earplugs when I sleep. It's something I had to do to get any sleep when I lived in the dorm at school. They completely shut off all sound and I felt like I was completely alone when I closed my eyes. It was so peaceful and I could rest in peace.
I've taken that habit with me and most nights I still wear earplugs though not for the same reasons. They shut out sounds but I mostly wear them for a sense of solitude. When I'm wearing them I feel completely shut off. I try to keep them in as long as I can when I wake.
I have a love/hate feeling for other people. Sometimes I hate being alone, I've always been and I feel like I always will be but then I get around people and I can't wait to go home and be alone and away from them. I see people my age with a family, kids and how they're up early, people always somewhere nearby, never any peace. I would go batshit crazy. Maybe that's a social problem too- always needing to be around people. Dependency?
Writers are such solitary, miserable people. I don't consider myself one yet, that's too ridiculous, yet I know I have the character down. Looking back at my life it seems I was destined to be one. Writing can be agonizing and slow but I feel like I must do it. It's really the only thing I really have and without it nothing would matter much. Even with it sometimes dying seems so preferable.
Things are progressing slowly. Life is peaceful but too calm. I find myself going back to old habits of staying home and working in my room; writing, reading, a movie here and there. It has become my life. Not a bad life, I enjoy it but things move at a snail's pace. I'm spending a lot of time studying myself, what I want and what I need. That was one of the purposes of this site. I wonder if I can look back on this in a year or years and see what I was up to then. Is it an online diary like Doogie Howser keeps? That comparison keeps coming up in my head. If so, I will say to the future me, "It is 630pm and I will probably have pizza for dinner. I went to bed at 4am last night and slept late. I haven't showered for two days and I kind of like the smell. Tell me, future me, have you shaved your head yet? How does it look? I'm eager to know."
One thing I've overlooked through all this is how much my body has changed. I used to be very muscular, almost to the point of being a regular at the gym. Now I'm slightly less strong but my muscles are compact, not as big but I feel stronger. I'm stiff all the time from exercising and I don't take hours out of my day to keep in shape like I used to.
I woke up Sunday and my mind wandered to KT. I wasn't longing for her, I was just looking over the whole situation. For the first time I seemed to see things from a different perspective. The way she acted and how she treated me was really shitty and all that I ever felt for her has turned to anger. I don't have any enemies in the world anymore but I can honestly say I detest her. I don't want to spend too much time on this, I just feel like this is the final chapter.
Unfortunately her actions have really colored how I look at women. That will pass but it gave me a wake up call about marriage. I now know I will never get married. I see so many men and women with such fucked up views on marriage and how disposable it is that the divorce rate in this country will skyrocket in the coming years. People are too selfish, too greedy, too warped from childhood, too emotionally selfish to really take it seriously. I trust very few women. Thankfully, I have no desire to ever get married. I feel lonely sometimes but am more independent than most anyone I know. When I think of how miserable I was in some relationships, the happier I am that I'm single. I have a lot to accomplish on my own and I can't do it always looking after a woman that needs someone to look after her like KT did.
Funny thing is, something tells me she will call eventually and when that happens we are going to have a long talk.
It's not even 11pm but it feels much later.
Doing my best to ignore this Sunday. When I was a kid no one ever had anything to do on Sundays so we'd all stay in the house and end up fighting. My father and my brother were particularly hard to get along with when bored. They'd start fights.
When my brothers left I was alone for two years. I'd just go in my room and listen to music and think- think way too much. My dad had thrown away anything that could hold my interest. I just had to go over shit in my head again and again. I always thought about my life and what I wasn't happy with. That seemed to be the only thing I could think about, it plagued me every Sundays. I couldn't even think of ways to improve, all that I seemed to concentrate on is all the bad things. That went away for many years, I had other things to concern myself with and though I know more people in Chicago since I've moved here than people I knew in Boston when I moved, I can't shake the feeling. Every Sunday I try to avoid it. Most times I fail. It hit me at about nine pm tonight, the same shit; job, friends, mistakes I've made. I did a lot to change that today but until I have I'll keep feeling shitty every Sunday.
Somehow I knew I'd always end up here. In high school and college, when I thought of where I would be in ten years, I imagined myself living alone, going out rarely, knowing few people and spending the brunt of my time sequestered away writing. At the time I figured I'd live somewhere very hot like Florida or Southern Georgia and sweat constantly. Now I'm in a place known for especially harsh winters.
