light of day

it's funny how the sun can change your perspective on things. it's almost like being a little kid sometimes: problems that loom so large and seem so unsurmountable in the dark of night become completely manageable in the daytime. i've noticed this time and again, and yet i still manage to fall victim to the night terrors.

which brings me to last night's panic attack. after some nudging - gentle and not-so-gentle - i realize that i would be a fool to turn down my dream because of short-term comfort concerns. i'm forever counseling people in tough positions to "rip off the band-aid"; to endure the intensity of brief pain, knowing that the relief that follows will be immense.

i was told once that i need to stop living for other people. that's true. and choosing the easy personal route would be one more choice made with other people's interests in mind. so i'm going to do what's best for me, despite the difficulties to come, and i know full good and well that the long-term future will be so much better for it.

this is it. don't get scared now.

conundrum

oh, freaking hell. and just like that, life gets complicated as anything again. basically, it breaks down like this. i have two scenarios from which to choose, both of which have good and bad points. the choice i make - and it must be made as soon as possible - will have serious repercussions on my future. not excessively self-reflective, i-think-they're-serious-but-they're-really-not repercussions, but the real deal. i literally have no idea what to do.

scenario #1
pros: i get to go home. i go back to my hometown, to an amazing grad program in my favorite place on earth. i get incredible, prestigious professional training.
cons: i have to move there as a married woman, putting a serious delay in my plans to be free.

scenario #2
pros: i get to be free. i get to live in a new city. i get pretty good professional training at a pretty well-respected grad program. i also get to do this without any restrictions on my personal life.
cons: i'd have to turn down the best program i got into to do this.

ugh. rational self-interest is my new watchword; i try to do the best possible thing for myself at all times these days. but there's a big problem here. what's best for me professionally and what's best for me personally are not the same here. i'd have to seriously undercut myself professionally to do the best thing personally. conversely, i'd have to seriously undercut myself personally to do the best thing professionally. this is the hardest choice i've ever had to make, and i have a matter of days to make it.

i know i said before that i was going to start relying on myself more often. but this one's too big for me. i'm opening the floor for advice. what would you do? no promises that i'll actually do what the consensus suggests, but i definitely need some input here. i've never been this lost in my life. help!

sunshine

i spend a lot of time on this blog fussing, whining, sorting out drama and picking my life apart. but today is just not that kind of day. there's far too much to be happy about today: two classes cancelled/excused; several hours of (gasp!) down time; a trip out of town to look forward to; and tons upon tons of glorious, amazing spring sunshine.

i have what i personally describe as reverse seasonal affective disorder. i don't get super-bummed in the winter, although i am a little draggy. what happens to me is that when it starts getting warm and sunny, i get a big jolt of endorphins the second the sun hits my skin. it is INSTANTANEOUS. i walked outside today to throw something in the dumpster, for god's sake, and i was struck with the urge to run around in the grass like a five-year-old kid. it is so nice.

so i sit here with my window open, smelling the spring-scented air, staring at the green trees and soaking in every single drop of beautiful weather that i can get to. i have no complaints today. the only thing i could want more than what i have right now is for this afternoon to last a few hours longer than it will...

smoke

you keep saying the past is not dead
well, stop and smell the smoke
you keep on saying the past is not even past
and you keep saying
we are smoke, smoke, smoke...
- "smoke," ben folds five

i've spent the last few days just steeped to the gills in blasts from my past, some welcome, some uncomfortable. i spent a few terrifying hours trying to keep drunk people from getting into worse states than they were already in, with varying degrees of success. (only a little blood was spilled. i consider that a win.) i went to the wedding of a dearly-beloved ex, finding people i hadn't seen in two-plus decades at the same event. and i had a mini-reunion of sorts with some wonderful college friends on a random night in the law-school town.

all this got me thinking about the past. i do that a lot. but really, it's funny. i've found that reconnecting with the people who knew me before i tied myself down and quashed my ambitions restores me and satisfies me in ways i never anticipated. but meeting up with the people who knew me in the middle of that, through no fault of their own, just remind me of how different i made myself in furtherance of a goal that really should never have been a goal in the first place. it's painful, and it's annoying.

so it's not that the past is dead, nor that it should be. i love my friends. but the past i'd like to revisit and reconnect with is the past in which i was truer to myself, before i stopped caring about myself, before i did what others wanted. as for the other past, when i was someone other than myself? yeah. that's smoke.

changing the mood... [TRUE STORY]

OK, so after the heavy dose of venom last time, i've decided to be silly here. i took these questions from mannland 5 (via the daily dose of reality). here we go...

