Biting the bullet

Dear Kelly,

You have to know how much I loved you.  How much I love you.  You have to know how much it KILLED me to know where we are now.  It's been so difficult trying to let you go.  You meant so much to me.  You meant so much to me.  I had to say it twice because my thought process ended.  When I think about you, my mind has to pause in order get a hold of itself.  I'm flooded with emotions and I'm overwhelmed.  I need a moment to regain my conciousness.

I've been trying to come to terms with the situation.  The situation.  That's rich.  This isn't a situation.  This is you completely cutting me out of your life and then you blaming me for it.  Every once in a blue moon, I feel the urge to contact you but am stopped by my smarter angels.  I'm beginning to let go.  I'm beginning to put you behind me.  I'm beginning to realize that putting you up on the pedestal was a mistake on my part.  Since I was a little kid, giving someone my heart was always a dangerous proposition because when I become attached to someone, I have difficulty letting go.  I never in a thousand years could've predicted that my heart would ache for someone that I wasn't romantically involved with.  I never in a thousand years could've predicted that someone I've never slept with could cut me so deep.  But it's true.  Your pain lingers more than most.  More than just about everyone.  I keep having to remind myself that it's not my fault.  None of this is my fault but I keep blaming myself.
I went over the conversation that I found between you and Joe.  I wandered upon it a little more than a year ago and it infuriates me.  On both ends.  How the both of you could claim to care about me (and everyone else for that matter!) and then have the audacity to say those things.  You know, I talk shit behind people's back too, but these things the two of you said, I don't know how it's possible to say such hateful things and then look at those same people in the eye. 
I don't even want to talk about the ridiculousness you said about me, I want to talk about Chrissy.  How the fuck can you say those things that you did?  I mean, talk about armchair quarterbacking.  The way you wrote those things to Joe, the way it seemed as though you reveled in their troubles.  That their struggle somehow made your life better, it was appauling.  It makes me angry that I cared for you as much as I do.  As much as I do.  You weren't even around.  You were there for nothing.  You couldn't find the fucking time to get off your island when your people needed you and you have the fucking nuts to try question someone else's character?  You think Tom and Chrissy are somehow bad parents?  You somehow doubt Cassie’s diagnosis because why?  Your years of medical experience?  Or was it the fucking ten minutes you spent with her collectively over her lifetime?  Do you even know the lengths they've gone to in order to make Cassie’s life better?  Do you know how far Chrissy has moved the Earth for her daughter?  And you impugn her character because what?  You don't like the fact that she's not as thin as you?  Well guess what you fucking cunt, Chrissy's not the one that's alone, is she?  Chrissy's not the one that cut herself out of everyone's life.  Chrissy's not the one sitting in her ivory tower.  Chrissy is the trenches and Chrissy is making a difference.  So until you can accomplish a tenth of what she's accomplished, keep your fucking opinion to yourself.  You don't know us well enough to have the privilege of speaking about us.
And now I guess I'll get to what you said of me.  You think that I made misery a competition?  Really?  REALLY?!  Who in the fucking world do you think you are?  What exactly did I do to minimize anything that you were going through?  You fucking abandoned me.  A long fucking time ago.  Once you got to your island you decided that the rest of us were on our fucking own and you were only concerned with yourself and your own little fucking island.  Well guess what you fucking bitch of a cunt, that island is all you fucking have left.  How in the Holy hell?  I can't even.  I don't even know how you could possibly come to the conclusion that I was trying to do anything of the fucking sort.  I was being selfish because I wanted, no BEGGED, you to come visit me in Jersey?  Is that so fucking selfish to want to be around you but not have to travel all the way to the city every time.  I sat there at dinner and listened to you.  I sat there and I remained as neutral in your fucking crumbling marriage as possible.  I ate shit and forgave you for the fucking fact that YOU FUCKING ABANDONED ME because I just happened to fall in love with someone?  I don't fucking understand.  That's my biggest regret.  I just want to know exactly what your explanation is to have made the assertion that I somehow dismissed your problems for any fucking reason whatseoever.  Wait.  That's a complete lie.  My biggest regret is how much I loved you.  My biggest regret is how much I still love you.  I hate the part of me that can't let go of you.  I keep reminding myself what a selfish cuntbucket you are and I  still can't seem to get rid of you.
I hate you.  I want to hate you so bad.  I hope I never hear your name again.  I hope I never ever have to see you again.  You're nothing short of pitiful.  You think that you're better than everyone else?  Because the rest of us have problems and you somehow think that you don't?  Well guess what?  You've got your fucking island all to yourself.  Good luck finding shelter when the hurricane hits.

