The Snow!

It's snowing!

It is, in fact, a blizzard. Already a foot has fallen and they're expecting it to keep on coming down pretty heavily until noon.

It is absolutely gorgeous. I tried to take some pictures of it all, but I had to turn off the flash, so they all came out strangely gray, instead of beautifully white.

Rochester and I are in the mood for the same thing this afternoon--curling up on the couch and staring out the window.








I fell asleep on my living room couch last night in front of the television. I liked it.

When I woke up this morning, the window ledges were coated.

I have alway loved the snow.

Everything becomes a dream when it snows.





This last picture is totally random, but I thought I'd throw it in to add more color to this post.

It's a card put up on my refrigerator.

As you know, I've always said I was a mermaid in my past life. Well, when my hair was red, B used to always tell me that I was a mischievous orange kitten and call me "Pula," which means "red" in tagalog.

One day we came across this post card-- half pula and half mermaid-princess. I think it's priceless. It's my archetypal selves.







Well, that's it for now!

I'm going back to hypnotically stare at the beauty in the sky...

-h-

Shining

This has been floating around the internet for quite some time, but I watched it over at Narc's this morning and it made me laugh... really laugh. So, I thought it was worth linking to. I present to you a trailer for The Shining, a romantic comedy. You can find it here.

The Compliment

I'm glad my little talk with him was so effective. The results it yielded:

Last night at 12:37 am my phone rang. Guess who it was? Drunk (although not quite as drunk) Narc. He left me a message.

Hey, Hyde. It's Narc. I am leaving you a message. And um... complimenting you. (laughs). I'm going home. Um... And, I just uh, I just wanted to talk to you. Alright... I guess you're out, so I will try you some other time. Alright. Bye.

Gee, thanks for the compliment?

Today is my killer day, so no more time for my blog addiction right now.

...more to come...

-h-

The Full Story

Okay... so it's more Narc drama. If this is getting tedious for you, skip this post. But I want it here for myself. I might as well fill in the blanks and deliver the rest of the story. Oh, and it's a long one. The most momentous part comes at the end, I think-- the conversation we had this afternoon in which I "told it like it is."

And sorry for the barrage of posts today. I just need to get this out because I don't want to be thinking about this anymore, although I can think of nearly nothing else. (Although Brokeback Mountain was a worthwhile distraction. I thought it was beautiful and surprise, surprise-- I cried.)

Yesterday I had choir practice at night. I was exhausted from the long day, but it managed to get through to me even so. We are singing an arrangement of Barber's Adagio for Strings for 8-part choir. It was absolutely gorgeous! (I have always loved that piece. B used to play it in his dorm room and we would sit there with the halogen light dimmed, talking for hours about philosophy, relationships, life and literature).

And last night I was doing so well. I walked past Cheers on my way home from the bus on my way home from choir at 11:15 pm. I didn't go in. I was determined to make it a cozy night... to treat myself better (in a truer sense than I usually mean). I've been trying so hard this week to turn some of my thinking around.

I got into bed early and snuggled under the covers. There were no pillowcases on my pillows because I had just brought the laundry up and hadn't bothered to put any new ones on... too tired.

He called at 12:14 am. Part of our conversation was caught by the answering machine. It's creepy to hear it. You have to imagine him incoherently slurring and me trying to sound chipper through my sleepiness.

N: Hello! Your---
H: My machine went off.
N: Your machine is obviously getting... getting your thing!
H: Yeah... So, what's up?

(SUPER long pause)

N: What's up?.... Hyde!
H: Yeah?
N: Hello?
H: What are you up to?
N: Hyde?
H: Yeah, I'm here. Can you hear me?
N: Are you alive?
H: (laughing) I'm alive! Are you alive?
N: I don't know... I don't know. (laughs)
H: Narc, you sound pretty drunk. Are you really drunk?
N: Hyde, I'm wasted, but I don' t know. I, I, I, I don't know. I, I, I... Where should I go? I don't know!
H: (a little concerned) Narc, where are you?
N: I want to come and snuggle with, uh... with you.
H: You want to come and snuggle with me?
N: Yes. BUT ONLY if that's "proper."
H: If it's proper?
N: I, I, I... I don't want to fuck it up if it's not proper...

(And then the machine cuts off).

I don't know why I agreed to him coming here. It was like I was operating on automatic pilot. I just said "okay." He asked for my address three times even though he knows where I live. He said he was in a cab, and I could hear him telling the cab driver the address, so I figured he was okay. We hung up the phone and I estimated that I had half an hour.

I got up and took out that garbage that was waiting by the door. I put fresh pillowcases on the bed and sprayed the sheets with lavender (his favorite). I straightened up the living room, erased the "history" and "cached files" on my computer, brushed my teeth and shaved my legs. Then I started to get anxious. What if he couldn't find the apartment? He was that out of it. I decided to wait for him in the lobby. I trudged downstairs in my sweats and curled up in one of the big velvet chairs down there. (NDN likes to call it his "office.") I couldn't sit still though. All that was running through my head was: What are you DOING, Hyde???

I got up and exited into the crisp cold. I paced up and down in front of the building, all the way to the corner. I eyed the smokers outside Cheers. My eyes were stinging from a lack of sleep. Every cab that neared, I craned my neck to see if he were there. Eventually, I started to worry. I called his cell phone once, twice... no answer. 12:59. I texted him: Where are you? A moment later, I got a call back. What the?!?! He was calling me from his home phone.

Do I have the strength to relay our conversation? I'll try. Basically, I asked him what had happened and told him I had been waiting in the lobby. I was clearly upset. He called me a liar and told me I wasn't in the lobby. He demanded I come down to his neighborhood to see him. I refused. He asked if he should come and see me.

"At this point? Don't fucking bother!" I said.

I was upset and needed sleep. Besides, he was incoherently drunk and I was sober. How much fun could that possibly be? He was way beyond good-sex drunk. He kept insisting that I come to him. I kept refusing.

"Why did you say you were on your way here and then not come, Narc?" I demanded.

"Oh, god, Hyde! Isn't it obvious?"

"Not obvious to me! Why don't you go on ahead and spell it out for me."

He sighed in disgust and started calling me a wanker. (Ah, yes! The return of Wanker-Narc!)

"You know why! You know why!" he kept saying.

"Do you wish I were there?" he asked.

"Well, I did," I said. "I mean, I did invite you..."

Then he started saying "Where are you, Hyde? I'm here. Where are you?"

"In my living room," I said.

"I'm here. Where are you?" he repeated.

I gave him my address.

"Yeah, but I'm here. Where are you?"

Oh, I get it. That means I'm supposed to be there with him. I was too tired for this.

He repeated this for quite some time. The repetition was brutal. I kept refusing to go see him.

"I was in bed asleep!" I said. "I don't have cash for a cab! It's late!"

Finally he roared at me. Among a slew of insults, he told me that I suck and he hung up on me.

Let the anxiety begin.

I couldn't let go of it. My stomach was in knots. I couldn't have him mad at me like that... hating me like that. I had to make him understand that I was being reasonable. I called him back. He didn't pick up the phone, but I know he can hear the answering machine, so I started to talk. I didn't know why I called or what to say. I just started talking.

"Narc, it's me. I wanted to say that I hope you remember this in the morning. And I hope that you know that--"

He picked up the phone. He started to tell me that I "suck" again and to insist that I go see him. To tell you the truth, I was relieved he picked up. I'd rather the insults than the silence and that's my problem. At least it's "connection" on some level, right?

He started to insult me again. I tried to explain.

"I have to be here in the morning," I said. "I have some things to do around the house, and then I have an appointment..."

More insults.

"Narc, enough! Don't you have anything nice to say to me anymore? Isn't there a kind word for me anywhere in you? Do you think this is appealing to me? Enticing? For you to call me up and start calling me a wanker and telling me that I suck?"

"I NEVER called you a wanker, Hyde!"

"Narc! You're fucking crazy! You've been calling me that for the past hour! So do you have anything nice to say, or don't you? I mean, c'mon! Please say something nice to me! Please!"

He paused. He was thinking.

"Hyde, I'm in love with you," he began. "I'm in love with you, and I want you... I want you to come feel me."

Oh, god!

"You're not in love with me, Narc," I said calmly. "But it was nice of you to say... Thanks."

Again, a long pause. No response. And then...

"Hyde, you're a wanker. You're wanking me around. I said something nice, and you're not coming."

"Narc, I AM NOT A WANKER!"

This conversation was asinine! Did I just raise my voice with him? Yes, I think I did!

He was a little stunned.

"So, are you angry with me, Hyde?"

I felt humbled and spoke softly now.

"Well, yeah... a little."

"Should I come there? Is that what you want?"

"Well, it's what I wanted..."

"Should I come there now?"

"I don't know, Narc..."

"Okay. I'm coming. I'm coming there. I'm on my way."

He hung up the phone on me, as if he were hurrying out of the house at that very moment. It was 1:32 am.

I was shaking. I wasn't sure if he was coming or not. I mean, I thought he was, but... I couldn't steady my hands. I paced back and forth around the apartment, not sure of what to do with myself. I sat down at the computer to blog and drafted a post. I felt like I was losing my mind. I knew I shouldn't have let him twist things around. How does it go from him waking me up, totally drunk, asking to come over and insulting me to me begging for him to come to my house and feeling like I have to apologize? I knew I shouldn't welcome him into my house in that state. It would only be a fight, and potentially a bad one. It's one thing if we're both drunk, but I didn't want to face him like that in sobriety. My head hurt.

