to: the next one

a grieving man who'd lost his dear girl wondered what we'd all like the dying one to tell the next. clearly in a perfect world of no hurt and honest acceptance of the inevitable. not to mention loving another more than one's self.

someone whom i admire very much offered this (her husband committed suicide while she was pregnant):

As for me, I wish he could have told those to come, "Don't believe her when she says she's not a masochist. She is, and she'll hurt herself worse than you ever could."

it made me crumple and cry. awfully.

the resonance of how hard i am on myself; the wall i continue to erect, all the while aching for closeness; the abject loneliness of nights and mornings when i just want long arms and legs surrounding me; the stingy grasp i keep on my heart.

the mascara smeared sobs of fucking now.

the editor has been tender and cruel. offered me degradation and safety. he challenges me and makes me laugh. he accepts me and is amazed by me. he wants all of me but knows he can only have what i'll give.

i find myself wondering what i would do if he demanded more. i *think* i would feel relieved, and just give it. but i *know* he wouldn't dare. not yet.

i realize i still don't quite know how to do this.

epicaricacy, part two

happily taking the long route on a sunny day, i realized i wanted to avoid a particular street, it being where my most recent ex-chef lives. not wanting to tempt a dark cloud, i skipped it, then continued up and west. a couple blocks later, i glimpsed a beater of an old blue pick-up forcing its way into a spot still clogged with ice. window shopping and people watching so only partly aware, but i did notice the driver was now on foot, unsteady and troubled by the frozen mounds covering the curb.in the split second it took him to fall, i realized who he was. i watched him struggle like an overturned beached walrus. i can only hope the wretched old bastard broke his hip.

market value

when she asked my price a few weeks back, her eyes popped out and she cried with glee, "we thought we could never afford you!" DOH! it was too late to up the ante. upon reflection, although they seemed nice, the job wasn't enough of what i want. so good practice and a quick lesson in worth.

i've been told i'm overqualified and also offered jobs i don't want because they assume that's where i must be headed. in fact not. my time off and self-evaluation were worth having. it indeed was them, not me. i'm very good at what i do, and they caused the crises of faith through toxicity. the poison is purged and i'm ready. i have a special skill set and a passion to match. not everybody wants to use it. that's ok too. i can and will hold out for the right fit, and be far more clear about understanding philosophies and expectations. these last guys turned my boat completely around 6 months later. i can't tolerate that again.

yesterday's meet went great and i think this is the *one* for me. next week i talk to the money people so have the weekend to determine my price. i can always ask, doesn't mean i'll get. but i know now to start much higher than i thought. that feels good.

when i grow up...

i wanna be a ... what?

• long ago lost my "change the world" cherry
• lately, the right stuff has definitely been rubbed off astronaut
• i can carry a tune, but britney's meltdown is getting all the press
  
• too old to sleep my way to starlet status
  
• too smart for trophy wife (plus i think you hafta live with the guy then)
• already broken more bones and sustained more concussions than a rodeo clown (ack, that last head ding last month still ain't good n' right)
• retain a shred of dignity, so reality tv is a no-go
• don't like numbers, so forget bookie
  
• not mean enough for metermaid...

the timing of my firing was just right to afford me some, but not too much, time off. the holidays, followed by a mental inventory, then a nasty head bang. i needed it. (well, not that last thing.) i felt so truly conflicted because i'd felt so negative and beaten for so damned long. everyday, i dreaded going to work. knowing i'd see the chef made it that much worse.

was it me? after time to reflect, talking with industry people and some practice interviews (they thought i was for real) i now am sure it was him. them. i hated what he wanted me to do, and hated doing anything for him. the money-fuck and its subsequent poverty didn't help. the suspicion, distrust, paranoia and lack of positive feedback didn't help either. it had nothing to do with me. the nail in that c.v. coffin was when a potential boss last week remarked, "shit, you've worked for the biggest assholes in the city." what the hell is the right answer there? lol.

astonishing that men so successful could be so miserable. i've written previously about the special genetic mutation that makes celebrity chefs. your business rakes in dough, and you are the toast of the town for the thing you've dreamed about since you were a kid, YET you're still a miserable dick...? i know i can never wander down that path again. as much as i admire their genius for food (not so much these last 2, ick ~~ when in doubt add pork or butter... better yet, both!), they are sociopaths. i will never subject myself to that again. however, i am unwilling to surrender the thing i love, the thing at which i excel, and the thing with which i identify most passionately. yet i almost did. i cannot allow myself to get sucked down in a mire of self-doubt ever again.

i will not move backwards or sideways. not financially or jobwise. i am too old to take ANY more reverse steps. now i know better than to accept promises of "better things to come" if, when, maybe. unless offered a written stake, in this business it's code for "haha, fuck you, you'll never see that money". i will not be undersold, lol.

the market is brisk, and i'm getting great responses. it really IS a good time to be looking, and it's nice to know i'm marketable, not damaged. funny feeling of power to have already rejected several offers. i've never felt like i *could* before, except in those cases of the most egregious turn-arounds or offense. weird feeling. self-determination. weirder still that nobody is helping, or mentoring. another bit of hidden strength. :)

the ice storm

ice, snow, sleet, savage wind, more ice. our first blizzard of the season was a doozy. it had been predicted for days, so i was all stocked up, waiting and warm.

i didn't foresee the late night storm that would blow through me though.

