cocktail

[i write this with not a small dose of restraint today. if i'm not careful, i'll spray excess words all over the internet, things written in the heat of passion that aren't what i mean to say. so with that caveat in mind, let's proceed.]

he's in country now, i assume. funny how having him so far away, behind the wall of developing-world technology that may as well erase him from existence while he's gone, brings up nothing but all the things that annoy, that chafe, that tighten my chest about us. i hate this. i hate that he's there. i hate all the preparation that had to go into it - vaccinations, prescriptions, neurotoxic insect repellents, ad infinitum, ad astram, ad nauseam. i hate that he chose a career that will undoubtedly lead to this sort of situation time and time again. but i hate this feeling, this vacuum into which neurotoxins of my own have flooded, one thousand times worse.

i grow petulant in his absence. i think of problems, conflicts, bad habits and supposed slights. i gain a desire to maim, to wound, to slash. someday, you will ache like i ache. when wounded, and i am more wounded than i care to contemplate, i bite. i am the girl with the thorn in her side, festering, stabbing, throbbing and blocking out all of my logic with a miasma of insanely-pitched agony. if i don't watch this cocktail of emotions, i'll cause problems. and it's not even like i can tell him about it. like i said, for the next few days, he's essentially a figment of my tortured, twisted imagination. even if i could talk to him, i am reasonably certain that what i would say would violate the i need you to not freak out directive.

so i have dealt with my angered, injured nerves the best way i know how: i have vacated the premises for several days of swirling, louche distraction. i'm doing what all good degenerates do. i will solve my problems by getting righteously, indignantly, starkly drunk, tearing up the bars of my louisiana homeland with the band of sisters i built in law school, while i shredded an old life that didn't fit in preparation for this one. (be careful what you wish for?) i will drink the memory into oblivion, soothing this monster of a feeling through temporary chemically-induced analgesia. i will do what i do best.

i will ignore it.

we'll see how long i can sustain this, replacing a figurative cocktail with a literal cocktail, distracting and deluding myself into pretending i'm fine. i will not freak out. i will be the very model of a modern major depressive, at least one who can cope. and he will be proud of me when he comes back from his parallel universe. my apparent bravery in the face of a situation i could not control will give him faith in me. (unless he deigns to read this blog, i guess; if he does, the cover will totally be blown.) and that, my friends, will be my victory.

here's hoping i make it that long.

the misanthropy bowl

by now, the whole OMG, the computer beat the smart humans at jeopardy! thing has been beaten into the ground. everyone's got a theory or an opinion. i think the computer's amazing, don't get me wrong. but i noticed a very distinct set of responses to this that triggered a hmm moment with me.

the tech boys (and probably girls - i just didn't see any) out there were all REALLY, REALLY eager to see that computer just WAX the people. i mean, there was a level of frenzy i read and observed out in the tech world to see the humans get beaten down like rented mules. lord knows that the tech boys in my personal life were all about some computer overlord. they were dying for watson to turn around and start in with the ezekiel 25:17 scene from pulp fiction: and you will KNOW! my name is THE LORD! when i LAY my vengeance upon you. [hail of gunfire] well, in watson's case, it'd probably be lasers or something like that, but the point still stands.

and heaven forfend that the reaction you have didn't rise to that level of eagerness. the man and i spent easily 25 minutes going around and around in circles last night because the facet of the experience that i chose to mention was the onslaught of IBM branding that permeated the entire 90 minutes of television. my position was that the company saturated all three shows with corporate branding. his position was that noticing anything other than the majesty of the technology diminished that majesty. well, i'm sorry; i can offer no statement as to that majesty besides, holy hell, that's cool. i don't live the technological life, a life that is as cloistered as they come. i know more about computers than most, but i am a dilettante, and i always will be. the boys tease me about there being a "moat" around their tech-world. it's a joke, but they're more right than they think. i'm a lawyer. i notice details. and the detail i passed comment on was the branding aspect. that triggered a reaction that was so forceful in its vehemence that it left me defensive and confused.

it seems like the man's reaction was the very mild end of a continuum of the tech-boy response that has led me to dub the whole operation "the misanthropy bowl." it's the clearest and most accessible example of technology's supposed supremacy to humanity that we've seen short of science fiction. and though the machine that constituted watson was dismantled shortly after the shows were taped, the way it works could potentially change the way we look at the world. i think this is awesome, and it'll make people's lives easier. some people, i think, look at this and see a way to subordinate people to the clean, logical mastery that technology brings. well, no thank you. i am often frustrated with people, to say the least. we can be stupid, bigoted, beastly, fatuous, illogical, messy, and all that. but that doesn't mean that i don't think we're also, as a rule, funny, warm, brilliant, open and capable of amazing things. y'know, like inventing technologies like watson. without people, there IS no technology. some among us would do well to remember that.