Most everyone is predestined for their life. By the age of fifteen or so it could be fairly accurately predicted by anyone with enough sense. I was never social and preferred to be alone. At the same time my mind was always wandering, thinking of ridiculous fantasies. In class I'd think about what I'd do if I lived a certain way or had the option to do whatever I wanted. My imagination got very elaborate and, with nothing else to amuse me at home, it overwhelmed a lot in my life. I had very vivid dreams, so much so that at times I'd confuse them with reality. I was writing in my head for years, as long as I could remember, and would spend weekends in the college dorm writing pointless things on pads of paper. I hadn't learned how to write yet and looking over some of those pads years later I could hardly believe they were things I'd done.
I knew I'd be here so I shouldn't be surprised or regret it. It's something I wanted.
I typically hate Sundays but this one hasn't been so bad. I've started two new short stories, done some reading and applied to more jobs than I ever have in one day before.
I've ruled out going back to grad school. I don't think it would help me, it would just be another line to add to my resume, a line that would be better used for experience. I'm also not sure what I would want to go for. It would be fun going back to school though.
I'll use the energy and time for my book. I'd rather have that finished than my Master's anyway.
My roommate's back from a wedding and wanted to talk right in the middle of my dinner. I wouldn't mind so much if he didn't always interupt, criticize half the things I say and always try to bring the topic back around to religion or the mistakes he thinks I'm making.
Going to Maine to see J next week. It's a mini vacation for me though feel like I have to go. I'm looking forward to it but I think I'll be helping her out just by being there. I'm hoping it will cheer her up, things haven't been easy for her lately.
and when an Iron Maiden album comes out everything seems allright.
This summer has seen a lot of good music come out that I've only been now catching up on.
I know the picture's too big. That's because Maiden is badass.
My schedule seems to have fallen into a pattern. Wednesdays and Thursdays are devoted to spending time with C. Usually I intend to see her Wednesday night, as by that time it has been a while since we've been together and I end up staying at her place. She works weekends so those days are her time off. The past few days I haven't been home and have spending nights at her place.
Yesterday she went for a waxing and, since I have no interest in sitting in a salon for an hour or however long it takes, I walked around the neighborhood. I'd never been there before but hoped to find something around to hold my interest.
I was wearing my Misfits t shirt, one of several new ones I bought to replace all that I'd lost. This shirt got a few people, mostly Misfits fans, to make comments. One elderly man that saw me talking to C came by after she left to get waxed and asked me if she knew I was a Misfit. The only other shirt that got this much participation was my late Ramones shirt.
I'm walking through the neighborhood and some guy tells me how much he likes my shirt and the Misfits and wants to show me some of his photos. Being from the Northeast I'm not usually that talkative to people I don't know but we stop and chat. He shows me the portfolio of photos of bands he's shot from Black Flag to Blondie, Iggy Pop to REM, the Replacements, Motorhead and dozens of bands. He used to live in Boston and is brother of Springa, the singer for SS Decontrol. We start talking about Boston and when I tell him I lived in South Boston he says it's fate because he was born there. We spend about half an hour talking. I end up telling him about my book and how I'm trying to get into publishing. He's working on a book of rock photos to get published and offer suggestions on who to go to and how to present it.
He's got a lot of connects in the Boston music/writing world and moved to Chicago for his wife (I know) and is building up a base in Chicago. Meanwhile he's opened a restaurant. We talked for about twenty minutes and I promise to try to get his stuff published if I ever have an opportunity. It ended up with him giving me his card. I haven't had much luck with publishing companies here, though admittedly I've put far more effort into writing than actually getting it published. It's good to meet someone looking for the same things I am, he's a great connect and the best way to find a good position is meet people working in the same area.
I'm going to direct my search more into the music/nightlife area as it seems that's where a lot of my leisure time is going anyway. I don't really have much of an interest in textbook or tech publishing, which is where I'd probably end up.
Hank III modeling my Misfits shirt.
If anyone's not familiar with Hank III yet, he's the grandson of Hank Williams and son of Hank Williams Jr. He is a country musician that has already alienated commercial Nashville bullshit and gone right to the real outlaw country of his grandfather rather than the love songs that is big in Country now. He's also got a death metal band called Assjack.