editor was early, and very disappointed the flowers were late; they arrived after he did! but they were a lovely unexpected indulgence and look charming on the table in the sun today. my favorite, tulips-- a promise of spring, endearing considering the weather. he had ordered roses, though, lol, so was a bit miffed! dinner was a triumph and the wine paired nicely. very delicate conversation about personal boundaries, and our individual methods for protecting them. he had, of course guessed some of mine, but to be generous, i offered some other nuances. it was scary, i think for us both, but good. and better. our repair upstairs was terrific and more ouchy than ever.

he drifted off easily as men seem always to do, and i cleaned up the last remnants of duck and dessert.

then it hit. i fled to the bathroom, shut the door and turned on the faucet. i burst into tears. on the floor, i sobbed and sobbed, the cat wending his way through my arms and my tears. my sadness was so urgent, i couldn't find or name its source. so i simply gave into it. i felt drained and empty and hurt. and foolish. at last i washed my face, had a bit more wine and joined him in bed.

sleep came quickly, so my personal squall was hard, but fast.

the day after, the sun is extra bright and bounces off the still clean snow, making the day seem to start just a bit earlier than usual. the same goes for me. plenty of job prospecting going on, dinner with the editor at one of my favorite spots, and another night of ouchies in the offing.

outside is frozen and covered with slippery dangerous and potentially vengeful ice. i know i'm not that way inside.

no woman, no cry, i guess, eh?

cupid's broken arrow

valentine's day.

yes, i'm jaded. roses triple in price and tons of candy gets bought. tiffany's and shreve's put on the screws too. restaurants gouge with overpriced prix-fixe, then overbook because of the deluge of penny-pinching deuces who don't meet a normal check average. too long watching too many couples feeling forced to make a "big night out" of it. too many men awkward in dress-up clothes, across tables from too many women with expectations too high. we'd often run pools betting on tears and/or break-ups.

the romance of it was sucked out even long before college, so this never was a meaningful day for me. later, definitely not one that mattered to the g.c. in regards to me. if conscious on his part, i don't know. i do know there were gifts and cards for the wife, and he's not unromantic. but that certainly wasn't my place. i didn't struggle with it, because it wasn't important to me.

so why is he heavy on my mind today? is it the simmering duck confit that's warming and scenting the loft? is it the mournful howling wind and jagged sleet outside? is it the smart charming funny man racing to see me, the one whom i cannot yet allow *in*?

when will come the day that i finally realize it's been *awhile* since i've thought of him? what's awhile anyway? i have yet to go more than a few hours. letting go, getting over... if i could only just put aside, that might help. i still can't reckon if i don't want to, or truly cannot.

ebullience and emotions

he's effusive. he's thrilled to see me and be with me. not in a suffocating kind of way, but in a charmingly sincere way. i think i'm finally past secretly thinking he's like that with everybody. he's been very honest about women in his past who ranged from very good to terrible fits. including his wife --who went from one to the other over their long marriage. how could they have slept side-by-side all those years and not had sex?

unaccustomed to such open displays it makes me... what? uncomfortable? insecure? cold? racking my brain, i know i've been with few men like that. with as much force as i could muster, i shoved most away. my reflex was a simmering soup of not *liking* him nearly as much, and honestly just feeling squirmy and embarrassed with such uninhibited displays of affection. my family doesn't really hug, ya know? of course too, there was the underlying foundation of not believing i was worth it. that is where some of my hesitation and doubt lies now. clearly, he sees value in me. i've gotten much better at relaxing into his casual easy gestures of fondness. yet i still feel an inner reserve. i know i'm holding back. i also know it's too soon for me to think of any man in terms of longer than a few days from now. his schedule is so packed though that weeks in advance he's carving out possible evenings.

he hasn't pressed too much for details, and i do worry that his perceptions of my former dynamic with the g.c. might be erroneous. i have corrected him on occasion, but i also worry that some things perhaps don't warrant discussion. perhaps just too private, in the past, or not relevant. i've explained i'm still finding my footing, both within myself, and within parameters of equal partnership. he's responded only with tenderness and fairness. he's no dummy and does see my hesitancy. he's also admitted having a tendency to push for something he wants very much and does not want to send me fleeing.

he's judging an essay contest in nyc, so won't return in time for dinner out. he's zipping back on the acela, blizzard be damned, to be with me tonight for valentine's day. it matters to him, and i respect that. he was still itching to take me out, but i finally convinced him we're better off staying in, warm and dry, instead of battling the nor'easter. hey! i got my way!!

i'm proud of myself for holding fast to myself. my heart remains mine and my responsibility. protecting it, letting it heal is a very big job. it will only be fixed when i no longer think of it as needing repair, lol.

tiny dancer

the board which was the shared forum for the g.c. and me had more than its share of smart cookies. ok, plenty of dummies too, and lots of folks with whom i disagreed. but a handful that "got it", and really made me think. i was always especially grateful for the sharp thinking outside my own head. it was a support network for some very thorny questions, and an outlet for my writing.

for months after the rent, i searched the web for stimulating fora. quelle surprise, much like real-life, perhaps even moreso, the internet is full of folks who shouldn't be allowed access to a keyboard, never mind the world wide web. food, wine, travel, books, writing... no matter my interest, i grew quickly bored with the generally remedial level of discourse.

the siren song of it called me back, and i dared to log on. i remain afraid of the spying crazy eye. as i suspected, she's still watching, and was on there recently. i will not post anything too specifically personal. yet i was missed by some very savvy insightful folks, whose brains i like. i missed them too. who has friends with whom you can discuss this stuff? while i tip-toe through relationship switzerland and kyoto re: the editor, i will keep the high road of discretion, but give myself a writing loophole.

the music remains at a low volume, and i realize i still am only taking the smallest of steps whilst reclaiming myself.