Monday, April 16, 2012

Mixed Bag Monday

(Don't ask what is going on with the HTML editor in Blogger the last couple days, 'cause I have no idea. As Stevie Winwood says, just "Roll with it, baby.")

Wow. I just had about 2 hours of zone out time. Tried doing some meditating to get my focus off this damn pain in my side. I know that I should probably tell my doctor about it, but it's like I'm always whining, crying, complaining and being such a pain in his ass. And, yes, I know how stupid that sounds because that's kind of what doctors are for, but... I'm pretty sure that I have just wrenched my back or something. This is going to get better if I stop forgetting and moving the wrong way.

Anyway, like I said, I have been kind of meditating. Well, I don't know if it's meditating or just letting myself get really chill for a while. I just sat for a while, put on some Coltrane and (of all things) Patti Austen and, well, just let stuff not root in my mind. That was kind of nice. I think too much all the time. Of course, one problem with the meditating (or Trudy-ating) that I was doing is that all those thoughts that I didn't let take root at the moment are bouncing back to me now. I can't remember any of them very clearly, but mostly what came to mind (and that I remember) were pieces of things I've heard or read. Frustrating because of my memory problems. I had to hunt and search to find them for this post:

“Imagine a man who stands before a mirror; a stone strikes it, and it falls to ruin all in an instant. And the man learns that he is himself, and not the mirrored man he had believed himself to be.” 

That's one I have tried to recall a lot lately. (I didn't know it was from someone named Gene Wolfe. I think it's one I just heard mentioned in a conversation with a friend -?) But, like I said, it's bounced in and out of my head thousands of times recently. Maybe because I feel that the Sarcoidosis has been my stone. I guess I am trying so hard now to keep in mind that I am myself. I have to hold on to that.

Then I was thinking of an old boyfriend that had called me the other day. So hilarious to me that I never did anything but sleep next to him in a bed (we didn't ever go past that in our feelings for each other). He screwed around with everybody in the world, but told me that I was the woman he just liked being close to. Good thing. No telling what kind of infectious shit he had brewing in his drawers... Once when we were just laying around his house watching something stupid on TV like old "Bewitched" re-runs or something, he read parts of "Lady Chatterley's Lover" to me. Shocked hell out of me when he read out “We fucked a flame into being." Shut the damn door! I've read that book. I read that book at least 5 times in my life. Why don't I remember that being in there. It is though. And this pointed out to me by a man who never went past sleeping with his hand on my hip? Damn.

Of course, I am remembering that guy, (call him "V") and wondering what it says about me that we never made love. I didn't have the nerve to ask him when we talked recently because it just couldn't be that kind of conversation. He's married and so incredibly happy that I wanted to remind him to always hang on to this woman (He's had a lot of hurt in the heart.) I don't know who the lady is, but I wish I could tell her what I heard in V's voice when he said her name. That man is down for her. What's really eating at me now that I am really thinking about all this is that V isn't the only man I had that kind of relationship with.  Never really thought about it until now, but what the hell is wrong with me?

I had such a great friendship with "D" for about 3 years before we just kind of starting looking differently at each other. He was the first one of us to get sent over to Hong Kong when we tried upping the success of brokerage clearance. I was his Anchorage liason and we'd email back and forth and have daily nervous breakdowns over some shit like Customs holding up important freight that we had pre-cleared. Those emails were strictly business, but we set up a system of covering our asses with personal emails (because of the time difference and our exhaustion). Those mails started getting personal - I guess because distance equals safety and boldness and - whatever. D was in Hong Kong for about two months and when he got back it was close to my birthday. He gave me a beautiful pearl necklace that I have to this day. We started hanging out at his house. I stayed over later and later, and pretty soon I was spending the night. We'd just fall asleep across his bed. It was nice. No pressure, no shame, no sin. We'd just hold hands and talk, then go to sleep. It was incredibly intense and intimate in a way that sex just cannot be.  I'd wake up with breath that could detonate bombs and he'd still keep a straight face while giving me a Good Morning peck. Funniest thing is that we never brought that shit to work. We'd be complete business at the office. Everyone just assumed we were really good friends. I guess we were. (I stayed friends with him, though we stopped the sleepovers. When I got married, he stopped calling me. I saw him a couple years ago in Walmart and we hugged, did a quick life catch-up chat, traded contact info, but - nothing. I think I hurt him by getting married.)Yeah, so. I had these things on my mind after the little chill-out session.

After I wrote this post, I called one of the BFFs (B) because I felt just a little depressed by it all. My dumb ass forgot that I'd never told her about my thing with D. When I got through being all dramatically upset (I'm such a drama queen), I was waiting for B's usual reassurances. Bitch just about broke a rib laughing! She had known about V but not D and, for some reason, this just rocked her world...

Okay, B still made me feel better. Probably because her laughter is absolutely contagious. Probably because I can finally stop being embarrassed about the whole thing.  B says that sometimes, even guys just need a safe place to be loved. She says that I was that safe place for V and D. (I notice that she doesn't seem to mind that the guys she's cared for have just found her too hot for all that cuddling-only crap!) Heffa.

Anyway, while we were yakking, she asked what it was I was listening too. I told her and she insists I find a YouTube version to add to this post. All my good friends know that I am into words and music. If one doesn't soothe, release or fix life, the other will. So, my gal B wants the music here?

Okay then.






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