Archive for April, 2007

Well

April 30, 2007

Well, I didn’t have as much time today to write as I had hoped I would. So you’re going to have to wait a bit longer for any other weekend updates.

I would like though to point out that the Red Sox took two out of three from the Yankees. Woot!

Oh, and I stopped up to P.C.B. (the Brewery, not the chemical) on Friday with A-Dawg from work. Free beer is not necessarily the way to start off a long night, but what can ya do? I saw my old landlord there with his posse. He’s some cool shite is all I have to say.

Okay–that’s it. The warm air outside is beckoning me like…like…um…yeah, something that beckons you…

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Broken

April 30, 2007

Sometimes I just want to fix all the broken people that I see around me. I don’t know why, but I thought that thought last night as I was once again hanging around with a cast of characters whose lives I rarely envy. I don’t know. Maybe it’s a crazy Holden Caulfield thing, being the “catcher in the rye”–only I guess it’s different because instead of saving the innocents from adulthood, I’m looking to repair adult lives that have derailed. Maybe it’s more of a “My Name is Earl” thing–I’m seeking forgiveness for my own fuck-ups in life by wanting to save others from their fuck-ups. Again, I don’t know.

But, having said that, I know it’s not going to happen. I’m learning in more ways than one that people are deeply programmed by their past experiences to make all the wrong choices over and over again no matter what anyone says to them. It’s a seemingly impossible pattern to break. And even if you think your life is wonderful for the time being, you’re probably headed for a fall. We all fall down.

But enough of that. I have a whole weekend to write about and it all starts off with the theme I just introduced.

It all started with a distant thump and T. saying: “I think Hogie just fell off his barstool.” We looked over and saw that no, in fact Hogie was standing up though looking down at the floor a bit puzzled. Someone else had indeed fallen to the floor of the bar. D. and a couple of other people ran over to help out. R. and I stayed where we were–there were a half dozen people over there already, some of them skilled in case it was a real emergency, and we agreed that we were not the people for that job. The bartender quickly asserted–for anyone listening–that she had only served the guy three drinks and D. and a couple of other people helped him back into his seat. A cab was called and someone kept an eye on the guy until it arrived. Which of course was when the jokes started:

“Hey, D. was giving him mouth-to-mouth even though he didn’t need it.”

“Buy the guy a drink. he’s having a rough night.”

And, of course, “Hey the passed out guy wants to buy the bar a round. Check his pockets for cash.”

And as for the rest of a truly crazy Sunday night, let me fall back on an overused format:

Three games of pool with two drunken women: $3

The bar tab for a night of carrousing: $40

Finding out about the jealous and violent ex-boyfriend: priceless

In Case of Emergency

April 27, 2007

Well, yesterday I wrote about how the defensive walls around my heart had crumbled. Well, as yesterday progressed I remembered all of the other times in the last two–nearly three–months that I nearly let that happen and how, if I had, I would have been miserable after some ensuing event. So, though perhaps half-heartedly, I have started to build them up again while I wait to see how things turn out.

And since that magical Wednesday night this is what’s happened: yesterday around lunchtime I sent JetBlue a text message, just to check on how she was doing. And I heard back from her pretty much right away. Good stuff. And last night I called her to follow up on her perhaps somewhat open-ended “we’ll go out” and I got her machine. And, to this point, still no response. But that’s cool. I’ve learned from past phone calls that the response–positive or negative–will come when it comes and there’s absolutely no use in worrying about when that will be. So I’m not.

So, basically, nothing has changed since Wednesday night. I have no reason to believe that there have been any good or bad signs for what the future might hold. And that’s fine. My heart is resting comfortably in its newly rebuilt protective wall. Only now the walls are a bit thinner than before. Oh, and I’ve installed a button on the wall that allows me to immediately tear it down if need be. Sort of a “In Case of Emergency Open Your Heart to the Girl Right Now” button.

And, for tonight, I’m not sure what the evening holds for me. Some peeps from work are going downtown. Alternatively, A., also from work, suggested the 5:30 drinkfest at PCB. I’m certainly considering going to my usual haunts for the Red Sox-Yankees at 7. I just can’t get my hopes up that it will be anything like last Friday’s debauch.

