Preface/Postscript to Love & Other Madness


You may have noticed that I no longer use this blog as my sounding board. 

It began as a place for me to sound off about the weirdness in my life.

My marriage  was failing, and my step-daughter Maya  had just undergone treatment for a brain tumor. I felt that I still loved my wife Linda, but she had become almost impossible to live with since her daughter had been diagnosed with the tumor. I say this now, but at the time, I simply couldn’t understand her coldness to me. She was depressed, of course, about Maya’s illness, and feared she was going to die. Even after Maya was operated on, experienced the hell of chemotherapy, and then had been through radiation treatments, Linda continued to be depressed and refused counseling. She believed that Maya would die. She drove me and Maya crazy with her obsession with that, despite the fact that Maya had survived and was found to be free of cancer. Her cancer had been an extremely rare brain tumor, one that had not spread to other parts of her body, and Maya’s blood and spinal fluid were free of any cancer cells. In short, there was every reason for optimism, but Linda would not let her fear go.

I learned, through the experience, that I loved Maya fiercely. I had lived with her about 13 years as she grew from girl  to woman,  and I had been shocked and scared as well that we would lose her. It was this possibility that Maya would die that hit me over the head with the fact that I loved her dearly. I hadn’t thought about it before. It was new to me that, (1.) I loved someone else besides my wife, and (2.) it was an unconditional love for another human being, and (3. ) she might die, and (4.) I didn’t want her to die. After she began treatment, I relaxed.  It looked as though she would survive. I felt something new: joy, joy that she would survive. I had been so depressed at the prospect that Maya could die, that the idea that she would not die came as the purest feeling of happiness I’d ever experienced. Up until that epiphany, I had never known such a feeling existed in reality.

In fact, I had been unhappy. Life with Linda had become difficult. Her negativity, her constant put downs, and her coldness were not new. She had been that way all along, and I simply didn’t care. I loved her, so I made excuses for her abusive behavior and her lack of human warmth and kindness to me. I was making do. During sex with her I felt closest to her, but sex was not something she cared much for. It was as though she allowed me to have sex as her duty as a wife. It was not something important to her. I had known passion with other women in the past. I loved Linda passionately, I felt, but she did not, could not, respond in kind. Such is life. I became accustomed to that, but I felt trapped. I wanted more from life. I was willing to accept that Linda gave me all she could, and my love for her was enough. Sometimes I felt that I deserved no better than that.

However, one day, when Linda roughly pushed me away when I touched her, I made a decision, a decision based on years of being pushed away, without explanation or gentleness: I was no longer going to stay committed to monogamy. This was the one relationship I’d had where I had actually felt monogamous. I hadn’t wanted other women. Other women were pretty, but not sexually attractive to me. My life before this marriage had been one in which I was always seeing or meeting women I felt physically attracted to. Being in love with Linda, I found her to be the only woman I wanted to be with. Now, I was tired of longing for her and being rejected over and over. I could have tolerated little or no sex if she had been respectful of me, of my opinions, my feelings, my hobbies. She was not. If she had given me any comfort at all during Maya’s illness, I’d have been happy. If she would have touched me sometimes, with a caress, or hug, or a warm kiss, I’d have stayed happy. But, there was none of that. I’d begun to feel as though I existed in her life only to provide entertainment, and pay the bills.

Having made this decision that I was open to other women, I began to notice the women at work, and notice that I could be attracted to other women than Linda. I spoke with a woman who worked in the department office, and found her appealing. Her accent and manner reminded me a bit of my brother Pat’s Texas wife, who he is now divorced from. She was very pretty. I lightly flirted with her, but she didn’t appear to be interested, although she was single and quite friendly. One day, at an office Xmas party, I was introduced to a young woman who worked part-time in the department: Karen.

Karen and I hit it off right away, discovering that we had an unusual but strong affection for a science fiction TV show,  Babylon 5. Trekkies didn’t seem to like it much, and although we had both been interested in Star Trek at one time, we had both been much more fascinated with the Babylon 5 universe created by J. Michael Straczynski. Karen pointed out articles and blogs by Straczynski, which showed that his politics and beliefs heavily influenced the show, and that those politics and beliefs were the same ones held by Karen and myself. This was beyond belief to me at first. I’d had never met anyone like her.

