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Archive for the ‘Boys will be Boys’ Category

Last December 2013, the San Francisco Bay Area and all of its San Francisco 49er fans said goodbye to Candlestick Park.

I’m not going to regale you about how much little I know of Candlestick. Truth be told, I’m a Raiders fan. (Yeah, yeah, boo hisssss, heard it alllll before.) I’ve been to the Oakland Coliseum 20 times more than I’ve been to Candlestick. But to be fair, I went to Candlestick before I ever stepped foot in the Coliseum — and that was for my first ever baseball game which was back in the 80’s when the SF Giants still played there, too.

But I digress.

The point is, the SF 49ers used to play there. They won a bunch of Super Bowls (that’s five) while they were playing there. Joe Montana, Jerry Rice, Steve Young, Jimmy Johnson…these are names that have worn the red and gold uniform — names even those people who aren’t into sports have at least heard of.  Thus, I felt kind of nostalgic about the decision to demolish Candlestick Park and move the 49ers to Santa Clara (oh, and the drive would be further to see a game.)

But while I was nostalgic, the boyfriend was downright…sentimental. Emotional. Heavy-breathing kind of stuff.

So, as one of his Christmas presents, I bought us tickets to the last game at the ‘Stick.

Yeah, it was freakishly expensive, thank god for end of year bonuses to allow for impulse “I-love-you-this-much” moments. But I’ve got to admit, there was some magic there, especially since the 49ers were down with only 1:31 left in the game with the ball in Matt Ryan’s hand — and it was only by that one heart-stopping moment with NaVorro Bowman making an impressive pick and returning it for 89-yards that made me believe in game time magic and had me cheering like a mad diggity crazy eyes fan.  It is now famously known as “The Pick at the ‘Stick”.

Here it is from 49ers.com in sexy slo-mo: CLICK HERE.

And in not-so-slow-but-still-heart-stopping-motion:

And yes, the boyfriend was happy.

(Except it took us nearly 2 hours to get home — Caltrans…why you close 3 lanes on the Bay Bridge?!)

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Look at the HAPPY Smile on his face. =)

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Aw look, I even bought a 49er football-y beanie/scarf combo (because I forgot that Candlestick gets really cold).

On a funny note, there was this guy sitting a few seats away from us, and there was SO MUCH speculation that it was Jerry Rice…and it turned out to be MC Hammer. Haha! How terrible of us.

Jerry Rice MCHammer1

Which is who? Who is which?

 

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It’s Annoying, But…

…sometimes, I really do like when you redeem yourself and remind me why…

That is all. ❤

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You ask me what my favorite memory is.

And I laugh and say that there aren’t many to choose from. It was meant to be a light joke, but I’m somber all of a sudden at the truth of the statement. There aren’t many and I doubt there will be many more.

It’s doubt that’s the enemy, isn’t it?

I tell myself to have faith. To believe. To hope.

But no, Buddha was right when he said:

There is nothing more dreadful than the habit of doubt. Doubt separates people. It is a poison that disintegrates friendships and breaks up pleasant relations. It is a thorn that irritates and hurts; it is a sword that kills.

But I do. I doubt. And it kills me.

You hear it in my voice and soon I hear it in yours. If I can’t have faith, how do I expect you to believe in me? If I refuse to believe in you, how can I expect you to stay?

“I’ll miss you, too.”

Is that your way of acknowledging that I’m pulling away? Is that you saying goodbye?

I close my eyes and sigh.

It’s the way you always curve your arm around my waist every time you walk by me. Whether I’m brushing my teeth or getting a glass of water, you pass by and your arm snakes around my waist slightly, then your hand runs across the small of my back before you continue on with wherever you’re going. It’s the way you give me that teasing look on your face when I get scared. You laugh and whisper encouragement but you always say, “Don’t look at me with those scared eyes.” You somehow know just how to bring the fearless out of me.

It’s the way you make me feel flawless.

It’s the way you lace your fingers with mine as we sit and talk with your friends, or when we’re sitting at the dinner table drinking our wine; it’s the way you squeeze my hand so hard I can feel your bones fuse with mine just before I say goodbye.

You ask me what my favorite memory is, and I want to say, “You are.”

But I can’t.

And so, someday, I know I’ll sit in front of the sunset feeling the sand slip right through my fingers and I’ll miss you, too.

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The problem with keeping someone at a distance is that it makes communication really hard. It’s like you’re always yelling over this white noise of empty space. It creates an illusion of safety–like being wrapped in a bubble. But then it all becomes a game of who gains the upper hand. He said, she said, he says wha-?, she says huh?

Ain’t none of us gonna make that step closer to burst that bubble.

Definitely doesn’t help when I’m talking about more than one.

In the end, it’s a conundrum. To move forward and make plans, we gotta communicate. To communicate, we gotta make at the very least the tiniest bit of commitment. To commit, we gotta take a step closer. To get close, we gotta let it happen. To let it happen, we gotta want it.

Not sure that I want it, though. But I do want to make plans. But mostly, I just think I’m bored.

What a conundrum.

