You Get The Picture

Last night, the Landlord had his music going until 3 in the morning. One can’t really complain. Number one, he is the landlord. Number two, he doesn’t do it so often that it’s a regular nuisance. It’s just damned irritating when you have to work the next morning. I couldn’t hear the music, just the thumping bass. That irritates the living hell out of me.

I worked with AM1 this morning, and she was in a foul mood. I was standing next to her and felt myself getting agitated and angry as a result. I try to imagine an egg around myself then. One that starts at my head and flows all around my body like a forcefield of sorts, keeping negative energy out. I always want to picture it in blue, because blue is (duh) one of my favourite colours. But somehow it always ends up hot pink, like taffy that’s being stretched out.

I went home an hour early, with the intent of taking a nap. Unfortunately the nap never happened, so now I’m doubly tired. Especially since I spent the bulk of my evening at AM2’s house. She invited me over for a swim, so I went. Then I stayed for dinner, and then we watched The Godfather. I’ve never seen it, so it was kinda interesting to me. I got home around 9:30 with the understanding that I’d be going back tomorrow. I FB’ed her when I got home and said I didn’t want to intrude on her family time for the second evening in a row, but she said it was fine. So we’ll see. I have to do some groceries tomorrow morning, and I told her that if I was coming back over (steak and corn tomorrow night) that I would bring dessert.

It’s 11:30, and I’m tired. Night at the Museum is on right now, but there are commercials, and I don’t dig that. I’m such a TV snob. Oh, and I know I’m tired, because I drove through a red light today. I couldn’t believe it. I realized it about halfway through the light, when I was trying to figure out why this car was making a left-hand turn in front of me. I was thinking, what a jerk! he must be speeding through a yellow light on his side! Fuck, no. I was driving through a red light on mine! Argh. So dumb. I know better than that.

Anyway, time for some sleep, I think, and I’ll start the whole process again tomorrow.

Overdrive

All right, who’s looking for me using both my blog title and “simplyblueiis”, do you think? Earlier this week, someone was searching for “simplyblueeyes”. I know this sounds stupid, since I put my life out here for anyone to see, if they really want to, but it’s still a tad bit… creepy… that someone could locate me. I think of all the people I’ve ever googled, all the email addresses that I’ve ever searched, and the fact that I’ve always thought people would be stupid not to do the same. But… that doesn’t mean I want them to.

Anyway. It’s neither here nor there, because there isn’t anything I can do about it. There aren’t that many people who know about the simplyblueiis email address and can pair that with my actual name, so I guess I’ll presume I’m … well, I was about to say safe, but that’s silly.

I feel as if I’m getting a bit of a cold or something. I thought that earlier today, too. I ache and feel icky, like I’m getting sick. But my legs are dead to me, thanks to the leg cramps. And I burned the roof of my mouth with my lunch, so it’s possible that that slightly icky feeling is due to that, too. I guess time will tell.

Walking up and down stairs today was a sort of exquisite torture that I can’t even begin to explain. I can’t recall the last time my legs hurt this much. Of course, I’m strangely looking forward to doing leg cranks again, now that I know how much they can really kick my ass. Perhaps I’m a bit of a sadist. It’s not the idea of the pain, but the idea that I can take it, and still walk, so obviously I should do it again. I swear, this is how boys much think sometimes. It’s like logic completely escapes me. It hurt, so I should do it again <insert Goofy laugh here>.

I went to the library tonight after work and got some books and CDs. I poked around a little more, too, and was left wishing that I still had my library card for the Hammer. Their library is much bigger, but then again, the population is about five times as big. B-town’s library is okay. I’m positive that TheGuy’s sister was there, at one of the computers. Seriously? Because seeing them at work three or four days a week isn’t enough.

