Matrix News...


In the wee hours of the morning today, I found myself awake and watching television. This isn't my usual routine, but I needed something to jolt me into the land of functional consciousness. I'd fallen asleep watching Law and Order: CI, so when USA's morning schedule of infomercials popped-up, I immediately sought more substantive programming options.

In typical fashion, the network news programs were full of fluff with a little bit of substance thrown in for good measure (San Francisco father hailed as a hero, tidbits on the latest buskwacking, etc). What I needed to hear (being the public health nut that I am) included information about the O157:H7 outbreak, the explanation for women becoming the staple of military frontlines, and what the presidential hopefuls think about the situation in the Middle East (considering the fact that both Blair and Bush are on the way out). Anywho...

When the American networks did not deliver substantive accounts, I made a promise to myself to seek some international news at some point in my day. When I flipped the channel and found BBC, I could've stopped there feeling quite accomplished for the day, but I promised, remember...

I got to work and fate placed news.independent.co.uk in my lap. I originally googled "Taco Bell illnesses" expecting cnn.com or msnbc.com to get first dibbs, but alas, it was this UK site. From there, I read a lengthy and well written interview about Nas' forthcoming "Hip Hop is Dead" cd, non-sugarcoated accounts about Fidel Castro, and other very interesting tid bits. Maybe it's because it's "The Independent" or maybe it's because it's from the UK... Whatever it is, it sure beat the hell out of reading washingtonpost.com.

Closure

It’s funny how life works. You live and find comfort in the familiar and safe things you encounter, but often relax to the point of complacency about true happiness. As I knock on 2007 and my 25^th year’s doors, I realize that no matter how much you develop yourself or grow as a person, it is a given that your past will always taunt you.

I laced-up my traveling shoes this past weekend and took two mini-vacas… one, away time from my routine with added skymiles, and the other, a convoluted inner journey that would definitely lead to some sort of closure. When people seek closure, they mean to forget about what preceded the need and then, really, move the hell on. My system doesn’t at all exclude this premise, but is based on the fact if something needs to be revisited in order for you to gauge the accuracy of your past instincts’ decision, then you’d better gain some real self-wisdom in the process.

With my relationships, all of them have been whirlwinds of intensity for one or both parties. With care not to self-incriminate, let’s just say that it is second-nature for me to predict the reaction of my girlfriends when I tell them some bloke has quickly fallen in love with me. Back then, my motto was, “the only thing I can truly be… all the time… is me.” That reasoning served me well for what I hope will be the first half (preferably, the first two-thirds) of my single adult life.

Then, through whatever divine intervention, I encountered a glitch in my personal matrix. A good friend of mine told me that whether I recognized it or not, “[I] play with these boys and need to stop!” I have been extremely fortunate in terms of having elders around to counsel and direct decisions for my life. So I could not discount the reality from a close friend six years my senior, but at the time, it opened confusion with regards to the possibility of a loose double entendre. What does it mean to play with someone, what are the rules of the game anyway, and had I—for all this time—been playing myself?

My epiphany involves me realizing so much about myself that I quickly realized how my routine behavior was pigeonholing me into unhappiness. Why? Because on some level, giving the same thing you used to give when the object of obsession is the human equivalent of couture is just plain bad diva behavior. I realized that whether I wanted to continue playing the game or not, I had to reexamine what I was projecting to attract those I was getting. One thing directly affects the other, and growth is learning how to adjust the bait to catch what you’re fishing for.

I can honestly say that rather than throw caution to the wind and go for the gusto, I have been content with accepting the malleable young man for many reasons (i.e., to avoid rejection, competition, having to keep my ‘ish tight). This little fear issue would cost anyone dearly, and I am no different. The first love of my life was one of the drop-dead guys who could get at least a second date with most women. When I snagged that, I was on cloud nine about the attractive genetic prospects for the future (you’ve gotta do it for the kids). Not to go on a tangent… when this highly attractive young man hit the road, it hurt me so deeply that I am certain this is where my issues began.

It wasn’t that he left me, but that he opted for other pastures (that turned out to be not-so green). I realized it is quite normal for people who seem compatible and have loads of passion between them to in actuality NOT be meant for each other. This, however, was not my initial reaction. At the tender age of 18, self-insufficiencies crowded my rationale to a point where I took the separation personally wondering what was wrong with me. Those feelings were the mortar in the emotional wall that I would build for the next 6 years.

Along the way, I have had fulfilling relationships with some really great guys. These were different from my first, though, because I had fashioned the bricks for my emotional wall by “empowering” myself in romantic relationships. Until year 5, things went smoothly with me always playing the catalyst to breakups. Just as I completed the most convoluted, subconscious relationship sabotage ever (which resulted in me being dumped… twice), I was faced with the most haunting taunt from my past.

Enter here, the man discovered at the commencement of real adulthood—age 21. This man has always been one of the ones I tell my girlfriends, “I can see myself with him…” When I recognized our compatibility, I made it a point to not rush into labels, categories, or love. To my detriment, this pact with myself left me with the short-end of my dream guy’s stick (figuratively speaking…) because, as fate would have it, just as I delved back into the pool of those drop-deads, this one did something that cut me really deep.

For whatever reason, the hurt I felt with him cut deeply, but not enough for me to completely eliminate him from my life. As I look at he and I (my most topsy-turvy relationship to date, though I use relationship more loosely than usual in reference to male/female interaction), this round of closure found us at a crossroads. Maybe we have just learned how to communicate with each other or maybe we’ve just grown up. Either way, whatever is going on between us lets me know that I had good instincts in the first place.

I know that I cannot predict the future, but I believe I can influence it. I cannot just “be me” with someone when the whole idea behind lasting love is the kind that makes you a better person constantly willing to one-up your game. Now I've doubled-back on someone who appreciates my love for game day and jazz—someone who doesn’t think it’s lame for my music collection to include classical masterpieces—someone who is supportive—someone who shows me things about myself—someone who can help me synthesize my thoughts—someone who inspires me.

I wouldn't have seen these things had I decided against "manning-up" and putting my real feelings on the line. In the end, I know keeping my emotions bottled up was my personal poison, but the release opened my eyes to the reality that people really do give according to what they get. Still not claiming psychic powers, I am comfortable with being open with my feelings even if they end up bruised. That is the real test of “just being me…”

So, this round of closure, surprisingly, was with myself… so long to the insecure girl… hello to the real woman.