Here Comes the Come Down

So I’m sitting here feeling what? Vindication that I was right, that I accurately predicted the situation, that my worst fears lurking just around the corner will soon be confirmed. I’m the perfect architect of my own misery. Happy in my own familiar hell.

I set Hakim up for failure. I snooped, spied and judged. I reacted to his ambivalence with anger. My ego would not allow me to trust or be patient. I wanted to be right, I didn’t want to be made a fool of. I couldn’t relax and enjoy things. I wanted to be in control. I created a self fulfilling prophecy. And I walked away from it all the way I knew I would even from the start.

With M. Well, that was just unexpected. What cruel magic could allow me (us) to feel that way under the circumstance of her impending arrival? Or was it just simply as I said - we were both lonely, nothing more, nothing less. We filled our time with each other, indulged in dramatic conversations and feelings, submitted ourselves to sensation, threw caution to the wind and immersed ourselves in the moment. ‘Play with fire and you get burned’ keeps running through my head. How come I feel like I’m the only one to ever get burned though? Or is that another illusion of my own egocentricity? Thinking I’m always alone.

I heard someone playing guitar in the apartment above me. Hearing him sing, a sliver of hope stabbed me.
Maybe loneliness is universal.

Falling Down

AUTOBIOGRAPHY IN FIVE SHORT CHAPTERS
by Portia Nelson

I

I walk down the street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in.
I am lost ... I am helpless.
It isn't my fault.
It takes me forever to find a way out.

II

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I pretend I don't see it.
I fall in again.
I can't believe I am in the same place
but, it isn't my fault.
It still takes a long time to get out.

III

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I see it is there.
I still fall in ... it's a habit.
my eyes are open
I know where I am.
It is my fault.
I get out immediately.

IV

I walk down the same street.
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk.
I walk around it.

V

I walk down another street.

All is full of love

When I feel really bad this song reassures me. So beautiful.

Quoteable

H is actually pretty hilarious. Here are some choice quotes from him:

The first thing he said to me today when he saw me in a white sundress was, "I can see your underware. Do you want everyone on the street to see your underware?"

Then I told him I had been spending a lot of time hanging out with my roommate he said, "He just wants your ass. Everyone wants your ass." I was like "Ummmmm...thanks but really its not that great."

When I told him that all my friends agreed his behavior lately was suspicious he said, "That's because your friends don't want you to be happy." I was like, "Really? Why?" Him - "Because you look better than them." WTF?! He's never even seen or met any of my friends.

About my new neighborhood, "You live in the projects habibti(sweetheart in Arabic), I'm sorry but its the projects."

Re my roommates: "When I go in your house and I see their shoes lying around and it smells like sneakers... Do you want to live in a prison?" Also, "Your Dad would not be happy knowing you are living in New York City with two men." And, "If I were to have a woman come live with me like a roommate, I'm sure I would be nice to her, sit on the couch talking to her, cook dinner for her. And I'm sure at some point I'm gonna sleep with her." I guess this is to illustrate the point that he thinks that its basically inevitable that men and women who live together as roommates are going to sleep together. I pointed out that I've lived with plenty of men over the years who somehow, I quite miraculously restrained myself from F@#Cking.

On several occasions he asked me, "Is there something wrong with your mind?"
Well, yeah duh...if I was remotely sane, I would NOT be hanging out with you Freakjob.

Should have known better...

As I predicted, I AM making a big mess of things after all. Hakim has pretty much been MIA all week, canceling plans, saying he's gonna call and then disappearing or calling at 1am. I hadn't seen him in over a week until today when I finally lost patience and went by his vintage clothing store to give him a piece of my mind. I also happened to mention that I had feelings for someone else. Immature, I know but I am so frustrated, nothing seems to evoke a response out of him. He actually got a little rattled. He's a complete nut; I am basically on the verge of breaking up with him and he's asking me if I'd like to go to Algeria with him for a little vacation. PSYCHO! Anyway, I just DO NOT TRUST this guy. He's shady as hell and I'm over it.

Meanwhile, I've been spending hours lying around on the couch with my roommate having crazy conversations about Love (his favorite topic), people, art, meditation, Psychology, etc. He gets all passionate when he's talking, sometimes he grabs my hand and holds it or hugs me. I was starting to feel like maybe he was into me but I didn't want to misread the situation. Well, the other night pretty much answered that question. By the end of it he had his arms around me and was stroking my hair and my face. It felt really nice but I had to end things there. First of all, he's my roommate and we are just getting to know each other, and really - most importantly - he has this Serbian girl who he's been talking to online for 7 months coming here NEXT WEEK. He's never met her in person but if they've been talking everyday for months its safe to say that they will probably hit it off in person. Sigh... Not that I want to begrudge him happiness. He's a total weirdo too (clearly I love freaks!)but he's also a romantic, an idealist and a sweetie. So, I'm steeling myself for her arrival next week, his subsequent lack of interest in me and worse yet, late night giggling sessions as his Serbian princess slips in and out of his room between lovemaking sessions. UGH. The only positive thing I can say is thank god my room is completely on the other side of the apartment from his, which will hopefully minimize some of the impending trauma.

