A Gigantic Celebration is Coming June 4, 2005
I’ve actually edited this post. This is a very important post. Probably one of the most important things I’ve ever written, including the letter to my dad. I started this on the plane home, and I’m finishing it on my old couch. I wish I could say this is a masterpiece; however, it is honest and straight from the heart.
I am flying home, to Chicago, and I just proposed to Virginia. Ginnie. Canuck. To pass the time, and ease the pain, I am watching “High Fidelity.” I have never read the book, but Virginia has. Ginnie. Canuck. Hell, she’s going to be the next Mrs. Gleason—unless, of course, some other Mick named Gleason gets married soon. So, I’m going to do away with the entire nick name rule, just for this post. Anyway, interspersed with my rambling announcement, I’ve made a few observations about the movie, and I swear to god, it’s all connected somehow…
Anyway, I am busy thinking about love, marriage, children, divorce, death and all of life’s tragedies. Maybe I should talk about how I proposed…Maybe I should talk about why.
Turbulence just hit. The fasten seatbelt light has flashed on, and the stewardess just politely told us that the flight is going to suck. At least I am not singing Air Traffic Control by Jets to Brazil. If I’m going down, I’ll be watching a movie. A movie about love, relationships and music. This is probably the perfect movie for me to watch right now.
When I got off the bus in April, and I met Ginnie for the first time, I was already in love with her. When I saw her, I realized just how much I did love her. When I left in April, I was miserable. Why? Because I was leaving, and I wanted to spend more time with her. Because I was so afraid of losing her to distance or something even more intangible. Last time, when I left her in Calgary, I thought that life without her would be miserable. Since then, we’ve spent hours--no days--talking on the phone talking about everything and nothing at all. We’ve had whirlwind vacations together. We’ve exchanged books, sad stories, good stories… There are days when the sad stories refuse to leave my head. Where I become convinced that this is going to end. And I get nervous. I get scared. I can live without her, but I don’t really see the point. This thought brings me comfort—I’ve found someone I want to spend the rest of my life with--and it scares me—I have decided to give my heart to a person, and open myself to a level of hurt that is unimaginable (and it doesn’t matter who originates the hurt either).
This has gone so damn fast, I wonder if I’ve made the right choice. I worry about the future with her—family, marriage, kids—and how it is all going to end. When it’s going to end. Going to end. These are the thoughts that fill my head when I miss her so much, I run out of words and I start doubling up on bad feelings. I don’t want this to end. Ever. I realize that I want to spend the rest of my life with her, and grow with her.
Rob and Charlie just had their conversation in “High Fidelity.” It’s one of my favorite scenes. When Rob realizes that Charlie was shallow, horrible and not as fantastic as he had created her to be. I love those moments, where you realize how things are supposed to be, and what role people played in your life; even if they’re not entirely good moments, the end result is always positive growth.
How much time does one have to spend with another before they realize that they never want to be apart from that person? Technically, I’ve spent a total of 14 days with Ginnie, and I am convinced that she is the one for me. Not anyone,
THE ONE. This is coming from the guy who really wants to believe in modern fairytales, love at first sight and true love…but is afraid that he’s become too cynical for anything other than life as a civil servant or as a bitter old man. Is it any wonder that I’m worried that I’ll fuck up the most beautiful relationship I could ever imagine?
Lately, I’ve been saying that I’m not ready for my adult life. That I have no idea how to do what I want, that I don’t know what I need to do and that no one has ever shown me how to do. That happens to be a big fat lie. My entire life with my family and my friends has led me to this point. Meeting someone, planning a future and living the rest of my life—my parents show me how to do this for 26 years. If I am anything like my father, and I know I am, then I know how to do this. I’m not saying I’ll be perfect, or that I’ll never have doubts, but at the same time, I did have two wonderful parents who show me how to be an adult; and I know that both of them are happy with the person that I am going to spend the rest of my life with
More turbulence, just as Jack Black starts singing “Lets Get it On.” The last time I watched this movie, I was dating someone who wasn’t worth my time, my effort or even meeting my family. I thought it was so cute that the love interest had the same name as the person I had tricked myself into believing I was in love with. My family knew, but I didn’t. I was wrapped up in some fantasy of my own creation. Now, years later and with a woman that my family does love, I finally get the point of the movie.
