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2 Aries butting heads...some much needed perspective |
| This journal represents the person I was, am, try to be -while trying to manage my life in a relationship that is the definition of a roller-coaster ride. |
| Today I got into an e-mail debate with a co-worker. I received a forward from a friend that had to do with trusting in God and letting go of your worries and giving it over to God. So I read it and decided to pass it along. Normally I see these things as a bit corny and although I am a Christian I think they are a lot of fluff; nevertheless I do feel guilty sometimes not passing them along when I'm quick to pass something else along. ANYWAY I had a feeling I shouldn't send it to her and sure enough I got a response detailing how the poem was misleading and that it gave people the wrong idea in thinking that its easy to have faith and trust when its really a struggle full of turmoil and suffering etc. Now I understood what she was saying and agreed with the fact that it is tough to have faith and to grow spiritually but the fact is the poem is not taking away from that fact its simply a reminder to continue to be faithful or just some nice Christian cliched fluff that isn't meant to pass on any SERIOUS meaning. Alas an e-mail debate ensued where I said God is the judge of each of us, its not up to any of us to speak for other people's spriritual walks or judge them accordingly. hmph! Whatever, I needed to vent. I'll post that whole exchange later. |
| I'm not a morning person, although I never sleep too late. I hate to sleep the day away and feel as though I'm wasting my time. I can be quite grumpy. I like to wake up with time to myself. Sometimes I feel like Dave is invading my space, although its OUR space. Its not his fault, its just that my resentment seems to overflow in the mornings and I need time to put the cap back on before it spills all the way out. I hate being resentful yet it's a feeling I can't seem to get rid of. I try to force myself to look at my thoughts in a different light, be more positive -but it comes across as ridiculously false. I feel like an actress, playing the role of my life. I am an actress, and sometimes I forget which role I'm in and who I'm supposed to be. I miss my part often or chime in late. My morning greeting is a half-hearted mumble. Sometimes I'd rather say nothing in the mornings; just focus on my lack of clothes and try to wear something that hopefully had been forgotten, but probably not. [Many people make it their duty to catalog who wear's what and how many times.] I like to have on the weather channel long enough to see the predictions and then I'd prefer some news style show, like Good Morning America. Dave always watches music videos in the morning. This really isn't a problem because he gets up after I leave, but it never fails to irritate me when I get home and turn on the tv and its on VH1 Soul Music videos. Every time. I really shouldn't be irritated but I can't stop it. It naws at my mind, constantly interrupting my thoughts. Why? Why can't he watch videos without me making a big deal about it? I like videos. Just not all the time. I'm too old to watch them all day long, I mean really, its not that serious. I judge to harshly. This morning, Dave asks me what I think about in the mornings. Clearly my resentment leaks out even when I try to hide it. I don't know what to tell him. I say that I think about not having enough clothes and trying to put together an outfit. This is true. That takes up many thoughts and is the cause of many morning frowns. I leave out the rest. Nothing I said would have been taken without anger and irritation. Understandably so. I'm sure Dave resents me in similar ways. I'd prefer not to know. Some of my resentment is so irrational, I'm almost positive, its the same for him. I wake up too often wanting space that I can't find and feeling a weight on my shoulders that I can't let go of. There's good reason to believe that it's not as bad as I'm making it, but its enough occurences to question what the hell is going on? I still can't figure out why we've chosen the path we're taking and taking together (unbelievably), when CLEARLY we should turn around or roll down the hill and go the other way separately. |
| David accuses me of making him feel like an idiot because he always threatens to break up with me but he never leaves me. I tell him that you could look at that another way, where he tells me whatever he wants and I lie down and let him walk all over me. He basically agreed to that. I think about keeping myself company. I mean I can live with myself, right? That's basically the question, because what the hell else is holding me back? Fear of myself? David says that love isn't enough, but then he's always asking me what do I suggest we do. How the fuck should I know. I imagine coming home and relaxing. Cooking when I feel like or not at all. Snacking all night. Watching whatever the hell I like. Turning the bass up on a stereo that I buy and playing my music with no guilt. Feeling no apprehension whatsoever. This is my life, my future and I decide to just deal with it, instead of making some tough decisions that could very well make me much happier. I'm sure Dave would almost immediately find someone to share a bed with, but not me. I'm so ready to say, I'm not interested. To think only of myself and my well-being. To figure myself out. That way when I am ready for a new relationship, I'll know who am I and will not change myself to fit someone else's needs; not to the point of denying myself and making me less than what I am. I can't take this forver. I'm sure to explode. |
