A "really smart guy" I've met

Shout out to fuery.com

A nod to the inner demons

I’m not a flaker, generally speaking. That is, one who flakes often. In fact, aside from the last couple of months, I can remember only a handful of times where I’ve flaked.

I’m often late – I purposefully say “ish” at the end of any given time frame whenever I can. But that’s not quite the same as full-on flaking.

Flaking like I’ve been doing. Flaking to the degree where you know you have an appointment, you are aware, alert, and more-or-less ready to handle it appropriately (whether that means calling someone, getting up and leaving the house, etc), and actively decide that you (a) don’t care about the person you’re meeting enough to even let them know, and (b) care so little about the consequences that whatever you happen to be presently doing is more important.

I’ve been a flaker the last couple of months. I’ve gotten up at a normal hour to go to work, for instance, had a meeting I was supposed to attend, and arbitrarily decided that whatever dream I was having was more important.

And then went back to bed without sending an email or telephoning.

Unprofessional, undependable, and occasionally even unethical. Certainly a sign of underlying malaise.

I’ve been doing it to girls, too. Not really wanting to go out with this person or that, I’ll make a tentative date and then not call to “firm up plans”. Or I’ll say I’m going to call and then won’t. Or I’ll make a date and then cancel it. Via email. The day of.

Ouch.

Now, my own golden rule driven morality gets in the way of this a fair amount. It’s not like I’m sleeping with these women (almost two months and counting! And it feels so… um… clean? Stress-free? ), and I do typically offer them more respect than some clown I’ve never met in another division of the has-been company I happen to work for. (Not that it’s any better, but I guess it feels like there’s self-esteem involved with women, but only a mild inconvenience with a pseudo-co-worker.)

Still, I’ve been a flake lately, and it doesn’t feel good. It’s not like I’m actively reinforcing boundaries or insisting on a low-stress lifestyle. I’m just being an asshole.

And I think I’m more of an asshole for it than anyone else.

Insult to injury? Every time I flake, I feel one step closer to the deep, dark black hole that is depression. Or loser-ville. Or just being a bad person in general. The line between me and folks who aren’t successful and/or what I call “not functional” seems every so slightly thinner.

And I become just a little bit less of the person I like to think I am. A little bit less the person everyone else seems to believe I am.

A little bit less human.

Faulty memories are sometimes such a pity

One of life's little frustrations is that you never know the moments that will strike you later until long after their gone. There are some exceptions, to be sure -- if I really think about it, I can tell you some pretty good things about most of my birthdays, for instance -- but for the most part, that little smile you got on that first date with a new person flashes right before your eyes and is gone before you even had the chance to remember it. Sometimes those moments happen when you've been drinking, too, and that just upsets things even more. And then, perhaps, like me, you find yourself clinging to shreds of memory based on the song that was playing (like babyface at my first slow dance in eighth grade), the food you were eating, or the smell in the air, or the taste of the beverage in your hand. Sometimes I even remember what she was wearing more than I remember her face. Or, maybe, I'm just scared I don't remember her face correctly, and so the black and grey horizontal stripes just seem more certain by comparison. -- Someone who wasn't even that important to me walked out of my life yesterday. It was a girl I hardly knew, whom I never called beautiful, nor even kissed. I had been lackadaisical, as I have been with all things feminine since... well, if you're still reading, you know when... and she called me on it. I suppose I was disappointed, not because of her persay, but certainly because it forces me to introspect, however briefly, about how and why I've checked out. I wasn't happy in dating overdrive, but I was too busy to be unhappy. And having women -- even women you don't really care about -- do nice things for you still feels really good. I'm not happy being a hermit either, but at least I know I'm not hurting anyone. And I can't get hurt this way, either. The unfortunate thing is, I don't think a partner just drops on your lap. It's become cliche that she falls out of the sky just when you stop looking, but I don't believe it. Napoleon Hill and all that have come after him would say that I'm creating my own dilemma by focusing on what I can't or don't have, that by having faith in my endless singlehood, I'm autosuggesting a self-fulfilling, self-perpetuating prophecy. I struggle a lot with that ideology, because I've put myself out there more than anyone I've ever known. I've been knocking for a long, long time, and when there's only one or two girls out of the last 100 who I really looked forward to seeing after the third date, that's not my problem, that's the dating pool. That's demographics. -- Another of life's frustrations just occurred to me. The little girls I've hurt over the years still take a gander at my incessant whining every once in awhile, but the ones that changed me have filed me in that special place that doesn't include checking up on how I'm doing. I understand. There is the exception of the girl that hurt me the most in the world. She called me not too long ago, and it was definitely not good for me. It's still frustrating. -- Speaking of that @#$%, I am not a Jedi yet. I'm not even sure the force is with me.

