Utah wedding

Lynn was married last week. I traveled to Utah for the wedding, stayed at my parent's house, played with my nephews, and traveled to Southern Utah with the wedding party and led people on hikes.  On Friday I returned to St. George and spent time with Lee.


I'm okay. I worried that I wouldn't be. The first few days were difficult. The day of the wedding was difficult. I couldn't do anything right. I was wound tight and was ready to bolt. Run. Drive away to Nevada or Mexico. It was a grim business painting my toenails and preparing my face and dress. Once I was actually there, though. Once I could simply remember that I was there for Lynn, I was okay. It's clear how deeply she and Dan love one another and I can honor and support that. I'm glad there is something beautiful in the world. I played the guitar and sang as they asked. Carla Bruni's "quelqu'un m'a dit". And I danced.

I liked the crowd of people: a group of artists and performers from California and New York. They were like a flock of bright birds in this Utah desert. I particularly liked Jon, the "Man of Honor" and his boyfriend, Chris. They were a lovely couple. Jon saw the sadness in me and fell in love with it. I suppose that is the beautiful thing about artists: they can see beauty where the rest of us would excise the defect, if we could. Jon is a costume designer and a Buddhist and he talked to me about "finding a different source" for the things I needed. "You keep returning to a door that's closed."

I was able to spend some time with San - and I was grateful for this. It was my first time back in the house since Michael died. It seemed to me that he was in every room.

I've just arranged to fly to San Diego to see G. Two weeks ago, I had the worst dream that he was gone and that I'd missed the chance to spend time with him. So I called when I woke up, sick to my stomach and heart pounding. I learned that his fucking cancer is back. I knew it would come. I just didn't want to believe it. I want to imagine that he will always be invincible and chilling out on a boat someplace.

I gave him a list of dates when I could come and he chose the closest option - next week. So I'm going. I want to see him while he's still good. He won't want me to see him when it starts to look bad. He'll want to play, "make believe". He'll want me to pretend that everything is okay. I will do that for him, if I can.

eyes and voice

I see the face as I descend the elevator to the platform. He glances at me. Blue eyes. I want him to look again.

I find an excuse to talk to him. Talk to his friend. When he speaks, I almost expect it: the accent. He's Dutch. Of course he is. The accent is unmistakeable.

"Ik spreek een beetje nederlands," I tell him. I show him the book in my purse: "Jip en Janneke". He laughs. We speak Dutch for a few minutes.

We talk on the train. I try to make him laugh. Try to make him look at me with those eyes. Hear that voice. Because he has Sjors' eyes. Sjors' accent. Some manner of speaking. I would stay forever on this train just to be reminded.

the ride ends. King street. We disembark. Nice to meet you. Three kisses.

It wasn't Sjors, I remind myself. Otherwise I might chase after - down the rainy street.

I didn't stop loving you.

Snow hiking

It snowed in West Virginia and I was there to see it. 

Sara made the invitation on Monday so I dropped everything on Wednesday and joined her with A1 and A2 for a roadtrip to Davis, West Virginia. A1 and I shared an Uber to A2's apartment in Ballston, then we drove the 3.5 hours West. There was a lovely cabin, fully furnished and stocked with a gas-burning fireplace and a hot tub. We rented snowshoes and hiked until dark on Wednesday night, then returned home and prepared dinner together and chatted, listening to Ella Fitzgerald. In the morning, the snow had begun, coming down in big pillow-y drifts. I heard it in my small, cold, bed next to the outside wall, the creaking and the muted shuffle as clumps fell to the ground. We ate breakfast, and hiked again. 

I've been a bit subdued ever since Pcat's visit. It was good to talk to him, touch him, to feel that he heard me, and to receive his kind messages afterwards. But there is something very difficult about looking back and seeing the destruction behind you. Like Lot's wife watching as everything in Gommorah burned, it paralyzes me and I stand stricken. I am once again reminded how deeply I love S and the pain of knowing I will never see him again, never feel what it is to be loved by him, knowing that he betrayed me because he was afraid for himself: it feels very sad. Besides this, I've been sad for San who feels such pain over the loss of her husband, it takes the breath from me and I long to alleviate her suffering. I worry that the worst is yet to come. 

I've been running and working out but it doesn't seem to be enough to pull me out of the slow-circling-of-the-drain. Visiting the mountains, hiking in the woods, feeling my heart race and my body move, and feeling the bite of snow on my face gave me a joy I haven't felt in a long time.  

Familiar

Memories; discrete pockets of feeling and physical sensation, intense thought, effervesce through the past and break on the surface of this flat, dull present. I see you and am reminded of everything I was when we were last together; all the passion and the work and the agony. You remind me of what I might have become, and everything they've taken.
You look at me when I give you my ideas. Truly look at me; you always liked the content of my mind. In spite of yourself. I like that you try to taste what I'm saying. I'm swollen with ideas, with nowhere to deliver them.
I've thought about taking a taxi to your rooms. Knocking on the door and you letting me in. But I can't bear to be reminded of everything I will never have. I will never have him. And you are not mine, either. I may feel your skin, see your smile, taste your mouth. But then I return to the plodding, heavy, lifeless self.
I can't stand to see what I am in the mirror. I tried to keep myself whole, but they took all the best parts and I've tried to put things back in their places, sticking the edges down with glue and hoping it will hold.

Before the storm

It's supposed to snow for the next three days. I've tried to steal what sunlight I can before the front moves in. I made the long walk to DC yesterday - jogging the first few miles and trudging the rest. As ever, I listened to an audiobook and called family, found myself at my favorite sushi restaurant for dinner, chatted with Marie, and took the train back. This meditative walkabout has been the staple of my sanity for years now; in Italy, I would walk to Bagnoli pier or out to monte di procida or to Lago Averno. When I miss it for a week, I miss it. The three-mile strolls to the grocery store are fine, but they don't compensate for my need to walk ten or fifteen miles; until my legs and hips hurt and I'm ready for a long sleep.

Eric's plane arrived at 11:30 and he was at my place shortly after midnight. He looked quite the disaster after his week in Vegas. It was nice to feel him laying next to me in bed, for all that he snored and tossed around - because he also reached out and touched my hand, or caressed my arm, or pulled me next to him. These gestures are so comforting to me, recalling a time when I was loved. Eric does not love me, but it is good to have some form of intimacy as long as it doesn't break me. I seem to lack the ability to trust. There isn't a way around it.
I had a long conversation with Narisse yesterday morning. She's read the first couple chapters of the book. She doesn't like that there are no revealing descriptions of me. What would this look like? Heaven only knows. She also doesn't like Sjors. She thinks he's a creep for pursuing me so heavily. Corinne says that there isn't much to make someone believe that Sjors is a kind person. But I loved him. It is difficult to show someone else what you saw - particularly when there is no light to illuminate it.
Pcat's in town. He texted me when he arrived. I look forward to seeing him again. It's been a long time.

Sunshine

Day wasn't half bad. Sun was bright, and I had meetings. Good meetings. Things are happening again. 

It's taken a while for the book to edge into the periphery of my consciousness. But it is firmly there now. There was a time - months and months, actually - when it was all I thought about and focused on. 

It was like keeping an enormous art project in the front entrance hall of your house. You're confronted with it every time you walk in and you can't really work on anything else. Poor Marie was perpetually pinged by me: "have you read the section I sent you? What did you think? What does it mean to you in the context of everything else you know about the situation?"

Now, the project is done. Now, there is breathing space. It is all out on paper and I don't need to think about it anymore. There was sadness, of course. I wrote it for Sjors and I can't even send it to  him - and it doesn't mean he's coming back to me. But I'm glad its out on paper. 

Today, I met with Ozwald. Our original contract with his company was cancelled/delayed because of upsets internal to their operations. Nothing we could do about it. I thought it was all over. Now, if I can re-draft the statement of work, we might be on contract as early as mid-February. Definitely good news. I also met, this afternoon, with a company which agreed to subcontract with us if we can put this thing together with the Command. 

Then, I called and spoke with my programmer. He's working on realizing my invention, and that is humming along nicely (apart from some strange in-fighting between the group members). 

Eric's been texting me today, and he always makes me smile. 

As I walked away from this second (unexpectedly good) meeting, the sun was shining. It was a beautiful day. I felt like I was breathing again. What a long and crooked road this is. Tomorrow, the sun rises at 7:21 AM. I will put on my running clothes and take a long run into the city. More sunlight, please. I need more sunlight. 

Quantum chemistry etc.

I can't get NW Chem to work. The program probably works fine. It's even been installed on a few of our machines. I just can't get it to do what I need it to do. Also, I can't get Openbabel to protonate the crystallography files. There's even a function: AddHydrogens. And it does exactly...nothing.
This seems to be a showstopper for us right now. Me not knowing how to use NW chem. Maybe I should have gone for the other program. I'm definitely the rate-limiting step in this reaction.

Monday - Thursday, I worked at the new job. Boring, but I can totally handle boring right now. With some money coming in, I can finally pay the lawyer's fees. It was completely demoralizing to learn that my legal costs outweighed the amount in my savings account. Also concerned because I can't guarantee that this even worked. Did it buy me what I needed? We'll see.

I've spent the past three days since getting things done and trying to rustle up business. Cleaned the place so San feels comfortable here when she arrives later this week. Started doing weights again so I can compensate for my months of missing Crossfit (amazing how much muscle you can lose). Decided to start training for a half marathon. Now, I should just sign up for one. Went to the Dutch Language lessons Wednesday evening - and studying the language every day (it's become a game for me: how fast can I get fluent?) Pinged our folks at the Combatant Command several times last week and finally got someone good on the phone. Really want to put this program together for them. God, it would be great to get it going by March.

I've passed my analysis to Josh, John, and Rick. I took it out of context, of course: nothing about the book is in this bit. I'm trying to get a sniff check from some SMEs so I can clean it up and tighten it before I try to publish.

Then there's Eric. Loving his company: goofy, snarky smile. It cheers me: the way he's available and interested and playful. Literally, actually playful. E-mail messages and texts that tickle my funny bone and make me feel like playing back. Sjors used to be that way, but I haven't used this part of me for years. The happy part of my soul responds to this, and my ability for play comes back readily, like riding a bike. Trust comes back far less readily; I don't know if it will ever return. I doubt it, but I can't worry about it. If someone is trustworthy, perhaps I will learn to trust again.

It was a glum and drizzly day. Cold. Wore wool sweater, down coat, gloves, and hat and still felt a bit put-out. Met Andrea at Teasim to do homework in Dutch. Afterwards, called Lynn in the U.K. It's been a while. She's getting married in April. Gotta find my way down there.