Over time we discovered a mutual admiration for certain science fiction authors, of the characterization in Marvel Comics, of Japanese Anime, and a love of peace, and justice. I came to believe Karen was like a soul mate to me, trite as that phrase is now. I fell in love with her. I desired her intensely. I lusted for her. She is quite sexy. Two major problems: (1.) I was married, and (2.) I was much older than her. At first, I was not that interested in Karen except as a friend; she was just too young. Over time, I decided, self indulgently, that I didn’t care about her age. She was in her middle 20’s and quite old enough for me after all. I found that, although I felt I still loved my wife, I wanted Karen. I loved her too. Initially I wanted both women; something very selfish, and very impossible. Karen made it clear she wasn’t like that. She would never be a married man’s lover. (In theory, since we rarely talked about anything personal). In fact she did not want to know anything about my wife, or hear me speak of her at all. I wondered about that; in my delirium, I thought it meant she was jealous of my married life, perhaps of my wife. I hoped it meant she cared for me. However, she never wanted to meet except  for lunch. Lunches with Karen became very exciting for me.

If you’ve read the entries in this blog, you know that things got worse and worse for me. Linda and I divorced. I briefly hoped that an obstacle to at least dating Karen was gone, but no, Karen told me that even going to a movie together (Silver Surfer) that we had both planned to see was like a date, and a date was inappropriate. After that, our relationship (we had been eating lunch together every Friday for about four years) deteriorated. She was more and more often busy, and just didn’t have time for me as often anymore. Our lunches became rare and awkward, and pretty much stopped. Between Karen and my divorce from Linda, I was often sad, and becoming more depressed by the day. My job no longer gave me any satisfaction, and I wanted out. The divorce had resulted in my loss of the house I had jointly owned, and all the money and time I had put into it. I had previously sold my own house, paying off debts Linda and I had accumulated, so I didn’t think I could retire, as I had no money left to buy another house of my own. I had been close to paying off the house Linda and I owned, but she got the house and I got to keep my pension. After two years, and giving it a lot of  thought, I said: “Fuck it,” and I retired anyway.

I didn’t see my ex-wife again for four years, and I never saw Karen again. I came to understand that Karen may well have been a substitute Linda, for one thing, in that I hoped to have my feelings for Linda reciprocated from Karen. I may have simply transferred my feelings for Linda over to Karen. But, there is an odder possibility that I spent much thought upon. Since Karen was just slightly older than my step-daughter Maya, and initially there was the possibility that Maya could die, perhaps I unconsciously began to substitute Karen for Maya? What that said about my feelings for Maya troubled me, but I came to believe that I wanted Karen more than anyone in the world, that I would die for her, that I would do anything for her, and she was all I ever wanted in the world anymore. It was, I believe, a psychological illness. I was loony tunes, out of my head (well, trapped in my head to be accurate). I no longer had any anchor to reality. Impossible things seemed possible, and the possible seemed false and unreal. I spiraled into a deep depression, and I really did want to die. There just didn’t seem to be any reason to live any more.

It took some time, some brief counseling, and a bit of antidepressant, but I lost all interest in Karen; I can no longer believe I was ever interested in her. It shocks me to think I thought I loved her. I loved my ex-wife Linda, and still do. I love my step-daughter Maya. Nothing else ever mattered; nothing else matters now. I have tried dating, but without success. A woman I used to hike with was very nice to me, but the relationship never went anywhere, and appears to have died out. I was initially extremely lonely and often horny, but all that seems to have faded away now.  I do not find most women attractive. Recently I found myself interested in another young woman, a model I took photographs of,  but that was brief, stupid and doomed to failure, for the same reasons my relationship with Karen was never going to go anywhere.

I once wrote, in the short story, The Boy Who Rode His Bicycle Into Manhood, that I spent the rest of my life simply walking the ditches around my neighborhood, reflecting on my life, and never interacting in any meaningful way with another human being ever again. It seems that pessimistic and depressing ending of my story is actually coming true! That is my life now, although it is not as depressing as I thought then. It just is.

What prompted this sudden return to this blog? I went to a salsa concert the other night. I was enjoying the music, and watching the dancers, and then Linda walked in. A friend of hers recently moved here and they share our old house, so they came together. I think they both saw me, but neither acknowledged it. They looked in my direction when I was the only one in that direction (up on the balcony above their heads).  I was shocked to see Linda, and that she looked really good to me. I considered going over to where the two sat down, and asking Linda, or her friend, who I had been friendly with, to dance. But then I saw Linda dancing with someone, and having a great time. It reminded me of how much we loved salsa dancing and how often we went: usually once a week, but sometimes twice a week, and for most of the 14 years that we had been together. It wasn’t unusual for Linda to dance with other men at the club we went to. Most were friends she had danced with before meeting me, and other times she just liked to dance with the experts. That’s the way things are in these salsa clubs and dances. Even if people come with a date, everyone dances with everyone else. A man usually asks a woman’s date or husband for permission first, and after a few times it is understood without asking.

