Tag Archives: Berkeley

Distractions

I have many things I have neglected explaining lately and I want to but I’m super distracted by the caffeine high from the Espresso Roma on College. And the man that just walked by me with a large mop of pubic hair on his chin. It was long enough to sway precociously in the wind. I had to put my iced americano down and look at the blue sky a moment to cleanse my head and palette.

It has been a whirlwind of a month, or two. It’s streaming together. Have I already said whirlwind? I think I say that to everyone who asks how I’m doing. Martha has been untrackable due apparently to a lost cell phone. Everyone on the farm, if they listen anything to the lying cheat who runs the place, have an idea through false rumor that I had sexual relations with a professor in Spain, which is funny because the craziest I was in Spain was to seduce a high strung Catholic law student Spaniard two years older than me, and go to discotecas and museums together. But when I confronted my dad’s friend, the farm “charity” man, he just blamed a woman who used to live on the farm years ago and, again apparently, has no number or phone or something, so he has no way of contacting the rumor-creator. However, as I am pretty sure I never spent more than half an hour on the farm after my trip to Spain in 2003, until recently of course, than I think this is hogwash, from my innate detective intuition anyway, (based on Sherlock Holmes, a dreamer’s intuition, not to be trusted).

The funny thing about the farm and the mercantile and the New Jersey experience is what people say when I explain it to them (people such as my new roommate in Berkeley, and my mom, and Andy in New York and Jens in Germany)….I forget who I told what, but I try to make it clear that I wanted help to get to New York and quit a damn good art school in Portland to go at the request of my dad’s old friend (they were in the military in Spain together, he introduced my parents). And so I went with him to New York via Guatemala (which is why my cat had to stay in California with a stranger and he never sent her for a month), and yet it was New Jersey and not New York, and the job I had didn’t really exist. I guess a young, struggling organic chinese food company has no need for a creative director, especially one that wants to do more than be bullied by a taoist ex-wallstreet businessman who thinks he knows more about art and design than you because he has been given like a thousand business cards over the span of his career and can tell you what they should look like, and what a chinese-style conformist would wear to a Whole Foods tasting at the New York headquarters…
But all that aside I didn’t expect my dad’s friend to recommend writing an email to the head of the company/ taoist businessman is response to his demanding artistic needs that would immediately get me dismissed as creative director, and I further didn’t expect him to never pay me, to call me self-centered, to throw my dad’s achievements in my face, and to guilt trip me into going to his other failing business in a little town called Angels Camp (yes creepy) in Eastern California that was being ran by emotional retards into oblivion. I had made it clear from the beginning I was not interested in being a member of Buttercup Farms(ok creepy) and that I only was requesting help, only if it was given willingly, to get to the east coast and find a connection with a creative job. That was the only incentive to leave my kick ass, however pretentious and expensive school gig in Portland. And trusting that this day in Guatemala and this stint in New Jersey with Chinese workaholics was leading to something good, and that all of his talk about my parents’ unhappy marriage and negativity was leading to something, I dived into the initial job with only a few nightmares and regrets. I mean i did have a limbo relationship to leave behind in Oregon, and this was half difficult and half exhilarating…complicated.
Anyway, this is probably not making any sense. I should have written more before now but I was worried about the implications. I had to get out of Angels Camp to begin with.
When I was guilt tripped into going there I was asked if I was happy, and I said, no of course not, I didn’t want to be there. I was young, I was finally out of the Oregon limbo and I wanted to find love, find a good job, get on with my life. He said I was unfocused, confused, didn’t know what I wanted.
Really, John? (That’s his name).
I said I love photography and writing. I have been studying them both for years now. I know two places I would love to live, San Francisco/Bay Area or New York. I know two things I would love to find a career in, photography and writing.
So, I’m unfocused? Or I just don’t share your focus. And I’m negative? Because he said in an email titled “Something you need to hear”: “I think all you are going to do in Angels Camp is spread your negativity. I don’t think it is the place for you. It has helped a lot of people and they love it. I think you are way to self centered to get any value out of being there. I am so fed up with your lack of gratitude and self righteousness.” If he is helping someone than that’s great. I know a girl there from Senegal who feels lost and bored and forced into volunteering so a $25 weekly stipened and empty promises to work at a company in New York are really just not fulfilling her dreams. I know a lady who was promised a bakery and has been talking in circles and waiting for a year. I know I personally asked not to go there and was dragged there and then told it wasn’t the place for me which I had already said if I had been listened to…and so “stick with me for a few years and you’ll be a rich woman” is not an incentive for me to scoop ice cream and dust shelves in an old store in a ghost town. I was never raped as a girl, I never had mad sexual relations with a professor, I never felt insecure and lost and unfocused enough to need the provided direction of a spiritual counselor businessman…so Buttercup Farms, so called charity that has yet to help anyone but likes to talk alot and associate itself with real charities like 10,000 Girls….please don’t try to capture me in your web and then call me negative and selfish for having different interests than you. And if I did call you a commune I was just feeling emotional. You can be whatever you want to be, just leave me out of it, all of the christian science bullshit, all of the empty promises, all of the charity associations, and love and smiles talk.
I hope that I can make an honest salary soon, and I hope I can afford to save all of my belongings which are currently trapped on the farm (near Mt Diablo actually)…before someone discovers this off the web waves, and burns it all!

