Someone else's everyday

Sometimes you just need a change of scenery. You need a plane ride, a drink in an airport bar, a suitcase, your favorite jeans and enough clean t-shirts to last a few days. You need a friend with a guest room or a couch in a city you don't live in. You need to infiltrate someone else's routine, someone else's everyday to make your everyday seem far away.

There goes my Pulitzer

My computer died. Sad. So sad. I used to yell at it and call it "a piece of crap" fairly regularly. But I still miss it terribly. Now I have to blog to you people before I leave work instead of nestled in my comfy living room chair while giggling at I Love New York 2. And the quality of my blogs is suffering for it. And they were like Pulitzer-fucking-prize material before, I swear it.

Things I can't fix

I'm worried about so many things I can't control these days. Number one on that list is a good friend who's lying in a hospital bed right now. It's the worst feeling in the world when you can't help someone you love. But this situation is definitely out of my control. All I can do is pray, bring him magazines and try not to think about all of the what-ifs.

I don't even like blogging about it but it's pretty high on my list of priorities right now, thus I have nothing else to write about. Maybe if I put it all down in writing I will feel a little less overcome by the whole situation. I don't want anyone's sympathy, though -- I can't accept it, well-intentioned as it may be. Sad as I am right now, this is not happening to me. It's happening to him. I'm just trying to be a good friend, a friendly face, someone to crack jokes at the stupid hospital staff (and they are a little stupid) and the terrible hospital food (and, my God, is it terrible), and make promises to bring pizza and games on my next visit.

It sucks. As some of you may know, I share one trait with most heterosexual men -- when someone I know has a problem I try to fix it instead of just listening to them bitch. But I can't fix this. And it makes me mad.

Metal objects shoved in my mouth

I had to go to the dentist tonight. Which always makes me cry. Literally. I sit in the dentist's chair with tears rolling down my cheeks while he says things like, "Louise, please stop being so dramatic. I haven't even turned the drill on yet."

Somehow I have managed to get a tattoo and several piercings over the course of my life without this many tears being shed. Yes, I realize it is childish but something about a giant face hovering above mine backlit by that bright white light shining at me while various metal objects being shoved in and out of my mouth makes me want to just... pass... out.

Anyway, the whole point of me telling you all this is to garner some sympathy. I normally don't like when people feel sorry for me. The one exception is when the whole leftside of my face is numb and feels like it's been stuffed with cotton. Then I want tons of affection, empathy and other kinds of positive affection. So get on it, people. The novocaine is about to wear off.

People disappearing

There are people who will disappear from your life. And that sucks. But it's part of life, unfortunately. They will be part of your daily existence for days, weeks, months, sometimes years, and then they suddenly, almost without warning, become one of those people you pretend to be glad to see when you run into them at a party or on the street but with whom you no longer have anything in common. And, anyway, the relationship is gone.

I don't know why this happens, but inevitably when it happens to me, even when it's because I've kicked someone out of my life, it hurts me. That little hole in my life becomes hard to fill or I start to beat myself up, because it must be something about me that makes people leave me.

All I can imagine -- because I refuse to believe that there is not a reason for everything -- is that they disappear because either their purpose in your life has been fulfilled or because they no longer have a positive purpose to be in your life and fate takes a hand and just removes them. I hope that it's one of those reasons. But having faith that there is a reason for this kind of thing to happen doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.

I'm sad about someone in particular who no longer feels the need to reach out to me. We used to talk every day but it's been a month since I've heard his voice or gotten an email from him. I think that my purpose in his life came to an end. At least that's what he's given me every reason to believe. I wasn't aware of that but I guess it must be true.

I guess we no longer need to be around each other and eventually my heart will stop hurting when I think about him. I'm trying to keep my chin up about that. I'm trying not to dwell on what fun we had together, or how much I looked forward to talking to him. It's hard but I know the reasons for his disappearance will become clear to me over time.

Yesterday I watched one of my amazing friends dance at our mutual friend's wedding while someone who she had to remove from her life sat at a nearby table with his girlfriend. I watched her hold her head up (even if she ran into the bathroom occasionally to cry). I watched her dance and have fun and not look even look in his direction. And I was so proud of her. I know I can do that, too. I just wish I didn't have to deal with the sadness of these holes in my life when I'm alone. That's what really sucks.

Curveballs are fun

One of my favorite things about life is not knowing what will happen next. I'm not a planner. I book vacations, take new jobs and go on dates without planning... I like just doing the things that pop into my crazy little head. The idea of planning for the future bores the bejesus out of me, frankly. I didn't know what I wanted to do for a living in college, I haven't ever planned for my "someday" wedding (even when I was engaged) and I don't know what I'm going to wear to work until I wake up and yank whatever clothes I see first out of my closet.

But I like that. I like the adventure of not knowing what's going to happen next. That doesn't mean I never worry or I'm easy breezy all the time. It just means I learned at a young age how to do what the alcoholics at meetings teach each other to do -- "Let go and let God." Besides the minute you start to think that plans mean everything is the same minute God throws you a curve ball and reminds you that he's in control.

That being said, everything lately that's been "surprising" me has... well, it's sucked. BUT I still believe in the power of not knowing and not wanting to know everything the future has in store for me. It hasn't fucked me up so bad so far.

My throat is so hoarse

In case you watched the game tonight and you heard one scream that was shriller and more horror-movie like than the rest when Johnny on the Spot hit that three-run home run and you were wondering who could possibly get their voice so high as to attract dogs in neighboring states... well, that was me. I also started screaming like a lunatic (and dropped my beer) when Robbie Cano did his thing in the 6th.

Nelly says, "No, dahling."

I have a very weird loyalty to the lady who cuts my hair. Even though she never, never does what I ask her to. I'll say something like, "Nelly, do you know what would be great? If I had ba..." and before I can get the word "bangs" out she'll say (insert profoundly thick Russian accent here), "No, dahling, no. It won't be good for you, baby. I do very good for you. You will like. Be very cute." And then the exact opposite of the haircut I was thinking of will appear on my head in a matter of minutes.

Anyway, I've been angling for bangs and today I got them. And Nelly pretended it was her idea. But I didn't mind as long as I got them. However, I have never before -- nor will I ever again -- have a hairstyle so akin to a helmet as I do. A good washing should get rid of most of the hairspray and then I'll be golden. I think.

A new chapter

My good friend in Vegas sent me an email I desperatly needed to read right now. It was one of those forwards that, I guess, you're supposed to delete or ignore. But I didn't. I read it. And it meant a lot. It was all about remembering to be grateful and living each day to the fullest so that you can get the best out of life. I don't mean to be corny, but I truly believe that and I've not been showing it too well lately, with all my bitching and moaning. I'm ready to start a new chapter in my life... again. But that's ok. We all need lots of chapters. Or life would be boring. And short.