What am I doing? What am I doing? What am I doing? I wrote.
Why did I agree to this? Why is he coming here?
What is wrong with me???????

Half an hour passed. I wondered where he was. I felt like tearing my hair out. So I called him on his cell. He picked up the phone.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"In my living room," he said.

I wanted to scream. I didn't.

We fought again for quite a while. Just imagine the above conversation repeated with slight variations. I asked him where he had been that he got so drunk. He was angry at the question.

"Nowhere! Nowhere!" he said.

"Well, you must have been somewhere."

"Nowhere!"

"So, you got drunk at home?"

He changed the subject.

"What happened to your seven days of writing, Narc?" I asked. "What happened to the seven days with which to change your life? Onward to total victory!"

"I took my seven days! I did it!"

"Um, no. Day 1 would have been Monday. It's Wednesday."

Well, he was furious at that. I won't even tell you what he said.

I couldn't deal with it anymore. I had to end this.

"I'm going to sleep, Narc," I said. "I have to say good night now." (It was about 2:20 am).

"So, you're not coming here?"

"No."

"Fuck you, Hyde! You fucking shit!"

He hung up on me.

I sent him a text: This makes me very sad. Good night, though.

I lay in bed for ten minutes, fifteen minutes. I started to panic. It was a clean panic. My heart was pounding. I had to do something.

I called his cell phone. No answer.

I called his home phone. No answer.

I called his cell again.

I called his home again.

Cell, home, cell, home.

I sent him a text: If you're still up, please give me a call back.

Nothing.

I called his home. I left him a message:

Narc, please pick up. Please... Please pick up the phone. Look... If you really want me to come there, I will... You just have to lend me cab fare. But I'll come if you want me to. Just please pick up.... (I waited). Okay... I guess you're not talking to me. So forget it.

I went back to laying in my bed in a panic, only now it was even worse than before. I stared at the ceiling and it seemed to be sinking. The heater was clanging so loudly I could feel it vibrating in my skull. I pulled a pillow over my head, but that only added to the constriction in my chest, and suddenly I couldn't breathe. I felt a panic attack coming on. I hadn't had one in years, but my face was starting to tingle... my cheeks, and my hands, and that feeling of falling into over/under oxygenation. I reached out and blindly fumbled for the switch to turn the heater off. I rolled over onto my back and then back onto my stomach. The room was spinning. I can't have him mad at me. I can't tolerate it.

Cheers! I thought.

No, stupid... It's after 2:00 on a Wednesday. Cheers is closed.

I've got wine in the house... and Jack, but no mixers.

Don't be dumb. It'll make things worse. You'll call him and leave sobbing, drunk messages that he'll get self-righteous about and you'll be in no position to argue.

But I can't stand this!

Stand it!

I got back up out of bed and paced around again. Then I sat down and wrote him that letter. I don't know what time I fell asleep, but I think it was sometime just after 5:00 am.

Bottom line: Last night was torture.

This morning I woke up with the ringing of the phone. It was Hammer. I was glad she woke me or I might have slept the day away. Besides, it's always a relief to be woken from a nightmarish sleep.

I straightened up my house, wrote a post and sent Narc that "WHAT THE FUCK?" email. Then I sat down to play piano. Masseuse (FightingMensch's most recent girl) was supposed to come over at 1:00 to give me a workout session. She's a personal trainer and is just getting her certification, so she is looking to get some experience. She showed up on time, but I was vocalizing and on the piano and never heard her at the door. I called her at 1:10 to see where she was, but she was gone. I felt terrible. She said she had left me several messages on my cell.

I had been in the living room, and when I went in the bedroom to check my cell, I saw I had a message from Narc. What?!?!

Hey Hyde, it's Narc. It's about 12:45 and as requested, I'm calling you back. I'm awake and alive and alert and all that stuff. So, give me a ring when you like. Alright. Bye

As requested??? How considerate! He must have realized he was in some trouble if he bothered to call back.

NDN had called me and asked me out to lunch to cheer me up. (He treated me, by the way, which was very sweet!) I was on my way over to meet him when I called Narc back.

This was a biggie for me... and I'm scared now about how it will change things, but here it goes:

He answered the phone casually.

"Hey, what's up?" he said.

"Not much." I felt tired and fraudulent.

"I'm just hanging out here watching last night's Idol and eating sushi," he laughed.

"I hope it's good, Narc."

"Yeah. Well, yeah..."

I didn't say anything.

"So.... I got your 'what the fuck' email," he volunteered.

"Oh, you did, did you?"

"Yeah."

"So... well... What the fuck?"

"Hmmm... Well.... I hate to do this, Hyde... I really do... But you know what? I have to plead 'blackout' on this one."

"Narc! You have to be fucking KIDDING me!"

"Yeah... it was a blackout. I mean, it rarely happens for me, but it did. I don't even remember talking to you last night. So... I don't know what to tell you."

"Well I didn't black it out," I said. "And it was bad. You were pretty mean to me."

He didn't say anything, so I went on.

"You were very mean to me, Narc. I mean, besides saying you were coming here and then not showing... You insulted me a lot."

My lips were shaking just to say the words to him. I don't know why it's so hard for me, but it is.

He didn't apologize.

"I don't know what to say, Hyde." He sounded like a robot. "I don't know what you want to hear from me right now."

"I guess I just wish you didn't hate me so much," I said quietly.

He paused for a long time. I held my breath.

"That's just when the demons come out," he said. "It's one of those things... The demons hate a lot of people, Hyde. They hate me too."

"Well, I wish they didn't have to be so terribly mean."

"Yeah, but why'd you pick up the phone, then?"

He was trying to change the tone of the conversation and deflect it away from himself.

"I mean, you shouldn't pick up the phone when I'm like that!"

Oh, so this is all MY fault?

"How was I supposed to know you were in 'demon-mode,' Narc? It was 12:15 on a Wednesday!"


I was in the elevator now. There was so much to say and I had no strength or time or clarity with which to say it. I told him so.

"I need to talk to you, Narc," I said. "But I can't think right now. I can't think of how to say it. There's so much... and I'm muddled, and I--"

"Well, okay, then. Maybe I should get back to Idol."

I couldn't let it go at that.

"No, wait!"

I was in my building lobby now and ducked into the area with the mailboxes.

"I guess, I just want to say this. I don't know why you spend time with me, Narc. I mean... you shouldn't spend time with me if you don't even like me."

There was silence on his end.

"If you don't value me, if you don't like me, then I don't understand--"

"We're having sex, Hyde," he interrupted. "We're having sex and doing all of these 'couple-y' things, but we're NOT a couple. We're not about those things."

I didn't say anything.

"I mean, we are about having sex, I guess, but..."

"But 'what?'" I interrupted. "So, you're having sex with me. But why? Because I have free time and so do you? Because I'm an available warm body? I mean, is there anything about me that means anything to you, or am I just a space filler? Easily replaced by the next thing to come along?"

"I don't know what you want from me, right now," he said. "I don't know what you want me to say."

"I want you to answer my question: DO-I-MEAN-ANYTHING-TO-YOU,-OR-AM-I-WORTHLESS-AND-DISCARDABLE?"

"Hyde, you know I care about your friendship. You know I value you."

"Well, then you could try showing it every once in a while with a kind word or gesture. I mean, I'm talking minimal here, but there hasn't even been that! If you value me at all on any level, then let's see it."

"But, we're not a couple, Hyde."

I know how he thinks. I know the game he's been playing. He's been playing it from the beginning. Do you guys remember when he used to refuse to go to brunch with me, or to a movie with me, or even to a bar? What was his reason? "If we become friends AND are having sex, doesn't that make you my girlfriend?" Well, guess what? We DO those things now AND we're having sex, and it's fucking with his head. His way of dealing-- make it CLEAR I'm not his girlfriend by neglecting and insulting me. I told him I "get it."

"I understand, Narc," I said. "I understand what's going on. We're having sex, but you want to make sure I know we're not a couple... that I'm not you're girlfriend. So you're sending me that message by showing me how little I mean to you, by making me feel worthless, by insulting me. See-- how can I be your girlfriend when I'm so unimportant and undeserving?"

He didn't say anything, so I went on.

"Well, guess what, Narc? That HURTS. It HURTS."

"Hyde..." He sighed. "Maybe we shouldn't be having sex, then, Hyde."

"Maybe we shouldn't."

I could hear in his voice, though, that he didn't want to go there. He didn't want to let go of that. He needs me too, or he wouldn't still be around. He hates me because he's tangled up in this and feels as powerless as I do. We are addicts. It's destroying.

"If you see a relationship as two halves-- friendship and sex-- and I can only have one of the two, I'd rather have emotional kindness and no sex than have sex coupled with emotional cruelty," I said. "I'd rather be your friend than have you put me down and then fuck me."

He didn't say anything. I thought I was going to cry. I could feel my lip trembling and my voice about to break.

"It feels like shit, Narc. It feels like shit."

More silence from him.

"You are treating me poorly on purpose. It HURTS!"

More silence. The tears were welling.

"I mean, put yourself in my shoes for two seconds. I've been having sex with someone for a year and a half--someone who says he's my friend but takes every opportunity to put me down, devalue me and make it clear that I don't matter. IT HURTS!!!!"

