| Journal & Weblog | Write to Save Your Life | April 24, 2003 |
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"Revive!" posted Monday, August 27, 2001: After ignoring a journal for a certain amount of time, you begin to wonder if it's worth catching up on everything you've missed. Normally, my fixation on tabula rasa ? a nod to my textbook Sagittarian personality ? would make this a prime opportunity for another clean start. Instead, I'm going to be good to myself, and at least attempt to do a quick overview of what's been going on lately. I've been traveling a lot this month; more than I ever have in my entire life as a world-savvy military brat. I was in Chicago, Houston, and Memphis for the better part of the month and have been to Denver at least seven or eight times. It's not over, either. On Thursday, I leave for a five-day trip to Key West, Florida, where I'll be spending the Labor Day holiday with my now-ex-boyfriend, Jeff. We broke up in a relatively civil discussion over the phone, yesterday. Neither of us were very happy with the direction the relationship was taking, and it seemed to be the best decision for both of us considering our circumstances and places in life. I feel relieved. That being said, it will still be a bit awkward spending an entire weekend vacation with him as just friends, but I'm sure we'll have a good time. We always do. Work is going really well. Sitting in front of a computer for eight hours a day is still as boring as ever, but I'm getting more important work and my decisions are bearing a little more weight. It is a sense of pride to be able to actually contribute something worthwhile to the group. The people I work with are great in the sense that they are very laid-back, intelligent, and always have something thoughtful or funny to say to brighten your day. The trip to Memphis for Alpha testing was my first time in the field and it ended up being more like a vacation than a business trip since there were no problems with the software. Touring Memphis was a chance for me to break out on my own and really explore. One note about Graceland: the tourists are more interesting than anything Elvis ever had or did. Beale and Main Streets were exciting and colorful. Spent a few nights with Erin's ex-girlfriend, Heather, and Kena and Kena's little boy, Thor. Lots of fun times. Good people, too. After about day three or four, I was at a loss of things to do. I had toured the city, circuited the gay bars, and visited numerous coffee shops and restaurants. Ended up finding a few good, used booksellers and parked myself for a couple of days and just read. I had to buy an extra carry-on bag just to tote the books I bought while I was there. Travelling has always been a big to-do on my list, but now that I've gotten a healthy dose of it this year, I'm valuing my time at home more and more. I enjoy sleeping in my own bed, having everything where I want it, and having access to a full kitchen and, of course, a full wardrobe. With all it's promise of adventure and new experiences, traveling is really overrated and should be done in utmost moderation. Otherwise, your roots start to break and you tend to start drifting. Perhaps for some people this works, but I have a need to stay relatively grounded right now. Traveling a lot has taught me this much. So, life is really good. I'm in high spirits and there are so many possibilities open to me right now. I'm exploring art schools for graduate study and am making decent progress towards eliminating my debt entirely, which is responsible, in large part, for my needing to be grounded and focused. Once that's out of the way, I'll be able to fully uproot and go wherever the wind takes me. That should be fun. «
posted Tuesday, August 14, 2001: I meant to burn him into memory like I had so many times before with other, less-vivid events so that when I left, he would still be here in my hands. The smell of his hair, his skin under my palm, his breath on my neck, the rasp of his voice, the sun through his morning beard, the crease of his eyes when he smiled. Experience melted down to a list of images, smells, and sounds. Simplification does memory no justice and even if it did, ultimately, memory will always fail. It always fades. Everything fades. «
posted Tuesday, August 7, 2001: What can I say, other than things have been really busy and really good. I've been full-up with activity, between work, hanging out with friends, and spending time with Jeff and I hate the fact that when times are good, I never write about them, it's just that I never have the time to write about them. I've been making a concerted effort to write less about the melancholy and focus on the good. Things with Jeff are looking exceptionally good. He came down this weekend with my friends Dave and Scott to peruse the booths at Pride, and afterwards we had dinner and drinks followed by a movie. So far, plans for a fall vacation are shaping up nicely. We're pricing trips to Cancun, Key West, and Costa Rica. Nothing solid as of yet. I'm going out of town for two weeks on Friday for business and pleasure. First to Houston, then to Memphis. Hopefully, when I return, I'll have regained a bit of my desire to write. «
posted Thursday, August 2, 2001: I was going to write something of great importance last night, but a strange turn of events resulted in me (purposefully) pulling the power-cord from my computer. Perhaps I'll elaborate on those events in the near future. For the time being, however, they will have to remain unsaid. The week has been full of events reluctant to be acknowledged or detailed, and I wonder if it's my ubiquitous aversion to the truth rearing it's ugly head. If so, I refuse to admit it. Who is Helen Landing? The name is seared into the back of my mind like the retinal burn from a camera flash. Intensely vivid dreams have spun webs in my head the past few nights and the name has stayed with me, beyond post-arousal forgetfulness. Despite this, I cannot remember any details of the dream surrounding the name ? who she was, what she looked like, what my relation to her was ? and it has since echoed in my head like a bad Pat Benetar song. The other dream I had involved the boyfriend and a tropical resort of some sort, which, after elucidation, resulted in the drawing up of an appropriate itinerary for travel to a tropical destination. I'll write more about this as plans solidify, but we're looking at many of the well-publicized gay resorts in the Caribbean. I've never been to one, and as a result, am a little skeptical as to the exact entailment and anatomy of such purlieu. Media consumption of late has revolved around habitual web surfing, although I've made a point to read a bit every night and even purchase some new music. I've been exercising at the gym regularly this week, and ? despite lack of sleep ? have been in good order to "get my life back on track" (I hate that cliché, but it conjures the most appropriate visual). All evil forces aside, that will occur, on schedule, at approximately 7:34 p.m. on August 23rd. Voltaire's "Candide" (or Optimism) has been quite the godsend. «
posted Tuesday, July 31, 2001: The wet-weight heat of the humid air settles on my skin as I roll down the windows. In a hasty escape to mingle freely with the opposite, the cool dryness of the car dissipates. Age-old theory of opposites attracting, I think to myself. No. Not attraction. Diffusion. Thermal physics. I shake my head to rid the moist torpor that has blanketed my senses and gaze onward, the shimmering air calling, hypnotic. I was on the floor of my bedroom when I burned his scent into the supple leather of memory. He lay sleeping, facing away from me. Quietly lowering myself next to him, I breathed him in, his hair, his breath -- smells that had grown roots in my stomach. I had developed a need for the air around him. Somehow the intoxicating humidity now revived that hunger. Sliding across the marble sky, the clouds whisper of cooler days as they travel to places beyond the horizon. He?s over the horizon too, I tell them. Perhaps they will visit him and bring him along the next time I see them. I roll up the windows and start the air conditioner, driving towards the mountains, away from the humidity. Driving away. «
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