How much time do you spend with someone else's boyfriend before it becomes inappropriate?
It's not my fault. At first Ryan's mini-rehearsals were a group affair - since everyone in the apartment would usually be able to hear him working anyway, he decided to make that the theme of the hang-out. But that got old for the guys after two sessions. Alexa did her best to seem very interested in Ryan's music at first, but when he noticed she had a tendency to pull out her phone while he was practicing, he stopped asking her to sit in. When it was just the two of us in his room, a bit of a red flag went up in my head. "I can go, you know... leave you to it."
"No, no, stay," he insisted, "You always give good feedback. Plus I always love when you hum along."
When he said it, I tried to take it as an innocent compliment but it really didn't seem like something a guy with a girlfriend should be saying. Still, I guess my self-esteem is a little down because getting even that level of approval felt like a real buzz. I just had to keep in mind... I mean, I'm a mature person, I know where the line is.
Alexa may not be my favorite person ever, but I would never do anything to break her trust.
I keep thinking I should just stop hanging out with Ryan. I don't think I'm off base by saying it really seems like he's starting to develop - or really, re-develop - feelings for me/Valerie. The way he looks at me is a little more than friendly. And being around him, even if I'm not consciously egging him on/"tempting" him, seems like I'm just I'm fanning those flames.
But then I think... isn't that his problem, to manage his his own actions? I know I'm just on the right side of innocent and friendly. He is a grown-ass man too, in a relationship to boot, so it's up to him to not flirt, not let his eye wander, and if he's not happy with his relationship, to do something about it his own damn self.
But whatever. He hasn't outright said anything to me, and I'm not about to mess things up by bringing it up unless I have to, with only a few months left in my time as Valerie (we are booked for July, which feels very far, but will be here before we know it.) It almost feels silly to worry about any of this.
But he did play me thing song a few nights ago, called "Sunset"... and it was really beautiful and sweet and sincere... and I couldn't help but think it was probably about me... just because there's a line about "I spent a lifetime chasing your glow, just to know, you're always on the other side of that horizon..." which seems to be about his ongoing crush on Valerie from before... and hey, my hair is sort of an orangey-yellow "sunset" color...
Maybe I'm just turning toward Ryan because I'm somewhat bothered by the other men in my life... or should I say just the one other, Rafe. For a while after we hung out those few times, I could tell he was angling to get in my panties, so I worked to shut that down. Then he started recognizing me as the closet thing to a "bro" there, someone he could talk to about "guy stuff," which is great, sure. If he needs an outlet, I can slip into that old mindset. He's kinda fun and amusing, in that immature way, hiding how smart and capable he actually is. I wanted to give him a fair shake.
Then I started hearing these weird, like, barely-hidden messages in what he was saying, like he's going out of his way to be obnoxious. He would tell me about a Tinder hook-up he had, saying "Man, her boobs were so big... almost as big as yours... and honestly, it was too much. Too big! There's gotta be a limit. You can't do anything with them once they get to a certain size. Like anything beyond a C-Cup, it's just a hassle."
Or, "She was good and tall... you know, I like to look a girl right in the eye, just a little bit shorter than me. Or maybe even taller than me. I'd love to date a chick who was over 6 feet tall. I probably couldn't date anyone below 5'6... no offense."
Privately I'm fuming, but if I acknowledge the potshots at my appearance, I'm a "bad sport" or too self-involved. Honestly, I think he's trying to get under my skin like a kid on the playground, because he likes me too...
I know what you're thinking, Miss Self-Absorbed over here, thinks everyone likes her... well listen, you get used to seeing the signs and reading into things like that.
But hell, work isn't very stimulating and there's not a lot else going on. This is pretty much all I have to think about... which makes me a little sad, but at least I've gotten over being sad about being female in the first place, so I just put on something sexy and go out drinking with Brigette to cheer myself up. We let ourselves get hit on, come right to the brink of going home with someone and then give them the slip. Pete swears one of these days he's going to go through with it, and I want to empower that. Me, I could take it or leave it... I don't need to "find out" what sex is like, so I don't need to get laid just for the sake of getting laid. But the clock is ticking, and who knows who we'll be next time, so I think if she wants it she should have some fun.
Me, I'm looking into online courses that maybe I could take in my next life... depending on how things go, you know... just an idle thought. I don't want to pour coffee or flip eggs for the rest of my days...
-Tyler-Valerie
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Monday, April 16, 2018
Wednesday, August 03, 2011
Todd: Hit the Road
Wow, long time no see!
It isn't that my life has been exceptionally interesting, quite the opposite. All spring I was finishing up at University, chasing after that pesky BA that's eluded me for nearly a decade.
And now that I have it... I don't really know what to do with my life. I still work at the store, I still play the occasional gig with Bry and Shelby, but all that... that's not a long-term plan. We can try to make the music thing work, believe me nothing would please me more, but all we can do is keep plugging along.
Sometimes Bry and I joke about going back to the Inn -- when Alia and Shel aren't around (since Shel wouldn't get it, and Alia woudn't hear of it,) -- and waking up in the as people who already have their lives laid out. That's the fantasy, that someone would tell us how to live and who to be. Isn't that pathetic? Well, the grass is always greener, because we already lived those lives, and we hated them.
But just when things were getting rough, and Bry was attempting to re-open contact with Ellie, this opportunity came up, not unlike the one that brought us to Maine to begin with. Our band -- the one that barely rehearses and didn't have a proper name -- was asked to fill in as an opening act for this local pop punk band that's touring the Northeast.
It seems like a pretty good deal, and it's been a lot of fun, but to make it worth our while we've had to book a few gigs of our own. We called up contacts, did exhaustive searches, and barely scrounged up enough gigs that we will have a reason to keep being out there until September.
The problem is, when people want to book you, they want a name to go along with it. This has been a point of contention between the three of us. Until last month, when Bry had a burst of inspiration. He chose something that meant a lot to both of us, as well as carrying meaning for people like Shelby who don't, and never will, know our true story.
Our new band name? Somebody Else.
I'm checking in quickly, because we hit the road for the border tomorrow morning. The tour's already passed through Southern Ontario, Mississauga, London, we just finished the Windsor show... we'll be swinging through Michigan, Ohio... obviously, there's a "zone" that extends westward from Maine and we'll be in Inn country most of the time, including stops in Philly and New York later this month. We'll be heading deep into New England, so any of you fine Inn folks that want tickets to a show, don't hesitate to ask.
I'll try to keep you updated, but it's hard enough getting time to sit down and think about any of this, let alone write about it. Still, I figure I owe it to myself and you guys to chronicle this new adventurous phase of my life.
Rock n' roll
-Todd
It isn't that my life has been exceptionally interesting, quite the opposite. All spring I was finishing up at University, chasing after that pesky BA that's eluded me for nearly a decade.
And now that I have it... I don't really know what to do with my life. I still work at the store, I still play the occasional gig with Bry and Shelby, but all that... that's not a long-term plan. We can try to make the music thing work, believe me nothing would please me more, but all we can do is keep plugging along.
Sometimes Bry and I joke about going back to the Inn -- when Alia and Shel aren't around (since Shel wouldn't get it, and Alia woudn't hear of it,) -- and waking up in the as people who already have their lives laid out. That's the fantasy, that someone would tell us how to live and who to be. Isn't that pathetic? Well, the grass is always greener, because we already lived those lives, and we hated them.
But just when things were getting rough, and Bry was attempting to re-open contact with Ellie, this opportunity came up, not unlike the one that brought us to Maine to begin with. Our band -- the one that barely rehearses and didn't have a proper name -- was asked to fill in as an opening act for this local pop punk band that's touring the Northeast.
It seems like a pretty good deal, and it's been a lot of fun, but to make it worth our while we've had to book a few gigs of our own. We called up contacts, did exhaustive searches, and barely scrounged up enough gigs that we will have a reason to keep being out there until September.
The problem is, when people want to book you, they want a name to go along with it. This has been a point of contention between the three of us. Until last month, when Bry had a burst of inspiration. He chose something that meant a lot to both of us, as well as carrying meaning for people like Shelby who don't, and never will, know our true story.
Our new band name? Somebody Else.
I'm checking in quickly, because we hit the road for the border tomorrow morning. The tour's already passed through Southern Ontario, Mississauga, London, we just finished the Windsor show... we'll be swinging through Michigan, Ohio... obviously, there's a "zone" that extends westward from Maine and we'll be in Inn country most of the time, including stops in Philly and New York later this month. We'll be heading deep into New England, so any of you fine Inn folks that want tickets to a show, don't hesitate to ask.
I'll try to keep you updated, but it's hard enough getting time to sit down and think about any of this, let alone write about it. Still, I figure I owe it to myself and you guys to chronicle this new adventurous phase of my life.
Rock n' roll
-Todd
Monday, December 06, 2010
Alia: Wish You Were Here
This is going to be a quick one, as there's not a ton going up here in Toronto. Todd and I have been going through a hellish November for school, while he juggles his part-time work at the record store, and Brian has been working and hectoring Todd into this whole band thing.
Believe me, it has not been the easiest thing in the world for me and Todd to feel like a couple again. We barely manage to spend time together, and I feel so removed from the days when I was happy being someone's girlfriend. My time as Rob was refreshing... it'd been a long time since I'd dated Todd but for the first time I wasn't moping around heartbroken and single. Happy being single. Happy with myself. As a guy in Philadelphia. Never thought I'd say that.
Maybe I'm over-romanticizing it, because it definitely wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, but that level of freedom and independence, I'd never had. I started being with Todd right when I left home, and he was my first love so I spent a lot of time -- probably too much to accurately call myself a feminist -- being sad it was over. Follow that with guilty rebound sex and isolation, and Rob Garcia: Philadelphian High School English teacher sounds like a decent trade.
So the whole dynamic has been different between me and Todd and for a long while I was wondering whether it was even meant to be anymore. I saw the way he was with Shelby, even though she's got a boyfriend, and wondered if he'd be happier with her. Or if I should find Crystal and give her my body back and just leave this place forever (I know a lot of you would love that!) But here's what happened: that stupid ass band.
It doesn't even have a name, they've just been calling it "The Todd and Bryan Epic Band." Funny in a kind of "we're so lame it's cool" way.
Then they coaxed Shelby into playing drums and it became... a thing. And that pissed me off. Whereas it was just them, whenever they got together, with their guitars, it was suddenly a requirement that they spend X number of hours each week at Shelby's place working on their material, because after all she's got the drums and it wouldn't do to transport them anywhere, let alone to their little apartment.
I spent a lot of November ready to say "screw it" to the whole relationship, these friendships I've had for so many years, when The Todd and Bryan Epic Band Featuring Shelby booked a gig in Mississauga (for the curious, that's a town that borders Toronto to the East and is largely suburban with a slight cultural center.) Irritated that it should be so convenient to go all the way down there, I debated even bothering. I hadn't spoken to Todd about my doubts about us but I think he was picking up on them. I went anyway, to show my support.
They went through a number of familiar covers. They're really impressive musicians, Bryan even did a Marty McFly version of Johnny B. Goode, complete with windmills and Jimi Hendrix affecations (although the imitation definitely isn't perfect.) The originals were uneven... the ballad Bryan had written (for Crystal, I think) seemed a bit cheesy, and the uptempo number was a bit clunky. I'm just being honest here.
THen for their finale, Todd stepped up to the microphone. He doesn't sing often, although he's better at it than he gives himself credit for. He looked out into the audience. I was sitting far enough back that he probably couldn't see me, but he dedicated it by saying "This last one goes out to the pretty girl in the back, with her hair in a ponytail." Me (he's often called me "the girl in the back" because of how shy I was when we met.)
Todd exchanged his bass for an acoustic guitar and began to strum. It was Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here," a song he'd played for me on one of our first dates and had a special resonance now that we had been apart. Instead of fading out like the recording, it climaxed in a louder, louder, I'll say it -- epic riff to climax the show. The following act actually made a snarky remark that they couldn't follow that and were going home (they actually played a respectable set.)
