lucky girls have all the fun
Considering myself lucky in many respects might seem fairly insane to some, but for me it’s just how I feel lately. My income from NY state was restored, as a result of me having had my initial claim expire, I now officially have 6 more months to either find a fantastic job I want, or…actually “make it” as a writer. The other job I took doing the telecommuting thing might evolve into an actual full time gig, given the email I got the other day said something along the lines of: “hey deanna, would you be willing to travel to NYC on a consistent basis?” Now if you know me, you would know that throwing me on a plane is about the best thing ever, given I have a special affinity for airports. To me they symbolize an inherent romanticism with the idea that everyone there is always leaving, or coming home. I haven’t been on a plane since March, and given the traveling tear I was on for a while, this is kind of odd.
So the online thing has been going better than I had anticipated. Well, in that the people who actually have the balls to write me after reading me and observing my world from afar are actually turning out to be pretty cool people. And some who later discovered my site clearly do not have the balls to write at all…which is cool. I dig the filter. I almost wish I put it up there weeks ago so I could have avoided that unfortunate meeting I had with someone who I showed my stomach scar to and said, “no, don’t show me that, I can’t look, it makes me skeeved out.” Apparently the generic disclosure I have had surgeries wasn’t enough for him to recognize I probably had some scars from it. They aren’t even keloided, they are flat to my body and a little lighter than my skin, and though they are long, they certainly aren’t ugly, at all. Nothing to be skeeved out by, that’s for damn sure.
I do predict, however, that because of my stiff friends-first stance that the one I decide I might end up wanting more from won’t heed any of my obvious signals and I will be in the position that I put so many of them in–you know the, “well, you’re cool, I’d dig being friends with you thing.” The first dudes I met here didn’t get that at all, and one of them actually lashed out and called me every terrible name under the sun, but later apologized and we are kosher again.
You cannot predict chemistry between people, that is the one thing you cannot assume to know anything about, no matter how much you speak before you meet. And the interesting thing about that is, I did find myself zapped like that by someone after very little communication recently, during one of my many fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants days…Then again, if someone knows how to touch you and there is that lingering question in your mind, well, we all know how things can evolve from there. And not physically necessarily, just the twinkle in your eye kind of imagination that can throw a smile on your face quite easily.
And oh, wow, have I been smiling lately. Last night I went out with my friend Mark, who’s this older English dude I met a few months back, and we are always going off on political discourse and religious tirades which are probably very entertaining for people to hear, but usually involves one or both of us saying “what the fuck is wrong with everyone.” He’s super interesting and literally my only non-internet friend, meaning I did not meet him via the net, and we don’t communicate except by phone or in person. I got a little less than level and woke up with a terrible headache. So, to alleviate this head pounding yuck, I decided instead of doing my regular coffee-only run to www.devilsfoodbakery.com/ that I would treat myself to breakfast. And I ate my gluttonous breakfast and my headache went right out the window.
And last, but certainly not least, Francis is back! Francis was my best friend for years and years and we tend to have bizarre falling outs every once in a while because we are both so incredibly independent and stubborn with our opinions. So inevitably we end up insulting each other and one of us will say, “fuck it, I’m done.” We never mean it, of course, but we always have short breaks it seems. But when we do speak it’s so natural and easy–she knows me better than anyone for sure, and it always seems like getting back on track is almost instinctual. She called me yesterday morning out of the blue and I just answered the phone “Hi Francis!” We are both Francis to each other…and have always been. She calls me Francis, I call her Francis. It’s just an homage to some stodgy joke we made when we were young…I think I was 21, she was 16 when I met her in college and we moved to NY initially together. I will write more extensively of her and her awesomeness, but it set the tone for the day yesterday to be nothing but a bowl of sweet. Love her, miss her, and I am so happy I finally closed that circle.
mmm bowl of sweet