1 - Why did you start blogging?
i started blogging to take some thoughts i'd been having about my life and extrapolate them to their logical extremes (and beyond, in some cases).

2 - Who's the one blog friend that you would want to meet most in "real life"?
ooh, tough one - they're all so amazing! if i had to pick, i'd say the foggy dew. really, though, i'd like to meet everyone i read. interesting, smart people all.

3 - Why are you always concerned with losing that "extra 10 pounds" when chances are your husband/boyfriend/friends tell you that you look just fine the way you are?
haha. funny you should mention that; i was just thinking about weight loss and appearance. in my case, there's an element of schadenfreude at work here. i'd always been a big girl. now that i'm not so big anymore, i feel like the skinnier i get (and the more attention i get because of it), the more i can drive the demons of the old days away. within reason, of course.

4 - What's the one thing you wish guys could understand about you?
a sincere compliment, a hug and a good joke will carry you SO far with me.

5 - Tattoos. How many do you have and how many are visible when you wear your "everyday" clothes?
as of this moment, 1 - not visible with everyday clothes. soon to be two, though; my "if the saints win the super bowl" thing was a fleur-de-lis tattoo somewhere.

6 - What was the best year of your life and why?
hmm. 1998 was an amazing year for a lot of reasons (high-school graduation, starting college, a couple of good relationships). it remains to be seen if 2010 will top it, though. so far, so good. the 2009-10 academic year has probably been the best academic year of my life.

7 - Name three things you would do if you were a man for one day.
1) go to the mechanic's, just to see if there's any difference in treatment
2) attend a formal in a tux (i'm so tired of dates bitching about how uncomfortable they are, as i stand there in a dress, heels and freaking pantyhose)
3) try to get laid :)

8 - What's your alcoholic drink of choice that usually raises a few eyebrows?
no doubt, it's the monsoon. (thanks, three years of living in louisiana!) we call it "drunk in a cup." light rum, dark rum, pineapple juice, grenadine and sour mix. oh, so yummy.

postpartum

i run a big volunteer program at my law school. well, ran, anyway - it ended today. i've been planning this project all year long, and with a rush of excited activity, we wrapped it tonight. i have amazing lieutenants in this endeavor, and we did one hell of a job. happy customers, happy administration, and a very satisfied feeling for me.

but.

yeah, there's always a but, isn't there? i've done this program every year of law school, with ever-increasing responsibility. the whole show was mine this year. and now, it's over. just like that. i just don't know what to do with myself at this point. i'm a little sad, to be honest. i mean, now what am i going to do? (i mean, besides study and drink, like i usually do.) it's such a weird thing, especially with the realization that it's a mere six weeks until i move away. six. weeks. i am so happy to get out on my own that i could scream... but there's that weird feeling of let-down that goes with it.

it's all coming to an end. no matter how great that feels, there's something... sad, i guess, too. nothing's ever simple.

god

[in all seriousness, if you've got faith in a higher power and don't like it when people don't, i'd tread lightly here if i were you. i'm going to say things that will make you unhappy.]

many people are raised into religion. i wasn't really. i mean, i was baptized into the presbyterian faith, but it never really took, i guess. in fact, one of the many ways i tried to shoehorn myself into whatever image i thought would suit my relationship was to pretend to be a serious christian. i mean, i allowed myself to be married in a christian ceremony when i knew full good and well how little i believed in the words i was saying.

