Monday, January 26, 2009

Recovering Insomniac

I’m such a dreamer, but I’m not an optimistic dreamer, which probably makes me a nightmarer…if there ever were such a thing.

I really try to not over analyze things.

People.

Statements.

Secret vacations.

But I can’t help it. So when Sex goes off at 2am, I’m stuck with the thoughts of YOU and YOUR foolish ways.

And those thoughts carry on into REM, and I’m faced with colorless nightmares of YOU and HER.

or YOU and HIM...

But I miss sleep. I miss being optimistic. I miss when things were easy. Before WE complicated OUR lives with briefs, cases, court, jail, jailees, trustees, trials, 5 hour shots, Starbucks, 7 Eleven, supplements, educated drama.

I miss when YOU weren’t pure but were manageable. But now YOU'RE a mess and my dreams have become just like YOU.

I miss sleep. But I miss YOU. However, right now my sleep is more important than the memories of YOU and I.

So GOODNIGHT and GOODBYE.

What Does It All Really Mean?

I was reading an issue of Cosmo and it included an article on what men say but what they really mean. It was interesting; a little disturbing but a good read nonetheless.

We all have a tendency to say one thing yet mean another. But what happens when the prerequisite Reading Between the Lines 101 is not enough to pass Interacting With the Other Sex.

I’ll be the first to admit that I have this tendency (but who doesn’t?).

For instance: “Whatever”.
Which means, “I don’t give a fuck and will handle "it" on my own time”.

Which really means, “I’ll never handle the situation but want this painful lecture to end before I throw up and swallow”.

Its funny how the one-worded phrase, “Whatever” can mean a variety of things when uttered and turn into something completely different once a person is released from the peril that caused the situation to become just whatever and not something more.

I just wish that I could read between the telephone receiver and figure out what the hell you meant when you ended the conversation with, “I don’t know what it is. I’ve been hurt before. I just need time.”

Huh? What happened to a simple, "Goodnight, sleep tight," A.K.A "Wish I was there to keep you up all night".

So dude, what does it mean, “Don’t call me again"?

Or does it actually mean, “Please remain patient with me. I really enjoy your company, but I’m damaged goods and need time to heal. Yet in the time of healing, I’d love to get to know you better.”

Or worse, does it just mean, “Whatever”.

I’d rather be fed a three-syllable word than hear another man drone on about how he’s been hurt in the past (boo fucking hoo) and just needs time to heal.

Uhh…hello! Having your heart chipped away slightly does not mean you have to shut down and wreak havoc upon every woman you encounter. Or shut down and never reopen again.

It means the piece of your heart she stole is gone and it’s hers. It will always be hers (even though she disposed of it last year with the help of two new friends).

It means that you are not whole, but you are not incomplete.


And that what is remaining IS enough to try and let US be more than a simple, “Whatever”.

So please say what you mean and mean what you say…and if, “I need time” means, “I’m not over HER, she still has a hold on me and I’m passing time with you until she returns” than say just that.

Because yours isn’t the only chipped heart in this quasi relationship.

Beef & Swine + Fran= An Upset Friendship

A long lost friend called me last night. It was so weird. Like we used to hang really tight and out of nowhere things just ended.

There was no animosity. No argument. No return of belongings.

Conversation just ceased….until now.

Turns out there was animosity, but she was too proud and too confused about her own feelings to have an argument with me.

It’s been so long I couldn’t even recall the events that let to our demise (such a dramatic word!). She explained it happened in Tampa…at a bar-b-que joint…or the bowling alley…I said something hurtful…or not…she took offense to it…and just stopped talking to me.

I sat on the phone in silence. Celebrities adorned in diamonds and couture flashed before my eyes from the tube, but I couldn’t process what she was saying. All I could think about was that the guy from House has a freaking English accent!! WTF?

She explained that she had decided to cut me off.

Huh?

So if I was cut, why didn’t I know? Or suspect?

It was ironically funny. Someone I considered a close friend, who knew almost everything and was there whenever I needed her, had cut me out of her life between Temple Terrace and our long I-4 drive back home.

A semester passed, we graduated…yet I had no clue that I was dismissed for an entire season!

So what does it all mean? Maybe that I stopped needing her or that she stopped needing me. Maybe she realized she knew enough about me and was no longer interested in learning more. Maybe we matured, became serious about the next steps we required in life and grew up.

But how can you not even notice being cut from the team if being a player was that important to you! And who was my fucking replacement?!?

I’m not even upset with her. I’m just confused. I just wish she had discussed with me almost three years ago while I was driving Ellie Mae that she was upset. That it wasn’t the ribs and pulled pork that had her stomach in a knot; it was ME. And that she was going to cut meat and ME out of her life for good (or until it was deemed necessary).

She’s returned to her carnivorous lifestyle and we agreed to keep in touch. I still don’t get it, but perhaps cleaning her system required ridding ME from her diet as well…

General is Never General Enough

Having this blog is like a virtual diary. Now, I don’t know how much privacy that leaves me, but I look at each entry as random thoughts that include life lessons I’ve learned from personal experience or from pure observation.

Its out there for everyone to read...even my friends. When I told Faye I had given the web address to a few friends, she scolded me. Her advise was that friends should NEVA read your blog because they take everything personally and next thing you know shit pops off.

Well, shit has popped off…

When you read an entry, read it for enjoyment. Don’t critique my verbiage, my grammar, or my lack of sexual insight. Don’t read between the lines and attempt to morph the nouns used into YOU.

If I wanted to discuss your sloppy ways, I’d use your name. And if I didn’t give two shits about your ass, I’d use your real name.

If you feel salty about an entry, perhaps it’s because you realize that in many ways, the nouns I refer to resemble you. But that is an issue with the man/woman in the mirror; NOT me.

I write about things I hear in passing. Things I view in the media or just know exist, and disgust me to the point where I must rant for a few paragraphs to purge myself.

I have no judgment for anyone. Do you. Do him. Do her.

But in the process of doing what you enjoy, realize that everything that feels good isn’t good for you. Sometimes your vices, your weaknesses, your addictions affect those around you. Those who are tired of the same shit. Tired of the stagnant lifestyle you call fabulous, and only desire for you to wake the fuck up and realize that perhaps you (NOT HIM) are the problem.

So, if you have read an entry and feel salty, please discuss your feelings with me so we can determine if your wounds were caused unintentionally yet carelessly by myself, or worse are self inflicted.