Friday, September 20, 2002
Do you want to know how twisted and ironic my life is? On Monday morning my boss actually offered me a job in the Pacific Northwest because he was starting a new territory there and he knew where she lived. It appears I might even be able to transfer to Vancouver. I'm still considering the offer, trying to be objective (with great difficulty), but how is that for f***ed up timing?
I worked out yesterday. And I met a coworker for dinner. She IM'd me yesterday, and I didn't cry. She even made me laugh once. So it's progress. The headaches are gone. The heartache is a different story. I still have my moments. Mornings are bad. I wake up before my alarm every morning, clawing at her side of the bed. Trying to feel just some remnant of her ghost. It's why I usually end up on the couch. Neutral territory. And then come the doubts and the torment and the second guesses. What happened? What could I have done differently? What did I do wrong? Sure we had some moments. And we certainly had obstacles - a passport not the least of which - but nothing seemed insurmountable. Was it always so fragile? It all just came crashing down for her so fast. It didn't break apart around me. It broke apart underneath me.
You know what is at least interesting about all this. I can suddenly see with raptor like clarity what every goddamn song on the radio was written about. I finally understand the motivation for every stupid thing a friend of mine has done while in love. 3 AM phone calls, holes punched in walls, tattoos, it all makes sense today.
Jim Parisi
Thursday, September 19, 2002
I feel like I'm learning how to breathe again.
Learning how to move.
My friends want me to climb this weekend. To ski. To drink. To dance. To travel. To celebrate my birthday.
I'm not sure I can.
I'm not sure I should.
It's tough to dance when you can barely move. It's hard to drink when you feel torn open. How do you climb when you can hardly stand? How do you celebrate when you have lost your smile?
I need to face these emotions. I need to confront them. I need to work through them.
And I will. I slept last night. I'm starting to work today.
Be patient with me. I have to be patient with myself. I don't need cliches or platitudes or advice. I appreciate it. But it won't help. And despite your good intentions, in my current mental state it will likely seem trite. But I may need someone to listen. Some empathy. I might ask for a hug.
But I mostly need time.
Jim Parisi
Wednesday, September 18, 2002
I'm broken.
I can't sleep. God, I have tried.
The ghost of her haunts my bedroom.
It's dark and I can feel the woman who would roll over every morning and grab me tight and fell asleep every night whispering that she loved me in my ear.
But she isn't here.
And I don't know where she went.
I can't eat.
I can't fill the hole that spans my chest to my abdomen. I feel hollow. Ready to collapse under my own weight.
I miss her.
God, do I miss her.
I ache for her.
And I fear I have lost her.
And I'm willing to cry to fight to beg to wait to have her here again.
But right now all I'm looking for is hope.
I'll settle for hope.
Please give me hope.
Jim Parisi
Tuesday, September 17, 2002
So on the 21st I turn 31. It's been ten years since my last year of college. Nine years since I first moved to SoCal. And I'm officially thirty-something. Thirty was OK. Now I am *in* my thirties. It's different. I'm an adult. Does that mean I have to start acting like one? Is GenX still cool at thirtysomething? How come the earring doesn't look good anymore? A friend of mine asked me when was the best time of my life. A lot of people talk about high school or college or their early/mid twenties. I suppose I can understand that. I had less to worry about. I had wider horizons even if I didn't have as good a view of them. I had hair. Well, I still do, but not where I would like it. My early twenties were great (asside for the terminal anxiety, the complete lack of money and the total absence of sex), but frankly, it's only getting better. In fact, the last two years have been the best in my life. Life is, for the most part, really damn good. I have been more relaxed. I have at times (sadly not now) been in the best physical condition of my life. Since 2000, I have climbed one of the seven summits, been to three different continents, racked up 300,000 frequent flyer miles, traveled all over the west, been in a Carnival parade in Rio, chased the night life in NYC, Miami, San Francisco, Seattle, Vancouver, Austin, Las Vegas, Rio, London, and a dozen other places. I have more resources than I ever thought possible by 30. I have climbed two big walls. I have written more. I have more to write about! I have had the best relationships in my life. I have had more of everything good. I've had more friends, more adventures, more travel, more money, more romance, more sex, more love - more options - then ever before. So all in all, I can't complain. Yeah, I've had some heartbreak. My job leaves me banging my head against my desk at regular intervals. I still don't have a career as a writer or international Playboy. It's strictly style by Gillette (Sensor blades only. Menthol Creme. Hot Shower. And a good towel). I don't get to see my girlfriend nearly enough. But, geez, if I do a little life audit and spreadsheet it all out, I'm way, way in the black.
Jim Parisi
Monday, September 16, 2002
My birthday is Saturday. I'm putting together a wish list. If you have the means, and feel like helping me celebrate my birthday, I have a few suggestions. Now this isn't all inclusive, but it's a good starter. How about one of these. And I kind of have a hankering for this. I would wet my pants if you showed up with one of these all gift wrapped. But I think I would like this most of all.
Jim Parisi
Posted some new Owens River Gorge pics.
Jim Parisi
Sunday, September 15, 2002
I'm back from the Gorge. First time there in almost three years. I have dirt covering every part of my body. I think I have dirt inside my body. I have no skin on my fingertips. I'm bleeding from three spots - at least. My toes are crushed from climbing shoes. I wonder if I can wear sandals to a client meeting? Everything I own is covered in grime. What a great weekend. Damn, I have to get to the Eastern Sierra more often.
Jim Parisi