He spoke quietly now.

"I can imagine," he said.

I can imagine! I can imagine! He can imagine! He knows what he's doing. He doesn't want to think about it, but he KNOWS! That is the FIRST TIME EVER that Narc has validated my feelings and not made me feel like an irrational hysteric. Thank you!

I didn't answer him.

"So... What do we do?" he asked.

"I don't know." Now that it was out, I suddenly felt very weary. "I guess we can be honest with each other, for a start. I mean, admit that we both know what's going on and be able to talk about things for real. It can't stay like this."

"I don't know..." he sighed. "Maybe we should stop having sex." He sounded defeated too.

"Maybe..."

"Well, um... I better get back to my Idol and sushi now," he said.

Narc-shutdown. End of conversation.

"Okay."

"But, I'll talk to you in a bit, Hyde. I'll talk to you in a little while."

"Yeah... I'm sure," I said. I suddenly felt cynical and (could it be?) angry. "Take care."

And that was that.

After that, I had lunch with NDN and met ThursdayGirl and Masseuse at the movies. It's the first time I had ever seen either of them in daylight.

And now I'm home. And it's Thursday night. And I feel like I want to crawl out of my own skin. But I'm trying not to go drinking tonight. I keep having this image of my brain being pickled...shrunk. Why am I still writing here? Because once I stop writing, I'll have to figure out what to do with myself. I guess I can take care of food for a start. Yes... It's nearly 9:00 pm. Food is a good idea.

Good night to all, and to all a good night.

-h-

...and more...

So, he called me this morning casually. And I was honest with him. And I said what I felt, what I meant. And I feel a measure of integrity restored. It feels good. Scary, but good.

I have to tell you guys the whole story, but not right now.

I'm off to see Brokeback Mountain with ThursdayGirl. I have a lot of catching up to do (in terms of movie-watching) before the Oscars.

The bottom line... feeling a little better than this morning, and a lot better than last night.

I know I can do this thing.

-h-

Zombie Hyde (and another dream-o-meter)

I'm a zombie this morning. Last night was a disaster. I want to post again, though, to move that letter down and out of my sight.

When I spoke to Hammer this morning, she said that all of this is "normal," par for the course with me and Narc.

"Nothing has changed here, H. He's the same as he's always been."

But he's not. I think she's wrong. Ever since I came back from Argentina he's been treating me with increasing disregard. It's as if he really does hate me, and whatever muddled love was there has been used up.

I wrote him a letter for real this morning. I don't know if I should have, but I did:

**************
Narc,

All I have to say is WHAT THE FUCK?
And I hope you remember last night and know what I mean.

I didn't get to sleep last night until after 4:00.
Feeling like shit today.
I hope you're day goes better than mine.

-hyde-

*****************

I had such awful nightmares last night. In one dream I was at Cheers and brought two guys to some hotel. I didn't want to have sex with them though. (I know... even in dreamland, a pretty stupid move!) One of them told me to bend over the table and wanted to spank me. I did it, and was a little uncomfortable, but okay with everything. Then he started pulling my pants off and I tried to fight him. I ended up getting raped by both of them. They had a gun. At some point I scrambled away and couldn't find my cell phone. I don't remember what happened, but I did manage to get a hold of both the gun and the cell phone. I held the gun at them and called 911.

The 911 operator asked what was going on.

"I was raped, but I'm holding two men at gunpoint," I said.

She laughed and thought it was a prank phone call. She wouldn't take the information from me about where I was.

"Please send someone here to help me!" I kept pleading. "Please!!!"

The conversation went on like that for a while. Suddenly, I realized there was no one at the other end and she had hung up on me. I knew I wouldn't be able to shoot these guys and they knew it too. One of them skirted behind me and shoved me hard. I fell and hit my head on the corner of a table. That's the last thing I remember.

My next dream I remember even less clearly. It was a Narc dream with a lot of different parts. At one point, he called me from Waikiki Wally's and told me I had to come see him. I told him I couldn't afford the cab.

"So wait in the cold," he said. "I don't give a shit if you freeze. It's not my responsibility, Hyde."

"But it's so late at night," I said. "Don't you want me to get there as soon as I can?"

"Fuck you. It's not worth my time or my money! What do you expect me to do? Give you money? What are you, now? A whore?"

Later in the dream I was at my apartment with FightingMensch and someone else (I can't remember who it was) and Narc was there. I was embarrassed because Narc was SO drunk. He started calling me really awful names-- much worse than those that he has called me in real life. I kept trying to quiet him because I was embarrassed, but he thought it was funny and was flashing his teeth when he laughed.

Then KHill showed up. We were all sitting on my living room couch and he walked into the room from the entry area of the apartment. (Keep in mind, FightingMensch and KHill have never been here. I was kind of nervous in the dream-- wanted to make sure they were having a good time, I was being a good hostess, etc.)

"What's up, Narc?" KHill said, slapping him on the back as he came into the room. Only he didn't call him "Narc." He called him by his last name.

Narc tried to answer, but slurred his words and couldn't talk. I was embarrassed and tried to cover for him and smooth it over with them.

"Shut the fuck up!" he said to me, yanking on my hair.

There was also another part of this dream with BigSis in it, and FightingMensch and a game of "truth or dare," but I don't remember it clearly enough.

Anyway, that's it.

I feel like a zombie today. A conquered zombie.

Is it a Thursday?

It feels like eternity.

-h-

Honesty will Tear up what's Already Infected

Shit.

Long story from tonight. Long, long story involving one sober, anxious and tearful Hyde and one very drunk Narc.

The end of the story... he's passed out in his bed; I'm fretting and frozen in my own place in front of my computer.

I wrote him this letter. My mouse hovered over the "send" button for a good ten minutes as I stared blankly at the screen. I couldn't do it. I couldn't send it. I'm an asshole and I'm weak. But here's the letter I wrote.

FUCK! Why can't I send it???

And I was having a good day...

I want to crawl into a cave and go to sleep until Spring.

____________________

Narc,

It's about 3:00 am and I can't sleep. I don't know what tonight was about or what was on your mind when you initally called me, or why you kept saying you were on your way here when you weren't. Okay... so you were drunk. I understand and I'm not blaming you for that (as that would be hypocritical of me). I know I'm not perfect either. In fact, I'm an emotional mess a lot of the time. So I'm not saying I've never done anything wrong here. But even so... The bottom line? After our interaction tonight and reflecting on everything... I feel like garbage.

I never want to say these things. I think them and feel them and they burn in me and change me, but I never ever say them. So, why now? Maybe it's because it's late and I'm exhausted, maybe it's because I'm sober and anxious, maybe it's because the pain is fresh, but whatever the reason, here's what I need to say:

I used to think that you cared about me, at least a little... at least in some way, on some terms. But over the past month, I've had to reevaluate. The affirmations have gone from few and far between to virtually none. And the insults and invalidation have increased. You used to say nice things to me once in a while. I lived for those moments. Now there's just silence from you, and even worse (when you're drunk)-- name calling. You used to get drunk and be effusively affectionate. I loved those occasions more than you know. I let myself believe in them. Now when you're drunk, you have less and less qualms about being mean. (If you don't know what I'm talking about, I'd be more than happy to cite some examples for you. I just don't feel like getting into that here. I mean, what's the point?)

It escalated tonight.
"Say something nice to me, please," I said to you.
"Hyde, I'm in love with you and I want you... to come feel me," you said.
That made me very sad. Very, very sad. You were reading me drunk and clumsily trying to push my buttons.
"You're not in love with me," I answered. "But it was nice of you to say that. So, thanks."

I thanked you for that? I don't know which of us is crazier.

Look-- I understand that I'm not what you want. You've made that clear. I'm not WHO you want. Maybe I disappoint you or even disgust you. Maybe you resent me or even hate me. I don't know... But I still have feelings. And I have to tell you, it fucking hurts. I'm still a person, and a sensitive person at that. One who is trying to deal with an insane push/pull from you. Constant rejection coupled with need.

We've been tied up with each other one way or another for a year and a half! It's not nothing. You can say we're not in a "relationship," and you can tell yourself in your head that you've cleared yourself-- you've TOLD me it's not a relationship, so all is well and fine. Ok... You're right. We're not in a "relationship." But that's emotional semantics. EMOTIONAL-SEMANTICS. Think about it... It's a bullshit concept. Emotions are emotions. They are illogical and transcend language. This is still something (albeit undefined) and it's still in my head and it's still in my heart and you're still in my life. And you've been there for quite some time in a pretty major way. Recently I've been feeling more and more worthless. The bottom of the barrel. Negated. Nothingness. This has been fucking with my head for a long time.

After we hung up tonight, I had so much anxiety. I still do. I couldn't breathe and couldn't cry. Just anxiety. Fuck. I'll never get to sleep. So, I called you back a million times. ( I guess you had gone to bed and shut your phone... or you were still awake and intentionally ignored me. I tried, but couldn't guess which). I decided I was willing to get myself out of bed and come to you after all, even though I was half asleep, even though I can't pay for the cab, even though I have an appointment in the morning. Even though it would compromise my integrity. Why? Because I couldn't stand the thought that you might be mad at me... that I upset you... that I did anything to make you unhappy. I felt guilty. Maybe I did something wrong. My fault...my fault. Is it my fault?

