The Power of the Morning Swim

January 26, 2009 at 6:19 PM (Musings) (, , )

Last night, I was seething, to put it lightly.  I’m talking “woe to the soul who dares to stand ‘twixt me and, well, just about anything” enraged.  I won’t delve into details, because they’re irrelevant, but, have you ever thought to yourself that you’ve gotten over an incident with someone, only to realise that upon seeing that person, it takes every ounce of self-restraint in your being to keep from retching, throttling the person, or both?  It makes me think of a Julie de Lespinasse quote: “You know that when I hate you, it is because I love you to a point of passion that unhinges my soul.”  Granted, the quote’s a bit radical for my situation (I’d like to think, at least), but I found it in someone’s Facebook profile once and it’s stuck with me ever since.

Anyway, the person in question hadn’t done anything wrong yesterday, I suppose – or maybe so, but it’s all subjective – but being in a particular environment under just the right circumstances still cultured a knot in my stomach the size of a small grapefruit.  As I battled my fight-or-flight reflex, I remembered something someone had told me several months ago: “You never really get over someone, I’ve found.  As you push them out of your life, the effect they have on you stays with you, but gets buried with time, and you tell yourself that you’re over them.  As soon as they turn up on the radar again, though, you’re just as much of a mess as you were the last time you encountered them.  I know that I personally had some people in my life, who I wish never to see, or even hear their name, again.”  I guess I had managed to reopen my first wound.  I wasn’t so much angry with the person, but with myself for being so easily affected by someone.

I came home last night emotionally drained, and sorely tempted to have at least one more drink before going to bed.  I refrained, instead vowing to swim in the morning.  Before retiring, I asked the little wanderer if she had any interest in joining me for an 8.30 A. M. swim, and she tentatively agreed.  Although I was exhausted, I tossed and turned for what felt like an hour before finally falling asleep.

My alarm chirped at me as menacingly as usual this morning, but for once, I was determined not to opt for a snooze.  In contrast, I lept out of bed to brew a pot of coffee.  I knocked on the little wanderer’s door first, and heard nothing.  Knowing that she’d been up late working on grad school applications, I decided not to disturb her.  However, once I started the coffee, I heard an equally annoying phone alarm: this time it was the little wanderer’s.  I held my breath.  Although I was planning on swimming regardless of company, I still hoped I wouldn’t be going alone.  Calorie-burning misery loves company.

I was in luck: my suitemate emerged and welcomed the the cup of coffee that awaited her in exchange for swimming companionship.  My mood was still less than savoury, but knowing that I wouldn’t be swimming alone lifted my spirits somewhat.

I hoisted myself out of the pool an hour later feeling like a new person.  The endorphins had outdone themselves: I may as well have just scored my dream job, I was so content.  Although I still harbour some bitter feelings, those are tucked away for now, and I don’t plan on letting them get to me for as long as I can help it.  When they do take over again, though, it’s good to know that they’re somewhat water-soluble.

Today’s Tunes
“Four Minutes,” Madonna feat. Justin Timberlake
“Keeps Gettin’ Better,” Christina Aguilera
“Miss Independent,” Ne-Yo
“Dangerous,” Kardinal Offishall feat. Akon
“If I Never See Your Face Again,” Maroon 5 feat. Rihanna
“So What,” P!nk
“Gyrate,” Da Muzicianz feat. Mr. Collipark
“American Boy,” Estelle feat. Kanye West
“See You In My Nightmares,” Kanye West feat. Lil Wayne
“Viva la Vida,” Coldplay
“Womanizer,” Britney Spears
“I’m Yours,” Jason Mraz
“Love Song,” Sara Bareilles

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Curse You, Mick Jagger

December 21, 2008 at 2:10 AM (Friends, Musings) (, , )

Yep, two blog posts, one day. Don’t worry, it won’t turn into a habit.

Being the sporadic, borderline dysfunctional jukebox I am, it almost made sense when, after I’d been whining to myself for a good two minutes, the Rolling Stones’s “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” popped into my head and would not leave me alone.  In this case, what I want is closure, and I’m pretty sure I won’t get it.  Thanks for the mockery, Mick.

