Wednesday, January 17, 2007

but I could start again, you can depend on it

Most likely, I'm a dodging the proverbial bullet tomorrow. There is a good chance that tomorrow's meeting is more like fact-gathering than future-role defining, so I have thankfully been granted a reprieve. Aren't you guys glad you all took the time to give me all that sage advice? This is sort of indicative of a lot that's been happening this week- kvetching about a lot of decisions that ultimately are not offered up as choices. But in this particular instance, that suits me just fine.

Before I complain about more nonsense, let me point you to maisnon- go shorty (though you're not really short by any means actually, especially standing next to me), it's your birthday!

This is really, really uncharacteristic of me to say, but I'm putting it out there anyway- I think I am going to continue to feel uneasy about my life until my apartment is tidy. Not tidier, but tidy. I've been doing tidier for some four years now, and tidier means oh, now I can find my keys. While that's been fine given what had been happening, now it's causing me problems. The only place I'm comfortable now is the kitchen, and that puts me back in the 1950s. Um, not okay. A big purge needs to happen, and it will take time. And time, oh, time is a problem right now, because I want to spend my time with people that I soon may not see much anymore. Therefore, it seems rather lame to reply, "but I have to clean my apartment" when asked to meet. However, at some point in the next 14 days, I am going to have to do just that, because we are a racecar in the red now, we are at a near-crisis point. And we are talking of ourselves in the royal we, and everyone knows that is just not okay.

Since I seem to be stream-of-consciousness blogging today, I'm also going to mention some things that occur in conversation with my mother that never fail to drive me nuts. There is the good news conversation and the bad news conversation, and my mother seems poorly equipped to deal with either (or I seem poorly equipped to handle her responses to either). Because here is what happens:
    Me: Good news, moms.
    Moms: Oh congratulations... oh that's great.... oh you know what? Just yesterday, I went to temple and I was praying for you, and I just knew that it was all going to work out.

    why it drives me nuts: Thanks for attributing something that took a whole lot of my blood, sweat, and tears to your visit to the mandir.

    Me: Bad news, moms.
    Moms: Oh sorry... but you know, that must be your fate.

    why it drives me nuts: Thanks for effectively telling me that if it weren't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all. Also- when dealing with bad news, fate is not much of a consolation in the moment, even if you happen to believe in that stuff.

I know, I know. Oh, I know she means well. That's why I don't actually use any of the retorts that creep into my head at such moments. I've learned to take a deep breath and ask about so-and-so's sister-in-law or some such innocuous gossip item in order to move on before the situation is exacerbated further.

Anyway. Look, San Francisco, we don't have too much time left together. You need to straighten out your act, stop freezing all the citrus, and warm it back up out of jacket weather into light sweater weather. Rain is fine, but not freezing rain, and definitely not black ice. Don't make this breakup uglier than it needs to be. I really want us to remain friends.

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