vacation (III)

Amanda, Dad & I at the beach

Vacation's come to an end, and it's been great. I've covered most of the highlights in the previous blog-posts, so I'll spare the details. It's been nice to just relax, hang out, take it easy, and be lazy for a little bit. Quiet evenings listening to the cicadas, the roar of the waves against the beach, the sand tickling my toes. Watching the sunrise over the beach, the sunset over the inlet. Alligators in the waters right by the condominium. Amazing, delicious food (I've probably gained a few pounds, but I don't even care; it's not vacation if you don't). And as much as I've enjoyed this, I'm looking forward to getting back to the grindstone. Tomorrow's our last day--it'll be spent shopping, packing, and going to bed early--and Saturday we're leaving around 4-5 A.M. bound homeword. A fifteen hour drive, and I'm the first driver. We'll be getting back around 6-7:00 in the evening, and I'm going to finish packing the car, visit Carly at work, and head down to Cincinnati to finish unpacking my things and to hang out for Blake and Amos for a bit. Work starts up again next week, and Rob and Mandy will be back from Seattle sometime Tuesday. Tyler's going to come down Sunday, and Jess and Carly may come down to see me sometime next week, too. Life is good.

And in writing news: I've written around 50 pages on a new story. I'm not going to try and get it published. This is an experimental story, me trying to figure out a different style to see how I can use it effectively. Nevertheless, I think it'll be a decent project to add to my "private" collection. 

I'm drunk off Nyquil and going to bed.

See you in July.

vacation (II)

Vacation continues to be great. Yesterday we celebrated Mom's birthday with a trip to Old Savannah, Georgia. It was honestly more fun than I expected. We boarded a trolley and cruised around town, walked through the open-air markets and ate lunch at the oldest place in Georgia, an old pirate's tavern where drinkers used to be abducted and forced onto Navy ships. This was back in the early 1700s, so the United States didn't even exist yet. And they say it's haunted. I tried collared greens for the first time and enjoyed them. We went down by the Savannah River and did some shopping, and we ended the night with a Ghosts & Graveyards tour of Savannah's most haunted locations. Apparently it's the most haunted place in the world? 

I'll be honest, I believe in ghosts. I'm  not quite sure how it jives with my theology, but you can't just discard the very thought because it's an awkward puzzle piece which you can't figure out where it goes. My mom's seen ghosts multiple times throughout her life (sometimes it seems they follow her around; but then again, this shouldn't be surprising, as there's some history of witchcraft in her family), and I've seen one or two that I can't deny.

Today has been a rather lazy day. I spent the majority of the day in the air conditioned condominium, doing some writing and listening to music. A monsoon came around 4:30 and we went out to eat at a Longhorn Steakhouse down the road. I don't eat steak much--loads of calories and fat--but when I do, I splurge. Tonight I had a 12-ounce sirloin with a baked potato, side salad, and several slices of honey-wheat bread. Absolutely fantastic. My belly throbs even worse than usual (insert smiley-faced emoticon here). Tomorrow we'll probably hit up the beach, I plan on doing a twenty-mile bike-ride around the island, and then we're going to eat Fuddrucker's for dinner. We used to have a plethora of Fuddrucker's back home, but they all closed down; so, quite understandably, when I saw the Fuddrucker's here, I flipped my shit. I'm not sure what Friday holds, but Saturday we're leaving Hilton Head around 4 A.M. (I agreed to drive: I want to get back by evening so I can do laundry, finish packing the car, and finish the move down to Cincinnati). I'm not looking forward to the 12-hour drive, but I bought a bottle of Nyquil to take after my driving shift; if I drink a good amount, I should be passed out for the vast majority of the rest of the trip. 

it's still surreal

Life’s changing and it’s changing quickly. I can barely keep up with it. New job, new home, an entirely different structure to my life. I worked my last shift at Spring Valley Starbucks. Bittersweet, to say the least. I’ll miss that place. One of the biggest things I had to decide was whether or not Cincinnati was worth leaving Spring Valley. Starbucks is a great company to work for, but what made Spring Valley so great was the people I worked with. Great people who made nine-hour shifts not just endurable but enjoyable.

I’m thankful that I already have a solid base with several people down at Tazza Mia, and I look forward to becoming friends with the others. Rob told me I’ll fit in quite well there. Many of the rules that I’ve had to abide by for the last couple years have come from working for corporations; Tazza Mia isn’t corporate America, and the rules are much less stringent. I’m thinking, of course, of the dress code. If there’s one thing that I love about Tazza, it’s that I can (within reason) wear whatever I want whenever I want. Now I won’t have to spend money accommodating my work’s dress code; I can spend money buying clothes I like, and justify it by calling them “work clothes.”

I’m excited about living in community with people I love. Amanda told me yesterday, “I don’t really know what I want to do with my life, except be with friends.” At this point I’m not sure, either; but I know that friends make the world go ‘round, so-to-speak, and as long as I have great friends who’re there for me and for whom I’ll be there, I’m hoping everything will be okay. The Claypole House is filled with much laughter and good conversation, not to mention late-night adventures and spontaneity.

I’ve been asking myself, “Why have I made such an effort to get down to Cincinnati?” The reasons are numerous, and that’s a post for another time. But I’m confident I made the right decision, and I’m looking forward to launching into my new Cincinnati life once we get back from South Carolina. So much change in such a little amount of time. Excited but nervous. It still feels surreal, it really does. Half my things are in Cincinnati; half are in Dayton. I’m 12 hours away and currently “unemployed” (though this will last only another couple days). I feel like I’m in a dream that’s threatening to be interrupted. I keep thinking maybe I’ll wake up. But I won’t “wake up”, and I’m cool with that.

vacation (I)

We’re staying at the Palmetto Dunes Oceanfront Resort in Hilton Head, South Carolina. This place is less touristy than I thought it’d be; the island seems to be composed of various resorts and plantations off-limits to everyone except those who’re paying to stay there. All the beaches are private, which is good, because our beach is never too crowded. I’m not a big fan of the “Spring Break” touristy places, and Hilton Head’s much more relaxed and at-ease. I like this. And this vacation came at just the right time, too. The last month of my life has been chaotically stressful, to say the least, and now I can finally just sit back, have a nice cup of coffee, and enjoy the sunrise on the beach. We really don’t have much planned, just relaxing and going with the flow (minus Tuesday, Mom’s birthday, when we’re going to Savannah and on a “ghost tour”, because Mom’s all up in that stuff). The highlights of vacation thus far are as follows:

Sea Turtles. It’s nesting season here, and when night falls and the low tide reaches its zenith, baby sea turtles hatch from their eggs and scurry across the sand and plunge into the water. Amanda and I went searching the other night, but all we found were the dug-up nests and baby sea turtle tracks leading into the water. Tonight we’re going to be biking along the beach at sunset. Perhaps our luck will be better?

