Why do I do these things?

I have no desire to date the gentleman who just asked for my phone number. He's older than me by a lot and I'm not attracted to him. Then why did I give him my number? Why not? I don't have many friends. It's not like he proposed marriage... If he calls, we'll hangout. I'll let him take me out for a milkshake or ice cream. It's no big deal. I've got to start making friends somehow, right?

I wanna go home

A friend recently wrote on my fb wall, "you have 650 friends...how loved you must be!!" Sidebar: The fact that I deleted 200 “friends" recently and I'm at 650 is a little weird.  Nonetheless, I am indeed loved by many.  J

The past two and a half weeks have been bananas, in a good way.  I've been traveling all over the place to visit friends and family.  I'm exhausted.  The kind of exhausted that greets you with morning with a vertigo handshake.

I drove to State College to visit an old friend...perhaps one of the oldest and most intimate.  She was in my student home when I was in middle school and I chose to go to my high school student home because she was there.  She was who I wanted to be when I grew up. She listened to the Doors, and Grateful Dead, and I'm pretty sure she's the reason I developed a crush on Kurt Cobain.  Somehow she got our houseparents to allow her to get a bird and keep it in our room.  I love(d) her dearly.  It's funny how some people just feel like home.  I like that.  People who feel like warm chocolate chip cookies and milk.  

I'm staying with a family who I met through work. She was my co-worker, then my friend, then my boss, then my co-worker, then just my friend.  She's pregnant with her 2nd child (I hope labor happens soon because she might just go nuts).  She and her husband have introduced me to what it's like to be amazing people and raise a child.  Their son is one of my favorite beings on this planet. Here's to hoping that baby number two graces us with his presence before I head out to the Pacific Northwest.  

On June 5th two of my friends from college got married.  The bride is one of my best friends.  I think it's because we both have a similar grasp on the frailty of human relationships. We expect the same kindness from the world that we give, and tend to take it personally when it's a bit stingy giving it back.  The wedding was comfortable.  It was gorgeous. It was them.  Friends and family were in attendance.  The music was straight from a playlist on one of their iPods if either of the had one. I met and got to know some of their L.A. friends and it was cool to put names to faces and spend time with the other bridesmaids.  It’s the people like that that make me want to live in L.A. But then I remember that the soul of L.A. is cracked and burned and would eat me alive if I spent too much time there.     

The wedding in Jamaica was quite an experience as well.  I stayed with family and went to the resort in the evenings for the festivities.  Capitalism is such an odd experiment.  It’s allowed the people of Jamaica to live in poverty while the foreigners with wealth benefit from the countries natural resources and tourism.  It’s hard to see.  I’m planning on spending a lot more time in Jamaica over the next few years.  I have to do something to benefit my country. I’d also like to help reconnect other Afro-Caribbeans in the States to their roots.  You’ll have to check out www.19more.org for updates.

I write this to say that even though I’ve been homeless, literally, since May 25, 2010, I haven’t felt that way.  Yes, it’s been a little hard to iron my clothes on a friend’s bathroom counter, pack for a three day camping trip from my car, and leave my dog with pretty much everyone I know in Central PA, but I’m still okay.  I’ve moved around more often than *insert famous musician here* on a farewell tour.  I used to feel lost and empty.  But in adulthood I’ve made friends with my lifestyle and have realized that the people who are supposed to be in your life will be in your life regardless of distance.  My definition of home transcends the Reaganomics era building surrounded by a white picket fence.  Home, for me, is a feeling not a place.  For once in my life I get that.  

Blog Pride Day

I'm coming out of the blog closet-- soon.  I've hidden this little puppy from everyone except Amy, Kim, and Barb for many reasons.   One, they don't judge me ... ever, at least not to my face.  :) Everything I write here is something I've already told them about over the phone, or in Kim's case g-chat.  I just need the catharsis of typing/writing it out. I'm choosing now because apart of hiding in the closet was because I was afraid of what people will think.  Will they judge me for my anger or my longing?  Will they think less of me?  They might and that's alright.

I'm moving in seven months, that's actually a nice amount of time, and people will want to know what I'm up to.  I'm going to get a prepaid cell phone for emergencies.  I'm not going to part the Red Sea trying to find a job.  I figure a monthly cell phone bill costs as much as Garvey's dog food from this wonderful establishment and if I have to choose a phone or my best friend, I'm gonna choose le pup.