when i lost my mother, i cursed the very nature of her life on this earth. i mean, what kind of existence did she have? she was wracked by debilitating mental illness for her ENTIRE LIFE. nothing eased it, and the only relief she ever had from the static in her head came from chemicals. what kind of just and loving god would allow that? foolishness. there's no such thing as noble, redemptive suffering. i've been on that rant before. but seriously, if there's a god who would allow that kind of pain to happen and sit back and do nothing, especially if he's supposedly so all-fired concerned with every last little detail of how we live, then i want no part of that death-cult, thanks.

so i guess you could call me an enemy of religion. i don't pretend to know what the afterlife holds. that's kind of my point: i am just not arrogant enough to presume that some book of fairy stories written hundreds of years after the events were supposed to have happened is the straight-up script to success after death. nope. but even feeling that way, i used to have a live-and-let-live attitude about religion. none for me, thanks, but do what you want to do (as long as you leave me alone about it). however, in light of recent events in my life, i've moved from a detente position about living your life by some god's supposed will to an all-out war. and no, i will not be nice anymore.

my family is chocked to the gills with deep believers in a charismatic form of christianity. who knows how this happened? not me. but sure enough, they're all reeeeeeally into the whole jesus thing. my little cousins were raised on it, and somehow most of them got out OK, except for one. this girl has been tested since birth. she was born with serious health problems. by the time she was 5, she'd had surgeries that numbered in the double digits. and instead of being normal about it and treating her like a real kid, my family decided to carry her around on a little satin pillow and tell her how fragile she is. how special she is. give her all manner of special treatment, often to the detriment of her own siblings and cousins. it was abundantly clear who the favorite was in our family.

but the worst thing they did to her was the two-pronged attack on any chance she had to be a deep thinker: they filled her head with jesus, and they told her she was going to die. therefore, what we got was a kid with no direction, no intellect, and no drive. oh yeah - and since she was so steeped in christian mysticism, to put it kindly, she had no faith (ha ha) in what her doctors said, especially the part about "hey, you'd better never get pregnant, because you, the kid or both could die."

i think you know what happened next. the girl turned up pregnant by her affable-but-worthless fiance. the doctors told her, "hey, now that you disobeyed us and got pregnant, you need to end this pregnancy. it's almost a given that you, the kid or both could die." her own FATHER told her to do it. but no, that's not what god would want. the "baby" (at this time, a three-week-old clump of cells with no human identity) has a heartbeat, because that's what church told her! so the girl has basically stumbled upon a novel way to commit both suicide and homicide by refusing to put aside the dangerously irrational religious toxin to SAVE HER OWN GODDAMNED LIFE.

so my cousin is most likely going to die in six months. her kid might die too. and for what? religion. the toxic mind-rot that is charismatic religion. and when this tragedy unfolds, my grandparents and my aunt will talk about god's great plan. and i will look them in the face and say, "the blood is on your hands. YOU. DID. THIS. you killed her with your insane refusal to live in this world and your addle-brained insistence on concentrating on the next. sleep well."

killer god. killer fucking god. there's no goddamned sky-daddy; there's just this cancerous poison rotting the minds of people all over the world. the opiate of the masses? hardly. opiates at least numb the nerves. religion doesn't even promise happiness, unless you count the faux-orgasmic state of mind of "gifts of the spirit." it's a mind-fuck. that's all it is. from my cousin, to the thousands lost on september 11, to every american soldier who meets a taliban IED, to every gay teenager who slits his wrists because the church told him he was damned, it's the biggest shame of human life. religion breeds death.

hold your own

i remember the first time someone hinted to me that my ambitious nature might be anything less than completely desirable. i was talking to the mother of an old boyfriend about my life and how i'd gotten where i was at that time. it was a pretty, if i do say so myself, impressive course to have charted: on my own, full-time college student, two jobs and a robust social life. i made above-average grades and pretty much did as i pleased.

