Sunday, October 3, 2010

This day's been crazy, but everything's happened on schedule.

This morning I went to scrape paint and discovered the work of genius (or, possibly, boredom) that is the heat gun. This, for those of you who remain unenlightened, is essentially a jacked-up hairdryer which reaches temperatures high enough to melt (boil?) dried paint, thus enabling a paint-scraper like myself to pull it off in 4x10 inch sheets, rather than scraping it off (along with little bits of wood) in 1x2 mm chips.

Also, the people who live in this apartment like tot throw away useful things, like clean clothes (seriously, were in a trash can in the basement under a broken detergent bottle), laundry baskets, and drinking glasses.

Also, just before getting in my car to leave I put a useful piece of trash--a sturdy chair bottom, the back having been broken off; I have been wanting a low stool--in the back of my car, closed the tailgate, and heard a small sound like some sand falling onto the ground. Turns out it was sand, sort of, in that auto glass is probably made from sand just like other glass. Somehow the impact of the closing tailgate caused the left side panel window at the back of my car to shatter. I guess there must have been a hairline crack that I didn't see, or something. I'm just glad it wasn't one of the windows that rolls up and down, or, God forbid, my rear windshield. As Junior put it (merely giving voice to thoughts I had been thus far keeping to myself), my car is becoming more and more ghetto all the time.

After knocking the rest of the window out and taping a trash bag into place (stay classy), I ran over to DSW in a vain attempt to blow the $50 I made yesterday on a pair of boots I've been wanting for a while. Possibly months. Unfortunately, I don't wear a 6.5 or a 7, and that's all that was left. I had a sneaking suspicion that this was going to be the case. It's alright. And they do sell them online, though I won't get DSW reward points for buying boots from Zappo's, and that's really a shame.

There had been plans for me to meet Kaiser (guy I met in May who miraculously was given my phone number) at the park at 3, but at this point it was... nearly 3*. I had said I might be late due to the window incident, but it wasn't too bad. After a hurried lunch I ended up leaving the house at 3:05.

Wandering around Maymont was fine, but judging by my slight annoyance upon leaving and my really and truly horrible mood upon rising from a not-sleeping-just-lying-in-the-dark two hour "nap," I have to say, hanging out with people who are attracted to me and to whom I am not attracted, especially people in said category that I don't know well, really, really stresses me out. I really, really do not like it. If we hang out again, I am going to have to lay down some ground rules. For instance: please do not touch my arm. Please do not touch me at all. Please do not try to hold my hand. You're nice and stuff, but pretty much as a rule I don't want to be around people I don't know that act this way toward me, and you're only making things worse for yourself. Actually, yeah, maybe just one ground rule. He is a nice guy. I just a) don't really want to be dating anyone right now**, and b) don't want to hang around relative strangers who obviously want to date me.

The reason for the two hour not-exactly-nap was largely that when I came home from the park, my hip hurt. A lot. Increasingly. There have been times that my hip has hurt a little after a lot of walking, but I don't think it's ever been like this. I discovered while walking Miley tonight that if I step very carefully onto my right leg, it usually doesn't hurt very much. I'm hoping it will have improved at least a little by tomorrow.

While I was walking though, eventually, once I mostly had a grasp on the hip thing, I started to sing. It was a song of praise actually (though I've begun to realize that really, anytime I just start singing out of nowhere it's a song of praise, even if I'm singing some completely heathen Celtic song about magic)--a simple one I like a lot and never really hear anywhere, about love being higher and deeper and longer and wider than our perception***. Then I started thinking about yesterday, about  having had lunch with David, and how wonderful it was. Not that the food was particularly great or that from beginning to end it was the best time of my life, or even that it was easy, but it was so good. It was so honest and real and survivable. I survived it, and I learned things--I learned a lot--and I think maybe we know each other better now than we did before. I thought of sitting on the stoop in the sun with the band playing down the street, and I just said "thank you," and then I couldn't stop saying it. Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you. For this draught of hope. Thank you. For my breath misting in the night air, for this sweet little dog, for my sweet family, for the clear sky, for the lights shining through the trees, thank you. For breath. For hope. For giving me my friend back.

Post title taken from my favorite Caedmon's Call song, which you can find if you search "Table for Two" on or or Pandora. However, none of these sites will allow me, at the moment, to link the song. The part I've quoted goes like this:
This day's been crazy, but everything's happened on schedule: from the rain and the cold to the drink that I spilled on my shirt. You knew how you'd save me before I fell dead in the garden, and you knew this day long before you made me out of dirt.

*I don't usually make unnecessary side trips when I'm already running late--I just want to say that. However, under the circumstances (I finally made some money yesterday, I had already said I'd be late, K and I have no relationship whatsoever really and the time and location were picked arbitrarily and by me in the first place, I had been putting off the boot thing forever and knew they'd be gone soon if not already, my effing window just broke out of nowhere), I felt that it was at least somewhat justified.

**Part of this is that I just straight-up don't. I'm not saying it won't change, but right now that's how I feel. Part of it is that I just started talking to David again, and I'd be lying if I said I was over him, and I'd be lying if I said I was still completely in love with him. I'd also be lying if I said I didn't want to tackle him and not let him up for air for at least an hour. However, that kind of tackling can really cloud the thinking, and can cause quite a lot of related problems. We two are in agreement about that. Also, getting back together only to break up again would be, pardon my French, fucking hell. And getting back together without either of us really having given this "what's life like being romantically involved with someone other than you someday" experiment any kind of chance would sort of feel like giving up, and that goes for both of us. So I think we're going to give being friends and sitting a few feet apart at all times a fair chance, and just see. I am pointedly staying the hell away from any kind of questions about the future because they are so completely fucking utterly unhelpful. As I said to the man upstairs earlier tonight, between the singing and the can't-stop-thanking-yous, I am going to let that go and trust that all things will be made right according to His will. And that's about as religious as I ever expect to get in a public forum on the internet.

***"Your love is deeper than my view of grace, higher than this earthly place, longer than this road I travel, wider than the gap you filled."

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