The resemblance between him and his granddad is spooky.
Hank III and Hank Williams
My roommate and I had a long talk about writing. I explained my book to him and he said he'd read a book about that subject. I'm writing steadily although not that quickly. It's good stuff though, much better than anything I've ever written. More than that, I'm not agonizing over every sentence like I used to. It's coming along very easily and when I go back over what I've written I don't think it's all shit. I'm actually pretty proud of it. Those people I've allowed to read it (very few) have been very surprised at how good it is.
Yesterday there was a book review for a new writer, whose name I don't remember. The book may have been called Ritual of Truth or something like that so I checked out the first few pages on Amazon and it was horrendous. If that book can make it to print there's no way mine won't be. God, it was awful.
I'm limping around because both my feet are fucked. I have planar fasciatis on one, something I've had for years, which got irritated when I went running the other day. Because of that I've been using my left foot, which is fine. Because I've been overusing that I got a huge blister on the bottom of my heel.
Nothing strange about that except it's on the direct center of my heel which means whenever I walk I step right on it. It's also the strangest looking thing ever and since the skin on my heel is thicker than anywhere else on my body, will be here for a while. I have to limber around on tiptoes, which makes me look like a freak. I try not to leave the house.
I would take a picture but my camera melted.
I got a coolass AC/DC Back in Black t shirt last week that's quickly becoming my favorite shirt. I would take a photo of that too but alas...
Across the street there is a huge high school called Lane Tech. It holds thousands of students and, being one of the better schools in the Chicago area, has only a limited amount of seats. Thousands more are turned away.
Guess who's an alumni of the school? Adrian Zmed of TJ Hooker, Bachelor Party and Grease fame. Here he is in his best role; Johnny Nogerelli from Grease II.
I am throwing in the photo below just for Heather Locklear in those seventies shorts.
J called me last night from Boston. Over the past couple months we've both been going through different levels of depression, me because of all that has happened here and she because her closest friend (me) has moved across the country. Her family has a history of depression and now her brother is close to having a breakdown.
I was at his wedding, they just got married and seemed happy. Now he's calling J because he's having a hard time. Being the sensitive person she is, J took it hard. She's very heavily prone to depression so we had a long talk yesterday.
Odd, because just the night before I wrote a blog on how slow and draining life is, how you need something to fill the days and you just spend most of it struggling. I ended up deleting what I wrote but it applies to this situation.
As life goes on, no matter what you do, you find yourself with less and less friends. People move away, get married off, have kids and you're expected to do the same. If you don't then you find yourself with a lot of time on your hands.
Sometimes when you do you find yourself in the same situation. Divorces happen, kids lose touch and you find yourself ostracized from the people closest in your life. You're alone with nothing to show for it.
I tried to relate this to J. You need to find something to put your time into, something that holds your interest and make it your passion. Some people put it into drugs, alcohol, sex. Others volunteer and pursue interests they've been putting off for years. Me, I write. and sleep. I don't know many people here and I'm alone most of the day. I'm used to it, having been alone most of my life but it wears you down. It would be nice to have someone there, someone to turn to and love but not all of us have that. Not even the beautiful people like myself. I have a lot of friends but they are all spread out around the country.
This is what I told J. It didn't help. In fact, it made it worse. She's lonely and depressed and I worry about her a lot. I do what I can but sometimes that's not enough.
Someone once told me if you have one close friend when you're on your deathbed you'll die a lucky man.
What is the purpose of this blog? Is it to document my journey finding the right woman? Is it my stuggle on moving to Chicago? Is it a spot to write all my musings and bullshit? Not real sure anymore.
My father came up to see me yesterday. I spent ten years in Boston and he never made the effort once but two months in Chicago and he's there. Even casually mentioning visiting Boston made him cringe, what's that about?
We never really had much in common and as adults I find we both struggle to make the other more comfortable and maybe find a middle ground on interests. He's gotten more political but I fear most of his current political beliefs stem from propaganda and soundbites. I made an effort not to get too deep into that but he had two mini tirades against Muslims and I admit I prodded his feelings about illegal aliens, groups that he is not fond of at all. I've noticed I've become less tolerant about people as well, but if I think about people negatively I try to have a good reason why. If I couldn't give a good reason when asked then I consider it a personal failing and I work to change my views.
