Subway

There is this guy on the subway. He was sitting in back of me, to the left. I was facing the back of the car. He was staring so intently at 1 of 2 groups of girls. I want him to say hello to them. Follow them off the train. Fall in love at first site. I guess I am still a romantic.

Parallel Universe

We went back to Rochester for a long weekend last month. It was amazing to see that many people that we knew. Not a concept to be taken for granted, (I have learned now). I went home feeling homesick. But, settled right back into a busy month at work.

2 weeks later, (last weekend), my parents came to visit. And the wall broke, the parallel universe was shifted. They were in my apartment. My little world, my new world, my Brooklyn. I have been thinking about this all week long, how to explain the notion of moving away from your family, creating a new life for yourself and them visiting. The parallel universe explanation is the only way I can describe it. My parents have not seen where I lived in years. They didn't come over for dinner when we lived in Rochester. They didn't just stop by. My life with Brendan has always been separate from my life with them. And even more separate now that I live here.

I live in a parallel universe.

I had to pretend for a whole afternoon that I knew where I was going while playing tour guide. I never know where I am going. Not without Google Maps. I got to see my Mom standing on the subway. The second day she had to do it, she just didn't understand why this was easier than owning a car. She said something out of the blue, something she wanted to say and was just looking for an excuse to say it: "You were just looking for an excuse to move away from me". It was light hearted, a joke. But she meant it.

It's heartbreaking that she would take my move so personally. But, she is my mom and that is her right. Another thing said is worth noting now. I was discussing my move with a cousin in May at a family wedding. She was talking about her sister, who moved to Philly years ago: "It took me a couple years, but, I realized she's never moving back". And about 30 minutes and another glass of wine later, she told my mother: "She's never moving back you know." And she did. At first, she said she knew it was just something I/we had to do, we'd be back, some day. And I always thought so too.

But, I couldn't imagine life any different. Parallel universe and all.

3 Songs

I'm hooked on Spotify right now. I know I am late to the game. We don't own a CD player, we stream all our music and I was soon sick of listening to hits stations on the other music apps. I wanted full albums. I wanted Sublime and Alanis. I wanted the songs of my teens and twenties.

I was listening to Sublime last night on the bus and a smile crept on my face. I had flashes of the juke box and The 3 songs that a dollar bought my sister and I. Those songs could make or break a night. They could make us brave, silly, or even make us embarrassed ourselves (many nights of serenading Boyz to Men's 'I'll Make Love to You). These songs could begin conversations.

Santeria was one of K's songs that I always played with my dollar. I remember the look on her face and the chair dance that happened within the first 10 seconds of the song. I was no longer on the bus traveling from Staten Island to Brooklyn. I was in Jack Ryan's with her drinking Rolling Rock and Blue Lights. A life time ago.

I don't miss those nights. Because with all the fun also came, well, being in our twenties. Self-doubt and insecurities, we spent so many nights waiting for something to happen. Waiting for someone special to walk through the door. That was the first thing I noticed last time I was there. I didn't care who else was coming. I was with my husband, my sister and our cousin.

I don't miss those nights. But god am I thankful for them.

In Transit

I have a new joke. It's that at least 30% of the time, I have no idea where I am. It's only that low because I spend at least 8 hours at work and another 8 at home. The rest of the time I am in transit to, well, life. I know some of the main roads. I have a general sense of direction. Numbered streets are obviously easier to navigate. But I have no base knowledge of the road's interconnectedness. I always get where I need to go so there is some safety in the thought.

I get a lot done on the way back and forth to work. Tons of reading. Writing this entry. And phone calls, even if they are short. Today is my sister's birthday so I called her. Our 90 second conversation made me miss her more. I have never missed celebrating a birthday with her. And to make it worse her present is barely on the way to her. Kind of like father's day and my mom's birthday present from last month. It's the suckier part of sucking at life. Not celebrating the people in your life from far away.

Something Else Right

We did something else right. 7 months ago we moved to Brooklyn. We did it for one big reason, a full time job at NYPL for me. And, approximately 1002 other reasons. Life is better here for us. That is the best way I can summarize the change. We're on an adventure.

I constantly feel that I am not present enough back at home. Like I don't call enough, or say something meaningful enough. It's hard to make time for a phone call, to keep in contact. Never know what the other will be doing. Anyway, I call my mom on the way into work one day. You know, as I am sitting on the bus with 40 other people, speaking at least 5 different languages, calling my mom feels like a good idea. She's at work, and very calmly, almost nonchalantly, tells me that she is going to send my father to CA because he's an ass and they need a break. This was probably the 3rd topic of conversation in that call. Just very la la la. "And you know, when he comes back we'll just look for apartments for him and he can move out." La. La. La.