You're a terrible monster and I hate that I gave such a huge part of my heart to you.  I hate that I considered you a part of my family.  I wish I'd never met you.

Take care,
Paulash

I Get By With a Little Help...

I always seem to be in conflict with myself over my friends.  You see, as far as I can remember, I'm not sure I've had a "best" friend since I was in middle school (funny enough, that friend ended up being in the top ten all time prize winners on Jeopardy and I'm sitting here blogging anonymously) and I don't know why, but I feel sad about it.

I divide my circle of friends into 2 categories, the inner circle and then everyone else.  The funny thing is, unlike most other people, my inner circle is crowded.  Crowded with people I've been friends with for 20+ years (I'm in my mid 30s).  I've heard countless people on the outside looking in comment about how odd it is how close we all are.  How we're all involved in each other's business constantly.  How cordiality is completely void in our relationship because it's not needed.  We're tight.  We all mesh well and play our roles beautifully.
But that's the problem, maybe?  My wife tells me that I'm an idiot for constantly worrying about why I don't have a single best friend when I have 5 friends of equal value.  She says that most people that can't define a best friend are people that don't have too many good friends.  I shouldn't be so forlorn because I have the opposite problem, but here we are?  I don't know why I can't just be happy with such great relationships, maybe I just like hierarchies.  It gives structure to the world, right?  This person is the best, the next person is not as good.  Chrome is the #1 browser, IE is for grandmothers and morons.  America is #1 and you are not!  That's how the world works, right?  So how can I have 5 number ones??!?!  It defies nature!!!
I finally whittled it down using a pretty good and broad metric, even though it's kind of arbitrary and not necessarily having any correlation to the actual value of that relationship.

About 15 years ago, my friend T was desperate.  I love the man, but it's true.  He's the nicest, most honest, and mild mannered man alive and in your early twenties, that  means not too many girls were knocking on his door at night.  There was one party where he ended up sucking face with a girl that most of us agreed was not attractive at all.  She was hideous.  She was huge.  Sure, as I look back on it as an adult, to use the names that we did (specifically regarding her weight) , not the most shining moment of my life, but I was 21 years old and stupid.  Heck, it's 13 years later and I'm still pretty stupid.  Anyway, he made out with this person through his very thick beer goggles and we were absolutely relentless in mocking him for it.  I had taken pictures and made sure to keep the negatives as he inevitably destroyed the pictures.  Well, one of our other friends, F, somehow found the negatives and destroyed them.  Even though he was included in the chorus of people mocking him.  It was a real lesson as to how close friends can be.  Here's someone that epitomized the male friend.  He would call you the worst possible names that you could possibly imagine, but if anyone else did the same, he would take a baseball bat to their head.  It was that moment that T said that F officially became his best man.  When all his closest friends circled him like the bunch of vultures that we are, one of us had the sanity to realize what T really wanted to have done.  On a separate note, I'm really glad digital cameras are now the norm because when T eventually runs for office, I'm definitely going to blackmail the SHIT out of him.