We both decided to take this week to work on ourselves, right? Well, I'm trying to clear my brain fog. We both decided to burn our ships this week, right? Well, one of my "ships" is the fantasy that I am responsible for and capable of bringing happiness to those I love, including you. So, no matter how hard it is for me to feel anger at you (and it's nearly impossible, I assure you), I need to face the reality... I need not feel guilty. If anyone should be mad about tonight, I should be mad at you.

Of course, I'm not mad at you... not at all. I can't be. I don't want to lose you as a part of my life. But you? It seems like you couldn't care one way or the other about whether or not you "lose" me.... You may think our "non-relationship" is nothing, but think about it from my position-- I've given myself to you emotionally and physically for quite some time, and so all this is inevitably is wrapped up with my sense of self. This is wearing. I'm degrading myself here. Whittled away. I'm tired. So tired, Narc!

I don't want to love you anymore.

It just hurts too much. Maybe I shouldn't sleep with you anymore. I don't know... I know I'm going to regret writing this. I already do.

"What is he going to think when he reads it?" I panic. "He's not going to answer. He's going to erase it and ignore you. And he's going to hate you and write you off as 'hysterical' or 'over-emotional' or 'irrational.' If you care about him, and if you care about staying friends and/or ever sleeping together again, sending this letter is a surefire way to make things even worse."

"Don't be silly," another voice says. "You've known him a long time and he hasn't disappeared. He'll read it and he'll see how you feel and he'll think about it and take it in and it'll all be okay. He's a rational person. He's your friend. He doesn't hate you. He won't close you out just for being honest."

"Honesty will tear open what's already infected though. If you want to preserve anything, this is a bad move..."

I don't know what I'm doing here. I'm delerious with exhaustion. (I've been up nearly 24 hours now.) I don't know what you're going to think. But I know that I've tried not saying anything about my feelings for a really long time.

("How's that working out for you?" "Honestly, not so well, Dr. Phil!")

So, tonight with my dry and sleepless eyes, pounding headache, tightened chest and frozen fingers clicking on the keyboard, I'm trying something different. In truth, this letter is not about tonight. Tonight was just one drunken night. Fine, so you were drunk. Whatever... Fine, so you got me up out of bed; you raised my hopes and then rejected me; you called me a wanker a few times, told me I suck and hung up the phone on me. Whatever... I don't care about tonight. We've done this night before a million and one times. Standard repertoire. And don't get me wrong... I've been the drunk one countless times myself. It's not about alcohol. It's not about tonight. It's about what I heard in your voice underneath all that alcohol. The disregard for me. Disdain.

Narc, if I'm wrong, please tell me that I'm wrong. If you don't feel that way about me... if you do value me in any way, as a friend, or anything, tell me! Correct me! Because right now, the message that I'm getting is a shitty one. And IT HURTS.

I know that it's as much my own fault for staying invested in something that's hurting me. You're not responsible for my feelings or my actions. And those are things I need to figure out and deal with for myself. But I just wanted to say this now while I'm still feeling the hurt, so that I won't forget it in the fog of tomorrow morning's denial. Without a doubt, I know that I'll manage to bury this, the way I have buried every single other hurt and invalidation.

I don't hate you, Narc. In fact, you know that I love you... at least the parts that I've been allowed to share with you. But I don't understand what's expected of me here... how am I supposed to feel, react, behave? Who am I to you? Do you love me or hate me? Enjoy me or resent me? Value me or think I'm shit? I'm really fucking clueless at this point. And honestly-- a lot of the time, I don't understand why you spend time with me at all. Is it just that I have free time and so do you? Am I just a warm body that will be easily supplanted as soon as a better option comes along?

Please remember I'm a girl, a person, a soul. I hope that's not all that this is. Is that all that it is? Is that all that I am? I'm really very confused right now. Confused and hurt. Confused and hurt.

Fuck me for writing this letter. I hate myself right now for what I'm about to do... I don't want to send it. But, fuck it. I'm doing it anyway. Take a deep breath, Hyde... One ship down. How many more to go?

____________________

Like I said... I didn't have the guts to send the letter. Let the denial begin. Let the burial begin. By morning it will be halfway completed.

Stupid, hypocritical, asshole, Hyde! I hate you for all of this. Stupid childhood-coping-mechanism'd brain! It's your own fault. Let him sleep it off. Keep the peace for now. Put some space there. Let things return to normal.

(No, you dumb fuck! Your normal with Narc is NOT NORMAL!)

Whatever... Enough of this for one night. It's 4:00 in the morning. I'm going to go lay in bed now and stare at the blue-hued flickering shadows on the wall. (Yes, I'm making reference to Plato's alegory of the cave. And yes, I feel like a prisoner facing illusions. (And yes, that was a shout out (of sorts) to Dan!)

I'm deleriously tired.

-h-

PS: Please excuse typos and unpolished writing. I'm too tired to do any better, and certainly too tired to spell check...

a little bit of this, a little bit of that

The Pendulum: Today the pendulum has swung to..... Good mood! (What the----!!!) Well, it has. At least I'm in a decent mood... One of life's little mysteries.

I keep sneezing lately. I don't have a cold, but it's annoying.

This morning I left my house at 7:20 am. NDN was leaving at the same time and we bumped into each other right outside my door. He was gracious and helped me carry my laundry to the dry cleaner.

"How many red bulls have you had this morning, Hyde?" he asked.

"Why?"

"Because you're so energized!"

"Actually, none!"

"Any nose candy?"

"No!" I laughed.

Strange... I surprised him. I surprised my friend Singrl last week too. I met her and her fiancee on the steps of the Met Museum.

"Look for a girl with really long red curly hair," she told him.

Well, as you know, my hair is black (or black-ish)... and it's not as long as it was in college-- just past shoulder-length now... and I wear it straight.

Ha!

Yesterday Double-T (alternately spelled TT) sent me a text: Howd the audition go?

(It bothers me that he didn't put an apostrophe in "How'd," even though "How'd" isn't even gramatically correct either. But that's okay. I shouldn't be such a texting grammar-Nazi.)

Anyway, I wrote back to him: Thanks for remembering! :) It went really well, except the class might be full. I have to wait & hear... But at least I know I sang well!

Yesterday I stayed home for most of the day cleaning and being morose. I got into bed really early-- around 11:00 pm. I wanted to get a decent night's sleep, knowing I get up so early on Monday and Wednesday mornings. While I was laying in bed, I got a text from Narc.

Great "Boston Legal!" he wrote.

I wrote back: Yay! DVR'd it. Will watch it tomorrow. Trying to fall asleep but it's impossibly hard this early. Damn you, early morning teaching! Good night & sweet dreams.

Whatever... I don't even want to think about that one. Scrap it!

I also had some strange dreams last night. In one of them, I went to see an opera. It was Carmen, and Elizabeth Berkely (of "Saved by the Bell" and "Showgirls" fame) was starring in the title role. She couldn't really sing and so they had to mic her. (Totally unacceptable!) I was upset and thought she was a fraud. I remember being upset in the dream. I was working for some kind of arts management company that was representing her (much like the company I worked for in my first job out of college) and so I had to go backstage after the concert to meet her. I saw Narc there waiting for Elizabeth Berkely with a big bouquet of roses. He was waiting for her to come out of her dressing room and was listening with his ear at her door. I could hear the "Jayce and the Wheeled Warriors" theme song playing from behind the door. I didn't approach him and instead lingered at the other end of the hallway, unsure of what to do.

(FYI-- I never watched that show... Wheeled Warriors is an '80s cartoon. Narc loved it. Once, this past Fall, when he was at my place, we were checking out a retro-tv website and he played the song for me. It's catchy, so it stuck in my head.)

Hmm... It's been 11 days since I've seen him. (Stop it, Hyde!)

Anyway, since I'm in an odd mood today and SwissToni inspired me with requests for refrigerator pictures, I took a few pictures of my highly-decorated kitchen last night. Here they are, for your viewing pleasure.

Below you will find a picture of my cabinets adorned with some hot men (Kiefer, Brando, Newman and Redford. Yay!)






















Next, you will find one of the walls next to my pass-through counter. Of note, the "blood sugar metabolism" flyer that I picked up at the doctor's office. It always makes me crack up to see the look of distress on the "poor-eater's" face, and the chipper smug-smile on that of the "healthy-eater." Also, sitting on top of my toaster is the mate-holder I just bought in Uruguay. (The photo of the three half-naked men is a postcard BigSis and Bro-in-Law just sent me from Florida. It was pretty funny. They wrote: "We're having a totally rad time with Chad, Brett and Brad! Wish you were here!")



























This is the opposite wall of that same pass-through. If you look carefully, there is actually a picture of me! Above the Armenian-Church calendar (still turned to December) there are two women in huge skirts. The sepia-colored picture is a postcard. The picture to its right (of the woman in white with the fuschia fan) is me in my Halloween costume in 1998. There's also a postcard from St. Petersburg hanging to the right and below it, a photo I took of the sculpture outside The Cathedral of St. John the Divine (one of my favorite places in the world), a still life photo (with some Russian beer...mmm.. Baltika) taken in 1998, and a flyer for Domingo & Meier in the Carmen that aired on PBS in '98 or '99. Below the calendar is a tic-tac-toe game that my stepbrother played with me in May. A TRUE miracle!



























