Sunday, February 28, 2010

Why I Write

Dear Diary,

I had a rather mundane and uneventful weekend. Friday night I relaxed with a movie. Saturday I spent working on my house for the most part. Today, I spent working on my house and cooking for the most part.

The one real break in the weekend was when I got to meet a fellow blogger for coffee Saturday afternoon. I will not tell you who it was that I met, because you would only be insanely jealous. We had a great conversation, and she asked me a question that I don't really know if I have ever fully answered yet: Why do I write?

(Yes it was a she. No I did not hit on her. Snap out of it)

So, why do I write?

I don't write for you. I write for me. I write because it is my therapy. I write because when I started this, there was nothing out there in existence that spoke to me as a young man going through utter emotional hell.

Diary, I created you because you did not exist, but I created you for me.

I write because words are my way of escaping. I don't do it for fame, and I sure as fuck don't do it for money (well, that is, unless any literary agents or publishers want to give me a book deal based on everything I have written to date, then I will happily cash their fat ass checks). I don't do it to meet people, and I don't do it to score points with anyone.

I write because I want to, not because I have to, or because I in some way need to feel validated or vindicated.

My story is my story, and it belongs to no one else (well, unless aforementioned literary agent or publishers comes a knocking, then you can buy me in paperback).

I don't write to read your comments. I don't write to solicit an opinion, although all are valued.

I write because it is cleansing. I write because I love words. I write because I do not know how to talk.

I write because it is how I bring art, creativity, and beauty into my life. I guess you could call it my artistic talent, well, that and cooking.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Look Ma!!! I'm Famous!!!


Dear Diary,

Well, isn't this some shit. Some very cool people stumbled across you, and low and behold, they like what I have told you so far. And, being the adoring fans that they are, they are of course clamoring for more juicy tidbits (because painting crown molding is oh so enthralling).

Anyway, BigCityDad has decided to bestow upon me my very first blog award. That's right, you heard it, I am famous (waves to the adoring crowd).

Now, in this day and age, there is of course fine print (damn you Academy!!). However, the fine print isn't that much of a burden. The fine print states that I must:

-Tell you seven things about myself that you do not know
-Choose ten blogs that I follow to bestow this award on that I find interesting and worthy
-Tell these people that I have chosen them

Sounds to me more like a mission, you know like, "Your mission DivorcedGuy, should you choose to accept it is this..."

Well, I choose to accept this honor, and I will save the speech that I had prepared for another day. That being said, let me start with seven random things that you do not know about me.

1. I shook the hand of Nelson Mandela, and it was like being in the presence an angel.

2. I have a very large baseball card collection from when I was a kid, numbering around 25,000, and if it wasn't for steroids in baseball, I could probably buy a car with them.

3. I have never been to Europe

4. I can remember how to spell the last name of my best friend from the 4th grade.

5. I lost 80 pounds from the day my ex-wife moved in with me to the day she left me. However, with stress, not paying attention, and lifting weights like a crack fiend, I put on about 30 pounds.

6. I belong to an online support group for people going through divorces, and although you may find this strange, I can tell you that without the ability to talk to people going through the same thing, and without the ability to learn to laugh again, I very may well have not made it. Oddly enough, many people in my area are members of this group as well, and we get together on occasion and have a blast (think drinking, jokes, and laughing until your sides are splitting).

7. If I could quit my job and become a bartender at a beach bar and live comfortably, I would do it in a heartbeat.

So there you have it, seven things not previously known about me. Well, I don't think you know this shit about me, but honestly, after having been writing since June 2008, I am way too fucking lazy to go back and look.

Or is it that I am too important? I mean, I am an award winner after all. I think I should hire an assistant. Preferably a young and impressionable woman with tan and tone legs who will get me coffee at the drop of a hat.

Nah, I won't let this go to my head or anything....

As far as choosing other blogs, well, I guess that means that I have to get off my ass and start reading some shit. So, in time, that will come, I promise.

Now where is that assistant?



Wednesday, February 24, 2010

A Year Ago

Dear Diary,

One year ago, I woke up married. That same day, I went to bed legally single. I guess today is like my one year anniversary or something then, right?

