a long weekend, and it's only saturday

You don't quite know how scared you are of losing someone until that abstraction becomes a distinct possibility. And there are a few things -- medically speaking -- that can bring the abstract into the concrete: strokes, heart attacks, compound fractures, kidney failure, etc. But there are also the more subtle circumstances, such as when your boyfriend tests positive for influenza b, and the next day his leg is massive swollen, and he goes to the ER, where he finds out he has a blood clot in his femoral vein (a deep vein thrombosis). Everyone's quite concerned about the chance that said clot will migrate upward and end up in his lungs, at which point things get really scary.

JS was admitted to the hospital last night under these exact circumstances, and he was discharged today with subcutaneous injections to give himself (or for me to give him) for the next five days. He'll be on another blood thinner for up to six months, maybe longer if his doctors decide this is a permanent concern. He's home resting this evening, and it may be a while before he can spend the night at my place -- we've been going back and forth a few times a week -- as the three flights of stairs to my apartment are quite arduous for him in his current state. But I'll be over at his place tomorrow to make dinner and watch a movie, and we're going to attempt to carry on as normally as possible...

And me? I'm shaky because this really scared me. I know it's a possibility any time I date an older man, but I've never encountered something so random and unpredictable before. And also? I really want him to stay alive as long as possible, because when I say I want to spend the rest of our lives together, I'm not just talking about until JS turns 60 (in 12 years); I don't want to be a widow at age 47. But that's playing the "what if" game in my head, and not in a positive way, so I won't go there... and I'll pray to have this fear relieved. Maybe it will even work. Namaste.

monetary frustrations

I've been officially unemployed now for almost three months, and while I suppose I could get a job at a diner without a problem, the jobs for which I'm qualified and would actually want to perform are hard to find. The one I was most excited about? Well, they wanted someone who'd move to the suburbs within six months -- it was an expansion of their current website, and given that the expanding was into the 'burbs? That means an actual presence there. Ah, well. At least I was honest that I wasn't willing to do that, which is progress.

I'm trying to look on the bright side of things -- it's the perfect time of year not to have a job, and as long as I keep sending out 20 resumes (or more) a day, something's bound to click. I received an email yesterday from a large corporation in the northern suburbs, asking why I'd apply for a job so far beneath my capabilities and under my salary range... except I viewed the job as a step up, and the salary offered is $12 an hour more than I was making at my last job. So I suppose it's all a matter of perspective.

For now, though, I'm waiting for the weather to turn to the "warm" side of the thermostat, and I'm looking forward to lazy sunny days at the beach, in the parks, and wandering around the city. And, oh, visiting New York City, too. And possibly going on one or more "volunteer vacations" -- one in Guatemala looks especially appealing.

In other news, JS has the flu, and he's going tonight to see if it's the dreaded swine flu. I stopped by last night to bring him supplies -- soup, crackers, fruit popsicles -- and he was just miserable. Today's not much better, from what he says, so he's going to the doctor for recommendations and advice. And me? Well, other than dropping off supplies, I'm avoiding him... there's no way I want to get sick. If there's one thing worse than being unemployed, it's falling ill while you're unemployed... argh. Here's to hoping the job scene improves AND JS takes a turn for the better. Namaste.

today's scope of work

My new-to-me bed...

I'm exhausted, much as I would be if I'd spent a day doing manual labor -- and that's pretty much what I've done, actually. I woke up early (for me) at 8am, made it to the 11am meeting, and came home to proceed with the day's work, which included:

• bringing my new headboard, footboard, and wooden frame up from my van -- three flights of stairs
  