So, I was not jealous seeing Linda dance with another man the other night. It was a feeling of sadness, terrible sadness, that I was no longer part of her life, that I could never dance with her again. My feelings so overwhelmed me that I stayed rooted to one spot for an hour. Then, I considered jumping off the balcony. Obviously I didn’t. I never asked anyone to dance, never went over to Linda and her friend to say hello. I just listened to the music, watched the other dancers, and drank three beers. I am not part of Linda’s life and can never be again. We could not live together anymore anyway, but my desire for her is no less, after four long years of sobriety, soliloquy, and solitariness. Oh, well. That is most certainly the way life can turn out. I had a good run. I stay busy these days, hiking in the mountains, reading, watching old movies, and helping make wine at a local winery. All of it distracts me from my sadness for brief amounts of time, so I’m optimistic that I will actually find happiness in just living again. I used to want passion in my life; now, I would just like a reason to live. Love & Other Madness was a small slice of my life, a time when I slipped the bounds of reality and dared to dream of greater happiness and passion. In so doing, I lost everything I cared about. I make the motions now, do things, talk with people, get some exercise. It’s real.

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A New Dream, of Math!


Extraordinary!  I woke up at 4:30 am after dreaming.  That in itself is not unusual.  For years I have been doing that, waking up at odd times of the night, sometimes from nightmares, other times from dreams of longing, or sexual excitement, or violence, and often, fear.   It’s hard to get back to sleep after that, even if I need more than 4 or 5 hours sleep.  Today was unusual in that there was none of that.  I had a teaching dream.  I dreamt I was a substitute teacher or guest lecturer at a grade school.  I was there with the teacher, whose other appointment had been canceled, so she was there.  We were trying to come up something for me to do.  I asked about lesson plans and where the kids were in their studies, when all of a sudden I decided to lecture about the number/concept of one.  I found a green chalkboard on the side of the classroom, and the teacher had the kids rearrange their desks to face me.

I talked about one, and how, of course, one times something is still one something, how division is just a question of finding out how many of some thing are part of something else.  I used the traditional example of one, starting with how many of those ones are there in, for example 25.  There are twenty-five.  Twenty five times one is twenty-five.  But, that is not the whole story. The things under analysis don’t have to be the same.  I could have 25 apples and 4 oranges.  The question, represented by mathematical symbols, could be how many apples are there in 25 apples and 4 oranges.  Well, there are still 25 apples.  There could also have been 21 apples and four oranges; 25 pieces of fruit.  The question itself has to be defined, and it is, just using symbols.  That, of course, led to questions from the students, and more discussion.  I spoke of how numbers were originally used to represent philosophical concepts,  how useful the number one was to represent the concept of a thing, and other symbols were invented to represent other things under discussion, and how that enabled counting, and the representation of sums, and how zero had to be invented to represent the concept of no thing, or nothing.

I talked of using mathematics to run a warehouse.  I gave many examples of ways to understand inventory.  I came up with an example of a warehouse that sells two things.   One day, the owner had everything in the place counted, but she was only given two numbers: 634 boxes, of which there were 389 boxes of, say, can openers.  However, she needed to know how many knife sharpeners she had in stock but everyone had gone home for the day already.  So, it’s simple, the students said, you just subtract.  Certainly, and many of you can do this in your head, or we can put this on paper, or on the board here: 634, less 389 is 245.  634 minus 389 equals 245.  634-389=245.   So there were 245 boxes of knife sharpeners.  However, she needed to know how many knife sharpeners  she had, not how many boxes of them.  Fortunately, she knew that each box of sharpeners contained 24 of them.  Then we were back to mathematics, and multiplication.  245 boxes of sharpeners, 24 to a box, so  245 boxes of 24 sharpeners is 5880 sharpeners.   245 times 24 is 5880.  245 X 24 = 5880.  “Classic representations of  problems, but using symbols,” I said to the students, “that you all know by now.”  Simple.  But, it could also be represented other ways, using other symbols, for more complex calculations.  Boxes could be B.  Can openers could be C.  Knife sharpeners could be represented by S.  389 plus 245 is 634.  C + S = B.   This led to more questions, and I went on the show them how this little statement could be even more representative of the actual inventory.  It could also be written as say, 15C + 24S = T, or total number of items on hand.   So, knowing, at any given moment, how many of each item is available depends on knowing the values of those letter symbols, in this case boxes of each.

I went on to explain how this use of symbols can more useful.  I used the same example, but the warehouse had three types of things: can openers, knife sharpeners, and knives.   So, we had, on the chalkboard, C + S + K = B.   “OK,” I asked, “what if the owner had a similar problem, but had different types of things to be determined.  For example, she knew that she had  389 boxes of can openers, 245 boxes of sharpeners, and she did not know how many total boxes she had of everything, but she needed to know how many knives she had in stock.   So, using our symbols, C is 389, S is 245, but K is unknown and B is unknown.  I asked the students how to solve this problem.  They said, just count all the boxes.  “But,” I said, “it’s too late to do that, and everyone has gone home.  She needs to know, right now, how many knives she has.  “She has to work all night, by herself, ” a student offered. Yes, I said, that’s one way, but there are other ways, and it doesn’t solve the problem of telling the manager on the phone, right now,  how many knives they can ship tomorrow to the various stores the company has.  He has to know, so he knows how many each store gets, and they each want to know today how many to expect.  “Can’t be done, ” a student called out.

“But,” I said, “what if she has other information?”  For example, what if she knows that for every set of six knives sold, she includes one sharpener.  “Could it be done then?” I asked.  This riled the students up.  Many of them had suggestions, and some said we needed more information. The discussion was lively.  The students were engaged in the problem, and things were beginning to click in some heads.  Math was no longer esoteric and boring.  This is, as I said, a teachers dream.  I had opened a discussion, gotten students involved, and pushed them to think.  That is what motivates any good teacher.  It is what drives some to become teachers in the first place.

Well, this is all very interesting, you say, but, what the hell has it to do with you?  You’re not a teacher.  What has this to do with Love, and Madness?  This blog is about those things, not teachers, not math, not symbols, or the philosophy and use of symbols.

True.  But, this is the extraordinary thing.  I never dream about such things.  I have been caught in a loop of unrequited love, an emotional roller coaster of ups and downs and confusion.  My dreams were about her, about the possibilities of life with her, and the impossibility of that ever happening.  There was no solution.  My marriage broke up, but there was no solution to that, and even that was no solution to my problem.  In fact, I was far worse off.  My dreams became worse, my sleeplessness increased, my brain spun out of control, and I couldn’t focus, couldn’t think about anything else.  I retired.  Work was nearly impossible.  On my own, I got worse and worse. Depressed. Dysfunctional. Remote. Alone.

Two days ago, I resolved the problem caused by my obsession with Karen.  She helped.  She told me to lose her address.  Finally, a clear message from her.  I liked it.  It was what I had wanted all along.  In fact, I hadn’t been able to resolve my feelings, my emotions, or lack of them.  I was stalled out.  I no longer felt anything at all, but I didn’t seem to be moving on either.  Karen’s message to me hit home.  I had carefully avoided being angry with her for any of this.  She had done nothing wrong, had always been straight with me and could not be blamed.  However, the typical scenario for getting over a lost love, failed marriage, or even death usually involves several steps, of which anger is one.  I was angry with Karen now, even though I brought that on myself.  For a brief moment, I hated her.  I wrote it down.  I said, in this blog, “Fuck you Karen.”   Never before had I thought such a  thing or wanted to direct any anger or negativity towards her.   I was wrong, very wrong.  That was precisely what I should have done long ago.  What a relief!  Fuck you Karen, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.  CLICK HERE It was a mantra for me.  It worked.  For another brief moment, I wanted to die.  Seriously, my depression came back full force, and I really, really wanted to kill myself.  But, it passed.  My head cleared.  Logic does not apply to emotions.  I would never have solved these equations:  Me plus Karen equals happiness, and Me plus Karen is impossible, and Me minus Karen is death, or zero, anyway, nothing.  Does not compute.

So, I don’t think the dream meant I wanted to be a teacher.  The reality is usually far different from that anyway.  I could try being a substitute, bring in a little cash. Hell, the damn retirement board just decided, upon careful analysis of my pension, that they had made a mistake, and I was being given $7.80 more a month than I was entitled to.  They sent me a letter, stating that, and the fact that, since I have gotten $7.80 a month too much for ten months, I now owed them $78.00!  And the motherfuckers have already deducted the entire amount from my next disbursement.  Well, fuck  ’em.  I’ll survive.  My budget was tight enough.  Actually, in their complicated math, I will get not just $78 less, but $84.25 less this month.  I don’t know how THAT works, since, if I was getting $7.80 too much, then the ten months of that is $78.00, and $7.80 less for the current month would mean I should get $85.80 less.

