216 Tao

I woke up and realized that I missed New Year's. Then I went back to bed. I woke up because my roommate was knocking on the door. I had taken his keys, because I didn't bring my own. I took a cab back to the apartment.

I opened the door and went back to bed. I woke up again, and went to the bathroom. It wasn't number one or number two. Should it be named number three? My roommate was watching Gargoyles. He asked if I was okay. I think so. I took out my phone and realized I had text messaged people while under the influence. One of was to an ex, ex. That was about half an hour. One of which, I have no recollection.

A friend of mine talked to me this morning, and she said, you kept asking me if I liked in the ass. I apologized. She said, I repeated what you said, and then all these guys were following me afterwards.

I sent out a mass text message today, and apologized: Sorry if I had said or typed anything that was out of the ordinary, or even insulting. I'm sorry, it's been a rough year.

One of my old childhood friends and I have been text messaging one another today. We talked about how people seemed to becoming dumber. I told her that in 20 years we'd all be back to dragging our knuckles on the ground again. She said it was tough to be meet new people, and that she kept on meeting people that would talk about their intelligence.

I text messaged: "Dumb people talk about how smart they are. Smart people wished they were dumb. Ever see a retarded guy shoulder the weight of the world? No. He's too fucking occupied with clapping effectively.

That cost me ten cents.

I miss my friends.

It's nice to travel. It's pleasant meeting new people. But there is something to be said about being in a place that's home. That's familiar. You enter a pocket and it's a ritual. Good friendships are sacred like that. Trust. Commitment. Wine. When you meet new people, where do you start? From the beginning. It seems so far away from where we want to be. Can't we give each other our extra years? Where are the old jokes? Where are the memories? Where is the unlimited forgiveness?

As of now - it's polite. Like the secretary. As you are with strangers. The way you treat people, because it's safe. I look at people and say very little. All I can do is focus on how far we have to go. So much we have to say on what is that I can and cannot say, before we even get comfortable. Honestly - I don't care about your books and your music. I don't want to know who your heroes are. Can you make me laugh? Help me forget the hard day, like a good liquor, minus the hangover and the money, though equally as valuable. Are you strong enough to tell me what embarrasses you, because I will tell the world the instant you make them available to me.

Let me go there. Let me be rude. Put my foot in my mouth. Let me cross that line of yours that you dug in the sand with the shovel that your uncle gave you for your fourth birthday before he left to be gay in some city that your family speaks little of because only deviants go there. Then let me apologize for it. Simply accept it. I will be eternally grateful for your patience and compassion. And then we can be the dearest of friends - laughing, probably at the expense of one another, definately at the expense of everyone.

Michael is older than I am. He told me that he stayed in his marriage for one thing, actually two things, and they’re both his children – a pair of little girls that he spends all his time with. It’s easy to focus on them and ignore her.

They met in college. He loved Ohio State. She loved Ohio State. Isn’t that enough to support a marriage? They were both huge college football fans and they could talk – I’m not sure if it was intimate, but sometimes just being able to open your mouth for a certain period is intimate enough. It was a different time, he says. AIDS was big. You didn’t know who had what. And all my friends were getting married, so I thought – maybe it’s time.

I think about what he says, he didn’t really want to get married, he decided that it was probably the next thing he should do. Relationships out of natural progressing – a lot of my friends do it. I have another friend. Carl. Well he may not believe it, but I feel that his relationship falls into that category. I introduced him to his waitress. Funny story, I actually got her number before he did, and when things were going well with the other girl – I introduced him to her. My girlfriend calls it the “bait and switch.”

In the same week that they met, they consummated the relationship, and nine months later they had a son. The “Oops Baby” but he’s a beautiful boy. He doesn’t cry and actually smiles all the time. You can’t help but to love a kid like that, but the man confided in me and told me that they had problems. Then he proposed. It didn’t feel right. All these decisions that my friends have told me about their relationship – in order to progress them, seem like they were done to cure whatever problems or stalling they were enduring.

In “Four Weddings and A Funeral,” one of the characters says that a marriage comes about because after all the time they’ve spent together, they’ve everything there is to possibly say. So one day, one of the party members says, “Let’s get married.” Then the two have so much more to say. They have to plan, decide on guests, refreshments, where to have it, where to go afterwards, who is to be seated next to whom, what ex, if any, will be invited, the same decision making process also lends itself towards child molesting uncles and violent, alcoholic aunts. How big will the wedding party be? What type of service will it be? Essentially, marriage is the solution to an uncomfortable silence.