• stashing my mattress and box spring in the corner of my bedroom
• cleaning out my bedroom closet
• bagging up three more bags of stuff to donate to the Salvation Army (in addition to the three bags JS and I dropped off yesterday)
• traipsing all around North Center looking for an Allen wrench set to replace the one I've mislaid
• dismantling my headboard and frame
• cleaning out my dresser and nightstand
• moving my bedroom set onto the back porch for the people who are buying it from me this evening
• moving a nightstand from my living room into my bedroom
• putting away all of my clothes in a makeshift dresser (which I'll use until I get a new one, or JS and I move into together, or both)
• sweeping my bedroom
• putting together my new-to-me bed
• reinstalling the box spring and mattress, including making the bed -- complete with bed skirt, comforter, etc.
• rearranging my living room -- putting my pachinko machine in the corner, moving a side table out of the corner, and moving a small filing cabinet into my kitchen, where there is new space because of the next item
• moving my two 24" barstools into my van, where they will be until I deliver them to their new owners this evening
• installing my living room air conditioner (successfully) and attempting to install my bedroom A/C (not so successfully)
• bringing a side table downstairs for its new owner
• grocery shopping at Trader Joe's
• gathering up at least two big bags worth of garbage
• hauling my cat-hair-contaminated foam mattress topper into the alley

And still yet to do this evening:

• delivering aforementioned barstools
• cooking dinner, or at least ordering it online and eating it
• helping its new owners carry my old bedroom set down three flights of stairs
• washing dishes
• cleaning out my bathtub

This keeping-house stuff is hard work. Then again, I wouldn't be doing half of this stuff if it weren't for JS -- though they are all things I should have done all along, the idea of moving in with him next Spring with all the crap I have now is daunting. It's interesting how things change when you start preparing to share a life with someone else... all of a sudden the thousand and one knick-knacks I have all called into question, and not because JS has demanded that I get rid of a single thing (which he hasn't, although he does think my pachinko machine is a bit outdated -- duh! that's the point! -- and he doesn't share my affinity for random mobiles, beaded curtains, or odd art). Rather, I find myself at a turning point where I feel compelled to examine my propensity for hoarding, and this is a wonderful opportunity for me to ask about almost everything I own: is there a reason I have this? does it have sentimental value? is there a story that accompanies this thing? and is it a story that fills my heart with positives or one that drains me?

Ultimately, I suppose, it's the process of weeding through my things and keeping the ones that scream ME! and best represent the person I am -- the person who will be entering into a partnership with another human being, who has his own set of things that scream HIM!

For now, though, all thoughts of mergers and acquisitions are set aside, and I'm looking forward to taking a bubble bath in a clean tub, followed by hours of vegetating on the couch. Namaste.

yearning, tonight

It's the time of year when I start wishing I could be somewhere else, and not just anywhere else but somewhere bigger and more exciting and less known-to-me than Chicago. Last August I vowed I'd find a way to spend my summers in New York City, but relationships and life and job loss have gotten the better of me, and here I am facing another trio of sunshine-filled months in the Windy City rather than some 700-odd miles to the East. I have a small sum of cash coming to me within the next week, and I say to J., "That would make a nice trip to New York," and he says, "Go."

I should feel happiness that I am with someone who encourages me so readily to stretch my wings, but instead I feel a sadness and a fear, mostly that he will not love that city as much as he does this one and it will become our deal breaker. I've always known this, but I've also always known that anyone who loves me will have to accept this yearning that won't go away, no matter how thoroughly I attempt to distract myself. But the sadness and fear are there, too, because he doesn't insist I stay, or that I wait until he can take time off of work to go with me, or take offense at my needing more than what this quite-large city can offer.

I want to learn how to get -- and heartily pursue -- what I need without feeling as though I'm giving up something else I want more, even though I know that "something else" is everything I've always had, and it never has been enough. Mostly I'm stuck in that place where I want to be a different person, but the only thing that feels comfortable and true and real is being the person I've always been. It's a rough transition, one that only passes by passing through it, but knowing that somehow makes it harder still.

Still: these dilemmas and frustrations and unknown quantities are part of being human; they persist the most when I least want to be fallible and vulnerable. It's time not only for me to eat dinner and take a bath and watch a movie and meditate before I sleep, but to accept the fact that this is life, this is my life, these are my struggles, I will get through to the other side, and somewhere among it all, I will find my way to New York City, and I will be okay. Namaste.

the latest conversation

They are talking about moving in together, sometime next spring, and she reminds him that she will not move in with him until they are married.