Finally, this is the back wall of my kitchen. All of my friends ask if I painted the largest image because it actually looks a lot like the painting that I do. The answer is no. It's a poster I got in France. The rest of the postcards there are too varied to go into, but most of them are from London-- either the V&A Museum or the Tate. A few on the bottom are from the Pavilion in Brighton.

And that's it! Time to go do something productive now. Hope that wasn't too random...

-h-

Today

I'm cleaning my house today.
I feel like I need to do some manual labor.
Scrub, scrub, scrub!
By 5:00 pm this place will be unrecognizably ordered!

I had an audition last night.
I had therapy this morning.
I have a tough decision to make.
I am paralyzed.

So, I'm cleaning my house today.

It's strange how life can both be at a standstill and yank you forward at the same time.

I don't like it.

-h-

For Better or for Worse

(Forgive typos, etc. I'm in a rush, and this got long. No time to edit...)

Well, I don't think it's a full fledged "break up." But it's certainly a step... or at least an attempt.

But before I get there, let's go back a step.

My date with Double-T threw me off. I was flooded with confusion and guilt. I talked it out with Hammer for a while yesterday. And I thought about those comments from Dan and Sarah-- that I don't need to feel guilty or ask for "forgiveness." Like I told them in my reply to their comments-- it's a forgiveness I need to ask of myself.

In November, 2004 I made a declaration in my own heart. I love Narc. I am with him and only him. I am devoted to him.

("You're not MARRIED to him!" B said.

"But..."

"Hyde, you're NOT. Commitment like that has to be reciprocal. And he DOESN'T WANT IT. And you can't have a one sided marriage. You're not married to him legally, and you're not married to him nominally and you're not married to him spiritually, so stop being married to him in your head!"

"But I love him," I said. "And that's how I know how to love."

"Well, stop it then," he said. "You're hiding from reality. You're head is working like a five-year-old's. Adult relationships are more complicated than that. You can't just throw yourself in with such an uncompromising, unrealistic ideal and cling to it no matter what. You have to be able to bend, Hyde! Bend!")

I was upset. That is, my world-view was upset. The entire balance was upset. My sense-of-self was upset, my notion of my heart was upset, and what I hope for was upset.

Yes, I had Double-T on the mind yesterday. Double-T and Narc.

That said, I actually had a great time with Double-T. We stayed out until 4:30 in the morning and didn't run out of things to talk about. (And the kissing was much better!). But, still... (and even now), it somehow felt wrong to me... wrong on many levels. For one, I'm not used to being treated like that, and it made me feel uncomfortable. I'm not used to being pursued, complimented, etc. in a non-sexual way. I mean, of course I liked it, but on some level, I didn't know how to react. My whole sense of power and what to do was thrown off. What did he expect from me? I felt very inexperienced. I like to be the devotional one in the relationship. I like to love and love and love, but how to be loved? I mean, B and I had a relationship of equals (sort of), and I guess ideally both people behave devotionally towards each other, but I have a hard time being on the "princess" end of things.

Hammer and I had brunch yesterday. Then Double-T sent me a text yesterday at nearly 4:00 pm:

Urghhh... Rough morning-- i mean afternoon. But well worth it. I had a terrific time last night. Hope you have a good day!

I had been up since 10:00 am. I guess he's not as used to the late nights as I am. I didn't know what to write back. In fact, I felt really stupid writing anything at all, but I made myself muster something up:

Yeah, it's definitely a lazy Sunday today! Thank you so much for the evening out. I had a great time too! :)

And then there was Narc...

It started with an email he sent me Sunday morning-- a link to a Salon.com article that used "Jack Bauer" as a profile of a male archetype. I wrote back to him.

Very cute. Thanks for the article. Hammer is here and I read it to her. Finally something on the internet, huh? But with no more "Prince of Persia" what shall you do today? We're trying to decide just that. I want to avoid the Superbowl. We wanted to watch the "Beauty and the Geek" marathon, but it doesn't start until 7:00. Oh well... In the words of V.I. Lenin, "what is to be done?"

:)

Hyde

I wasn't really expecting a reply and was shocked when one came in later that evening. NDN was there at the time, although I didn't really read the email more carefully until he left.

****************************

Narc to Hyde: (The breakup email?)

Tonight: going to get through my NetFlix (Bergman's"Wild Strawberries" and "Through a Glass Darkly"), then going to write. And keep writing. All week. For seven days. And then it will be done.

Just got back from the Wall Street Borders, where I saw, and then, moments later, felt myself being beckoned to, Robert Greene's newly-published "33 Strategies for War" (this is the fellow who wrote "The Art of Seduction" and "The 48 Laws of Power", both great books...). Opening "War" to the table of contents, and then flipping to the first chapter that looked interesting ("Create a Sense of Urgency and Desperation: The Death-Ground Strategy"), I found this (which, I have to say, really spoke to me):

"Like Cortes you must locate the root of your problem. It is not the people around you; it is yourself, and the spirit with which you face the world. In the back of your mind, you keep an escape route, a crutch, something to turn to if things go bad. Maybe it is some wealthy relative you can count on to buy your way out; maybe it is some grand opportunity on the horizon, the endless vistas of time that seem to be before you; maybe it is a familiar job or a comfortable relationship that is always there if you fail. Just as Cortes's men saw their ships as insurance, you may see this fallback as a blessing--but in fact it is a curse. It divides you. Because you think you have options, you never involve yourself deeply enough in one thing to do it thoroughly, and you never quite get what you want. Sometimes you need to run your ships aground, burn them, and leave yourself just one option: succeed or go down. Make the burning of your ships as real as possible--get rid of your safety net. Sometimes you have to become a little desperate to get anywhere."

Quite a wake-up call, and an extraordinary coincidence that my analyst and I are discussing this very thing right now (my asserting my masculine by declaring war--on my tired habits, on the uncaring world, etc--rather than basking in complacency, as I have been). So yes, will definitely have to go through this book ASAP! (Already read the first four chapters in the bookstore--rest of it deals with warring against others, rather than oneself, but still looks like great stuff all the same.)

Right-o, off I go then

--Narc

*****************************

I was reeling. It was clear to me what he was saying without really wanting to say it...

You are a safety net, Hyde...an escape route...an unhealthy comfort... part of what is blocking me from achieving my dreams. I want to end this, "burn my ships" to the ground, wake myself up, change my life! I'm unhappy Hyde, and change starts NOW. I will be working for the next seven days, so please don't contact me. I need to do this for myself.

The sad and scary part-- even though I love him, in many respects, I feel the same way about him. Despite our obvious differences, he and I are more similar than I care to realize. And some small part of me saw in his letter a glimpse of freedom. I know that I should be able to walk away from him; I should be able to end things when they're not good for me. But it all comes back to the blinding commitment I made to him a year and three months ago-- a commitment that is so irrevocably intertwined with my sense of self that I've been hopelessly trying to untangle it with very little success.

I love him. I can't walk away from this. I love him.

But in this letter, I saw something that had not been there before. I saw an opportunity. This is not the usual rejection with one hand, while clinging to me with the other-- what I've had from him in previous times of break up.

For example, last February he wrote:

Hyde--The honest truth is that I simply cannot deal with the drama and the crying fits any longer. It would be best if you moved on. Narc

but then

Hyde--I've no doubt that, emotionally, you'll move on much sooner than you imagine. Perhaps we'll hang out as friends one of these days, we shall see. Good luck with everything--Narc

In March he told me:

Off the alcohol and the radar whilst continuing to write and get in shape for the shoot. Am seeing someone. Won't be able to see you for a while. Be well.

In June, he said:

I am awake now, and we'll keep this simple: do not speak to me ever again.

But a week later, he added:

Back from fireworks, got your message. If you think it's possible to hang out as friends we can discuss that... Else we're probably done. Let me know...

In September he said:

...I shouldn't even be calling you. I mean, I'm SURE. But... I'm taking off for a month in about a day. And I thought I would call you. Because you sent me a text. Um... I don't know why. You just did. So I'm calling you back. Um... Alright! If you get this in the next little bit, call me back. Otherwise I'll see you in a month, or whenever.

And he's told me I can't be his girlfriend because I'm "too unhealthy" (in June), "too emotional" (in December) and because my apartment is "too messy" (in January).

As you can see, he always has to go away only "for a while" and it has always been my fault.

What shocked me about his email yesterday is that it was much more "true." No longer was Narc playing the victim, blaming me for being "bad for him," blaming me for keeping him stuck in a rut. Instead, he was taking responsibility for his own "rut," wanting to do something to change it. He was emailing me to tell me how frustrated he is... posing a probelm, but not a long term solution. All he could think to do about it was to write for a week. Write, write, write. It saddens me that he sees me as part of that rut. (Although, yes, it's true-- I see him as part of my own inertia as well).

So, the miracle here was this-- he was not blaming me! And so I responded differently, Usually, when he blames me, it lights a fire in me. I have to prove him wrong! I have to prove my love! To prove that I'm not bad for him and can in fact make him happy! But this time it was different... The burden is on him. It's his life to fix, not mine. Is he letting me go? Letting me go without having to violate the principle of love I am chained to in my own heart. Letting me go...

(How terrible! How wonderful!)

I thought long and hard about what to say to him. I am so conflicted, that I don't know what outcome I hoped for. I don't know what outcome I hope for. But I tried to be honest. Here's what I wrote...

