Unbidden Thoughts

A wispy vision of your smile, and the freckles on your face drifts through my memory. Your long slender hands, and the peanut butter sandwich’s you made us for lunch that summer when I couldn’t cope. Spooning on the couch and the crackle of a fire in the dead of winter, your arms holding me tight. Tears blur my vision and I try to put the past out of my thoughts. It’s hard to look forward knowing you’re not there beside me, even as a friend.

Sometimes when good things happen during my day I want to call you up to share my elation and excitement, knowing you’d be happy to hear about it. With a twinge of sadness I realize that part of my life is no more. I can’t call you up to share my highs and lows. In the late hours of the night, as I ponder over a turn of phrase, a line of inquiry, a methodological problem in my work I think back to the time when we could go over it together and work towards a solution. It was so easy with you because we were both budding professional historians. If I couldn’t find the words to explain the problem you could pick up the clues and help me solve the puzzle. The easy banter back and forth over our work. I wonder if you miss that too.

But I’ll never know, and so I must pick myself up and continue on. Slowly one foot in front of the other towards something I can’t distinguish anymore. The echo of your words drifting in and out of my thoughts.

“I like to think of you just continuing on. Some where out there, growing old…”

Research

From a 1922 book entitled, "Cheating the Junk-Pile: The Purchase and Maintenance of Household Equipments"

I'm at a loss for words to talk about my current personal situation, so a picture from my research will have to suffice. I love the turn of phrase for these captions. This advertisement from the N.Y. Edison Co. was in the chapter entitled, The Fire Hazard. There's something so amusing about reading through these old home makers manuals.

Unnecessary Criticism

I lay next to you on my side with my head propped up on one hand and watched the late afternoon sun filter through the blinds and over your naked chest. As we lounge in bed, my eyes fix on your face but my mind is elsewhere. Absently you run your hand over my hip and graze my stomach, letting it rest for a moment before you pinched a small roll of flesh between your thumb and forefinger, gently shaking it back and forth.

“Time for you to start playing hockey again, eh?” You say, as you look disapprovingly at my stomach.

I am shocked back into the present as I slap away your hand, my brow furrowing, as I make an offhanded comment about the season starting soon, and you feeding me too well.

Later on, when I begin to think about it I become increasingly perturbed. By no means am I fat, quite the opposite really. I lean to the low end of the BMI index to the point where I’m almost underweight and sometimes feel emaciated. My housemates call me tiny to my dismay, and there is absolutely nothing wrong with my stomach. My anger flares when I think about you, and the excess weight you’re carrying that I never mention, knowing it’s a sore spot for you.

Is this all you value for me- how I look on your arm? Are you so shallow that if I gain a pound or change over time you will no longer want to be with me?

Fuck you and your third-trimester beer gut.

First Dates

I love the possibilities that a first date represents. I love the blank slate, and all the potential that is inherent in each new man. I love that you only know a little bit about your date, leaving the rest up to your imagination or to the anticipation of finding out the rest of the story. Inevitably the reality never quite matches up to the fantasy and in some unfortunate cases it’s not even close.

Last week I went on two first dates. Date number one was a guy I wasn’t all that keen on, but figured why not. I’m new to this city, don’t know any really great places to go yet and at the very least it was shaping up to be a date rife with entertainment value. After morphing from a simple cup of coffee, to dessert at an upscale café with purportedly divine desserts, it finally ended up being a double date with two of his good friends at a new restaurant in town that was modern and trendy looking. While the man hadn’t really impressed me over the phone, or our email contact, I ended up having a good time, mostly because he was clever in bringing along two good friends. They were a really great couple and I enjoyed their company. The beauty of it was there were no lulls in the conversation or awkward moments because the double date provided a buffer for any of his nervousness, or an inability to come up with a topic of conversation. The bad part was that I didn’t really get a chance to talk to him one on one so there was no opportunity to see how he really was face to face.