toy mogul

my mother's nickname for the man, coined when we were kids, was "the toy mogul." she came up with this after one night at my house. his mom drove him over to eat spaghetti and hang out, things that were a lot less fun to do once everyone got cars and driver's licenses. he had some kind of tech toy with him, i can't remember what at this point. 'course, this was the mid-1990s, long before it was commonplace to have a bag in which you carry a computer, an e-book reader, a smartphone and a music player. (or maybe that's just me.) my mother was amused, just tickled to no end, by the man's deep love for all things technological.

the next day, she said to me, you know, i'm glad you got to be friends with that toy mogul.
[eye-roll] mother, whatever do you mean by that?
that kid is brilliant, and he loves those gadgets of his, doesn't he?
why yes, i suppose he does.
i thought so. keep him around. you won't be sorry.

my mother was prescient, it turns out. and nothing has changed. a decade and a half later, the man is still a toy mogul. he was just before his time; nowadays, we all are. i damn near bought an ipad last night, just because of its usefulness. of all people, the man talked me out of it... but only because there's going to be a new one coming out soon. buy it then; it'll be much better. but he was the one who was in touch with this long before. he owned a newton, for god's sake.

i find it the height of amusing that my mom saw all of this coming. she saw his innovation, his love of the new and high-tech. (this has been driven home HARD during the computer-loving glee that has been the misanthropy bowl on jeopardy. more on this tomorrow.) something about that struck her, and she thought enough of it to make a comment to her surly, sarcastic, snappish teenage daughter. and y'know, his technological affinity, which translates into his highly logical frame of mind, is one of my favorite things about him. my toy mogul, then, now and forever.

different drum

generally, if culture tells me anything, when you're in a new relationship, you're supposed to go ALL OUT for romantic occasions like, say, yesterday. the man's roommate sure did for his girlfriend: there was a whole weekend, complete with gifts and all that. tons of people i know had dates, with everything that entailed.

what did i do? i went to ballet class. after class, the man drove up to the dance school in northwest DC and picked me up. we got takeout and watched TV (including the jeopardy misanthropy bowl - more on this another time), him in jeans and a t-shirt, me in a leotard, tights and cut-off sweatpants. we then went to bed and watched iron chef, arms around each other. i mean, you'd think we'd been married twenty-five years with as "special" and "romantic" as it was.

but see, that's the thing - it worked perfectly for me. the man made me feel like the most beautiful, desirable and precious woman in the world. the words i love you weren't even exchanged between us. they didn't have to be. he just, well, loved me. the feeling between us was palpable all night long, through the way he laid his hand on the back of my neck or patted me on the hip. small, sincere actions speak so much louder than flowery words and expensive gifts. we just basked in each other.

i looked at him last night and said, y'know, the more i learn about other people's relationships, the better i feel about ours. because, let's face it: i picked a man who is completely unmotivated by the "supposed to"s in this world. this is nothing i didn't already know. but the cool part is that, at the end of the day, i'm just the same. i asked him the other night why he finds me so attractive. (god, i know, such a GIRL question.) he said, because you're odd, and it works for you. and that was one of the sweetest things i've ever heard in my life. he relishes my quirks, just as i relish his. we suit each other. it just fits. i know full well that we're different. we're not like the other couples. but who cares? he makes me so damned happy. i make him happy. what the hell else is there?

that's the secret, kids, and it only took me 29 1/2 years to learn it. it's not about the way you look to the outside world. it's about how it feels, just you and him, alone together. and though the beat we follow comes from a distinctly different drum than most people's, it's the perfect beat for us.

love song

it's the number one topic on everyone's mind today, and everyone's got something very specific to say about it: love. l-o-v-e, l-u-v, etc., etc., etc. hearts and flowers, cheesy commercials, all that jazz. it's a hallmark holiday; people love it, people hate it. i'm not going to parse the ethics, the mechanics or the value of valentine's day. i hate crass commercialism, and this is certainly a screeching example of that, but it's also kind of anodyne. we grew up with parties in school with pink-iced cookies and stupid little cards. somehow, that got twisted into hundreds of dollars and all this PRESSURE. i won't go there.

what i will do is this. i take this time to reclaim the idea of a day to spread love around. so i love y'all. i love my family, my friends, all the people who are important to me. that's the kind of love that everyone can celebrate, single or attached. i care like hell about you people, because you take the time to care about me. it's a fabulous thing.

