The Beach and Crap: Daycamp with D.

I know. I haven't been posting. Sorry.
What's to say? I want to drive. Been spending too much on gas so I can't drive tonight.
Went to the beach yesterday with D. Nothing to say about that.
I was at school testing, fell because my foot went completely numb, right in front of a doorway and students looked up. That sucked. He was in the class and saw me. I crawled back to my seat and his class was over soon. He said hi and then went and talked to someone else. Ha. Then came back and we walked out and had a cigarette and he talked to some guy I was in government with. Ok. Showed me his hand which is all fucked up and walked me to my truck. Said yea, his phone is destroyed. Asked if I wanted to do something. When. Aroudnd 2 or 3. Sure okay and I said something about eating breakfast food. Told me to write my number on the back of his hand and I said no and wouldn't take the pen. He offered me his palm because he didn't realize I didn't want to write my number anywhere for him. But to stop wasting time and mental power I wrote my number and the title "Someone" above it. And I asked if he followed me because he wanted a ride. He said no but he did so I gave him a ride to the medical center to get stitches and was glad he was out of my truck and I was alone and me again.
Went to the house, wrote horribly on anonymous for a while and poked around at my homework. Filled my black back with clothes and books, smoked another cigarette, drank more RS and prepared to leave at 3 because I would have been cool if he decided not to call but I didn't want to be at my house. Its just something I don't like to do.
So at 3 I run upstairs to get something, my stuff all ready to go, and the phone rings. I say hello. Twice. And ask for words. Nothing. I hang up.
And I am kind of happy that I hung up because I figure now he can say "whelp, at least I called" and I can say "whelp, glad that's done with". I double check that I have my cigarettes, a lighter, my pens, and the phone rings again. Ok.
He says what are you doing wanna do something ok ill come over be there in ten minutes. Alright.
Bla bla bla. He gets there and comes in. We smoke a cigarette, fight with towels, then have another cigarette. I leave him in the backyard and get the mail, mess around on my own, find a piece of glass.
After that we left pretty quick. Went to south lake, to the condos... one of the last places TBJ and I ever went. We walk around, throw berries on lilly pads, decide to go to the beach.
Run back to my house to open door for dog. Drive freeway to the old beach area we used to go to all the time, but past that beach to the pier. Park. Have a cigarette and chat then walk down the pier. Stop to see a couple people catch some small fish and the flop around on the boards. And I have no emotion about it. But I think I probably should. I think I should be wanting to walk away, have an objection. So I say enough. He says he likes fishing and we stop a couple places along the way back down. On the pavement I kick off my sandals and say that sand is only best if you can feel it so he stops and takes his shoes off too.
We go to the water and wade out, dig our feet in the sand when the waves pull back and stay like that for a while. Go back, get a cigarette and return to the water. The sun would be beautiful because it was sunset but it was behind clouds. I move further into the water and call him a pussy because he stays behind. He takes a step, then, in front of me and I say I will match it, however far out he goes, that I am not afraid of the water. And then we got soaked, me halfway up my shirt. I said it isn't as cold as I remember and he said yea and its winter.
Then the air started getting cold and it was dark so we left the water and it was freezing. He wasn't as wet as I, the little shit, because he jumped when waves came and I did not.
We walked up to my truck and turned on the heat. No towels. No change of clothes. So there's sand all over. Left and went down to a pizza place we used to go to. When in with our wet clothes on and got food and he watched Malcolm in the Middle on TV while I contemplated nothingness.
It was really cold out when we left and he went to get cigarettes. I sat in the truck and called chris briefly. He came back, I hung up, and we left.
I said something about Utah, Nevada, and Arizona until the street turned into the freeway and then I drove well. Decided my house and maybe the pool.
At my house, I gave him clothes- Mo's Kaula shirt that I love which is still in his possession.
My shower turned into an ocean of denim, I said.
I wore his shirt that I put on in the beach parking lot because it was much dryer than my own.
We went to the pool. He got in the hot tub and I pull my lower legs in with my jeans on trying to make the whole thing bubble up. He told me he needed to leave soon, that he always hangs out with someone this time of night and I said okay. A man with glasses came and D tried to engage me because I had slipped away but I told him he couldn't win me back again tonight and either us or the cigarette smoke seemed to make the newcomer uneasy so I said we should go.
