The Difference Between A Love Story And A Romantic Comedy

The sun set in my mind this evening. For someone who said they'd die for me sold some old pictures of all my memories. Chump change just to unravel the mystery. But life ain't no fun without fantasy. Some things are better left unsaid. And some people are better left untrusted. Maybe...maybe...it'll all make sense....when I'm dead. Old friends for sale. Get 'em while the gettin' is hot. Watch out, they'll kiss you to get what you got. And they'll show you the friends that they're not. Old friends...for sale.

-
Old Friends For Sale - Prince

My heart is a little sore so I'm afraid this isn't going to be good. Sorry.
Just trying to keep it honest.

This shit actually may just make you wanna blow your brains out, but I'm gonna try my damnest to brighten it up by the end OK? So if you stick in there, and make it past the hard candy shell...you may be treated with chewy chocolate goodness. Maybe.

I know it's been a while since I've posted. There's been a lot going on.

Holiday plans, Mom's 60th birthday coming around the corner, the monthly relationship arguement, and pretty much being an emotional rock with wobbly legs,...I've sorta been weary.... with a WICKED case of writers block. And oh yeah, I was supposed to be getting my driver's license, right?

Heavy sigh...I know. I know.

And do you ever get the feeling your life is just heading full speed ahead into a brick wall? (...not over a cliff...that's too romantic.) So, I'm kinda in that place where you're pumping the breaks rapidly, disbelieving they are out,... bracing.

Please ignore the fucking AFLAC duck in the passenger seat.

Not to say the crash will be bad.
I'm sure I'll come out just fine...it's just...knowing it's coming.

And that's where the title comes from. Because I have NO idea what in the hell is in store for the next year, but for the first time, I'm actually apprehensive about it.
Sorta like when you're trying to figure out if you're watching a romantic comedy or a love story. You want to know how it ends so bad because you have no idea WHICH one you might be watching.

What am I talking about?

What's the difference?

Well...let me learn ya.

In the romantic comedy... boy meets girl(or vice-versa)/ circumstance keeps them apart/somebody has an epiphany or the "oh fuck. I love him" moment/the boy/girl does an impossibly desperate and/or embarrassing act to prove that the love is real and love doesn't wait for pussies who won't take a shot/boy gets girl (or vice-versa).

Love conquers all.

The End.

In the love story....meets girl(or vice-versa)/ circumstance keeps them apart/somebody has an epiphany or the "oh fuck. I love him" moment/the boy/girl does an impossibly desperate and/or embarrassing act to prove that the love is real and love doesn't wait for pussies who won't take a shot/....but it's too late. Boy/girl is a)dead b)married c)not in love anymore.

True love denied.

The End.

And it doesn't matter how it starts off... doesn't even matter if it's funny.
It's the ENDING that defines the story.

The last time I had this feeling, I was in high school. We'd just returned from the Christmas break. I'd suddenly realized that life as I knew it, would end, for sure...on June 15th. Graduation day. Shit was gonna change dramatically...and,aside from the obvious things...moving to Delaware, starting college, I had no idea how it would change my perception of "Me". I just knew it would.

OK, fine. I shouldn't have worried so much because all things considered, things turned out pretty good. I skipped crack, jail, prostitution, and the parents are pretty proud. Which basically left me optimistic about...well...fucking everything. (Yes, the optimism gets annoying. Even to me.)

Which is why it's just... unsettling when I'm not. When I'm sure the storm cloud is heading my way and will stay fixed above my dome till it's good and ready.

Not good.

(You wanna bite though that candy and get to the chocolate now, don't you? OK. Fine. Go ahead.)


I have decided to take this permit test on Friday. Then immeditatly after, I'll be heading to driving school to take the five hour class. THEN I'm scheduling the road test. That's right. All in one day. Gangsta.

Oh. I'm also seriously looking into buying a condo. I'll be checking it out on Saturday. Though, there's something really unsettling about buying a peice of the rock and not having that "Honey...it's PERFECT!" hand clasping/hugging moment you SHOULD have when you both sign on the dotted line. It's a kind of independence that, I can't lie...I'm not sure I'm 100% OK with. The romance of buying is totally sucked out of the experience. (I blame this Disney-esque image that's seared into my brain on real estate commercials. Fuckin' Century 21.)

Yeah I'm stettin' (as Grandma would say) things that are beyond my control. I just wonder how my perception of "Me" will change...again. Because it has. Again...and more frequently than I'm comfortable with.

However, (as Grandma would say) "Ain't no use stettin' bout it." So I won't.

Because if nothing else I know this for sure....

The duck survives the crash...(with little duck-sized crutches).

And damn it, I'm psyched about that cuz that duck makes me laugh.

Hard.


See you after the test.

-Nye

Social Security

Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing at all. Security is mostly a superstition. It does not exist in nature.

-Helen Keller

I'm sure I've used this quote before, but after this week...I felt the need to revisit.

A hell of a week ladies and gents.

But let me start with the burning question you all have been asking via text, email, phone calls...

No. I did not take my permit test. I'll get into why in a second, and then maybe, by the end of the Pity-party violin quartet concerto, you won't even care.

(Baton up...and...)

I was going through a break up.

In retrospect, it was pretty much the worst argument we've ever had. And you know when you reach that "Tina Turner" moment where you're just kinda feeling like.."fuck it"! I won't take a raw fist punch from you and keep my gloves on just because I'm aware that you bruise easily. Punch me again and here's what you get..."