and seeing as i am fortunate enough to be attached this valentine's day, i'm going to spend a little time talking to the man. (indulge me. if you're not into romance, i won't be insulted if you move on.)

dear love: here we are, our first valentine's day as boyfriend-and-girlfriend. i had almost given up hope that we'd ever get here together. but you and i pledged ourselves to each other, heart and soul as well as body. lord knows we're far from traditional, but that's what i love about us. you've always known my heart better than anyone else. always. you give me everything you have, tending to me in every way possible. your strength as a partner is how you combine caring for me exclusively with granting me the space to be who i am. so thank you for everything. i've always loved you so much. however far away, i will always love you. forever and ever, amen.

happy valentine's day, y'all. :)

adult entertainment

there's been far too much heaviness around my life these days - final divorces, bad anniversaries, surgeries, stresses and struggles. i, for one, am damn tired of it. so tonight, i choose to go a different route. as always, when i go here, i've employed my old friend, the HTML jump. if you don't want to read about matters salacious and vulgar (and tonight, i DO mean vulgar - details are dished), i'll understand. but if you do? let's go.

serenity

god, grant me the serenity to accept the things i cannot change, the courage to change the things i can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

this, my friends, is the serenity prayer. i know, right - me, quoting prayers? it's like in to kill a mockingbird, when the foot-washing baptists run away from miss maudie, thinking that the devil was surely quoting scripture for his own purposes. but i learned it when my mom was heavy into AA, and frankly, i kinda like it. i picked this little jewel up when i was six years old, and in the intervening two-and-a-half decades, it's come through for me as a centering piece time and time again.

so you can bet that it's been running through my brain like the sound of horse hooves for the last 20 hours or so. see, the man is a genius consultant. he works with people who do amazing things with nonprofits and non-governmental organizations. his clients do their stuff all over the world, and generally where there's great need. being that we're in the metro DC area, our nation's capital and all, his client base is pretty much all centered here, though, so that's no biggie. until now, anyway. the newest entry on his client slate is really gung-ho for his skills. how could you not be - he's freaking brilliant at what he does. and there's the rub. he's so brilliant that they want him to go into the field and help them with their operations in country.

in africa. and a particularly dodgy corner thereof.

oh, color me thrilled about this. it was announced to me last night that this is happening in a mere nine days. i have bad news, and i need you to not freak out. um, hon, here's a hint: if you introduce the idea with this prologue, you're almost guaranteed to trigger preemptive freaking out. but really, i took it well. i just didn't say anything. he held my hand. are you okay? well, i kind of have to be, don't i? this is the kind of professional opportunity that can put a businessman like him on the map. it's prestigious as hell. i am, beyond the vague fear, so unbelievably proud of him that i can't stand it. but yeah, i'm going to worry. you're freaking out, aren't you? i didn't say anything. but yes, love, i am worried.

so this is the big test. this is the ultimate strain on the serenity prayer as a mantra, a balm, a way to soothe myself. i know rationally that nothing bad is going to happen, that he's going to wow them with his skills and really set his practice in motion more than ever. but for that nine-day stretch of time that he's away from me, flying literally halfway around the world? i'm going to worry.

accept the things i cannot change. this is the modest task that is my charge. and folks, i'm going to need all the help that i can get...

baby, baby, baby

i am twenty-nine. that means that i am in that sweet spot chronologically where everyone i freaking know, it seems, is having a kid, has just had a kid or is trying to have a kid. babies are absolutely everywhere. i'd say it's something in the water, but it's nationwide.

now, babies are about the cutest things on the planet. they're also intimidating as hell. i swore up, down and sideways that i'd never go there. i never wanted to be someone's mama. but then, a funny thing happened. of all people, the man stepped in. this was long before he was the man, when he was just my best friend. i mentioned this to him late one night in the middle of the breakup of my marriage, how there's just no way i'd ever have a kid.

"eh, you'll change your mind."
i literally did a double-take. "what?"
"you'll change your mind." he took a sip of his beer. "i know full well you don't mean that."
"what the hell are you talking about?" how surreal is this? talking about reproduction with you? WEIRD. just... WEIRD.
"i think that when you find the right partner, the right person, you'll feel a lot differently about the subject. you'll be an excellent mother someday."

now, this whole conversation has taken on an obviously different light now that my partner is, well, him, but at the time, this was staggering. the wholesale endorsement of my ability to raise a kid was flattering and reassuring. and sure enough, he's right. i did change my mind. it really wasn't "i don't want to have a kid." it was, "i don't want to have a kid WITH YOU."

is there any topic more fraught with angst for a woman of childbearing age? there's an emotional or societal landmine about every tenth of a second. it's crazy. and i always thought i was above the fray. but then the man and i went to visit our friend's brand-new baby son in the hospital the day after he was born. i held that little guy in my arms and talked to him. the man, after some coaching, did the same (terrified though he was). that cher bebe, looking up expectantly at all of us, taking us all in... wow. for the first time in my life, i really felt that pang. holy hell. i think i want one.

there will be a lot more on this topic going forward, i think. there's so much to stew over. but the one thing i know for sure is this: my life just got one hell of a lot more complicated.

congratulations?

it's such a strange thing. as i go through the administrative changes related to my new-old name, my new-old identity. every time i sign a paper, visit an office or chat with a clerk, the conversation ends with one word that increasingly strikes me as a strange reaction to the nature of the business at hand:

"congratulations!"

now, don't get me wrong. having this done is certainly something worth celebrating. i am thrilled to the gills to be on my way to resetting my life. but, really, isn't that such a weird thing to say to someone? it's not like this is such a pleasant undertaking. the end of a marriage is never pretty. it's rough around the edges at best and harrowing, bloody, acrimonious at worst.

but then again, maybe it's not so weird. on louis c.k.'s fabulous new album hilarious, there's a routine about his recent divorce that made me laugh way harder than i thought i ever would. first off, the man is absolutely killer funny. but more importantly, he said perhaps the most bluntly true thing i've ever heard in my life, and it was just what i needed at that moment: "divorce is always good news. i know that sounds weird, but it's true, because no good marriage has ever ended in divorce. it's really that simple."

holy hell, talk about finding wisdom in unexpected places. the reason i am no longer married to the ex is because our marriage was bad. bing, bang, boom. the event hurts, it feels awful. but i am in so much of a better place than i was one year ago today. i feel free. i'm happy as hell, right down in my core, the short-term pain of recent events notwithstanding. the divorce, really, was good news.

so yeah, clerks/registrars/assorted other government-agency minion people. congratulations it is.

made it, ma. top of the world.

i never called my mother "ma." my dad will occasionally call my grandmother that when he's annoyed with her, but it was never my style. i called her "mom." short, sweet, to the point. there are a lot of things i want these days, first and foremost a job. but today, three years to the day after getting that call, all i really want? well, it's her.

i've been told that she wanted to be a lawyer when she grew up. she worked for lawyers when i was a kid, and she was a damn fine paralegal. but she always wanted to be the one arguing the cases. when i was a little kid, all curled up in her office with the code of alabama as a toy, i told her i was going to grow up to be a lawyer, and she would encourage the hell out of me. when i argued my "cases" in my high-school mock trial programs, she'd challenge me, help me refine my points and sharpen my analyses. i was good. and i was good because she made me good.

but the bitch of it is, she never got to see it happen for real. i was halfway through 1L year when i got that call. i hadn't talked to her in forever. i can't even remember if she knew i was in law school or not. i think so. but that's the way these things work when reality, complication, etc. set in. the night before my divorce was finalized, i lay in the arms of my man, a boy she always loved when we were kids, and cried like my heart was broken (because it felt like it was). i wept for the loss of my marriage, even though it was what i wanted. my heart broke for the mistakes i made, the sorrow i caused us both, all of that. and when i was able to choke out a sentence, what did i say? "i want my mom." because i did. who else do you turn to when your walls are crumbling, when you're hurt, sad and confused? wounded babies cry for mama. apparently, so do wounded women.

today i wore black, i played our old song. i looked at myself in the mirror and noticed all the ways i've grown to resemble her. with my hair red, it's uncanny. i celebrated the legacy of the woman who made me who i am. it just sucks beyond belief that i reached her goal, attained her dream, and she didn't make it to see. all i can do is make damn sure i live up to the standards she set. no time to rest on my laurels now.

je ne regrette rien

i've made a lot of decisions in the last year, and it's safe to say that i've blown up my life and rebuilt it, basically in front of the watchful eyes of the internet. but the last piece of the biggest decision came through today: my name change. i went from magnolia [married name] to magnolia [birth name]. for the first time since 2002, i don't have his last name anymore.

along with the huge administrative headache, there's a strange cocktail of emotion swirling around this one. this is it - it is OVER. once and for all, the break is complete. no retreat, no regrets, it is all said and done. i'm relieved, anguished, thrilled, angry, pleased and disappointed, all at once. the whole thing is shot through with exhaustion. the last year has been a heavy burden. even though i know it's not warranted, the guilt and anger my ex has thrown at me has been hard to handle. it's been rough on the man, too, having to deal with me like this. and now that it's over... well. i don't even know where to begin.

but i am certain of one thing. i am 100% on the right path. this is the life i chose, it's the life i want. the transition hurt like hell, twisted me into shapes unimaginable and made me ache with sorrow and rage more times than i care to consider. but i regret NOTHING. i got everything i wanted. i am free. and now, with the coda written, the symphony is over. time to start a new magnum opus.

and non, je ne regrette rien.

out of many, one

"we are living with and living in the national rot wrought by the bleak, selfish sentimentality that says our troops are out there solely to insure our continued comfort."