You know, sometimes when I type, I remember how The X Files always ended, with a shot of the computer screen, and the words scrolling across it as Fox (or was it Scully?) wrote out journal entries. And I remember thinking that man, that person must type fast, in order for someone to read along at the correct pace. Of course, it’s entirely possible that they sped up the tape. Duh. Anyway, sometimes I think that, and challenge myself not to make any typos when I’m pounding away at the keyboard.

Okay, that was totally a tangent. Curious1 is online right now, and I find that both humourous and annoying. He almost never appears online, and the past two nights, he has. I expect it’s a blatant invitation to me to strike up conversation, and for some reason, it irritates me. I can’t explain why, but the idea that he just thinks I’m going to jump because he snapped his fingers after almost a year? I mean, I enjoyed the time we spent together, but c’mon. You’re cute, but you’re not all that.

Woodstock wrote me an email today in response to one I’d sent her. I wasn’t sure how to word it, but the basic gist was that I wanted to get the point across that Mud and I haven’t had those serious chats yet about family and “what if” and “in the future”. In my opinion, and in the opinion of others, the fact that the man is flying cross-country to see me is a statement of intent. One doesn’t do that just for a piece of ass. Well, unless you’re… Nevermind, I won’t finish that sentence. 

Anyway. (clearly I’m loving tangents tonight) I told Woodstock I was concerned that I would appear to be rushing things, and that I didn’t want to give the impression that I wasn’t enjoying the relationship for what it is.  We all know patience isn’t my strong suit. But at the same time, if we don’t want the same thing, then what are we doing? If he isn’t willing to consider having kids, then what? If he isn’t willing to consider having someone move in with him, then what? If I’m going to move away from my family and most of my friends to a new country and a new city, is it unreasonable to expect that he’s going to have to foot some bills for a while on his own while I get established? And here’s what Woodstock said. I never replied back, because I spent most of the afternoon pondering what she said (in a good way):

But when you’re at the point that the guy is staying with you for nine days, at your place… uh, to me it’s time to get down to business and figure out if you’re just wasting your time. In a nutshell: I think you’re being too hard on yourself again. You’re doing the right things for the situation; be confident that you’re not rushing, and you’re not living too far in the future. You’re being smart, and if he doesn’t like it… well, then he’s being silly.

It’s good to hear that I’m not insane. Woodstock-at-Work can be very clinical, so I  assume that if she sees things a certain way, then it’s a logical response. I haven’t talked to Mud much today; I left him alone yesterday except two emails that were each one sentence long. And the hour-long phone call last night. And then today I sent him two texts and didn’t respond to the last one he sent. Like Grammar, I’m inclined to think that it’s rude not to respond when someone sends you a text. But I restrained myself.

I’ve been trying to give him some space to breathe. And something happened on Friday night, when I called T. and flat-out said that I was dating Mud. Like a lightbulb finally went off over my head. I don’t need to be insane, it’s okay. Blue can make it through this. Like a grown-up, even!

Other than that, my struggling libido returned full-force about a month ago. Chicago gave me hell for not mentioning it, and I guess I should because it is, after all, related to the depression. Let’s say interest in that aspect of my life has returned with a vengeance. Hopefully it sticks around for when Mud comes up. The teeth-clenching has also returned, and I’m less inclined to look favourably on that particular side effect.

Anyway, before I continue rambling nonsensically, I should go to bed. I remember one time a few months ago when I did in my triceps so much that I moaned in pain when I rolled over in bed one night. I expect that it’s gonna be one of those nights for my legs… God forbid a fire started and I had to run down the stairs, because I’d almost rather just sit and wait it out than attempt to get my ass down them tonight. There’s something to be said for bungalows…

Dream

I just got off the phone with Mud. It sounds like he’s had a rough few days, or whatever. He wasn’t miserable, he was just in an Eeyore mood. Poor guy. I wish I was there…. but I exerted my Pisces suction ability and tried to suck the negative emotion and tiredness through the phone. Do you think such things actually work? If people can suck positive energy out of me, can I suck negative energy out of them? I can’t wait to see him. We obviously need to discuss some things … I’m just… He mentioned his cell phone bill was huge. I can only imagine. Figure twelve hours on the phone, times sixty minutes, times my rate of $0.30 per minute, and it would’ve added a couple hundred dollars to his phone bill that he wasn’t expecting. And that’s only a guesstimate.

Anyway. I miss him tonight.

In an interesting turn of events, everyone knows how completely fascinated I’ve become by religion lately. I started reading the Bible on Thursday or Friday, afer discussions with Woodstock last week and the week before. I spent Monday night discussion religion, religious education, and “deal breaker” religious questions with AM2. Wednesday, Chicago and I exchanged opinions on religion for the better part of a day.

This afternoon, T. tells me she’s thinkig about Church again. And that she met a nun the other day. And I went, ohhhhh. That explains it! The co-brain is cohabiting, even though we’re 1800kms apart! I make her think of chicken and ice cream, she makes me think of religion. We can tell who has more sway, hmm?

Worked with Rico tonight. I can see where AM1 is fascinated by him, but why would you touch! He’s 25, but smart and cocky and very witty. I personally don’t think his butt is that fantastic, though AM1 mentioned it to me via text today. He’s a nice guy and all, but … Enh. My attention is being held elsewhere right now. For the record, Chicago, Curious1 is online and I’m not appearing online right now because I have no interest in talking to him.

Oh, and I did go to the gym this morning. TBG had me do leg cranks. This consists of 24 squats, followed by 24 lunges (12 on each side), followed by 24 jumping lunges or jumping scissors - whichever you want to call them (12 on each side), and then 12 jumping squats. And in between deciding that I had no intention of puking, I breathed a little, and repeated the exercise for a total of four sets. I can’t feel my quads right now.

And it’s 10:46, and I’m tired as hell. Hopefully I can get sleep tonight. I feel like someone needs me tonight. Everyone I’ve talked to today has needed me for something. To listen. To counsel. Just to be there so they can vent. Even my sister called me. Go figure. Maybe I’m picking up on Mud. Or maybe someone else. I don’t know. But…. I have to go to sleep. Lights out, brain off.

Dancing through the Night with You

Prozac’s side effects have kicked in, if I’m not mistaken. I have to be at the gym in half an hour, and I got about four hours of sleep last night. I feel anxious and upset and don’t know why. The teeth clenching is back, too. I’m only guessing it’s the side effects; it’s been about two weeks since I started taking the meds, so I guess I’ll just wait it out and see if this goes away. I don’t like it, I’m exhausted this morning and it’s gonna be a long day.

In good news, Pretty and I went to the gym last night and we did Body Combat again. In bad news, I’m pretty sure I wrecked my shoulder, throwing punches. Grr.

I didn’t post last night, and I don’t feel all that badly about it. Woodstock has me contemplating religion again. Not in a bad way. Okay, perhaps not religion so much as the way I express myself and the concept of religion. I think sometimes I say things lightly and they’re taken too much as fact. If this happens with one of my closest friends, man, I must really make some other people who don’t know me so well crazy. I’ll have to work on that.

But first, to get through today.

Jacob and Sons

When we went to the Joseph & The Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat when I was in school, I loved it. I’d been to see The Phantom of the Opera and didn’t really “get” it. It just didn’t resonate with me. But the colour and the pageantry of JTATC really woke me up. I loved the music, I loved the cheesy stage props, I loved Donny Osmond and the Elvis-Pharaoh and the soundtrack.

Anyway, this is all only relevant in that I had a slow day at Hell today and I was reading the Bible. I’m working my way through Genesis, albeit slowly (what, exactly, did Ham do that was so horrid that Noah cursed his fourth-born son, Canaan?). And when I got to the part where the Bible goes through the sons of Jacob (AKA Israel), all I could hear in my head was the narrator from the musical, singing the names of the twelve men. Certainly helped me with the pronounciation factor.

