I Find It Funny That You Never Even Knew, All The Time When I Stole A Look From You, Oh, What's In My Mind, Oh, They're Gonna Put Me Away This Time

--"I Don't Do Crowds", Camera Obscura

I torment myself, that's what people say. I possess this annoying tendency to over-analyze every situation to the utmost and to be worrisome when there really isn't anything to be worrisome about. I'm not called Eeyore for nothing. Even when I'm rather impulsive--meeting up with people I barely know halfway across the country, spending hundreds of dollars on objects sight unseen, &c...--it's only for that briefest of instances. As soon as the decision is made or the journey undertaken, I go right back to playing out all the possible outcomes, all the possible repercussions to me. I don't know--I think it's the pragmatist in me. I can never be satisfied with just doing a thing without knowing all the angles. It's like I always say, there's always an angle.

----

"I just need to figure out this one out."

"You don't need to figure anything out, darling. It's an idea. That's all," my friend Breanne replied back as I fought off the urge to close my eyes once more. It was April of 1995 and I was trying to do my best to recover from a small cold, a middling cough, and, I suppose, a guilty conscience. I had the spent the better part of the day in bed, half-relishing and half-pretending to be sick. In part, it was a ploy to have Breanne play nursemaid. But the other part was to dissuade her from going through with her ridiculous idea of hiking out from her home all the way to Atlanta. I just didn't have the heart to just say no, which would have been the smart play. No, I had to practice deceit all in the name of sparing her feelings.

The real truth was I was nervous to merely say what I had to say.

"I want to go. I really do. But do you think it would be a good idea with this cough?"

As if on cue, I coughed meekly, making sure to invest the guttural sound with enough hoarseness to make it sound believable. I'm pretty sure she didn't buy it.

I laid my head back down on the pillow with the violet-strewn design and hoped that would be enough to stall her. I watched her inspect my face with her oceanic blue-green eyes, hoping to find the slightest tell in my demeanor or facial structure. I waited a full minute before I finally couldn't take the scrutiny any more. I slowly closed my eyes and waited for her to catch me in the lie. Instead, I felt her sit down beside where the back of my head was resting on the pillow. Then the unmistakable touch of her hands of my hair were what greeted me next. I swallowed a yelp as she nearly yanked a clump from my head. Was this to be my punishment for my deception? Death by scalping, one hair at a time? The next time I felt her fingers gather up a handful of my black locks I opened my eyes.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing. Shush up and sit still."

I brushed her arms away. Undeterred, she brought them back just as quickly.

"Not until you tell me what you're doing."

She continued to play with my hair before she answered.

"Hell's bells, I figured if you're just going to lay there like a lump on a log I might as well have some fun with you."

"So you're...?"

"Trying my damndest to give you a mohawk."

Again, I brushed her hand away and this time they stayed by her side.

Some couples fight by stating the obvious, going through all the rigmarole of screaming and yelling. Those type of couples usually have fights that flare up rather quickly, burn hot for a few hours, and then die out just as quickly. It's usually over and done with in a relatively short period of time. With Breanne and I it's always been a slow burn. I think the distance between us has afforded us the luxury of keeping the small grievances to ourselves. We overlook the small trivial annoying habits we have because we figure it's not something we have to deal with on a day-to-day basis. So what could potentially be a dealbreaker if I had to see her everyday, usually means I can let it go and it's forgotten within a matter of days. However, when she starts to get on my nerves or I start to get on hers, the whole laundry list of gripes comes spewing out. Never in so many words, mind you, but there is usually a whole other level of frustration that has nothing to do whatsoever with the argument at hand. It's like one domino toppling the other until finally they all come crashing down in a well-orchestrated line.

All in all, it was an inauspicious beginning to the weekend. I was to be there four days. I was already recovering from a slight cold. I was already irritable. I was already slightly regretting okaying her plan to spend the next four days in each other's way. On paper it sounded good. Who wouldn't want to spend one hundred forty-four hours with their best friend and no parents to interfere? What's more who wouldn't want to spend one hundred forty-four hours with someone who usually is the picture of grace and etiquette, and someone who wasn't exactly unpleasant to look at? On paper it sounded like a good time. On paper it sounded like a fine time, indeed.

Then I realized what I was in for.

This wasn't just to be any old weekend. This was to be the weekend. It all came with strings attached of various lengths and colors.

The first string was that it wasn't to be the huge family blowout that I'd been led to believe would be happening. That had already happened the previous weekend, which she had conveniently neglected to tell me. Instead, I'd come to discover only a few hours prior that her parents would be going out of town and I was to be her impromptu chaperon/baby-sitter. I guess the rationale I was in college and she was in high school; I could look after her. I mean--yeah, I'd managed to keep to their good graces the last time I paid Breanne a visit, but that had been with them sleeping in the bedroom next door and me actually trying to be somewhat of a gentleman. Remove those impediments and you definitely had something else entirely. You had a string is what you had.

The second string was that it wasn't going to be four days at her parents' home like she had promised me. Nope, she wanted to go to Atlanta and, since borrowing one of her parents' cars was out of the question, she wanted to hoof it. I'm sure I've mentioned it sometime before, but I hate hiking. I love walking, but add a thirty-pound backpack replete with tent, sleeping bags, and whatever else, and I start turning into a crabby apple. Not only that, but I really didn't have it in me to be sleeping in the great outdoors when, frankly, her house was so nice and was always kept way to the side of frigid and comfortable. Lastly, hikes are notorious for spats breaking out. The stress of carrying a load, walking through heat, sweating up a storm, and just plain your feet hurting is enough to cause friction.

