Seven Reasons That I Am a Complete Jackass

1. Because you're right that if I had wanted to make it work it would have worked, and I probably should have realized that I wasn't going to go there before you had to realize it for me.

2. Because you're right that if I had wanted to make time for you I would have, and I probably should have realized that I wasn't going to do that before you had to realize it for me.

3. Because I probably am the busiest person you have ever known, but that doesn't mean that I needed to write you off.

4. Because I could tell that we were starting to be on different pages but I didn't do anything about it because I knew if I did we'd end up exactly where we ended up, and I wasn't ready to have you tell me that I didn't care enough. Because I actually care a lot.

5. Because I literally pre-sabotaged, which is something I didn't even realize that I did until Kari pointed it out. Because I'm like David Koresh, which Scottie once pointed out. And I didn't warn you to look out for these things.

6. Because I hurt your feelings, and I could easily have never done that if I'd worked harder.

7. Because you were never as important to me as everything else in my life is right now, and there were moments where I let you think that you were.

But you were far from perfect, too. And you were awfully late to really hit the "go" button with me when I had made it clear that I wasn't waiting for you. And there were lots of times where you didn't offer up a lot either. In fact, there were lots of times when you offered up a lot less than I did. But I guess it doesn't matter because I'm pretty sure you were just waiting for me to give you a reason to be sure this wasn't worth it. And I did. But I'm still a jackass for taking us there.

Me
I'm going to die alone.

ToniK
Give me a break. You get so much action that you'll die of a heart attack long before you die alone.

It made me laugh, but it didn't make me feel better about you telling me to get bent.

 

"Open Bag Wide for Maximum Capacity"

Also subtitled: The Annual Camping Trip
Also subtitled: The Coldest, Wettest, Most Miserable Night I Ever Spent Sleeping in a CAVE

Yes, you read this right. This story ends with my sleeping in a cave. Actually, it doesn't end there, but that is a part of this, and you can read about it later. That real title is an actual direction from the human waste removal bags you are given at the ranger station when you get your permit to Mt. Whitney.

I came back from the mountain all blissed out. Sore and blistered like a fiend, but blissed out.



Before I even write the never-ending journal entry about the camping trip, let me just say that I camped with the most fantastic boys ever. They are fantastic because they are funny and straightforward, but they are also are fantastic because they treat me like a girl while not forcing me to be limited by being a girl. They took great care of me in the wilderness. I always had water. I always had food. I was never any colder than I had to be. Somebody always checked my pack. And when I had trouble with one of the ascents, one of them actually came a quarter of a mile back down the side of a mountain to carry my pack for me. But they never acted like I couldn't do everything they could. If they climbed to 11,000 feet three times in one day, I had to, too. If they decided that we were going to start hiking at 2am, I was, too. If my dumb ass fell asleep on a ROCK in the middle of the campsite, my dumb ass was left there to deal with being a dumb ass until I work up freezing in the middle of the night. And I actually did do that. They are the best boys ever. And I'm so very grateful for them.

Okay, then, onward.

Chapter One: I Often Pay Very Little Attention to Things
Listen, so you know how the year we went to Peru, people would ask "What are you guys doing in Peru?" And I was all, like, "I dunno. I didn't plan the trip. I just know when to show up and what I'm supposed to bring." And then when we went to China the same questions were asked, and my answer was pretty much the same. And then for Uganda this year, the same question is asked and my answer is pretty much the same? Same with this trip. I knew that I was supposed to meet E-Stop on Tuesday in Lone Pine, that I needed to bring food for the group and my camping gear and that we'd descend on Thursday or Friday depending on the weather. This is my own bad, because an entire route map was sent out the week before the trip. I just didn't read it. If I had, I might have noticed that we were going to end up hiking 40+ miles in three days with summits of 12,000 feet, 11,000 feet about three times and of course the big 13,600 at Whitney. I might have been intimidated by that. Thank the lord I didn't actually read it.

Chapter Two: Things Get Off to an Ominous Start
And so this is how the trip starts. I blow out a tire IN THE MIDDLE OF DEATH VALLEY IN 120 DEGREE HEAT. Let it be said that I do this because I am taking a corner at 90mph in 120 DEGREE HEAT, and that I already know that I should not drive like that. But fortunately, it all works out.

Bad sign number two is that Paul, Frank and Dave all have delayed flights, meaning that they are landing in Santa Anna at 10:20pm, with still a three to four hour drive to the campsite. This is not good, especially since we are altitude hiking and the acclimatization time is important.

This is how our trip starts.

