drunk emailing

...so a couple of weeks ago, after a little too much wine at my new friend Ralph's house (he cooked me Cornish hens!!!), I opened up my little PowerBook and emailed Xander, basically giving him what for--why should we be friends all of a sudden, when he didn't deem me worthy of conversation when I was LIVING WITH HIM?

Well, of course, when I woke up the next morning with a red wine headache and an 8 AM ticket to New Orleans, i saw the evidence: the PowerBook sitting open in my office. Oh , no, the drunk email. Forget the drunk dial, the drunk text: I even found a way to drunk something my ex in HOLLAND. Pathetique, as Carlise would say.

But now, you know, I'm glad I did. He sent me back his usual, you were distant too, let's all be buddy buddy now, you're great, I'm not an asshole, etc etc. And i sat on it for a couple of weeks...and tonight, I was listening to one of the good things that came out of my Holland stint: Arrow Jazz FM. It's a delightful station, really, and it proves that there ARE cool people in Rotterdam, though I wouldn't know it, as X didn't want to leave Spijkenisse, where ladies with bad bleach jobs and perma-tans on bicycles try to take out pedestrians for sport, especially ones they suspect might be Americans living in sin with a Dutch Green Beret.

And, on Arrow Jazz tonight, they were playing "You Were Always on My Mind". And that was it. I lost it. Cried. Sobbed, really. And wrote Mr. Green Beret back that I could not, would not, be his friend. I am heartbroken. I truly am. I mourn for all the things I hoped we were, that I hoped we could be. Could those things ever really happen? Maybe not. But isn't that what we mourn, the POSSIBILITY of happiness with another? I don't know if maybe I have been trying to convince myself that I was not sad, that I didn't leave a bit of me behind in Holland, in that sordid little apartment in which I cooked, cleaned, did laundry, translated f'ing shopping lists into Dutch, maintained my home yoga practice, and blogged as if my life depended on it. My lifeline to the world.

There's this line in an Everything but the Girl song: how much of yourself do you give away after someone's left your life in disarray? I feel like I gave a lot of myself to this summer, to Holland, to Spain, to Italy, to Belgium, to Germany, to Xander. Maybe the way to look at it is that I gave away the bad bits, the parts of myself that I needed to give away...like one major-ass, 3-month long spinal twist (for the yogis), just detoxing the crap out of my soul. And I needed to leave Xander behind, too--and now I am doing so. He's a relic of my former self, the self who did things just to distract from my unhappiness.

Ah, drunk emailing. Yeah for sober blogging.

To bed--am off to College Station tomorrow to observe clickers in action and to talk to some unsuspecting freshmen about marketing. more soon, promise--including photos of my slowly coming together house for those who have been asking...xo

Oil town

realize I've been remiss in posting, sorry. much to say, but I'll make a few points for now:

1. I've been the owner of 1015 Peddie for exactly one month!
2. I have painted both the living/dining/kitchen a gorgeous mushroom color and my bedroom an interesting green/gray.
3. I have a couch and a new Krups coffee maker.
4. Houston needs me to inject some NYC vibe. Do I open a sexy, small, swank bar here soon?
5. I need to teach yoga here. How to find the time/overcome my insecurities?

off to coffee shop to learn software for my presentation in Thibodeaux tomorrow. jealous?