Walked back to the house and he was still trying to engage me and I was speaking to the stars about wanting to write, about where is the glass on the pavement when you need it, that I need it now.
At my house I gave him some jeans and I got some drawstring pants and we left. But I couldn't find my phone so I took N's. He called the someone he always hangs out with and she couldn't hang out so he got out his list of phone numbers again and I was asking him where I should take him to which he gave me no answer but surveyed the paper by the light of the phone and I was frustrated, I guess, and thought he was a pretty yucky person. And after pushing him away for a while we decided to go to Northlake and did and I didn't much like him. I thought he was pretty disgusting and I asked again about what friends of mine he's fucked and felt a little better. But I was still heated and my brother called- he and I talked about halloween for a minute and it was good, then we hung up and I parked. So then it was us two again and I started lashing out, walking away from him and saying stupid things. I didn't feel any better for it and he laid down on the playground and I walked to the lake... looked in and then across and thought about that quote about giving light and knew that he hadn't moved and I didn't feel guilty for being mean but I felt I needed to stop. So I went back and he told me, after a while about a friend being upset because he didn't stop her boyfriend from cheating and we smoked a cigarette and were equally far away in our own worlds for sitting that close. But we weren't that close. I said arcade and he agreed so we left. Stopped at a gas station and then found the arcade was closed. So we drove around trying to figure out what to do and I really didn't care because I didn't have any ideas and, probably, I didn't want to do anything at all more with him. We drove by a doughnut place and he told me how he describes "the old me" to his friends. And I feigned shock or something like that and because no one was there we left. To the theatre where he talked to some guy and this was the third time today this had happened:
and the "this" I am refering to is that I absolutely do not exist when he is talking to other people- to him or the other person. That might be what makes me most tweaked out of everything. That someone can stick their head out of my passenger side window and carry on a conversation while I sit like a fucking ghost. Try recovering from that. It sucks. And when the conversation is over, when he says "we" are "gonna roll" and I am ten million light years away in my own world as I take my foot off the brake, there is no explanation- that was such-and-such or even "he's a cool guy". I realize how far off I am from him by his own actions and in my own head only taking the most half-ass steps to engage him. And he makes some semi-related comment to retrieve me from the distance or maybe make things less weird for him and I snap to a little bit, God only knows why because its not for him and doesn't do much for me. But I come to and try and make things easier. The light is dim.
So I take him home and drop him off and he says he'll talk to me later, message me or something and I say okay... and I check his left hand as he closes to door to be sure, and yes, my handwriting has washed off completely. And without saying a word, without mentioning he doesn't have my number or know how to get a hold of me, I let the truck door close and watch him a few seconds walk towards the house.
Then I took my foot off the brake, put it on the gas, and drove off. My first thought, alone, after all these hours with him was 'I'm a ghost' and it came with sheer ambivilence, if not a deep sense of relief. Relief. Ghost.
And I turned up the Zeppelin and looked rather serious a minute and knowing that, turned up the music even louder.
I got home, N and I searched for my phone, finding it at the pool with one of our blue towels, untouched. Then we sat for a while, she listened and laughed while I let my inner monolouge run free and while I was talking, I realized that what I was saying was a reflection of how I truly felt and it was not what I had pretended. I missed and said the word guilt in relation to my little companionship and she called me on it and I knew how close we probably really were to the truth...
That there was someone present who understood me, maybe just the things that come from my mouth, who knows that I am a little wicked, sarcastic, brash, that I cuss quite a bit... no, that there was someone present to whom I could speak freely without fear or watching as my words are completely misheard and digested in a formation that is unfriendly or inaccurate...
That kind of freedom for 10 minutes can make the past 10 hours look like lockdown. It did.
We talked and laughed and she went to sleep. And I found on my phone a message from D. and I replied.
And I can start this game again but there is more reality in the smile and sentiments I imparted with N than in every single pain I can place in my stomach over the irrelevant, every minute I can spend refraining or retracting or regretting or... remaining in a situation manifested by... "someone".