Chapter Three: Camping With Bart Simpson
But because Frank, Dave and Paul are late, I get to spend the entire day with E-Stop. We deal with permits, with Ranger Tyler. Ranger Tyler isn't so bright on the upswing, it seems. Firstly, he fills out our permit wrong - though that will later be an advantage. Then he has us filling out all of our forms to rent bear canisters BEFORE he mentions to us that there are bear lockers at both campsites we're using. Then he has no idea where a good place to eat in town is, even though town consists of about a dozen buildings. Finally, in my favorite part, he begins to explain to us how to use the human waste removal bags he's just provided us with, because "if you take it up the mountain, you have to bring it down the mountain, and that means biodegradables, too." To begin with, I will leave it to you to determine whether we actually took all of our "biodegradables" back with us in our backpacks. But the funny part to me is that Ranger Tyler is so uncomfortable giving us this speech that he won't make eye contact with us. It's like he must tell 100 people a day about having to bring their "biodegradables" back down the mountain with them, but he's still totally embarrassed by it. Cute.

We eat, we head up to the campsite. It's a good day. It's like camping with Bart Simspon. The first thing that happens is we stop at an overview at about 9500 feet or so. I'm taking a picture, and I look over. "E-Stop, what are you doing?"

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is the answer.

"I'm trying to push this boulder off the cliff. Trust me, it will make a loud noise while it rolls down. It'll be awesome."



We spent the day shooting pellet guns, throwing knives at trees, taking a hike where he used his trekking poles to pretend like he was slolem skiing down the mountain, talking about a legendary dump he took the last time we were camping, and making fart jokes. In between all of this, he gave me advice about my job and my (sort of not really) boy. It was like camping with Bart Simpson. That night, we lit a propane lantern not necessarily because we had to, but because fire is cool. And we drank Miller Lite.

And we went to sleep and made a $20 bet about whether the rest of them would get there by 4am.

They did not get there by 4am. The arrived at camp at 5am when it was too dark to find our campsite. They slept in the car. Yes, in the car. That's how our trip started. But yet...it all ends so good!

Chapter Four: On the First Day I Slept on a Rock
So, we had obviously hoped to be out on the path when the sun came up around 6 or 7am. That plan went out the window when people didn't arrive at camp until 5am. For the record, I'm told that part of the reason people didn't arrive at camp until 5am is because they STOPPED AT WAL MART ON THE WAY THERE. Yes, yes they did. Also, while E-Stop and I were comfy at the campsite, PaulM and Frank were sleeping in the SUV rental and Dave-Shaft was sleeping on a mat in the parking lot. So we let them sleep as long as possible, got the packs together and headed out around 10am. It could have been worse.

Also, one of my favorite stories happens here. The night before, E-Stop and I had a couple of beers at camp. Well, he had one. I had two. The next morning, I'm all like, "Man, we're only at 10,000 and I'm already feeling altitude. I have a headache and I'm nauseous."

Because he is patient with me, E-Stop just looks at me. The he looks away. Then he looks at me. "Jocelyn, you had two beers at altitude last night. What you have is a hangover."

And that's how we start.



It's beautiful hiking. Beautiful. Sometime later in the afternoon we cross over Mt. Langley. We don't summit, but we do go up to almost 12,000 feet. Before that, though? Rain. We're headed up the incline before you get to the mountain switchbacks, and it starts to rain. We take shelter in a cave for about an hour, have some beef jerky and then head on. Why this is important is that we put on rain gear. And then we head on in the rain. And eventually, about halfway up the switchbacks, the rain stops. But we are still in plastic rain gear. You know how when a boxer wants to lose weight he runs in a plastic warm-up suit so he can sweat out all of his water weight? This is the same effect. You don't want to stop going up the switchbacks because you'll lose momentum, but you're dehydrating quickly with the rain gear on. And so, on the way back down the mountain, I get horribly ill from dehydrating and throw up. Lovely.



So I'm feeling poorly by the time we get to "camp," by which I mean the clearing where we will sleep without tents. I pull out my lightbag and and say "I'm just going to lay here on this rock for fifteen minutes and then get up and eat."

It is three in the morning when I wake up, having now slept ON THE ROCK for a solid five or so hours. I'm not sure if I woke up because it is so horribly uncomfortable to sleep up against a rock or because it had dropped to sub forty degrees. I remind you that we did not have our cold weather gear with us.

Yep. We were all pretty miserable that night. Yet happy, and content. Odd.

Chapter Five: On Day Two, We Sleep in a CAVE
Day two, for me, was the hardest day.

We begin by hiking to the nearest ranger station to get water. There we are met by Creepy-The-Hills-Have-Eyes-I-Have-Spent-Too-Much-Time-Alone-In-The-Woods Ranger Girl. No, seriously. She lives in the ranger station which is a tiny cabin IN THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE. She actually suggests that we get some water from the spring WITHOUT FILTERING IT. Hello, creepy girl. And of course, while we're filtering our water, she wants to look at our permits.

Which say we should be entirely off of the mountain that day.

We are a solid 20 miles from being off of that mountain, including the several miles of climbing UP the mountain.

