Down to the Wire

Well, here I am. It's my last week of work, and my second-to-last week in Los Angeles. I have a free moment (for once) in front of the computer and I find myself, well...

Speechless.

Or virtually so. There is so much that has been going on these past days and weeks, so much that is leading up to my departure and it's all inching its way ever-so-slowly toward denouement. I've been in a holding pattern in so many ways - no new dating prospects, no home improvements, no desire to find new and interesting crannies of LA to explore. On the other hand I've been running myself ragged completing paperwork and medical check-ups and contracts for my upcoming position that I've had time for little else. At the end of the day I'm lucky I brush my teeth before collapsing into bed. So I've been largely quiet here, and in writing in general. I'm feeling semi-reclusive, but I'm still trying to uphold social obligations and to see my friends as much as I can before I go. It's a strange and paradoxical space to be inhabiting, but I can now see the light at the end of the tunnel.

It's coming. It's still a small point right now, but it's getting closer. It's getting larger and brighter and I may have to break out the shades in a couple of days. But it's not here yet.

Lyrics of the Day

"Couldn't quite seem to escape myself. Far enough, far enough, far from Florida. We were all drowning in cruise control. Far enough, far enough, wasn't far enough" Modest Mouse Florida

Ghosts of Boyfriends Past

I should have expected it, because it happened just about this time of year last year. Last year I ignored it, because I was still a bit bitter and pissed off and I was still living in LA indefinitely and I didn't want to risk establishing a connection that I wouldn't be able to get rid of. This year, I thought that there couldn't be any harm in responding, because I've let go of most of that anger and I'm leaving, so in some ways I have nothing to lose.

But my subconscious seems to think that I'm wrong.

Last weekend, I got a message from the Speed Freak via an old social networking site called Friendster. Friendster was a predecessor of MySpace but didn't take off in the same way. I've never gotten around to closing my Friendster account, but I never check it or update it anymore. Somehow, I do still get email updates when someone sends me a message on the site and last Monday I logged onto my email to find a message saying that the SF wrote me on the site. He wrote that he's through living in Chicago (where he moved to go to college while we were dating - the last 6 months of our relationship was long-distance) and that he wanted to get in touch with me. As I said above, I really felt like I had nothing to lose, so I wrote him back a brief, non-committal note letting him know that I'm leaving and asking if he was moving back. I honestly believed that I didn't care whether or not he responded or if he wanted to try to meet up or whatnot.

Two nights later I dreamed that he hunted me down (of course the dream location was outlandish and unrelated to real life, but that's beside the point) and was pleading for another chance while wearing a t-shirt that proclaimed his undying love for me. I spent the duration of the dream running and hiding and being completely mortified that I had ever been involved with him at all.

The sad truth is that is exactly how I feel. The power of infatuation and attraction and the attention that he gave me (at a time when my self-esteem wasn't precisely at the top of its game) drew me into a horrifically dramatic and painful relationship. So I guess that my subconscious can admit what I was sort of trying to avoid: that I still want nothing to do with him.

Lyrics of the Day

"You thought somehow you could just pretend, that you could figure it all out; the mathematics of regret. So it takes two beers to remember now, and five to forget." Ani DiFranco So What

I Think I Need a Plane Ride

It's finally done.

I'm getting out of LA and I know where I'm going and my flight has been booked and I just found out the address where I'll be living.

This is getting more exciting and scarier every day.

I'm going to Baltimore, MD. And yes, for those of you who are near and dear to me on the east coast, this is the appropriate time to jump up and down and clap your hands.

I have a fantastic job opportunity there, not to mention a wonderful proximity to many friends and family members. And maybe, just maybe, the opportunity to date some fabulously non-LA type men...


Lyrics of the Day

"This circus is falling down on its knees, the big top is crumbling down. It's raining in Baltimore, fifty miles east where you should be, no one's around." Counting Crows Raining in Baltimore

Short-Timer's Syndrome

I know that I've been conspicuously absent lately, and well, I really have no excuse. The truth is that very little has been going on. Mostly, I'm just counting down. Counting down the work days, counting down the weekends to go out and have fun and see my friends, counting down the days that I have to pack up my entire life and get it out of LA (which, of course, I haven't even begun to do yet). What I haven't been doing is dating, or really thinking about guys much at all. Well, I guess that I have, just a little.

After meeting my future husband, Rockclimber, he did send me a message and a friend request on MySpace. It was a sweet and pointedly personal message - one of those that you send on dating sites where you specifically reference something in their profile to prove that you read the profile and are interested in who they are as a person. Not that I'm saying he's definitely interested, but it had that nice kind of feel to it. I asked The Sister if he had messaged her and he had. He wrote something to the effect of, "It was great to run into you the other night and your sister is really cool too." So I thought that was really sweet. On the other hand, what's the point? I'm leaving town and it couldn't go anywhere anyway... but it is sort of nice to have the thought of someone liking me.

Last Saturday night I went out with my football friend Brussell. At one point at the bar, a nice young man who didn't really seem to be my type came up and asked if he could give me his phone number. It was at this point that I realized I have the absolutely most perfect and easiest blow-off line ever: I'm sorry, I'm moving in a month. It doesn't hurt any one's feelings and it's the truth.

Last night I hung out with The Kid for the first time in a couple of weeks. It wasn't intentional that we hadn't seen each other, it was just a run of bad scheduling. I had actually started to feel the lack of male attention / affection early this week, so I was more than happy that we were finally able to coordinate - and we definitely made up for lost time. I was talking to my friend The Figa Master about the situation earlier this week and he told me that he was actually surprised that this thing with The Kid was still working out. I told him I was a bit surprised myself, but that I'm pretty sure I knew why: it's always been a finite arrangement. From the moment we first hooked up, we both knew that I was planning on moving in a number of months. This allowed us both to really be in the moment and just enjoy what has been going on for what it is: a purely physical thing. There never had to be any anxiety over whether or not it could go anywhere else, because that was never a possibility. I am going to be sad to see it end though when I finally leave - it's been such a remarkably enjoyable and, for the most part, simple (excepting this one little hiccup). Although I realized talking to The Figa Master that I could have one of these everywhere I go as I'm travelling, I could rack up a whole harem full of Fuck Buddies all over the nation and always have a warm bed to tumble into wherever I go. Of course, I'm being mostly facetious about this... aren't I?

Again, it all comes down to my leaving. I'm trying not to have too much tunnel vision, trying to enjoy the time I have left here - but part of me is withdrawing. Part of me just wants to hole up in my apartment, on my couch with a bag of potato chips and Grey's Anatomy on DVD. And I have been doing a fair amount of that, but I'm resisting the impulse more and more. I've got to try to enjoy the time I have left while I still have it...

Lyrics of the Day

"The hardest part is yet to come, when you will cross the country alone." Death Cab For Cutie Blacking Out the Friction