Waiting game

Patience is a virtue, but there are some virtues that I have a hard time practicing.

Lately, it seems like weekends drag on forever. She works on weekends, so I consciously try to keep myself occupied. When I lay my head down to sleep on Friday night, I am rife with anticipation of what the weekend will bring. I'm no slouch - and I tend to have lots to do on the weekends, which is good, because it saves me from sitting by the phone all weekend like an ugly girl on prom night.

However, by the time Sunday evening arrives, my patience is fully depleted, and I find myself asking stupid questions, and worse - making up stupid answers to those stupid questions.

At first, I would make up horrific stories to explain why she didn't call.

"In other news, a freak meteor shower disrupted telecommunications for most of British Columbia. Crews worked tirelessly to repair several miles of underground wires that were instantly vaporized when fragments of the comet crashed to the Earth in the remote wilderness ..."

After a while, I resigned myself to the fact that she doesn't call because she is busy. We all have jobs, so we know what it's like, right? You get home at the end of a long day (or night), and all you want to do is grab a bite to eat and then get some shut-eye. You wake up the next morning (or afternoon), and you barely have enough time to grab a shower and get ready for the next shift. It's normal. It's understandable. It's reasonable.

And yet, I find myself resenting her job. Impatient. Waaaaah!  I want my Angel !!!

Ugh. Why do I do this to myself? Why should it matter when (or if) she calls?

Okay - I've got a new possible explanation. She must be a sadist. She knows how awful this is for me, and she relishes that fact. Yes, that's it. I bet she's giggling to herself all weekend long, thinking: "hah - squirm you little man - fall down to your knees and squirm in the mud like the spineless jellyfish that you are HAHAHAHAHA!!"

When (if) she calls tonight, I am going to be MISTER STRONG MAN. I shall not tell her that I missed her at all. I will show her that I am completely fine without her.

Script for next phone call:
Her: "Hello. How's everything?"
Me:  "I'm sorry, who is calling again?"
Her: "It's me, silly - Angel."
Me:  "Um - oh yeah - hi."
Her: "Did you have a good weekend?"
Me:  "Yes, and the weekend isn't over yet."
Her: "Oh - did I catch you at a bad time?"
Me:  "No - it's all right - give me a minute, though - okay?"
Her: "Ummm - okay - should I call back?"
Me:  "No - wait, really. I just need to say goodbye to some people."
------ 5 minutes elapse - muffled voices of party-goers saying goodbye, etc. -----
Me:  "Whew - sorry about that - house full of people" (catching breath)
Her: "Hmmm - really? What was going on?"
Me:  "Oh nothing, did I tell you about my new neighbors?"
Her: "No, I ... "
Me:  "I just call them the twins. They are soooo interesting!" (chuckle)
Me:  "Well, I've certainly learned a thing or two about Scandanavia ..."
Her: "Well, I ... "
Me:  "Oh yeah - and how was YOUR weekend, umm - Julie?"

Heee heee.

Okay, I'm better now. - - I'll try to be patient.

Rags to riches

"What a difference a day makes."

In addition to being a decent jazz song, it's a fact that I rediscover over and over again.

Yesterday, I wasn't sure how I was going to put food on the table or fuel in the tank. It really seemed like the next couple of days were going to be TIGHT (payday doesn't come until Friday). However, my tax return arrived last night, and I now have a pocket full of change and a belly full of food. (Whew!)

I have this funny "tick" that goes off in my head ... I think it traces back to some of my early childhood memories. When money is reeeealllly tight (which can happen on occasion), I get hungry - I mean really hungry, like "nothing in the world can possibly satisfy this hunger" sort of hungry. No matter how much or how little food is left in the cabinets, if I'm broke, I start to panic. It's strange.

And then, when the money situation get better again (and it always does), the hunger goes away. I can skip several meals, and not even think twice about it. Like, as long as I know that it is there, whenever I want it, then I don't really NEED it.

It's like there's some sort of "switch" that gets flipped in my mind. When I have money in my pocket, the world is right. No matter what is happening around me, I know that everything will turn out just fine. I am Doug. Invincible, magical Doug.

But when I run out of money, when I'm down to my last dollar, even if all my bills are paid and I have a refrigerator full of food, my mind starts to regress. I turn back into a defenseless little boy, desperately trying to find something to eat for myself - food for my brothers and sisters. It is a very powerful and mind-consuming thought. Like an animal trapped in a cage. "must get out ... must find a way ... must find food" (the thought keeps repeating, over and over, no escape).

