At Least One Of Us Has Moved On

I accidentally found a piece written about me by my college boyfriend's sister, recently. Ouch.

I'm not sad that her opinion of me is crummy or that she saw me as a monster, because if I'm honest with myself I know I was. Her story is definitely biased, but it's only biased in the sense that that was the me that she knew. Save for the tidbit about the scarf. I don't know why she thought I threw away his "$150 cashmere scarf" that she had scoured the city for because I had "knit him one that Christmas," only because the Christmas she's referring to was two years before I learned to knit, so I question the integrity of all of her facts. I don't remember throwing away a scarf. I remember college boyfriend being really careless with his shit, though. I've forgotten most of the details, but reading her words was refreshing in that it gave me an accurate insight into my character at the time, but is was shoddy when it comes to actual factual events.

Anyway, the issue here is that she knew me as a "walking scowl", and I couldn't have made that impression more strongly had I actually disliked her the first time I met her. And honestly if there is a bunch of people whose bad opinion of me really doesn't bother me, it's that whole family. Her story about my "just desserts" (i.e. her brother dumping me...worst punishment, ever!) is only funny because she clearly still sees me as that person; because she wrote it as if, by god, I should heed her words or continue to be treated the way her brother and his family treated me FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE. DUN DUN DUN. It was downright hilarious. It's not like I had no idea I was this big crazy bitch back then. Plus it's good to know that while my anger was obviously wasted—as all anger is—my suspicions of their hatred weren't signs of paranoid schizophrenia. I smile a lot more now that I have a boyfriend who loves me and friends who I actually acknowledge (who love me, too).

It was because of college boyfriend's family, mostly, that I was terrified to pieces when I first met J's family. My experience with the cb's family had been so mind-numbingly terrible—so much like driving an ice pick through my eyeballs—I was convinced that no one's mother could ever love me and that I was doomed to be seen as a "walking scowl" forever. I don't dispute that over the years my attitude grew worse, but I know that I did say thank you the first time I met them. I was, though, and am still painfully shy, so I probably didn't come off as grateful. They also scared the crap out of me; they were overbearing and overwhelming and just plain scary the whole time, and they mostly kept to themselves when they weren't being nice to the point of insincerity.

Two significant things changed after college. First, that it's important to me that my boyfriend has a good relationship with his mother, and J has an excellent relationship with his. Secondly, more importantly, his relationship to me is one of love and trust that we have built over the years by ultimately being kind to each other. It is his unquestioning faith in my goodness that makes me want to be a better person. I am still crazy, and I am still mean-spirited and judgmental sometimes, but J knows how to diffuse it, and he knows when and how to step up and be a man about it, which is precisely why I am putty in his hands. It's also why I don't have to resort to silly antics or petty jealousy just to get him to stay.

The crucial ingredient missing back then was maturity on everyone's part (mine, yes. Absolutely. But his especially. And his family? Yikes), which is why it made me sad to see her holding onto that anger for such a long time—enough to post about it online, anyway, and without a hint of irony. I have no delusions about the impression I made, and although they'd be the last people to believe me, I have a few stories about how woefully ungracious he was to my family the first time he met them, too.

Anyway, the long and short of it is this: a lot of bad things happened in my college relationship. Mostly it was because we were the worst fit that two people could probably be. And I never wonder what would have happened if I might have been more gracious—more like myself—when I first met them. Losing him was the best thing that ever happened to me, and prolonging the end of that misery would have actually ruined my life. I've made some mistakes in my time, but the length and significance of that relationship in my life was probably the biggest.

And with this story, another chapter of that time in my life is closed forever. Sometimes I wish that my slate had been clean before I met J, but I realize that our relationship wouldn't be as rich and purely happy as it is if I hadn't made those mistakes. They're mine, and for better or for worse, they've shaped me. I figured out what happiness and love are when you don't try to force them. I'm not saying that's worth a hundred ex-boyfriends of that caliber, but to end up being with someone like J it has certainly been worth the journey it took to get here.

getting better

I had a rough night last night, but it was one of those situations that you simply can't do anything about. The resulting conversation actually made me feel way better, so even uncomfortable and sad situations can happen for a wonderful reason. I read this quote in zen habits after I'd calmed down, and so creating this today felt natural.

