the dayton days [36]

just plugging away

Monday. I finished N.T. Wright's "Justification" while sipping espresso on the back porch. Sarah came up to visit me for a while: Skyline Chili and chatting on the front porch while watching cold September rains. She told me Keith got in a bar fight and broke his hand and had a bottle smashed over his head. She left, and Dylan & Tyler came over. We went to the Mall for a bit and spent the evening playing Wii and hanging out on the front porch despite the cold.

Tuesday. It's strange: though I knew this day would come, as it did with Julie and Courtney, I refused to believe it. Amidst the situation, with all the emotions, there seemed to be no light, only darkness. And then glimmers of light began to appear, and then ribbons, and the darkness melted away. I laughed, I sang, I danced for joy. I enjoyed life once again. Dan Dyke told me a long time ago, "It's surprising what we can 'get over.'" His words brought me hope; and now his words have come true: I am completely over Sarah.

Wednesday. I was in a contemplative mood all day, spent most of the night just driving around, smoking cigarettes and drinking an iced decaf soy caramel macchiato. I miss all those drives in Cincinnati. My most frequent was the OH-50 turnaround, but sometimes I'd go down and drive around the stadiums where drug deals went down once 3 AM hit. Sometimes I'd go across the Brent-Spence and drive into Ludlow, KY and sit on the bleachers in the old baseball field and across the river and up the rise perched the lookout at Mount Echo. Other times I'd just get lost on purpose in the hills of northern Kentucky. I miss those drives. I miss, too, the drive into Eden Park and out Mount Adams and I'd always slow down by the Gazebo to see if the wailing ghost would show but she never did. I miss getting coffee at the Mariemont Starbucks and I miss the old stone church with the overgrown graveyard and I miss the Mount Adams overlook and my eggs and coffee at The Anchor, but mostly I miss my friends.

Thursday. A wedding party came through work today. It was happy but sad for me. Courtney got married this time last year. I've never loved anyone like her despite "meeting" several girls. I could've loved Mandy K. that way, and Sarah, but neither would have any of it. Carly saw the hurt in my eyes, patted me on the back. "Don't worry, Pal. You'll find someone."

Friday. I picked up Chipotle for lunch. The manager knew me from work, comes in all the time. "You look like a natural there, you really do!" he said. Apparently my forte is found behind an espresso machine. Jessica C., Asenath, and J.J. all commented on how skinny I look. Aunt Teri & Grandma came up; Great Aunt Ethel is in the hospital for some brain issues. Dylan & Tyler both came over and we smoked our pipes on the back porch. Tyler got a pipe today, and I gave one of my extras to Dylan. I'm keeping the Salvinelli. 

Saturday. Sarah & Keith are "back together." Last night he grabbed her phone and made several calls to guys in her address book, telling them he was going to kill them and put them in body-bags. One of them was her mom's friend, and he told Cindy about it and said Sarah was sobbing in the background. Cindy freaked out because she knows a girl who was dating a guy like Keith, and she ended up getting killed. Cindy called me, falling apart: "What's WRONG with her, Anthony?!" she wailed. It's tragic: Sarah may end up being the one in the body-bag. Ams went off on Sarah for what happened: "You're ruining your relationships with everyone who cares about you, your mom is sobbing because of what you're doing, and you won't change! You just keep fucking yourself over and over!" Ams wants me to move back down to Cincinnati at the end of her lease. "I need you here," she said. "We all miss you."

Sunday. I think my problem is self-confidence. I AM attractive. I AM cute. I need to stop "living in the past" and come to terms with reality. I'm a great, wonderful, attractive guy. Far better than most! And humble, too. I talked to Ams about my insecurities. "You look great, Anth. You're not a stick, but you'll never be: you're short and stocky. And that's not a bad thing! You look fit and healthy, absolutely NOT overweight. So be confident." I don't know why I'm so hard on myself for my pudge when I borderline salivate over it on women.