Thursday, September 23, 2004
Moving Day
Well, I have mentioned before that I am moving. You should probably know that I am not happy about it. This is mostly due to the fact that I had not been expecting to move for at least a year. It all happened when my roommate, who owns the condo I live in currently, dropped a bombshell on the second day of my return to work, and change my living situation irrevocably.
I came home with my mind soley on work...this is where I was- in the throes of waking myself out of summer hibernation, getting back into the mindset of glorified babysitting, walking in the door after a grueling day of correcting the children: "No, Kyle, my name is not Mrs. ___________, it's Miss. I'm NOT married, thanks for pointing that out...AGAIN", when my roommate informed me that she would be selling the condo in thirty days.
She rambled on and on for quite some time about the decision; about feeling exploited at her job and the need to make more money elsewhere before her student loans kicked in...blah, blah, blah. My mind began to reel. What? We're moving? Where will I go? What can I afford? I thought we had a deal? (She had told me that if she ever sold the place she would give me plenty of advance warning. Is 30 days sufficient advance warning?)
I tried desperately to not let the disdain, and disappointment register on my face as she somewhat sheepishly tried her best to make it seem as if everything was still okay and that this news would in no way drastically change our lives. The best I could do in response was to refrain from saying anything. I resolved to keep a somewhat blank look on my face. At some point in her loquacious report about all of our new changes she asked me if I was mad. Slowly and emotionlessly I replied, "No." Inside, I was seething. A quiet storm of frustration, anger, and disappointment swirled inside me and I walked into my room and shut the door. I proceeded to make phone call after phone call to friends, making inquiries:
"So how much do you pay rent there? ....Uh huh...and is there a washer and dryer in the apartment?"
"Okay, so how much does it cost to actually buy a condo? I wonder if I can afford that on my pauper's salary?."
"And is that close to the freeway? Okay...Which one?"
With every new phone call, I pushed away my anger, pushed away my frustration and refused to think about the feelings that were ticking away inside. This "absence of feeling" went on for about two weeks, in which everything fell apart with my roommate.
I was stressed at work. She was stressed at work. During my free time (of which I have none)I was trying to find a new place to live between the hours of 3 and 5. During her free time she was working out the details of her move. I couldn't express my frustrated thoughts. She couldn't express how nervous she was about being forced to move back home and live in her parent's house at the age of 30.
We stopped telling each other about our days.
We stopped watching TV together.
We stopped looking at each other in our snippets of conversation.
We stopped sitting in the same room together.
We just...stopped.
The silence turned to stony silence and then... eventually... nothing. And the quiet storm of emotion in my heart turned to a chilly, icy wind that blew in her direction, with the single goal of keeping her at bay.
One day I came home- still on my "I'm not talking to you" kick, and went to the restroom to...er... do the things most people do in the restroom. Past the bathroom door, through the wall and the deafening silence of the TV (which was on at full blast to avoid meaningful conversation), I heard her voice, muffled, and in the distance: she was clearly on the phone and she was clearly talking about... me.
"She is disrespecting me..."
"We don't even talk anymore..."
"She has totally ceased all communication and shut me out."
Bits and pieces. Pieces and bits of conversation about ... me.
About me!
About...me?
It is so strange to hear yourself spoken about in the third person- especially when the party speaking of you doesn't know you can hear them. Confused, and in a daze, I finished my bathroom duties and waited for her to get off the phone and walk into the living room where, I was determined, I would confront her. If she wanted conversation she was going to have it, goddammit!
I confronted her. A motley mix of emotions flashed across her face: fear, worry, anger, determination to stand by whatever unkind words I said, and... sadness.
"I don't take it back. I'm not sorry for what I said. I meant every word. This move is hard on both of us and you have not been here for me. You don't take into account the pressure I am also under." In this fashion, I let her speak and speak and speak. Tears fell and she poured out her heart: she was afraid, she didn't want to move, she had to do it, it wasn't her choice, she didn't want to lose the friendship, she would help me move, she was going to miss me.
All of a sudden, I became aware of how silly girls are. Of how silly I am, to hold a grudge against one of my best friends; someone who - for all intents and purposes- is the closest thing I have to family. And as we talked, the quiet storm turned into a soft rain that fell in bead-like formations down my cheeks. We cried, we hugged, and we apologized.
Thinks aren't perfect, but they're better. And I, for one- am glad.
I came home with my mind soley on work...this is where I was- in the throes of waking myself out of summer hibernation, getting back into the mindset of glorified babysitting, walking in the door after a grueling day of correcting the children: "No, Kyle, my name is not Mrs. ___________, it's Miss. I'm NOT married, thanks for pointing that out...AGAIN", when my roommate informed me that she would be selling the condo in thirty days.
She rambled on and on for quite some time about the decision; about feeling exploited at her job and the need to make more money elsewhere before her student loans kicked in...blah, blah, blah. My mind began to reel. What? We're moving? Where will I go? What can I afford? I thought we had a deal? (She had told me that if she ever sold the place she would give me plenty of advance warning. Is 30 days sufficient advance warning?)
I tried desperately to not let the disdain, and disappointment register on my face as she somewhat sheepishly tried her best to make it seem as if everything was still okay and that this news would in no way drastically change our lives. The best I could do in response was to refrain from saying anything. I resolved to keep a somewhat blank look on my face. At some point in her loquacious report about all of our new changes she asked me if I was mad. Slowly and emotionlessly I replied, "No." Inside, I was seething. A quiet storm of frustration, anger, and disappointment swirled inside me and I walked into my room and shut the door. I proceeded to make phone call after phone call to friends, making inquiries:
"So how much do you pay rent there? ....Uh huh...and is there a washer and dryer in the apartment?"
