I need my conscious to keep watch over me, to protect me from myself

I'm listening to an old dub of two Dead Can Dance albums, which I believe I copied from Meera who I will be having dinner with tonight. Interesting non-coincidence that my brain unconsiously put together.

Part of me suspects she might cancel, however I realized that it's the same part that hopes she will cancel. Which means she probably won't. I guess I'm just nervous. She was my best friend for the first three years in college, and we were still sort of close in the last half, though we didn't spend as much time together. Nothing super significant happened, we just had different lives and grew apart in a totally natural way. Which might be why it's sort of weirder to reconnect. If there was a specific rift that caused a break, or even just lazyness in contacting each other (which I have with other friends), I'd know what to do. But I'm not as sure of myself when it comes to dealing with friends who gradually moved off in another direction. The whole trans thing doesn't exactly help matters -- it doesn't directly make them worse, it just present itself as this chasm of separation. Another thing missing out in the experience and story.

I have similar difficulties when it comes to Dave, my best friend from Atlanta and former love of my life. Ok, not really, but doesn't that sound more dramatic? We were very close for a long time, and then time and distance did their typical job and now I feel obligated to try and reconnect while simultaneously just want to sigh nostalgically and think of him fondly but not do anything more than send an occasional holiday card.

It's easier for me to sustain relationships with people with whom I never really had a day-to-day relationship. Because there's never that sense of "it's not like it used to be" from either end. Even if we don't WANT it to be like it used to (e.g. friendships that sprung out of crappy job experiences, former dating relationships), I find it hard to escape such wisftulness. Or even just adjust to the different dynamic.

I guess that's what I'm looking for tonight -- I don't want there to be an air of guilt because there's so much we've missed out on each other's life in the past couple years. I want there to just be a clear admittance that we have two different lives that don't include the other person as a large force, but that we still like each other and want to have dinner a few times a year to learn about each other's lives while occasionally remembering stories from the past. I don't think that's too much to ask. And probably pretty simple to achieve once I stop fretting.

Of course, now that I've come to terms with the whole experience, I will probably go check my e-mail and find she HAS cancelled.

(Oh, and many happy returns to Mr. drood. I hope you have a smashing day!)

Mother, you had me

Last week on the way to work my cell phone rang on the train. I'm usually the last person who notices my phone is ringing. By the time I pulled it out of my pants, it stopped ringing. I didn't recognize the number, but then realized it was a 770 number (atlanta), not a 773 number (chicago). {Insert hoes in different area codes joke here.}

There was no voicemail left. For a moment I panicked because I assumed it was one of my parents calling me to tell me a family member had died, most likely my grandmother. Why else would I get phone calls at 8:40 am on a Thursday morning? I quickly planned on using my flight voucher to fly to Mississippi for the funeral, and wondered if I would just attend alone, not associating with my parents for fear of outing myself. Better to be a random guy in the back. But how does one successfully crash a funeral WITHOUT being obvious? My only hope would be everyone would be too distraught to notice the strangers. I wondered if I had enough room on my credit card to rent a car and stay in a hotel. But my morbid daydream ended once I called the number and discovered it wasn't my parents cell phone, but instead some financial service, probably calling for the previous owner of my cell phone number (he apparantly racked up some debt, because I got lots of calls in the beginning).

This morning I was thinking about my own mother, and how if she were to get sick or die, my future self would be yelling at my past self (which is currently my present self) for being an idiot and not calling her more. I would admonish myself for not pushing aside my fears for the sake of 10 minutes of conversation or telling her I love her with my own voice, not in an e-mail. I would pound my head for my foolishness and gnash my teeth in regret. I wouldn't remember how much my heart aches or the paralysis that comes with disappointment, anger, and rejection. I'd paint these as perfect opportunities that I squandered, beautiful moments in time I was unable to capitalize on because of emotional impotence. My future self would be unable to cope with the sheer disappointment and would convert it to blame on my past/present self.


I miss my mom.