The Crash

The postings on this site are my own and don't necessarily represent IBM's positions, strategies or opinions.

Bon Vie & Mr. Lonely

Too many beautiful women, too little exercise, too much humanity, not enough. My finger-nails need attention; sleep is calling. So is packing.

Missing Chely Wright 'cause I didn't plan it right. I'll be boarding my plane as she stands before everyone else at the convention center.

Logo'ed lanyards, free lip-balm as a promo, if only I'd known and not bought it from the hotel gift-shop.

New friend, who's fluent in Thai....I experimented today and wore a tie; got everything from, "You look beautiful," to "Hi, Gorgeous! Are you turning transgender?"

Should have responded, "Aren't we all?" Instead: "Who knows, and if I can't wear this here, where can I?"

Learned the most about myself when opting to enter the gender-neutral bathroom for the first time at the conference and being reminded of the first time I entered a lesbian bar in Ann Arbor, Michigan. Who saw me?

Only this time, do they think I'm trans? Instant shame about worrying what they thought.

Such a contrast to the Facebook note I received earlier tonight from the little sister of a junior-high-school classmate, David. She posted a photo of me, dancing with David at his twin brother's and his bar mitzvah.

Really was hoping to dance tonight with my people. Shake off that struggling new teenage self -- and also, embrace the essential sweetness of who I was then.

Instead, ended the night, feeling desirous and thwarted and ashamed and sad and wistful and unfinished and off-kilter and not powerful like I did during the day, when I wore my dad's (z"l) tie.

Who wants to go for a drink? Not me. I wanted to go dancing.

Only, I wanted it to be like it was in Austin -- dancing right outside the banquet hall -- no special effort required. And then there wasn't convenient dancing, and it was anti-climactic, big-time.

I am touch-starved and can't wait to pet Pat and the kitties. I'm very lonesome.

Played Bobby Vinton's "Mister Lonely" on YouTube, and then to get in a better mood, T.S. Monk, Jr.'s "Bon Vie." What a marvelous song!

Why can't I recapture the pretty pure joy I felt, listening to that song when I was 15? God, please let me get over my essential sense of loneliness. Now, I'm listening to "Sarah, Sarah," by Jonathan Butler. This is pure self-absorption. So what?

I'm really nostalgic for who I didn't become. Met people at this conference who were involved with a woman with whom I was involved 15 years prior. Met a researcher, who recognized the name of the only boyfriend I ever had. They research similar cancer-things. Another former administrator from his school, who knew him, too. Now, she's an IBM colleague.

The world really is strangely connected. Women flirted with me when I wore the tie today. I wish I could feel that powerful all the time.

The world responds to me and I love it and have a hard time, taking it in.

If only I could just feel peaceful. I don't want to want so much.