One of those silly myspace surveys

1. Grab the book nearest to you, turn to page 18, and find line 4.
"Knowing that there was such a thing as outdoors bred in us a hunger for prosperity, for ownership." (The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison)

2. Stretch your left arm out as far as you can. What's there?
Two cups. A Peet's Coffee and a water glass. Both empty.

3. What is the last thing you watched on TV?
The last TV program I watched was "Smallville" from a couple of weeks ago.

4. Without looking, guess what time it is:
6:50pm

5. Now look at the clock. What is the actual time?
6:30pm

6. With the exception of the computer, what can you hear?
A faraway vehicle engine.

7. When did you last step outside?
20 mins ago or so.

What were you doing?
Laundry.

8. Before you started this survey, what did you look at?
Porn! j/k. Email. Some JavaScript code for a project I'm working on.

9. What are you wearing?
Denim and workout clothes. Waiting for laundry to finish and then heading to the gym.


10. Did you dream last night?
Yes. I woke up a lot.

11. When did you last laugh?
Skating last night.

12. What is on the walls of the room you are in?
Some artwork -- a target special, a naked chick in charcoal (gift), a Goines reprint, and a Snow White litho. Oh, and a tee shirt, but only because it's drip-drying.

13. Seen anything weird lately?
This survey.

14. What do you think of this quiz?
Might not finish it at this rate.

15. What is the last film you saw?
Fight Club. No, not in the theatre.


16.If you became a multi-millionaire overnight, what would you buy?
I already am. They don't sell contentment and appreciation at the mall.

17. Tell me something about you that I don't know:
Doesn't #16 cover that? No?
How about, "sometimes I miss my hate"

18. If you could change one thing about the world, regardless of guilt or politics, what would you do?

Every child would feel loved.


19. Do you like to dance?
You don't get to be good at something unless you like it. Generally speaking, of course.

So, yeah, I kinda like dancing. Heh.

20. George Bush:
Is an idiot and a disgrace to our country, if not to all of humanity.

21. Imagine your first child is a girl, what do you call her?
An abortion! (j/k, sorry, dark humor)
"angel" all the time. Her mom could pick the name, though, as long as I got veto authority.

22. Imagine your first child is a boy, what do you call him?
These questions are stupid.

23. Would you ever consider living abroad?
Been there, done that, absolutely.

24. What do you want to say to God when you reach the pearly gates?
Where the f*** have you been?

Are you listening?

There's a girl from my past who awoke me in my sleep tonight. If ESP exists, if there is a faraway mutual dream, then hopefully you'll read this and email me. If not, then may the first date I have this Thursday NOT read this. Because I will have forgotten this nightmare by then. Sigh. I guess I'm leaving it to fate. Posting my feelings on the internet kinda does that, yeah? -- I know that it's just late I'm just feeling sentimental. I know that it's a throwback to even think of you when i'm like this. I know that you were just a great experience that I'll remember fondly. I know that I'm the same. (or at least i hope so) But I can't help it. You treated me so good that no one else compares. You are the songs in my playlist. You are the fairy tale in my dreams. Girls that told me they loved me treated me so badly. And you told me nothing except "we make a good team" and yet treated me soooo good. I want to be the aladdin to your jasmine, showing you the world. I want to share everything with you. I want to be your focus again, because it felt so good in your spotlight. You shone on me with such a brilliance that I hate my life without you in it. You are the everything I've never thought possible, the something I've always wanted, and the nothing I've always ignored. I miss miss miss you so so so much. Why have you gone? Why do I only see you in my dreams? Why?

