Epiph

I was getting ready to post a comment on someone’s thread on Ravelry when I had an epiphany:  I bring up my age in conversations not so much because I’m really paranoid about my age, but because I’m paranoid about being 29, single, childless, and with no prospects on the horizon.  I desperately want to whinge about it, but I know that people’s responses are going to be “oh, you’re not that old.  God has the right one.”  Blah blah.  It’s easy to say when you’re 22, with a boyfriend or married.  I should know, I said it enough.  But eventually you start to realize it’s not really true.  Eventually, there is such a thing as “too old”; the guys are married, divorced, or gay.  And you know, God might not have a “right one” for me.  For some reason I might be destined to be a lonely spinster, and won’t that just be jolly.

Usually I start to hem and haw a bit at this point, because honestly, my life is good, I enjoy a lot of things about being single, but for this post, I’m going to leave it.  I don’t always like being alone.  The sight of a solitary future fading away in front of me isn’t comforting.  A lifetime of being single doesn’t really appeal to me.

Dear future sister-in-law

She’s going to be your mother-in-law in a month.

We get to integrate you into our family, so I think a little more effort on your part would be nice.  Although I like you, you’re crazy and apparently haven’t learned what is and isn’t appropriate to say.  Work on that.

We’re willing to get past the fact that you have been institutionalized and have more baggage than a train station; obviously we’re less than perfect as well and have great baggage of our own.  We’re a little less willing to get past the fact that you seem to intend to do nothing about any of it and will probably drag my little brother down with you.

I think a little more gratitude for the fact that my dad replaced the light fixture in your bathroom with a beautiful new one and unclogged your bath tub would be nice; in fact, any gratitude at all would have been an improvement.  I know they tend to plan projects and be a little overbearing, believe me, I know, but you could have been just a tad more gracious about the whole thing.  Try smiling and saying “I know you’re trying to help with our house, but right now we’re a little overwhelmed with the wedding and moving in.  Thank you for the ideas and maybe when things get settled down a bit we can look into them.”  They will move heaven and earth for you if you’re civil to them.

Basically, what I’m trying to say is quit making my mom cry.  And if you make my brother sorry he married you, I’m not going to be happy.

Love (minus points for turning this visit into a total downer.  See: Mom crying),

Me

Can’t sleep

It’s 10:42pm, I have to get up early to head over the mountains to get ready for my cousins wedding, and I can’t sleep.   I just got a phone call from another cousin telling me that her sister just engaged tonight, and I’m thrilled for her, but all of a sudden it’s weighing heavily on my mind how blindingly alone I am, and how very much this wasn’t how things were supposed to turn out.  All I see stretching before me are empty years, years that I was planning on spending with someone else, but now I’ve cut out even the friend that might have spent them with me.  My friends are married, having children, or I’m not speaking to them (was that the right choice?  The lack of certainty bothers me more that I would like to admit.).  Joel is engaged, proceeding with his happy little life, having no idea just how bleak life can be when you’re alone, especially now that I really know what it could have been like.  ::laughs:: I just realized that this is normally what my old journal entries used to look like.  I’m just sharing them now with a cold, uncaring cyberspace.  My sorrow is like a bird in my chest, and at any moment it will break free and fly away with me, leaving my physical remains slumped in the chair.  Or it will stay solidly anchored, and I will eventually crawl into bed, unable to bear the harsh light of the screen any longer, or the sense of my own melodrama.  I always want to use words to expose myself, but I can never take the passion of them seriously enough to make them speak.  In fact, I most likely will look back on this blog with a vague sense of embarrassment and condescending amusement.  But in this moment, I need the words.  I need to open my chest and let the bird fly away.  I need to create the spell that will make everything okay, that will fix the mess I’ve made of my life, that will fix the flaws that rule me.  I suppose that’s the major difference between this blog and my journal – in this blog the words can be typed so quickly that the spell is almost in my reach, almost grasped, but never quite.

Allergies

As much as I love this time of the year, with it’s glorious flowers and rainstorms and warm-but-not-ridiculously-hot sunshine and perfect shades of green, I’m not a huge fan of the allergies. Mine aren’t bad enough to require medication, which is good, but that also means that I don’t get medication and instead get to sniffle my way through a couple of weeks before the oak stops blooming. However, I get things like the rhodies blooming in Lithia, so I suppose it works out. This photo is from last year, but I know they’re blooming right now, so it seems appropriate!

Jericho

One of the plus sides to being depressed is that I watch a LOT of television.  Well, okay, by a lot I mean, some. And by some, I mean as much as a person can who doesn’t have a television can watch on her computer in the middle of a busy schedule.  And one of my beloved cousins recently introduced me to Jericho, a show that, like the wonderful Firefly, was canceled before its time.  And I LOVE IT!!!!  Maybe it’s my hick, redneck roots, but something about its post-apocalypitic setting just rings true in this little old heart of mine.  Or it could be that I live in one of the safer areas of the country in case of nuclear attack.  Anyway, even though it’s totally making me paranoid and I keep imagining what I would do in case of nuclear apocalypse (or zombie apocalypse for that matter), I’m really liking this show.  Um, oh dear, this is me and my escapism again, isn’t it?

