"Oh darling" she cajoled, "but you look wonderful in drama".

My head is kinda all over the place this past weekend. Maybe it's the heat, both outside - and unfortunately due to a fried compressor, inside my house.
I think - especially for those of us who have been through a plentitude of scorching, southwest summers - that we develop our own version of winter's S.A.D (Seasonal Attitude Disorder - or is it "Depression") - anyway, your patience grows thin in these summer months and your energy level falls to nil.

I want out of here. I want to forget about the house, my career and leave my memories of Lucky behind.

I've worked alot on myself over the past 9 months (yes, "therapy" dears) - I had been walking around with a lot of anger, even more self-loathing and an even less healthy contol over my vices. I'm no perfect angel - and I wasn't out to change into one. I like that I'm a bit of a pig, that I'm sexually-charged, that I like to have fun, that I like to tear my guts out and put them on paper to learn more about myself - that's just part of who I am. But who I have also always been is a "conditional" - I'm creating this label so bear with me. Children who experience mental, physical and sexual abuse (general statement) learn to survey, judge and react to "conditions" - we are conditional. When I saw my drunken mother walk in the room clenching her hands, screaming obscenities - I watched for clues on what was going to happen to me next - and more importantly what I would need to do to survive the moment, when my father would go to strike me - I weighed my chances, I weighed the conditions - was I big enough yet to strike back - and if I failed - could I escape ? When I was alone in a car with a man as old as my father, and he took my 12 year-old dick in his hands - I considered my options - how far am I from help, what will he do when he's done, am I here because I deserved it ?

I had it imprinted, embossed, engraved, tattoed, seared in to my mind and flesh, my soul and instinct - I must read the conditions that others present, react and judge - to survive. In the end - I changed too often, tried to many times to predict the outcome and always waited for the other shoe to drop. I fall for the people who are hard for me to read and give few clues to how they feel about me. Why ? I don't really know. Perhaps, I feel more challenged. Perhaps, I feel more at home with them. Perhaps, I didn't (there's and optimal word here folks - watch, not I "DO" - but "I didn't") think I deserved to be with someone who could express their love to me in a healthy and everyday fashion. I no longer accept "scraps" for love - in the next relationship I will "expect" a filet - and perhaps a nice cabernet as well.

I have been to this point - "conditional".

It's served me well dodging slings and arrows professionally - but I've waited on pins and needles for changes in others - waiting to react - and I've learned that others rarely change. There's so much more thinking that goes in to the foundation of my thoughts on this - but let's face it - your neither being paid to listen to me ramble or looking to read a disertation - based on gut instincts.

I went to the movies with Chris (formerly of Encorswish fame) on Saturday to see Matrix. How, HOW ? do you make fight scenes so long that the viewer aches for more dreadful dialogue about causality, choice and cock (ok, I threw the last one in - but I had to think about something during the boring parts). When we came out to my car there was a simple yellow post-it note placed underneath my windshield wiper. it read:

"Hi ! - Lucky"

Though feet away, heading to his own car - Chris saw me lock up.

I then noticed Lucky's SUV sitting next to my car. Can staring at a car actually hurt? I haven't seen his face since the infamous "Day of the Dog" - what has it been two, almost three months ? I wondered who he was attending a movie with ? Which movie ? Was it a date ? Would they hold hands and brush knees ? Would they go home and make love and nap the Sunday afternoon away - as we used to do ? It was truly maddening. Each day my heart makes baby-steps back to normalcy - and then these moments come. But the worst part of this moment was - as I drove home, I felt love for him, I felt how much I missed him, I felt how much loss there had been. I cringed - this was worse then the hate - it was remorse. I don't want him back, but I do understand his hold over me. After two break-ups, I know given time - I'll miss him, I'll believe he can change and bam - there goes another year til the next break-up. Am I really this fucking stupid ? I'm still not ready to see him - I've decided to cancel P-Town. It makes no sense. I can't fly a five hour flight alone with a man I can't even look at - I can't spend 8 days in P-Town with my ex by my side - no matter how many other friends are going.

I'm not ready.

And that's ok. I know how to react to this one - I've read and reread the conditions before.

Time is the only healer, and I still need more.