Horns, Loneliness, Memories & Flight Patterns

I dreamed that there were two ridges rising up on my head, and I could swear they were moving or pulsing. When I would try to show them to someone, they would deflate. Here's my self-analysis....I think I have a subconscious need to grow horns. Meaning, I am tired of always being the nice one, and sometimes I just want to be mean. But I can't seem to do it. It takes a lot of provoking to get me to snap off. So the ridges on my head represented the horns I grow when I'm alone. And when I'm around other people, they go away. I was supposed to have plans tonight. (CAUTION: pity party). Seems everyone is so busy they can't make time to do anything. It's making it so hard to meet anyone. That's about the 10th time since I moved here that I thought I was actually going to have a social life, and it just didn't happen. It's so hard to start over, and meet new people. I guess that's why I was sort of counting on the ones I knew here to help me with that transition...be my guide, chaperon, introduce me to people, etc. That didn't happen either. So I'm thrown in the deep end of the pool again (thanks DAD for THAT memory. Not). I guess I will just have to swim until I can stand up again. It's not like I haven't done that scenario a hundred times. Funny, because today, I grew some horns just for a second, but they were soft, and then deflated, and then I just let myself tear up and cry for a few minutes. It was an honest-to-psych pity party. But I just don't let them last very long. I do let myself feel what i feel though. Pretending i don't is just counter-productive. 

Let me just illustrate how well i understand myself: Yesterday, I went to Best Buy and meant to spend about $50 and instead spend $222. (okay, that's not the understand-myself part); I had one of those moments where I was just sick and tired of having 40-eleven VHS tapes taking up much needed storage space in my home (and fearful some stuff would be lost when the tapes began to disintegrate). I was transferring videos and sharing some on Facebook. Watching these memories from a certain time in my life that was filled with social activity and approval and love, it jiggled something loose in my psyche--that I have missed that life so much, and have been lonely so long, and moved here to take care of that, but nothing has changed in that regard yet. And the postponed date I had tonight** incited a more acute reaction than would be reasonable, because all those videos stirred up a past where I was social, and did have people in my life who loved me, whom I could reach out and touch because they were right there--not on a computer screen, a text screen, or a phone line. I know I crave interaction that's more tactile, more present.  

Now, I know intellectually, that things don't always happen immediately. You can't just buy a packet of "Social Life Deluxe" and add water. But being reminded of what I need and want, and then realizing I don't have it, threatened to throw me into an emotional tailspin. All I can say is, I always manage to pull up before I crash. So here I am, leveling off my flight pattern again, and hoping that at some point I'll get to land. 


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*ART: Butcher Boys by Jane Alexander (1985). An exhibit at the South African National Gallery in Cape Town.  
**The woman was VERY sweet about it, though, so I don't blame her.And we are rescheduling for Wednesday.

Horns, Loneliness, Memories & Flight Patterns

Show & Tell

I'm thinking about how you can't believe what people say,
only what they do.
And if all they do is say and never do,
then avoiding them is what I have to do.

No, I don't usually trust people right away. And with good reason. But this suspicion doesn't manifest in my reticence to make friends, nor my with-holding of laughter or affection or opportunity. It manifests in my head, where no one can see it. I give people enough rope, and they either hang themselves, or weave me a pretty basket. Either way, I have my answer.

If a person gives me every indication, in words and in manner, that they are interested in getting to know me, being part of my life somehow, they will have an open book to read. But if they don't follow through, all I can do is walk away. In this age of cyber-connections, it's easy to forget how to nurture real relationships. They require time and effort. They require giving part of yourself to that person, in trust that your heart won't be folded, spindled, or mutilated. This damage can happen whether romantic or platonic in nature.

I have enough healthy confidence to know that what i bring to any type of relationship is valuable and rare. It's too bad that there are people who don't appreciate it. When I say I want to get to know someone, I mean it. I want to share space with them, talk, laugh, share experiences. If a person would rather be alone, then that means they don't want to be with you, either. Show and Tell means showing, and telling.

I want to connect with you in other ways besides cyberspace, or a text message. I want the text messages to be few and only when needed or convenient, the phone calls to be a last resort, and to have us within touching distance be the primary way we interact. If a person can't offer that, then a person has nothing to offer. I can get that kind of one-dimensional pleasure by watching Brothers & Sisters.

