journalman's Diaryland Diary


Year in Review

I'm a year older today, 34 if you're counting, and writing this from my apartment on 109 Street in NYC.

Last year, I woke up to a voicemail from Sandy wherein she stopped just short of an "I love you"... I listened to it in the downstairs bathroom in Paramus. The entire time period broke my heart, perhaps just totally then. Tears flowed; I lived in NJ, had an apartment in mind, and just lost a woman I both loved and fought for. Again.

The first one was named Lori, and I loved her. I lost her in 1999 to a CA/Hollywood dream.

I took over the apartment in January, 08, and privately achieved a dream I held close. To obtain a rent-controlled Manhattan lease; in an up & coming neighborhood that is convenient to Central Park, NJ, and upstate. I landed it.

Yet I was spinning wildly. Each notable relationship ending in disaffection, with us both complacent and at our worst. I never tried as much as I should. I always missed Lori.

I reached out to Lori in early Oct 07, I think. Late one night... fed up at the thought that 'they all get away', devastated of what my fate seemed to me as obvious, I threw out my line. I asked her to get together, after all these years.

It was the last straw; the last gasp of air... of a quest to define reality according to logical terms... to give Lori everything I had.

I gave everything. She said yes; she invited me, and maybe I'll write about it some time. A dream came true; I got to know her again and we even dated. Hell, those were her words.

It was magical; I was lucky. Nobody has luck like this; to reconnect with the one that got away and to DATE.

I got to drive her car. The 1999 silver Civic LX she told me about in 99. I drove it in 2008; with 90K miles on it, and in a rare escape from her company to the breakfast shop.

To her her breakfast. Or to Bottega Marino to get her a mushroom panini with 4 cheeses. The car she picked me up in when I flew there early May, and the car she once expressed she's sacrifice for a new Prius.

But it was the same car. Her sophomoric dreams were alive still.

I went to the meeting with her film group. Just what you'd expect while defining "misled and pathetic"...3 men and a woman in a substandard apartment, with substandard goals and each with a burning desire to legitimatize their commitment to the industry. And the birthday party at Medieval Times afterwards.

I don't front. It was also the worst case of blueballs I had in my life. Horrific.

It didn't work in the end, and ended badly. Perhaps it needed to. To maintain my sanity, or not, I was left with one clear choice: define life the way I had... or pick up the pieces, re-define, and move on.

Move on now. Right now.

And that's what this new year is about.

1:41 a.m. - 2008-11-26


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