Addendum

To be fair and present some context, I need to say a few things outright.

The first is that there is a lot more going on than just a single incident with Fernet. The strength of my reaction stems from the truly significant things that he's connected to or representative of in my life. As I've become older, the importance of genuine, I-want-to-know-you-when-I'm-80-and-wearing-Depends type of friendships has become clear to me.

The life that we choose to live, which is to say, the decisions that we make and the community that we choose to build and surround ourselves with as we create our singular stories are our greatest accomplishments. Especially as I'm not fundamentally close with any member of my biological family, in this sense, my closest friends are my real world family of choice. Not so much that I'm subsumed by them or lack an independent identity, but that these are the people that I know I can count on for love, warmth, laughter, support, correction, shared values, integrity, understanding, joy and assistance. It's a fairly unique individual that ends up being a comfortable fit in my life and, inevitably, the thought of losing someone who does fit, is disturbing. Alright, it drives me fucking NUTS.

Second, the whole work thing. Important, not exactly brain surgery, but stressful and irritating to be looking for a job again. An empty restaurant on a Saturday night in the busiest shopping season of the year is virtually unheard of. Until now, that is....

Third, I just may have a problem with committment when it means gracefully accepting being restricted...even by my own designs and desires. I'm honestly not entirely sure that I don't break out into hives when facing option overload on a personal basis.

So yeah, not drama or disaster so much as difficulty and I know it'll work itself out...one way or the other. I'd still prefer a happy ending with much less angst.

"The Good Times Are Killing Me"

From full speed forward to retrograde in under 72 hours. I may have broken a record. A new personal best, as it were. I blinked. I spooked. I didn't just break that glass, I fucking pulverized it. Nothing left but the palpitations of anxiety from a near miss and the stinging dust that coats everything. Such a bizarre talent for unintentional and naive destruction. I never saw it coming. Logic, a moment before impact, noted that speeds so high were neither meant for long term growth or safe landing purposes. Observation dispassionately commented, "That'll leave a mark," as the smoke cleared. Earlier, with vision clear, I was running the distance for the long haul and a barely nascent concept. Now, my eyes are hooded and I'm running to a distance nowhere in order to leave this behind for a while and curl up inside the safe and warm. Eviscerate this memory. Stupid, stupid, stupid, simple, surreptitious and slippery girl. Forever exploding in brilliant disaster and then hiding behind the sun and going underground. Will I never learn?

Something similar is what I posted to ‘echos of footfalls’ (sic) earlier. Settling down more now, but still at odds. Finding a middle ground or solid ground again, is tough. In recent days, a good friend of mine and I crossed ‘the line’ with one another. In general, I have no problem with hanky panky between consenting and responsible adults who both know and agree to the rules/score. I tend to keep casual involvements to casual friends: guys whom I know, enjoy and circulate with, but are not principal to my core circle of friends. I’ve always considered my core group and family of choice to be strictly off-limits. For the most part, I’ve done a good job of keeping this rule when picking my play partners. This would not be one such example.

I’ll call him ‘Fernet’. In the event that he ever reads this, he’ll at least get a chuckle out of that. We work together, spent our 4^th – 12^th grades years in the same area – sometimes by mere blocks, share similarly bizarre family histories, sense of humor, social dynamics and points of reference. Over the past few months we’ve gotten to know a good bit about each other and seem to share personal info with one another that we share with few others. I have commented a number of times that we feel like we’re siblings and partners in crime. He’s a very attractive individual on many levels, but we’re not match material. And while there’s an undeniable chemistry between us, I’ve never seen it as sexual or romantic. It’s simply that, I think that we’re each instigators in our independent right and together we become a nearly self sustaining system that has an even harder time not pushing boundaries as we spur each other on.

Perhaps it was a mistake to tell him how much I liked being ‘one of the boys’ because I wasn’t considered to be on the list of the ‘hotties they’d like to tap’. Perhaps it was the mutual appreciation session on the back porch where we told each other how important we were to each other and that we wouldn't lose touch after getting new jobs. Perhaps I'm just an asshat. Occam's Razor says....

I was getting to be a regular at his house. There is no shortage of admiration between he and my friends. Our respective families were starting to get in the mix together and liking it. But we crossed that line and now there’s no going back and moving forward is to traverse a dead zone that sucks for all involved. Now, I’m ‘that’ girl and he's 'that' guy. And not in the, 'hey, this is a funny story' kind of way, more of a 'sure sucks to be you, dude' way. My all-access pass has been revoked. My presence gets to be danced around, skirted, flat out avoided and negotiated when necessary. Now, I dread his presence and avert my eyes. Now the tension is not exhilarating and inviting, but alienating and distant.

I’m losing a good friend and I hate it. Stupid, silly, sad Frisbee and my brilliant career, indeed.

Shindigs and short hair

Last night at Michelle's birthday. Musings on the party to come....

Something to say? I guess, but it seems the events of subsequent days, as they often do, have eclipsed those thoughts and observations. The only thing that is left is the vague sense that I'm an 11 year old trapped in a nearly 35 year old's body when it comes to some things. What seems to make this worse is that these gaffs, faux pas and pile ups strike me as absurdly funny, not in a mean way, but no one is sharing that joke. Even though I'm the first to laugh when I trip or fall down and I actually prefer that over fawning. It just doesn't fly. Especially when the investment and expectation do not match...as apparently they seldom do.

And I don't mind looking like the asshole if it'll save someone some face, because I'm *not* invested, but it does get old after a spell.

Ugh.

So, hi. Welcome to the Order of the Asshole. I'm Mother Superior Frisbee. Penitence is to the left. Accolades are to the right. Perplexity - straight ahead.

For Abby and Smoooochie.

Gone, daddy, gone

That little Pomeranian poofter of a pony tail that's perched on top of my head? Less than 12 hours ago, it hung to my shoulder blades. This is, easily, the shortest that my hair has been in 20 years. And it's a silly thing, really, this attachment we have with our hair, but sitting in Martina's chair, watching her cut more than six inches off in some places, even though I'd given her free rein, I fought waves of anxiousness and separation anxiety. For hair that constantly bugged me and that I, as a rule, kept tucked away and tied back in order to control and subdue.

I'm almost embarrassed at the intensity of my internal drama. But I really felt like I was finally relinquishing some kind of no longer gracefully attainable physical definition of youth: my hair will never reach past my waist again. It barely skims my shoulders now.

The exact reason for the angst still eludes me, perhaps it's that I look coiffed, for one of the first times ever, I'm not sure. I do know that in 12 short hours, I'm starting to warm up to the this next step toward the 'librarian with a bitch-slap in her back pocket' image. She may be coiffed, but she's got some serious sass. And no freakin' split ends.

Perhaps my inner Aeon Flux is finally surfacing.


New 'do! Well, the pony tail isn't the 'do, but you can see just how short it is.

Here it is!! Um....now what?

So...yeah. *squirm cough* Huh. *shuffle scritch scratch*

How you doin'?

Thanks for stopping by. Dunno how this'll all turn out, but it should be interesting and I have Smoochie and Abby to thank for providing incentive for this. (Hi ladies!! Four more weeks!)

More to come. You know. When I think of stuff. And things.



Mwah! 

iPod love! Me and Maximiliano. My one, my only, my truest love.