So, anyway, that’s it for now. You may have to wait until Monday to find out where the next few hours take me…

Songs, Signs, and Coasters

April 27, 2007

In my last post I mentioned that there was probably more for me to write about Wednesday night. And indeed, now that I’m a little less tired, there are a couple of other things for me to say. And I can’t believe these were the things I forgot to write about!

First of all, at some point later in the evening the song “Missing You” came on. And JetBlue started to sing. Ooooo baby! If you’re a regular reader here, you know what that does for me. The funny thing is, the second time the chorus came up, she sang:

“I ain’t missing D. at all (missing D.)/since D.’s been gone away”

It was hilarious, though D. didn’t seem to hear it. He misses a lot of stuff like that, but what can ya do? I was laughing my ass off while at the same time hoping the song would never end.

Okay, I also forgot to tell you the other funny thing that JetBlue did. When telling me the story of her bad day she went onto a side story about how once she had to transport two teenage gang members who happened to be in rival gangs. That’s great stuff. So, they were driving through the flats, flashing their gang signs out the window. She got pissed off at them and when they stopped at a light and they started up again she rolled down her window and started to do her own exaggerated version of the gang signs–which she demonstrated for me at the bar–again, hilfuckinarious! Apparently the gangstas in the back seat thought so too because they laughed uproariously all the way to their destination. Great stuff that!

Oh, and finally, I can’t believe I forgot to mention the coaster fight–instigated by moi. I told JetBlue that I could hit D. who was like five seats down at the time. So I gave it a shot, but missed terribly, almost hitting someone three seats down from D. Though D. didn’t witness the shot–it was so far off–D2 did and he shouted over to D. that JetBlue was throwing coasters at him. Hehe, no one believed that it was me. So D. tried to retaliate, but his throw limply landed on the bar a yard or two short of us. D2 got involved, nearly hitting D. And JetBlue even tossed one for good measure, again missing the mark. D.’s second shot was a little better, but again he missed. My point–we all suck at coaster fighting.

That’s enough writing for now I should think.

Odds and Ends

April 26, 2007

FIRST OF ALL: I’m taking bets on what day I’ll be writing the post titled: “The Big Let Down.”

SECONDLY: Note to self: teach JetBlue how NOT to use ALL CAPS ALL THE TIME on her phone.

NEXT: D. was talking about K2 last night–how she hit him up for some money. He and Dr. B. referred to her as a succubus, as she apparently drains people emotionally and financially–tell me you wouldn’t be fascinated by her the way I am. I mean, come on, that’s a hell of a lot of blogging material we’re looking at there.

NEXT: After JetBlue left, D. and Dr. B. started to give me advice, beginning with “If you don’t follow her out that door now and bang her you’re stupid.” All I kept saying was “I know what I’m doing.” And, while that may only be partially true, it’s much better than taking a page from their “How to Pick Up Women in a Bar and Make Them Feel Like Shit Afterwards” guide. And, besides, Dr. B, I haven’t seen one woman even talk to you in the past month I’ve known you. I felt like saying “Guys, if I took your advice I might be banging her tonight and then forgetting about her like you would. But maybe I wanna be banging her six months from now, ten months, years.” Two things to note–I don’t know if that’s what I want, but who knows maybe and, also, I don’t actually talk like that. Even when I am talking to their misogynist asses.

FINALLY: I’m sure there’s more I want to write about, but I’m suddenly very tired so I’ll just say see ya later for now.

You Said Something

April 26, 2007

Well, I could write eighty paragraphs about last night if I were in the mood to be a completest. Is “completest” even a word? Let me check…Yep”ptt. But I’m not in that mood anyway. Not right now at least. Later on I’ll have to write up a few of the side events but, for now, I’ll try to stick to my main point.

So I’ll just say that two unexpected things happened to me last night. But first a quick set-up of the evening: had a meeting, went to an after-meeting meeting at the bar, ran into JetBlue, she missed the first meeting because she was at a wake for someone killed in a gang-related shooting. Pretty much a typical night for me.

Anyway, after she arrived it took me a little while to wander down to her, you know, ’cause I play it cool. But when I did I realized that she was crying a little bit. Shit–not the time to play it cool. But, anyway, we got into a big discussion related to gangs and orphaned children and her job. A crazy, fucked up job to have to face every day if you ask me. I don’t know how she or anyone else does it. But, I don’t want to get into the gory details of the discussion, instead I want to jump ahead to the end of the evening.

