We didn't get out of bed until after noon on Saturday. I had to get back to San Francisco to get my drums for the R&B band's gig that night. I was pretty zonked.
We had only gotten to sleep after 4:30 because we ended up talking about "us". She wasn't sure how far into a relationship I wanted to go because of things I'd said and she wanted to respect that. I stupidly embarked on a discourse of my love for her. To make a long story short, I spent a long time basically telling her that I did want to be in a relationship with her, regardless of what I had said before. Most definitely.
She came to the performance that night. It was so-so. It would have been decent if certain song format mistakes weren't made. I could deal with performance mistakes or even poor energy, but when someone doesn't come in when they are supposed to and stands there looking stupid, or when someone isn't doing something when they're suppose to and also looks stupid while making other people look stupid, then it's not a performance I want to keep for the record or remember.
I should have known. From now on, that's the lowest standard of proficiency in musicians I work with. They must be able to remember song maps and know what goes where. They don't have to be great, they don't have to be amazing, but they have to know what to do when.
Intimate space. We met at my school yesterday and headed up to Golden Gate Park where we wandered and explored around the botanical gardens there. Then we headed to my place and cooked and watched "Fires in the Mirror" by Anne Deveare Smith. Then we headed to the East Bay and walked around Lake Merritt before returning to her place to munch and enjoy each other's company.
We settled on her couch with peaches and apples and a lit candle. I got tired even though it wasn't very late. I had only gotten four hours of sleep trying to cram for Evidence. She asked if I would be alright driving home. Of course, I would. Once I got in my car I'd be fine, I always am. As long as you aren't relying on faith to stay awake. No problem. Was she leaving room for me to decide to stay over?
I had to go, but I stayed. And stayed. Then asked to stay. There was no question that we were in love. Our feelings have been clear for a week since Angel Island, but there was still a touch of ambiguity on the exact nature of our relationship. Then it was gone when we kissed. It was intimacy blooming into a kiss. From lying together, to our faces being close, to our cheeks touching, to our noses brushing tantalizingly close to each others lips, to our lips brushing lightly and delicately against each others and then reaching.
My last day of freedom before falling into the turmoil and surreality of law school; the constant grind of constant pressure and the annoying people. Evidence, Criminal Procedure, and Contracts.
Joy and I met in front of my school and we walked over to Yerba Buena Gardens to laze away the afternoon on a spot of grass. The breeze was warm and the grass was soft and thick. Other people were lying about, but we had a reasonable amount of privacy. It was really Joy, I amazed myself and impressed upon myself the short time in which we've known each other. And here she was, amazing me.
I am happy. I told Joy that I didn't think I could ever be fully and truly happy. So much of my life has been based on and motivated by struggle and anger that I wouldn't know what to do with myself if I were ever happy. Happiness is simply not something I desire out of life, it is not necessary, it is not something to actively pursue as a goal.
I am happy. What does it mean to be happy? What gauge am I using to make so bold a statement. It's hardly worth mentioning superficial, material things just to cynically illustrate what should not be major contributing factors to my happiness.
I'm content with who I am. I'm happy with the dynamics in my life and there's more than meets the senses about my drinking, my cutting, my low-points, my discomfort with myself, and my occasional difficulty dealing with myself and reality.
On some scale of happiness, I'm there. I'm somewhere some people will never know exists. I have a well-being and self-realization, I feel, that is beyond my immediate, surrounding situations. There are some seriously unhappy people out there who don't even know it.
I straightened things out with Joy at Yerba Buena. I tackled the cutting some more and I'm comfortable with what I told her. I don't know if she understands or can accept it, but at least she feels comfortable with and appreciates my struggle to explain it to the fullest extent.
Some things still scare me about getting close to Joy. I still have self-esteem/confidence issues. I don't see what Joy sees in me, and I still think that things could get complacent and boring for her.
There are still hurdles in my trust that I can't seem to get over. There is still residue from Amina. Trust is a lot more complicated than love. There was to some degree an automatic trust in getting to know Joy and falling in love with her. It grew to a degree that I thought impossible after Amina. Amina is now a symbol of betrayal.
I trust Joy despite Amina, but I certainly don't trust her as completely as I can. I can only work on it and try to move closer to Joy; intimate space mixing and the love being gradually exposed.
Why did I tell Joy about cutting? What purpose did that serve? The drinking was different. If Joy wanted me to stop drinking, I could stop. At least I have a defensible explanation about drinking, I have my argument. No one could take away my feelings and understanding about it, even if they disagreed or didn't see it. But cutting? I can't explain it, I just do it. I don't know why I do it or why I don't feel pain. I can take a knife right now and . . . I don't know why I simply don't do it. Why did I introduce this part of me to Joy when I can't explain it to myself?
She came to San Francisco. We met at school because I had to register for classes, and then we came to my place for lunch. The long intimate hug was an extension from last night. We were still close, caressing, half holding, looking, loving, and then she asked about the scar on my arm. I knew the topic would come up, how could it not? Even though most people have an easy time ignoring or avoiding it.
It wasn't until we were on the sand at Ocean Beach, after having walked along the entire Sea Cliff trail, that I started talking about it. From that point on, I was winging it. It was difficult for me, often I felt my heart hurt, I realized the degree to which parts of me have been numbed insensitive. I hated having to tell Joy, but I couldn't imagine not telling her, either. I trust her and she means enough to me that I refuse to not disclose anything important about me.
