the tension & the terror

She (who shall remain nameless) didn't shut the door on "us"; she just said she needs time to get things in her life together, time to get things properly oriented so she can make any sort of decision regarding "us." She didn't tell me to wait, and I didn't tell her I would. But should I? As I told Carly, there are four possible scenarios:

1. I wait and, in time, we date.

2. I wait, and she decides, in time, "No" to us.

3. I don't wait, and then she wants to date, but then it's too late.

4. I don't wait, she decides "No," and this little drama is over before it begins.

It all, at least on my end, boils down to fight or flight. Will I fight for her (i.e. wait) or run from her (i.e. not wait)? I know that if the end result of waiting were guaranteed to work out in my (or our?) favor, then it'd be a simple decision. Right now the hopeful (albeit small) part of me is ready to take up arms and fight for her, for us, for what we can be. Yet at the same time, the cynical part of me (the bigger part, put in place by countless experiences of rejection, betrayal, and mind-numbing disappointment) wants to "run for the hills," so-to-speak. There's tension and there's terror: the tension between Hope & Cynicism, and the terror of knowing that down either road, great pain and loss and heartache may very well be experienced. 

Really, the waiting game doesn't bother me. I told Carly, "She was very honest about what would happen if we dated and she didn't yet bring things in her life together; it wouldn't turn out well." She cares enough about me to not put me through that, as she's put other guys. And I really appreciate that, I truly do. Waiting is the most wise and responsible thing to do (for either of us). The fright found in waiting isn't so much the waiting itself but what waiting can do to me. Again, hail experience: not too long ago I "waited" on someone, and this waiting exacted quite the toll on my heart. Waiting, you see, isn't a passive thing; it's very much active. It takes patience, endurance, determination. All of this is exhausting in and of itself; couple it with the reality that, amidst the process of waiting (and in a large part due to the process itself), the heart becomes more and more invested, more and more focused, more and more wrapped into the idea (the hope, the fantasy, the illusion, whatever you wish to call it) of what lies at the end of the road. The heart becomes so involved that it beats in rhythm with the desired result. This would make the realization of that goal all the more wonderful, to be sure. But what happens when the goal isn't realized? Or, worse yet, when your goal is realized but not by you? When all your patient waiting and striving and fighting and, sometimes, dying leads to nothing but someone else taking your spot, swooping in, and leaving you all alone in the dust like a beaten and bloodied animal to lick your wounds?

Let me tell you (in the off-chance that you're lucky enough not to have experienced this): it's akin to having your heart ventricles flooded with battery acid, or an open-heart surgery gone wrong without anesthesia to help numb the pain. The emotional torment--no, torture--of such an event is immense and indescribable, and I know this because I've gone the waiting route before and I nearly destroyed myself (quite literally) in the process. They'll tell you that in deciding whether or not to wait, the question to be answered is, "Is she worth it?" My response? Unanimously, YES! But that's not all there is to the equation; you must also ask, "Am I worth it?" Is setting off down a road that could very well lead to a less-than-satisfying destination--not to mention the possibility of near self-destruction--worth the chance (however meager) that things might turn out well?

Once upon a time I told a dear friend, "Risk is always a factor. With things like these, there's always the risk of getting hurt--but there's also, at the same time, the risk of missing out on something beautiful." I was much more hopeful and optimistic in those earlier days; now I'm a bitter, cold, and calloused creature (or a wizened one?), and I don't know which path to take. Behold: the tension, and the terror.

the saga continues...

Ok, so here it is: over the past few months I've come to be quite attracted to, in more ways than one, a good friend of mine. When the feelings started developing, I sifted through them and tried to make sense of what was happening. I didn't want to be attracted to her, and I certainly didn't expect it to happen. But sometimes when you get to know someone--and I mean really know them, being open and honest and vulnerable--sometimes you'll end up finding yourself romantically attracted to them. It happens. Sometimes (if not most of the time) this happens with the worst timing and in the most unfortunate circumstances. Indeed, the timing and situation of all this is certainly the opposite of optimal. Because I knew she was suspicious, and because I value honesty in our friendship, I told her that I like her. This happened on Wednesday, I think. We talked about it, and she's kind of attracted to me, not turned off to the idea of being with me, and is actually pretty optimistic about it; but at the same time, we're in different spheres of life and she's not at the point to invest in a committed relationship. She didn't ask me to wait for her, and I didn't tell her I would, but ultimately the question is raised: to wait or not to wait? There are pros and cons to both, especially when the future is so damned unclear. Nevertheless, I take my good friend Carly's advice to heart: "Don't do anything." Just continue engaging the friendship; don't crucify nor feed my feelings. Let things flesh out however they'll flesh out. Easier said than done, of course. In the end, though, no matter how this turns out, I'm so thankful that the friendship remains, for the most part, unaffected. We're still great friends through all of this, and in our conversations about this--which have involved brutal honesty from both members of the party--there has been much laughter and openness and vulnerability, all without judgment. That's very refreshing.

