Wednesday, February 22, 2012


I’ve had a few busy days here and there.  Take a couple Wednesdays ago for example.  I got all of my banking/401K settled, paperwork for new accounts finalized,  frequent flyer miles reported, taxes filed...  I revised an assignment that I did last semester that apparently impressed my professor enough at the time that I’m being nominated for the “Superior Writer” departmental award.  (I’m a little excited about that.)  And even got to a coffee shop to do a little of my own writing.  This was all in one day.  Yay for me!

But not everything has been all sunshine and lollipops.  In fact, if you ever hear me utter that (or similar) phrase, you would do well to remain aware of my biting sarcasm.  So…  Here’s the skinny.  I had a little bit of heartbreak as of recently.  No one’s fault but my own, and I mean that.  I saw the red flags, and I ignored them against better judgment.  It’s not the first time I’ve let myself want something I knew I shouldn’t be wanting, and not the first time someone decided they didn’t want me…  or the second… or third…  But regardless, just a bit of bad luck, right?  The thing that caught me off guard was how rattled I ended up by it in the long run.  And by rattled, I suppose I mean saddened.  Not that it’s anything I won’t get over.  Not that it’s by any means the worst I’ve been through.  Not by far.

I guess I’m just mad at myself for allowing it to get to that point in the first place.  But what makes this more complicated?  My battle with REpression.  Through the years, I’ve had some pretty crappy things happen.  Most of the stories I tell are finished with a joke, a laugh, and a brush off of “that’s life” and “que serra…”  But this has caused some difficulties.  All those utterances and denials of things actually bothering me have caused me to repress.  And A LOT of those bizarre, once forgotten, memories have been bubbling out in very inconvenient spurts recently.  Sometimes, I’ll be sitting in class and suddenly have to wipe away tears, praying no one sees.  (I tend to want to hit something when others see me cry and there have been few over the years I’m comfortable with seeing me have such a show of emotion.)  Or driving down the road, trying to catch my breath because I suddenly find myself bawling.  …stupid memories.  But point is, I’m trying REALLY hard to not fall into a habit of repression.  I don’t need to put emotions on layaway.  Or at very least, I shouldn’t be doing that.  I should be dealing with emotions as they come like a healthy person.  …I’ve picked a HELL of a time to stop repressing.  Part of getting out of that habit is forcing myself to not say things like, “oh well” and pretend that I go unaffected.  It is unfortunate that I can’t completely hide my feelings on this particular matter (the bit of heartbreak), as I don’t want anyone to feel guilty (and they shouldn’t).  But I guess part of my process of moving on is going to have to be not pretending that I’m happy about it.

Some Amateur “Professional Help”.

When I started to notice odd clips of memories surfacing, and strange things upsetting me from decades ago, I decided that since I have free counseling services through the school, why not take advantage of them?  It could be helpful to me, as well as give the graduate students that run these sessions as a form of "internship," a chance to meet with someone that has more to say than "homework is stressful."  And yes that's an exaggeration, and I'm not saying that problems of the typical college-aged student are to be belittled.  I've seen some rather...  HARD life experiences in EVERY age group.  I'm just willing to bet most of the councilors don't have many divorced 20 year olds walking through their door.

I started sessions that are more to do with working through some past issues on the subject of family and residual fears left over from my former marriage than anything.  But, I guess there is an end game in sight to it all.  And that is, my inability to trust, or let walls come down, and the not wanting to want a relationship with ANYONE.  How I try and convince myself that it's something I don't want.  How I fight it, tooth and nail, and then usually just end up hurt anyway.  How it’s become my increasing concern that many of the problems I’ve encountered within relationships are spurred from my own reactions and fear of a situation evolving into a relationship.  …am I getting to complex here?  Nevermind.  Let’s just move on, shall we?

A couple sessions ago, it was requested of me that I write down all of the things I would desire in a relationship.  …There’s a problem with that assignment.  Psychologists shouldn’t see psychologists.  And I, unfortunately have been studying the science of psychology for far too long…  So I understood what underlying factors the therapist was going to be looking for in my answers.  What different answers would indicate.  (And that makes it harder to be completely honest or not cater to what they are looking at.)  But I forced myself to begrudgingly play along.  By time I was half way through my list I felt like Sandra Bullock’s character in Practical Magic.

I started to wonder if half of the things I was writing down were impossible.  That if I wasn’t making a list that could never be fulfilled, just so I could have an excuse.  And if someone came along that fit…  would I just tell him it wasn’t real and run again?

