Monday, May 31, 2010

Optimism never gets you anywhere.

The ex - "have you seen sex and the city 2 yet?"

Me - "um, no" (thinking hey, maybe he's trying not to be a dick and is going to offer to take me - oh, how stupid I can be...)

Him - "I won't say anything then"

Me - "Um, yeah, I haven't exactly had time to see it. Why, did you see it or something?"

Him - "oh yeah"

Me - "um, seriously?"

Him - "Yeah, with N (his "friend" who he met through another female "friend" via a certain business reviewing website, and chatted with both online frequently and discussed rather intimate details of our relationship with - just to set the stage here) - it was her dying wish as a New Yorker since she moves soon"

Me - silence

Him - "did i tell you she got mugged last week?"

Me - thinking that he is fully aware of the fact that we have barely spoken in 11 days - "uh. no." silence.

Him - looks at me like I'm an asshole

Me - doesn't fucking care.

I packed my first box tonight (well, I packed 9 in total, but whatever, we're talking about the first). It broke my heart all over again. I wrote a rent check for the new apartment tonight. First time I've written a check to someone else in nearly 2 years. It broke my heart some more.

Then, as a real slap in the face, as I was about to leave the apartment to get a bottle of wine so I could have a glass and a break to reward my packing efforts, I was literally greeted by a Census worker coming to survey us in person, so I got to explain all about the fact that yes, I lived here on April 1, but I'm about to move out.

I'm so done. So.Done.

Monday, May 24, 2010


I never want to forget the way that I felt when...

I stood at the front of a boat and stared up at a blanket of stars in the warm Austin night air, music playing, beer in my hand.

The rush of water around me as I sat in the creek at the Greenbelt at what is now known as Mystery's Hole in the late Sunday afternoon sun, dogs gamboling around me, new and old friends talking, and life stopping just for a moment.

The deep satisfaction that comes from manual labor - ripping out carpet, nails, staples, and drywall.

The pain of knocking your shin on a boat railing or stabbing your heel on a carpet tack, because blood and bruises remind me that I am out there and living.

Laughing so hard that I almost cry.

I've come undone.

Two years ago, nearly to the month, I was sitting on a barstool in Lefty's bar at the Austin airport. I'd left Austin two months earlier and moved to New York, and this had been my first visit back. I was about to board a plan bound for New York once again.

I had a glass of wine in front of me, my cell phone pressed to my ear, and tears streaming down my cheeks. I would have given anything to be able to run away from the barstool, the airport, and my return flight.

Subsequent visits became easier. I still loved and missed Austin, but the pull of staying lessened and eventually disappeared. New York, and my boyfriend, became my real life, and Austin became a once upon a time.

And then, two years later, life imploded.

I was single for the first time since I was 25. I was a month from turning 28. My relationship - my co-habitating relationship - was over, and I didn't know what to do. Something told me to go home. And so, dipping into savings, I booked a ticket.

Between that day and the day of my trip, I started to pick up the pieces. I found a new place to live. I went through Denial, Anger, Bargaining, and Acceptance on a daily basis. I tried to reassemble my life into some recognizable form.

Last Friday, I flew to Austin.

And now, two years later, I am sitting on that same barstool at Lefty's. I am a different person now. And once again, I am drinking a glass of white wine. My cell phone is not pressed to my ear, because I know that if it were, tears would be streaming down my face.

I want to stay Home.

In a few minutes, I'll board the plane bound for New York. I'll stare silently out of the window as my mind works furiously to generate fantasy after far-fetched fantasy of ways I'd get to stay in Austin forever.

Eventually, this feeling will start to fade. I refuse to ignore it, to bury it completely this time around.

It's time to start thinking about going home for good.

Sunday, May 9, 2010

All by myself.

Part of breaking off a live-in relationship is the phenomenon of learning to be alone again.

I was elite-level at being alone once upon a time. I lived by myself throughout college, and for the first three years after I graduated. I loved it. I loved not having to apologize for leaving the pasta pot in the sink for two days because work went crazy and I didn't have the time or energy to deal with washing a few dishes. I loved that I had 100% control over the remote. I loved that I never had to shut the bathroom door.

Then, I started a gradual descent into roommate-ville. First, it was in the true sense of a roommate - yes, there was another person present, but not someone with any sort of obligation to hang out with you. Then, suddenly, I was living with the person with whom I was in a relationship, and those obligations started to exist, and this bizarre built in social life, 90% of which took place at home, was born.

Right now, I am apartment/cat-sitting for friends of mine, which means that it's just me and 30 lbs of cat (there are two of them) in a one-bedroom apartment.

I have 400 square feet all to myself, and I'm not quite sure what to do with it. For the first 24 hours, I've been huddled on the couch, almost unsure what to do with the rest of the place - it's just more space than I've had all to myself in more than three years.

But I could totally get used to it, even if there is no way in hell I could ever afford it in this city.

It's me, a TV, a kitchen, and a couch. I'm not being literal, but those are the things that factor in to the majority of my time spent here.

And I love it. And I realize how much I've missed being independent, being my own person, relying on myself to create my life - not relying on someone else to be a built in, easy life.

And with that, I am going to clean up from working out, get dressed, and find something to do outside of this apartment, by myself. Because I think I can be great at that again.