And me... well I'm not made of ice. In that 5 minutes I felt the feeling welling up in me that I haven't had in a long while. That passion, that desire... Goddamnit if I'm not a sucker for a boy with a guitar. More than anything, it made me feel for the first time in years that I was being thought of, that I was wanted, that I was important to somebody.
Our relationship isn't fixed overnight, but that one song went a long way toward that goal, based on what happened between us later that night.
Ta
-Alia
Believe me, it has not been the easiest thing in the world for me and Todd to feel like a couple again. We barely manage to spend time together, and I feel so removed from the days when I was happy being someone's girlfriend. My time as Rob was refreshing... it'd been a long time since I'd dated Todd but for the first time I wasn't moping around heartbroken and single. Happy being single. Happy with myself. As a guy in Philadelphia. Never thought I'd say that.
Maybe I'm over-romanticizing it, because it definitely wasn't all sunshine and rainbows, but that level of freedom and independence, I'd never had. I started being with Todd right when I left home, and he was my first love so I spent a lot of time -- probably too much to accurately call myself a feminist -- being sad it was over. Follow that with guilty rebound sex and isolation, and Rob Garcia: Philadelphian High School English teacher sounds like a decent trade.
So the whole dynamic has been different between me and Todd and for a long while I was wondering whether it was even meant to be anymore. I saw the way he was with Shelby, even though she's got a boyfriend, and wondered if he'd be happier with her. Or if I should find Crystal and give her my body back and just leave this place forever (I know a lot of you would love that!) But here's what happened: that stupid ass band.
It doesn't even have a name, they've just been calling it "The Todd and Bryan Epic Band." Funny in a kind of "we're so lame it's cool" way.
Then they coaxed Shelby into playing drums and it became... a thing. And that pissed me off. Whereas it was just them, whenever they got together, with their guitars, it was suddenly a requirement that they spend X number of hours each week at Shelby's place working on their material, because after all she's got the drums and it wouldn't do to transport them anywhere, let alone to their little apartment.
I spent a lot of November ready to say "screw it" to the whole relationship, these friendships I've had for so many years, when The Todd and Bryan Epic Band Featuring Shelby booked a gig in Mississauga (for the curious, that's a town that borders Toronto to the East and is largely suburban with a slight cultural center.) Irritated that it should be so convenient to go all the way down there, I debated even bothering. I hadn't spoken to Todd about my doubts about us but I think he was picking up on them. I went anyway, to show my support.
They went through a number of familiar covers. They're really impressive musicians, Bryan even did a Marty McFly version of Johnny B. Goode, complete with windmills and Jimi Hendrix affecations (although the imitation definitely isn't perfect.) The originals were uneven... the ballad Bryan had written (for Crystal, I think) seemed a bit cheesy, and the uptempo number was a bit clunky. I'm just being honest here.
THen for their finale, Todd stepped up to the microphone. He doesn't sing often, although he's better at it than he gives himself credit for. He looked out into the audience. I was sitting far enough back that he probably couldn't see me, but he dedicated it by saying "This last one goes out to the pretty girl in the back, with her hair in a ponytail." Me (he's often called me "the girl in the back" because of how shy I was when we met.)
Todd exchanged his bass for an acoustic guitar and began to strum. It was Pink Floyd's "Wish You Were Here," a song he'd played for me on one of our first dates and had a special resonance now that we had been apart. Instead of fading out like the recording, it climaxed in a louder, louder, I'll say it -- epic riff to climax the show. The following act actually made a snarky remark that they couldn't follow that and were going home (they actually played a respectable set.)
And me... well I'm not made of ice. In that 5 minutes I felt the feeling welling up in me that I haven't had in a long while. That passion, that desire... Goddamnit if I'm not a sucker for a boy with a guitar. More than anything, it made me feel for the first time in years that I was being thought of, that I was wanted, that I was important to somebody.
Our relationship isn't fixed overnight, but that one song went a long way toward that goal, based on what happened between us later that night.
Ta
-Alia
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Bryan: Good Times, Bad Times
I haven't posted here since way before Todd and I got our bodies back. I used it as sort of an outlet when I was stressed out being Ellie and when I got my own body back the last thing I felt like I needed was a shoulder to whine on. No disrespect to Todd, because everything that happened with Alia, and the Erica LaFleur situation, he had a lot on his mind. So despite living under the same roof, he and I kind of drifted apart for a year.
Maybe it was the Crystal situation. I don't know how you guys feel about the way he told it... reading his old posts, I feel like I mainly got a fair shake. It's not like I always wanted to nail Alia, and having Crystal in her body enabled me to do that. I had literally never thought about it until Crystal showed up and we just sorta connected.
I'll spare you the details of how it happened. It started out as me just keeping an eye on her, and eventually it occurred to us that we might make a nice couple, and realistically I was probably the only person she could date without everyone going insane (her, Todd, and probably real Alia.)
It was probably the healthiest relationship of my life. She cooked and cleaned and I tried not to seem like a kid she was taking care of, but like, a partner. She made me want to be better. We both had steady jobs. It was a real damn adult relationship. But as Todd said, we both knew the detail: it was temporary.
I couldn't bloody well convince her to stay in Alia's body. I told her I wouldn't mind meeting the real her, but she was adamant that that not happen. I kept asking her why, but she wouldn't clarify for me. I pushed the issue a bit more, and we fought a bit toward the end, but I always made amends because the last thing I wanted to do was lose Alia's body along with Crystal. When she left, we were still on good terms, but the relationship was over.
It's been hard, though, being around Alia, especially when she's with Todd. A couple times, I've accidentally called her "Crys," and then felt like an asshole, even though she assures me it's an innocent mistake. The weird thing is, partway through my relationship with Crystal, she insisted I call her "Alia," just so that I didn't slip in public. I didn't want to go along with it, but Todd and I had the same understanding when he was Aunt Anne Marie.
My one salvation is the band. We don't have a name yet, but Todd and I have been rehearsing a lot lately. We don't have a drummer, since most of our drummer friends have scattered, some already in bands, some giving up music or moving away. That doesn't stop he and I from jamming on Zeppelin ("Good Times, Bad Times,") Metric ("Gimme Sympathy,") Third Eye Blind ("Semi-Charmed Life") and Hollerado ("Americanarama,") as well as a few originals we've been workshopping.
So anyway, here's what's happened. With Todd and Alia getting back together, the social circle has sort of firmed a rift, and on one side is the happy couple, and on the other is me and Shelby, Todd's co-worker, who was hanging out with us a lot before and after Alia got back. Eventually, she and I just started hanging out on our own, since getting the four of us together would probably just be too awkward. In fact it was a little awkward just to get a cup of coffee with this random 19-year-old so soon after my break-up with Crystal, but she's actually quite cool. We were out by Queen's Park the other day, having some coffee, when I started talking about Crystal in veiled terms. I actually used her real name, to differentiate her from the situation she thinks I'm going through with Alia and Todd.
See... I have her number. Well, a number. I have some contact info for Crystal, acquired when we were first looking into her background and I found out she was from Cleveland Heights, not Shaker Heights. She doesn't know I have it. She'd probably be pretty pissed if I used it. But I keep it on a card by my desk and I look at it often, wondering if I should call. I told Shelby this. Her advice:
"The past is the past, man. You've got to move forward. If it isn't meant to be, don't worry. There are plenty more women out there." I gave her a look, and she hastily added, "Not me, though. I have a boyfriend." Oh.
But the last thing I found out is... she drums. Oh, chick drummers.
Seriously, though, I asked if I could hear her sometime, and if maybe she'd consider joining up with me and Todd. She said she'd think about it, since she's been meaning to get a regular thing going with someone. Why not us, eh? Maybe if we have a drummer, we'll get gigs, and things will start being awesome. I have yet to tell Todd about this development.
-Bryan
Maybe it was the Crystal situation. I don't know how you guys feel about the way he told it... reading his old posts, I feel like I mainly got a fair shake. It's not like I always wanted to nail Alia, and having Crystal in her body enabled me to do that. I had literally never thought about it until Crystal showed up and we just sorta connected.
I'll spare you the details of how it happened. It started out as me just keeping an eye on her, and eventually it occurred to us that we might make a nice couple, and realistically I was probably the only person she could date without everyone going insane (her, Todd, and probably real Alia.)
It was probably the healthiest relationship of my life. She cooked and cleaned and I tried not to seem like a kid she was taking care of, but like, a partner. She made me want to be better. We both had steady jobs. It was a real damn adult relationship. But as Todd said, we both knew the detail: it was temporary.
I couldn't bloody well convince her to stay in Alia's body. I told her I wouldn't mind meeting the real her, but she was adamant that that not happen. I kept asking her why, but she wouldn't clarify for me. I pushed the issue a bit more, and we fought a bit toward the end, but I always made amends because the last thing I wanted to do was lose Alia's body along with Crystal. When she left, we were still on good terms, but the relationship was over.
It's been hard, though, being around Alia, especially when she's with Todd. A couple times, I've accidentally called her "Crys," and then felt like an asshole, even though she assures me it's an innocent mistake. The weird thing is, partway through my relationship with Crystal, she insisted I call her "Alia," just so that I didn't slip in public. I didn't want to go along with it, but Todd and I had the same understanding when he was Aunt Anne Marie.
My one salvation is the band. We don't have a name yet, but Todd and I have been rehearsing a lot lately. We don't have a drummer, since most of our drummer friends have scattered, some already in bands, some giving up music or moving away. That doesn't stop he and I from jamming on Zeppelin ("Good Times, Bad Times,") Metric ("Gimme Sympathy,") Third Eye Blind ("Semi-Charmed Life") and Hollerado ("Americanarama,") as well as a few originals we've been workshopping.
So anyway, here's what's happened. With Todd and Alia getting back together, the social circle has sort of firmed a rift, and on one side is the happy couple, and on the other is me and Shelby, Todd's co-worker, who was hanging out with us a lot before and after Alia got back. Eventually, she and I just started hanging out on our own, since getting the four of us together would probably just be too awkward. In fact it was a little awkward just to get a cup of coffee with this random 19-year-old so soon after my break-up with Crystal, but she's actually quite cool. We were out by Queen's Park the other day, having some coffee, when I started talking about Crystal in veiled terms. I actually used her real name, to differentiate her from the situation she thinks I'm going through with Alia and Todd.
See... I have her number. Well, a number. I have some contact info for Crystal, acquired when we were first looking into her background and I found out she was from Cleveland Heights, not Shaker Heights. She doesn't know I have it. She'd probably be pretty pissed if I used it. But I keep it on a card by my desk and I look at it often, wondering if I should call. I told Shelby this. Her advice:
"The past is the past, man. You've got to move forward. If it isn't meant to be, don't worry. There are plenty more women out there." I gave her a look, and she hastily added, "Not me, though. I have a boyfriend." Oh.
But the last thing I found out is... she drums. Oh, chick drummers.
Seriously, though, I asked if I could hear her sometime, and if maybe she'd consider joining up with me and Todd. She said she'd think about it, since she's been meaning to get a regular thing going with someone. Why not us, eh? Maybe if we have a drummer, we'll get gigs, and things will start being awesome. I have yet to tell Todd about this development.
-Bryan
Monday, September 20, 2010
Todd: The High Road
I almost named this entry after a song by Matthew Good, "Us Remains Impossible." It doesn't literally describe the situation between me and Alia, but it's... it's not far off.
We've been sheepishly nudging our way back to coupledom for weeks, but between her trying to get her life back on track, me working, and the beginning of the school year, there's very little time for fun in Toddworld.
I'm back at University, trying to work off those last few credits to earn my bachelor's degree. There's no desperate need for this. I don't think it'll help me go further in my career, whatever it ends up being. If anything, it's just a way to stall for time while I figure out what I'm supposed to do with the rest of my life. I wish I had a more positive view on the situation, but some old negative feelings have been bubbling to the surface since I've re-enrolled. A lot of doubt.
