You know, sometimes I'm just bored and lonely.

NOT THINKING

Well, so Matthew made what I consider a valid point, which is that I think too much--the context was something along the lines of he thinks too little and I think too much, so therefore if I had a right to ask him to think, he had a right to ask me to *not* think for two days. Valid point, and quite frankly not a bad idea. So I am making a valiant effort to *not think* for two days.

Obviously I can't just eliminate all thinking, you know, or I'd end up not performing normal bodily functions and that sort of thing, but he and I both know what he meant, and so that's what I'm attempting.

Not thinking is not as easy as it sounds. This is quite a challenge for me. I find myself having mental conversations that go something like this:



me: hmmmm. It doesn't look like I'll be able to make it to synagogue this morning after all. That was certainly a nice conversation I had with Laurence yesterday about religion. It's nice that we don't have any weird communication problems. I wonder if that's because he's gay and that I have communication problems with

me: DON'T THINK

me: Ooo, that's right. *pause*

me:

me:

me:

me: Hm...all right, here I am not thinking. Look at me! No thinking going on here! Nope! Not thinking at all. You know, I think that this is going to be healthy. I think that by the end of two days I'll have learned something about not thinking. I mean, already I can tell that by not thinking

me: You're thinking again. I cannot believe it. You are thinking about not thinking.

me: How tragically ironic.

me: Sad, really.

me: Well maybe just a *little* thinking is okay, you know, like just thinking about not thinking, but not thinking about the other things in life, you know, although not thinking will really sort of affect

me: you're doing it again.

me: oh.

me:

me:

me: ...would you look at that billboard.



You get the idea.

Incidentally, I am going to try another Messianic Jewish Congregation. They meet on Saturday mornings as opposed to Friday nights, so I'm thinking that I might be able to get there. At any rate, I'm going to try next week. Unfortunately, I didn't get directions until about 9:00 this morning, and the services start at 10:30, and it turns out that it will take me well over 2 hours to get there, so I will have to try for next week.

The nice thing about this congregation is that the person in charge is a woman. In the past I might not think of that as such a good thing, but after the last experience with the racist group, I'm thinking--well, this might be a bit on the assumptive side, but it seems like a group that's outrageously liberal enough to have a female rabbi couldn't possibly be racist. I think racism tends to go a lot more with right-wing than left. So I'm hoping that is the case here.

That was another one of my "I am not going to think" things this morning. Went like this:

me: I'm sure glad that there's a woman rabbi. I mean, I know there are strictures against women in teaching positions, but you know, I'm a woman, and well, there are a lot of men who are stupider than me. I mean, I'm certainly not qualified to teach, mostly because for one thing I don't lead a pristine life, and for another, I am unwise--oh, Matthew called me wise last night, which is funny since it's so blatantly untrue--I mean, a lot of our problems are caused by complacent him meeting overanalytical me, and so I'm 50% to blame for

me: You're doing it again.

me: dang.

me:

me:

me: Is this like an addiction? Am I crazy or something?

me: Ah, grasshopper, but that, too, is thinking.

me: dang.

Anyway, I'm meeting friends today for a Buffy party. I brought over the musical, and someone else has a bunch of old episodes, so we are going to get together and watch them. This will be fun! I've found that I don't think so much when I'm just out having fun. Not having a job, and not having any money, and not knowing too many people in this new city, well...that's a lot of alone time, with limits on things to do. Not the best situation for someone trying to overcome a tendency to overanalyze.

But I have cookies! Doctor's orders!

It was rumored that I might get paid for my contract work yesterday. I haven't heard anything yet, and my bank's online banking thingy is broken, so I don't actually know yet. I wish I did, because if they deposited money in my account, I might just take myself out shopping for something small. Nothing big, because I'm sort of enjoying this whole miser rate thing, but one can take things too far.

I haven't seen the roommate, Peter, in a couple of days, by the way. He's called me a couple of times to go over things and that, but he's had a busy week and so have I, so that's that.

At any rate, I don't want to stay indoors any longer, so I'm off. Wish me luck.