Today I only had oak floors and cabernet

I woke up today, and it wasn't even Christmas, and I didn't want to get up. Nothing awaited me other than work I didn't want to do. Nothing inspired me to start the day. Nothing. The truth is… that I miss Lauren. That I tasted a life that I've only dreamed about, with a girl that loved me (or treated me better than love has ever felt... oh how so much more pathetic is that...), a family that accepted me, and... Well. That's all, I guess. That's all I want. I suppose the girl has to be attractive and smart, with an accepting attitude that isn't judgmental, but yeah, that's all I want. -- Girls never stay. People never love. Fathers never... anything. I want to die. Today. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better day.

What should I do about this?

From an email I got today:

Hope you had a fun New Years. Must admit it's not quite as fun going back to work as it is being on vacation. Hmmm, oh well.

Anyway, I was a little surprised by your phone message from Saturday. I guess really it just seemed like you had/have a lot more stuff going on that you are focused on. I called you last Tuesday, in the course of our playing phone tag, and didn't hear back until Saturday. At that point I just figured I wouldn't hear at all, that you were busy with other stuff.

But also, in your message a couple things struck me. First you asked what I was doing for NYE and where I'd be. I remember we talked about that over dinner at Levende; I told you I was coming back Friday and I even casually invited you to [a club/party]. In all honesty I figured you and your buddies would have something else going on, but it seemed like you at least liked the invitation, and I was glad about that. I knew the party would be a blast and figured you guys would have a good time too. Anyway, I guess I just figured that wouldn't have been forgotten. Whatever the reason, it doesn't matter, and there's no reason to speculate. The message made me feel like stuff I had said either didnt matter or just went in one ear and out the other. I'm not trying to make a huge deal about this, because it isn't huge. But it's important to me. And I can't let myself get involved in something where I feel like I'm just one small thing on a large list, because that's not what I want.

That's not the impression I got from you, but I've had past situations where I've let every excuse in the book slide by. I wasted time, I let my feelings get hurt, and most importantly, I'm too smart for that now.

I'm not a high maintenance person; I feel you would know that. But the people that I let into my life are my heart. They are my heart. They are what make me wake up every day and work hard and challenge myself because I love them. And having been walked all over, I have become much more selective, weary I suppose, about letting people in. Because I'm tired of having people say "I love you" and knowing it doesn't mean anything. I mean what I say, and I say what I mean. That has never, and will never, change. And I know that the people who I can truly say "I love you" to, mean it back. And I plan to keep it that way. There aren't very many, but that's life I guess.

Remember how on our first date you told me something along the lines of "oh if I meet a girl I like I feel like I always want to call her, and then I do, and it blows up in my face" or something like that? Well screw that. You know why girls do that? Because they are stupid and insecure and don't understand why a decent guy would like them, so when someone actually gives them positive attention they have to mess it up. They only "lose interest" because they don't have the self-respect to understand that that's what they deserve. I know because for a time, I was one of those. And it disgusts me. And now I can be so frank and up front that I think it freaks people out. All my female friends always say, "oooh, that's too straightforward, don't say that, you have to play the game!" Well I hate the game. It's ridiculous. And it just keeps us all rolling around in a spiral of self-doubt and even pity. It is a disgusting waste of time and energy.

And also, I've read some of your blog. I knew that you spoke more intelligently than most people that I've met, and it's clear that the same is true for your writing. Obviously you have a lot to say. I very much respect the fact that you have the courage, and the eloquence, to put your feelings down on paper. Most of the time, I can't even get mine out- whether on paper or to someone's face. I'm very jealous of you for this. And I must say I agree with your point that "happiness is acceptance." But what do you do when you are supposedly accepted by everyone else, and not yourself? And what do you do when you lose the energy to keep your "outside" so bright and shiny, that no one can see the murky darkness that is underneath? Let me just tell you that because I was so incapable of letting anything out that I simply had a meltdown. A nasty, painful, scary meltdown. I had to write about it in an essay for Duke, but they got the sugary, pretty version. So let me reiterate to you, I am jealous that you can put your feelings out there. I commend it. And I hope that, day by day, I get a little better at it.

So there you have a bit more about me. The real, undressed, "messes things up because according to her girlfriends she is way too upfront" me. You know how to get in touch.