The last string was that that Sunday, April 23rd, was Little Miss Chipper's fifteenth birthday. Which I didn't think was a string but was the biggest string of all.

"Can't you just let me lie still for one second? Or do you not want me to be healthy to go tomorrow?"

"It was only a bit of fun. Calm down, dad," she said crossly.

"Oh, ha ha."

I stared at her staring at me. I'd disappointed her so far and it was only the first few hours of my trip. Friday. I had to last all the way to Tuesday.

I was a goner for sure. If I didn't stab her first, she'd probably smother me in my sleep.

As I watched her, I debated telling her my real concerns. I waffled as to how much truth the situation really called for. On one hand, it would definitely break the tension. We could finally get to the business of hashing out what needed to be said. On the other hand, it probably would only lead to more hard feelings and definitely muddle proceedings up further. I just didn't know what the proper course of action was. I also had the skulking suspicion that she didn't either. I'd never been in the situation of having to say what was opposite to what my heart wanted. I'd never once been in a conundrum of having to fight against fate.

She finally sighed, annoyed and embittered, and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Scooch," she instructed me.

I wiggled my head away from the bed and transferred onto the pillow furthest from her. It was cool to the touch, which actually served to calm me down some. I plopped my face down into its welcoming touch and tried to let the tension slip away from me. A few seconds later I felt the covers rustling and her crawling underneath them. I didn't bother to argue the choice. For all I knew, we were just going to nap it off. That usually solves a lot of problems, the tactic beaten into us since pre-school of relieving stress by sleeping it away in the middle of the day. Truth be told, it was kind of nice being able to sleep with her next to me. What with the fight, I thought that would be off the menu for the rest of the weekend.

I was almost asleep when I heard her speak again.

"It wouldn't be what you would think, Patrick."

"It'd be enough of it to make me think twice."

"It's not like I'm suggesting having your teeth pulled."

"I know."

"You can't tell me it wouldn't be something."

"Something?"

"You know, something special. It'd be really... good."

"I know."

I shook my head. If you knew me, you'd know that above all else I hate being annoyed. I hate it. I would rather have someone despise me and continually try to destroy me, then continually resolve to inconvenience me in small ways, intentionally or not. I rather like it when situations are simple. Somebody tries to kill me equals me avoiding that person from that point forward. Somebody tries to burn me equals me avoiding any fires when I'm with that person. It's this whole notion of leaving the ball in my court where either option has its merits and drawbacks that annoys me to no end. When I have to reason a dilemma out, that's usually when you see me at my worst. That's usually when I walk away from whatever's causing the dilemma rather than continually beat myself up over it. That's usually when I say, "it's been fun, but things are getting a little too dicey for my comfort." That's usually when I part ways with people.

The trouble was I was stuck there for the next four days.

The trouble was I couldn't part ways with her. The trouble was just how much I didn't want to be apart from her.

What I was concerned about most wasn't the during. I was positive the during would be exquisite. There was nothing else I could have imagined that would have been more in line with what I thought a first time should be. If all there was to the situation was the doing then I would have been fully aboard. It's what came after that concerned me. It's the aftermath, the consequences, the repercussions that weighed heavily on me. I didn't want to do something that would jeopardize what I had. What I had was a person I could talk to about my problems, I could talk to about where my life was headed, and I could talk to about how I felt. If pulled that string, opened that box, there would be no closing it back again. Instead of merely being my friend, she'd take on added responsibility. She'd become someone more. And if it all didn't work out, if we didn't work out, she wouldn't cease being more. She'd be an ex. Every time I would come to her as my best friend, I'd also have to come to her as an ex too. What's more, I couldn't treat her just another ex either. The two couldn't be separated from one another. I'd have to be mindful of both aspects of our relationship which was a whole other headache I didn't need.

I wasn't only worried that she was so much younger than me. I was worried that what we had was way too young to be placing such a heavy burden on it. I really was happy with her as this swiss-army of friends, encouraging me when I needed encouragement, kicking my ass when I needed a good ass-kicking, &c... I really didn't think we were strong enough to handle anything more.

Moreover, it couldn't go anywhere. I was way over in California and she was... She was, well, here.

I couldn't on good faith follow through with a plan that, while tempting, would ultimately end with someone in tears.


I'd like you to fall for me but it would soon turn lousy and wrong

I turned my body away from her. I heard more than I felt her turn hers away from mine. We laid like that for quite awhile, neither of us knowing what to say next. It wasn't like there was a point we could progress to from there. Personally, I didn't foresee us quite being able to do anything else for the remaining three days. After all, how do you say no to heaven and where do you go from there? It's like giving up on your dream and trying to welcome back the real world. The real world sucked at that point and all I could think of was trying to sleep my problems away.

I sniffled.

That's when I heard her sniffling too. Except hers wasn't because she was fighting back a cold. Hers was for a different reason.

As soon as I heard it, it bothered me. I can't stand to hurt her on purpose like that. I never could. It will never sit right with me.

I said whatever came to mind to appease her.

"It was never a choice, you know, Breanne? It was always decided for me.

"I could never look at you and just say, yeah, that's what I want. It was always something that was off the table. Pretty soon it just became habit to focus in on the other stuff. There's so much other stuff I like that I tried to babble my way through not seeing that other stuff, the complicated stuff.

"You're my friend and you always will be. That has to be rule number one."

I gave her an opportunity to come back at me with a response, but she didn't budge. Not even a peep.

I wish she could have said something. It would have been easier to stick to my guns if I had some kind of words to play off of. How do you fight nothing? How do you to retort to a non-response. You can't. The only thing you can do is continue with your original train of thought, reiterating your basic ideas, without anything to add. You can only do that until you talk yourself through to somewhat of a conclusion, even if that conclusion is miles away from where you intended to arrive. That's how it always is. It's why salespeople are trained to let the customer talk until they say the word no, because nine times out of ten customers will talk themselves into the sale with the proper guidance. It's why in any type of negotiations the person who talks first loses. It's not because they want to lose. It's because when you're on the defensive enough to have to fill silence, you usually fill it with words contrary to your own initial position. You usually fill it with words to appease the other party, to make them want to talk to you again. Nobody likes to sit (or lay) in silence. Nobody. The weak-willed people, like myself, will usually make the first move to fill in that silence.

I needed her to talk to me again.

"You have to know how I see you, Breannie. You have to see it in the way I look at you. I may be able to hide it from you when I talk to you, but you have to notice how I see you."

Nothing.

I put my head back down on the pillow and waited. I couldn't hear the sniffling any more, which was a good sign. I also couldn't hear her even breathing, which wasn't such a good sign. I rested my eyes, breathing out sharply as I lay.

A few minutes later I was holding her in my arms. There was no fighting against what I wanted and it was pointless for me to try. There were just some things that were meant to happen, courses that are laid in front of us that we can't avoid. I had plenty of opportunities to pull myself away from her and walk away. I had plenty of chances to see where the road was leading and to start backing away. It could have all ended differently--not better, not worse, but different. That day wasn't one of those chances. I'd come way too far with her by that point to protest that it wasn't what I wanted all along.

I knew what I was getting myself into the instant I told her I could come celebrate her birthday with her. I couldn't say no even if I really wanted to.

I was stuck. For better or worse.

----

You know the rest. We hiked and camped. She ceased being someone I could trust and started becoming the only person I've ever really trusted.

Yet I find myself with the same type of qualms. I've never been able to resist her even though it's against my better judgment to allow her to dictate how our relationship is to progress. This time, instead of being too young for me, she should be completely out of my reach. And yet, and yet, and yet, she still places me at the crossroads of having to say no to something I really want for myself. Again, she puts me in the position of having to fight against fate.

If you've been reading anything here for the last few months, you know it's been bothering me again and again as to what the proper course is. I know what I want but I also know what I should do. It sucks they aren't the same thing.

I know I want to see that person who I've always felt nothing but close to. What I don't know is if I'm strong enough to resist the person I know I shouldn't be with, the person who will never move to California, the person who still treats me as sloppy seconds unintentionally sometimes, the person who's married.

I know what to do. I just don't know how I'm ever going to accomplish it. And I know how this is all going to play. We're going to have laughs, make a lot of good memories, and have big fun under the Chicago sun.

Then one of us is going to end up in tears.

I just hope it isn't me this time.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

You Don't Remember Me, But I Remember You, T'was Not So Long Ago, You Broke My Heart In Two, Tears On My Pillow, Pain In My Heart, Caused By You, You

--"Tears On My Pillow (cover)", S Club 8

It's been almost six years since I moved out from that old apartment and I still haven't gotten used to waking up alone. I've slept with other people, but I think I still miss the consistency having a familiar face to wake up next to everyday. I believe it's one of those habits that once you've had it it's impossible to remember how to go on without it.

I miss it.

I think it's affected my sleep ever since because I don't seem to wake up as rested as I had been while we were living together. Like I said, I've gotten used to fallen asleep alone most nights; it's the waking up alone that leaves me forlorn and wistful.

The strange thing is I think I miss the waking up part more than the sex when it comes to my ex-girlfriend. The truth is when we were awake we fought like Itchy and Scratchy, but when we were asleep everything was golden. After all, I think it's kind of true that you can have sex with anyone. However, it's a real measure of compatibility whether or not you can fall asleep next to someone night after night without getting on each other's nerves. There are some married couples who can't even share the same bed because they keep each other up. Moreover, it's a sign of surrender of power in a relationship to allow someone to watch your back while you're sleeping. You're never more vulnerable, you're never more helpless, and you're giving someone permission to be next to you in that state. That's the surest sign of trust.

That was one thing that was good about us. Through most of our relationship we were always able to fall asleep flopped on top of each other. Towards the end it became harder and harder--what with all the name-calling and sometimes physical fights--but I always told her that I would miss waking up next to her the most.

I think that's why I need this vacation. It'll be nice to snuggle up next to someone--even if it's only a friend and even if it's only possibly naps.

I'll take what I can get.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Oh What A Night, Why'd It Take So Long To See The Light, Seemed So Wrong, But Now It Seems So Right

--"December, 1963 (Oh, What A Night)", The Four Seasons

Four hundred ninety-nine posts ago, on the night of Sept 7th, 2004 I wrote this, The Wind Blew All Around Me. It wasn't a terribly auspicious beginning because I really hadn't planned on writing anything but updates on what I was working on, what I did on any particular day, and really hadn't planned on divulging anything particularly personal or memorable. Originally, this site was supposed to be nothing more than a glorified account of my days. Originally, I wasn't planning to update it quite as much as I do. I tried to limit myself to brief bits of entertainment news with occasional forays into what was going on in my head. I didn't want this to be terribly confessional because, I don't know, I didn't think my life was anything anybody would really have an interest in and, quite frankly, most of the time when I write something deeply emotional it only serves to depress me.

