Should've Stayed In Bed...

I should have known it was going to be a bad day when I got up and the bathroom lights didn't work. The electricity was on, the lights just didn't work. And, they still don't, even after the electrician came to fix them.

At work, a person I genuinely LIKE and who has helped me enormously these past few months, gave her notice today. I briefly considered throwing myself off the bridge I walk over every day to and from work, but I didn't. I should be happy for her, and I will be, but right now I just want to selfishly sulk.

Then tonight, I got off the train and there was a sudden flash-flood downpour. Soaked, even with my umbrella.

Then I got home to find that ALL the electricity was out, but came back on shortly after I arrived. Now, I want chocolate in the worst possible way, but thankfully I'm too damned tired to go out and get any. I am so desperately in need of a lengthy sleep session...but it will be Sunday at best before that happens.

And then finally, I've yet again come to the conclusion that I'd rather be alone than be with someone uninteresting. Even if it means I'm the old lady with 12 cats.

Random Wednesday

1. I have "Scenes from an Italian Restaurant" by Billy Joel stuck in my head. Thank you, JP.
2. I learned today that "erstwhile" means "former", and not "of unique character". Ooops.
3. I also learned today that Chinese opera isn't just European opera sung in Chinese. It's very beautiful, but takes a minute for the Western ear to adjust.
4. I'm thinking about babies again. Some months ago I declared 37 to be a worry-free year, and that I would not spend this year fretting about my fertility. But lately I see pregnant women everywhere, and I feel like the universe is mocking me. If I didn't have to live on a nonprofit salary, I'd be at the sperm bank tomorrow...but as I'm not sure daycare centers take Visa, I'm really not able to financially do this on my own. And that's kind of a bummer, particularly for someone who's managed to figure out how to do most of the things she wants to do, all by herself. I had tentatively planned to have a baby and have my sister take care of it during the day, but now she's all up and moving to California so that plan got shot to pieces.
5. At last night's writing workshop we spent a good hour discussing obesity and compulsive eating. I cannot think of anything I needed less, except possibly heroin. Well, I guess one could argue that given my current physical state I DID need to hear people talk about the assumptions we make about the overweight...but honestly, it just made me want to eat cheeseburgers. Also, I'm really, really tired of people slipping comments in about Weight Watchers, as in "apropos of nothing, because we were just talking about taking guitar lessons, let me tell you about how easy Weight Watchers is...". To which I would like to reply, "yes indeed, counting food units is exactly what will cure years of emotional turmoil and substance abuse" (the substance being food). Who says to an alcoholic "I know, if you COUNT your drinks you won't get drunk!"?! Seriously.
6. Tonight on the train home, a woman collapsed and we had to wait for the paramedics to come. The train conductor said they had no idea what was wrong with her, but she just all of a sudden lost all feeling/movement in her limbs. Possibly an allergic reaction. Scary.
7. It's almost 10 pm and I've done nothing that I intended to do when I got home, except eat grapes and cheese.

Mr. Darcy in Spandex?

Oh so wrong. So very, very wrong for Colin Firth to dance around in disco attire. Some people are meant to be typecast.

So I went to see the movie "Mamma Mia" this afternoon, after sleeping until 11 am. It was at once a flashback to the past and foreshadowing of the future. The past: Abba songs always remind me of fourth through sixth grade, going over to Courtney's house with Dawn and Alyson. The future: the theater was filled with little old ladies, many of them wearing much too much perfume. I sneezed through the half hour of previews (I'm not kidding, I timed it). It's not a bad movie, exactly; definitely campy, but I'm honestly not sure what was worse: the aforementioned Mr. Darcy or Pierce Brosnan channeling his inner Springsteen. Meryl Streep is really good, though, as is Amanda Seyfried (from "Big Love"). As I was leaving the theater, I walked behind a middle-aged couple who danced their way out - love that.

Movie review aside, I've been losing a fight with my printer, reading submissions from the folks in my writing workshop, working on another essay, and reading yet another book about the writing process...while chomping on Twizzlers and wishing it would quit raining.

Dilemma

(edited slightly...)

