the good, the bad, and the straightenin' out to do

There comes a point in time, when you start to wonder about the good things and the bad things in your life. But mostly, it’s the bad things that get the most attention. And you wonder, if it’s a bad thing and you know it‘s a bad thing, then why is it a part of your life? It’s like frozen cookie dough. You plan on using it to make dozens of cookies to be shared with friends and loved ones, but instead, you end up eating it in large chunks, knowing in the back of your mind that it’s probably not a good idea to be eating raw dough with all those cases of samonella being reported, but you do it anyways because it’s oh-so good. And then you discover, by the end of the night, you only have enough dough to make two decent-sized cookies. It makes you a little sad, but you just shrug your shoulders and put the rest of the chocolate-y goodness in your mouth, thinking in the back of your mind, to hell with it. It’s exactly what I was thinking when I thought of my is she-isn’t she friend, Collete.

Ok so maybe things with Colette weren’t as resolved as I thought they were. Maybe I just didn’t get it, like I thought I did. But it’s hard when you’re a guy. Girl’s just have this weird power/control over guys. Just look at Samson and Delilah. Edmond Dantes and Mercedès. Paul McCartney and Heather Mills. Poor guys. Never saw it coming. But I was smarter than that. I knew better. And that’s when Colette called me.

Apparently, when we were in Phoenix the previous week, she had entered a contest at the mall to go see pop singer Fergie and won two tickets. And who did she invite? Yeah. Me. Colette told me that as soon as she found out she won, she could think of no other person to invite but me. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t honored, but I didn’t know if...oh to hell with it, it was Fergie! And anyone who can piss their pants in public and still hold their head up high is A-OK in my book. I mean, we’ve all been there after a couple of drinks and dancing in a party bus with a stripper pole, right? And besides, this was just a friend only outing…as Colette pointed out many times. God. You take somebody to a Gwen Stefani concert and your pegged as “Concert Buddy” for life. Ugh.

Two days and a two hour car ride later, we were at the Dodge theater rockin’ and a-rollin’ to a really awesome performance. I was wearing my Ed Hardy jeans, the ones with the skull bone and heart patch in the back pockets, which I had been saving for a rainy day, but since it never came, I figured now was as good a time as any. Fergie was awesome. Who knew that a thirty-something could still do cartwheels? Sure, her back would probably be killing her the following morning, but hey, it wasn’t my back, so…rock on! And it was during this rockin’ performance that Fergie sang a song that really spoke to me. Even though it was entitled, "Big Girls Don’t Cry", I felt the lyrics could go either way. Minus, of course, the exception of the word, “girl.”

Fairytales don't always have a happy ending, do they?
And I foresee the dark ahead if I stay.
I hope you know, I hope you know
That this has nothing to do with you
It's personal, myself and I
We've got some straightenin' out to do
And I'm gonna miss you like a child misses their blanket
But I've got to get a move on with my life…

Amen sister. Story of my life. But little did I know that while I thought I was dealing with a major problem, somebody else was dealing with an even bigger problems.

After the concert, we headed to a local gas station to stock up on energy drinks and peach candy rings, since spending the night at a hotel was out of the question. I wanna say that it’s because temptation was just not a road I wanted to travel on, but the truth is, I forgot my credit card and Colette was overdrawn on her debit account. Ironically, the road we were traveling on ended up being closed due to forceful winds and a monsoon-like rainfall. Guess it was a perfect time to be wearing those Ed Hardy's, after all. We had no option but to turn back. We ended up at a Denny’s, where we ordered banana fosters, chocolate chip pancakes and a side order of chicken strips and french fries. In hindsight, it probably wasn’t the best idea to eat such a random mix of food so late at night/early in the morning, but when you’re killing time and trying to stay awake at a 24-hour diner, you do what you gotta do.

We left the restaurant at the crack of dawn, and after being in town for not more than one hour, I got that fateful call. It was from my boss Alice, giving me a rundown of the tasks that had to be performed and completed that day. After assuring and reassuring Alice that everything was under control, she told me that Freddie, her brother-in-law was like Nicky. Nicky was a close, personal friend of Alice and her husband Azten, until he was shot and killed in an alley this past March. To this day, no one really knows what happened, but it’s assumed that Nicky got caught up in a drug deal gone bad.

ALICE: David…Freddie is like Nicky. I don’t know what to do.
ME: You mean he’s weird? Yeah, I could’ve told you that Alice. Why? What he do?
ALICE: No, I mean, Freddie is like Nicky.
ME: Cuz he sells drugs? Well, there’s nothing you can really do…
ALICE: No. David. Listen. Freddie. Is like. Nicky.
ME: Alice. I get it. He’s weird. But why?
ALICE: David. Freddie is where Nicky is.
ME: Well where is Nicky?
ALICE: David, I have my daughters in the car. So please understand when I tell you that Freddie is exactly like Nicky.

It was then that I finally got it. I later learned that Freddie was shot and killed in an apartment complex over a pair of designer jeans. I know! I mean, that could've been me! I could've been THE guy shot in Phoenix over the pair of jeans I was wearing! It was so surreal. After all, I had just seen Freddie the week before when he came in to see Alice. He was his usual self, wearing a button down shirt that was fully open, exposing his chest tattoo of an Aztec god holding a half naked Aztec woman with enormous breasts and telling me of his weekend and how some girl at some party just couldn’t get enough of him. Which is weird, because every girl I know that has met him have told me specifically that they would never, in a million years, go out with him.

