I hate it when

I write myself notes at night that I can't read in the morning. There is something on my list that says 'Dheuntime' I have no idea what that is.

If you missed it

Late Night with Conan O'Brian aired their final show last night. Like many, I started watching Conan in the 90's and thought he and Andy were the funniest people on late night. Even then, I wondered why he wasn't the host of the tonight show since he was (in my mind) clearly funnier than Jay or Letterman. There is something about him (and Jimmy Fallon) that just seems more earnest and genuine. Like they are/were genuinely happy to be on television, they appreciate the people they work with, and they want to share with the world the things that make them laugh, not just churn out the same old thing. I guess Conan in my mind wasn't one of the usual suspects, the type of person you normally see on TV. He was just funny. His speech last night was touching and his exit last night was funny, poignant, and classy. I'll bet one of the best things about the unfortunate circumstances of the last few weeks for him was the opportunity to hear how many of us thought he was great. It's the closest a person can get perhaps to hearing their own eulogy.

I will say though that Will Ferrell needs to dig deeper, he's becoming a one note song and just isn't funny anymore. He's gone the way of Robin Williams. Both men are probably funny in person but usually painful and tedious to watch on TV. I hate it when you know what's coming. The same shtick. But Conan, since I know you are reading this blog as you have everyday since I started, thanks for working hard and being nice, for making me laugh, for laughing at yourself, for being principled, and for leaving us wanting more. Can't wait to see what you do next.

Baby takes a boat ride

She's so pitiful...

Some other randoms

I love the irony of watching Biggest Loser on the couch with snacks. I also like looking at myself naked after the show. Not too shabby after all.

An elderly black woman told me that God told her what I was thinking when she sauntered past me, appearing to cut in line at the pharmacy counter. She confronted me with it and I admitted, yes I was wondering if she was cutting in line. I'm not sure that's the sort of thing God conveys special messages about. Maybe God gave her the faculty to interpret the look on my and the cashiers face.

I hate the McDonald's commercial where the man keeps telling people not to talk to him before he's had his coffee. I especially want to bitch slap him when he walks into an actual McDonald's and starts in with his 'don't even talk to me before I've had my coffee.' I want them to show what a real cashier at McDonald's does when you get in their line and try to have an attitude with them. I want the girl in the commercial to cut him off and say 'I know you did not just cut me off. You are at MCDONALD's bitch. It's not that serious. You need to learn how to make coffee at home if it makes you suicidal because only someone who wants to die rolls up in here and cuts me off when I am talking. Now what the fuck do you want?'

I have a wake-up buddy and it is awesome. It is so much better to start the day with a friend.

Baloo is cancer free and the prognosis is great. Though she popped 2 stitches and had to go back for staples, she is recovering nicely. I'll put up picture of her with her little lifesaver collar (keeps her away from stitches) when I get around to it.

A thousand calories of awesome

I've got nothing to say (but I'm going to use a lot of words to convey that)

I've got a general funkiness going on of late that really inhibits what I'd like to see going on here or at all w/r/t my writing. It's like trying to get dressed with your clothing cut up like a puzzle, a button here, a sleeve there, a million different threads and no idea if you've even got enough to cover yourself. Holidays, natural attrition, and my sporadic posting have kind of dried up my audience which is all well since I don't really like the space I'm in right now. This post is meant to catch up a bit on current events and as I find the words, describe the space I'm in right now.

New Years:

I'm not sure what my determinations or resolutions will be when and if I make them but I do know that I will do my level best to not spend New Years Eve next year with people I don't really know or like. I don't want to hang out in an inbred group of people who never have anything to talk about but each other, which if they talked about something other than who had sex with whom or the last party they got shit-faced at, might at least be interesting. That's enough of that. I've humored my curiosity of what goes on "out there" on New Years Eve. Last year some random guy danced up on me and then solicited my advice about whether he should cheat on his pregnant wife. This year was a house party. I spent my time with the adorable dog there and had my coat on at 1030 to leave and continued to wear it until we left about 5 minutes after midnight. If my friend had been enjoying herself and not torturing herself over a guy there, I would have left at 1030. I hadn't even bathed that day, that's how into it I was.