He has gotten crankier about things, though I attribute that more to being alone and not having my mom around to keep him in check. He's lonely and I think he's not happy with the way things have turned out. I don't want to end up like that.
It was a pleasant visit and, other than the awkwardness we both felt, it went well.
Last night he wanted to find a neighborhood bar to grab a couple of beers. I didn't know any in this area but we ended up going to the Village Tap. When he was on his last beer KT came in. I did my best to look unconspicuous and I'm pretty sure she didn't see me.
We almost walked into each other at one point and as soon as I could, I left with my dad. I don't know why I got so rattled, I hate that I feel that way about her. All I know is I wouldn't have been happy, we are too different and would have ended up at each other's throats and she is too spoiled for me to get along with. I don't miss her, I like the idea of what we had, which is all it was- just an idea.
I wasn't sure what to write today. I considered discussing where I was, where everyone was when the World Trade Center was attacked. At the time I was asleep, though I wasn't surprised at what had happened. Since I was a child I remember worrying about the constant war in the Middle East and how everyone seemed so unconcerned by it. While the rest of the world sweats, waits and taps its foot nervously everyone here seemed oblivious. They aren't oblivious anymore. We have a serious issue to address and now it's being addressed incorrectly.
People were shocked and truly surprised that such a thing could happen. I was shocked that so many people were unaware that such a thing could happen. It was inevitable. This world is headed towards some horrible conclusion and so many people seem unaware and indifferent.
There are so many facets to this- the changed world and how this country is viewed, false nationalism, but what disturbs me is how this event has become another product, a badge of honor for so many to wear and align themselves with. People try to relate to it through some nebulous connection- "my old employer's brother's friend's son almost went on the first plane. It's fate that kept him off."
It has been manipulated and celebrated in so many ways. TV movies have been made to allow people to feel better about themselves by showing emotion and inwardly being happy they are not involved but making themselves feel as if they were. Opposing politicians use it to bolster their issues and slander their competition. If you don't agree you may as well have been the ones with the boxcutters, right? It has become some sort of national obsession. Everyone has fallen in line and parroted the same soundbites to throw the increased scrutiny off of themselves and the danger has increased, the scrutiny has increased, the gap between the classes has increased and control has definitely increased.
I'm not as concerned with foreign powers and the threat they offer but of ourselves and what is to become of us. The world is in transition and will have difficulty progressing through it. We must find our way to the next step before we slip and lose what we have. We have the ability to be more than what humans could have ever imagined. With the knowledge and progress we have made we would be able to relieve ourselves of disease, increase human potential and explore our universe further, attaining knowledge we never could have dreamed. We have technology so brilliant yet we spend hours watching tv, eating fake foods, poisoning our minds and our bodies because that's all we can do.
Those that know this want us to be this way. This keeps us suggestible and easy to control. We are told what to watch, what to hear, how to hear it, what to eat, even how to think. Most don't even care. Life is easier this way.
On September 11th, 2001 I had a great hope. For once I thought finally mankind might wake up and realize all they had and maybe value it. In the aftermath of the attacks and the hundreds of funerals that followed I thought maybe it would start them thinking. Pain is hard. Loss is hard. I know what those things are and each time I am hurt I use it to learn and better myself. September 11th had an unendurable pain for so many people I had hoped some good would have come of it. The scales had to be balanced. For a wonderful few days I thought they would be. People were nicer to strangers, they helped each other out. It wasn't much but it was a start. People were coming together to help each other, which seemed so rare. It helped ease the pain.
Now that is over and people have gone past complacency to dissension. Everyone is suspect, everyone is responsible. The world has gone to war that will never be finished and will bankrupt our nation. Jobs are disappearing and the divide between the lessers and the greaters has turned gigantic. People die and we can only laugh or feel they have in someway earned it. This frees us from feeling like it could happen to us.