The Beach. Every day we go to the beach for a couple hours. Prop up the umbrellas, lay out in the sand, wade into the surf and try to ride the waves on little foam boards we found underneath our beds. Dad’s a pro at it, and emulating him, I’ve been able to pull off a couple good rides. Most of the people at the beach are older folk and families with children; there’s hardly anyone my age, at least anyone single. We’ve sure got a lot of honeymooners running around out here, and I don’t blame this. Getting a condo, having sex with my wife, enjoying good food, and going to the beach. All of that sounds pretty great for a honeymoon (especially the sex).

Writing. I haven’t written much over the last several weeks, due mostly to the overwhelming stress. I’ve finally been able to relax, and yesterday I started a possible story by hammering out 30 pages of original text. I gave a possibly synopsis to Amanda and she seemed interested. It’s weird, dark, funny, disturbed. And awkward. Hell, it’s written by me, so it’s bound to be awkward.

We’re about to go to the beach, so I’ve got to get off here.

And then dinner’s going to be spaghetti.

And then I’ll watch “Lie to Me” on my netbook.

And maybe even write a few more pages.

Another good thing about Hilton Head: there are plenty of Starbucks around. I’ve gotten my iced soy latte every morning, laden with raw sugar. Really, there’s nothing like it. The prices are expensive around here, unfortunately. But my partner card still works, so I’m still banking 30% off. I’m not sure how long the card will work; I’ll just ride it out till it’s dead.

the dayton days [73]

Cars made a drink for me

Monday. I worked 5:30-1:00, my last shift with Carly :(. There's a new hire, my replacement, her name's Taylor, and she's adorable. "I so knew you'd be into her," Carly quipped. I went straight down to Cincinnati and unpacked all my stuff in the infamous walkthrough room. Tony moved out to Illinois to be with Jessie, so it's perfect. "This is so minimalistic it's giving me a hard-on," Rob said. I spent the afternoon hanging out with Gambill, and Mandy & Ams made quesadillas. Tomorrow's my first day. *Fingers Crossed*

Tuesday. I woke up to iced coffee and a sunrise. Mandy dropped me off downtown for my first day at Tazza Mia. I cut my finger within five minutes and made a fool out of myself in front of Cassie by spitting up in my drink. John's training me, and he told Mandy that he could see me being a permanent fixture to the store and that I was KILLING it on the floor. After work I met up with Mandy at Soho--err, Fushion, they changed their name--and we hung out at her place (well, our place, good ol' Claypole), and we hit up Japp's bar where Tazza Mia makes liquor drinks, and then we smoked hookah. Regarding Tazza Mia, this place feels good, all of it does. "It's like I didn't move from Cincinnati, more like I took a sabbatical, and now I'm back." All this bodes well (minus my cut finger: at least I didn't need stitches. That would've looked great on my first day). Brandy Rae told Blake, "Anthony has no idea his worth." How sweet. I tried calling Jessica, but she didn't answer and didn't try to get back with me. And honestly I don't much care.

Wednesday. Day Two! I didn't cut open any fingers, so there's some progress. We were much busier today. John said I'm kicking ass at the job, and he told Rob he's recommending Bob make this deal final ASAP. Rob, Mandy and I carpooled home. We smoked and had a light dinner and played some Smash Brothers on the Wii with Rob & Amos. We heard gunshots in the street. "So nice to be back." Heavy rains shook the house. Jessica called me to see how everything was going. Unexpected and delightful: lots of whimsical laughter. 

Thursday. Day Three! Bob offered me the job, and I took it. He's even letting me go on vacation. Everyone's excited now that it's official. Mandy & I celebrated in our own way, and then I headed back to Dayton and stopped by work to see Carly. She was a hot mess: drama with Devyn, me moving to Cincinnati, and Faith may be quitting to take care of her family, since Kiel got a new job. Jess called me, flipping shit about Faith leaving, ASM is out the window, and Spring Valley's like the Titanic heading straight into an iceberg. "We're losing all our best people!"

Friday. Jess and I opened together, our last time. It was pretty damned sad. She gave me a going away present: a pack of cigarettes. "I'm not going to say bye, 'cause I know I'll see you again." I tried going to the store later in the day but was wearing Mom's slippers, so I had to backtrack. I spent the evening packing for both vacation and Cincinnati. I went for a late-night smoke drive. Carly told Jessica, "Anthony's over what happened with you, he's moved on." She told me Jess' face instantly fell into fear and disappointment. "And shame on her, because she's going to try to draw this out."

Saturday. I woke at 3:30 AM and at four Mom, Dad and I headed down to Cincinnati to pick up Ams before beading to South Carolina. We rolled into Hilton Head around 5:30, unpacked at the condo. We're 1/4 mile from the beach. We had dinner at a bar-&-grill (I had broiled scallops and veggies, yum!) and then we got groceries. The store was SWAMPED. And there was an adorable petite girl my size. Hard not to check her out. When Mom & Dad went to bed, I went out to the beach and smoked. Mom and Ams joined me, and we looked for sea turtles but could only find their tracks. 

Sunday. I slept in till 10:00 and had a cigarette next a palm tree. We went to the beach for a while, then rented some bikes so we can bike around the resort. I relaxed around the condo for a bit, got Starbucks from down the road, and wrote twenty-five pages in a possible short story. Ams & I smoked and went swimming.

way to make it awkward, buddy

There’s an ancient kind of writing called “apocalyptic literature.” The basic idea is that certain events are infused with greater, even cosmic, meaning. A prime example of this includes The Olivet Discourse(s) and Revelation. Much misunderstanding regarding apocalyptic literature stems from the inability to understand what apocalyptic literally means. It doesn’t mean “end-of-the-world” kind of stuff, nor is it material to be taken literally. The problem with the English language, I think, is that we think in too stark of terms. When it comes to writing our thoughts, we take a hardliners approach: spell it out in detail, make it black and white, etc. How many of us when writing or thinking about our day take the smallest moments and infuse them with meaning (good or bad)? Because we both (a) don’t understand apocalyptic literature and (b) tend to take such literature at face value, misunderstandings and, important for my purposes here, misinterpretations, are common-place. Now, I wouldn’t say that I write on this blog in apocalyptic fashion; but at the same time, my writing breaks away from the simple crisp-&-stark terms so common. And the reason is two-fold:

First, I live in constant awareness to the story my life is writing (as a writer I think through things from a narrative perspective rather than a systematic one, unlike many people). As someone who enjoys pondering and contemplating, my awareness of my life’s ongoing story infuses events with meaning, which nearly always leads to speculation, conjecture, fantasy and illusion. Hell, half the mistakes I’ve made over the past five years are because of this. Nevertheless, I think it’s a good thing, and I know it’s not something I can stop (and believe me, I’ve tried).

