An oxymoron, for sure.<\/p>\n
Last night, I dreamed of a digital device. I was responsible for it and needed to use it for something important\u00e2\u20ac\u201da presentation, a demo, or similar. But somehow in the exchange of hands or perhaps a lack of awareness on my part, it fell into the hands of someone that constantly wanted the best for me (in his twisted way), but I distrusted his results.<\/p>\n
And so, perhaps moments before the showcase of my device, I discovered that it had been tampered. “I was trying to make it better,” he said in a obnoxious tone.<\/p>\n
“You did?” I said and could feel anger flare throughout my body.<\/p>\n
I glared at him, and he did notice. “This is better,” he said.<\/p>\n
I woke up, finding myself pushed down in the bed, clutching the pillow. To me, it’s somewhat interesting that I have landed in a responsible position, to present and demonstrate to others. I remember this person\u00e2\u20ac\u201dsomeone who I had rebuffed, but insisted that he felt that he connected with me. In those moments, my irritation melted away, and I would agree to catsit while he traveled. But my displeasure would return when I found that he used my accounts with my knowledge or demanded that I change my ways. He called his behavior “brutal honesty.”<\/p>\n
There was once when he gave me the sunglasses and scarf his subtenant left behind. “This is a present for you,” he said. “For catsitting.”<\/p>\n
“Don’t,” I said and pushed it back into his arms.<\/p>\n
One time, because I ran out of cash, I wrote a check to pay him back for a concert ticket. “I don’t take checks,” he said.<\/p>\n
He took the check and tore it into little pieces, dropping it like confetti in front of me. I must have laughed then, amused at his ridiculousness. But inside, I was seething. I never paid him back him back.<\/p>\n
It has been more than three years since we last spoke. In our initial silence, he unfriended me on Facebook. But several months passed by and he sent a friend request. I did not offer any “accept” in return. And the silence continues to this day.<\/p>\n
Back then, he lived less than 100 steps from my building. Occasionally, when I walk down Valencia Street, I glance up to the third story window. Almost by habit, I wonder if the light is still on and whether the cat is cold from the open window. Then I continue walking, happy to jog up my steps back into my apartment.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
An oxymoron, for sure. Last night, I dreamed of a digital device. I was responsible for it and needed to use it for something important\u00e2\u20ac\u201da presentation, a demo, or similar. But somehow in the exchange of hands or perhaps a … Continue reading