However, even on that night, re-reading that flimsy excuse for a first post--what with its reliance of notes of my progress on my great unfinished novel, The Carisa Meridian and its totally practiced tone of ironic indifference--I had some idea that this space would turn into a gallery of my life and the lives of everyone I've come across. Why else would I commit to paper a line like,

Plus, I have seen first-hand the power a blog has to gain feedback, both positive and negative, about one's own course in life so I suppose I shall be utilizing this personal space of mine to garner such reviews about my own life, about my own course, and I guess my own well-being.

if not to validate the existence of my blog as a means to express my experience? I guess I was wrong in ever believing that I could leave such valuable real estate devoid of the forlorn and wistful anecdotes from my life that so overwhelm my everyday conversations.

I honestly tried to keep this site fluffy and light in the beginning, but people can't help but write what they know. And what I know is how to self-analyze and beat a dead horse. I also know a thing or too about trying to learn lessons from every memory one makes, even if that memory only lasted for an hour or even a minute. As Breanne is fond of saying, I can only be little 'ole me--no more, no less.

I was a different person back in 2004. I was unemployed and probably the loneliest I've ever felt. It was a couple of months after I'd come to the realization that I probably never would be seeing DeAnn again. I mean--we broke up in 2001, but we continued to try to be friends up until April or May of 2004, so in a sense I was just coming off of breaking up with what was a long-standing relationship for me. The unemployment didn't help. But mostly I was miserable because I felt like I had no one who really wanted to listen to me, including me. I was just tired of being the person who tended to drive people away and it was all hitting me how much I had screwed up my life by isolating myself from the people I cared about the most. It wasn't a coincidence that I turned to writing a blog to work out my problems because a lot of my problems stemmed from things I originally wrote down.

I never thought those first posts would amount to much. Frankly, I thought I would get bored of writing blogs within a few months. I didn't think I had a lot to say or maybe I just never thought I would amount to much.

Yet here I am, typing out my five hundreth post, which I daresay is quite an accomplishment. I never thought I had it in me--certainly not the way I was feeling that night. Sure, I might be cheating because a good twenty to twenty-five percent of them were actually written by Breanne, but five hundred is five hundred, and I deserve the lion's share of the credit if credit is to be handed out. I know not everything I've written has been of quality and that I've probably allowed more of my secrets out than I probably should have, but I think it's been an interesting ride and I know I've learned a few things from then till now.

I think I'm in a happier place.

I don't feel so alone now.

But most of all, I think a lot of the stuff I write now has some value for others. I've stopped thinking that what I write here has no value except for me because over the years I've received e-mails from various friends and acquaintances stating that something they've read here has impacted their lives--be it Sammie quoting one of my posts and utilizing it as a wallpaper for her computer or be it Kerri Ray using my eulogy for Jennifer as the basis for her own eulogy for a friend of hers. I can't say all my posts have been homeruns like those, but my batting average is pretty solid.

I know without some of those posts I wouldn't have some of the people in my life that I thought I lost forever. I would have never found out what happened to that girl I spent six hours with at Disney World once. I would have never found out what happened to my best friend from high school. And I daresay I very well could have lost track of the person who continues to mean the most to me without this site. So what if it's caused me to miss precious hours of sleep? So what if it's caused me to get into my fair share of fights over topics apparently weren't safe to discuss? So what if people have taken what they've read on here and used it to their advantage?

Five hundred posts for almost three years of having the ability to say what I wanted to say and write what I wanted to write?

All in all, I think it's been a fair exchange.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

And I Can't Help But Look Back, I Got Time To Kill, An Iron Will, But Baby I Can't Backtrack, And Each Letter I Write Ends Up An Offering To The Nigh

--"Iron Will", Whispertown 2000

There's a scene in Brick where Emily is telling Brendan that she doesn't need saving and that, for all his good intentions, it's still her life. I think that scene hits home for me because it's a character flaw I see in myself. I've always been the type to want to help people, especially my friends, when they are in trouble. I've always let people know they can call me at any hour of the day about anything and I'll listen. It's always been a policy of mine to drive anywhere any time somebody tells me they need my help. But I think it goes beyond just a simple desire to help. I think it really stems from a need to somehow be perceived as a savior in some way.

I don't know if it was I who first started to notice it or if I had it pointed out to me, but there's something similar about the people I'm attracted to. One, they are always young. Two, they are always at a point in their lives where it seems like they need guidance. And, three, they are always more advice-takers than advice-givers. Maybe it's just me, but I seem to pulled in by people who not only are willing to listen to me, but seem to be foolhardy enough to think I have all the answers. Yes, I've been through a lot, but very rarely do I think I know everything. Yet for some reason I have this compulsion to surround myself with people who are willing to buy what I'm selling. They fulfill a sick need in me to feel important somehow. Without the edge, be it the age thing, be it the confidence, or be it simply the strength of will thing, I get very nervous around people. I can't seem to function properly around somebody unless I feel they need me for something or I've got something over on them.