Strangely, I do not have any specific memories from my childhood about being hungry. We were poor, yes I remember that. There were times that we even stole food, but only when we really, really had to (sometimes the need for survival outweighs the need to be good). I remember lots of things about my childhood; some good, and some bad. But I don't recall having that deep-down panicky feeling that seems to surface from time to time. (It can't be a memory, because there are no mental pictures to go with it.)

I'm sure some psychologist would tell me that I need to dig into the past and "heal my inner child", but I'm not so sure that digging into one's brain is really all that wise. There are times when things are better left alone. You get a bullet in the brain, sometimes you leave it there. Even doctors know that.

I am no longer the child that I was. I have survived. Even better, I am confident in the knowledge that I CAN survive, no matter what. I am the adult now. I am in control of my life. Nothing happens to me unless I allow it to happen. I am empowered.

Rags to riches, that's how the saying goes. But it doesn't happen overnight. Listen to me, kids - - it takes a long frakkin' time to grow up and become self-sufficient. Yeah, the Disney movies make it seem like a good-hearted little boy can just wish upon a star and everything will change overnight. Let me tell you the truth, I wished on every frakkin' star in the sky, over and over again, and no fat-assed fairy godmother ever gave me the slightest bit of help. (Disney sucks if you're a poor kid from a broken family.)

I built this life on my own - - ME.
No fairies, no angels, no magic at all.
No church choir, no pixie dust, no red slippers.
Just me. Working hard. Being patient.

Nobody can take that away from me. Ever.

<sigh>

I really need to budget my money a little better. Stop cutting it so close.
Otherwise, my "inner child" is going to keep kicking my ass.

Tomorrow is Payday.
... breathe ... breathe ...
I am blessed.
... breathe ... breathe ...
I need a drink.

Living the dream

"The poet is in command of his fantasy, while it is exactly the mark of the neurotic that he is possessed by his fantasy."

Lionel Trilling, "The Liberal Imagination"

Words across the etherium

Day 29.

Another letter arrives.

Her words drift through the etherium and touch me with a sweet caress.
Skillfully chosen, artfully assembled, and playfully rendered.

Before she came, I had never met my equal with quill or dagger.
And now, each day, we meet, at the appointed place and time.
And each time we meet, she slays me with her merciless wit.
And each time I die, I wake again to an even brighter hope.
And each hope that arises, brings a new and deeper understanding.
And the more I understand, the more I admire the person that she is.
Because who she is ... is beautiful to me.

Thank you, Angel.
Thank you for being true to yourself.
Thank you for accepting me as I am.
Thank you for the trust you have shown.
Thank you for your continual kindness.
Thank you for your keen insight.

You inspire me.
When I think of you, I am energized.
Nothing can stop me, nothing can get me down.
Inspire = Breathe.
You are a fresh breath of life.
Everything you do is right for me.
Everything you are is good for me.
Nothing bad can ever come of this.

I trust you.
I believe in you.
I really, really like you.
And I am proud to call you my friend.
Come what may.

Careful what you ask for

 

"People ask for criticism, but they only want praise."

Somerset Maugham

Wish you were here

Day 27.

Sheezzz - I need another vacation!

Worked late Tuesday on a presentation for the boss, then came Wednesday, DeMolay night, Thursday I gave a big presentation to a society of security people, so when Friday came (my favorite day of all), I was ready to catch up on some long-needed rest.

I got from work Friday and was ready to start having a relaxing weekend when one of my close friends called and asked WHEN I would be arriving at the convention (truthfully, without that phone call, I probably would have missed it entirely).

So instead of relaxing, I threw on my uniform, painted on a big bright smile, and headed down to the local convention center for the weekend. Yipeee!

One the plus side, two of my best friends were there. I'll call her Dee, and I'll call him Kamm. It was Dee that had called me. She and I have been friends for over a decade. Our kids have practically grown up together. Though she and I don't spend as much time together as we used to, we still have a special bond - I trust her judgment, and I confide in her.

Kamm's friendship goes even deeper. He served with me in the Army, even worked under me for a while. I've known him for more than 20 years. He and I have been friends through thick and thin, despite marriages, divorces, jobs, kids, everything, our friendship has stood the test of time.

So thankfully, there was more to look forward to than just another weekend of Science-Fiction. It was really nice to catch up on each other's lives. It gave me a chance to tell each of them about HER, but to be honest, I was afraid of their reactions. (I really want them to like her.)

