Four jobs applied to today. A friend from Fashion called with a few days of work as well. So the work front seems to be doing okay. Slow, but existent. I’m all right with that. One of the jobs I applied for I would very much like, and while it doesn’t pay great, it does pay possibly enough for me to move. I’ve been here 2 years now, the longest I’ve lived anywhere since I went to college. I’m feeling antsy. Which is a really bad reason to move, especially since I have a good place here, almost no drawbacks other than having roommates (all of whom I like, but my own place would be nice. Or living with John), and not enough counter space. Mostly, it doesn’t make sense financially. But I’m still antsy. So I look around a little.
I’m reading a book right now about urban farming, and it’s semi inspiring me. I’ve always wanted to have a garden again, grow my own tomatoes and potatoes and cucumbers and maybe some squash and definitely basil and other herbs. But now this has me thinking about a couple of laying chickens, and maybe some meat chickens, and possibly a few rabbits since apparently they’re really good eating, easy to raise, and their manure is perfect for fertilizing gardens. The juxtaposition of reading that while waiting for my cat food to be delivered was a little funny.
My point is, I like living in cities, but want a garden, and this book is giving me ideas about the possibility of that (as well as, you know, growing up in a city with parents who turned a large portion of the backyard into a garden. But that was my environment, and I didn’t really pay attention to the specifics of how that worked. The book somehow gives me more concrete things, steps to take). And at the same time, i am so citified that I am getting cat food delivered rather than pick it up. In my defense, it would mean carrying about 50lbs on the subway. What with the cans and dry food and litter and all.
John and my 3 year anniversary is coming up. There’s some confusion over when exactly this is (though he really doesn’t care, I’m the one who likes dates and labels). The confusion is because we met March 21st. And our first conversation was amazing. Electric and natural and perfect. We covered so many things, and didn’t even realize some of them until they came up months and months later. So, clearly, an anniversary to be marked. But, I wasn’t sure I wanted to date him. I liked him as a friend, but had a big stick up my ass about the fact that he wasn’t specifically what I was looking for, wasn’t everything on my stupid list (actually, he was, just in a different form than I’d imagined. And I had trouble getting over myself), and so it took me a while. We didn’t kiss until May 8th. And I didn’t fully give in to the idea that yeah, I really liked this guy, and he was definitely the one I wanted to hang out with indefinitely (see what I did there? eesh) until later in the month, somewhere around the 22nd. So, three potential anniversaries. I think we’re going with the march 21st one, since that’s when the connection was made. But the others should still be marked, I feel. Even though it’s silly. And really, there are even more. Here are two bits that I should write down, so that they’re written somewhere.
After a while of talking online (yes, we met online. It worked. Hurray.), I finally invited him over. I was sort of nervous, but in a theoretical way. I felt pretty sure that I knew this guy, that he wouldn’t kill me, or rape me or anything. But it’s still weird to meet someone face to face that you already have fairly easy communication with. And I was still in my bubble of not wanting to date him, but knowing that he was at least a little interested in me, and feeling uncomfortable with that imbalance. But. Then he got there, and I opened the door, and he looked up and his eyes flashed gold at me, and I thought “oh. This is good.” This sounds so ridiculous, but it’s true. His eyes are hazel, and in the right lights green reflects more yellow, so they really did look gold in that moment (fuck you s meyers for stealing that and making it into something gross and badly written).
The other was several weeks later. We met up in manhattan, I think after I finished tech for the night, and went and got a couple drinks. I had several, and was pretty buzzed. In those early days we went driving a lot. Not to anywhere particular, just out to long island, enjoying talking and listening to music and being in transit with no destination. It was nice. Anyway, I was well tipsy, not quite drunk, and spinning, and I asked him to hold my hand, to anchor me. It was the first time we’d held hands, and I swear there was a spark. I was so shocked I sobered up for a second, and his hand felt so right, fit so well. It’s retardedly clique and a thing of trashy novels, but I swear it happened. Same thing when we finally kissed.
So I had 4 things, not quite in a row, that all told me he was absolutely who I should be with, first conversation, meeting, hand holding, and kiss. And they all happened in a way that seemed out of a book, or slightly unreal, or had some element of fate about them, and I’m in absolute awe of that, that it happened to me, and at the same time kind of hate it since it sounds so unbelievable and I don’t feel like I can tell anyone. But it’s true. And has held true so far. I’ve got a pretty good feeling about it, even with the minor irritations that go along with fitting two people together.
Ach. I’m a big sap head. Oh well.