Second, I look at things—events, experiences, situations & circumstances—from a variety of angles; this abstract process of re:examining things often leads to an overarching perspective on the things, and there are series of meta-narratives constantly intertwining and unweaving that create the ultimate overarching perspective (which one would call a worldview). This way of thinking fleshes itself out in my journals; and sometimes my journals end up on here. It’s like this: I generally look at things from two sets of lens, each overlapping but drawn at different angles. There’s the “surface-level” lens, examining the subject from multiple different angles without infusing them with meaning; then there’s the “deeper level” (note: I’m making this up as I go, and I know that if I spend too much time trying to figure out a witty name for the second level, I’ll lose track of my place in this winding rabbit-hole logic)… Damn, I think I lost it. Okay, yeah, at the second level I infuse meanings to the events (whether knowingly or unknowingly, most often unknowingly). And when it comes to writing (such as in my journal), I blend the two together (because event & meaning are intrinsically connected) into an image of the thing; and this image can either inspire hope or sadness, or any other host of feelings (though most often those two), and I invoke the use of imagery, symbolism, similis and metaphors, and figures of speech to convey the event along with its given meaning carrying it forward. This manner of writing, when taken literally, can lead to all sorts of conclusions. Take, for example, something I wrote about a month ago:

Our hopes and dreams should not blossom into an irrational or illogical state-of-being. How strange it is that love acts as a poison, spawning irrational fervers and fostering childish illusions of the world? Logic must not be tossed to the wayside.

My entire point being: “Being in love with the wrong person sucks ass. But it’s not the end of the world. Grow a pair and get over it.” The context of all this involved one of my Cincinnati pals talking about some guy she was head-over-heels for, “in love,” and he didn’t want her. Some people reading this, however, might jump to conclusions about me as a person. Case in point: a year or two ago someone read something I wrote on here and told me to (and I quoted him above) “grow a pair and get over it, stop being a pussy.” I literally laughed out loud. When it comes to things like “love” and “romance” and all that, I’m about as cynical and skeptical as you can get. My advice for difficult situations used to be all sympathetic and caring; now it’s blunt and honest, and because of that, few people ask me for advice. I tell it like it is, and I force myself to come to grips with reality, and sometimes this, too, comes across as highly emotional, severe, intense. And the funny thing is, I’m never that severe or intense about it “in real life.” The severe and intense posts over the last couple months, for example, haven’t come about as I’ve curled into a fetal position and lamented my life; no, they’ve come about in jokes and stories, love and laughter. The point of all this being: someone may assume to know the way I’m thinking, how I’m feeling, and what I’m going through by reading through this blog; but I’m a writer to the core, and one who loves to use non-literal descriptions and atmospheres in my writing, so they’d better keep that in mind. Or else they run the risk of totally misinterpreting me, and the result is that they have a skewed image of me based upon their misinterpretations, and that’s never fun for anybody.

an unlikely solution

There was, of course, one unlikely solution to the problem: take the job and get to go on vacation. It looks like this is how it’s panning out. The owner came to me today at work to catch up on how I was doing and to get my feedback, and he was delighted to hear that I’d stay (I’ve made quite an impression; “task-master” is an appropriate nickname), and he even gave me vacation off. My nine-day work week ends with my last day of work at Starbucks, and then the next day vacation commences. One solid week spent in Hilton Head along the Carolina coast. We return Sunday, and that night I carry the rest of my stuff to the house, and then Monday I get everything settled with Tazza Mia and launch right into the next chapter in my life. The crazy busyness continues, but it’s a busyness no longer infused with conflict and unresolved questions but, rather, a busyness infused with hope and excitement. Now that the decision has been made, I feel a strange concoction of excitement and peace. Exhilarated and yet relaxed at the same time. How can such a thing be? I chalk it up to exhilaration at knowing I’m moving here and peace because the craziness has just about come to an end and I get to clear my mind, take a few deep breaths, and relax by the ocean for a few days. Now to enjoy a crisp and cool Asian wrap, watch “Lie to Me”, and then to head back to Dayton. But I’ll be back here in a few days, my new home:

the birthplace of awkward moments and ridiculous adventures

24 hours

I’ve been in Cincinnati since Monday afternoon and am leaving tomorrow evening. The stay has been enjoyable, full of promise and anticipation, and the countdown for me making “The Big Decision” has cropped itself down to about twenty-four hours. The Big Decision being, of course, whether or not I’m going to take a new job and move down here. The very idea is exhilarating, and I’m excited about what life would be like down here. Living down here would entail laughter, awkward and hilarious situations, ridiculous and kiddish adventures, shameless and unbarred immaturity; what’s not to like about that? Being around—and even living with—people I love. Living in community… That’s an oh-so-beautiful thought. I’ve experienced it before, I’m experiencing it now, I want it to go on. A fresh life waits to be discovered, a new chapter yet unwritten unfolding in my life. In truth, being here hasn’t felt like being away from home. I told Mandy when we were downtown, “I lived here for five years, moved away for a year, and have come back. Of course this feels like home.” The most formative moments in my psychological and social development, those things which have carved deep recesses in my all-too-foggy memory, all of these have happened here. This is, in some sense, where I became who I am. Cincinnati feels like home because, at least in one sense, it is my home. I have as much love and endearment towards her as I do where I grew up before college. All this to say, again, that the idea of living here is something my heart truly reaches for. Being here has filled my heart with warmth and hope, a permeating sense of well-being. I feel like a puzzle being set into place.

And for all that, there remains the fear. While Cincinnati burns in my heart, there’s no absence of love for where I’m at now. Living with my parents at age 24? Yeah, that’s not the highlight. But my amazing parents, the friends I’ve made, the great workplace I enjoy, the quiet evenings on the front porch and Sky falling asleep beside me at night. These are things I’ll miss. These are things I already miss. There’s the fear of homesickness, and coupled with that the fear of not making friends at work; or, rather, not experiencing the same kind of environment at Starbucks where we all became good friends and even some of us became great friends who hung out all the time. I know that I’m a likeable person, and I know I have an inviting personality, and I know that I’ve made friends or at least had people want to be my friend wherever I’ve been. Such fears are groundless, but that doesn’t make them any less existent. Top this off with the reality that if I do move down to Cincinnati, if I do take this job, I’ll most likely be missing the last family vacation: Mom, Dad, and Amanda going off to Hilton Head without me. I really want to go; really, the house down here will be deserted that week anyways, so there’s literally no value found in missing vacation (at least on the selfish end). But if I decide to take this job, I’ll be stirring up a possible hornet’s nest when it comes to my family’s emotions, drama sprouting at my ankles and crawling up my body like kudzu. All the fears, the risk of possibly intense drama, and then just knowing that it’s all unknown, that I can never really know the best decision until the decision pans out—either as horribly awful or wonderfully well.

I’ve always tried to be as logical as possible. I’ve sought to make logical decisions amidst whatever situations I happen to be going through. But sometimes logic doesn’t offer you the answer because there is no logical answer. Wisdom’s usually there to provide some sort of framework (and honestly my logic is more based on wisdom—or cynicism?—than anything else), but this decision staring me down is unanswerable. Which path to choose? Which route to take? Logic offers no solution. And so what am I left with? My gut feeling. And I think I know what my gut feeling is telling me. Life’s too short. Be willing to make mistakes. Have fun. Don’t try to rationalize and understand everything. Pursue your dreams. That’s what I’m feeling, and maybe that’s just what I need to do.

something to fight for

Jessica and I hung out for a little bit after work, the last hangout time we’ll probably have in a good long while. We ran by her old condo and hit a few stores running errands. On our drive back into town we talked about our hopes and dreams and all that exciting yet depressing stuff. Exciting, because dreams cut to the core of who we are, become defining elements in our existential lives; and depressing because, well, hardly anyone accomplishes their dreams. It’s easy to go the route of succumbing to the current state-of-affairs, saying, “Well, this is it. Better stick my feet in the sand and make a home.” Jessica told me that the vast majority of those she graduated with, people dreaming to become artists, have set their feet in the sand and sought to reconstruct their dreams around lives of comfort. And here’s the reason she’s such an inspiration, such an encouragement, because while she knows full well the possibility of failure (as do I), and while she’s made mistakes in the pursuit of her dream (as have I), unlike me she’s still pressing forward, still fighting the current, still keeping her eye on that glimmering light in the distance that is a dream that can so easily be forgotten and even dismissed. I haven’t lost my dream, but I’ve come close to giving up on it; and perhaps one of the things I like best about Jess is that she’s refusing to submit, refusing to give up, fighting tooth-&-nail and staring the mountain she must climb with every intention of climbing it.