Otherwise, it’s been a pretty slow day. I was discussing religion with AM2 tonight at CM. Normally this is a discussion I reserve for Woodstock, because she probably knows more about it than anyone I know. But it never hurts to collect opinions. So I was learning and asking questions and discussing my views with AM2.

That’s about the highlight of my day – indepth and interesting conversation about Jews and Catholics and Lutherans.

Yesterday, I went and visited Grandpa. It’s so quiet at the cemetary, just him and me and a stone. I suppose Grandma is there too, of course, but as I never knew her, I have a hard time relating to her. I went up and sat for a little while and just thought through some things that I would have wanted Grandpa to know. And then I left. I understand, now, what T. was trying to tell me years ago. Sometimes it is nice to have a place to go, to remember someone. It’s not necessary, of course, but it’s nice nonetheless. I don’t think I understood this until I had someone close to me to visit. I suppose I’m quite lucky that that didn’t happen until my late twenties.

Otherwise it’s been quiet. I grocery-shopped and cooked yesterday - chicken pot pie and stew. And I bought some new toys for Indigo. I’m not sure he’s explored them yet, but he will in time. He spends so much time in his cage now, even just putting extra little things in there will help to stimulate him more. He’s getting old – I want to keep him alive!

And the only other news is about my new bathmat and my new shower curtain. Pretty exciting, eh? It’s only 10p.m., but I talked to Mud last night until close to midnight, and I woke up quite early this morning, so I foresee reading a bit and then heading to sleep. I’m not as young as I used to be… *sigh*

Beautiful People

I woke up late. Never made it to the gym. Never made it out with Pretty. I slept like crap last night for some reason – lots of dreams lately. Not nightmares, just dreams, but still not enjoyable when you can’t get a decent nights’ rest. I wonder if it’s the Prozac. Guess I’ll have to wait and see. The wonderful thing about blogging is that you inadvertently keep track of all these little details so you can see if a pattern emerges.

I did manage to watch the last half of Dirty Dancing. I don’t know why I don’t own a copy of that movie; I don’t know a single woman in the world who doesn’t love it. Every girl wants a Johnny Castle. Every girl between the ages of 25 and 50 has at one time been in love with Patrick Swayze. I hate to admit it, but it kinda made me miss Mud even more than usual.

I headed off to my barbecue today, too. One of the women at work invited me, and it was nice. Including herself and her boyfriend, there were six of us. My former coworker and his wife were one of the couples. It was really great to see him again, and he’s looking good. After being diagnosed with diabetes, he’s lost thirty pounds, and it makes a difference. But she told me to arrive between two and three. So I showed up around two-thirty, and the other guests didn’t arrive until much later. Needless to say, I was the first to leave – at eleven thirty. I just couldn’t stay any longer; I was tired, I’d had enough to drink, and tomorrow is another day.

Nevertheless, who can complain about being fed steak and cooler after cooler after glass of wine after dessert liqueur? I drank more today than I normally do in a month. That’s okay, I was still good to drive. I had a long time to “sober up”, as if I needed it.

It also doesn’t help that I’ve spent most of my day missing Mud. To the point that it physically aches. I’m lonely. I was lonely today. I wish he was here. As T. pointed out, it will probably be worse after I see him in August. I’ve already mentally catalogued what I’d have to actually take with me. The contents of the Ikea cupboard. My trunk, and my desk from my grandmother. That’s it. The rest is all disposable, minus my clothes, of course. I’d like to take my Lagostina pots, but really. . . .

Funny how when it all comes down to it, the “stuff” that we accumulate, that we put such value on, is mostly irrelevant to our actual lives.

The Way You Make Me Feel

Okay, first things first. Several months ago, I used “Breaking the Glass Jar” as a title to one of my posts. It’s a legitimate song title; it’s the entrance music for Stone Cold in the WWE.

