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Well, this is something I never really expected to happen. And I have to say I'm a little... anxious?

I'm meeting Kevin tonight for drinks. Yup, you read that right. Kevin. The Ex. The one I've barely had any contact with for the past 4+ years.

Well, there's some family stuff to be dealt with so he's in town from the East Coast for a bit. I had heard about this and thought it'd be nice to send him a short "I'm thinking of you" email. At the end of which I said, "I'm sure you have lots of loving people around you at this time, but if you need a moment away from that, let me know." Totally not expecting him to accept. Not sure why I put it in there, but I did.

He accepted.

I mean, I'm fine with it. I think. I did offer, right? But I totally didn't expect him to accept. So tonight, we're meeting for a drink and some nibbly bits at an "out-of-the-way" place.

Nervous? Not exactly. Anxious? Maybe a little. I'm just... I dunno. It's been 4+ years and the only time I've spoken to him was one random night when I had been drinking for about eight hours beforehand. And I don't really remember much from it. Perhaps I should do that again. Which means I should start drinking.... now.

Alright, I'm out. Wish me luck!!

Current Mood: Not sure
21 September 2009 @ 11:50 am
I like to choose my words rather carefully.  Over the years I've learned how some people react to the tone certain words impress upon a conversation.  How these words can affect certain reactions in people that may or may not aide in the exchange of ideas or might hinder the effective communication of thoughts, feelings, and information.

Well...  I may like to choose my words carefully, but it doesn't always happen.

Saturday night.  Several parties to attend.  However, I'm relatively tired from the escapades of Friday night followed by three hours of yoga bright and early Saturday morning.  Pardon me.  Not tired.  Never tired.  I was...  fatigued.

A gaggle of us were heading to the first party and stopped at a coffee shop to load up on some lovely caffeinated beverages.  Minor problem.  I'm not a fan of the taste of coffee.  Not brewed, not percolated, not espresso... none of it.  My perk-me-up drink of choice is tea.  A nice, lovely cup of warm delicious goodness!!

However, I was willing to change things up a bit.  I was thinking about some sort of latte or mocha thing to see if I could handle a watered-down flavoring of coffee.  I approached the counter feeling a little adventurous.  I was feeling a little bit excited by the prospect.

"Alright, so I need a little help.  I'm feeling a little fatigued and need a pick-me-up for the evening."  At this point the lady behind the counter nodded knowingly.  "However, I hate coffee."

The look on her face changed immediately to, "get the fuck out of here you fucking fuckity-fuck!!"  The barista next to her, however, found my pronouncement a bit more humorous (as I had intended it) and began to state that I just hadn't found the right coffee drink, which was pretty much what I was going for.  I needed help.

The male barista started talking about the different flavors they can get out of coffee beans, what their roaster did with the beans, etc, etc.  The female continued to glare at me with daggers coming out of her eyes (let's call her Dagger-eyed Barista).  One of my friends, seeing the hostility coming from Dagger-eyed Barista, took the opportunity to slap me upside the head.  "Cary... why don't you just come right out and say 'I'm a pretentious homosexual and I need you to serve me.'"  

Really?  This is not helping matters at all.

Pouncing on an opportunity, Dagger-eyed Barista saw that Happy, Helpful Barista had the situation with me handled and said, "Alright, I'm just gonna go take care of those people over there..."  Another one of my friends, I guess sensing that I was too fatigued to really handle the situation well, commented on her making a run for it.  "Was it that obvious?" she asked.  "Ummm... yeah," he replied.  

As the encounter with Happy, Helpful Barista continued, I wound up tasting what my friends considered one of the best double-shot espressos they've ever had.  I kept an open mind.  I disregarded my first thoughts as the beverage ran over my tongue.  I suppressed any negative facial expressions that kept wanting to come forth.  I still didn't like it. 

"I'm sorry... I tried.  I just find the flavors a bit challenging to take."  Dagger-eyed Barista had returned to the counter.  She heard me.  She glared at me again.  Trying to smooth things over I thanked Happy, Helpful Barista for working with me.  I apologized for my first remark, stating that I chose my words incorrectly.  Dagger-eyed Barista, however, wasn't having any of it.  I guess she decided to avoid the Christmas rush and started hating me immediately.