 - david roth, the awl, 1/28/11 

in case you haven't noticed, this little liberal is pretty passionate about the proper use of our nation's military. i think it's just of the utmost importance to respect people who choose to serve. part of that is being extremely careful with what wars we go into. i mean, that goes without saying; you don't want people getting shot at for no reason. but there's more to the story than that. see, there's nothing i hate more - and yes, that includes jewelry commercials - than the largely empty, fake platitude that is "i stand with our troops." it's seen on buttons, bumper stickers, t-shirts and campaign materials. it's a favorite right-wing trope, and when it's used that way, it's also used to convey the message that a) the speaker "stands with our troops," so b) anyone who disagrees with the speaker does NOT "stand with the troops."

leaving the despicability of using troops as political tools aside, there's something more distressing about this whole construct. have you ever heard anyone who says "i stand with the troops" actually define what they DO to support military members and their families? anyone can say anything. but do these people actually propose and lobby for policies that help? by and large, no, they don't. in fact, a lot of these people act in ways that directly HARM troops. they're in favor of endless war without a real objective in mind. they don't support benefits for the families left behind and the veterans when they return. they worked so, so hard to keep patriotic people out of the service because of who they love. now how is that "standing" with the troops? it's not.

which brings me back to the quote. we really do have a venal, selfish view of our lives as a nation. selfishness is most assuredly our national malaise. we don't think in terms of a collective national identity, something worth fighting for. we should change our motto from "e pluribus unum" to "MINE! MINE-MINE-MINE-MINE-MINE!" instead of taking a step back and noting that big, giant ammunition clips are really just not necessary, especially in the light of the arizona massacre, some among us cling to those things as if mama was coming to take their blankies away. it's not about what's best for all of us as a whole anymore; it's just about what's best for me, and maybe my family if i'm feeling generous today. what kind of foolishness is that?

we're supposed to be better than this. it's happened before in our history. we used to be really good at banding together and sharing sacrifice in the face of struggle. somewhere down the road, though, we lost that. it's one of our finest qualities as americans - the recognition that we're a crazy-quilt collective of radically different people, connected through our shared belief in that nutty little piece of paper called the constitution. when we remember that it's not all about us (sarah, i'm looking at you), we'll get back to the good stuff again. i know we can do it.

bonne blog-iversaire a moi

yesterday, i said that today was a pretty big milestone. well, it is: it's my one-year blog-iversary. i started this little internet outpost for my writings one year ago today.

it was just another day in my law-school career, which meant it was full of class, activities and the dull, thudding sense that something was drastically wrong in my life. i spent a lot of law school feeling that way, as a quick spin through my archives will show you. but a funny thing happened: i started writing on it. i wrote the angst, the sorrow, the anger, and my reactions to it. i changed names and details, but yeah, the essence of the stories were pretty much my life.

and you came. my little band of online compatriots started reacting, and here we are a year later. i don't know what i'd do without my interactions with y'all. in a real, true sense, y'all helped me work out my problems, clarified some decisions, and got me over the hump. blogging is better than therapy. i've been there, and let me tell you, therapy did not get it done for me. but putting this story out there in front of god and everybody, free to be googled for anyone's perusal, forced me to take a look at my life in ways i'd never been willing to before.

this blog also could have caused me some serious trouble. a few people - and if you're still reading, you know who you are - decided that my writings were worthy of a) being spread all over my law school like a stolen diary, b) forwarded to potential professional contacts, and c) being "reported" to my ex. (ha - like i'd ever be dumb enough to blog without telling him about it.) now, these are things that could have seriously screwed me. it was surely a spiteful and ridiculous way to behave, and it was undoubtedly an attempt by silly people to get some kind of leg up on me. i'll never understand the urge people get to want to "destroy" others.

but it's funny what ended up happening. i got some pageviews out of the deal. i never lost an interview, got a bad grade or suffered in real life for this. not only that, it came to my attention recently that a member of the legal community ended up getting this link sent to him. this man is a highly-placed lawyer, someone who, if he wanted to, could have ended my career before it began. instead, his reaction was to tell the person who recounted this to me, "anyone spiteful enough to try to do this to a classmate is someone i wouldn't trust further than i could throw. they will never work for me, nor will they ever work for anyone i know." ha. haha. hahahaha. it's so nice when the good guys win, eh?

