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.
6 comments:
Im no expert, but I'd say writing is not a particularly good hobby if your other goal in life is to meet a significant other. Especially for a woman. Writing is too time consuming and will intimidate (or just flat turn-off) 90% of the guys you meet. Not saying that to be a jerk--just saying that if you really, really want to be a serious writer you may have to choose that over a relationship. Just like a serious relationship will probably consume your writing time and just make you feel pulled in (2)-(3) directions. So much easier to be dog!
Interesting comment. Why is a woman who writes such a turn-off? I'm not baiting you into an argument, I'm genuinely puzzled/curious about that comment.
No argument. And it brings me joy to say it. But men (most men of course--Im generalizing) like to be smarter than their women. Or at least, think they are.
As a quick digression, one of the great things about our dogs is that when we go home to them, we're the masters of the house. We can boss them around (if thats your thing) or fart while they're in the bed or lie around naked without being self-conscious or concerned about hygiene or whatnot. They bring goofy energy and then peace when you tire out.
But when you go home to someone who's your equal--or perhaps greater than your equal--where's the peace in that? Suddenly there's politics around who does the dishes or who's left the toilet seat up or financial arrangements or who's in-laws to spend the holidays with.
With both points in mind, I ask you. Imagine you're a guy. A friend wants to set you up on a date.
"What's she do?" you might ask.
"She teaches kindergarten."
Hmmm. You might say to yourself. Sounds easy. Or at least, easy-going. Feminine.
Conversely, imagine if the response is "She's a writer. She's working on a novel."
Hmmm, you might say to yourself. Intellectual, lots of time alone, ambitious, lives in her mind. Hmmm.
Its hard to be a woman Ava. Im quite sure of that. But when you're the woman and the man, where's a man fit in? Especially in this economy.
Its always dangerous to give advice, but as a man over 40 years old who has a lot of female friends the same age, my advice is to just have a baby--however you have to do it. It may seem overwhelming w/out a man, but my own opinion is that, in the long run, it'll actually make it easier for you to find a guy.
This issue of babies is all-consuming to women. You're like a bunch of ravenous animals in that regard and believe me we men can see it. Sense it. So unless you're dealing with a serious church-going or religious man, we'll run like the wind.
I'm pretty awesome so I suppose it's only a matter of time before I can have the smug satisfaction of being me and still manage to find a man who can put aside my self-sufficient ways, aspirations, and goals,(oh God, how awful!) and want to be with me.
I think you are right that men need to feel they are superior in some way or at least needed. I actually think both people need to feel they are bringing something to the other. But writing or being a writer or having my shit squared away doesn't make me a man. It makes me a woman with her shit squared away.
I'm honestly ambivalent about having children. What I lament is feeling cornered about it. Like I can't just let it be what it's going to be. Maybe that's what men sense, maybe you're just paranoid. If my brother or sister had a kid, I think I would be much more relaxed about it. But we seem to be the kind of people who don't pair up easily. I just want the parents to have a grandkid.
Thanks for sharing your thoughts. I clearly take exception or disagree with some of them but love knowing what you think.
Well, first of all, as I review my comment, that 1st line should read: "..And it brings me no (no!) joy to say it." ( that's what I get for commenting in the a.m.).
Also, I didn't mean to make it sound like men would specifically "run like the wind" from you. I've never seen what you look like or really know anything about you or your capabilities. Im pretty sure (and certainly hope) you knew that.
But what I do believe wholeheartedly is that women (as a whole) need to recognize that men get very little to nothing out of this modern life--let alone from breeding. As I once commented in (1) of my posts, 90% of the jobs in this country are just stupid busywork that mean nothing in the scheme of things. Not saying we should go back to being farmers, but at least there's something tangible and useful thats produced by that.
Now add to this...disillusionment todays economy and the sad fact that so many men aren't even qualified to do the stupid, bullshit, made-up jobs that exist and you can see how a bit of ambivalence might set-in regarding home ownership, kids, and just what exactly the next 10-30 years hold for us. Having children isn't supposed to be a selfish act done because you're scared to be alone or have time on your hands or have a lack of direction or passion. There's supposed to be something to offer the kid(s). Something you're excited about. Excited about--for them! Not sure what that would be at this time in history. Sorry ladies.
Finally, when I speak for guys, I speak in generalities. You know that. Writing is what makes us human and its one of only a handful of things that separates us from the animals. But most guys,...how many men do you know that have read a book in the last year?--let alone the last month or so.
These are very stupid, almost androgenous times. If I were you, I'd have my kid and write my book. Those are things you can control.
But hey, Im a guy.
There's a Sesame Street song that goes (and try not to think untoward things);
That's about the size, where you put your eyes
That's about size of it.
It's about visual perspective but like many things on Sesame Street (and no, I don't still watch it, just have strong memories for almost anything set to music), it resonates with adults.
I feel bad you don't feel there is anything to look forward to in bringing a child into this world. I'm excited simply for who they might be, to the people they will know and love and even to the world. I'm excited about the promise in each child. It's so exciting who they might become. It's exciting and scary. Someone was Ted Bundy's mom, someone was the Blind Side guy's mom. She was terrible but something good is coming from him having been born. That's exciting to me.
Whatever existential bullshit grip has got a hold of guys in their 30's and 40's these days-it just reminds me so much of The Screwtape Letters. I can't really do the reference justice but every age has a great lie, a distraction that assigns value to something between the sexes that isn't actually substantive or important and contributes to bad paring. Just like everyone, your thoughts on this subject are influenced by the circles you run in. The men I know read more than I do and I'm constantly in awe of what they know and their intellectual curiosity. They know bigger words and write smarter sentences.
At the end of the day though, I may do just what you suggest. Adopt a kid, write a book. I'll probably hold out until it's impossible to have a child and then adopt. But we're not there yet so for at least tonight, I'll just chill.
ps. I do recognize you know nothing of my talents or who I am outside of this blog and the same goes for what I know about you. No offense was taken in that regard. I just like a good spar.
Post a Comment