Sticks and Bones

The first part of a chronicle of a crush-turned-obsession. I'm sorry, Julie.


To experience this in natural reading order go to A Bright, Ironic Hell: The Straight Read .


Also, try Satellite Dance and Crystal Delusions--Parts 2 and 3, respectively--complete.

Sunday, October 19, 2008

A Cannonball into the Kiddy Pool or a Pebble in the Ocean? (10/19/08 Sunday)

Hinckley brought up a point yesterday that might help me right my ship. He's been re-reading the blog, and he noticed a two-week period from the end of June in which I exhibited a strong confidence in my efforts and the likelihood of their desired results. He said I have to find a way to get back to that. The difference, though, I told him, is that I had a goal then; that now there wasn't a rainbow and pot or a tunnel to find the light at the end of. I tracked down the entries of which he spoke and was amazed at the confidence exuded. After reading them, though, I told him, "I figured it would come down to an irony." "How so?" "All the time I spent trying not to strategize, and what was I doing then but strategizing? I hate scripting my actions." "What you need to find is a happy medium." A recent self-admonishment, of course, but it always seems wiser when coming from a voice on the outside of my head. The question remains, though: What is my goal now? I've said I want to get to know Julie and for her to get to know me, but I'm finding that more than difficult. I think of her "two places to get to know a person" and I feel resentment at having to play that game--her game. I can't play it. I can't believe I'm getting anywhere with small talk, and that's all the talk there is. She has the ball and won't send it back. No, it's my game I have to play if anything's to get done, and I've already started playing it. The no-pussyfooting challenge is not going unheeded. You remember me saying way back when that what I really wanted was for everyone to know? Well, I've already taken steps. There was Tammy the other day; yesterday, it was Bethany.

On the desk I asked Bethany if she remembered me telling her about my "big crush." She did. "Well, " I said, "it's on someone here. She doesn't feel the same way, but she knows how I feel." I didn't tell her who it was, and she didn't ask, if not because she didn't have to, at least in deference to my privacy.

Another effort has been a somewhat indifferent discretion toward exposure of the blog, bringing it up at my desk during my lunch or on the circ desk. Yesterday, I "forgot" to clear the history before I was relieved at the desk. It was Julie who relieved me, though. It's not her who I want to find out that way. She didn't. (Or did she? Would even that be enough to get her to talk to me?) I'm sure a few people have seen the screen over my shoulder, the title there readable at a glance. There is probably no one else I could tell outright who would both care and not tell the world. This has to be subtle, a groundswell.

So, the goal? I'm still not sure, except to have fun finding out. I'm even developing a side project: I'm putting Brother Cadfael to a surreptitious task. Eventually, Julie will get her books back. But inside each one will be a three-by-five notecard with a question or comment on it--for example, "I want to climb your walls, not tear them down" or "You fascinate me with your mystery, the depths of your concealment, the Julie you hide and protect." Twenty of them--not all written yet--for twenty books. The thickness of the card will ensure its discovery.

Honestly, whatever I'm ultimately trying to do, I don't want it to end--not, anyway, without a friendly resolution. Hurt as I feel, it's my hurt. Julie didn't inflict it. The greater hurt for me would be to hurt Julie. This has been good for me. Julie has been the inspiration for every word, every personal discovery, pleasurable or painful--but all indispensable--along this bumpy, curvy, hilly, inky road, and I hate to think of trying to follow it without her light.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Hoping for an "accidental" discovery of your blog, I know how that goes. I'm always checking to see who is reading mine and where they are from, etc.
Sounds like you've identified some positive self-discovery from your feelings about Julie. I felt the same way about my own love. It has become more clear to me what I want, what I don't want, the passion I've been missing in my life.