I woke up with the Howie Day song "Collide" stuck in my head --

"I'm open, your closed
I'll follow, you'll go
I worry I won't see your face light up again
Even the best fall down sometimes
Even the wrong words seem to rhyme
Out of the doubt that fills your mind
I somehow find you and I collide"

I've been thinking these past days how some relationships are more like collisions - at once traumatic and transformative. I've also been thinking about the book "Eat Pray Love" (Elizabeth Gilbert), particularly the section where Richard from Texas discusses the concept of soul mates. Gilbert quotes Richard as saying:

"People think a soul mate is your perfect fit, and that's what everyone wants. But a true soul mate is a mirror, the person who shows you everything that's holding you back, the person who brings you to your own attention so you can change your life. A true soul mate is probably the most important person you'll ever meet, because they tear down your walls and smack you awake...they come into your life just to reveal another layer of yourself to you, and then they leave...[his] purpose was to shake you up...tear apart your ego...show you your obstacles and addictions, break your heart open so new light could get in, make you so desperate and out of control that you had to transform your life..."

And I think this is really at the root of how we can fiercely love people who infuriate us. And why it is so difficult to let people go out of our lives even when you can see it's time to do just that, because as far as they have pushed you forward, at a certain point they start holding you back. You literally are not the same person you were when s/he came into your life, and if you have returned the favor, neither is s/he.

But who wants to give up someone who both unwaveringly supports you and calls you on your crap? Someone who knows your buttons and will carefully, gently push them, instead of tiptoeing around subjects you'd much rather avoid? Someone who, as crazy as they make you, also makes you want to be a better, more authentic version of yourself? Someone who you love arguing with because you are so grateful for the push-back, so grateful that someone cares enough about you to find you annoying, melodramatic, and ridiculously immature - and say so (but who also never fails to tell you how great you are, either). As opposed to someone who shuts down, or is so afraid to lose the semblance of relationship that you have because they don't want to upset you, who doesn't want to deal with the dark stuff we all hold within us. Yeah, it's exhausting and terrible, but...where are we without it?

Isn't It Ironic

One of my errands today was to buy a new umbrella, since all of the ones I had have either disintegrated or disappeared. And, wouldn't you know, just as I pulled into the store's parking lot to go buy one, there was a colossal downpour.

Also a bit ironic - my new favorite Boston building. Ironic because I usually tend to like historic buildings and generally loathe modern/post modern architecture. But how I do dearly love the Intercontinental Hotel building, and how the sky and harbor get reflected in such a way that when the clouds are moving, it looks like the building is moving.

In other, less ironic news, I got to take my nephew to see "Get Smart" yesterday. The company was grand, the movie less so. The whole dynamic between Max and Agent 99 was twisted - granted, a much more feminist Agent 99 - but...just eh.

Today - listening to Idina Menzel, thinking about "brave", and wishing it was September and not so freaking hot out.

Just Call Me Ms. Excitement

While I was waiting Tuesday night for my class to begin, I sat on a bench in the Common and knit. It is by no means the strangest thing that has been done there, and yet by the looks I got from people you'd have thought I was shooting heroin in broad daylight. Once again, I marveled at how small and quaint it all seems after NYC, where in fact shooting heroin in broad daylight isn't that strange at all.

At any rate, here is the sock I've been knitting on the train (I actually started its pair this evening) - an homage to the Yarn Harlot who always takes traveling sock photos:

Yep, I'm well on my way to being the old lady with 12 cats...but at least my feet will be warm!

Anxious

I just emailed off an essay I've been working on since February to the people in my writing workshop, and I'm terrified. There are REAL writers participating in this program, and I have all of the usual fears about being "found out", that I'm not a "real" writer, and that they will laugh me out of the room. I have spent so much time on this essay it is ridiculous, and now I am just picking at it - a word here, a word there...it needs fresh eyes, and in particular fresh eyes of complete strangers who won't just be nice to me. It's a narrative non-fiction piece, with the first half "showing" the story and the second half "telling" the back story. I am not sure if this structure works, and yet doing it any other way would ruin the surprises of the story.

I do hope they laugh at the funny parts, though.

In other news, Wilbert the Cat caught his first bird today, much to the chagrin of my sister who had to clean up the feathers. My nieces and nephew were horrified, with Grace saying "bad kitty" and "oh the poor little birdie". Wilbert is now grounded. Honestly, I thought the chipmunk that lives in the stone wall would be the first to go.

They finally have a moving day  and that has suddenly brought everything into focus. I've become so used to having them so close - and now they're headed to California. I'm happy for them in that I think it will be a wonderful experience, but I will miss the regular hugs and laughs. I get to go on a "date" with my nephew on Saturday to go see "Get Smart" - I am not sure this is entirely appropriate for an almost-10 year old, but my sister is allowing it. This is partly why I decided to take the writing class - pure distraction from the inevitable emptiness I'm going to feel shortly. Even if it does come equipped with a jacuzzi.