It's funny. For the last few days, I knew this day was approaching, and I didn't know how I was going to feel or what I was going to do. But, today turned out to be just like any other day in the last year of my life. I woke up, went to work, hit the gym, and now am just settling in.

To be honest, I didn't have time to reflect much today on my first year of being single again.

That is fine with me.

Right now, I am to physically tired from my workout to be able to think of anything profound to say regarding the last year. And that is fine with me too.

The fact that I can think of nothing profound to say probably is a good indication that the last year was just a year. It was nothing special as far as a time period. However, it was special in the fact that in the last year, I rediscovered who I am. But other than that, I have no GIGANTIC news to report.

One completely ironic thing that I noticed though is that, minus having student loans, and minus me now being a homeowner, I have the exact same amount of credit card debt, and the exact same amount in my savings account, as I did before I bought my ex-wife her engagement ring.

If that is not coming full circle, I don't know what is.

I wish I had something more to tell you, but like I said, today was just a day, just like any other day in my life.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Pain

Dear Diary,

Pain is good. You see, happiness is hard to describe. When you are happy, you are just well, happy. Find me someone that is able to effectively describe what happiness entails, and I will find a way to show that their argument falls short. This generally leads to a discussion like, "Well, I just am, ok?"

Pain however, that is easy to describe. You know it the second you are in it. You know it the second you are no longer in it. Pain is comforting, because it is not neutral.

This is also true in the physical sense. When you are not in physical pain, things seem to stay within a constant neutrality. You just coast.

But when you are in pain, you sure as shit know it.

Right now, I am in pain, physically speaking. Today, I went to the gym. The pain is comforting. The pain makes me feel alive. The pain was a result of honest effort. This pain is good. It is liberating.

Pain is generally the result of quick and drastic change.

Pain is good. Change is good.

Well, unless you get shot, stabbed, or get kicked in the balls, then, not so much.

Friday, February 19, 2010

Regrouping

Dear Diary:

Since about June of last year, I have been completely swamped. I managed the renovation of a house, dated, worked, had friends visit, shopped for a mortgage, and so on and so forth. In the whirlwind of activity, I forgot about the most important person: me.

All of that has to change. Before June, I was addicted to the gym. I would go every morning before work and lift and then run. As I got busier, I stopped lifting, and just ran. I would run when it was nice out, and had a nice three mile route that I would hit about four times a week. As I got busier and busier, I lost track of that. I stopped running. I slowed down. And now, I can feel it (as well as see it unfortunately).

I put on weight, and it really gets to me. I was doing so well. I was eating healthy, working out, and was consistently taking off the pounds.

All that stopped completely when I moved into this house. All my free time was spent either working on a home project, or dating. I stopped watching what I was putting into my body, and instead, ate what was convenient. I drank more.

So, instead of being one of those fat fucking idiots who complain that they do not like how they are looking and feeling and do nothing to change it, I am going to change it.

After work I ran out to the running store that I go to when I need new shoes, and bought a new pair of running shoes. I needed some anyway, and since I have been walking to work because we still have a shit ton of snow on the ground and I don't want to lose my parking space, my (now) old running shoes have gotten beat up. I plan on beating this new pair up as well, but at the gym, and on the road.

New Running Shoes - $140

Dropping Weight - 8 months

Peace of Mind - Priceless

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Well Fuck Me Standing

Dear Diary,

Have you ever felt like you were playing chicken with an avalanche? You can see it coming toward you. You know for a fact that you are going to get wiped out. Yet, you just stand there, like a fucking moron, thinking that somehow, some way, you will come out of it ok, and unscathed. Yeah right. Not only is it going to hurt, it is going to be cold. Very very fucking cold.

I am playing chicken with the month of February this year. So, let's recap why:

-Found a wedding invitation that announced my now dearly departed marriage.

-Valentine's Day

-Today, February 16th, marks 2 years since I last made love to that woman, and it was in the morning, in Jamaica, as we listened to the waves crash on the rocks

-Today was also the day I decided to clean up my desk at work and found a CD and decided to throw it in the computer to look at it and saw all the photos from my wedding weekend

-February 24th marks my one year anniversary of being legally single again

-The end of February was the month my marriage went downhill.