I have cookies!

HAPPINESS

Have I mentioned how much I love Laurence? If I haven't said so lately, let me say so now. I am so fortunate to have found such a good friend. I really needed to have someone like him around right now.

Anyway, backing up.

Last night I went to dinner with my friends Sarah and Martin, and then we went out to see this jazz quintet at a pub. I have decided that one can talk about jazz all day long, and about all of the different classifications of it, but I think it really breaks down into two types: the kind that sounds like people have gone to Berkeley and studied jazz, a sort of "academic" sound, and the kind that sounds like it comes from the streets.

These guys were the kind of academic jazz. Most of the musicians were not bad, but the piano player was out of this world. Absolutely fantastic. We had a great time, although there was this terribly annoying couple sitting right in front of the band, and spending the evening talking *over* the band. I mean, in order to hear one another over the band, they were practically shouting. I wanted to smack them, but instead we glared at them, and neither one ever turned around to benefit from our wrath. Unfortunately.

I was a little self-conscious because recently a friend told me that I am so friendly that she's sure I've made many friends over here already. So there was this moment when the barkeep was chatting me up when I realized that I had been talking to this complete stranger for about 15 minutes, and I was suddenly just self-aware. Oh, well. When I got back to the table, Martin made some comment to Sarah about how the cute bartender had been hitting on me, and I realized that I have no idea what's considered "cute" over here. Not that I'd probably notice anyway; I had obviously not noticed the barkeep's looks.

Anyway, I ended up almost fainting in the tube station on the way home. I was really worried for a moment there, because I came terribly, terribly close to losing consciousness and I was rushing to catch the last train.

I'm an idiot.

So I've spent most of the day today with Laurence, which was really nice because I can't tell you how much I needed it. We started out walking through Covent Garden, and then we ended up going to this house that had been built by and lived in by this famous architect, and he had collections of various paintings and architectural elements inside, and all in all it was just a fabulous place. Then we went to a pub and spent hours and hours talking and laughing; everything from serious conversations about religion to silly conversations about the downfalls of living with roommates. We walked around for ages after that, and ended up in the British Museum, and then walked and talked some more, and then eventually parted.

It was such a nice day. I have had such a lovely time, and the wind was blowing, but it was warm, and it was just wonderful and happy.

I think there's a reason my best friends are always gay men.

HAPPY DAYS

I was going to post something happy here, you know, to sort of counter the rest, but I'm meeting Laurence in a couple of minutes, and I'm going to be late. We're going to go play.

I'll update you later.

DISAPPOINTMENT

Matthew and I had a long conversation on the telephone the night before last, and it was really nice. There were so many things that I'd been trying to talk to him about for a long time, and it was like he'd finally heard what I was saying. He apologized for things that had happened, and by the time we hung up, I felt like I'd gotten everything I'd ever wanted. It was like Christmas or something.

Right before we hung up, I asked him what he'd want going forward, in a perfect world, and he asked me what I'd want in a perfect world. I said that it was a hard question for me, because the things I really wanted all would have had to have happened a few months ago, and you know, it's not like there's anything that can make that up to me now. I said that I *wished* there was something I could ask for to make it up.

He said he wished that as well, because he wished he could make it up to me. I believe he meant it. And he asked me if there was anything at all.

So I thought about it, and I said, yeah, actually, I can think of a couple of things that would sort of make things up to me. I was surprised, but it was like I suddenly realized that there *was* something I wanted. Then I said that I'd just say what I wanted, and I wasn't telling him that he had to do any or all of it, but that I would just say it and he could decide.

Firstly, I wanted to know if he had any of our old email correspondence saved, and if so, I'd like him to go back through it and read it. He said he did, and he would.

Then, I said, and this is more important, I'd like you to really think about things. Important things. The things I'd written to you in my letter, or religion, or politics, or whatever--it didn't really matter. Just to spend a little bit of time every week thinking about important things. That I'd like him to call me or write me or meet me once a week and tell me about what he'd been thinking about, but that even if he didn't feel comfortable doing that, that was okay, just as long as he did the thinking part. I won't tell you why I asked him for any of this, but he understood it, and he understood why it was important to me.

