Reminder?

Positive Thinking

1) I bought Coldstone yesterday and ate it as I walked through Target. People looked at me wishing that THEY were eating ice cream. I love causing envy.

2) I watched "Bridget Jones" again last night and drank coffee until I couldn't use the remote because of extra-shakey hands, but I still found pleasure in Mr. Colin Firth.

3) I'm going over to L's later for her housewarming barbecue.

4) I love the idea that I have friends all over the place, even if I don't get to see them very often. Props to all y'all.

5) In SEVEN MONTHS (which really isn't that long), I'm getting a dog. Hurray

After my grandfather's funeral, and figuring out that my life is school, school, and some eating and sleeping mixed in, I am an emotional mess. I feel sad, confused, lonely, busy and lonely some more. 

The end.

Picnic

Being socially and romantically alone is no picnic.

Of course, it does allow me to watch other people who have real lives. Lives with friends and boy/girlfriends.  The latter does not seem very glamorous. Wherever I go I see couples fighting, arguing, yelling, being overly sarcastic or rude, asking for things which they could get themselves, etc.  Is it possibly worth it? The drama, the jealousy, the sudden appearance of disgusting vanity, of sudden self-righteousness and self-preservation?  I find that I really miss the compliments, which is probably the most horribly selfish thing I could say.  Hello, Vanity!  Why should it matter who thinks I'm beautiful, funny, or clever? It shouldn't. But at the same time, without a load of friends around or one significant other who lives to please me, I start doubting everything. Maybe I am a horrible person. Maybe I am socially awkward. Maybe I do turn people away with unknown snobbery or subliminally sent "leave me alone" messages.  Why don't people go out of their way to befriend me? What kind of world is this anyway, where we pass people daily without even a 'hello'? Oh, the potential friends, the potential alliances, the potential breaking of bread with people not like ourselves!  Take the man sitting next to me right now: shaved head, all-black clothes, not necessarily the stereotypical epitome of a friend of mine, but possibly a brilliant conversationalist or a wonderful artist, or a person yearning to meet a third grade teacher with whom he could share his dreamas and aspirations. 

Yet, I tremble at the thought of being the first to start the trend. It's weird. That's why. It's weird to go up to someone and start a conversation or offer a hand. It's seen as being pretentious or forward, but not as being friendly.  Can someone tell me a way to heal this wound? 

This loneliness is killing me!

Living or Dying

This evening I got up from reading in bed, and walked in darkness to my dishwasher. I put my back toward it and leaned, feeling the wafts of warm air nearly burn the tops of the backs of my thighs.  That dishwasher is mine. Somehow, through some sort of elaborate prank or strange twists of undeniably coincidental events, I am living an adult's life. How did this happen? How is possible that I vividly recall junior high and elementary school, but suddenly I am sent bills in the mail and called "ma'am" by customer service representatives?  If I ran into Daniel Moore tomorrow, my crush from about fifteen years ago, I would still blush, stammer, and look at my feet.

Since before I can remember, when anything of interest was coming up or any large occassion I was looking forward to began to present itself, I would tell myself that there was no way it could happen. Something would definitely come up or, as morbid as it may sound, I would die before it could occur.  When my mother and grandfather set up for me to go to France with my cousin, I knew for certain that something would happen to prevent it. Even as I sat in my plane seat, I imagine the plane going down in one firey bulb into the ocean.  Now, even, as my 25th birthday looms closer and closer, I don't think it's possible. Twenty-five. That's the age of a woman. I'm not meant to reach it.

Perhaps I'm not grasping life as it is meant to be grasped. My life is pretty mundane. The characters are few and far between, and nothing truly exciting or adventurous has occurred. It wouldn't be a book you'd be tempted to pick up.  It wouldn't be a tale that symbolized excellence, creativity, hope, perserverance, any virtue, really.  What am I doing here?  How am I here in a home, twenty-four- the same age as many of my MARRIED friends, pining for the dog in the same way as many of my third graders.  Why do I still see men as potential crushes than potential mates? Why do I still get excited over rainbows, visiting friends, holidays, dressing up like a pirate? Am I really 24, or is this just another prank, some sort of dream? Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and still be in second grade in my pig decorated room, thinking about Daniel Moore across the street. That seems more likely than me actually living an adult life.