I told Mom about all this, and she said, "This happens to you a lot, doesn't it?" It seems for some people, you like someone and they like you and then you have a great and enjoyable relationship. For me, however, the timing's always off, or the circumstances aren't exactly prime, or we're at different phases in life, etc. "The saga of Anthony Barnhart continues," my mom told me. Amidst all this, I'm fluctuating between all sorts of emotions--peace and contentment about it, overwhelming anxiety, bouts of depression and anger (directed towards either myself or life in general), and then back to peace and contentment. It's really very strange. I really don't know what's going to happen, and part of me is hopeful while another part (the cynical part, which seems to ebb and flow with increasing speed and depth) isn't holding out any hope whatsoever. I guess we'll just have to see what happens; life has certainly taught me this to be true. 

always good to hear

It's always good to receive feedback on my earlier self-published works. In 2004 I wrote a shit-awful zombie novel entitled "36 Hours." It did surprisingly well (being mentioned in at least two magazines as an example of how self-publishing is no longer the "commercial publishing stepchild" but a decent competitor in quality books and book sales). I hated the book, nonetheless, and tried to make it unavailable; but the self-publishing company was making too much money, and partnered with Amazon to have it featured there as well. This enraged me (because despite its popularity, it was poorly written, in an awful format, and just downright wretched), so I decided to rewrite the book. I rewrote every single scene, included a few extra chapters, basically added an extra 200 pages to the 340-page novel. The end result was a 600-page zombie novel which has become very popular (according to ratings; I get few actual reviews). Although it's selling well (despite it not yet being available in the major marketing channels), like I said, I get few criticisms and reviews. I appreciate critical feedback and really chew through it to hone my talent. And reviews encourage me amidst the silence of my readers. So when I got this email today, from some fellow named Peter, it really made my day:


"I loved this book!!!!! You fucking rock! You took a typical zombie thriller and brought it to a whole new level. What happened at the end? I've always wanted to read a book like that. I hope you write others like this; I LOVED it!!!"

Be a pal. Buy a copy. :)

of watson & holmes

Yesterday evening I went out to Dorothy Lane Market to pick up some dinner. The Market always has fresh pickings and made-to-order sandwiches (and, as a plus, decent sushi). I walked straight to the sushi and who did I run into? None other than Doctor Watson. It was quite a surprise to see her there, and then Holmes showed up a few minutes later, carrying a bushel of apples she's setting aside. "I'm going to try all the different varieties!" she exclaimed. I planned on having dinner alone, but I was quite happy to enjoy dinner with these two blokes. We ate on the mezzanine and Holmes split half her sandwich with me, and I gave her half her sushi. And, luckily, I didn't run into my stalker. Oh, this is a fun story, let me begin...

About a year ago, this girl started come through Starbucks. She would chat me up, and she was cute, so I talked to her, too. Because I frequent the Market, I would run into her quite often. Something seemed a bit "off" about her, and Carly clued me into some things I didn't know. Anyways, she calls me "Starbucks Guy" and has asked for my name, but I've never given it to her. When she's working, sometimes I'll try to avoid her, going through the farthest cash-out lane. If she spies me, she'll shout my name and wave. Very good-natured, I'll give her that. Things got a little weird, however, when she started telling her co-workers about me. This came to my attention when Carly went through her line the other day, and she struck up conversation.


"I know you from somewhere," the girl said.
"Probably from Starbucks or Southbrook," Carly said.
"Yes! You work at the Starbucks down the road!"
The bagger said, "Oh, is this your Starbucks girl?"
"No," she said. "I have a Starbucks guy."
Carly said, "Oh, who is it? Maybe I know him?"
"He's the cute guy with blond hair."
"Anthony? Yeah, he's one of my best friends!"


Carly told me, "She seemed pretty put off by me saying that. I almost told her to stop creeping on my koala!" Thankfully, back to last night's incident, I didn't run into her. She was, however, working, at least when Carly went through the line. "She always eyes me weird now that she knows I know you. It's kind of freaking me out a bit." Well. At least now her attentions are turned upon Carly and not on me! Haha. Seriously, though, it's really no big deal. She's a nice girl, just a little weird, and she's in high school, too, so, yeah. Most of us baristas have our stalkers; indeed, Jessica ran into one of hers just yesterday, an old "friend" who constantly tried to convert her to Mormonism. 