Not to mention, Bry and I are still trying to work on musical pursuits. We've actually been working on a few new songs, and Bry in particular has had a burst of creativity apparently since getting back from the Inn, dating Crystal, and everything. Most tellingly is the refrain to his latest composition, "Temporary:"
You knew the deal
it wasn't real
it was onlyyyyyyyyyyyy
temporary.
I'd give you more, but I wouldn't want to spill too much, since it's a work in progress. He howls those lines with a kind of bitterness that suggest he's trying to convince himself. I haven't discussed it yet with him, but I suspect those are his feelings about Crystal. He's even more commitment-shy than I was, and it seems to be him raking himself over the coals for pushing Crystal back to the Inn. The riff he came up with is pretty intense.
Anyway, we've been working on stuff, rehearsing covers and the like, but I guess we're not ready to start begging for gigs yet. Bry doesn't want to do any shows unless we have a drummer, but most of our usual drummer-friends are otherwise engaged or not interested in the drama that seems to follow us around. Can't say I blame them, and they don't even know the half of it.
I should probably quit the music store job. It would free up a lot of time for school, music and of course Alia. But as painful as it is to keep doing a job you hate... it's money (which of course equals freedom and potential) and when I'm at that noisy, busy, chaotic-ass store, I feel more centered than I do anywhere else.
So basically I've taken this time to tell you "In case your wondering, life's tough." Suck it up, Todd. At least you're not anybody's mom anymore.
Haha, yeah. In my weaker moments, I fantasize about running away to the inn again, getting dropped in someone's life who already has their shit figured out. Old, young, male, female, I feel like at this point I could handle anything. Fake my way through a career. Become one of those "traveler" people Alia was describing back in July. Part of me could do it. Part of me would want to.
But that's the easy way, and for once I don't feel like doing that. I'm here, I'm committed, let's do that.
Oh, and Tori-- congratulations. This song's for you, girl. Whatever you end up doing with yourself (or others) in your time as Tori, that's your call, and don't let yourself forget that. you're in control, and I'm glad to see you acting like it.
-Todd
We've been sheepishly nudging our way back to coupledom for weeks, but between her trying to get her life back on track, me working, and the beginning of the school year, there's very little time for fun in Toddworld.
I'm back at University, trying to work off those last few credits to earn my bachelor's degree. There's no desperate need for this. I don't think it'll help me go further in my career, whatever it ends up being. If anything, it's just a way to stall for time while I figure out what I'm supposed to do with the rest of my life. I wish I had a more positive view on the situation, but some old negative feelings have been bubbling to the surface since I've re-enrolled. A lot of doubt.
Not to mention, Bry and I are still trying to work on musical pursuits. We've actually been working on a few new songs, and Bry in particular has had a burst of creativity apparently since getting back from the Inn, dating Crystal, and everything. Most tellingly is the refrain to his latest composition, "Temporary:"
You knew the deal
it wasn't real
it was onlyyyyyyyyyyyy
temporary.
I'd give you more, but I wouldn't want to spill too much, since it's a work in progress. He howls those lines with a kind of bitterness that suggest he's trying to convince himself. I haven't discussed it yet with him, but I suspect those are his feelings about Crystal. He's even more commitment-shy than I was, and it seems to be him raking himself over the coals for pushing Crystal back to the Inn. The riff he came up with is pretty intense.
Anyway, we've been working on stuff, rehearsing covers and the like, but I guess we're not ready to start begging for gigs yet. Bry doesn't want to do any shows unless we have a drummer, but most of our usual drummer-friends are otherwise engaged or not interested in the drama that seems to follow us around. Can't say I blame them, and they don't even know the half of it.
I should probably quit the music store job. It would free up a lot of time for school, music and of course Alia. But as painful as it is to keep doing a job you hate... it's money (which of course equals freedom and potential) and when I'm at that noisy, busy, chaotic-ass store, I feel more centered than I do anywhere else.
So basically I've taken this time to tell you "In case your wondering, life's tough." Suck it up, Todd. At least you're not anybody's mom anymore.
Haha, yeah. In my weaker moments, I fantasize about running away to the inn again, getting dropped in someone's life who already has their shit figured out. Old, young, male, female, I feel like at this point I could handle anything. Fake my way through a career. Become one of those "traveler" people Alia was describing back in July. Part of me could do it. Part of me would want to.
But that's the easy way, and for once I don't feel like doing that. I'm here, I'm committed, let's do that.
Oh, and Tori-- congratulations. This song's for you, girl. Whatever you end up doing with yourself (or others) in your time as Tori, that's your call, and don't let yourself forget that. you're in control, and I'm glad to see you acting like it.
-Todd
Tuesday, August 03, 2010
Todd: Getting the band back together
Alia arrived back in the city earlier tonight. Bryan and I met her at Union Station, after taking a more or less direct route from Maine to Montreal to Toronto that took, I would guess, 12 hours of straight travel. We hauled her bags back to our place, as she asked we put her up for the night after her trip, and I can see why she wouldn't want to be alone (her apartment is essentially an attic.)
I didn't know what to make of this. I mean, I know what I hoped would happen. She'd see me, fall into my arms, we'd have a big tearful reunion and cement our long-delayed reconciliation by humping. On the flipside, I considered it equally likely that we'd solidify this thing by staying up all night talking out our issues in a way-past-due moment of catharsis for the both of us. This would also be acceptable, but also less fun.
This did not happen. When we saw her at the station, she was bleary-eyed and sleep-deprived. She looked like she thought she was hallucinating when she saw us. She did wrap her arms around me and just stayed quiet the whole way home, like a trauma victim. I wondered whether this was the same verbose woman I'd known all these years, the one who'd spent practically her whole stay in Maine blogging. Briefly, I entertained the notion that Alia was an impostor, so I asked her, quickly, to say something only the real Alia would say. In response, she reminded me of the time I convinced her to have sex in the ladies' room at her parents' anniversary party.
It was my statement on matrimony, at the time.
When we got back home, she flopped down on the couch and zonked out. And there she lies fast asleep. I mean, I don't want to force the issue, but it's feeling slightly anticlimactic. No big dramatic reveals, no stunning confessions, no passionate copulation. Just "I'm tired, mind if I crash?"
I've just been sitting here at the kitchen table watching her, thinking about how she inhabits the same space a different woman recently did -- same face, same voice, same clothes -- but with an entirely different aura about her. I spent a long time adjusting to the idea of Crystal in Alia's body, and now I have to switch back... I can only imagine what it was like for her realizing the Todd she'd known for a year was a faker. I haven't brought it up even in our online conversations. Well, I've mentioned it, but I don't push the issue. If she ever wants to delve into it, that's her choice.
In the weeks since Crystal left, Bry's been picking up his guitar more and more. I've hardly seen him so much as tinker with it -- I mean, he's barely even played Rock Band -- since we got back to Toronto last year. Could be maybe residual bitterness from his American musician ex-lesbian girlfriend, or maybe something about Crystal or just not having the energy for it. But lately I've been hearing it through my walls a lot more. And last week, he caught me in the living room to play me something he'd written recently. And it was good.
"Look," he says to me, "I know it hasn't always worked out in the past, but I was thinking about getting a band together. You, me... whoever else. It won't be like the past, we won't take it too seriously, we'll just gig around and have some fun, then get on with our lives other than that. Just to do something, you know?"
I told him I'd think about it. Now that Alia's back, I'm feeling more into it. Maybe to get back in touch with the last time of my life where things made sense. Bry and I played music, Alia and I dated, I was still in school... none of us had ever been anyone else. Maybe you can't go back, and there was enough craziness back then that I wouldn't totally want to... but there's something to be said for trying to recapture a special time in your life.
I want to do it. I can't let it interfere with my school this fall, but I could use the release. I don't know if things can be the same as they were 3 years ago, but I know they can't stay like this.
I think I'll get some sleep. Later, all
-Todd
I didn't know what to make of this. I mean, I know what I hoped would happen. She'd see me, fall into my arms, we'd have a big tearful reunion and cement our long-delayed reconciliation by humping. On the flipside, I considered it equally likely that we'd solidify this thing by staying up all night talking out our issues in a way-past-due moment of catharsis for the both of us. This would also be acceptable, but also less fun.
This did not happen. When we saw her at the station, she was bleary-eyed and sleep-deprived. She looked like she thought she was hallucinating when she saw us. She did wrap her arms around me and just stayed quiet the whole way home, like a trauma victim. I wondered whether this was the same verbose woman I'd known all these years, the one who'd spent practically her whole stay in Maine blogging. Briefly, I entertained the notion that Alia was an impostor, so I asked her, quickly, to say something only the real Alia would say. In response, she reminded me of the time I convinced her to have sex in the ladies' room at her parents' anniversary party.
It was my statement on matrimony, at the time.
When we got back home, she flopped down on the couch and zonked out. And there she lies fast asleep. I mean, I don't want to force the issue, but it's feeling slightly anticlimactic. No big dramatic reveals, no stunning confessions, no passionate copulation. Just "I'm tired, mind if I crash?"
I've just been sitting here at the kitchen table watching her, thinking about how she inhabits the same space a different woman recently did -- same face, same voice, same clothes -- but with an entirely different aura about her. I spent a long time adjusting to the idea of Crystal in Alia's body, and now I have to switch back... I can only imagine what it was like for her realizing the Todd she'd known for a year was a faker. I haven't brought it up even in our online conversations. Well, I've mentioned it, but I don't push the issue. If she ever wants to delve into it, that's her choice.
In the weeks since Crystal left, Bry's been picking up his guitar more and more. I've hardly seen him so much as tinker with it -- I mean, he's barely even played Rock Band -- since we got back to Toronto last year. Could be maybe residual bitterness from his American musician ex-lesbian girlfriend, or maybe something about Crystal or just not having the energy for it. But lately I've been hearing it through my walls a lot more. And last week, he caught me in the living room to play me something he'd written recently. And it was good.
"Look," he says to me, "I know it hasn't always worked out in the past, but I was thinking about getting a band together. You, me... whoever else. It won't be like the past, we won't take it too seriously, we'll just gig around and have some fun, then get on with our lives other than that. Just to do something, you know?"
I told him I'd think about it. Now that Alia's back, I'm feeling more into it. Maybe to get back in touch with the last time of my life where things made sense. Bry and I played music, Alia and I dated, I was still in school... none of us had ever been anyone else. Maybe you can't go back, and there was enough craziness back then that I wouldn't totally want to... but there's something to be said for trying to recapture a special time in your life.
I want to do it. I can't let it interfere with my school this fall, but I could use the release. I don't know if things can be the same as they were 3 years ago, but I know they can't stay like this.
I think I'll get some sleep. Later, all
-Todd
Monday, May 24, 2010
Alia/Rob: 90's Dance
A lesson I keep having to learn no matter what life I'm in: you can't control other people. You'd think, having dated Todd, I would be used to the idea, but it was something that often frustrated me. People are gonna feel what they're gonna feel. It's hard enough to control yourself. Other people? Forget it.
I was chaperoning a dance with Cathy last week. Teachers are obligated to put in a certain number of extra responsibilities, and sometimes I'm okay with them, sometimes not. By that token, dances are a bit easier to stomach than, say, PTA meetings or parent-teach nights. The PTA is a bore, and parent-teacher nights have largely been a train of parents asking why their kids aren't doing so well (admittedly, their teacher is an under-trained novice, but I've gotten better.) Some parents can handle themselves, others decide to forget that I'm a human being and just let loose all their frustrations on me.
So dances. Yeah, that's a bit easier to take. All I have to do is stand around and enjoy the snacks while the kids paw at each other, and make sure they know they're being watched.
