When I quit Isabella's I went on a writing binge. I had started the other blog, I finished the first draft of my third play Whatever It's Worth, and I started my TV writing class. I got sick with the flu a couple of weeks ago and I also started dating someone. Both did a number on my writing routine. It's been a month since I've updated this blog and mackjackandjill.com hasn't fared much better. The flu got better but the relationship didn't. It's not officially dead, but I'm willing to call it. We didn't progress far enough to officially label it over, so in it's place, a dwindling frequency of text messages will be all I get.
I find it difficult to be happy with my own accomplishment. I approached a very attractive girl on the train. Got her number, had subsequent dates, had her spend the night. I knew we'd never progress into anything serious. All I wanted or expected was a little fun. I figured this end was inevitable. Even prepared for it. But it still hurts. Every relationship ends in abandonment. Except one, hopefully. It's a chilling sentiment to me that two people meet, become intimately involved, reveal more to that person than anyone else, then sooner or later one of them decides the other isn't good enough.
New York is a hard place to have friends. Being a waiter makes that even harder. I only get a night or two off a week and if I'm only friends with waiter folk, they have the same situation, only my nights and their nights rarely match up. I've always considered myself a loner. Now it's ten fold what I was. I've had plenty of people tell me that I can come to them with anything. But they only time I feel the desire to connect with people is when I hurt. And who wants to listen to someone complain about their problems and seek reassurance all the time. I sure as hell don't want to listen to that.
Dylan Patrick Smith -- Fading Dreams
http://www.last.fm/music/Dylan+Patrick+Smith
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