LibraryPrincess's Xanga

Saturday, November 07, 2009

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 19:19:04 GMT

It's kind of amazing, really, how quickly your life can turn around.

He wants to be with her and not me.

And that, as they say, is that.

Saturday, November 07, 2009

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 05:28:09 GMT

put my hands up
they're playin' my song
you know I'm gonna be OK

I had forgotten how emotionally draining blogging about big tumultuous life events is. Getting out the last two blogs pretty much made me want to curl up in a ball in bed and never get out. Maybe THAT'S why I've abandoned this place for 140 characters and status updates, so I just don't have to dig deep. I honestly don't know where I am going to get the energy and the clarity to sort out and finish the story.

Stop thinking of it like a story, I hear Mike say in my head it's not a story, it's your life, it doesn't go in a box.

On the other hand, Mike also always tells me that I need to just be done sometimes, that I don't need to constantly re-live and re-visit until I make myself sick.

That I can just let go.

Maybe both are right. Maybe this is a story that's finished for me.

What I do know is that I've cried every day for a week and I am just so tired and I want to be done, I want to let go. And I don't want think about Wes on his way to a fantastic, romantic, perfect weekend with his girlfriend (must be nice, I think bitterly, miserably, to have a boyfriend that can stay out past midnight to be with you, I never had that from him.) ... and I want a better answer for when one of the nice women from another department at work asks me about how my "sweetheart" in Mississippi and when will everyone get to meet him besides the word, "Uhm."

What I do know is that I don't want to cry any more.

I think I just want to turn up Miley Cyrus's moronic auto-tuned beyond human voice song and eat some ice cream.

Somewhere, someone is playing my song.

And you know I'm gonna be OK.

Thursday, November 05, 2009

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 07:30:00 GMT

and it breaks my heart/and it makes me mad
and I'll never know/how so good went so bad
but the way things stood/I did the best I could
didn't I?

(pt. I)

From that second, from that kiss that we fell into, honestly, without saying a single word, just pulled to each other, instantly, helplessly, the rest of the weekend was sealed. He broke up with Misty, or she broke up with him, or something that was both things happened that very night - there was no question left. I floated into the hotel, twirling into Heather's room and her arms, laughing with delight. She held my hands and twirled too.

The next night I went to see him before his film series and we made out while he ran soft fingers under my skirt and up my legs as I twisted my fingers in the tangle of his hair - a deliberate, unspoken choice on both our parts to echo our first kiss. He nuzzled the spot on my neck that no one (no one ever) else has ever found and I melted into his hands and he rubbed sore spots on my feet, blisters from my shoes, and love was in every second.

The next day, I was driving to pick up the author I was escorting when I passed him on the street, walking home. I pulled over and asked if he wanted to come with me. He hopped in the van, an entirely different person from the Wes who would have fretted and worried and wrung hands over it before. Storm clouds gathered and he charmed my author with Southern pitter-patter. We parked back at campus as rain sprinkled down and we made a break for the festival shuttle. He held his coat over my head and kissed my nose before he left us to our festival business. My author approved, grinning, told me to hang on to him and the librarians waiting for the shuttle giggled and nodded and, I knew, envied me for such a boy. I beamed a smile that could not stop.

When the festival ended that weekend we kept the hotel room and wrapped up in each other, blissful, playful, relaxed, and (best of all, for me) contented, truly contented.

When I grudgingly left Mississippi, the one thing I thought for sure was that we were on the same page.

And now? Well, I think we were. I think he meant what he said to me, back in April, I think that was genuine, I do. Maybe I just want to believe that, but I do.

I guess the problem was that I stayed on that page and he didn't. No, that wasn't the problem at all, it was that he never told me he'd turned pages and I never saw.

Why didn't he tell? Why didn't I see?

