Disappointment

I had hoped to travel to Upstate New York to visit my sister--the other sister--the one barely mentioned on my blog because geography and a chasm of different experiences separate us. She invited me, along with my mother and a family friend, to come up to visit her in her apartment in NY next weekend, and it was really important to me to go. But, financial and time limitations make the trip impractical at best and irresponsible at worst. So, I had to call up my sister and break the news--over voicemail.

She called me back tonight to express her disappointment and to ask me why I can't make it. I just feel like I am destined to let that girl down in one way or another. She said she understood, and I believe that she does, but I don't know if she understands how much having a relationship with her is a priority to me. You wouldn't exactly know it by my actions, or the lack thereof.

I feel out of joint in general. My day of working at home was productive, and class tonight was fine (though a class member did get a bit testy during the critique of her poem), but I feel as though I'm at odds with my desires.

I talked to g yesterday--I called him just to check in, and it was the conversational equivalent of what I imagine awkward, rote sex would be like. You hit the mark, sort of, but at the end no one is particularly satisfied and you end wondering what the heck it was supposed to be about. Would it have been just as well to do a crossword or unclog the gutters?

He was somewhat distracted because he was trying to parallel park just when I rang him up, and I do give him credit for calling me back later when he wasn't in the middle of something to finish our conversation--but I realized (again) that we may have hit our ceiling here--or rather, I have hit mine. At the risk of being too predictable in my assessment, how different is this from Kafka's nightmare? Or, the "song that never ends"?

I'm not saying I don't want him in my life, but to what end is he there? I am somewhat relieved that I currently feel an active attraction to another man, but simultaneously defeated to think of it being just as unlikely to come to fruition as the one with the artiste (as he shall henceforth be known). Somebody stop this crazy thing!

I guess I just have to hurl myself off and hope for a not too harsh landing.