So why did I propose? Do I know everything about Ginnie? No. Do I like everything about her? No. Will I be happy with her 100% of the time for the rest of my life? No. Here’s the deal—I know her better than I realize, because she has always been a part of my life. I love her more than I’ve loved anyone else, and I am have loved people before. She makes me happier, and more comfortable, than anyone else I have ever known—and I have been blessed by friends who have comforted me and made me happy, during times where I thought I was inconsolable.
The thought of life with out Ginnie is the scariest thought I’ve ever had…and I have a lot of scary thoughts. The simple fact is that I do not want a life without her, and no matter what my doubts and fears are, the fear of losing her is the most terrible fear I have. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is why I proposed.
Here’s how I did it: Sunday morning, I snuck the ring (the ring that my grandfather and father used when the proposed), inside the box into my pocket. We walked around Calgary for hours, talking about love and memories. I was looking for a place to propose, Ginnie was trying to remember her old hang-outs. We went to Eau Claire Market, where I ate a hot-dog, with ketchup (it was gross), and we went looking for ice-cream. I saw snow, and I freaked out…because its FRIGGIN MAY. There isn’t supposed to be snow in May!
I digress. Eventually we found a Dairy Queen, near a record store that was playing
Piebald, and while we were there, she felt the box in my pocket. I almost freaked out.
Now, Ginnie has a cute way of saying “What’s This?” This is what she says after she gives me hickies. When she felt the ring box, she began with the “What’s This?!” I had only response. “None of your Goddamn business.” She didn’t stop. I had to tell her that it was my iPod, and it was out of batteries. She bought it. The alternative was, of course, to propose in Dairy Queen. Considering that this Dairy Queen wasn’t all that special, I decided to pass.
After Dairy Queen, I was pretty sure the gig was up. I kept talking to Ginnie about love, relationships and I felt sick. Ginnie was genuinely concerned with my health. I tried to pass it off as nerves because I was leaving the next day, but I’m sure it didn’t work. We walked through a park, attached to a Board of Ed Building, that had these cool sculptures of really tall, dancing people. It represented the family of life, and they all looked fairly happy. Ginnie didn’t approve, but she made it sound as if she opposed the sculpture on financial reasons. It was an interesting discussion about public art in the city, but I had a ring that was burning a hole in my pocket, so I wasn’t giving it my full attention. I thought it’d be nice to propose there, but I wanted to see more of the City.
We kept walking around, over bridges and through overpasses, and I didn’t see anything that was as romantic as the park with the dancing people. I tried to find a spot that would encompass the skyline, but not include homeless people. Now, before I am chastised for not being compassionate, let me ask you this—do you want to share a special moment with you better half, the moment that defines your relationship—with people that are asking you for money?
Ginnie and I ended up back in the dancing people park, and just as I started asking her why these people were so happy, she turned to me and said “This place freaks me out.” Let me be clear—I had my hand in my pocket, around the ring box, and I was prepping myself to ask her to marry me. Needless to say, the moment was ruined.
We kept on walking around, and we reached the reflecting pool/staging area for the Calgary Olympics. There were a lot more homeless people, and not a real romantic feel to the area. We walked by a church, but I didn’t think it was Catholic (yes, it needs to be Catholic. If I proposed to Ginnie near a proddy church, my dad would visit me in my dreams). Eventually, we found a park where there was one homeless guy—but he left when we sat down.
The park was a ring of trees, benches and old-fashioned street lamps. The grass had been fertilized, which did detract a bit from the experience, so we sat on a bench and talked. I asked her why she was moving to Chicago. This is where Ginnie freaked.She looked at me, at how nervous I looked, and said in a terrified tone, “Oh my God, you’re breaking up with me.”
At that moment, I had two very powerful thoughts. The first was to run away as fast, and as far, as I can and say, “See you later!” The other thought was, “ask her to marry you, you idiot.” Just after that thought, I heard—and felt—my dad. This doesn’t happen often; people who have read this frequently know that I’m not one of those people that “feels” the “Prsence” of anything often. So, when I felt this calming sensation and I heard my dad say to me, “either you pull out the ring or you run away” I listened. I said to myself, “running makes no sense.” My dad responded, “Then ask her to marry you,” So I did.