Since then, people have been finding my blog using “glass jar breaking in man’s ass” and its various other forms. I don’t know why I didn’t look before, but I always presumed that people were coming here looking for Stone Cold’s music. Ah, not so much. I refuse to link to it here, but if you google “one man, one jar” you will see what everyone else has been looking for. Don’t do it at work. Don’t do it with children around, and don’t do it while eating. You’ve been warned.

Hell was typical today. It was extremely quiet; a lot of people took time off for the long weekend, I think. And most of the US offices were closed today, so there wasn’t any point in trying to get anything done. I spent most of my afternoon surfing this site which made me laugh out loud over and over again. Hilarious.

Anyway, I did go to the gym, like I told Pretty I would. I only did a half hour on the treadmill, plus my seven-minute cooldown, but I didn’t take my two-minute break this time. Yes, folks, I jogged at 4.4 for twenty-five minutes straight! Gave myself a blister on the inside of one foot, but I’ll live, and I did it. Next time I’m going to bump it up to 4.5, or to thirty minutes. Not sure. I would like to run five miles. I’m sure that the machines are set up in miles, not kilometres, because when you’re adjusting your speed, it tells you have fast a mile you’re jogging (I’m somewhere in the 13-15 minute mark, I believe).

On the way home from the gym, it hit me. I’m dating Mud. I am dating Mud. I’m not sure that anyone here, except T., really understands what that means. This is a man I’ve had conversations with for six years. This is a man who has always been in my thoughts. A man I sought out, a man who called me out one of the first times he met me and gave me hell. He put up with my attitude, my questions, and gave me some back. And it’s been a long time coming. When I think back about working in the Little Man’s office, and I remember all that time I spent on the phone with Mud… And I remember how my coworkers mocked me and said that I liked him… What would they say now, to know that I’m dating him?

I talked to T. tonight, and I didn’t use my calling card, so that’ll be expensive. LOL. But it was worth it, because we haven’t chatted in a long time. And she said flat out that the likelihood that anyone else really understood what this was like for me was slim. For my parents, they think I like some guy from Arkansas, they probably think it’s flash in the pan. But it’s not. As T. pointed out tonight, Mud is everything I ever wanted in a guy. And as much as that’s exciting, it’s also scary as hell. But surely. . . The man is coming to Canada. He got a passport and booked a flight. It must be close to as serious on his end as it is on mine, or else why bother?

I’m going to go to bed on Cloud Nine.

Ahhh. And last things last. Tomorrow is July 4th – Independence Day for our American friends. And in case I don’t get around to posting tomorrow, I wanted to put in a placeholder here. America by Ginsberg. Gotta love it.

Eternal Blue

Blue Star above me,
when shadows lengthen and the dark looms ever closer,
turn on your shine and hold me near.

Okay, is there any point in me trying to pretend I don’t love this guy? Even when he’s being a dork, I still ache to be with him. Even when he’s being rude and abrasive, I still respect him. And when he is like he was tonight – sarcastic, funny, interested in what I have to say – I freaking love the crap out of him.

I also told him about my pills tonight. Perhaps I shouldn’t have, perhaps it’s too soon, I don’t know. But I felt funny about not telling him. And he brought up Sunday’s conversation, so I told him that it wasn’t completely my fault. And I explained about the medication and the switch this past weekend, and so on. He took it very well and didn’t ask questions. I compare Mud to myself sometimes, because we’re both Pisces, and I know that’s a risky venture. But I wouldn’t ask someone else about it, either, unless they volunteered the information. But he didn’t seem put off by it in any way. I’m sure he has questions, but he likely won’t ask them.

We talked for an hour – I called him. I need a new calling card, and I know I only had about 120 minutes on the card, and I’d like to put off a new card for a bit, so I didn’t want to talk forever. And frankly, talking two and three hours at a time every time is too much. I’m going to try to keep the calls shorter. I don’t expect I’ll hear from him until Tuesday, as he’s got the long weekend coming up. Unlike Chicago, Mud is off Monday instead of Friday.

