consequential alteration

Thu, 12 Jun 2008 04:52:31 GMT

Maybe I
am the afterglow
after all

It's Complicated

Mon, 07 Apr 2008 18:43:10 GMT

Time is funny. The years go by and you wonder where everything went. I remember when I was happy and things were slow, and now all of a sudden I'm so blissfully happy but things just keep happening SO FAST. It makes you wonder if you're really taking the time to appreciate the good things that life is throwing at you. Life is like a picture left out too long in the sun.

Things are so complicated right now. I thought I was in love with Briana, and really, I am, but I am slipping away from her. Probably because the minute I made that phone call to tell her I couldn't see her anymore I realized that I was selling myself short. And everyone around me keeps telling me that I deserve so much more. And it's funny, because for once in my life I can see why things fall apart and I can actually see the beauty in it. For once I can see why people break up, and that it's for a reason, that they'll meet someone better and I am so much better now than I used to be. I don't see things in black and white the way I used to, I see things the way they are. I'm jobless and couldn't be happier. I think that for once I'm having a GOOD breakdown. The old walls of me are falling down and I am actually getting to know myself, being a better friend, better lover, more considerate person and most importantly: having SO MUCH FUN.

There are things I miss, like the simplicity of driving around with Ali in my car, or sleeping with my dog when I come home. Or taking a drive alone and listening to Hem or Deb Talan. Crying a little when I get behind the wheel of the Jeep I'm about to sell. Running my hands along the clean, bright red paint. Sitting in the sun room and remembering that once upon a time, it was just a screened in porch where so many talks were had. Looking at the kitchen and remembering shifting in my step from too many Red Bulls and Vodka. Chasing Ali around the house in good times and bad. Sitting on the couch holding her hand. Laying in bed watching movies and watching how much she loved to see my favorites. The slow touch at night. Watching her face light up when she talked to my dad or my mom. Walking in the kitchen when she would make chocolate covered pretzels with my mom, smiling to myself but never showing the emotion that I needed to.

Or when Anthony and Ashley came with me to share in my vacation and we drove every road we could. The Blue Crab Scenic Byway. The churches almost on the water, the 3 car ferries, the hawks and the Blue Herons we scared away. The Bald Eagle my mom and I saw when I took her on her first official Laurin Loop. Catchpenny.

I miss the simplicity of my old life. But, I am still having fun. I just wish I had more time to let it all sink in and enjoy it. Here in the city, there are so many memories happening that you can't ever remember them all - and that is a real shame.

Right, this is why I'm hot

Thu, 03 Apr 2008 22:04:38 GMT

I wrote my finest piece of poetry today:

they killed a man today
they say
a light skinned black man
right on the lawn
of the nation's first house
he hung like a jacket
neatly tucked into a
closet of mistakes and
haste
he swung from the branches
at first
twisting and
turning like a fish
out of water
the crowd that watched
was mixed of
women and children but
mostly men with a penchant
for dislocated faith and
homegrown ignorance
they killed a man today
they say
he was our first and last
black president

Realization

Mon, 31 Mar 2008 21:58:03 GMT

I am alive.

For the first time in my life I have realized what it means to really be happy. To work hard, to go through times so trying that even when you lose big things, when everything that once felt like it wasn't going right at all - that in the pit of your soul you are complete.

I've been angry so much because I put everything I've seen and gone through into this box that I kept locked up. I pushed people away and did things that I wished I hadn't because of fear, circumstance, decision and immaturity. I have grown so much that I am sitting in total and complete amazement at the sheer blessings in my life. That for once in my life I can take a long hard look at all of my friends and shed tears of joy for knowing, really knowing and FEELING their loyalty. That the things they do that help me most are done when they NEED to be done, and not every time I cried because of a variation of heartbreak. That they all showed up at my side within a week of each other. That every special, most important, beautiful person in my life has stood by my side so strongly this past year that it really moves me.

Earlier this week I thought about how great it was that SEVEN of my most favorite people visited me within a 2 week period. I said to myself "God I wish they did this more often, and earlier." and then I realized something: THIS was the time I needed everyone. THIS TIME NOW was when EVERYONE was there. I have never felt so loved in my entire life, and it is an incredible feeling. So incredible too, because for once I realized I earned this love. By being there for all of them, for those hours on the phone late at night, for that last $20 bill that I shouldn't have spent, for the thousands of miles in my car, for waiting for them at the police department, for being their shoulder to cry on, for telling them they were brilliant and amazing and absolutely irreplaceable. For all the blood, sweat and tears I have shed in my life so far, I am finally at one with my efforts, thankful, humbled and absolutely amazed. I realize that my decisions, though some were not always the best, were always made carefully - even the riskiest ones. For the fact that my intensity and love of life, it has really, really paid off so far.

This is my thank you to you, without you life would be so much less beautiful.

Unhealthy Lives

Thu, 27 Mar 2008 19:11:17 GMT

I've been drinking for 3 days straight. I spent Tuesday from 4:00pm to 4am at Boss Tweeds with Charlotte who is the only gay bartender there. It used to be I was the only dyke that even came in regularly but Charlotte started working there 3 months ago. Tea and I first met her on her first real shift and we didn't really care for her. She was super quiet and charged us full tab which is a mortal sin at Tweeds. I've spent a whopping $40 in 3 days there and yet have engaged in 9 - 12 hours of straight drinking which at any other establishment would have probably cost me about $500 +.

But, strange things have been happening to me lately. Some are devastating and not what I wish to discuss but I'll cover some that are drastically altering my life. Since I ended the affair with Briana a piece of me feels dead, and in the past I've done things to both hurt myself and anyone who's hurt me but lately I have taken it to an all time level.

Let's start with the somewhat decent yet looming with drama thing: Tuesday with Charlotte. She's butch, but really more androgynous and is very attractive. You could even say she has a femme face. But anyway, after that first time meeting her she completely changed. She was talkative, approached me more, hooked us up with shots ($4 tab for 3 hours?!?!?) etc. I arrived at 4pm and her shift started at 8pm. It wasn't terribly busy but there were a few gaggles of people who washed in and out. At about 10pm and a bunch of shots and lively conversation with Charlotte (which is strange because it was one of those "the interest gets more intense as the drinks and time goes by" situations, which had me thinking perhaps there was an attraction hint being dropped) I say to her "Okay, either I go to the ATM or I go home." and she replies "Please don't leave me! Last Tuesday made me want to die no one was here." So I stay. Crazy psycho guy comes in at about 1am and tries to aggressively proposition a chick in the bar for sex. A few of us get him to leave but he comes back like 3 more times so I figured "Fuck it, I guess it doesn't matter when I go home." and at that moment Charlotte looks at me and says "You should just stay until closing with me." And I say "What time is that?" "4am. I usually head home at about 4:30am."