Good lord, my luck in love is HIDEOUS! It just feels like a cruel cosmic joke is being played on me. I must be the world's biggest idiot when it comes to men.

The Spring Is Getting To Me

It's a city of strangers,
Some come to work, some to play.
A city of strangers,
Some come to stare, some to stay.
And every day
Some go away
Or they find each other in the crowded streets and the guarded parks,
By the rusty fountains and the dusty trees with the battered barks,
And they walk together past upholstered walls with the crude remarks.
And they meet at parties through the friends of friends who they never
know.
- from musical 'Company'

Awwwwwww....sometimes I just love this place!

Humid tropical heat, a million strangers on the street.
So many signs in broken English, 'Pritti Woman Salon'.
Smell of sweat and cologne on strangers.
An old man and woman next to me on a coffee date eating pie and talking with thick New York accents. The man telling her how he digs for diamonds in his back yard.
Wearing my sunglasses on the subway. WHO do I think I am?!
Men looking at me like I'm sexy, saying 'Hi', opening doors.
Eating nuts at 2am on the train platform, slightly drunk.
Always running late for work.
And what in God's name would possess me to roll out of bed at noon and start chatting away to my new roommate about my lesbian love affair. Then reassuring him that I like men better. Laughing gleefully, til he gently takes me by the shoulders and pushes me out the door saying "Don't be late for work". Putting out that sexual energy way too early in the day.
He's so cute. I just want to close my eyes and think of him.
Then I see Hakim standing in the Arabic store holding a giant engraved sword with his crazy black curls, looking like a pirate and his funny smile, eyes crinkling up.
Happiness is a surprise gift. I don't want to mess this up.

SLANDER!!!

In an attempt to start my own business as a Personal Chef, I started my own food related blog to share recipes and promote my own business. I was shocked and admittedly slightly amused when I found this comment posted on my blog:

"Allow me to inform you poor foodies about the REAL MM (my name). I knew M quite well during her early San Francisco days. For her to protray herself as a holistic person who cares about the well being of others is postively RIDICULOUS.

While I knew her, she drank like an alcoholic, abused drugs, lied and stole from those around her. Evry day, she ate top ramen noodles and washed it down with cheap Royal Gate vodka. The lovely "Foothills of the Sierra Nevadas" she likes to wax poetically about was this crazy Catholic commune her parents ran on church property. Her dad didnt like to pay taxes to the government so he kept his wife and 3 kids in poverty running this whacko commune.

I wouldnt eat a meal this conwoman made if it were my last on earth. M is a liar, never finishes anything she starts and will rob a client blind!"

I'm sorry but this is hilarious! I've never been called a liar or a conwoman in my life!!! Admittedly some of the facts are correct - the crazy commune, the Top Ramen and Royal Gate Vodka is embarrassing but true. Gimme a break though, I was a poor 20 year old college student! I suspect this comment was written by a particular disgruntled ex roommate who had a sex with a 14 year old boy in my room when I was out of town and then stayed with me rent free for over a month. She had the gall to be pissed off when I finally kicked her out. And yeah, I sold some of her stuff in a sidewalk sale to make up for $90 she owed me. Ahhhh... blast from the past! I'm shocked that someone would have such vitriol toward me 15 years later. Weird.

To Trust or Not to Trust?!

That is the question...

So I met a guy. Totally my type - tall, dark, foreign and slightly strange. Here's how it happened:
It was a blissful spring day and I'd just gone to check out a room that was for rent. Since the streets were sunny and full of spring flowers I decided to walk around a little and explore my new neighborhood. I was on the phone chatting with my brother standing in front of a vintage clothing store for 20 or 30 minutes, watching people, enjoying the day, when a man in a minivan pulled over and rolled down the window. He was waving at me. I thought maybe he needed directions or something so I went over. He was like, 'Hi. Do you live in the neighborhood? I think I've seen you around here before.' He then introduced himself and asked if he could take me out for coffee. Being the lunatic I am, I agreed and gave him my card. Before leaving he asked 'Would you like a cookie?' and offered me some chocolate madelines he had sitting on the car seat. Now I am a bit of a maniac and obviously not too prudent to be chatting up strangers in cars but I DO draw the line at taking cookies from strangers! I politely declined. Anyway, it turns out he is the owner of the vintage store I was standing in front of. Somehow, this made his approach slightly less creepy to me.

