Skeletons

I've been feeling strange. I don't know what I'm doing half the time.

Last night I went into Sephora and bought a lipstick and lip-liner for myself. I also bought an eyeshadow for Meema, my sober sister, for her 6-month anniversary. (It was Lorac-- the color? "Serenity." Cute, right?) Anyway, before I knew it, I had spent $60 on makeup! Then I went into Old Navy and spent another $60 and another $30 at H&M. Something is up. I'm getting desperate.

Wanna hear another sign of desperation? (And this surely this can't be healthy... or CAN it?) I sent an email to my old choir director... the one I have all the "issues" with. I don't know how much I've ever said about that on this blog, but it's a long story. That chapter has been closed, and for the best. But here I go, cracking it open again. WHY??? Here's what I wrote:


Hi -------,

I'm just writing to say hello and to see you how you are. It's funny-- one of my close friends lives out near you in NJ and has two older sisters who went to [the school where you teach]. (The Brick's. Do you know them?) I visited their house this summer a few times and passed right by the school. So, I thought of getting in touch once or twice, but never quite got around to it.

I guess I'm getting a little nostalgic these days because believe it or not, this year is the 10 year annviersary of when I started at Columbia. B and I met at the New Member Welcome and I have it recorded in my journal as October 30, 1996. We are going back to S next week to celebrate a "friendship anniversary."

Things are going pretty well for me these days. I am still working on my PhD and teaching at --------. I've been singing with the Russian Chamber Choir and was taking voice lessons up through the spring, but have taken a few months off for a bunch of reasons. (For one thing, I quit drinking completely and have been in AA, etc. It has been a real struggle and has taken a lot of change on my part.)

I am thinking about looking around for a new teacher, or at least singing for some people, so if you have any advice in that regard, I would appreciate it. My voice has opened up a lot. It's pretty sizeable and I have a pretty strong soprano range, but I'm still not sure where it will eventually settle. I think my biggest problems are still techinical issues.

Anyway, I hope that this letter finds you well! I really miss the days of choir. GoldenFinch just had a baby boy (well... five months ago) and I went out to visit her and we sang "Lift Thine Eyes" and a whole lot of the Requiem all for the delight of a very fussy baby who occassionally tried to accompany us by banging on the piano. Perhaps he was moved by the spirit of Mozart.

In any case, all of the music that we did back then is still very much with me... a part of me. It was a real gift. So, thanks for that.

Best wishes,
Hyde

I am a strange, strange girl-- dragging skeletons out of the closet. First I am dreaming about a marriage to a corpse, now I'm making out with an old skeleton. I wanna say "I suck," but I know that can't be good for my mental health either. Ugh! We'll just have to wait and see. I wonder if he'll even reply.

Anyway, on with the rest of my "catch up" blogging...

So, I "backwards blogged" most of the last week, but I think I'll fill in the rest by going in chronological time. Where does that put me? Telling you all the story of what happened from when I got to Narc's house on Saturday night (October 14th) and the following Tuesday (October 17th-- one week ago today).

I'm going to make it brief, as it is still blowing my mind to think about it...

So... I got there. Narc was drunk. He was sitting near an open window, smoking. He was wearing a leather jacket over a crumpled button down shirt that was half open. He stumbled when he came to greet me. And when he stuck his tounge in my mouth, he tasted like whiskey and cigarettes.

"You just missed Michael," he said. His speech was slurred. "He just left."

We sat down on the couch and I curled up into the corner. He pulled me over onto him. I think Conan was on TV. Or South Park or something.

Anyway, it was a pretty amazing night. He kept telling me that he loves me and kissing me very sweetly and passionately. It was strange sex, though. Almost as if we both knew that something was at stake, but that we could do nothing about it. He wanted to be really careful and kept saying so. I wasn't sure what he meant by that.

"I should get a condom. I should get a condom," he kept saying.

I was a little confused, as we weren't really up to that part yet.

"I don't know what you're worried about, Narc," I said. "I haven't slept with anyone else."

"No! It's not that... I don't want to hurt you... to do this to you again."

He was kind of incoherent, but I waited for him to get the condom.

Later, while he was kissing me, he stopped and said that he felt guilty.

"Why?"

"We shouldn't be doing this," he said. "We're being bad... bad."

"Well, it's a little too late now. You might as well finish what you started."

I don't like when one of us falls out of "denial-mode" while the other is still in it!

Anyway, that was Saturday night. We didn't rest until after dawn, and I felt blissfully safe there. I don't know how my mind manages that.

The next morning, I woke up and felt close to him. We had a lot more sex. Then we just layed in bed all afternoon, until 2:00 pm or so. Narc pulled his penguins off the shelf. He gave me Pushkin to play with.

"I always play with Pushkin," he commented. "I wonder if Onegin and the others get jealous."

"Maybe you should show them some more love," I laughed.

He stuck the little one between my breasts. It was strange. It's the kind of casual, comfortable thing I used to do with B. Narc and I don't usually break it down that way. We just lay there talking. He had an '80s mix playing.

"This is my 'must learn on guitar playlist,'" he noted.

I looked at his bookshelf.

"You have two of the exact same books," I commented. "Culture Shock: Japan."

"Japan was a culture shock. I wonder how it'll be when I go to Russia."

"Are you really going to Russia?"

He hopped out of bed and pulled a few forms out from under the passport resting on his desk.

"Check it out," he smiled.

They were visa approval documents.

"Very nice," I answered. My voice was flat. I wanted to change the subject.

"And this one, too!" he grinned, waving another paper at me.

"Yeah, I saw it," I mumbled, repositioning myself.

"No. Not this one! Take a look!"

He pushed the paper over to me. I skimmed it.

What?

Wait-- WHAT?!?!?!

Yup... as you guys all know by now, it was an application for marriage for him and PopStarChick. I couldn't believe my eyes. I suddenly felt dirty and gross and less than a speck of dust and I wished that I weren't lying there naked in his bed, but I didn't make a move. I stayed there.

"You're getting married?!?!"

My chest was tight. I tried not to give too much of myself away. I'm surprised I didn't die.

I'm surprised I'm still not dead.

Anyway, I have to run off to teach now, so I'll finish this in pieces later...

-h-