Monday, February 28, 2011

Excuses, Excuses

Dear Internet,

Raise your hand if you read that article about why you're not married yet.  Yeah I know it's angry.  Funny.  Truthful.  Over the top.  Ridiculous.  Spot on.  I'm not here to argue or rebut or agree.  That's been done very eloquently here and here.

But it is a question I've been pondering lately, especially in light of my recent you're now in your late twenties birthday.  A birthday that here in the South means I might as well go ahead and get cats and sweatpants and live out my life as a spinster.  Because I'm now more likely to get struck by lighting than to get married.

So what happened? How in a culture that celebrates going to college to get your Mrs. degree did I fail at that? 

If I'm honest it is because I've been some of those things Ms. McMillan says.  But it's more than that too.  If I take a look back at my dating history I could have been married several times (The Duke, The Boyfriend, The Musician).  Just to the wrong person.  And I'd take a lifetime of dodging lightening and feeding cats over sharing I do's with someone who is a don't. 

Which brings me to this

Let's just recap the men I've gone out with since finding myself single shall we:
  1. Towel-a man so boring not even I could coax more than a yes no answer out of him.  And I have a history of being able to make friends with a signpost.
  2. Indian Man-he was already married, to his job.  And I didn't appreciate only meaning something to him once a week between the hours of 5 and 7.
  3. Old Guy-he jerked me around so much I had knots in my stomach at all times.  Not to mention that thing with the brownies and the note.
  4. Paramedic John-he thought what I did was hooey.  "People should just get over their stuff."
  5. The US Attorney-tattoos and indie rock were too counter culture for him.  He wanted J. Crew and a W sticker on a SUV.
  6. Steven Number Three-his job was training to be an ultimate fighter.  I'm democrat.  It would have never worked.
  7. Toy Story Three-he "REALLY liked me" but you know "wanted to see other girls too."
  8. The Psych Professor-his hair was longer than mine and he was getting ready to go on sabbatical to Holland.  I don't speak Dutch.
Not to mention the countless others I've turned down because they:
  1. Sent me a seven point outline of what they wanted to do to my shoes.
  2. Told me I was unoriginal and unstable.
  3. Talked in rhyming couplets.
  4. Lived halfway around the world.
  5. Or were otherwise rude, crude, uninteresting, or not at all my type.
So see, Internet, I've tried.  And yes, I've been a bitch, shallow, a slut, a liar, selfish, and not good enough.  But they have too.  Because we're all human.  And that happens sometimes. 

But what I'm looking for accepts that and sees past it.  And that's something I'm willing to wait for.  Because in the meantime I've found it in myself, my friends, my job.  My life.  I hope you have too.


Tuesday, February 22, 2011

Joy in Packages: Lust Edition

Dear Internet,

These are somethings that have made me very happy lately even if I only get to look at them from a far...
  1. Put this dress on.  Gather up your girlfriends.  Dance all night.
  2. Every girl needs to feel a little like Barbie sometimes.  Even though we all know you're waaay prettier than she could ever be.
  3. A perfect bag to lose your sunglasses in.
  4. Paris.  Food.  Love.  Enough said.
  5. The Red comes highly recommended by a fabulous gay man.  And who am I to argue with that?  Plus it makes jeans and a t-shirt so much classier.
  6. Track 7 is particularly delightful.

Finding Joy

Dear Internet,

There's a line in the poem that inspired this blog that I often overlook-"At times Joy is elusive-she seems to disappear even as we approach her."

Joy has been elusive for me these past couple of weeks.  And I've been hesitant to write about it because this blog is supposed to be about the good things.  The wonder.  The happiness.  The joy.

But that lack.  That slipping through my fingers.  Is just as much a part of my journey as the times when I'm, "in love with life, all of it, the sun and the rain and the rainbow."

But I tend to think you won't like me.  Or you'll stop reading me.  If I tell you about the rain.  What I forget is that sometimes it's the rain that connects us the most.  Gives us permission to fall apart a little.  Cry.  Scream.  And be ok about that.  Because maybe if I am brave enough to tell you about how I fell out of joy.  How I didn't take down my Christmas tree until February.  Or wash dishes for a month.  Or ignored phone calls.  Or wrestled with whether I should go back on my anti-depressants.  You'll feel a little less alone.  And joy can come back in somewhere for someone.

And really isn't that what this is all about?

So, Internet, I had a shitty month.  It happens sometimes.  But, thankfully, Joy, "wait[s] for us.  Her desire to walk with us is as great as our longing to accompany her."

If she's left you, know that you'll find her again too.  And in the meantime, we'll all be here waiting and cheering you on while you find your way back.


Thursday, February 17, 2011

Blushing and Bashful

Dear Internet,

Wow!  For the first time in a long time I'm speechless.  I'm rarely speechless.  I have red hair and a voice you can hear over ambulance sirens.  Quiet isn't something I often do.

But being mentioned by Maggie just floors me.  I don't know what to say.  Because I'm just going to go ahead and put it out there-that woman amazes me.  Girl crush doesn't even begin to describe it.  I admire her and the things she does for other women.  She's incredible.  And to have her link me.  And to have all you click over here.  Well that just tickles me pink.

Had I known you were coming I would have freshened up, made some sweet tea, and put out some snacks.  But my apology for not being prepared will have to do.  

I love you Internet.  And I love all the good things you do.  You're the greatest.


Making My Way Back

Dear Internet,

I had a Christmas tree in my living until last Sunday.  That's right.  A Christmas tree. 

Turns out I was depressed again.  Not debilitating.  Straight-jacket.  Kill myself depressed. That would be too easy.  I could just be committed and get it over with.

But no, what I struggle with is much more subtle than that.  A pull the covers over my head.  Hide.  Cry about commercials depressed.  A depressed that masquerades as being tired and cranky and a burnt out graduate student.

A depressed that I don't even notice until a friend comes over and says, "Why the fuck is your Christmas tree still up?"  And then suddenly all the avoiding phone calls, huffy exchanges with my colleagues, disaster of a house, and excessive Sex and City watching makes sense. 

Oh right.  This.  Again.

And then I have to dig myself out.  Wash the weeks old dirty dishes.  Hang up the clothes.  Call everyone back.

Take down the fucking Christmas tree.

Tell you I missed you and that I'll be back soon.