By some strange twist of fate, the dance Cathy and I signed on for was the "90's dance." I'm not some old lady, but I grew up in the 90's, and it was trippy to see my youth re-purposed the way people did the 80's when I was young. Nobody dressed up in 90's clothes or anything, but the music was a pretty dead on recreation of what was around back then, ranging the entire decade:
List of artists who were played over the course of three hours: Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Guns N Roses, Soundgarden, Metallica, Boyz 2 Men, Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey, Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Brandy, Monica, Eve 6, Smashmouth, Sugar Ray, Third Eye Blind, Fatboy Slim, Beastie Boys, NSync, Backstreet Boys, 98 Degrees, Blind Melon, Jamiroquai, Beck, Cranberries, Barenaked Ladies, U2, Rob Zombie, Cher (Believe), Aerosmith, Spice Girls, Michael Jackson, Seal, Chumbawumba. Yeesh. Talk about hitting all the bases. The 90's were one effed-up decade, in retrospect, as far as popular tastes were concerned.
Cathy, who is about Rob's age, was similarly nostalgic for all this, although she has very different memories than I do, obviously. I was in grade school, and a little bit of high school, for all of this, so my earliest school dances would've had Britney and boybands. Also Canadian groups like The Tragically Hip, Great Big Sea and Moist got their due, but I'm getting off topic.
Cathy and I rehashed the stories of our youths, me sort of improvising on the spot to account for my age and gender. I mainly let her do the talking. When the Backstreet Boys' "I Want It That Way" hit, she couldn't take it anymore and led me out on the dancefloor for an "awkward high school slowdance."
I had my hands around her waist, she reached up and rested hers on the back of my shoulders. Suddenly I felt like I was back in a time before all this, way before Rob Garcia and the Trading Post inn and even before heartbreak and angst over Todd or the stress of University, when you could just be with someone and feel awkward over something so simple. And I looked down at this woman and she was clearly thinking the same things, just enjoying her flashback, and then she drew closer and closer, and I didn't mind so much, even when she pressed herself against me and I very clearly had an erection. She felt so small in my arms. Then at the end of the song, she turns her face upward and kisses me in the cheek, then again closer to the lips. I pull away in shock.
She glares at me in... shock? Disappointment? Embarrassment? I don't know. She wasn't pleased with either of us, because she just walked off and didn't talk to me for the rest of the night.
I caught up with her the next day and she was still cold. "I'm sorry about that," she said bitterly, "I guess I just misread the entire thing. I'm an idiot, okay? don't hold it against me." It was half a sincere apology and half pure anger. I know, because I've used that tone.
"Cathy, things are really complicated, and I don't think..."
"No, shut up. It's not complicated at all, you idiot. We're grown-ups. You don't have to act like every little thing is a tragic romance. You have to let yourself have a little fun. I mean Jesus, what did your wife do to you that you can't even just... enjoy things?"
And that was that. I'll never be able to explain exactly why I can't be with her. I was trying very hard not to get close enough to anyone that this sort of emotional reaction would happen, but I guess no matter how hard you try, people can't be taken and packed away like that. Now I've hurt someone without meaning to, and made things awkward with the woman who had pretty much been my closest friend here. I shouldn't take things like this personally, maybe, but I can't say "it's not really my life" because it really is. I did this.
I don't think I was wrong, but I feel bad that it came to this. I wish I could just crawl into bed for the next month and a half and wake up in Maine, but sadly, this is the real world, and I have work to do.
-Alia
I was chaperoning a dance with Cathy last week. Teachers are obligated to put in a certain number of extra responsibilities, and sometimes I'm okay with them, sometimes not. By that token, dances are a bit easier to stomach than, say, PTA meetings or parent-teach nights. The PTA is a bore, and parent-teacher nights have largely been a train of parents asking why their kids aren't doing so well (admittedly, their teacher is an under-trained novice, but I've gotten better.) Some parents can handle themselves, others decide to forget that I'm a human being and just let loose all their frustrations on me.
So dances. Yeah, that's a bit easier to take. All I have to do is stand around and enjoy the snacks while the kids paw at each other, and make sure they know they're being watched.
By some strange twist of fate, the dance Cathy and I signed on for was the "90's dance." I'm not some old lady, but I grew up in the 90's, and it was trippy to see my youth re-purposed the way people did the 80's when I was young. Nobody dressed up in 90's clothes or anything, but the music was a pretty dead on recreation of what was around back then, ranging the entire decade:
List of artists who were played over the course of three hours: Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Guns N Roses, Soundgarden, Metallica, Boyz 2 Men, Whitney Houston, Mariah Carey, Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Brandy, Monica, Eve 6, Smashmouth, Sugar Ray, Third Eye Blind, Fatboy Slim, Beastie Boys, NSync, Backstreet Boys, 98 Degrees, Blind Melon, Jamiroquai, Beck, Cranberries, Barenaked Ladies, U2, Rob Zombie, Cher (Believe), Aerosmith, Spice Girls, Michael Jackson, Seal, Chumbawumba. Yeesh. Talk about hitting all the bases. The 90's were one effed-up decade, in retrospect, as far as popular tastes were concerned.
Cathy, who is about Rob's age, was similarly nostalgic for all this, although she has very different memories than I do, obviously. I was in grade school, and a little bit of high school, for all of this, so my earliest school dances would've had Britney and boybands. Also Canadian groups like The Tragically Hip, Great Big Sea and Moist got their due, but I'm getting off topic.
Cathy and I rehashed the stories of our youths, me sort of improvising on the spot to account for my age and gender. I mainly let her do the talking. When the Backstreet Boys' "I Want It That Way" hit, she couldn't take it anymore and led me out on the dancefloor for an "awkward high school slowdance."
I had my hands around her waist, she reached up and rested hers on the back of my shoulders. Suddenly I felt like I was back in a time before all this, way before Rob Garcia and the Trading Post inn and even before heartbreak and angst over Todd or the stress of University, when you could just be with someone and feel awkward over something so simple. And I looked down at this woman and she was clearly thinking the same things, just enjoying her flashback, and then she drew closer and closer, and I didn't mind so much, even when she pressed herself against me and I very clearly had an erection. She felt so small in my arms. Then at the end of the song, she turns her face upward and kisses me in the cheek, then again closer to the lips. I pull away in shock.
She glares at me in... shock? Disappointment? Embarrassment? I don't know. She wasn't pleased with either of us, because she just walked off and didn't talk to me for the rest of the night.
I caught up with her the next day and she was still cold. "I'm sorry about that," she said bitterly, "I guess I just misread the entire thing. I'm an idiot, okay? don't hold it against me." It was half a sincere apology and half pure anger. I know, because I've used that tone.
"Cathy, things are really complicated, and I don't think..."
"No, shut up. It's not complicated at all, you idiot. We're grown-ups. You don't have to act like every little thing is a tragic romance. You have to let yourself have a little fun. I mean Jesus, what did your wife do to you that you can't even just... enjoy things?"
And that was that. I'll never be able to explain exactly why I can't be with her. I was trying very hard not to get close enough to anyone that this sort of emotional reaction would happen, but I guess no matter how hard you try, people can't be taken and packed away like that. Now I've hurt someone without meaning to, and made things awkward with the woman who had pretty much been my closest friend here. I shouldn't take things like this personally, maybe, but I can't say "it's not really my life" because it really is. I did this.
I don't think I was wrong, but I feel bad that it came to this. I wish I could just crawl into bed for the next month and a half and wake up in Maine, but sadly, this is the real world, and I have work to do.
-Alia
Tuesday, May 11, 2010
Alia/Rob: Mentor
Yeesh. If it weren't for the walking reminder of my physical state, I might forget this blog exists.
Call it self-censorship. I don't live a terribly interesting life. Cliff doesn't either, but she's at least willing/able to air her grievances/thoughts on her body, on her life. I get home after a long day at work and just zonk out.
Stress stress stress stress stressstressstress.
For a long while, it was just overwhelming. I wanted to find some quiet corner of the school and cry (manly tears) over how overwhelmed I was. But generally speaking it is not recommended that teachers lose control of their emotions in front of students. So I bottle it all up.
It's hard, man. Let's not kid ourselves here, this is a stressful job. I remember when I was in high school, the feeling of how overwhelming the pressure was, my quiet suspicion that nothing I was doing would affect me in the long term so long as I got into a decent University (I did.) These kids walking around the halls, half of them have the same parental issues as I did, some way worse. Some don't even talk to theirs, for better or worse. I certainly don't know all their stories, but you get to know who's having trouble.
Oh, you get to know things. The way hormones rule this hallway is palpable, to say the least. Monday morning comes and you can tell which ones had a bad weekend. Every little romantic gesture is scrutinized and agonized over. Students' moods and behaviours change on a regular basis, especially the girls. I've chaperoned a couple dances (I'm on duty for one more this week as a matter of fact) and seeing the way these kids attempt to free themselves from their own awkwardness - with varying degrees of success - well, it takes me back.
That's not to say the teachers are immune to this. We gossip, we make cliques, we have in-jokes. In some really sad ways, we emulate the behaviour of the kids for whom we're supposed to set the example. The sex lives of unmarried teachers (like myself and Cathy) are scrutinized by the older ladies teaching English, Geography and History. We all indulge in inappropriate speculations about the kids. It becomes like a weird little soap opera for some of these people.
Some, however, don't seem to care. This is Marshall McPhee, the senior English teacher. Earlier this year, when the Vice Principal was on my ass about my lackluster in-class performance, Mr. McPhee stood up for me, and even became a mentor of sorts. He's the kind of teacher who's been at it for 25 years, and still gets out of bed in the morning, glad to be teaching, where so many of these people have had their spirits ground down. He's a friendly, balding, thin, bearded sort with John Lennon glasses and a button-up vest.
"Rob," he says to me after school one day, "It's our job to positively impact these kids' lives. We may be here for the long term, but they aren't, and it's our responsibility to see them them through that. We only get a few years to do anything for these kids, and even then it's just a sliver of time. And then they're gone. You've got to be strong. You've got to know your stuff, and you've got to be there for them." I'm paraphrasing, of course: This was months ago. But the feeling stuck with me.
There was this girl who, at the beginning of the semester, was having relationship trouble. That much was true. She showed promise, but also distraction. I knew a lot of girls like that in high school -- hell, I envied them, I was never the one who had the boys' attention, until Todd -- and I know it would've been hard for me to take any teacher's advice seriously (especially a male one) but I did what I could.
Basically, what it amounted to was taking her aside after class and assuring her of the potential I saw in her, and reminding her that things were probably going on in her life that felt the most important, but wouldn't seem so relevant down the road. And showing her perceptiveness, she rebuffed, "And all the classes ARE?"
I told her, "At this point, you're learning more about how to be a person than you are about books. We give you assignments and work not only to teach you their lessons, but how to learn, how to work, full stop. Having a life is important, but what's really important is to learn to balance it all, because believe me, it's never going to stop. There will still be boys, if you don't run off every weekend to hang out with them, and instead keep up on your readings."
And she laughed at this, but a little later when we started doing poetry, she was the only one to have anything memorized, and her insights were quite strong as well. She did a report on Sylvia Plath, which was a sort of "Oh God what have I done" moment (I kid, Plath-lovers.) Was it University-level? Of course not. But she's only a sophomore in high school.
Anyway, the balance-talk worked on both ends because I started dealing with school-related issues a little better, even taking a few extra assignments just to hone my abilities. It's still not my dream job, but I'm getting better at it. And like high school, my time here is limited, and in fact coming to an end sooner than later.
Anyway. It's late, and as always I have an early morning tomorrow. Todd sent me this album by this new Canadian band, Zeus. He loves it, but I think it's a little weak until the midway point gem, "Marching Through Your Head," and then there are some lovely tracks after that, such as "The Sound of You" and "At The Risk Of Repeating," which all makes me yearn for home.
I made him promise not to send me the new Broken Social Scene album. I don't want to hear that until I'm a girl again.
-Alia
Call it self-censorship. I don't live a terribly interesting life. Cliff doesn't either, but she's at least willing/able to air her grievances/thoughts on her body, on her life. I get home after a long day at work and just zonk out.
Stress stress stress stress stressstressstress.
For a long while, it was just overwhelming. I wanted to find some quiet corner of the school and cry (manly tears) over how overwhelmed I was. But generally speaking it is not recommended that teachers lose control of their emotions in front of students. So I bottle it all up.