| David works as a therapist at a mental health company. There are many colorful characters in his place of business, that don't just include the clients. One time, I was at his job talking to one of his co-workers Diane. Now Diane used to be a client, but she decidedly walks a fine line(apparently they have no qualms hiring past patients). She's quite the funny character. She's the cook along with miscellaneous odds and ends, so she usually finds herself with plenty of time on her hands as this job isn't exactly overwhelming. I'd stopped by to see Dave (his job is completely laid back) and we got to talking. I was mainly laughing at her stories and the gossip she was dishing me. I pulled out some gum (juicy fruit, my favorite, eventhough the flavor is shortlived) and offered her a piece as well. She commenced to snorting and laughing and carrying on, all the while refusing the piece. Of course I'm waiting to hear what's so funny and what does Juicy Fruit have to do with any of it. "Guurl, you should it be eating that stuff. Thats that hooka gum. Them hookas eat that stuff. You ain't no hooka is you?" ha ha ha ha ha ha ha That's what? Hooker gum? I thought I misheard her. What are you talking about? I felt like I was on another planet. She had to be making this up. She wasn't. She called another one of her cronies in the office. The Cronie shook her head in agreement and also advised me not to eat that gum. "I've never heard of hooker gum in my entire life. (not very long life) And plus I don't even know any hookers or people who know hookers or hang around hookers, what's wrong with me eating some Juicy Fruit." "That don't matter. It don't matter. Hooka gum is hooka gum. People see you with that gum I know what they'll be thinking." more laughter, belly shaking. Right. Okay. What will 'they' be thinking. I mean, hooker gum? There's so much I don't know and will never know -don't want to know None of my friends knew what the hell I was talking about. Hooker gum.....hmph I think I'll have a piece right now. .........................................Hooka |
| How can I describe David.....hmmmm... visualize this... He's 5'11" (my exact height) He's dark brown (although he acts like he's midnight black which is fine except that he isn't) He had dark brown eyes He is mixed with Italian (and won't admit it, but quite proud of this fact) He has dark brown hair (it's really black, but scientifically no one's hair is naturally black..whatever) He has straight hair (it used to be very curly as a kid), which he tells me many have mispercieved as a perm and I have no idea why. Who are these people? He's embarrased about the coca-cola machine (very inside joke) and due to his embarrasment issues I won't elaborate He has a football/basketball build: meaning not too thin not too bulky but just right. Nice arms, nice chest. He's a bit hairy (he shaves a lot) probably from the Italian genes He has a beautiful smile (teeth included) He has big teeth (like me...I prefer big instead of small teeth with the gums showing) He has the Kappa logo burned on his chest (bad decision in my opinion...Kunta Kente isn't happy) Got a picture yet? Ah well. I was never any good at describing people. I'm good at visualization but I'll take your description and come up with a picture and when I see the real thing, well I'll take the picture. Maybe I'll post a picture. Nah...just visualize. That's it..... He's cute right? (rhetorical) I doubt if my attempted description did him justice. But is there really a way to give an objective description without added biased adjectives that will really give a person an idea of what someone looks like? I don't think that long ass sentence made any sense. Okay focus. You focused? Me neither |
| I'm a bit repulsed by Dave's digestive system. Its very efficient to say the least. Which is probably why he can be the human garbage disposal that he is. In every sense. Every morning, without fail, David takes a dump. A good sized one I'd imagine. No, I've never looked, but he's on the toliet long enough. The thing is he's not the first boyfriend of mine to have this habit. All of my exes (except one) had this similar routine. Ladies, does this sound familiar or do I seem to be dating the few men with an overactive bowel system? hmmmm..... I don't like to be subjected to the smell. I don't like the smell of my own dumps, I don't want to smell yours. Dave says that I have a boo-boo phobia. Call it whatever you want, please try and take your dumps AFTER I'm finished with my make-up. He's gotten better. He's even started to shut the door. |
| Dave comes from a family where everyone is constantly shushed by his mother. This is the direct opposit of my family. In the first place, my family is ten times (and then some) bigger than Dave's family. I'm including my extended family -on both sides-. Absolutely no competition. Dave has one aunt. I have at least 10. In my family everyone's yelling and laughing and you're always fighting to be heard. I never used to be able to tell when my mother was laughing or crying. My dad had us in hysterics at the dinner table at home or in a restaurant, almost causing me to spit out the water that I always seemed to just have taken a swallow of. Whispering was obsolete in my house. I've never learned this trait well. My parents were born entertainers. My dad is the funniest story-teller you'll ever find and my mother, she's just so damn engaging. Always laughing out loud. Constantly on the phone. We did anything and everything to be the center of attention. It was great. See the difference between me and Dave is levels of embarassment. I'm not easily embarassed in public. I don't give a fuck if some stranger just saw me trip on the crack in the sidewalk. Or if me and my girls are talking loudly on the train and everyone can hear. It doesn't faze me. Dave, however is a little too focused on what people think. He always wants people to think of him positively, which is good. Just don't let it rule your life and actions. Relax. Everyone's not always taking notes. Once, we were in my car having just pulled up to the curb outside his grandmother's house. We were watching one of the nosiest neighbors the block who lives two houses to the right of Theodocia. I said something to him -I can't remember what- and he was like, "shhhhh keep your voice down." We're in the car. Windows rolled up, talking on the low side, even for me. She's an OLD lady, there was NO way she heard us. "Do you really think she can hear me?" He smiles. Although I could tell he really doesn't think she could hear us, I saw that worried look in his eyes...maybe she can, he thinks. can you hear me? p.s. aren't the people who shhshh others usually louder then the "offender"? can you hear me now? |