"wow," this woman said to me. "you're so... independent."

her tone was so strange that it stopped me dead in my tracks. i mean, isn't that the goal of growing up - to become an actual, real, independent adult who can fend for herself? it was the first instance i'd ever encountered of how jealous, petty people will do anything they can to thwart people who can see the road and walk down it with confidence.

growing up, i prided myself on being able to hold my own without a lot of help or guidance. i've lost track of that ambition, that will to succeed, a time or two over the years. some of my choices have suffered. but a few years ago, the scales fell from my eyes, and i started to see that (despite the stumbles) i could still have the smart, tough and exciting life i'd always wanted. it was just a matter of putting my head down and going to it. so i did. i sit here now at the end of one degree, with one more to go, ready to cut ties with my repressive and limiting choices and charge forth into the future of MY OWN DETERMINATION. i follow no rules but my own. as one story winds down, this one picks up, and it's far more exciting to me to see where this one goes...

one shining moment

on my way to the airport yesterday, i heard the local traffic reporter recounting the end of the michigan state-maryland game. lucious drains the 3, and just like that, a maryland victory turns into a crushing defeat. that's the nature of sports like basketball; one quick shot and the whole thing can change.

every so often, that sort of thing happens in other arenas too. you go through a situation thinking things are a certain way, and then POW - the entire game is changed. sometimes this is bad, and it leads to disaster, like if you're greivis vasquez and the rest of the maryland terrapins. but other times, you're tom izzo and the spartans, and the sudden change is the best thing you've ever felt in your life. that's where i sit today. never saw it coming, either...

here's a lesson for you: if you're confused about something that involves another person, it's really best to just talk it out. i took the initiative to pour my heart and soul out this weekend, and the clouds were lifted. things i thought were complex and potentially painful turned out to be crystal clear and completely perfect. perhaps you're seeking details of this. eh, not this time. some things a girl keeps to herself.

but as for results? well, that's easy. the playing field has cleared considerably. "contestant #3," while still incredibly beautiful, is off the board. the ball and chain? that's resolved as of the end of this year. and the other boy? well, all i'll say about that is that i have some incredible people in my life. one shining moment? yeah, you could say that.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

this kinda sounds like the end of a story, doesn't it? well, in some respects, it is. this particular flight of fancy has run its course. oh, but don't worry; there'll be more tales to tell, more adventures to have, and more characters to cross my path. stay tuned...

thirteen

so alex chilton died today. it's always sad when someone talented leaves the world, especially someone who can write song lyrics the way he could. the way the man could wield simplicity always cuts me to the bone. he wrote what is possibly my favorite mushy love song, and one that's sadly become kind of mainstream, "thirteen."

on its face, it looks like a sweet little ballad about teenage love. "won't you let me walk you home from school? won't you let me meet you at the pool?" awww. it's about eighth-graders being awkward and halting around each other. even the music, a simple acoustic chord progression, is simple, charming and almost hesitant. but by the last verse, the concept takes a remarkably mature and resonant turn...

won't you tell me what you're thinking of?
would you be an outlaw for my love?
if it's so, then let me know
if it's no, then i can go
i won't make you

simply perfect. obviously, this can be read a number of ways, like something as simple as making out in the back of a car when you're, well, thirteen. it could also describe something secret, something forbidden, something that requires a leap of faith that a lot of people wouldn't accept or be willing to make. that's the reading that resonates the most with me. i mean, hell, i'm becoming the master of the secret and forbidden.

this is the deal i made with the other boy: be an outlaw for my love. i won't make you, but that's what i'm offering. i undoubtedly took advantage of him; the stage was set, the circumstances were perfect, and i knew what he was thinking. i knew resistance would be token at best. but the setup was risky from the start, and i made it clear that he never had to give more than he felt comfortable giving. this frustrates me. i've set myself up for confusion and discomfort by granting him all the freedom here. but that was the way this would work best. and sure enough, he's been willing and able to break the rules with me. it comes with conditions, but it's still there. in his way, he let me know.

truly gifted songwriters can wind a lyric so tightly around your heart that you're simultaneously grateful and overwhelmed by the power of the emotion. that's what alex chilton did for me with "thirteen," and that sort of contribution is worth noting.