How does this relate to me?  The person I dated before I met my wife was just an awful human being.  She was one of those people that is so bad and so completely amoral and so completely jealous that they turn you into that same person.  Needless to say, when I finally broke up with her for good (ooohh it was a long and terrible roller coaster ride that lasted about 6 months longer than it should have), she decided that the best way to try and get me back or get back at me (she didn't make a huge distinction between those two) was to tell as many people that would listen.  I mean, she was telling people things about me that were criminal!  Literally!  She told some people that I hit her!  Me!  Yeah, you don't know me very well, but trust me, violence is not something I would ever commit against anyone, let alone a woman I was involved with.  She tried to tell people that I was indifferent about her father's struggle with the big C. Again, anyone that really knows me knows that I'm never going to be the person that doesn't care about someone else.  The worst part about this?  People love a good story, especially when it involves dirt like this.  Validity takes a complete back seat to salaciousness.  Who cares if it's true as long as we can point our fingers at a villain.  In the end, it really cost me friendships.  Some people I was really starting to value.  What did I do?  I realized early on that I didn't want to get caught in the mud with her anymore.  As I wrote before, her ugliness is something that affected and stained me.  She really turned me into the worst version of myself and as soon as I fully came to realize that, I didn't want to have any part of it.

So where am I now?  It's years after all the madness that went over with the woman I refer at Voldemort and while I'm stronger for having been through that conflict, I did not escape without some scars.  What's worse?  There are still some of my absolute inner circle that keeps ties with her.  Yeah, superficial social media ties, but ties nonetheless.  Some of them even interact with her from time to time.  One of them even minimized it by saying that oh well, it's only FB or whatever, and I get that.  People nowadays tie their self worth to the number next to their friends list.  And for some people, their loyalty to their social media "friends" seems to trump the horrors those friends may have committed on some of their real life friends.  Granted, I don't put a whole lot of stock in this, no matter the language I use to describe it.  Sure it hurts that they won't give up this stupid thing, but it's really mostly just ego.  Luckily, there are exactly TWO people that I am friends with that have completely cut ties with she whom shall not be named.  One of them is T and it's by default because as a teacher, he has decided it's best for his career if he doesn't have a social media presence.  The second, A, she is also one of my very best friends and I'm pretty sure she rejects Voldemort because she understands that a line in the sand was drawn when the language Voldemort used was put out there and she decided it was in her best interest not to straddle it.  So, while I would take a baseball bat if anyone else would talk to my friends the way I talked to them, there are two people that I definitely hold closest to my heart and all it took for them was to click "unfriend."

Had I Known How to Save A Life

My Wife is amazing.  Since I'm trying to remain anonymous, I think I will just refer to her as A from here on out.  A.  That's what all the cool people do, right?

