I am usually in the middle of several books, but my Goodreads feed has remained untouched. “The Ethical Slut” was a “Did Not Finish” for me because I realized that it was dry, boring, and I hate dating so why spend time on it? I have good boundaries- I bought a copy of the book and can revisit the dry and boring when I actually need solid advice. Right now I am single and need to stay that way. I am into cultivating deep friendships and leaving it at that.

At least for now. We’ll see. I think that finding any partner will start in earnest when I’m not looking.

Although I haven’t been looking for years and that hasn’t always worked out, either.

I did buy “Demon Copperhead” by Barbara Kingsolver, and added a whole bunch of books from Kindle Universe into my library.

I often like to while away the hours in fiction, most notably when I should be sleeping. But lately I’ve been trying to spend more time writing than reading. My ad stats depend on it. I am more busy in terms of trying to create for this web site, which means I’m always looking for new ideas.

That leaves me limited time to read…… Sort of. I have a binge/purge relationship with the written word. I will get tired of writing and inhale novels/nonfiction at an alarming rate. Then, I will become my writer personality again and what I’ve read shines through in my own words. Sometimes I am in the middle of six books, sometimes I haven’t read in months.

My favorite books to read are juicy, involved novels. Fiction writers flatten me, because I’m good at character studies, but taking on an entire world is scary. I get intimidated fast and give up. I have an idea for a novel that I’ve been working on since 2013, but it hasn’t gone anywhere. I have a few scenes, a few character studies… But for now, no one will ever know what really happened to Rebecca Alexis Radnowski.

Mostly because I can’t figure out what happened to her, either.

I have the seeds of a good story, but nowhere for it to grow. It’s going to have to sit in me a little longer, because I don’t think Rebecca is finished with me quite yet. She and her fellow castmates come to me at all hours, but it’s just in snippets. Not enough to get a whole story out. The story keeps changing and bending in my dreams, so I should start writing them down.

I’ve also got a copy of Brene Brown’s newest. My dad bought it for me for my birthday when we went to see her book talk in the medical center. I haven’t started it yet because the lighting is bad in my apartment. There’s nowhere comfortable to curl up with a physical book. I cannot see well enough. I have to read on one of my tablets. Even my Kindle, I take outside.

I probably look like a dummy because I don’t look well read. I don’t have any bookshelves, and the few books I do have are stored in a moving bag and waiting for a permanent home… They’re not visible to anyone who comes over. However, I have thousands of digital books, because reading on a Kindle is just as comfortable and I don’t have to have the space to store physical media. Obviously, I do like books- I collect autographed books from authors I really love. I just don’t want my house to be wall to wall books because I don’t want to dust them.

The amount of physical books I have would fit on one shelf, and I would like to keep it that way. I might expand to two as the number of authors I’d like to have a signature for grows. But right now, I’m very happy with my collection. I have Jonna Mendez, Tony Mendez, and Henri Nouwen.

Jonna and Tony Mendez were Chief of Disguise at CIA, ten years apart and they were married to each other. Tony died in January of 2019, and Jonna is still living. Henri Nouwen is a celebrated Canadian theologian who wrote some of the most forward thinking books of his time. I am very interested in how intelligence and theology meet, and will continue to collect books in both realms.

Neither the CIA nor the Sanhedrin loved Jesus.

You’re welcome, five people who get that joke.

---

I just got back from my morning coffee run, where I listened to Aada’s playlist and sang along. I know I am healing when I can listen to our music and just think, “oh, isn’t that sweet?” I don’t break down into tears anymore. But there are lines from songs that still punch me in the gut, and I’ll stop singing for a second to breathe through it. Still, being able to sing about this relationship in both joy and sorrow is better than not singing at all. I can process more in my body than I’m remembering I could, because I haven’t been as in touch with my body as singing requires. I’ve been cut off from my emotions and writing about what I think, but not feeling the physical effects.

For instance, I have written plenty of times that I’ve been sad about Aada ending our relationship for good. It is only in hearing music that I have been moved enough to cry… Moreover, it’s not just the hearing of the music. I start singing and feel those emotions physically, tears slipping down my cheeks as the chords’ ultimate resolution.

Releasing Aada is hard work, which is why I don’t want to do it. I want to pretend that “for now” means that there is a shot at redemption after all is said and done. I am always going to pretend, I think, because I cannot grasp the concept of forever. I will just take everything a day at a time and see what shakes out. I will continue to listen to music that makes me feel things, makes me cry. Afterwards, I feel so spent that I can actually get peace.

When I’m really feeling the most upset, I conduct. I’m not very good at it, but I know your basic patterns. It takes all the fight out of me to try remembering to bring in the horns.

My mother tried to teach me both conducting and playing the piano. She was successful at neither. I think that’s because my brain is only meant for one rhythm at a time, and even that is iffy. If I don’t know a piece, I tend to change notes when the Spirit moves me. I can hear my mother in my head. “Count!” I should have just told her my brain doesn’t come with that feature.

Music captivates my attention and I need it acutely. Music and writing are the things that never leave me even when everyone else goes away. They are my solid companions, though I have neglected music lately in favor of podcasts. Getting back into listening to music has been therapeutic, because through it I can revisit happier times in my life.

For instance, my heart beats like an 808 drum and Aada’s love is my drug, or at least that’s how it felt when I first heard the song. She was a powerful ally, and we both hurt each other too much to be in contact right now. I am solid about trying to rebuild later in life. She contradicts herself between “for good” and “for now.” I just have to be okay with not knowing what will happen in the future, but having a pretty good idea because the past is such a huge waving indicator.

We know we have always been red flags for each other, wanting to be green and not knowing how. It will depend on how much Aada misses being in my life as to whether she reaches out later on, and she’s always missed me enough to check in after a while. She always says she’s never coming back, but she does. I wish she would see that as a positive, that she cares enough to keep reading.

She cares enough to acknowledge that our journey has been brilliant and beautiful at times, so I’m going to bask in that. I am going to forget that she said it was excruciating and debilitating at others, because is that not what I ask her to do in my own writing? Focus on the positive things I say? That they are not clues in a game but sincerity?

If she is as sincere as me, and I know she is, I have written her some of the most beautiful letters she has ever read, because she knows it was letting her see into my inner landscape and daring her to walk with me. She dared me to walk with her as well, and over the years things went up and down…. So did my writing.

I don’t want my writing to go up and down, but it’s always going to have a little bit of that because I struggle with mental health issues. Things are made better by not struggling alone, and I have a supportive family. But this loss of emotional support by email lifeline is huge, and I’m not adjusting well.

Especially because I know that’s not what I really want. What I really want is to be able to sit down in person and discuss all of this so that I have more social cues to go on than black & white text. I deserve to sit through her music, because I have only faced it by email and that’s just not the same thing. I would like her to see the sincerity in my apologies, and receive hers.

I just know that we both have terrible fighting skills, and I don’t want to go back to that at all. “Doorknobbing” is Aada’s favorite tactic…. To write pages and pages, then scare the life out of you at the end.

The trick is learning not to be intimidated, because she doesn’t see herself as intimidating. She’s already her.

So, I’m only 5’2, but I stand tall into it.

My perception is that Aada is afraid of meeting me because she thinks she won’t live up to my expectations. That I’ve put her on a pedestal so high that she doesn’t want to face me. I am afraid of exactly the same thing. She told me that she lied to impress me. She lied to impress me A LOT. How I was this impressive, I do not know. I have met me and I think I’m full of shit. What kind of pedestal am I on at her house?

We could have so many sweet moments of discovering each other. I want her to know how cute I really am. And she says that she’s much more fun and funny in person, and I would pay money to see it because her emails are hysterical (especially when she’s grumpy….. Hell hath no fury like Aada being minorly inconvenienced.). She says she’s a good cook, and I like to eat. She doesn’t seem impressed by the fact that I’ve worked professionally and doesn’t need help, so now I want to see her throw down. 😉

Or maybe she does want help, it’s just too much to ask me because of all that comes with it. She’s never offered to introduce me to anyone in her family, so I doubt she’d allow me to cook in her kitchen. She’s also never come to my house, despite being invited every Friday night since 2013.

