To Rebuild or Not?

Bless my father’s wisdom, he tries ever so hard to make sure his late-blooming seed isn’t a complete mess. He also suggests that I work hard on trying to purge thoughts that do not belong, and pretty much stop the endless high-functioning that is my brain. It’s not a snooty thing, but it’s almost impossible to explain to his logical side why my illogical, artistic, fancy, and all-around emotional side cannot always do this. Sometimes I’m searching for things while I remember and think. To get there, I have to cross some bridges and wade through murky waters. I’m learning and trying to understand something. Get some wisdom. Grow. Gotta review, fer fudge’s sake. It’s ugly, it’s stupid, it’s probably costing me my sanity, but it sorta works.


So he tells me at some point of our conversations on life that life is too short, and I need to make peace with those whom I may not be at peace with. That’s a lot of people. From crappy friendships that fell apart for foolish pre-teen reasons to disrespectful exes who used my sweeter side for their own egos, it’s a long list. I haven’t even touched down on current crushes who’ve acted like they wanted me, but actually had gfs or addictive exes whom they’re still in pretty tight trysts with. I have ignored and saviored them. I have ignored those exes long ago–blocking them from all social media to avoid any kind of hippie movement they could eventually pounce on. You know the story–nothing good comes of it, and I’m not about to gain another 40 crying to Sade and eating sugar at night. I’m still battling to lose the 30 I gained.

So, yes, I did try to be an open, thoughtful, and loving adult. I sat at my computer ready to unblock. Then, I stopped myself. I thought about it–if they discover the opportunity is there, at least one of them is going to try it. Not out of honesty, not out of love, but because of my availability, and their last resort. Do I want to do that, again? Thus, my mind spoke:





But it’s what I needed to stop myself. I laugh, watching the cute kitty keep in time, but it’s so true. What the fu*k are you doing? What the fu*k are you doing?! This is advice suited for individuals with bridges that could be mended. Not ashes already on the ground that are becoming a part of the earth. Not meant for bridges that should have never been built nor blue-printed in the first place. Despite the fact that those pre-teen friends all see me as a NUT, I’d have a better shot talking it out with THEM than anyone else.

I chose and choose not to contact any of these people, though. I hate to say I let the advice go into one ear and out the other, but some bridges need to remain where they are, as they are. Applying blood, sweat, and tears to be peaceful seems nice until you’ve got folks planting bombs of ulterior motives on the foundation of your work. It doesn’t feel very good to have it blown up in your face. My father’s wisdom is wonderful, but he has no idea how incompatible it is with certain situations. I’d love to have all peace, all the time, but some people are not meant to have another season in your life–temporary or not. Door open, or door closed and unlocked.

Do you know how LONG it took me to accept that? How HARD I have to fight myself all the time to stop romanticizing people who really, REALLY hurt me? We all are where we’re meant to be. I don’t want to get used again, and a good lot of them aren’t thinking of me, anyway. If they are, it’s probably not something good. Being a softie is tough territory–people tend to use you….a LOT.

My journey of loving myself—FOR REAL—requires lots of protection. As much as I’d love to love certain people or be with them, they’ve proven that they no longer want to be around, or just don’t have the capacity to treat me right. Why should I remain open–at any time–for them to have another chance to rip me from the inside out again? Or, become more damaged and then I hurt someone new and great? I have to keep working on myself. I wish them well, but things will not be rebuilt.

I let the advice flow for about 30 hours time. I walked with it all day. People change, feelings change, but I’d rather not take the risk. I need to experience my present and future, not keep looking to my past “just to make some peace”. There are some things that…well…we won’t say are at war, but they’re not at peace, either.

Now, if we see each other on the street, I pray that we can be civil. I won’t be “that person” who gets snooty or rude. We can be adults, we can say our hellos….but we must say our goodbyes in that same breath. Involvement and deep compassion….I can’t invest that.

But alas, don’t mind these rambles. I just needed to get these musings off my chest.

Believe me, outside of all these complex thoughts, I’m the last thing on anyone’s mind, lol.

Sweet Conversation

A lot goes through my head whenever I talk to people. For some reason, sometimes it makes me wonder if we’d be a good match. I give it a couple of seconds of thought, picturing us as a couple. Sometimes it happens a lot, sometimes I give it one shot. I don’t know why it happens, and I just decided to coin it up to a very active and strange imagination. I don’t do this for every person, either. It usually has to do with attraction or just how nice I think they are.

So there’s this young dude who just randomly decided to talk to another classmate and I one day. He knew the other guy I mentioned a post or two ago, and we started talking to him because he sat down and talked to us. Jaclyn, the other classmate decided to rule him out. I decided to be nice. He took both our numbers. She didn’t answer. Pretentious Guy says that this younger guy has a crush on her. This was “confirmed” when he tried to hug her. It’s a running joke that their “shipment” is imminent. (I’m not sure exactly how funny the joke really is, though.)

I decided to answer the call because the kid seemed like a nice young man. He’s 18, soon to be 19. Fresh out of high school, and taking lots of art classes. I decided to answer the call because I know what it’s like to be strange, artistic, and barely have friends. Maybe I’m wrong about him, but I get the feeling that his circle isn’t a huge crowd of people. So we’ve had some long conversations. I mean, two hours full of geek-dom, nerd-isms, and full on Blerd commentary. We are Black Nerds and it’s pretty awesome.

So I’m pretty sure there no attraction to me, like there’s none for him. I just don’t see him that way. I don’t think he’s ugly or gross, I just see him more like a soon to be friend. However, between and during phone calls, I find myself imagining what it would be like to be with him. Which, mind you, would be laughable. I’m an old bear woman of 29.5 years. He’s turning 19 this Friday. It’s a huge leap, and I don’t really like younger guys anyway. I don’t know what he likes, but I guarantee it ain’t me. So, these images are strange. Purging them doesn’t help. They don’t make me uncomfortable, but it’s just…silly.

