Happy New Year
My ex and his parents rescued me on Christmas Eve - called me late at night, pulled up in a Ford Thunderbird, took me to Santa Monica for Prime Rib at Boa. I guess it was some rescuing. Boxes and living in a car, to a five star restaurant The next day I slept for 20 hours, right through the time I was supposed to be cooking, and by the time I woke up it was the evening, and people were arriving at ex's house for dinner.
A note about the ex: we dated, on and off, for two years. He's my 'real' ex, not the fake internet ex. He's an actor. He's British. He's loaded. I love him and his family. If he wasn't a relapsing alcoholic with a fidelity/intimacy problem, I'd marry him in a heartbeat.
So this week, life in boxes, I got to forget about the fact everything in my world is crumbling, and enter someone else's. Afternoon tea in the Hollywood Hills, breakfast at The Georgian, walks along the beach, an evening in The Magic Castle, dinner dates and movie dates and talking, and the more talking you do, the further removed you are from your own mess.
The ex's parents left yesterday and we stayed at home on NYE, eating takeout and watching movies. 127 Hours - hated it. The night was nice, though. 'Nice'. It was just that. Having genteel English ladies and elderly Conservative men around somehow eased my soul a little, and now it's back to flapping around wildly as I try and figure out how to get Chips and me back to the UK for a while. I honestly couldn't tell you why I'm so anxious. Maybe the bills and the lack of money, maybe the concern about putting my pup in an airplane hold in March, maybe, probably, because I miss talking to douchebag internet boy - but I feel so truly terrible about the whole incident that I know I just can't have someone in my life like that. I guess I just stopped believing he's a good person. I can have my messed up alcoholic ex and his massive family in my life - god, these people have loved me and cared for me and screwed me over so many times I know they'll always be there. But douchebag internet boy - I just can't trust him. I guess I don't respect him or something. I stopped - liking him. It makes me sad.
The whole happiness thing - I have to tell you, after ten years of being broke, it certainly is connected to money and career. Because without those things, you can't enjoy friends, or lovers, or family to the extent you should. You always find the people with security, the people who don't have to worry about a roof over their heads, or food on the table - they're the arseholes who make all these assertions about money not making you happy. Money doesn't make you happy, or give you friends and loved ones and the career of your choice - but it takes away the frantic, frenetic, scary knife edge of fear which stops you enjoying the things you have.
Oh life. I'm going to walk the dogs. I feel a bit scared and a bit sad. I need to just jump off a cliff. I've moved countries so many times it's meant to be easy now, and it never is. I hope you had a good NYE.
A note about the ex: we dated, on and off, for two years. He's my 'real' ex, not the fake internet ex. He's an actor. He's British. He's loaded. I love him and his family. If he wasn't a relapsing alcoholic with a fidelity/intimacy problem, I'd marry him in a heartbeat.
So this week, life in boxes, I got to forget about the fact everything in my world is crumbling, and enter someone else's. Afternoon tea in the Hollywood Hills, breakfast at The Georgian, walks along the beach, an evening in The Magic Castle, dinner dates and movie dates and talking, and the more talking you do, the further removed you are from your own mess.
The ex's parents left yesterday and we stayed at home on NYE, eating takeout and watching movies. 127 Hours - hated it. The night was nice, though. 'Nice'. It was just that. Having genteel English ladies and elderly Conservative men around somehow eased my soul a little, and now it's back to flapping around wildly as I try and figure out how to get Chips and me back to the UK for a while. I honestly couldn't tell you why I'm so anxious. Maybe the bills and the lack of money, maybe the concern about putting my pup in an airplane hold in March, maybe, probably, because I miss talking to douchebag internet boy - but I feel so truly terrible about the whole incident that I know I just can't have someone in my life like that. I guess I just stopped believing he's a good person. I can have my messed up alcoholic ex and his massive family in my life - god, these people have loved me and cared for me and screwed me over so many times I know they'll always be there. But douchebag internet boy - I just can't trust him. I guess I don't respect him or something. I stopped - liking him. It makes me sad.
The whole happiness thing - I have to tell you, after ten years of being broke, it certainly is connected to money and career. Because without those things, you can't enjoy friends, or lovers, or family to the extent you should. You always find the people with security, the people who don't have to worry about a roof over their heads, or food on the table - they're the arseholes who make all these assertions about money not making you happy. Money doesn't make you happy, or give you friends and loved ones and the career of your choice - but it takes away the frantic, frenetic, scary knife edge of fear which stops you enjoying the things you have.
Oh life. I'm going to walk the dogs. I feel a bit scared and a bit sad. I need to just jump off a cliff. I've moved countries so many times it's meant to be easy now, and it never is. I hope you had a good NYE.
MIMI IN NY | 1:03 PM |