We are much worse than we were five years ago.
the government is corrupt and we're on so many drugs with the radio on and the curtains drawn
we're trapped in the belly of this horrible machine and the machine is bleeding to death
the sun has fallen down and the billboards are all leering and the flags are all dead at the top of their poles
it went like this: the buildings tumbled in on themselves
mothers clutching babies picked through the rubble and pulled out their hair
the skyline was beautiful on fire
all twisted metal stretching upwards everything washed in a thin orange haze
i said: "kiss me, you're beautiful --these are truly the last days"
you grabbed my hand and we fell into it like a daydream or a fever
we woke up one morning and fell a little further down --for sure it's the valley of death
i open up my wallet and it's full of blood
- from "Dead Flag Blues" by Godspeed You! Black Emperor
Thankfully my schedule is returning to normal hours. The affect of those two days of little sleep followed by a lost day of slumber is gone. I want to get back into the routine of waking up, going to work, going to the gym, cooking dinner, etc.
I found a really cool clothing store called Lost World. Lots of old concert t shirt, jackets, jeans, exactly what I need to rebuild my wardrobe. I found some cool shirts and will get some jeans and a jacket or two when I start getting winter clothes. I'm wearing a Back in Black shirt I got there and it may be my new favorite shirt.
This afternoon I ran to Wrigley Field and back, which is almost three miles. I used to run a lot but hurt my foot years ago and it cramps up if I run more than a couple of blocks now. It has been a while and I feel like I've gotten too out of shape, I just had to move, I feel like I've been lazy and I don't want to get into a habit.
I really needed it, it felt good. I can really get into running. I don't know if I'll make it a constant thing, maybe every week or so. My entire system felt flushed. I sweat and my legs burned. I feel MUCH better. When I got home I did the rest of my exercises; curls, flies, squats and crunches, the whole circuit. I'm trying to keep in shape without having to run to the gym everyday. You really have to work your schedule around it and I really can't get into it now, I've got other things to worry about.
A boring entry today. I should have picked a subject rather than talk about my daily life. Nothing to report.
Wait, C called me last night when I was getting into bed and was upset about something but wouldn't say what. I think she wanted me to come over there but it was already two in the morning and I was half asleep. I barely even remember what was said. She may still be mad at me. For what, I'm not completely sure. I'm still upset about her tossing my stuff out for me to pick up and getting it stolen. That's the second time that happened this month.
People have always questioned one's integrity when they identify themselves with a faction. I never identified myself with any one group though in high school I spent most of my times with the kids that thought of themselves as punks. Other people considered them "burnouts," which is odd considering some of them had the highest gpas in the school.
I listened to metal yet didn't have long hair. I liked punk but I didn't do drugs or smoke. I have no tattoos or piercings and so far have no criminal record. When people look at my music collection they would label me "not a punk" or someome that doesn't know real metal though I never aligned myself with either of those.
What makes someone punk anyway? I always considered myself closer to the austere Fugazi ideal of straight edge, non smoking, non drinking but their main influence was the heavy drug using Bad Brains, who are considered some of the founding fathers of the movement. Yet people always try to one up each other by believing their ideal is better.
Bad Brains and Fugazi
Black Flag, who rejected punk ideals then set the template for future bands
I've seen the same thing in religion, martial arts and education. When I was younger and wanted to identify with groups I strove for that ever changing ideal, though I was completely unsure of what it was. One guy told me I had to spike my hair, another told me I couldn't listen to metal. Someone else told me I had to become educated, then politically active and forego all drugs, even sex.
Black Flag, one of the most admired bands in the genre grew their hair long and borrowed heavily from metal, a sacrilege at the time. When their fans wanted short two minute songs they recorded long instrumentals. Yet they are named one of the most influential punk bands for their work ethic. They created their own music label to record their own music, planned all their own tours and created the d.i.y. tour where they booked their own shows and made all the arrangements themselves, even going so far as to travel in one van and sleep with their equipment. The founder, Greg Ginn even rewired his guitar to give it the right abrasive sound the band is known for yet many people considered them posers at the time. They are one of the few early punk bands that has yet to fully reunite and tour.
Do people try to conform to their group's expectations because they don't have enough personality of their own or is it a need to be accepted? Why do these subcultures, which are anti establishment to begin with, so committed to conformity?
Drove through Lincoln Park today and saw all the students milling around DePaul. It reminded me, with all that's been happening lately, that I still need to get back to looking at grad schools. It's not so much that I need to, I just feel like I should get my Master's. All those people that got them seemed to be able to work around their days and fit it in and with the money I should be getting I may as well put it to something useful.