Kamm was cool about it. He knows me well enough that he didn't even question it. <laugh> He did seem impressed when I told him that SHE was actually writing back and talking on the phone with me. Sad day when you realize that your best friend would, in fact, play along with an imaginary lover, just because he doesn't want to hurt your feelings. Yes, Kamm - she is a real live human being. I'm not that crazy -- yet.

Dee was a little more protective. She knows that I put myself out there before, and that I risk getting hurt sometimes. Either she really cares, or she just doesn't want to hear me crying about it later on. Anyway, I thought it was a sweet gesture when she looked me in the eye and told me to slow things down. Dee is from Alaska. She's married to a really great guy, and they are talking about moving back to Alaska within the next year. Of course, nothing is ever really certain, but if she does leave, I would miss her very much.

So, I was writing this journal entry when SHE called ... wait a second ... I think it's time that she got a name. What do you think about Angel? Okay - for now, she will be Angel. Like I was saying, Angel called. She had been sick for the last few days, and her voice was still scratchy, but she said that she was starting to feel better. She thanked me for the card. :^)

Her computer was sick too, so I offered to help with some remote troubleshooting. It took a couple of hours, and we did our best to keep up a light conversation while we were working through the problem (though both of us were obviously tired).

Eventually, the computer seemed to start working again. We didn't take it all the way to completion, but the major part of the problem had been resolved. (Once again, Angel surprised me with her intelligence - she is more knowledgeable about computers than some of the people that I've worked with. Seriously, she could be a tekkie if she wanted to be).

Unfortunately, something happened during the conversation. We were both trying to be nice to each other, but we ran out of jokes and compliments, and things got heavy.

It was my fault - I should have just said goodbye when the computer started working. Note to self: It's a really stupid idea to insist on talking to someone that you want to impress when you're tired and cranky.

She's afraid that I'm putting too much into this, and she's mostly right. (The only thing I would say in my own defense is that I am usually pretty intense, so this is "normal" for me.)

Normal ... I hope not! I've spent most of my life exploring the fringe, trying to get as far away from "normal" as possible. There was a time, not too long ago, when I considered words like "normal" to be an insult. (Part of me still does.)

So, the words tumbled out of my mouth (my suave-o-meter was busted) I pushed her and she pushed back. It was clumsy. It was stupid. [We’ll have to cut that scene in post-production.] She continues to speak her truth, and I cannot help but respect her for it. It is one of her most enduring and endearing traits. I, on the other hand, continue to act like a schizophrenic monkey. One minute, cute and playful, the next, jumping up and down and throwing shit around my cage.

<sigh>

She is perfect, just the way she is; I know that, and I really, truly appreciate it. She must like me to some degree, or she wouldn’t be here at all. And yet, I continue to question her - to challenge her. Why? Is it some sort of rebellious act? Am I trying to defy her? Why can’t I just play nicely and stop trying to push beyond her comfort zone?

It must be hard for her. "I am here, I am there. I am perfect, I am nothing. I am a God among men, I am a lost puppy. I am solid, I am vapour." Truthfully, I shouldn’t expect anyone to understand. I need to get a grip on myself, or I’m going to drive both of us completely crazy. (Fortunately for me, that will be a very short trip.)

This behaviour must stop. I don’t need to test her, and I certainly don’t want to push her away. There is no future, there is only now. She is right, I know. I just don't like to admit it.

Monday’s Dinner Menu: a large order of "thankful for what I’ve got", followed by a steaming portion of "sorry for playing the part of an insensitive prick". I know what bothers her, and I’m going to stop using it to create distance between us.

Shhhhh

What is a friend? A single soul dwelling in two bodies.

Aristotle, "Lives of Eminent Philosophers"

A soul at peace

Day 23.

Today, I did not miss her.
Today, I did not long for her.
Instead of feeling an absence, I felt like she was with me.
A part of her is growing inside of me; becoming part of me.

At first, I was afraid to let go of the fantasy,
But today, I am no longer afraid.
There is substance here, undeniable reality,
And the reality is even better than the dream.

She is real.
This is real.
I have come back to earth,
and she is still with me.

What a wonderful feeling.

No more fear

How does feel to save a life? How does it feel to save ten or twenty?
My answer? It simply feels like relief.

