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Wednesday, October 27, 2004

It’s Sunday afternoon. I call my aunt to wish her a happy birthday (actually my mother’s aunt, but I always called her Aunt Grace). I had been dreading this phone call for a while because I didn’t want to have the ranting conversation about my father’s newfound dating life. So we talk and she mentions nothing about it. Hmm. Odd. Dad’s been telling everyone he meets about Linda, so it strikes me as strange that he a) hasn’t told Grace directly, or b) word hasn’t gotten back to her.

I talk to my father later that night and remind him to call Grace for her birthday. This starts the conversation:

DAD: So, did you tell Aunt Grace about Linda?
ME: Nope, I didn’t mention it. Didn’t want to get into it.
DAD: Oh. I was hoping you would tell her.
ME: (simultaneously amused and indignant) Of course! Why didn’t I guess that it was my responsibility to tell her about your girlfriend!
DAD: Well, she’s your aunt, not mine.
ME: So at what point in life does it become my responsibility to reveal shocking news to old ladies? I was the one that had to tell her about Mom. I think I’ve more than earned an opt-out on this one.
DAD: I think she’d prefer to hear the news from you.
ME: (laughing now) Oh, sure, let me be the one to give the old woman an aneurysm. No, thank you. I refuse to be the one to kill her. You’re going to have to do that yourself!
DAD: (sounding shocked) Do you think she wouldn’t take it well?
ME: (now laughing so hard I’m practically peeing myself) Where should I start? With the fact that you have a girlfriend at all? Less than five months after the fact? That you’ve been dating her for three months? That you spent your entire visit to California on the phone with her?
DAD: Well…
ME: Or maybe I can throw in the fact that she’s 13 years younger. Oh, wait, let me tell her she’s divorced. With two kids. School-age kids. Oh yeah, this is going to be great…
DAD: (laughing) When you put it that way, it sounds weird.
ME: Oh, even better, let me tell her that the ex-husband is in jail, and that you went to meet her parents today! That would be great! Is there anything else I should know about?
DAD: (still laughing) It does sound a little odd.
ME: Odd’s one way to describe it.
(pause)
DAD: (serious) So do you want to call her back and tell her?
ME: Dad! Get a grip! You’re going to have to do your own shocking revelations from here on out. Be a grownup and deal with the consequences of your actions.
DAD: I’m not ashamed of the relationship, if that’s what you’re thinking.
ME: I know you’re not. You tell everyone you meet about it, including your bereavement group. And let me add that I think that was in poor taste under the circumstances… I just think you’re afraid of the hellfire that will rain down at the hands of the easily-combustible women in this family – and let me remind you, we are all still family.
DAD: (pause) Are you sure you don’t want to tell her?
ME: DAD!!!!!
DAD: Ok, I guess I’ll do it eventually. (pause) You know, when you describe the situation, it sounds really funny.
ME: That’s me, comic relief.

Sunday, October 24, 2004

She sat cross-legged in the oversized chair, staring out the window at the dark clouds as they split, gave way to blue, and merged again to form a solid sheet of gray. She had been there for hours, listening to the intermittent rain showers and losing all track of reality. The laundry would wait. The dishes wouldn't be washed. The checkbook would remain unbalanced. She didn't care about any of that. She was just trying to make sense of the world around her.

The year had come and gone, the endless flow of seconds on a ticking clock. The pendulum swings, rhythmic, numbing, never tiring of its repeated motion. But she was tired. It had been a year of adjustment, re-orienting herself to what life was going to be like in the future. The closer she came to the horizon, something happened to make it slip away. It was like walking the Las Vegas strip, where everything seemed closer than it actually was. She had been on this endless journey and she still didn't know where she was heading.

A hummingbird stole nectar from the last of the flowers in her garden. She watched, mesmerized, as it hovered over the tiny yellow flowers. It seemed so simple. She wondered if hummingbirds ever awoke to question their destiny, or if the pain of unfulfilled dreams and unknown aspirations was really as unique as they would like us to believe.

She clutched the blue chenille pillow closer to her chest, chilled from the dampness in the air. She was waiting for someone to come along and hold her, comfort her, and tell her that everything was all right. Because for this moment, it felt to her like things were far from all right.

Tuesday, October 19, 2004

Post-food poisoning, I'm still exhausted. I came home from work tonight, turned on the Red Sox game and promptly dozed off. In those first few seconds where the neurons fire and create those crazy vivid dreamy visions happen, I saw this: I was standing in the base of the rainbow, surrounded by colors, wrapped in them. They were warm and comforting. And then I looked up, and the dark clouds started to separate, with little bits of blue sky peeking through.

I woke up and felt more relaxed than I have since I left the spa.

Wednesday, October 13, 2004

The dreams are vividly clear, as the side effects suggest. I can see amazing details -- the powdery ash from Mount St Helens covering the rental car I had been driving, the splintered wood at the cabin I visited, the roses that looked like they were made from fiery orange coral -- but rarely can I see faces. Isn't that strange?

I find my salvation in sleep each night, the release of the day's stresses and the hope of days to come. I feel trapped by this job, simply because of the overlying threat of lectures about my inadequacies as an employee and how I'm not living up to my potential. I personally feel like the job isn't living up to its end of the bargain, either. The scope is too enormous, the tasks too varied... how do you gain traction when you're dealing with that kind of scope? I'm not miserable about it. It's just up to me to figure it all out and find a way to make it better in a few months or a year or sometime down the road. I hate to wait that long. I hate to waste part of my life watching and waiting and hoping for what's around the bend. Life is short. You have to do what inspires you. If you feel some passion, any passion, it's your obligation to pursue that passion. End of story. If only I had the nerve to follow through on my words.

I want to flirt this weekend. I want to feel the joy of unexpected attention from someone delightful. I want to feel alive.

Sunday, October 10, 2004

I wasn't going to post this one, but I like the start of it. I like the imagery.

She lined them up very carefully on the counter, one peach pill after another, until they formed a line of tiny pharmaceutical soldiers. They seemed so inert when they sat there, which seemed like a startling contrast to the power they secretly held inside. Reaching forward with her right hand, she began to flick them, one by one, in the direction of the toilet. Ping! Ping! Sploosh! Ping! Ping! There were far more misses than hits, and she knelt on the floor, reaching behind the toilet for one that had bounced wildly, feeling the cold porcelain against her bare shoulder. She counted the remaining pills in her hand, one by one. Sixteen. She thought about lining them up again, but was bored with that game. She decided to drop them into the toilet, one by one, just to watch them dissolve.
So the question is this: if my admittedly good life isn't bringing me satisfaction, what will it take to make me happy? Is it possible that I'll always be waiting for something, wondering what's next?

Saturday, October 09, 2004

Maybe not. Maybe I don't want kids. I spent the day with Connor and I just don't know that I can do it. Granted, if T&D can do it, I can, but does that mean that I'd do it well? I don't think I would, and I just don't think that any of it would be a good idea unless I did it well. It's too important to do poorly.

Friday, October 08, 2004

Melissa Etheridge has cancer. http://www.cnn.com/2004/SHOWBIZ/Music/10/08/people.etheridge.ap/index.html
Is it just me, or does it seem like there's been a dramatic increase in the number of under-50 women with breast cancer lately? She's the third or fourth I've heard of in the last few months.

Thursday, October 07, 2004

I feel good. Last night, for the first time since I got back from the spa, I slept through the night. I woke up to the sounds of the garbage truck about five minutes before the alarm went off, and I felt so relaxed and refreshed. My outlook is completely different. Today looks like a great day. So what if I've been underperforming at work? Today's the day I can turn that around. I just feel like it's a whole new world out there.

Tuesday, October 05, 2004

Tough day today. I kept thinking about my mother. We were at the hospital, and she was in intensive care for that weekend. She kept telling me to lay down on the bed next to her, because I must be tired, but I refused. I didn't want to crowd her or make her uncomfortable, but now I find myself wishing that I'd just curled up next to her and let her be my mother. But there I was, trying to be so grown up and strong and take care of her. Why didn't I just let her take care of me for a bit?

It's so hard to balance the memories. I try to remember the good ones, the laughter. But a lot of the time I remember frustration and anger and upset. I don't want to remember those things. I don't want to remember the fights and the struggle and my desperate need to break away from her and be independent.

I try to be a grownup, but what it all comes down to is the fact that I still need my mother a lot more than I want to admit. Why didn't I think I needed her when she was still alive?

Monday, October 04, 2004

When I finally get my hair done this next time, and wonder what the hell I was thinking with the cut and the color, I'll have to look back at this and remember that I really, really wanted to do something crazy.
Testing. Can you see me now? Too bad, because I'm naked.

Bet that got your attention. :-)

Saturday, October 02, 2004

"When it is dark enough, you can see the stars."

-- Charles A. Beard

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