New Years day I hopped in the car and drove down to Virginia to meet some old friends. That was a great way to start the year and a nice clear line of demarcation from the night before. We laughed and caught up for hours over dinner. It was great. I spent time with friends and washed my comforter at mom and dad's. :-) Perfect. My parents showed me pictures of my cousin's wedding and for the first time, I was actually very jealous of someone's wedding/marriage. Not because she got married-I have never cared for what I know of her husband and am not sure it was a good decision. I'm jealous because she had the wedding I wanted. Both my parents there, a surprise dance at the reception, everyone dancing and having a good time. My parents were beaming in the pictures and I felt bad because I'm feeling pretty doubtful they will ever have a chance to celebrate my nuptials. I'm not sure how long they will be around. They both have complicated health situations and I want so much for them to be around for it to come full circle, to hold their grandchild. I know intellectually that none of us get assurances of being around even one more second. My sister told me yesterday that a cousin by marriage suffered an aneurysm. He's an in-shape police officer. We just never ever know. So I'm stuck. I don't know whether to take it easy and not force what's on it's way to me (to paraphrase Nikka Costa), or try to make stuff happen.

And then writing. Like age, the thoughts and words to go with them are coming at me faster and evaporating before I can write them down. Before I can turn them around and try to understand them they are gone. And that frustrates me a lot. I have a sense of something slipping through my hands and I don't know if it's even worth mourning or trying to recover. At work I am telling my friends that if I die in the line of work to please ensure no one dare write I died doing what I loved. As I wrote previously, I want people to tell the truth. I don't want my death used as a rallying cry, something for someone else to feel they have to live for or honor in their work. They should do a good job and go home to their family, friends, hobbies. Not wonder at the end of the day if they've done enough in a job that is never ever done. I've let what is urgent eclipse what is important most of my adult life. I've been nearsighted, I've chosen work that I hoped would consume me but also fill me and consistently come up empty. And I don't blame the work, everyone needs a job and I have a good one. I know awesome people. That alone makes the whole thing worth it. But I've been trying to figure out what I'm trying to earn, when will I give myself permission to try my hand at something I really like. Will I be a Frank McCourt and write my first book in my 70's? Did he regret waiting that long to pursue his great love? What am I waiting for?

It is frustrating to be the biggest thing in your way.

A little worse than I thought

She whimpered for most of the afternoon. I know she was uncomfortable but I think she was also still groggy and kind of hurt that I left her there and she had to spend time in a crate. She hasn't had a drop to drink since coming home this afternoon. I just gave her pain pill so now she is resting comfortably but man oh man does it shoot pains through my legs to see her all cut up and stitched like that. I thought it was going to be a much smaller area. Oh my baby dog.

Apples and Wine

My mother sent me this chain e-mail. I think she is growing more militant with age.

And now this...

I was talking to Maybe tonight and at the end of our conversation he said he didn't have time to talk about it then but wanted to discuss something next time we talked. He asked me if I wanted to know what he wanted to talk about to prepare for our next conversation. I said sure and then he told me he was concerned about my biological clock.

Yea, I didn't see that coming either.

For the benefit of reader(s) who don't know the tale of Maybe, he has that moniker because though I was quite enamored with him when we first met years ago, he has tendencies that suggest he might be gay. Mid-forties, never married, no kids, 2 cats, one with a P.G. Wodehouse inspired name. My infatuation waned and we are friends now. And I'm sure he's not gay but the name has stuck. He's dating a woman who does not want children and it depresses him. Not because he loves children but because his genetics will not get passed on. He honestly regrets not donating to a sperm bank in his 20's. Really. He has all sorts of incompatible beliefs and mannerisms and yesterday's post notwithstanding, I don't think we would be a good couple because he is the least tactful person I've ever known. The cats alone are a deal breaker since I'm allergic. But I love him because I can tell him he's tactless and it doesn't really bother him. When we talk on the phone and there's a lull in the conversation, I can point it out as a sign we don't have anything else to talk about. When I decided he was dead to me (long story) he did the classic non-apology expressing regret that I felt the way I did but then sent me popcorn from his cat. In many ways it's the most honest relationship I have.

A few months back Maybe and I had what in retrospect must have been a much more serious conversation for him about having children. If I had a child this year, it would be considered a high risk pregnancy because of my maternal age. My mother was done having children by my age. I was thinking out loud about whether I would decide to go it alone. During that conversation, Maybe told me to keep him on the short list of possible sperm donors (I hate even writing that phrase) and even went as far to discuss his level of involvement in our child's life which for the record, he would defer to me. He even mentioned that he would of course set aside money for our child's education even if I did not want him to be involved in their life. He wants to talk more about this later but his parting shot was not to wait too late and at least freeze some eggs. I have no idea what has got into him. The idea of being pregnant and alone is terribly unpleasant to me. But I also thought, what the hell, we all get one ride and having kids is a limited time offer. Would it be weird? Totally. Would my parents love their first and possibly only grandchild? Completely.