She then asks to see our bear canister.

We're not traveling with one. Even though we know we're required to have one because after avoiding eye contact with us while discussing human waste, Ranger Tyler reiterated to us about a dozen times that tying our food up in the trees was not sufficient and that we HAD TO HAVE A BEAR CANISTER. We lie and say we're camping at Crabtree Lake, where there are bear boxes provided. She looks confused because she knows that if we camp there, we are not down off of the mountain in time. Then she starts talking to animals as though we're not even there. We sneakily hike away. I am only partially joking.



The day is spent climbing up and then climbing down. Not once but twice we ascend to over 11,000 feet. Only to climb ALL THE WAY BACK DOWN to 9500 or so, because remember we are crossing over mountains. The second time we go up, we run into another ranger girl. I like to call this one Ranger GRRRRRL. She also notes that we don't have bear canisters and tells us stories of campers getting mauled by bear. We proceed on, promising to hike at Crabtree Lake.

We arrive at Crabtree Lake in the late afternoon. We stop and eat, by which I clearly mean some more beef jerkey and almonds. Actually, there's some Hickory Farms processed turkey summer sausage, too, which at that point tastes like the finest gourmet meal I've ever had. We take a nap, literally. And then we decide to fuck the good-hearted rangers and hike through the ravine all the way back up to 11,500 feet to camp at Guitar Lake.

Firstly, that hike is hard. It's hard to go back up to 11,500 for the THIRD time in a day, more or less. It's getting cold. We're well above tree line pretty early on so it's not even pretty. It's raining off and on (AGAIN). And when we arrive at Guitar Lake, what we realize is that it's going to rain that night. AGAIN. And this time, HARD.

We-find-a-cave.

Yes, that's right. You heard me. Our solution is to find a cave. The cave is disgusting. It's got what we hope is marmot poop in it. We're hoping it's marmot poop because if it's anything else then it's bear poop, and we want that even less. Also, this is less of a cave and more of a precariously balanced large boulder on top of other large boulders. We put a tarp down so there will be a layer between us and the marmot poop. We share what thin blankets we have. We realize that rain will still be coming in on our heads, so we put a tent fly that we're carrying over top of all of us.

Here's how we pass the "night" (in quotes because we got up to start hiking at 2am). For starters, even with people all in the cave, it's cold. And wet. It's 11,500 feet, so we're all having trouble breathing. But you know what makes breathing in thin air even harder? When you put a freakin' tent fly tarp over your heads so that what you're all breathing is already breathed air with even LESS oxygen in it. It sounded like a porn convention in there with all the heavy breathing. And so, occasionally, somebody would lift up the tent fly to let some fresh air in. When that would happen, all of the rain water that had collected on the top of the tent fly would fall on peoples' faces.

And also, I should mention that high altitude screws with people's stomachs. Farting had been happening with impunity the entire trip. But, BONUS, on this night, there was plenty of beef jerky and cliff bar farting going on. In a confined cave. With a tent fly holding all the air in.

I'm actually fairly sure I've probably been more miserable than that at some point. Sleeping outside in the crime ridden gypsy park in Budapest that one time comes to mind. Also, the time I was broke and panhandling in my early twenties in Calle trying to get back over to the UK and I ate food out of the trash (see, Mom, it was better that not every story was shared after that first trip to Europe). And possibly even this one time in PA when the heat in my parents house broke. But there have not been many more nights that were as miserable as the night I slept in a cave full of marmot poop with boys farting and thin air and periodical showers of rain on my face. That one is up there.

Oh, and also, we said fuck the bear bag/cannister issue. We slept with the food still in the packs next to the cave. We got lucky. That could have been bad. Never do that.

Caves. Farting. Animal Poo. Rain. Heavy Breathing. Are you turned on yet?

Chapter Six: High Up On a Mountain Top...I Start Dreaming of Hamburgers
Day three begins at 2am. And let me tell you, nobody really had a problem with starting the hike up the mountain at 2am because, frankly, walking and climbing, as painful as it was, was a better deal than the "sleeping" arrangement.

I can't describe it in words, so I will simply say that going up that mountain from that side (the west side - where most people don't go up) is stunning. And religious. And the type of challenge that you need to be mentally ready for (You can still make it work if you're physically weak, but no matter how bad or good shape you are in physically, if you are not mentally prepared, you will break. You have to be very, very mentally strong.) . Actually, for the record, you only need to be mentally strong until about 13,000 feet. After that, it's not like it's an option any more, so even if you sit down and cry every 100 feet after that, you're hitting the top.



The top was high. Again, I could journal for paragraphs and not be able to tell you what it feels like when you realize you really are going to cross over this mountain and go down the other side.

Going down sucks.