*************************

Hyde to Narc: (and attentive readers may recognize some blog cut and pastes. It's nice to have processed all of my thoughts here already!)

Hey Narc,

Thanks for that.

It's strange, but I do know how you feel. I think that one of the reasons I have always felt (and still do feel) close to you is because I can see that struggle, that "war..." and I'm engaged in it too. (However unsuccessfully...) You and I have been a "ship" of sorts to each other and a source of paralysis for quite some time now. It's been a long time since anything has happened, no? Anything at all! And yet time goes by and things happen every day. It's like with my blog-- it glorifies the mini-drama, the meaningless minutiae and thereby obscures the bigger picture, the life-sized questions. I'll never have to face them down.

I've been depressed lately and in the mood to stay home. I don't like it. A few days ago I was watching "Dr. Phil" on TV. Some guy was saying that he had "run out of steam" for his 20 year marriage with his wife and wanted to bring another women into their relationship. "Poly-fidelity" he called it. Someone else feeling worn. Used up. Used up. Used up. I used to be hopeful... to have the energy to love. I used to be infinite. But I don't feel that way anymore. My reserves have been exhausted... Drained.

"This is no dress rehearsal!" Dr. Phil said. "This woman has given you four children and twenty years of her life! She can't go back and do this again!"

THIS IS NO DRESS REHEARSAL, I texted to myself.

So, yes... I think that I see you. And It makes me think of a conversation we had a whole year ago. In many respects, it was just another drawn out night of drinking and talking, but it stuck with me. It was the night before before Valentine's when I met you at Bar & Books.

That night, my leg was shaking up and down because I was really tense. You kept telling me to stop shaking and to look you in the eye. It was hard to sit still and stare at you, but you told me that I was most beautiful when I was "still"...that you could finally "see me" without the crap and all of the baggage and all of the stuff that we both carry around. I wasn't sure what you meant, or how I could look different to you just by sitting still. But at the same time I knew that you were talking about my facade-- my safety net... (or as Greene said: "the spirit with which you approach the world.")

We were both kind of depressed that night. We talked a little bit about art and the creative process and you told me that you felt unproductive. Narc, you're right-- it's been too long for you.

Later in the evening you told me that you had given a lot of thought as to why we met each other. For what purpose did we come into each other's lives? I had never thought about that (although I've thought about it over and over again ever since). I asked you what you came up with. Your answer actually surprised me. You told me that you thought we were alike. I was shocked to hear you say that at the time.

I don't know... On the surface we would seem to be opposites in many respects. But we're not. I guess this is all just a long-winded way of saying that I do know what you're going through right now. I understand. It's strange... The timing, I mean. I've been dealing with the exact same thing. I've been spinning my wheels in the mud for way too long. Time doesn't stop. That conversation was a year ago. It scares me.

And I want you to break out. I want to see you happy. I want me to be happy, I want you to be happy and I want you to grow. And so I'm glad you are giving yourself a kick right now.

Change is in the air, and although frightening (to me, at least) I think in the end, it's a good thing. I'm rooting for you. And I'm rooting for me.

I've got a new plan for myself as well-- a full and clean 8 hour/day work week. It's the only way to climb on top of my incompletes. And I'm going to get my sleep schedule on track. I need sleep more than anything (sleep at night, that is) and I think that with a more decent amount of energy the whole world will start to change color.

So, good luck with your work! I will miss you while you're working, but I hope it rewards you and I hope you can start to get yourself unstuck. I'll be working too. I know that you see me as part of your inertia-- part of the dragging life you want to lift yourself out of. But I hope that's not all that I am to you, just as I am trying not to let that be all that you are to me. I hope that we can find more to our friendship than drinking and television. I'd love to hear about what you're working on and to share my own stuff if you take a coffee break or need an ear.

Enjoy the Netflix tonight.

Lots of love (as always),

Hyde

PS: What exactly is it that will be done in seven days?

***************************

After I had sent the letter, I was flooded with anxiety.

WHY did I write that? What would happen next? Would he answer? Were things changing? Or was I overanalyzing? Is everything still the same? Do I want it to be the same? Do I want it to change? Am I losing this man that I love? Do I want to lose him? Should I have written back at all? Did I just push things in a different direction by doing that? Would HE write back?

But, in the end, I know why I wrote. I wanted him to know that I am not just a subject in his life narrative. I am not just his inertia objectified. He is also a subject in mine. I am struggling too. I am multi-dimensional and he has been bad for me too. I also have dreams I am struggling to achieve. He is not the only hero here. I didn't want to be acted upon and discarded. I wanted him to see my humanity.

In truth, I didn't expect a response. He rarely responds to emotional e-mails from me, and if he does, it's usually with just a sentence or two telling me to go away. So, I went to bed.

I woke up this morning at 5:30 am, partially because my alarm was set to go off at 6:00 am, but mostly from anxiety. I checked my e-mail, and yes, he wrote back. He wrote back last night...

*************************

Narc to Hyde: (received this morning)

Indeed, glad to hear you understand at least a little bit of this. Time for both of us to "step up and take control of our lives", as Dr. Phil would put it. (And if that means my having to sacrifice anything and everything to ensure victory, then so be it...!)

(grin)

Let you know--

Narc

******************************

"Sacrifice anything and everything." Sacrifice ME. I heard him. He doesn't know. He doesn't know what this means either. "Let you know," he said. Our fate hangs in the balance.

But he opened a window here. Part of me thinks I should leap through it, while part of me is howling in pain.

And so, I'm not going to do anything right now. I mean, I'm not going to contact him. I'm going to wait silently. I'm going to do my work. I'm going to follow through with Double-T (although I can't sleep with him yet). I'm going to try to take it easy on myself, to nurture myself and to stay calm. I'm going to give Narc his seven days... his seven days of writing. He asked me for seven days. He needs that from me. He wants to see what life will be like in a new frame of mind. He wants to try it out... a test run. And I love him. I love him, and so he will have those days, no matter what I have to do to give them to him.

If it has to end with us, I'd so much rather it end like this than any other way. I can feel good about this ending. It can end with an act of giving, rather than an act of taking. I'm more comfortable with it that way. I can give him freedom. Letting him go as a loving gesture for him, rather than a selfish one for me. I like it better that way.

I like it better that way.

I'm still shaking, but that's okay. Time to go fumble through a voice lesson...

-h-

Can it be?

I got an email from N today. It seems (on the surface at least) like a breakup letter. I wrote him back a really long email. I'm so anxious now I've been throwing up for the better part of an hour. I don't feel like it's out of me yet. I love him.

I'm trying to focus on Beauty & the Geek-- a guilty pleasure brought to me by Hammer.

I don't have it in me to give any more details than that. I feel dizzy. And scared.

-h-

Double-T: Round II

Went out with him; kissed him; liked him (I think); kissed him. Yes, did I say that? Kissed him!

The kisses were much better this time. Not awkward kisses...No.... They were good. This time they were sexual kisses. Yes! Real kisses. (And he was appreciative. I love to be appreciated when I know what I'm doing.) Better...right? I liked him! (Right?)

Well, in any case, he wanted to take me home. Guess what I said? (Shock of all shocks!) I said "NO!" I told him I didn't think it was such a good idea. Why not? (Because I love N. Of course! I love N! I love N! I love N!)

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because I like you," I said. "And I need to take it slow and feel okay about everything."

That seemed fine.

Okay. It's all good.

I don't want to have sex with him. Not sex of any kind. Why not? Because I love N. I made that clear, of course.

"If I don't call you, don't take it personally," he said. "It just means I want to give you space. I mean... you seem to need it."

"Okay..."

"But know this," he went on. "Know that I want to call you always. And you can call me whenever you want and that your calls will ALWAYS be welcome!"

Fine.

I started to like this guy. And I kissed him. I kissed him A LOT. Like, several 20 minute sessions of kissing. Real kissing. Open mouth kissing. In MY BAR, no less.

And guess who was there? Guess who was there to bear witness? Guess who was there to bear witness to my kissing a stranger? The worst of all (I guess!). It was KHILL!

Shit.

But, whatever... Let them think I'm promiscuous. I don't give a shit. (Well, maybe I do...) No matter... I know that I'm not.

Ok, FINE... I'll admit it... I'm drunk right now.

I'm drunk and it's 4:45 am. I texted N an hour ago. Ignoring bastard.

He must be asleep.

I hate him with a vengeance. I HATE HIM.

God damn it! Why do I still love him? Even now! Even with Double-T... Even with drink...

i suck.

-h-

PS: May God grant me forgiveness so that I will not regret anything in the morning.

I don't understand us: (part II)

Narc: Craving meat, so went to Blaue Gans, new German place next to me. Having the sausage with saurkraut, mustard, etc. If you're doing low carb, this is the way! (7:37 pm)

Hyde: So I'll have to check it out sometime! Where exactly is it? (7:39 pm)

Narc: XXX and XXX, my intersection (7:40 pm)

Hyde: Why haven't I noticed it? Strange... Did you work on your "Romance?" (7:42 pm)

Narc: Used to be called Le Zinc, just re-opened. Only one veggie entree though! Didn't write, got to end of "Persia" instead. (7:46 pm)

Hyde: Yay! At least it's a fait accomplit! I didn't make it to the movies either. What are you up to tonight? (7:48 pm)

No answer.

