A Bloomin' Onion

Last night, flush with some extra cash thanks in part to the new BM and the shared expenditures, I accepted a dinner invite from a co-worker and a friend of hers, whom I have met a few times and think is a swell guy.

We tried to make a fancy Mexican joint, but were one minute too late, so in an impromptu manuever, we ended up at a place called Toppers, which is atop a hotel in Santa Monica. Our view was that of Malibu. The other side offers LAX. Some choice, huh?

We had drinks, and shared food, and told stories. My co-worker, MS, is an improv performer and I think one of the quickest, most sarcastic people I know. She is hell on my ego, but then again, what isn't. Her friend, W, is a writer and writing professor. He just sold a script, so he is loving life right now, and is also quite flush with money.

Through out the night, I questioned them on their friendship, and then the questions turned to me. After answering one with the familiar self deprecating, don't I suck, kind of answer, MS, the one who is always jokingly telling me I'm not funny, stopped me. She said that my humble, self effacing was not ringing true at that moment. She told me she thought I was emerging.

When her friend asked what she meant, she said that I was like an onion, whose layers were being peeled back, and something true and great was about to be revealed. I just focused on the metaphor, and how when peeling an onion, I always cry.

Though, I will say, I agree with her. I feel like I am on the cusp of something long awaited. Whether that be career, I hope, or something else remains to be seen. I do feel it though.

Around the house, the BM has broken my routine. Partly because my routine had been forged in solitude, it was doomed to be broken, and I'm not too sure I mind it being broken, but I do realize that it stresses me out when my routine is gone. I am very routine. I remember the one summer after college that I lived with my folks. My father commented on my routine, as I would do the same thing every morning before work. That was when I first noticed it, I guess, but it served me well, and I have never tried to break it. It does morph, but gradually, and only by my doing. Now, with him here, it is forced to take a quicker change. OK. Let's see.

I have been worried about my wife. Yesterday, she found out that her identity had been stolen, and the person drained her checking account of all her money. The bank said it will return her money, but it is still frightening, and she was devastated. I ended up caretaking her, which I shouldn't, but can't seem to help doing. I guess even as I realize more and more that we did the right thing, I still have deep feelings for her, and still want to make her life smooth and happy. I just don't have that power anymore, and have to let it go.

My brother is coming into town for the next couple of days, so my presence here might be spotty. I'll try to write when I can, as he will no doubt conjure up rants.