I pulled out the ring box, and got down on one knee. I said to her, “No Princess (or dear, I’m not sure) I’m not breaking up with you. I want you to be a part of my life, for the rest of my life.” I opened the box, and put the ring on her finger. Ginnie, who does not cry in public, was glowing. She smiled, and said “YES!” before I asked her to officially marry me. She threw her arms around me, and started kissing me. I said, “I haven’t even asked you a question yet!” Giggling her adorable giggle, she pulled back, and I asked, “Viginia, willl you marry me.”
She said yes.
The rest is all phone calls to those who were surprised (my family, her family) to those who knew (Will, Esmerelda). There was a small celebration that night—for two—and breakfast provided by Ginnie’s parents before I left for Chicago. I know this has been fast, but the more I think about it, the happier I am. I am more than ready to spend the rest of my life with this amazing woman, and I’m a much better man by having her in my life.
I love you Virginia.
BIG FREAKING NEWS
But I wanna do it right.
Check back tomorrow.
Following the rules...
If there is one person you can't stop thinking about, post this same exact sentence in your journal.
Waiting...
Sup Peeps
It seems that lately I've been doing a lot of writing, and thinking, about waiting. Seriously, I am waiting for Friday, waiting for Victor to finish sanding the floor, waiting to move in. Very few things these days are getting me out of the "waiting" mindset.
Two things did that today--my born again christian family and this 12 year old kid. My born again Christian family made me regret how much i've been neglectful of my spiritual life. This family can do amazing things, even if their they're a bit fascist, because of their faith. I don't agree with their beliefs at all, but I admire their faith and conviction. Actually, I'm a bit jealous. I'm no where near as... spiritual as they are.
The other thing was this 12 year old. he was having a difficult time in group, and I went and go the sheriff to just take him out of the room. The kid screamed, cried and I wondered what the hell I had done. Was his goofing off worth all of that? The fact is, the kid starting pushing and hitting other group members while I had my back turned, so, I did the right thing. I just feel like an ass for doing that.
Its a very common feeling these days. I could try and make some witty comment about waiting, feeling like an ass and sitting on my ass, but I'm going to take out more garbage now.
At least there are no zombies in my house
Back in School, the Texas Hippie put my hair up like Coolio and took a picture of it. I thought it was lost for years. It turns out that it was, instead, packed up into a giant box. Eventually, I'm going to put that picture up here. Right now, I just have to find the energy to go back into my room and finish packing.
I thought I was done being nostalgic about my house. I actually started hating it--like really hating every moment here. I don't know if I'm missing the place because I know the deadline for my move is coming up quickly, or because Canuck spent a weekend here. Now, I don't hate it here as much...
K. Time to go pack boxes.
Almost One Year
On June 9, my dad will have been gone for one year. June 9th is not that far away. On the one year anniversary of his death, I will be with my mom, in a Chemo lab. Now, my mom reads this blog. I don't care. She has to follow the rules like everyone else. She can only comment....
I have no desire to spend the day of my father's death in a chemo lab. A place he spent a number of grueling hours... I don't think my mom wants to spend her time their either. So, we're going to Emilo's. I told my brother to ditch work--as I see it, this is more important than work. Hell, I think most things are more important are work. I can say this because I have a job that will let me take a few days off here and there to do what is really important.
---
Ugh, tomorrow, I have to work with the granite people and see why their prices are so different. I am very concerned that my contractor does far too much under the table. For instance, today I paid him in cash. Cash. I have a receipt for the work being done, but for the love of jesus christ, why did he want it to be paid in cash?
MY HERO IS...
"My hero are doctors, because when my brother stuffed chewable tylenol up his nose, the pulled it out of him."
--Ruth age 8
I read this gem when I was waiting to talk to my grief therapist. I busted up laughing for a good ten minutes.
I had a lot to write about. I really did. thing is, I sent Canuck flowers, cause she had a bad week, and now all I want to do is talk to her. It seems that flowers can cheer people up after all.
I am trying very hard to think about other things, like politics, religion, faith, science, good tv and it seems that my thoughts keep drifting back to one specific person in Canada. Its not the Premier of Alberta--who seems to be a jackass--or the Prime Minister. My thoughts focus on an amazing woman in Canada.