Shit, Hyde! Why did you ask him that? WHY????

(Bitter. I'm bitter. Bitter, broken, Bitter.)

In other news, Double-T hasn't called me yet. We were supposed to have plans for tonight. Is he going to stand me up? Is this revenge for never calling him back? Well, either way, he just lost MAJOR points with me (if he had any to begin with).

I'm frustrated with all of the men in my life. I want to kiss someone new before the night is done.

-h-

I don't understand us.

First of all, I'm still depressed. I've been depressed all week. Really depressed, as in I don't want to do anything except stay home. And thus, I've been staying home as much as possible.

Last night N texted me: Stephen Colbert on Conan!

I guess he likes to tell me what's on TV. Earlier in the week he wrote to me: Kiefer on Letterman.

Anyway, it was 12:56 am. So, I wrote back: Is it starting late? Putting it on...

No reply.

This morning I am, again, depressed. I lay in bed for a long time. I called him. I got his machine.

"Hi, it's me," I said. "Just thought I'd see what you're up to."

I paused.

"It's gray and dreary outside and looks like a movie day today," I said. "So... Well.... I guess I wanted to know if you wanted to go see a movie with me or something..."

I paused again.

"It's about 10:00 am now. So, um... well, I guess just give me a call whenever. I mean... Just let me know. Okay? Well... Um... okay... bye."

Since then, I've been playing piano all morning. I think I'm going to audition for a Cabaret class on Monday night-- song interpretation and repertoire building. I've decided I'm going to sing "Misty." So, that's what I've been singing all morning. "Misty" and jazz piano. Misty, Misty, Misty... Good for a gray day like today.

And then the strangest thing happened.

He called me back.

We spoke for about half an hour.

He told me he was going to play Prince of Persia all day today. He mentioned that Placido Domingo is singing Cyrano today. I told him that Placido won't be singing. He cancelled all of his upcoming performances due to tracheitis...He even cancelled Samson too. Everything through March 2nd. He told me that yesterday he saw a Soderbergh movie called Bubble and that it was awful.

"It's minimalism for the movies," he said. "White canvas, blue dot kind of stuff."

I sighed and agreed that such a movie must be a travesty.

I asked him why he thought of me when he read The Life of Pi.

"Because it's about religion...faith," he said.

"And?"

"Well, you have faith. You know... I mean, I know it. Right? Religion... Stories more beautiful than the reality. It doesn't matter if it's true; it doesn't matter if the story really happened. The higher, more beautiful truth is in the story. You're like that."

I wasn't sure what to say.

"My heart, you mean?"

This felt strange, so I went on.

"So you think the story in the book wasn't supposed to be true?"

"Of course it wasn't true! A boy can't survive with a tiger!"

"But, Narc! But, I-- I mean, why not? I thought it was explained very well."

"Hyde..."

He sounded exasperated in an affectionate sort of way.

"No, really! I thought it was true. I thought that the second version was just made up because it's what people want to hear. People are too cynical for miracles."

"Hyde! There WAS NO TIGER!"

"But... But I loved the tiger."

"There wasn't a tiger."

"I thought the author left it ambiguous...for the reader to decide."

"No."

"Well, you have your interpretation and I have mine," I concluded.

"I just finished Shogun again," he said. "I'll have to give it to you to read next."

"I'm reading a book about an alcoholic woman right now," I told him. "A memoir. Kind of depressing. I want to finish it fast."

"Well, Shogun will be very entertaining."

He went on and told me about a bunch of science fiction books he had just ordered from Amazon. I told him about my hellish day of teaching yesterday and about my evening last night with NDN. I told him that I was auditioning for a cabaret class.

"Cabaret? Like with fishnets and a boa and high leg kicks?" he asked.

"No!" I laughed. "It's not the Moulin Rouge! Narc, could you really see me doing that? It's just jazz songs and standards...torch songs... building repertoire, song interpretation and stuff. I think it'll help me be less shy when I perform. And besides, I'm not entirely immersed in that genre, so I think I can learn a lot from this class."

We spoke for a while longer. Then he said he had to go get some work done.

"I thought you were playing Prince of Persia all day today," I said.

"No. I have work to do," he replied.

"What are you working on?"

"Well, I have a lot in front of me. And a lot of script ideas."

"Like what?"

He told me about a novel he wants to adapt into a screenplay-- The Romance of a Poor Young Man by Octave Feuillet. He told me the story of when and where he discovered the book. It was a day or two after his breakup with ModelChick a few years back.

"Okay, then... Well, good luck with your work."

"Yeah. And if you go see a movie today, don't go see Bubble."

"I don't think I'm going to go to the movies. I've been kind of depressed lately, in the mood to stay home."

"Okay."

"I mean... I've been singing all morning... the movie mood has passed. I think I'll just shower and reset and then see what the day brings."

"Alright, then."

"So, see you soon."

"Yeah, talk to you in a bit."

"Bye."


I don't understand.

"Like Drinking Stars"

I've not been feeling like myself lately. Absolutely no urge to socialize. In fact, I'm rather irritated by the prospect.

I just finished reading The Life of Pi (which I started on Tuesday). Why did I choose it? Because back in November, Narc mentioned the book to me.

"That's YOUR book, Hyde! Read it! Promise me!" he had said. (Although he wouldn't tell me why).

Yesterday I did nothing but read that book (and briefly see B). I woke up early, but stayed in bed for most of the day with the book. And when I had finished, I felt unsettled. Why did he see me in that book? Why that book? Does he think I'm foolish? Or Romantic? Is it because I believe in miracles or because I believe in illusions? I wanted to ask him, but I couldn't. I hadn't seen him or spoken to him since he walked away from me at the opera last Saturday evening. I sent him a text:

Just finished the book... Hmm...

I don't know why I wrote. Part of me really does hate him now. Yay! Score one for Narc. He's worn me down. He's broken me, just according to plan. Yes, he's been very successful at driving me away this January. I hardly want to see him anymore (although can I really claim that to be true? In a small corner of my mind, I'm burning for him as intensely as ever. I'm just much more sad). I feel defeated. Yes, I am worn. Used up. I'm started to accept defeat, internalize defeat, and am readying myself to be alone. Maybe it won't be so bad. My therapist always tells me that she thinks it's worse to be alone in the company of others than to be alone with oneself. I don't know if I agree. Nothing resolves. Things just fade. And I don't like that.

But I'm thinking of Leonard Cohen now.

G...Em...G...Em...C...D...G..........G....C, D...Em...C, D............Em...D7...Em............C...Em...C...G-D-G................Baby I've been here before. I know this room I've walked this floor. I used to live alone before I knew you....................She tied you To a kitchen chair. She broke your throne, and she cut your hair. And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah........................And even though it all went wrong, I'll stand before the Lord of Song with nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah...

I was happy to be home last night. NDN invited me over to eat chicken, but I didn't want to go. So, I didn't. I bought some fruits and vegetables last night. I spoke to my mother on the phone.

"I remember a different Hyde," she said. "I remember the girl who used to be so excited to buy fresh school supplies, who took pleasure in color coding everything... the beauty of clean white paper and brand new colored markers."

My mom has bronchitis. She caught it on the plane returning from Costa Rica last week. She sounded awful.

"She's still here," I said. "You're talking about Jekyll, then," I wanted to say.

"It just feels like I haven't seen her in a while," my mom sighed.

I wanted to cry.

I watched Dr. Phil on TV. Some guy was saying that he had "run out of steam" for his 20 year marriage with his wife and wanted to bring in another women to their relationship. "Poly-fidelity" he called it. Someone else feeling worn. Used up. Used up. Used up. But this guy was a prick. I hate people who want to "have their cake and eat it too." I always try to give it to them... to bend for that. They never appreciate it in the end. Besides, it's impossible. (I hate him. I used to have energy. I used to have the energy to love him. I used to be infinite.)

"This is no dress rehearsal!" Dr. Phil said. "This woman has given you four children and twenty years of her life! She can't go back and do this again!"

THIS IS NO DRESS REHEARSAL, I texted to myself.

Double-T sent me a text: Turns out I'm headed to Cheers tonight, too. I'll be there around 10 if you feel like swinging by.

I wrote back right away: I've got a really early morning tomorrow, so likely in for the night. Have fun though!

K. Thought I'd give it a shot being your hood, he said. Sleep well.

I started reading another book last night-- Drinking: A Love Story by Caroline Knapp. I'm only 50 pages in, and she's more of a perfectionist than I am, but she says some strange things. Well, I guess what I mean is that it's strange to read a book about drinking. I don't know anyone else who loves to drink... who loves to drink... who loves to drink the way that I do. ("Something like a big sunflower was opening at the very center of my being...all the way through to my bones, illuminating some calm and gentle piece of my soul..."). None of my friends drink. Really, it's just Narc, and he would never admit that he loves it.

"When you love somebody or something, it's amazing how willing you are to overlook the flaws... I did my best to ignore all this. I struggled to ignore it, the way a woman hears coldness in a lover's voice and struggles mightily and knowingly, to misread it."

But the passage that got to me the most was one about fradulance and self-construction...

