It’s been a really long time since I posted anything on here. Since I’ve spent the day shopping for DIY stuff and to-be-made Christmas ideas, I’m in a more writing mood. Here I am.
I don’t even remember the last thing I wrote in here. St. Louis has been good to me. I discussed the feel of the Lou with a coworker earlier in the week, and he vitalized the ideas I had about the city with his own insights, saying it’s a kind-of forced melting pot of people. In Miami, San Fransisco, Atlanta, places in Tennessee, he said, there were patches of nationalities. Peoples living with likeminded-cultured-religious people in blocks and swathes of land. In St. Louis, though, it’s very different: people live among people. Armenians beside Latinos beside Germans beside Chinese beside Indian. We have patches, where two blocks or an apartment complex are/is filled with people of similar background, but walk two minutes and you’re in a whole different culture. It’s intense, fulfilling, and sometimes really violent.
Even North City is that way. With the random outbursts of national interest in Ferguson and Florissant and everything, you’d think everything north of 70 was ghetto third world country. It simply isn’t true. Although it’s quite a bit more polarized, and the patches of culture are larger (sometimes quite a bit larger), it’s the same thing.
I don’t know. I’ve had a stressful few weeks, and I’m walking the world wondering where I fit. Again.
I’ve been talking with Bella quite a bit of late, although our conversations come and go based on her job, her needed personal time, and all that. I want to say talking to her is only awesome, only sunshine and full-throated laughter and positive words, but it isn’t. What real relationship is? She told me last night, she missed fighting with me. I found it a powerfully endearing thing to say, given how people don’t usually enjoy that kind of thing. I grew up fighting, arguing, debating, convincing. A part of my sense of self comes from the backbone of debate. If I mince words, I’m letting myself down.
And she misses it. She wants more.
Growth can be an awesome thing. As a byproduct of dating Bella, it means I’m not dating anyone else. As a byproduct of the long distance, I go on a date once a month, sometimes twice, and it lasts a whole weekend. So the one, large elephant in my ribcage has been allowed to stretch out and walk around. I’m alone, in my apartment and my day-to-day. I’ve been lonely of late, and possibly a little depressed, but along with that I’m buying project materials at Lowe’s, shopping for Christmas antiques, planning my future (at least a month ahead) mostly solo, and learning to see what I want, what I like, what I enjoy.
I don’t enjoy playing video games so much anymore. I use it to fill a hole. I’ve never used alcohol to fill a hole, mostly because it’s really dangerous for a diabetic, but partially because I love the flavor too much. Flavor of beer, of wine, of whiskey, of whisky. I use food. I use lethargy after a long day of work, I use TV.
I used to be terrified of going solo. Anywhere. Movies, food, what-have-you. If it’s worth doing, it’s worth sharing with someone else, was what I used to say. I still do. But I’m walking longer strides nowadays. Enjoying “me” company. Pining a way a little, but not with the impatience I used to.
So this relationship helps me grow in a way I haven’t quite figured out yet. I am in turns really happy, and quite downtrodden. I walk in an inspiring world. Everything is worth discussion. Everything is worth sharing. This city, this world, this mind is beautiful. Every mind is beautiful. Yet I’m unable to share it with the person I care most about, and that’s difficult to reconcile. When we talk, from time to time, I feel a twinge of sadness, realizing all the great moments we didn’t share, wondering if this is a pro, or a con, in the relationship.
Our timeline is still a ?. She’s working through her stuff. I’m working. lol I’ve known this woman for 10 years. We re-read our AIM conversations from around the time we started talking (she saves EVERYTHING) and I found I told her I loved her (and she loved me) back in 2002. And it hasn’t dissipated. It hasn’t gone away.
Soul mates. It’s just hard right now. We laughed because we were both married, and we both considered sending the other invitations to our subsequent marriages. And decided not to, because of how we felt on the subject. How is that not a romantic comedy script in the making?
So there it is. My thoughts on the day, the month. A few other random thoughts:
I might have to punch someone on Monday. And I won’t hesitate. I want it to happen.
I’m buying a new car sometime soon. Hobbes is growing old and there are still too many memories attached to it. I’m stuck between a Honda HR-V EX, a Nissan Juke SV, and a Jeep Renegade Latitude. My ideal vehicle, in all three areas, is in the exact same range as the others. I hope to find some deals around January, so I’m researching now (and fighting dealerships off with a stick).
I haven’t written in a few months. Okay, 10. It’s really wearing on me lately. Bella supports me, wants me to write more, but she works too much (and has too much going on elsewhere) to read my stuff. I need more friends. Especially not the guys at work.
I have three DIY projects lined up. One as a Christmas present where I create a wall-hanging painting on barn wood with a key and the room number of my first hotel room stay with Bella. It was in Champaign. And we were in town for a friend’s wedding. Two is a wall palette of barn wood with a saying I paint on. Three is LED mushrooms drilled into a wood board. I’m very excited about it.
I sampled over 18 different seasonal beers in the past three weeks. I’d drop them into two categories: Pumpkin and Octoberfest. I’ll be writing a blog on it soon (I hope). I still have one local seasonal. And I still work a thankless job. But at least I make money, right? Hah! I can pay for those sanders and silly antique keys that cost 4 bucks each.
A few friends have told me they have a ladyfriend that’s interested in meeting me. I’m very frustrated by how often I have to tell them I’m not available. I’m starting to think they aren’t interested in introducing me to anyone and moreso interested in going out to eat with their S/O and another pair of people. Now that I think about it, that makes a lot of sense.
In my daily daydream while showering this morning, I created an unconventional reproductive cycle for a creature in my “fantasy” novel which would allow said creature to gestate in a man’s stomach. I’m a strange bird sometimes. Or as Bella says, “Odd Duck.” In the same brainstorming session, I created a mosquito-like insect that sucks the juice from grapes AND people, which results in a deliciously taboo winery that harvests the bugs for what they carry, and makes their contents into wine. The question I asked was “how could mosquitos be a benefit?” followed by “wow, mosquito and moscato sound very similar. Oooh. They could call the wine mosquato.” Ta daa. I’m writing it down here so I don’t forget. Cements into my mind better.
I’m currently watching Dark Matter on Netflix. It’s a terrible show, with terrible writing and amateur storytelling, but it proves to be oddly inspiring due to the parallels it has to my “Fantasy” novel: bunch of random ne’erdowellers on a ship in the middle of nowhere dealing with each others’ unconventional personalities. Brainstorming, she goes.
I’m eating vegetarian meals twice to three times a week, thanks to Bella’s initial delivery of Blue Apron. Delicious. Empowering. Yummy. I’m a real chef!
That’s about it. I could write forever.
Chris
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