These thoughts aren’t that out of the ordinary. Lots of chill time, couple of smooches. I think it only started to get weird around the time of the bar trip after finals. When Pretentious Guy started saying that I’d be “perfect to turn that kid out”, that’s when things shifted. Again–not interested in this boy. The ongoing mystery that is my brain briefly explores it. It’s like three second clips of a movie that should never be. I brushed of PG when he said it, laughing all the way. He needs someone his own age.

I plan on being his friend. Not his first time, not his…anything aside from being a good friend. I like him, you know? But not like like. That’s just wrong on so many levels. I think it’s interesting and endearing that he’s so eager to text me and talk to me sometimes, but it’s more of a “you’re pretty cool so let’s talk all day and kill moments of silence and boredom” type thing. It’s the kind of thing lonely and awkward Blerds tend to bond over. Someday he will grow up and over me, and I can only hope that our friendship was a great stepping stone for him. Or, if we do not grow apart, that we remain the best of friends. I just felt like being that nice person in a sea of cliques and judgments was the right thing to do. Why not? How many friends do I make, when most people find it better to avoid me?

I appreciate the people who look past my lack of fashion and beauty to find the person within. Or, at least tolerate whatever I may happen to be. I’d also like to be that kind of person. What are looks and clothes when there’s people out there who’re absolute gems? What do shed-able skins of pretense and fakeness really mean, when there’s people out there who need us to dig deeper to get to the good stuff? This kid is an artist who maybe needs a kind word or a laughing voice in his head. Maybe he’s someone I’ve been asking for. I keep writing and writing that I want to find friends. What if we’re two artists who’re meant to come together in our youth so that we grow older and collab in adulthood?

(But at this point, I’m already an old fart, lol.)

Maybe it’s all too much. I try hard not to be “that person” who shoots for the moon when folks are still gathering their bags for the trip. I scared off a great love (I think) when we were due to be friends by doing that. I don’t want to scare off a new friend by going into my usual habits of excitement and long essays about who we are. I like how long we talk, but let’s not get crazy.

I dunno.

Once my dad kept talking about the shortness of life, forgiving people on the other side of burnt bridges, a lot of things came up in my head. While I stopped myself from unblocking (because hell no, we ain’t doin’ all that!), I started to feel good about where some of my newer friendships were going. Life, as molasses-like as it is for me, isn’t all that bad. Deciding to give Johnathan a chance felt like a good thing to do. He’s a sweet guy.

We’ll see.

Bars, Booze, and Mirth

I am not a cool, popular person. I have my moments. Most of my moments are homebound, and I’ve become accustomed to this. Every now and then, I travel out into the big world for food, drink, medication, and maybe some kind of event. It’s a strange event for someone to have spent their teens and 20’s in this state. I suppose that’s why moments like today meant so much to me–it was a taste of what it’s like to have stuff to do. It was four classmates talking about totally dirty stuff over drinks, laughs, and a good time.

Down the street from the Harrison Red Line stop is a sports bar called South Loop Club. I pass it everyday, and pay it no mind as I swiftly carry all of this big body home in the belly of the metallic 95th-Red Line bound beast. I see people come and go all the time, figuring that I should label myself as a person who does not go to bars. I’ve neither the attire nor a reason to be there–or so I thought.

These are the kinds of adventures adults in my age range have been having for years. The thought of an afternoon drink in the South Loop or anywhere else in this world is probably not a big thing. For yours truly, it was like a wild ride fueled by bar fries, one tasty cosmo, and three of the most interesting classmates one could and SHOULD be blessed to have. It seems silly, especially after the fact that I’m not rushing to say “ohhh, my friends!”–but these people made a day that was already running on finals week fumes seem a little better.

I got to be a pervert today.

Oh, I know. That’s a bad thing, right? A sickening thing. A strange thing best left at home and on Tumblr posts. But alas–I got to show that part of myself that comes out freely when a drink of the pink is at hand. I had one, because I’m terribly poor. But I nursed my sweet beverage, laughing along with anecdotes about sex, flirtation, and pure adult humor. I was more than my shelled self in those few hours there, and it was a delight. Had I more money, I would have been over the moon. I regretted that part, but cherished the fact that I was in the company of two young women I liked, and well….that pretentious guy that I honestly have an admirable crush on.

Nothing serious.

I am not his type, but he has engaged in some interesting stories about who he is. His intelligence has once again stolen the show in my little world. I think he’s an interesting person. I can’t explain it–there’s something about him. It’s even sweeter seeing him be so playful with my fellow classmate Jaclyn. She would cringe and barf over the mirth it brings me, but she’s a sweet young lady. I don’t know why it makes me smile to see him play with her like that. While a part of me wishes I were beautiful enough and attractive enough for those kinds of things, something about seeing her relaxed and the target of his often strange, flirtatious humor makes me smile anyway.

It made me think of a lot of things, and for some reason I thought of…well…Darren. I stab myself in the brain for admitting that, digging up mental corpses I’ve decided to kill a thousand times, but I guess I won’t fight it in this moment. I am too over the moon to be fussing over details of why, how, and whom. I guess I was just thinking of the fact that we never met in the middle soon enough for him to watch me grow, or for us to level up and still be friends. As indifferent as he probably is to my forgotten presence, moments like today make me think of him.

The day was a long one, and I was ready to go home after all the talk and drinking were over. I felt good about myself. I felt different. I don’t know how to describe that feeling. Being somewhere with people, talking about social events and life–it was great. Finding people with a similar mindset was refreshing. Is this what it’s like to find your people? I like it.