Sunday, September 23, 2007

A year later

Last year my posts around this time were few and far between. Those that exist ring so artificial to me I can hardly stand to read them. There isn't a post for Sept. 23, 2006, because on this day last year I was on the phone all day with everyone I knew trying to figure out if my boyfriend was going to break up with me, why he might be doing that, and what I was going to do about it.

We went to see the Black Dalia, then went back to his house to end our relationship. He gave me bizarre reasons; the most interesting being that he wasn't sure he wanted to get married. Some people misinterpreted this as that he had thought about marrying me and had gotten freaked. I knew that he gave me that reason likely because it had been the reason that worked on the woman he had dated before me. I won't lie, I was bummed for a LONG time. My friends and family surrounded me, and they said and did all the right things.

A year later, I spent the day not on the phone but doing my normal weekend thing. I've got food on the grill, I'm grading papers, football is on, and the washer/dryer are heating the house. I lived. I'm still bummed if I let myself dwell too much. Michael Perry said (okay, wrote) that every time he had gotten his heart broken and thought he'd never be happy again, he always ended up being happy again, and it was himself that made it that way. This year has been that process: knowing that I am ultimately the only person who can make me happy and figuring out how exactly to do that.

Good news, peeps: I did it.

A friend said to me a few days ago while we were listening to Mozella's Amnesia "I bet you wish you could forget Greg." I don't. I enjoyed nearly every minute I spent with him and even though we didn't end up together, I wouldn't erase or want to forget any of that time. I do wish that we had been able to pull a friendship out of it...we were friends first and the biggest slap in the face was not the actual end of the dating but the denial of friendship afterward.

Well, my chicken is cooked. Jalapeno chicken on the grill--tastiest stuff ever. After I'm done with lunch I'm going to go back to grading papers, take Gatsby for a walk, go out for a run, and critique a story. I also need to write a poem and revise a story for my classes this week. Man, I've got shit to do. Happy anniversary.

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