I wanna I want to

I'm being such a lazyass. I haven't worked in like a week. I haven't called anyone, I haven't seen anyone, and I don't feel like doing it.

I alleviate my guilt by only reading GOOD stuff on the internet and only watching GOOD tv. and that only means one hour on mondays for Lost and half an hour on fridays for Scrubs.

the Half-Blood Prince just galloped all over me, but I won't say anything about it here because I don't want to spoil anyone the way I was spoiled by mistake, reading a blog that has absolutely nothing to do with the Potter series. ayay, that hurt.

*******

part iii: this is a huge rant, but I know you'll hear me out, or I'm having a transitional weekend

will and I had slowly become friends during the two years we'd been working together. In september 2001 he told me his darkest secret: three months ago he had left his wife of three years and rented an apartment by himself, and no one knew but me.

it turned out it was a huge basement apartment that was just miles too big for him. it only had two rooms; a living room and a bedroom, and a loooong room on the side that started out its life as a backyard but had been covered with a fiberglass sheet and made a noise from hell every time it rained. we figured we could be all hippi and open, he offered a very low rent, a rent I could actually afford and still be able to eat and afford a square meal a day, and I said yes without thinking too much.

thus was my little commune started, or this is the story about That Terrible Haunted Apartment, or the Shithole with the Exploding Toilets; I cried a lot when the drain in the yard backflowed and I was suddenly wading through a literal river of shit to rescue my kitty, who was perched on a rapidly sinking chair and meowing bloody murder, but never ONCE did I say, oh god, I wish I was back at my parents', despite my whole family's predictions and words of goodbye. I was having the time of my life.

miranda moved in with us shortly afterwards and we fell into a cycle of talking, drinking, smoking weed all night that ended up with will quietly going to the bathroom at work to pass out in solitude, miranda had divine visions in between shots and I started to fall asleep during my five minute break between classes. despite the exhaustion, this was a cathartic time for the three of us, for some time we were a homo/hetero magical threeway unit that lasted only for a little time before dissolving on its own but left us feeling energized, healed, well loved, etcetera. I've never been in a relationship like that again, but for the time it lasted it was interesting.

I met bel because he was miranda's highschool pal. he was this really tall guy with great dark eyes and seriously, fabulous hair. and he smelled good. and he was a musician. I have a thing for musicians. to make a long story short, we met, we fell in love, he stayed that night and he never really left again. he had a lot of work coming, I had my meagre job, we knew this was It, so what the hell, right?

we lived together three years, bel and me. a couple made in heaven. even my parents liked him, and from then on our relationship was better. I still don't know exactly what happened; we really did love each other a lot and we had good times. when he WAS there, it was always a good time. I can say that sadly, poverty was one of the major issues. he lived a lot in the future; he didn't worry about the needs of the present because he could very clearly see a future, and he was willing to sacrifice EVERYTHING working for that, even the privilege for a hot shower or taking his girl out for a drink on any given night. I, on the other hand, jumped from one shit job to another trying to keep us afloat (because in bananaland they screwed me over until I quit because they didn't want to give me a raise) and worried endlessly about how if this month we pay the whole rent then we can't possibly afford gas for at least another week but if we only pay half rent then maybe I can also scrimp some money and buy some shoes that don't let my toes poke out.

being poor sucks. bel had his music to hold on to in the throes of the third day without electricity; I felt more like I lacked a lot. it frustrated me so that all the stress made me sick and I had to turn to our parents for yet MORE money, because we couldn't possibly pay for all the times I had to visit an emergency room in those days.

being chronically sick sucks. you're stuck at home (or at work) without the possibility of eating anything yummy. during that time, the only service I took blood out of my veins to ensure that we NEVER had cut off was my precious broadband internet connection. I loved my internet, it provided a window to the outer world while I was stuck sick in my house.

I found dt.net in april 2003, when I was finally getting better after emergency surgery, and it rapidly became a standard hangout place in my afternoons and evenings of surfing. bel spent most of the day --and sometimes several days in a row-- first building and then working on his studio. I came to hate the double-cursed studio; it never produced a cent in all the time we were together, but it continuosly deprived me of my resources and my man. I made a lot of friends in dt.net, jamie and dave and corina and jen/rob, jessi and michelle and lara and geomon and alane, the good ole gang, all of you and the ones that I met later: now I can say THANK YOU for making that time of loneliness all the much better.

towards the end of 2003 I started to think about leaving him. of course many other things besides lack of money and his work were involved, but this is growing too long so I'll say: i was feeling neglected, unloved, and very much taken for granted, and nothing we ever talked about ever changed that fact. I decided it wasn't enough for me, working a job I hated only to miss him constantly, even when he was at home, and to top that off, being so helplessly poor. I decided Away was the way to go. the US, europe, new zealand, it didn't matter. Away I'd have more luck. Away I'd be able to find a job, even if it was hateful, that would give me enough to cover my needs and perhaps start some savings. i became sort of obsessed with Away; it suddenly was the answer to all the universe's problems. I certainly didn't see it as running away like the gingerbread man right then.

I took a second job in my preparation for Away. at around that time, I started talking to bango on msn. I don't know how we found the time with me working 14 hours a day, seven days a week, but we became first really good friends and then something else. those who have fallen in love on the internet will know what I'm talking about; it's an insidious thing, you don't know what's going on, you DON'T WANT IT TO HAPPEN, but suddenly you realize that you're thinking too much of this person, or that you're smiling to yourself in bed.

well, most of you know how that went. four months later, I sold everything that could be sold, I withdrew my tiny capital in u. s. of a. dollars and I took a plane to america. I can't help but drop a line of advice to those who contemplate a step like this: DON'T DO IT. no, I totally kid. jumping into the unknown with only an umbrella has its romance and merit, I still can see that; just be sure you're totally cool with the idea of coming home to your parents if things don't work out for whatever reason. I totally overlooked that in my rush.

internet love is like a fire, or like a fever. even moreso than in-person love. it's not that it's not real, it's that the distance and the inability to touch make you further idealize this --already-- selective perception of another person. it's like in High Fidelity and the whole talk about the Fantasy. you get only about 75% of the other person from a distance, and that gives you a whole lot of person, enough to get started with in any way, but also leaves a huge chunk to idealization. to the fantasy. and the fantasy is SO compelling.

I'm ranting. thus I flew to america, leaving in my dust a very surprised and hurt bel. all in all, he was sleeping with his lead singer a week after we broke up. and I should mention that I was honest with him almost from the beginning, and we broke up months before I left, though we continued sharing the apartment.

I'm having trouble writing what happened from here. I think I'll post this and start a part iv... writing this has turned out to be as catharthic as those cosmo articles said, I guess, but I think I'll need more space to tell the rest. in the meantime, I'll post this before I lose my courage.