...dropped off the heart monitor at the hospital last night and have an appointment with a cardiologist on Tuesday. In the meanwhile - I've taken a few days off from the gym, no caffine, no supplements, no booze. Hope to get back to the gym tonight or tomorrow - depending on if this lil rag-a-muffin comes up from Tucson tonight. I feel good, like whatever has happened has passed. Occassional tightness in my chest and my heart seems to run much faster in the morning. Suppose the next work-out will be the test. I'll be in San Diego Friday thru Sunday so it's gonna be so hard not to party. I've been mulling the words over in my head again and again: "Maybe someone is trying to tell you something". I didn't get too heavily into it with the Emergency Room doctor what my current drug usuage was. Primarily he was concerned about my use of "X". I told him I had used it in Palm Springs a few weeks back, but didnt mention the others - and tough I wasn't excessive in quantity, I was in variety and combinations. Maybe it's all just to much, bad-boy/gym-boy supplements, the heavy drinking, the drug use, the stress, the break-up - maybe when I said my heart was ripping - it wasn't as emotional as it was factual. I push myself harder and harder through these work-outs to become invincible - someone who can't be hurt. I medicate my daily existence with booze and drugs - so I can't feel Lucky and Baby's absence. I think how many times over the past few months I've thought - I feel like my heart could just burst right now. Am I killing myself without knowing it? No, I don't buy into that. Am I pushing myself too far, too hard, too fast? Yeah, probably, probably so.

And in other news:

I have my next tattoo consultation tomorrow night. I'm very excited. Really just adding on to the existing one, but I get a great vibe from this guy that it's gonna be awesome.

Also, sometime between now and this time tomorrow I should have my 70,000 visitor. Kinda cool. Maybe it's you.

...well a little scare now and then is good for the blood flow I guess.

Spent most of yesterday in the Scottsdale Memorial Emergency Room - actually 6 hours to be exact. Sunday at the gym in the middle of a really bad ass work out I started to notice that my heart had made a decision to leap out of my chest. Lil fucker started racing like a speed demon, pounding faster and faster - being a pain-in-the-ass and hating the whole medical experience I ignored it and assumed this would pass. Went home and showered and went out for beer with the boys and felt reasonably better. After several beers and much flirting with the "hot muther fucker" - I felt extremely better. Anyway - fast forward to me waking up at 1AM to find that the lil fucker had started racing again. I huffed and puffed, walked around, listened to music and the fucker wouldn't slow down. Now fast forward to 7AM. I haven't been back to sleep and still a little nervous, my heart beat has moved down, but I'm having chest pains. I get ready, go to work, and when my boss shows up - explain that I want to run up to the doctor and have them take a look. After an EKG comes back with an abnormal status - due to an irregluar heart beat/rythm - they send me to ER (where I spend more than enough time - hooked to machines - staring in to space).

Well the good new is - despite the irregular heart beat which I may have always had and never had any reason to be concerned about, my blood work and ultrasound and second EKG look good. If nothing else the Doctor thinks I'm in amazing shape (I will admit I was attempting to wear my hospital gown in a provocative way to show skin - kidding). So they hook me up to a portable heart monitor that I have to wear thru this afternoon and then I have to do a followup with a cardiologist next week.

Now the bad news is the doctor says no more supplements. Seems he thinks those culprits sent my heart thru the roof - giving me a little cardi heart frustration. I admittedly don't like this answer - but suppose I'll behave for a while and see if it helps.

So I spent the night at my folks (who were worried sick) for the first time since I was 21 - kinda weird. But my Mom wanted to get to take care of me. And hey after a day like that - I was open to that.

Ahhhh - never a dull day.

...risky words. but I may have just met the hottest muther fucker I have ever met before. and he was all about me all night long.....
not the time, not the place. but damn - fucking-a-damn - i was hard all night just talking to him.

....Sundays have always been the hardest. Through the ups and downs of my time with Lucky, it was on Sundays that I would miss him most. Today no exception. I find ways to busy myself and stem off the creeping emotion looking to make itself known. I sit at a coffee house and read, I tease my monkey, I clean out the garage, I run to Target to buy things to organize the minimal disarray. Sometimes you come across something and no matter how good you're doing - at least for a tic, a sec, a moment -you feel him again - kissing your cheek, patting your ass, watching you stare off in to space. I found the 1 year warranty I bought for the "all-in-one" fax/copy/scanner I gave him at Christmas - forward it to his roomate I suppose. I find a folder with Baby's veternarian receipts, information on puppy pre-school, and a hand-drawn note to Lucky in yellows, pinks and greens saying 'Happy 1 Week Anniversary Daddy - Luv Baby'...it makes me pause, reflect and I feel a small ripping in my heart.