So I felt like I should have been crumbling. But this had been happening for a long time. Their marriage ending that is. More than 6 years, when my mother first talking about it. And it was always so nonchalant. And 6 years later, it's still nonchalant. But, for some reason, this time might be different. He's changed since the beginning if this, I have witnessed his irrational anger, confusion, and have seen him take it out on my mother. Or me, my sister. Or his two grandsons. The latter being unforgivable in my book. He's tense and I am tense around him. He is someone that since leaving home, I have spent approximately 20 min on the phone with.

But I love him. I miss him. But I miss the guy who isn't an ass, who isn't mean to my mother. Or to our family. And if I ever had the balls, I don't even know how I would begin this conversation. Maybe I am needy information. Greedy. I WANT to understand.

WHY? is he an ass? is he mad at mom? for 39 years of marriage? for taking charge of they're family's life? is this a life he didn't want? HOW? did this happen? How do you decide after this long, it's a good time to end. How do you make a decision like that? How do you deal... WHEN? You just pass you're 3rd anniversary with your husband. When, there has been some dark times, and you need the hope, the thought, that you can be married for your whole life. 

Thanksgiving

So, it's that time of year again, trying to make time for all of the family during the holidays.

This is how we originally split up the holidays. I got Christmas with my family, he gets Christmas eve with his. Thanksgiving was his, and I think I got Easter? Summer holidays we decided were ours. Or spent with whomever was having a picnic.

I love Thanksgiving with my family, it's my favorite, but I gave it up because it was the only holiday he spent with his Aunt. I should mention now that he didn't tell his mother he was spending it with his aunt, for 2 years in a row she thought he was with my family. So for 2 years we spent Thanksgiving at his Aunts and then 2 days later on Saturday we went to his parents house and celebrated with them. Last year the shit hit the fan and she did find out about us going to the Aunts and was very upset. I remember he saying that she just wanted to celebrate Thanksgiving with us on Thanksgiving.

This year we decided to celebrate Thanksgiving with my family. But after the shit hitting the fan, and his mom, for some reason, still asking if we'd celebrate with them this year, I thought of a compromise. The could celebrate Thanksgiving with my family. I thought great, everyone is happy. They didn't accept at first. That they had plans. (But if our plans fell through, they would cancel theirs?) Then a couple weeks ago they changed their mind and decided to join my family's celebration. Great, we'd only have to celebrate once. Awesome.  But then... She mentioned getting a turkey for that weekend, and would we like to come for dinner. I'll probably have to work that Saturday we replied, okay, we'll do it Sunday then. And we're still trying to get out of it.

I could just look at it as more turkey, just a dinner, but I can't. This is my problem: Why do they get there own personal Thanksgiving? My family doesn't get one. Why do they get an extra celebration? I spent that last 2 years celebrating twice with his family.Why can't I just celebrate it once as a big family this year? Two birds, one stone or something.

I just don't want to start a war.

Getting Over It

I have been married for over a year, and with the same (I want to say boy, and then Brendan) man for over 3 years. The first point of this entry is about growing up. I am not dating a boy, I am not in high school roaming the halls for whomever smiled at me.  I am 30, he is 31. We're not kids anymore. And with all that growing up we found some baggage along the way to bring into our relationship.

This is about my baggage though.

I am am slightly obsessed with Elizabeth Gilbert right now. I just finished her book, Committed, and have watched Eat Pray Love twice in 2 days. I am taken by the notion of getting over one's past to move on to the future. Except I am already in my future/present. I never took the time to actually deal with everything. I moved so aggressively away from the last guy, that I never had that last conversation with him. I made a decision to move on and then I did. I decided to date. And within a month I found Brendan.

So, is my regret that I didn't have one last conversation with him? Or even if I did I wouldn't know what to say? Let me make something clear: I don't want to talk to him. I don't want to know him anymore. I have feared running into him. I spent time thinking about those things, and exasperating the thought to a mutual friend. What I realized is that I have a huge amount of regret when it comes to him. I suddenly realized that I mustn't known him at all. I spent less than 3 years, slightly less, being infatuated, in love with someone that I actually never knew. Because if I knew him enough, I never would have done this to myself. I wouldn't have spent almost 3 years waiting. Mostly because I had met someone a year before him and spent the same amount of time concurrently waiting. I was a girl divided for two boys, I never had to make a choice, they did and when they didn't I spent 4 years not committing myself to anyone or anything. It's amazing I learned how to.

Maybe I was intrigued by Brendan because I never had to wait to fall in love with him. He was just so, himself. And he exhibited every quality I wanted and needed. There was no drama. Maybe I knew it was right because I found my best friend in someone I could actually be in a relationship with. And that thought is truly scary.

There is a huge amount of IF in that statement. If it had worked out with one of the other guys, I wouldn't have met Brendan. What comforts me in the scary IF is that I would truly regret not knowing him and being his wife. Saying that is how I knew I made the right choice would be ridiculous because I never asked myself the question. It wasn't a matter or choice, falling in love with him and creating our life together. It was a matter of transformation.