I have no job I want that requires me to get one and my career path is pretty flexible right now but another degree under my belt will do nothing but help. If anything I know I won't be wasting my time doing nothing. I do regret not getting my Master's right after school but if I had things would have turned out very differently. I may still be in Memphis, which I would hate. All I wanted at the end of undergrad was to get the hell out of there.
But what to study? I'm leaning towards History, since I've always loved it. I could take some writing related course but that most likely won't tell me anything I don't already know. I need to be more specific.
I spent the day with C and she ended up leaving my cds by the back door in the alley for me to pick up as she was leaving. I went down to get them and *suprise* they were gone. Second time this has happened to me in a month. I've had it.
I wasn't sure if I should get into this at all because it's long over but I figured I should since it was a major concern of mine on top of everything else when I first got here.
When I was living in Boston I was researching cities to see which would be the best fit. I narrowed it down to Chicago and Atlanta and had plans to visit each. Chicago was first and while there I met a woman named KT. We got along better than I could have ever hoped for and I spent the entire visit with her. By the time it was over we had made plans for me to move in with her.
Around that time I was dwelling on a lot of things. My career was stalled, I felt removed from my family and most of my friends had moved on. Boston seemed old and tired. I'd been there for too long and had done everything I could there. Every street held memories and, though I had a good time there I felt like I had to leave.
I was also wondering where my life was going. I had been through relationships and was bored with dating. I didn't expect a lot out of the women I was with because I didn't know exactly what I was looking for and when I met KT it seemed obvious. The one thing that truly made me happy was being with her, being there for her and spending my life making hers better. I wanted to be her support, show her all the happiness she's ever wanted. She talked about marriage very soon after we met. At the time I laughed it off but soon I warmed to the idea. It would be wonderful being married to this woman, despite only having known her for a short time.
As always happens, the truth began to filter through the rosy filter I was looking through. She smoked, which I couldn't stand (and broke up with girls for it in the past) and, looking back, she seemed awfully self involved. Every day was a drama for her. This fueled my need to keep her safe so I didn't notice or care at first but even in our short time together she began to show signs of emotional dependence. At the time it was part of the charm, this timid woman always looking for reassurance and attention.
On the last night we had a huge blowout. Despite having a huge amount of work to do she fell asleep after I left for the airport. We made up the next morning and discussed my staying for a few more days. I considered it but didn't plan it and wanted to get home and take care of things. As it happened, my flight was cancelled but instead of being happy she was irate when I told her. She picked me up at O'Hare rigid and angry at me for asking her for a lift back, though I offered to stay in the terminal. I took her away from the work she was rushing to finish for the next day at work.
Our last night together was the longest I spent with her. I left wondering if I would ever see her again and if I would want to. Looking back, I can see I was desperately in need of something to change my life. I needed a change and liked the idea of being a husband. We shared common interests, the same sense of humor and had the same goals. At the time that seemed to be enough.
When I returned to Chicago I planned to propose to her. All I had to do was get my things in order, plan a good weekend to move and go. The first night back she called and we had a huge fight. I was ignoring her, going out with my friend J, a female. In her eyes this was cheating and I quickly went on damage control. She didn't trust me and I spent the next few days trying to get back into her good graces.
June dragged on. If I had known what would happen on the thirtieth of June I would have enjoyed it but all I could think of the entire month was getting out to Chicago. On the sixth KT called me crying because her dad had died the month before and it was his birthday. I spent hours trying to calm her down and make her feel better, even offering to get a flight in that night.
In the month of June we talked almost daily and fought almost every time. I realize now she needed emotional affirmation though she rarely returned any affection. Twice I stopped talking to her only to have her panic and call me desperately.
I consider myself a good judge of character and have often ended things with past girlfriends after recognizing their intentions and the fact that I left this go on so long shows how desperately I wanted a real, loving relationship. Unfortunately, she was not someone that could offer it.
Katie was 38 and never married. She had been involved in a few close long term relationships, all of which she still talks about glowingly. She painted the picture of her ex boyfriends being wonderful people with only slight flaws that forced her to break up with them. Everything must be perfect for her, because she won't stick around to try to fix anything. She shouldn't have to compromise, she told me.
Still, I stayed and, despite the adolescent phone relationship we were going through, I hoped for the better. The day came for me to leave and she offered no help in getting me set up in town. In her eyes I was already out of her life. I only wish I had seen that then.