Conversely, when I zoom in on those areas of attention in a person I very rarely want to relinquish that control. I seem to want to pigeonhole this person as remaining constantly in need of help when the truth is maybe they stopped needing my help a long time ago. I can see this in many instances. I can see this in the fact that I still think of B. as that runaway kid who was always calling me to help convince her to return home. I can see this in the fact that one of the only reasons I remain friends with Miss Nancy Fucking Drew is that it makes me feel heroic when I bail her out of one of her exuberant drinking binges. I can see this even all the way back to when I just had to help Brandy find her parents when the truth may have been she could have found them well enough on her own.

It's a trait I know gets into trouble when the people I feel it is my duty to help don't actually require or especially want my help. That was always a point of contention with DeAnn. I don't know why but I had this twisted notion that I could improve her, that her past was something I could erase and make better somehow. That wasn't what she wanted, but that's what I wanted to give her. And that's what ultimately drove us apart.

Hell, I even see it a little now with Carly, except I see how the opposite reaction might pay off more in the long run. There's a lot of areas I don't see eye-to-eye with Miss Flib when it comes to how she lives her life, but I've managed to keep my nose clean when it comes to trying to change her. So far she's managed to do a bang-up job and far be it from me to tell her how to live her life better. It's a far different attitude than I would have taken five years ago. Yet I still manage to be someone she can come to for advice and even that little bit of guidance.

Sure, I still feel like I'm not doing enough for her and that there's still a good chance it's a mistake not to try and tell how she should do things differently, but I'm trying not to be that person any more. I'm trying hard not to be the person who inadvertently gives people the impression that their life has been all messed up, but now I'm going to make it all better. I'm not that good. I'm trying to be more the person who dispenses advice when asked but doesn't get all bent out of shape when it isn't taken. I'm trying to be more the person who looks upon his friends as people with foibles and quirks rather than as problems in need of constant repair.

I no longer want to be the person who has to feel superior to someone to be their friend. I just want to enjoy someone's company without once looking down upon them for something they either did it in the past or have already made steps to correct.

I'm no one's hero and I firmly believe that people are capable of rescuing themselves.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

I Would Give Anything I Own, Give Up My Life, My Heart, My Home, I Would Give Ev'rything I Own, Just To Have You Back Again

--"Everything I Own (cover)", Ken Boothe

During the course of my stay in the employ of Bally's Total Fitness it fell upon me to do a weekly run-through all the bounced checks of the company in order to call the delinquent parties and barter a payment. The only problem was that the book which housed said checks was kept on the desk of one of my fellow employees, Jennifer. Everyday I would go through the routine of asking her if I could "borrow" the book with the solemn promise I would return it at the end of the day. It became a small game where she would gracefully allow me safe passage with the documents but only after a fair amount of scrutiny that I was trustworthy.

Normally, I know, this is the type of silliness that occurs in every office setting as a means to pass the time and keep up morale. Normally, such frivolity would soon fade in luster after a few days, or maybe after a week or two. Normally, it just stops being funny.

However, I've always been one to latch onto an idea and just run with it till it's almost reached the breaking point of being way overboard. Usually this ends in one of two ways. I either garner a huge laugh for my efforts or people just stare at me funny and continue to stare, not getting the joke.

In the situation with the bounced checks book I took the practice of asking permission to its logical conclusion and produced a document for Miss Jennifer sign to make everything "official." Not only did it amuse her, as well as anyone else who had the opportunity to read it, but it became a small routine of ours. Every morning I would hand her a photocopy of the form to sign, she would pretend to read it, and then hastily sign it, mimicking the snarky attitude of office assistant gatekeepers across the world.

What follows is a word-for-word copy of the document in its original form which I still use when somebody asks to borrow something of mine.

-----

Official Notice of Permission:

I. I hereby authorize (Name of applicant) ______________________________ has my permission to take possession of (Name of item required) _______________________________ on (Date of Activity)___________________________. The length of possession shall be a set period of 6 / 7 / 8 hours from the time of (start time) _______ a.m./p.m. to (end time)_______ a.m./p.m.. The usage of aforementioned item during this period does not constitute a permanent transfer of ownership and in no manner suggests a business transaction has transpired. The transfer of the aforementioned item is temporary in nature as well as in the spirit of cooperation rather than competition. The transfer of the aforementioned item is also transient in nature as well for, should the need arise for ownership to be transferred back to the signer, ownership can and will be reset to the original conditions of ownership.

II. The condition of the item is hereby declared as to be in good, workable condition and this agreement binds the applicant to return the item in the selfsame condition. Should the item be returned in unsatisfactory or worse condition the borrower agrees to apologize profusely and entertain any and all possible punishment including, but not limited to, disfiguration, dismemberment, impalement, decapitation, torture, disease, and/or crucifixion to be carried out under the authority of whatever responsible parties should desire to witness the downfall of the borrower.

III. By signing this form, I declare that I am the legal parent/guardian of the item listed above and authorized to grant such permission. I am also declaring that I have read and understood all the conditions listed and am in possession of sufficient mental faculties to agree in all good faith and stalwart confidence. I am also declaring that this is a fair trade, subject to all applicable etiquette of friendly cooperation and subject to all equitable principles of common decency. Should any dispute arise not covered under the terms and conditions of this agreement, a suitable arbiter shall be assigned to iron out a settlement agreeable to all parties involved. Finally, I declare that I shall bear no ill will to the applicant during the period of transfer of ownership nor have I born any ill will to the applicant at a time prior to this period.