So what was on this magical list?  Sorry, the specifics I’ll keep to myself for now.  If you want an idea you can listen to this while you read the rest…

This song used to speak to me on quite the deep level.  Still does I suppose.  But it’s been refreshed…  Why?  Because that song reminds me of someone.  Someone I’ve tried to avoid.  Someone I cut from my life.  Someone that’s been REALLY mean to me…  And someone I’ll never be completely over.  Someone I would give ANYTHING to be over.  Someone that was part and partial to my reasons for getting the hell out of Dodge, er….  Lake Geneva.  It’s no secret that it’s easier to get over someone if they aren’t popping up on your facebook news feed every ten minutes, or hanging at the same haunts as you and around the same friends as you.  Distance can make the heart grow colder.  And I needed to put a fair amount between he and I.  I deleted lines of contact, I stopped going places I might bump into him, and I moved.  Abolishing repression be damned, there are some things you just need to handle in smaller doses.

And last week, this person, intruded upon my life once more.

Chance Encounters?

Just ONE week after my freshly broken heart, 5 days to be specific, I found myself sitting at a coffee shop for a business meeting for an upcoming new acting gig.  And who should walk in?

I was okay with it at first.  I looked at it as a test.  The last time I knew I had to see this person I had a panic attack.  So here was my chance to face some things.  And after all, it was just one conversation.  One little random coincidental meeting at a coffee shop.  And three hours of conversation later... didn’t do much harm or good.  It just “was.”  Except…   Except for one little pebble of information stumbled upon.  It had come to light that this person is looking at a job.  Not just any job.  A job in my field of interest.  In my new little corner of Wisconsin.  And then questions began about what rent was like in that area, if I “don’t mind the question, of course.”

Do I mind the question?  No.  Of course not.  Do I mind you considering moving to my new town?  After all I have done to get away from you?  After all the distance I purposely have been putting between us?  I haven’t seen you with the exception of three or four times in the last year, have hardly said “hi” and “bye” on those occasions, and you pop into my life talking my ear off only a week after my heart is broken?  REALLY!?  And you’re going to tell me you’re moving to my new town almost an hour away?  And then hug me goodbye as if we're close friends again?

So, what am I supposed to think?  Chalk it up to coincidence?  To fate?  That this person and I have been crossing paths since we were children?  Is it time to admit that we just have too much in common to trust that we can avoid each other?

All I know is I’m tired.  And now that I’m committed to a four year school…  if he decides to move here, going into the same field that I am…  I guess I’m going to have to get comfortable with him being around.  …and his little girlfriend too.  ...Or switch schools, and put a greater distance between us, which I'm not opposed to.  (I really liked Miami, and the University down there wouldn't be a terrible transfer.)

Again.  It doesn’t bother me when a man decides to not want me.  But being reminded of the fact day in and out…  is a little more distressing.  I don’t need to constantly bump into people that have rejected me, making old wounds fresh every time.

But I’m keeping faith that someday… SOMEDAY, my prince will come. 




And I’ll probably push him off his horse and ride far enough away where I can at last be alone in peace.

In the meantime, let's look at a prime example of the "princes" that are actually out there, shall we?  The following is a unaltered "conversation" I had online last week.

Mystery man #1: Hi

Mystery man #1: How R doing
Mystery man #1: Ur look sexy

Me after 3 DAYS of ignoring these messages:  I "R" doing fine. And thank "UR" for thinking that I'm sexy. But if being honest, I'm too old for you, and prefer to chat with someone that can utilize proper vocabulary and grammar. Intelligence is a priority.
Mystery man #1:  I like u  ""

........Quality stuff, guys.  Quality stuff.  And people wonder why I prefer to be alone?
All I really want?  Is some peace, man.

Sunday, February 19, 2012

Miami Trip; Day 3 (final)

Miami Trip Day 3…  And then some.

Originally written January 12th 2012
                Well, last night left me in a bad mood and frustrated as all hell.  I ordered pizza, as I suspected I might, and the price charged was…  well in a word, outrageous.  Bad quote on the phone, and when the delivery charge and tax was more than the meal itself, I shoved the pizza back at the delivery guy.  We haggled a bit, and he finally accepted 15 dollars for what was originally supposed to be a 7 dollar pizza.  They wanted 17 plus tip…  I’m very tired, even today still, and I wasn’t in the mood for scammers.  How I managed to end up with the pizza and the delivery guy giving apologies…  I’m not sure.  I assume my Sicilian temper/assertion probably showed somewhere within the argument.
                And what made last night all the better?  After cycling through a few of my pictures from the zoo that I managed to snap of myself I noticed something odd.  One side of my face is a little… “droopy.”  Did I temporarily contract Bell’s Palsy?  I looked it up to see exactly what it is, and the symptoms seem related to the inflammation around a group of nerves, and exaggerated by stress…  Did I sleep wrong?  What the hell?  Function upon waking this morning seems a little better than my attempt of making faces in the mirror last night.  I took some Ibuprofen as well to deal with any inflammation issues…  Oh well, if I have it, it’s the most mild case I’ve seen, and I’m going to stop thinking about it and get on with the trip.
                I’m in the hotel lobby waiting for Juan and his shuttle.  I need to get a rental car to make it down to Key Wast.  It’s about 9 am so I should make it between 1 and 2 pm.  I’m nervous, but confident I’ll get over that.  There are moments that you think to yourself, “what the f&#k am I doing?”  And it is in my experience that those are always the moments that end with you thinking, “I did it.”
                I’ve come this far.  I know I will make it the rest of the way.