Speaking of which, let me tell Aada something real quick because she’d be amused.

Aada, Aaron has to go pick up Bird on Friday nights so we’ve started talking while he’s driving. He said it reminded him of our old pizza nights and I cried. I still regret that you couldn’t join us for one in person, but you’re metaphysically always at my table.

Ok. Back to our regularly scheduled program. That just had to go in there because Aaron, Aada, Dana, and I were the original founders of pizza night and it started because of Aada.

Back then, she was traveling ALL THE TIME and there was no good way to invite her to dinner because she would have had to rearrange so many things just to be there. My idea was to create a standing date every Friday night so that she always knew she could come over if she was free….. And if she wasn’t, to close her eyes and think of us, taking a big bite of love at supper time.

To this day I do not order green peppers on pizza because Aada doesn’t like them. I don’t think she’s going to show up on a Friday any time soon, but I cannot be too careful. 😉

Now, Friday nights are when I am the most likely to pick up a good book. Last night was an excellent change of pace because I got a long chat with a good friend instead of more alone time. I have also gotten more used to being on the phone because talking in the car is vastly superior to texting, even with voice commands.

I have a thing about my voice. It’s ancient, and I’ve written so much about it that I’m tired. But basically I have tried to avoid speaking for a long time because it makes me feel like I am “performing femininity.” The voice in my head sounds nothing like the one coming out of my face.

My general mood is at about Ed Asner, but I sound like Brene Brown.

It’s not a hard leap- we’re both from Houston.

There are even instances where my drawl is heavier than hers, because I spent my childhood in the Piney Woods, where the accent is the thickest. I have lost that part of it, but I can turn it on and off (this is code for “I can imitate my parents”). Remembering how to drawl is as good as it gets, because I have lived outside of Texas far longer than I’ve lived inside. I went to DC when I was 23, then about 18 mos later moved to Oregon. I moved with Dana to Houston, but our relationship fell apart and I thought coming back to DC was a good decision. My path with Dana would no longer be parallel, but there were perpendicular points if we wanted them. So far, we haven’t.

Although I did pass my former in-laws’ small city on the way out to Tiina’s and smiled in remembrance. I’d never been to their house, so it wasn’t like I could just drop by. I just remembered them fondly, and kept on my way. Leaving Dana was extraordinarily hard, and I’m sure a large part of her need to stay away is that she doesn’t want to be friends with a blogger or with an ex. Our relationship ended in domestic violence, so I think it’s better for me that we don’t interact as well. I cannot see myself being friends with her again, but living in this area I have come to peace about all that happened between us. There is only a .0000000000000001% chance we would run into each other, but I no longer fear that.

Maybe I should. Who knows?

I think my former sister-in-law is the mole that brings attention upon me whether it’s wanted or not by Aada. It’s not because there’s any sort of conspiracy going on, she’s just the only one I could think of that could possibly put everything together besides Dana.

I wish that Aada had taken the time to get to know Dana on the same level that she knew me so that I wasn’t tasked with keeping Aada’s secrets to myself. That’s because I made too much out of both them and the story I created in my own head as to what was really going on in Aada’s actual life, where I didn’t live.

I want to ask her about the brilliant and beautiful parts of our journey, because she does not call attention to it often. She is too angry to tell me about lines she liked, or is determined not to like because she sees positive things as suspect.

Meanwhile, I am wondering if the slate is ever wiped clean with me, if I am ever allowed to go back and remember good things or if it all has to be put away, my own personal Boxing Day.

The cup Aada got for me at Starbucks sits on my night table filled with water, but I cannot think of anything else that needs to go back in the cupboard as all her other presents were digital… And in fact, the Starbucks cup started out as a gift card and magically turned into a cup.

It’s next to all the books I should be reading… In my Kindle.