Open Letter to Chad
Oct. 3rd, 2002 12:50 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rinue[Anyone's allowed to read this; it's just long. And, um, I get really ranty. Note the back-dating. Oddly enough, I just found out that while I was writing it, Chad simultaneously wrote an open letter to Val in his journal. There must have been something in the air.]
Let me tell you about the importance of Chad.
Chad is one of my best friends; this you already know. There are many ways in which he is intrinsically wonderful, including his writing ability, his decency, and his astounding recall. He has codes of honor you've never even dreamed. He has wisdom gained through contemplation, observation, and the way that he raised himself.
Chad is amazing.
None of these reasons is why I love him.
Chad lets me be neurotic without making me feel fragile. When I rant for hours on end, he notes the pathos as well as the humor, and the humor along with the pathos - most see only one side of the coin. When Chad says "everything's going to work out," it doesn't matter whether I believe him because I know he means, "you are Romie and we're both aware that you always come out on top, but I understand that fate throws you strange curveballs which trigger reasonable stress responses. Rave on."
Chad takes me at face value, and he has never asked me for anything but my existence. He has never made me feel like unwanted company; he has never made me feel guilty for leaving. When I arrive unannounced at 3 AM, he gives me a hug and a bowl of water. I don't know how I ever got on without him. I do know he's made me a happier person. I even have documentation.
The reason I mention all this is that I desperately want to talk to him right now. Yesterday too, and the day before. But especially tonight. I know he's still up, but I'm too tired to drive and I don't want to phone and wake the household. It's not even tired - it's dizzy, unbalanced, part blind. Allergied.
When I left Patrick's an hour ago, I thought I wanted to cry. Then I realized I actually wanted to see Chad. Then I remembered he was an hour away. Now I really do want to cry.
Today's been hard. Not bad in any sense; just hard. I had my hair cut and colored, which isn't unusual, but my house has no mirrors. Nor does Patrick's room, nor my workplace. So my self-image hasn't had a chance to catch up - I'm annoyed whenever I catch a reflection. And color changes aren't as simple as they seem - you have to adjust your makeup, your wardrobe. . . I don't know what works yet.
Work was slow. It broke my rhythm, made me slow. Bad tips, cut early. It was probably for the best - I've been dizzy the past several days. Damn black mold.
Damn black mold. Goddamn fucking black mold.
While I'm on the subject, damn Patrick. And his mother. To hell with it; damn the entire Dempsey family.
I should explain that. Through no fault of his own, Patrick doesn't always realize the import of my actions. It's perfectly understandable - he only sees me around him, and so he has no yardstick for reference. It's a natural blind spot - it wasn't until about three months ago that I noticed he didn't relate to everyone the way he did to me, and I still forget occasionally.
A perfect example is this marriage issue. Because I've agreed to marry him - even want to and look forward to it - he hasn't grasped the major ideological issues I just shoved to the side. I have massive problems with the way marriage works in our culture, both legally and socio-politically. I don't think it's the government's business to legislate who can and can't be wed or divorced - it should be naught but a contract between any two (or more) consenting adults, with the parameters they've set, and a judge present to check for coercion. Nonetheless, I'm going to marry Patrick eventually, and I'm doing a fucking amazing job of believing it's not a sell-out.
That's not enough. It has to be a Christian wedding because of his conservative parents, who shifted their guest room to the opposite end of their house so we wouldn't have a connecting door. Still I go over there all the time, visit even when Patrick's not around, do what I can to fit in despite my leftist iconoclastic background. (A background of in which I take understandable pride.)
Christianity and I have a strained relationship. I like the music, like some individual churches, but hate The Church and espouse many heretical views. Believe in God, have talked to him, disagree with the way he does business. I've asked him for help before, because he's damn powerful, but now it feels slimy. He doesn't keep proper control of his people; he gives power to whoever asks for it, regardless of the ends. While I can respect the egalitarian sentiment, it strikes me as selfish: I don't really care who you are as long as you worship me. He introduced the concept of good and evil as it stands today, where before there was just beneficial and harmful. In order to marry Patrick, I have to forge a contract with this entity, who I work not to be beholden to.