so thanks. thanks for reading, reacting, lurking or laughing. thanks for being there for me. i love the little blog community i'm part of, both here in DC and all over the country. it's been one hell of a year. here's to many, many more...

a place for everything

quite out of nowhere, and no one's more surprised than i am about this, i have developed a neat streak. don't freak, those who know me in real life; it's far from a perfect, obsessive level of neatness. i've been a piler - and let's be honest, a slobby one - my whole life. i was a classic type-B kid, messy room, unorganized class notebooks and a general "it'll be done in time, no need to worry about how" attitude. but now? by way of demonstration, today is my off day from class, and i spent the whole day cleaning, doing laundry and reorganizing.

maybe it was law school that did this to me. you just CAN'T be unorganized if you want to get through that pressure cooker alive. my class notes for my JD were so neat, so systematic, that you'd either bow down before me or report me for psychiatric treatment, depending on your attitude. that approach seems to have flowed into my personal life of late, too. the laundry i did today is folded and put away. my books are all on their shelf (with a separate bookcase for law books). there are neat stacks of magazines and books to be read. my DVDs are alphabetized. my closet is grouped by type of clothing. my shoes are all in shoe organizers. my pictures are hung. my jewelry is sorted. hell, my bed is made. that's just CRAZY.

or maybe it's just maturity. i am almost 30. maybe that's too old to be living amid the kind of chaos that was my room at age 15. adulthood changed me in a lot of ways, helped me reorient my priorities and really pay attention to what i wanted. maybe i want to care about the way my room looks, too.

either way, i know for a fact that my dad would fall out if he could see my room right now, cleaned and neatened of my own volition. perhaps the why is unimportant. in any event, the result is pretty damn nice.
--------------------
programming note: so tomorrow is a big day around the ol' blog. stay tuned for the commemoration of one hell of a milestone...

"that's how i know i'm loved."

ugh. perhaps you've seen this insipid slogan in its natural habitat - a third-rate tacky-jewelry emporium that advertises during playoff football games. the commercial is just everything i abhor about the depiction of modern relationships. it's a dialogue, superimposed over shots of teddy bears, chocolates and really ugly jewelry:

woman (in a tone best described as bitchy): "what are you getting me for valentine's day?"
man: "umm..."
w: "is it sparkly?" [cut to god-awful-tacky necklace]
m: "well..."
w: "is it sweet?" [cut to standard-issue heart-shaped chocolate box]
m: "um... let's just say it's a surprise."
[sales pitch]
w: "and THAT'S how i know i'm loved."
/scene

oh, for the love of all things sacred and holy. there is so much wrong with this - crass commercialism, materialism writ large, reinforcement of standard, trite gender-role stereotypes - that a sociology class could do a study on it. but the worst part of all of it is this: it's such a sad, hollow commentary on the state of modern love. i mean, it's so empty that it physically hurts me to think about it. really, you poor woman? you only know you're loved because he got you some stupid gemstone? ouch. my soul aches for your shallow life.

that's just not the way to go about it. no, the way to know you're loved is to, well, live your relationship. be present, be aware, and appreciate the small, comfortable little gestures. at least that's how it works for me. the man will never be that guy who does the GRAND, SWEEPING ROMANTIC GESTURE. his exact words were, i'm REALLY bad at valentine's day. this is also no surprise to me. i know my boyfriend well. to expect him to turn into someone else because the greeting-card folks made up a day when we all have to try really hard to "prove our love" through commercial transactions would be the height of silly.

but who needs grand, sweeping gestures? i have daily reassurances. i have things like this:
 - random texts, just because he's thinking of me
 - going out to happy hours and dinners when he'd rather go home, eat takeout and watch TV
 - being driven all the way to class, when all i expected was a ride to the train
 - watching entire hockey games when he wants to watch movies (and hates hockey)
 - keeping an ankle brace and a heating pad at his house, reserved just for me
 - at night, sometimes, he folds me up in his arms, kisses me on the forehead, and whispers i love you into my hair when he thinks i'm sleeping (this one is my favorite)
the list goes on like that. it's not a present, some empty material thing, that shows me where i stand. it's the life we lead together, the bond we've built for so long now, that assures me, comforts me. and unlike that poor, sad creature in the jewelry commercial, my signs are 100% real.

yeah, honey, that's how i know i'm loved. and that's how it should be.

ooh. stylish.

well, how 'bout that - one of my favorite reads out there, the venerable siouxsie at siouxsie law, has passed on a stylish blogger award to me! thanks! i am honored. so in keeping with the rules, here are seven random facts about me.