I had told Amina. She seemed uncomfortable and she detached herself pretty quickly. Then it never came up again. Why even bother? She may have noticed scars on my chest at some point and run her fingers over them, I forget, but she never asked to understand. Much less that she was the inspiration for several due to the unfortunate period of my life in which she decided to get involved with me.
It hurt to tell Joy; to look at her face, her eyes, knowing that here was someone I was beginning to care for. Why did I tell her? I'm angry at myself for having told her. I had no business exposing this side of me to her so blatantly. I'm getting together with her again tomorrow, the last time on a regular basis. I won't panic, it won't be any different than if I hadn't told her anything. We have plenty of other things to discuss and share.
I think Joy and I are a couple. We've been doing so much and we've gotten so close so fast. I met her on July 4, then I received a letter from her on the 121h, I called her the next Friday on the 15th, and we got together for the second time on the next day, the 16th.
So much happened in the next two weeks before I went to New Jersey. Walks and talks in parks and cemeteries, oblivious of the time. Movies and meals, her eyes and the comfort with which she accepted me into her home. So many times across her dinner table, so many times over dinner. How quickly she has become familiar, a part of my life. Part of my life? Why does that just not feel right?
I got back home from New Jersey on Friday night and Joy was leaving for LA on Saturday morning. I called her from the airport as soon as I got in and we arranged to meet the next morning. We just hung out for a couple hours at her place before I took her to the airport.
I picked her up from the airport when she got back on Thursday and we went to see the movie 'Eat Drink Man Woman' after spending some time at her place. We blew bubbles outside of her building.
Today we went to Angel Island with the J-town Youth Leadership Seminar group. It wasn't uncomfortable with Tria, and Tria seems to have taken to Joy. We drove Tria home to San Rafael and ended up going to Tria's favorite hill and hung out there for a while.
On the way back to Berkeley, Joy and I got into a discussion about alcohol. When we got to her place we decided that as long as we started the topic, we should try to exhaust it to some degree. I think she appreciated that I was willing and able to tackle the issue without getting defensive and running away from it. I hope it told her something about my character.
It was a heavy discussion. I don't think I fully convinced her, but I think she trusted my perception and treatment of the issue. I don't like being any less than sober when I'm around her, and I think if we get into a long term relationship, I would have to stop drinking. If we did, I wouldn't tell her right away that I've stopped drinking. But I have no intention of stopping any time soon.
The discussion of alcohol continued and after dinner, we moved from the dinner table over to the couch and we got comfortable. We lay in opposite directions on the couch and after a while I put my hand on one of her . . . feet. And she one on mine.
Hours. It got late and it was briefly considered that I stay the night, but I felt I had to come home since I have to register for law school tomorrow. We hugged for a long time and she felt so comfortable. And that, I suppose, is when we could say it started.
Falling in love with Joy? I have apprehensions. I don't know for sure whether she shares the feeling. It's possible that she only feels a strong, kindred friendship. It's possible that I'm misinterpreting the whole thing.
I need to hold onto myself. I'm not going to deviate from being myself. I will make time for her and to be with her, but my focus has to still be music. When school starts, I'm going to lose a large portion of my time. I'm not going to make sacrifices of my time or myself for Joy. None of what has gone before is going to happen again.
It was a perfect week with Joy. I've never been good at expressing positive feelings or when I'm happy, so I won't try to describe how Joy makes me feel. Always the comfortable air. I have such clear images of her already. Her warmth, her smile, the empathy, and the communication.
We spent most of the past two weeks together. I'm glad for this New Jersey break to breathe and put it all into perspective. It was good to force a pause. I was concerned that it would get old for her, that she might get bored with over-exposure or would have to return to her responsibilities and priorities.
Not only to force a pause, but come to the East Coast. The sky and the air is so different here, not to mention the deeply embedded memories. It forced a reality check. There is my life there, but it is my past here. Being here where everything is so naturally and intensely familiar, while realizing that my reality, what Joy is a part of, is something completely different. The California sky and the California air. Not so intense, not so natural or familiar, but definitely real. It's mine, too. The 'rents have no idea about it. It's much more real than here.
Late afternoon, a sunny, hazy day, the sun still high in the western sky; the Berkeley marina, the calm waters of the Bay; the Bay Bridge stretching towards the San Francisco skyline. Rows of cars parked and people enjoying the marina. Joy and me. Sitting together on a rock, not saying much, not having to say much, sitting as close to her as I dare. I couldn't ask for anything more.
I visited Vikki in Boston and things were great. We have been developing our friendship into new grounds. More caring, more vulnerability. It's a little weird, but I like it this way a lot. It's hard to shake the form of friendship we've already carved with our teasing and tormenting, the joking which always ends up at her expense. She hitched a ride with me back down to New York since she got a call from her parents the day I was leaving, and she needed to come to New York.
Things have been satisfactory with the 'rents. I've barely spent any time with them. I haven't had to endure going out to dinner with them as I expected I'd have to. The one time we had set a time to go out, I couldn't get home in time from New York because of a fire in the 181st St. subway station. By the time I got to their house, they were all ready to scamper out to go dancing.
They pursue the usual questions and issues that bore me. My responses are always the same, but they still ask. To show they care? Whatever. Do I plan to move back East after school? I don't know (no fucking way). All you have to do is graduate and get certification. Yea, I know (right, fat chance).
I'll be glad to be going home tomorrow. It hasn't been so bad here. A little refreshing. A little disturbing at how familiar it all is; at how easy it was to adjust to being back here. It has been a nice little fantasy trip down memory lane. I can't wait to see Joy again. We're going to get together on Saturday morning for a couple of hours before I take her to the airport. She's going down to L.A. to visit her parents.
