May 29
there's news to be announced. tomorrow, i promise.
We had a really nice anniversary. It was mellow & we went out to dinner, which I didn't expect, as we're a little bit poor right now. The guy who served us, bless his heart*, thought that we were just two crazy high school kids out on a date. I think he thought he was doing us some kind of favor by not asking for ID, because when we told him that we were there for our anniversary (he asked, not like we blurted it out..) he reported that because it was not a friday, he was less stringent about carding the underaged.
I always wonder about that. I wear a wedding band, and I'm left handed, so when I talk, I wave my hand around a lot. It's obvious that I wear the band. I know I'm making a gross generalization when I say this, but aren't most people who are married over 21? (remember, too, this is Connecticut, not the deep south. No disrespect to y'all from the deep south, of course.) Also, this restaurant isn't Arby's. It was a pricey Italian place, the kind of place where if I was looking to be doing some serious underaged drinking, I'd avoid like the plague. It just makes sense: if you have yourself 20 bucks to get fucked up, are you going to spend 10 of it on appetizers and 5 of it on tip? I thought not. You're going to head down to the local kiddie bar, or quickiemart and get yourself a handful of 40 ounces. At least, that's what I did when I was underaged. But I digress.
Anyhow, number 4 was a good one.
(*'Bless his/her heart' always makes me giggle. I'm a dork. I can't help it..)
Dana of 1995:
I've spent a few hours tonight looking through old journals I've kept, because except for my first few years in Connecticut, I've always, always kept one. In college, they were drunken, love-struck poetry soaked practically indecipherable scrawls about the man I was dating and the problems I was having with my mother. I considered posting something I'd written about her, but then realized that it sounded crazy, even to me. When I read back, even now, it brings out raw, brutal emotion. 1990 brings me to a place and a time where I was living a phenomenally terrific life. I had all the love I could stand, friends, money, alcohol, cigarettes, weed, and the lower east side was my playground. Who could complain about any of that?
I read on. 1992-1994 were horrible. I can't bear to write all of it down again. I went through two years that I honestly did not think I'd walk away from, on any level. I hit some kind of rock bottom and just stayed, drunk, fat, miserable, broke, angry.
1995 things started to really change. I sort of came into myself. I got out amongst the people, and not only as the drunk I'd been known to be in the past. Here is me, 1995:
March 31
I don't know what I'm feeling at all. I'm mixed up inside, empty, lonely--all of those great emotions. Each time I see M*., I try and keep things on a very friendly light level, but it never seems to work out that way and I can't decide whether or not its because I have these great, deep emotions that I can't cope with, or i it's simply because I'm lonely. It could be an either/or. I just know that I have this great desire to have more than I do--this counts almost everything--money, love, you name it. I suppose I shouldn't complain, but it's hard to feel like there's no one around for me and that I never can be truly alone to think when I'm at home. Consider the fact--I almost went and sat in the park last night cause I didn't want to see my mother.
April 8
A bitter old woman is what I hope not to become. I think Im too young to be this way. What i want is things to be the way they used to be. I know this isn't reasonable. Someone to love & (dare I say it?) worship me. I don't think that's too much to ask. I had it once, why not again, now? Why did things change so much while not changing at all? Internally, someone to love would make all the difference? Why is it so hard to find? Can it be the way I look? Act? What I dream of? The music I listen to? The friends I have?
July 14
And this matter of dirty laundry--am I all that clean? I guess I must be--24, never been married, missed the 80's in that special fun way. Lucked into the 90s. I dunno. Don't think I'm terrible. Maybe somewhere someone will love me. That sounded awfully self-pitying, no?
Anyway, the job seems to be working out. D. is cool & I kinda (in a strange way) enjoy the work I do here.
Actually, everything I'm saying is diverting me from the fact that I can't get my mind off P+. This (at least on my part) is scary. I know that I've rattled on in this journal about various guys. Despite my stupidity and how I can't even remember if I even mentioned him except for in passing--with B*. I realize now that there was nothing there. Nick** there was/are distinct possibilities, however, there's that distance thing-also, I dunno. Guess I'm willing (or able) to not think about the ex-wife, the old emotions, if he's willing to take a chance on someone like me. Don't know exactly what that means.
August 2
The TV could not be any louder. I"m at the Montero,*** waiting for J. I'm early--let's hope he's not late. Okay, if I just sit here and write, no one will talk to me.
Men are insane! I told R.(*x4) about P. (I know, I know. I just wanted to see if I could get a reaction from him, and yes, I did.) Do you know what he said? "I didn't know I had competition!" Can you say duh? Was I supposed to wait for him?)
Who Are Those Shortened Names, Dana?
M=someone I dated and lived with and loved with an intensity familiar to anyone who's in real love for the very first time.
P=guy I'd messed around with, and liked a great deal. Alas, alas.
B=dear lord, I don't remember who this is/was/and have no recollection of ever knowing or "knowing" anyone by this name. That might give you an indication of what 1990-1994 was like for me.
Nick=Nick, obviously. We'd first met in 1994, and maintained pretty constant email/phone correspondence through early 1995. We also met up the few times I came to New Haven to visit Leon. It seems funny now, looking back on it, that less than a year after I wrote that, we were married. My life has always, always moved in strange, sudden, passionate ways.
Montero=Spanish bar in Brooklyn I used to spend a lot of my time . Recently revisited .
R=this guy I met in the most fucked way. I mean it. I couldn't make a story like this up. One night, I was at M's apartment. We were drunk (par for the course of my life.) and were playing Truth or Dare. Somehow, I was dared to pick a number out of the phone book and call. I picked R, because he had the stupidest Italian last name that I'd ever heard. I called, he answered, we got to talking. And talking. And talking.
We talked a lot. We got to know eachother. We became good friends, then eventually dated on and off. Mostly off, because he was always one of those married to his job kind of guys, and he left me sitting at bars waiting for him many a boozy night, which was a double edged sword, as I do indeed love bars and beer, but do not love sitting around waiting for people. He asked me to marry him a bunch of times. I turned him down because of a Talking Heads song. Also, because I didn't love him that way.
When I look back on my life, when I read journal after journal of who & how I used to be, I'm always left stunned, amazed, thrilled with myself, and who I am now. It's like: here I am. Here. I. Am. Jesus, yes. Here I am.
the other day/home/email/tomorrow
You had something to hide
Should have hidden it, shouldn't you
Now you're not satisfied
With what you're being put throughIt's just time to pay the price
For not listening to advice
And deciding in your youth
On the policy of truthThings could be so different now
It used to be so civilised
You will always wonder how
It could have been if you'd only liedIt's too late to change events
It's time to face the consequence
For delivering the proof
In the policy of truthNever again
Is what you swore
The time before
Never again
Is what you swore
The time beforeNow you're standing there tongue tied
You'd better learn your lesson well
Hide what you have to hide
And tell what you have to tellYou'll see your problems multiplied
If you continually decide
To faithfully pursue
The policy of truth