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: