Forever, in a day, lost

Memories are forever; happiness is finite. I don’t really know what I hope to accomplish by writing things in this blog… perhaps it will just be a barfing of emotional turmoil and philosophical musings of what I am figuring out my life to mean. I just don’t know. All I can do is wade through and hope that too many happiness leaches don’t suck all the bliss from my soul. Or something.

I am at this point of my life… well, I am almost at this point of my life… where I need to make a decision about the rest of my future, or at least the beginning of my near future. I will graduate from school in December (2005), and I am unsure if I want to go to graduate school and study Journalism (my love) or get a job and keep going on the path that I am currently on as far as that goes… Right now I am in a paid (nicely paid) internship as a public affairs specialist and writer/editor. I LOVE my job. I am doing what I have wanted to do for over a decade now. BUT, I am just doing one part of that job; I can't do more until/unless I am hired on full-time. I could, conceivably, get a permanent position doing what I do now and make a nice pay check with good benefits and travel opportunities… OR, I could go to graduate school and broaden my scope of knowledge and understanding and fulfill a lifelong quest to know more “stuff.” Although, I am finding that the more I learn, the less I seem to really know…

I have looked into several schools that have good graduate studies in Journalism…

-- …Ugh, I am hearing my cat in the background. She’s barfing up a hairball. I hope that a hairball manifestation isn’t symbolic of my making the wrong decision…

…I have the schools I like narrowed down to three: University of Georgia, University of Texas at Austin, and University of North Texas. The University of Georgia sounds great to me. It is in the South, and I love the South. The program is good. The school is in a nice city (I think – never been there) that I will not be too stressed to drive in. BUT, it is far away and it is out of state and I am already worried about how I am going to do this whole school option as far as funds, etc., go. The University of Texas at Austin is a great Journalism school. It is nearby (I’m a little south of Austin) and I could move there and set myself up a little easier than at Georgia. But, and please don’t hate me for saying this, I hate Austin. My ex sister in law lives there. Bad Chi, Man. Bad Chi. University of North Texas… Well, that is my favorite so far. I emailed one of the faculty members, and he emailed me back (WOW!). We actually corresponded a few times. He liked my writing. He was helpful in coaching me on what I need to do to get into the school. He told me about scholarships. He helped me come to the concluding feeling that me and my frame of mind and love for journalism and for writing would “fit” there. I want to go to UNT.

There is, of course, a problem. Two problems, actually. I am not a fan of Dallas. “Dallas,” the city. Not “Dallas,” in reference to any sports teams. Though, I could probably, in time, get over “Dallas,” the city. The pace is fast, the traffic is awful and where do I go to find peace and quiet and bliss?? It would definitely take me time and a lot of stressed out moments on the highway to get over “Dallas.” The other problem is kind of silly. Well, it’d be silly to most sane people.

I think I am not of the sane variety… Not “IN”sane, but just not the same “sane” as everyone else. –Sigh-

Here is problem number two. The guy I loved in high school, almost 20 years ago (holy crap, I am old), works at UNT. I won’t say how or in “what capacity” he works there, in case someone reads this and puts 2 and 2 together… but I don’t want to go to that school for any other reason than for ME (capitalized on purpose). And I am not sure of my intentions. He and I have been apart for, as I alluded to earlier, a loooong time. We have been in touch with each other on and off, though, for these many years. Now, you have to get the full picture. I loved him way beyond what words or music or paintings can portray (and I have tried all 3). He was my first love. The first man I made love to. He was my heart and soul. He’d talk with me about books. He’d talk to me about music. He loved me despite me. Well, he loved me for awhile anyway. Four years, round about. No… three. Three and a half. We even lived far away from each other for a while. He’d fly to see me. I’d fly to see him. He’d write me a letter every week. I’d spend hundreds of my parents’ dollars calling him. The relationship lasted through tenth, eleventh and twelfth grade for me… he was in college after my 10th grade.

Then came our demise. He fell for this chick at his college (let’s call her “Bitch”), and I reacted by sleeping with someone else… We ended. BUT, you see, the ending was different. Well, for me it was. It wasn’t a “screw you” ending. It was the worst heartache I have ever experienced (and I have been married – I know heartache) and yet my heart just could not, would not quit loving him. There was always this “pull” that kept some part of me bound to him. He’s in my heart still. To this very moment.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I went on with my life. I went to college, partied too much and failed out. I lived in Europe for 6 years, was married for 6 years, lived in poverty, had the worst jobs in my existence… but I never forgot about this guy. And I learned A LOT about myself and about life. And a little ‘bout love.

There was even a time, a few years back, when I was researching schools and I found him again (at a different college). His address was listed on the school’s Web site, and so I wrote to him. I’d forgotten all about that letter I sent him, until one day he called and left a message on my machine. I played back that message a million times. He didn’t leave his number on the message, but I had caller ID. I debated calling him for a few days… but I finally gave in to that “pull” and called him back.