I start projects, water the plants and prepare to hit the gym. There will be beers later with H. and C. and D. - I'm building fences - using friends. I let the handsome, human fence surround me at bars and feel safer behind it - looking outwards. I smile, I laugh, I joke...yet behind my eyes there's been a bit of a vacancy for weeks now. In the cocky swagger there's a suggestion of 'maybe', but more often 'off-limits' or 'danger - construction site'. I went to dinner and for drinks (far, far to many drinks) with the charming, vunerable, J the EE (formerly known as 'BN1") last night, and as the smoothness of his vodka tonics took hold of him I could see despite my distance - he's slipped to far. He's fallen. He references a new found belief in love or finding that Mr Right - he knows his comments must appear indirect to not scare me. Saddened, I'm really gonna hurt this one aren't I? I pound through the libation medication and wonder what the other side of this really looks like. Handsome, gentle, Maestro (formerly known as 'BN3') will be leaving for Chicago soon for 8 weeks. He's made it clear he hopes for visits, he asks for nothing when he tells me he misses me when I'm not there. He seems used to my controlled silence, my smile, my body. In both their eyes I see them studying, seeking clues and I wonder how much I give up without knowing it. They know there are others, they know not to expect the daily call - and they feel his presence too, still lingering beyond my shoulder.

uh, yeah - well like to quote Madonna:


You think that I can't live without your love,
you'll see.
You think I can't go on another day
You think I have nothing
without you by my side.
You'll see, some-how, some way.

You think that I can never laugh again,
You'll see.
You think that you've destroyed my faith in love.
You think after all you've done,
I'll never find my way back home.
You'll see, some-how, some-day.

First Chorus:

All by myself,
I don't need anyone at all.
I know I'll survive,
I know I'll stay alive.
All on my own,
I don't need anyone this time.
It will be mine,
No one can take it from me.
You'll see

You think that you are strong but you are weak,
You'll see.
It takes more strength to cry,
Admit defeat.
I have truth on my side,
You only have deceit.
You'll see, some-how, some-day.

RideMeCowboy

Maybe it's just me - but why is it every time I heard a newscaster gleefully describe the proposed "dramatic" entrance of our President onto the aircraft carrier the US Abraham Lincoln (or something of the such) - flying in on a four-seater jet-fighter (How Cowboy!) before he declares his victory speech over Iraq (oh - but he won't use the word "Victory", probably because they NEVER turned up any of those pesky WOMD they were fighting over in the first place) - I think of that scene from Stanley Kubrick's - Dr. Strangelove, Or: How I Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Bomb (1964) where Major Kong rides the dislodged "Hi There!" bomb (quite phallic) rodeo style - screaming "Yahoo! Yahoo!" towards it's detonation target.

"Yahoo" anyone ??

...weird to read your own words - and think "I've been here before"

Trading emails with my much-loved and adored Donald (remember her - she's a high-class ho in Jersey City now - who knew !!) and I kinda breathed some life into something I've been thinking about of late. I'm not sure how I feel about my blog anymore. As I close in on two years - I find that the past two months my writing has been - controlled. Let's face it - I can stand to rip open my heart and lap at the wounds in front of a million strangers - but one ex-boyfriend and I've gone benign. I'm not saying I'm dropping out, I'm not saying much of anything - i'm thinking on paper (or a blinking white screen). I've closed my heart and mind to Lucky - and for him to have a way in, a way to know my inner thoughts, my grief, my hopes, my new experiences isn't fair. I remember when I had him read the incredibly painful story of being raped when I was 16. He sat there and then changed the subject. No comment nothing. I had just shared for the first time with any boyfriend the reason I flinch when he tries to force it in me, the cause of my inflated machoism, the most humiliating moment of my life - and with tears framing my eyes - he stares at me in silence. I don't want him to share any more of my life. It's our relationship all over again - one-sided. He gets to know me on the deepest level possible and I get a one-dimensional, self-involved, curiousity seeker. (I guess if your reading this - you deserved the comment, so sorry - but it's how I feel). So what do I do? I've told some amazingly raw stories on here and it's not a complete picture. I'm a living, breathing, ever-evolving, ever-feeling beast. But I don't think I can breathe my words on to this page anymore, it feels more exposed than ever - and even I choose to draw a line somewhere.

