It's a GAD GAD World
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Last time when I posted I was wallowing in the depths of despair. It was partially because of the Guitar God, and partially because Christmas was fast approaching & I was sad and frustrated over facing yet another goddamn holiday totally and completely alone.

Well, what a difference a week makes. The holiday is over, and I'm still alive. I woke up around 8am, opened the one present I'd received (a care package from a friend far away), then spent the day in my apartment doing practically nothing. At one point I hiked to Walgreen's & CVS. Not because I needed anything, but because the people next door were arguing (again) and I didn't want to listen to it anymore.

I've sort of become resigned to the whole Guitar God thing. It's sad, but there's nothing I can do.

I say "sort of" because I had a dream about him last night:

I showed up to work (backstage at a theatre) and one of the faculty members I work with in real life was there. Guitar God was there too, stretched out on the couch and wearing a gray suit and tie. He looked at me with a smile, as though nothing had happened between us. I walked in and said hello, then saw Guitar God, gasped, and ran out of the room.

The faculty member came after me and asked what was wrong. I lied and said nothing. She then pointed out that I'd freaked out as soon as I'd seen the Guitar God. I told her that seeing him freaked me out & I had to walk away. She said, "What is going ON with you two?" I told her about the package I'd sent him and how it took him nearly 3 months to say thank you and when I called him on it, he'd cut me out of his life.

The faculty member told me that the reason he'd been busy was because he'd been at work till 10pm the night before. (Apparently in the dream he had a day job at a computer software firm.) Then we got busy on the production, which was some big musical spectacular. I started working at the box office, while Guitar God got his autographed photos ready. He showed no sign of animosity to me, but he was busy.

I woke up before I could ask him if everything was all right between us.

I do believe that dreams mean something, we just don't always understand WHAT they mean. 2 weeks ago I dreamed that he stopped in the middle of a concert to kiss me. And the next morning I got the thank you I'd been waiting for all this time.

And what did I do? I fucked it up by being snarky.

Now I'm having dreams that the whole blow-up never happened. Maybe it's a subconscious desire to wipe the slate clean and start over. (Hell, it's more than just a subconscious desire to me.) I've had similar dreams about my so-called family.

For those of you who are looking for GAD-related material, I'm sorry if this is boring you to tears. But I've got to work this out somehow. And writing about it is how I do it. And I can't share this with too many people in my real life, so I share it with you.

Sunday, December 13, 2009
That's what my life is. One great big wall of pain.

I don't want to kill myself, but the fact that I don't want to die doesn't mean Iwant to live. I am so ashamed. My life is just one big waste. I have no purpose on this earth. Why am I still here wasting oxygen?

For so long I've just wanted someplace to go and get a hug and be safe. Maybe the reason I don't have it is because I don't deserve it. Maybe my parents were right. Maybe I am a worthless piece of shit.

The only reason I've been able to get through this weekend is because I've been zonked out on remeron. How am I going to get through this week when I need to be functional? Especially when I'm going to have my performance review sometime this week.

I don't want to live anymore. It's just too hard.

Oh Guitar God, I miss you so much...I thought I'd be ready to let you go, but I'm not. And I don't know if I'll ever be. I'll never speak to you again--I'm too afraid of what you might do if I do--but I won't--can't-- stop caring about you. Whenever I go to a concert, I'm always going to imagine you by my side, wondering what you would think of whatever act I'm seeing. I'm always going to wonder if you're doing OK and if you have enough to eat.

I'll never forget the nice things you've done for me over the years and I'll always be grateful for them. I'm glad that I have a picture that I took of you the last time I saw you. I'll never delete it.

I finally got off my ass and applied for the job that my friend forwarded me. Maybe a change would do me good.

I wish I could just quit my job and stay in my apartment all day. I've got enough food and enough CDs to keep me happy. By the time I ran out of money and ended up homeless the weather would probably be warmer and I could hack it.

I know I'm not making sense right now. But it's after midnight and I have no one to talk to and I hurt so much right now. What's the point of living without anyone to love?

Friday, December 11, 2009
In my last post I wondered whether I should a) ignore Guitar God's lame late thank-you, b) tell him off & rip him a new ass, or c) gently point out that his story wasn't adding up and give him a chance to explain himself.

On Tuesday, I decided to go with option c). In an email that was a lot briefer than it's going to sound in my description here, I observed that his email tends to conk out a lot whenever he's been "meaning" to write to me and that it always seems to come back in a hurry whenever I let him know his favorite artist is in town. I then pointed out that he'd had at least 3 gigs in the city in the 3 weeks after he got my package, so I knew he wasn't out of town. I asked him if he'd like to try again, and that a little honesty would go a long way.

I got a response from him yesterday. He said that he had family crap that had taken him out of town and out of the country and that it was very stressful for him. He said he didn't like my accusations, and he asked that I never contact him again.

I immediately fired off an email and apologized to him. Not that I think it's going to do any good. I then spent the rest of the work day a total basket case, with frequent restroom breaks so I could have 60-second crying jags, and I managed to hide everything from my boss, who thankfully spent most of the day holed up in her office. At some point I called a friend and asked her to meet me after work.