And so I let it rip. ...logically. It was sorta like...

You know how Cosby could (past tense) be funny without cursing?
Yeah...well I fully know I can be brutal without calling one single name, or using profanity.

I'm not proud of this, but it's a defense mechanism finely tuned over the years.

So things were...out of wack. So out of wack, that I could feel the water slowly creeping above that crack in the ice-pond. Nobody fell through and in the end...though I'm not sure if either of us feel it was the 100% right decision, we're still walking. Gingerly.

However....

THIS did not stop me. I had shit to do and a blog to write damn it!

I still geared up...but first, I'd need to shake off the uglies.

I met up with some good people Friday night (happy birthday Judes!) had too much to drink and decided that Beyonce's "Irreplaceable" would be my theme song for the moment.

Because fuck it. It's true.

I also decided that I'll need to reconnect with a few more good people, slap a perm in Shervons head and make some amends. Which I did....all with a big unsure pain in the center of my chest.

NOW...

Monday rolled around, and we're back in peaceful negoiations. And I begin thinking "Shouldn't I be doing something to make things...solid again?"
So I get busy trying to think of this new realtionship-solidifying tactic. Real busy.

On the other hand, I've got shit to do....with this nagging feeling that I shouldn't take the test...

Earlier that day, I'd gone online just to take a practice quiz one more time, and the DMV site was down.

So I figured I'd just...you know...refresh my skills by reading... fuck.

I'd left my book home.

Bad ju-ju...but I headed to 34th street anyway.

"The test costs $65. This includes two road test tries..." the woman with red and white George Clinton braids informed me.

WHAT? When in the hell did this test get so damn ....?

I mentally scanned my bank account balance and I could see Prince lighting a cigar with my test money. Shake that off Nye. It was well spent bonding time. (Yes, but what about the tambourine and the tank-top stupid?- SHUT UP!)

My bank account vision was soon replaced with one of my apartment, lit only by candles, because hey...lights are overrated. Yep. That got me.

OK. I guess today may not be the day...

Defeated? Sure. But being the Tenacious Ree I am, I vowed to return the following week...(dough permitting). Oh and while there, I got another book, just to leave in the office.

Then Tuesday came.

Earlier that day, I got smacked with a batch of some cold hard truth-cakes and this, my friends, had me contemplating a lot of things. Long story short, I was decieved and that shit never feels good. And what sucks is, I couldn't reason it, rationalize it, make it what it wasn't. It was exactly what it was... and hey Nye...deal.
So I did. Nothing more to it...it's just... life, right?

Right.

So now Wednesday, while catching up with Esso over dinner trying to talk each other off the ledge, my phone rings.

Fuck.

Emma Johnson was so much to so many. The last time I visited her in the nursing home, she was humming this tune that will forever stay seared in my brain...and in the minds of the entire nursing home staff. She'd sing it over and over. It made her happy...and hearing it made the staff happy. They all vowed to find this song. So did I.

A massive stroke left her speech sporatic. Full of stutters and incomplete thoughts and a huge lack of vocal control. She wanted to join the conversation. Tell you she was happy. Annoyed. Hungry. Loved you. She couldn't. And it angered her...so she'd just hum her tune...and tune out the pain...for three years.

Though one time, an employee sat outside with us on a warm fall day with a guitar and began strumming old R&B...and Emma, to our suprised, finished each and every song with such clarity...we knew, just KNEW...she was 100% with it, no matter what the doctor said. It was then we understood. She was just...tired of trying.

Emma suffered another stroke. Her breathing was labored.
At around 5AM yesterday, we'd get the news that Emma was gone.


The funeral director was NOTHING like David from Six Feet Under.

He wore a cheap suit, his empathy came across as an empty fake pain, and the whole experience was sorta like buying a car, except this deal MUST be made before you leave the office.

"Small chapel fits 75 or you can upgrade..."
"Will you be creamating or burying?"
"You can get this pressed wood casket in greyish-blue, white..."
"Will the family witness the cremation?" (Oh hell no.)
"How much will the insurance cover...?"

...a whopping grand. Which meant we only had to kick up four G's to get it all done.
Yikes.

The women at the nursing home were devestaed.

"We really loved Ms. Emma."
One even sang the song. The song I'd failed to find.

We dropped to our knees to open her boxed up belongings, which read, "Johnson, Emma. Expired 12/7/06". Getting back up was not easy.

At 6pm, Lito and Delores were in the air. Leaving from JFK airport on their way to Barcelona, Spain. I was supposed to be on that plane, but of course, I would have missed...everything.

Seriously beginning to wonder if everything happens for a reason or if shit is a HELL of a co-winkie-dink. I mean, I didn't go Christmas shopping yet...and I'm usually done by now. I just kinda felt like...I shouldn't. Just like I felt like I shouldn't go on that trip.

I don't know how to end this one guys, I'm sorry. I usually have a neat little bow at the end, but this really is about re-learning (again) that you can't be afraid to let things go. No matter what it is.

Maybe it's your metrocard.
Maybe it's your relationship.
Maybe it's your faith in another's word.
Maybe it's this wonderful woman who's life touched so many.

Whatever it is...sometimes, you gotta be fearless. Stare it striaght in the eye and say "goodbye."

What I'm looking forward to is saying "hello"...

To what? I have no idea. LOL...

So it's a do-over people. Save your pennies.

It's going down for sure next week.

Yo quiero Taco Bell...

-Nye