As I’ve mentioned before, no one around us knows for sure what is or isn’t going on between us. That’s easy enough because I’m a little vague on what is or isn’t going on myself. I’m more than happy to tell people–hell, I do it here. But in the past, JetBlue has avoided naming me when telling D. a story I was directly involved in. So I’ve respected her reticence–you know, especially since someone else is still #1 on her list as far as I can tell. But, anyway, as she was leaving, JetBlue gave me a big ol’ hug and a kiss right there in front of D. and Dr. B! It was so sweet and so unexpected and, yes, so openly affectionate that I melted a bit.

Okay, so that was the first unexpected thing.

After I left the bar the text messaging ensued. Sort of a continuation of the earlier conversation. Not unexpected. But after that was all done I noticed something, a feeling inside me so surprising to me that at first I didn’t understand where it was coming from. I certainly didn’t expect it. And then I realized what it was: I really, truly cared about how she felt. I was feeling her hurt. And not just the way that any normal person is able to feel another’s pain. I longed to be with her and hold her because that was what she needed.

Holy shit, I’m thinking to myself. The defensive walls that I had around my heart are fucking crumbling right before my eyes and it wasn’t of my own volition. So here I am today, feeling good, feeling happy, feeling vulnerable, feeling again.

As I write this, I know I should be building those walls back up right now. I mean, the future is still very uncertain; if my heart is fully into this, I could be headed for a huge let down. Most likely headed for the huge let down. But instead what’s on my mind is I’m thinking I should call her just to see how she is doing and I wonder how her day is going and I’m, yeah, wondering if some small part of her heart is being reserved for me right now.

I’m so fucking stupid to be letting this happen but here it goes…

Nothing Much

April 25, 2007

Nothing much to write about today–at least nothing simmering at the top of my head.

I had my son’s baseball practice yesterday. I got to catch him while he practiced pitching. I also got to be the stand-in third base coach–I’ll be coaching if one of the other coaches can’t.  Exciting stuff, eh? Oh, but the most memorable moment came when he was pitching to me. He threw a ball that tailed off into the dirt and I didn’t get my glove on it and it bounced up and–as you may already be guessing–balls stopping balls ain’t the way to go through life. If you’ve ever experienced this feeling you’ll know that, oftentimes at least, after the initial jolt there is a brief moment when you feel no pain. Suddenly though, you find yourself in unimaginable pain. Debilitating pain. When I finally–and gingerly–was able to walk to the ball, the baseball that is, I then walked to my son. Oh, and he knew what happened. He had a big smile on his face, told me that I turned my glove the wrong way and then walked over to a friend and whispered to him–and of course the friend started laughing too. Note to self: work on empathy skills with the boy.

Other than that, I have a meeting tonight. And then a meeting after the meeting. And then, one hopes, a meeting after the meeting after the meeting. And there’s a chance that JetBlue will be there, so that should be interesting in light of our most recent conversation. Interesting how? you might ask. That’s where I say, there’s no way of knowing what will happen until it happens.

Well, I’m off to do hall monitoring duty. I just realized that I forgot to bring in Kite Runner. Dammit. At least I have tons of correcting to catch up on!

Ebb and Flow, Baby

April 24, 2007

More under-edited stuff, dear readers. So deal with it…

So, last night, being a Monday, I did my civic duty and had my city-job meeting. Hey–‘ask not what your city can do for you…’ and all that. Which reminds me of something funny: a few days ago I was searching around the old internet, looking at cars and stuff. No, not actually shopping for a new one yet, just bored. Anyway, because I filled out some form I got an email from a local dealership. And the sales rep who sent it from this local dealership was someone that I had to fire from his city job a couple years ago! Hehe–at least he’s holding onto this job. And, no I’m not getting in touch with you about that “great” car offer, buddy!

But I digress…So, anyway, after my meeting I noticed that it was early enough for me to stop by Padraig’s baseball practice for a half hour or so, which I did after taking a casual detour past the bar, you know, just to see if it was worth going out for the night. Oh yeah, and it was, JetBlue’s car was there in the lot. Okay, okay, I know that the boycott was still in full effect–but you didn’t believe I’d keep to that now did you? But anyway, I did continue on to baseball practice. “First things first,” as Padraig has taken to saying recently.