In the quieter moments the dream comes back to me, rising from the surface of my unconsciousness and becoming glaringly evident. The dream, really, is two-fold: (1) fall in love. I’m not some hopeless romantic who’s all about unrequited love (which is always a wee bit creepy at times); in fact, I’m quite cynical and broken but wiser (catch that quote?). But no matter how far you may drift from hopeless romanticism, there’s always the desire to fall “in love,” whether or not you phrase it that way, and I’m just as human as everyone else and want that. And (2) I want to become a career writer, hammering out stories and novels and selling enough copies to live a frugal and simple life in the backwoods somewhere. I don’t want to get rich or be a household name; no, I just want to be able to comfortably live and enjoy my times with friends and family. Really, how awful is that? But while I haven’t (at least in some ways) given up on “true love,” and while it may be something I don’t fully believe in, for the most part, it’s still something I hope for (whether wisely or foolishly, who can really know?). The second dream has been all but entirely pushed aside, in its places a dry and resolute skepticism. The point of my life has gone from pursuing something I longed to do and be and hoping in something beautiful along the way to a stone-cold stoicism focused on surviving and trying to enjoy it as best as possible. It is, in a way, a sort of resolution, or dissolution, if you will (sure, I will). I haven’t become content, I haven’t found my niche, I haven’t found the fountain of genuine living; I’m just trying to pay my bills and not be miserable in the meantime.

And yet this hope comes alive, again, in the quieter moments, and after talking with Jessica, it’s come back full-force. Friends tell me to shoot for it. I have the success and popularity in at least one major genre. I’m talented, creative, and weird: the best combination for a bad-ass story (and a combination that spawned both my biggest mistake and biggest success thus far). And though the desire to write burns within me, and though I never feel so alive as when I’m writing a story, I find myself at a halt, refusing to pursue this dream. So many factors hold me back, and nearly every one of them traces back to fear. Fear of failure, fear of not making it, fear of making the biggest mistake of my life by abandoning my dream. But how better is it to fear never accomplishing something, never making an elephantine effort, the fear of becoming an old man full of regret and alone? Not all dreams are worth fighting for; but when there’s the potential, then maybe it’s something to fight for. And I think this is something to fight for.

the dayton days [72]

Monday. I worked 6-1:00. Jess loves the pipe I gave her. I also included some tobacco and cleaning supplies. Ecosure came and all hell broke loose, but we got a 95%! After work I went down to Cincinnati and Mom, Ams, Blake and I went to the Cincinnati Zoo. "Mom, can I have a soda?" We had dinner at The Spicy Pickle. Mom headed back to Dayton, and I spent the rest of the evening hanging out at the Claypole House: it was Rob's birthday and we watched an awful movie, "Sharktopus."

Tuesday. I went by work for tips and Jess' locker was open, and inside she had an old note I'd written her taped up. How cute. She came over for a bit after work, again on her own initiative. We just sat on the porch and smoked pipes, and while we were talking Bob from Tazza Mia called, offered me the food prep position at the Vine Street location downtown. The guy they'd hired quit. I hung up the phone and she asked who it was, and my face was beaming. "That was the owner at Tazza Mia. He offered me the job." Surprise was written all over her face, but not as much as it was over mine. I went by work and saw Carly, told her the news, told her to keep it quiet. That didn't put her in a good mood.

Wednesday. I worked 5:30-2:00. Lots of drama at work: Jess is torn between ASM and Spring Valley; J.J. and I are practically out the door; Faith's husband may be getting an out-of-state job in Washington. We're down a shift with Wade at Centerville now. It's Grade-A chaos. Jess asked if I wanted to hang out after work, and we went back to my place and smoked on the front porch. She complained about her belly fat (adorable) and I patted mine as if to one-up her. "Seriously, Anthony? You're fine." She left and when Mom & Dad got home we ate dinner and then I jetted down to Cincinnati to hang out with Rob, Mandy, and Amos. Everyone in Cincinnati's stoked about me moving down, especially Mandy & Ams. Mandy flipped shit. "OMFG, OMFG, OMFG, yes, yes, YES!!!" On my way home I met up with Megan's sister-in-law Laura and her husband to deliver a gift from Mandy. She was super nervous and awkward about it, but I was cool. It was weird.

Thursday. I went by the Route 48 Starbucks to see Wade but he wasn't working. At 10:00 I met up with Carly at her place. We got drinks from work, did some grocery shopping, and then had lunch at her place. Alison joined us for a swim in the complex's pool. We ended the afternoon with ice cream from The K and coffee liquor from Heather's across the street. 

Friday. I worked 6-3:00. My back's so sunburnt and sore. Mom & I grabbed lunch/dinner (supper?) at China Garden. I spent the evening hanging out and working out, and I went by work to see Carly.

Saturday. I worked 5:30-2:00. Crazy day but with a good crew. Jess & I worked the same shift. She went home early, so no after-work hangout. I ran down to Cincinnati to see Mandy. Bob came over to see Rob, so we went upstairs (we were pretty intoxicated, didn't want to make a bad first, err, second, impression). "Don't worry," Rob said: "You're not part of corporate America anymore." Mandy, Rob, Blake and I got Yogurt V in Clifton, and then Mandy & I made a Kroger run. 

Father's Day. Jess asked to hang out after work today, so we ran by a few stores and to the old condo in North Dayton so she could pick up some things. We had lots of great talks about our lives, pursuing our dreams, etc. I loaded up my car to move down to Cincinnati: I'm starting the job Tuesday; Bob said, "Try it out, and if you like it, the job's yours." Carly came over bearing gifts: elegant chopsticks and sushi from Kabuki! We watched TV and cuddled with Sky and ran off to The K for ice cream. We sat on the front of the car and devoured our cones and talked about Cincinnati, moving there, etc. I also learned some more stuff about Jess: although she does have feelings for me, and although she knows we would be great together, she remains in that childish stage where you just go to whatever looks the most sexually pleasing. Jess told Faith, "I like Anthony, but I don't want to fuck his brains out. I want to fuck Navy Guy's brains out." Another testament to what she's looking for: random, disconnected, "hot" hookups. "Just another Sarah," Ams mused. I pick them well. "You and Jess," Carly said, "are probably a dead end. I'm sorry." As if that's news. Thank God I'm getting away from all this at the right time.

of cats and koalas

Carly (a.k.a. Cars) and I got to hang out today, and it was great. We haven’t seen much of one another lately (I work mornings, she works evenings, I’ve been in Cincinnati so much, and she’s started doing an internship at Southbrook) and it was great to finally have some time to relax. I've been missing the early days of our burgeoning friendship, when we'd get to hang out all the time, either at my place or hers, or running around town, or just grabbing lunch or dinner. And I miss our candid shots, pasted in here for memory's sake (may they never be forgotten!).