__________________________________________ _______________
(Signature) (Date)

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Cause We, Could Be Happy Can't You See, If You'd Only Let Me Be The One To Hold You, And Keep You Here With Me

--"That Thing You Do", The Wonders

When the cashier at the Wendy's drive-thru handed me my change I tried not to act surprised. I tried to act like it was an everyday occurrence for somebody to give the cashier a twenty, only to get back the twenty plus the normal change. I tried to act like I wasn't taking advantage of the situation, but I was.

As Jennifer and I drove away, she shot me a glance of her disapproval.

"What? It's not like I set the kid up. It's his own dumbass fault."

"You didn't exactly give him a chance to catch his mistake either."

I couldn't have won that argument any way I played it. It would have been no use to try at any rate. We both knew what would have happened. I would explain how what I was doing wasn't really wrong since I hadn't set out to purposely mislead the boy. She would counter that intentions are not the barometer of an action's moral value. To which I would respond that moral values are ambiguous, that her moral values may be one place and my moral values may lay far to the West. Then it would get into the whole debate about whether right and wrong are fixed points on the map and pretty much the whole day would be ruined. So I did what I knew would placate her.

I shrugged my shoulders.

She shook her head in playful frustration and we let the matter drop.

Back when she was alive, Jennifer had a horrible habit of hitting the beach whenever both of us had a day off. We would cruise down there relatively late in the morning--maybe ten or eleven--and stay talking till the sun was already going down. We never talked about anything specifically. I think we used to call it shooting the shat since shooting the shit would imply that we mostly discussed what was currently going in our lives. Nope, our talks always ran to what we remembered, what we did, and how it affected us. I don't know--we were both horrible pack rats when it came to memories. The only difference was my memories always veered towards experiences I regretted and hers always skewed towards memories that made her who she was. Cornerstones she used to call them. We were always good at laying out the details thickly and painting a picture of the type of people we had been and the kind of world we had grown up in. Sometimes, if I close my ears really hard, I can still hear her spinning a yarn about her life and laughing in the inexplicable way she always did. It's always at the beach and it's always in that great spooky hour when the sky turned a hue of pumpkin orange and the beach had practically emptied.

That's where we were headed that day. We never hung out all that often. Both of us were far too busy with the business of living to make our jaunts a regularly scheduled event. In fact, it had probably had been four or five months since I had heard from her last. But that's how we always were. One of us would call the other out of the blue and we would pick up like there hadn't been this gaping hole between visits.

"There's something I've got to tell you," she said to me as I turned to look at her from the driver's seat.

"You've been drafted."

"Fine, I shan't tell you then."

I knew what she wanted. She was fishing for me to ask her what her big news was. But I had a habit of not giving her the satisfaction. If there's one thing that's always annoyed me it's when people beat around the bush. That's probably why I'm not a huge fan of small talk, good-byes and hellos, and pleasantries in general. They always divert from the real crux the matter. I'd rather jump right into what needs to be said and save all the fluff for when I'm in a drunker mood.

Five minutes passed as I drove not saying a word. From the corner of my eye I could see her checking to see if I was finally going to ask. I didn't. Finally, she spoke up.

"You can be a real ass sometimes."

I nodded my agreement.

"Steve's asked me to move in with him."

"When? Where?" I tried to ask nonchalantly as if I was told by close friends they're moving away all the time.

"Does it matter?"

"I s'pose not."

The first thing that came running through my head was how this is how Breanne must have felt when Torry told her she was moving away. But the more I contemplated it, the more I realized the situation was suitably different. For one, I hadn't known Jennifer all my life. I had barely known her three or four years at that point. Secondly, I doubt I could consider us very close. Sure, we had a connection, but it wasn't anywhere near as valuable for me to react with anything but mild disappointment. Lastly, for all I knew she could have been moving a couple of blocks away from me.

Yet there was that tone in her voice. That tone spoke of her destination being far away, far enough that felt she had to tell me about it. After all, if she had been moving down the street or even five minutes away, would there have been any valid reason to inform me? Probably not. The very fact she had to precede her news with the statement, "There's something I've got to tell you," indicated the news wasn't good news. Indeed, nothing of real joy ever was introduced by the phrase "There's something I've got to tell you." Again, it falls under my theory about anything of real worth being said sans set-up. When you get the news somebody is getting married it isn't built-up with hours and hours of rigamarole or, at the very least, it shouldn't be. Nope, you should announce it straight-out from the get go. The only news that you should be buffered against is bad news. The only announcement you should have ever to steel yourself for is a sad announcement.

I didn't know what to say. What was there to say? It wasn't like I had any right to ask her to stay. I was her four month friend and not a very good one at that.

We sat like that in my Duster for a very long time, letting the road hypnotize us into a lull. In my head I had started to smile because I had latched onto the silly thought that perhaps I should have instigated a fight about the incorrect change given at Wendy's. It kind of amused me that I had been so worried about ruining our beach excursion that I hadn't let loose with my long-standing opinion. Then she went ahead and dropped what amounted to a bomb on the proceedings soon after. In my head, I made a mental reminder that I should always stick by my guns and speak up about what was actually going on in my head. I should have set out to defend myself. I should have hashed out with her. I should have had the talk, no matter how frustrating and annoying it might have been, with her.

I should have done it because, who knew, it might have been the last argument I would ever have with her.

That's when the thought hit me that maybe she had invited me to the beach for that one last hurrah. Was that what this was? Our last talk? I didn't want it to be but all signs were pointing to yes.

"What's going on in that brain of yours?" she asked.

"Nothing," I replied.