"Okay, so how much does it cost to actually buy a condo? I wonder if I can afford that on my pauper's salary?."
"And is that close to the freeway? Okay...Which one?"
With every new phone call, I pushed away my anger, pushed away my frustration and refused to think about the feelings that were ticking away inside. This "absence of feeling" went on for about two weeks, in which everything fell apart with my roommate.
I was stressed at work. She was stressed at work. During my free time (of which I have none)I was trying to find a new place to live between the hours of 3 and 5. During her free time she was working out the details of her move. I couldn't express my frustrated thoughts. She couldn't express how nervous she was about being forced to move back home and live in her parent's house at the age of 30.
We stopped telling each other about our days.
We stopped watching TV together.
We stopped looking at each other in our snippets of conversation.
We stopped sitting in the same room together.
We just...stopped.
The silence turned to stony silence and then... eventually... nothing. And the quiet storm of emotion in my heart turned to a chilly, icy wind that blew in her direction, with the single goal of keeping her at bay.
One day I came home- still on my "I'm not talking to you" kick, and went to the restroom to...er... do the things most people do in the restroom. Past the bathroom door, through the wall and the deafening silence of the TV (which was on at full blast to avoid meaningful conversation), I heard her voice, muffled, and in the distance: she was clearly on the phone and she was clearly talking about... me.
"She is disrespecting me..."
"We don't even talk anymore..."
"She has totally ceased all communication and shut me out."
Bits and pieces. Pieces and bits of conversation about ... me.
About me!
About...me?
It is so strange to hear yourself spoken about in the third person- especially when the party speaking of you doesn't know you can hear them. Confused, and in a daze, I finished my bathroom duties and waited for her to get off the phone and walk into the living room where, I was determined, I would confront her. If she wanted conversation she was going to have it, goddammit!
I confronted her. A motley mix of emotions flashed across her face: fear, worry, anger, determination to stand by whatever unkind words I said, and... sadness.
"I don't take it back. I'm not sorry for what I said. I meant every word. This move is hard on both of us and you have not been here for me. You don't take into account the pressure I am also under." In this fashion, I let her speak and speak and speak. Tears fell and she poured out her heart: she was afraid, she didn't want to move, she had to do it, it wasn't her choice, she didn't want to lose the friendship, she would help me move, she was going to miss me.
All of a sudden, I became aware of how silly girls are. Of how silly I am, to hold a grudge against one of my best friends; someone who - for all intents and purposes- is the closest thing I have to family. And as we talked, the quiet storm turned into a soft rain that fell in bead-like formations down my cheeks. We cried, we hugged, and we apologized.
Thinks aren't perfect, but they're better. And I, for one- am glad.
Monday, September 20, 2004
BACK WITH A VENGEANCE
Hey guys! Here I am again. I am sure that my return will not be marked by the shout of trumpets or the raising of flags, and that's okay. Many thanks to IronPants, however, who coaxed me into blogging again. I can't promise much, but I will do what I can. Of course, I am also very interested in catching up on your lives (if anyone is reading this. If not, that's okay also).
There are so many things to talk about! I will quickly recap the events of my life since I last left the blog. I will do this in bullet form so as to eliminate confusion. Here goes:
Hey guys! Here I am again. I am sure that my return will not be marked by the shout of trumpets or the raising of flags, and that's okay. Many thanks to IronPants, however, who coaxed me into blogging again. I can't promise much, but I will do what I can. Of course, I am also very interested in catching up on your lives (if anyone is reading this. If not, that's okay also).
There are so many things to talk about! I will quickly recap the events of my life since I last left the blog. I will do this in bullet form so as to eliminate confusion. Here goes:
- I got engaged and will be married this December.
- Hahaha-- gotcha.
- Mr. S and I traveled a lot this summer. Highlights were San Diego; Boston, Mass; and New York.
- This summer Mr. S and I also wrote 2 songs together and recorded them ( he has a recording program on his computer). At some point I will have to post a listening segment on here. I played guitar, he played the drums. They do sound good for an amateur songwriter, even I have to say so myself.
- By the way, Mr. S and I are getting along famously. He has recently started signing his emails with phrases like, "love ya" and "love, S" and things like that. This is a new turn in the relationship. I don't know why, but even though I feel these things for him I can't bring myself to use the word "love" just yet. I have issues to be ironed to out, I guess. Right now he's in New York for a family reunion, and I think the absence is what has made his heart grow fonder and has also been the catalyst for the "love ya" remarks. Hmmm.
- I am back in school teaching. Whole new classes and everything. They are dolls (thus far). We are almost finished with the first quarter of the year, so that should tell you we are CRUISING! No major "problem" students (except for the captain of the football team- so stereotypical), but even he is good most days.
- I am moving from Tempe to Mesa. I'm scared about moving but also very excited. And no, I am not moving in with Mr. S. However, we shall live much closer to each other now.
- The "X" has been sending me emails. Some are cryptic and some are not so cryptic. I guess things aren't going that well with his new girlfriend (she has a name that rhymes with "TOKYO" by the way- isn't that bizzarre) and so he's trying to crawl back into my not- so-open arms ( Ladies and Gentlemen: Journey has now left the building.) I am not sure how to handle this. Suggestions? I should really post one his emails on my blog. What a laugh that would be. Maybe I'll post some of it.
That is pretty much what's going on in my life in the moment. Rest assured I will be back with more, kids. (Again, not that anyone is reading this.) Please post/comment to my blog and let me know if you're alive! I miss you!
GG