This really strange thing happens to me when I am on the phone with him. I can’t speak, at least not intelligently. All sense of sanity flows out of my brain. I sound like an idiot. A love struck, stupid, dumbfounded idiot. It’d be really cute if it wasn’t so frustrating and embarrassing for me. Though, oddly, I do not remember what we talked about in that conversation. I just know that I sounded like an idiot. It was almost like I was hearing myself through a long tube and watching myself on a theatre screen… and I was saying all the wrong things and I was really frustrated with myself… but after the conversation ended, I couldn’t remember what I said after, “hello.”

So anyway. Life went on. There were a few times when I called him again, after carefully rehearsing what I would say in my head. Then I would hear his voice on the other end and crap would spew forth from my mouth.

Well, I write better than I talk, I told myself. I will write him a letter. He will be swept away by my writing abilities. Happy happy, joy joy. I wrote him a few (seriously, just a few) letters. He never answered them. There was a small fraction of my mind that was beginning to think that maybe I was coming across like a “psycho stalker chick.” That wasn’t me. Surely he’d know that wasn’t me. I “let it go.” No more letters.

-- My other cat just walked over and demanded attention. You know how cats are. I HAD to pet her. Poor, underappreciated, little softy. Okay I am done affectionating her. On with the problem.

Okay. So one day while I was at work I decided to Google him. Holy crap. What to my wondering eyes should appear… but HIM, working at a school that I liked for graduate school. Wow. He was in my state. He was just a drive away. I felt the blood rush down to my toes. I forgot to breathe, and my heartbeat rebounded off the walls of my work cubicle.

Now, let me get the record straight on one issue. By the time I Googled him, I had got myself back into college. I was even doing well. National Dean’s List, Who’s Who, Omicron Delta Kappa… I did not have a man in my life, and I did not necessarily want one in my life. I feel the same way today. My life, right now, is for me. I gave up a lot for the life I had with my ex husband, and now was “me” time. Plus, I had just ended a serious relationship with a man I was engaged to. I do not want romance right now. PLUS, I don’t even know him (high school love guy) anymore. He could be really boring. He could be ugly. He could be stuck up. He could be one of those “positive energy sucker” types. He might not like talking about books anymore… I just didn’t know.

I still don’t know.

So anyway, I emailed him. No answer. Well, he couldn’t possibly be ignoring me. No, not “him.” He might just not have access yet to his work email. I sent him another. I found another email address for him. Maybe I should send to that address? I sent another one. Now, this went on for a few months, so it is not as bad as it sounds. So anyway, I get an email back from him one day. Again, the feeling of blood draining out my ears.

The email I receive from the man that was so important to me in my memories, says that he hadn’t answered my emails because he was hoping I would just figure out that he thinks I am the spawn of Satan and wants nothing to do with me. Please, don’t email him again.

-- Ooops, cat again. I am petting with one hand and typing with the other. Okay, she is good now. Spoiled little purr engine. She likes music, though, my cat (her name is Grace Jones). She digs Mr. Bungle. Weird cat.

Well, this reply I received from him told me a lot about this guy. First, he was the kind of guy that practiced habits I despise. The “if I don’t call her or email her or visit her, then eventually she’ll leave me alone and I won’t have to deal with her” bullcrap.

Ha ha ha. I am afraid to use swear words on my blog. That is funny.

It also told me that the relationship we had, though he feigned “true love” really well, was just a temporary affection. A chance for a young virgin lad to finally slick his dick.

Okay, then why would he carry on a relationship with me, long distance, for over a year? Why would he spend his money to buy an airline ticket to visit me? Why would he write me a letter once a week? WHY would he return correspondence with me every so often during this last almost 20 years?? No, he loved me. There is just more to this scenario than I am getting from that one email. A side B on the proverbial LP. Time to analyze.

And I am one to over analyze everything. There must be another chick involved. Probably “Bitch” back to take him away again and keep him within her gangly, steel clutches. Geez, and all I wanted to do was be friends again. Who turns down friendship? Especially with someone you loved once? Remember, I don’t want to date him. Hell, I’d probably be too nervous to even smile at him without making an ass out of myself. Sex would be a disaster.

OR, and this is SO unlikely… He probably misread my attempts at communication and thinks I am a “psycho stalker chick” that wants to pursue a relationship… “Capture her rainbow.” Though, if he thought about it he would certainly see how insane that idea is, and that I am not insane (well, not in THAT way) and so I couldn’t possibly think that way. Je ne suis pas une (I am not a) “psycho stalker chick.”

So you see my problem.

IF I go to UNT, it would be a great school, and I would probably really dig it and learn a lot and have a great time. Plus, I have friends in Dallas (well, A friend – but she has two friends, and they have two friends, and so on, and so on…). But, though my program would not involve him in any way and I may be able to go my entire graduate career without EVER seeing him… I might run into him. And, he obviously has such an overgrown ego that he’d think I was there solely for the purpose of capturing him…

So what do you think? Should I still apply to UNT? Should I just stay with the job I am doing and NOT fulfill my dream of higher education? Should I wait until he doesn’t work at UNT anymore?

Deep thoughts, Man. Deep thoughts.