What I wanted to say, what I should have said, was that I wanted her to stay. I wanted her to reconsider but I couldn't think of a plausible reason for her to stay. The most I could come up with was that I would miss her, but that seemed rather weak. It was pathetic actually. Saying you're going to miss someone when they leave in hopes that'll be enough to convince them to stay is tantamount to betting one's last dollar in blackjack in hopes of winning all your losses back. It was a last ditch effort, at best. At worst, it was the small flame of hope for a desperate man and I wasn't a desperate man yet.

I very well couldn't tell her that the only reason I wanted her to stay was that I would miss our talks. Maybe it was the fact that we only had them every few months. Or maybe it was the fact they seemed to span the whole day. Or maybe it was just the fact she was one of the few people who found me interesting for such a sustained period of time. I couldn't tell her to forgo her plans with her boyfriend in the silly tradition of my wanting to shoot the shat with her every now and again. That would have been unfair of me.

I said nothing.


cause it hurts me so just to see you go

We arrived at the beach and proceeded to have a great talk--an amazing talk, in fact. But the one topic we never touched upon was her possible imminent departure. I didn't want to ruin the moment and neither did she. We left it a matter for another time which, hopefully, meant there would be another time. I guess that's how it always was between us, we could talk about almost anything, but there were certain subjects that we knew could taint what was quite a pleasant friendship. With most people I would have been forthright and arrogant and half a million things that I get blamed for time and time again. With her, though, it was always more enriching to preserve the peace. Indeed, I saw her so rarely there wasn't much point to making those brief days I did see her into a living hell.

There we sat by the water talking about everything under the sun except the one topic on both our minds. When it was time to go home we went home without so much as one cross or hurtful word escaping our lips.

----

Breanne sometimes asks me if I ever thought of Jennifer in that way, did I ever see us becoming more of a couple instead of a couple of friends. I tell her what I told Jennifer was alive. The talking, the brief moments of discourse, were what I absolutely loved about my time with her. I loved the process of getting to know her, to understand her, to appreciate her, which is something I don't think I could have done had my only intention been to get to sleep with her. Even when we first started going out, before we mutually decided to be friends, I saw our connection for what it was--something that was special because of its limitations and because of its brevity. At that particular time with that particular woman it would have been a mistake to prop our relationship into something more substantial. The talking, the laughing, the knowing glances, where what was good about the two of us. Anything else would have ruined everything.

But do you think the two of you could have been happy together, Breanne asks.

The way I look at it, I think if we had ever gone chasing that fallacy it would have ended in tears for someone. I honestly believe being happy together, or at least trying to be happy together, would have made us miserable.

Nah. I was happy with what a got--some great memories of some great conversations with some great gal. She ended up not moving in with Steve, but she did end up leaving for good eventually. And, yes, I was sad for some time, but when I do get sad I try to take a page out of Jennifer's book. I try not to look back at my time with her with regret.

I try to look back upon each and every one of those afternoons as a cornerstone, as a memory that has shaped who I am today.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

Oh My Life Is Changing Everyday, Every Possible Way, Though My Dreams, It's Never Quite As It Seems, Never Quite As It Seems

--"Dreams", The Cranberries

A saying I've always admired of Breannie's is that you can't go swimming without getting your face wet first. I've always admired it because when it comes to most things that matter I've always been a little hesitant to get my face wet, to get down and actually immerse myself in the actual planning and work. Sure, if it's something I think is fun, all one has to do is ask me and I'm on the nearest plane, train, or automobile to wherever it is. But I think more of my life has been predicated on what I mentioned in the post below--having fun while not losing complete control, being impulsive but not completely reckless. Conversely, on the things that should matter to me I again fall in this gray area--wanting to better myself without having to give 100% in effort, wanting the prize at the end the competition but hating the competition itself. I've just always been content to be play both sides, fancyfree yet somewhat responsible.

Lately, though, I've been considering that this year may be a pivotal one for me. I'm starting to have to consider a lot of my choices this year may not just affect the next few weeks, but the next few years maybe as well. As much as I love having Amber as a roommate and having the luxury of having my own space without actually having to maintain my own space, I can't keep renting forever. I need to start seriously considering buying my own house, which I know I'm not financially and possibly emotionally ready to do yet. I also have to consider that things may change personally for me after my trip to Chicago. So far I've maintained a delicate balance between keeping my feelings in check with allowing myself to care. After this trip, though, three lives may be irrevocably changed. And I haven't even considered the job situation yet--how long I'm planning to stay there, how happy I'll be if I do, or what I'd do if I wasn't doing that.

Right now I feel like I'm at a comfortable, even safe place in my life. I don't have to think much what tomorrow or the next week holds. I've got a good routine going. I've got wonderful friends, a wonderful roommate, and a wonderful situation with the people I love. I don't know what else I'd change right now. But I know it's only a matter of time when something's going to creep up that will change everything. What's comfortable now, what's safe now, may not appear so in the quickest of moments. I know I've got to start preparing, start planning, for the next stage of my life--whatever stage that might be.

I'm just scared I'm not ready.

I'm just scared my dreams aren't exactly in my reach.

I'm just scared to leave the point in my life I'm at now.

Oh 'twell! What's a little water on the face anyway?

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers

It Is The Evening Of The Day, I Sit And Watch The Children Play, Doing Things I Used To Do, They Think Are New, I Sit And Watch, As Tears Go By

--"As Tears Go By (cover)", The Primitives

What are you talking about? I totally know what you mean. Look who you're talking to here, man. I invented the book on going overboard and taking a liking to whatever they're into. You might have done it with songs and music and whatever, but I took it to a whole new level when I did it, or do it, whatever the case may be.

