lonely lovely city

lonely lovely city

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

I saw her again. And, again. And, yet again.

Why are the people from our past often dragged out from under their rocks and placed into our orbit? A couple of months ago, I devoted an entire post about my former psychotic friend who deliberately snubbed me as I called out to her. Well, she has done it again.

Last week as I walked home, I found her in front of me as I recognized her massive, curly blonde hair. I didn't want her to see me because I was over it and her and the very thought of seeing her face made me nauseous. So, I walked behind with my iPod on in hopes she would soon fade. Of course, she didn't.

Somehow, she managed to stop on the sidewalk and look back and then laugh alongside her friend. I wanted to walk faster, so I could step on one of her heels, but opted to remain an adult and just keep my pace. Finally, when the light turned green on Ave A, she inadvertently crossed, leaving me with just enough time to bail. I kept wondering why I had to see her again at that exact moment. Why? Why did she have to cross my path on that block at that moment when NYC is a plethora of people and streets and action?

A few days later, I was in line at a cafe, waiting for an iced tea when I saw her in front me. Why out of all the cafes in Manhattan did I have to see her? And, at that exact time? Don't even get me started. In spite of the humidity, I dashed outside and found another place. Luckily, she didn't infiltrate me with her devious stare.

Then, this morning as I walked past Tompkins Park, I saw her again. Even though she wore tacky sunglasses, her trademark hair boldly announced itself. For a few seconds, she looked over at me and grinned, then walked away with a certain satisfaction.

As I continued to walk while adjusting to the heat, I was angry and confused, considering if she was my personal stalker. I almost feel that I have to confront this psycho if I want closure. It seems that the unsolved issues from my past keep rooting back up until they are finalized and complete. I am not sure what to do. Given my track record, I am bound to run into her again since she lives three avenues and five streets down. I just can't get over how every minute makes a difference. It almost reinforces the notion of how we are meant to meet certain people at specific periods in our life.

I am wishing to the magical universe that she doesn't cross my orbit for awhile. Whatever happened to Manhattan where you are lost in abyss of millions, where one can just blend without being seen or noticed?

Every step we take leads us to something, whether one wants to readily admit it. I feel it more and more. I want to take this challenge and just say, "Fuck it."

So, what if I see her? Yes, she is annoying and immature, possibly vile for being so blunt about her dismissal of me. But, she is a person who is entitled to her NY space, just as much as I am. I just hope for the sake of karma, I don't say something horrible to her as I am probably bound to run into her...AGAIN!

Sunday, July 17, 2011

Adapting to change...

On Friday, my beloved radio station, WRXP, signed off the air due to a buy out from a media conglomerate. I discovered this as I cleaned my apartment when a listener called in to commiserate. I couldn't believe it. I sat on the corner of my hardwood floor and listened while I was in utter shock, placing my trembling hands over my ears. It was the only alternative music choice of its kind here in NYC. After three years of loyal listening, BAM, GONE, just like that.

Here's the thing, I will get over it. In the grand scheme of objectivity, it is nothing. But, in the meantime, I am in mourning.

Out of nowhere this announcement developed within a matter of days. As someone who relied on WRXP for endless all nighters of studying and writing and over analyzing why I don't have a partner, it was there for me, without fail. Even when I would awake from bed, the radio dial was the the first thing I touched, and often the last thing before I signed off. The unique tunes, along with the passionate and lively DJ"s created this unstoppable vehicle where just having it in the background was an added comfort to an already packed day, jammed with concerns and responsibilities.

The constants in our lives often dissipate rather quickly. And, there is nothing I can do. Adapting to change is difficult. Call it what you want. While I thrive on specific changes such as updating the clothes I wear or the restaurants I frequent or even the routes I walk, it is the big ones that throw me off and send me into a fetal position where all I want to do is close my eyes and ponder.

Certain friends who you ceaselessly imagined would be there, suddenly dissolve, never to be heard of again. Or, sometimes, the building that you loved and cherished that you rented is being sold to a developer where you have 30 days to vacate. Or, the place where you work is kaput, out of business. The things that surround us all change. While the space itself might remain intact, the contents change.