1) if it were possible, and they still sold them, i would live in my old black suede airwalks from high school. GOD, i miss those shoes.

2) i'm sure i lived just fine before my iphone. i just can't do it anymore.

3) as much as i love humanity in the general sense, i get more misanthropic as it relates to people i run into in a given day every single year.

4) i hate powerpoint with a passion unparalleled.

5) really, i prefer a man with traditionally southern mannerisms.

6) i CANNOT be in a room when a TV is on and someone's watching video on a computer. the competing sounds are too much for me to take.

7) as much as i bitch when other people do it, and lord knows i do, i suck at picking a restaurant.

and now, i've been asked to share the love with 15 of my favorite bloggers. here we go:

a) adorable napalm
b) 'bama on the brain
c) anna's life
d) have we met?
e) perfectly cursed life
f) always a drunk, never a bride
g) the suniverse
h) best of fates
i) a diary of a mad woman
j) heartsick and headstrong
k) blond with a bullet...
l) mascara and microchips
m) dibbly fresh
n) are you there, youth? it's me, nikki
o) the best days of your life

enjoy!

sins of the fathers

parents. everyone has two, somewhere out there - that's biological reality. we all have a mother and a father, at least at the point of conception. but in a lot of cases, way more than should ever be the case, one or both of the people who give a person life just... check out. i am not a parent. it's only been recently that the idea of being someone's mama hasn't caused me to break out in hives. but i am someone's child. i love both of my parents, my dad who's here and my mom who's passed on. and even though i came out okay, even though i have next to nothing to complain about regarding my raising, i still have scars. and i'm one of the lucky ones.

my friends and i are at the age when most people historically start their own nuclear families. i've had a couple of friends give birth. it's a hell of a thing - all of a sudden, there's this kid you're responsible for. and watching all this go down has made me reflective, i guess. when you do this, when you create life with a partner (one you love or not), you've opened the floodgates. you're now on the hook for things that happen to that kid. and like it or not, more often than not, what's done can't be undone. we forgive, but we don't forget.

so back to the checked out parent. sometimes it's a tragedy, an unintentional trick of brain chemistry, that pulls a parent away. that's what happened to me. other times, it's willful hatred, cruelty or reckless disregard for the consequences of actions that sear into a kid's mind. those are the times that try my soul more than anything i can articulate. i've seen the breakdowns that occur, the way the victims of situations like this have had their hearts broken time and time again, and even so, still hold their attackers in a place of rueful, painful love, twisted around the mangled frame of their conception of what that parent should be and what that parent actually is. it's shattering. there's no other word for it.


kids are so fragile, such blank slates. that's what scares me about them, what gives me so much pause about the idea of having one myself. if you're a thoughtful, caring person on any level, you can't help but evaluate yourself against that standard when contemplating reproduction. everything you say and do to and around that baby is going to go towards what that baby becomes in adulthood. there's so much focus on prenatal medical care. hell, some people go so far as to say that women of childbearing age should take prenatal vitamins all the time, just in case. while that strikes me as a little too "women are nothing but walking incubators," there's certainly no doubt in anyone's mind that if you're thinking of conceiving, you should get yourself into good medical shape.

but no one ever seems to pay much mind to prenatal mental care. shouldn't that matter too? if we're so concerned about whether the fetus is getting enough vitamin B-12, it seems that we should be just as concerned, if not more, about whether the parent(s) of that soon-to-be-baby can handle what's about to happen. nine months of gestation is one thing - the rest of your life as someone's parent has WAY more impact on what that baby will become.

so i guess my point is this: parents, be careful. for that matter, everyone around those babies needs to be careful. when they put that little bundle in your arms, that's the first impression you'll make. it's incumbent upon you and everyone else to make damn good and sure that every impression after that does as little harm as possible. that's the wage of being a parent. for the sake of that bundle, and the rest of the world, you had damn well better pay it.

grace under fire

today, i rolled my ankle. i stepped out of the car, caught my heel on a thoroughly-invisible lumpy place in the pavement and went down on one knee like i'd been shot. swollen ankle, sore knee, sore hip, and weirdly, sore neck. (i strained my neck monday night - don't ask how - and reaggravated it when i fell.) i got up, reassembled myself and walked into the drugstore. good thing i was already there; i bought an ankle brace, to add to the four i already owned, then put it on as soon as i got back.

good lord, i'm in pain. but what's worse is that no one i know reacted to this with the typical level of shock that usually accompanies an adult falling down. no one said, oh my god! are you okay? good grief, how did this happen? no, what i got was, there you go again, haha. you're okay? good. damn, you're clumsy. another day, another fall, eh? sigh.