| I started this entry bent on writing what makes me jealous within my relationship, but I can't think of a single thing. Well now I can, but I thought it would be a longer list. 1. when Dave's talking on the phone and I don't know who it is 2. when his cell phone rings and he doesn't answer it, lets it go to voicemail 3. when he gets that message and I still haven't figured out who called 4. when he forwards me an e-mail and I see the person who sent it to him is a female I don't know 5. when he goes to the club and I know he's danced with other girls 6. when he doesn't call me when I think he should be home and my mind goes a bit haywire This is list are pitiful excuses to be jealous at all. I mean really. I'm really working on it though. Honestly. It doesn't consume me like it used. Thats a bit of an exaggeration. The consuming me part. |
| I appreciate Dave's commitment to his grandmother. She's 89 years old. Theodocia....that's correct, her first name that is... He visits his grandmother at least once a week. Yesterday we stopped by because her phone had been giving the busy signal since the night before and we were obviously worried. Theodocia is like many other octogenarians who refuse to admit they're hard of hearing. Instead they resort to telling you to speak up or speak out like my own grandfather, or they consistently ask you to repeat yourself until you throw up your hands and scream, "I give up!" mentally anyway. Her phone has previously been knocked off the hook and she was quite unaware the whole time. That's nothing new. But Theodocia is a friendly lady and likes to use her phone, if only to call her last living sibling (a total of 10) Harold, the youngest of the bunch, to check on him. She being the oldest. I tell Dave to call Verizon. He does, and they tell him the phone is off the hook and its not due to the lightning storm as the next door neighbor blamed for her own phone troubles. Now Dave is sweating (nothing new) and pacing. He's picturing all types of things that he wouldn't be able to live with had any of these things actually taken place and he left presuming everything is fine. We'd rung the doorbell until you'd have to be deaf not to hear it. So Dave pulls off his shirt and becomes Batman. He grins when I tell him this (he would be Batman if he could). He has his black slacks on, with a black beater and black dress shoes. He lacks all the useful gadgets that would be helpful in climbing onto the roof. Why must he climb the roof? Well he does have a key folks. Yes indeed. But Mrs. Theodocia, God bless her, in her home of over 50 years has chains and sliding locks and bolts that can only be opened from the inside. Why all the chains and bolts...well this is west Philly folks, Will Smith had to get out. The clock reads 9:00 p.m. and there are no lights on in her bedroom. She doesn't seem to be going down to fix herself some dinner and so drastic measures call for...well drastic actions of course. Dave somehow pulls himself up on the roof (he may secretly be Batman with a serious tan) and knocks on her upstairs window. I call up to him, that he should identify himself as she's probably scared out of her mind. But she has no fear, because after all she has Jesus who she prays faithfully to every morning for three hours (honestly) and listens to gospel radio all day every day. So she comes to window, not recognizing Dave, and says "What do you want?" Dave is telling her to open the window, because I will not allow him to try and get back down, he would definitely break something. She wants to know who he is and what he wants. "Grandma its me...David." "David"....."David"....."DA-vid"....."DA-VID" "ooohhh David, well what are you doing up here?" It took another five minutes of explanations about the phone and the door and the doorbell before she was satisfied enough to open the window. By this time three mosquitoes had snacked on my leg and my ankle. David really gave it to Verizon. Let em' have it. Turns out the phone was off the hook. |
| I told the Doc that I've decided to force myself to trust David again. That means I don't care who calls and it what numbers he has in his phone and who he talks to at work, and the fact that most of his co-workers are women. The point is -I don't care any more. If this doesn't work it doesn't work. Its not my damn job to be Columbo, that's what we have Columbo for. But in reality, its a tinny bit harder. Dave has a million different rings for whoever cause I can't keep up and at times I find myself wondering who's on the phone. I always know when Dave is talking to a guy by the way he answers and then stays pretty hype throughout the conversation. If its a girl, he's a bit more low-key. I'm not jealous of any of these women personally...clearly I'm the better catch in every way, but when they get on David's phone, suddenly my mind transforms them into girls of my caliber. Serious competition. And I'm sweating and straining trying to hear what the hell is being said and feel like a total idiot when he announces that his mom said hi. I fake a distracted look, as if I was so immersed in my book that I hardly was aware that he was on the phone. I'm fooling no one. I do trust Dave, though. Seriously. |
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