It's hard, man. Let's not kid ourselves here, this is a stressful job. I remember when I was in high school, the feeling of how overwhelming the pressure was, my quiet suspicion that nothing I was doing would affect me in the long term so long as I got into a decent University (I did.) These kids walking around the halls, half of them have the same parental issues as I did, some way worse. Some don't even talk to theirs, for better or worse. I certainly don't know all their stories, but you get to know who's having trouble.
Oh, you get to know things. The way hormones rule this hallway is palpable, to say the least. Monday morning comes and you can tell which ones had a bad weekend. Every little romantic gesture is scrutinized and agonized over. Students' moods and behaviours change on a regular basis, especially the girls. I've chaperoned a couple dances (I'm on duty for one more this week as a matter of fact) and seeing the way these kids attempt to free themselves from their own awkwardness - with varying degrees of success - well, it takes me back.
That's not to say the teachers are immune to this. We gossip, we make cliques, we have in-jokes. In some really sad ways, we emulate the behaviour of the kids for whom we're supposed to set the example. The sex lives of unmarried teachers (like myself and Cathy) are scrutinized by the older ladies teaching English, Geography and History. We all indulge in inappropriate speculations about the kids. It becomes like a weird little soap opera for some of these people.
Some, however, don't seem to care. This is Marshall McPhee, the senior English teacher. Earlier this year, when the Vice Principal was on my ass about my lackluster in-class performance, Mr. McPhee stood up for me, and even became a mentor of sorts. He's the kind of teacher who's been at it for 25 years, and still gets out of bed in the morning, glad to be teaching, where so many of these people have had their spirits ground down. He's a friendly, balding, thin, bearded sort with John Lennon glasses and a button-up vest.
"Rob," he says to me after school one day, "It's our job to positively impact these kids' lives. We may be here for the long term, but they aren't, and it's our responsibility to see them them through that. We only get a few years to do anything for these kids, and even then it's just a sliver of time. And then they're gone. You've got to be strong. You've got to know your stuff, and you've got to be there for them." I'm paraphrasing, of course: This was months ago. But the feeling stuck with me.
There was this girl who, at the beginning of the semester, was having relationship trouble. That much was true. She showed promise, but also distraction. I knew a lot of girls like that in high school -- hell, I envied them, I was never the one who had the boys' attention, until Todd -- and I know it would've been hard for me to take any teacher's advice seriously (especially a male one) but I did what I could.
Basically, what it amounted to was taking her aside after class and assuring her of the potential I saw in her, and reminding her that things were probably going on in her life that felt the most important, but wouldn't seem so relevant down the road. And showing her perceptiveness, she rebuffed, "And all the classes ARE?"
I told her, "At this point, you're learning more about how to be a person than you are about books. We give you assignments and work not only to teach you their lessons, but how to learn, how to work, full stop. Having a life is important, but what's really important is to learn to balance it all, because believe me, it's never going to stop. There will still be boys, if you don't run off every weekend to hang out with them, and instead keep up on your readings."
And she laughed at this, but a little later when we started doing poetry, she was the only one to have anything memorized, and her insights were quite strong as well. She did a report on Sylvia Plath, which was a sort of "Oh God what have I done" moment (I kid, Plath-lovers.) Was it University-level? Of course not. But she's only a sophomore in high school.
Anyway, the balance-talk worked on both ends because I started dealing with school-related issues a little better, even taking a few extra assignments just to hone my abilities. It's still not my dream job, but I'm getting better at it. And like high school, my time here is limited, and in fact coming to an end sooner than later.
Anyway. It's late, and as always I have an early morning tomorrow. Todd sent me this album by this new Canadian band, Zeus. He loves it, but I think it's a little weak until the midway point gem, "Marching Through Your Head," and then there are some lovely tracks after that, such as "The Sound of You" and "At The Risk Of Repeating," which all makes me yearn for home.
I made him promise not to send me the new Broken Social Scene album. I don't want to hear that until I'm a girl again.
-Alia
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Todd/Anne-Marie: Still no change, but......
Okay. Where to start. I want to avoid the cliche, as much as I want to let the music journalist in me out, by eulogizing Michael Jackson. Bry had a fleeting reference to him in his entry. Here in Maine, like probably everywhere, it was on everyone's lips that night and over the weekend so far. As much as I respected the man and his music, and as much as we were all privately fascinated/freaked out by his personal life... that's not what this blog is about.
A couple days ago, we actually had some sunshine in the morning, and Bry and I lay on the beach in swimsuits, something we thought we'd be doing a lot more of. That's where we had the bulk of the conversation Bry was talking about. For the most part, I agree with her... it was a huge, horrible thing that we're probably better for having survived (if we do indeed survive and return.) I don't know how easy it will be to get back into my life, but considering my life was chaos before I became a housewife, I think I should be able to adjust.
One major part of the conversation though, was that I felt like I'd matured a whole lot. That it was a shame when we'd go back to Toronto, I'd have to restart all the progress I'd made winning Alia back, even possibly settling down with her, if she'd have me, because I feel like I'm ready... but that there was really no way to explain it all to her, what the last year has been like for me. I want to go back to being Todd Casey, but I also want to change, I guess, what it means to be Todd Casey... as much as Deb's probably already done that.
Bry scoffed at that, finding it hard to believe that after all I'd seen and done I would want to come back and settle down, that the entire experience hadn't scared any desire for marriage out of me forever. But it's the truth. It kind of... acclimated me. Being Anne-Marie wasn't just about being a woman for me, it was about being with someone (even someone I didn't really care about) and not... doing some of the dubious shit I used to do with Alia and other women. I'll leave it up to your imagination.
The idea of reforming myself a bit, of coming back to Alia and making the most of my life, was sort of my "happy thought" whenever I'd get bummed out about my state of affairs as Anne-Marie (which was often enough. Lord knows her name came up often enough in this blog.)
Well not long into the afternoon it started to get cloudy again, bloody hell, so we headed back inside, got properly dressed, and went out to lunch. When we got back, in the middle of yet another summer shower, I saw one of the most horrifying things I've seen since becoming Anne-Marie. Maybe one of the most bone-chilling sights I've seen in my entire life.
Alia's car. In the driveway of the fucking Trading Post Inn.
George himself was helping her with her bags. What the fuck.
Bryan didn't see her, but I walked by her. I don't know what my expression looking like, but her face... she looked seriously weirded out by however I looked at her. I haven't seen her in well over a year. She's still gorgeous. And she's here. Oh God. I'm fucked. This whole thing is fucked.
I can't let this happen to her. I can't let her go through this. I've got to tell her to leave this place, to get away. But if I do that, the transformation won't happen (as is my understanding) and this whole thing is for nothing. FUCK!!
A week from now, maybe even tomorrow, she'll be transformed into someone else. Could be an old man, could be a mother or a little boy or some shit. And she'll see me, and I'll have to explain everything to her and try to convince her I wasn't the guy she's known this past year, and tell her it'll be okay as long as she comes back... but what if she's one of those people who can't get their body back?! What if the girl I love ends up as one of those people who has to grow up all over again?!
This whole thing is fucked up. Oh God. What am I gonna say? What am I gonna do?
And I thought it was hard getting to sleep before.... fuck my life.
-Todd
A couple days ago, we actually had some sunshine in the morning, and Bry and I lay on the beach in swimsuits, something we thought we'd be doing a lot more of. That's where we had the bulk of the conversation Bry was talking about. For the most part, I agree with her... it was a huge, horrible thing that we're probably better for having survived (if we do indeed survive and return.) I don't know how easy it will be to get back into my life, but considering my life was chaos before I became a housewife, I think I should be able to adjust.
One major part of the conversation though, was that I felt like I'd matured a whole lot. That it was a shame when we'd go back to Toronto, I'd have to restart all the progress I'd made winning Alia back, even possibly settling down with her, if she'd have me, because I feel like I'm ready... but that there was really no way to explain it all to her, what the last year has been like for me. I want to go back to being Todd Casey, but I also want to change, I guess, what it means to be Todd Casey... as much as Deb's probably already done that.
Bry scoffed at that, finding it hard to believe that after all I'd seen and done I would want to come back and settle down, that the entire experience hadn't scared any desire for marriage out of me forever. But it's the truth. It kind of... acclimated me. Being Anne-Marie wasn't just about being a woman for me, it was about being with someone (even someone I didn't really care about) and not... doing some of the dubious shit I used to do with Alia and other women. I'll leave it up to your imagination.
The idea of reforming myself a bit, of coming back to Alia and making the most of my life, was sort of my "happy thought" whenever I'd get bummed out about my state of affairs as Anne-Marie (which was often enough. Lord knows her name came up often enough in this blog.)
Well not long into the afternoon it started to get cloudy again, bloody hell, so we headed back inside, got properly dressed, and went out to lunch. When we got back, in the middle of yet another summer shower, I saw one of the most horrifying things I've seen since becoming Anne-Marie. Maybe one of the most bone-chilling sights I've seen in my entire life.
Alia's car. In the driveway of the fucking Trading Post Inn.
George himself was helping her with her bags. What the fuck.
Bryan didn't see her, but I walked by her. I don't know what my expression looking like, but her face... she looked seriously weirded out by however I looked at her. I haven't seen her in well over a year. She's still gorgeous. And she's here. Oh God. I'm fucked. This whole thing is fucked.
I can't let this happen to her. I can't let her go through this. I've got to tell her to leave this place, to get away. But if I do that, the transformation won't happen (as is my understanding) and this whole thing is for nothing. FUCK!!
A week from now, maybe even tomorrow, she'll be transformed into someone else. Could be an old man, could be a mother or a little boy or some shit. And she'll see me, and I'll have to explain everything to her and try to convince her I wasn't the guy she's known this past year, and tell her it'll be okay as long as she comes back... but what if she's one of those people who can't get their body back?! What if the girl I love ends up as one of those people who has to grow up all over again?!
This whole thing is fucked up. Oh God. What am I gonna say? What am I gonna do?
And I thought it was hard getting to sleep before.... fuck my life.
-Todd
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Bryan/Ellie: The man I used to be
Back in Canada, one of the big deals on the music scene is k-os. I don't know if anyone in the States really knows about him, but as far as Canadian hip hop goes, he's the ideal.
That song, "The Man I Used To Be" was big on MuchMusic when it came out... I tried it... couldn't fight it... I just wanna get back to be, back into the man I used to be... I've been humming it to myself since before we got to Maine, because hell, it's true. Pretty obvious right? Well in the song, k-os does, like a bit of a Michael Jackson tribute, so I guess he was in my head, and now today I find out he's dead.
What's weird is, checking Ellie's Facebook, even people who weren't born until after he was past his prime seem to care. It's sometimes weird how in-touch the generation can be with older music. Hard to believe it's not all about Rihanna and Kanye with these kids. Gives me hope... then again they learn everything they know about rock from Guitar Hero and Rock Band, which is troubling on some levels. No Zeppelin.
With all the friggin' rain, Todd finally got me to talk a little about the whole situation. I guess I needed a while to open up, to feel like I could get some of my shit out there. Maybe because of the therapy, you can understand I've been a bit guarded lately.
I can't believe that a year ago, when this all started up, I was the one who was really excited about it. Way back when she was writing about our "first day," it was pretty much exactly what Todd said. I was freaking out more with excitement than fear, although there was fear, I just... buried it. Not that I was like "zomg I can't wait to be a girl!" but like, the realness of the whole thing took a while to settle in, so until then it was like living a cool sci-fi fantasy. All the facts about girlhood brought me back down to earth, and that's when the depression set in, which may be why I took it so hard when I started to feel crappy about things.