Let me state again: I want to marry Patrick. I have no misgivings about my decision to do so, and no worry that it won't work out. But it's not something about which I can be flippant. And not knowing when is giving me ulcers, as it puts me on constant alert.
I've said before that I experience time as non-linear, but everyone seems to think I'm just being cute. I exist in moments at a time, and they're not always in order - you may note I remembered living in Neverland long before I'd been there, before I'd reconciled with Thomas, before I'd considered moving to Sherman. Because of that and a host of other reasons, I have little lapse between thought an action. Once I decide to do something, I stop comprehending reasons why it isn't already done. In this case, the two reasons are quite clear and there's nothing I can do about them.
1. Patrick.
2. His Mother.
I am actually prepared to make accomodation in both cases. Although the whole marriage thing was Patrick's proposition, it's quite simple for me to accept that . . . no, wait, I really can't understand where he's coming from. However, he is Patrick, and I love him, and I recognize that I don't make sense to him much of the time either. If he wants to wait and be nebulous, that's his prerogative.
On the other hand, Patrick's mother has no idea what she wants.
Jane: I'm really not comfortable with you and Romie living together until you're married.
Patrick: (shrugs) That works for us. Courthouse ho!
Jane: You're too young.
Patrick: Mom, I have friends with children.
Jane: Well your brother isn't married, and he's 4 years older than you.
Patrick: So?
Jane: I think your getting married would put undue pressure on him.
Patrick: That makes very little sense.
Jane: Look, a bald eagle!
Patrick: I didn't see anything.
Jane: Have some cookies. Have you watched any good movies lately.
Patrick: Do you not like Romie?
Jane: I love Romie.
Patrick: Do you have some strange belief that Romie and I aren't sleeping together regardless?
Jane: La la la
Patrick: We're both geniuses. Do you think we're not intelligent enough to work around any barriers you might put up?
Jane: La la la
Patrick: For example, do you believe people only have sex at night with the lights off in beds they mutually own?
Jane: La la la
This is not a conversation that has happened. Or it has, but obliquely, with many feints, euphemisms, and camoflages. The up-front conversation went:
Jane: Aren't you afraid Romie will leave you for another woman? I mean, she's bi.
Patrick: Aren't you afraid Dad will leave you for another woman? I mean, he's straight.
Jane: I see your point.
To sum up:
1. I am putting a lot on the line.
2. I have no information, nor is it likely I will get information from Patrick.
3. There is no easy way to broach the subject to Patrick's parents.
4. The more upset I am, the harder it is to leave Patrick at night. I have to leave Patrick at night, which makes me progressively more upset.
5. I hate black mold.
Penguins,
Romie
P.S. Just a note to any family member who is reading this: No, I don't feel it necessary to appraise my parents of the situation until I have a clearer idea of what's going on. Kindly respect my wishes in this matter.
Addendum, 8:36 PM
Work was hard today and I feel sick. I miss Chad.
Addendum, Friday, 5:51 PM
Today was good. The ranting helped. It also helps that I slept well, (i.e. Patrick was there. It's crazy how much I've always hated sleeping alone - as a kid I always crawled into bed with Arielle, or Kristina, or Val. . .)
Speaking of Val, she made an interesting point about the behavior of Patrick's mother which makes everything more sensible. She reminded me that as the guy in the relationship I fulfill the traditional husband role, and that his parents are thus understandably nervous about giving him away to me. 'Cause, you know, he's their little girl and ought to be pure and virginal and wear white. Besides, it is my stated objective to corrupt him whenever possible and otherwise distract him from his work. (Only because he's a workaholic and often underemployed.)
Anyway, the entire question of moving in together has been delayed because AC claims they will fix the black mold this weekend. I, of course, believe it's not coincidental that we got the call about the black mold in Luckett the day after we hooked up as a couple, and that the black mold appeared in Patrick's new dorm room as soon as I got situated up here - and therefore it will come back. Until then . . . We'll see.
Let me tell you about the importance of Chad.
Chad is one of my best friends; this you already know. There are many ways in which he is intrinsically wonderful, including his writing ability, his decency, and his astounding recall. He has codes of honor you've never even dreamed. He has wisdom gained through contemplation, observation, and the way that he raised himself.
Chad is amazing.
None of these reasons is why I love him.
Chad lets me be neurotic without making me feel fragile. When I rant for hours on end, he notes the pathos as well as the humor, and the humor along with the pathos - most see only one side of the coin. When Chad says "everything's going to work out," it doesn't matter whether I believe him because I know he means, "you are Romie and we're both aware that you always come out on top, but I understand that fate throws you strange curveballs which trigger reasonable stress responses. Rave on."
Chad takes me at face value, and he has never asked me for anything but my existence. He has never made me feel like unwanted company; he has never made me feel guilty for leaving. When I arrive unannounced at 3 AM, he gives me a hug and a bowl of water. I don't know how I ever got on without him. I do know he's made me a happier person. I even have documentation.
The reason I mention all this is that I desperately want to talk to him right now. Yesterday too, and the day before. But especially tonight. I know he's still up, but I'm too tired to drive and I don't want to phone and wake the household. It's not even tired - it's dizzy, unbalanced, part blind. Allergied.
When I left Patrick's an hour ago, I thought I wanted to cry. Then I realized I actually wanted to see Chad. Then I remembered he was an hour away. Now I really do want to cry.
Today's been hard. Not bad in any sense; just hard. I had my hair cut and colored, which isn't unusual, but my house has no mirrors. Nor does Patrick's room, nor my workplace. So my self-image hasn't had a chance to catch up - I'm annoyed whenever I catch a reflection. And color changes aren't as simple as they seem - you have to adjust your makeup, your wardrobe. . . I don't know what works yet.
Work was slow. It broke my rhythm, made me slow. Bad tips, cut early. It was probably for the best - I've been dizzy the past several days. Damn black mold.
Damn black mold. Goddamn fucking black mold.
While I'm on the subject, damn Patrick. And his mother. To hell with it; damn the entire Dempsey family.
I should explain that. Through no fault of his own, Patrick doesn't always realize the import of my actions. It's perfectly understandable - he only sees me around him, and so he has no yardstick for reference. It's a natural blind spot - it wasn't until about three months ago that I noticed he didn't relate to everyone the way he did to me, and I still forget occasionally.
A perfect example is this marriage issue. Because I've agreed to marry him - even want to and look forward to it - he hasn't grasped the major ideological issues I just shoved to the side. I have massive problems with the way marriage works in our culture, both legally and socio-politically. I don't think it's the government's business to legislate who can and can't be wed or divorced - it should be naught but a contract between any two (or more) consenting adults, with the parameters they've set, and a judge present to check for coercion. Nonetheless, I'm going to marry Patrick eventually, and I'm doing a fucking amazing job of believing it's not a sell-out.
That's not enough. It has to be a Christian wedding because of his conservative parents, who shifted their guest room to the opposite end of their house so we wouldn't have a connecting door. Still I go over there all the time, visit even when Patrick's not around, do what I can to fit in despite my leftist iconoclastic background. (A background of in which I take understandable pride.)
Christianity and I have a strained relationship. I like the music, like some individual churches, but hate The Church and espouse many heretical views. Believe in God, have talked to him, disagree with the way he does business. I've asked him for help before, because he's damn powerful, but now it feels slimy. He doesn't keep proper control of his people; he gives power to whoever asks for it, regardless of the ends. While I can respect the egalitarian sentiment, it strikes me as selfish: I don't really care who you are as long as you worship me. He introduced the concept of good and evil as it stands today, where before there was just beneficial and harmful. In order to marry Patrick, I have to forge a contract with this entity, who I work not to be beholden to.
Let me state again: I want to marry Patrick. I have no misgivings about my decision to do so, and no worry that it won't work out. But it's not something about which I can be flippant. And not knowing when is giving me ulcers, as it puts me on constant alert.