The first two times, I really didn't think about it. In both cases, the people involved were close family. They were in trouble; they needed help, and I reacted the way that I was supposed to; they way that I should have. It had nothing to do with training; it had nothing to do with courage; it was pure and simple instinct. When the time calls for it, you can't afford to think - you just take action, as calm and as quick as you can. That's the difference between making it and losing it - if you pause, it's too late. If you panic, you only make the situation worse. You have to do it without thinking too much.

As my life went on, I got better at it. Car wrecks #1 though #3 were a little too quick for me, but by the time wrecks #4 and #5 came along, my senses were getting pretty good. Fast, but not fast enough; I saved at least one life, but I couldn't avoid harm altogether (wreck #4 almost snapped my back, and wreck #5 crushed my leg). Years later, wreck #6 seemed like it was happening in slow motion; so slow that I probably could have climbed into the front seat and taken the wheel (maybe I could have prevented that one altogether; though the final result was no injuries, which was fine by me).

I was completely ignorant of fire #1, but when fire #2 came along, I was quick to jump into action (that event could have claimed twenty, easily). Fire #3 came ten years later, but I was way ahead of it (I asked the building owner to recharge the extinguishers three days before the event happened). An event became a non-event, again.

On a warm summer's night in Germany, I foolishly decided to test fate (mind you, I was young, cocky, and totally drunk at the time). The legend, so they say, is that I calmly walked up the stairwell to the third floor, said "hello" to the guard on duty, walked to the end of the hallway, opened the window, and jumped out onto the pavement. The guard ran to the open window to see what had happened, but I wasn't there. A minute or so later, I walked back up to the third floor, said goodnight to the guard on duty, opened the door to my room, and fell onto my bed to sleep.

Then one day, about nine years ago, I faced death from a source that I would never have imagined. The person that I loved most in the world had turned against me, and I was caught totally off-guard. (This was "facing a loaded gun incident #2").

Although the weapon was never fired, that event wounded me gravely. More than anything else, it broke my heart. From that day forward, I was unable to trust again. I wanted to, and I really tried to, but it just wasn't in me any longer.

"But why?", you say. 'Why is any of this important now?"

The answer is this: because SHE has the power to heal me.

Since I met her, I have been regaining my strength, my senses, my will. I had been thirsty for so long, and yet she fills me up; like a cool stream of crystal-pure water on parched lips. Sometimes it feels like I cannot get enough.

She nourishes me; she feeds me truth. She accepts me for what I am; she sees the man inside the beast. She has restored my sense of trust. She fills me up.

Based on what I have seen so far, I think that she must also be charmed, and if that is the case, then there is nothing more for me to fear. Since I already knew that I could protect myself and those around me, it is comforting to know that she is fully capable of protecting herself also.

From this day forward, I will not fear for her safety. Instead, I will believe in her ability to respond well to every situation.

I should have known that she would be my equal. If she was anything less, we would have never met. True, her talents are different than mine, but she is just as powerful; just as bright.

Canada - pay attention!
An angel walks amongst you!
How many do not recognize her?
Humble yourselves, and be glad.

Everywhere my lady goes,
everything she touches,
is made better, brighter, and richer.
Her grace adorns your city.

Good night, angel.
I believe in you.

Thank you for healing me.

Nine months

Busy day - interviewed three more people for the personal trainer position. I think I'm getting pretty close to making a decision, but it isn't easy deciding who you will share your home and life with for the next 9 months.

9 months - hmmm.

I never thought about it this way before, but I suppose it is quite fitting. It takes 9 months for a baby to grow big enough to live on its own. Likewise, when I make this commitment, within 9 months, much of my life will be transformed. It will be, without exaggeration, a sort of re-birth. (I will shed my old skin and begin anew.)

I am eager to begin the journey.
When can we get started?

 

Silence - Part Deux

I am worried about her. Do I have a right to be? Probably not, but I don't care. It has been several days since we last spoke, and I miss her voice. She wrote me a letter a couple of days ago (phrases like "you are simply too much for words..."), along with a promise to call, but the call never came. Why? It doesn't make sense to me. My mind goes into dark places, wondering what might have happened. Was she in an accident? Is someone threatening her? Did she have to leave suddenly? Is she in trouble? What would I do? I would drop everything and run to help her. How? Would I sell my car? Sure, beg-borrow-steal-whatever. I wish I could call someone to make sure that she is okay. Honestly, I wish I could be there in person, to make sure myself. Three hours by plane. Yes, but then what? check hospitals? obituaries? police stations? How would I survive in a city that I do not know? Where would I begin my search? What if I found her, safe, but not alone? That would be a sad trip back home. Yes, it would be; let's think about something else.