So maybe 2010, I have a baby. I've always loved years that are multiples of 5. Just one of the quirky things I can hope to pass on.

In consideration of arranged marriage

I'm warming to this idea in a semi-serious way, the semi part a consequence of not knowing how to go about it. Assuming he's not a total douche, it's working love in reverse. We commit to each other, we go about the business of creating a family together, and I grow to love him for the things that are actually important. I imagine this guy showing up, both of us aware of how awkward it is to knit two lives together without the burden of believing our passion for one another is supposed to make those things easier. I don't think we would be like robots but I imagine we would treat each other more like co-workers, with a polite but distant affection that transitioned into a eyes wide open honest love as the years went by. I believe most of us can learn to love anyone but I think many have forgotten how to love. People trade actual love for intoxicating but fleeting sensations, and really believe something is wrong when sharing your life with another person sometimes does not feel euphoric and even has the nerve to feel downright awful. When you marry someone you don't know and couldn't profess love for, you don't expect euphoria, bliss, unicorns and kittens. You expect they will honor the contract you have made with one another. Not because they feel a certain way but because they promised. And that's what I want. Someone who takes the actual commitment more seriously than how they feel about me on any given day. I think taking the commitment seriously informs how we feel about each other. We're inclined to figure out how to make it work instead of independently deciding what our unhappiness threshold is and dipping out when we are no longer interested in seeking or finding reconciliation and compromise. I've probably already been with the man I would have spent my life with. I think I would rather share my life and raise kids with a man I had no expectation of affection from but respected. I think parts of it would be painful but perhaps no more painful than having someone tell you they don't feel the way they used to about you.

Part 2

I've got to say, so far 2010 kind of bites ass. Don't get me wrong, being alive beats the alternative but since I'm above ground to complain, I shall.

This year, I think there will be no determinations, no challenges to be a better version of myself, no personal double dog dares to ask guys out, no trying harder to do the things I want to do, nothing. I just want to give up. I feel like I'm that kid in the car asking 'are we there yet.' The Futureheads have a song called Skip to the End, sample lyric;

If I could cheat, I would skip to end
And decide if it's worth going through with
Skip to the last paragraph before we start
Is it happy ending, or a broken heart?

I think that's why I like music so much. I feel less lonely when I hear someone else speak my thoughts.

New Year, Same Me part 1

While everyone who is inclined to is diving head first into the resolutions, determinations, or fresh starts a new year brings, I am stretching my end-of-year brooding. I'm telling myself it is okay because I didn't stay home on New Year's Eve like I should have to think my thoughts and rearrange the furniture in my head so things could feel new simply because I moved them around. I depressed, unpressed, repressed, I'm just pressed. I'm irritable and keep turning away from writing because I'm annoyed with the words that aren't there when I finally have time to write them. I'm frustrated because many of the things I want to be different in my life are within my control to address or change. This morning it occurred to me that if I lost the ability to walk, I would wish I had run more. Even though I don't like running. I feel despairingly confident that I will not marry, will not have kids, will not even entertain a significant love interest for the rest of my days. Sometimes I hope those days will be short. And then I am convicted by the virtual eulogy in my head of my many wasted days. Days spent in exhausting battle with myself. Days I couldn't or wouldn't believe IBC could be interested in me. All the days I handed over that kind of power to someone else, all the situations I couldn't reliably assess because I was so inwardly directed, so consumed with protection of my fragile sense of self (worth).

And I'm starting to realize that perhaps I'm not really built for relationships because my first inclination is to bounce. Peace out, asshole(s), I'm out. I was looking for a job when I came to work here, I'm not trying to chase people to be friends with, you hurt me and I think that must mean every good thing about us is false. I know I would be spending my adulthood in a group home if emotional retardation was considered a disability. I wasn't really sad and listless enough so I decided to read e-mails from the guy tonight. I found this in an e-mail to my brother during that period which was the thick of the longest drawn out dissolution of a relationship ever;

After all the good advice I gave you I slipped on some stupid and wrote him. Nothing emotional or weepy. I didn't even indicate that I felt one way or another about him or us. But his reply was classic and he asked if he could call me. Well, I said yes. I haven't heard from him since. Kind of bugs me. Of course now everyone I haven't talked to in weeks is calling and I'm getting solicitious e-mails instead of an e-mail from him. I just wrote to whine and hopefully serve as an example of what not to do. Don't indulge that curiosity, it's not curiosity, it's Darwinism and it qualifies you for an award.