writer of fictions [TRUE STORY]

[note: when i bracket "true story" in a title, you can take every word of the post to the bank. sometimes it's fun to pull the mask off, eh?]

i've been a writer since i first learned how to form words with one of those big fat little-kid pencils. i've found "stories" that i wrote on penmanship tablet paper in 1986, largely concerned with dogs and adventures. i've never been an essayist, really; my one true artistic love has been fiction. writing stories is perhaps the only place in this world where i can sort out the static in my head, look at things i will only ever imagine, and extrapolate small impulses to their logical extremes, and sometimes beyond.

therapy, i'm sure, works for a lot of people. been there, tried that, and have SO moved on. my problem with therapy is that there's no real exploration. it's a pretty reductive process: "this happened." "what did you think/feel about it?" "i felt X." "why?" ad nauseam. that is not helpful to me. i am the kind of woman who needs to vent. i am also, despite law school's best efforts to break me of this habit, a highly imagination-driven person. i need to tear things apart, look at the reality, and take that next step into the surreality.

so you hold in your virtual hands, by and large, the internet version of a lifelong process for me. these little stories, these flights of fancy, these midsummer night's dreams all have roots in my heart, my mind and my soul. but they truly live in my imagination, the most vibrant and important part of my psyche. there's a kernel of truth in everything i say. how much of that kernel makes it to the page, however, well... let's just let that be my little secret, OK?

song cues

sometimes i swear the universe is speaking to me through my ipod. today has been a bizarre head-state day, and the music i listened to accidentally fed right into all of that. earlier today, i was out running errands and stewing about the other boy. i get like that with him sometimes; it really gets to me that things are so... unsettled, i guess, between us. anyway, as i'm grumbling over the weirdness, these lyrics come through my speakers:

baby, i compare you to a kiss from a rose on the gray
ooh, the more i get of you, the stranger it feels, yeah...
there is so much a man could tell you
so much he could say
you remain my power, my pleasure, my pain
baby, to me you're like a growing addiction that i can't deny
won't you tell me, is that healthy, baby?

gaah. there's nothing like a middle-of-the-road pop song from the second-worst batman movie to reinforce everything you're feeling. it's painful because it's spot-on and doubly painful because it's so freaking cliche. but that cut me straight to the bone. after a fashion, the other boy is my power, my pleasure and my pain. he validates me in ways i can't describe. he does things to me that i can't replace. and he hurts me more than anyone else on this earth. i am addicted to this, too; i can't fathom letting this go, no matter how destructive it feels.

but the moment, as these things do, passed. the day went on, and i went to spend some face time with friends. we had a real purpose for being there, but no small part of the reason i'm involved with this crew is that it gives me an excuse to hang out with my newest infatuation, contestant #3. oh, my lord, this boy is BEAUTIFUL. there's no other way to describe him. he's brilliant, shrewd and just magnetically attractive. some guys just have this... pull. i am powerless to resist lusting after him. we've been locked in what seems like a mutual flirtation for weeks now, and he's got me feeling like a freaking twelve-year-old girl all over again. after two and a half hours of trying to play it cool (and hoping to all things holy that i got my message across without being obvious), i got in the car to drive home. the ol' ipod was at it again:

you wear sandals in the snow
and a smile that won't wash away...
you're so beautiful with an edge and charm
and you're so careful when i'm in your arms
'cause you're working
building a mystery...