We ran by work for drinks and then went shopping for groceries. Back at her apartment we fixed a crisp and healthy lunch: hummus, spinach, feta cheese, and cucumbers in pita breads, polished off with edamame. Alison came home and we all went down to the pool and swam/sun-bathed for a little while. Finished with that, we walked down the street for ice cream from The K and coffee from the hole-in-the-wall coffeehouse next door. We had such good conversation and much laughter, it’s always a good time. 

I’m glad she’s hoping to move down to Cincinnati in December; she’s a great friend and I don’t wish that to change. We clicked super well working together, and then we hung out after work one day, and the result was a fantastic friendship where we can call each other one of our best friends. Yes, if she moved down to Cincinnati that would be great (but 'till then, we're only an hour from each other, and she's in Cincinnati often, so it'll be all right). 

Yeah. We're weird.

excited, nervous, scared

I originally planned on moving to Cincinnati at the end of the summer. It looks like that’ll be happening quite sooner (i.e. really soon: like a week). A few weeks ago I interviewed for a position with Tazza Mia, a top-notch coffee shop located in the Cincinnati area. I didn’t get the job, and that was sort of a letdown, but oh well. A few days ago, the owner calls me and asks if I’m interested. “Absolutely.” Things didn’t work out with the original guy, and since I was the obvious best choice of all the candidates (passed over because, in a sense, I was too qualified), he offered me full-time, pay higher than I have now, and immediate starting. He then asked if I still lived “up north,” I said yes, and he suggested a three-day trial run in the position to see if I liked it; and if I like it, the job’s mine. That was far better of a deal, because I wouldn’t get stuck somewhere awful (if that were the case) and so I wouldn’t be plunging headfirst into this without knowing all it entails. I talked to my current boss, and she gave me a three-day stretch off when I can get down there and go through a couple shifts. I’ll be in Cincinnati that entire time, not commuting from Dayton, and so I’ll get a “real feel” for how it’ll be. I conveyed this to my (future) roommates, and they were quite exuberant. To quote Mandy: “OMFG, OMFG, OMFG, yes, yes, yes!” I told Carly about it (one of my closest friends here), and she’s excited (she plans on moving down to Cincinnati at the end of autumn, anyways). I told Jess and Faith, and they were both shocked that it could happen so soon. As an aside: I really do feel bad for not being able to give more notice, but this is a complex situation, and so that route couldn’t be walked; also, this is possibly the worst possible timing for our store, as a handful of other people are soon out the door and we’re already down-staffed four employees. As much as the timing and situation sucks, it won’t keep me from missing out on this potentially awesome gig.

So how am I feeling? Excited. Nervous. Scared. Not conflicted (this is something I really want to do). I’m excited about the move, excited about getting back down to Cincinnati, excited about being around the people I love the most. I’m excited about all the fun things to do down there, and doing them with people I value as true and lasting friends. I’m excited about a better-paying job with better hours, excited about being part of something unique and original and expanding as opposed to being with a company as vast as Starbucks. I’m nervous about how difficult the transition will be, how I’ll have to alter some things about my life, nervous about how it’ll affect things back here (not least of all my relationship with “the girl”). I’m scared that this may end up backfiring in my face, becoming a worse situation than I have here in Dayton. I easily succumb to paranoia, and my imagination treads dark waters of speculation and conjecture, so I seek to dispel these thoughts. Besides, I’ll be in the same town (hell, eventually, the same house) as my little sister, my best friend. It’s really quite overwhelming to think that this will be something involving the entire restructuring of my life, rebuilding myself in a different arena. The move won’t be difficult (I moved out of the Lehman House in a single day, and I’m minimalistic at this point in life, so I don’t need many “things”); but the changing of the scenery, the dissolution of my job at Starbucks, etc. can be lots to digest. Usually one would have time to process all this over an extended period of time; I’ve got exactly a week. Don’t think this means I’m conflicted: again, I’m not—I really want to do this and really cannot wait till it becomes reality. It’s just not something small, and treating it as such (for someone with my personality type) is impossible.

All that said, this next week or two will be insanely busy. I work through Monday, will be doing a trial-run at Tazza Mia Tuesday through Thursday, and then will most likely be working next weekend. If I decide to move down there, I’ll have to cut cords with my current place-of-employment (an extremely difficult task, as I love the job and the people I work with), move down to Cincinnati, and be ready-to-go Monday for another five-day stretch. Will I be exhausted? Yes. Will you be seeing lots of updates on here? Probably not. We’ll see how all this pans out.

the dayton days [71]

Monday. I had the day off, ran some errands and took Sky through DT to get her a puppy whip. It's truly like crack to her. Wade put in his transfer to Centerville. Mom went down to Cincinnati to take Amanda shopping, and I got Subway for lunch, listened to some music, and went by work to see Carly. She was in a really bad mood, drama with Devyn, she said she's thinking about dumping him. "You don't tell your girlfriend that you dread spending time with her and that she's as annoying as your 8-year-old cousin." Ouch. I deleted Jess' number from my phone: I won't be able to contact her, and God knows she won't contact me.

Tuesday. I worked 6:30-11:00, had a sales meeting with Kyle, Jess and Joanne till 11:30, hung out with Carly for a bit, and did an ecosure audit. Mom came in while I was at work and I sat with her on my 10. Jess came out onto the patio and chatted it up with Mom for a bit. I went over to Carly's apartment this evening to hang out for a bit, and then Tyler came over and we sat on the back porch and smoked. Ams is leaving her apartment. Sarah's gone off the deep-end. Titanic deep. Snorting pills, drunken sex with young guys (practically gang-bangs), just making a fool out of herself and deepening the ruin. Ams feels sick just being around her. 

Wednesday. Jess and I got off at the same time, and she suggested hanging out. We ran some errands (she got some painting supplies to break in her new easel) and we got an early dinner at Kabuki, ran a roll to Carly. When we delivered it to her at work, Kyle yelled, "Hey, Anthony, are you and Jessica in a secret love relationship?" Carly shot him down super fast. Way to make it awkward, Buddy. Before we parted ways, Jess and I used car chalk to paint all sorts of images on Carly's car. I went down to Cincinnati to hang out with Amos & Mandy upstairs and to smoke hookah with Rob. I got back around 2 AM and crashed.

Thursday. "I'll miss you when you leave," Jess told me today, "even though I'll still be able to see you." I'm trying not to read into it: her effort at hanging out yesterday was just because she was inconveniently kept out of her house 'cause it was being sprayed. I'm pretty sure that when I move, Jess & I will be done. That damned intuition; when has it failed me? Carly and I worked together: in reference to her car, she remarked, "I already know how I'm getting revenge!" I spent the day cleaning, had Subway for lunch and sushi for dinner.