[People] Watching History Repeat Itself

J and I saw a pretty bad couple-fight last night. After they both stormed off, I asked him why we always had to be the ones to witness these things. I'm sure it's because before the wonderful days of anti-depressants, we subjected plenty of other people to these sorts of scenes (just in case anyone is uncertain, I was always the one causing the scene. Yeah, I'm wondering why I felt the need to clarify, too).

We had just had a great dinner at Border Cafe, and were standing outside the Harvard T entrance. A couple walked by, and the guy was telling [presumably] his girlfriend that she "should take his credit card, and...

...I don't want your credit card! Besides, it's my credit card."
"Yes, but I'm the one who is paying them off, so..." (he keeps trying to give her the card.)
"You know what, you can take that card..." She grabbed the card and threw it at him as hard as she could, and then put a finger to his chest and drew her face up to his until they were touching noses, "...shove it. Up. Your ass."

She stomped into the T while he picked up his the credit card and walked in the opposite direction. I couldn't tell if he was angry, frustrated, sad...or probably a combination of all the emotions in the world, except maybe the happy ones.

This reminds me of the time...well...actually, I don't remember details. But just yesterday while I was walking to Border Cafe, I saw a bench in Cambridge Common, and I thought, "Hey, I remember having a really bad fight at that bench." Sigh. Memories.

Yarn I stole doesn't count towards the budget, right?

I bought some knitpicks yarn recently; I sincerely needed one more skein of the Iris Alpaca Cloud to finish Muir, and while I was there...



knitpicks alpaca cloud in peppermint
So last night, due to my recent (just prior to this order, but I want to point out that I qualified this order!) promise to J not to buy any more yarn, at least until all of the projects currently on my needles have been completed:

"Look at this yarn! I want to sleep in a bed of this yarn. Isn't it beautiful?"
"...Did you buy that yarn in the past few days?"
"Well, yes, but...

...No, I stole it."

Lazy Sunday

This is one of my favorite pictures of J in the whole world.

For the same reason that I love it when he wears his glasses, I love how this picture makes me feel comfortable and safe in our relationship. He also has a pair of slippers that made me want to date him a year ago, because they remind me of feeling warm and content, the way a cup of hot cocoa and a fire can make me feel. I know -- I'm the world's biggest nerd, but those slippers...

It's this kind of lazy Sunday afternoon, where the sunlight kisses the room while he hacks his own computer and I sit next to him and knit, that I wish I could bottle up and save for later, when our lives get hectic again.

It's pictures like this that make me miss him. Even when he's just two miles away.

Choose Your Own Adventure: Relationship Edition

This article from Wired posed some interesting questions about the internet and relationship styles. It linked to a study done at the University of Illinois, which claims that "simulated relationships can provide insight into real ones."

Here's a funny excerpt from the Wired article:

I took the study's survey myself and found my fictional partner so immature, and the assumptions the story made about my emotions so inaccurate, that in most cases neither of the options was anything close to what I'd do. Nor did I have the option of "dump his ass and move on," which should have been listed at the end of every scenario.

Like Regina, I was surprised by the outcome of my relationship "adventure," because I also would not have chosen most of the options in real life that I was forced to click in this survey. Not only did I find my fictional partner to be immature, but the responses I leveled at him were also lacking in substance.

In the end, I was given results that have been drilled into me since I started therapy. Does this mean I'll finally listen? Probably not, but it was interesting to see that one random online survey agreed with my therapist.

It's like the flu, only more expensive

I had one of those wonderfully slow, dreamy weekends that make it difficult to pull myself out of bed and into the office on a [cold] Monday morning. A sleepy weekend with lots of excitement followed by lots of lounging. And dim sum.

If this blog were a TV show (one can only dream), I would have introduced a new character a month ago, but I haven't known how to go about doing this. Not without just abruptly talking about him with no introduction. And I haven't exactly asked him how he feels about being blogged about, either.