So, you can see that I am giving a gigantic middle finger to this entire month. It can pretty much suck the shit right out of my fat, white, hairy ass at this point (ok, that was a BAD visual, but you get where I am going with this?).

__________________________________

I mean, I just do not get it. I was SUPPOSED to be done with this crap. I have gone through all the stages of grief: Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, and Acceptance.

Or have I?

I certainly remember the denial stage, as well as the bargaining stage. I remember thinking there was no way this was happening to me, and I was begging, pleading, grovelling for her to not go through with it.

My dear Diary, you know for a fucking fact that I went through the anger stage. There is really no point in rehashing it.

Diary, I already hit feeling indifferent towards my ex-wife, and I have accepted that my marriage is over, and have moved on considerably. Hell, I am going to own a house on February 22nd, and be out of debt by March 5th. Tell me that isn't rebuilding. I have even had genuine feelings for other women, most noticeable Sunshine and Girl 7.

And as far as depression, hell......................dammit, I cannot remember going through that.

Well fuck me standing.

Maybe that explains the fact that I was up half the night last night thinking of her. Maybe that is why I have been rehashing everything in my head. Maybe that is why I had a dream that instead of being tired, when she asked me what was wrong when I brought her to the airport I said that I was planning a surprise and had to run to get something. Maybe that is why I keep seeing in my brain me proposing that we take a vacation, just to two of us, before our work got busy. You know, those short, but romantic vacations couples take just to spend time together.

Maybe maybe maybe.......blah blah blah.

Why now? Seriously? After all this time, why the fuck is it NOW hitting me? Why am I walking around like a zombie, putting on a happy face, all the while knowing for a fact that I am faking it?

__________________________________

What hurts the most is the realization that I am not there yet, and because I am not there yet, I had to say goodbye to Girl 7.

You see, Girl 7 reminded me a lot of my ex-wife. Aside from the fact that they grew up a relatively short distance from each other in the same state, she had a lot of the same mannerisms. She got excited about a lot of the same things. She even had this, oh, I don't know, shyness and innocence that my ex-wife had at times.

And the problem with that had nothing to do with her at all, but it had to do with me. You see, when I found that wedding invite, I realized that I was not seeing Girl 7 for who she is, but for rather who she reminded me of. And that is not fair to her at all. Being with me, as I am right now, would not have been fair to her, and I am upset at the fact that I am not in a place emotionally to be able to see who for who she is, which is a really wonderful and beautiful woman.

I was looking for a reason things wouldn't work because they were going so well between us. But the problem was the reason that it wouldn't work was because I couldn't see who for who she was. By doing so, I devalued her as a human being. And in my opinion, you cannot have any type of meaningful relationship when that happens.

Fuck me standing....

Saturday, February 13, 2010

I'm Sorry

Dear Diary,

I am a bit numb at the moment, so this will take a while to write.

I had a chance to see Girl 7 tonight, as she came back in town to take care of some things and take a break from her work trip. She wanted to see me, but I couldn't see her. Or rather, I cannot see her.

In fact, right now, I cannot see anyone.

I called her and told her that tonight wouldn't work, and that lead to a conversation that right now, we wouldn't work. And I can honestly say that it had nothing to do with her whatsoever, but everything to do with what I stumbled across while cleaning up.

A piece of paper.

Actually, a piece of expensive paper, in a very nice envelope.

With words on it.

That was printed at a local printer.

With a blue border.

Announcing my marriage to my ex-wife.

My wedding invitation.

I thought I got rid of everything, but somehow, in the move to my apartment last year when I was scrambling to pack and get out of a house I sold in three weeks, and the move into my new place, and being busy with work, and being busy renovating a house, and being busy with life in general and not having time to do anything with anything or anyone, I fucking missed one singular piece of paper in a nice envelope.

So, now I sit here rather numb. And honestly, Girl 7 deserves better than what I can give her right now. She is a great human being, and I wish that I could be in a place mentally to be able to be the guy she deserves, but, right now, I need a break, and I need to work on me some more.

I am not a fan of this to tell you the truth. I am not a fan of the fact that I have one more ghost to annihilate. I am not a fan that the ghost has been hiding in my mind this entire time and I was too busy and distracted to notice it.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Snomageddon

Dear Diary:

Yes, I know. It has been over a week since my last entry. (Why do I sound like I am in confession when I say this like this? Do I need to say a Hail Mary?) But, I have had a damn good excuse.