When my truck caught fire she was initially shocked but said she couldn't help me make it to town as she was leaving for a weekend at the beach that afternoon. After such a response that should have been our last conversation. When I made it into town she didn't want to see me. The last time I saw her was two weeks later.
I went to see her at the bar where she worked and was met with friendly indifference. I was set against getting close to her after being snubbed after the fire but she made no indication that I was anything other than a distant friend. I left and never saw her again.
In the weeks since we've written each other a handful of times. Mostly I initiated so I could get back the clothes I left at her house and a few of the times she ended up fighting as usual. I'd had enough and wanted nothing to do with her at that point.
I still have regrets over everything falling apart but mostly I'm comforted in knowing that the good memories we had together were never honest. I filled a role for her and once she had gotten past that she had no use for me. It was difficult at first, I put too much on her and looked for things in her she could never offer but I know it would have been worse to be with her than without her. I didn't want her as much as I wanted the idea of someone there. For what I was looking for, she fit the role nicely.
I questioned my worth as a partner and put a lot of undue blame on myself. I've always been a very caring boyfriend and held the idea that marriage is something I would excel at. I felt I'd failed and that only added to my worries of being in a new town with nothing to my name. Now I know the fact that I put so much work into it when so little was returned showed that I am more than that. It wasn't right and I can only be thankful that we only went as far as we did.
Had we stayed together there would have been almost constant fighting, followed by half hearted making up. The sex was mediocre and, like the rest of the relationship, I put more effort into it than I got back. If we were together I would never be able to work on my book as every moment of my free time would have been taken by her and I wouldn't have been able to live for myself. My main concern, my goal, is to write and I don't want anything to keep me from that. Had we stayed together I would have found it difficult to ever write again.
I attempted to write earlier but lost what I wrote after my system froze up.
It was a very full weekend. You have to understand that months ago my weekend consisted of going out with a friend for maybe a couple hours on the weekend. If I was lucky I may have a date. More often than not the date was not enjoyable.
Here I am doing my best to manage my time between the few people I met here. I'm not sure what I did to become so active though I'll blame it on the openness of the people here as opposed to the closed personalities of New Englanders, Bostonians especially. I'm normally a pretty solitary person so I'm doing my best to acclimate myself to it. It's another thing about my life that has changed completely.
Friday I saw Snakes on a Plane. I wasn't expecting much but it was much better than I expected. Without Samuel Jackson the movie wouldn't have gotten any attention and would be much less enjoyable. If they had cast anyone else it wouldn't have been the same. The role seems made for him, the right combination of comedy, bravado and coolness. It was a great drive in movie, which is what it set out to be, nothing more. If you like snakes and like seeing people bit on the face, the head, the breasts, genitals, feet and chest then it's enjoyable.
*Spoiler ahead. Skip the rest of the paragraph if you haven't seen it*
Despite all this and the suspension of belief to enjoy a film about hundreds of feral snakes smuggled about a plane, the one thing I couldn't ignore is the ending. After he delivers the line everyone paid $10 to see what is his great plan to get rid of all the snakes? Shoot out the fucking windows of the plane! and they end up landing the plane with a guy behind the controls who only flew flight simulators in video games and several of the windows missing while the remaining passengers clung to the seats and held their breath. Still, an enjoyable movie. I wouldn't be surprised if there's a sequel.
Saturday I went to Millenium Park with this cool French woman I met. She knew more about the city than I do. I hadn't been there since I came with Kam just before our last trip out west.
I got to visit my favorite Chicago attraction.
Kam is on his trip out west. I'd have loved to have gone with him but I couldn't leave right now when everything is starting to get better. He's out west again but taking another, more southern route. He went through Louisiana, then Texas. Last I heard he was at Buffalo Bill's a resort on the Nevada/CA border.
I've sent out tons of resumes and have gotten some good responses. Most of them ask why I'm free with a resume like mine and then I never hear from them again. It's like dating in Boston.
Jesus Lizard is my band of the moment.
What a pretentious fucking title "As I sleep the country awakens." I've got to do something about that. Blogs are lame bullshit anyway. Thankfully I don't think too many (if any) people read this. I wouldn't want a lot of people seeing this. I think of deleting it every day.