Among a few other things, there's the issue of a nickname. Harvard and Emmerson were easy (we're not particularly creative people sometimes). Other times the nicknames are clever and they just happen. Indie Adam Jones, T-baby, Poli Sci Guy...

So that's just one of the reasons I haven't brought it up. That, and I have better things to blog about than my love life (ha! I am a bad liar).

Also, I keep saying I'm not going to do this, but something tells me that tomorrow I might be stopping somewhere to pick up the Shins' new album. Because I have a sickness. A terrible, horrible sickness.

I knew the meaning of it all

French Kicks – Knee High	just listened
Swan Lake – Are You Swimming In Her Pools?	9 minutes ago
Pete Yorn – The Man	13 minutes ago
Joseph Arthur – Automatic Situation	16 minutes ago
The Young Republic – Girl From The Northern States	19 minutes ago
Someone Still Loves You Boris Yeltsin – Yr Broom	22 minutes ago
The Strokes – You Only Live Once	24 minutes ago
The Thermals – Here's Your Future	27 minutes ago
Modest Mouse – Dashboard	30 minutes ago
The Mountain Goats – Two Headed Boy Pt. 1	34 minutes ago

My last ten tracks on last.fm -- just because I was talking about the indie music with Laura this morning, and even though I've been "good" lately, there is usually a track or two of "embarrassment" in between the indie songs; like Clay Aiken's Without You. I mean what? I don't own any Clay Aiken...That was a joke. Haha. Ha. But these are all good songs, and I recommend them all.

So, anyway, there's been a lot going on in my life, and I've been pretty good about updating the right people, so I haven't felt the need to post all about it here. Besides, since I revoked my parents' blog-reading privledges, it's been less about "this is what I did today" and "here's what's going on in my life in excruciating detail" all up in here, and more about the dirty jokes. Or at least maybe it should be.

Laura and I are going to write a "Posting Personals on Craigslist for Dummies" book. We discussed the plan yesterday, and I think we should set it into motion. So, it's been a while since I've browsed the CL Personals, but today I've been doing some research. My favorites so far have been

I'm unpretentious but willing to sell myself on "Craigslist". Conversations with witty segway's are awesome.

Because I think he put quotes around the wrong word, and also one of my life rules is "if you can't spell it, you're not allowed to use it." That's what the spell check and m-w.com are for. And this guy...

Top 30 reasons to date This man (Use to be 20) - 35

Reason 29 When you're wrong, I'll do the apologizing anyhow. (what?! Who wants this? I want to meet these girls and slap them. And shame on you for perpetuating this)
Reason 25 I'll always go with you when you have to go to the doctor. (No thank you. Unless you knocked me up, you don't need to be seeing any doctor with me. Are you aware of what happens at the doctor's office? I'm uncomfortable peeing in people's apartments if I think they can hear me. Why would I want you with me at the doctor's office?)
Reason 17 I do random acts of kindness. (You do, do you?)
Reason 15 I will be in your mind more than you are. (again. What? I can only hope you mean with some sort of futuristic probe. Because then it's at least kind of cool)
Reason 13 We will talk endlessly to each other on Cellphones to say how we miss each other. (Another one of those no thank you's. People who need to be attached to their phones when they don't see each other should have their heads examined. And I don't mean you, Emily. LDRs are different beasts. This dude wants a local girlfriend. He could probably also use a life. And also -- Cellphones? SPELL. CHECK.)
Reason 10 I won't try to get into your pants on the first date.(...)
Reason 9 I won't try to get into your pants on the second date.(...)
Reason 8 Aren't third dates great? (I guess this is better than a "six month" rule)
Reason 2 I'm a single, well grounded, good values. (What's "a good values"? And why are you one?)

And that's why Laura and I need to get on this book. Because like she said, "The path to hell is paved with good intentions -- and this guy is going to hell." (Then again, so are we).

[Currently Spinning: Smashing Pumpkins - Muzzle]

I don't know what you're talking about

I was thinking on the T this morning. Serious thoughts. So serious I could barely focus on the crossword puzzle.