In the end, I wound up with a cup of tea.  Well, at least I tried.  However, I'm not sure I should return to that particular coffee joint anytime soon.  Without my friends there to protect me, I may get assaulted for hate-speech.
24 August 2009 @ 04:03 pm
I have a problem.  With staying vertical.  Now I know what many of you will say...  "Heh-heh, yeah.  You like the horizontal tango!!"  Well, yes I do.  But this problem is associated with cycling.  I've posted many times before about my problems with staying upright on my bike (I've wiped out no less than three times in the past year) and my problems with avoiding inanimate objects (I ran into a dumpster at one point).  No, I'm not counting getting hit by a car as a problem I've had cuz, well... he ran the light and hit me.  

Anyway, I've been doing very well with staying vertical lately.  I learned a few tricks from my SBF on how to recover when it seems like you're about to lay down your bike and how to improve the traction of your tires when the roads are slippery.  However, I guess I really am the clutz that I never wanted to admit that I am.  

I was riding to a bike shop the other day (ironic, isn't it) and just as I'm cyling up to the front door my front tire slips into a crack between the parking lot and the sidewalk in front of the shop.  And gets stuck.  While I was trying to turn the handlebars to head to one of the bike racks.  So, I'm trying to move the bike in one direction and the bike is basically telling me that this is not physically possible given the current situation of the tires.  And then gravity enters the conversation and tells me that I'm needed in a meeting on the ground.  I try in vain to catch my footing on the pavement before I completely keel over, but it was really a vain attempt.  

I went down.  Right in front of the automatic doors that slid open as I fell.  Which revealed my stumble to several cycslists all done up in their riding gear and sparklingly pretty bikes as they were heading out for a ride.  

Once... just once... I'd like for my falls to not be witnessed by half of Austin so I could try to salvage a little bit of my dignity.

20 August 2009 @ 11:07 pm
It was really only a matter of time.  I didn't do anything to keep my previous postings about the end of my relationship with Brit Boy private, so it really was only a matter of time before he read them.  As I have said many times to many different situations, the story of Brit Boy and I has three sides.  His side.  My side.  And the truth.  Each of our recollections of how things went down are influenced by each of our pasts, the way we process information, the way we were feeling at the time we heard the statements of the other, etc.  As such, he responded to my posts with a rather lengthy explanation of his side of things.  A lengthy explanation that provided me with a great deal more insight into things than the conversations we had in the desert of Spain.

I will simply say this.  Umm...  Well...  You see...


I have no words.  And herein lies my problem.  Am I expected to respond?  Do I just let it go and cast it off?  And of course, a number of friends have offered their advice on the situation.

"Oh honey, just hit delete and be done with the whole thing."

"Let me guess, you've been drafting your response since you received it and you've been editing and reworking it for the past couple of days.  Step away!!"

"Baby, all you need to do is reply with one word, "received."  That's it.  Done!!" (At this point, this friend literally wiped his hands).

Taking a page from Dorothy Zpornak I think I may start this out as an exercise in catharsis.  Start writing something to purge the thoughts from my head.  WIth no intention of sending it.  I've said before that I can't really envision being able to talk to him anytime soon, so perhaps this will help with the healing I so terribly need.

05 August 2009 @ 02:55 pm
As is to be expected, things haven't been all that hunky-dory since I've returned from Europe to Austin.  I've been rather reclusive, ignoring requests to venture out into the world, focusing on what little routine I feel comfortable engaging in, diverting any excess energy to my workout regimen, etc.  Part of this I've been able to blame on the Texas heat.  I mean, when you're cycling home when its 105 F outside, when you get home you don't really want to do anything but sit around and cool off.  

However, I haven't been able to besmirch the necessity of going to the grocery store.  Since one of the gyms I frequent is next to a grocery store, I tend to dash in for a few items after a workout or when I teach class.  However, each time I do my eyes start to well up with tears and I have to quickly complete my purchases and jump on my bike before I actually lose all composure and start balling in the middle of the yogurt section.

Seriously!  What is it about a grocery store that makes me think about Brit Boy, the breakup, and everything else?  

05 August 2009 @ 10:34 am
Twelve years.  That's how long I've been focusing, on a consistent basis, on my physical health and working out in the gym.  I had worked out while in high school and college, but was always a little intimidated by the weight room and always let it slide from my schedule if I didn't have someone to "hold my hand," so to speak.  For most of these 12 years, I've had a workout partner.  Someone to chat with, hold me to my workouts, push me for that last little bit of effort, etc.