...so there you were.

Hadn't I just been bopping along to Groove Armada's "The Groove is On" seconds before - feeling really good about my work-out, chatting with cute boys, feeling like the old me - I wonder if you had been watching me just seconds before. Certainly T. had told you I was there. What were you thinking when your eyes fell on me and watched me oblivious to your glare. Did you have the rush of emotions I did - did your head scream and your heart beg to look away. My pulse raced and veered out of control.

The day you left with our dog was the last time I saw you.

I wasn't ready - but then maybe I was. Did you notice I shaved the beard? Your buff - you juicing? Do you know about the 4 way - R. had to go running and tell you about it didn't he? Do you still find me handsome? Whose keeping your sheets warm now? Do you hurt? Does it fucking hurt ?

Maybe I was ready - but then maybe I wasn't.

What Rocks? Sitting literally like six feet from lovely Annie Lennox as she belts out beautiful song after song tonight.

What DOESN'T Rock ? Losing my goddamn keys in the parking lot sometime before or after the concert. . Having to break in to my house by breaking a window, cutting through a screen then crawling through said broken window and screen....and realizing once I was in my house, how fucking easy it was and that the neighbors didn't even stir.

I'm getting an alarm, and I'm never letting my keys out of my sight again.

eh - the picture sucked - so I pulled it - but needless to say the beard is gone.

Cute Parental Unit Moment #257:

(Discussing with my Pop why I was in Palm Springs for the weekend)

Me: "It's called the White Party - I've gone the last four years - I know I've told you about it?"
Dad: "Yeah - but why do they call it the White Party?"

Me: "Because you have to wear white"
Dad: "Have to...everyone?"

Me: "Well yeah - I mean they won't arrest you if you don't"
Dad: "Well what will they call it next year then?"

Me: "uh, Dad - they'll still call it the White Party"
Dad: "Their making you wear white again next year?"

...sometime this weekend - lost in a delightful fugue brought on by multiple players from the alphabet - dancing in a bank of dance floor fog to Phil B or Tracy Young or Manny Lehman - I felt this sensation: togetherness.

I realized that, the moment I like myself best and see myself for who I really am and the possibility to be - is when I'm with friends (new and old).

I don't want to date anyone right now. Not BN1 or BN2 or BN3 or any other BN_ that might come along. I'm not ready. I don't want to share my deepest thoughts. I don't want another guy to make up cute nicknames for me, I don't want to wake up next to anyone - not yet. I've started distancing myself from the bachelors. I don't want to be cruel, I don't want to hurt anyone - but this isn't about them - it's about me (I've spent enough of my life worrying about hurting others).

Today is two months. Two months since I officially closed the door with Lucky. I don't regret it. It hurts. More than I ever really write about here. I miss him - but I think I miss more the idea of him, or the memories of him with me that make me smile. I'm not ready to love someone else. But with friends - you can shower them with all that love, laughter and adoration that used to belong to your ex. I started booking trips last night - more efforts to connect with my closet friends. I'll be in San Diego in 2 weeks, Long Beach the weekend after that and Los Angeles sometime in June.

Without my boyfriend and my dog I became ungrounded.

I want to love something, I want to laugh with someone, I want to build memories with someone...

...but I think they call that person a friend,

or even better, let's call that person - me.

there was dancing.
there was hot sex.
there were crushes.
and kissing boys.
there was laughing and napping and cuddling.
I got to know old friends even better. I made new friends I already treasure.
I met a sweet blond reader (sorry I was so spacey - uh, go figure)

...and for the first time ever, I drove home from White Party alone - just me, my music, my memories.

wiped. a little emotional. and needing a shower.

wonderful.wonderful.wonderful.fun.

i think i realized this weekend that I really like myself, and maybe started seeing what others see in me.

bags packed.
cooler stuffed.
workouts done.
party supplies received.

I'm happily speeding my shiny black car towards an epiphany
or two.

it pays to get connected. went to ACME with P. so she could hook up with the sexy bartender T. - he in turn introduced me to the tatto artist who did most of the tat's for Linkin Park...I'll be having a consultation with him next week to take my current tat to "extreme bad boy tat levels"