He said he'd do that, too. He said, "You know, I can even start reading the emails at work tonight--oh, wait, I won't be near a computer tonight."

I said, "That's okay. The thinking part is the thing that really matters to me anyway, and you can do that without a computer."

He said he understood, and he'd do it.

It was so wonderful. In a lot of ways, that's all I ever really wanted, and I was so happy.

Anyway, so yesterday, I was talking to him, and he didn't mention anything about our conversation of the day before. I kind of casually asked him what he did at work the night before, and he said that he and his coworkers talked about the usual work-related stuff, and we chatted about random stuff for a while.

Finally, a while later, I asked him, "Matthew, are you going to do the thinking thing?" and he shrugged indifferently and said, "Eventually," and started to walk away.

I felt so disappointed.

I think he's forgotten about the email thing, but that's all right, because it wasn't very important anyway. It was just a small thing that I wanted for myself. I'm not going to say anything about it--I really want for him to think about things, and if that's it, then that's sufficient for me, and I'll be content.

But I guess I know that he won't unless I keep asking. I know he meant it when he said that he wanted to make things up to me, but I guess I also know now that he only meant it until he hung up the telephone. (NB:It's not that he's deliberately being hurtful or anything. When I say that he only meant that he wanted to make things up to me for the time that he was on the telephone, it's just that, well, he's like...an infant in that "out of sight out of mind" stage. Once someone or something goes out of the room, they forget it exists. It's not deliberately mean or insensitive. It's just a blankness.) And if I ask him to think about things now, I'll just be nagging. And I don't want to nag someone to do something to "make it up to me."

I probably will anyway. I know that sounds kind of stupid, but if he does actually think about things, sure, he'll feel like I'm nagging and he'll eventually learn to hate me as much as he resents me. But there's the possibility that once he really starts thinking about things, that he'll develop a taste for it, and maybe he'll talk to someone else about things, and he'll be better for it, even if I don't get to be around to see any of it. And way down underneath it all, it's something I want for him more than for myself anyway. So if he hates me, but he ends up being better for it, then I still get what I want. So I'll do something that I know he doesn't want me to do, and I will watch him learn to hate me for it, and I'll know that I'll lose the half that's for my own completely selfish happiness; but that's gone and destroyed already anyway. It's only for a few weeks.

I know that logic, or the normal rules of life, say that the smart thing to do would have been to go along with my original plan and just walked away and never talked to him again. But I just feel and felt that there was this tiny glimmer of hope that if I just talked to him one more time, that he'd think about things, and then I could leave and feel like he was going to be all right.

What logic says is that what's going to happen is that I'm going to keep asking him to think about things, and he's going to keep giving me breezy responses when I do. And he might come up with something to say to me, just so that he doesn't have to hear me nag, but it will just be some kind of cursory attempt, more of a cheating on an exam than a study. And he'll do it breezily enough to let me know that I should take the hint and not press it. And eventually I'll stop trying, and then I'll cry a little, and eventually I'll give up and go away. I know that it will hurt me less in the long run to leave now, I know that's what I should do.

But there's the tiniest little chance that it won't happen that way.

Maybe the only thing I can salvage from this car wreck is a cigarette lighter, but I'm going to do my darnedest to save it. I can't help it. Andy says my inability to give up on people is charming, but I have pointed out to him that it's only charming when it's not directed at you. It's annoying as heck when it is.

I know this is a lost cause anyway. I know you can't try to think about things *for* someone else. I know that if he's going to get anything out of thinking about things, it's going to have to be because he decides on his own that it's something that he wants to do for himself. But I'm just enough of a starry-eyed idealist to think that maybe if he does it just once, that he'll then want to do it for himself.

And when we were talking on the telephone, it was really obvious that he had already thought about things a little, and he said a couple of times that he felt badly about things, and about what he had done, and he'd have to think about them and about how not to do them in the future. So I just felt like maybe he'd already started, and so it wasn't really lost after all.