there was a time when this was funny. i know there was. but more and more, it's just getting old. i hurt myself so many times in a given day. i cut my finger the other day while sitting still in a car, holding a plastic box of salad. i do stupid damn things all the damn time, and the result is pain every damn day. i've never been particularly physically capable. i used to walk into door jambs and fall down constantly as a small child. daddy always called me "spatially gifted," which was his kind way of saying, good christ, my kid's a klutz. this is nothing new.

but what is new is this feeling of dread when i move around in the world. i should be able to walk places, do things, live my damn life without stupid little injuries. the joke on me shouldn't be, we have to wrap her in bubble wrap to get anywhere. but it is. i feel like a constant, never-ending punch line. there are other things that feed into this feeling, predominantly the new information that, apparently, i'm the most serious, joyless person on the planet (another rant for another time), but it's largely the clumsy, stumbling way i move through the world that makes people laugh at me.

i feel like a joke all the time with this. but i don't know what to do; i am already so careful that the other punch line about me is that i am the queen of the obsessive-compulsives. i don't know how to fix it. so this is my cross to bear, i guess: i lack grace, and everyone in my life gets to have a nice chuckle at my expense. over and over. forever and ever, world without end, amen.

big-girl job

it's time for this little blogger to get serious about getting hired after graduation. i am alternately brimming with bravado-tinged confidence and trembling with crushing insecurity, sometimes second by second, throughout this process. i've seen my resume; i look impressive as HELL on paper. i've got good grades, relevant coursework, and two solid pages of educational and professional experience. (i don't care what they say about a one-page resume; i've been in college or working since 1998, and there's just no way in hell that's all going on one sheet of paper.) i am a rock star.

but how do i go about convincing the people with the jobs that i am? once i get in front of them, it'll all be OK for sure. but it's damn difficult getting in front of them. when i was a little kid, before i went to law school and got grown, i got literally every job i had except one (which was AWFUL) through some kind of connection. someone i knew worked there, that sort of thing. but in this economy, those leads are damn hard to come by.

so out i go, into the breach. head high, resume out, smile and sell it. i know things will be okay, that i'll get something, that it'll work itself out. i have a fair amount of time to make it happen. but until i have that offer in hand, set and ready to go, it's going to be a long, terrifying winter. few things scare me more than being broke, and that fear can shut me down completely if i don't watch myself. so i'm throwing on my helmet, papering the known universe with my sexy-as-hell resume (and resisting the urge to describe it as such in professional situations), and invoking every ounce of good vibes the universe has to offer.

now, to paraphrase rex ryan, let's go get a goddamned job.

tougher than the rest

[no lyric interpretation, but here's your soundtrack anyway. sorry for the ad. god, i love this song.]

i'll tell you a secret: sometimes, i want nothing more than to be traditionally, proverbially swept off my feet, whisked away, in that really hackneyed fairy-tale way. just like peter cetera in that song from the karate kid, part II, i want him to come in like a knight in shining armor from a long time ago, just in time to save the day and take me to his castle far away.

how freaking retrograde is that? i'm supposed to be a rough-and-tumble feminist. i can take care of myself better than most people can, that's for sure. but i just get so damn tired sometimes. i spent so long being the caretaker, the capable one, in my old life. it's probably more my fault than my ex's, really; co-dependency is just as bad as dependency, in some ways. but no matter whose fault it is, that's how it was, and that's why my ex is my ex. it's beyond apparent that i can shoulder the burden all day long. but i just don't want to sometimes. i just want to be kept.

the man has always been on my side. now that we're together, he's strengthened that position in my life, becoming my biggest cheerleader. he tells me constantly how smart i am. he trusts my resolve implicitly, dismissing my doubts with a simple, hmph, whatever, you'll kick its ass. he always tells me things like, you know i'd do anything for you, and you mean the world to me. he and i fit together in ways i can't even describe.

and he does me the biggest favor anyone can do: he refuses to swoop in and "rescue" me. as i continue the amazingly whiplash-inducing experience that is post-divorce graduate school, i find myself staring down a series of challenges. the weight of my life is heavy, and i found myself desperately seeking some form of escape, some easy way out of my troubles. but he would not give it. he gives no quarter to my insecurities. and in his way, he ends up saving me from one of my biggest threats - my own self-doubt. he builds me up, he reminds me how strong i am. when i look at him as he calmly rejects my own misgivings, all i see is the belief he has in me. 

and with an ally like him, how could i doubt myself? his faith makes me tougher than the rest.