Williamsburg, Take II
I'm sitting in the dining area of my new apartment in Williamsburg. The birds are chirping. There's a light autumn breeze breathing through the window. I just finished breakfast.
My birthday was wonderful, and I'm glad I spent it with John. We'll make wonderful friends, as soon as we can both stop paying attention to how much we love one another. It's a very strange feeling to love someone and not fit with them. I haven't yet seen a film that's encapsulated that feeling. You love someone and would do anything for him but live with him. it's a cruel trick played by the universe. When I'm away from him, I'm so happy to be free; when I'm near him, I feel something's lacking, but I never want to let go and am overcome. When he's with me, he feels average; when he's away from me, he feels desperate and alone. I had to tell him yesterday, over gchat, that I don't think it's healthy to hold hands anymore-I'm all over him when I'm around him. That made him very sad, and he said he wants me to be all over him. Awhile back, when we were breaking up, we said we'd have sleepovers. He's supposed to sleep over tomorrow night, the night I supposedly get my futon. I think I'm going to have to tell him no. He'll understand, it will just be hard for him.
I hope I get my futon. We went to this futon "outlet" in Greenpoint. "Outlet" means a smallish showroom that's in the industrial area of Greenpoint. Before this, my definition of "outlet" meant a mall-type area that contained at least one Ann Taylor store. John and I went in, and a greasy-haired gentleman walked over and asked, in a thick Russian accent, if we had any questions. I soon decided on a futon set, for which he attempted to arrange delivery and was totally bemused that I work from 9-5 on every weekday. He said they'd "try" to get the futon to me on Wednesday, after 5:30. Then, with his pinky finger that had a half-inch nail on it, he scratched the side of his nose and said they'd call me Tuesday night to tell me what time they would be able to schedule me. This translates to the number of days I'll be sleeping on the hard-wood floor of my room, which (contrary to popular belief) does not seem to be giving me a free chiropractic adjustment.
I feel life stirring again, though. It's been a very long time since I've felt it. It leaves me wondering if I'll ever be able to get married. I'm not sure I'm happy with anyone, unless they constantly give me what I give myself when I'm alone. The honeymoon period of every relationship sucks me in, but after that, I can't stand the person unless they challenge me, respect me, dote on me, and impress me. There's a lot to live up to, since my bar is raised to the level of my brother's and father's standard for a "good man." I compare everything to them, and I'm not sorry about it; I think it's normal, and why should I settle? I'm so happy alone.
A personal project for myself, to be continuously worked on, is to calm my neuroses. I have such anxiety about everything-you'd think I love to worry. It's a terrible habit that I'm in, and it's the way I was raised. John is too cavalier about everything, so when i'm with him I tend to compensate. Now that I'm alone, though, I can just work on being calm but prudent, optimistic but realistic. I need to lower my stress levels, and I create so much stress for myself just out of these constant obsessions with trivial matters and make-believe problems that become non-issues.
Also, two goals: I want to put together another reading list and chip away at the Criterion Collection.
My birthday was wonderful, and I'm glad I spent it with John. We'll make wonderful friends, as soon as we can both stop paying attention to how much we love one another. It's a very strange feeling to love someone and not fit with them. I haven't yet seen a film that's encapsulated that feeling. You love someone and would do anything for him but live with him. it's a cruel trick played by the universe. When I'm away from him, I'm so happy to be free; when I'm near him, I feel something's lacking, but I never want to let go and am overcome. When he's with me, he feels average; when he's away from me, he feels desperate and alone. I had to tell him yesterday, over gchat, that I don't think it's healthy to hold hands anymore-I'm all over him when I'm around him. That made him very sad, and he said he wants me to be all over him. Awhile back, when we were breaking up, we said we'd have sleepovers. He's supposed to sleep over tomorrow night, the night I supposedly get my futon. I think I'm going to have to tell him no. He'll understand, it will just be hard for him.
I hope I get my futon. We went to this futon "outlet" in Greenpoint. "Outlet" means a smallish showroom that's in the industrial area of Greenpoint. Before this, my definition of "outlet" meant a mall-type area that contained at least one Ann Taylor store. John and I went in, and a greasy-haired gentleman walked over and asked, in a thick Russian accent, if we had any questions. I soon decided on a futon set, for which he attempted to arrange delivery and was totally bemused that I work from 9-5 on every weekday. He said they'd "try" to get the futon to me on Wednesday, after 5:30. Then, with his pinky finger that had a half-inch nail on it, he scratched the side of his nose and said they'd call me Tuesday night to tell me what time they would be able to schedule me. This translates to the number of days I'll be sleeping on the hard-wood floor of my room, which (contrary to popular belief) does not seem to be giving me a free chiropractic adjustment.
I feel life stirring again, though. It's been a very long time since I've felt it. It leaves me wondering if I'll ever be able to get married. I'm not sure I'm happy with anyone, unless they constantly give me what I give myself when I'm alone. The honeymoon period of every relationship sucks me in, but after that, I can't stand the person unless they challenge me, respect me, dote on me, and impress me. There's a lot to live up to, since my bar is raised to the level of my brother's and father's standard for a "good man." I compare everything to them, and I'm not sorry about it; I think it's normal, and why should I settle? I'm so happy alone.
A personal project for myself, to be continuously worked on, is to calm my neuroses. I have such anxiety about everything-you'd think I love to worry. It's a terrible habit that I'm in, and it's the way I was raised. John is too cavalier about everything, so when i'm with him I tend to compensate. Now that I'm alone, though, I can just work on being calm but prudent, optimistic but realistic. I need to lower my stress levels, and I create so much stress for myself just out of these constant obsessions with trivial matters and make-believe problems that become non-issues.
Also, two goals: I want to put together another reading list and chip away at the Criterion Collection.