                It wasn’t Juan driving.  That’s bittersweet.  He was so friendly and much “cheerier” than this other driver, and I was looking forward to saying goodbye to/thanking him.  But at least the ride was quiet.
                I made it to the car rental only to find they were out of cars.  But all was not lost.  I was directed to another rental that could help.  …And when they were also out of cars, they directed me to ANOTHER place.  Sometimes my, “on a whim” adventurous attitude can be a nuisance.  And WOW, expensive.  …and only getting more so.  BUT I made it.  I faced my fear of city driving (in a strange city, no less) and my anxiety of bridges.  I know it’s strange to have a fear of bridges, but not heights, and all I can do is reference my observations on the mother with the giraffes at the zoo.  (See previous post.)  The fear of bridges thing, or so I’ve been told in the past, came from my mother.  Another observation I have to make, is I seem to be more comfortable with driving over bridges myself, than as a passenger. But if I was going to put it to the test, I picked a HELL of a long bridge to do so.

                I’m in Mallory Square….  (Or at least what I THOUGHT was supposed to be Mallory Square, which left me very confused why it was so small.  I was just going by the signs.)  And I’m waiting for my friend Josh who said “they” would meet me here.  I’m not sure who “they” is in reference to, but I’m assuming his family.  The sun is finally peeking out but it’s just plain too cold to go snorkeling today, which was within my original intentions either before or after meeting these friends, or in lieu of altogether.  Not having that option is a disappointment, having made such a trip.  I love snorkeling/exploring coral reef, but it’s beautiful all the same.  No matter.  When all is said and done I suppose I’ve accomplished the most of what I intended to, and that is worth every penny spent thus far.

                We’re supposed to grab food later, but I’m indulging in a hotdog and banana smoothie to hold me over while I write this and wait.  I have yet to eat today otherwise.  My budget is getting increasingly tighter.  It’s funny to think that after all I’ve done and spent so far, this hotdog and smoothie may be what pushes my finances over the edge.  I suppose it’s a good thing it’s too cold to go snorkeling after all.  I’d have buyer’s remorse over the rental equipment.  But I have faith my finances will work out once I’m home somehow.  Now what is THAT about?  Since when do I have faith, of any kind again?

So a fun fact to add, while I sit here under a tree on this wood platform…  There are chickens here.  Chickens and Roosters.  Chickens on the streets, and pigeons on the beaches.   I’m so confused.  I keep tossing them bits of bread from my hotdog bun and a few of the Plantain straws I packed.  They seem to enjoy them.

The chickens weren’t the only ones to decide they loved Plantains.  Josh and his family found me, and with them I found the REAL Mallory Square—where I spent the most of my time watching Nick and Mark perform, and sitting on the edge of the water feeding the gulls the remaining chips.  Brave little buggers soon learned to take them straight from my hand.  And the next thing I knew they were trying to land on me for better access.  …until the dog came about.  Cute Golden retriever—fetched tips for his master, and placed them in a bucket.  The overcast sunset dropped in the background, and the weather was only turning colder.
I got a couple of brilliant pictures as we were departing the square.  It’s funny how sometimes a camera lens fails to do something justice, and other times does it just a little too much…  But regardless, THIS is the REAL Mallory Square.


After that it was on to wings, and drinks (of which I could not participate as I had a long drive ahead of me.)  The wings were HUGE, and inspired jokes and banter about giants in chicken costumes, or this being the reason so many chickens were roaming about the streets.  Images of giant feral chickens viciously taking out cats and dogs in back alleys.  It was good fun, and the search for my rental car came all too quickly.  I said goodbye, and in the soon to be downpour, set off for my drive back to the Miami airport.  It was a horrible drive.  They closed a section of the bridge down to one lane for some reason, and somewhere along the trip sleep decided it was going to overpower me enough to inspire me to pull off in a restaurant parking lot for a quick nap.  I think this was on Key Largo.

                I returned the car, changed in the airport bathroom, and despite my sweater and jeans, proceeded to FREEZE in the 50 degree air conditioned airport until I could check in to my flight before the sun was even up.  Maybe this was just fate's way of preparing me for my return to Chicago.  Where a snow storm was currently hitting.

If this post seems a bit short, for having taken so long to write... it's because after much deliberation I’m afraid I cannot share some of the other details of the Key West experience as they are not my stories to share.  I enjoyed myself though.  A bitter-sweet feeling.  I enjoyed myself, and hate myself for that fact.  But I can’t explain why just yet.  Not in this posting.  For now, I'll just sit back and savoir some of that bitter-sweet I suppose.  An acquired taste, no doubt.