Cole, 7/28/14:

Hola a todos! 

Another interesting and not entirely uneventful week has passed, and I have to admit, I am incredibly grateful for where I am in life, even if not everything in my life is quite where I want it to be (yet).  I know I have written about this before, about how more often than not it seems easier to bitch than to be grateful and thankful for the things we do have.  I know I’m guilty of complaining a lot, especially on this blog, that is mostly about relationships but is also about life in general.  I lament on and on about the things I want and don’t have, but very rarely do I express how grateful I am to have the things that I do, and to have the people I call friends in my life.  So this post is going to be about singing praise about the things that I do have and the things in my life I am grateful for as apposed to the things that aren’t going so well in my life.  True, there may be a bit of bitching at the end, to let off some steam and to vent, but maybe not.  Primarily, I want this post to be positive, so I guess I’ll just start writing and see where things end up. 

Primarily, I am happy to announce that I have landed a job that I know I am going to love.  It isn’t necessarily permanent, though it could be, and my first day is August 15^th.  I get to work at this amazing little boutique winery, that grows all it’s own grapes, is super green, and when I went in to interview, I just had the most amazing conversations with both the wine makers, I felt totally welcomed and accepted, and I was so incredibly happy and excited at the prospect of being hired throughout the entire interview process that I simply could not wipe this gigantic smile off my face!  It especially tickled me that the main winemaker expressed extreme respect for my “colorful” and incredibly interesting and varied resume.  I was on pins and needles waiting to hear back, and when I did, and I was offered the job, I could not contain my gratitude!  I was hired on mostly for my forklift experience, but am happy to know that I will be a part of the entire wine making process!  There will be a lot of overtime, and it will most likely be six days a week for at least a couple of months, but I’m used to outage hours from the nuke plant, and besides that, these people seem like people I could be life long friends with!  The fifteenth of August cannot get here soon enough! 

Even if this winery doesn’t keep me on after harvest, working there, and learning more about wine than I already know, can totally help me get my foot in the door of an industry where I would like my new career path to go.  The possibilities are endless, and I was also thinking that even if I don’t get hired on full time, I could work harvest in a part of the world that has opposite seasons, like Chile, for example, and continue traveling and working and doing something that I love!  I already speak Spanish, so I feel that this possibility is entirely possible, even probable, and just thinking about that alone has me giddy as a schoolgirl!  I’ve always been sort of a gypsy anyway, a bit of an expatriate, a transient, a vagabond, a ramblin’ woman, whatever you want to call it.  I don’t really have any roots planted, just to my friends and my dog, and the idea of picking up and taking off again, to live in yet another foreign country seems so enticing and delicious to me!  I’m the happiest I’ve been in a really long time…

So, the job portion of my post of gratitude is covered.  Hopefully working all those hours won’t get in the way of me continuing to write posts, but I can’t stress about that right now.  Marge will keep any blog follower gainfully amused, and then once I’m done with my “outage” like schedule, Marge will go into a nuclear outage, and I’ll need to pick up the slack for her.  That’s just one of many reasons we work so well together as friends and partners in crime.  We are always there to love one another, support one another (and our crazy shenanigans) and to pick up the other’s slack when something is off or amiss with one of us.  She probably won’t be too thrilled if I decide to peace out for a few months in South America, but maybe by then we will have won the lottery, or else come up with a genius business plan so that we can go together, with our dogs.  One day at a time, I suppose…

So…  What else do I have to be grateful for?  So many things, how can I possibly list them all?  I can’t, but I can hit the highlight reel and try to do justice to all the beauty I have in my life. 

Aside from not quite yet being gainfully employed (the clock cannot tick down fast enough!), everything in my life is pretty great.  Mostly because of my amazing friends (Marge ESPECIALLY, and she knows it!  She knows she’s a badass friend!), so I suppose I’ll continue on down that vein.

On Saturday July 26^th Marge threw another “girl party”.  This one was not big.  It was just a handful of badass, intelligent, hilarious women, some of whom, without naming any names, because we don’t do that here, have the tendency to get me to let loose more than I already do and get me into “trouble”.  Nothing bad, just, perhaps, drinking more than I should, and reminding me how beautiful life is, especially surrounded by such an awesome group of freethinking women. 

I awoke around ten AM.  I had been up late, throwing back beer and whiskey with a newly acquired landscape friend on Marge’s back porch, so my brain was a little fuzzy, but we quickly started banging out the to do list before the first of our guests arrived.  Marge had been awake since probably about five that morning, but let’s not split hairs.  Her capacity to go off zero sleep is much greater than mine!  A few chores and few beers into the day, I was feeling much better, and my attitude, humor, and sense of well being quickly began to dissipate as did my headache and hangover. 

Since what happens at Marge’s stays at Marge’s, I’ll say that the evening passed beautifully, aside from a few snags.  Marge did drop her brick of a flip phone into the kiddy pool, but it was successfully resuscitated, and I am happy to report that it is fully functional yet again!  That day was fucking amazing though!  I must have been partying for twelve straight hours, passed out in my bed fully clothed with a half full beer on my night stand, and awoke to a text from one of my girlfriends saying she left her pair of panties that she for some reason felt like shedding somewhere around the house or backyard.  Oh yeah.  We get wild!  LMAO! 

Fast forward to the next day, a Sunday.  A very dear friend of mine is coming up to drop by for an hour or two.  This is a friend who, when I lived in SLO, I saw almost every day.  Now that I live in north county and money is tight for me these days, not to mention the fact that I loooooooove to drink but refuse to drink and drive, we very rarely see each other anymore.  Marge had mentioned that she wanted to go to Pismo to see this awesome band that we love, but I didn’t know that she wanted me to go, and I had already made plans to see my Dear Friend, and was not about to cancel, since it had been months since we had seen each other. 

The band was set to start at three.  I don’t think Marge wanted to leave any later than two.  We like to arrive early, to get a seat so that we can actually watch the band.  They really are fucking amazing!  My company left at about two-thirty.  I asked her if she still wanted to go.  We were both feeling pretty “greasy”, un-showered, we were already going to get there late, and I for sure was still hungover from the previous day’s festivities.  In the end, we decided “fuck it!”, and also, our current motto: “zero fucks!”  We didn’t care if we smelt like shit, looked like shit, and also probably felt like shit, we were not going to miss this band!  We weren’t going to impress anyone anyway.  We just wanted to listen to some really great live music.  So we decided to get ready in a flash and just go.  Marge at least washed her face.  I didn’t.  I just threw on a pair of jeans, downed a vodka tonic (courtesy leftover from the previous day’s party) and off we went!  Freak flag waving, zero fucks given, gross, greasy, un-showered and completely unapologetic.  That’s just the way we roll! 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-gCr1eCGfkI

The band was as awesome as ever!  A few of Marge’s friends were already there, and Amyless rolled up right at the same time we did.  I brought a flask full of Jameson Irish whiskey.  Yes, I am a bit cash poor these days, so in addition to the beers and vodka tonic I downed before/on the way in, I knew Marge, being the angelic demon that she is, would buy me one beer, I could afford one beer, but I would need to supplement my alcohol in a much more affordable manner.  Besides, I never show up anywhere unprepared!  Come break time, I’m sharing my flask with the band.  They recognized Marge and I from previous shows, and they are super friendly, gregarious, awesome dudes who also love to drink Jameson.  They always say hello to Marge and I when they see us, and so sharing my flask with them was something new to me, it didn't seem out of the ordinary.  Besides, once the drummer knew my flask had run dry he bought me a hefty shot as soon as were back inside.  Is there any wonder we like this band so much?  Aside from their incredible playing skills, they also have manners!  And they are super fun and interesting to smoke a ciggie and shoot the shit with, in-between songs. 

I could go on for days, but I won't.  Long story short, once the band finished playing, and Marge, myself, and the band were chatting it up outside, the drummer and lead singer and guitarist invited us to have dinner with them at the café across the street.  Of course we said yes!  Why wouldn’t we?  I’ve never been one to turn down a free meal, the dudes are freaking awesome, and Marge is really trying to promote them, because they are so fucking talented, and we were eager to sit down with them over a meal. 

I must admit, I was kind of smashed.  I mostly just cared about my burger, onion rings and beer, also the conversation, but I was not as coherent as Marge was.  I think I was just stoked that we got invited out by the band!  I mean, how rad is that!?  At the end of the night, we parted ways amiably, and we look forward to seeing them play again this Friday at the Pour House in Paso Robles.  Anyone interested in listening to some great music and shooting the shit with Marge and I should most certainly go!  We will have a blast with or without you, but you owe it to yourself to check them out at some point.  Their skills are amazing, and we don’t even know them "personally"! ;)

The following day, a Monday, I wake up hungover.  Is anyone surprised by this?  I think not…

In any case, my name is on the hot list for the temp agency, and I am fully functional and capable to work, should that magical call arrive.  The day passes without work, however, I do get the pleasure of being visited by two very good friends, in addition to living with the best friend ever!  I already had plans to throw a few beers back with one of my newest, most favorite friends, one of my landscaper buddies who is trying to get me hired on at the new place where he works, and my dear “old” (meaning not old as a person, old as in we have been friends for years) friends, Mother Hen.  It wasn’t difficult to juggle the two at the same time.  Both are intelligent, have nice vocabularies, are intuitive, gracious, unselfish, and didn’t want to step on anyone else’s toes.  We got along famously together, drank beer, smoked cigarettes, and chatted “lightly” about things that only people who don’t have any sort of agenda can chat about. 

Four days were spent with amazing people, doing exactly the kind of thing I like to do:  Have fun, throw a few drinks back, smoke, eat, and have wonderful, fulfilling, enlightening conversations with people I care about.  Aside from reading, what more could a person really ask for?   And there was plenty of reading going on as well.  As a matter of fact, I had just finished reading Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy, though technically I finished that on the night of Wednesday, July 23^rd, and then began reading Moravagine, by Blaise Cendrars.

That Wednesday was a great day.  I already knew I had been hired at the winery I will be working at for harvest, and if that wasn’t enough to be grateful for, I had another interview at another winery.  I can’t deny that I felt a bit conflicted, going to this other interview, at a winery that didn’t inspire me, knowing that I already had a job lined up and was thrilled about, but I knew I needed to keep my options open.  I went to this other interview, it went great, and then I came home and cracked open a beer.  Even though I didn’t want this latest job that was offered to me, it was nice to know it was there, and that I have somehow become “hireable” again.  After months of all around shit and not finding a good job, let alone a job I would love, it was great to feel again that sensation of being coveted and desired (more about this later, because it isn’t just with jobs that a woman, or person in general, enjoys feeling this sensation…). 

I had a couple of beers, and then showered and crawled into bed with my puppy.  I had about 75 or so pages left of Anna Karenina, and I was eager to finish the book.  Not to get it over with, but because I was so sucked into it that I was having difficulty setting it down and walking away.  At around 6:30 I got a text from rapist, asking me to come over.  I ignored it.  I was busy reading.  An hour later, I got this, and this was our ensuing exchange:

Rapist: “Will you please come see me tonight?”                        

Me: “I cannot.”

Rapist:  “Why not????”

Rapist:  “Please!!!”

Me:  “I don’t feel like it.  It’s already late and I have to work in the morning.”

Rapist:  “I’m not even home yet!!!  Please!!  I’ll buy you dinner and IPA’s!”

Me:  “No.  I’m not going to risk a DUI because last minute you decided you could fit me into your schedule. I’d rather finish my book with my dog and get a good night’s sleep.”

Rapist:  “I asked you an hour and a half ago!!”

Rapist:  “Before I went to the gym”

After that I turned my phone off.  I was busy reading and did not feel like being disturbed.  I didn’t hear from him for two days after that, nor did I feel like contacting him for being such a bitch boy, and I was so over our entire situation that by Friday night, I decided to do something about it.  Was I pissed?  I don’t know.  Sort of, I guess, but mostly I was just over it.  I was growing indifferent.  I just didn’t care enough anymore to care.  Our relationship was exhausting me!  Too much strife, and not enough gratification.  How does the saying go?:  All work and no play makes Jim a dull boy?  Something like that.  That was how I was feeling at the time.  Too much work.  Not enough play.  A relationship should not feel like work ALL the time, and so I decided that I wasn’t happy and I was finally going to do something about it.  As another saying goes; love is like a fart.  If you have to force it, it’s probably shit… 

Knowing my lack of conviction when it comes to standing up to the Rapist, I decided to take a somewhat reckless but efficient approach.  I blocked him. 

I blocked his phone number from my cell, so he cannot call or text me, and I blocked him from emailing me as well.  I am so done with his pathetic, insecure, bullshit, his empty promises, his manipulation tactics, and his saying that we will go out and do fun things that we never end up doing, so I blocked him.  I will no longer even allow myself to hear from him.  He is cut off.  Pretty straight forward.  Pretty fool proof. 

http://youtu.be/1Ejr3nLXglQ

This is the last thing I am grateful for, as far as this post is concerned.  I am happy and grateful for having the courage to stand up for myself.  Love is no longer enough.  The bullshit outweighs the love.  Some people might call me a coward for not telling him outright, but that would have done me no good.  I have tried to break up with him several times, and every time he talks me out of it.  Cutting him off entirely saves me a ton of time.  I don’t have to worry about feeding into his bullshit, and I get to spend all my time with my friends, remembering who I am as a person, and loving life without having to deal with his insecurities, cowardice, or words that sound beautiful but in reality mean nothing.  I don’t have the time or energy to deal with his bitchiness.  I deserve more respect from a lover, and so I will find it with someone else.  Until that person comes along, I’ll be reading in bed with my puppy and a glass of red wine.  It’s heavenly!

Before I decided to block him outright, I did a lot of thinking about where our relationship went wrong.  There were a lot of red flags and factors that added up and made me decided that my best course of action was to just cut him out of my life.  One thing that stood out to me is that his world is too small and emaciated for my world.  His world consists of narrow-minded nuclear power plant friends who probably don’t even respect him anyway.  He lets other people’s opinions weigh too much on the personal choices and decisions he makes for himself.  He needs his seemingly-perfect, immaculate, OCD bullshit little sanctuary of a house in Los Osos, and I need freedom, adventures, great friends, and a life that is still undecided and continues to grow, undulate, expand, wax, and spontaneously combust!  His world and my world cannot co-exist. 