I know, I know. Please don't say it. I know.

Hearing him yesterday made all of my Christmas feelings seem so naive and dumb in retrospect. I mean, I had really cried, I was so happy.

Whatever happens, I know that the next few weeks are going to have painful and disappointing moments. But it's worth it, to me, to try. It's something I really want.

I feel like the main problem here, though, is that I've wanted things. If I could get myself to stop wanting things, then I wouldn't ever feel disappointed.

After all, wanting things is selfish anyway.

SICK THOUGHTS

So anyway, I got really sick. As you know, the day after Matthew and I broke up, I didn't feel much like eating, but unfortunately, I hadn't eaten much for a while anyway, and so the end result is that Thursday night found me dragging myself across the kitchen floor to prop my head up on my arm and try to eat something, because raising my head resulted in fainting.

I managed to feel better by the next day, but even though I was eating every single day, evidently I wasn't eating enough, because by the night before last, I was back on the kitchen floor, only this time it was even worse. I've basically spent the last 24 hours having difficulty remaining conscious, but I'm better now.

Anyway, I went to a doctor yesterday because I was in *really* bad shape and I just wanted to make sure that eating and drinking orange juice really is sufficient to keep me out of the hospital, and she basically told me that I'll probably be all right, but that I need to keep a box of cookies with me at all times, and that the minute I start to feel faint, I need to eat a cookie.

A doctor has ordered me to keep cookies around at all times and eat them. Every prayer of my life has been answered!

Anyway.

So, if you've never fainted from malnutrition, let me tell you, it's a terribly unpleasant experience. I mean, fainting sounds like this fairly innocuous thing. But when it's malnutrition, you wake up feeling like you've been sitting on both your arms and legs wrong, and they're all kind of numb and wobbly and feel awful. And you feel like your heart can't quite beat right, and you're pretty certain you're about to die, and you feel just plain awful all over, and then everything goes whooshing like someone's pouring water over your head, and you find yourself heading toward the floor.

It's awful.

And it goes on for hours and hours and hours. Eating something doesn't just make you feel better right away. You feel like this, and you can't sleep it off. It's just miserable.

The reason I'm telling you this is that I was lying there and started thinking about how awful this was and how could it get any worse and I hope it doesn't get worse and what must dying feel like dying must feel worse and although I'm not afraid of death per se the process must be pretty bloody awful and I hope I don't have to live through this for very long and what if death takes a long time.

So I decided that if I was going to die, beheading would be a pretty good way to go. I mean, it is pretty instantaneous.

So then I started thinking about all of the political things that end in beheading, and really, that's not such a bad thing, if you think about it. I mean, we all have to die eventually, and if you're going to go, why not do something worth fighting for, and then getting beheaded?

Granted, if there was torture or something first, that would be a real bummer. But the actual beheading part is kind of nice. You don't have to go through any of this hours of fainting and feeling like *that*, and it's just all over really quickly.

Then I realized that I was seriously trying to figure out what kinds of things I could do to make the planet a better place and get myself beheaded.

I have decided that it is a very bad idea to make major life decisions, or career choices at any rate, when you're sick.

I don't know if I mentioned this, but one of the things I find fascinating here are the different brand names. For example, almost everyone I know has something in their kitchen called "Aromatic Fairy," and nobody finds this amusing at all. (It's a dishwashing liquid, incidentally.)

Far more entertaining, however, are the product descriptions. In the United States, we generally have usage instructions or whatever printed in the standard English and then the occasional French and/or Spanish. But here, there are generally eight to ten different languages, and some of these, I swear, are not actual languages at all, but just words someone has made up to be funny. And by "to be funny," I mean, of course, at my expense.

For example, my bath soap contains the following product description/usage instructions: "Gebruik DOVE Cream Bar als een toilet-zeep. In tegenstelling tot gewone zeep droogt Dove..."

I'm sorry, but that is totally made up. You cannot convince me otherwise.

No way is "toilet-zeep" a word.

Well, if you will excuse me, I must go now and purchase some cookies. I wouldn't, you know, but my doctor insists.