Show & Tell

Women's Homophobic Meetup Group

Several friends have asked about my evening with the Women's Social meetup group. So thought I'd jot a little blurb to let you all know that I don't think I'll be hanging out with that group.

We met at Baker Street Pub in Lakewood--great place. I'm sure I'll go there a lot. Just not with these people. I had nothing in common with them. Just a little example...

They were all talking about dating, and I was asked directly what kind of men I date. I wanted to say, "The kind with breasts and lipstick" but was afraid they would think I like to date drag queens. So I said. "I don't date men."

And one lady said, "Oh, burned out?"

I said, "No. I just don't date MEN."

Then things got quiet. You'd think I had just said I was a Muslim Jihadist, looking for a passport. I said, "Look at that, I just outed myself, and everyone forgot how to talk."

They sort of laughed nervously, and then the subject got changed quickly. The group organizer asked another woman something.

So a few minutes later when another participant said she had to leave, I said I did too. "I have a date," I said. "With a NON-man."

Women's Homophobic Meetup Group

I'm having (gulp) good luck.

Things seem to be trending my way. Anyone who knows my recent history knows that that is a milestone all by itself. I have been too isolated for a long time and have been trying to arrange a relocation to the Denver/Boulder area, but that's a process that will take some time. Meanwhile, I wanted to have a social life again. So I placed an ad on Craig's List. Now, if someone had told me this before, I would have done Craig's list instead of the 40 other dating sites. Hands down, I have had more luck meeting women because of that ad than with all the other ads combined. I have made some really great new friends. There are EIGHT new women in my life.

There is one exception to the Craig's list thing: A teacher from Joplin with a really cool name, which I regrettably will have to omit for reasons of privacy, etc. But i met her on Yahoo. I had to make it a paid membership just to talk to her--and told her that this, in fact, meant she'd be obligated to go on a date with me. LOL. But it looks promising, in that I am a little excited about her. She's cute, and we texted (OMG, i hate texting...she's one of those people who send you three text messages while you're still typing in the answer to the first one. My phone started smoldering...I'm either going to have to avoid it altogether or get a Blackberry) Finally I called her and said "Oh my god!" We chatted for a few minutes, and she was on her way out of town, but hopefully I'll be able to meet her soon. Might be able to talk on phone with her tonight after my date. (Yes. I have a date on Valentine's day, for once.) Oh, and "Joplin" also plays racquetball, so hopefully I'll have a partner for that soon, again. I miss it.

I've also signed on as an Independent Rep for NJOY, electronic Cigarettes--about which I am extremely enthused. This product has allowed me to quit smoking tobacco for good. After 25 years of trying to quit. I am all about eCigs now.

I also have several new proofreaders for those 13 books I continue to jerk out of print and edit again and again. I needed fresh eyes. So soon i will have final versions of all 13 back on Amazon. And I am working on about 6 others, that I hope to finish this year.

I have some extra money nowadays as well, which has made a big difference too. I'm actually able to go and do and buy. That's also a welcome change. (Now if I can just procure that lucrative contract with a mainstream publisher, I'll be set. ).

I've met many of my major goals--the only big personal one i have now is to lose that extra lard I've gathered....I'll have to finally put that DVD in the player and work out to the cardio-from-hell routine...i tried it a month ago, and after five minutes, i thought I would die. Unbelievable how strenuous it is. But it's just what I need now.

Maybe I'll even (finally) sell my land in Alamosa. (anyone?).

So anyway, this is more a journal entry than a blog, but I felt it was important for me to commemorate that my life seems to be going in a positive direction now. 'bout time.

I'm having (gulp) good luck.

Growing & Non-Existent Testicles

Saturday night we went out to see Shannon and Walter play at Grumpy's. We had an unpleasant experience with this man there who decided to "join us" in that area of sofas around a coffee table near the stage. He fancied himself some Knight from King Arthur's Court, yet didn't pull it off for a nanosecond. Even before he sat down, he waved his hands across the table where our plates and drinks and ashtrays were, as if they were in his way and he wanted us to clear them so he could settle in. Then he began to complain about the ashtrays that had butts in them (imagine that)--"What sort of place is this, can't even have a clean ashtray..."

