 Perpetuate This Thing |
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"Monopoly" by Shawn Colvin might be the saddest song ever. I feel certain I've probably declared this before. For some perplexing reason, I put it on an upbeat mix tape I called "Beach Mix '99" which I guess I must have made while living in Florida. What the fuck was I thinking? This song always reminds me of Party of Five. I think it might have played at the end of the episode when Charlie and Kirsten's wedding got called off or when Bailey's girlfriend died. I don't know why I remember these things. I popped the tape in just now because I couldn't get "Someday I Might Get Over You" by Kenny Fucking Chesney out of my head, but "Monopoly" is certainly not the cure for the stuck-on-sad-songs-blues. I'm off tomorrow, praise be. Part of me feels like I should be productive and do laundry and dust and vacuum and such things, but most of me just wants to sit outside and read and enjoy the weather if it stays nice and hope that I don't catch West Nile. I've been eating somewhat like a pig. They make these teeny tiny Reese's peanut butter eggs now that are about the size of Hershey's Kisses. They are dangerous. They melt in the mouth. I've been eating them by the handful and now I feel ill. I went to the doctor this morning so she could check my blood pressure and it's gone down which is good. Somehow I weighed 119 on her scale. I weighed 134 on it 6 weeks ago. I certainly think the Reese's will play an active part in putting some weight back on me. When I look in the mirror, I certainly don't see someone who weighs 119 pounds, but I realized earlier that my skirt was hanging down below my underwear and luckily my shirt is long enough to cover it. Good God! My sister and I did PM Yoga last night and laughed until we basically fell over repeatedly. I cannot deal with it when yoga instructors say things like, "Now, feel your brain softening." How is one supposed to feel such a thing? The cats were hiding behind a chair wondering what in the hell we were doing with mystified looks on their faces. I just kicked my shoes off, and my feet are really malodorous right now. Speaking of malodorous feet, I'm almost finished with Holes. Love. Love. I'm still nervous about the movie, but I think I might go see it this weekend if A Mighty Wind isn't out here yet. I remember my friend sent me an email a long time ago analyzing the book in comparison to Lord of the Rings. I need to go back and find it, but I might wait until I see Return of the King because I've never read LotR and I love not knowing what's going to happen. I didn't make it to bellydancing this week because of work, but I hope to go soon. I wish I could be more active in the evenings. Other than walking the dogs, it's hard for me to muster up the energy or desire to do anything except for take baths and lie on the couch and read or watch TV. God knows there is work I could be doing in the house, in that four animals stir up an insane amount of dirt, fur, and kitty litter granules strewn about all the livelong day, but I just can't bring myself to do it. I get scared at night. All I want to do is hole up inside with the alarm turned on and surround myself with my animals and pray that the dogs wake up and bark their heads off if anyone stirs outside. I am now consuming a Snickers Easter egg. I hate my co-workers for bringing this stuff. For some masochistic reason, I watched The Bachelor last night. It's so weird to watch shows that were once such a regular joke between S. and me. We would berate ourselves for watching The Bachelor and complain about needing a shower after and holler across the house about the contestants, "They're all a bunch of whores!" and got a big bang about mocking the whole thing, which is I guess what most people who watch them find fun about reality shows. Shows like this are really no fun to watch by oneself. I can't get into American Idol this time for the same reason. S. would sing the theme song in a funny voice on demand. Things just aren't the same. Aren't as much fun. I have my screensaver set as a slideshow of pictures, and I keep thinking that I've removed all the pictures of S., but one pops up every now and then, and it gives me a jolt. Today the receipt verifying that the wedding dress shop refunded the deposit arrived in my mailbox. A girl whose sister was S.'s good friend when they were younger was in a meeting the other day and asked me, "When's the wedding again?" And I had to answer her and watch her turn red and say, "I'm sorry, I didn't know." And I wonder when these reminders are ever going to stop. If they ever are. It's hard to fathom that it's only been six weeks since my life was turned upside down. How is that possible? It feels like it's been forever and it feels like it's been a day. While I know that I'm so much better in so many ways, I know that I've not even begun to deal with some of what's going on inside of me, and I'm scared to. But I guess I can only do what I can do. I can't even begin to think about the long-term as I can hardly decide what to do from one minute to the next. Okay, should I eat this Snickers egg? Why, I think I should! Am I going to go refill my water bottle? Sure, why not? Should I go to yoga tonight or go walking? Well, I'll just wait and see how I feel when I get home! What am I going to read when I finish re-reading Holes so I can actually fall asleep because reading is the only thing I can do to help me fall asleep? Don't panic, self! You have several books to choose from! These are the decisions I face as the day goes on. I start thinking about deeper matters and I force them out of my head most of the time. I haven't cried since therapy on Monday. At least I don't think I have. That might be a new record. Maybe it's all the chocolate. I can't even broach topics in my mind like dating again. Or sex. Or trusting someone. Or trusting myself. My thoughts inevitably start going in that direction and I think that's when I walk out to the conference table for candy or flip the channel to see if the bodies have been identified as Laci and Connor Peterson yet or find myself deciding that my left thigh itches so much that I scratch it until it's practically bleeding. I'm proud of myself. I've been getting of the house on the weekends. I'm eating more even though it's often crap. I'm not falling apart so often. But it's like the more together I feel as each day goes by, the more nervous I get, like, what bomb is going to drop now? What the fuck am I fooling myself for when life can go to hell in a split second? And I worry that there's a statute of limitations on being crazy.
© Copyright 2003 elb |
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