A visit from austin joe

I hung out with my friend Joe from Austin tonight. It was really good to see him. Yesterday when he came into the office I couldn't stop grinning. I didn't realize that I'd missed him, and it made me happy to hang out, talk about old times, and catch up.

Tonight, though, after vodka sampling, an anchor steam, and two fantastic slices of Zachary's, I had to excuse myself for a couple of minutes. Talking about Austin, things/restaurants/shops/experiences there... I don't know, but I guess I got quiet for a bit, and it felt like my insides were eating themselves.

I went and looked at myself in the mirror and wondered what the heck was wrong with me.

My god, man, you've been sad for SEVEN MONTHS. What the FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!?!!

And tonight, I caught myself getting more and more cynical, more and more negative, and more and more alone with each passing moment. I wanted to just go home, but Joe is leaving tomorrow and I won't see him for months, so I wanted to hang out as long as possible. But then we found ourselves watching some ugly, stupid man on television, and everything that crossed my mind and my lips was sour.

I got the heck outta there.

And I put on Blink in the car and screamed half the way home. The other half I wondered what was wrong with me. Then I wondered why it's always been so easy for women to leave me.

I got home, and considered crawling into bed without washing, without writing, and without undressing. But I opted to turn on music, and as soon as my iTunes window appeared, I knew what it would be.

As the Garden State soundtrack came on, so did my tears. And still I wonder why it is I cry and what is I miss.

I'm not mad at her. I'm not even annoyed. I don't think she did anything wrong. I don't even think I did anything wrong, although I've replayed my behavior ten thousand times in my mind, trying to decide where and how I went wrong, trying to make a mental list of all the things I'll never do again to any girl I care at all about. Some of them are nice things, some of them are just static, and some of them are exactly what every girl claims to want but then runs away from.

All of them are lame. The whole exercise is lame.

I'm lame.

I remember India Joze and Austin Java and Trudy's. I remember the Starbucks at 4th and Congress, the Rite-Aid (or was it a walgreens?) on Riverside where that ghetto guy told me to "handle my bid-ness" and called me brother at 1:30 in the morning. I remember her rubbing my head the first morning she woke up in my arms, glad I was there, glad we were together after weeks of longing, missing, and wondering.

I remember feeling home. I remember carrying her keychain when I went to the gym with it's pink strap, knowing it announced to everyone that there was a girl not too far away, and I didn't care. I remember getting "I miss you" text messages and not rolling my eyes or snickering, but instead smiling inside.

I remember listening to these stupid songs and thinking of her.

I remember feeling free, far away from work, from tenants, from computers and my parents, from the rigors of every day life, from all that is and was familiar, from every other woman on my voice mail as they slowly stopped calling.

I remember feeling happy.

Anna asked me sixth months ago if I felt like she was irreplacable. I rationally answered the way anyone in my position would. I told her what I've been wanting to believe for seven months, that it was a really good time, that it didn't work out, that there were others before and there will be others after.

I remember wondering if I was wrong.

Today I wonder if I sabotaged my UT entrance. I looked at my AZ transcripts today, and they don't have the credits that UT was missing either. I wonder if Davis has them.

Maybe I didn't send them to anybody. Maybe I fucked it up on purpose.

Which leads me, full circle, in this never ending inward spiral, wonder yet again what the hell is wrong with me.

I still see Texas shirts and wince. I saw Joe today and wanted to ask him if he's seen Lauren, directly, in passing, on purpose, or around town. I want to know how she's doing, how Austin is doing.

Without me. I want to know how she's doing without me.

And, again, what the flying fuck??!?! I knew this girl for HOW LONG? And I place her on a pedestal almost a year later that sits near Amanda in importance and influence upon the shaping of my life and my world?

I bet she never even thinks about me. I bet... sigh. It doesn't matter anyway. What matters is that I'm excusing myself while out with friends so I can go talk myself out of crying while staring into the bathroom mirror.

What matters is... and I don't care what bullshit there is wrapped around it... I miss her. I don't care that it's stupid, I don't care that I'm a fool, I don't care that I'm too old, that she's too young, that my life is here or in AZ or wherever, I don't care that she doesn't go to the gym, I don't care that Serino thinks less of me for it, I don't care that I only knew her a few weeks, I don't care that it would never work, I don't care that there's other fish in the sea, I don't care.

I fucking miss her.

I'm trying to remember if I ever felt so at ease... if I ever felt more content or comfortable or...

Nope, not so much. With her there was nothing to prove, no drama to deal with. All my girls had drama. Or they just cheated. Either way, I was never good enough.

Sigh. I guess, in the end, I wasn't good enough for her, either.

So, and here's the 17K a year question, is my desire to go back to school not really about school? Because I am actually hoping that I'll be happier. Imagine that. But what is it, really? Am I just hoping I'll feel that way again, somehow, somewhere?

Yes. And I don't have the vaguest idea whatsoever how to go about it. I didn't even realize I had it for the first week I experienced it with her. It just kinda hit me on the head.

So, wait. What's WRONG with ME?!!?


Fuck this. I'm going to bed. I'm going to turn on a superhero cartoon (love those superheroes), and I'm not going to think about this any more.

Maybe I shouldn't drink unless I'm hitting on chicks. Seems like when I drink without the explicit goal of getting leads, I get all depressed. Yay.

And tomorrow, I'm going to call my academic advisor, and ask her again about prerequisites and if I'll still be able to register for bio in two weeks when the friggin' math department decides that my A in Calculus 12 years ago means I'll probably be able to understand elementary algebra. Duh. And why I can't seem to register for PE. May as well get some credits for working out four hours a day, huh?

And tomorrow night I'm going out with a girl. Maybe a first with Veronica, maybe a 2nd with emily, maybe a third with Tracy. Hmmm, let's see, new lead or closing a deal? Sigh. Odd that it's actually debatable.

Ok, there's another case where drinking is allowed. When I need to get drunk so some girl can take advantage of me. (longer sigh)

Then, this weekend, I'm going to see Danielle, that awesome little hottie that sold me jeans last saturday. She just better be a good kisser. If she knows what she's doing, I just might have to sweep her off her feet.

Fuck texas. Go Wildcats! Go Alfie!