No, seriously, it's way worse than going up. Firstly, going up is from 11,500 to 14,000 if you go to the highest point. Coming back, you have to descend all the way to the portal at 8500. Secondly, if you do the math, from 14,000 to 8500 feet, you have a solid 4000 feet before you ever hit the tree line. That means that for 4000 feet, after having hiked HARDCORE for three days with almost no sleep and way not enough food, you will be climbing over rocks with no trees for shade. Every step will have your already blistered and cut up feet hitting hard rocks. No matter how tightly you've tied your boots, rocks are going to get into said boots because you're walking through paths of tiny rocks. Cuts and blisters will start to open up. You will begin to repeat the phrase "All I want is off this fucking mountain and into a place with a hamburger" over and over again. In the case of other mountains, you may not say exactly that. But you're aware that there's a hamburger joint right when you get to the parking lot at the base of the this particular mountain. For me, there was a hamburger right in front of my face the whole way down.

Frank and I descend most of the way on our own. E-Stop catches us somewhere shortly after the tree line. We have never hiked in so much silence before in our lives. Frank kicks in into a new gear when we're within 1000 feet of the portal exit. I just keep repeating the phrase "I want off this fucking mountain" over and over again.

And, finally, we are. And we eat burgers. And later that night Frank and I have more burgers from Carl's Jr. And there are showers, and goodbyes, and "See you next year's."

It was a great trip. I'm still picking scabs off of my ankles and feet. I'm a little sunburned. My lips are still a little chapped. And I alternate between wishing I were back in the woods unable to think about anything except that I needed to keep walking to get up the mountain and being glad that I'm off said fucking mountain. Mostly, though, I miss it.

I do not miss beef jerky and instant oatmeal.

But I do miss the way sunset looks above the tree line and the way water tastes when you actually need it.

It was a good trip. I'm ready to go again soon.

 

Friday Five! By which I mean Friday 10 on the 13th

Because just because I didn't have time to post last week, it doesn't mean that there weren't all kinds of random things I wanted to drop on you. Here's how this is working. I do one item, then I go and clean a patch of carpet because shamus gets here in two hours and I'm trying to reduce cat hair.

1. Speaking of shamus: We are doing what I like to call "Rich Man/Poor Girl Weekend," in which on Friday we eat at Michael Mina and have a VIP table at Caramel with Hott Scott and Sean and Saturday we see a movie at Sam's Town and then go drinking on Fremont Street. It will be perfect. IT HAD BETTER BE PERFECT.

2. Wanna know what else is perfect? My travel schedule for the rest of the year. In August it's a trip to Denver to see K-Yo and then the Whitney Summit. In September/October it's Uganda. In November the Woodalls and select Jocelyn friends and I are taking the kids to NYC to see the Macy's Day parade and other spectacles for Thanksgiving. In December it's home to magical PA for Christmas and then on to Tuscon for margaritas and Parkers. Perfect.

3. Dear Men of Match.com: Here are some more free pointers from me.

a. Chances are, dating you is not my top priority. Not to sound snotty, but it's not like I'm having a hard time finding dates. If you email me, I'm probably not going to jump off my chair and say "I HAVE TO EMAIL HIM RIGHT NOW." Unless you are Leonardo DiCaprio. Chances are, in a couple of days when I have some free time, unless your Match handle is "Welcome2MyNitemare", I'll at least respond. THAT IS UNLESS YOU GO CREEPO ON ME BEFORE I EVEN HAVE A CHANCE TO AND SEND ME AN EMAIL EVERY DAY FOR A WEEK ASKING IF I GOT YOUR LAST EMAIL. Dude, seriously, come on now.

b. Here's another free tip. Let's say you're local and you may have seen me out at the Venetian one night and then come across my profile on Match. IT IS THEN CREEPY IF THE FIRST EMAIL YOU SEND ME IS ASKING ME IF I WAS THE PRETTY GIRL YOU SAW AT THE VENETIAN AND THEN DESCRIBING WHAT I WAS WEARING THAT NIGHT. Don't expect a response back to that freako. We have Craigslist for that if you want to go there.

c. And finally, on that should be so obvious that I'm not sure why I have to point it out. Don't use pictures in your profile of you and your ex. That's just going to make me think that you haven't cleaned up that situation yet. You and your dog? That's good. You and your ex? That's not good.

4. Speaking of Boys: Uh, wanna hear a freaky accurate assessment of me from somebody who barely knows me?

"You're an over achiever. You like to work, you like the sense of a job well done. You are a mother (ing) type. You love the little rascal in a boy, but you don't want to be a man in the relationship. You are a submissive woman (so to speak, pull my hair and show me who's the boss kind of gal). But mostly you're afraid of the unknown,,, marriage, kids sex with the same guy over and over..."

And the childrens all nod and say "Yep."