We met, went to a little snack bar, and I told her the whole story. About how I'd watched Guitar God play backup for someone else for 3 years & I never said a word to him (mainly because I couldn't think of anything to say). Then one night he got his own gig and I went. And afterwards he walked over and sat down with me and thanked me and started a conversation. And he was so nice. And I found myself wishing that we could have another conversation like that--y'know, just go somewhere and have a cup of coffee or something.

And 8 years later, I was still wishing for that cup of coffee. And even though intellectually I knew that after 8 years, the cup of coffee was probably never going to happen, my heart couldn't let him go. After all this time, I still stop breathing momentarily whenever he walks into the room. Even though I only physically see him maybe 2-3 times a year.

I told my friend about the package I made for him. I told her that I wasn't expecting any miracles from it. But that just once in my life, I wanted to pull out all the stops and do something nice for someone I cared about, and to hell with the consequences. Even if he got so freaked out that he never wanted to see me again, at least I could go to my grave knowing that just once I got to unleash my caring creative talent.

I told her how I mailed the package and waited. And waited. And waited. And as more time went on, I figured how he was never going to say anything to me. And how I started to give up.

Then I told her of the events that have transpired in the past 7 days and the end result. I told her that I was worried that he might tell his sometimes-frontman about what happened and that Frontman might ask me never to show up at a gig again. (I've also got a bit of negative history with Frontman which did NOT involve any romantic feelings on either his part or mine. I shared the story with my friend, but that's a very LONG and involved story and I'm not going to go into it here.)

I then told her about the article I'd read a long time ago that cited the statistic that 90% of American men have been married at least once by the age of 40. The author pointed out that when you eliminate gays, Catholic priests, and convicted felons, that's virtually the entire American male population. The author went on to say that if you meet a guy who's over 40 and has never been married, there's either a very good reason why he doesn't want to get married, or there's a very good reason why you don't want to marry him. As all readers of this blog know, Guitar God just turned 50. And he's never been married. And in the 11 years I've known him I've never seen him with a girlfriend.

My friend said that my response basically gave Guitar God a convenient way to cut me out of his life. It probably wasn't so much that he was bothered by what I said, it was just a good excuse to say "go away and leave me alone". She also said that I was a very thoughtful person, and that there weren't very many people in the world who were like that. She also thought that both Guitar God and Frontman were assholes and that I should just forget them.

I was sort of thinking of doing that anyway, but this whole scenario just gives me more motivation to do it. I think I'm just going to take a step back and give this thing some time. Frontman is out of the country and will be for the next month or so. If Guitar God doesn't respond to my apology within a week, I might send him one final Christmas card and outline my plans for any interaction we might have in the future. This is what I might tell him:

I'm going to make an effort not to attend your gigs anymore, but there may be reasons why I want to attend certain gigs you're involved in that have nothing to do with you. If that's the case and we happen to see each other, I might smile and say hello, but that's it. Unless you make an attempt to talk to me, I will not bother you.

Also, I might occasionally send you alerts if your Favorite Artist is in town. But I'll just forward whatever I have & not tack any additional msg onto it. So if you see an email from me with Favorite Artist in the subject line, it's probably something you might want to read.

I've been typing for more than 1/2 an hour now, and I've got stuff to do. Including printing off my application for that other job and mailing the damn thing. Certain aspects of that job scare me to death, but something in my gut tells me I should at least try. I also have to do laundry. I'm not looking forward to doing these things because it is REALLY cold outside today. But it's better than sitting in my apartment and crying over Guitar God.

Monday, December 07, 2009
Friday, 12/4: I get an email from one of the many music venues who have added me to their mailing list over the years. Seems Guitar God's favorite artist is playing at the venue in a few months from now. I still haven't heard jack from the Guitar God, but I'm in a generous mood, so I forward the email to him. No message, just the forward.

Last night: I have a dream that I'm in the front row of the audience while Guitar God is performing. In the middle of the show he stops dead & walks over to me. He smiles, and then he kisses me. At first I think it's just going to be a quick thing, but he doesn't stop, and so I start kissing him back full-force, the way I've always wished I could kiss a guy. Then my dream switches over to something else, like when you're flipping channels on the TV.

This afternoon: In the "Hell Freezes Over" department, I get an email from the Guitar God. He thanked me. HE THANKED ME!! And it only took him more than 2 months.

He cited traveling and computer problems as his excuses, both of which are bullshit. Within a month of my sending him the package he had 3 local gigs, so I know he wasn't out of town. As for his cable/computer conking out, he seems to have that happen a lot whenever I'm trying to reach him. And it always seems to kick back in when I send out an alert that his favorite artist is in town.

So what do I do now? Do I ignore his thank you? Do I point out that he's completely full of shit? Or do I gently point out that he's full of shit and give him a chance to come clean?

In other work-related news, I still haven't had my review, and my boss still hasn't said a word about it. A friend of mine sent me a job ad over the weekend. There's a lot more financial crap involved in this job than I would like, but I've got this gut feeling that I should go for it. That's what I was doing when I decided to procrastinate by posting to my blog. I'm trying to draft a new resume for the job.


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