A and I decide to go to Asbury Park this past Saturday.  We get there right after 5pm (we live pretty close so sometimes we go on a whim) .  The beach is still incredibly crowded but we found a spot a little bit north of the Paramount and set up camp.  We were surprised to see that the lifeguards were still on duty, but we decided it was better to just lay there and veg out for a bit instead of jumping right in.
Around 6ish, the lifeguards call for everyone to get out of the water as their day was soon ending.  CRAP!  We missed it!  Right?  No.  A and I are basically crazy, so we don't mind swimming after the lifeguards have gone.  We wait a little bit since Asbury Park is absolutely NOTORIOUS for having the guards ride around on buggies after they've cleared the water and chase all the illegal swimmers out of the water.
After enough time had passed, A and I decided to wade into the warmer-than-usual water.  I guess we started a trend as others decided to join us as well.  Anita and I were splashing around and swimming and having our fill when we hear some faint noises coming from the distance.  We casually look around the water and see the few people in the water that seem to be enjoying themselves and we do the same.  A is not the strongest swimmer on the planet and while she's tough as nails, she doesn't like to go beyond the point where she can safely touch the bottom without being submerged.  I don't have a problem with that even though I tease her about it.  We're enjoying the temperature of the water when again, we hear a faint sound in the distance.  We both look over and about 30 yards away from us, we see a couple that is pretty far out and it looks like they're splashing each other.  When we focused on them, we realized that they were screaming and calling for help!  Holy shit!  I didn't know what to do.  A and I started wading over to them as fast as we could and when we confirmed that they were indeed screaming help, A screams, "Go!  Go and help them!  Go!"  When I got close enough to them and my eyes locked with the man swimming, I couldn't see any sense cognition.  He was completely panicked and was flailing in the water.  His girlfriend or his wife or whoever she was tried to plead with him to calm down and get it under control, but he couldn't.  I'm not even sure he could hear her over the panic in his own head.  I quickly grabbed his hand and tried to pull him towards the shore line.  He was NOT cooperating.  He kept screaming, "I can't!  I can't!" and wouldn't stop.  I looked back at him and told him that he's gotta kick to help me.  At this point, his GF wasn't helping much either.  The current here was pulling really hard and they were both completely gasped and were paralyzed by fear.  I looked at her and told her that we ALL need to kick so that I can help pull us all ashore.  I tried pulling the two of them for what felt like an eternity when I felt the aching of fatigue in my legs.  We'd made some progress to the point where I can plant the tips of my toes in the sand, but by no means were we safe.  I tried to reason with the man saying that he can put his feet down but he continued to just fight me.  Then it happened.  I let go of him.  I let his hand go and started floating to try and catch my breath.  For the first time since I grabbed his hand, my face was turned towards him and I saw the fear on his face and I heard his gf screaming.  They thought that I gave up.  I'm not sure I didn't.
Just as I was steadying myself in the water, someone else jumped into the water with a boogie board and made his way towards us.  I was relieved.  I thought it was over, I was wrong.  They boogie board was given to the panicking man, but this new swimmer could not bring them in.  The panic was too much.  He couldn't hear anyone asking for him to kick.  For him to help save his own life.  He just kept flailing and screaming.  I've never felt lucky in my life, but as luck would have it that day, I had pulled the two people far enough and with the new swimmer, I could firmly plant my feet, reach out for the new swimmer and pull them towards me.  Two more tugs and we were all shore.
How long did it take?  2 minutes?  5 minutes?  An hour?  An Eternity.  When I realized that they might have been in trouble, I lost all conscious thought.  I was running on instinct.  When I let go, it was instinct.  Am I so selfish?  Did I value my own life over these people?  Was I ok with that?  What if the boogie board had never arrived?  Would I have rested for a minute and reached back out for them?  I don't know the answer to these questions and they continue to haunt me.
After we came ashore, the boogie board man bolted back towards the restaurant inside the Paramount building.  The panicked man raised his slumping head, looked at me, shook my hand, and then just left.  He and his lady friend ran off the beach like their parking had expired 5 minutes ago.  Everything he wanted to say to me was in that look he gave me.  Fear, appreciation, confusion, and exhaustion all rolled into one.  I was greeted on the shores by an older woman who put her hands together (as if in prayer) and looked at me and said "thank you, " another woman came up to me and told me that what I had just done was incredible and that she couldn't do anything because she didn't know how to swim and that she can't believe I just did that.  I couldn't believe it, either.
A met me back by our camp with a look of amazement on her face.  She exclaimed, "My hero!" and I just chuckled.  I didn't feel like a hero.  I was full of so much adrenaline that I couldn't sit down.  I was exhausted, my legs were KILLING me, but I couldn't sit down.  I kept walking around our umbrella haunted by the image of me letting them go.  The looks on their faces when they saw me floated free of them.  The uncertainty of whether or not I would've tried to keep pulling them if the boogie board man had not intervened and bailed me out..  Was I a hero?  Or was I just lucky?  A tells me not to obsess over that part of it because if I had gotten tired out there, I would've been no help to anyone, and that she was confident that I would've grabbed them again after I had caught my breath.  Like I said, my wife is an amazing person.
When I was finally able to sit down, I was overcome.  I mean, just in incredulity of what had just transpired swept over me like the ocean waves in front of me.  I don't remember thinking anything.  I just remember acting.  It was almost like an out of body experience.  As I'm recalling the events now, I'm seeing myself in third person.  Absolutely crazy.
I'm puzzled by my actions and them being defined as heroic.  People keep telling me that I am a hero, but I don't feel like one.  I've never been good at taking credit for accomplishments because I'm not used to it.  I try and do as many good deeds as I can, but I'm not sure I'm a good person.  I grew up in a situation where the easy way out was usually the route I was attracted to and I can still feel that tug on me.  That's just how I grew up.  But those stories will have to wait for another time.  For now, if you're looking to swim at Asbury Park, please do so only when the lifeguards are on duty.  I'm all out of saves for the month.