This might be the quickest friendship ever. Ever. You can infer that it looks like the bad "he" and I are probably through. And I just need to work that into my head. Bla bla bla. I can't get the mindset I need to stick. I keep sliding off into maybe or whatever. Fuck it.

Amends in Progress

Amends have been made I suppose

I shouldn't know this. But I do. Because... bla.
So I slept in this morning, didn't go and look at some apartments with N.
Finally got up and did some homework. Talked to my dad on the phone and found out he and MB flew to Houston today for a follow-up appointment at MD Anderson. There's an art show going on too and they are going to visit his best friend who happens to live there. Okay.
Got ready and went to LR. That was fine. Somehow talked them out of going and looking at apartments today. Thank God. So hung out there and bla bla bla.
Started getting really deep into this whole situation in my near future. I mean really caught up. Thing being, while I am like that, I kind of keep "him" at a nice distance that I think we both enjoy. In the late afternoon I look at N and ask her if she knew my father was going to Houston. She said yes and that she's glad he told me. Sign one that something is wrong.
She said that he called yesterday and told her but told her not to tell me. Sign two something is wrong.
I said something about how nice it is there's an art show, ranting, this particular weekend and she started shaking her head. Sign three something is wrong.
She said that one or both of us doesn't know the whole story. I started grinning because I know I got fucked again. Sign four something is wrong.
Then we went to get groceries. We got as far as out of the door and a few steps down the hall when shit started falling into place.
Guess what? My father has bone cancer. That is, the prostate cancer as spread to his bones. It was discovered when he went in for a bone scan of his shoulder which had been continually hurting since July. It has spread to his shoulder and hip. It is very painful. At MD Anderson, they will start discussing chemotherapy. My dad is sick still.
Now, mind you, I don't know these things, or I shouldn't know any of this. He wanted to wait to tell me until he "knew all the answers" but when N. found out I didn't know what was going on, she got furious. Understandibly. She said she would never want anything to disrupt the trust we have worked so hard for or "he won't be worried about cancer". Hehe. I said nothing would come between us and meant it.
Then we went grocery shopping and I made a bad joke about finding out my father died only because he left me a note which starts "Dear Elizabeth" because he doesn't know my name.
I'm mean. Life and death has very little reality to me.
And hell, I'm not supposed to know.
Fine.
Came home, showered, went on drive. On my drive I sang and enjoyed myself and realized what it is I've become and was entirely protective of it. I no longer wanted to play with Davis. And in doing that, coming to that realization, something broke in me. I wanted to pull "him" closer to me again and I felt a twinge of emotion, the slight swelling of tears over my father's condition for the first time.
Fuck. I do love my life.

Amen. Nicole.

So I did nothing most of the day until I went and got my eyebrows done. Then, I came home and did nothing. Then, I started writing in red ink... about making amends, my hopes, all that good bullshit. And then I got an impulse.
Got my purse, keys, and shaking I left the house. To my truck. Shaking. And I drove to Woodbridge. To Nicole's house. Parked. Knocked on the door. No one was home.
Got in my truck and drove away. At a stoplight I reached in my purse, got out a little green notebook, got in the console and got a blue pen... and wrote a note. My writing was too skaky. I ripped it out but the idea was already in my head and the light was already green. I went back into Woodbridge, parking by a elementary school to rewrite a simple note. Then, shaking, I drove back to Nicole's house. Left the truck running, got out the passenger side ran, left the note on the knocker got back in the passenger side, and drove off.
Straight to Jeffery, to the 5. I knew that whatever results I would get, they would be quick. That was a relief. I would know soon if there was anything to know...
Fucked up a little getting on the 5- turned too soon. No problem.
Got on, lots of trucks. It tied up pretty quickly. Okay. I was trying to figure out in my head if I really just did what I thought I did... I did.
Fuck. Before the freeways merged, still stifled in traffic and disbelief, the phone started buzzing.
I answered and confirmed who I was and she was not interested, aside curiousity, about having anything to do with me that I could detect in her voice. She said she would call me back and said the worst thing: "thanks for calling" I laughed harshly, I suppose, and we got off the phone and I put it in the console. I was fucked. I looked fucked. At first I didn't feel anything really, aside the obvious view of things. But then, I started to think about my twisted view of the past, my preoccupation with it... and then I started to feel fucked.
Got off at my exit. Everything was stopped up. And I didn't give a shit. I was going to drive down that fucking road going 45 or 2 mph, whatever. So I don't care.
Parked at LR and fished out my phone... missed calls. Chris, of course. But then 2 voicemails which isn't normal.
Called and it was Nicole. Err. Went in but had to walk out on the porch, I couldn't leave things be for long. No fucking reception. I walked up and down the grass, to the parking lot and back to the porch, and the sun was at 5 and wicked. Fucking sun. Nothing. Fine.
Went back and was shit company. Left soon because I was baited- spaghetti.
Got through my first intersection before I called her back. We talked the next 38 minutes which is how long it took me to get most of the way home. The freeway was at a fucking stand-still and I didn't care.
Great conversation. I will meet her boyfriend sometime soon, maybe next weekend. Thank God. Thank God.
But there was some damaging information... concerning Davis. Good information to have but it is changing my perspective of the process rapidly.
He has his own apartment. No vehicle- a bike. Maybe still on drugs. Not sure. Goes from party to party. Fuck. We may have a situation here.
Had my spaghetti, or a few bites.
Now, I will take a shower, condition my hair, put on make up, get gas, and perhaps... go get a taco. Who knows.