5. Also Speaking of Boys: And that word is being used intentionally, I sent what has to be the ugliest, cruelest email I've ever sent in my life this week. But the saddest part is, there wasn't really anything in there (or very little) that I don't believe to be true about the person I was sending it to. For about an hour after I sent it, I was actually a little embarrassed that I did. I mean, I was like, "Man, I am the kind of person who can say those things - and I know EXACTLY how bad those things are going to make that person feel." But then afterwards, I thought about it and was like, "No, this is a man who lies to women, many women, over and over again. And for no reason other than that's he's selfish emotionally. I don't feel bad about calling that behavior at all, especially since I've been enabling it for the last two months or so." And then I bounced back and forth a couple of times and felt bad about some of the horrible things I said and then felt like I'd had a right to say them. And in the end, if nothing else, the action got my head unbent where previously it had been bent. Okay, really what happened was a strong woman and an incredibly sweet man reminded me that I had every right to say those things, and then I felt better.

6. Watch Pandemonium Online: If independent gay science fiction is your thing, then you should watch Pandemonium online. Seriously.

7. G-Mail Chat Status Indicator Poetry: (I Love) Paul Jack and (I Also Love) Dex and I have been playing a word association game with our Gmail Chat status indicators all week, and if you put it all together, it almost reads like a poem:

big time
small time
no time
timeless
wordless
soulless
mindless
speechless
speech is overrated
speech is rated r
pandemonium is rated r
pandemonium is rated wow
my boobs are rated wow
pandora's boobs are rated AWESOME
i have no boobs to rate
boobless
boob time is back
it's 5:00pm - boob time

8. See, I knew 10 would be a stretch. Here we are at 8 and I have three spots to fill but only two real things to talk about. How about we do one featured photo and then the last two hot items? Here:


So this is actually one of my favorite shots from home. It's my mom's yard. Lawn birds. Yep.

9. A Wish for You and Shoes: In case you were one of the two people who didn't hear my shoe story from today. In which case I don't have your email and you should correct that. Or you are a man. But anyway, I digress. So today I had a couple high stress things going on at work and I started to feel a little run down, so I decided to cope with that by running to Designer Shoe Warehouse to buy what I thought would be a $100 pair of ballet flats to wear with this dress that I bought to wear to the aforementioned Michael Mina/Caramel spectacular on Friday. But DSW was having a massive sale! And for just $33 I walked out of there with FOUR pairs of ballet flats! FOUR! And what I wish for all for you for the weekend is a little unexpected happiness like DSW delivered for me today.

10. Friday Remix! Is back! Five songs for Friday! Playlist and everything. Here we go!

"Scrubs" from TLC: Last week (or really two weeks ago), I was all like "Unpretty is the best TLC song EVER." But really we all know that the best TLC song EVER was Scrubs. Remember how you and your friends would all sing that song over and over when it first came out? You know that you did. Don't front. And it still speaks to me. Enjoy. Catch the lyrics here if you want.

"Jet Lag" from Joss Stone: This song is so freakin' sexy. And I've been on a Joss Stone kick lately. Kick the lyrics here. Hawt.

"More than Anyone" from Gavin Degraw: I really have never felt that this was his best album track, but I do think it's one of his best live tracks. And this is a live version. Maybe his best live track. It's so lovely to listen to. I give you no lyrics link because the lyrics aren't all that special.

"Four in the Morning" from Gwen Stefani: You can hate me later for closing out this week's playlist with Gwen Stefani and Fergie, but I can't stop listening to both of these songs. Shut up.

"Big Girls Don't Cry" from Fergie: No, I am actually embarrassed about these songs on my playlist. I am. But yet here they are. I enjoy these lyrics, too.

 

There's Wireless Here!

I'm purging the last six days from my memory entirely. That is all!

 

I Drag You Down With Me

So, the question of the week has been "How much damage can a relationship take before it can't be salvaged?"

Let me set this to bed: I speak not only of my current sort-of-relationship. I speak also of other relationships in my life, and I speak of other people's relationships. Because "the hive"(tm RJ) this week has been discussing this extensively via email, chat, MySpace, phone, whatever. Which is funny because this other thing I'm writing on is about love that doesn't die no matter what. My headspace has had to shift a dozen times.

(And let me also say to warn you mostly about this possibly being a disjointed thought process, that, right now, I'm so busy that what's happening is that I write a paragraph of blog entry and then a paragraph of a business plan. It's not conducive. I'll try to do an edit before I post to make things stick together more).

So, I'm sure that, by now, being grown adults, we've all seen relationships that:

a. Suffered some trauma, decided to make it work, and in the end we were all happy that people found a way to make their relationships survive. We'll call this "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger syndrome."

b. Suffered some trauma, decided to make it work, and in the end we were all like "MAN, they should have just let go. They'll NEVER end up happy now." We'll call this "I'd rather be miserable than alone syndrome."

c. Suffered some trauma, fell apart, and both people ended up happier afterwards. Often, they even end up great friends. We'll call this "Sometimes the universe delivers even if it has to force it syndrome."

d. Suffered some trauma, fell apart, and then nobody ever really moved on and they stayed angry and hurt. We'll call this "What the fuck? Life is too short syndrome."

