Monday, October 25, 2010

My Brain, the "What-if" Machine

So, I had a giant crush on this friend of mine for a little less than a year. I don't really want to get super specific, but I met him in the beginning of last year, thought it was weird that we'd been in a similar vicinity for over four years and never met, but we became fast friends. Blah blah, I liked him, blah. One time, relatively recently, he made a comment to me that rubbed me kind of the wrong way about constantly being single. Something about, "I only dated girls that were desperate." Later, when I got home, I called him kind of offended after letting it sink in for a few minutes. "What do you mean by desperate? What does that mean?" I asked. He said that was only when he dated, and he hasn't dated in years, and he tried to last year but the woman ended up having two other boyfriends. (He never actually explained what "desperate" meant, but he may have been embarrassed to elaborate.)

I told him that it really wasn't fair to complain about your lack of a dating life to someone who even more severely lacks a dating life. And, in my mind, I added "to a person who has liked you more intensely and for more substantial reasons than she's ever liked anyone." We talked about our lack of dating life together, and I said something like, "Yeah, the only non-gay, single guy I know is...I think you." He completely ignored this inference I was trying to make. He said, "Well, and I'm an old man anyway." Totally not true. Yes, 13 years is a noticeable age difference. But 40 years ago, a gap like that was normal. I don't see him as too old for me at all.

But something in that comment flipped the switch. He didn't count me as a person eligible for him to be in a relationship with. And suddenly it was over. We talked for a half hour after that, about everything. It was a relief that those feelings were gone. I felt like I could finally be his friend for real.

Over the course of this weekend, though, my switch has been weakening. I think I may be starting to feel things for him again. This is made obvious by the dream I had last night--

I dreamed I was pregnant. (Yes, another pregnant dream...these come and go in phases.) I don't know who was the father of my pregnant dream-baby, but I rushed over to my friend's house, panicked. I started crying. I had no idea what to do.

He took my hand and said, "You know what this means, right?" I said no. "It means, we have to move in together. I will not let you go through this alone." I was stunned. "You would really do that for me?" I asked. He said, "I have to. You're the second most important person in my life" ("Who's the first?" I wondered later. "His cat?") "and your baby needs to have two parents." I agreed. Then the weird part came: "We have to leave here, though. We need to go to Missouri." (What the fuck is in Missouri? That's weird.) I said, "That's fine, I think. I can't believe you're being so nice to me." Then my cat, in real life, howled her 7:00 howl and my dream ended.

Here's the bizarre part. You know when you're really into a dream, and you wake up and kind of consider how different life would be if the dream were real? I would have been okay with those circumstances. If I were somehow made preggo, and my friend offered to take care of me and give my baby an opportunity for a somewhat normal life, I may be happy. As I started my day I thought about how that could work...we could just be friends living together, then fall in love eventually or fall in love with someone else and move elsewhere and still be friends. I like that.

That wouldn't likely be the case, though. I would never let myself get close to that unless I were really close to the guy.

I wonder if he could ever get past the age difference. I don't think it's even nearly as substantial as our friendship.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

On brass and self-esteem

It is so hard to write a paper when my sources are in textbooks, sheets of other paper, notes from lectures, and online. I'm stuck on the type of L1 assessment used with my case study student for my ELD student/site profile. I can't find the sheet that says what kinds were available. Wah. Why is teacher school so hard? The actual work, the papers, the assignments are nothing. The means of doing them is so frustrating. Turn it in online, print it out, you can hand-write this one, e-mail your partner and print it to turn it in. Not everyone has Internet in their friggen house! I am in the library which is usually an amazing place to get work done, but it's freezing in here. Wahhh!

Last night was amazing. The Symphonic Band and Jazz Orchestra had their split mid-semester concert. After nine semesters of playing in Symphonic Band, it was so nice to just sit in the audience and watch. I remember being so stressed out playing those things, thinking, "I'm out of tune! The section isn't blending! We're all out of tune! The piccolo is flat! Everyone's gonna notice!" But watching the group was amazing. It sounded so good!

I played for three of the six jazz orchestra charts, which I realize now is not a good distribution because I can only make one out of the four hours of rehearsal. That's okay, it was fun. And my trumpet professor finally saw it! He never sees the jazz orchestra concerts! Backstage, he said, "Yay trumpets! What good tones!" It made me happy.

And the after party was the first party I'd been to in a long time where I really had a good time. It's because there were so many trumpet players around, and so many nice band people and friends. It was also a birthday party for the three guys who live in that house, and there was a cake with a happy-looking caterpillar. Some of the younger guys said to me, "Stephy! You make me so happy! You are like that caterpillar--if you were a caterpillar, you'd be that caterpillar!"

Then I turned to an older friend (who I used to kind of have a crush on, who plays trumpet next to me in brass band) and said, "Those guys think I'm that caterpillar. Isn't that silly?" And he shook his head and said, "Stephy. You're a butterfly." I smiled and he said, "You don't give yourself enough credit! You're a fucking woodwind player who plays first cornet with those guys"--he pointed to the top trumpet players at the school--"and me. And you know what? I'm so honored I get to play next to you."

I sure wish I could find my list of the nicest things people have ever said to me, because that would make it. Also, earlier in the day, I was walking to the Farmer's Market and a random guy leaning by a wall said to me, "That's a great smile. You've just made my day better."

Yesterday was a good day for my self-esteem. Now I think I should move out of the library and try to do some of this work on paper. I may just be a successful human being yet.


Monday, October 11, 2010

Oh My Goodness!

I remembered my password. What do I write about? I'm sleep-deprived.