Return of the Native

So I go into math today. And since the last bell hasn't gone off yet, I sit down in the SJ area- I left my contract in class yesterday.
Connie comes in and tells me I got the highest grade on American Government this past week- a 95% out of 3 A's. Most were C's. I thank her for telling me and ask if she has my contract. She says yes, and apologizes for not giving it back yesterday before I left. I say no, my fault.
She walks over and hands it to me and sits down in the chair next to me so we are facing each other.
She asks if I still have contact with Davis. I say no because its the truth.
She says okay, because he re-enrolled "here" and needs a government class but that she put him with Linda. I am slightly confused.
"At San Joaquin?"
"Yes." He is re-enrolled at San Joaquin. That she didn't think I would feel comfortable having him in the government class, even though it would only be for two weeks.
"Right?"
I smile, "Right. Thanks."
She says that I can come in early if I need to and I am confused again. Why would I do that? When is he coming in to see Linda?
Because, she continues, he will be there at the same time I am but he'll be gone before I get out of class.
"Oh, okay." I find some amusement in this and I am already thinking of whether or not I will come early and if I see him, would I talk to him? Do I want to talk to him? Would I come early to talk to him? Would I come early to avoid him?
I say, mistakenly, that I haven't talked to him in over a year. Its been over 2 years.
"Is he okay?"
"Yes, I think so."
"I mean, I some times wonder if he is doing all right." that was more of a question than an explanation and she understood that.
"I believe so. I know he got out of HOPE again recently." and I recall that Hope is a rehab facility and wonder how many he has been in. Relapse, though, that much is positive.
Smiling, I thank her for the consideration because that was extremely kind of her. She laminates that she thought that's what I would want and what would be best.
Then she goes to her desk and concentrates on her computer.
I stare at my books in front of me for a minute and then get up.
How the hell did this happen?
Completely weird. Completely unlikely.
And I don't know what I'm going to do.
I looked at the scenario, the videos I have been watching, the dreams I have been having- just a few nights ago- about him... the guilt I have towards what I have done... and how I have been, recently, entirely unsure I would ever make amends.
Then WHAM! Its like "here's your chance. here is your fucking chance. you've left posts and had no response... what do you think?"
I don't know yet. I really don't.

Me of Now and Then

Tonight I was wondering what the old me would think of me now.
She would think I'm boring perhaps, reflecting to her friends. Of course, and it would not be as exciting.
Still, she would consider me interesting, intelligent, strong, definitely unlike her company. I would be the host of an alternative world contemplated at times of trial or disagreement in her main sphere.
And I would use every charm and skill of influence and attraction in my being to move her towards me because she would be exciting addition to my sphere as well. I would succeed. Maturity, poise, self-assurance- though invisible in many relations- would thrive around her it would, in turn, be appealing to the immature, unsure, fierce girl.
To desert the known is a bargain she would make, did make, and blindly because she couldn't have known whether or not it would succeed.

What do you want to talk about?
I don't have anything to talk about.
N and I went to look at some apartments today- for mama and papa who would like to move at the end of this month- and it wasn't terribly successful.
Other than that, everything is boring.
Yesterday, went to LR.
Tomorrow, another academic day.
I don't know if I believe in writer's block.