I haven’t heard much from the Bartender lately.  It’s been sort of a slow progression towards this.  The amount of text messages he would send, things he would initiate… they slowly decreased.  Then there weren’t really any talks of hanging out outside of his bar.

We had a few days where we spent a lot of time together.  Either I’d stay for hours at the bar with him, or hours (one time days) at his place.  I wonder if he’s just burnt out.

This week, I hadn’t really heard from him much since Monday — when he was helping me get the the emergency room.  (I saw him riding by on his bike on Tuesday, so I called and left a message just to say hi.)  I waited, and waited, hoping for some message from him… Nothing.  So on Thursday I sent him a few messages.  Basically got the response that he was hanging low that night (aka we weren’t going to hang out).  He mentioned that he didn’t want to be a source of stress for me.  In fact, his words were: “I don’t want to be another source of stress on you. Focus your energies on yourself. I’ll be around.”  That was the last I heard from him that night.

Last night I got a text from him.  But it was just a mass text he was sending out to the bar regulars to let them know about a change in hours.  We had a few brief exchanges.  I asked if we could hang out again soon.  “Yeah. Just not sure when.  Let you know…”  … And that was it for the night.

I thought for a little bit.  Pulled myself together, and sent: “Heading to bed. Busy evening.  If you’re wanting some space or a break or something, please tell me.”

No response.

I’m not really sure what’s going on.  I’ve been having a great time with him.  I really like him.  I feel really comfortable, generally cared for, and good when I’m with him.  We’ve been seeing each other for about two months now, and I’ve had a great time.  He’s really been a positive addition to my life.

I’ve felt bad because I haven’t been healthy lately.  All the stress of the hospitals and the physical pain.  But having him around to talk to was helping me get through it.  Feeling like someone cares for you is truly an amazing treatment.  Because of the type of pain, I haven’t felt very sexy at all.  Every time he would come over to kiss me, or wrap his arms around me — all of that shattered.

There’s a lot going on right now.  Things are changing.  Potentially good things are hopefully coming.  I’m trying to continually work on being a better (hopefully less negative) person.  I’ve thoroughly enjoyed these two months of getting to know the Bartender and being with him.  I have no idea what’s going on right now.  Part of me is bracing for the worse.  I just know I’m feeling a little lonely, and a lot confused.

So there have been some potentially good things happening lately.  Things I wish I could broadcast and dance and celebrate like crazy.  I want to tell everyone every little detail.  I want everyone to get excited with me.

But…

Well, I’m only human.  And, though not necessarily superstitious, since nothing is necessarily for sure… Well, I kind of want to keep it to myself for a little bit and see how it grows.  Then, once it goes from being a potentially good thing to an actually good thing… then we can dance and celebrate.

What I can tell you is, with these potentially good things…  It’ll hopefully bring a very positive change and challenge.  Someone sought me out, thought I’d be a good match for an opportunity.  So today we met to talk about it.  More conversations will happen soon.   And then we’ll see what happens.

Beyond that, I also received an email about joining a start up, or rather a re-start up.  Not a full time gig, but enough really.  So I’m looking forward to hearing back from them and seeing in what capacity I’ll be helping out.

So good things are brewing.  And I’m excited.  I’m dealing with my heath — whether it’s endo or not.  And I’m trying to make steps towards something good.  I’m staying hopeful.  All those good vibes seem to be taking root.  Here’s to good things.  And not just my own.

I’m also thinking about some restructuring for this blog. Nothing too major, but well, it’s another good thing.

So last month I was admitted to the hospital.  A lot of pain, getting poked and prodded, more pain….  Since then I’ve had two follow up visits to my new OBGYN.  And then two days ago I found myself back in the ER.

All for the joys of being a woman.

Though we won’t know without surgery, that 2-centimeter abscess they found near my ovary is caused by endometriosis.  That fleshy lining that’s supposed to be on the inside of my uterus, well, some of that isn’t.  The endometrium formed that abscess.  And since I’m not pregnant and it cannot leave my body, it’s become irritated.  Thus the “I don’t want to be conscious” pain.

Endometriosis isn’t uncommon.  Some people don’t even have any pain (lucky bastards).  But it can cause cysts and scar tissues, which could lead to infertility problems.  Surgery is an option.  It’ll remove the abscess, which should lessen my pain quite a bit.  Birth control pills will also help.  Estrogen can make this problem worse — which means until menopause/both ovaries are removed, I could still have issues.

Because I’m currently uninsured, surgery isn’t really our first choice.  Right now it’s all about pain management.  Which means for a week or so every month I’m going to have to rely on strong pain killers to function.   I’m also on birth control.  Free samples of birth control.  My doctor has been really great about not ordering more tests than necessary, same with prescriptions.  (Each visit to the doctor is $150.  Each ultrasound is over $800, of that $300 is due that day.  Even with the “uninsured discount”, the bill for my 4-day stay is still scary.)

Having endo doesn’t necessarily scare me.  But it’s an added stress.  And the fact that his pain isn’t really going to go away on it’s own any time soon… that this is basically just a countdown until the next episode of pain… Well, it’s hard.  Beyond the medical treatment, I’m trying to establish an endo support group to help get me through this.

I’m so tremendously grateful for those who’ve helped me thus far.  From my family, friends, and even medical staff (my night nurse from my first visit, and especially my ER team from this week — all super, caring people)… I’ll get through this.  Slowly and surely, I’ll get through this.

Part of my grad school application process involves writing 300 words to five pages of what is known as a Statement of Purpose.  Basically it’s the school’s way of asking what the hell makes you so special that we should admit you.  (Okay, so they’re also wondering why you chose their school over the others…)

So. Why the hell do I want to be a writer?  Why do I am an MFA?  What do I want to accomplish?

