Monday, January 28, 2008
A January NightIt's one of those nights. Those nights where I have a million things I have to do, and about a billion others I want to.
I want to play outside. It's one of those rare nights when, even though it's still January, you can trick yourself and make believe spring is here. It smells like my childhood, unless you add beer, then it smells like college. One of those nights when we would get together and play night games, despite the fact that we were all over the age of 20. Nights where friends should be over, sitting on my front porch, drinking wine and beer and laughing until our sides split open. The kind of night J and I can sit outside, him with a cigar, both of us with a glass of whatever, look up at the sky and breath in happiness.
I want to walk down the road to the playground and swing. Run around the fountain that's not working lay in the grass, staring up at the night sky. I want to cook out, eat burgers and let the juice run down my mouth. Disgusting, I know, but I still want it. I want to dip potato chips in potato salad and have my family make fun of me, like they always do.
I want to be at my parents house, sitting out back while my grandpa fries fish. I want to be sitting in the swing, getting up every few minutes to go get another beer for the "chef" while Eddie runs laps in the backyard.
I want to call up friends, invite them over, and forget that J has work tomorrow, and I have classes at 8:30.
I've got a case of the wants. It's that kind of night.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
FearsI never wet the bed. I wasn't afraid of swimming or water, or not being able to touch the bottom. I dove in head first, sink or swim, baby.
I can't remember being scared to stay over at a friend's house, although I recall other friends waking in the night, full of tears and mommies needing to be called. I was resilient.
I wasn't scared of the big boys in the neighborhood- in fact, I punched one of them in the nose.
Seperation never frightened me, I'd talk to strangers, yet not quite trust them. I didn't cry when left with a baby sitter. In fact, I don't remember crying much at all.
I was never afraid of the dark or monsters in my closet.
I've turned into a woman who still doesn't fear much, yet from life experience, should have learned to fear more. When the monster is in your house, not just your closet, your life is changed. You don't fear the superficial things- they don't exist- there's something real- something solid and in front of you- taking precedent. I've carried that with me, even to this day in some ways. Despite all of that I'm still that little girl: unafraid.
Monday, January 21, 2008
The Girl in the MirrorThere are times in my life when I feel so utterly jealous of others it makes me sick to my stomach.
I'm struggling right now... with weight, with stress, with life. With wondering how much more Legislation I can read before I really do want to end it all. With questioning how I can eliminate seemingly bad foods from my diet and still not lose weight in the same way I used to. With how to de-stress in a healthy way.
There are people in this world who get this stuff. It flows naturally to them. Nothing gets to them. They display this happiness with who they are what they are and I wonder how they get that. I think to the average person I put out this same vibe, but when I am alone, just me and myself in the bathroom mirror, I criticize the girl who lives in there. I always have. I fear I always will.
Additionally, I am sick. Again. Life is good.
Thursday, January 17, 2008
Great ExpectationsWhile writing/rewriting/erasing/editing my book last night (yes, laugh it up), I got to thinking about romance, about fairy tales, movies and books. Are they setting us up with unachievable expectations?
From the time we are little girls, moms and dads read to us about our knight in shining armor. A man who would come and rescue us from our towers and seek out all the kingdom in order to find his "one true love." They'd brave dragons, storms, sleet and snow (or is that the postal workers?). Either way, you get the point. There was a kiss and implied continued romance at a level so high it makes every little girl and mommy swoon when they hear it.
We watch movies, read chick lit, all telling us about these perfectly romantic men. Men who row a boat out into the middle of a lake, filled with swans and somehow manage to row back in the pouring rain. Men who are so filled with passion and want that it's all they can do not to make love to their leading lady right then and there on the dock. We read books and fill our minds with expectations- Great Expectations.
Was Prince Charming ever, well, not so g.d. charming? Did Mr. Darcy ever stop kissing Elizabeth? Did Westley ever regret "as you wishing" Princess Buttercup?
Or is true romance in the little things- the knowing when you don't want to cook dinner, he orders out. The understanding that you're tired of watching some random kill-the-bad-guy movie, so he switches to Grey's Anatomy (even though he may secretly enjoy it).
I posed these questions to my guy friends today, who responded that what women think is romantic, is not always in line with what is in their mind. Why are we wired so differently? Is it some cosmic joke on the sexes? And they say gay marriage won't work... I'm telling ya, brother, put two guys together or two girls and BAM. Seems like things may get easier...
Either way, I plan to leave my book just the way it is... ridiculous, mushy and unrealistic. Feed the fantasy, ladies... feed the fantasy.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
I thought about...I thought about you today. About me today. About us.
I thought about how things ended and how I left. About the last time we talked, the last call I got, the last one I made. I remember how dead I felt- how tired. How after years of not hearing what I needed to hear- hearing it- and hating the words. I remembered the standing behind the door, after closing it, listening to you stand outside until I opened it again and let you back in... again...
I thought about me today. How I never felt like I was what you wanted me to be- and now I am. I remember feeling bad about who I was and where I was in my life and my career. I felt like I wasn't good enough- like you weren't proud just to have me, the actress, by your side. And now I'm what you would have called "worthwhile." A person who wouldn't embarrass you. I am still the same me. I still say the same outlandish things, and I laugh too loud, and I make jokes that people don't always get. I don't run in the rain- I still walk. I still watch bad television and eat sushi with too much wasabi. I still like kissing in public and crying at commercials. I'm the same- just more.
I thought about us. The beginning, middle and end. A play with too many scenes, a dark comedy perhaps. I thought about laughing, crying and nights out on the town. About frat parties, apartments, firsts and more. I thought about stories and friendship and goodbyes... distance and confusion and first dates in convertibles and driving your car.
I thought about it all on this odd cold January day and I felt ice on my lashes.