Fun with shards of glass

I set a glass down on the drying rack in the dish room at work last night, somewhere I thought it would stay. It decided that it didn’t want to stay there and I went to catch it before it hit the floor. I did catch it before it hit the floor, but after it had shattered against the side of the counter.

I got a pretty good gash on my ring finger on my right hand. Lots of blood. Cleaned it up and bandaged it and decided that it probably would be okay. When I changed the bandage this morning, I changed my mind on that and went to the ER after work. It wasn’t too bad. It took about two hours for me to be seen. About what I’d expected, given that I had a pretty nasty wound but that my finger was still in tact and that it had stopped bleeding.

They decided against stitching it up, given that it had happened last night and given the location and shape of it (sort of a U-shape around the side of my finger), but they did give me a tetanus shot and bandaged it up pretty good for me before sending me on my way…after, of course, I recovered from my near faint after making the mistake of watching the nurse dressing the wound.

I so was not cut out to be a doctor.

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Things that make you go ‘hmm’

When I read my horoscope last week, I didn’t really think much of it. I’m kind of happy that I went back to read it, because after reading this week’s, I felt like last week’s was important…

The mayor of Las Vegas has suggested a novel idea for discouraging graffiti on his city’s highway walls. Oscar Goodman envisions televised spectacles in which the vandals’ thumbs are cut off. His proposed punishment goes too far for my tastes, but I’m wondering if you might approve of it. Lately you’ve been having bouts of overreaction, entertaining extreme fantasies in response to circumstances that don’t necessarily warrant them. I’m not saying your intense emotions are completely unjustified, Cancerian, nor do I recommend that you repress them. I’m simply asking you to let some time pass before you take action on your feelings.

I was in such a shitty, depressed mood yesterday that I tried not to go to work but couldn’t find anyone to cover my shift. I decided that when I got home, I would watch Les Invasions Barbares, a movie that almost always makes me cry, sometimes by the end of the opening credits. Of course, it didn’t work last night. But it gave me the nudge I needed, I think. On the whole, it’s a film about finding peace. I’ve not yet found that, but I think I’m out of the rut that I’ve been in for the past week. We’ll see how it goes.

Why must we be entrapped by our past?

Why is it that I can understand why the boy says that he needs a bit more space and yet my mind refuses to let him have it?

We had our first real relationship talk over the weekend. It was a very good talk, I think. For as much as I have on my mind about various things that I’ve mentioned recently, he has a lot on his mind too. He needs to figure out whether he’s staying in his job and, if not, what he’s doing. We’d fallen into a very comfortable pattern that meant that we were spending virtually every night together, which meant that although we were spending a lot of time together, we were both ignoring or procrastinating putting effort into other things that really ought to have been more focused upon.

He needs space to figure things out. I need space to figure things out. All this means is that we need to spend a little less time together. This isn’t a bad thing. He has become almost my entire social life because of the hours that I’ve been working. That’s not good.

We had an impromptu period of more space when he was sick for a few days last week and I didn’t see him. It really, really bothered me. More than it ought to have. A lot more than it ought to have. I started thinking all sorts of irrational things. Like he’s not really sick; he hates me; he never wants to see me. I figured I’d done something but couldn’t come up with anything. We weren’t talking very much while he was sick (not surprisingly–he was sick after all) and my mind kept leaping to the conclusion that our relationship was over.

For no reason.

Until it finally occurred to me where these ridiculous insecurities were coming from. Those of you who know me well will remember the relationship I was in that ended almost four years ago. When the guy I was seeing just walked away to start seeing someone new after I had bent over backwards to try to make things work.

There’s absolutely no reason to think that the current boy might be about to do this. None. He’s not one to play games, as far as I can tell. He’s not going to tell me that he needs space and then walk away. The need for space doesn’t even have anything to do with us. It’s because he needs his own time to focus on what he’s doing with his life. Which is the same reason that I need space.

Granted, the end result of all this thinking might impact our relationship. I can’t speak for him, but I know that my thinking leads towards my leaving Portland sooner rather than later. That’s one of the possible outcomes of his thinking too. If things are meant to work out longer term, maybe our thinking will coincide on this. Or not. There are so many variables and decisions between now and the end result that it’s hardly worth worrying about, right? Which isn’t to say that it wouldn’t be at the back of my mind even absent all this other fretting. That would only be normal. It’s all this other fretting that’s bothering me.

This boy is not that boy. Why does that emotional scar have to manifest itself now? Why am I able to fully agree to both of us needing space to work our shit out and yet simultaneously think that this is the end of the relationship? We both need to figure our shit out if we’re to move forward in the relationship, because we have to figure our shit out individually to move on with out individual lives. And we can’t move on with our joint life without being able to move on with our individual lives.

The question of the L word came up in our talk over the weekend and neither of us was quite ready to say it–and that’s okay. I think we both agree that it’s not something to be taken lightly or something to be thrown around carelessly. Even if I’m not quite ready to say that I love him, I definitely lurv him (apply your own interpretation as to what ‘lurv’ is versus ‘love’) a lot. I’ve come to care for him very deeply over the past three months and want to do whatever I can for him. If he needs more space, I want to give him more space.

Ultimately, it comes down to trust. Why is it that something that happened four years ago is not letting me simply adjust to this new situation? Why won’t my mind let me trust him? Especially when I fully agree with the fact that we both need more personal time? I have no logical reason to feel this way. I realise that the heart doesn’t work in logic but I hate feeling entrapped by something that happened to me in the past. Yes, that relationship that ended was a big one, one in which I had invested much more time. But, on the other hand, I was younger, too. Not that I’m so old now, but that was my first really long term relationship and it was a relationship I never would have let go on so long were I to find myself in it today. For as much as I was hurt by the way that it ended, I made my fair share of mistakes while I was in it, I’m sure.