Allow Me to Reintroduce Myself...

As I was saying before, I basically always have a trillion things going on in my head that I would like to get down, but I'm always afraid of the retribution I would get for blowing up other people's spots or the shame I would feel for revealing some of my most intricate weaknesses.

First and foremost, I'm a mid-30s man living in NJ.  I identify greatly with The Garden State but I also understand the gripes that people have with it.  I also think that people that don't live here or haven't lived here just don't get it and that's basically the end of it.  The slogan for NJ has the great distinction of being both cliche and true, only the strong survive.  We've got unbelievable traffic, incredibly high taxes, a history of political corruption, it's basically illegal everywhere to make a left turn,  and worst of all, Snooki (though, we don't actually claim her).  And what do we ask in return for all these maladies?  Just don't make us pump our own gas.  That's all we want.  Well, that and the greatest beaches on the east coast.  And some of the best pizza on the planet.  And a community of unusually loyal friends you meet very early on in life.. And some of the best public school systems in the nation..  Wait a minute.. This New Jersey place doesn't sound so bad after all.... Exactly.

Second, I'm South Asian.  I won't specify exactly where in South Asia I'm from because I fear it may be too revealing, but it's also an enormous part of who I am and what I'm proud of.  That wasn't always true.  When others were finding themselves in their teenage years, I was basically running away from myself trying to fit in.  I tried everything I could to seem less South Asian and for a time, I thought it worked and I thought I was happy with my self image.  Fortunately, even if a little later than everyone else, I figured it out for the most part.  Am I super South Asian now?  Not really.  I'm exactly what I should be as an American.  A mixture of both my own family heritage as well as the various communities and environments that have led me to where I am today.

Third, I'm a cancer survivor.  I had a rare blood disorder that was cured through the aid of a stem cell transplant a few years ago.  I have had and continue to see absolutely incredible doctors that tried everything they could to avoid me having to have the transplant, but in the end, there was nothing more that they could do.  They thought my age and being so young would save me from some of the more difficult complications, but alas, I was stricken with some nasty Graft Versus Host Disease (GVHD) afterwards and while my blood is as healthy as it has ever been, I'm still dealing with the shadows of the transplant.  I'm hoping (and all signs point to) that this is the last summer that I will have to worry about any of this stuff and that I will be able to get back to me.

Fourth, I'm a nerd.  Or a geek, or more accurately, both.  I like science and astronomy, I played RPGs before they were digitized with graphics and better marketing.  I liked Star Trek (Team Picard!) before liking Star Trek was cool.  In fact, the fact that Star Trek is cool kind of annoys me.  Where the heck were all you assholes when I was 15 and being made fun of?  Oh wait, you were the onesh making fun of me. I guess I would consider myself a reformed geek of sorts, though.  While I do love all things geek, as I got into my later teen years and especially my early 20s, I fell in love with sports.  I love baseball, football, basketball, and ice hockey and attend games regularly.  I'm THAT guy in the stadium that can get his entire section going.  I'm basically the best of both worlds.  I can quote Star Wars and can read a box score.  I play fantasy video games and fantasy baseball - both to the chagrin of my beautiful wife.

Fifth and finally, well finally in the sense that it's the last thing that I'm going to write (type?!) about tonight, I'm one of those douchy, community loving, gov't program loving liberal.  I voted for Obama (4 times!).  I feel like it's important that I include that here because I'm sure that plenty of what I write about is going to be in response to what's going on in the political world.  I think in more sane times, I would actually be closer to a Rockefeller Republican, but since Sean Hannity and Sarah Palin exist solely to make sure the GOP exorcises any HINT of moderation, I guess this is the world we live in now.

So, this is me.  Or at least this is the framework.  I'm hoping that the anonymity this new venture affords me allows me to go back over some of the memories I've been trying to parse in my mind and gives me the freedom to examine them more broadly without having to worry about who's reading it and what they will think.  It will be my own silent reverie.

At My Most Beautiful

Sometimes when I want to write, I'm afraid that I will be judged because people know who I am. This is my chance to try and reflect on my life and (finally)  cut through the fog.