Shelving Journals

I'm currently reading Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Stroud. It's a collection of short stories linked together by a woman, Olive Kitteridge, who appears mostly as a minor or extra character in each story. In the "The Piano Player" one of the characters (not Olive) has this to say about love. "You couldn't make yourself stop feeling a certain way, no matter what the other person did. You just had to wait. Eventually the feeling went away because others came along. Or sometimes it didn't go away but got squeezed into something tiny, and hung like a piece of tinsel in the back of your mind."

It is perhaps the most liberating and empowering feeling to realise that you're falling out of love with someone or that you have completely fallen completely out of love with said person.

Of course it's not obvious when you've reached that point. In fact often you don't notice it until a few days have passed and it strikes you that you have ceased to think of someone who previously occupied your daily thoughts. Or, maybe it's simply the way you react to something the object of your affection does, or more precisely the way you don't react, as whatever it was s/he did that would normally affect you no longer moves you in one way or another. Whatever it is that makes you realise those amorous feelings have gone, it is, as I said, quite liberating.

However, I don't really think of these past loves as being smooshed into small bits of tinsel to be hung in the back of my mind. No, instead they are like journals that are filled up with stories of happy times and anguish from when you were in love. All the unrealised hopes, dreams and wishes for that relationship scribed onto the pages by hand until finally there are no pages left because there is simply nothing more to write about.

And then they go on to the shelf and sit. Every now and again you open up those diaries and reminisce, but seldom do new pages get added. The story is over, but no matter what you never...ever...ever throw them away.

Thus, I'd have to say that 2010 was the year of shelving some very thick journals. And yes. It was quite liberating.

What Is So Important About Today?

It's World AIDS Day. As bloggers we were encouraged to write about how and why we are facing AIDS. This is my how and why.

I met Scott on New Year's Eve, 1989. To be honest, I didn't really like him at first. I thought he was arrogant and bordered on being rude. On top of that a 'friend' of mine had given me an earful about him, all of which later revealed itself to be untrue. In April when my roommate told me that Scott and his girlfriend had split, I surprised myself by suddenly thinking, "Of course they did; he's meant to be with me."

It still took a few more months for him to woo me over and eventually I fell...hard. We were quite close, almost inseparable. I had never in my entire life known a love like this and spent my days walking on cloud nine. I was living and breathing happiness. But, when you walk high on clouds it hurts like hell when you tumble to the ground. My heart was shattered when we split.

However, we never really seemed to let each other go. I eventually moved to Seattle and he moved to San Francisco. I met a man and we moved in together out of necessity. Still I spoke to Scott every week. I may have been in a serious relationship with a live-in boyfriend in Seattle, but my heart belonged to a man in San Francisco.

About a year after we both had settled in our new homes, Scott found out that he was HIV positive. By some grace of God I wasn't. Don't ask me how. I'm lucky, I guess. It took me a long time to accept that. I felt guilty for years that I didn't end up with HIV. And don't ask me how Scott caught it. How anyone catches the disease isn't the issue. The issue is they have it. I absolutely hate the fact that there is a stigma on people who have this disease. At the end of the day it is not important. It is not a punishment from God. It is a disease and one that is killing millions of people, but allow me to get off my high horse and continue.

Slowly Scott's health deteriorated and so did a piece of my sanity. My Seattle boyfriend had developed a serious drug problem and Scott was the only one I talked to about it. Two men I cared for were dying in front of me. One couldn't help it and one was slowly killing himself. Eventually, Scott's health got so bad that he flew back to Michigan to see his family. He wouldn't be returning to San Francisco.

His best friend called me, then my old roommate, then his sister. It was time, and he was asking for me. He had said to his mother, “H- will kill me if I die before she gets here.” I gathered together all my savings, and the very next day I flew from Seattle to Michigan, where we had first met and had fallen in love while at university.

The disease had ravaged his body to nothing. This amazing man I had never stopped loving was reduced to a flesh covered mass of organs, each of them slowly disintegrating. He was in a morphine coma, and there was no way of really knowing if he could hear us. His family, with the exception of his sister, were exhausted and left to get well deserved rest. She and I chatted, and I told her a humorous story about him and me. I got to the part in the story where he and I had different versions, and suddenly he moaned as if to disagree with me like he always did when we would tell that story together.

Trained as a nurse, Scott's sister wanted to stay up with us, but she was only human and eventually succumbed to the need for sleep. At last she took her respite, but stayed in the room with us, sleeping on the floor. Due to the time change, I was still wide awake and told her I would wake her if…

Once I knew she was asleep I told him things I should have said long before. I promised him I’d leave my drug addict boyfriend. I told him I had never stopped loving him; it had always been him and there had never been anyone else despite the men who had come after him. Then, suddenly he said my name. He asked if I was there, if it was ok. My eyes stung, and my voice cracked as I told him he needed to go. I was there, I loved him, and I couldn’t stand to see him like this. He needed to go, and I would see him in the next life.

He said something that sounded like “Okay” and took a breath. I stood up and yelled for his sister. This shocked him, and he jolted. ‘Oh Jesus,’ I thought, ‘even in death I can’t let him be in peace.’

His sister took his pulse, and his chest rose and fell. “Is he gone?” I whispered. She nodded and ran to get the rest of her family. His chest continued to rise and fall, and I was confused. His family assembled in the room, and he continued to breathe. His sister explained that it was natural for breathing to continue a bit after the pulse had stopped. Then his breathing stopped, and the colour left his face. I moved away from his side to the corner of the room where I slid to the floor and let his family move in closer to him. I felt out of place somehow and hugged my knees into my chest. Everything felt numb, and my face was wet. The hospice nurse came to take care of the body. That was what he was now, a body. He was gone. My first real love and my best friend was gone, and unlike the times we had tried to leave each other before, there would be no coming back.

I think of Scott every day despite the fact that it has been 14 years since he passed on. I pray that a cure for this disease is found and soon. So, please if you have some extra time or extra money, donate it to the AIDS charity of your choice and remember all those who are living with this disease, not just today but always.

Where the hell have I been?!

Someday I'll be back up for air (I originally spelled air as 'error' so that should give you some understanding of my mind's state at the mo') but until then I'm buried under piles of work. This is an extraordinarily challenging school year this year, as I'm teaching literature in addition to just writing. Granted it is only at a 6th grade level, but I would argue that makes it more difficult. I do need to muck through grammar errors and teach correct grammar and it's all VERY time consuming. I'm also teaching web design. Do I have web design experience? Oh yes, all in HTML language from like 18 years ago. Do I know anything about designing quality web pages. No, but I know people who do and thank GOD for them, as they have helped me design this course. On top of all that, I made the ultimately insane decision to take a course this autumn. What the hell was I thinking??!?!?!! I'm almost all the way through the course and averaging an A so far. However, I'm a bit of perfectionist and if I were getting anything less than an A, I'd probably lose sleep.

So that's why you haven't seen me lately. I've not even really been out socially. I can hear your shocked gasps all the way over on this side of the internet. Ask any of my London friends. They'll tell you they haven't seen me in a while- well with the exception of Halloween I suppose. Oh and here's a pic of me in my dominatrwitch costume.

Let me tell you those shoes are painful, but aren't they hot?

My mother dared to inquire about "my private life" not too long ago and I cracked up. First, because she used the term "private life" and I instantly had this vision of giving her my gynaecological exam results and second, because I haven't had the time to meet anyone new much less get together with the people I already know. It's sad. It really is.

Oh and I'm shoving my face with food as a result of my stress. Again, sad, sad, sad.

So that's me. That's where I am. And in about 3 weeks my course will end, life will settle down a bit and I'll return to my random blogging schedule. Until then...

Blog Makeovers

I've been thinking about my two blogs lately and how one has almost dwindled out of existence. I decided that this couldn't happen, so it's blog makeover time.

I began "My Luck with Cars and Boys" with the thought that I would take my past (mis)adventures with men and motor vehicles and spin interesting tales with them. Perhaps then I would have some interesting fodder for a novel...or at least the inspiration for one. However, I intimidated myself (if that makes any sense) with my own expectations of what this would become and I froze. The posts over there just ceased to happen.

I have decided that my blogs need to really reflect their titles. This blog is titled "H in London" and thus that is what the posts will reflect. My little (mis)adventures in my life in London and other places I might venture to from London. "My Luck with Cars and Boys" will reflect current and past tales of my luck or lack thereof in love. From this point on "H in London" will be love life free.

"H in London" has more readers than "My Luck..." for obvious reasons. Thus when I post a new post there, I'll let you know here. Hopefully this will revitalise and renew both my blogs and keep me writing and keep you reading as well.

And surprise! There is a new post on "My Luck with Cars and Boys.

As always thank you for reading. I hope you continue to do so.

It Is Unusual

I have "It's Not Unusual" by Tom Jones stuck in my head. It's been there since I woke up this morning. Now this is unusual. First, I don't own any Tom Jones. Well I might since I was gifted loads of music this summer, but I have not sought it out or tried to play it. I actually don't really like Tom Jones that much, but I admit I do like this song. Second, I haven't heard it on radio or telly at any point here recently. And third, I don't really have a love interest per say. There are a few people I fancy and some residual feelings from the past that pop up every now and again, but nothing that would inspire me to go around humming this tune. Plus, as far as I am aware there is no one who loves me-well romantically anyway.

Still, I'm bopping around humming this tune as if I'm in love with someone. Weird.

It could be that today we are all dressed up like the 60's as we are celebrating our school's 40th anniversary, and this is a song from that era. Or, maybe it's an omen of things to come? (I'd prefer to think that, frankly).

Anyway, it's just unusual that I have 'It's Not Unusual' stuck in my head that's all. Felt like sharing.