A few days before we left, I was hanging out with Emily. We were watching Tropic Thunder, but she really hated it, even though I thought it was a really cool movie. When we started to talk about why I liked it so much and why she hated it, I kept wanting to say "I guess it's just a guy thing." No matter what the Inn did to my body it never really changed my mind. and yeah, it's okay for a girl to like action movies and dumb comedies and stuff, but I was also thinking of myself as kind of a lesbian, but most lesbians are really not into guyish stuff like that (or else would they really be lesbians? Haha, I kid.) I mean, those are cliches, but there are cliches out there people live up to. Trust me. You think your average lesbian can quote Die Hard? Well I'd settle for Ghostbusters, which I'd probably have better luck with.
My point is, as Ellie, I was never gonna find a girl I really got along with, probably. Leanne was great and all, for music and stuff, but she didn't like me, she liked what she thought I was. As much as I thought Ellie was a "clean slate" with me it was really just a whole new bunch of baggage I had no business handling. And since I wasn't into dudes (every time I asked Todd about Hal she'd get this look in her eye like suddenly she remembered she used to have a dick) it wasn't going to go well. In the end I couldn't make the two things - my mind and body - go together. I don't think Todd ever did either. At least to make it work she had to put out of her mind what she knew she really is. And that's not cool.
So that's the summary of a conversation Todd and I had where we basically talked about "what if we had to stay?" "what if I'd been the mom, and she was the teen?" And the big one "Was it all worth it?" Time will tell on that. It's been a really fucked up year, but I'll say this...... it isn't the worst thing ever, since I know it's going to go back to normal soon. I got some really interesting experiences, I lived the good life, for a little while I strung along/was strung along by a pretty girl. Now I'm ready to go back.
Last question, though, still unanswered. "What if the same thing happens to us that happened to Deb and Amanda? What if I become Todd, and she becomes me?"
Well I'd be glad to be Todd. Maybe we'd try to go back, but if we had to stay, I wouldn't mind. No matter what has happened, we've been good friends, and we can trust each other. You know?
Hopefully it doesn't come to that. I don't wanna be those people who keep coming back. I'm sure George and Jan are nice people, but they wig me out a bit... kinda like that Donna chick back in Connecticut.
Oh rain. When will this end?
~Bry/El
That song, "The Man I Used To Be" was big on MuchMusic when it came out... I tried it... couldn't fight it... I just wanna get back to be, back into the man I used to be... I've been humming it to myself since before we got to Maine, because hell, it's true. Pretty obvious right? Well in the song, k-os does, like a bit of a Michael Jackson tribute, so I guess he was in my head, and now today I find out he's dead.
What's weird is, checking Ellie's Facebook, even people who weren't born until after he was past his prime seem to care. It's sometimes weird how in-touch the generation can be with older music. Hard to believe it's not all about Rihanna and Kanye with these kids. Gives me hope... then again they learn everything they know about rock from Guitar Hero and Rock Band, which is troubling on some levels. No Zeppelin.
With all the friggin' rain, Todd finally got me to talk a little about the whole situation. I guess I needed a while to open up, to feel like I could get some of my shit out there. Maybe because of the therapy, you can understand I've been a bit guarded lately.
I can't believe that a year ago, when this all started up, I was the one who was really excited about it. Way back when she was writing about our "first day," it was pretty much exactly what Todd said. I was freaking out more with excitement than fear, although there was fear, I just... buried it. Not that I was like "zomg I can't wait to be a girl!" but like, the realness of the whole thing took a while to settle in, so until then it was like living a cool sci-fi fantasy. All the facts about girlhood brought me back down to earth, and that's when the depression set in, which may be why I took it so hard when I started to feel crappy about things.
A few days before we left, I was hanging out with Emily. We were watching Tropic Thunder, but she really hated it, even though I thought it was a really cool movie. When we started to talk about why I liked it so much and why she hated it, I kept wanting to say "I guess it's just a guy thing." No matter what the Inn did to my body it never really changed my mind. and yeah, it's okay for a girl to like action movies and dumb comedies and stuff, but I was also thinking of myself as kind of a lesbian, but most lesbians are really not into guyish stuff like that (or else would they really be lesbians? Haha, I kid.) I mean, those are cliches, but there are cliches out there people live up to. Trust me. You think your average lesbian can quote Die Hard? Well I'd settle for Ghostbusters, which I'd probably have better luck with.
My point is, as Ellie, I was never gonna find a girl I really got along with, probably. Leanne was great and all, for music and stuff, but she didn't like me, she liked what she thought I was. As much as I thought Ellie was a "clean slate" with me it was really just a whole new bunch of baggage I had no business handling. And since I wasn't into dudes (every time I asked Todd about Hal she'd get this look in her eye like suddenly she remembered she used to have a dick) it wasn't going to go well. In the end I couldn't make the two things - my mind and body - go together. I don't think Todd ever did either. At least to make it work she had to put out of her mind what she knew she really is. And that's not cool.
So that's the summary of a conversation Todd and I had where we basically talked about "what if we had to stay?" "what if I'd been the mom, and she was the teen?" And the big one "Was it all worth it?" Time will tell on that. It's been a really fucked up year, but I'll say this...... it isn't the worst thing ever, since I know it's going to go back to normal soon. I got some really interesting experiences, I lived the good life, for a little while I strung along/was strung along by a pretty girl. Now I'm ready to go back.
Last question, though, still unanswered. "What if the same thing happens to us that happened to Deb and Amanda? What if I become Todd, and she becomes me?"
Well I'd be glad to be Todd. Maybe we'd try to go back, but if we had to stay, I wouldn't mind. No matter what has happened, we've been good friends, and we can trust each other. You know?
Hopefully it doesn't come to that. I don't wanna be those people who keep coming back. I'm sure George and Jan are nice people, but they wig me out a bit... kinda like that Donna chick back in Connecticut.
Oh rain. When will this end?
~Bry/El
Monday, May 04, 2009
Todd/Anne-Marie: Tired of Sex
I was a teenager - maybe in Grade 8 or 9 - when I first heard Weezer's second album Pinkerton. I'd already figured them for one hit wonder status, as good as Buddy Holly was, and their second album didn't seem to contain anything that would be that caliber of hit. Basically, a few years passed and I hadn't heard anything from them so I dismissed them offhand when Bry brought me his copy of this album. I was young, it was 1998 (a few years after the album's release) and I was way into Korn. Ugh.
So he played it for me and I thought it was just noise at first. I didn't want to sit through it, but he basically held me hostage. I think around the 5th track - "Across the Sea" - I started to get it. By the time I heard "El Scorcho" it was like a revelation, and it all came to a crescendo at the end with the dramatic "Falling For You" followed by the sweet, acoustic "Butterfly." It was really the album that made me - and a lot of people my age - want to make music.
I've listened to it maybe a thousand times since. It's an album about a lot of things - desire, yearning, frustration, - universal emotions that seem especially poignant to me now in my current situation. I mean, let's look at some lyrics here...
Tired of Sex
I'm tired / So tired / I'm tired of having sex (so tired) / I'm spread / So thin / I don't know who I am
Getchoo
You know this is breaking me up / You think that I'm some kind of freak, uh huh / But if you come back to me / Then you will surely see / That I'm just fooling around
No Other One
Nobody knows me like her / Nobody knows her like me / We're all we've got and we don't want to be alone
Across the Sea
Why are you so far away from me? / I need help and you're way across the sea / I could never touch you / I think it would be wrong / I've got your letter / You've got my song
The Good Life
When I look in the mirror / I can't believe what I see / Tell me who's that funky dude / Starin' back at me ... Excuse the bitchin / I shouldn't complain / I should have no feeling / 'cause feeling is pain / As everything I need / Is denied me / Everything I want / Is taken away from me / But who do I got to blame / Nobody but me / And I don't wanna be an old man anymore / It's been a year or two since / I was out on the floor / Shakin' booty making sweet love all the night / It's time I got back to the good life
Falling For You
I'd do about anything to get the hell out alive / Or maybe I would rather settle down with you / Holy moly baby wouldn't you know it / Just as I was bustin' loose / I gotta go turn in my rock star card / And get fat and old with you....
Butterfly
I'm sorry for what I did / I did what my body told me to / I didn't mean to do you harm / Everytime I pin down what I think I want it slips away / The ghost slips away...
The lyrics I've pointed out have to do with a lot of different things in my life... pretending as Anne-Marie while trying to get back to being Todd, relating to Bryan and "Julia," being with Hall ... pining for Alia... I've got a lot on my mind lately. This will probably be a long post and my lyrical analysis definitely increases that.
Maybe I'm seeing parallels where there are non,e or maybe it speaks to how universal these themes truly are. I just think they take on a weird new dimension when I consider my situation... doing things I never thought I would with a life I never asked to have... I mean, a year ago, I never really understood how anybody could get "Tired of Sex." Even when I understood the song as an indication of exhaustion from the rock and roll lifestyle, I still thought sex was an unassailable virtue, one thing that was truly good. Even as a woman, I began to take for granted that sex is enjoyable from either side, as much as I would like to get back on the other team.
But this entire family crisis situation - the funeral and everything - had a weird, unexpected side effect on Hal.
We first had sex in late January. In February and March we averaged, I would say, 6-8 sessions per month. We'd have maybe one go during the week, and then one or two on weekends, tops. I never felt like doing it when I was on my period, and he never asked to.
I became something I kinda looked forward to, the special perk of being Anne-Marie. When I shed my self-consciousness about Anne-Marie's body type and just let myself be free, it became strangely enjoyable to watch this dude get hard for Anne-Marie's body, and then put it to work. I was actually starting to enjoy it, although I never thought Hal was all that great at it (no offense to Anne-Marie.) There was also the fascinating advantage of not having to be "up" to start with, so while I never initiated it, I never had cause to turn it down either.
Eventually I learned to turn off the part of my brain that is averse to being the female part of the equation, partly out of enjoyment, partly out of perspective. I came to realize the person I see in the mirror is not Todd Casey, no matter how much I cling to that identity - I'm not Todd a lot of the time, but sex is basically the only thing there is to enjoy about being Anne-Marie. Nobody is going to look at me and think "that dude is so gay" because, well, gay dudes don't have vaginas. And in a few months, I won't either, so I'll be back to my usual preference. And I am psyched for that, but until then I make due with what I've got - a surprisingly sensitive and able woman's body, and a man who makes for a reliable if un-astounding partner.
Which brings me to the early part of April, when we found out Hal's dad was in the hospital. Right after that, shit started getting turned upside down at Hal's dental practice. I don't know the details, but Anne-Marie/Julia would. Some kind of filing clusterfuck that is at least partly related to her inexperience at filing and resentment from older co-workers. So he's got all that stress and emotional weight on him, good time to relieve your stress with some fucking, right?
I guess stress and grief turn Hal into an unstoppable screwing machine. In the 30 days of April we did it for about 22 of them, way up from our 6-8 average. We didn't do it the week of the funeral since we were all very busy and I happened to be on the rag*, and then afterward it was right back to it.
(*Now there's a feeling I have kept from this blog. I'm so burnt out during those times I tend to avoid the blog, and then I forget to write about it when I come back.)
I don't know when to say enough is enough, please get off me. I don't want to be rude and part of me still likes it, but eventually I've just got to say "Dude... if you keep using that thing it's gonna fall off." I haven't had much occasion declining sex in my life, so I'm not equipped for this discussion. I feel like at his age, he's risking hurting himself or something. But this is not the problem. As annoying as it can be, more sex is not something I'm complaining about at this point. No, the real problem came afterward. Pardon the pun.
After one session Saturday night, I left the bed to let Hal drift off to sleep. I never really got over the part of me that only wanted to take care of business and leave, so what I do most of the time is get up, read a book or surf the internet, and let him drift off, returning to bed about 20 minutes later. I got up, went to the washroom, cleaned myself up a bit, and as I was heading back through the bedroom to the stairs, I heard... sobbing.
Once I realized what was happening, I felt a mixture of pity, guilt, and anger. Pity because of how upset he is, feeling he's had to hide it all this time. Guilt because I'm not equipped to comfort him with anything other than sex, which is clearly not what he needs. Since I'm not really emotionally invested in this whole marriage, I feel awkward trying to comfort him anything more than a cursory pat on the back. Anger, because I'm the only one who can comfort him, I'm all he's got, and I haven't got the ability nor inclination to give the support he needs. It's a fucking reminder that I'm a substitute, a pretender, a liar. I'm not his wife, and after 9 months, I'm still fucking clueless about marriage.