See, while you were sitting there all nice and cozy, bundled up in your winter clothes, sipping hot chocolate and bitching about life, I spent the better part of the last 5 days dealing with, well, for lack of a better description, a shit ton of snow.

This all started Thursday really, when the DC metropolitan area began to hunker down for the incoming onslaught of winter weather that was headed our way. Like many, I thought I should head to the grocery store to get a couple of items (and when I say a couple, I literally mean two fucking things), and made my way over there after work.

That my friends was mistake number one. After driving around the parking garage for a good thirty minutes, I found a spot and went inside. You would have swore the store was giving away $100 worth of groceries to the first, oh, I don't know, million people that shopped, because the place was an all out fucking shit show. The lines were easily 20-30 people deep, and the bread aisle looked liked I might as well have been shopping in a communist country. So, after hunting for a basket for ten minutes, I decided to just bail. I had enough food to last me a while, but I was running desperately low on coffee.

Coming home from work Friday wasn't so bad. The streets around the office were clear, but the side roads were trashed by 6pm. I managed to find a spot to park right in front of my house, and I can tell you right now that my car has not moved since I parked it.

I woke up Saturday to a nice big pile of snow. Now, I like snow, don't get me wrong, and I even have a sadistic love of shoveling snow, but what I do not enjoy is digging out the basement apartment at my house for the tenant that lives there, but such is the burden of being a landlord.

Anyway, the amount of snow on the ground was ridiculous. By the time I got done shoveling my walkway in my front yard, there was another inch on my stoop. It just would not let up. Saturday saw two shoveling excursions and shoveling out my car, which was absofuckinglutely buried, was a chore to say the least.

Once it stopped snowing, I did what most people do after you have a ton of snow dumped on you: I went for a walk, right to a bar, and warmed up with beer and shots of tequila.

Sunday saw more shoveling as the bulldozers (yes, way past the point of standard snow plows now) bulldozed the streets and my car was locked behind a three foot pile of snow, which by this point had turned to a lot of ice and was heavy as hell.

So, Diary, the point is this: I have been busy the last few days, so cut me some fucking slack.

PS - More snow to come tonight and tomorrow. Oh joy....

Monday, February 1, 2010

Girl 7

Dear Diary,

So, I was talking to jolene1079, who is the author of To Be Determined, one of the better divorce and starting over related blogs out there today (she is also wicked fucking hot!). After a bit of back and forth where I found out she threw up my last blog entry on Twitter and made me famous, I said I was going to write, and asked her what I should write about. Her answer: the latest with Girl 7.

So, where is Girl 7? Well, she is actually out of the area for the next six weeks on a work related assignment. She may come back to town for a weekend where I am sure we will see each other, but other than that, it is only text messaging and the occasion phone call.

But where do things stand between us?

Fuck if I know.

I really do not know how to explain it. We get along great, and I like her, and well, certain areas (read into it what I know you are thinking) are good, but there is just something that right now is not there for me. I cannot put my finger on it, but something seems to be missing, and I do not know what it is. Does that make me an asshole? I don't know (although some think I already am one).

The thing is, I like her, but not as much as maybe I should at this point? Hell, I think I am rambling. Oh, and something that threw a wrench into my whole train of thought is that Sunshine sent me an email today, said she was thinking of me with all the changes that are going on in my field of work, and thought she would say hello. At which point I responded, and we talked about running, and she said if I ever wanted to go on a run to let her know. Great......

I guess I just don't know what I am supposed to be doing or feeling. I don't know if I ever told you this before, I did not date prior to meeting my ex-wife. I just didn't. Hell, I was over 300 fucking pounds and was just "the friend" with women prior to meeting my ex. Now, although I have a few pounds I want to drop, I am much healthier, and my confidence is up, and I am still getting more women showing interest in me, and well, fuck.

Maybe I am just reading too much into things, but there is a very big part of me that doesn't want to hurt Girl 7 in any way because she is so damn sweet and kind and caring, and she makes me feel good. But there is that other part where I see so many similarities between her and my ex that I am freaked out a bit.

Oh well, time will tell I guess. I am beat.