So, for a while I enjoyed the sunshine, watched Padraig take some batting practice–okay time to brag: who’s son, among the first year players, is by far the best hitter? That’s right! He still needs to work on keeping his eye on the ball and, when he takes his step toward the pitcher, he needs to work on not totally doing the splits, but, nevertheless he has a smooth left-handed swing. Oh, and not to make any comparisons, but when he’s batting during practice his team puts on the shift as if he were Ortiz.

But I once again have digressed. So after practice I went back to the bar to get some dinner and to watch the Red Sox. As I mentioned, JetBlue was there. She was talking to this crazy artist guy (CAG) that she knows. Long story that one. So anyway I sat down a few chairs down (keeping that aloofness going for a little while longer), ordered some food, and started watching the game. All in good time, people, all in good time.

While I was watching the game I noticed that K2 was there as well–tonight decked out in her Papi shirt. Yeah–I’m feeling like the ’67 Sox, just dreaming that impossible dream. But, anyway, as the evening evolved I didn’t get to talk to her, but I noticed that D. did (oh yeah, he showed up at some point) and it didn’t end in shouting or tears, so I guess that’s all resolved now.

So, anyway, JetBlue talked to CAG for awhile and then after that ended in angry incriminations she walked away “to use the bathroom” and instead started talking to a couple at the other end of the bar. An inning or so later, CAG seemed to realize that she wasn’t returning so he finally walked out. Meanwhile, the Red Sox just weren’t showing much life. Too much partying after the Yankee sweep, perhaps? And yeah, that was a gratuitous mention of the Yankee sweep.

Meanwhile, OCE (Our Common Enemy, for those of you who haven’t memorized the code) came in. He surveyed the situation–not a friendly crowd for him, too many secrets ready to be exposed. So he ordered some take-out, had three beers in the span of 15 minutes, and jetted. Somewhere in there JetBlue came down to talk for a bit. Well, the rest of the night.

And all changed, changed utterly: A terrible beauty is born…

Sorry, felt like throwing some Yeats in there. I think it might fit though. In some way at least. So, anyway, although our conversation had all the usual elements, I also noticed that it was different in some important ways. First off, she was talking openly about some past relationships, about the guy who wants her to spend some time with him and his son so that she can write a reference letter for him for the courts so he can get get custody of the boy (Wha!?!), about the guy who visits from Montana for two weeks each winter, all sorts of things that had been off the table in the past. And, yeah, although all this shit should scare me away instead it fascinates me,  just like K2 and her shit were fascinating me the other night. But, anyway, cutting to the chase…um, literally, I guess…as we were getting ready to go I laid it all out (okay, just some of it) on the table:

“So, DO you want to go out again?” And, yeah, I really didn’t know what the answer would be, and yeah I asked it in a way that it was clear that I wanted some clarity. And, yeah, the real question was–“So what the fuck IS going on here?”

“Sure, give me a ring.” Yeah, that’s not clarity. That’s how this whole thing started. You know, give me a ring but don’t necessarily expect me to return the call.

I wish I could describe the look I gave her at this point. It said something like ‘no, that ain’t gonna cut it.’ And then I added something like: “No, really. Do you want to?” And it wasn’t pleading or anything. Just straight out ‘tell me, no more bullshit babe’. ‘Cause I don’t really mind all the ebb and flow and I don’t mind spending hours chatting with you regardless of the answer, you know, but if there’s no point in me calling you, just straight out tell me.

“Sure, we’ll go out.” Hey, sort of clarity. But part of me feels like I got the answer from a fortune teller as she tells me about success “in my future.” Nevertheless, though, I’m going to look at it as a positive response. Would you, dear reader? Hmm…

So, anyway, with that settled as well as it could be, we both got up and left. As I was heading out the door, I stopped to talk to D. who was massaging the bartender’s shoulders–yeah, the things that I don’t write about are sometimes more interesting than the things I do. And clearly he finally caught on that there’s something going on–and yeah he hadn’t had an idea before last night–and so of course he approached it D. style:

“If you’re not following her home right now you’re a fucking pussy.” Hehe…I just laughed and said it wasn’t like that. “You should be fucking going for it right now, buddy.” Thanks D. Now if I could just add on some advice from Dr. B. my night would be complete…

So, anyway, I left and shortly afterward decided to send JetBlue a text message–just something sweet to say I had a nice time and all that, because, despite all the ebb and flow and the uncertainty, I really do enjoy those endless conversations. But, anyway, as I’m starting to write I notice I have a couple of messages from her.