Friday. I worked 6-10:00. Jess and I spent some time out on the patio talking and smoking cigarettes. An impromptu trip to Cincinnati followed: Blake, Ams & I grilled out. A big storm rolled through. Purple lightning struck Ams' car and nearly blew my brains out.

Saturday. It stormed all morning. I worked an easy albeit slow 6-2:00 shift. This evening I went back by work to see Carly. She bought me a delightful eucalyptus candle, and I sat on the front porch with Alison for a while. Jobst came over around 4:30. We grilled chicken out back and paired it with corn-on-the-cob and baked potatoes, and for desert we had some bourbon, played chess, and smoked our pipes. Carly told me that Jess told her one of the reasons she isn't super attracted to me is because I look like a kid, I'm not tall, dark, or handsome. That isn't to say, though, that I'm unattractive; but I can't help wonder how many times this will happen? Does anyone know any women who're into cute guys who look like teenagers? I sure as hell don't.

Sunday. I worked 6:30-3:00. Jess and I got off at the same time, and she asked me to wait up for her after work, and we sat out on the curb and smoked cigarettes and talked. She's considering taking an ASM position, but she's not sure about it. I spent the rest of my day sunbathing in the pool. Dewenter came over for a little bit. I cleaned one of my pipes, am soaking it in bourbon overnight. A gift to Jess, per her request. 

the zoo

The zoo was f@$#*@g AWESOME. I love walking around dying of hunger and starvation, leaning against fences for support in exhaustion and watching dumb animals eating and drinking to their heart’s content. Ha. Just kidding. I was super hungry, super tired, and super thirsty. No matter: I loved hanging out with Mom, Ams, and Blake, looking at weird animals, and enjoying doing something fun for once. My favorites were the rhinos (I think I pissed off the Sumatran Rhino by antagonizing it beyond the fence because no one was around; how awesome would it be to be charged by a bull rhinoceros???). After the Zoo we went out for dinner at The Spicy Pickle (I got the santorini, per usual; though I do enjoy the Athena pizza more). Mom went home and Mandy, Rob, Ams and I spent the evening together and watched a ridiculous movie called “Sharktopus”. And yes there was a red squiggly underneath the name because there’s no such word in the English dictionary nor even in science. All in all a great day.

the pool

Last year Mom bought a mini-pool for our backyard. I only got in it a couple times, but yesterday I got in and was absolutely overwhelmed with how good it felt. If I didn't have company over, I would've stayed. Vacation in South Carolina is just a handful of weeks away, and I need to get some color on my pale "albino" skin (as Jessica's sister Brie called it). I hate being pale, I really do, and I tend to only get red, stay red, and then become tan in autumn. But I'm going to try and gather a bit of color this year, and I'm going to do so by laying out in the pool (we have a floatie) about every day. Because I'm so pale, I can only do twenty-thirty minutes at a time (according to a Yahoo! Answers page). I went out for the first time today, cranked some Led Zeppelin on Mom's CD player, and I absolutely loved it. After a hard and fast-paced day of work, I almost fell asleep. I'm a little red, not really burnt (except for my face and arms), but that's to be expected. Tomorrow I won't be able to do it, because WE'RE GOING TO THE ZOO! 

I hope they have koalas.

the boss is gone

So we're stripping for tips.

Apology cats for not updating recently. Life has been quite chaotic as of late. So many things to do, so little time to do them. Not that I'm not finding time for myself amidst all this (such as tonight, when I can actually update my blog). 

Miscellania. This week, despite the busyness, has been good. On Tuesday I got to hang out with Carly, which is always good (she's nights, I'm mornings, and she's doing an internship with Southbrook so she's nearly always busy; and she got me a eucalyptus candle which is currently burning and smells delightful), and then Tyler came over and we sat on the back porch as the sun set and caught up with one another. It hasn't yet "set in" (for me) that Dylan's gone, but Tyler (his brother) has definitely felt the aftershocks. I know they'll come soon for me, too, and are already setting in. Wednesday Jessica and I ran some errands after work and grabbed sushi for lunch. We went back by work when Carly was working and took watercolor markers and painted her car. She says vengeance is coming; I have my camera ready. Once Jess and I parted ways, I went down to Cincinnati to hang out with Amos and Mandy. We smoked the hookah and then Amanda and Gambill came by. I had Thursday off and started my next four-day stretch of work Friday. Jessica and I hung out for a bit after work, sitting on the patio for half an hour smoking our cigarettes and doing our thing (and she took the picture above). Friday evening I went down to Cincinnati again (very impromptu) for a grill-out in the hammering rain. Lightning struck twenty feet away from me, lit the sky purple, blinded my eyes, and I had to cover my ears at the noise. It felt like the air itself was going to fall apart at the seams. Another grill-out took place tonight, with my old friend Jobst rolling into town. We grilled chicken and corn-on-the-cob and I made some baked potatoes; we ended the night with chess, pipes, and a good amount of bourbon and beer. Tomorrow I get to see Patrick, and Monday I'm going to the Cincinnati Zoo with Amanda, Blake, and Mom. It should be good.

Weight Loss. I'm not doing the weight-loss thing anymore because I always forget and I just don't care. I've hit my goal (135#) and have been building muscle as well as I can. I'm content with how I look (or at least I'm trying to be). Mandy says that if I lose anymore weight I'll look like a child. Since I already look half my age, I should be wary of such a course-of-action. 

"The Girl". I'm neither feeding nor starving my affections for her. We like each other, she's not in the place to date, and I figure that if it's meant to happen, it'll happen. If my affections for her die and I end up liking someone else, so be it. If not, then hopefully we can end up together. The entire dynamic may very well change once I move down to Cincinnati (hopefully) at the end of the summer. Right now we're just hanging out, at ease, enjoying one another's company, seeing where it goes. Really, I don't know how things will turn out. I'm guessing nothing will happen, and that may very well be for the best. But no matter what we do, we're always like horses wearing blinders: our perception is never panoramic, and our attempts at understanding the dynamics of relationships can be akin to trying to distinguish a mole hill from an ant hill while wearing sunglasses in the dark.