------
I am trying to change the subject. How about the cubs? They're doing well. Aren't they?
------
So, all in all, I am having a hard time saying anything at all. I am trying to read Heart of Darkness. My idea, yes, but inspired by Canuck. I am looking forward to moving into my new place, but I'm no longer looking forward to living by myself. Bloody hell.
------
For a brief moment, I had a real, non-Canuck related thought. I remember it now. That deserves a separate post...
Still on hold
Once, when I was younger, my mom was going to pay me $20 for every 25lbs of garbage I through out. This was when I was playing with old radios. I thought I was some sort of shortwave radio genius. Turns out,
i just liked playing with old radios. My mom had hoped that this payment for throwing things away would break my pack-rat habit.
It had no effect. Today I just found papers I had written when I was in 7th grade. Not just the paper, but the "resource material" too. I have just thrown out 20-40 gallons of crap from college, high school and grade school.
this is because I decided that I was going to keep my college years alive. I found letters to Q that I never sent, letters to an Ex from high school I almost forgot I had, and pictures of a friend who is no longer around. It was an almost pleasant trip down memory lane, until I had to throw those memories out.
Tomorrow is another chemo day, followed up with more work with kids. It will be another full day... But, Its about one more week till another weekend in Calgary.
I Am Sorry
Okay, Okay, Canuck--I'm sorry. I'm still sorry. I apologized yesterday, this morning and in public.
I overreacted in my worrying. I let it get the best of me. I will try, in the future, to keep my worries and anxieties under-control and focused. Like I used to. Next times, as there will be a next time, I do laundry, work on an eval or something else...
I am not sorry that I worried, just that I let it get the best of me.
----
Yesterday, I took a pair of nunchucks from a kid. Nunchucks. Bruce Lee fighting stuff. Currently, they are in the trunk of my car. I thought it was the funniest thing I did all day. I saw them, in the kid's bag, and I said, "what the hell is this?"
"I forgot I had them in my bag, I'll just take them home."
"Like Hell! Either you give them to me, or the cops take em. Take your pick!"
"But..."
"But nothing Bruce Lee. Knock this shit off. Hand. Them. Over."
"fine."
Okay, maybe it's not that funny, but it sure as hell beats calling DCFS on a child beater. Which, of course, I did yesterday as well.
Today I just faxed over stuff on counter tops. My job, it never gets dull.
-----
Rudy Gulliani told me to get a check up. I guess since he was Mayor of New York, I should listen. Right? Now I am going to go clean up 27 years of crap.
I am such a dweeb
So, I am hanging out with Little Girl from Nebraska and the Queer Geeks, trying not to think about the fact that I haven't heard from Canuck yet. I am trying not to worry about this, because it isn't that big of a deal, right? I mean, it's only been about 24 hours. Not that big of a deal.
As if I wasn't freaking out about more things. I'm not mad; jesus, there is no reason to be mad. I just would like to hear from her tonight. This wouldn't be a problem if I was able to think normal, healthy things. however, since I can only think in worst case scenarios, my brain is in overdrive.
I would like to change this aspect of myself, yet, I think it would make me less useful on the job. So, I will just have to learn to deal with it.
I will deal with it, however, when I hear from Canuck.
Damn, and I didn't even talk about what I did today.
I am no where near as nice as I pretend to be
Dear readers
I am waiting for a few things right now. One is to hear from Canuck. She had an okay time here; she complained about the weather. "Its so heavy, how can you breath?" I just shrugged my shoulders and said, "You get used to it." She is completely convinced that she will never get used to it. I could get used to a lot of things. I'm adaptable. For instance, I got used to existing in the suburbs. I could get used to being bored off my ass and living in Canada. I could also get used to living without pizza or thai food--but what the hell is the point?
Life is far, far too short just "getting used to things." For instance, this weekend with Canuck was far too short. We've talked about longer term things. Well, rest of life long term things, and as much as it freaks me out, all I can think of is that no matter how much time I have with her, it won't be long enough.
I'll write more about that later. You wanna know more? Leave a comment. Gimme a call. Write an Email. Send me a postcard. Whatever.