(it helps to know that contestant #3 wears flip-flops everywhere he goes. it's another thing i adore about him.) this boy is always smiling, but it seems like there's so much more to him. he almost feels dangerous, in a way; it's the kind of thing where i sense trouble, but i almost don't care. i mean, hell; i'm only going to be in this state for another two months, tops. why not have some fun? damn the consequences, full speed ahead.

these narrative threads are about to get seriously tangled, too; both the other boy and contestant #3 factor prominently into my weekend plans. a bunch of us are traveling to the homestead this friday for a school function. the other boy will be my friday night entertainment, then i will wake up saturday morning to spend the day with contestant #3 and our mutual friends. the day with the school crew will culminate with a bar run, and frankly, i have evil, evil plans, if the heavens align properly. then sunday, i have a brunch date with my other big brother, who is as tight with the other boy as he is with me.

oh yes - my life is drama. there will be a LOT to think about come sunday afternoon.

being a heathen, i don't do the whole "signs from above" thing. but on days like today, it's really hard to keep it rational when there are omens all around me. coincidence? i wish so...

respite

the weight of my life is heavy. i have many demands on my time and my sanity. much of this is self-inflicted: the academic life i've chosen comes with a lot of responsibility, and my personal life is certainly not something that was forced on me. but even though i do all of this of my own volition, the stress still builds until it's next to impossible to take.

that's why the warm early-spring sunshine that spread throughout the southeast friday afternoon made up my mind for me. yes, it was a beach-going weekend. so, with the ball and chain in tow, i got a weekend in my homeland to recharge, regroup and reconnect with a few people i care about. and man, was it amazing. forty-eight hours of cocktails, sunshine and socializing. it was exactly what i needed. yeah, i'm still enervated about a number of things, and yeah, my emotional health could be better. but there is almost nothing in my life that can't be cured by a day in the sun, drinking rum drinks and listening to the waves hit the shore. my decolletage is now an interesting shade of reddish-pink, my laundry is unfolded and my schoolwork is largely undone, but my soul is basically at ease for now. i'm now ready to face the world again.

i needed that.

ma'am

of all the milestones to happen tonight. it's one i hadn't thought about until it happened, too, which is totally rare for me. usually i'm the one who remembers EVERYTHING. for example, "oh yeah, that was prom senior year. you went with so-and-so, and she wore that blue dress, and you jumped the curb leaving the restaurant..." meanwhile, the person to whom i'm telling this story, who double-dated with me, is staring at me like i'm speaking esperanto.

but tonight it's official: i've known the other boy for half my life. the mock-congress kids were at school tonight, using all our classrooms, running around and being teenagers. [shudder] they were sweet enough, and they reminded me of when the other boy and i were mock-congress kids. that's how we met, after all. but that was a decade and a half ago. the advisors at this event were younger than me. and every single kid i saw called me "ma'am."

oh, sweet lord. i like to think of myself as young. i still feel pretty young. but it's becoming increasingly apparent that while young may be a state of mind, it's an illusory state of mind. i am almost thirty. i am "ma'am." and the time i have to misspend on ridiculous things that drain me is limited, getting more limited every day. this whole other-boy thing just shows me that it's time, NOW, to go after what i want. the world has turned and left me here. best not waste another second.

[blush] [TRUE STORY]

well, how 'bout this; i got myself a blogging award!



thanks to 'bama on the brain for thinking of me. she really came through for me tonight; i needed a little validation. the rules of this award are simple - i have to tell you all a few things about me, then i pay it forward. done and done. in the spirit of the award, my caveat is suspended; the four things below are all 100% true, no fictional spin.

1. i feel it is every woman's duty to be at least somewhat technologically self-sufficient. it's 2010, and knowing how to run your wireless network is this generation's version of being a girl who knows a little about cars.

2. i need to feel necessary in order to be happy. i am in my element when people come to me for answers.

3. i love living in louisiana more than i let on.

4. my celebrity crushes: anthony bourdain, henry rollins, keith olbermann. opinionated men all.

now, for the pay-it-forward part. here are just a few of the blogs i think deserve some recognition:

are you there youth? it's me, nikki. hilarious perspective on the classic young-adult fiction of our generation. a must-read.

not that kind of girl. a fun, gutsy experiment: breaking out of patterns and doing things that defy your usual attitudes. how can you go wrong?

hannah, just breathe... trenchant analysis of life, all framed around a yoga practice. she always gives me something to think about.

hope y'all get a kick out of this award the same way i did!