Change is traumatic because I had so much of it in my childhood with being continually hospitalized and during the transition to my adulthood, which wasn't pretty. I had so many things, familial, health and other personal issues that had to be addressed without any support system. As an adult, it seemed all I did was move to new place or start a new job or form numerous relationships, most of which didn't pan out, because I was geographically solving my problems. I thought that if my environment changed, I would. I did change with some of the eventual choices I made. But, it threw me off, scraping to get by, figuring out how I will get out of it.

Now, that I have carved a small world here in NYC, I can't help wonder when that will change. What will the catalyst be for my personal growth? The older I get, the more I realize how nothing is beyond my control. The only thing I can actually manage is my emotions and thoughts. I am not responsible for the progression or regression of things or individuals.

My challenge is to embrace personal change, even when I reject the notion. This reality poses an initial threat to my comfort zone, but what is a thirty something single gay guy supposed to do? Through the impending change that awaits, something good might come out of it. Perhaps during the nexus of transformation, positive things are waiting. Whether this would be a new group of friends, a new career, a new and encouraging partner, a fabulous flat, a new city or country, or even just a different state of mind, change is what moves us forward.

I have to remind myself that many horrible and sinister things are transpiring in the world every exhausting minute that negate the seemingly serious drama of my own life. As I read the news each day, I am reminded of how small some of my problems are. I feel for the people who are senselessly murdered and taken from their families and the people that are financially suffering due to an oppressive economy which doesn't seem to be flourishing at all in the near future.

I am alive. I am working. I am self-sufficient. I am loved, by some. And, I am fulfilling my personal goals of becoming a writer. In the end, it is all relative. Change, that is. I just have to believe in it. Otherwise, what is the point?

Saturday, July 9, 2011

Faking it...

I came across an article about confidence. It states that when one is on the verge of dating someone, it is necessary to fake a little bit of the latter. Personally, I have known this tactic for awhile. But, I have yet to fully apply to it my own social skills.

Naturally, I began to think of my dating life. Basically, it is non-existent. My excuses? Work and School. What I will say is my last date happened within the last several months. Suffice it to say, it was interesting, but rather, unpleasant.

He kept talking about why he left San Francisco, how much he hated it there, why he feels it is his mission to tell everyone he is gay, how fucked up people are regarding communication, and how important his dog is, and how I need to understand all of it. Mind you this was packed into an hour where I politely stuffed my face with designer pizza, icy coke, and smiled while I nodded and listened, looking nonchalantly at my watch in hopes my time would soon end.

I felt I did a decent job of faking it when it was my turn to talk (trust me, it wasn't much). I tried to feel confident when talking about my return to college and how I wait tables to support myself while I become a writer. I did sense a bit of judgement with some of his comments, but I carried on. Confidence? Maybe. I told him it was my life's ambition to be a successful artist who is transglobal. I also said what I wanted in man: kindness, style, and intelligence.

My point? I faked a majority of what I wanted him to think and feel. Clearly,he wasn't boyfriend material from my end. But, it was an exercise. I need it desperately. The interaction of another interested party was something that stirred up my own insecurities about who I am, how I look and what I have achieved in my short life. This exercise pushed me to filter out the things I don't want him to know.

The whole confidence thing is universal. I know many who are ultra confident, embellishing their lives to a large extent. Yes, they stretch the truth and come across as somewhat arrogant. But, at the end of the day, they have more than what others want: a possible relationship, hopefully, one that includes benefits.

Since that date, I've been working on my confidence here and there. When speaking to others, I look in their eyes and don't steer away. I just wish I knew how to master it. The more I thought about this article, the more I realize how I need to fake it in the faucets of life that matter. There were several passed opportunities that I didn't pursue due to my lack of confidence. It is something I've had to work on since childhood. Just because I don't exude gobs of it, doesn't indicate I don't have it somewhere from within.

I would love to be one of these gay men who go up to another guy and just hold myself in the highest form when I am in public and want to talk to him. While it is great, what happens afterwards when you are with that someone and they see your true self, open and raw? Fake it?

While I agree it works, it becomes laborious, if not arduous. I just wish there was a balance where you faked it to a certain point, and gradually allow yourself to be seen.

Does faking confidence illicit a good partner or even a career? Does faking it entitle you to a life that you might not want after all? To be continued...