Anyway. What else happened today? Oh, I found the above lyrics accompanying a BBC photograph, and I had to search them out. They’re lyrics to some Anime series, but I don’t care. I love those lines, because that’s what depression is like. When shadows lengthen and dark looms ever closer….

There’s a new guy at Candy Mountain. What shall we call him? Rico. For Rico Suave. He’s not smooth and irritating, but he dresses well. He’s 25, a college and university grad. He’s fascinated by Japan, has an older sister, and speaks Polish. He’s clever and witty, and … AM2 was right, I could be smitten. . . if all the qualities that I admired in Rico weren’t already present in someone else… And c’mon, he’s only 25. Practically an amoeba compared to me. Much better than TheGuy, in my personal opinion. He and I work alone together twice next week, so we’ll have to see how it turns out.

Anyway, it’s now close to midnight, and though I’m on a Mud high, I need some sleep. I did go to the gym tonight, and got in my half hour of cardio. I did five minutes warmup, ten minutes of jogging at 4.5, two minutes of walking, and then jogged the rest. I was quite proud of myself. And not even a headache to show for my troubles. Woohoo!

O Canada

Just for shits and giggles, I went back and re-read the July 1, 2008 post. Wow. So much has changed in a year! You know, I would have thought I was done with all the change. I think it’s true that the older we get, the faster the world spins. I guess we’re cramming more life into smaller spaces. Last year at this time, I’d gone home early to meet with Hockey. Hockey! And a year before that, it was Donny.

Now, I’m sitting in my loft apartment in B-town, listening to the fireworks from Spencer Smith Park, and enjoying my solitude. I thought about going down to the Park to watch the fireworks, but the idea of being in that crowd just freaked me out a bit. I went downtown to go to the movies at seven p.m., and I was leaving as people were pouring in to watch the fireworks.

I saw Wolverine, and it was about as I expected it would be. Lovely eye candy, and an enjoyable romp. I went to the cheap theatre, so it only cost me $5. I was pleasantly surprised to see Ryan Reynolds, a Canuck, in the film. I’m sure I knew he was in it, but I’d forgotten. He’s so purdy. And then… shocker, Gambit! I never read the X-Men comics, but I did (very) occasionally indulge in the Saturday morning cartoon. And Gambit was always my favourite character. And then to see the beautiful Taylor Kitsch… Mama Mia!

I was going to talk, in this post, about how amazingly wonderful it is to be Canadian. But I’m staring at the light that’s shining in my Ikea cupboard, highlighting the China teacups and saucers, and the Lorna statuette, and the little tiny cream and sugar service that I inherited. And I’m thinking about the people that they came from. . . My mother, my “great aunt”, and my grandmother. It’s so wonderful to be connected to past generations like this. I like knicknacks. I always have. I do my best not to collect them, but I love them. To me, it’s just an honour to have these beautiful things that someone else bought, that someone in my past cherished. I’m blessed to have these little pieces of memory in my life.

So perhaps that is a bit about Canada. I wonder, you know, do women in Iraq have bits of their grandmothers and great-aunts? Do they have little items to cherish? What about the women living in poverty in Africa? Mexico, Peru, Afghanistan? I’m very lucky to have been born in this amazing country.

Sometimes we spend so much time telling ourselves that we’re not American that we forget it’s more important to celebrate the fact that we are Canadian. We have unique ties to Holland. We share the longest undefended border with the world’s superpower. We have a history of splendid military events, and one of the best peacekeeping forces in the world. We have the biggest country, with some of the best natural resources. We pride ourselves on being polite. How do you argue with a nation like that?

Happy Birthday, Canada.