Going through my old blogs wasn't as hard as I thought it would be. It wasn't hard at all. It didn't feel like anything.  I fixed a few glaring grammatical mishaps, deleted one sentence, and that's it.  I was proud of myself.  I didn't feel the need to hide anything from anyone.  When I started this blog with "I saw at sea a great fog bank between two ships that struck and sank..." my heart was crumbling.  I felt like life had ended and forgotten to take me with it, gosh was I pitiful.  I needed an anonymous outlet.  The profile information, the email address, the picture, all faux material.  But no more, I've been hiding in the closet because I was used to it; not sharing my story because it involved other people.  When I was going to group, it's been like a year since my last visit, one of the women whose husband's behavior had damaged her so severely she lost sight of her self and attempted suicide, told us she's not going to hide because "...it's her story to tell."  Those words rang out and resounded in me like a toddler with a musical triangle walking through a cave. My life is my story. I have never, nor will I ever post disparaging remarks about anyone.  That would defeat this blog's purpose.  I write to reflect.  I don't need to mow anyone over for my own self-actualization.

My Icebreaker baselayer pants are coming in the mail today. Yay!  I'll wait to go for a run until they arrive.  I think my trekking poles will also arrive so I may go to the rails to trails and do a test run.  Rasta's front paw is injured. She's not putting any weight on it so she'll probably have to stay here.  :(  She's so much fun. I think I like her more than I like Garvey. Uh-oh.  It's just apart of her charm.  I think Garvey loves her more than he loves me.  So we're even. She does resemble Buckeye (the SBA three- legged dog) as she runs. That is unfortunate.

While I'm waiting for my Fed-Ex boyfriend I'm going to sit in my down sleeping bag (I turned the heat off last night so I could test it out: A+++) finish some planning for MLK Jr. Day, take packing boxes to the basement, vacuum shards of tile from my carpet and take a shower, maybe. My apartment is freezing and being cold and wet are a combination of my two least favorite states of being.

All-in-all I'm feeling mighty fine.  :)

An old friend

We had lunch yesterday.  We arrived at the same time. I was able to see him walking into the restaurant first which was nice. It didn't make my weird feelings go away, but I felt like I'd cheated and gotten a leg up somehow.  

I walked in as he was being seated.  He saw me, but didn't recognize me at first....  He looked the exact same, just a bit older.  No eyebrow ring. His hair was longer, but physically, he looked the same.  They sat us at this oddly shaped table and it was like we can sit here and be "that couple" that sits next to each other on a date -- which this was not, or we could be King and Queen enjoying a feast and sit at opposite ends of the table from one another.  We chose somewhere in between.  Close enough to talk and prop our legs up on the seat, but far enough so physical contact was minimal.

I'd prefer to not do the dissecting thing.  Where I overanalyze EVERY aspect of this "meeting." Drive myself nuts, and eventually get disappointed. I want to chock this up to a great reunion with an old friend.  Which, I think is what that was.  While we were on the ship I had a ridiculous crush on him.  Ridiculous.  We're in an impossible situation right now... I say that as if there is even a "we" or "situation."  I'm just antsy to move on by dating other people.  Any single male that I'm around is pretty much fair game at this point.  

We talked about who we are now, who we were, and he remembered things about me that I'd forgotten long ago.  I realized how much I missed him. I missed how comfortable I felt around him.  How it was okay for me to be excited and passionate and silly.  He made fun of me for little things, I was nervous at first, but things fell into place.  I couldn't ignore that old crush’s second cousin that showed up for a surprise visit.  He’s cute and he reminds me of Marty… he still reminds me of Marty. 

I’m at a difficult place in my life.  I’ve fully moved on from a very serious, crazily unhealthy relationship. I’ve dated other guys who appeared to have potential, but did not.  I’m ready for something.  When I see babies I do the whole “biological clock is ticking” coo and long for one of my own. But, I’m not there yet.  I’m not ready for a heavy-duty relationship.  I am, however, ready to be attractive to someone again.  To have someone look at me with longing and sincerity… to have someone look at me and see me.  It’s been far too long, but that’s my fault. I can be over cautious. 

Emotionally, I’m tender and bruised. I can’t help but feel betrayed by two people I cared about.  I feel that they could’ve been more mindful of exactly what their decisions would do to me. But, because of how sinister one can be and the naïveté the other tends toward, they’re incapable of understanding exactly why, how much, and what exactly hurt me.   As a result, I’m being far too mindful of what others need and how I could possibly hurt someone else. I’m overcompensating by looking too far into far too many nooks and crannies of the future.  I want to live my life as carefree and happily as I’d always intended. But I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t think our joys are supposed to be at the expense of others.   Is it possible to be in a relationship that doesn’t hurt? Where anger,jealousy, and mistrust aren’t the prevailing sentiments?  I’ve only had that with my female friends.  It’s an unfamiliar tendency in regards to the opposite sex, hence my over analysis of minutiae.  Is it possible for someone to fall in love with me and I them and for no one to lay singed and broken?