"I once heard alcoholism described in an AA meeting, with eminent simplicity, as "fear of life," she says. "and that seemed to sum up the condition quite nicely... "

...Feelings of fraudulence are familiar to scores of people in and out of the working world-- the highly effective, well-defended exterior cloaking the small, insecure person inside-- but they're epidemic among alcoholics. You hide behind the professional person all day, then you leave the office and hide behind the drink.

Sometimes, in small flashes, I'd be aware of this. One night after work, on my way to a bar to meet a friend for drinks, a sentence popped into my head. I thought: This is the real me, this person driving in the car. I was anxious. My teeth were clenched, partly from spending a long day hunched over the computer and partly from the physical sensation of wanting a drink badly, and I was aware of an undercurrent of fear deep in my gut, a barely definable sensation that the ground beneath my feet wasn't solid or real.

I think I understood in that instant that I'd created two versions of myself: the working version, who sat at the desk and pounded away at the keyboard, and the restaurant version who sat at a table and pounded away at white wine. In between, for five or ten minutes at a stretch, the real version would emerge: the fearful version, tense and dishonest and uncertain. I rarely allowed her to emerge for long. Work-- all that productive, effective focused work-- kept her distracted and submerged during the day. And drink-- anesthetizing and constant-- kept her too numb to feel at night.

Anyway, I'm tired.

I went to bed last night at midnight, having spent the bulk of the day in bed already. At 3:45 am my cell phone rang. I reached for it in the dark. It was him. I didn't pick it up. Then my home phone rang. I was annoyed. If I didn't pick up the cell phone, I was clearly in bed and likely asleep! Does he care? He knows I teach on Fridays because I told him when he invited me over last Friday afternoon (if he bothers to remember).

I tensed up.

Should I answer?

No, Hyde! Don't answer!

But... But! But, I want to hear his voice.

Look-- you KNOW he's going to be drunk. He's just going to pressure you to come down and see him and you can't tonight. And when you say "no," he'll keep you on the phone and call you names. And you'll try to reason with him and it won't work. And hours will go by and your day will be fucked up tomorrow. You'll never get back to sleep!

But I--

Why do you WANT to hear him anyway?

(Because his voice is beautiful).

Think about his infatuation with PopStarChick right now. You don't NEED that. Isn't it hurting you?

Yes, it's hurting. It hurts, but I...

But?

But, I--

On the last ring I answered.

"Hello?" My voice was thick with sleep, and he knew it.

"Oh, hey! Did I wake you?"

"Yeah."

"Okay, sorry then. Go back to sleep."

He sounded sober.

"Okay. Bye."

Of course, I couldn't go back to sleep right away. I checked the message that he had left on my cell phone.

Hey, it's me. Just checkin' to see if you were up and out. We all just snuck out of our bar here, downtown. A friend of ours from Hamlet had his... Well our director, actually from Hamlet, had his big play tonight and everyone went to go see that. So... um... We're all done; I'm walking home. I was just checking in to see if you finished The Life of Pi, what'd you think? Alright. Well, maybe I'll try your landline. Alright. Bye.

I was glad that he called. (Not pleased with myself that I was glad, but glad nonetheless). Surprisingly, though, I had no urge to see him. I didn't regret having to get up in the morning. In fact, I was rather grateful for it.

My alarm went off just a few hours later.

I had a bitter taste in my mouth this morning. I tried to brush it away, but it remained. I have a bitter taste in my mouth when I think of him. It's like something's rotting there. (Is it my heart?) He has broken something between us and I can taste it dying. Broken in January. Quietly broken (no vomit or tears), but Broken.

Today was a killer day for me. My first Friday with six hours of lecturing. I thought I was going to collapse after the first half. I sucked down a liter and a half of SmartWater. I packed my lunch and brought it with me to school. I get 45 minutes between two three-hour sessions. When I returned to my office for the break, my officemate was there. Usually we don't see each other. What was she doing there? She doesn't teach on Fridays! I was angry. In all fairness, how was she to know that I teach on Fridays, but still... With only 45 minutes of rest, I wanted to eat my lunch in privacy. And I wanted some time on the computer, which I didn't get. I felt very invaded. Bitter again. Again, bitter.

I'm feeling failure. I'm feeling withdrawal. I'm feeling like I want to retreat into a cave and hibernate. (Or drink the stars? No... Don't! Just stick it out.) Hibernation might not be such a bad impulse. A little death may lead to new life.

But I don't feel like socializing. How the fuck am I supposed to survive my date with Double-T tomorrow night in this frame of mind? That poor guy. He doesn't stand a chance.

-h-

PS: I love Richard Parker. If you've read The Life of Pi, you know who I mean. And the ending left me devastated. I too, can't cope without a proper (and drawn out) goodbye.

Kiefer for Calorie Mate!

Thank you to Dan for sending me this hysterical clip!

Looks like Jack Bauer is not only trying to save the world from terrorism, but also from excess calories!

Nothing to cheer a girl up and wipe out a hangover like some early morning Kiefer! (Wait... I guess it's not that early anymore).

(Oh... and to you purists out there, sorry for all of the Season 4 screencaps. The website where I get them has been VERY remiss about getting to Season 5! But then, I'm sure none of you are half as bothered by that as I am!)

I've been sneezing a lot today. Hope I'm not getting a cold...

:)

h

The Bubble Bath

I was very decadent this evening.

I skipped choir practice and instead took a bubble bath.

I turned off all the lights in the bathroom and lit three fat candles. Then I filled the tub with water so hot it scorched my skin. (No, I'm not THAT masochistic... I had to let some of it out and replace it with cooler water.) While I was running the bath, I talked to Sunshine on the phone. The bath was teeming with vanilla scented bubbles, the white foam growing more and more massive as I sat at the edge of the tub. Before climbing in, I brought my stereo into the bathroom and hooked it up with a CD sent to me by Mark Reed. It's an awesome mix and I thank him profusely! (He titled his mix for me "Quizteam Aquilera." I'd type out all the songs, but I'm a little wiped right now.)

The water felt good against my skin. The flickering candles cast strange shadows on the wall, quivering to the music. I topped it all off with a freshly chilled bottle of pink champagne. I lay there in the hot bath, chugging from the cold bottle. (My only regret is that I drank the entire bottle and all it did was give me a slight buzz that faded after about 30 minutes). All in all, it was supremely relaxing. But then there was Narc. Yes... my mind started to wander to the places to which you'd expect one's mind to wander while in the bathtub.

I hate him and miss him at the same time. So, I missed him. And wanted him.

I could see him standing above me. (No, Hyde! Don't let this happen!) I slid under the water. I held my breath and let myself get dizzy. I looked up in my mind's eye. He was still there. Was that a smirk on his face? His face never looks like that in real life. My fingers and feet turned to prunes. It was time to emerge, but I was sad to climb out. I opened my eyes. Narc faded into the shower head and the ceiling. The orange candlelight cast a reddish shadow against the tile. His red hair. Mr. Rochester stared at me curiously. I switched on the lights. My moment was over.

After the bath, I blow-dried my hair, watched some Law & Order and put on lipstick (I don't know why, I just wanted to be in lipstick). While preening in front of the mirror, I got a text from Double-T. (If you recall, I have thus far massively blown him off. Hmm... It smacks of a little "she's just not that into you.") But his contact this evening launched a strange and somewhat awkward text exchange. It was as follows:

Double-T: Hey, Hyde...hope all is well. Free for drinks sometime soon-ish?

(Hyde thinks: Wow! This guy must really like me if he's trying again after I've blown him off. Well, Narc seems to think I'm worthless, so I may as well give this one another chance.)

Hyde: Hi! Sorry I disappeared! Just life-chaos at the moment. Maybe Sat? What are your plans?

Double-T: Nothing set in stone. Cheers maybe?

(Hyde thinks: Cheers? Why is he so set on hanging out there all the time? Does he think he's more likely to get me in bed if we're less than a block away from my house? Whatever... I do like Cheers, so I guess it's okay. It's my home turf.)

Hyde: Cheers is always good for me! :)

Double-T: Okay, holla at ya boy saturday to confirm life is drama-free enough to hang.

(Hyde thinks: What the fuck? Who do you think you are? The Stallion? No... scrap that. He wouldn't even say that. This guy is just bizarre. A bit of a dork.)

Hyde: Will do!

Double-T: --Sorry about the holla bit--too much flava flav lately!

(Hyde thinks: Well, okay... At least he knows he sounded strange. I guess he was trying to be funny and it didn't play well with me. I bet he feels stupid now, poor guy.)

Hyde: Why is that?

Double-T: Just started watching while folding socks and the phrase stuck in my head. Plus I always crack myself up trying to sound hiphop.

(Hyde thinks: Okay, time to just make the date and end this.)

Hyde: Well, I guess I'll have to hear your impression live for the full effect. Talk to you soon...

And that was that.

Suddenly, I'm not thinking of Double-T at all, but again (and ALWAYS!) of Narc. And the more I think about it, the more I hate Narc. (But I love him! Fuck! I love him! I hate him!)

This is utter agony. At least I shaved my legs today so they feel really nice...silky. I get a lot of pleasure from that. And I have lipstick on. A deep pink. Bruised. It's the little things. Small consolations for a girl. But it counts. It all counts.

Time to go before writing makes me melancholy and pensive.
Hope you're all having a decent night!

:)

-h-

(PS: Mother doesn't like me playing Beethoven. She says I'm peevish afterwards.

Naturally, one would be stirred up.)