Get This Party Started

Work was okay today. I ended up with slightly tense shoulders, but overall, I managed to stem my grumpiness and function properly. It helped that everyone wanted the hell out of there today, because tomorrow (erm, technically “today”) is Canada Day and we all have the day off. A Wednesday in the middle of the week is a pain in the ass day to have off, but whatever. Could be worse – could be no day off.

Then I went to Candy Mountain, where I worked the last shift with one of the teenagers. She’s done now, has quit and moved on. I’ll miss her, for a little while. She related to me the drama that has been her high-school life for the past month. And I realized how completely tiny and insignificant it was. Not her life in particular, but the drama in general. It just doesn’t matter. The fact that she had a fight with her best friend of three years is really irrelevant in the long run. On her life, this is going to have a very minor effect. Perhaps she’ll be less trusting of people in the future, perhaps she’ll expect less of people. I don’t know. But the drama. It’s so… petty.

Not that my own drama is any different. T. slapped my hand. So did Chicago. So did Woodstock. T. knows Mud best and gave me a few pointers about her own experiences. Chicago, who has listened to me bitch and whine for well on a year now, gave me a righteous slap upside the head. And Woodstock delivered perhaps the most well-thought-out blow of all. If even TheEx had trouble reading you sometimes, she pointed out, then why do you expect that Mud will know exactly what you want and need to hear?

Well shit. Good point. I just sat there and stared at the screen. I had never thought of myself as hard to read. I figured I emoted too much. So to hear TheEx say that if anything, I needed to emote more, well, that was a shocker. And then to have Woodstock put it in context – that if even this man that I was with for ten years had trouble following me sometimes, how could I expect a new, long-distance relationship to keep up?

Anyway. Mud texted and then called tonight. We talked for close to three hours. There were some uncomfortable silences; he wasn’t himself. Hmm. Let me re-phrase that. Obviously he was himself, but he wasn’t the Mud I was used to. He wasn’t picking on my “aboot” and “oot” incessantly. He didn’t mock me or interrupt me every time I said something. And, Woodstock would be proud. Near the end of the conversation, I muttered something about him talking and me listening, because that’s what I do. And truly, it is. I told him that people tell me things all the time that they probably shouldn’t, etc. (not that I mind, it’s just the way it is. I must have one of those faces.).

When I told this to TheGiant, he just continued to talk. TheGiant didn’t care. He was fine with the talking/listening thing. Mud stopped flat and said, “Why?”

Huh?

Why don’t I like to talk about myself? Why didn’t I do it more often? In a series of tangled ums, ers, uhs, and I… false starts, I said that frankly, I didn’t think I had anything exciting or interesting to say. My life is pretty boring. And no, I’m not beating myself up. I just don’t have a really exciting life. And he said, “And what, you think all the stories I tell you aren’t boring?” And as far as I’m concerned, they’re not. I’m interested in his day. I’m interested in what he does and how he does it, and how he reacts to things going on around him. How else do you learn about a person? (Yes, thank you, I realize the irony here. Shhh. My blog.)

And then. . .

(Brief recap: ballgame with Grammar last year, in which he sat in the seat next to me and texted me rather than talking to me.)

Then Mud says to me, “Maybe that’s why that guy was texting you at the baseball game rather than trying to talk to you. Maybe it wasn’t for his benefit, maybe it was for yours.”

WTF?

Surely … I mean… see, this is how I converse with Mud when forced to talk about myself. I can’t get out full sentences. Huh? What a keen observation. I never thought of it that way.

But I was trying to do as Woodstock had suggested, and open myself up to him a bit. Let him through the gates of Blue’s World, as it were. He’s decided that the next time we talk, he isn’t talking. I am. I was like, whatever. Because if there’s anything I do know about guys, it’s that most of them like to talk about themselves (no offense, Chicago).

By the last forty-five minutes of the conversation, he was more like the Mud I know. All right, and love. Shut up. Tonight was awkward, but I’m hoping we’re over a bit of a hump.