As a rule, I don't talk about my job here on this blog. And I don't intend to change that. But I'll share that I'm dealing with a serious issue. Hopefully, as many politicians have said in regards to America's current situation in Iraq, I too would like, in regards to mine, to see a light at the end of the tunnel.
Moving on.
I had an unusual experience last night.
After Colbert, I turn the TV off and lie down to go to sleep. As soon as my eyes are closed, I feel a strong urge to burp. So, I force myself to release the noxious, trapped gas. But instead of the gas climbing up my esophagus, a little bit of last night's dinner storms up. I taste the bitterness in my mouth. I get up and run towards the bathroom. I feel another bout coming.
As I'm heading towards the bathroom, I feel my surrounding move erratically. It's like this one camera shot where the camera is mounted on to the actor: he moves, and on the screen you see him centered and steady, whereas everything else is jerky and shaky.
All the while, I'm fighting against the current of an on-coming spew. But it's a losing battle. As the emulsified content of my stomach exits the oral and nasal cavities, it effervesces. Like how Coke effervesces when it's poured into a glass. I feel the bubbles strike my face everywhere.
I'm gagging. I need air; I need to breathe. But I can't. I'm still upchucking a Coke-like, bitter and acidic liquid-mess. I panic and feel my eyes watering.
Then, suddenly, I force myself to open my eyes. I'm still in bed, all tensed up, gasping for air.
Weirdness!
I guess I had stopped breathing for some reason. My heart rate felt slow to normal. And for the next hour, I had to consciously regulate my respiration rate. When I didn't think about breathing, I drifted into sleep and my breathing seemed to slow down. That in turn would wake me up. I took several deep breaths, in and out, slowly. I don't know. I'm not a doctor. But maybe I should be, so that I can figure out what happened to me.
Wednesday, September 12, 2007
Monday, September 03, 2007
254: Based On..?
It's supposed to be fun. When you first start seeing someone, there inside you is a chemist's delight, cascades of reactions upon reactions, leaving you giddy, good, and god-damned spiritual. But when your or his personal life gets in the way, mostly his, really—well, what do they say?—that's a perfect recipe for failure. To fail before anything starts just sucks!
I hate being here. Granted my lack of experience regarding the matters of the groin and a little bit of the heart, precludes me from being objective. Especially since I'm in the thick of it. But still. I know I should just count my loses and just move on. But why is it so hard to say good bye. And why is it so hard to convince myself to say, "step forward, don't look back?" I can relate to Lot's wife!
It's so easy for other guys to fuck and be done with it. Why can't I? I tell myself that sex can be devoid of any emotional tie, but I can't help myself weaving a thread, however thin it is, that binds me to him.
It was that one night...
He has on the cutest grin on his face. "I'm a bit drunk," he says. And like him, my face is flushed. I blame the Cosmo and my infatuation. One moment I'm giggling at a Tivo-ed episode of "Little Bush" with him, then the next he has his tongue down my throat. Just as quick, I'm off the couch and on his bed naked. "What do you want?" he coos and asks it again and again, one pleasurable moment after another. He wants to give me what I want. It's a pleasure I can get lost in.
After we said our goodbyes the next morning, he texts me to ask me how I was and to tell me that the night we spent was hot. We stay in touch and we talk about hanging out again. But whenever we try, the plans get rearranged. If the Universe wasn't governed by the all random Chance, I'd swear it was warning me, as Kelly Clarkson advised, to walk away.
I may have been his trick and he may have wanted to play with me again...at his convenience. You know what, I was. I was his trick. I need to consider him mine. File him away in my memory.
It's supposed to be fun. But now it's not. And I feel like if I dwell any longer, I'll turn into a pillar of salt.
I feel like boozing!
I hate being here. Granted my lack of experience regarding the matters of the groin and a little bit of the heart, precludes me from being objective. Especially since I'm in the thick of it. But still. I know I should just count my loses and just move on. But why is it so hard to say good bye. And why is it so hard to convince myself to say, "step forward, don't look back?" I can relate to Lot's wife!
It's so easy for other guys to fuck and be done with it. Why can't I? I tell myself that sex can be devoid of any emotional tie, but I can't help myself weaving a thread, however thin it is, that binds me to him.
It was that one night...
He has on the cutest grin on his face. "I'm a bit drunk," he says. And like him, my face is flushed. I blame the Cosmo and my infatuation. One moment I'm giggling at a Tivo-ed episode of "Little Bush" with him, then the next he has his tongue down my throat. Just as quick, I'm off the couch and on his bed naked. "What do you want?" he coos and asks it again and again, one pleasurable moment after another. He wants to give me what I want. It's a pleasure I can get lost in.
After we said our goodbyes the next morning, he texts me to ask me how I was and to tell me that the night we spent was hot. We stay in touch and we talk about hanging out again. But whenever we try, the plans get rearranged. If the Universe wasn't governed by the all random Chance, I'd swear it was warning me, as Kelly Clarkson advised, to walk away.
I may have been his trick and he may have wanted to play with me again...at his convenience. You know what, I was. I was his trick. I need to consider him mine. File him away in my memory.
It's supposed to be fun. But now it's not. And I feel like if I dwell any longer, I'll turn into a pillar of salt.
I feel like boozing!
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