--

When I got home, I wrote (in part) to the girls:

"He's this totally different guy. He's not afraid and nervous of stuff anymore, he's so much more relaxed and flexible, he's got an actual timeline for when he'll be done with school and is about to finish coursework and served as president of the Graduate Student Council. Like, who is THIS guy? And he makes it clear, pretty much from the first night, he still thinks I am swell, but that he can't really date ANYONE seriously now, because he's all wrapped up in his PhD and he just can't be a fully committed boyfriend and this is something he NEVER would have said before when he used to say 'no, I can do everything and whatever you say, just keep dating me.'

We spent that weekend together and it was awesome and low pressure and fun and relaxing and we went to the movies and it was like old times, but better! So, basically, I have no clue what's happening. We're both kinda in the 'yeah, I like you a lot but I don't really know where any of this is going, so let's just see' stage and I decided the next best way to see would be to come for another visit. Also, I never came out there to see him during the almost 10 months we were dating and apart, so this feels like something that 'needs' to be done. I doubt any of this is going to result in anything immediate for either one of us, because I know I am certainly not in that place right now and I don't think he is, but it's still a nice thing to have in my life at this point. I am crossing fingers it can maintain at this somewhat subdued level until things are even more sorted out with either him or me. It's a truly shitty time to be looking for a job, so I am happy with the one I have and who knows what might come from that? Maybe he'll end up here? I am sure there is some way this is just waiting to explode in my face, but for right now I am kinda just enjoying the feeling and not worrying too much about every single implication."

--

And I did what I said in that e-mail, I was back in Mississippi less than two months later, at the end of May, enjoying the feeling and never thinking about anything blowing up in my face at all.

--

He meant it, I say to myself, soothingly, over and over these days, he meant it, he did, at least in April, he meant it when he told you that he wanted what you wanted, that he couldn't be someone's serious boyfriend because of the PhD, he meant it. He meant it when he said that he couldn't commit, he meant that he wanted what you had to offer because it was what he had too. It was real then, all of it, what he said and when he looked at you with such love, when he touched you like you were precious, he meant it.

Right?

Wednesday, November 04, 2009

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 18:54:18 GMT

I am sure (none of) you are wondering: hey, Angie, remember SEVEN MONTHS AGO when you were dreading going to Mississippi in April because Wes had a new girlfriend and then you never posted about it again except to say except that it was "sweet" ... WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED?!

Well, now that he has another new girlfriend (except a real one this time) and I am yet again in a terrible state, it seems like it all happened much longer than seven months ago, but really ...

WAIT, WAIT! I need to back up a little, right?

Mike says that he thinks sometimes I have to make things into narratives to fully understand and start to let go of them, so ...

This is the story of what happened.

---

I don't love you like I used to
this ol' man loves you more

While my last word here was that I wasn't going to see him, well, naturally, I resolved I was going to see him. Oh sure, everyone was telling me what a bad idea this was, I was screaming internally about what a bad idea it was, but I was going to see him.

I don't know why. To prove something? Probably a little. Probably more than a little, really. But I also wanted to see him because, you know, he's Wes. He's my frantic, non-stop-talking other half - the person who never gets tired of talking to me, the person I've been in pretty much non-stop continuous contact and conversation with for literally years, since the night in September 2006 when we started talking about film score on AIM. I wanted to see him because, even if we weren't dating, even if he had this new girlfriend, he was still Wes.

So, I decided the best course of action would be to see him RIGHT AWAY. I was getting into town the day before the festival began, in the early evening, so I decided to see him immediately, go to dinner, and 'get it all out of the way.' Yes, that's really what I thought. "get it out of the way" rip that fucking band-aid off ... so I could say I'd seen him, toss that off like it was casual and meant nothing, and then go on and festival and not have to tie myself up in knots over it time and again.

I drove from the airport in Jackson straight to his apartment in Hattiesburg. The only stop I made was to get an accessory that would let me play my iPod in the rental van (I had to rent a van. It sucked!) but when I walked into the Wal-Mart and saw Quantum of Solace I picked it up for him without even thinking, knowing a hundred things all at once: he has to have it to go with all his James Bond movies, but he'd never buy it because it's kind of terrible, but it would nag at him, of course, and he doesn't think it's that bad, after all, and he really likes Craig in the role and this will be extra hilarious because he knows I don't hold truck with Bond and it's one of our favorite things to tease about it and, of course, his actual defense of the series is creative, relevant, personal and true, but he knows that though I think that I can never say that and...