So by the end of the night (and of course she fed me shot after shot and drink after drink) she gave me her number and said "I can't believe you stayed with me the entire time. That's one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me. Here's my number."

She has a girlfriend. Apparently people with girlfriends/boyfriends love me. I enjoyed myself with her, but let's face it, my heart breaks for and misses Briana. Which brings me to the next thing that has happened to me; which is probably one of the most insanely spiteful and emotionally sabotaging things I've done (and I have done it in the past as well, feeling more horrible about it every time I do it which is rare but it does happen.) I went to Tweeds last night and had a crazy time. Kenny and Doria and Adrian all came out (and I think I said a lot of fucked up shit, not bad but overwhelming) and I met a NYPD cop who is also a veteran and a nice enough guy. Because I drank an INCREDIBLE amount of alcohol and I like to self destruct: I slept with him.

You're reading this and probably saying to yourself "Oh my god, is she serious?" Yes, I'm serious. And also fucked up. I've slept with a few guys in my time, but all of them (a whopping 5) with the exception of 2 were acts of self-destruction and spite. Someone took an interest in me, and I wanted to essentially fuck the pain away. I missed her, been missing her and wish I could take back the fact that I said we couldn't see each other anymore. Wished I had the strength to keep being her secret, or that most importantly: that she cared enough to not let me go. Needless to say there really are no words for how awful I feel today. The first thing I realized (which I already predicted for when I slept with someone after Briana) is that I'm numb. I still miss her terribly, and it will be an incredibly difficult experience to find someone that I even remotely enjoy sexually and intimately as well as a person who understands me inside and out like her.

I haven't been this sad in years. I feel like my world is falling apart. And for a few months, I actually felt like it was getting better.

And this weekend hasn't even started. It will be full of grief for these and other reasons.

Tue, 25 Mar 2008 17:12:34 GMT

It's been 3 days since I told Briana I couldn't see her anymore. Or rather, that "we" couldn't see each other anymore. I've made a point to not update facebook or my blog because I can't stand how when things like this happen the other person uses avenues like that to spy on my life. My friends from Catonsville surprised me with a visit last night and it really was amazing. I love them so much, they are friends who take me exactly as I am and love me - flaws and all. They don't tell me to get over myself or to stop talking about certain things, they always listen.

I've been churning out some tortured poetry, everyone act shocked. But regardless, I actually like the two pieces I'm about to post:

there were stars
hidden by
the city clouds on
the night we
first kissed and i
was hesitant to
trust that your
hunger for my
lips was true
i clasped my hands
tight with yours after
the outline you traced
with
fingers the size of
my own and a
breath so heavy it
sat on my
chest and the
words you rushed past
teeth and steel
washed over my
resistance and it
fouled the waters of
love and trust
but i wanted to fly
and you lent me
wings of fire turned to
ash so once again
i am a phoenix
burned by your sins

___

regret will burn with
envy at the karmatic turn
your blinking decision
made
ad nauseum the fact of
betrayal and lust so
shown by proof of too
young years and fears that
bring you down
just to my level
and there is a balance
a man-made lake of
memories that wake you
sweat idle on your brow
you'll keep this as
a secret; your head held
higher every daylight hour
your words will staccato
heavier with
darker cadence but
no one will notice
except for that shadow
that belongs to my
skin casing
thoughts racing of
long nights and hotel sex
sticky sheets and complex
texts; dialog is now
predicative of your
bloody conscience
tirelessly running from
the guilt you sing

Broken

Sun, 23 Mar 2008 12:43:02 GMT

I told Briana I couldn't see her anymore. Her response was to say ok and then hang up on me.

She still has 2 things that belong to me: my favorite sweatshirt and my heart.

God is in the strangest places

Sat, 22 Mar 2008 07:16:13 GMT

I went to an absurdly long interview on Thursday, and I apparently did famously. I'm only partially awake/conscious but I know I'll be coherent enough.

This job is even better than the last one I interviewed for, which I had mixed feelings about. This one is a base salary of $50k plus commission but since it's a multi-billion dollar company I will at worst clear about $80k yearly. This means I will once again dig deep, reach within myself to get that old rusty machine that is a workaholic and has life goals (like buying a piece of property that is just mine and only mine, perhaps with horses if I'm lucky) and a far more healthy work hard/play hard philosophy. And without further ado, this is the letter I received regarding my status so far:

Laurin:

I got initial feedback from Jay. Very positive. Interview went well and he feels you can definitely do the job. We will sit down on Monday and determine next steps. It will probably be a Phone Interview with Nancy Pugliese (all Recruiters report to Nancy, she reports to Jay), early next week (Tuesday or Wednesday). It could also entail another trip to the NY Office to meet Lou Rossi (Sr. Sales Guy), who you would be working with. After you’ve met/spoken to everyone, all input will be discussed and a decision will be made.

We should be able to give you a yes/no before the end of next week. So far, so good. Great interview!

Dennis

On top of all of this, my mom goes in for surgery on Tuesday and my dad was rushed to the ER yesterday. Which, my mom decided she'd only tell me about today, and as much as I understand why - it bothers me. That man needs to take a step back and stop freaking out because he is killing himself with his temper at stupid, stupid, stupid shit. I worry about my family on a daily basis.

And I'm still shocked that with the way the world is and this crazy fucked up city I live in I'm still standing and overall; okay.

Very overwhelmed. But I felt like I should at least update everyone as to what I'm doing.

Tally ho!

Fri, 21 Mar 2008 22:01:40 GMT

So I just sat down and did a list of the people I slept with:

Total is 15. Not too shabby. And also not too tawdry. But yet, it's amazing to reflect on.

Penthouses are for Lovers

Mon, 17 Mar 2008 00:01:51 GMT

My weekend is officially over. Martin and Ashley came on Friday and we had a WONDERFUL time. I miss those guys so much, and I actually got a little misty when they left because we had/have so much fun when we are out together. So many inside jokes, and literally - I am never as funny as when I'm with them. Friday we basically drank our faces off here at my place, which I luckily was able to finish cleaning before they got here (yay leaving work at 3:30 and just not giving a fuck). Ashley was bound and determined to clean the jacuzzi (I just didn't have time, I was taking care of SIX cats this past week!) and of course we all got our bathing suits (or whatever would pass, aka shorts and a t-shirt for me) and we soaked for a few hours drinking, laughing, telling stories and just generally being ourselves.

Saturday aka last night is when things achieved mind blowing proportion levels. We made it into the city at around 5, promptly got sandwiches at Tiny's (which I'm not terribly enchanted with, but it was around the corner from Tweed's and cheapish) and then went to Boss Tweeds. Briana met up with us at about 6:30ish and the drinking was already well underway. Martin having a liver issue (Apparently he only has half a liver, or something is wrong with it, not sure) and since we had drank so heavily the night before he was not doing well. But since it's Martin he was one hell of a trooper and made it til about 10pm while throwing up intermittently. Ashley, God love her - still plays by the Landmark rules. Which are essentially: "YOU GO in that bathroom and THROW UP if you can't handle your shit! Then you come BACK AND DRINK." and I mean, that's all well and good but I think she pushed Martin a little too far and I felt bad for him. He then thought that since she was giving him so much shit that he was anxious and thought he was upsetting us all - which I smoothed that concern over. So I called a car service to pick them up outside of the bar and after a minute altercation with Ashley (she was drunk and forgot I had a car waiting so she wanted to cram in as many shots as possible before leaving and also tried telling me that I hadn't "told" her a car was waiting) they left to go to my house. Briana and I stayed at Tweeds for maybe a half hour/45 minutes then journeyed to 6 Columbus (http://www.sixcolumbus.com) to check in to the room I had reserved.

Let me start by saying this: It's no often that I get really great things for no reason. I usually have bad luck or occasional good luck - but there is usually always a catch, or a proportion limit. We walk into the lobby and already I'm pleased with this hotel choice. That staff is straight out of a movie - polite (almost to a sexual undertone/innuendo but not creepy - just breathy and attractive and REALLY nice) and eager. They have my reservation and as they're confirming the room status one of them comes over and says "Well actually, we have the Penthouse available." and I said "Oh that's nice, but that's out of my range." and he says:

"No, it would be for the same rate." I blink in confusion. Is this some scheme where I buy into it and then in the morning there's a bill for TWO THOUSAND DOLLARS (the rate of the penthouse normally). I get his name, and say "ONLY if it is for the same rate." He assures me it is, so we go on up. 12th floor, Room 120. Briana and I are excited to say the least.

It was the most amazing room I have ever been in/seen let alone stayed in. 2 levels, 2 balconies, 2 bathrooms, California King bed on the upper level, ALL marble bathrooms, kitchen, living room, 52 inch PLASMA tv. I was literally, completely BLOWN away.

Needless to say, I spent $1000 this weekend. The room wound up totaling out to an amount that was way above what I wanted to pay because we ordered liquor, got breakfast ($53 dollars for two?!?) and taxes, etc. Still, not ANYWHERE near how much it should have cost. Regardless, I made those decisions and am an idiot - though a very fulfilled one. I realize that spending $1000 (over half of which was on Briana alone) and my friends is literally the stupidest thing I have done in years. When I tell you that the minute I checked out and walked outside I threw up in the street you'll realize the magnitude of how this realization really hit me.

This weekend, and how drunk I will be.

Mon, 10 Mar 2008 15:00:20 GMT

I went out with Briana yesterday for brunch after almost a week of myself deliberately avoiding her and just generally being an asshole. She dealt with me as usual, with the patience of a saint. We slightly bickered and then I got over my heinous habit of picking apart everything she does and getting angry with intentions that I assume on her part. However, yesterday was good because we both got to have a good time and just generally had sober fun - even though it was blisteringly cold out. I also took videos of us out on our escapades which I will have to upload later. The sound is clippy, but it's still a documentation of our time out. And I am going to be documenting our travels like this from now on, with the exception of the sex because well, I just don't go there. Not only that, but I doubt either one of us would want to soberly see just how things go down between us. Yeah, sober reviews of drunken sex? Not so much.

So much for my "censoring". I guess I've basically gotten over that issue because now I'm pretty shameless in recounting my experiences. Could be a mix of not caring, or the fact that it just takes too much effort to mask or veneer the person I really am and what I do in my life. Yes, I'm having an affair with someone who has a boyfriend and has no current intention of leaving him. Yes I go for days without sex and get slightly demanding about drinking with her so that we can sleep together again - since the sex is, in fact, that good. And let's face it, I went a year and a half without anything more than a few romps with my publicist, and about 2 one night stands. Not bad for living in Gotham and being exposed to a plethora of yet-to-be-sins. Seriously, living in New York is hard. I have a very tested love/hate relationship with the city.

This weekend is going to be one for the history books. Why you ask? Because 2 of my closest friends from Landmark are journeying to visit me - and I have not seen either one of them in over 2 years. And, since I'm getting paid this Friday (and St. Patrick's Day is ALSO either on Monday or Tuesday AND it's Briana's Spring Break) there will be much debauchery. True to form, I have reserved Briana to myself for the weekend. The only tricky part is the fact that Martin and Ashley (who are about to date each other after years of talking about it) will be staying at my place. I will have to decide whether I want to stay at Briana's dorm and just give them the keys to my place, or basically fear the fact that the 4 of us will most likely wind up sleeping with our prospective "other half" in my apartment. I am experiencing a college flashback right as I type this. Or most importantly, a Baldwin flashback because I wasn't sleeping with anyone at Landmark. Except maybe Ali, and that was only when she visited. I am not looking forward to that, but I imagine since both Briana and myself have already vowed to be completely obliterated all weekend long - it shouldn't be a problem. We've agreed to not be sober until at least Sunday night. I am very excited at this, and I should probably feel like a bad person for it. Somehow, I just don't. I am not, however, looking forward to cleaning my entire apartment and dealing with my lack of motivation or desire to do so.

I will update when enough craziness has transpired. And I am also very much certain that I am in fact in love.

Nights like these..