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Maybe it’s not friendship…

“I must do something or I shall wear my heart away”. (Charles Dickens) I will name the five now: Loren, Michael, Josh, Sean, Adam, and Jeremy. And the whole names to boot. It will make it easier for my self-reflection. Let’s evaluate. First there was Loren. I fell in love! Haha, this deserves a blunt list to organize my brain:
1. Loren: me 19 english/philosophy major UO, him 22 psych major UCB, coworkers at calpirg in Berkeley, he’s my instructor first day, first day he’s wearing gold shorts, flamboyant, if he’s not gay I will like him I note…he is also laughing with a girl he later was gaga over though she had a beau…sex twice, ecstasy three times, overdose once, rejection: began after initial sex, and full-blown after second time….I knew from his words I was a good lover. What was it? My bad response: calls, gaga eyes, completely smitten, annoying…
2. Michael and Josh: neither was a coworker. Josh: friend of friend, came up to me, drunk at a party, sex many times the first night, hip hop music (I was in a hip hop phase, the roots, black eyed peas…) he cut his achilles in the shower, lots of blood, stitches…I consoled him with Billie Holiday, bad luck, Me: sold guitar, gas money to visit him at Western Oregon, beach night, sex. Michael comes along: smitten immediately. Sex: 0 times. Make out, beach, hot springs, popsicles, and cigarettes not to mention lemon drops: many many. Outcome: wishy washy Josh declines, I am wrapped up in Michael. He follows me on the street on campus. Gives me a flower behind the ear. “Youre mine for the day”. We meet at the library, he passes a note of ISBN numbers. And then an email. “Want to get popsicles sometime?” I have concluded romantics can be the most devastating. He nearly gives me a heart attack at the hot tubs, my heart is beating so fast with excited romantic feelings. I nearly puke. Michael maybe meets someone then, because a decline. I’m being a weirdo. I like him alot. He knows it, and no chase. He declines more, and then beings this girl Windsor to a party. She has a high-pitched voice and is chubby. I hate. Then he sees Josh, and weird moment, (friends circle stuff). But I moved to Spain. Good thing too because I was starting to be smitten again with a friend of mine and that was getting wonky too…(“men and women can never be friends, the sex part always gets in the way” I feel jealousy from this old movie quote and how true it is for some boys)….Michael is still my friend, he writes randomly, he’s married. Josh: meh, who knows. I hear he’s married. I really could care less.
3. Sean: barely noticed him at first. As usual, he pursued me, my regular charming cashier at Sundance. Everyone liked him, that big smile, those sparkling eyes. I was indifferent. And then a night: wine, red tie, walk in the dark, stories. I always want to move slow. I absorb things slowly. I react slowly. I lose my heart and recover it slowly. But I move into these things too fast. So Sean: sex maybe 4 or 5 times. What then? His ex back in town. Post ex: less communication. Our friendship and laughs: declined. Good bike trips and parties without jealousy: 0. Me: devastated. Next step: he gets me a job there, a great place, Sundance. Only problem: he’s there. Big problem. He puts up a wall and I am no longer a friend, I am a stranger, I might as well have the ebola virus. There is no escape. Quit a great job and delusionally believe it had never happened. Or face it until things smoothed over. His friends: fuckers. The outcome: keep job and eventually notice my gaga-eyed coworker Adam. And he noticed me months earlier.
4. Adam. Charming. Weird, graduated, 26, from Illinois. Long hair. Wild. Protective. Pretty eyes. Maybe this was the first time I was in love. Me: I move into his complex o the 2nd floor, he is on the 3rd. We run into each other in the hall. I’m carrying a spatula. He is standing in the stair well and has no idea why. He comes in. For several nights we stay up til dawn talking. We make out over an algebra book. Everything is heaven. He only has to explain once that he still has feelings for the married woman coworker and that he will never marry and have kids. I still really like him. Sex, I like him more. We move in together. Fights, passion, etc. I move to Korea, my cat dies. I’m devastated. He likes a girl. The new girl at work. They close the store together now. I am alone in a foreign country. I want to die, like my cat. I curse them. And then he calls and they didn’t work out. I can use my webcam again. We talk. I return and we’re on and off for months. I’m unemployed, a nomad, lost, confused. He wants space. Visits me in Ptown once a week, once a month, never. No more. The summer is a blank one. I wanted to camp, I wanted to make love. I wanted another night on the beach. I wanted a lot, and I felt blue but not the sky, more like an early Picasso with old weathered men and poor, hungry children. I felt hungry but too tired to consume anything. Just able to walk and walk and walk as if searching for the light at the end. And the biggest consolation was that the foreign country, the year of loneliness miles away form anything familiar, was over. And my power source came in the strength I had hadfor a moment there overseas feeling solitude with peace, knowing I would return to something, and being immersed in the moment, not expecting, wanting, or wishing. Just knowing that that was all there was then, and whatever was ahead would be good, and more familiar. But this was my freedom. And no one was there to reject me. I wasn’t interested in anyone but myself; in that was a sort of peace. But a temporary, lonely one. It was a blind spot. I wanted to return and find love…