Date number two was a meeting at Dairy Queen for Blizzards. Initially I had a great feeling about this one since we had been having really great conversations on msn and our phone calls had been pretty good as well. However, prior to our date I got a hint of the possibility it might not be all I thought it was. In person date number two did not live up to the hype. His personality and conversational abilities fell completely flat. Most of the time was spent with him talking about his job in a field I don’t know much about and doesn’t exactly make for riveting conversation. After a rather painful hour and a half of listening to him talk about himself, I was able to extract myself to breath a deep sigh of relief and head on home for some peace and quiet. While the ice cream was fantastic, the rest of it was a write off, since he couldn’t even be bothered to ask me any questions about myself.

I’m going out with the first date again later this week for dinner and a movie since he seems like a really nice guy with some potential after all. Plus, he deserves the chance to show me what he’s all about on his own. Any future overtures at a second meeting with date number two will be quickly shut down. I have no desire to spend any more time with someone who is that self-absorbed, and thinks more highly of themselves than is warranted. I’m thinking of just calling him up tonight and telling him that while he’s a nice guy, I just didn’t feel any spark between us and that because we’re both busy individuals I don’t think we should waste our time pursuing something that isn’t going to go anywhere. I’ve never been good at rejecting people, and for some reason my previous methods have always left the door open for them to believe that if they tried harder they could reverse my decision when nothing could be farther from the truth.

The Bright Spot in My Day

I love that you call me sunshine, just like my mother used to when I was a child.

5 Years Ago

Five years ago, I awoke to the sound of the phone. It was my Mother on the other end of the line telling me to turn on the television, something big was happening. It took my sleepy mind several minutes to grasp what I was seeing and I remember vaguely the words “World War III” coming from the somewhat frantic conversation I shared with my Mother that morning. What I saw that day, and in the newspapers the next morning sickened me. Images of people jumping from the burning towers were like a visceral punch in the gut to my 20 year old self. I bowed my head, closed my eyes from these horrible images and willed this to not have happened, but nothing could turn back time.

One image in particular struck me that next day. It was a small red-haired rag doll, nestled amidst piles of now useless paper, covered in ash and debris on the street below where the Towers used to stand. To me that image spoke of the futility of the life that was spent in those offices, amassing files and shuffling paper, only to have it blown out the building and rendered absolutely useless. All that work, and for what? On that day, no one spoke of missed work and deadlines. It was about family and loved ones and the sorrow of life lost. That doll seemed so out of place in that scene, yet so poignant. I later learned that this rag doll, Little Red, was created by Sarah Ferguson for her New York charity, Chances for Children. Their offices were located on the 101st floor of Tower One in donated space from Cantor Fitzgerald. This wasn’t the first time Little Red had been exposed to senseless acts of destruction.

Seven years prior, Little Red was present at the Oklahoma City Bombing. A young boy, badly burned was rescued out of what was left of the building. He was given one of Sarah Ferguson’s rag dolls for comfort while he was being treated by medical personnel. It is disheartening for me to see children so badly hurt by adults, and adult problems and the image of this doll resting in the ruins of an adult world brought that home to me once again.

I didn’t cry that day five years ago, but thinking of all the children who were affected that day, through no fault of their own, brings me to tears today. Perhaps it comes with age, a deepened sensitivity towards the frailty of life and time, which allowed me to gain perspective on that day. Whatever it is, my thoughts go out to all the families who lost a loved one that day, because every single person who lost their life that day was someone’s child.

Home

I took this picture for a photography course in Undergrad approximately 4 years ago now. It was a shot to use up the roll of film and ended up being one of my favourite pictures. It inspired a series of pictures taken of every day objects and scenes on the farm.

Shattered

Inch by inch you are breaking me down. Even my own self-loathing feels like sweet caresses compared to the stinging criticism and cruel remarks aimed for maximum damage. When nothing I do is ever enough, and nothing I am is good enough.

Shameful, dirty…depraved and unlovable. Backed into a corner and cowering.