So, really, I may have to get that part-time job I’ve been dreading.  Hmm. Substitute teacher? Always in demand. Flexible hours.

Well, at least, my head is clear now. Maybe I can be more creative. Maybe I can get on with my life now.  

Dreams of the Wine


There is a story by one of my favorite authors John D. MacDonald called Wine of the Dreamers, which has more to do with mind than wine.  However, I did dream last night, and I think it was because I had two glasses of wine.  I had made dinner for my stepdaughter Maya, spaghetti with browned Italian sausage mixed into a marinara sauce  with red chile.   There was bread too, and chilled water, and a sweet wine.  I had bought the sweet wine for Maya.  The food was great, and we had a great time talking all through dinner and a desert of strawberry ice cream.  It was probably because of Maya that I dreamed about her mother, the one I call the Dragon. 

In my dream that night, I visited the dragon, and there was nice talk and a sweetness in her voice that I don’t recall ever hearing.  It seemed we were to be friends again.  Maya was with me, and we all talked.  Something happened however, and the dragon was gone.  Maya and I had to find her.  Somehow we knew she was in a different house.  There was something about a note left saying she had to leave.

Maya and I made our way to another house where the Dragon was supposed to be, and sure enough, she opened the door to us.   I looked at her and recognized her face, but something wasn’t right.  She was too tall, and her face would not remain still.  As I watched, her face took on qualities of another face.  I realized I was seeing my first wife, Irene, the nice one.  But the face was neither one of them, the face was both of them together.  I could not understand it.  I felt a wave of sexual attraction to the woman, or women.  At the same time, there was fear.  There was an ugliness about the face I looked at.  It did not stay still, would not coalesce into either Irene or the Dragon, but had elements of both, switching around, morphing, swirling.  I stared at the face, feeling fear rise in me.  I was attracted and repulsed at the same time.  I moved towards the woman/women and woke up.

I should know better than to drink anymore.

Especially wine named Plum Loco.

Victim of a Dream


’nuff said. The past is over. Time to move on. 56 pills now. Two a day for how long? What to expect? Feelings? Enthusiasm for life? A good night’s sleep?  Any of those would be good.  I’m a patient man.

victim_of_a_dream__by_nonnetta

(image by ‘Nonnetta)

Here Be Dragons, and Succubi


June 8, 2007 (part 4)

I’m ready to face the weekend now, to face the dragon again. “Here be Dragons” the ancients used to write on their maps, indicating the unknown at the edge of the map. This, however, is a dragon I know, and loved, and kissed, and licked and fucked. She’s more like a succubus.  Wikipedia has this to say:

“Succubi … are almost universally depicted as alluring women … often with demonic bat-like wings; occasionally, they will be given other demonic features (horns, a tail with a spaded tip, snakelike eyes, hooves, fangs, etc). Occasionally they appear simply as an attractive woman in dreams that the victim cannot seem to get off their mind. They lure males even out of the dream and will not leave his mind. A succubis will remain there slowly draining energy from a man.
A Middle Eastern version of the succubus known as “um al duwayce” ( أٌم الدويس ) portrays this succubus as a beautiful, alluringly scented woman who wanders the desert on the hooves of a donkey. While other forms of the succubus participate in sexual intercourse to collect semen and become impregnated, this particular succubus is instead a judge of character and exacts revenge on those who commit adultery. She attempts to lure these men to have intercourse with her, at which time sharp razors within her vagina slice off the partner’s penis, leaving him in agonizing pain. Having rendered the man helpless, she turns into her true form and proceeds to eat him alive.”

The dragon is prepared to eat me alive. She is insatiable in her appetite for the house, for money, for my soul. She’s taken, and taken, and taken. Her wish seems to be to destroy me utterly for even contemplating escape.  The funny thing is, I wasn’t ever going to leave.  In my dreams I’d leave to be with Karen, but Karen is not interested in me anyway, and never will be, so I’d likely never make the break.  This unrequited love stuff sure fucks with one’s head.

The Dragon Roars


May 24, 2007

inuyasha-group.jpg This was supposed to be all about my fantasy of love with Karen, but my marriage has fallen apart. At first I thought it wouldn’t be too bad, and we would just have some trouble figuring out the finances, but hoo boy!

