02 June 2008
First Course: Sex. Follow with City. To be Followed with a little more Sex. Merci, Garçon.
It's been a while. Due to the tremendously ridiculous demise of my ideal 21yr-olds job, I've privatized my myspace. Which means my blog is too. Which means I'm expecting my numbers to go way way way down for this one. So my blogger is officially open for business. I just haven't felt like keeping up, because in the past the idea of random folks reading about my life was exhilarating and fun for me to participate in. And then for a while I realized that people are prone to judge others, and by putting my opinions/life/whatever out there I was setting myself up for an upheaval of public doubt. And then I realized I don't give my right tit about who thinks I'm inappropriate or offensive or vulgar or whatever the matter might be. I really don't care. And also alot has happened. And I'm ready to write.
To begin, I find myself unemployed and desperately wondering what's next. But not in a bad way. My previous excursions and cross-encounters with major life transitions had proven me restless and impotent. Whilst having all options floating above, one finds that gravity increases. But, at this point I'm realizing it's time to fucking do something, but in the meantime I'm ok just hanging out. The keyword in the previous sentence is "ok". Yes, I don't especially enjoy my sleeping patterns/drinking patterns/social patterns as opposed to a busier self. But I'm managing to get by for the time being, and that's all anyone would expect me to do.
I had a relapse of break-up fever for about 3 days. Cried, called him, went over, cried, made out, cried, called him drunk, yelled, calmed down, went over, and resolved. I don't feel as though we ended on the best terms -- it's funny how blind one is when smitten; it's funny how foolish one acts in lust. I have realized I gave and did everything for him, which makes me no better than I've been in any previous relationship (ahem). I have realized how selfish a person must be in order to overcome depression. And I have realized that I was walked over. And I'm putting it past me, one day at a time. Yes, I felt fireworks in every kiss. And yes, I split sides and the sun rose and fell while lying in bed with him, wearing his t-shirts. But it was a dream. A silly dream and I'm through. I think our relationship was simply me trying to compensate for my 14 year-old cruelty of dumping him before we had a chance to share romance. And now we've shared romance. And sadly -- of course, sadly -- we are through. And I don't know if I wish him well. And I don't know if I should take his silly paintings off my wall. But we are through, and I'm ok. The keyword in the previous sentence is "ok."
I have dated. Quasi-successfully. I'm seeing a guy...quasi-seeing a guy. He is so wonderful, it's shocking. I feel scummy when I'm with him, as though I should be acting more the lady to his gentleman. I won't share his name; I'll try to hide him until this progresses if it will. I think he's adorable, charming, funny, handsome, and so generous. In every way. In every way. See title. I'm finding myself in that very, very first stage of interest: acute daydreams, hoping for that call yet surprised when his number pops, dressing up around him, and keeping my make-up at a minimum as not to introduce him to my drag-queen alter ego yet. I don't know if this is going to go anywhere amazing. Maybe it doesn't have to, not that I would be opposed if it did. But he really has shown me that there are, well, fantastic men out there. And some of them like me.
I will announce loud and proud at this very moment that the true love of my life has returned home to Suburbia -- Mr. John Wesley Magee. He sadly isn't living approximately 3 minutes down the street anymore, but we still see each other too much. And I love it. We have so much fun. Even though we secretly hate each other, we secretly love that we hate each other. We don't really do anything, but the important thing is that we don't do anything together. I make him sane, he makes me ok. He makes me ok. And this is how it always was and will forever be, spoke Abraham, and the seas shall turn black and all fires shall cease before the two known as Pecs and Boobs ever part. John just said this in the Jewish mother voice, "You know what I like about you Sage? You may be alot of things, but your not boring." And then I replied, " You maybe alot of things, but you're no sissy. You'll see, YOU'LL ALL SEE!!"