Matrix

Informed by XKCD, I’m here to inform you that today is the 10th anniversary of the release of The Matrix!  I can’t believe it’s been that long!  It’s held up remarkably well, considering the lousy, heavy-handed sequels.  I’m watching it now and it’s just as much fun as it was originally.  But that could be because of my thing for long, black trench coats.   Or for slender, dark-haired men.  Keanu Reeves may be terrible in some of his other roles, but this one suited him to a T.  And I love the sparring scene between Neo and Morpheus, not to mention the assault on the skyscraper, and who could forget the opening scene with Trinity?

After watching the new Fast and the Furious last night, it’s a relief to watch action without the constant bombardment of boobs and butts.  The Matrix it ain’t.  It was decent, but not quite as good as the first (of course) and the girl on girl action was really excessive.  Otherwise, Vin Diesel is as hot as ever, with that wonderfully gravelly voice, and Paul Walker, although showing some signs of age, is still pretty smokin’ as well.  The cars are always wonderful, even not being a mechanically-minded person, all that power and speed.  Ahhhh, escapism.  Isn’t it fun?

Regrets

As I may or may not have mentioned, a month or two ago I “broke up” with my best friend of ten years.  It wasn’t an easy decision, but it was one that I felt needed to be made.  The relationship was completely unhealthy and the only way it was going to be fixed was by a prolonged period of not talking, but that wasn’t going to happen, so I was harsh and horrible and said we couldn’t be friends anymore.

The thing is, now I feel like I did the same thing to her that Joel did to me, destroying her world in one fell swoop, and that’s not a good feeling.  I don’t really see how it could have come down any easier for her, since the end result needed to be the same, but I still feel guilty (where is my shrink when I need her????  Oh yeah, that’s right, I’m the one who can’t see her…) about doing it.  I see in her reactions the same sort of feeling/thinking that I had in relation to Joel, and it makes me angry and combative, but at the same time ashamed and guilty.

This was all brought to the fore of my thinking (not that I needed any more negative thoughts.  End of the world, anyone?) by her latest blog post (yes, mother, I know, I shouldn’t be reading it.  And yes, it does make me feel l ike I’m back in high school.) in which she mentions twice (not by accident; I know this girl) how lovely it is to be with people who love and accept her just the way she is. The implication being that I didn’t.  Which is and isn’t true!

It is true in that I couldn’t handle the fact that she wouldn’t let us develop any sense of distance in our relationship, which I really, really needed, and because her apparent unwillingness to address some of her physical/emotional problems really upset me.  But it isn’t true in that I accepted her and her behavior for years when a lot of people would have gotten very upset with her.

I guess what this entry boils down to is that I can’t come to terms with my feelings of shame and guilt and anger.  Does anyone has any suggestions or ideas?  Because I’ve never been on this end of the stick before, and it’s not a very comfortable place to be.

Reasons to never leave home

I live forty-five minutes from this view. From here I can see Pilot Rock, Mt. Shasta, the Trinity mountain range, the Rogue Valley, Mt. McLoughlin, Mt. Thielsen, and the edge of Crater Lake. So many of my classmates were desperate to get out of this town, but I still think it’s one of the most beautiful places a person can live. Unless they’re stuck in the middle of town with no view except the side of their neighbor’s house. If I lived in a place like that, I might feel the need to get out as well! But, still, I mean forty-five minutes. It’s not that far!

These things…

I was browsing blogs today and came across this post from The Panopticon about the lovely things of winter and it made me want to do my own list!  I love lists, by the way.

- suddenly coming across “Sure On This Shining Night” on my Zune while trapped in my windowless office.

- sweeping curtains of rain across the foothills, with patches of brilliance when the sun unexpectedly breaks through.

- the mountains looming through layers of cloud, unchanging behemoths in a climate of instability.

- the Table Rocks in soft shades of grey and green or wrapped in a sea of fog.

- cups of tea steaming in a perfect example of chaos, the swirls of milk better than hypnosis.

- lacy wristlets, hats with stems and feet of scarves, all necessary and not needing an excuse!

- driving through the pear orchards in rose-colored morning fog and imagining they will never end.

- flannel sheets, feather duvets and old quilts, even if they do make it almost impossible to get up in the morning.

- candles.  Especially beeswax candles.  Especially when they make jungle shadows on the ceiling with the angelwing begonia.

*sigh*

First the good news: Joel is dating his distantish cousin Mandy (name change!) in Pennsylvania and it doesn’t bother me!!! Yay!!!!! No crippling pain, no sink into dark oblivion, just a twinge of “punk.”  Bad news: he’s sinking more and more into serious hypocrisy.  We have the kilt, the tattoo, and now he’s started something else which is going to lead to substance abuse, knowing him, unless he wakes up and smells the truth.  My reaction to that was a little stronger, since he told me I wasn’t a stable/strong enough Christian for him when we broke up.

Different ick news: my good friend Robert from high school, with whom I lost contact for years, recently showed back up in my life.  When we were younger, he had a crush on me for several years, but I never reciprocated his feelings.  Well, he’s getting a divorce now and last night it came up that I don’t believe in divorce and remarriage (yes, yes, I know exactly how unpopular that opinion is, thank you) and this morning brought an email about how he feels like I’m judging him (I’M NOT JUDGING HIM!!!! ARGH!!!!!) and how he regrets “giving up on me” when we were younger.  *sigh*  So, I finish the drama with Joel and Maranda only to have the drama with Robert start.  Does this ever end?  Ever?  Anyone?  *laughs*  Ahh well, I’ve been told that it’s all just part of life.  And it is.  My friend just lectured me about how experience comes with age, but without these experiences we don’t get “experience,” just age.