Life. It confuses the hell out of me and good night.

sad news

This time last year I blogged extensively about a friend who continued making awful choices and my somewhat frantic pleas for her to get her life back on track. While she knew that all I said to be true, she didn't really want to change. One night I had a particular dream, and I relayed this dream to her: in the dream, I met up with her countless years down the road at an Applebee's on the city's outskirts and I felt nothing but pity for her. She'd continued making bad choices, and the consequences of this life had caught up with her. When I told her about this dream, she laughed, and she told her cousin, "He's pretty crazy." A month or two later I decided to "cut off" my relationship with her (in a sense), because my love for her was going to be my own self-destruction. A wise old man told me, "Don't let yourself be destroyed by her." I'm not God and I don't pretend to be, so I cut things off. My sister remains friends with her, and she called me the other day relaying all that's happened. Everything (and I mean everything) encapsulated in the dream came true (except for one thing, which is like the "climax" of it all, the goal or telos of a ruined life). Maybe the dream was prophetic, maybe it was just coincidence, but nevertheless: it's sad to see someone you love embrace bad decision after bad decision to only self-implode, caving in on themselves, becoming more and more Augustine's homo incurvatus en se: "human beings curved in on themselves." Such a lifestyle of rotten and evil choices is the yellow brick road to a dehumanized person and a wasted, ruined life, and my heart is filled with sadness over it all. But what can you do? I said what needed to be said; I was there for her more than anyone; I was by her side through thick and thin, and I remained so when almost everyone else got fed up and left her. Sometimes the only purpose in telling someone the truth is so that when the truth comes to bear on them fully and finally, they'll have no wiggle room to try and squeeze free of the blame. 

the dayton days [70]

Carly & Jessica at the Campout

Memorial Day. Dylan left for Africa this morning. Tyler's understandably super depressed. It's both weird and sad. Mom, Dad and I went to a bar for dinner; I just had a salad topped with  skewered shrimp. 

Tuesday. Hell of a busy day. I worked 5-12:00, opening the store with Jessica. We both got off at noon and smoked a cigarette before parting ways. I went down to Cincinnati for an interview at Tazza Mia (yet again; this time I was interviewed by Cat and John, the Food Prep guy, didn't see Bob). I visited Rob at Carew Tower after the interview, then stripped down in Blake's room (only 'cause it was so damned hot) and hung out with him and Amos for a while. At 3:30 I jetted up 71 for the campout at Jess' house. She invited me over early, gave me a tour of her house, showed off her half-finished studio. The others rolled in: Kyle, Faith, Asenath, Abby, Betsy, Leah, Jordan, Brett & Danny. We made a fire and fixed hot dogs and climbed trees (we do that a lot). Cars hurt her arm. Jess & I jumped in the pond; or, rather, she pushed me in and I took her down with me. Kyle asked me, "What's up with you and Jess?" He's seen the chemistry, the under-the-radar flirting. I brushed it aside, said nothing's there and made a joke about it for good measure. Most people filtered out by sundown, but those of us that were left broke out flasks and smoked hookah (but the flasks came out only after Faith went to bed with her husband and Parker). Jess, Abby, Betsy, Asenath and I shared the trailer. 

Wednesday. I woke around 7:00 and people rolled out, cleaned up, and drank some coffee before heading out. After everyone else left, Jess and I went back to her place. She was tired, angry, frustrated, felt like the whole campout was a failure because of the always-present drama leeching itself out. Her expectations were too high; me, I just hoped to have a relaxing night and I did. She swore to abandon Starbucks as soon as possible (just like me!). She passed out on the sofa and I talked with her mom for a while before heading home. 

Thursday. I worked 6-10:00, then did two back-to-back coffee seminars with other baristas until noon. Carly and I met up when she got off work, grabbed Namaste for dinner and sat out on the patio. I broke the news: I didn't get the Tazza Mia position. "Rob has no idea why. He says the new guy they hired is an incompetent idiot." She was relieved to hear I wouldn't be leaving too soon. And by relieved I mean overjoyed. She asked how things were going with Jess; "You two were so cute together at the campout!" This morning Joanne made a comment about me writing Jess a love letter; I shut that down right on the spot. I ran by Waldrue Park and smoked there for a bit, and come nightfall I sat out on the back porch and smoked and listened to Florence & The Machine. How strange is it that love acts as a poison, spawning irrational fervor and fostering childish illusion of the world? 

Friday. At noon I met up with Jessica & Carly, and we went paintballing with Jordan, his girlfriend, Forrest, Asenath, and Abby for Betsy's birthday party. I did decent. Carly shot me in the head. Jess & I moved together as a team. Abby drank all my water. I got cut up awful bad, have three welts, worn-out legs, and awful sunburn, and paint residue in my eye. We grabbed beer and burgers at a cookout at Betsy's place before everyone went their separate ways. I spent the evening thinking about Jess. My God. This girl. She's something else. It's agonizing and terrifying at the same time. Agonizing, because I want to be with her but she's not in the same place; and terrifying because I know what could happen: another "Sarah" situation. I mean, wow, I would do ANYTHING to be with her. To kiss, to cuddle, to laugh, to go on adventures, to fall in love. What a beautiful idea, but destined to be simply that: an idea. I have the gut feeling that nothing will happen, and I'm stuck in the dark, having to guess her feelings as her hot-then-cold whims overwhelm me. It just sucks to ALWAYS be in this place: liking a girl, a great girl, and wanting to be with her but not being able to be. Familiar territory. Nauseatingly comfortable, in a way. I've been trying so hard to keep the thought of "us" from my mind, but I can't help but be attracted to her on so many levels. Each day she gets hotter and hotter, and when she hears a tank top, my God, I can hardly breathe.

Saturday. I worked 7:30-4:00, legs groaning from yesterday's combat. Ams was in town for a bit but headed home, and Mom & Dad went to Anna for a graduation party. Carly suspects Jess' flirting is more geared towards making her feel good than anything else. She's enjoying the attention, the desire in my eyes, she likes teasing me, likes seeing what it puts me through. A boost for her self-esteem. I don't know if that's true. I want to believe it's because she's growing to like me more and more. But by this point, that proposition doesn't have much support.

Sunday. I wasn't able to sleep, so I went into work an hour early and sat on the patio and journaled. Carly and I had a long talk late last night, and she told me that Jess has been hanging out with the Navy Guy who's been in town. All the evidence points to me being toyed with. Hence the inability to sleep. "This wasn't what anyone wanted," Carly said, "but it's what's happened." Jess wants a fling right now, not something with potential: so I've been kicked to the wayside. This happens all the FUCKING time. Part of me wants to play the game here way: start acting like all I want is something casual so that she'll be drawn to me like she's drawn to those military types. But that's just foolishness. The dilemma I ace is that of "The Good Guy": not a wimpy guy, but a good guy. The one who actually treats women right and fulfills his role adequately. "Girls can be bitches, and when a good guy comes around, they'll often sap it for all its worth." It's true: I've been cheated on, betrayed, back-stabbed and abandoned. I've had girls free-loading off me time and time again, taking advantage of my good heart and manipulating me in the process. Granted, I've kicked girls to the curb many times when they've started that shit. I was depressed all day at work, but the night got better: Cincinnati! Mandy, Ams and I hung out upstairs at the Claypole House, and then we joined Josh A. and Rob for Chipotle. Mandy pretended to jump out of the car and almost killed herself. Rob was LIVID. We lit the hookah in the living room, smoked on the back deck, and Rob made me coffee for the ride home. I talked to Mandy & Ams about Jessica. "Run for the hills," Ams said. Mandy agreed: "Get away from that shit." I don't really have much of a choice.

new direction

Things with "the girl" have continued to be convoluted, to put it best. At this point I'm realizing that we seem to be in very different places in life, and despite our attraction to one another, this would make a relationship more difficult than it should be. This wasn't the reality I wanted, but it's reality nonetheless. The best thing to do is to embrace reality for what it is rather than embracing some pseudo-reality founded upon fantasies, illusions, and delusions spawned by a rigorous imagination and one beating-way-too-easily heart. This is the reality: she and I are in different stations in life; we're looking for different things when it comes to relationships; and despite our attraction to one another, despite all the potential both of us see, perhaps a relationship isn't the best course-of-action? She knows we're perfect for one another (her words, verbatim) and that there'd be a future with us. We'd be a "thing," rather than a fling (something casual, freed of the chains of commitment, easy and care-free). As an aside: while the idea of a "fling" seems appealing, it doesn't jive with reality; flings can easily pave the yellow brick road leading to a wasted and ruined life filled with much pain, scarring, and dehumanization. Side-bar finished, let me continue: part of her wants something real, tangible, and meaningful; but the other part of her, for whatever reason (most likely a multitude of varying and of-fshooting reasons) doesn't want that. 