First message: DONT WANT TO JERK YOU ROUND CUZ I KNOW THAT FEELS LIKE SHIT AND HAD THAT HAPPEN MORE TIMES THAN I CARE TO ADMIT

Second message: Totally enjoy talking to you and hanging out Your so easy to talk to and be my goofy self around

So I responded, mostly to the second message, because I knew what was going on behind the first. Oh, and dear reader, in case I didn’t tell you, I’ve known for a while that the reason I’ve been on and off of her radar is that there’s this other guy that’s #1 on her list. And I’ve known that and been fine with it, but I feel that it was a huge breakthrough that she’s finally starting to admit this to me, taking me seriously enough and caring enough about my feelings to let it all out.

The expected Third message: I’ve been hanging out with a couple other people recently One didn’t go well The other is someone I’ve been interested in for months Not too sure what he thinks

And I responded with something like: “I’ve sensed that for while but thanks for telling me. still I’d like to go out. Doesn’t need to be a big deal.” And that’s all true. Hehe, though I could’ve added: as long as I get to go swimming once in awhile…

Next message: JUST DONT WANT TO BE A JERK TO ANYONE

What’s with the caps? I don’t know. All I know is is that even though I think I’m following what she’s thinking by reading a bit into her answers I also realize that all of they can be interpreted in a dozen different ways. But I’m getting used to that too.

Oh, and in another message she jokingly added that I’ve been spending too much time with D. and she’s worried that I will become too much like him. Hehe…Well, I’m thinking, except for some more colorful swears while I’m golfing, I don’t think I’ll turn into him anytime soon. That would be funny though.

So that’s it in all of it’s under-edited glory. Who knows where it will go next. I should start a gambling pool…what’s the over/under line on when the next date will be?

Hall Monitor

April 23, 2007

Well, in a few short minutes I begin my career as a hall monitor. Should be fun. Unfortunately I forgot my novel at home and I don’t have much correcting to do so I’m not sure what I’m going to do for those 45 minutes. The old ADD will certainly be kicking in.

Why am I suddenly having to do this job on a daily basis you may ask? Well, some co-workers complained, and rightly so, about the lack of security on campus–both from external potential problems as well as students wandering around unsupervised.  So, the response was to give many of us this permanent duty. Way to punish people for their concern about the school environment.

We’ll see how long this lasts before we passive-aggressively make this new duty go away. Nothing says Monday after vacation like the onset of collective passive-aggression…

Soxdolager

April 22, 2007

As some of you dear readers may have noticed from some of my previous writings here, I’m throwing a lot of stuff down, some of it hardly edited. That’s because I want to do it that way. I’m collecting material and storing it here and, who knows, someday it may get edited and tightened up into something funny and readable. But, for now bear with me as I throw it all down…

Just minutes after Okie struck out the last Yankee Friday night, I knew I had found my perfect woman. She’s got a big ol’ addictive personality; she’s depressed, quick to anger and quick to over-apologize; she’s restless, nervously pacing the bar at times. But K2 is sweet, when she’s not angry. And nice, when her feelings aren’t hurt. And really unpretentious. And, the topper, she came out on a Friday night wearing a Varitek shirt. How cool is that? Especially since it was the magical Varitek shirt that created the Red Sox rally in the eighth! woot!

What had started out as an evening of no prospects–my plan was to watch a little of the game down at the bar and then just go home and catch up on some sleep–slowly evolved into a perfect storm of debauchery. And let me tell you, debauchery without the sex is still debauchery. First D. showed up and he got things rolling by getting me to do a Tur’bo. Alas I’m no longer a Tur’bo virgin. What is this “Tur’bo” you may ask? Well, it’s basically a big old pint filled with ice and flavored vodka and a little Sprite and fruit juice with two straws. Two people then drink it down at the same time without stopping until they’re done. Oh, and it was good. It was also an interesting moment in that there I was forehead to forehead with D., who’s Mr. Macho, drinking a fruity drink together. I’m not going to go too deep in the analysis of that moment. I’ll let you do it yourself.