I'm happy right now. I would even go so far as to say that I'm secure in myself, and that I've become happy with the person I've grown to be. I found principles and I'm sticking to them. I don't lie about who I am, and it's a personal relief to know that all the stuff I've said wasn't just lip service, but me speaking truthfully from my heart.

But everything I do these days is clouded by this hesitation that I have. And even though I'm still doing things the same old Briar way, I'm doing them with a new twist. With a newfound caution that was never there before. It almost feels like I keep thinking, "One misstep and everything that I've so carefully built for myself -- my entire fragile world -- could come crashing down again." And you know, I know that it wouldn't be that bad right now; it wouldn't be the end of the world. Caution isn't so bad. Sometimes it's what keeps you from being hurt; but sometimes it's what keeps you from experiencing life. And lately, separating the fear from the caution is difficult.

It's kind of like knitting, and right now it's like I've cast on and knit a few rows. So what if I've done it wrong? It's just a few rows. I can just rip it back and start over. With new yarn, because sometimes that's what you do when you're knitting, and the yarn is all wrong for you. Or worse, when you're all wrong for the yarn.

But this time it's different. This time it feels like I'm using a really facny cashmere/silk blend, so beautiful and delicate that I wouldn't mind just laying in it all the time. Something so soft it makes my heart skip a beat. Something priceless and handspun and really hard to find. And that scares me.

I mean...what? That wasn't a metaphor. Seriously.

I also don't know what to do with all my free time

Being home has provided me with an extra-special holiday rollercoaster of emotion.

My dad predicted that it would take my sister and me four days to start fighting. In reality it was three days. And instead of my sister, it was my mother. And instead of happening within the safe confines of the house it happened at a crowded Chick-fil-a at the mall. We r awesome.

Anyway, things are better now, and instead of talking about that, I'll talk about the things in El Paso that I fully plan on taking advantage of (Chick-fil-a and Terrazas having been crossed off the list today): Forever 21, Charlotte Russe, Arby's, and Schlotzskys. Well...maybe not Schlotzsky's...

I got to see Peter and Patrick on the 23rd. We watched Talladega Nights, and then flipped through various infomercials. The infomercials with the running O'Brien commentary were as funny as Talladega Nights.

So now I'm just relaxing. I can't believe I took a week off of work. I don't know what to do...with my hands.

I'm not really that big a fan of Fleetwood Mac

I went out with college boyfriend last night.

We met at the Asgard for dinner with some drinks, then dinner and a movie. Not feeling feelings is strange, but it was good, and I'm glad that I did this. I will probably never see him again, and I really needed the closure.

One of my many charms

I'm terrible at keeping secrets. Seriously. Don't ever tell me anything.

I need to add a quick disclaimer that if it's something truly important, I can keep the secret - I will take it to my grave if need be. I'm not *that* girl. But I do tend to just blurt things out - even if I know they're supposed to be secret.

Once, at Christmas, my mom got my dad a cell phone and a laptop because he had just been promoted to Lieutenant at the time, and with the pay raise plus his new responsibilities, she thought it was high time he had both of these things. Well, he opened the cell phone, and in the afterglow, when everyone was just beaming with pride/happiness/glee, I burst out with, "Wait till you see the laptop mom got you, dad!"

This is just one example of how I cannot keep a secret to save my life. I just get too excited. It's part of my "charm."

MC on the Red Line last night: Me with a box of girl scout cookies, you with skis and beautiful blue eyes

Yesterday on the T, I saw this ridiculously gorgeous guy. He had skis and was reading some sort of graphic novel, standing by the door. I glanced at him, but then he saw me looking so I quickly looked at the subway map above the door, squinting so he'd be sure that I was not staring at him. When I let my eyes pass over him again when I was done "looking at the map," he laughed at me! So, I just stuck my nose back in Bless Me Ultima, which was the train book of the day, and proceeded to become absorbed.

At Harvard, the woman sitting next to me got off the T, and he came and sat next to me. I took out one earbud just in case, but he just read his graphic novel after making eye contact right before he sat.

When I got off the train, I had to jump over his skis, and he looked at me once more and smiled.

I should have slipped him my number. Seriously. What did I have to lose?