And of course, there are a lot of variations in between. The big variation is that, in lots of cases, one person experiences one thing and another person experiences another thing. But I'm trying to keep it simple.

Firstly, let us define trauma. Trauma is not, by my definition, "I want to change careers midlife." Or "I lost $500 betting the Super Bowl." Or "I called you a fucking bitch while we were arguing." Examples of "trauma" would be:
- I lied to you excessively in a malicious way
- I cheated on you, once or many times
- I lost our entire life savings gambling while not telling you I was spending it
- I've been hiding the fact that I have a drug problem from you
- Did I not mention that STD before we got together?
- I have, intentionally or otherwise, systematically controlled and berated you in a way that tore down your self esteem or caused you to lose all trust and confidence in me
- I cannot have children, though having children was always an understood part of the reason we were together
- I've committed a horrible crime and am going to jail
- More than 75% of all the time we spend together is spent yelling and crying over a thousand different issues over a time period of more than a year.

Listen, I didn't make any of those up. They're all real life examples from me or people I know.

What Doesn't Kill Us Makes Us Stronger Syndrome
So, somewhat obviously, because I am not married nor have I ever been in a committed relationship that lasted longer than five years, I have never personally experienced this. And before you email me (and you know who you are) and say "Well, you know me and I fit that category", let me just say that you may think you're in that category and I may think you're more like a person in the "Rather be miserable than alone" category. Anyway, I've never experienced this particular syndrome, is my point.

Now, that's also not to say that I don't know long term relationships and marriages that are awesome and that I really admire. And for all I know, those relationships have undergone some kind of trauma that I don't know about, because sometimes people keep things private even though that is clearly a foreign concept to me. I'm going to say that I doubt that because in most cases I know those people pretty well and have discussed relationships with them a lot and I think I would have been told if the relationship had suffered some huge trauma. The argument might be made that in relationships that are that strong, while all relationships have adversity, those people have great enough communication and desire to make each other happy that the type of things we're qualifying as trauma wouldn't happen. What I'm saying is that I have never experienced, nor have I seen, a relationship that suffers one of the types of things we've described above and ultimately goes on to preserve itself in a healthy, functional way. Please, feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.

And, this, this concerns me. Because above all else, I am a girl who makes decisions by the numbers. And, looking at my current situation, the numbers may imply that the odds are very much against me, and in a couple of cases, my friends, too.

I'd Rather Be Miserable Than Alone Syndrome
But I know lots of these! You probably do, too! In fairness, in some of these cases, it's more about wanting to preserve an entire family unit and that's a more difficult situation to ponder, but there are lots and lots of relationships I've seen where the M.O. is to stay together even if one person is miserable -- shit, even if both people are miserable -- just because of any number of fears. Fear of feeling rejected, fear of never falling in love again, fear of never having somebody else fall in love with you again, fear of being alone, fear of losing a safety net, fear of being financially impacted, fear of hurting the other person...fear. I mean, again, simplifying because I'm sure there are other reasons people stay in those situations, but to me, they mostly read as fear.

I saw this thing on tv once (You know you're about to get something deep when a sentence starts with "I saw this thing on tv once"). It was a documentary on a retired athlete. And he and his wife had gotten divorced but were still friends. And he said, "I never thought divorce was a good thing, but then one day I woke up and thought, 'Life is so short. Why spend it in a way that makes two people unhappy on a daily basis instead of putting them into a spot where they could find happiness?'" And that resonated with me.

I have this actual list somewhere in some journal about minimum values I assign to myself (which would be an awesome blog entry in and of itself). One of those is about not letting anybody else control whether or not I'm happy. Maybe, just maybe, this makes me a little ill-suited to relationships. But maybe if more people decided to take ownership of their own happiness they wouldn't feel like they needed relationships to make them happy, and they'd be more selective about choosing partners to enhance their happiness rather than feeling like they needed a partner to make them happy. I think I know relationships that work like this. I think I've seen them. But then again, I am not always privy to what goes on when people go home at night, so go figure.

In the relationships I admire most, both people want the other person to be happy so much that they wouldn't want the other person to stay in the relationship if they were miserable. They'd either find a way to make them happy or, if they just really couldn't do that, they'd find a way to let go. And maybe that's why I admire those relationships the most, because that's such a hard spot to get to.