I was involved with someone for a substantial amount of time.  On a personality level, things were okay: we got along splendidly.  However, when it came to two-way communication and dependability, much was left to be desired.  Usually friction was minimal (and unnoticed by the other party), so I let it slide, reasoning that if it’s small, it shouldn’t merit a big fuss.

Unfortunately, even small things build up into something big, and eventually, the small things themselves were growing larger.  I was looking for support where there was none, and I was getting agitated, to put it politely.  Finally, I decided that the matter deserved some attention.

Many level-headed friends advised that I simply walk away, but I was so convinced that the person I had initially met and grown to like so much was still around somewhere – granted, that person was probably under a rock somewhere, and required some serious coaxing, but I was cautiously optimistic.  I told myself that my friend probably had a good reason for acting so ignorantly, and I assured myself that enlightening this person would change everything – after all, I try to stay involved with intelligent, reasonable people.  This couldn’t be too difficult.

I met this person for dinner and lay all my cards on the table: my frustration, my confusion, my disbelief, my hope, my fear.  I hated to place myself in so vulnerable a position, but I’m a sucker for “What If?”s and didn’t want to walk away from anything wondering what could have been, had I only said something.

I felt rewarded for my actions: my dinner companion was recognisably upset, and after some further discussion, we finished dinner on a high note, agreeing that we needed to take better care to communicate with each other, because we valued the relationship we had and didn’t want it to dissolve.

One week went by.

Two weeks went by.

Three weeks went by.

This person could have dropped off the face of the planet, for all I knew.  I had sent a couple text messages, but either received no response or a disinterested one.  Rather than waste time screwing up the composure to address the situation again, I decided to walk away.  I deleted all screen names and phone numbers: I never saw them contacting me; there was no point in using up phone/buddy list memory if they were never used.  This person had proven not to be worth any of my time, let alone the amount I’d already wasted trying to be a good friend and preserve the relationship (I won’t say how long – it’s embarrassing to think about).  I’d been blinded by beautifully crafted sentences and fashionable sensitivity.  I had fallen victim to someone who needed constant attention, but was only considerate of the needs of others when the mood struck.  I felt so used.  And stupid.

Well over a month had passed before I saw this person again.  When I did, after my stomach recovered from its sudden cartwheel, I prayed for some kind of acknowledgement.  An apology would have been ideal, but I would have settled for an oblivious, “Hey, haven’t heard from you recently.”  ANYTHING that would have told me that my actions (or conscious inactions) didn’t go totally unnoticed.

Nothing.  Nothing at all.

Casual conversation, as if nothing had ever happened.  I’d never felt so empty before.  I couldn’t understand how someone with whom I’d been so seemingly close could just treat me like a friendly acquaintance.  Effortlessly.  I’ve interpreted this in two ways: this person is an excellent actor (and a sadist), or this person really is too self-absorbed to notice so-called friends when they’ve been hurt.  Unfortunately, I think it’s the latter, and I’m certain that I can’t do anything to make this person look beyond a mirror.  Even if a realisation DOES eventually hit – “Huh, strange, this person I used to be pretty close with doesn’t really talk to me any more . . .” – I doubt that it’ll be thought of as something that person could have prevented, or even turned around.

And THAT is the closure that I’m afraid I’ll never find.

Tonight’s Tunes
“Rag Doll,” Maroon 5
“Got to Be More Careful,” Jon Cleary
“Watermelon Man,” Herbie Hancock
“Big Lie Small World,” Sting
“Don’t Think of Me,” Dido
“The Book,” Sheryl Crow
“1973,” James Blunt
“Fox on the Run,” Sweet
“Fool in the Rain,” Led Zeppelin
“Shiver,” Maroon 5
“Back at Your Door,” Maroon 5
“Hot N Cold,” Katy Perry
“Killing Me Softly,” Lauryn Hill
“Good Girl Gone Bad,” Rihanna
“We Were Born For This,” Paramore
“Slip Away,” Si*Se
“You Can’t Always Get What You Want,” The Rolling Stones
“Where Do I Begin (Love Story) (AwayTeam Mix),” Shirley Bassey

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