I'm in the place where I want something real, and I see all the potential between us, and thus it's difficult to bring myself to recognizing the reality. I want to submerse myself in fantasies and illusions, in speculation and conjecture, fueling the fire of my hopes and thus raising my anticipatory joy (so, in a sense, hope is like an anti-depressant). But I have to both (a) respect where she's at and (b) act accordingly with reality. This isn't fun, to be sure; it's actually quite difficult. It's akin to finding a pearl of great price in a field, but the field's owner refuses to sell it; you've no choice but to turn your back on it (unless you want to go the illegal route, but that's neither here nor there in this analogy). Oddly enough I've been at peace with all this, but I don't expect it to last: I like this girl a lot, and the temptation to succumb to fantasy will be overwhelming, but I should stay-the-course, continue gripping Reality, and somehow finding within myself the strength to move forward without growing anymore cynical. 

paintballing

Jessica and I, a pair of soft-body hard-asses

This afternoon a bunch of us gathered together for Betsy's birthday and drove to Huber Heights for an afternoon of shooting and cussing and gathering assortments of welts. We had a good crew: Carly, Jessica, Abby, Jordan, Forrest, Asenath, and Betsy of course. I hope I didn't forget anybody, and if so... Apologies. My ability to recall the event is shady at the moment. We did four games, and here's my participation in them:

Game One. Jessica, Carly and I were on the same team. When the game started we went off to the right and assembled ourselves behind a barricade. One-by-one we moved forward, covering each other, picking off anyone we ran into. I got three kills the first game; my demise came after flanking the other team's base and sneaking in from the back. Some sneaky girl was hiding out there and she shot me pretty much point-blank. 

Game Two. The second game we were poised against a team of six guys stationed in the fort at the back of the field. Jessica, Carly and I moved forward but were eventually pinned down by someone with an automatic gun. Bullets spraying everywhere. We'd jump up and give a quick survey before ducking down. Eventually we spied his place and I fired consistent rounds right into his hiding spot in the fort as Jessica and Carly took up a different position. I was stuck there till the end of the game; he moved and I couldn't find him, but he sure knew where the hell I was.

Game Three. This was a double-elimination, meaning that you had to be shot twice before getting booted out. I flanked through the woods and picked off a couple people, then had to hide behind a stump as two people shot at me. I waited there for about ten, maybe fifteen minutes; they kept firing but behind me was thick woods, and because I didn't move, they assumed (I think) that I'd gotten away. They let their guard down and marched forward and I ducked out and shot them, and then I was shot in the arm. Turned out I was the last person on my team to survive; and apparently, my entire team was massacred, because the opposite team had most of their players. Carly was on the other team, and she told me, "No one could find you! We were just wandering around looking for you, and I said you were a sneaky little man." Sneaky, indeed. I got two of their guys before they took me out.

Game Four. Perhaps my favorite game. Jessica, Carly, and Abby were on the opposite team. When the game started, I rushed down the left side of the field. Got a head-shot on someone. Gave covering fire for one of my guys and then he covered me as we went to the right to angle out our field of vision. We reached a high wall with lots of holes and we shot through the holes and I got another head-shot. Jessica was shooting at me off to the right, and I couldn't get to her, so I waited for the other guy with me to pick her off. Then we marched forward. By this time Abby and Carly were crouched behind a barricade; three of us were spread out, me directly ahead of them, one to their right, and one to their left. Carly popped up and I saw it was her, and all common sense failed me. This was our last game, and I had yet to shoot her. The guy on my right said something about outflanking them; I don't really know, because I got tunnel vision and leapt over the barricade and ran straight for her, firing wildly. Little did I know Abby was there, and I got her in the back as she moved into my field-of-vision trying to flee our guy to my right. My attention on Abby, however, took my attention off Carly; and as I got to ten feet away (well outside the legal rules) she popped up from behind her barricade and fired a single shot into my head (she had an elevated position). I literally fell shooting and shot off a few more rounds. 

Carly really loves the fact that she shot me. I just wish I could be in her position. But, hey, at least I got Asenath (even though she was on my team). To suave the pain at my loss, Carly told me, "You're actually really good at that game. You're small and strong and fast and sneaky." Haha. 

a tribute

It's official: Dylan's in Mozambique serving with The Peace Corps. AIDS work and all that in remote jungle villages. Essentially this post is a testament, or a tribute, to him. One of my best friends for a long time, it's sad to see him go, and I'll miss him dearly. We hung out nearly every day last summer; how strange to not see him for two and a half years. I am, however, excited for him. It's great to see him accomplishing one of his lifelong dreams. This is the stuff he was born for. Be sure to keep  keep up with him:

www.dylanyosick.com. 

the campout

Yesterday half of our store got together on a tract of land with a pond across from Jessica's home in Wilmington. I had an enjoyable time, despite the pockets of drama rising and falling like the tides. I've never been a fan of drama, always thought it took too much effort. I'm the kind of guy to shrug my shoulders and walk away when the gossip fairies do their thing and when ridiculous conflict looms on the horizon (I almost wrote about how conflict is the iceberg and we unsuspecting folk are drawn straight into it [like the Titanic], and then I realized I just want to REALLY listen to the Titanic soundtrack [note: not Celine Dion, the actual instrumentals]). So, yes, there was some conflict, but I avoided it like the plague and didn't partake. Thus I was able to actually relax, breathe deeply, enjoy cigarettes and a romp in the pond with Jess, then a delicious dinner of hot dogs over the fire and then closing off the night with Abby's hookah and then going to bed in a cramped storage unit above the main bed in the trailer [note: didn't enjoy that too much; lower back's still throbbing in pain]. A friend of mine noted that she thought the whole thing was a failure, because she expected (or, rather, hoped) it would be a night full of laughter and fun and the absence of drama. I, however, knew that the store members aren't as close to one another as Carly, Jess and I are, and I knew that many of the drama-wranglers would be there to spread their metaphorical seed (and no, the metaphor isn't semen, this time). My aim was to just enjoy the night, have a few laughs, and relax. And as far as I'm concerned, mission accomplished. Behold: the beauty of having low expectations (which, sometimes, just leads to guilt and shame; more on that another time)! Here's a picture of Jess at 8 AM following an awful night's sleep and me waking her up way too early (per her request); she's something else: