My mom and grandma were passing through town to pick up Loren in Vallejo from her dad, and I told them I was busy, that I wouldn't be able to meet up with them. I lied. Just not in the mood. I love them to death, but I'd rather tell them I'm busy than admit I've gone straight home and cracked open a beer.
The good news is that my mood improved vastly from morning to night. Hard not to still feel shitty for last Wednesday, even though it seems like Jenny and I will be fine, in time, sooner than later. But anyway, work at the coffee-shop was nothing special. Sometimes I feel as hollow as an infomercial actor. Sometimes I feel like the God of Caffeine and Good Foam. Sometimes it just feels like Sunday.
I mentioned the blog to Kirsten today, apprehensively, but only to segue into a conversation about the record skip that carved through the bliss of Me & Jenny. Kirsten didn't seem surprised. "Who doesn't have a blog these days? Or facebook? We're all publishing our lives in some way," she said. But then she said, "You didn't use real names, did you?" And I lied. For now. Here I am, still using real names. Shit. But I went back and looked at some stuff that I'd written. Some of it's a little... forward, and presumptuous. Some of it's subtle. I figure she knows about it and can use her internet skills to find it, if she wants, and I can alter it accordingly. Part of me thinks she'd be cool with it and anyway, I am pretty sure I never used last names, so who's to say I haven't been using fake names all along?
That's ridiculous. I know. But fuck it. I do what I want.
Tired of Old Soul. Tired of waiting to hear back from Sac State. Tired of what? Tired of Sacramento? Maybe. I mean Sean's moving to San Diego. Kirsten's aiming for San Francisco. People are changing with the seasons. It happens. Life rolls along and all we can do sometimes is run to catch up. Jenny likes Santa Cruz. I would love Santa Cruz. I would also love to join the Peace Corps. I would also love to make more money.
It's weird to think Jenny will probably read this (Hi Jenny), and it makes me question the stuff that I write. I guess I always hoped for an audience but never anticipated. So I don't want this to become some passive-aggressive way for me to communicate with her. I don't know what I want this blog to be anymore.
So here we are.
Last night was good. Jenny and I had ramen for dinner, listened to records, drank wine, took a couple photos of her room, bantered with the roommates and watched A Very Long Engagement before going to bed. We're definitely still comfortable with each other. A good sign. I walked home from Jenny's house in the glow of rain-coated streetlamps and clocked in for work at 5:40 AM.
Today was fine. Usual Sunday blues. Shaun was excited to tell me about his first kiss with Chelsea, and the way that particular Carla Bruni crept up on him, and together we handled a steady flow of customers evading the rain, seeking shelter to the sounds of Ross on the jazz guitar. Thirty-five in tips isn't bad, either.
I ended up buying a t-shirt from Bows and Arrows and impulse-buying a Pink Floyd tape to listen to with my car stereo, you know, because I drive so much. I wonder how many people are left to uphold the cassette tape culture. I've never seen anyone else in The Beat perusing the cassette aisles. Jenny got lost in the records and walked away with two new ones. KC and the Sunshine Band. Al Green. I'm jealous. I think the first album I'd buy if I had a player would be Modest Mouse "The Moon and Antarctica."
"It feels like something was taken from us," was how Jenny put it.
At first I thought she was talking about graduating from college, and I tried to explain my view on the removal of the class schedules, the dorms, the... She's talking about the blog. About both being on this same track toward something, something still finding its legs, and then this. Then she reacted, pulling this way, and I reacted, pulling another way, and when we rebounded back together it just felt off.
For me.
Because I realized that I would have to stop this. Stop writing this. Because it was something I had put a lot of energy into, for whatever reason, for cathartic reasons, and suddenly it had backfired like some tamed beast finally tired of its harnesses. I had done this to myself. It had to stop, I thought.
But Jenny said no. She said don't stop. Best of all she said, "Don't let her win."
Even better, she wants to start her own blog. Not like this one. Not like a journal. More like... Things. Poetry, journalism, photographs... I've inspired her, and I've also inspired Shaun, who told me today he'd read some of the blog and wanted to start up something similar. Great hobby, I think. Feels good to know that some good can come out of this. Feels good to be encouraged to keep it going.
Jenny and I are just gonna go for it. No reason to back out of it.
"We're just going to have to be very real with each other," she said.
That's kinda what I've been going for.
- Left to Fry
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