05: If you trust me

I suppose my current objective is to bop out one of these per week. I think that's a good valance between clearing my plate and keeping the readers of this blog (various future scottos) up to date on my situation, and not devoting too much time or obsessing too much. I will say that I'm now in the long lost mindset of constantly looking at my life through the lens of "will this make a good post later?" I have indeed missed this.

I have still been reading lots of my old posts. I started near the beginning of my first year of university and have finished up to where I was fired from my house painting job the following summer. I wonder about myself - not about 2008 scotto of course, poor kid is a lost cause - but about my current day self, retreating into old blog entries, fixating on side projects like comic rereads, waxing nostalgic about wrestling... I wonder if IMT pining for youth as a way of escaping my present, which seems absurd because on the outside of feels like my present is ideal. I have a loving girlfriend and a solid job. But I'm not writing much anymore and both my girlfriend and job sometimes come with rough patches that leave me reeling and conteplating how much bad we should tolerate in our good. Also how much is simply me being unable to enjoy and keep my mind in the here and now.

The weekend began with drinks after work. Well, somebody was having drinks, but as established at lunch that day, it wasn't going to be Ibrahim, who started out not drinking due to religious prohibition but adopted it as a personal policy anyway, or Tony, who is allergic to all forms of alcohol and anyway is the kind of person who enjoys a good moral high ground. (Things Tony has boasted since I have been at head office: he has never taken the elevator and does not drink coffee, among probably other things.) We have a bit of a group going, I suppose, although I am trying to circulate more. Hence, drinks...

It was farewell drinks for Bryant, a higher up who is moving on. I haven't been there long and I don't know Bryant well but I could tell it was very meaningful. For my part, I wanted to be seen there because my commute has this far made me pretty skittish about participating in extra curriculars. But the shindig was starting at 4, so I went (a tad later than that) and even stayed later than some who had to jet by 5.

I have made friends, and ywt I'm still in this "new guy" rut where people don't automatically chat me up or find out about me. I want to change that a bit.

I pbrought flowers, which were a gesture for Mel, from the previous day's farmer's market. They made a nice conversation piece... Although if I can be honest, while Mel was happy to receive them, she wasn't as gaga over them as I'd hoped. I mean, no-reason flowers, that's the dream isn't it? (For certain women, Mel vocally among them.)

She was happy, don't get me wrong, but she hasn't looked at them since we got home and they'll wilt soon.

Saturday we had some errands to run but got a bit off track. I got a haircut, she got her nails done, we went grocery shopping, and then we headed to my place for a snack but I got caught up dealing with the air conditioning guy who just haaaaad to stop by when we were on the way put and I couldn't get away. So we were a bit late for our planned dinner with Meagan, and his gave her new fuel for our ongoing issue regarding my brothers and... I dunno man, I'm really sick of that one.

It was a really solid visit with Meghan and her boyfriend Danny. They were attempting to put together some patio furniture, which Meagan said every couple should have to do at some point. Mel and I reflected on some of our furniture misadventures. The bench whose frame we got backwards, so it became a 2 day job. I also did the kitchen island card myself. Then today, I got to worm on the nightstand she bought a month ago and we just haven't had time to get to.

It isn't done yet... It's proven stressful. I'm working with her dads tools and while one screwdriver fit most of the screws needed, one part had an oddly sized slot and I couldn't find the correct tool for it. Then I realized I got the top and bottom surfaces backwards, meaning I had to take it apart, and well, that lead to some wood breakage, so I am currently waiting for some glue to dry.

Men making (or assembling) furniture for women. It's almost too cliché. I feel all this pressure to be perfect and chivilrous and sometimes I feel like the stakes are too high when my faults are revealed. I never wanted to be that guy whose girlfriend/partner/wife? was always rolling her eyes over in barely concealed resentment. "That man of mine, he's so dumb and incompetent. Why do I bother?"

I am not here to live in an episode of what I assume According To Jim was like.

I'm doing my best.

I think she understands.

The rest of the evening was very nice. I get on quite well with Danny, far better then I did with Meagan's ex, Alex. Not that he wasn't OK, we just had nothing in common. (I noted this - intended as a value-neutral statement - which led to a very concerted effort on Alex's part to try to prove we could hold a conversation.) For a length period, Meagan and Mel were in the kitchen catching up and Danny and I were left to bond in the living room. I struck up some small talk and we actually managed to craft some really solid medium talk by the end. It wasnt eve that we had much common ground, but he had enough going on that I was curious about and vice versa. What's more - most impressive - he had as many inquiries for me as I did him, if not more. I noted to Mel that I really hate when you get caught in a one sided conversation and the other party won't politely flip it back to you. I also hate realizing that I have monopolized a conversation. (This is less common but not unheard of.) She seemed startled by my conviction, at the end of the night as we headed to the car, and perhaps I have only recently been able to pinpoint this pet peeve. I won't specify examples I have encountered over the years.

I had more to say, about furniture building and gender roles, but lets leave that behind. The end of the nightstand saga - so far - is that her dad bailed me out. I was not bitter about it and wanted to be a good sport. "He's good at dad things," she beamed. I nodded. Perhaps there was a time when he was not. I reckon that by the time your kids are old enough to notice you are good at that stuff, you've had years of practice. I remember my dad putting my lego together for me as a kid...

I feel very out of touch with my parents lately; Over got some real cats in the cradle stuff going on.

There's more - man, there's really alway as more - but I'm pooped. If you see typos in this post, it's because I did it on my phone. I was feeling too lazy to get my tablet out, and yet my sore fingers are saying I really should have.

Keep on rockin'
-Scotto