Despite my wonderful BFFFF, I've also realized the importance of girlfriends. Of whom I've never had many close ones. But lately, I've been bottle-of-wineing it with a few ladies and it's so ever refreshing. I saw Sex and the City last weekend. I cried through the whole movie and I'm serious. I think I was partly emotional because the anticipation to revisit the characters was so high, characters I love and miss. Also, I related to just about every storyline. Every arch. And I won't go into details personally, although readers are more than welcome to scan my archives (once uploaded to blogger) for this information. But I really did relate. And I also drank quite a bit in the theater, which engorged my tears. We hot-tubbed it after the movie at the new Fasset house. On the way there, Wendy and I saw a car of four emo looking boys in the drive through at, what else, Wendy's. She talked about their cuteness, and I drunkenly got out of the car and walked to theirs and invited them over. Minor controversy, major SATC move. I couldn't sleep that night, my head swimming with images of Carrie Bradshaw in her blue feather, veil, and Vivienne Westwood shoving white roses into Bigs face, and of a pregnant Charlotte and of her beautiful daughter Lily, and of Miranda's age lines and Samantha's obsession with guac (a pleasure I'm guilty of lately as well). They are making a sequel, it's been announced by Michael Patrick Star. And I can't wait to see it again.
As always, SATC gave me small perspective. No, I am proudly growing my potential in the sky still; everything is floating about. But it sort of helped...narrow things down. Well, narrow things away. I love Texas. And in Texas I'll stay. Until I'm not here. And I've applied to UNT. And depending on the job front I might be doing stuff in the fall. Oh, lets not talk perspective. Lets just just look at each other and dream.
So, alot's happened in a month and a half. I have two ex's out of the country and America has never looked better. I actually spoke with Chris. Oh my gosh I wrote his name, I'll keep it for shock value. I received an email from him after SATC night, and realizing this email was timed 30 min prior, so I decided to remove the block from his name and see if he was online. Wondering what he was doing awake at 6:00am, we began a gchat. He informed me that he was in London, and that it was noon there. We had chat and then we Skyped. I'm all for Skype, it's awesome. We talked for a good half hour, joked, caught up. And then I talked about Sex and the City and told him that he was my Big, except that I would never marry him nor was I madly in love with him. I said that Carrie and Big always managed to be friends after all the horrible events in their tumultuous relationship. And that I didn't see why we couldn't be friends. I said, "I don't hate you anymore. I don't resent you." I told him that yes, there were events in my life that will never leave me, that will maybe always haunt me or maybe always affect me. But that I think I'm finally ready to move past blame and accept acceptance. And he said thank you. And I'm sure we'll go for a drink when he's back from London Town.
John is pianoing. I must depart. I will be transporting my old archives so expect alot of posts soon.
Shalom.
To begin, I find myself unemployed and desperately wondering what's next. But not in a bad way. My previous excursions and cross-encounters with major life transitions had proven me restless and impotent. Whilst having all options floating above, one finds that gravity increases. But, at this point I'm realizing it's time to fucking do something, but in the meantime I'm ok just hanging out. The keyword in the previous sentence is "ok". Yes, I don't especially enjoy my sleeping patterns/drinking patterns/social patterns as opposed to a busier self. But I'm managing to get by for the time being, and that's all anyone would expect me to do.
I had a relapse of break-up fever for about 3 days. Cried, called him, went over, cried, made out, cried, called him drunk, yelled, calmed down, went over, and resolved. I don't feel as though we ended on the best terms -- it's funny how blind one is when smitten; it's funny how foolish one acts in lust. I have realized I gave and did everything for him, which makes me no better than I've been in any previous relationship (ahem). I have realized how selfish a person must be in order to overcome depression. And I have realized that I was walked over. And I'm putting it past me, one day at a time. Yes, I felt fireworks in every kiss. And yes, I split sides and the sun rose and fell while lying in bed with him, wearing his t-shirts. But it was a dream. A silly dream and I'm through. I think our relationship was simply me trying to compensate for my 14 year-old cruelty of dumping him before we had a chance to share romance. And now we've shared romance. And sadly -- of course, sadly -- we are through. And I don't know if I wish him well. And I don't know if I should take his silly paintings off my wall. But we are through, and I'm ok. The keyword in the previous sentence is "ok."