This is a goddamn untenable situation, and I need to get out of it soon.
So all I could do was get back in the bed, hold him, and tell him sympathetically, "It's okay, sweetie." I sounded like an asshole, but it seemed to help.
But I've found that at least that part of me is still male - I find masculine emotional vulnerability uncomfortable, and it's a real turn-off. Now I really am tired of sex.
Never thought I'd see the day.
-Todd/AM
So he played it for me and I thought it was just noise at first. I didn't want to sit through it, but he basically held me hostage. I think around the 5th track - "Across the Sea" - I started to get it. By the time I heard "El Scorcho" it was like a revelation, and it all came to a crescendo at the end with the dramatic "Falling For You" followed by the sweet, acoustic "Butterfly." It was really the album that made me - and a lot of people my age - want to make music.
I've listened to it maybe a thousand times since. It's an album about a lot of things - desire, yearning, frustration, - universal emotions that seem especially poignant to me now in my current situation. I mean, let's look at some lyrics here...
Tired of Sex
I'm tired / So tired / I'm tired of having sex (so tired) / I'm spread / So thin / I don't know who I am
Getchoo
You know this is breaking me up / You think that I'm some kind of freak, uh huh / But if you come back to me / Then you will surely see / That I'm just fooling around
No Other One
Nobody knows me like her / Nobody knows her like me / We're all we've got and we don't want to be alone
Across the Sea
Why are you so far away from me? / I need help and you're way across the sea / I could never touch you / I think it would be wrong / I've got your letter / You've got my song
The Good Life
When I look in the mirror / I can't believe what I see / Tell me who's that funky dude / Starin' back at me ... Excuse the bitchin / I shouldn't complain / I should have no feeling / 'cause feeling is pain / As everything I need / Is denied me / Everything I want / Is taken away from me / But who do I got to blame / Nobody but me / And I don't wanna be an old man anymore / It's been a year or two since / I was out on the floor / Shakin' booty making sweet love all the night / It's time I got back to the good life
Falling For You
I'd do about anything to get the hell out alive / Or maybe I would rather settle down with you / Holy moly baby wouldn't you know it / Just as I was bustin' loose / I gotta go turn in my rock star card / And get fat and old with you....
Butterfly
I'm sorry for what I did / I did what my body told me to / I didn't mean to do you harm / Everytime I pin down what I think I want it slips away / The ghost slips away...
The lyrics I've pointed out have to do with a lot of different things in my life... pretending as Anne-Marie while trying to get back to being Todd, relating to Bryan and "Julia," being with Hall ... pining for Alia... I've got a lot on my mind lately. This will probably be a long post and my lyrical analysis definitely increases that.
Maybe I'm seeing parallels where there are non,e or maybe it speaks to how universal these themes truly are. I just think they take on a weird new dimension when I consider my situation... doing things I never thought I would with a life I never asked to have... I mean, a year ago, I never really understood how anybody could get "Tired of Sex." Even when I understood the song as an indication of exhaustion from the rock and roll lifestyle, I still thought sex was an unassailable virtue, one thing that was truly good. Even as a woman, I began to take for granted that sex is enjoyable from either side, as much as I would like to get back on the other team.
But this entire family crisis situation - the funeral and everything - had a weird, unexpected side effect on Hal.
We first had sex in late January. In February and March we averaged, I would say, 6-8 sessions per month. We'd have maybe one go during the week, and then one or two on weekends, tops. I never felt like doing it when I was on my period, and he never asked to.
I became something I kinda looked forward to, the special perk of being Anne-Marie. When I shed my self-consciousness about Anne-Marie's body type and just let myself be free, it became strangely enjoyable to watch this dude get hard for Anne-Marie's body, and then put it to work. I was actually starting to enjoy it, although I never thought Hal was all that great at it (no offense to Anne-Marie.) There was also the fascinating advantage of not having to be "up" to start with, so while I never initiated it, I never had cause to turn it down either.
Eventually I learned to turn off the part of my brain that is averse to being the female part of the equation, partly out of enjoyment, partly out of perspective. I came to realize the person I see in the mirror is not Todd Casey, no matter how much I cling to that identity - I'm not Todd a lot of the time, but sex is basically the only thing there is to enjoy about being Anne-Marie. Nobody is going to look at me and think "that dude is so gay" because, well, gay dudes don't have vaginas. And in a few months, I won't either, so I'll be back to my usual preference. And I am psyched for that, but until then I make due with what I've got - a surprisingly sensitive and able woman's body, and a man who makes for a reliable if un-astounding partner.
Which brings me to the early part of April, when we found out Hal's dad was in the hospital. Right after that, shit started getting turned upside down at Hal's dental practice. I don't know the details, but Anne-Marie/Julia would. Some kind of filing clusterfuck that is at least partly related to her inexperience at filing and resentment from older co-workers. So he's got all that stress and emotional weight on him, good time to relieve your stress with some fucking, right?
I guess stress and grief turn Hal into an unstoppable screwing machine. In the 30 days of April we did it for about 22 of them, way up from our 6-8 average. We didn't do it the week of the funeral since we were all very busy and I happened to be on the rag*, and then afterward it was right back to it.
(*Now there's a feeling I have kept from this blog. I'm so burnt out during those times I tend to avoid the blog, and then I forget to write about it when I come back.)
I don't know when to say enough is enough, please get off me. I don't want to be rude and part of me still likes it, but eventually I've just got to say "Dude... if you keep using that thing it's gonna fall off." I haven't had much occasion declining sex in my life, so I'm not equipped for this discussion. I feel like at his age, he's risking hurting himself or something. But this is not the problem. As annoying as it can be, more sex is not something I'm complaining about at this point. No, the real problem came afterward. Pardon the pun.
After one session Saturday night, I left the bed to let Hal drift off to sleep. I never really got over the part of me that only wanted to take care of business and leave, so what I do most of the time is get up, read a book or surf the internet, and let him drift off, returning to bed about 20 minutes later. I got up, went to the washroom, cleaned myself up a bit, and as I was heading back through the bedroom to the stairs, I heard... sobbing.
Once I realized what was happening, I felt a mixture of pity, guilt, and anger. Pity because of how upset he is, feeling he's had to hide it all this time. Guilt because I'm not equipped to comfort him with anything other than sex, which is clearly not what he needs. Since I'm not really emotionally invested in this whole marriage, I feel awkward trying to comfort him anything more than a cursory pat on the back. Anger, because I'm the only one who can comfort him, I'm all he's got, and I haven't got the ability nor inclination to give the support he needs. It's a fucking reminder that I'm a substitute, a pretender, a liar. I'm not his wife, and after 9 months, I'm still fucking clueless about marriage.
This is a goddamn untenable situation, and I need to get out of it soon.
So all I could do was get back in the bed, hold him, and tell him sympathetically, "It's okay, sweetie." I sounded like an asshole, but it seemed to help.
But I've found that at least that part of me is still male - I find masculine emotional vulnerability uncomfortable, and it's a real turn-off. Now I really am tired of sex.
Never thought I'd see the day.
-Todd/AM
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Bryan/Ellie: Jam sesh
So a while back I met Emily's brother Dennis who is kind of a musician, in the way that a teenage boy with a guitar is a musician. I made the mistake of showing off a bit to him, even though in this body I'm kinda terrible, and for a while he would ask if I wanted to hang out with him and jam.
Nothing ever really came with that, and anytime I'm over at Emily's to have a sleepover or whatever, if I'd see him he'd get kinda awkward. It happens. When you're a teenager there's no shortage of stuff to make you awkward, whether you've been transformed or not.
So last Friday night I was at Emily's place when she gets a text from her boyfriend Mike. They've been really off and on. She's really into him and he kinda plays it cool... which honestly isn't unlike me, but seeing it from this perspective, it seems unfair to her (especially since she gets my panties all worked up whenever she comes around, so there's I guess a bit of jealousy from me.)
ANYWAY what happened was Mike texted her and asked if she wanted to come over and do stuff. For a while it was almost like she was gonna blow him off and hang out with me, but I could tell she really wanted to go. Since I'm pretty comfortable at her place - hell, more comfortable than at Ellie's - it was okay that I stayed and finished the movie (Wall-E.)
As I was going, I ran into Dennis, who'd been in the basement. I was putting on my jacket, and he sidles up to me. "Listen I'm not a creeper or anything. It's still early, I've got some people downstairs you might want to meet."
There are times when I forget that I'm small and basically defenseless (I'm not much of a fighter, but I could get crazy against a dude like him.) So I began to trust him, but I told him that if anything went wrong I would tell Emily. He just looked at me and asked what she'd been telling me about him. I said it was hard to explain.
But whatever. As I mentally prepared myself for the worst, he led me to the basement, where he had his guitar on a stand, a bass leaning up against an old couch, and a small drum kit. Behind the drums was a girl Dennis' age, with moppish short brown hair and emo-glasses. Sitting across from them was a more conventional looking blonde girl on a cushy chair. She looked, and must've felt, somewhat out of place. Good figure, low-cut top.
He gestured to the drummer chick and then to the other, "Ellie, this is Leanne and May." May stood up and wrapped her arms around him. Girlfriend. Duh.
"Leanne and I jam together sometimes, and I thought that maybe you'd wanna join, since your night kinda got ruined by my sister leaving." He looked over at Leanne, "Ellie's pretty good at guitar for her age." He looked back at me, "Ever played bass?"
I rolled my eyes. I didn't really wanna be the cliche chick bass player.... as much as I love the Pixies, Smashing Pumpkins, and to a lesser extent Sonic Youth. Sure, I can play, but only bothered to learn as much as any guitarist who is actually good at that instrument.
Whatever. I slung the bass over my shoulder. It felt like a monster in my little arms (for those unfamiliar, bass guitars have considerably longer necks than real guitars.) We tinkered around, I didn't attempt anything tricky. It wasn't the same thrill as when I had the guitar in my hands but it was nice anyway.
Eventually May, who was probably getting tired of the scenario, looked at her watch. She noted it was getting late to Dennis and he took the guitar strap off his shoulder. Without much explanation, they hurried upstairs. "Uh, if you wanna play the guitar you can," he said leaning over the railing, "but if you break any strings you're paying."
I was going for the guitar when Leanne said "Mind if we take a break?" I said sure, but was a little disappointed I couldn't rip into some non-talkbox Frampton.
She went over to the mini-fridge and looked through it. "You drink?" She grabbed two bottles of cheap American beer.
"Sure."
She opened one and handed it to me. "Are you sure? I don't want to corrupt any little children." She smirked.
I laughed. "Believe me, I'm plenty corrupted already."
She grinned, "Oh yeah? you don't look like you've done much."
I joked, "Only to myself."
She nodded and sipped, "Good to keep in practice. So tell me... why'd you keep looking over at May?"
"Was I?"
"Dennis didn't notice 'cause he was in front of you, but I could tell. I figure there's two reasons. One is that you can't figure out why she's with him... because you want him." I shook my head. She sipped again. "The other is you couldn't help noticing her awesome chest."
My eyes darted right back over to her. She looked back at me.
"Look," she blushed, "You're really young and probably really confused, but I remember when I was your age. Figuring out what you want, why you don't see boys the way all your girlfriends do. Maybe you're not ready, maybe I'm reading you wrong."
"You're not." I told her abruptly, blurting out "I don't ever wanna touch a penis." (One that doesn't belong to me.)
She inched closer, and I closed my eyes. Oh God, the softness of her lips, the way her fingers brushed my thigh. I let myself enjoy it for just a second before something struck me and I jolted back.
"Oh, wow," I exclaimed, "That was... I mean, it was really sudden." But my mind had darted back to Ellie, to the Inn and how I would leave. I've said on this blog how I had feelings for Emily but I didn't mean to do anything about them, or anything at all. Because I know things are going to be weird for Ellie once we change back. But at the same time, the desire to feel something like that... was just overwhelming.