Still it was sad. I mean, here was a guy, who was my age, wore designer jeans…was unlucky in love…and the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if maybe I had the same fate in store for me. Ok, I’ll admit it’s selfish of me to even think of my own well-being during a time when someone had just passed away, and I may as well have booked my ticket for that hand basket people are always talking about, but the similarities was just way too much to not be considered a coincidence. I mean, I don’t think I’ll be killed in a tragic shooting, but who’s to say I wont? I always felt that the way I would go would be falling to my death, that way I could get that flying thing out of the way before I go. The point is, you just never know when your time is up. That’s why everyone’s always saying to make each and every moment count. So is it bad that my each and every moments are still associating with Colette?

got it? get it? good?

They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder. And you know what? It’s true. I’ve really missed my blog! Not that I took a break or anything, but when your busying living life in the moment, some things will lose their significance. I’ve really missed turning on my laptop and just writing away like a famous Southern author. Of course, I cant think of any right now at the moment, but you know what I mean. There’s nothing like the warmth of your computer on your legs, with the scent of cinnamon hot chocolate lingering in the air and an empty webpage, waiting to be filled with all kinds of thoughts and ideas that you cant keep caged any longer.

And speaking of cages, my friend Hadassah was in the middle of trying to escape from one. Not a physical one, but an emotional one. She was still trying to decide between the two guys she was seeing and it was even more difficult, when they both told her they loved her and wanted to be exclusive. Two guys after her heart? Some could (some even did!) wish she would just drop dead. But since I didn’t want a dead friend, I suggested she make a pros and cons list. Which really wasn’t helpful, since both lists seemed to balance out about the same. So she did what any twenty-something, who’s dealing with matters of the heart- she flew away to Europe, promising she would return with a final answer.

I personally, thought it was a little crazy, but like they say, to each his own. If I was a betting man, and there was a line on this in Vegas, I'd lay down ten-to-one that it all comes down to the fact that Hadassah would come back, no closer to a decision then when she left. Hadassah was a wild spirit, one that couldn’t be tamed or controlled. She needed to be free like the wind. Or like one of those majestic deer’s you see in the woods, before it’s shot down.

Truth be told, my friend Hadassah reminded me a lot like one of the most famous girls to ever come out of literature. Holly Golightly. She was naïve, totally eccentric, but all in all, she was a girl you rooted for, hoping that in the end, everything would work out for her. I saw the similarities one Saturday night, when my very good friend Madelaine and I went to the historic Fox Theatre in downtown Tucson to watch on the big screen, Breakfast at Tiffany’s. It was a sim-u-date, which is kinda like a real date, except, like a Sims game, you have more control over everything and don’t have to worry about whether or not the date will end with a kiss or a figuratively castration. That’s the thing about having great friends. They’re always there for you when you wanna go out for a dinner and a movie, but not by yourself.

After all, the person who I most wanted to go on a date with was never available. For the past couple of weeks, Colette was MIA After telling me that she removed articles of clothing for strange people, she wouldn’t return any of my calls or any of my texts. I began to wonder if I had judged her too harshly. Maybe if I had been less shocked when she decided to share the information…or if I had been more accepting of her new job, we would still be on speaking terms. In any event, during that period of one-sided silence, I came to terms with the fact that Colette and I just were never meant to be. We just weren't meant to be. Our's was a love that was to never be, like Orpheus and Eurydice, Romeo and Juliet, Justin and Britney. And I accepted that. It took about eight or nine years, but I finally got it, you know? I just...got it.

And it was just after I got it, that Collette called me. She claimed she had been busy with work and trying to get into an aesthetics school in Phoenix, which I took with the verbal grain of salt. After all, I was the one that had gotten it, whatever "it" was. I was the one who knew that we would never be. The entire time we talked, I couldn’t help but feel sorry for poor Colette. There she was. Talking on the phone with out any clue or the slightest idea, about having “it.”

A week later, Colette called me up again, asking if I wanted to travel with her to Phoenix to help her apply to the International Academy of Beauty. I figured it be a fun trip as well as a much needed excuse to get out of town. And it was. The director of the college was fantastic and for a brief mortal minute, I even considered going to the school. But alas, I don’t believe the study of skin is my forte. I can barely pop my own zits without getting grossed out, so working on other people‘s skin? Yeah, right.

After being admitted to the college, Colette and I did some sole searching at the Chandler Fashion Square and left with some really awesome clothes including a major Gino Green Global jacket. I also left with a startling discovery. As we were leaving the mall, Colette got a phone call and though they say it’s impolite to eavesdrop on a conversation, I’m really glad I did on this one. Apparently, one of Colette’s friends wanted some advice on dating and this is what she said:

“Dude, it sounds to me like you’re not ready to be in a relationship. You sound like my friend David. Yeah. He told me it’s cuz he’s too selfish. Being with someone means you cant be thinking of yourself all the time. You have to devote some of your time to the other person and sometimes that means having to put their feelings before your own. David’s not ready for that. Hell, he’s even told me that he’s even skipped dinners with friends to go shopping for new clothes...”

Ok, I don’t remember saying any of that. And if I did, it was absolutely a long, long, very long time ago. And that’s a big IF. But if I did say that, could that be THE reason why this has been an overprocessed, overdrawn out thing? Ugh...maybe I really didnt get it, like I thought I did...