It is a sad realization this stating of the obvious…
2001-06-01

It has been a while since I last wrote a personal narrative. It’s been more journal entries, less artfulness. Then again, when I do stop to think, I realize I do not know what to think. It’s Go!Go!Go!Go!Go! And when I stop, I have to readjust to the kind of thinking I need to do. Leave the mundane worries behind and get back into the Turkish frame of mind, the Italian way of sitting on the steps doing nothing but noticing the world.

Stop. Think. Differently.

I bought my ticket to Toronto yesterday. Hotwire.com is the best of its kind. Remember that. I bought my ticket to Toronto yesterday, and felt anxious excitement. I had to call The Boy before I went online and purchased the ticket. I needed reassurance that we would get along for two and a half weeks, that there would not be awkward silences everyday, that we would fill those silences with stories, chatting, and sitting in bed reading our books. Silently. I want comfortable silences that good friends have with each other, the kind of silence you sit through without a worry, the kind of silence that makes you feel the familiarity because you know you do not have to say anything and quietude and restraint are not bad decorum.

I worry about running out of things to say. In two and a half weeks during which I do not have to work. I do not have anecdotes about students to share. He does not have to work. It is just the two of us, filling our days with each other. For two and a half weeks. I wonder if the last visit was the perfect timing – one week. It is always best to leave when people still want you to stay, right? Right.

I just hope we are comfortable in silence. I just hope The Boy does not think any less of me when I do not have anything witty to say.

Which brings me to my point about sarcasm. I do get stuck in relationships based on sarcasm. I meet someone. I tease her shamelessly, poke with sarcastic comments. We relate to each other through our wicked sense of humor. Which of course creates sexual tension, the tone of one upping each other verbally. Very sexy. Only after the testing does any expression of emotions come. By then, I do not know how take down the walls of safety with bricks of sarcasm. I do not know how to be the me who is surprisingly compassionate after the bitchiness. I do not know how to calm after the storm. So I worry. About how this person is going to lose any interest in me when the testing ends, the excitement of the verbal competition subsides. Because it has happened before. I became "weak" when I cried, when I became real, when I did not censor expressing my thoughts, my emotions, my dilemmas and worries. I became high maintenance, unsexy. How do you keep it real and sexy? I guess that is what I am going to Toronto to find out with The Boy. Because I know all the worries above are just pieces of my baggage from The Girl who never worked out. The Girl who loves me so much but hurts me just as much. The girl who makes me my happiest and my saddest. The Girl who used to give me fish kisses.

It is so sad when you realize love alone does not make a relationship work. It is sadder when you realize the realization is so obvious. I mean, of course all those Hollywood movies were not accurate in their portrayal of relationships. We create all these nonexistent molds for ourselves to fit into, and process and analyze and question and scrutinize ourselves, our realities until we feel like shit for no reason. Yes, it is a sad realization this stating of the obvious…