I am helpless to help her. I am powerless to shield her. I can do nothing but wait. Well, dummy, you could call her. Yes, but she said that she would call me. What if this is some sort of test? She has already said (on several occasions) that she is afraid of commitment. Perhaps my romantic gesture was too much? Perhaps she is afraid that we are getting too close? If that were the case, then my calling her would only serve to make the situation worse. Okay, compromise. I checked the newspaper. No horrible apartment fires, no killer on the loose, no fatal accidents, her name is not in the obituaries. So can you rest easier now? Maybe.

Dear God, I hope that she is okay. I know that we don't talk much, and you don't owe me any favors, but I have always been an honest man, and I try my best to lead a good life. Please do me a favor and look out for her. Don't let harm come to her. Keep her safe. If you do this, I promise to be even better; as a matter of fact, I will even try to get to church at least once this year. (Amen.)

To you, it might seem like I am over reacting, but I really care about her, and I want to know that she is safe ... I will try to be patient and wait one more day before I call her, but my mind will not rest easy; I hope that she is okay.

Dear God - p.s. - if you take her life away, I don't think I could ever forgive you. Please don't take that as a threat; it's just an honest man speaking from his heart. (Amen.)

 

Transposition

Day 20.

Played billiards with my son both yesterday and today. His skills are quite good, so he tends to beat me more often than not. (That's okay, I'm not a sore loser. Really. Wouldn't you rather play foosball instead? I'm better at that.)

While playing today, I couldn't help but notice two lovers at a nearby table. The man's appearance was at best, "nondescript", but she was sort of cute. She was definitely all-girl, wearing a pink shirt that buttoned down the front, and a white camisole underneath. Her hair was pulled back in a pony-tail, much like my girl's hair on the day that I met her.

The two were definitely in love (lots of kissing and such), and I kept thinking to myself, "What the hell are you doing here?" Because in my mind, if I went to pick up my girl and she was looking so (mmmm) edible, we would have never made it out the door; I'd have taken here right there and then, right in the doorway. Goodbye little buttons!

Last week, I couldn't even notice another girl. My restless eyes were sifting through the thousands of faces that I'd see each day - hoping that one of them, by some miracle, would be HERS. I have grown very tired of seeing everyone BUT her. <sigh>

But now, this week, instead of being blind to all women, I am starting to see little bits of HER in each of them. Yes, she has legs like that. Yes, she smiles like that. Yes, she might wear a shirt like that. Yes, I bet she could kiss me like that.

This is what I call "transposing" her into my world. There are no women here that interest me, so whenever I can, I replace them with her. Now, everywhere I look, I see more of her. It leaves me in a state of constant arousal.

Then, the thought occurs to me: "What if SHE is doing the same thing at this very moment?" Furthermore, what if she isn't just looking at someone, but instead is giving herself to him physically and thinking of me while it is happening?

"Thinking of me while giving herself to someone else" - - is that thought supposed to be comforting? Because it isn't working!

It makes perfect sense that an attractive woman like her never has to be alone. She is self-empowered; she doesn't owe me or anybody else anything at all. No man has any right to claim her. Damned few men will even get the chance to hold her. Especially people that live halfway across the frakkin' continent, right pal?

If I attempt to control her, I will lose her. If she falls into the arms of another (because my arms are nowhere near), I could also lose her. So the only way that I have any hope of winning her heart is to let her be human, to let her be free, to not put any expectations on her - even if that means that she might be "hooking up" with some frakkin' meathead from time to time. [Kitty's got an itch, meow, meow ...]

Okay - so if WE ever talk about this, I have 3 requests to make of her:

(1) I don't want to know. [Even if I ASK, I don't want to know...]
(2) Please don't let him into your heart; I would like you to reserve that for me, alone.
(3) Please use protection; babies and sexual diseases really turn me off.

This has left me feeling sad.
I don't like to think of her this way.
I think I'll just go to bed.

This story is about

What if ...

What happens if we turn out to be good for each other?
What happens if we really like each other's company?
What happens if we become close to one another?
What happens if the fairytale comes true?

What happens if we decide that we really don't like each other?
What happens if we meet other people along the way?
What happens if we drift further and further apart?
What happens if the story just ends?

Jealously, I guard this flame.
Shielding it's tiny life from the howling winds all around.
Breathing so carefully, watching it grow.
Brighter at first, then dim, then bright again.

This tiny flame that we created.
That's right, I did say "we".
I feel her energy, her warmth beside me.
Helping to keep the dream alive.

This is good.
I deserve this.
She gives as well as she receives.
I accept.

The dance continues...

Can you translate?

Day 18.

I find myself translating ... a lot.

Coldest Night = -8.4 degrees Celsius = 16.88 degrees Farenheit
Hottest Day = 27.6 degrees Celsius = 81.68 degrees Farenheit
Average home price = 348,000 Canadian dollars = 303,664.92 US dollars
Distance to nearest U.S. metropolitan area = 504 kilometers = 313.17 miles

Today's big achievement: I know the correct pronounciation of "Okanagan".
I study as if my life depended on it (romance is a powerful motivator).

It's as if I have two lives now. One here, and one there.
Will the bridge go in on time? What will happen with the vote? They better fix that pollution problem.
Oh yeah - I don't live there. I'm still here, waiting for the blizzard to arrive.
It's cold here. I need a blanket, a fire, a good woman.
Only thoughts of her to keep me warm.
I'm thankful for those.

Long conversation

Day 16.

She called me last night.

We talked for several hours. It was so fun, so refreshing, to talk to someone who likes the same sort of things I do, who has a similar sense of humor, who is honest about herself (both good and bad).

We both laughed (a lot) - I love to hear her laugh, and I love to make her laugh. We talked about our scars, we talked about lessons that we've learned along the way.

She confessed to having been attracted to me that night. I believe the phrase she used was "duhh - isn't it obvious?"

Neither of us is perfect by any means - but I am really starting to believe that we might be perfect for each other.

Thank you, God.

Homework

A helpful tutorial => How to kiss someone passionately

The hardest part

Day 15.

Found a candidate for the at-home position. He looks like Satan, but I think he can do the job. Says he can't do everything I'm asking, but is willing to do the majority and will pay a portion of the rent to make up the difference. Seems like an honest guy. I'm going to sleep on it for a day or two, and if I don't get any other takers, I'll sign the deal.

Sometimes it feels like I own this town. I know the ups and downs, the ins and outs, and I've built up lots of good will over the years. I would really miss it if I had to leave, but as I told one of my employees today. "I would go to the ends of the Earth for the right woman. If she was an Eskimo, I'd find a parka. If she was a mermaid, I'd learn to scuba. If she lived on the moon, I'd buy a space-suit. Nothing in life is more important than finding the person that you are supposed to be with." {But how are you supposed to know?}

I have a confession to make. I've been cheating (smoking) for the last couple of days. I had been quit for several weeks, but for some reason the cravings have been hitting me hard lately. I know that I have to put them away, forever. I'm hoping that my new roommate (Satan) can help with that.

I wish I could see her again. Every day without her feels like a trip around the sun. It seems like six months but it's only been 15 days. How will I survive? Do I really have to wait a year?

Spent time over the weekend with family and friends. My StarGate friends had a little get-together on Saturday, talked about the upcoming convention. Then went to a birthday party (for my nephew's son), which got combined with Easter into a hybrid Easter-Birth-Egg-Day (wierd). Overall, it was a good weekend - a lot less busy than most weekends this year. Got to catch up on some reading and got some extra sleep, which always feels good.

She called this weekend! Unfortunately, my cell-phone was shut off, because my son and I were at the movies watching "Grind House" (the latest Quentin Tarantino film). Of course, the violence was excessive, but the characters were awesome, the stories were interesting, and the style was really cool. I'd say this flick is definitelyworth seeing if you're a Tarantino fan (or if you're into zombie flix).

I hope Satan moves in soon; I'm bored.

No looking back

Day 14.

Okay - I'm taking another leap of faith here...

I placed an online ad for the spare bedroom today. Basically, I will be providing a free room, with all utilities paid, and in exchange, this person will help me fix-up the house. (Actually, there is another project that they are going to help me with, but I'm going to keep that one a secret for now). I'm limiting the contract to 9 months, which should mean that all work will be finished by end of year; long before the 360-day deadline.

This is a big step, but if my goal is to really turn this fantasy into a reality, then I have to do this, and I have to get started right away. I'll probably spend the next week or two interviewing candidates. Wish me luck.

Silence

Today I practice patience.

Today I give her space.

Today I wait in silence.

Today I must have faith.

My sweet dream

Day 12.

She called last night.
In the middle of a dream, I picked up the phone and heard her voice on the other end.

