Here comes a rant

Sometimes the instability of life is the only true constant. Funny that, too, coming from a guy who took a graduate course on the holocaust and learned all about the banality of evil, the dull grinding of trauma. I’ve felt the awesome oppressive power of the mundane, believed it to be king, truthfully. But life these last months—6 months I think—has been a total denial of this. Then again, I can’t say this analogous to a kind of evil, good things have happened, but at a cost, a high cost, one that has required a forward looking stance. I am beset by both fear and elation, mania, joy, relief, regret, and the demand for sacrifice. I’m being vague today. I don’t care. I’m exhausted with specificity right now.

I love Shannon and I love Mariann. Writing that is…creepy, and knowing I must now seal myself off from M is frightening. But I have to do it in order to be happy with S, so that M can heal, so that I can heal. Peace of Mind. Dunno if I’ve ever had it. Reckon it is like being fine and dandy at the same time. As Carlin once noted, he was only both fine AND dandy for an hour, but no one was around to ask him how he was doing. I live in a state far more extreme: I am great and terrible at the same time.

I am completely certain and uncertain. And let’s face it, I tend to be wholly uncertain by nature, so this certainty thing? Damn, haven’t felt that way since college, maybe high school. And for a while I was completely certain, with no signs of uncertainty. Now they both battle for dominance and I am trying desperately to embrace the certainty that I embraced, drunkenly for three months. (Forgive the ranting pace of this entry)

I am laughing one moment with S, and crying the next as I think about Mariann or recollect the life we had together. I’ve wondered to myself, half-seriously, if things would be better if the three of us were polyamorous, and formed a gloriously immoral unit of shared love and support. But even if that were true, Jesus, the shared trauma among us, the concentrated nature of our suffering, that radioactive taint of mistrust and violation, would be…atomic in explosive potential. Guess that is why fantasy is fantasy, you can dream about it, without considering the stark curving of the lines, the logic that would hold that fantasy together.

Damnit, I’m never going to get that Vegas hooker am I? I swear to god if I ever break up with S, I am jumping on a fucking plane and going right there and BUYING a damn threesome (but nooooooooooooo I had to confront my feelings about a crush and send the world off kilter, dang nabbit)

Abandonment

Since the break up I've been forced to deal with a few unsavory issues: the trauma (always the trauma), my feelings for M, and its impact on my feelings for S.

I abandoned M. There's no other way to look at it. Granted, I was wounded and scared and didn't have a fucking clue what to do, but every time she says "you left me" what she really means is I abandoned her, that's a pretty rough revelation. It has put me off kilter. I made the mistake of telling M I still loved her (It's true, but I crossed a line, that I would always love her). This was as much news to me as it was to her. I didn't even think to stop myself; I just blurted it out in the middle of a tense, tear filled argument.

She's chided me for being selfish....and so has S, for different but related reasons. I feel lost and confused, torn between the two of them. Mind you, this is several months AFTER the break up, AFTER I spent so much time pursuing S, of sending her declaration after declaration of love...and being 100% certain of it.
S hurt me twice along the way, bringing me to tears, abandoning me in my weakest moment, to return a few weeks later after reconciliation and an ultimatum.

After all that goo-goo ga-ga, I write S a flippant letter asking for space, man, is it flippant. One of those "seemed like a good idea at the time" letters. I had in effect, S pointed out, abandoned HER. And she read love letter after love letter to illustrate the point. So now I'm back with her. And..and.. I could go on and on about this. There's a lot of details I'm leaving out simply because it's so damn exhausting.

And I told M I was breaking up with S, so on top of everything else, I think I lied to M! Ack!

I've been blasted for being selfish by all sides, and they're right. I just wish I could figure out a way to behave responsibly. In a way that isn't cravenly selfish.

Did I mention I wrote the letter on the advice of my therapist?

I'm not exactly batting a thousand here.

I...live...again

I'm back. And I just read the last entry. My god. How the status quo has changed. I am a creature of emotional extremes. Here is the long and short of it:

1. I broke up with G, who will now be called M.
2. I have entered into a relationship with S.
Who is S? S=the blackbelt, the Muy Thai striker.
3. I have acquired my blue belt in Judo
4. I have, finally, and with much effort, gained my blue belt in BJJ

It seems unfair, narratively speaking. For two years life was in a holding pattern of sorts. This blog represented the diary of an emotionally scarred white-belt, struggling to figure out where he stood with his girlfriend. Then when I return, everything has changed....well, I'm still emotionally scarred. I seem to be stuck with that. It's been an exhausting 6 months, and it would have made for great blog fodder! Alas, the record of that is hidden from the world, a flurry of epistolaries, texts, and posts, that is still going on today.

At one point I considered terminating this blog, ending it once and for all. I wasn't updating, and let's face it, I'm not exactly on google's top ten. But I didn't, the epistalaries represent a shared space, but this blog represents an exclusively private one, and I still need that, still want that. And with that in mind, I've come back.

I'm in an odd position, forging a new love as I mourn the loss of another. Yes, I see now that I did love M, but I FEARED not loving her, I feared lying to myself, I never lied to her the way I thought I might. How do I know I love/d her? The tears man, the tears. All the while S fills me with joy and exhiliaration. It's not a bipolar existence, but hot damn, I'm some kinda crazed pin ball machine looking for a little...equilibrium, balance. Damnit, I've got practice in an hour, and I'm fighting a headache, blech. Fear not, this represents a return to regularly scheduled blogging. (I think this helps me stay on task in respect to writing as a whole)

In JKD...

I'd have written about this much sooner but the tournament happened...then I got caught up in writing a poem about the crush, even though the event I wanted to relay is about her. What can I say? My need to express myself through the poem took over.

I was paired with her in JKD 1. We were practicing responses to the lead Now-Tek (hooking kick). Our legs touched. She scratched me with her big toe. It may have drawn blood. She didn't know it happened. I told her. She apologized. I didn't want her apology, I just wanted her acknowledgment that this moment happened, even if her understanding of it was drastically different than mine. I kept thinking this is the most physical contact we would ever have, and I savored it quietly. She's amiable and likes to laugh. I did not have to hide my smiles, just that goofy glazed over twinkle that effects both drunks and the lovestruck.

The sexual symbolism of her drawing my blood was immediate (to me). Here she is with a chastity ring (I still haven't pressed her if this is a promise ring or a purity right for the wedding) and I'm the one cut open. If I was the virgin in this situation, what was lost/gained? Certainly nothing so practical as my first time working with a girl in a martial context. I didn't reveal anything of import, nor did she. It is more primal than that; she pierced me, and I delight in the wound. I'm supposed to be bound to another and she cut through that carelessly, unknowingly. She barely broke skin, but the force caries on to the center. Hmph, none of that translates into a smooth lost/gained binary opposition. I've certainly lost, but what have I gained here? I do not know.

I'm reaching that point where sincerity turns saccharine. Sincerity, the genuine, is the hardest thing in the world to express, especially when it's connected to love and suffering.

And all the while I am a failure and traitor, try as I may, I have not served G well.

I need more radiaton therapy

Spent the weekend at the beach house with parents and G. My mom thinks we're soul mates, yet all I see is dusk; the sun setting on our relationship. If G gets this job, she will have no reason to leave Tallahassee. And I don't think I can bring myself to move back there. All the while, an unreciprocated crush has me feeling foolish and distant and alone. I haven't voiced any of my concerns to G, maybe I should.

Cough/Hack

Lord God, the last week was awful, just awful. If it wasn't all the damn fighting, it was the bacteria; largely due to the blinding sunshine and humidity of psychic distress, I was a pitree (sp???) dish of coughing, pink eye, insomnia, and laryngitis. Oh what fun the last week was, I meant to examine the relationship between me and G, but reality forced my gaze elsewhere.


So what now? I don't have a lot of time tonight for writing, so just gonna throw a few things out there:

1. Am having a lot second thoughts about a job in the insurance industry
but without the money, I may never get out of here.
2. Having second thoughts about the U of Phoenix position,
but without the money, I may never get out of here.
3. My sister scares me, don't think I've ever made that clear;
something is wrong with her be it psychopathy or some other related disorder
4. G and I had a fight over my friggin sister?? I would rather G say to me
"I just can't forgive you for leaving/the rape/whatever, goodbye" than to end it
because of the goddamn baby-kicker.
5. Tournament in 2 weeks, under 140 beginner divisions. I am gonna crush the
competition. I have A LOT of stuff to work out.
6. The one benefit to everything, is it's left too emotionally exhausted to
obsess over my JKD crush, I have just enough emotional energy for one
fantasy a day.

Ugh revisited

Ok, I don't even know where to pick up from, since the whole thing got derailed when I called my girlfriend for a little support, little being the operative word. I was in tears over the epic fail that is moving back home. I'm worse off, She's worse off, Radar's worse off. Sigh, it wasn't really bad until the babykicker moved back in.

"That's the closest thing to an apology you offered,"
"Really? Are you kidding? I've spent the last year apologizing! I have to shave my beard" Yup. Like I said, the operative word is "little."

What's left for us?

When I speak do people listen? How vague am I?

I think my faith in US has been exhausted, broken.

Nothing specific

I don't have to say here, just felt like I should put forth the effort to file an entry to the readership of none.

Having a crush on someone, and being in a relationship with G doesn't exactly fill me with pride. I feel foolish. On one hand I am fighting to keep my existing relationship going, an ultra marathon through death valley, under the guffaws of a laughing sun; while at the same time, I feel like a goofy high school kid again because I've gone all ballerina twinkle toes for a girl I really don't know that well, who I speak to a couple times of week, who--and I can't emphasize this enough--probably leads an ideological existence in opposition to my own. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Shouldn't love have a button? What about an emergency brake??? I'd settle for that! I try to remind myself that the shoe was on the other foot not to long ago, that G was the one crushing on someone else, and that I was understanding and believed things would work out for the best. Don't have that sort of faith right now. The human heart is savage in its fickleness, showing no mercy to the raped, the tortured, the humiliated, like God and HIV, it does not discriminate.

Random thought: The story of Job. The trials of Job, were a manifestation of God's love for Job, the whole "where were you when I made the stars" speech was because God didn't think Job would understand how much love could hurt. Probably not, but I'll wager I'm closer to the truth than I know.

They go boom

Nasty weekend. Not for me personally, but there were several mas murders this weekend. Several. As in more than one.

I hate guns. I really do. Before the incident I vacillated between frustration and surrender with gun laws. Then the West Virginia massacre happened...then the rape, torture, assault extravaganza of G and Me pretty much entrenched the idea of gun control within my own system of ethics.

I spent a chunk of time this weekend reading articles about the different mass murders: the Asian immigrant who lost his shit, the death of several police officers by a Neo Nazi twat, and the suicide/homicide of a man who shot his children and himself after discovering his wife was leaving him. This is the slow burn of sudden madness. Each case was really a culmination of disturbing behavior and hard economic times.

These incidents have renewed debate over the efficacy and necessity of gun laws. I've looked at dailykos blogs and comments, the comment section of whatever article I'd read, and I tried to take a step back from the articles themselves, look for patterns of...whatever meme, myth, or political stripe.

Just a few observations about the "pro-gun" rhetoric. These are paraphrases:

1. Guns don't kill people. Poeple kill people.
2. Guns are a tool
3. Cars kill more people than guns.
4. It's mostly gangs killing each other (haven't heard this one in a while)
5. 2nd Ammendment. Nanny nanny boo boo.

I'm sure there are more but I wanted to focus on these in particular. Within the rhetorical matrix, a major strategy by NRA types (and some moderates) is to diminish the role of the gun. After all there are lots of things that kill more people than guns" cars, planes, cancer, AIDs, cancer of the AIDs, and AIDs cancer. (In respect to cars I'm not convinced, but for the sake of argument I'll accept it). All of this might be true. It is also true that guns are a tool, if one says guns are inherently evil you could be construed as engaging in puritanical evil: objects, have no souls or intellects, cannot make decisions, etc. And gangs?? I think that's racist b.s nonetheless the function is to diminish the role of the gun.

So here's my problem with this line of reasoning. A gun has one function: to kill.
The sloganeering of the NRA is specious at best. A gun isn't designed to make donuts or change the tv channel from ESPN to Bravo. Nor is it intended as a nonlethal deterrent, that is at best a secondary, and more realistically a tertiary ability, once you factor in the fragility of human flesh and the unpredictable nature of bullets. (The real secondary attribute is intimidation, fear of death).
Yes, there are things that take more lives than guns, this is because a) they are simply more effective at killing (nuclear bomb, AIDs) or b) their ability to kill is the ole law of unintended consequences (cars).

Cars may kill a lot of people, but we have preventative measures ranging from seat belts and airbags, to that magical thing called a driver's license, which certifies a base level of competency--physical and mental-- while assisting law enforcement in holding drivers accountable.

And yet guns remain a highly effective means of killing with no real system of checks and balances behind them. 50% of all guns sales occur at gun shows which manage to circumvent all federal regulation---more than one high school shooter has purchased firearms at these events.

Getting close to dojo time, think the next time I write about guns the topic will be the 2nd Amendment.

Verbal haymaker in the middle of the night

We were IMing. Things were going fine. We were talking of ice cream cakes and the beach house, the upcoming summer. This conversation made sense, I was happy, I thought she was happy. "It really hurts when I visit and you brush me off for the martial arts. You do a lot of that hurt me sometimes" I did not how to respond, I would not do so for several hours. Every possible answer sounded snide and cruel.

So I emailed her around 3 am. I asked the thing that scares me, the trigger that could end us, the question I didn't dare ask even here:

"If I cause you such constant pain and suffering, why are you still with me?"

She responded with an apology and stress over her thesis, but is that a true answer or a generalized response, an unmeaning evasion?

I cannot escape the accusation of betrayal and failure. I try to offer what I can, but it is never enough. The more I give, the less, it seems, it's worth.

Angst Overload

I am going to die alone, unpublished, insignificant.

That Sinking Feeling

I feigned protest. Was supposed to wait and see Watchmen with Girlfriend, instead of in town with various nerdic brethren, but I was quite happy to see it with her, would be worth the wait.
My conscription has been waived. It scares me.

This isn't the Girlfriend thing to do; it isn't even the generic girlfriend thing to do. Something is rotten in Denmark.

On the phone she seems distant. Is this it? Is she giving up?
This is how the world ends....?

Smote!

Caught a cold from girlfriend,am supposed to do Judo tonight and go to a birthday party. Will need crystal me--I javascript:void(0)mean Endorush.

G in town

Spent the weekend with girlfriend. We've eaten way too much food. She's going home (her parents' home) tomorrow and SHOULD be back with me this Sat. Her mom is scheduled for an operation tomorrow, provided a biopsy turns up clean (knock wood).

Tuesday

In a few days I'll know if there are any open ten week sessions, but it doesn't look likely. Meanwhile, my parents' practice is hanging by a thread. Heck, even there I'm only needed on a semiregular basis. That Texas twit and his free market yahoos really fucked things up.

So in the meantime, I've been applying to grad programs, working on applications, portfolios, statements, possible extortion targets, etc. and that's pretty much it.

It's a good thing I've got a little money saved up or I'd be up shit creek right now.

Oh yeah, Valentine's Day is coming. Girlfriend should be coming up to visit, although there is a small chance work might prevent her coming. Luckily, V Day is on a Saturday so worst case scenario is I find way down to see her instead.

Have practice in a couple hours and not much energy for writing.

Monday

The next body part to make my life a livin' hel is an oldie but goodie. My left pec has an achey/cramped sensation. As of now it's not impeding mobility but rotating my neck at odd angles seems to aggrivate it.

In order to blog one needs things to happen in life. I am in the midst of my own slowdown economic and otherwise. The job front is bleak, and I continue to apply to grad programs. I remain in that precarious holding pattern with my girlfriend. Radar is still a Scottish terrier. The criminals responsable for our rape and torture remain at large, closer to us in the echoes of a heartbeat than the physical world. My family is still crazy. My family is still crazy. My family is still crazy. And I am a leaky faucet of mucus.

The banality of evil is still alive and well.

Travelogue

Trip went alright. Radar met a new cat. There was whining, hissing, barking, careful steps, and a single lucky sniff.

Radar is a connoisseur of the cat butt. When Crookshanks was in range for the inhale it was like watching a foodie having a religious experience over a fine glass of Chateau blah blah frenchie blah.
Radar was Alton Brown at his most beatific. There was a to the bone reverence, a bright shiny smile for that feline anus.

There was minimal drama between me and girlfriend. I find it's usually my visits to her (as supposed to vice versa) that crying and shouting are likely to occur, but most theatrics were relegated to Super Smash Bros. Brawl.

My knees are voicing a little displeasure, but so far the consequences have been minimal.

Goin' on a trip

Driving down with Mom to see girlfriend tomorrow (come back on Sunday). Will try to cram a workout in the morning before we go. It'll be a heavy night at the dojo, hopefully I'll be able to scrape my remains out of the bed.

Meanwhile, Girlfriend and I...

Spent the holidays playing Super Smash Bros on the Wii. A game that is merely a series of locks and keys: complete a task open a door to a new task, complete that task, open a door to a new task etc. All cleverly disguised as one of the loopiest fighting games I've ever played. (A Giant Nintendog popped out of nowhere covering a third of the screen, our characters were completely obscured).

Our relationship continues to survive despite all laws of physics and advice columns. I love her; she loves me, but given everything that's happened, you'd think that wouldn't be enough, that we'd need a Deus Ex Machina or at least a giant monster...or terrorists holding a tower of people hostage to keep this relationship going, yet we continue to subsist on monthly visits and the Wii. (Although there is an argument to be made for the Wii as Deus Ex Machina). I'm still fearful that it will all end suddenly--sudden in it's long flailing slowness--but I have to marvel at our resilience. This is the worst and best part of my life.

A sense of impending doom

I just can't shake the feeling Girlfriend is going to leave me. We were talking on the phone. I told her I was willing to make the sacrifice; move with her to the great unknown when she finished her thesis and got a publishing job (I just can't live in the scene of the crime, there's nothing for me regardless). She did not take this well; in fact, anything other than "that's great!" would have signaled Big Trouble in Little China (why does saying that make me feel like Balky from Perfect Strangers??). She huffed and puffed and was quite confusing.

In our next conversation she said she wanted a slower transition. Same city; different doors. Nearly a year ago, the roles were reversed. She took my remark as a betrayal. It was months before she forgave me. I have not pointed out this hypocrisy. I should and will. Still, I understand why she would want the space, but it's clear to me she didn't--and doesn't?--understand why I wanted the space. It's the emotional burden. It's one thing to live with a loved one, another entirely when that loved one reminds you, through no fault of their own, of the rape and torture you suffered--together--at the hands of a couple of cruel, ignorant bastards.

Our relationship has become a game of cat and mouse, can we put an end to this before it descends into Tom and Jerry parody?