It was in my hands in the car before I was even done with the thought, as the thought curled on and on into everything I knew and loved and was frustrated with in the secrets of this man. And that's when I knew, looking down at that stupid James Bond movie, that's when I knew I was not going to be able to get this out of the way.

I still wasn't prepared for the tidal wave of emotion that hit me, however, even though I thought I was, I didn't see it coming. When I parked in front of his apartment and saw him come out towards me, for the first time in over a year, it just wasn't something I could prepare myself for.

He smiled at me like I hung the moon, like a hundred secrets unlocking, we hugged and laughed and he said my name, he said my name in that sweet Southern drawl, and that's pretty much when I started crying.

And I didn't stop.

This was, quite honestly, the most awkward dinner of my entire life. I am not kidding you, I cried through the entire meal. Not sobs or anything, but a constant stream of tears down my face. I kept having to wipe my face and I started to think the waitress might go and call the police.

Especially because Wes didn't seem to notice. He was so happy to see me, he just kept plowing through my tears. One of my clearest memories was sitting across the table from him, tears streaming down my face while he was talking about the terrible Watchmen movie. It was like I could actually feel my heart breaking in my chest as it happened.

He would stop occasionally and stare at me, puzzled by the tears. He didn't see what I was so upset about, I guess, there we were, talking about movies and eating dinner, what could be wrong?

I know now that he was overwhelmed, that he was just so excited to see me after so long that he wasn't thinking about his girlfriend anymore, he wasn't thinking about how he'd told me just days before that he had moved on, he was only thinking how good it was to see his friend again.

This was a natural reaction, I swear, and I am not trying to make it sound like Wes was heartless or a moron - he was just happier than I could know, and I was sadder than I could have imagined.

At some point I excused myself and went to the bathroom, where I sat down in a stall and started to sob. I had to go back out there, but I felt like I was going to die if I did.

I wiped my face and went back out there.

And then, tears still streaming down my face, Wes talking about Alan Moore and comics and Jackie Earle Haley, I looked across the table at this brilliant, weird, completely original man and I knew, suddenly, with a razor sharp clarity that months away had blurred from my mind, I knew that I wanted to be with him. Not because I couldn't have him, not because I wanted to be petty but because I wanted to have this conversation for the rest of my life and I didn't want to have it with anyone else.

And the moment I knew that's what I wanted, I knew I could have it.

I stopped crying.

Sitting in the van outside his apartment, I had to get to the hotel to check in, I had to start the festival, I had to walk away.

and he looked at me,
and I looked at him,

And we kissed.

It was the first time we'd kissed since he stopped smoking and I discovered in his mouth a whole new world, a new taste, Wes. It was intoxicating, like kissing someone you've kissed a million times for the first time again.

His hands tangled in my hair, yanking it down from the bun, and I laughed in delight, thinking both at last! and at first!

I wasn't walking away.

I was walking back.

Wednesday, November 04, 2009

Wed, 04 Nov 2009 01:08:41 GMT

WOULD YOU LIKE TO WATCH SEVEN MINUTES OF ME TALKING ABOUT YOUNG ADULT LITERATURE? NO, YOU WOULDN'T? WELP, TOO DAMN BAD, HERE'S YOUR BLOG FOR THE DAY.

If I were you, I'd expect more of these, especially about children's/YA books.

Monday, November 02, 2009

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 19:32:39 GMT

30 days of running my mouth

SO, in honor of NaBloPoMo, I've decided to kick the tires on this old thing and see if she still runs. I still have premium (at least until April) so I might as well make use of this. I am hoping lots of old souls will return to xanga this month to try the same. (or do it somewhere else I can read, right?)