But you know what's an even harder spot to get to? Recognizing when you're in a "Better miserable than alone" spot and moving out of it. Because it's pretty easy to convince yourself that you're not that miserable, or that things will change, or that issues have been caused by circumstances and not some essential flaw in your relationship, or that "it's not me, it's my partner and one day they'll wake up and make this better", or that this person really is THE ONLY PERSON YOU WILL EVER BE ABLE TO LOVE OR WHO WILL EVER BE ABLE TO LOVE YOU. Yeah, those are all hard headspace blocks to get through, and I know because I've fallen prey to them, sometimes for periods of years, before. I think, though, as an older, wiser me, I wouldn't be so prone to play the convincing game. Or give in to fears of letting go. But then again, I may be convinced that in some ways, in some circumstances, I'm doing that right now. This one's the kicker one, eh?

Sometimes the Universe Delivers, Even If It Has To Force It Syndrome
Could I have made that name any longer? Seriously.

I know this, too. In fact, I know a lot of this. In fact, this is pretty much all but one of my former relationships, if you don't count the former relationship in which the other party is no longer alive. D&J. S&L. S&P. I know lots of these. RJ and I, for example. While the six months before our breakup was, to say the least, incredibly painful for us and anybody around us, when we finally got to the part where we broke up, it was sad, but we had really discovered that while we love each other and want each other to be happy, that just was not going to happen in the form of being partners. And now we're incredibly close BFFs. And we're honestly both much happier. And we honestly want the other one to be happy. And we honestly make decisions based on that. And sometimes we still make each other crazy in the context of our friendship, but we're important parts of each other's lives and nobody discounted the two years we spent together and we found a way to translate that into something really good. Better, even.

And I just rattled off four examples of relationships that ended like this, even with some trauma involved. So, it can happen. It's the ideal, but it can happen. It should happen. Just, getting there involves a level of pain (like the first time you have to go out with your ex and his new girlfriend who is NOTHING like you- that wasn't great) and patience. But it is proof that in the right context, even things that ended with some trauma involved can lead to valuable relationships in your life. Some of the most valuable relationships in your life, probably. Just the process of getting there is awful.

What the Fuck? Life is Too Short Syndrome.
And, I KNOW we all know a lot of these, right? I've seen them. They're ugly. And while I've never been the party who won't let go of the anger, I've been on the receiving end of having somebody decide to never accept the way things are and find a new place to be in each other's lives and still be good for each other. I know people who, years and years into a new relationship, are still dealing with the hurt and anger of an old relationship's ending. And you know what? In some cases, I can absolutely understand that. Some damage is too deep to ever let go of. Some stuff messes you up for the rest of ever. Maybe not every day, but some of it never goes away. Yes. It's true. There are some things that are so awful they will probably never be let go of.

And then again, there are some things that aren't so awful, and in that case, you need to learn to say "Life's too short to feel this bad about things." And let go. But I've been in the room with exes before where they both walk in and people hold their breath waiting for the explosion, or one of them crying in the bathroom, or just feeling uncomfortable because they know that at least one of the two people is having a miserable time. It's a hard call, because I do think that some things, some times, are so bad that it's okay to never get over them. But then again, sometimes I think people choose to not get over things because being angry and hurt is, honestly, sometimes less painful than trying to focus on good things about past relationships and people and watching somebody else get happy while you're still dealing with the pain of the breakup.

And so here we are at math. And also, now we are clearly not talking about anybody's situations other than mine.

I have no interest in holding on to any kind of anger, distrust, hurt, whatever and falling into the "Life is too short, fuck it." category.

I have even less interest into falling into the "Rather miserable than alone" category. The problem being, of course, that I'm not sure I would be falling into that category anyway. There has only ever been one real problem in the relationship that's at the front of my mind. But it was a long-term and ongoing problem that was only addressed and solved when I finally ended the relationship. And then it was only done once it had been made abundantly clear that really, honestly, there wasn't a future with the circumstances the way they were. And of course, the argument could be made that "But at least it was done. At least in the end he cared enough to give you what you needed." But then again the argument could be made (and is certainly the one that I would be making to me if I were giving me third party advice) that the situation should have never have gotten that far. That, as Hil put it, it's been proven to me again and again that this pattern is a repeating pattern and I probably shouldn't expect it to change. OH SO CONFUSING. Remember above when I said that the key was recognizing when you're doing this versus when you're giving yourself the best chance to be in the ...

What Doesn't Kill Us Makes Us Stronger Club.

But math, right? Math! Who ends up there? Do you know anybody who ends up there? And how many people stay in the "Better Miserable Than Alone Club" rather than doing the hard work, the HARD HARD work to end up in the The Universe Delivers Even If It Has To Force It club out of fear, or hopefulness (and let's not even debate if hopefulness is the same as fear). How many people say "I'm not sure I'm not just staying in a 'better miserable than alone' situation. We really could end up in a 'What doesn't kill us makes us stronger' situation. It was only one problem. I know he loves me. I know I love him. There's no reason this can't work!" Even though we ALL know by this point how silly that attitude can be. On the other hand, love is what drives the world and we should try to find ways to honor it.