I wish you would just hit me instead. I could understand the physical aggression, but this emotional and mental onslaught is insidious and confusing. Pouncing out of nowhere and retreating. Circling, searching for that tender spot and pouring salt into my wounds.

Where a victory is marked by my tears and an apology is never forth coming.

I wonder how much longer I can hold you off before there is nothing left of me. Before the desperation to end my pain, to end the pain you heap on me becomes all consuming.

I am left wondering what I ever did to deserve your vitriolic retribution.

Random Comment

"Look at that ass."

"There is so much pussy here this weekend," came the reply from the second guy.

I was already three steps ahead and a beat too far away before it registered in my head that they were talking about me. I had to laugh. I was at a baseball tournament for my oldest brother, who at 32 was the average age of the players here, and as far as I could see it was a sausage-fest. The few women around me were the wives and young children of the players- hardly what could be considered a target rich environment for these twenty-something guys. I was already late for the start of my brother's game so I just rolled my eyes and kept walking like I didn't even hear them.

I guess no one ever bothered to tell them that if they're going to talk about a girl's attributes they had better wait until she's farther than 3 feet away.

Swedish Berries

I went to the movies last night with a friend.
We snuck in contraband candy.
I then proceeded to gorge myself on Swedish berries until I felt positively ill. It was fantastic.

Jack

It’s amazing to me that one conversation can turn my emotions upside down so easily. Last night I talked to a friend I haven’t spoken to in several months. We were teammates this past season and really hit it off. I had forgotten how incredibly nice, supportive and genuinely interested in other peoples lives he was. I had also forgotten how confusing it could be to speak with him.

He has a girlfriend, but he only mentioned her once after a rather embarrassing exchange where I finally screwed up my courage and asked him out on a date. Since then I haven’t heard a word about her and he continues to talk to me in a manner that leads me to believe I am a temptation to him. I have no idea if they’re even dating still, but I imagine they are since I was led to believe it was a long-standing relationship.

If it’s possible to have a purely intellectual affair, then I believe that is what we have. It reminds me of Mr. Intellectual and I and how we had such a great connection in that respect. For a long time it was all about pure academia, intellectualism and really great thought-provoking conversation. Right now that is what Jack and I share, aside from our passion for Hockey.

It’s an interesting relationship, but it also stirs up feelings in me that I haven’t had in a very long time. I have always been attracted by smart men who border on the nerdy in their predilections. Jack encompasses all those things I have been looking for, it’s just a shame someone found him before I did.

Pretty

I bought these shoes on a whim this Spring. A total impulse purchase that has made me happy everytime I slip them on. It's hard not to feel incredibly sexy when I wear them. Something about the cigarette heels, the gold leather and the pretty, frivolity of the rhinestone encrusted sunburst. I think every woman should own at least one pair of impractical, but beautiful heels.

A Year In Review

I think I'd like to have a do-over for the past year, please?

If I could somehow just wake up tomorrow and it was April 2005, that would be okay with me. I think I'd trade in all the good moments just to erase all the bad moments, because there were a lot of really bad moments in the past year.

Quiet Desperation

My mind flutters to a start, but I keep my eyes closed, willing myself to remain in that state of oblivion that only sleep can bring. It’s still dark out and the street is quiet. What should be a peaceful time of day is anything but in my mind. While my unconscious brain struggles to wake up an unbidden tear slides from underneath my tightly closed eyes. The tears come before I can even wake up, as if I had already been crying in my sleep.

The thought floats wispily around my increasingly alert mind.

“The only way to stop this is to break your promise…”

Now that I no longer even speak to Mr. Intellectual that promise seems redundant and worthless. Why keep holding on when the person binding you to it has bowed out completely?

I roll over into a fetal position, the covers pulled tightly up to my head, and my internal monologue begins to compose the final note. I don’t know why I feel the need to explain to him the reasons for breaking our promise, when he never explained why he walked away from me completely. When he chose to disappear the promise become irrelevant.