Later that night he texted me to say Hi. He took me out a couple days later for lunch at a Japanese restaurant on a little island between Manhattan and Queens. Meanwhile I'd done a little...ahem...internet research on him and his store. It turns out he owns it with another women. I asked him a little more and found out that they used to be together and that they have an 8 year old son. He said they've been broken up for several years. Then he got quiet and said, 'You think I have too much baggage.' I told him no, it was fine I just wanted to make sure he was in fact single because the last guy that asked me out apparently lived with his girlfriend. So, at this point I'm a little suspicious of NY guys.

All this happened a couple weeks ago. He calls and texts me pretty much everyday to say hi. We spent the last 2 weekends together. His apartment is amazing, filled with cool old vintage stuff, tastefully decorated and with an adorable and affectionate Persian cat who kisses me on the mouth and climbs on me purring. The first time I spent the night H got up in the morning and made me coffee and breakfast and brought it to me on the couch. He cooks and cleans and worries about me when I cough. He's sweet and attentive and affectionate. He has kind eyes and a cute smile. He's a bit of a weirdo. And not to be horribly superficial but he's got great style (he dresses better than any guy I've ever dated and has 3 closets full of clothes, mostly vintage hipster stuff) and is totally sexy.

I highly doubt that he is going to be the love of my life and at this point that's really what I want. But the truth of the matter is I can't stand being alone anymore. I need a break. I haven't really dated anyone remotely seriously in over 2 1/2 years! This is the longest I have ever been single since I started dating. And its been painful. Lonely. Frustrating. Isolating. Depressing. Infuriating! I just want someone to come home to when I've had a crappy day who will ask me how I'm doing and who will have dinner with me and hug and kiss me. Not to mention sex. Going for months without sex is NOT a good thing. It starts to make me insane. I become obsessed with what I'm not having and then I end up making bad decisions. Ahhhh the vicious cyle. Anyway, I'm gonna give this guy a chance. I'm not feeling particularly optimistic, its true. But I think its worth it to take a chance. I think he's a little lonely too. He'd never admit to it but I can tell.
If being lonely and wanting companionship is a crime - then lock me up for life!

Easter and Egyptians

My love/hate affair continues with New York City.

One minute it’s a splendid new world brimming with opportunity, wiped clean of the shame of the past, gleaming, exotic, enticing. The next it’s a relentless, soul shriveling, uber-capitalist hell hole populated by twisted Machiavellian characters one upping each other in a nausea-inducing parade of shallow vanity.

One minute I’m a respectable, semi-sane, semi-scrupulous person trying to make connections with other decent human beings. Oh, but the next, I’m a deranged, self destructive maniac whose emptiness can only be sated through impulsive action and immediate gratification.

Monday night and I’m drunk in a hookah bar making out with an Egyptian boy next to the urinal in the men’s restroom. Wednesday and I’m in a bookstore reading a book called ‘Marry Him!....blah blah blah…’ vowing to finally get my act together, start dating nice guys and have a family. Sunday and I’m having Easter dinner on Staten Island at friends of the family’s house, we’re holding hands and praying chastely.

I'm all over the place.

I guess the reality of it all is somewhere between these extremes. The balance between austerity and indulgence. Maybe I create these dichotomies because I like the drama of it all.

Are you there cheap red wine?!

It's me Violeta.

Gato Negro (from Chile, $5.49 a bottle) is my savior tonight. I’m lonely yeah - but I’m used to it. So http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifits no big deal anymore. Can you blame me for drinking wine and listening to Joan Beaz and crying?! All these things I feel lie inside, trapped. I have no outlet. I used to hurt myself but I don’t do that anymore. I wish I had some creative outlet, sometimes I feel I will burst, the way everything surges and changes inside. No way to release this inner turbulence. Did I come to New York to do the same old thing as before and feel like my life is meaningless? Or did I come here to change – to lose myself and find myself again?

I think I’m one of the most lost people I know. Lots of people are sort of lost but the difference between me and them is that I KNOW I’m lost. I’ve been living with this awareness for years but I can’t seem to figure out what to do about it. Trust me, its VERY uncomfortable.

My mom had secret dreams of her own. I know she did. She loves to sing. When she was young she even played a little guitar. She loved Joan Baez. Maybe she wished she could be like her. They even looked alike. That same purity and righteousness. I’ve seen my mom’s face when she sings - even if its just in church, she becomes radiant. I wonder if she ever wishes she had done things differently.

And look at me. No career. No husband. No family. No responsibilities. And yet I still can’t find what I truly want to do. I can’t be free.