"Your stalker is Mormon, and mine is a Jehovah's Witness," I told her. "We've nearly got all the cults covered. Now Carly needs a stalker with an agenda."

boys will be girls

In the last two weeks, we've had one day of sunshine. The rain continues unabated, and the weather station informs us that it will continue for at least another week. I hate it (and this makes me wonder, again, why I want to move to Alaska?). Being cooped up inside isn't fun at all; it's spring, for God's sake! I want to go to the park and walk around outside and explore the woods. The animal inside me is yearning to be unleashed! Yet despite the rain, I'm glad to be able to be cooped up inside with friends. This week already I've spent time with Dylan, had lunch and an afternoon movie with Carly, and even got to hang out with Jessica for a bit amidst her moving mayhem. I can't wait to drive to Wilmington and see her new place. It's a farm, lots of acres, in the middle of nowhere. "You can bring Sky and she can play with Duke!" she said. I bet Sky would like that. Here's a video my little sister showed me. It's absolutely hilarious; being friends with (for the most part) girls, this is stuff I've seen countless times in my friendships, and I've had to grit my teeth throughout it all. This video is amazing.

the dayton days [66]

Her nickname is now Mochahontas!

Monday. Carly and I car-pooled to a store meeting in Oakwood at noon. We stopped at the DLM like we did last time, picked up some creme sodas. Faith brought pizza. The new and cute and pregnant hire Kendra rode back with us. We arrived at the store and I was about to leave when Jessica called, asked me to wait around for her. We smoked on the patio before the rains came. Jessica invited me over to help her pack for the move to Wilmington. I headed to her apartment, but we didn't do much packing, just hanging out. We made a beer run, lounged around on the sofa, and Faith and her husband came by and we loaded up some furniture for them (well, he and I did). I played with her little boy Parker for a bit. He loves his stuffed duck. Faith made some comment about Jess and me. Jess just laughed. Faith's been subtly encouraging Jess to date me. They left, and Jess & I smoked some cigarettes and then I headed home. When I got into bed, Jess called me panicking: some guy followed her around in his car after I left. I calmed her down, helped her to think rationally, convinced her to go to her brother's (for her own sanity), and stayed on the phone with her till she was safe.

Tuesday. I worked 5:30-1:30. After work Carly, Jessica and I grabbed China Cottage for lunch. Carly went into work at 3:00. Jess and I went by the 'Bux for coffee and a cigarette, and as we went our separate ways, Faith kiddingly jested, "Have fun, you two!" But we didn't hang out: she had to actually start packing. When I arrived home, I found Grandpa M. there. It was quite the surprise, since he told no one he was coming. He joined Mom, Dad, Grandma and I for lunch at Marion's Pizza. 

Wednesday. I worked 6:30-3:00. Remember Claire from high school, an old crush of mine? She's married now, has a kid, and I see her nearly every day when she comes through the DT for her drink. It's kind of weird. we were shiftless for an hour, and during that hour Asenath gossiped about what happened with Betsy walking out last night: she got pissed at Faith for some reason and up and quit. It pissed me off, so I called Jess and told her about it. She said, "Asenath's this close to being fired, she knows better than to be like that on the floor." I ran to Tri-County to pick up a Sureshot from the store there, and I went and visited Ams since she was working in the food court. I made a fruitless visit to 1/2 Price and headed home amidst hammering rain. Dorothy Lane Market flooded, there were tornadoes in New York City, and another one in Covington. Jess called me on my drive and we talked for a little bit.

Thursday. I worked 6-2:00 with Jess and Carly. Jess left at 1:00, and when I got off work, Carly and I sat on the patio for a bit. I called Faith and told her what went down on the floor, Asenath running her mouth. I kinda felt like a tattletale, but both Jess and Cars wanted me to do it, since I was the only one who was there, and if they spoke up it'd be hearsay. I spent the afternoon writing, and then Carly and I met up at Gyro Palace. She told me, "Devyn and I went to Dorothy Lane and your girl was there, and we had an interesting talk." She relayed it to me:

The Girl: "I know you from somewhere."

Carly: "Probably from Starbucks or Southbrook Church."

Her: "Starbucks!"

The Bagger: "Is this the Starbucks girl you always talk about?"

Her: "No, I have a Starbucks guy."

Cars: "Oh, who is it? Maybe I know him?"