parenthesis

there's always an element of danger when involved with multiple people at the same time. some of that came to a head last night when i went to a movie with the other boy and some of his friends. the movie in question was "up in the air," which will be up for best picture in mere hours from the publishing of this blog post. at any rate, i saw it a few months ago with the ball and chain and one of his townie friends. i really dug the basic point/thesis of the film, which was essentially that (in my mind anyway) the only certainty in this world is the certainty that you provide yourself. my personal theory of life validated in a major motion picture? who can argue with that?

yeah, so yesterday i saw "up in the air" with the other boy, and gaah, can i tell you how distressing that was? seriously. i never thought of the ramifications of this, but it dawned on me that i am essentially alex in that movie. i mean, i am the one seeking escape from the ball and chain with the other boy, who's the self-possessed man on the move. i sat between him and one of his friends watching that movie last night, and seriously, it was all i could do to keep from hyper-freaking-ventilating during those scenes.

a lot has dawned on me in the last 48 hours. i am a power-mad, selfish person who seeks nothing but comfort and escape from the ball and chain with the other boy. friday night, i laid in his bed, went down on him, and all i could think while i did it was, "yeah, that's right; i want you to get everything possible out of this, and i want you to know who did this for you." it was all about power over him. it occurred to me in flagrante delicto that the whole thing had ceased to be about him enjoying himself and ALL about me being the one who could bring him to his knees with sexual desire. i found myself thinking, "yeah. you know who's doing this for you. i own you right now."

does that make him a parenthesis? am i seriously that callous? do i use this boy, someone i've loved for so long as a good friend, as nothing more than a diversion? god, i don't know. all i know is the following: a) he's someone i care very deeply for; b) this is such a good diversion from my regular, torturous life; and c) there are few things in this life that bring me more simple happiness than his arms around me as the sun comes up and we both doze after a night together.

how evil does that make me? i don't know. i don't think i care. i just know one thing: i had better just be careful with the one who helps me get a break from my torturous life. he's way more than a parenthesis, an escape; this is someone who loves me in his way as much as i love him in my way. i just hope to god i can keep his feelings in mind as this evolves.

posters

i bought myself some nice posters when my student loans came through this semester. y'know, grown-up art-type posters, the kind that have to be framed. i picked them up from the framer today, and they are lovely. (seriously, you should check this guy out.) but as i looked at them, i realized that for as mysterious and circumspect as i think i am, i am about as opaque as glass.

the pictures i chose all have themes. "teach me something." "how long can we do this?" and the most transparent of all: "she loves him more than anybody. i don't think he cares." could the connections to the other boy be more obvious? it's a good thing for me that the ball and chain has no sense of how deep my disaffection runs. (he would also never dream that i could ever be as evil as i actually am in the parameters of our relationship, so that helps.)

i try so hard to be discreet. i try to be aloof. hell, there's a reason why everyone's identities are so couched around here. but at the end of the day, i am who i am, and i'm a woman who wears her heart on her sleeve. it's funny; part of my affinity with the other boy is my admiration for the way he handles his emotional life. he is always in control, always on top of things. he handles his business, one foot in front of the other, no matter what's going on inside. he doesn't feel the need to talk about it. ever. (in fact, he will actively avoid these conversations - it's only our long history, and my persistence, that has led to the maybe ten times he's shared deep emotional stuff with me.) i wish i could be even a tiny bit like that. but my emotions spill over the sides and splash everywhere. i am an open book, right down to the posters on my wall.

makes living a double life a dangerous proposition indeed...

cabinet

maybe other people don't do this, but when i have an important decision to make, i like to convene what i call my "cabinet." i stole that terminology from the shrink i saw last year (that's another rant for another time), but it's pretty spot-on. i have a small retinue of close friends who fit this label, and i run anything vital past them. i tell them what i think i want to do, then i ask them to weigh in. pros, cons, etc.; it's basically a board of directors for my life.