Besides, in some weird way knowing that no one comes here anymore is freeing. So, here we are. All the blogs won't all be epic or anything, but I'm going to try for them to have some substance, some movie and book reviews mixed with personal stuff, a few video and photo blogs, all that good stuff. Heck, I'll even take requests from anyone still reading! I'm having a lot of heartache about Wes F. lately, so you'll get to hear about that! Betcha can't wait for that, right? Hopefully, they'll all be public, but if one is protected, I'll post publicly as well, even briefly.

So, here come 30 blogs. How hard could it be, right, I only did that very thing for only, oh, six years of my life?

Somewhat ironically, I was almost finished with last night's when Mike called (after I sent him an SOS message about how I needed him) and we ended up talking three hours (more properly, I cried for two hours and Mike tried to be comforting. It's kinda like a comedy show, that. "Do you want me to beat him up? I can do it, Angie, I can beat him up.") so it never got done. Which means I AM CHEATING ON THE FIRST DAY by finishing and post-dating it. Yeah, great omen.

Guess what? This counts for today! I am going to listen to some children's music and think about what's good in my life which, if you can believe this shit, has a lot to do with my job. Crazy, right?

Monday, November 02, 2009

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 05:02:17 GMT

comfort & joy

I think I might have talked about my comforter on here before.

(which is a great sentence.)

I've had my comforter for ten years. This is an incredibly long time to spend with a blanket. It's a Star Wars, Episode I comforter, when my mom bought it she clicked her tongue and said, "You're 20 years old, aren't you embarrassed to be buying a Star Wars blanket?" I wasn't at 20 and I'm still not embarrassed at 30. I'm only embarrassed it's from Episode I. What I wouldn't give for some vintage!

This blanket is literally my comfort blanket. It feels, after all this time, almost like an old friend. I've been miserably sick under it, wept into it, wrapped my computer in my trunk with it when I fled Katrina and moved away from Mississippi, curled up and sighed contently under it with a book in my hand. It feels like an old friend, when I pull it out, I grin with happiness, I wrap my arms around it and feel memories and love and ten years of my life like a heartbeat.

I know I know, it's just an object. It's just a blanket.

But I have a terrible time with 'just objects' ... just objects are never just objects for me. I emotionally invest in them far too much for my own good. And this comforter, well, it has an extra long history, a daily use history, a decade long history from dorm rooms to my current apartment. It tells my PERSONAL history, this blanket, it's a story of who I am.

And, yes, there's that one other thing.

Men have loved me under this comforter. No, not that way. (well, yes, that way too.) But in another way ... held my hand, beeped my nose, made me giggle, whispered my name, licked my neck, curled up asleep with me.

This comforter remembers them.

But after 10 years, I see light when I hold it up to the window. It's getting worn out. It's not very warm anymore, it's starting to fade.

Last winter I accepted that I was going to need a new comforter and in August, for my birthday, I grudgingly asked for one for my birthday.

I picked a pink one, of course, with polka dots. Not the nicest comforter, but not the cheapest either. A little bigger than my old comforter too.

I couldn't bring myself to even unzip it from its bag. "I'll wait until it snows for the first time," I promised myself. "Until then, this one still works."

But it snowed last week. And I knew it was time to keep the promise I'd made.

I rubbed my face in my old comforter, said things without words, and then folded it up.

When I unzipped the bag and pulled out the new comforter.

And I think I wept.

I know I did the first night I slept with it.

Maybe the first two nights, even.

It felt like a weight on me at night, a constant reminder that I was alone, alone, alone, and going to be that way forever and ever ever.

Reasonable?

Of course not, it's a blanket.

But there you have it.

And then, I don't even remember what day it was, Thursday I think, I woke up late since I was working the evening shift, the sun breaking through for the first time all week, and in that quiet moment between waking and sleep, I felt warm, cozy, I felt ... happy.

I think I may have snuggled under this new comforter.

It's going to get colder, much, much colder. This is going to be a hard, long, snowy winter, which is my least favorite thing in the world. And I will be alone.

It's OK to say that. It's OK for me to start accepting that.

I will be alone.

But I will have a new comforter, all mine, and some days of sunshine to snuggle.

And if I wanna? I'll pull the old damn comforter out and use it too.