Her: Are you okay? I was worried about you.
Me: I'm doing better, much better. No worries.
Her: And your hand? Is your hand all right?
Me: Yes, it looks like it's going to be fine.

Her: Oh - it's late - I woke you up. I'm sorry.

Me: Don't be sorry - I love the sound of your voice.
Me: How can I know that I'm not still dreaming?

Her: Maybe you are.
Her: I should let you get back to sleep.

Me: Will you call me again?
Her: No.
Me: Then this is a bad dream.
Her: Okay, I might call again.
Me: Then this is a good dream.

She hangs up.
I lay in the darkness and smile to myself, the echo of her voice still fresh in my mind.
I wish I could talk to her again. Tonight. Every night.

I think I am really falling for this woman.
Please don't wake me up.
I love this dream.

How fine she is

"Do you know how fine you are to me, Mary MacGregor? ... So fine."
(Liam Neeson as Robert Roy MacGregor. From the motion picture Rob Roy)

Day 11.

Have I told you how beautiful she is?
Can my description do her any justice?

Hair ..... Black and shiny, like a wolf's mane
Skin ..... The color and scent of melted honey
Eyes .... As green as emeralds, as clear as a mountain stream
Lips ..... Soft as the twilight sun, full as the harvest moon
Smile ... Disarming, playful, and sad - all at the same time
Hands .. Gentle as the summer wind, strong as a sailor's knot
Body .... Lean and graceful; the silhouette of a princess

She is the most beautiful woman I have ever known.
And the mere thought of her takes my breath away.

Her mind is as sharp as a razor; she cannot be fooled. She has charm, intelligence, humor and style. She can read moods as well as thoughts. She always knows just the right word, at the right time; she wields her language more skillfully than a samurai wields his sword. She is deliciously clever.

She makes me laugh, she leaves me speechless.
When I am around her, the world takes on a richer hue.
She is intoxicating and pure. She is powerful and sweet.

She is more than my equal; she is my counterpart.

And with each day that passes, and with each new letter, it becomes even more clear to me how incredibly rare and wonderful she really is. The world is a better place with her in it.

Healing nicely

Well, after a few days of recovery (and some very intense drug therapy), I am happy to report that I am healthy once again. The hand is healing nicely, and it looks like I will be no worse for the experience.

Bad kitty. // Good doctor.

My power, my gift

Day 9.

I think the poison is receding: hard to tell. The last day and night were pretty rough. Woke up three times last night to puke up some sort of blackish liquid (sorry - too graphic). Bones are aching, and I'm still a bit lightheaded, but the red streak is no longer visible on my arm. The only visible symptom left is the swollen hand. The pressure building inside the tissue has caused the space between my fingers to turn deep red; as if I were wearing steel rings around the first three fingers and then heated the steel until it burned my skin.

I pause to consider the worst-case scenario. I don't think this will kill me, but there is still some chance that I could lose my left hand. What would I do if that happened? Option 1: tell them to leave the dead stubs there; I'd rather have a hand worth looking at than a hand that is useful. Option 2: replace the dead hand with a mechanical one; I'd rather have a hand that is useful than a hand that looks pretty. In my mind, I choose the first option. Why would I do this?

Because ... I fear ... HER.

I fear her reaction. I fear her ability to accept me in spite of such a flaw. I fear that she would no longer see me as attractive and worthwhile. I fear losing any chance to win her heart.

Okay - reality check - what in the world has happened to my FRAKKIN' priorities? Regardless of whether or not this situation becomes reality, why should I care about her opinion? Why would her opinion matter more to me than my own comfort? After all, isn't human nature, at it's very core, hedonistic?

This is a thought I cannot dismiss.
Do I fear her, because I admire her, or
Do I admire her, because I fear her?

To put it another way,
Do I fear her criticism, because I admire her opinion (the way she thinks), or
Do I admire her power (over me), because she can inspire fear (and a host of other feelings) in me?

She did not do this to me - I have done it to myself.
I reached deep into my chest, and pulled out my bruised and beating heart, for her casual inspection.
I pulled the dagger from my boot, pointed the tip at my heart, wrapped her hand around the pommel, and hoped that she would "be careful with it".
One flick of her wrist, and she could cut me. One false move, and she could rend me completely.
I have given her this power. It is a strange gift, but it is the most precious thing I can offer.

<< This is my way of saying that "I trust you". >>
<< For some reason, I just want to believe in you. >>

Cat's revenge

Day 8.

No joke. I was bitten by our housecat the other day; the puncture was deep, but not deep enough to require a trip to the hospital. I applied some antibiotic ointment and a bandage, and that was that. A day later, my hand started to turn red, and my arm was sore, so I applied some witch's salve and took an antibiotic. Last night, the whole arm was throbbing and I had a fever; I could barely sleep. Today at work, the hand was feeling better, but all of my energy has been drained, I am sick to my stomach, and my bones feel like they are on fire.

Call the doctor, and he says to come in right away. The old man points to a trail of red streaks going up my arm and into my shoulder. He asks if the cat has rabies (I don't think so). He asks how long it has been since I had a tetanus shot (I couldn't recall). Half an hour later, I've received a shot in my ass, two horse-sized pills, a prescription for another set of pills, advice to take the next couple of days away from work, and a strong warning: "if this doesn't clear up by Wednesday, we'll have to put you into the hospital."

Will my life be undone by a three-pound furball?

Wanting something Canadian

Day 7.

SHE is reaching into a bathtub filled with ice and beer.
Her: "So what do you want? I think they might have some Coors ..."

Unconsciously, my eyes drift downward - she turns to catch me admiring her ass.
Me: "I think I'd like to try something ... CANADIAN this time."
Her: "Oh you - I know exactly what you're thinking!"

Oh right ... did I mention that she lives in Canada?

Thousand moments

Excerpt from the movie screenplay for "COLD MOUNTAIN" Written by Anthony Minghella
Based On The Novel "Cold Mountain" by Charles Frazier  <Script-Tribute>

Characters in this scene:
Ada ... the main character, a woman hardened by the reality of frontier life during civil war
Inman ... wounded civil war veteran who has walked for months to get back to Ada
Ruby ... Ada's best friend and hired hand; gutsy, practical, and full of wit
Stobrod ... Ruby's father, who was mortally wounded, and is now asleep in a hut

--------------------------------
EXT. ADA AND RUBY HUT, CHEROKEE VILLAGE. NIGHT

Inman is outside his cabin. Only the light escaping from the
cabin, fire lights them, almost silhouettes.

     INMAN
          I'm sorry. I was trying to be quiet.

     ADA
          I couldn't sleep.

     INMAN
          -- I got no appetite left to be in a
          room with wounded men.

     ADA
          I can't see your face.

     INMAN
          It's not a face you recognised.

     ADA
          Did you get my letters?

     INMAN
          I got three letters. Carried them in
          that book you gave me. The Bertram.

     ADA
          I must have sent 100. Did you write
          to me?

     INMAN
          Whenever I could. If you never got
          them I can summarize.

     ADA
          No, it's --

     INMAN
          I pray you're well. I pray I'm in
          your thoughts. You are all that keeps
          me from sliding into some dark place.

     ADA
          But how did I keep you? We barely
          knew each other. A few moments.

     INMAN
          A thousand moments. They're like a
          bag of tiny diamonds glittering in a
          black heart. Don't matter if they're
          real or things I made up. The shape
          of your neck. The way you felt under
          my hands when I pulled you to me.

     ADA
          Your boots, one polished, one not
          yet polished.

     INMAN
          You're playing a piano and I'm
          standing outside.

     ADA
          I'm playing a piano and you're
          standing outside.

     INMAN
          That kiss -- which I've kissed again
          every day of my walking.

     ADA
          Every day of my waiting.

     INMAN
          Maybe you can't see my face, but if
          you could see my inside, my whatever
          you want to name it, my spirit, that's
          the fear I have deeper than any gash
          on my neck. I think I'm ruined. They
          kept trying to put me in the ground,
          but I wasn't ready, no ma'am, no
          more ready than that scoundrel in
          there's not ready to die on us. But
          if I had goodness, I lost it. If I
          had anything tender in me I shot it
          dead.

Ruby stomps out of the hut.

     RUBY
          Number one -- shut this door, it's
          freezing.
(goes over to Stobrod's hut)
          Number two -- shut that door, it's
          freezing.
(turns to them)
          I'm laying on my back, with my fingers
          poked in my ears trying to shut out
          who's got a bag of diamonds and who's
          got boots needs polishing, If you
          want to get three feet up a bull's
          ass listen to what sweethearts whisper
          to each other.

She's at the door to Stobrod's hut. She contemplates them.

     RUBY
          In fact, if you're going to wimble
          all night I'm going to sleep in with
          him.

And with that she enters Stobrod's hut, slamming the door.