Did I ever tell you the time I heard Erin talking in fourth grade about what her favorite restaurant was? Yeah, that Erin, the one who I totally schlebbed many years later at The Only Place In Town. Anyway, our fourth grade teacher was going up and down the aisles asking us what our favorite restaurant was. Mine? God, it was so long ago I can't even tell you what I was liking in those days. Maybe Fuji's. We went there a lot. Or maybe it was something totally stupid like Black Angus or Charley Brown's. I just remember I was who I still am. I liked the American stuff--the seafood, the steakhouses, the barbecues--way better than that Asian crap. I mean--I ate that shit everyday at home. Why in the hell would I want it when I went out? Basically, I think my palate has vastly improved since then. Anyway, it came around to Erin, this fucking adorable girl I had the biggest crush all throughout St. Rita's, and I remember her saying that her favorite restaurant at that time was Tokyo Lobby. I'd never heard of it before, but I remember jotting it down for later use.

Maybe. Yeah, that could be the only reason I would do something like that. I don't know what I expected. Maybe I wanted to casually stroll up to her and say, "good recommendation on the Tokyo Lobby. You have great taste in restaurants." I never said I was the smoothest operator on the switchboard. All I knew was that if she liked it then I was going to like it... somehow.

So I convinced my parents, the people that never before took a recommendation I made seriously, and we all drove down to Tokyo Lobby. Oh, it's down in Temple City, I think. It's right near that Kentucky Fried Chicken Buffet I took you to which, come to think of it, might have been my favorite restaurant at the time. You know me and those buffets. Shut the fuck up. I wasn't going to tell you about the time I spent seven hours in the buffet with Dan. My short-term memory does hold onto a few things and Lord knows I love telling that anecdote to everyone I meet. It's in a pretty decent shopping mall. I actually used to go there a lot after I started being able to drive, which is weird considering. Now I would never think of going to a Japanese place as my first choice to eat, but, back then, Tokyo Lobby was a pretty popular choice when I got stuck for a place to eat. Go figure. I think it's because I kind of "discovered" it and not my parents so I feel like I retain ownership of it somehow.

But that first time... no, she wasn't there. Holy fuck! That's the reason I wanted to check it out. It wasn't because I wanted to name drop it on her when I got back to class. It was fucking because I was hoping to bump into her one time. How incredibly stupid and pathetic is that? What's funny is that after a couple of times we got down to a schedule of going there every other month or so and one of those times I actually did bump into her there. Talk about going full circle. I start fucking going to the restaurant hoping to bump into her and then months later I do and it totally took me by surprise. Shut up. Sometimes I think it is true what you say. I do things for no really sane reason. I just go and then stuff works out. But you do it too, man. What the hell do you call deciding to hike to Atlanta? That isn't exactly sane either, little miss. But that worked out too, see?

Fuck. Why do people always think that they're the only ones to ever go through something? Yes, I am talking specifically about you. Shit, I've been in your shoes before. I know what that's like to suddenly take an interest in everything that person is interested in. But, as you get older, you'll see it's much cooler when you kind of get that person to become interested in what you like. Speaking of which, how awesome is that Initial Friend? Good stuff, huh? I told you you'd like it. I happen to know your taste better than you do.

Sometimes. I think sometimes I find it hard to believe that I'll never fall that hard for somebody again where I simply must know everything they like and like it too. It just doesn't hit me that hard, you know? Most of the time it's just tiring to compile the list and re-stock my library with a sampling of their favorites. Oh, don't even get me started on restaurants. Between my list of favorite places to eat and her favorite places to eat we never get to them all. The same goes with movies. There's only so many movies I can pretend to like of hers when all I really want to say is that "goddamn you have horrible taste in which you allow your eyes to see." I think I'm becoming a grumpy old man already. Shit, it's much easier to stick to my guns and let them like what they like of my choices than it is to take the time to get to know what they like.

Well, that's why they call it puppy love. Because when you're young like that you have no choice but to follow them stupidly around. You don't know any better. You have no control. They could tell you they like the sound of crickets sped up twenty-five times and you'd think it was the greatest collection of noise you'd ever laid ears on. It's the folly of youth. It's the folly of equating love as being of one mind as someone else.

Sure, it's nice to have common interests, but you can't force it, you know? Well, maybe you can. You still live to please and please to live. No, I'm not calling you spineless, but you are accommodating.

Yeah, that's true. You did open the doors to a lot of stuff I hadn't been exposed to before. And, yeah, part of the reason I gave a lot of stuff a chance was because I knew you liked it. But that's different. I always take my friends' recommendations. For the most part, I think you have good taste. Fucking no, I wasn't trying to impress you. Why would I need to impress you? I already know that's a lost cause.

No, don't give up on it yet. I think it's good that you take an interest in what he likes. I'm just saying I'm past that stage myself. That's why I mock it so much. I'm basically jealous that I'll never fall that hard again for somebody. Yeah, it saves a bit on the confusion and that shattering of hearts, but sometimes I feel like my heart's just disappeared. Sometimes I feel like I'll never fall in love for real again. Yeah, I kind of wade into it now. Test the waters first and then work my way down into the thick of it. Nope. No more cannonballs for me.

Sad, huh?

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers