"Resolution." (Or: "The Improbable Sinking Organs")

I think I saw your car today. I was working and not really paying attention to each car that I walked past a hundred times. At once, I was both excited and scared shitless. I've resigned myself to the idea that there isn't going to be any opportunities to fix any of this. I've resigned myself to leaving it be. I hadn't quite had the time or mental faculty to prepare myself for a chance meeting. The initial smile that found its way to my face, found itself an exit just as quickly. It was replaced by the feeling of some internal organ, more than likely my stomach or my dysfunctional pancreas, descending rapidly into my calves or ankles.

How does this work again? I mean, I have every desire to be an adult about this. Smile and nod, be kind and gentle in any speaking lines I may be given. But when answers are muddled, "misjudged", mistaken and few and far between...it's hard to be anything but a sulking, blank-eyed version of a guy who looks exactly like me. The people at work ask me if I'm okay. I can't particularly answer them with anything but a shrug. Granted, that might have something to do with losing my voice at the game this weekend.

Speaking of, at least four people asked me where you were on Saturday. I'm sure they all had assumed that by this point in time, I was able to properly indoctrinate you with the love of Purple & Gold, all the LSU fight songs, and a rabid desire for jambalya, crawfish pie and filé gumbo. I guess I haven't gotten around to spreading the news of how your trip to New York and my trip to Key West somehow caused an existential crisis, or in the very least, a re-evaluation. It's nothing more than unfortunate that in this instance, as my luck would have it, distance made the heart grow full of more distance, not any amalgamation of fondness.

After all of that, the car in question was not the one you own. It was the same color. But I think it had four doors. I guess I didn't know you long enough to bother making that distinction. Also, I think the bumper sticker on this one said something about being straight, married and supporting gay marriage. I nodded in approval.

I've been thinking about your, shall I say, obsession with a certain movie about a broken relationship. And not the fact that The Temper Trap song is both beautifully haunting and, now, completely aggravating for me to listen to. I think what sits so poorly with me about that movie is your insistence that your life follows the female lead character arc displayed in the plot. What is even worse is when you compared me to the male lead. I've been there. I've been broken and depressed, drunk constantly and habitually sad. I don't want that. I didn't want that again. I catch myself there again from time to time. Granted, I never had a dance number for you involving a Hall & Oates tune and a live-action/animation sequence, but maybe I just didn't luck out and get the time. However, you do realize she's the one who ends up happy at the end of the movie right? I mean, I sincerely hope that for you...that you find happiness. I do. But I feel like you have it jumbled. Like she's the one who bounces through life unattached. That's not it though. She gets the ring. He meets the cute girl at the end too, but that is more of a suspension tactic as opposed to actual resolution....and he still got stuck in the depths of emotional hell in the meantime.

Maybe that's my problem (one of many, you say?). Resolution. It still sticks out at me like a sore thumb every now and again that I never saw my last foray into relationships resolve. Just end abruptly. And now again. It's not as if I have any inclination that its not at least half my fault. Simply, that knowing any small detail of how this just magically slipped away quicker than it came might help my aforementioned mental faculties. For instance, the detail that helped me arrive at some sort of stability over the last year, was the the previous girl I happened to date ended up back with her ex. The ex whom she had lunch with merely a week before she dropped everything, including me. It's those sort of details that lend the air of resolution to matters such as this.

Still think I should start blogging again?

Haven't We Been Here Before?

Ever feel like you've been progressing in a certain direction for the longest time, even proud of the distances you've covered, only to notice a small landmark or sign that proves you are merely right back where you began? Running in circles seems to be what I was cut out to do.

I ran track in high school....and that is simply an ellipses. I've circled around a few cities before landing in Nashville. And would I be posting this if I hadn't been "circled" by girls over the recent past?

It was almost exactly a year ago (give or take a day for Leap Year...I think), that I perceived my world was turned completely over and all life essences drained out. Sometimes, I still don't think I have any clue what the hell happened to me. Life seemed quite good at the time, and then....POW! No more. Who knows?

I did learn some important lessons over the months after "The Ordeal". My friends and family are invaluable. Absolutely all of them. There wasn't a single person's concern for my mental and emotional well-being that went unnoticed. I leaned very hard on a select few and they stood square with shoulders of solid steel. If I haven't gotten around to thanking you personally and profusely, then "Thank You!" Not that anyone is reading this (which makes it the perfect place to say such things without getting all sappy).

So a year has passed. I am nearly older, not much wiser and still I feel as though I am back where I started that whole process. Boy meets girl, boy likes girl, girl has questionable feelings for boy and splits at the very mention of certain words. When I'm happy, it's as though I emit a particularly foul odor and it is a signal for all interested parties to evacuate my immediate area, as not to allow my head to settle into a pattern of enjoyment. And all I have to show for it is a furrowed brow, a frown and a bunch of run-on sentences.

Nobody likes "Mopey Chris". I don't like "Mopey Chris". It is, however, hard to rid myself of that personality trait when I am oblivious to what it is that I have/had done. And harder still when whiskey is involved. Those of you (who still aren't reading this) that have experienced this distinct mood swing know full well of what I type. And for that, as well, I am sorry.

All of this was much more pointed and planned out when I thought of posting this morning. A whole day's worth of nonsense and self-pity tend to jumble my creative wires pretty good.

Anyway....all of this rambling to point out I've chased another one off. I really like her. She doesn't feel that way any more. So if any of you, at a point in the more immediate future, wonder to yourselves [or even aloud]: "Hey. Where is that Chris guy we hang out with every once in a while?" I am at home. You are welcome to come over. I guarantee I will not be great company. But I will appreciate the spontaneous nature of your visit.