I don’t blame him for his choices, but I am disappointed and part of me aches deeply for the loss of his friendship, which is why I silently continue composing the mental apology for not living up to his expectations. As the sun gently breaks through the cracks in the blinds I carry on creating the suicide note I will never put to paper.

Decision Time

I woke up this morning feeling better than I have in a while. While lingering over my morning tea and surveying my new neighbourhood from my desk I realized I had some decisions to make.

It's time to move on from The Jock. He is the embodiment of the man I fear ending up with. We can occasionally have fun together and the sex is always good, but that does not a relationship make. He is in love with the possibilities I present and not who I am, which is evident from the way he dwells on my future earnings potential after the Ph.d is complete and what I can provide for him if we stay together. I am little more than a gravy train with a good body and skills in the bedroom. He of course would try to deny this, but I see it.

While all this is more of an annoyance than a reason to walk away, there is a greater reason. He treats me with zero respect for the majority of the time I’m with him and isn’t above cruel personal attacks, unwarranted sarcasm, and taking out his frustrations or depression on me. While I understand to a degree why he does this, there is a bigger part of me that knows I deserve better. I have never truly dated an asshole, just the occasional guy who pulls an asshole stunt, and I’m not about to start now. I gave him a chance to pull it together and start treating me the way I would expect a boyfriend to, but he hasn’t.

Today is the day I realized I’d had enough and to just walk away without looking back.

Stress and Control

Under stress I stop eating, or restrict when and what I will eat. This phenomenon is exacerbated when I happen to be living under my parent’s roof, where I’ll actually start skipping meals. There is something soothing about the pain of hunger and the martyrdom of abstaining. Like this small measure of control, and self-inflicted punishment realigns my world and makes the uncontrollable aspects of my life bearable.

I wouldn’t consider myself to be an anorexic since I don’t follow a strict regime of calorie counting, over-exercising and complete forfeiture of food everyday of my life. This is an infrequent habit that can last anywhere from a day, to the record 3 months of last summer while the stalking began and then took over my life. Perhaps I’m just in denial surrounding the whole thing, but eating and I have had an uneasy relationship since I was 8 years old. I didn’t realize it until last year, but I can actually pinpoint the day that I began to feel incredibly self-conscious and even shameful when eating infront of other people. However, that’s a story for another day.

A Moment of Depravity

Not long after I wrote this post, I decided it was time to get out there again and date. So, I posted a profile online and started talking to a number of nice young men. A couple of day’s later I got an instant message on one of the dating websites from The Jock. It was an interesting conversation but a little too heavily laced with sexual innuendo and a generally sexualized discussion. While I’m not a prude that’s usually the type of conversation I’ll indulge in every once in a while since human nature intrigues me, but it automatically garners you a spot on my “never to date” list, and I’ll rarely converse with this person again. If you have a one-track mind and aren’t afraid to show it immediately that’s not the kind of person I want to build a future with.

To this day I have no idea why I allowed it to go as far as it did, but in hindsight I believe the emotions I was feeling from the Anesthetize post were still very strong in my subconscious. It also appears that it’s that time of year again for me wherein I need to find a boy toy to use, abuse and then loose if I’m not in a committed relationship. However I’m wary of the “Friends with Benefits” relationship since last time I tried that I ended up with an emotionally unstable and delusional man who was unable to accept the arrangement and would not leave me alone when I tried to back out of it and disappear. The repercussions of that whole situation are still alive and well today and affecting my life.

During that conversation The Jock asked about pictures and after I was assured that he wouldn’t be sending me naked photos with below the waist shots, we exchanged headshot styled, normal photos. He turned out to be kind of cute in that curly-haired, boyish grin, preppy-dressing, slightly overweight Jock look. That’s not my usual attraction, but he wasn’t an absolute turn off. In a round about way it came out that he had a webcam and wasn’t adverse to showing me the full monty- after all, he said, “A cock is just a cock, not a huge deal.” I quickly declined the offer, embarrassed that this is the turn the conversation had taken, but we continued to talk about other things and now my curiousity was piqued.

