Damages

Queens Sky as Seen from 409 on 69th Ave

Weekend Flowers for 409 69th Ave

I aim to post more often, as I used to. My heart is singing and crying and cursing and shouting every single day, and this space used to be my forum for splatting everything to the proverbial pavement. I'm going to revisit this now in order to empty my brain.

I am crying and I'm not sure why. Not, you know, this second...just in general. Yesterday I cried a whole bunch, and I was like, with wet eyes, what the goddamn fuck? I haven't menstruated since March of this year, and am not pregnant (I don't think anyway) (that would be a plot twist!) so I have basically blamed all ill-all on the fucking thyroid, as previously mentioned, you piece of meanness organ you.

My Mom thinks that despite not menstruating, it is possible I could be experiencing menstrual stuff. Well, fine, and fair enough. But bleed already. My uterus and all of that reproductive organ nonsense health check came back thumbs up but where the heck is my period? 

Anyway.

Back to being in love, because that is the item of my life that is of most significance.

I'm going to start with this:

I asked him saddest song. And he replied immediately, because Rob has focused thoughts, he is not loose and free (I mean, he is)...he knows things.

So he said, "Putting the Damage On."

Sadly, I'm afraid this song relates to her. 

And while I'm falling for him like a teenager, walking the halls and making eye contact, exchanging handwritten notes....he has work to do. I'm otherwise going to be on the move.

I'm madly in love but I'm worth a lot, too. 

Keys

Long story short...I made him keys 

I found us a new coffee shop (he loves coffee.)

He charms me, every day, multiple times a day.

I oftentimes feel I'm in a new chapter of the book of my life which has taken on too many lives and stories inclusive of footnotes and margin notes written by others and hand-scrawled hearts and smiles and miscellaneous. It's all fine. I'm certain that those that know and love me the most wouldn't expect anything less.

I'll say, this year has been a page turned in many ways. I've already said much of this. I'm just restating. Jon and I broke up. I moved out and found a perfect apartment on the other side of Queens Boulevard. I got superbly sick in February, had more blood drawn than should be acceptable, and I found in that sickness...I have Hypothyroidism. I'm reeling from a phone call this morning wherein the blood test from Wednesday revealed my TSH (Thyroid Stimulating Hormone) is still on the high scale. So my dosage of Synthroid must be increased, the Rx which I picked up tonight along with a giant pack of Reese's Cups because FUCK YOU Thyroid. I'm going to gobble on chocolate until you ask me to stop. (Even if you do, you little butterfly-shaped piece of fuck organ that controls all of my life, I probably won't.) (You piece of shit.)

Anyway, right after I got slightly better is when I met Rob. Those waters remain stormy because while I believe him that he wants to be with me, his wife (not even ex yet) resides in his apartment and I feel filthy on my skin over it. I feel filthy in my mind, like a fucking concubine seated on the edge of a chair waiting to be given instruction.

This is *NOT ME*. Yet, Rob is the only person in so many, many eons of life that I've felt so uncontrollably attracted to on each level possible therefore unfortunately, he has the upper hand. Though, if asked, he wouldn't agree to that (that he has the upper hand.)

Anyway. He wanted to see me yesterday in some capacity but I had arrangements to see Tyler, well, Tyler and Jen (from Shawmut) and Tyler had an Amtrak to catch at 6:45 for the beginning of a family vacation. I miss Tyler every day (he's my spirit animal) so I basically told Rob not to hang around Midtown because there could be no guarantees on my side that I'd part with the Shawmut crew early enough. Of course, as these things go, we did disband early and I could have seen Rob but it didn't happen, and tonight he is seeing The Raconteurs (with whom, I do not know) and so basically I likely won't see him until Monday night wherein he has invited me to a Met game.

Hence, why I made him keys. Citi Field is in my backyard, essentially, but I wake up quite early to leave for work and Rob sleeps until like 10. My apartment door must be locked from the outside of it so, now Rob has keys. Well, not physically yet. But he will when I hand them to him.

Some things that have elapsed are to be left unsaid. I'm not interested in exploring anything too deeply here while I commiserate her continued existence in his presence. I've made light of it somewhat with him, but I don't know that that is helping me very much. In fact, I sometimes wonder if I'm not just assisting my insides of eating themselves out.

I suppose that's all for now.

I have therapy at 11:30, and maybe that will give me some clarity. 

Memoirs

flowers for rob

rob's sleater-kinney shirt that i now possess because i made him let me have it

oktoberfest pretzel at the german beer hall where i had drinks with new coworkers friday

Labor Day, another one down now. Rob was upstate with his Mom and drove down, parked the car and took the train down, came to my place.

(I have a major headache right now so forgive any misspellings.)

We ate Mediterranean delivery food and talked a ton...I'm so smitten that I feel like I need to scale my emotions back a little so that I don't slam my skull figuratively to the sidewalk. 

Falling in love is like growing a garden in your brain, heart and physical being. We are obviously harvesting something but with *her* in the way, it's turbulent.

We have a major October together (if this sticks) including but not limited to seeing The Joker together (I can't wait for that!), Sleater-Kinney in BK, and my Aunt Claude and Uncle Jim visiting NYC at end of October (and I hope Rob meets them.)

We talked about winter. We walked to Austin Street for coffee before he left for BK. We held hands a lot which is probably one of my favorite things in the whole world. 

So, it would appear that we will remain on-hold "ish" until the separation is actual.

For the time being, it's not experiencing forward progress.