or it was, anyway. as i get older, it's slowly dawned on me that, while my friends have given me great advice, this is no way to live a fully adult life. first and foremost, they don't always tell the unvarnished truth. on three separate occasions over the last two years, i've had to say, "i asked you this question because i want an honest answer." they were basically undoing the purpose of the questioning and discussion: they were holding back uncomfortable criticisms from me.

nowhere has this been more obvious than in the long and stupid saga of my marriage. apparently, as i blissfully hurtled towards the altar, the people who know me best in this world were talking to each other, and all they could say was how insane i was for doing this. not once, however, did anyone say anything to me. the closest anyone came to questioning me in my rational decision-making skills was my father, and his entire treatise on the matter was something to the effect of "why don't you just shack up?" not exactly a statement that will cause serious reflection.

now, as i stare down the end of this boondoggle, i find out that everyone felt this way. i asked my best friend, "why didn't somebody say something to me?" the response was, "well, would you have listened?" a fair point; i probably wouldn't have. but then again, i don't know about that. i have always trusted so much in what my brilliant friends have said about my life. i can't say for sure that this situation would've been any different. there's no way to know, but i never had the chance to find out.

so these days, i tend to follow the unitary executive model of decision-making. not that i don't trust and love my friends, mind you. they're still wonderful people with interesting perspective, more than willing to support me. but i choose to let them support decisions i make on my own now. they're still on my team, but it's clear now that i am the star.

suffer the children

over the last two years in particular, i've noticed a certain feeling that comes over me when i'm being tested. the physical sensation that comes over me is much like a wall going up around my heart. the thought that crosses my mind is, "why the hell should i be put through such agony?" i have never understood why people take all the lumps of life without pushing against them. do people expect misery as a part of life?

and lo, here came this blog post. the myth of redemptive suffering. i've beaten this horse a time or two already on this blog. i have always chalked a lot of our society's problems in general to this idea that misery is necessary to reach some kind of higher achievement in this life (and the next). for so many reasons, i don't go for that idea.

one of the quotes that hit me where i live is, "atheists have only their own, ongoing concept of decent behavior to get them through the hard times: suffering need have no cosmic meaning for a decent person to know that the only proper moral response is to try to ease the pain. ... our only ethical injunction is to cause as little suffering as possible and to try to alleviate it when and where we find it." so true, and i'm so good at that... except when it comes to my personal life.

suffering. yeah, that's pretty much where i am all the time. i work hard to keep the facade up, but it hurts. it hurts to be stuck. it hurts to hurt him. it hurts to not be able to do what i want. i don't understand this, and i know there's nothing i can do. but it's not noble, it's not good, and "my reward is not in the next world." the hurt i'm going through, temporary though (i hope to all things on this earth) it is, will not gain me anything. and yet here it is. suffering makes NO SENSE. but it's part of life. all i can do is persevere.

testing, 1, 2, me

oh, the woes of having to contend with others. the others, they mean well. i know they do. these are ostensibly smart people; for god's sake, they all got into law school. but why, oh why, oh WHY can't people just READ THE WHOLE E-MAIL before asking questions?

this is the major problem i have with being in positions of authority. i can't stand it when people ask me questions that (to me, anyway) have obvious answers. and i HATE repeating myself. oh, my lord, do i hate it. i expect people to listen when i talk, especially if they ask the question to which i am responding. i listen carefully, ask questions during the initial discussion of whatever's going on, then i go off and do it. if something comes up in the course of the event or project, i will at least try to figure out what's wrong before i go ask someone another question. maybe that's why i hate it when people don't do the same for me.

i am radically impatient, and i do not suffer fools well. sadly for me, my definition of "fools" is pretty damn broad as well. needless to say, my irritation gauge is pretty well spiked on a daily basis. i'm working on being more patient, on letting go of more, and generally on trying to be more tranquil. the path of the sanguine woman, though, is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the stupid and the tyranny of annoying people. it's my responsibility to stay on the straight and narrow without going all clock-tower-rifle-y on people. most days, this is easy. some days, however, the others test me. these are the days when i have to put my game face on. breathe in, breathe out - don't maim.