A Simple Kinda Man

If weekends could talk, this past one would be telling the story of strength, sorrow, excitement, fantasy, and rock n’ roll.  A weekend worth remembering, but one that took a great deal of strength to endure on my part.

After two weeks of being completely mistreated by a man I only dated for five weeks, I cut all ties on Saturday morning.  I had planned on waiting to see him in person to decide what to do, but that all changed when he sent me an accidental text Friday night.  Backing up, let me tell you about my Friday night.  If you read my Friday post, you are aware that I was in contact with a musician I had seen last summer.  I found him on a dating site, and he invited me out to his show.  I went — all by myself.  After his set, we sat and had some drinks, and he called me later on that night.  I was pretty taken with him, but I hadn’t finished things with RST (the trucker).

That night when I was on the phone with the musician, I received a test from RST at 1:00 a.m.  It wasn’t meant for me.  That did it for me.  I just had had enough.  I sent him a message telling him to never message me again.  He did, of course, the next morning.  He acted like the victim once again.  I didn’t bite this time.  I told him that his lack of affection and attention made me lose interest.  I told him that I was looking for someone who actually wanted to talk and hang out with me.  He acted confused, but then told me off.  DONE.

The following night, I went out with my friends to watch the musician’s show again.  When he was done, we all hung out and played pool.  He ended up driving me home, and I invited him in to play guitar together.  We drank wine, played guitar, and cuddled all night.  He’s much younger than I am, and I have no idea if it will go anywhere.  Tonight he is coming over to cook me dinner, and I’m looking forward to spending time with him.  He’s fun to be around, and he’s a simple kinda man.   If anything we will have some fun and enjoy each other’s company.

On another note — I’ve tried commenting on a few of your blogs today, but Word Press is acting up.  Hopefully it will let me comment later.  Happy Monday my blogger friends — here’s to a great week.

Sounds of Silence

countryside road, drizzle, fog

My eyes opened to the pitter patter sound of gentle raindrops dancing on my roof top.  I stretched my arms overhead and noticed the warmth of my dog curled up beside me.  It’s Friday; it’s a Friday before a long weekend.  This thought brought a smile to my face as I lay warm in the comfort of my bed this morning.  I took my time getting ready for work; I wanted to savour the bliss I felt upon waking.

The “Sounds of Silence” rode along with me on my dark foggy drive to work.

I made a quick stop for coffee at my usual place.  The gloomy weather was the topic of discussion amongst the regulars.  No one was pleased with the soggy forecast for the last long weekend of summer. Nobody but me that is.  It’s perfect; just perfect for my spontaneous weekend plans.  The idea came to me as David Draiman’s voice built to a crescendo.  It was a breathless moment.  So what, you ask, is my plan?  MUSIC.

I’m buying a new guitar after work.  Something beautiful; something magnificent.  When I pick it up and let my fingers glide down the strings, I want to feel vibration echo through my body.  Once I find her, I will buy her.  Then I’m going to buy a bottle of my favorite wine before making a quick stop at the gym for a 30 minute run.  Once home, I’m going to soak in a warm tub; change into a pair of soft leggings and a warn out hoodie, light as many candles as I can find, and then, I will sit down to play.  I’m going to let the rhythm of the rain be my muse for the writing of a new song.

It’s been close to 13 years since I’ve written a new song. Writing was my outlet before I was put on medication to deal with my anxiety.  The medication dulled my creativity, and I lost interest in playing.  I’ve been playing a little since coming off the meds, but I need something new to spark my interest.  A brand new shiny guitar should do the trick.  I’m so excited I can barely sit still; I’m not sure how I will make it through my 8 hours at work, but I’ll manage.

Change of plans.  I checked my bank account and it didn’t agree with my plan, so I’ve had to revise my thoughts.  Instead of a new guitar, I will buy new strings for one of my old guitars.  My excitement level has gone down a notch or two, but overspending when I’m already in debt is too much for my anxiety.  So new strings it is.  A slightly anti-climactic ending to my story, but there will still be wine and candles, so it’s not all bad.

 

Weeks End

Friday marks the end of my work week, and this week I couldn’t be more thankful for the BIG “F”.  I’m two weeks off medication one, and another tapering step down on medication two.  Emotionally, I’m holding up pretty darn good; however, my physical body is retaliating in the most unpleasent of ways.

Why oh why was I born with such a sensitive system.  If the wind blows the wroWhite Acoustic Guitar on Grey and White Textileng way, I get migraines or bloat out like a dead fish.  PMS plagues me, red wine and chocolate produce migraines, I get hormonal spikes monthly (40 year old acne), and I’m one of the lucky 20% of people who suffers from discontinuation of anxiety medication…. another BIG “F” explains how I feel about that.

Blah blah blah, ok, enough whinning, I have it out of my system (ish).  It’s Friday evening, and I should be preparing to sound out my mating call.  Instead, I’m invisioning my PJ’s, no bra, a glass of wine (white), and an evening spent strumming my geetar (guitar if you didn’t get the twang).  It looks like another night of me and the pup chilling to the sounds of Pearl Jam and Simon and Garfunkel.  Chin up though, how much longer can my body punish me for taking away it’s cranial happy dust?  Come on bod… I’d like my concentration, energy, and regularity back now please.. pretty please, I’m begging now, please don’t make me get on my knees, ok, I’m on my knees, I’ll do anything.  Almost.

Well all my party people in the house, have a happy weekend, and I’ll catch ya on the flip side. (That’s old lady hip talk)