Honestly… I’m not sure.  I love writing.  It’s a part of who I am — just like blogging, doodling, and eating cupcakes.  The problem is, writing is a part of the hundreds of other people all fighting for very limited spots at these institutions of higher learning.  Hundreds of other people trying to explain in limited pixel space why they are the shit and why they should be picked over everyone else.

I know that getting my MFA is important to me right now.  That my main goal is returning to the world of academia, networking and collaborating with other writers and artists, and taking large steps forward to whatever this direction is.  Whether it’s towards a small press, a community education center, or a life of writing…  … a continued passion for learning is the root of this.  And that’s what I have to go on — and to try to use to scrounge up enough words to impress the admissions committees.

What’s your statement of purpose?  What are you trying to accomplish?

There are days, when I just look around, soak it all in… and this wave runs over me….

I live in Chicago.

I love this city.  If I’m ever bored, it’s my own fault.  I don’t have to worry about the expense of a car — though, yes, it can be limiting…  But I live in Chicago.

I’m applying to a couple schools outside of the city, out of the state… It would be really hard to leave, but it would only be temporary… at most a trial separation…

…because right now I can’t get over how awesome it is that I live in Chicago.

So fall is coming.  Awesome.  It means tolerable weather, leaves changing, a wardrobe that includes more pockets.  One thing it hasn’t meant for the past 3 years is returning to school.

Yay, right?  Well, actually no.  Call me a nerd, but I love school.  Something about that academic setting makes my heart flutter and gets me all weak in the knees.  I wasn’t even a 4.0 student… not close.  But I love learning — I just can’t get enough.

So now that I’m entering this third year of educational hiatus… I’m getting twitchy.  It’s time to change this.  Working at the University helped.  I was still surrounded by all that research and stuff.  But it was an unfortunately unhealthy situation, and I had to get out.

My goal?  Grad school.

I know.  I know.  Haven’t we heard this before?  Record on repeat?  But I’m determined!  I’m going to get my act together.  The deadline for my first choice school is November 1.  I’m still looking at MFA in Creative Writing programs.  I might consider something else, but the (main) program I’m applying to is probably the closest to a perfect fit for me that I could ever dream of finding — AND it’s still in Chicago.

I have to go for it.  Even if it means bringing all my portfolio and application stuff to the bar with me for all those hours I end up spending there anyway.

I was always one of those kids who, for years, put “Puppy” on their birthday and Christmas lists.  I researched dog breeds, trying to convince my mom that I knew what I was getting into and that I’d find the perfect dog for us.

For my 14th birthday, my mom caved.  We went to the local animal rescue center and were overwhelmed by all the cuteness.  We found two that could have worked.  A small, probably beagle mix, who probably would have bee too hyper and too yippy.  Then there was a little guy with the tag “Cute 4″…. Just a little guy.  Lovable.  Quite.  He was the runt of his litter.  He was ours.

And that’s how Dexter, the little collie-lab-shepherd mix, became the newest addition of our family.

He was a great dog.  He developed pneumonia last month… The found water in his lungs later.  On July 27th — the day I went into the ER — Dexter passed.  He was 12.  He had a good life, despite the occasional seizure.  He was a good friend.  He’ll always be my little puppy.

I’ve been tip toeing around this for a little bit.  Not long, but still, tip toeing nonetheless.

I’m in a relationship.  Just sort of happened.

Okay.  So “relationship” might be a little much, but we are indeed dating — The Bartender and I.  It’s been a little more than a month of fun times.  I’m not exactly sure what we’d call this.  We haven’t discussed it.  But well.  I’ve done the “MINE.” to him… and he’s indeed announced that I was his girl.  (As in “stop hitting on my girl!” to one of his friends in the bar.)

There hasn’t been talk of exclusivity.  Previously our agreement was that by keeping it casual, we really didn’t want to know about anyone else the other person may or may not be seeing.  But well, as we hung out more and more… well, we’re growing on each other.  It’s been nice.  I’ve gone through too many cycles of: Rini likes boy.  Boy likes Rini.  Rini and Boy get all cute.  Things go to Shit.  Repeat.   … This has been a good change for me.

I don’t know where it’s going.  But I’m okay with that.  He treats me well.  So well.  And um… even though their is an age difference, we balance each other out well.  Just having someone get you. … But still have that bit of mystery… It’s hard to describe.  But really whatever this is… this feel right.  This is what we both need right now.  And I’m going to enjoy every moment of it.

He’s pretty super.  And I’m pretty happy.

Sometimes it’s all about perception.

I don’t necessarily have a common name*.  I mean, chances are I’m the only Erini that you know or know of.

However, I do indeed share the same first initial as my Lovely roomie.  I can sign a note as “E” if I want.  She’s more than intelligent enough to know that she didn’t write the note…  (But for some reason I still don’t…)

Also: Lovely’s boyfriend just happens to share the same name as the man I’m involved with (The Bartender).  We’ll just call them C — since that’s what Lovely uses.

So, when I glanced up at our kitchen calendar and saw “C visits”  (as well as “C leaves”) I had to pause a nanosecond to remember that it wasn’t referencing my C.  Then I giggled and wanted to come up with some reason to add my C to the calendar.  And then I giggled more because regardless, these guys are always “E’s C”….

Oh how I wait for the day when both of our Cs are in the apartment together.  My amusement is guaranteed.  But for now, time to stop calling him “my C” and return to using The Bartender.  (And in case you’re wondering, things are still going swimmingly**.)

*okay, not referring to my given name.
**who uses the word “swimmingly”?? more important: why the heck is it in my lexicon??