(and yes, I sleep with books and post it notes in bed with me.)

Monday, September 07, 2009

Mon, 07 Sep 2009 18:48:39 GMT

and I'm pullin' out of here to win

The day after tomorrow I''ll be in Toronto. Yikes!

OK, so I've only been planning this since early March but it still doesn't seem real. I haven't taken a vacation like this for, um, almost a decade. And I'm not the same person I was a decade ago, heh. Also, to be fair, I've NEVER really taken a vacation like this. I will be gone from work for TWO WEEKS and will spend all my money and be staying in a hostel, and just sorta ... doing whatever I can think of whenever I think of it? So, in other words, I'm kinda freaking out about it. But, you know, in the best way.

I'm going to watch so many movies my eyes are going to cross. I'm going to make new friends and meet old friends in the flesh. I'm going to eat my weight in poutine and Nanaimo bars. (and that's a lot, teehee.) I am going to go the Royal Ontario Museum and the Art Gallery of Ontario. I am going to get lost on the subway and ask for directions. I am going shopping, wandering, and exploring. I am going to listen to Thunder Road while staring out at Lake Ontario.

And a thousand things I can't begin to plan for are going to happen too.

I can't wait.

I am almost certainly going to take my laptop, but if you want updates the place to find them will either be on twitter or facebook. (feel free to add, follow, etc. etc.)

For now, feel free to click on the cut-tag to enjoy my current TIFF schedule. Goodness knows I will.
---
15 Movies And Still Not Enough...

Saturday, August 29, 2009

Sat, 29 Aug 2009 14:11:45 GMT

Today is the four year anniversary of a Hurricane Katrina.

I guess I don't have anything to say that I haven't said already.

(Hurricane Katrina tag)

My "definitive" accounting of what I experienced and what it meant for me is here:

the phone would not stop ringing (pt. 1)
is there anybody alive out there? (pt. 2)
there'll be good times by and by (pt. 3)

Today, I say the same thing I have said for the last three years, that I will say every year I am able:

I will not forget.

--

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Thu, 27 Aug 2009 04:10:20 GMT

photo dump!

I DON'T KNOW WHY, JUST BECAUSE IS WHY.

MY TWO FAVORITE THINGS, TOGETHER AT LAST?!? Bruce Springsteen and totebags, together in a BRUCE SPRINGSTEEN TOTEBAG. You betcha it's the best thing ever. Big love to my little sis Whitney for the awesome present!!

Me and my sister at ALA Midwinter back in January with our booty from the first night. There's about 125+ free books in those bags, we got them in less than an hour on the floor. Aw, yeah.

My totally awesome pink sequin sandals I am going to wear out dancing in Toronto (I am sure Taryn is going to take me dancing!) along with my brand spanking new (to me) re-furbed iPod shuffle. Best $40 investment ever!

My "fuuuuuuture!" costume from a summer program. Another chance for you to see the awesomeness that IS my tutu (tutu name: James T. Kirk) in action. Culled from my facebook album "WORK IT" which is a collection of work life photos that I love too, too, too much.

So, my (library) girl Heather came through NM on a cross country road trip with her best friend Audra back in July. It was her first time out West. Of course, we met up for the day and had adventures. Here are some highlights of the three of us acting like goofs, my favorite thing ever.

At a tacky souvenir shop in Old Town they had 6,000 hats. Here, Audra's jaguar hat is attacking my parrot hat. OBVIOUSLY.

Hat shenanigans continued in Buffalo Exchange, where Heather and I posed as little old church ladies in vintage hats. (we took a regular picture with the hats on and then decided to pose because we are awesome like that.) We can barely keep it together, as you can see. We also bought the big gold bracelets we're wearing. How did we not get lice?

THERE WAS EVEN SOMBREROS!!!! (this is one of my all time favorite pictures. Very accurate capture of, just, me when I am really happy, how fun my friends are, just, yeah.)

THAT'S ALL THE PHOTO-GRAPHS FOR NOW. Seriously, protected post sometime this weekend. Be prepared!