(She has spent enough time playing the game, being frivolous, making haphazard choices on the spur of the moment regardless of the cost, both real and imagined. She instead wants to act on the premises of safety, permanence, and unwavering affection, with an eye toward ending her life having loved deeply instead of forever running away.)

He knows this well. "The how and when and where of the asking is my job," he says. "Just know that it will happen. All you have to do is love me."

Later, while they are going to sleep, after he tells her he loves her one last time but before she says, "Good night, sweetie" and they spoon in one direction or the other (which has become their pattern), he admits the thing he worries about most is figuring out where they will live. She smiles and turns to wiggle and settle into the crook of his neck, saying that it will all come together, and he agrees.

"All we both have to do is love each other the best we can," she whispers, and as she drifts away she smiles at the thought of settling into that crook, with that smell, with those arms around her, the last thing at night and the first thing in the morning, for a very long time.

meh

My graduation ceremony went well, though I've been super emotional and can't seem to get out of this funk. Uncle Eddie blew me off for brunch (he had to work and missed the ceremony itself, but said he'd show up to meet us for the meal, and didn't), and the kids were being, well, kids all day. I did make a trip to the cemetery where my grandmother is interred, and I made amends with her, but that wasn't necessarily an emotional panacea for the overwhelming sense of loneliness I've felt all weekend. All my life, the people upon whom I've supposed to be able to depend have left me largely abandoned, and the ones I've chosen to be part of my life as friends or lovers tend to be fallible more often than not. JS is fine, but when I'm feeling like this, all out of sorts, and he forgets that we've got something planned, or postpones it until later in the day when I've been banking on being able to relax and get to bed early makes me want to withdraw and say "fuck it" to everything and everyone. Except that's not what I really want -- it's what I feel like doing in order to protect myself and never be hurt and always be left lonely. But I've already made a conscious decision that such a path is the wrong one.

And so I'm vulnerable and sensitive and not quite right... and it sucks. I'm tired of crying on the bathroom floor and snapping at the boys. I want people to always show up when and where they say they will, and I want consistency and predictability. I also happen to want a fairy godmother, and she can't come a minute too soon. It's too bad such people don't actually exist. Sigh.

thoughts while watching 'bones' on dvd

Today's been quite an emotional one. On one level, it's been fabulous. JS and I threw a graduation party for me today, which was well attended, and I received a number of thoughtful gifts, including a beautiful handmade apron (and I've been searching high and low for a perfect one for months). Most of the 96 vegan cupcakes and 54 vegan brownies (all of which I made yesterday, in a marathon baking session) were devoured, and the caterer's beverages were delightful, albeit overpriced. So why did I find myself sobbing on my bathroom floor while the boys ate dinner tonight? Good question.

It could be related to the letter I received from The Philosopher (I told him I won't send or receive emails to him anymore, since it prolongs our discussions, and so he's resorted to writing me letters!) outlining his specific reasons for wanting to take the boys and move to the suburbs (moreso because I am tired of struggling with him, and I don't know whether to keep fighting or let him "win"). Or it could be that I'm walking across the stage at UIC Pavilion tomorrow morning in front of thousands of people -- I've never walked before, and this is probably the last chance I'll have (with one BA and two MAs, I'm a little schooled out). Maybe it's related to doing that all on Mother's Day when I already feel so deflated as a mom. But mostly I think it's all of those things combined with the fact that (a) I miss my grandmother deeply and immensely and (b) it's been nine months since I've been to New York City -- the longest stretch of time I've spent away from Manhattan since my first visit there in 2006.

The remedies? First, after graduation and brunch at Karyn's Cooked tomorrow, JS and I are going with the boys to my grandmother's cemetery (and then to the one in which his mother is buried, only about two miles away from where my grandmother is). And this week? I'm researching my next trip to NYC. I know JS and I are planning on going in June, but I don't know if I can wait that long. I might have to escape sooner. Much sooner. As in: next weekend, or the one after. I don't know if it's a solution to any of the above angst -- and I'm fairly certain it won't alleviate the situation with The Philosopher in the least -- but at least I'll be carefree and happy for 48 hours. Namaste.