Her: "He's the cute blonde guy."

Cars: "Anthony? Yeah, he's one of my best friends!"

Carly told me, "She seemed pretty put off by me saying that. She's a weirdo, and she needs to stop creeping on my koala!" I tend to attract the weirdos, the creepers, the psychos & the desperate. "Maybe they sense some sort of connection with me?" I quipped. But Carly said, "You may be awkward, but not in a creepy, off-putting way." I told her I'm just a rehabilitated creepo. We spent the evening at her place, made a trip to The K, and watched a movie: "The Prestige." Devyn came by before we left, and we smoked cigarettes out in front of the apartment. Jessica called me on my way home, said she went to a Pure Romance party in Wilmington. I do like Jessica, but I've decided (for the time being) to let the cards fall where they will. Maybe one day we'll be together, and be happy, maybe even in love, and that'd be nice. But if not, no worries.

Friday. I dreamt Jessica and I were dating, and I woke up to Grandma watching The Royal Wedding. I ran some errands at the Mall and had sushi for lunch before working 3-10:15 with Carly, Leah, and Kendra. "Your name reminds me of an eight-headed Greek monster. Or... a sea polyp." Leah and I were cool, but I'm pretty sure she's not over me: she practically dry humped me behind the bar at one point. She commented on how my boxers were cute, and Cars exclaimed, "WTF, Leah?!" The night was pretty crazy with lots of rushes, so Carly got us all Indian food. It was my first taste, I liked it. 

Saturday. I worked a long and tiring 9-5:30. People kept commenting on how thin I look: Leah, Devyn, Carly. Back home Dylan came over and we shared some beers and climbed trees and smoked cigarettes on the porch. A chill night. I'll miss these days when he jets off to Africa, I really will. 

Sunday. Finally, a day off! I slept in till about 9:00, made a French-pressed coffee, spent the morning writing at the Route 48 Starbucks and working out. I went by work and hung out with Jess during her 10. Gene, one of the regulars, is really getting on her nerves. "We're about to throw down," she hissed. I ran by the bank and then to 1/2 Price. I helped Dad do some lawn work before the rains returned.

monthly weigh-in #1

As promised, to the few who care, the monthly weigh-in has been jump-started. I reached my goal of 135 pounds, then went back to 149, and am back down to 139. I always gain weight in the winter (like most people I know), and now that thpring's blothomed (that's "spring's blossomed" with a lisp), I've been getting back in the swing of things. Because of all this damned rain, I haven't been able to get out and bike as much as I'd like. Hopefully the rain will let up for a bit and I can re:engage my cardiovascular activities. Rain hasn't, however, kept me from my main focus: building muscle. I've been working every muscle group in my body according to a strict plan that focuses on building muscle the right way. I've put a lot of research into this puppy, and I've been seeing results. The picture to the left was taken this morning: 139 pounds (four heavier than my old goal, but no worries). Although I've gained weight, I'm thinking most of it is muscle mass, as I look skinnier than I did at 135. Here is my current battle-plan as it stands (and I've been doing this for about a month now):

Diet: whole grains, vegetables, fruits, lean meats (i.e. fish and poultry, never fried or baked), eggs, and a few red meats and light dairy. This is essentially the "Nutritional Food Pyramid" put into practice. Every now and then I have something unhealthy; there's no problem with it as long as it's not a routine thing. I could never stop getting China Cottage with Patrick, for example; it's our tradition, and a beloved one at that. And I won't turn down food that people bring me as a gift: usually this food is way too delicious for me to turn down, anyways. And I'll still go out to eat with friends, just eat sparingly and in moderate amounts. I don't know where lamb meat falls on the spectrum; I'm getting Gyro Palace with Carly tomorrow and with Jessica Wednesday, pretty excited about it.

Exercise: As I said, I've been working (or at least trying to work) all the major muscle groups in my body. Much focus has been given to my arms, chest, and legs. I also do extensive work with my abdomen once a week (I work so hard I can't do it more than once a week; the pain is miserable but beautiful). I was going to outline my schedule but then realized that no one (including myself) would care to read it. So I'll just skip that part. I try to get in at least half an hour of cardio a day, usually on the bike; but if I can't, I always do pilates for half an hour before bed. Makes you limber and makes you quick! 

Anyways. I still want to get rid of my belly (which you can see in full detail in this picture), but that may take me a couple months. I just hope to get a good amount of it off by the time Hilton Head rolls around in late June. I'd like to hit the beaches knowing that everyone's thinking, "Wow, that ten-year-old kid looks like he could fuck someone up." Ha.