Wed, 05 Mar 2008 16:30:24 GMT

Last night was intense. In fact, every night I spend with Briana is incredibly intense and exhaustive. Probably because I feel so reserved in my actions and the things I want to say when I'm around her. At any rate, we did in fact, have our first fight last night. And it ALMOST got ugly. Not ugly like any of my other relationships, in fact, we sort of fed off of each other and there was an almost distinct pleasure in seeing each other angry. Yes, we are both fucked up people.

So I went to my interview, not sure if I got the job because I haven't heard from them yet. But since they're a large organization I'm sure part of the protocol is to make a candidate sweat for a day and not look too eager on their end. At any rate, it is also right across from Ground Zero and I am not sure how I feel about that. Actually I know damn well how I feel, it bothers the shit out of me and subsequently made me a nervous wreck yesterday. Especially because the sky looked EXACTLY the same and SMELLED the same as when I first went there in the Coast Guard. Plus it was also the first time I've worn a suit in I don't know how long. So that felt weird, especially noticing all the attention I was getting. You know, the winks, the check outs, etc. And the glares from well-dressed men.

I waited for 5pm to click and I promptly went to Boss Tweed's for my liquid dinner. Briana arrived at around 6:45 and immediately noticed my suit. Also, since there was a mandatory staff meeting at 7:00 I got to see all of my favorite bar tenders Hilary and Rachel who immediately laid some sugar on me. I heart them on a huge level.

Briana and I start to drink, naturally. And suddenly the vibe goes WAY downhill. I suppose after a few drinks I had become affectionate (oh be shocked!) and she pulled away from me and wouldn't look me in the eye. That's a deal breaker for the drinking Laurin. So I asked her if she was attempting to employ restraint and she said yes. Still, no eye contact. This then eased it's way into the fight. I said "Well I suppose this means you'll also be attempting some resolve?" and she said that we should try to be friends and that she needs to be a better person and stop sleeping with me, essentially. I'm sure at some point I laughed out loud (which didn't help the escalation of the fight) and I told her that I could not just be her friend. She seemed shocked, and genuinely concerned. So then we started arguing about how we've done this before and it has been extremely unsuccessful. Then the topic of the fact that she wants me to not be nice to her all the time (I know...I know how to pick them.) and that she wishes I'd get angry with her sometimes. At this point, I really was angry with her because I'm employing SO MUCH control and reserve that it's making me crazy and the sheer idea that she would even remotely try to be my friend kind of enraged me. Of course, bits and pieces of the night are hard for me to remember because there was much alcohol consumption.

Anyway, we got loud at my bar, I noticed the look from a few people (and when I say loud I don't mean TOO loud but it was getting there) so we decided we'd go outside. We talked, fought a little more and then got introspective. Somehow the fight died down and we started talking about ourselves, how we feel and how I don't talk about how I feel enough. Which is weird because um, everyone else I've ever known has told me that I talk issues to DEATH. So I've been seriously attempting to avoid that with B. And then we discussed how she's the only girl that I've ever been with/known who just lets me BE. Crazy, emotional, whatever. She is ok with it. And I told her that the reason I'm so intense about her is because I have wanted a person like that my entire life. I've come close with some people, but this girl literally does NOT judge me for who I am. Not my emotional word vomit, or the fact that when I drink too much I tell her I love her. Or how I can get needy sometimes and how I essentially fight with myself about everything and she's one of the few people who notices my inner turmoil on the outside.

And then we went back inside, where I sat for a minute sort of processing the fight. Out of nowhere, she just hugged me, buried her face in my neck and held me. She said she was sorry, and I held her back like I wouldn't let go and said I was sorry too. I told her I just want to be a decent person, be good to someone else for a change without getting bitter and hateful at the fact that it's all for nothing. That for once I know a girl appreciates what I do, and that she's really not using me or not invested. I mean sure, she has a boyfriend, sure she's not leaving him any time soon or in the near future. But, that doesn't really change the fact that I love her and I feel as though not having her in my life would be one heartache I can't afford.

I shouldn't even have to mention how after that once again, the affection came pouring out. Except this time it was almost public fucking - and as hot as that is, I really can't do that shit at my goddamn bar. Jesus. I have got to stop living this way.

Looks like living another way will have to wait until after I see her tomorrow.

Interviews are for pussies.

Tue, 04 Mar 2008 15:45:30 GMT

In which case, I must be one. Because, I am going on an interview with KForce today at 1:00pm. I am wearing a full suit (sans tie, which will be worn later when I see Briana.) and feel like a total monkey wearing it. Really, I haven't worn a suit in so long that I can barely remember enjoying wearing them EVERYDAY at Peak. Life is funny that way. And as much as I've lost weight, I definitely need to lose more. This is out of control. I want my 32 inch waist back. 34 just makes me sad.

So people have been checking me out today (again, I really don't remember what it's like to look well dressed) and it's been weirding me out like whoa. I mean really, it's kind of rare that I get attention like this. And 3 people have commented on how I must be going on an interview to look this nice. Not that I dress poorly, mind you. But I've adopted a whole sweater/brown pants combo that is really more casual than anything else. It's become my "I don't give a fuck." uniform of choice.

Been drinking way too much. I actually have the shakes. And last night? Oh boy. More drama. More "I'm in love with you!" from people who shall remain nameless. Scary, even. And I just want Briana. Like, I only have eyes for her. It's sick. I can't even change things up a notch and go date people. Although, if I had the balls, it really would be awesome to see how she reacts. My gut says it'll slap her in the face and accelerate the process of her breaking up with her boyfriend. I mean, I know I'd lose my shit if my lover all of a sudden started sleeping with other people. I'm still considering it. I hate crossing off options because of fear. And yet the girls I meet are ALWAYS SO CRAZY. At least Briana treats me well when we're together. She doesn't complain about where we go, or what we're doing or that she'd rather be somewhere else. Then again, she has a boyfriend so that makes her the executioner.

What? Laurin, start making sense.

Affairs

Sun, 24 Feb 2008 05:12:54 GMT

So it's been a month now that I've been sleeping with Briana. It started on the 17th of January (or technically as she says, the morning of the 18th, which is partially true.) and it's now the 23rd (soon to be 24th) and nothing has changed - except the fact that originally we only slept together when we were drinking. Now we're sleeping together sober. I think that when we started this we somehow were able to live under some false pretense that since alcohol was involved, it would be some kind of excuse. Too bad that didn't last long.

And here's the thing, her boyfriend still has no idea. I've come to just accept the fact that I'm basically falling in love with someone who will probably not stay with her boyfriend, but that I have absolutely no control over when and how it happens. Tonight during an incredibly hot almost-sex session (sometimes it really is hotter to just not have sex) I told her I'd wait for her, and she said she knew. We really can't stop the process, but I am still fearful for the aftermath of when her boyfriend finds out. She won't tell him for a variety of reasons, like losing half of her friends and the fact that he'll probably act out in some juvenile way (he's 19, not that there's anything wrong with that) but I remember when I was 19/20. Things seemed so much bigger, etc. So yes, there will in fact be a fallout because this is officially an affair. What tears me up the most about it is that I really, truly am falling in love with her. So intense, I feel like the more this goes on the harder it is for us to detach. I don't particularly believe she'll be able to stay away from me either. I mean, it just doesn't happen.

Also, I don't really feel good about knowing that yes, this is indeed an affair. I mean, sure, it happens but guess who I am now? The other girl. Kind of hate that feeling. Last night I was almost raped in an incredibly scary cab drive home. Once we got to my house he opened the door (sometimes cabbies do that) and as I went to get out, he pushed me back in the car, started undoing his pants and grabbed my right breast. I freaked out, kicked him and was relieved to find that the other door was not locked. I ran into my house, locked the doors and basically stayed in my apartment for the entire day - most of it in bed. Very scary, although this IS New York. I knew something crazy like this would happen to me (my ex, if you could call her that, Josie was actually kidnapped by a cabbie and held for a few days - something that fucked up her life still to this day) and I'm pretty lucky to be alive. I however, probably won't take a cab for awhile, not unless someone else is with me the whole way. It didn't help that Briana and I left Tweeds (while engaging in excessive PDA, but no one said anything and I'm really not one to care because I have to put up with it all the time from strangers and I like to think we're disgustingly cute together) in said cab and we were once again all over each other. It really burns me when guys objectify two women together. We're not kissing for you, we're kissing because we can't keep our hands off of each other. And it's disgusting to think about that possibly being part of the reason why this guy came after me. Also, I felt like a huge piece of skin was torn OFF from my chest, fortunately it's just really sore and a little marked up.

I found out that the pictures from New Year's Eve are finally getting posted. Me, Ant, Amanda and Andrea all went and dressed up 30's style for a great 30's theme party in the Financial District that was SO much fun. I had caviar for the first time, (too salty, and basically ill) alot of champagne and I looked good goddamnit. But the real point is, Andrea sent me an email (I had been bugging her to post them because it's just been about 2 months!) that said I had said something that really hurt her feelings. This shocked me, because usually I don't aim to hurt people's feelings but let's face it - I am unabashedly BLUNT. Sometimes this hurts, but I won't lie to you about something that you might need to hear. I'm curious to see what it was that was said. She also said she missed me (FUCK. Another girl, more drama.) and wanted to see me soon.

I CAN'T ESCAPE THE LESBIAN DRAMA. But, truth be told, I only have eyes for Briana. Though, sometimes I do get extremely frustrated and consider sleeping with other people because well - she has a boyfriend. It would be fair yes, but 1) she'd be hurt (I know she would) and also, I like being the better person. It's a good show of faith because in all of the complexity there's a lot of simplicity as to how I feel about B. She makes me incredibly happy, I love being with her and while I don't like being the other girl and the fact that she won't choose - sometimes people need more than just a few months of seeing and sleeping with someone before they make a final decision, which makes sense to me. I mean, I was in a similiar situation with Crystal and I always sort of regretted being so quick to choose (thankfully, I told Ali, maybe not in as much detail as I should have but I still told her) and its not an easy decision to leave what's familiar, long-term and special for someone who's new, exciting, passionate and gets you in ways that no one ever has. It's sort of a shame because if in reality B and I don't work out, it wouldn't be for the normal dramatic reasons like fighting, etc. We don't ever really argue, and if we were together at any point in time we'd just have a great time and enjoy so much of it. But I guess we'll see.

There's been a lot of sighing going on in my life. Lots of crazy things have gone on, my work is so stressful (and pointless, mind you, esp. since the damn CIO will probably fire a few people no matter what - including me) and just in general I miss Briana everyday. I keep my distance, we see each other a few times a week but every time it just gets harder and harder to let her go. Tonight was at least not so soul crushing and sad. It was hot. I think we're getting used to the whole pattern of things. I just don't like the sharing part. I don't share well, but apparently I do if I love someone.

Oh well. Things will work out, I won't freak out and do anything ridiculous. My tax returns will come through and basically I'll have alot of money to play with and maybe even take a trip. I'd love to kidnap Briana for a trip to Europe. I haven't said anything to her yet, but I know she'll have a break at some point (maybe even summer...) and wouldn't it be sweet and amazing of me to just show up with two tickets to another country? I think yes. What's scary about this? I really want to. That and when it comes to this girl, money, logic, reason and resistance fly right out the window.

I haven't felt this connected to another human being in a long time. It scares me.

Valentine's Gay

Tue, 12 Feb 2008 16:36:58 GMT

2 days until the worst holiday of the year. Thanks Hallmark, for turning my love life (or lack thereof) into a fucking holiday. I hope you rot in hell, Hallmark. I'm sure I'll be there to spin your ass over the open fire.

NOT a real dollar menu.

Tue, 12 Feb 2008 15:11:05 GMT

Previously on the L word:

My stomach feels like it's digesting razor blades. This isn't a terribly uncommon ailment of mine, probably resulting from years (and I do mean years) of chronic substance abuse. And when I say substance, I don't mean that recreational mine field that celebrities shove up their nose or inject into any convenient vein they can find without blemishing their air-brushed skin. I mean alcohol, nectar of the gods, unholy long-term suicide tool of choice. Yes, alcohol has been my long-time friend during breakups, job loss, rejection and oh that's right - my Junior and Senior year of high school.

But I digress; the strange occurrences that have invaded my life are in fact becoming stranger and there's a large part of me that wants to mentally jump off the Empire State Building. Things are both good and bad, predictable and random. I'm not sure how I feel about this because it seems as though stability in any form (aside from me waking up everyday and miraculously getting to work on time) has officially evaded me. I have this preoccupation with college students that is really starting to bug me out. For example, why do I always sleep with girls that are at least 4 years younger than me? Or better yet, how about I start off with someone who's 6 years younger and somehow not feel guilty taking them to every bar I can find in the lower part of Manhattan that doesn't id? And how is this acceptable? I'm not terribly sure, but somehow it is.

Last night was spent verbally arguing with my kitten (it's true, I'm losing my shit!) and recruiting for a project that will most likely fall through the cracks and be completely unnoticed by the CIO of my company, who is aiming his job termination wand at the recruiting team. Hopefully I'm the least paid out of the group so that I can stay at this hell hole of a job for a little while longer.

I had this great political rant in my head when I walked home yesterday and by the time I walked in the door I already went into recruiting mode.

Absolutely torrid.

Mon, 11 Feb 2008 18:53:10 GMT

I have issues with censoring myself. I think it stems from the fact that a live journal, or any variance of a journal that is made public in any way, such as blogs, etc. means that the general public will read it (which is my preference, actually) but with that, you also get people who KNOW you that read it, either daily or intermittently. Once people who know you in the flesh start to read your inner thoughts and the things you do, it can get hairy as to what's appropriate to really document. And I've been desperately trying to find some middle ground with it all, like a semi-public blog that is now open to people who openly hate me (re: the girl I slept with has a boyfriend) and openly love me (re: my friends and others)

But I feel as though no matter what, what's the use of having a journal at all when a) I'm a writer that loves feedback and loves to have people possibly changed or enlightened or happy to read my thoughts and the things that happen to me in my life. b) Why bother writing anything at all when someone as critical as myself will only erase it and wind up writing something I never really meant to say at all due to the very censorship I write above - except with one catch: no one is reading it! So what's the use? I know this all sounds very trite and rather whiny, but that's how it goes. We're all would-be spies when it comes to information that we seek on people we know, so I know that eventually once I friend 2 people, it'll blossom into certainly much more than that by people who habitually check friends listed on other journal pages.

End rant. Now I can breathe a little oxygen into my current dilemma: Briana. Let's see if I can coherently and chronologically detail just how this whole ordeal began (and it would be nice to look back on this later and laugh at the absurdity of it all) and hopefully I can get the dates right.

I want to say sometime last year, last winter to be honest one fateful night my best friend Anthony and I walked into a bar called Rubyfruit. Rubyfruit is indeed a gay establishment, predominantly older women but a good mix at usually any time. I think it was a Friday, though I can't be entirely sure. We walked in, had a BUNCH of drinks (this was back when Anthony and I couldn't handle not spending $200 each on ourselves whenever he was in the city.) and did our usual debauchery, singing along with the music loudly and obnoxiously, dominating the jukebox, and flirting resplendently with the bartender(s). On the way out for a smoke (oh fate, I hate you so much.) I noticed a girl with short hair smoking as well. Because of the fact that I tend to become socially aggressive and fearless whilst drinking exorbitant amounts of alcohol, I tend to talk to anyone that has a voice, including animals. This girl was no exception to that particular human quirk of mine. So I talked to her, we talked about Ani DiFranco, and how I would be seeing her in June and already had 2 tickets. The conversation ended just as a multitude of drunken phone-number exchanges have in the past when I've met people at the bar with one noticeable exception: She spelled out her full name for me, and I as well. So we both had each other's proper contacts and promised we'd hang out again and soon.

Then over the course of many text messages and several nice meetings I was initially smitten. I wasn't sure if it was because she was so nice and warm to me when I first met her (or her sweet text message after I left when we initially met telling me it was wonderful to meet and that she was looking forward to a new friendship) or if I was genuinely interested in her as a potential prospect for dating. Whatever the case, I knew I liked this girl. Her name was Lindsay Donadio.

We never did get a chance to go see Ani together. I wound up taking Anthony instead because she had gone back home to Indiana after her first year at NYU. We exchanged several messages and called each other once in awhile, but eventually I heard less and less from her. I considered it one of those things, and occasionally read her live journal to see what she was up to. There were no more updates, but there was a friend of hers who I had heard about that I started reading her journal as well. That girl being Briana, Lindsay's best friend. I'm not particularly proud of fixating on people, let alone individuals that I don't know but as it were, I essentially fixated on Briana. I was drawn to her writing, drawn to the fact that she was best friends (or closer, as it came to be known) to someone who had definitely impacted my life but that flitted in and out of it non-maliciously and it fascinated me. In my experience with people, but most specifically girls is: they are either great friends (Like Amanda, or Tea) that you don't feel any sexual anxiety or confusion with, or there's that wonderful grab bag of "I'm into you but you can't tell, can you?!" and it's not mysterious ladies, it's torture. For someone like me who is a strict believer in boundaries, respect and chivalry - do not play games with my head. If you're a vehement bitch, come right out and show me your true colors and I'll respect you for the honesty that is so hard to find and come by anymore. It will make it easier for me to either pursue as a friend or lover, or for me to say "It was really nice to meet you, but I think I'll pass."

Ultimately, you will win my respect no matter how much of a skull-fucking cunt-bag you can be, because let's face it, we all like a little challenge that involves self destruction and whatever is close enough to pass for passion. Who knows, I might even teach you a thing or two about that mythical creature we call "a decent person".

Anyway, back to the subject at hand: Briana and Lindsay. So, let's rewind to September 14th, 2007. I was just freshly up for review at Peak where I had hard earned a year of blood, sweat and tears in recruiting. My first real year of living on my own in a place - not just any place, New York. And I wasn't a student with dorm housing, not a kid living with their parents. I was wholly and totally independent and September 14th turned out to be a day I'll never forget, for 2 main reasons. Marissa and Phil called me into the office at about 3pm. I automatically assumed this was to review my performance and go through the official procedures of garnering a hefty raise from my pitiful 35k yearly. To my utter shock and disbelief, they were letting me go due to outsourcing the recruiting department to India. Marissa was upset, clearly, as I could see the beginnings of tears in her eyes (I had gotten so close with everyone in my office, we were like family) and Phil didn't seem too happy about it either. Ultimately it was Rich's (the founder of the company) decision to make this huge company change so they were powerless.

I left work (and all my stuff that I didn't particularly need immediately) and called Anthony. Luckily, he answered (and I'll always be thankful for that) and I told him in a cracked, pained, choked up voice that I had just lost my job. He was in disbelief as well. That's when it hit me. I was evicted from the best professional home I had ever had. What was I going to do? Why was I so sad? I was going to dust myself off, qualify for unemployment and spend the next 3 days in Philadelphia drinking my face off with the best friend I've ever had. I called my mom, let her know and then went straight home to pack. Anthony called me and said I had no choice, I had to come out to Philly because he didn't trust me at home wallowing by myself (and I'm indebted to him forever because of it) so off I went, packed and left straightaway to the bus station. I had just missed the last bus so I went to a bar and proceeded to wallow in Maker's Mark. The bartender knew I was having a horrendous day (he was British) and when he overheard me on the phone with my mother afterward, he asked, "Troubles with the family?" and I said (without being able to hold back the tears this time) "No, I lost my job today." to which he replied "Oh sweetie, I'm so sorry. It happens to the best of us. These drinks are on me today."

When I tried to tip him $10 he refused. It was a bittersweet returned favor. Then, off I went to Philly where Ant promptly took me to Sisters, the only lesbian bar in the city. He had warned me that the best night to go was a Thursday but this was a Friday and so there were no 10 drinks for 10 dollars happening. That was fine, I had a budget of about $100 to quell my heartache for the weekend. I drank, and Anthony took care of me. The next morning, I woke up with a vivid hangover and a text message from a number I didn't recognize. It said "This is Lindsay Donadio's sister please call me when you get this message asap. Thank you."

And so, I called. Turns out, Lindsay had been killed in a car accident the night before. She was driving alone, I believe to go visit a friend. The accident occurred at around 9pm and she was pronounced dead on the scene. Now, I have always had issues with grief, never really had respect for people who grieved for others that they didn't know (I call it "grief robbing"). For example - I was so fucked up after 9/11 that I had become detached to any real grief for it because I was surrounded by people who had no right to shed their tears. People who didn't even know anyone who had ever lived in New York, let alone loved ones that died there, that I helped dig up just because my luck went along with having joined the Coast Guard - and time and circumstance are funny things indeed.

So I talked to her sister, offered her my condolences and told Anthony about it afterward. We were in shock. We both had hung out with her at The Red Lion only a few months before. Drinking beers, laughing, smoking cigarettes. Or visiting her at Rubyfruit while she was working. We promptly went out and got a keg that we nursed for 3 nights straight by the bonfire in his backyard.

After that, I would habitually read Lindsay's journal, and Briana's as well. It made me uncomfortable the degree of my fascination with these two people, one of which was no longer living anymore. It made me feel like I was stalking them both - but the dead can tell no tales, so I suppose the interest kept her memory alive in some way. But Briana was a girl I had never met. Never even seen before. In true form, I found her on facebook and sent her a short, albeit sweet message. I've looked for it on myspace and facebook and it doesn't seem to exist anymore in my sent items, but the gist was simple: I told her I wanted to meet her, take her out and sort of pseudo-celebrate Lindsay. Also that if she needed to talk, I was always available.

The first time we went out, I was exceptionally nervous. I felt like such a shark to have targeted someone I had no idea who they were, what they looked like and whether or not I would even enjoy hanging out with them. But once again, fate (I hate you) intervened. We met at the Old Town Tavern, which is one of the oldest bars in NYC being built in 1892. When you walk in, you instantly feel transported into a time warp with the door to back wall length mirror, dark wood everywhere and light fixtures that have only changed in the gas-to-electrical aspect. Everything feels the same, and you wonder how the people and things must have felt during that time. She came in and I can't really say that I had any initial reaction, other than total nervous anxiety. We talked, it was awkward at first but after a few beers I believed that it was indeed a good thing I had found this girl. She was genuinely nice, and quiet. She didn't keep eye contact for long but when she did, it felt genuine. She had an awkward staccato to her speech and was prone to saying things that I not only didn't expect, but were sharply witty. To see her in a crowd, I wouldn't label her as beautiful. I wouldn't even notice her, really. And that's not the first time an attraction has bloomed with me and another who I normally wouldn't even notice unless tripping and falling directly into.

Several weeks went by before we saw each other again. The second time was to see Love in the Time of Cholera (which we ate at the diner first, by her dorm on 14th and 3rd.) Once again, nervous, fidgety and awkward feelings abound, but after the first 20 minutes we eased into each other and talked like the hours were ticking away like seconds. Each time we parted ways felt like it was too soon, but yet ironically every time I first saw her I wanted to run 5 miles away. Or at least out of my skin. Something unsettled me about this girl, but inexplicably drew me to her - I couldn't label either emotional origin.

We saw each other several other times, trite almost meaningless encounters that didn't quite burn anything into me. Her birthday was on December 5th and she invited me out to see Juno with her boyfriend and a mutual friend. I declined on auto-pilot, giving a somewhat false excuse of being busy and not feeling well. In hindsight, I think I know why I declined. But you, the reader are well educated enough to infer what that hindsight is on further reading.

We exchanged a handful of facebook messages, our running joke was to drunk dial the other - continually we promised each other this, and it never happened. I thought it was sort of sweet. I would in fact drink, but never ever called her. There was a vulnerability in doing such a thing that was reserved for someone who could handle just how intense I get while intoxicated. If you can't handle hearing me talk about the meaning of life with a more than noticeable slur, how it feels to dig up a dead body (or many, mind you), how bitter I am at the profound loss of love in my life, the effects of years of narcissistic parenting that I've only just recently gotten over, suicide attempts (all me), DUI's, ended military careers due to PTSD and other heartbreak inducing true tales - then you simply are not on my call list when I drink.

And so we never did. But then everything changed on January 17th, 2008. I had promised Briana a post-birthday outing since I couldn't make it out to the movies with her entourage of 3. She let me know via message that she'd be in the city on January 13th and would have a week and a half off from school, that we'd see each other then. Thursday, January 17th I bring a book with me to the bar to have a lonely night out. There are times I do in fact like to be lost in a sea of people but alone, that I like to have others approach me and be slightly annoyed with their questions on what book I'm reading, what it's about and why on earth I'd engross myself in a novel at a bar. Sometimes I like to field these questions and curiosities because it makes me feel alive. This night was to end differently than just toting my book home with a far from sober mind littered with big questions.