As the Red Sox began to lose, we wandered over to the golf machine, where my ass was kicked exactly the same way it was on the real golf course. But, just as it seemed like it would be another average night, things really took off as R. walked through the door (Dr. B showed up too, but, as you know, he’s a buzz kill). R., if you didn’t pick it up from my previous writing, is one of the most charismatic people I’ve ever met. He’s incredibly friendly, charming, personable. He likes everyone too. Not a mean bone in his body. Oh–except that Dr. B. drives him crazy. As R. put it “I like everybody, but that guy just pisses me off. Since I’ve been married I’ve had more women than he’ll ever have–and I’m faithful to my wife!” Hehe. But he also has an interesting effect on Dr. B. When R. is around, Dr. B. totally drops his schtick–or at least he moves it to another part of the bar. Either way it gives us all a break.

Okay, so, after the golf we moved back to the bar side to watch the rest of the game. We started talking to a couple of women who were also watching, spewing invectives at A-Rod: “A-hole,” “A-Bitch” or, after the second home run, “A-Roids.” These girls were charming. Oh and later on–not sure when this happened–but at some point one of the women came up to me and R. and did a dance a la Pulp Fiction for us. Oh, and she also started to unbutton my shirt. What!?! Yeah, and the funny thing is, she didn’t talk to R. or I either before or after that one little dance. After she turned back to the game, R. looked at me and, nodding his head, big smile on his face, said “This is going to be a good night.”

Around the seventh inning K2 and her magical shirt showed up and within a few minutes was screaming at D. I’m still not sure what he said to her, but from what I’ve gathered he thought he was paying her a compliment and, with her damaged self-esteem, she took it as an insult. Later, when she and I were smoking outside, she apologized like twenty times for it. But I said the usual things about D.–you know, he’s a jerk, he doesn’t know how to treat women–to help her feel less guilty about it all. I doubt that helped though.

But, anyway, the Red Sox rally was the best thing ever. K2 and the crazy women clearly spooked Rivera. There can be no other explanation for the Yankees’ collapse. Great moment: right after–and I mean right after–the Red Sox went ahead a guy walked into the bar with a Yankees hat on. And oh yeah, K2 and the crazy girls turned their rally-fueled adrenalin on him. Luckily he took it all with a big smile–nothing like being greeted with the “Yankees Suck” chant and fingers pointing at you. Hehe

I’m a little fuzzy on what happened when after the game ended. D. and Dr. B went to get something to eat. K2 chided them for going to a restaurant ten minutes before it closed because it would force people to work late (she’s a waitress and knows all about that shit). Oh, and I asked her out. Fueled by the Red Sox win, the Tur’bos and the mood of everyone around us, I just blurted it out. Oh, and she of course shot me down–“Um, I don’t really know you.” And right after I had said it, I knew that it wasn’t going to happen. It was just an impulse. The great thing is, though, I didn’t feel bad about it afterwards, didn’t feel rejected, didn’t feel awkward. The night continued on, we still talked and smoked cigarettes. Just another of the crazy moments.

So, yesterday after D. and I golfed we found ourselves back down there. R. showed up and we got to talking about what a great night it was. The incredible energy in the bar. Everything that made it a great night. We talked about our bar tabs and all of the drinks on them that we didn’t remember buying for people. Apparently someone had been deciding that we were buying them drinks, hehe. R. wondered where JetBlue had been. He had called her Friday night–oh, and then he checked his phone and saw how late it was when he called her: “Ooops. I hope I didn’t wake her up.” Then I asked him what time he left: “hmmm, my wife says I got home at two. I think K2 and I closed the place.” Hehe, “I think I closed the place.” That’s a great tagline.

Well, I think that’s it for now. I’m liking all the Raymond Carver characters I’ve been meeting. Definitely giving me more insight into people, real people’s lives. People with dark clouds hanging over their lives, like D. People struggling to keep their heads above the waves like K2. JetBlue and her disappointments and failures and fears. Dr. B and his “program” that’s a facade for I don’t know what kind of issues he has with women. R., struggling with the fact that six of his friends have died in recent years. And then there’s me. Struggling with depression. Struggling still with the death of a friend. Enjoying being single, but still missing the home life at times. Still sad about things in my life that I screwed up. Still trying to figure out how to afford the rest of my life. And yet I’m feeling that I’m on the rise. I’m writing more. I’m being healthier (despite how it sounds here). I’m straightening out my brain, dealing better with the NVLD. Spending more time with my father and with my boys. Just keepin on keepin on.