Well That Was A Nice Refreshing...Day

Yeah, I'm thinkin' I'm not happy.

Counting from midnight on Val-Day, roughly the last time we talked, I have now gone 40 hours without a single word, spoken or written, from LJ. He came in last night well after I was in bed; when I left this morning, he was still asleep. No calls, no voice mails, no text messages. Nothing. I have made attempts--text messages and notes--with no reply.

This is not, should you wonder, because he's pissed at me. He's not. This is how it ALWAYS is.

I had that fucking dream AGAIN last night. I'm starting to hate the thought of sleep.

(Although, to be fair, THAT dream was preceded by one in which I was cuddling on a couch with Clint Eastwood, which: WTF? This is what happens when you eat pot roast at 11 PM while watching "Aqua Teen Hunger Force". Which is my new favoritemost show, ever.)

And then.

I got to work this morning and I'd left my IM signed in overnight. I do that, being a flake. There was this message from a name I sorta recognized...

Back about a year ago, before I even made this blog public, there was this guy I was talking to. We were going to go for coffee...(my history with "coffee" notwithstanding)...but...okay, I don't know WHAT happened. He thinks I blew HIM off, I maintain that HE blew ME off, and....whatever. I was pissed. More at myself, for where I thought at the time I was heading with it, than even with him. It was a weird time.

Today, a year later, he IMs me. Like nothing much ever happened. Still funny, still talkative, still a fellow tech geek...all the stuff that made me interested in the first place. Still interested.

And here's me--40 hours with not a word from the guy who supposedly loves me (but has said it ONCE in not-quite-two years); dreaming of rejection about twice a week; sneaking up on Officially Fucked In The Head. They say when you get the same consensus from a number of people, you should consider whether or not it's true, and the signals I've gotten from the last few men in my life have been clear: girl, you ain't all that.

One of the more-recent Zorn mentions for this blog said:

A lot has been written lately about Web logs as political force, as new media and so on. But let's not forget the blog-as-literature idea, one that I get every time I check in with a locally written effort known as "The Story of Why."

This site is a live, serial reality novel that takes us into the head and the heart of a working-class Chicago woman whose life has been kind of a mess, in many respects, but who burns with a desire to put things right.

And I often think about that characterization, simply because I'm not 100% sure it's completely accurate.

I'm not sure I'm so much about putting my mess right; in fact, in my more self-aware moments I'm pretty sure I'm intent on doing just the opposite.

Not so much making the same mistakes over again--just finding new ones. All the mistakes there are.

'Cause what I'm doing now? Ain't workin'.