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tanaiseWhen my mother was my age she was married. She met my dad when she was about mid-24, was married a quarter past 25. I remembered that this morning, randomly. And suddenly, all I wanted to do was crawl back in bed until I no longer felt so miserable.
Of course, I couldn't, so I got up and did a lot of nothingness all day. I'd stayed up way too late last night, and between that and feeling icky over all, I was just not much good all day. My mom yelled at me. She always yells at me, it's not such a big deal. She knows I'm not happy, she just thinks if I do stuff, I'll feel better. I want to help, it's just that the stuff that needs done is stuff I hate doing. That's why it's not done. I'm having no problem clipping dead branches out of the hedge, for example, but the kitchen table can stay piled with stuff. I did some things, then fell asleep on the chair for a couple of hours.
Woke up, read two books--Getting over Jack Wagner (a sign that it's a little old for me--I have no idea who he is, but I knew everyone else mentioned, though only from oldies shows. I think it's about 5 years old for me yet.) , and Single Wife, another of my melancholy almost-/post-romances. They make me sad, more so than happily-ever-after romances do. I guess I want the happily ever after, I don't want the reminder that after the after there's still sad stuff. It's not just the books that make me sad, it's the reminder that I'm growing up, and things are changing from pen-and-ink to charcoal, and I miss that clarity.
I don't much like being sad. I don't care that I'm not married. I think I've met two boys in my life who I seriously wish I'd dated, so it's not like I have an "I should have" in my past. But that's sort of what makes me sad. I'm not married, I'm not dating, and I'm living at my mom's in Central PA, so it's not like that's going to change any time soon. I haven't even talked to a guy since I moved here, other than Shelle's boyfriend and my brother's friends, neither of which count for my purposes. No one my age. No one I'm interested in, even just as a friend. This is what I miss from work. The money, of course, but the reason I stayed in that job for 3 years is that I loved working with smart people, with guys who didn't mind me knowing stuff they didn't. It's very lonely here. I'm blessed with lots of online friends--all of you, for example--but I miss real people.
Of course, I couldn't, so I got up and did a lot of nothingness all day. I'd stayed up way too late last night, and between that and feeling icky over all, I was just not much good all day. My mom yelled at me. She always yells at me, it's not such a big deal. She knows I'm not happy, she just thinks if I do stuff, I'll feel better. I want to help, it's just that the stuff that needs done is stuff I hate doing. That's why it's not done. I'm having no problem clipping dead branches out of the hedge, for example, but the kitchen table can stay piled with stuff. I did some things, then fell asleep on the chair for a couple of hours.
Woke up, read two books--Getting over Jack Wagner (a sign that it's a little old for me--I have no idea who he is, but I knew everyone else mentioned, though only from oldies shows. I think it's about 5 years old for me yet.) , and Single Wife, another of my melancholy almost-/post-romances. They make me sad, more so than happily-ever-after romances do. I guess I want the happily ever after, I don't want the reminder that after the after there's still sad stuff. It's not just the books that make me sad, it's the reminder that I'm growing up, and things are changing from pen-and-ink to charcoal, and I miss that clarity.
I don't much like being sad. I don't care that I'm not married. I think I've met two boys in my life who I seriously wish I'd dated, so it's not like I have an "I should have" in my past. But that's sort of what makes me sad. I'm not married, I'm not dating, and I'm living at my mom's in Central PA, so it's not like that's going to change any time soon. I haven't even talked to a guy since I moved here, other than Shelle's boyfriend and my brother's friends, neither of which count for my purposes. No one my age. No one I'm interested in, even just as a friend. This is what I miss from work. The money, of course, but the reason I stayed in that job for 3 years is that I loved working with smart people, with guys who didn't mind me knowing stuff they didn't. It's very lonely here. I'm blessed with lots of online friends--all of you, for example--but I miss real people.
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Date: 2003-06-29 10:34 pm (UTC)Talking with smart people is not overrated.