Friday, 01.19.2018 - 10:22 pm.
Hello from Houston. I just laid my head on a comfy bed, inside a huge bedroom with bathroom and walk-in closet just for me, and I thought "this is why I made this fucking trip!". Just to have a huge bedroom just for me, in a big nice house.
It's my birthday today, I'm 33 now. I spent the day traveling from my home country, with a layover in Mexico, and here I am now. In the Mexico City airport, I met an old friend and we had lunch together. I really appreciated that she came to the airport to see me. We met years ago because we're both writers. We share that we have only been paid once for our writing, and it was at that event that we met in person, although we'd been following each other for a while (I don't mean social media following, I mean reading). So we celebrated my being born and our friendship with beer and true Mexican food.
This past week at my home country was really nice, albeit a bit overwhelming sometimes, and it flew by. I got to see most people I'd planned on seeing, and the schedule was hectic even when I planned for it to be calm. I can't complain though. Most importantly, I spent quality time with my parents and siblings, collectively and also one-on-one; it was specially cool that one moment in which my four siblings and I shared an elevator after having breakfast at a coffeehouse. We celebrated my birthday, too. All that was emotionally fulfilling. Of course, emotional fulfillment brings on some weight gain. I could barely remember what was like to be hungry in those days.
I'm saving most of my musings on going back home for my newspaper column; they're mostly about how the city looks to me now. Oh, funny thing: I quit that column. I still have two or three to write (I guess! I didn't hear back from the editors and I stopped receiving my copy of the newspaper), but I mean, it's come full circle. I was in Houston, a year ago, when I took on the job. Now I'm here again, writing the last ones. I got tired of writing so much and not getting paid. I write a damn good column, but it was very taxing and I'm sick of doing it for free and not even getting feedback (where's my fan mail?).
Of note for this diary, I must report that among the people I met with back home, there were Lighthouse and CR. What a joy it was seeing them again. I met Lighthouse seven years ago, on my birthday too! That seemed at the time the worst day of my life: Joseph, my ex-boyfriend that I still couldn't believe was my ex, came to my house (and talked about how great is life was, although I was not in it anymore) with his friend CR, whom I'd met before. That night, CR introduced me to Lighthouse at a bar, and Lighthouse lent me Watchmen. Boy, those two changed my life.
This time around, they showed up to the apartment I was staying in, my Brother and SIL 1's. They came at night on Wednesday. I served them rum and cake, leftovers from my birthday celebration with my family, and gave them the souvenirs I got specially for them in the Red Light District in Amsterdam. It was CR's birthday, too. We caught up on stuff, I even came out to them as liking girls as much as I like boys, but I'm not sure if they registered it as bisexuality. They talked about a house they used and now lost because its owner came out from jail(!), and CR was fixated on Paul McCartney being dead.
When we said goodbye, CR put his arm around my waist, and he would have kissed my neck if it weren't for my hair. I liked that. I appreciate that they both always treated me like a friend and equal, even though I had the hots for Lighthouse at some point. And CR felt that way about me, I'm almost entirely sure. So we were friends but I guess that, given the chance, I would have gone for more, with either of them or, even better, both. Just...not at the same time. But again, I appreciate their friendship and the flirty but harmless affection. It's chilling that other guys, and I say this because I've known it's happened, would have taken advantage of the position I put myself in with them: we were always alone the three of us. I trusted them. And thankfully, they proved worthy of my trust.
I was hopeful that today, as birthday gift, I would hear from the novel contest, and that it would so happen that my novel won. I've been thinking about my novel lately, I really like it, and people, phrases and situations mentioned in it have been materializing in my life. That's probably what's made me hopeful about winning, even though I know it won't happen. For instance, as I was back in my country, I felt so popular and loved as one of the characters, to the point of being overwhelmed by others' attention or their demand of it. I can't help hoping. I guess I won't stop hoping until I see someone else's name as the winner.
I'm starting to get sleepy. I've been up since 4:45 am. It was, indeed, a happy birthday.
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