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First of all: Love Kid Cudi. Love David Guetta. Love this song.

That song would probably be what best describes my weekend. I definitely did make all the crazy/beautiful decisions this weekend and I know that they will be tucked away under the file of “Best Memories.”

The best of the best part of the weekend? It dawned on me sometime after midnight on Friday night that I was happy. I was really, really happy. My life is awesome.

I can’t put my finger on it.

Maybe it’s because San Francisco just makes me feel amazing. I love this city, the nooks and crannies, the hopping on the train to bar hop, the art galleries/bars, the after-parties, the being able to walk through the streets and breathe real air, the people I know in this place, the people I meet at every turn…I’m just absolutely loving it.

Maybe it’s because I feel like the old me again. I don’t know if LA changed me or if my experiences in LA changed me that much. But I can go dancing at a club here just for the sake of dancing. In my jeans, sweater and boots, my hair in a ponytail, a Blue Moon in my hand…I feel like me in my own skin.

Maybe it’s the friends and loves who visit me. Maybe it’s the old-school hip-hop pounding out of the speakers. Maybe it’s walking through the city streets holding hands. Maybe it’s take-my-breath-away kisses and throw-my-head-back laughter on a bench at the Metreon. Maybe it’s frozen yogurt and Halloween stories. Maybe it’s old friends who still call me by my old name. Maybe it’s being around people who knew and remember my father that remind me of who I was meant to be. Maybe it’s whispers and lame jokes at night. Maybe it’s everything about everything right now.

I’m just happy. Let me be.

*For those who have the Password…Read on in Memories Part Deux*

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Your body is my hobby. I love the hot toddy.

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I have to admit, I like the way you say your name. Every time I get a voicemail from you, “Hey, it’s me…” and then you say your name in that dry “Yes-it’s-me-again” tone. Sometimes you’ll say it really fast. Sometimes you’ll say it as an afterthought. Like you still wouldn’t expect me to know your voice over the phone. I like how you always leave a voicemail, too.

It’s a chance for me to hear your voice in the middle of the day…because you know I won’t call you back till the end of mine.

I have to admit, I like the way you answer my phone calls. “Hey!” Like you really mean it. “Hi there,” or “Hey you,” like you’ve been waiting for it.

It’s probably just wishful thinking on my part.

But, I have to admit, I do kind of maybe just a little bit sort of like you.

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It’s not butterflies, but he’s under my skin.

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Ever met anyone who overwhelmed you just by being? Yeah…when Evee and @Sigh asked me about him, the only word that really came into my mind was “overwhelming.”

Let’s call him McDreamy cuz even Eon agrees on that count. Haha.

Almost everything about him overwhelmed me. I mean, just looking into his eyes (“are they ‘dreamy’?” asks Eon) is overwhelming. What are you trying to do, dude? Steal my soul? Even @Sigh had to go with an “Oh, shit.” at the sight of his picture. Jared Leto much anyone?

Overwhelming, I tell you. But still dreamy.

And then, there’s his life resume. He’s been everywhere. He’s done things I’ve only ever wished I could. He’s actually helped people. No, scratch that. He has changed people’s lives. Katrina, he was there. Impoverished countries, he’s established foundations and gone to help. Homeless people, he is armed with nail and hammer with Habitat 4 Humanity.

He has traveled. He takes the kind of travel pictures I’ve only ever dreamed I had the vision for. He meets the locals, follows them into places that only locals would ever consider “normal” by any stretch of the word. He finds the beauty and the commonality in the foreign and different.

He dives into new endeavors with an enthusiasm and carelessness of a guy who can’t possibly fail. He’s going to start a band. Just ‘cuz. He rides a motorcycle in a tuxedo to go to a friend’s wedding. He’ll run after the guy who stole his shirt at knife point. He’s had short hair, and he’s had Jesus-hair. He’s had scruff, a full beard, and been clean-shaven. He’d show up dripping wet from a downpour just because he said he would. He doesn’t care about appearances at all. I wonder how you had to be raised to simply not care. To be so laid back and comfortable in your own skin that the possibility of looking like a drowned rat in front of new people doesn’t faze you.

His friends ask him two things: “What are you up to now?” and “Where in the world are you?”

But, I don’t really know if I’m impressed. I’m overwhelmed.

Part of me is more impressed with the guy who has the steady professional, slightly boring and possibly spiritually unfulfilling job. But then I’d know I can count on someone who will be there. I am more impressed with the guy who can make me feel safe instead of awed. I feel more comfortable with the one who I know is grounded instead of spirited. Is that bad? I think it’s just about safety.

But then…maybe I’m just jealous of the free-spirit of McDreamy. Maybe I wish I had more to tell about me than, “Oh, I’m studying for the bar.” I mean to a guy who spent nearly a decade in four different colleges (just because he could) simply for the fun of learning, that doesn’t seem like such a big deal.

I don’t know. Maybe it’s the prospect of not knowing how I could contribute into his life in any meaningful way that really overwhelms me. Hmmm…

But as I always say with these things, “We’ll see.”

And he’s still so damn pretty.

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