I've said before that I experience time as non-linear, but everyone seems to think I'm just being cute. I exist in moments at a time, and they're not always in order - you may note I remembered living in Neverland long before I'd been there, before I'd reconciled with Thomas, before I'd considered moving to Sherman. Because of that and a host of other reasons, I have little lapse between thought an action. Once I decide to do something, I stop comprehending reasons why it isn't already done. In this case, the two reasons are quite clear and there's nothing I can do about them.
1. Patrick.
2. His Mother.
I am actually prepared to make accomodation in both cases. Although the whole marriage thing was Patrick's proposition, it's quite simple for me to accept that . . . no, wait, I really can't understand where he's coming from. However, he is Patrick, and I love him, and I recognize that I don't make sense to him much of the time either. If he wants to wait and be nebulous, that's his prerogative.
On the other hand, Patrick's mother has no idea what she wants.
Jane: I'm really not comfortable with you and Romie living together until you're married.
Patrick: (shrugs) That works for us. Courthouse ho!
Jane: You're too young.
Patrick: Mom, I have friends with children.
Jane: Well your brother isn't married, and he's 4 years older than you.
Patrick: So?
Jane: I think your getting married would put undue pressure on him.
Patrick: That makes very little sense.
Jane: Look, a bald eagle!
Patrick: I didn't see anything.
Jane: Have some cookies. Have you watched any good movies lately.
Patrick: Do you not like Romie?
Jane: I love Romie.
Patrick: Do you have some strange belief that Romie and I aren't sleeping together regardless?
Jane: La la la
Patrick: We're both geniuses. Do you think we're not intelligent enough to work around any barriers you might put up?
Jane: La la la
Patrick: For example, do you believe people only have sex at night with the lights off in beds they mutually own?
Jane: La la la
This is not a conversation that has happened. Or it has, but obliquely, with many feints, euphemisms, and camoflages. The up-front conversation went:
Jane: Aren't you afraid Romie will leave you for another woman? I mean, she's bi.
Patrick: Aren't you afraid Dad will leave you for another woman? I mean, he's straight.
Jane: I see your point.
To sum up:
1. I am putting a lot on the line.
2. I have no information, nor is it likely I will get information from Patrick.
3. There is no easy way to broach the subject to Patrick's parents.
4. The more upset I am, the harder it is to leave Patrick at night. I have to leave Patrick at night, which makes me progressively more upset.
5. I hate black mold.
Penguins,
Romie
P.S. Just a note to any family member who is reading this: No, I don't feel it necessary to appraise my parents of the situation until I have a clearer idea of what's going on. Kindly respect my wishes in this matter.
Addendum, 8:36 PM
Work was hard today and I feel sick. I miss Chad.
Addendum, Friday, 5:51 PM
Today was good. The ranting helped. It also helps that I slept well, (i.e. Patrick was there. It's crazy how much I've always hated sleeping alone - as a kid I always crawled into bed with Arielle, or Kristina, or Val. . .)
Speaking of Val, she made an interesting point about the behavior of Patrick's mother which makes everything more sensible. She reminded me that as the guy in the relationship I fulfill the traditional husband role, and that his parents are thus understandably nervous about giving him away to me. 'Cause, you know, he's their little girl and ought to be pure and virginal and wear white. Besides, it is my stated objective to corrupt him whenever possible and otherwise distract him from his work. (Only because he's a workaholic and often underemployed.)
Anyway, the entire question of moving in together has been delayed because AC claims they will fix the black mold this weekend. I, of course, believe it's not coincidental that we got the call about the black mold in Luckett the day after we hooked up as a couple, and that the black mold appeared in Patrick's new dorm room as soon as I got situated up here - and therefore it will come back. Until then . . . We'll see.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2002-10-08 10:53 am (UTC)...
Cool. (joyous giggling ensues)
Have fun.
(no subject)
Date: 2002-11-13 03:42 am (UTC)I hate Japanese censors. It's not even *consistent*.
(no subject)
Date: 2002-11-13 04:01 pm (UTC)-R
Re:
Date: 2002-11-14 03:08 am (UTC)