5. Jeremy. Takes me off facebook. Such a little action and so painful! But woah, let’s back up. 9 months in Portland and no job. In Thailand I had spilled tea on my keyboard. Time passed and it came back to haunt me. Kernel panic and a dead ibook, and Ian, my old boss’s neighbor sets up my new macbook pro. I love it. Aluminum. Shiny. Black keys. Backlit LCD screen. Liquid crystals. That’s beautiful. I remember this boy with longish dark locks sitting next to Ian. He seemed unapproachable. Later it’s Ian who helps get me an interview when they’re hiring, and Dan hires me right off. I meet Jeremy and he says something rude. Bad start. But then later we talk. We have things in common. And he sculpts. And I picture him sculpting me with his hands, and I want it to happen. I am determined to get to know him. Little did I know his roommate liked me and I had to maneuver around that. And then we see a play and I snap something and it irks him and I think, well that’s it. And I email him and then…he wants to hang out with me! He wants to bake cookies with me! So we do, and we talk about everything and I want to move slow but I also want him to sculpt me with his hands. And so we well, we don’t move slow. And I tell him I’m sensitive. And he says so is he. And I tell him I am picky. And he is too. And I tell him I really like him but I just came out of a confusing heartbreaking affair and things are better slow, I grow slow. So does he he says. It’s perfect. So we jump right in. Time: 1 1/2 months. Breaker: I have herpes. Who knew…I guess Adam had it. I guess I hadn’t even realized that it was a lifetime disease. it doesn’t go away and Adam had it and I now had it and I had given it. Without a single problem of my own here he was and he was a big mess. And he tried to deal. And we hung out. And we even had sex again: once. And then I don’t know, something fell apart. Something clicked. He made a decision. And on the phone he said no more. And at work he was cold. And again a wall. And I was scared. Here it was again. That inevitable hurt. That wall. That deep core of pain. I felt like I had been punched. I could barely breath. Should I quit. I couldn’t. Look at the unemployment rate. I swung back and forth between hope and hopelessness. And the hope was the worst. It was the worst. Because it was shadowed in hopelessness. And shadowed by other failures. And I’m still lonely.
But I named five guys, three coworkers. I have neglected Tynan and Colin. I have nearly forgotten oh what’s his name, Gabe, and Pablo, and honestly can’t think of the guy who took my virginity’s name at the moment (oh, ahem, Thor)…But all these I told to mosey on, and didn’t think twice. And Tynan, man I really messed him up. But wasn’t he just obsessed. Isn’t this unrequited love a sort of obsession? He had all these ideas of me and our potential, but what did he really know? ANd why did he want to be with someone who so obviously had had a change of heart. And he was a puppy dog, and it was pathetic. And so looking at it from that perspective, I might see myself more clearly and I feel like a fool. So I’ll weep in silence, and bit my tongue from now on, because this behavior, this need to just at least talk, well, it’s so unbecoming, and I am so much better than that. Plus with all these guys to think back on, I’m sure if I had played it more cool I could have saved myself a lot of heartbreak and dignity if not created more moments of free-loving adventure. And I’m not a longterm loose-skirt, and now, well with the H, I suppose I’m pretty prude until well into something, but let’s just agree to have a little more self-respect shall we, and not try to hard at the things that are not going to be…But you know, Adam really is an exception in all of this, and I’m not saying he’s the Mr. Big to my Carrie alter-ego, but he certainly has come and gone a few times and remains one of my dearest friends. Because I suppose he knows me. Maybe it’s not friendship in the normal sense of the word, but I like him in my life, he holds a part of my heart even after all of it or maybe because….and the special glimmer in his eye for me, well, that has always remained and I for him, and that’s more than I can say for some.
But back to my little lone apartment and my newish cat. Pizza and a movie for us, all right. I just guess I’m feeling the urge to get past all this and I’m disappointed that I can’t seem to yet. I want to settle down. No drama. No games. I just want a best friend/lover/dreamer/artist and lots of time in bed being lazy. Its really so simple. =)
But that’s more than enough for now, just words from a wise man:
“Don’t walk behind me, I may not lead. Don’t walk in front of me, I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend.” (Albert Camus)

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