I’m sure Michael doing “Eight Balls” on his wedding night and Carl drinking like a fish are tell-tale signs that this is probably not going to work, but when you think about it – it does put the fear into you. No matter how well you are doing, you can’t help but to look a relationships that took a wrong turn somewhere. Were they happy like you once? Was there something they didn’t see? The truth is – relationships are frightening, even when you are happy. I see Scott Baio, 45, and Single, and part of me has a fear. But my girlfriend and I talk about it, and the simple answer we come up with is – talk about it, no matter how frightening it is and do as little thinking about it as possible. Fly blind, because I’ll watch out for her and she’ll do the same. Thinking? I don’t need to do any stupid thinking?

Kristalyn said, "Think about when you tell this story of your first pet and how great it will be for your childrent to hear."

So let me begin the story. I walked towards the security guard and said, "This is the first time I've ever brought a pet on-board. How do I go about this?" He told me to take the animal out of the carrier and walk through with it. Take her out of the carrier? It was a frightening thought, what if she ran or what if she decided that now - in Hopkins International Airport, that at this precious moment that it was appropriate to relieve herself. So I reach in and attempted to pull her out of the soft, black carrier. She on the other hand thought, no - I'm good in her. She latched herself and made herself wide. People were looking at us and I instructed them to move around us. It was a time when I reminded myself, "I love you Rain. I love you Rain." I imagine that they use this in therapy for anger management and serial killers. Reinforcement against the uncontrollable urges to commit violence.

I pulled her out and she straighten her arms and legs, all the while watching the world in utter fear. She was naked to the world. The guards, in their moment of lapse, were falling overselves trying to pet the cat.

"She looks like Sylvester the Cat."

"What breed is she?"

I smiled and asked for some help putting her back into the carrier, and sat at the gate next to a women who was going to school at Cornell. She wanted to know about pet travel. She was from San Francisco and was moving in with her boyfriend. She said, "Have you ever heard of Colgate, OH?" I said "Yes." But the I never heard of it, but I could imagine it - it might be a small town with rolling hills and the only buildings in town are a church, a Walmart, and a Home Depot. The next nearest town is probably half an hour away. I told her, "Yeah - I'm doing the same thing. I'm moving for someone. But at least we'll never see snow."

The plane ride was fine - they even showed Blades of Glory. I wonder what Wil Ferrell's wife is like? Is she a blind mute from the mountains of Tibet? I don't know if I could call a person like that my beloved, or maybe they just laugh all the time, I'd like to think that's it. A lot of my friends are in these relationships - I don't know what they're like when they're alone, but I wonder if they laugh as much as Lindsay and I do. I thought about little things like that on the plane to calm myself.

All was well, until the last hour of the flight when I felt something hit my leg and my firs reaction was that Rain broke out of the carrier, but it wasn't the case. She had actually ripped a small hole into the side. She could only fit an arm and she pulled and tugged until the hole got bigger. I shook the bag, I put ice on her arm, I petted her, but it wasn't until the plane started the desent that she started to calm down. Actually, she was scared stiff. We got off the plane, I checked for pee, poop, and puke - in that order and then made my way to see Lindsay. I'm glad I'm here, but I really don't want to deal with anymore stress. I don't have the nerves for it.

My father and I spent a lot of time together during the preparation for the move. Calling car companies in order to ship the car, figuring out cost, looking into selling the house verses renting the house, and which place was the better vet. Safe to say, we were working on each other's last nerves. But I do get it - why we fight. We're both passionate and we both want to do what's best, but what we want sometimes isn't what the other believes is the good idea.

It's only now, in San Diego with some down time on my hands can I see it. It's never possible to see the better, the truth, the reasoning of things, because when your in midst of it all - you can't see past your nose. He handed me some paper work, and I thank him for the past month of help. With all my friends wanting to say good-bye, really it was just my father and I. We moved the refrigerator, the furniture, and the dressers. The entertainment stand fell on top of us. We took down the lights. We moved Kimberley's things out of the house, and then he drove the truck out to Cincinnati and made it back that same night after moving it all in. He said, "I want her apartment to feel comfortable on her first night in."

Again, it's only now can I see what he did for me and for my sister. If I'm only half of him - I'd be content. What is he doing right now - he's taking his friend to the Cleveland Clinic in order to see if the pains in his chest are cancer or circulatory related. That's my father.