As of late, however, I've been on my own.  My workout partner, who also happens to be my SBF, has been out of town on a cycling tour of the Western United States.  Albuquerque, N.M. to Portland, Ore.  Personally I think he's a bit crazy, but I hear cycling over the Rocky Mountains is something magnificent to experience.  I'll take his word for it.

Since I've been on my own I've been reticent to push myself too hard for fear of injuring myself without someone to help me out if I were to find myself in trouble.  However, after a few weeks of working out on my own I've started to gain some newfound confidence in this arena.  Pushing myself to lift more weight.  Having the confidence that even though I am tired, I can actually finish that last set.

Last night I was at the gym and was really putting myself through the paces.  It always help to have a goal - I leave for Burning Man in less than a month and I still have yet to recover, in my physical fitness, from this past session.  Also, how am I supposed to attract a new beau if my body is in its current state?  Remember... the neurosis of my vanity is very severe and well-documented. 

So, there I was, finishing up a rather challenging upper-body workout and I was winding things up with a set on the flat bench.  First set... no problem.  Tired, but I got through it.  Second set...  a little challenging near the end.  A little wobbly and I definitely struggled on the last two reps.  At this point, it would have been wise to ask someone else in the weight area for a spot for the third set.  I know rather well that if you struggle on the last few reps of a set, on the next set things are gonna be a bit more challenging.

Did I ask for a spot from the cute guy that was working out next to me?  No.  Of course not.  "I can do this...  no problem," I said to myself.  And in fact, things went quite well for the first 4 reps of the set.  On number 5, things got a bit wobbly and strained, but I did it.  As I was lying on the bench, arms extended and holding the bar I took several deep breaths as I contemplated the next rep.  "Do you have one more in you?  At least one more?" I asked myself.  "Yeah... just one though...  I can make it through one more."

I slowly lowered the bar.  I popped it off my chest and started to push.  About half-way up, my chest burning, my triceps screaming, I knew it wasn't gonna happen.  I took in a deep breath and tried to push it up a little bit further.  I tried to get the bar up to the "emergency" or "secondary" brackets on the bench frame.  Those brackets that are there for this express purpose.  When you can't quite get the bar all the way up.  (Isn't there a prescription for this problem?)  Nope.  Couldn't make it.

The bar dropped back down onto my chest.  I just stayed there, pinned to the bench for a second and contemplated what to do.  In vain, for I knew there was no way I could do it, I tried once more to push the bar up but I was done.  Luckily, as soon as I resigned myself to the fact that I needed help and lifted my head, some guy walked by and litterally did a triple take at me pinned to the bench.  Apparently this was not a typical sight to be seen.

"Can I get a little help?" I asked, trying to joke about it.  "Seems my triceps decided I'm done."

"Oh my god, of course," he replied.  "Couldn't quite get that last one finished, huh?"

And with that he freed me from my bench press prison.  I thanked him and started to nurse my aching triceps.  Worn out are not the words I would choose for what I was feeling. 

03 August 2009 @ 11:55 am
Part of the plans that Brit Boy and I had put into place for us to be together was for me to apply to grad school in the UK.  It was a wonderful plan cuz I've been wanting to pursue my masters degree for some time but hadn't really found a program that interested me here in the states.  In the UK, however, there were a number of programmes about which I was very intrigued.

As I've stated before, I applied to two universities and, again as I've stated before, while I was visiting the UK, I had interviews at both universities to see which programme was going to be the best fit.  I was accepted to both programmes, even receiving a personal letter from the head of the programme at the University of Westminster stating that he was very looking forward to me joining their programme and working with me this upcoming academic year.

Well, now that Brit Boy and I are no longer together, I have decided that it's best to not attend grad school this fall.  Part of it is financial - Brit Boy and I had agreed that I would support him with living expenses while he was here and not able to work and he would support me with living expenses in the UK while I was in school.  Now that everything is over, I basically cannot afford London for the duration of the programme right now.  Another part of the reason is that I'm still a space cadet from such a huge shock to my life that I don't think it'd be wise for me to head off to a new place with no safety net to speak of.  Basically, I need to be home with my family of friends.

However, I am so absolutely ecstatic about the programmes that I am definitely going to make this happen.  So, I have now officially requested deferred admissions for the 2010-2011 academic year.  Here's hoping they like me enough to let me push this back by a year.

03 August 2009 @ 09:48 am
Y'all know that I have a serious substance abuse issue.  I do love me some shoes.  This problem has been identified and well-documented in the past.

Since returning from Europe, things have taken a turn for the worse.  Well, I guess it did start while in Europe, technically.  In the month of July , I succumbed to tempation and acquired four additional pairs of shoes.  I've even had to add more shelving to my closet in order to hold all of the shoes I own.  (Actually, that's not even true.  I have five pairs of shoes at the office for when I cycle to work and I left three pairs in London for my then-planned move to London to be with Brit Boy and they are supposedly on their way back to me.)  

The shoes you see to the left are just my latest acquisition.  They're these fabulous Adidas track shoes that come with cleats.  They're super comfy and I got a lot of compliments when I took them out for their maiden voyage (sans cleats) the other night.  However, I've decided that I might be interested in wearing them with the cleats.  That way, if someone pisses me off, I can simply stomp on their foot with the cleats and give them their due.

Hey!  Don't judge!!  I'm a  bundle of emotions these days.  You never know what might just set me off!!!

29 July 2009 @ 02:24 pm
Not sure how many of y'all are Mika fans. Perhaps you think he's a bit too poppy, a bit too fancy, a bit too... I dunno. I personally really like his songs. They're just the right amount of pop and spunk and "make you smile just a little bit more" all thrown together. His videos have also been quite a bit of fun.

So it's no surprise that I am in love with his new video for the single from his new album "We Are Golden." It's... fabulous!! It reminds me of the old/new addage, "Work like you don't need the money, love like you've never been hurt, and dance like no one is watching." Cuz he is totally throwin' down like I do when I'm doing my special dance at home by myself.

Current Mood: Here. That's the best I can do
26 July 2009 @ 10:23 pm
I've received a few notes from some of y'all, some in the comments on my postings, and some in IM chats or emails asking if I thought or simply stating that this was all very malicious of him.  Having me come over to England, travel through France to Spain only to break up with me.  Let me take this opportunity to make this clear:  As angry, bitter, depressed, saddened, shocked, numb, and completely shattered as I am about this, I do not feel that this was a secret plan of his.  

As I stated, our reconnection in England seemed to be going swimmingly.  Plans were being finalized.  Conversations were happening.  Things were falling into place.  That, and I don't really think that he could have faked the smile on his face when I emerged from customs at the airport.  That embrace.  The feel of his arms around me.  Perhaps I'm projecting, but I don't think so.  I think it was genuine.

However, I think he was having a great deal of trouble reconciling the plans needed to put his self-realizations into action while also making the plans of me going to grad school in either London or Leeds come to fruition.  I also got the sense that, even though he never said this, with the university in London being my top choice, he became a bit resentful of me.  For he's been wanting to get out of London for some time.  In our final discussion, after he told me about the university with which he was "in conversations" he made it very clear that he was sick and tired of things always coming up to keep him in London.  Did he mean it the way it came out?  Has my shocked and numb mind taken that as a statement he didn't intend?  I don't know.

What I do know is that I don't think this was all planned.  I think with us both being in such states after our months of stressful times, with that divide that seemed to have grown between us...  I guess he just didn't see any other way to make everything happen.  Personally, I see it as a bit of a cop-out, but to each their own.  With all the difficulties we've faced up until now, I can't see a way that we wouldn't have been able to overcome whatever obstacles were in our path.

A very, very dear friend of mine, one which actually encouraged me to pursue this connection with Brit Boy over two years ago, stated that it seemed like ours was a relationship of difficulties and that perhaps they finally became too much.  He also asked if this truly was the end.  A few others of y'all have asked the same thing.  And I don't know.  I know that I have a philosophy of "You only get to break up with me once," but I don't really feel like I understand everything.  Brit Boy said a lot of things, but I have yet to be able to reconcile those issues with the commitments we had made to one another and the plans we had made together.

Oh well, perhaps I will never know.  Being several time zones away and with me not wanting any kind of communication from him at all right now (He sent out an email to a listserve to which I had yet to unsubscribe...  I started crying at just seeing his name in my inbox), it doesn't really look like we'll be having many more conversations.