"Is something wrong?" she seemed sincere.
"I'm just... I'm.... maybe you're right. Maybe I'm not ready."
"It's okay," she leaned back a bit, separating the two of us further, "I'm kinda just got out of a thing, and I don't want you to think you're just a rebound. It's not, like, fair to you."
And I'm thinking: Well, in a few months, I'm going to be a whole other person, and that's not really fair to you, so I guess we're even.
"It was nice though," I said to comfort her. "And maybe sometime we can again. Just... don't tell Dennis, okay? Because then he'll tell Em, and I don't wanna deal with that."
She nodded, it seemed fair.
And then we started kissing again.
Ellie, Todd said you read this, and I'm sorry, I guess, but I couldn't help myself. A cute teenage lesbian (bi?) was coming onto me and I couldn't say no. Maybe that's how you ended up letting Todd Jones feel you up on your Aunt's couch. Let's call it even.
I mean, it's not like Leanne's gonna become my girlfriend.
Probably.
-Bry/El
Nothing ever really came with that, and anytime I'm over at Emily's to have a sleepover or whatever, if I'd see him he'd get kinda awkward. It happens. When you're a teenager there's no shortage of stuff to make you awkward, whether you've been transformed or not.
So last Friday night I was at Emily's place when she gets a text from her boyfriend Mike. They've been really off and on. She's really into him and he kinda plays it cool... which honestly isn't unlike me, but seeing it from this perspective, it seems unfair to her (especially since she gets my panties all worked up whenever she comes around, so there's I guess a bit of jealousy from me.)
ANYWAY what happened was Mike texted her and asked if she wanted to come over and do stuff. For a while it was almost like she was gonna blow him off and hang out with me, but I could tell she really wanted to go. Since I'm pretty comfortable at her place - hell, more comfortable than at Ellie's - it was okay that I stayed and finished the movie (Wall-E.)
As I was going, I ran into Dennis, who'd been in the basement. I was putting on my jacket, and he sidles up to me. "Listen I'm not a creeper or anything. It's still early, I've got some people downstairs you might want to meet."
There are times when I forget that I'm small and basically defenseless (I'm not much of a fighter, but I could get crazy against a dude like him.) So I began to trust him, but I told him that if anything went wrong I would tell Emily. He just looked at me and asked what she'd been telling me about him. I said it was hard to explain.
But whatever. As I mentally prepared myself for the worst, he led me to the basement, where he had his guitar on a stand, a bass leaning up against an old couch, and a small drum kit. Behind the drums was a girl Dennis' age, with moppish short brown hair and emo-glasses. Sitting across from them was a more conventional looking blonde girl on a cushy chair. She looked, and must've felt, somewhat out of place. Good figure, low-cut top.
He gestured to the drummer chick and then to the other, "Ellie, this is Leanne and May." May stood up and wrapped her arms around him. Girlfriend. Duh.
"Leanne and I jam together sometimes, and I thought that maybe you'd wanna join, since your night kinda got ruined by my sister leaving." He looked over at Leanne, "Ellie's pretty good at guitar for her age." He looked back at me, "Ever played bass?"
I rolled my eyes. I didn't really wanna be the cliche chick bass player.... as much as I love the Pixies, Smashing Pumpkins, and to a lesser extent Sonic Youth. Sure, I can play, but only bothered to learn as much as any guitarist who is actually good at that instrument.
Whatever. I slung the bass over my shoulder. It felt like a monster in my little arms (for those unfamiliar, bass guitars have considerably longer necks than real guitars.) We tinkered around, I didn't attempt anything tricky. It wasn't the same thrill as when I had the guitar in my hands but it was nice anyway.
Eventually May, who was probably getting tired of the scenario, looked at her watch. She noted it was getting late to Dennis and he took the guitar strap off his shoulder. Without much explanation, they hurried upstairs. "Uh, if you wanna play the guitar you can," he said leaning over the railing, "but if you break any strings you're paying."
I was going for the guitar when Leanne said "Mind if we take a break?" I said sure, but was a little disappointed I couldn't rip into some non-talkbox Frampton.
She went over to the mini-fridge and looked through it. "You drink?" She grabbed two bottles of cheap American beer.
"Sure."
She opened one and handed it to me. "Are you sure? I don't want to corrupt any little children." She smirked.
I laughed. "Believe me, I'm plenty corrupted already."
She grinned, "Oh yeah? you don't look like you've done much."
I joked, "Only to myself."
She nodded and sipped, "Good to keep in practice. So tell me... why'd you keep looking over at May?"
"Was I?"
"Dennis didn't notice 'cause he was in front of you, but I could tell. I figure there's two reasons. One is that you can't figure out why she's with him... because you want him." I shook my head. She sipped again. "The other is you couldn't help noticing her awesome chest."
My eyes darted right back over to her. She looked back at me.
"Look," she blushed, "You're really young and probably really confused, but I remember when I was your age. Figuring out what you want, why you don't see boys the way all your girlfriends do. Maybe you're not ready, maybe I'm reading you wrong."
"You're not." I told her abruptly, blurting out "I don't ever wanna touch a penis." (One that doesn't belong to me.)
She inched closer, and I closed my eyes. Oh God, the softness of her lips, the way her fingers brushed my thigh. I let myself enjoy it for just a second before something struck me and I jolted back.
"Oh, wow," I exclaimed, "That was... I mean, it was really sudden." But my mind had darted back to Ellie, to the Inn and how I would leave. I've said on this blog how I had feelings for Emily but I didn't mean to do anything about them, or anything at all. Because I know things are going to be weird for Ellie once we change back. But at the same time, the desire to feel something like that... was just overwhelming.
"Is something wrong?" she seemed sincere.
"I'm just... I'm.... maybe you're right. Maybe I'm not ready."
"It's okay," she leaned back a bit, separating the two of us further, "I'm kinda just got out of a thing, and I don't want you to think you're just a rebound. It's not, like, fair to you."
And I'm thinking: Well, in a few months, I'm going to be a whole other person, and that's not really fair to you, so I guess we're even.
"It was nice though," I said to comfort her. "And maybe sometime we can again. Just... don't tell Dennis, okay? Because then he'll tell Em, and I don't wanna deal with that."
She nodded, it seemed fair.
And then we started kissing again.
Ellie, Todd said you read this, and I'm sorry, I guess, but I couldn't help myself. A cute teenage lesbian (bi?) was coming onto me and I couldn't say no. Maybe that's how you ended up letting Todd Jones feel you up on your Aunt's couch. Let's call it even.
I mean, it's not like Leanne's gonna become my girlfriend.
Probably.
-Bry/El
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Todd/Anne-Marie: My First Bra...
There's something about a chilly November afternoon that makes me want to crank the heater and lounge around in my underwear. Don't judge me, it's not like there's anyone else around. And maybe Anne-Marie's body has some, er, wear-and-tear from the kids, but she's still young and in half-decent shape.
Maybe I'm just weird but a lot of the time I'm more comfortable like this than when wearing Anne-Marie's clothes. Maybe because I'm alone and don't have to pretend or feel like I'm being judged on the authenticity of my Anne-Marieness. Maybe because after a while I get tired of the blouses and khakis or mom-jeans or skirts. I do wear the skirts, not often, but sometimes. But I guess I ought to take this opportunity to discuss something that might gain further insight into my perspective on female apparel.
See, that day at the Inn, when I woke up in Anne-Marie's body... it was shocking, it was horrifying, it was impossible to believe even as I felt my own tits. But as I moved through the day and eventually had to dress myself, well... it wasn't the first time I'd ever worn women's clothes. not the first time for a skirt or a camisole or a pair of panties or a bra. No sir. Not Bryan's either.
Back in the day - mostly in high school - one of the bands Bry and I played for was called the Mercy Mamas. I played bass, Bry played lead guitar, Tom Davidson played drums and sometimes we had a guy on keyboards whose name I forget. Bry and I shared vocals. Anyway, we had done a few open mic nights and were going to close the school's talent show when Bry had the idea of dressing in drag. For some reason - probably because I was high - I went along with it, and Bry went out and got all this gear - dresses, skirts, nylons, even bras and panties. He's always been a pretty extreme guy when he gets to something. Looking back I think he maybe just wanted an excuse to play dress-up even though there was nothing unusual about his behaviour while in drag. He didn't affect a character, it wasn't a Rocky Horror or To Wong Foo thing... he was just Bryan in drag, only slightly more outrageous than usual.
Because of the reaction we got - which was an incredible uproar from all the students - the principals banned us from ever doing the talent show again (this was our second-last year) but we continued to rehearse as the Mercy Mamas and eventually started playing gigs in little clubs near the University I went to. We were gaining some popularity when I decided I was tired of dressing like a woman - and playing bass, which I was never very good at anyway - so I left. Bryan, who basically just saw the band as a reason to hang out anyway, called it quits too, leaving us with an inexplicable collection of ladies' underthings sitting unused in our closets.
So if you were to ask me how I know how to put on a bra - or apply makeup, for that matter - there's your answer. It's not that I ever wanted to be a woman, I just always remembered the reaction I got at that high school talent show, and had been chasing it ever since. Now, there's nothing about femininity that looks shocking on me. It's depressing. And now I actually have to use the bra.
Ugh. Now I'm bummed. I think I'm gonna go put on some pants. A chill just ran up my spine and made my leg-stubble stand up.
-Todd/AM
Maybe I'm just weird but a lot of the time I'm more comfortable like this than when wearing Anne-Marie's clothes. Maybe because I'm alone and don't have to pretend or feel like I'm being judged on the authenticity of my Anne-Marieness. Maybe because after a while I get tired of the blouses and khakis or mom-jeans or skirts. I do wear the skirts, not often, but sometimes. But I guess I ought to take this opportunity to discuss something that might gain further insight into my perspective on female apparel.
See, that day at the Inn, when I woke up in Anne-Marie's body... it was shocking, it was horrifying, it was impossible to believe even as I felt my own tits. But as I moved through the day and eventually had to dress myself, well... it wasn't the first time I'd ever worn women's clothes. not the first time for a skirt or a camisole or a pair of panties or a bra. No sir. Not Bryan's either.
Back in the day - mostly in high school - one of the bands Bry and I played for was called the Mercy Mamas. I played bass, Bry played lead guitar, Tom Davidson played drums and sometimes we had a guy on keyboards whose name I forget. Bry and I shared vocals. Anyway, we had done a few open mic nights and were going to close the school's talent show when Bry had the idea of dressing in drag. For some reason - probably because I was high - I went along with it, and Bry went out and got all this gear - dresses, skirts, nylons, even bras and panties. He's always been a pretty extreme guy when he gets to something. Looking back I think he maybe just wanted an excuse to play dress-up even though there was nothing unusual about his behaviour while in drag. He didn't affect a character, it wasn't a Rocky Horror or To Wong Foo thing... he was just Bryan in drag, only slightly more outrageous than usual.
Because of the reaction we got - which was an incredible uproar from all the students - the principals banned us from ever doing the talent show again (this was our second-last year) but we continued to rehearse as the Mercy Mamas and eventually started playing gigs in little clubs near the University I went to. We were gaining some popularity when I decided I was tired of dressing like a woman - and playing bass, which I was never very good at anyway - so I left. Bryan, who basically just saw the band as a reason to hang out anyway, called it quits too, leaving us with an inexplicable collection of ladies' underthings sitting unused in our closets.
So if you were to ask me how I know how to put on a bra - or apply makeup, for that matter - there's your answer. It's not that I ever wanted to be a woman, I just always remembered the reaction I got at that high school talent show, and had been chasing it ever since. Now, there's nothing about femininity that looks shocking on me. It's depressing. And now I actually have to use the bra.
Ugh. Now I'm bummed. I think I'm gonna go put on some pants. A chill just ran up my spine and made my leg-stubble stand up.
-Todd/AM
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)