Les Affaires de Coeur: May 2009 Archives

My heart changes so rapidly that I sometimes wonder who's driving this thing.

Yes, I am madly juggling. Yes, that's been a charming change of pace - though not as consistent as one might hope. There are availability issues with both of them.

There are also issues of sorting out which underlying feelings, if any, are which. And which are just free-floating trouble looking for a place to roost.

I never trust myself in these matters.

I suppose that sounds unnecessarily harsh, but you see, I have a propensity to get, as one online dating personality test put it with uncanny (and annoying) accuracy, "sudden and ferocious crushes" that strike without warning and tend to leave me hanging upside down wondering what happened and who made the world suddenly flip on its axis, and hey, can anybody help me figure out which way my feet are supposed to be pointing?

It reminds me, somehow, of lying on the big rocks atop my favorite mountain, and looking downwards into the sky and having this tremendous, delirious, and rather scary feeling of vertigo as my whole being tries to figure out what to do with the whole up-is-downness of it all.

I went for a bike ride today with one of the boys, who is a friend, and I wanted so badly to take him home with me, or at least kiss him, and it just wasn't happening, and I am disappointed.

I don't know whether it's just because I want something that goes in that place that's all woken up and clamoring for attention, or that I've been spending a lot of time with him recently and have discovered that, to my surprise, I like him.

I like him and I am finding him rather cute all of a sudden. And he's not that boy about whom you've heard at length; he's the other one. The nicer one.

What the frack I am supposed to do about it - if anything - I have no clue. Hold my breath, I guess. I ran in the water like a big dog at the beach, with my heavy bike bag on my back, and he was not melted by this, so perhaps it is a forlorn hope.

Because even the blonde couldn't resist the happy dog move.

PS. Pocketcam + golden hour, in case you were wondering.

Movable Type: Hello Lizbon. Your last entry was 5 days ago.
Me: 5 days ago? No way!
MT: Way!

I've been holding off on posting till I had some photos to round it out, but I still don't have any, and I don't have much to say other than a bit of random updating.

(Blog reader: Dude, that's all you ever say!)
(Me: Well that's what a blog mostly is, isn't it?)
(Blog reader: I guess. But once upon a time you wrote us nice essays.)
(Me: I wrote one of those about 5 days ago.)

Right. Anyway.

To the tune of a cat licking herself much too loudly, I will sing you the following song of mundanity.

Some boys are teasing me. Some boys are calling me back after a date I distinctly do not want to repeat. Some boys are, well, giving me to think, or rethink. And the timing of everything is rather dreadful, as usual, and I've made a clumsy ass of myself in about six different ways in the last few days, though not in anything really irretrievable, I don't think. Just sort of ordinary clumsiness. Social clumsiness and the other kind.

Okay then. (The cat has quit washing and fallen asleep in that sudden way they do.)

I am enjoying my proximity to various aspects of my social life. I am closer to several friends. I am closer to farmers' markets. I am better placed for spontaneous fun. All good.

I find that I am a tumbling assortment of things these days, so I will give it to you straight, because that is my wont. (Not a spelling error. Look it up if you don't believe me.)

I am content, I am nervous about money, I am gleeful, I am lonely, I am curious, I am sleepy, I am pining for the beach, I am wearing legwarmers, I am in lust, I am annoyed, I am giving up on that one, he is a pain in the ass, I am suddenly attracted to another one but that may only be because he laid hands on me unexpectedly and in a gentle, appealing way that made my brain spin.

Feeling downright beautiful at the moment. The sun came out, literally and metaphorically (yes, I am aware that there may be a quasi-causal relationship between the two). I unearthed my box of bike tools and lubed my chain - thank god.

I get uneasy when my bikes are ill-cared-for. I feel their pain when their chains are dry, and ashamed when there's visibly crusted dirt in the bends and elbows of their frames.

So I rode my newly sparkly bike into town, and on the way got a text message from crushboy asking if I was coming into town that day (yes, right this minute, sugar), and then we had coffee, and then we went shopping (he's a girly-man and likes these things, and a very pleasant quality that is, if you ask me), and then I had a rather delicious hug and went to get my nose jewelry changed.

