A Way Back Into Love (One)

Heartache is worse than cancer. Cancer is fatal. Heartache is endless suffering.


After my heart was broken, I could feel my entire being begin to rot. My physical condition became sub par. My moods changed like a thirteen year old's, on the messy end of her menstrual cycle. And emotionally, I had the stability of an elephant on circus stilts. My conscience went on leave, and if my heart were hooked to a green screen, the waves would've resembled those of the Nile. I actually cannot recall a single conscious decision in the longest time during those dark days, or decades.


I tried to date again. Failed miserably.

My heart was numb.

Unconscious.



There were times when I'd have a great time out with a girl; talked, laughed, kissed, connected on some level or another...but I could never have any feelings. Zero attachment. Often times I'd actually lose complete interest and attraction in a girl after have the best time with her. :/ (I know, right?) I never understood it at the time, but now I think it had a lot to do with not getting over my breakup with Jewel (pseudonym for lack of permission from her to write this, primarily b/c we haven't spoken in months. lol geez AL) I wanted to get over her; I needed to so badly. It was ruining me. ...but my heart controlled my thoughts and feelings. Cerebrum--worthless.



I wanted to badly to fall in love again. So many songs, movies and pictures would send chills to my body and tears to the core of my eyes; ready to burst if only my pride would allow them. It's like when you go days without noticing a hangnail, and when you finally notice it, it seems to get ripped and snagged on every surface possible--Damn Murphy-- So any and everything that could remotely resemble any form of romance sent that same shocking sensation to take over my body like that tiny, powerful hangnail would tare.


There was only one thing that had a chance at saving me. Hope- I could only hope that I could be saved--to love again. And I knew that there was only one person who could save me...


I actually fell in love with this girl before having ever met her. Before having ever seen a picture of her. Throughout my USMAPS year, my best friend Ryan Johnson (don't need his permission for this! lol) would share stories of little brother-sister competitions growing up between him and his sister, Reanna. Every little anecdote stuck with me; I was falling for her and I didn't even know her. It was crazy, I know this, but I felt connected with her simply through hearing about her. I kept telling myself, "man, if I'm ever in a situation where even a friendship could develop with her, I'll be head over heels so fast!" haha...


...next thing I knew, Ryan tells me that she's being recruited to play softball at West Point. She got her Congressional Nomination. She got accepted. She signed. Batta-bing! Batta-boom! She's in! And I'm...nervous! ha. ... all that talking shit to myself about how I just needed to have a chance to hang out with her and let God take care of the rest, and I'd be set. I hoped maybe he could give me an extra boost of humor when I'd see her, because sometimes my jokes aren't all that funny. lol But I knew this was it, this was my way back into love.

She was it. She was everyththing. She held all the intangibles that made up the girl of my dreams. Smart. Funny. Athletic. Confident. Competitor. Determined. I could easily go on... I couldn't believe how crazy about her I was before I had even met her. It didn't matter, I had hope to love again. She'd given me hope without ever doing a single thing...

...my heart is yours...

.......

Whizz Wit

Recently I made a weekend out of a visit to my boy's house in South Jersey. Not gunna lie you my brothers, it was a great weekend, with only a few minor setbacks. First off, if you haven't been to Philly, I recommend that immediately upon arrival, assuming of course that when you arrive your appetite had reached its deepest grumbles, that you aim your travels down to South Street to this joint, Jim's Steaks. And, if you in deed have been to or even perhaps live in Philly, yet still have not been to Jim's, then firstly-WTF mate- and secondly, GO NOW! VAMOS!


Jim's is an old school, extremely famous Philly Cheese Steak entrepreneur. I cannot lie-Cadet Honor Code. Hooah!? lol- Jim's is legit. JRaff, Stanley and I waited in line around the short corner for 45 minutes before reaching the counter--behind this counter was a 5x3ft. flat grill with tubs of commercial sized condiments. Pickles, mushrooms, olives, the whole works. But, what seemed most obvious to be the hottest commodity was the fat tub of Whizz Cheese-- An open container the size of a paint bucket, overflowing the brim with creamy cheese and a rubber Flathead spatula. The black hands working the station moved swiftly with many years of experience. It was an art in its own category. As I observed from my moving position in the wrap around line-against the wall that was swallowed by autographed pictures from hundreds of celebrities, Billy Joel, Allen Iverson, Ali, all praising Jim's Steaks- I could pick out the stuttering first timers within the crowd of Philly's finest easier than differing between a Canadian at the local sports bar and crazy Nascar fans. My man almost had the sandwich fixed before they could finish their order--these folks really messed with the system. But when a 'usual' walks up to the counter, a well-oiled machine kicks into gear: "Whizz Wit." Bread opened. Whizz spread. Steak gathered. Flip, Drop, Grill. Lift. Onions added ("Wit"). Next customer.
Clockwork.



Of course, Raff went first to introduce the protocol for ordering without sounding like an idiot. I followed suit, "Whizz Wit." --If he were a basketball fan, he might've noticed I was from out of town by my WITNESS T-Shirt, but he wouldn't have noticed from my tone. I was definitely acting the part. haha. I love Philly. --there you go Raff, I finally said it. lol-- We ate the cheese steaks looking out above the street through the window of a wall in almost silence-always a compliment to the chef. I couldn't believe what a drop in taste and texture Ohio and all other makes of cheese steaks were to this ultimate cheese steak. Next time my friends back home order a cheese steak from some small diner claiming to re-create the cheese steak, I will do as Raff has done whenever I defended to have previously enjoyed a cheese steak, and laugh in their faces. lol

After the cheese steak extravaganza, we walked through the more historical sites of Philadelphia. Beautiful city. Liberty Bell, Independence Hall, Tombs of the Unknown, Eternal Flame. All great. And of course I wanted to run up the steps at the Museum of Art like one of my idols Rocky Balboa! :) lol ..but we saved it for another visit. We were true at heart, but we were tired. -minor twist to the words of a great author, Dave Eggers. We needed some time to rejuvenate for the night that was about to hit us like ten pitchers, six hours, two games of electric bowling, walking through the drive-through of golden arches' at 330a.m. to break up a 30 min stumbling walk. Oh it hit us. Gotta love the little guy on the corner called Giuseppe's. And great potato skins too; they're very generous with their bacon. :)

The weekend which began with a very entertaining Phillies vs. Cubs game Friday, ended with a game of our own. Sunny Sunday afternoon calls for a nice round of golf at the faithful Sun Eagles Golf Course. ...my newly found joy in life. :)

Well my brothers, until next time...In the words made regular in South Jersey: Be Easy.