12:30am: just a few minutes more and the phone will ring. I’m not waiting for it. OK I’m waiting for it, but not in a fingernail biting sort of way - I just know its coming.
12:34am: the phone rings. It’s my “Mr. Sixteen Minutes”. There are precisely sixteen minutes between the time I answer the phone and the time the train arrives to take him to his language school in Germany. What will we do with today’s precious sixteen “tick-talking” minutes? Tread water seems to be the surest answer. I’m not complaining. I’m grateful for every moment I have with him, even if those moments are spent at the deep end of a pool, they are happy ones.
Lately I seem to have developed a case of immedicable worrying. I worry about everything. And although it’s new to my personality it feels completely natural! I mean I can now have anxiety attacks with little to no effort from my cognizance! Be jealous.
I wouldn’t say it’s gotten out of hand quite yet. It doesn’t keep me up nights, my eating habits are fairly consistent and my hair is still intact despite what excessive bleaching has done to it. All in all I would say I got the long end of the worry-stick. Although I’m fairly certain “Mr. Sixteen” would politely disagree, but that’s why he isn’t being interviewed for this particular blog. I’ve given him the night off of disagreeing with me.
Frankly, I’m afraid what my new nemesis is going to do to my new(er) relationship. There certainly doesn’t appear to be room for both of them and although I would gladly show worry to the door – she’s a stubborn broad who is more inclined to nest than to venture out into the world and meet new people. That offer would have easily worked on me. Apparently my new enemy can’t be bought quite so quickly. (I guess I’m cheap & easy?)
2:55am: So maybe my sleep pattern is a little off – but it isn’t because I’m up the night worrying! I get some of my best work done at late hours. It’s when I feel my calmest and most focused. I can reflect on the day and begin my planning for the next and then after I’m satisfied and completely exhausted from pointless planning – I sleep. Tonight, however, I read - I avoided making any sort of plans. In fact, I’m taking a vacation from plans. A hiatus, as it were, from jotting down little reminders to myself. Because honestly, it stresses me the fuck out and my pores just can’t handle it right now.
I’m thinking of writing again. Although, I should mention that I lack the patience to commit to such a task. All the storyboarding, plot and character development blah blah blah. I’d rather just string together a series of incoherent thoughts and then call it “The Works of Tina Ayden Vargas”. Seems to be profitable for Sedaris and Vonnegut*…so maybe?
(*Note: I make no personal comparison, merely draw personal inspiration. End Note*).
Maybe.
Perhaps I should start with poetry. I’m considering doing a free-verse called something like “fire & ice” that will casually reveal the details of my often smoky-communication-impaired conversations with “Mr. Sixteen”. On paper, we’re a recipe for disaster. I meet his often reserved yet surprisingly vocal disposition with Latin feist and octaves. Neither one of us are submissive and both posses a misguided passion toward things we haven’t and perhaps can’t ever fully understand. But then when is passion ever fully given a scholarly explanation?
I’m crazy about the guy. He can do no wrong – even when he’s wrong – he can do no wrong. I’d forgive him anything. I know more than a few people who would protest this sort of star treatment, but all I can say is – I can’t help it. If the man wants snow in July, he’ll get snow in July.
You would think this type of “anything you want baby, it’s yours” attitude would make me quite fortuitous in my current relationship. Well, somewhere between the English, the Spanish, the Korean, the Atlantic Ocean and the Berlin Wall…something is lost. I only wish it were my cell phone bill.
3:52am: Good morning optimistic side. If such a side of me exists (I was born a cynic, I will die a cynic…only with more validation), this is as close as it will ever get: it is possible that nothing is lost, that really over an average amount of time and a generous amount of patience and understanding that all the elements will gel into a sort of cement. I appreciate the fact that we are not one of those “we just clicked” couples and that it took a couple drinks, a couple convincing conversations, a diversion, a good night sleep and a hangover to get us to be on the same page. A page that I look back fondly on and laugh at the absurdity of our unlikely encounter and our even more unlikely union. Yet here we are, and here we plan to stay.
In the unfathomable event that I don’t know everything there is to know about love, life and the universe there is this: maybe we aren’t the people we thought we wanted but as far as I can tell we’re the people we need. And if I may excuse myself from the carnage fest that is my never-quite-satisfied gluttony for “want” and “desire” I will instead support the “need” cause. I’m beginning to think that if we can take stock of our life, kiss off everything that’s holding us back from happiness, and start the long, hard process of deciding what we need and what we truly want that we’ll learn that “want” and “need” are just one of many harmonic 4-letter words.
So here’s to enjoying the ride and the loopier the better. So long as there are proper body restraints and multilingual safety instructions.
“For your safety, remain seated and keep your hands, arms, feet and legs inside.”
“Para su seguridad, permanezca sentado con las manos, brazos, pies, y piernas dentro de vehiculo.
Thank you. Gracias. Danke. Komawoyo.