He needs safety, reality, security, certainty, and probably more than anything, a woman he can feel “safe” with.  He is used to being with “safe” women.  His life requires white picket fences, artificial butter, and the security that that type of life entails.  He could only ever chase the dragon with me.  I am the high manufactured by the drug he is too timid to take.  He could never acquire me, because he’s too cowardice to close his eyes and take the leap, and admit to people that he loves me.  I cannot live my life in that manner and I cannot be with someone who isn’t brave enough to own up to his life choices.  I don’t need anyone’s approval.  I do what is best for me no matter what.  I don’t care what people think of my lifestyle because all that matters is that my lifestyle makes me happy.  You can’t please everyone.  Once you decide to live your life a certain way you better own that shit, middle finger out, and not give a fuck what anyone else thinks!  Zero fucks! 

http://youtu.be/H-Yihs6S0Ac

I do not require a safety net.  I understand that 30 is not young, but it isn’t old either.  In my world, no age is technically old, it’s all a matter of perspective and personality.  But the Rapist is old in a way that cannot be changed.  His work life defines him.  He is shackled to a life that, while it may not thrill him, he cannot live without.  I cannot live my life like that.  There is still so much I want to accomplish!  My world is bigger than his world, and therefore, he and I cannot be.  I have no respect for his fear of judgement, and since I can no longer respect him, I have decided to block him.  We have no business being together.  I cannot respect a coward.  From here on out we go separate ways. 

Yes, I want to throw a coconut at his face to wake him the fuck up!

 I really just don't know what happened.  We were doing great before April.  Now things are just shitty and wrong.  What happened to the guy who thought I was a badass, the guy who said if there were a war, he would want to fight with me because I would murder everyone, he would just feel bad weighing me down for having to carry his ass?  What happened to the guy who never wanted me to leave his house to go home?  What happened to the guy who would call me on road trips, or put me on speaker phone so he could talk to me while he was eating at home alone?  What happened to the guy who made me feel loved, respected, adored, desired, and coveted?  That man is gone, and what's left of him is an ashy skeleton of who he once was.  The man has been replaced with a selfish, cowardice little boy who doesn't want to share his toys.  I wish I could understand, but I simply cannot.  Everyone has a breaking point.  EVERYONE!  I have reached mine, and so now: 
 

While this current state of being may not be easy, it isn’t too terribly difficult either.  I did do a little of what Wednesday Addams refers to as “emotional cutting”.  I read through some of the emails he sent me, about a year ago, when we used to crave contact with each other and were always writing letters to each other.  I still pick up my phone from time to time and look at photos of him, but I’m doing better and sometimes will go days without “cutting”.  Of course I am still in love with him.  And though I have come to the conclusion that love isn’t enough for me anymore, I have come up with other ways to ease the process of the emotional equivalent to cutting off a limb.  Primarily, when I feel a moment of weakness setting in, I listen to the new playlist I set up on my i-pod.  It’s all metal and punk rock.  Totally relevant to my current state of mind.  It’s upbeat, it’s energizing, it's crude, and it’s a proverbial middle finger to society and to the ridiculously non-functional, and toxic relationship I had going with the Rapist.

So, I am grateful for a lot of things, but right now, I’m grateful to have the Rapist out of my life.  His ego is too inflated for his own reality, let alone mine.  Things were never the same between us after shit hit the fan in April, everyone (relevant, more importantly, his co-workers who he could not look in the eye and admit he loved me to, and less relevant, perhaps he read my posts and could not stomach some of the things he read.  Long story short, he is not man enough to own up to the fact that he loves me, so he has lost me.  Indifference is the true killer, and the fact that I no longer wake up with anxiety or lose sleep over him speaks volumes) found out about us, and he was not man enough to face judgment.  Pity.  I would have done anything for him.  Now, I find myself yawning.  Such is life.  Perhaps in trying to keep me intrigued, in love, and in a constant state of ambiguous agitation, by behaving like a dick, he achieved the exact opposite and he pushed me away.  I will never know.  All I know now is that I am glad to spend my nights alone, reading in bed with my puppy, and if I am not in bed alone, I am out gallivanting with great friends, or else staying in and conversing, exchanging ideas, trading theories, or conspiring my next adventure.  One never really knows where I might be these days, but one thing I can say for sure, is that I won’t be in bed stressing over the Rapist anymore.  That ship has sailed, and each night, I send a little flaming arrow toward it, hoping to set it on fire and sink it forever…