It’s almost three in the morning and I haven’t been able to sleep because this has been hammering away at my head. And before this, it was everything else that I’ve had on my mind recently, mostly the ‘what the fuck am I doing with my life?’ bit.

I think I’ve just about hit rock bottom in my period of angst/depression. The past week or so has been pretty shitty emotionally for me. Sunday after I got home from work, most of the time I was at work yesterday and for the past couple of hours now I’ve felt about ready to cry. But I haven’t been able to let go. I think I’ve reached the point where the emotional catharsis would be really good for me.

Hopefully I’ll get that soon.

*happy banana dance*

I don’t think I had mentioned that my tax refunds were a lot larger than I expected them to be. So, I finally went and did it. After only four-and-a-half years of lusting, I’ve finally gone and bought myself an iPod! 30gb video iPod. Engraved on the back with something only I would find amusing: ‘Ceci n’est pas un iPod’. I forgot to put a period at the end, which is going to bother me, but I’ll survive. I hate that they’ve dropped FireWire support in favour of USB only since my computer only has USB 1.1 which means that it’s going to take FOREVER to do this first update. Hopefully it’ll be done by the time I leave for work later, though.

Wee!

The weather…

…is fucked. A few days ago it was +7c. Right now it’s -7c. I think mother nature is going through menopause.

As for the Daily Show, since Cat asked about it, well, it was fun. A lot of waiting around. Stood outside from 3.30-5. Then sat around inside for close to an hour before they let us in the studio. Then sat around some more (maybe about half an hour) until the warm-up comedian guy came out and blathered on for about 20-30 minutes. He was funny, to be fair. The taping itself took as long as watching the show since they played a song between each segment while they got ready for the next one. It was cool to be there, but it involved so much waiting around and I was so over-tired from not having slept enough that I found it a bit underwhelming.

New York City Boy

This was the original plan: drive down to Connecticut on Sunday, take the train into the City Sunday night in order to have all day Monday before having to get into line for The Daily Show, after the show and dinner take the train back to Connecticut and leave early Tuesday morning to get back here before I had to be at work Tuesday afternoon.

That more or less happened. Except for the driving down part. For those of you not paying attention to the news or what’s been going on outside your windows, Sunday was when we got that big huge snow storm, which, actually, wasn’t really that bad here in Maine. Still, it was nothing to be driven in. So we didn’t drive down, we took the train instead.

The train from Portland to Boston was interesting, since it was the only way to get out of the city that day. There were kids going back to school after their weekend at home, everyone from Portland going to the Celtics game that night, and everyone else who just needed to get out of the city. An interesting mix, you might imagine.

Exemplary of this mix were the two guys who, when asked if they minded where they were sitting, because there was a group of four who wanted to be able to sit together, responded, ‘Yup. Wanna be close to the beer and close to the bathroom.’ (You’ll have to apply what you imagine the Maine accent to be yourself.) They did move in the end though.

I mostly escaped by listening to music and trying to read the paper but the woman in front of us just didn’t have an indoor voice that worked so it was difficult to drown out her exclamations of ‘It looks like a blizzard out there!’ and her various complaints to her husband that the headphone splitter that they had bought for their laptop sucked.

There was nothing open in Boston of course because of the storm and the train ride to New York was relatively uneventful in comparison to all of the colourful characters on the Portland-to-Boston train. The weird thing about it was the fact that both trains were essentially on time. Amtrak is never on time. Ever. Perfect weather? 30 minutes late. Blizzard? 5 minutes late.

What was most amusing about New York was the fact that people just weren’t quite sure to do with all this snow. The City got over 2 feet. The boy’s friend that we stayed with pointed out that every time there’s a big storm, they show people on the news buying shovels. As if they didn’t already own one. What about all the times there’ve been big storms before? Apparently they just abandon the shovels in snow banks or something. ‘It’ll never snow again! I don’t need this!’ Sure enough, we did see a few shovels abandoned on the sidewalks of New York as we walked around.

It was Monday. Nothing exciting was open. We walked around and shopped instead. We had to be in line for the Daily Show mid-afternoon so we couldn’t really get too ambitious. I was over-tired since I opened on Sunday and then didn’t manage to nap on the train, so I was a bit of a zombie all day. Dinner after the show was yummy and I got to see a friend from university whom I haven’t seen since she graduated the year before me.

Tuesday, as I predicted, was the longest day ever. I managed to sleep a little bit on the drive back to Maine but was still tired when I got to work just on time at 2. It was decently busy but I figured that it would quiet down for the last hour, it being Valentine’s Day and all. And it sort of did until we got a rush for the last half hour and then hadn’t been able to lock the doors and people just kept coming in. It actually wasn’t so bad and we were able to get people out and lock up by quarter past 8 and then to get out of there by 9.30. It was just that neither I nor the person I was closing with particularly wanted to be there any longer than absolutely necessary.

In the end, it was a good trip. Fun but far too short. Incidentally, it wasn’t the shortest trip I’ve ever taken to New York. In fact, three of the now five times that I’ve been to New York have been day trips from Massachusetts. Those ones were way, way too short. They were also when I was a kid and found the City to be very overwhelming. Now, I feel like I have a better handle on the City and don’t find it so overwhelming…except for Times Square. That still freaks me out a bit.