And so 2500 words later I have worked NOTHING out except to organize thoughts and get caught up in math. MATH of all things. And I should probably listen to KALM who wisely told me that to overthink is to sabatoge. But to underthink is to beg to stay in patterns that may or may not be good.

Arghhhhh! You MUST be as frustrated as I am right now. You're welcome. I will leave you with a haiku that sums this up, and also, email answering tomorrow, btw.

My problems would be
solved with five minutes alone
with Blake Lewis. Yum.

 

Phone Update

So, I have a horrid, cheap temp phone in my hands until I can get back to Vegas and get my warranty processed. My SIM card isn't transferred. Feel free to call, but don't expect great reception. And if you left me a voicemail or text after 10am on Sunday, I never got it. I'm not ignoring you. I just really didn't get your message.

I feel retardly flattered at how many people just showed up at the Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf over the course of the day yesterday. Retardedly. I have the greatest friends in the world, which is why I can easily let go of the fact that somebody hated me enough to trash my life like that. If, on every weekend, I could go sit in a coffee shop and just talk all day long with people I adore, how happy would I be?

LA has been just what I needed. I can't wait to really tell you all about it!

 

And so if you want to visit...

"No, I'll totally call you on Sunday!" I said to, like, six people.

Until I woke up today and the keypad on my razr won't work, and a web search reveals that there's nothing I can do but replace the phone. And I can't take time to run to a Cingular store right now because I actually have to work. But I"m here:

The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf on Santa Monica & Second until around 5

Go on and visit if you read this. I SWEAR TO GOD I WASN'T GOING TO FLAKE ON CALLING YOU.

 

Thank You, Universe

The universe is good. Sometimes, it has to give bad news and bad feelings to good people, but then it does something to remind them that the world is good if you let it be. In the last four days:

- The relationship that I thought was the most princess perfect fairy tale relationship ever, the one that I pointed to to say "Look how they fell in love and weren't scared of it", broke up.

- A marriage that I had pointed to over and over again and said "Look how many obstacles they have, and they've found this really healthy way to overcome them and be together," pretty much is almost assuredly breaking up

- I basically got told that I was not loved enough. That even though I had been told otherwise again and again, in the moment where I needed to be the person who was loved the most, I wasn't.

- I discovered that there's someone out there who hates me enough that they will go to unbelievable, UNBELIEVABLE, lengths to shatter my life. And in many ways, they already won before I figured it out.

And so, right, not the best week. But then this morning, early, just as I was waking up, I got asked to be Tyler's godmother. And it was the best thing I've been asked to do in a long time. And I'm going to take my job as godmother more seriously than you can imagine. She didn't even know how much she was giving me a gift I really needed this morning, but she did. Even if she did it via text message!

Boys, girls, it must be dumping season, yeah? So here's what I'm holding on to, and it usually helps. When God takes away somebody who took up such a big space in your heart, it's usually because he needs to make room for somebody who's going to fill you up even more. Stay the course.

 

I Do Not, in Any Way, Feel Like I am Slamming Into the New Year

I knew the first weeks would be rough. The travel. The bowl games. The work stress. The decompressing. My dogged determination that even with all of that going on I was going to have a blast one way or the other. On top of that, trying to explore LA as a real possibility for the first time as an actual instead of a, "Yes, I'll move to LA this year" vague kind of thing. Combined, of course, with the annual "The holidays are over and now I'm depressed becasue they are my favorite time of year" bout of depression.

And maybe, just maybe, I pushed it a little too hard to make sure I had the fun while I was slamming through the most absurd schedule a person has ever had. Okay, not the most absurd because I know some people with some crazy schedules. But that said, I decided to sneak one extra little trip to LA in last weekend (and my ladies and I went shopping and those jeans are HOT, but not as hot as that bag), and probably that trip was the one trip too many and now.I.have.strep and an ear infection.

Yes, it's hard to slam into the new year when you're sleeping 16 hours a day. Maybe more. I stare at my laptop. It does not speak back to me. I have a list of outlook tasks due today. They'll all be glaring at me in red by tomorrow because apparently the idea of organizing some logos is beyond me. My joint is a mess. I have 122 unanswered personal emails and 71 unanswered work emails. And none of the following things are likely to happen this weekend: a)Zelda completion, b)painting completion, c)phone call returns, d)knitting completions or f)personal writing goals.

But I do have the entire first season of "Supernatural" (thanks Charms94), the entire first seasons of "Melrose Place" and "90210" (Thanks Matt McD) and lots of new "Northern Exposure" (thanks Halff). So if you're going to be stuck in bed doing mindless things, at least those are good mindless things.

This sucks. That is all.