It was getting late, curiousity got the better of me, and next thing I knew he had started a webcam chat with me. There he was across the city, unabashedly naked, and unmistakably aroused. In a moment of true depravity I didn’t click off, but sat there in a mixture of stunned abhorrence and fascination. I was just thankful that I had never purchased a webcam and wasn’t expected to reciprocate since there was no way I could have crossed that threshold. As loath as I am to admit it, I watched as this man jerked off to climax for me. To this day, I don’t know what possessed me to not only watch, but to continue talking to him.

A week later I had agreed to meet up with him for drinks, after much cajoling and discussion. I didn’t want to but he knew how to annoy, infuriate, get under my skin and in general push all my buttons until I gave in. For all his exhibitionist tendencies and overtly sexualized behaviour, there was something more to him that peeked out every once in a while- something sweet, and a little mournful. It was this imperfectly hidden person that I wanted to discover.

What It's Not

I rolled over to hug the wall for the night in a futile effort to minimize body contact, something I know he doesn't like too much when sleeping. There are no quiet whisperings of things accomplished that day, or hopes for the future. A complete absence of witty bantering back and forth and hushed laughter in the darkness, feels foreign to me. Instead as I stare wide-eyed at the pattern on the wall, in the ever-deepening silence, a feeling grows in me. Overwhelming sadness bubbles up from somewhere inside and I take deep breaths trying to silence it. I am hyper-aware of the body next to me and try desperately not to betray what is happening. A silent tear pools at the corner of my eye and slides noiselessly down my cheek, falling to rest on my pillow. Another quickly follows and joins the growing wetness. The trick of silent crying learned years ago saves me from waking him up to discover the pitiful scene.

As the tears continue to fall and the ache in my chest grows deeper I yearn for what is gone. The knowledge that I long for Mr. Intellectual at that moment hits me like a shock. It has been almost 2 years to the day since we broke up and for the most part I had put away all feelings I had for him, particularly in the bedroom, but apparently I was wrong. The contrasts between the man sleeping peacefully beside me and Mr. Intellectual are starkly blatant. That realization for unknown reasons makes me miss Mr. Intellectual intensely. It is in that moment that I know what this 'relationship' is not and the tears continue to fall.

Credit Card Theft

I received a call from my credit card company while I was at work recently. They wanted to verify some unusual activity on my card. I haven't used my card in almost 2 months, aside from the purchase of my class ring the week before at the University Bookstore. I thought perhaps that was the reason why they were calling since it had happened before when I put a large unexpected purchases on the card, like my laptop or a huge Christmas present. Turns out that someone had actually stolen the number and used it to gamble away $600 in online casinos or poker. I called the campus bookstore to let them know they may or may not have a problem at their store and it might be a good idea to look into the situation.

I guess I should be more upset about it, but the credit card representative assured me that I wouldn't be paying for the online gambling and a new card will be issued to me in the next week or so. I was also a little more preoccupied with moving to the new University town, and ending my work contract a couple of weeks ahead of the signed date. It has been a bit of a pain since I cut up the card since I would have liked it to make some purchases for the new place, but it's not a huge deal. Thank heavens for interac.

Moving

I moved to the new University Town this past Tuesday. It just so happens that Tuesday was also the hottest day of the summer. So hot in fact that I ended up giving myself heat stroke which including dizziness, nausea and vomiting. The worst part about it was that I didn't realize it until I was driving out with the last load of stuff in my car. I was 20 minutes outside of the old town and about an hour or so away from the new town when I started feeling horrible. Long story short I ended up calling the Jock who was about 15 minutes from where I was and stayed the night at his place. I felt a bit like I was imposing since we haven't really been seeing each other that long, but he was a real doll about the whole thing and was really sweet with me while I was sick.