The other thing I'm waiting for is for someone to turn off this internet connection. I'm sitting in starbucks, and I'm picking up a new network. So, in the spirit of complete abuse of privilege, I'm downloading the new
Red Vs Blue PSA. Unfortunately, I have to go buy hardwood floors in a few minutes. A few minutes. Christ. More condo crap...
More later. Now time its time to fly.
If I followed all the advice I have received....
...i'd be pulled in so many directions, I'd be atomized.
Considering how (relatively) stable my life is right now, I can focus on a few different things. High on my list, of course, is a Canuck. I have never given Canada so much thought--even immediately after Bush got elected--as I have in these past few days. Now, very few people can give me very specific advice on my work problems. Office politics is office politics--that never changes. But my job responsibilities and others job responsibilities are far too different for people to give me an specific advice. Usually, people refrain from that.
And while a lot of people have lost others, in truth, there is one person--her nickname is hereafter CincoDeTattoo--who can even come close to providing meaningful understanding for all the crap that has happened since my dad died.
I should point out that there is a big difference between advice and support. Most of my friends provided support that I will be grateful for for as long as I live. but I digress.
But Relationships. Relationships are the ultimate in advice giving fields. Everyone asks everyone else about what to do when the like or love someone, or when they no longer like or love someone. They are the number one topics of conversation in any office, church or family.
In my life, i have received a lot of good, and bad, advice about relationships. I've been able to filter out some of the bad ideas. Other bits of advice have firmly implanted themselves into my psyche. Over the next few weeks, i think a lot of my friends and family will be jockeying into position to make sure that their advice is followed.
But, I'll let everyone know a big secret: I've figured it out. Mostly. It's all just a matter of time now. Look at the picture, and tell me that this isn't worth all the struggling and worrying I have, and will, do.
I hate having my picture taken, but this one, I wanted. I still look like an ass though.
More thoughts later. Now I've got another appointment...
Guess who's coming to Chicago
Canuck is coming down Saturday. She's leaving on Sunday. She thinks I'm nuts. I agree. The thing is, I haven't been this nuts in a while.
I'm sitting here, trying to convince myself to be worried, to get nervous. It isn't working. I am calm, expecting to have a great, yet short, time with her. I want so very much to doubt this, as doubting and being cynical is very easy for me. I am trying very hard to be done with being cynical....
Canuck is coming to Chicago, for such a short time. I need to make it worth her while.
Eval Updates
Right now, I am not very happy with my job. I am tired of writing about kids hurting kids. It is doing serious damage to my brain. More damage than a cell phone ever could.
Geeking is a Poor Substitute for Canada
I am with Little Girl from Nebraska, and the Queer Geeks, hanging out and being, well geeks. We're having a delightful time. Seriously, its de-light-ful. It suddenly hit me though: the Condo Saga is almost over.
Thank God.
Question Should i keep a running total of what I have spent on the Condo renovations? Leave an answer in the comments.
So, what do I want to write about today?
I am not handy. I can use a hammer, a screwdriver and a drill. I never took a shop class, but, I think that for the most part, I know how to do a few minor things around the house. I cannot install hardwood floors, cabinets, stoves, microwaves (or microhoods) or Fridges. I can hook up stereos, TiVo's and X-boxes, and set up networks.
Canuck says she can do all the renovating things. I tried to hire her as my contractor, but she says she has to work and stuff. It's not like I could pay her enough anyway. Not to give away a state secret here, but, I just want to spend more time with her.
I'm going up to see her in a few weeks. 18 days to be exact. Seeing Canuck is, right now, more real to me than living in a new place. See, I'm having so much work done, that I won't get to move in until the middle of June.
Also, Canuck and I have more than hanging out than I will all alone in a condo with hard wood floors.
---
As I was writing this, my (borrowed) internet connection was terminated. What kind of world is this, where a nice person like me can't get free internet for a while. I am patiently awaiting an email, or a phone call, from Canuck too. By patiently, I mean I am not jumping around whining.
Instead, I am writing and whining. Dear reader, we all know that that is nothing new.
---
I am home. I spent the car ride, and then some, talking to Canuck. I miss her. Excuse me if this is sappy, but I really miss her.
