23 July 1998
 
Shoulda Woulda Coulda  
 
    It's really the 24th.  It has been for 26 minutes now.  But it's still Thursday to me, so I date it like I see it. 
    I read a journal entry tonight that reached out and grabbed me right by the jugular, because it was about old hurts and secrets and lies.  In part, it was about me.  And that is why I'm still up, though I should have been in bed an hour ago.  Tomorrow is a big and busy day, what with going to the Reunion and all. 
    It's such a good thing that he can't make it there. 
 
    I knew about the problem.  It wasn't a secret; he told me everything.  The fact that it was the reason for all that came after, that was the secret.  A nasty little virus, not even technically a living organism, but a thing that will be with me until I die, or unless modern medicine finally finds a way.  No it's not HIV, nothing as awful as that, just a permanent resident in my system.  Just herpes. 
    The thing is, I understand.  I've stood in those shoes before.  I know the cold fear.  And a new love, an uncemented love, a love not fully grown into its potential, of course it would suffer the impact, perhaps never to recover.  I can understand that and accept it. 
    The reason I finally broke contact with him was that the baggage of old hurts and misunderstandings dragged us down to the point where even just demonstrating friendship was difficult.  So difficult.  I wanted him to like me for who I am, not for any perceived sexual potential, and not tainted with any regrets or doubts or grudges.  I wanted him to take me one word at a time. 
    How good it would be to talk to him without all that, without the oppressive weight of disappointments and guilt.  Just like friends.  As friends. 
    I crave contact like I crave these cigarettes that I have not succeeded in removing from my life.  More, more, more, another and another.  He has no idea how hard it was for me to be there, last time I saw him, and seeing him be so charming, so funny, so brilliant, but for me to be in exile from that light.  It was through the gracious invitation of a friend I could be there, catch a momentary beam of that brightness, before drawing the curtain shut again.  It was hard for me to be there, but I had to be there.  I just had to. 
    The only way to get that back would be through a secret.  A lie. 
    I'd have to be a new person, divorced from the old one.  I'd have to wear a disguise, and never take it off.  But I can't do that, can I? 
 
--Spring 
 Previous 
List 
Next 
  
Names 
& 
Terms 

 
 
Tales from the Field 

If you are sick of hearing about soda and the soda business, I suggest you ignore the sidebar.     
     
I drove the forklift today, for real this time, not for practice.  The load of five beverage coolers came in, and this time, instead of beeping the Condiman to come unload the truck, I did it myself.  I turned on the propane and cranked it up.  The machine is so old and weak that you have to ride the brake and the gas at the same time, almost constantly, just readjusting the pressure on the pedals to get the direction and speed you want. Otherwise the motor stalls out.   I got the forks into the empty pallet perfectly the first try, ran it over to the truck where the driver put a cooler on it.  I lowered the cooler and placed it without a hitch.  The second cooler didn't sit flat on the pallet, rocked frighteningly.  I didn't drive it far, left it near the door, it had threatened to topple off so much.  The other three loads, same as the first, without a hitch.  I didn't break anything, I didn't crash into any soda or water.  But I did forget to close the propane valve.  It's not a huge thing to forget, the hose will hold, but I still need to shut off the propane first thing in the morning. 

We got our second internet order.  But we didn't get the Walmart account...yet.  It's back to school stock-up time there, and the inventory excludes food and beverage, all that is getting moved out.  We can get them in September.