It took a grand total of two seconds for me to respond. I picked up one of them and dumped it into the other and set down the empty one in front of him. "There you go," I said.

I immediately disliked him. There's never much doubt--nine times out of ten when a man invites himself to sit near you, he's after more than your witty repartee. The strange part is, he thought he was the most lucid, engaging, and charming member of the intelligentsia. What he was, was weird, rude, presumptuous, obnoxious, ridiculous and pathetic. He was sitting in the sofa that had it's back to Shannon and Walter, and so he had to crane his neck around to respond to them. But meanwhile, he jerked and bobbed his head and broke into song. When they would pause between songs, he would obligingly fill the void with a Pavorotti-esgue rendition of something, complete with hand gestures, and a thick operatic accent--sometimes in some indecipherable language which he tried to pass off as German, but was really Pompous fakery.

We tried to ignore him. But then he began to badger the waitress about his drink, the table, the ashtrays, his glass, and anything else. We were both bristling by this time, because she was trying her best to be tolerant of his behavior, and was met only with his holier-than-thou abrasiveness. It seemed to make him feel empowered somehow, and he was looking for some twisted, adoring response from the females in his company--uninvited though his presence was.

Shannon and Walter just looked on in wonder while he monopolized the silence between songs, periodically shouting something earth-shatteringly pertinent in their direction. He reminded me of a compunded version of that young man one night at Shug's, who sat in the front, stood by the table, almost facing everyone, his foot hiked up on his chair, and singing along with Shannon and Walter like he was a cast-member in Guys and Dolls. Only that guy was innocuous, whereas this guy at Grumpy's was like a barfly Frankenstein version of the same creature. When he asked, "Where is the restroom in this establishment?" I gave him a dry look, and shrugged. I was trying to be so obvoiously uninterested in assisting him in any way, that he would slither in some other direction. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.When he stood to announce his temporary departure, ("Will you ladies excuse me for a moment?") pausing as if to gain our full attention and coy "but-of-courses"-- I instead looked right past him toward Shannon and Walter, giving him absolutely no acknowledgement. After he was gone, I told Tammy I was losing my tolerance in a swift fashion. She said she was pretty sick of him, too, and entreated me to let her "handle it."

Well, this was a shock, since Tam is notoriously tolerant and sometimes overly-concerned with appearances and tactfulness. I didn't quite believe her, but I told her okay, but that I was not responsible for any unexpected stimuli that might make me take his head off before she'd worked out her rebuttal to him. To punctuate my declaration, I promptly leaned over and thumbed the ash from my cigarette into his drink.He returned (damn the luck) and then the waitress arrived again to serve yet another one of his requests. He was drunk, and the bartender wanted to cut him off, and he didn't like that at all. He insisted she bring him a drink, and in the big kind of mug like the one Tammy had tea in. He made a big production of it, and then insisted she empty the solitary cigarette butt from his ashtray and wipe his table down. She whirled and went to get him another glass.

I guess he didn't care for the looks we shot at him, because he began to justify his rudeness: "When I ask for something, I expect to get what I I ask for."

Tammy said, "You get what you deserve."

He mouthed off again, and she said, "You know what? You're being a jerk."

That made him mad, and he started flinging drunken aspersions and opinions again. I finally had had enough. I leaned forward and said, "Why don't you just go away?"

He continued his tirade. I kept repeating, "We do not want you here, don't you get it? We're not interested in your company. You're a jerk, and we're disgusted by you. Go away!"

He said, "make me." Wasn't that intelligent? He sounded like a grade school brat. I got up and went up to the bar to ask the manager to remove him for harassing us. They were ready to, anyway. He's been inflicting himself all over the bar all night.

So when the waitress came back while we were shouting at him, and had to deal with more of his attitude, she invited him to speak to the manager, who was going to toss him out by that time. He marched up to the bar, and while he was gone, I grabbed his cigarettes and bent the pack, breaking all the remaining cigarettes inside. I guess that was silly, but it sure made me feel good.

After he had gone, I couldn't resist a jibe at Tam's uncharacteristic indignance. I leaned over to her and said, "Do I detect the sound of growing testicles?"

Growing & Non-Existent Testicles