The Amazonian Vibe: A strange realization

The last few weeks have been a little strange for a plethora of reasons, most dominant amongst them being the fact that the wifi in my mom's apartment mysteriously stopped working. So I have no Internet access, and no way of updating at home, which is where I usually end up writing because there is never any time when I'm elsewhere. And my standard setting is 'lethargic,' so I have little motivation to leave my nest at the best of times, least of all when it's rainy and cold and very unwelcoming out in the real world. It's been that way for the past few days, but that's not really an excuse. In fact, I have no excuses; I simply feel as though it's easier to stay in bed and do absolutely nothing day after day.

The cleanse didn't turn out precisely as expected, since I have no wifi, and other things occurred that impeded my progress as a healthy, happy hippy. These things will be explained in due time. Let me begin with what I think is most pertinent, however.

The book situation: bleak. I'm still working on The Name of the Rose. Not because it's boring. In fact, I'm finding it one of the most interesting books I've picked up in some time. I just have very little time to myself right now, and that small amount of time is being taken up by other hobbies that I've been collecting. I decided to make bread for a full week a while ago. After that, I decided I wanted to knit again, so I started knitting a scarf before making anything for anyone I know.

I've been spending a lot of time in my head recently, thinking about what I want to do with my life and whether I'm going anywhere worthwhile. I think I am, but there's no way to know for sure, of course. I try to lead my life so that I won't regret too much when I'm done, but things always slip through the cracks. I still haven't gotten my cute Dutch bike, which is a little sad, because I definitely don't have the money to pay for gas right now. And on top of the money issues, my phone has stopped working normally altogether, so even though I've gotten phone calls asking for interviews, I haven't been able to respond to them since no one leaves voicemails. And when they e-mail me (because that's on my resume, as well) I can't read the e-mails until about a week later, because I don't have wifi, and have a work schedule, so I can't find Internet when I need it.

The last few days, I've been playing house in Greeley. I remember writing that I spent an amazing day with a friend last week, and that some things happened that I'd rather not think about. Since this is about the most private place I can think of (ha!), I thought I'd take the opportunity to vent about my emotions here.

So, this guy and I dated before I left for Europe. It was an exceedingly vanilla relationship. We did things, had some similar interests, and some vaguely comparable outlooks on life, but that's where the resemblance ended. We had fun sometimes, but it was like a large wall stood between us. Like at school dances, where the chaperones put a giant balloon between the couples to ensure Puritanical morality is upheld. I broke up with him shortly before I left because it wasn't fair to him to have a girlfriend half a world away, and in part because we had nothing to talk about during the few instances when we did converse, and the phone would fade to utter silence. Also, on top of everything, the relationship was long-distance. It was a bit comical.

After I came back, I met him halfway between our homes, and we spent a day together. I knew he had a new girlfriend since we'd seen each other last, and that depressed me a bit, but there was nothing to be done. He was taken. And I was so ridiculously frustrated because he finally opened up to me. It was as if there was a switch in his head that read 'relationship,' and when it was switched off, he was an actual person. It was kind of glorious.

We planned on going to concerts together over the summer, and all sorts of random hangouts. He confessed that the main reason he was with his girlfriend was to get over our relationship, and I encouraged him to attempt to make the best of it, kicking myself in the head the entire time because what I really wanted to say ran something along the lines of "break up with her and ask me out now, k thnx bai." But I'm a generally nice person. So I told him to make the best of things, and that there was a reason that they were together, and all of that good stuff, because everyone knows that people deserve chances, and things happen for reasons. And we said goodbye. And I drunk dialed him, and obsessed with all of my friends, and thought about facebook stalking him, and maybe looked at their pictures together and was upset because I didn't know if they were serious or not, and finally he came to see me and we had another friend date day.

Thor was amazing. Freaking epic. I made fun of him and almost got him to stop talking to me because I suggested a cross-over with the Green Lantern (DC Marvel cross is sacrilege!) and he walloped me soundly in chess. Thrice. And it was amazing, again. I played him the playlist I made when I was really sad about the fact that he would never be with me again under the guise of a random casual playlist, though I think the message came through. And then we went into my room and cuddled and one thing led to another and we kissed. A lot.

I feel like a terrible person, because I knew that he had a girlfriend. I knew that said girlfriend hated me (with good reason, it turns out) and that he wasn't as into her as she was to him. And I still went ahead and did what I wanted. Though I felt guilty, he didn't ask me out immediately. That assays the terrible bad person-ness I'm feeling regarding the entire situation.

From there, I made plans to go see him and help him and one of my best friends move into their apartment. I went up on Sunday night, and only came back yesterday night, in all spending four days and three nights with him. Straight. And I'm not sick of him.

Putting an apartment together is a lot of fun. Especially when you're in the phase of merely adding, instead of finding a way to store things. I cooked every night, and felt like their kitchen is entirely my place in the house. I helped decorate all of the communal areas, starting from the bathroom and working through the living room and kitchen. I picked out artwork for the walls, and put together a bookshelf from wood planks and cinder blocks. I played guitar and knit and felt like I was home. I didn't want to leave.

While this entire experience might very well be a pathetic and juvenile attempt at escape from my life, much like reading, or the trip to Europe, I think there's something real here. He came down to see me last night, and I realized as soon as I saw him that I'd missed him an unreasonable amount. We went to see my very good friends and stayed out until late, then came back to my house, and this morning woke up very late. He brought one of my best friends (his roommate) along, and we spent the day together in the rain, speaking, and eating, and bike shopping, and visiting puppies at the mall. Now we're at the book store, and my friend is talking about her relationship issues, and I'm writing, and he's sitting nearby with a book, legitimately concerned with her life, and offering the best advice he can possibly consider. And I love this man. I can't believe I'm that girl. Maybe being soft and vulnerable isn't as bad as I always thought it was.