By 6 and 4 Yeungling's I had changed my mind. I wanted company. Specifically, Briana's company. I like to convince myself that I play a sort of Russian Roulette with my phone, that whatever the trigger lands on - that's the person I'll see. Please note the word "convince" in that sentence. I called her once, no answer. Then in a boldly assumptive move I called again, in which she answered in a sleepy voice. I told her to get dressed and come out: "You're drinking with me tonight." In true agreeable form, she was out at the bar within a half hour. By the time she met me at Union Bar it was so crowded and Sex In The City cast-member look-alike peppered, and so loud, I told her we were leaving. If I couldn't even hear her talk, what was the point of staying in an establishment that sounded like a two-bit club with a no-name DJ at the table?

I told her we should buy a bottle and head to her place. Again, audaciously presumptuous of me and yet it's exactly what happened. In I went to buy a bottle of Vox vodka (after asking her what brand she preferred, her answer was "Whatever's cheapest." to my complete dismay. We don't do bottom shelf where I come from.) and a little silver shaker for her to keep as a birthday present. All of this started innocently enough, but what happened next is a true testament to the belief that fate does indeed exist (and I used to be a die-hard believer that it didn't) or perhaps that at least the energy of people can dictate an erratic change or shift in circumstance; thus altering 2 or more lives.

Again, the anxiety hits me like a brick wall. I'm shaking, trying to hide it (and how) and covering my extreme nervousness with my tried and true extrovert conversational tactic. Those who know me well know that when I talk fast and too much, there is usually something very wrong that I'm trying to hide. 4 small vodka/lemonades (with little frozen strawberries at her behest) later we are sitting in her dorm room. None of her roommates are home. I take a seat on her desk chair in front of her bed within eyesight of her cello and sip on my small, strawberry filled plastic cocktail. She's playing music, most of which I've heard at some point. A mix of Dresden Dolls, Rilo Kiley and others. Then she asks me between our commentary exchange on each song if I had ever heard Lindsay sing. I reply no, but that I did know she was in an acappella group that had recorded a cd shortly after I met her. And so, she plays several songs - the first of which we handle well enough. I notice in my less than sober awareness that she's curled up on her dorm bed crying. My alcohol affected relaxation has suddenly shifted to complete and utter anxiety once again. I don't do well with comforting strangers. In fact, I don't really do well at comforting people in general. Although, that's my opinion. Perhaps it's just that I don't like how it feels, and I actually do in fact, do a decent job. I wasn't a suicide hotline counselor for nothing.

I sit on the bed and pat her back in that awkward "I don't really want to touch you but you obviously need human contact." way. She curls right up into my lap, like a cat and as the song continues I notice she's tracing the outline of my hand.

This is when the evening goes from platonic to ridiculously intense and my recollection is a mix of blurred and unbearably sharp. This is when I tell you that I can't remember the exact moment we first kissed, but that I can tell you it happened so fast the first thing I do remember is saying through clipped breathing and obvious attraction (where the hell did it come from?) "I can't do this, you have a boyfriend."

The reply I'll never forget: "Oh yes you can." It 's been years since a genuine touch has burned me, months since the half comfort of sleeping next to another warm body (yes, I've slept with people I didn't love. Yes, it was because I was heartbreakingly lonely.) it had been years since I felt the rush of NEEDING to take someone. Needing to feel their skin and feel as though the only thing that was stopping me from tearing them apart was my own desire to do it again. That restraint, the kind that sends so much adrenaline through me I don't even need to be touched - it's the end of me. And the best kind of ending a person can feel.

It wasn't just sex. It was the first time I felt like I knew someone, intimately, inside and out since Ali - and it took a year to gain that kind of intimacy with Ali. One full year to really feel ultimately comfortable.

With Briana, it happened in one single night. Since that night, we haven't slept together again. But we are towing the line between appropriate and downright dubious and clandestine behavior. I want to believe that I can be friends with this girl, or more truthfully told, endure the constant restraint of playing the role of friend and allowing her to live a double life. One that includes me on an unspoken scale, and the other with someone that I absolutely hunger to be. One night was not enough, and so with each time I see her I am thrown into a sea of indecision. Do I continue to see this girl 2 and three times a week and live falsely comfortable with never being her significant other? Do I play the chips as they fall and entrust my gut with faith and continue to be the better person and not let jealousy, sex and envy ruin a potentially good thing?

Is it good at all? Is it just another cheap imitation that fooled me? Usually, my ability to tell when something is genuine rarely fails. However, my heart going through this roller coaster is unsure of the worth in the end result.

You tell me, is this insanity?

I did my thinking back in high school.

Fri, 08 Feb 2008 16:15:34 GMT

Let me just say first and foremost: I hate livejournal. I've had 2 previous accounts (which enough time has gone by that I can forget they even exist) and I just never really liked how livejournal worked. Never really liked the setup or the fact that a good group of people that knew me used it to essentially spy on me when we weren't speaking. Alas, I have much to say. I've gotten myself into a sticky situation once again with a girl who has a boyfriend. He basically hates me with a burning passion, and that's understandable. However, my thoughts and feelings on the matter tend to cycle toward self pity, and helplessness. I can't ever seem to find someone who doesn't have a shit ton of issues going on in their life and when I find a person that literally wakes me up, picks me up off the ground and gives me good reason to enjoy life again - there is ALWAYS a fucking catch. Every time. I won't lie and say that Ali and I had some fucked up circumstances when we met. The only real gratification there is the fact that we stayed together (off and on of course) for 4 years. Of course, that was a situation that was initiated by the overlap of Carrie and SHE had a boyfriend when I met her too. Life is funny that way.

I can take you anywhere. To dimly lit bars with holes in the walls and bathroom doors that never stay shut. A cab in the rain heading to midtown to a strip club in the dark with red velvet walls, to the opera with all eyes on me/you with your green dress and silver necklace; I can take you anywhere. To the country on a back road that goes to gravel with no warning and bumps that make you grab the door handle and my laugh that catches your glance. You can talk to anyone I put in front of you, classy, bourgeois, homeless, wealthy – you will always relate to them and they will always like you. The ones that don’t just don’t know it yet. You won’t complain about how long it takes, you never ask me why we’re there, you don’t tell me how much you want to leave, you stay close to me and talk to everyone. One, two, three beers and you’re closer; closer. My leg burns and I realize it’s the warmth of your hand heating up my awareness. Three, four beers and one shot my face is flushed and I can hear you breathing.