I have dated. Quasi-successfully. I'm seeing a guy...quasi-seeing a guy. He is so wonderful, it's shocking. I feel scummy when I'm with him, as though I should be acting more the lady to his gentleman. I won't share his name; I'll try to hide him until this progresses if it will. I think he's adorable, charming, funny, handsome, and so generous. In every way. In every way. See title. I'm finding myself in that very, very first stage of interest: acute daydreams, hoping for that call yet surprised when his number pops, dressing up around him, and keeping my make-up at a minimum as not to introduce him to my drag-queen alter ego yet. I don't know if this is going to go anywhere amazing. Maybe it doesn't have to, not that I would be opposed if it did. But he really has shown me that there are, well, fantastic men out there. And some of them like me.
I will announce loud and proud at this very moment that the true love of my life has returned home to Suburbia -- Mr. John Wesley Magee. He sadly isn't living approximately 3 minutes down the street anymore, but we still see each other too much. And I love it. We have so much fun. Even though we secretly hate each other, we secretly love that we hate each other. We don't really do anything, but the important thing is that we don't do anything together. I make him sane, he makes me ok. He makes me ok. And this is how it always was and will forever be, spoke Abraham, and the seas shall turn black and all fires shall cease before the two known as Pecs and Boobs ever part. John just said this in the Jewish mother voice, "You know what I like about you Sage? You may be alot of things, but your not boring." And then I replied, " You maybe alot of things, but you're no sissy. You'll see, YOU'LL ALL SEE!!"
Despite my wonderful BFFFF, I've also realized the importance of girlfriends. Of whom I've never had many close ones. But lately, I've been bottle-of-wineing it with a few ladies and it's so ever refreshing. I saw Sex and the City last weekend. I cried through the whole movie and I'm serious. I think I was partly emotional because the anticipation to revisit the characters was so high, characters I love and miss. Also, I related to just about every storyline. Every arch. And I won't go into details personally, although readers are more than welcome to scan my archives (once uploaded to blogger) for this information. But I really did relate. And I also drank quite a bit in the theater, which engorged my tears. We hot-tubbed it after the movie at the new Fasset house. On the way there, Wendy and I saw a car of four emo looking boys in the drive through at, what else, Wendy's. She talked about their cuteness, and I drunkenly got out of the car and walked to theirs and invited them over. Minor controversy, major SATC move. I couldn't sleep that night, my head swimming with images of Carrie Bradshaw in her blue feather, veil, and Vivienne Westwood shoving white roses into Bigs face, and of a pregnant Charlotte and of her beautiful daughter Lily, and of Miranda's age lines and Samantha's obsession with guac (a pleasure I'm guilty of lately as well). They are making a sequel, it's been announced by Michael Patrick Star. And I can't wait to see it again.
As always, SATC gave me small perspective. No, I am proudly growing my potential in the sky still; everything is floating about. But it sort of helped...narrow things down. Well, narrow things away. I love Texas. And in Texas I'll stay. Until I'm not here. And I've applied to UNT. And depending on the job front I might be doing stuff in the fall. Oh, lets not talk perspective. Lets just just look at each other and dream.
So, alot's happened in a month and a half. I have two ex's out of the country and America has never looked better. I actually spoke with Chris. Oh my gosh I wrote his name, I'll keep it for shock value. I received an email from him after SATC night, and realizing this email was timed 30 min prior, so I decided to remove the block from his name and see if he was online. Wondering what he was doing awake at 6:00am, we began a gchat. He informed me that he was in London, and that it was noon there. We had chat and then we Skyped. I'm all for Skype, it's awesome. We talked for a good half hour, joked, caught up. And then I talked about Sex and the City and told him that he was my Big, except that I would never marry him nor was I madly in love with him. I said that Carrie and Big always managed to be friends after all the horrible events in their tumultuous relationship. And that I didn't see why we couldn't be friends. I said, "I don't hate you anymore. I don't resent you." I told him that yes, there were events in my life that will never leave me, that will maybe always haunt me or maybe always affect me. But that I think I'm finally ready to move past blame and accept acceptance. And he said thank you. And I'm sure we'll go for a drink when he's back from London Town.
John is pianoing. I must depart. I will be transporting my old archives so expect alot of posts soon.
Shalom.
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