I had a gut-wrenching conversation on the phone with The Dragon dragon.jpg last night. At fist she was mad because I had only given her half of the State tax refund; in her mind she had asked me for all of it. I tried to tell her that that was what I heard her ask me. We usually split it, but since we started the addition and roof replacement, it all goes to that. I told her I had it, and had already applied it to the addition, but I would give it to her. It was still a $140 check I had to give her, as my debit card was new and I didn’t have a PIN yet. I couldn’t get to the bank before they closed, so I asked her if she would be able to cash a check in California. I hadn’t known she was going, and she only told me that day, and I found out from her daughter she was leaving at 7am next morning! I even offered to drive when I found out she was thinking of going (her niece graduates in a few days). She said, “Why would I want to do that when you don’t like being around me?” I told her I’d drive her. She refused. I hadn’t even found out she was even going until she asked for the money, and she didn’t say when she was going even then. money9.gif She hadn’t even looked at the check when I handed it to her; if she had asked for the full $280, I’d have given it to her. I tried to tell her that on the phone, but all I got was a lot of screaming, about how cheap I was, and selfish, and a terrible husband, etc. I had to hang up as she was really screaming into my ear! She called back, and it turns out she was also mad because my step-daughter Maya told her I still loved her, and she said I shouldn’t have used her as a messenger, and how could I love her anyway when I was so cheap? I tried to tell her I had told Maya a couple days ago that I still cared for her, but she wasn’t buying it. I had asked Maya only to call me so I’d know they had arrived safe, and that if the dragon wanted to call me that would be OK. I had told Maya that the dragon had a couple phone messages, but that was all. She then told me, “You know that car you have?” cougar.jpg “Yeah? “You know that motorcycle you have?” magna.jpg “Yeah? “Well they’re half mine. Don’t you forget that, you cheap bastard!” She hung up this time; she had to, as she had to get me back for hanging up on her. She’s like that. I used to forgive and forget her behavior, but now it just makes me sad. Maya called me back to ask what that was all about, and I tried to tell her. She was listening to me and I wasn’t mad, just trying to figure out what it was all about. Maya told me that the dragon had been drinking after I asked her about that, so I told her that the dragon is like that sometimes when she’s drinking. I was trying to tell Maya that I could send money, but she suddenly had to hang up. I fear I inadvertently put Maya in the middle, and that’s going to be tough. Maya didn’t really want to go, but didn’t want her mom driving by herself any more than I did. The dragon told me how much she hated her ex’s manipulations!

I couldn’t relax after that! I thought I was numb, but I’m not. All the accusations and name-calling gave me a pain in my gut! My stomach hurt like I’d been kicked in it! kick_monitor2_2.jpg

I read a bit, and then closed my eyes and tried relaxing. It helped some. I put an Inuyasha DVD on and watched a few episodes. It really is an engaging story, so it took my mind off of the dragon for a while. Finally turned in around 2am, but woke up at 5:30am still tense and a little mad. I shouldn’t let her get to me, but it hurt anyway, which was her intention. She’s one of the meanest people I’ve ever known in my whole life. What made me think we could work something out? All I did was tell her that I enjoyed some time away from her. It is so peaceful when she’s gone. I feel more relaxed. I don’t think she liked that idea; those phone calls destroyed everything. I wonder if she’ll call again tonight to yell at me some more? This is going to be worse than I ever imagined.

Being lonely is not the same as missing someone, is it?


May 21, 2007

It is apparently not a good idea to tell someone you didn’t call when they were away because you didn’t miss them, especially not if you further qualify that by saying that they could have stayed away for months, and I enjoyed the time alone. Hoo boy! is the dragon pissed! monster1.jpg She’s leaving town again, so she says I get my wish. Meanwhile….

I’ve been watching InuYasha, and the idea of unrequited love has appeared, is even mentioned. Interesting. At its heart InuYasha is a love story between the half-demon InuYasha and the young woman Kagome. How appropriate! I wonder what Karen thinks of me? Perhaps I am an ogre to her, kindly, but not appealing in my old man disguise.   Beauty and the beast. This beast is certainly smitten with Karen, but that probably makes me more of an ogre to her. Well, if things are more in the open with me and the dragon, perhaps Karen and I could discuss this openly someday soon? Perhaps it is too late. When I don’t get a reply to an email, or the mail server indicates that is was deleted without being opened, I am terrified that she will give up on me. It has been so nice that our paths intersected. I enjoy life so much more since I met her.