On the way home I stopped in to visit a friend who lives near me, and she miraculously produced out of her stash of goodies the perfect curtains to replace the ones I managed to lose in the world's worst move. My curtains got thrown in the trash, I think, which sucks beyond all suckitude, since I adored them, and had made them myself, at considerable expense, from long panels of linen in indigo and turquoise-blue (living room) and aqua-tealish silk Dupioni (bedroom).

Okay, I am getting sad again just writing this. But the friend's replacement curtains are really marvelous and just what I had in mind for this apt, but could not have afforded to buy. So it all works out fabulously - well, I assume it will, once I buy some new rods (the ones I have won't work in my quirkily dimensioned windows) and rings and put them up. I hope they'll be long enough. I think they will.

And then, making the giant vat of soup turned out to be another sort of missing link in making me feel at home.

It also didn't hurt that I had a rather wonderful, social weekend - bike rides with friends, and a party five minutes away from my house, and just general delight in being here.

Ahhhh. It's about time.

PS. Kitwich likes it, too - much better nook-and-cranniage for her to enjoy.

The city is often an object-lesson in hardcore checks-and-balances living. Today was one such day. I offer you exhibit 1:

Plus column: I got a pedicure. Lavender.
Minus column: I got into a bike vs. car accident with an SUV on the way there.
Plus column: Neither I nor the bike appear to be damaged.
Minus column: The damn SUV cut me off so shortly that there was nowhere to go and no time to stop. Smashed into his bumper with a nice "crunch!" Eck.
Plus column: Ran into a friend on the street five minutes later and had a nice little chat. A cute friend. Not that cute friend; a different one. We had gone for a bike ride once, long ago, that might have turned into a date but I kinda thought no. Still cute.
Minus column: A little shook-up for several hours following accident.
Plus column: Another friend made me dinner on my way home. Yum, and relaxing.
Minus column: Somewhere along the way I managed to step in crap and get it all stuck in my bike shoe.
Plus column: It was the kind that comes off relatively easily and doesn't smell super-bad.
Minus column: I think I will be throwing those bike shoes away, anyway. Just in case.
Plus column: Cute young blond boy asked me out on a date. Interesting cute young blond boy.
Minus column: Since it's an Internet date, there might be zilch chemistry.
Plus column: Delightful hot man offered to help me shift some heavy objects around my apt.
Minus column: Delightful hot man might not actually follow through with it.
Plus column: Kindhearted husband of friend also offered and would follow through.
Minus column: Hard to decide whom to take up on offer.
Plus column: Even if doesn't move heavy things for me, delightful hot man might come visit and help me move some, er, other things. Like earth and sky.
Minus column: Delightful hot man also somewhat problematic.
Plus column: So the fuck what? He's adorable. Let him come visit you and admire your pretty toes and help you find new uses for your delightful staircase.

And so forth.

In other news, Kitwich likes her new windows.

I am hungry and in need of chocolate.

Oh for frack's sake, that was just ridiculous. Let's not do that again anytime soon, shall we?

If I am feeling whoopdeelio ambitious, I might stick an old photo in here for entertainment value, or I might just relegate you lot to my increasingly cranky and undelicious words.

To list the things that went wrong would only take too much space and make me cry (again).

To tell you that I spent a recent birthday a: getting rained on and b: crying would only be a pity party - not that I don't deserve such a thing, given the dearth of actual party.

To tell you that I've been a week sans Internet, sans TV, and sans DVD player (until I remembered I could just call Boywich and have him tell me how to hook the latter up) would be...well, complainish.

Would it help if I told you the damned movers broke nearly everything I owned?

Would it help if I told you they threw everything in a huge pile, and that I've spent the last 8 days digging myself out from under it, in little increments punctuated by my back going massively and horrendously out?

Would it help if Baby Kitwich mewed piteously at you from behind the fridge?

Well. It's all true, and then some.

Today it is pelting, but absolutely pelting down rain outside our window. I can see rivers in the streets and the drops are coming down so hard they are positively loud.

I saw you-know-who earlier; he's been sick and is still not well enough to play with me, though he was kinda nice. Kinda very nice, on his spectrum of weird-to-nice. I wanted to take his clothes off, there on the street corner, and eat him like a handsome little birthday cake. I mean, I didn't have cake, after all, so the universe owes me.