Saturday, March 21, 2009

Mark got home. I was worried because he was so late. I was thinking I might go to Necto. A friend of mine had invited me, and I said I might go. I shaved my head. Then Mark finally got home, and said that the sensor in our passenger door is so bent up, and that it's my fault for doing that - and that 'they' probably won't fix it. I don't deny that I've closed the door on my seatbelt, and my jacket before, but Mark has done this too; I've seen him do it. I can only remember it happening once, but still. He says that never happened. I remember being surprised when it happened, and sharing a look with him, of good natured humor. I was proud of myself for not making a big deal about it, only in retrospect maybe if I had it would be more memorable for him. Only there's no way to know as his memory is so fricking bad, and listens to things so selectively that it's impossible to know what he will or will not remember. It's something I've struggled with ever since I met him. The good far outweighs the bad, but it doesn't stop the bad from hurting. Anyways; my stomach hurts now, and it's not a good idea for me to go the bar now. Thanks Mark.

Mark came to my door while I was typing that and talked some more. He told me about his crappy day... This while I was shaking at his callous accusation. He ordered a gift for his dad on Amazon, but then found a better version of the gift, but his order was already placed. That sucks. A callous person would say that he should have looked at all his options before ordering, but I simply told him that sucks, and agreed with his statement that instead of buying 2 versions of the same gift (a socket wrench set), that he would be best served by getting a different tool altogether. This while my stomach was roaring.

I was having a really great night until Mark got home. I love him, but he hurts me sometimes. I don't think he means to, most of the time, but it still hurts. I know that I hurt him to. I think all close relationships are sometimes hurtful, to some degree. I just shouldn't let this bother me.

I told Mark that I liked BSG but I don't think he will. It's just a feeling, but perhaps I'm wrong. Maybe he'll enjoy it. I don't really know. Parts of it were very moving. And I think I'll find those things even more moving now that I know they are coming, and what the payoffs are. Perhaps I'll post a spoiler rich review later.

I think I want to read my robotech book. I'm tempted to go get a hug from Mark. I always want a hug from Mark when we aren't getting along. I mean, I often want to hug Mark when we are getting along, but I always want to hug him when we aren't getting along.

We had an interesting conversation the other day. I referred to him as my brother, and he said that he hates it when I do that. That he wants me to desire him. And I told him that I do, but that put those feeling away...and keep them buried, because if I had those feelings on display all the time, that living with him, and not having him would drive me crazy. He said that he understood the words that I was saying and that he believed that I believed them, but that he couldn't comprehend my meaning. We definitely have a very interesting relationship.

17 years ago, when I was 17, I was in the hospital. And we watched "Ferris Bueller's Day Off". If I'd remembered that earlier I would have rented it. A week later we watched "Drop Dead Fred". I also remember that the weekend before my arrival they had watched "The Sound of Music"; I remember them talking about how the girls wanted to watch it, but that the girls eventually went to bed and the boys stayed up to finish it. I remember watching Saved by the Bell, and the A Team. Eating Oreos. Drinking iced tea. Playing bullshit in the kitchen at those little tables with my dead friends. There was a ping pong table in that room. I played against Mike before they let us go to school. I wasn't allowed at first as I was on suicide watch, and Mike Neal wasn't because he'd made an escape attempt. He was crazy. And there was Alan, who was only 12 years old. The older kids tried to convince him that they'd started a club where you wore all your clothes inside out, and I stopped him from turing his tennis shoes inside out. I remember Rachel was exactly 2 years younger than me; we had the same birthday. Michelle was born around Halloween. Bryan was born July 24, 76; I always remember because I thought he said July 4th at first. Those are the only birthdays I'm aware of. There was Joe Egan from Canada. Christine Deppa. Amy. Heather. Jason Green. Amanda. Rhonda. Ron. Names come back to me...and I can hear their voices right now. That's unusual. Usually I don't remember them anymore. I remember my room with hard bed. And my bonding with others I met later that had stayed there; some of who were even crazier than I'd have expected. I remember some woman helping the kids to make pizza from scratch. I remember the Educational Therapy teacher (Pat), and how I once ran into her at gas station in Milan; she said that she drove past my parents house all the time and would think of me; I think she lived in Briton (MI), or around there. Remember playing wallyball to deal with my anger. Mom got me ball to use after I got out and I bounced it off the barn that is no longer there. Grandma got me Oreos. And I bought Ferris Bueller's Day Off on video. It all made me sad. I used to talk to Mike, Rhonda, & Bryan on the phone. I traded letters with Christine. I ran into Amy & Heather at school. This tidal wave of memories is coming fast and hard now...it's a bit overwhelming.

   posted by Bald Jason at 12:56 AM
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