Endings

My life is a shitshow, so what better time to restart this habit.

My father had a stroke at the beginning of February.  About a month ago he passed away. And because life knows how to pile it on, in that time my relationship of the last almost three years fell apart, so I’m single again.

Backing up, for a second, because this wasn’t supposed to be that year. I just started a new job in January, two weeks before my dad’s stroke.  Two endings and a beginning.

The other day, someone asked me if I’d gone back to work yet. And I was flabbergasted. Whose life did this person think I was living? That is not how it works in my reality. I haven’t taken a single day off since my father passed. In all the time since the stroke, I’ve only taken two days, the week it first happened. It never occurred to me to not go to work. I have to work. Is this a thing that people do? Just stop everything when someone dies? I get the requisite bereavement leave my company offers in this case, five days. I am saving those to help my mom move out of her house later this month, because that’s our reality. While my father was alive, they had a decent income, but they were paycheck-to-paycheck like most of America. They didn’t have any savings. Just steady pension and retirement checks. And the second that he passed, most of the income went with him. My mom is boned, and there isn’t any time for either of us to fall apart.

It sounds luxurious, to be honest. So decadent, to stop working because my father died. To fall apart for even a moment feels like something reserved for the upper-crust of socioeconomic strata. How elegant. Does the fainting couch come standard with that plan? And the on-call doctor with a bottle of valium.

So I power through, like I’ve always done. I go to work. I’ve flown back and forth to my mom’s house every two to three weeks, slowly slipping into debt that hopefully, someday I can get out from under. And if I’m honest, I’ve drunk more than is probably necessary. I haven’t even remotely begun to grieve. First things first, and someone has to keep it together.

I hope I keep writing. I have a lot of material right now, honestly. This I have to say about how hard it is to find out information about services and housing available to an elderly, low-income parent. That there should be a number like 1-800-MYPARENTSAREOLD. There’s all the lessons my parents have taught me of the “what not to do” variety. About the importance of a durable power of attorney, and the fact that you’re never too young to make sure you have one for your parents.  About wills, lawyers, real estate, estate liquidators, medicaid, medicare, hospice, and the VA. Maybe I’ll write about some of that, or maybe I won’t. Maybe I’ll write about being single again, suddenly, and what it’s like to be a single woman in her 40s in the age of Tinder, or maybe I’ll go nowhere near that crap. Hopefully I’ll find whatever humor there may be in this situation.

I’ve been through so much. I’ll get through this. Want to come along for the ride?

Ambivalence

One of my pet peeves is the misuse of words, and probably the word I hear misused the most, at least in my life and circle of associates, is ‘ambivalence’.  People use it when what they really mean is ‘apathy’.   ‘Apathy’ means you can’t be arsed, or you give no fucks at all.   People often talk about being ambivalent about things they don’t care about.  That’s not what that word means.

‘Ambivalence’ is when you’re of two minds or have mixed feelings about a thing.

For example, I am ambivalent about intimacy.   That’s right, I have two minds about human touch and emotional closeness.

Almost every night, as I climb into bed, I long for someone to hold onto, but as I stretch out like a starfish, face down with four limbs splayed out in each direction, I appreciate the luxuriousness of a queen-sized bed for me and me alone.  I imagine how nice it would be if there was someone to say goodnight to, but I’m glad it’s quiet and cool, and I don’t have to lie awkwardly still, while someone drops off to sleep, always first, beside me.  I sit here, day after day, so glad to live alone, with time and space to study, read, film videos, and write, all the while feeling that I wish there was someone to sit next to me and read over my shoulder or tell me about their day.  But then, if they could only stay for a short time, and go away again, that’d be good.   I love to sit with my friends and talk for hours about how I just need to have more time peace and quiet.   I love looking straight and deep into my friends eyes when they’re telling me a story, but I wish everyone would stop looking at me.

I crave it, and I don’t.    I avoid it, and miss it.  I wish I had it, and I run away from it when I see it coming.   That is ambivalence.

So, if you really don’t give a rat’s ass about Fantasy Football, you’re not ambivalent about it.  You’re apathetic.

Just sayin’.

CSGL – A Letter

Dear Boy Who I Formerly Had a Huge Crush On,

I’m so glad I’m not all Googley-Eyed and Ga-ga over you anymore, and I don’t mean that in even the most remotely shitty sort of way.   I just mean, it’s nice that I can actually speak to you in full sentences now.  It’s nice that we can have a conversation.   We can chat about stuff like books and bands, and it’s not weird.   This is all so much awesomer than that ridiculous crush.

Because, man, that crush was painful.  I mean, not just in the ways that crushes are normally painful, but just the extreme level of awkward that it seemed to produce in me.   This was way worse than just liking someone who doesn’t like me back.  It was much more brutal than that.  I sure hope that that doesn’t happen to me again, or if it has to, at least not any time soon.   That probably was awful for you, too, but imagine what it was like to witness all that from my perspective, knowing that I was acting pretty dumb, but seemingly unable to stop it in any way.

So, thanks for hanging in there with me when it was all kinds of goofy and just plain fucking lame.  I think you might actually turn out to be a pretty good friend.

Just sayin’.

Why Is It?

Why is it that I only write blogs when I can’t sleep?    Seriously.    And maybe if I just went ahead and wrote more blogs, well, then maybe I’d sleep better.     Like not having written this is what’s the problem to begin with.   I don’t necessarily believe that, because there are plenty of times that I have sat down to do this, and in the process of writing something, it all just sort of opens up more bags of worms, more questions that aren’t going to be answered tonight, and added fuel to the flame of my overactive imagination.

Once again I’ve become a lax blogger, and I’m not even going to try to make some excuse or say that I’m going to turn over a new leaf.   You could be reading this now, and there’s no guarantee that I’ll have anything more to write for another three months.   But who knows, maybe tomorrow…..

But the fact remains, my life is kinda dull right now.  Basically all I had going for me there for quite some time as a source of material was that monstrous crush.    That is thankfully finally behind me.    I mean, don’t get my wrong, I appreciate it for the creative wealth that it was, but at the end of the day, the agony of the thing wasn’t worth it.   A girl can only take so many mixed messages, you know, and there’s only so long that you can hold on to some kind of unreasonable hope.     Thankfully, one day, he did something absolutely maddening to the point of being the most unattractive thing I’ve ever seen, and that was that.     I send him on his way, wish him well, and count my blessings.    (“Yes.  Go, go.   I would not wish you back again.”)

So, I guess what I’m trying to say is ….”NEXT”.    I sort of am ready for something else to be going on in my life.   I want to have some ridiculous thing to write about that hopefully when you read about it will make you unsure of whether to laugh or not.    Some ridiculous sort of thing that I could go on about for a while, work myself into some silly rant about, and at the end of it all, come to the conclusion that I’m “just sayin'”.

Right now, well, I got nothing… well, maybe not nothing, but definitely nothing amusingly anecdotal to unleash in this forum.   All I’ve got is some flashes in my head of where I’d rather be or what I’d rather be doing.    And a whole lot of long hard work, that while boring as shit, I have to admit is deeply satisfying.

So, that’s that, and so I conclude without nearly my regular amount of enthusiasm –

Just sayin’.

CSG has A Crush

When was the last time you had a crush on someone?  I mean, really legitimately had a Crush on someone?   Junior High or High School, perhaps?   Well, my 32-year-old ass has got one.  Got it real bad, in fact.

I’m sure this guy has no clue.   Also, I’m about 90% sure that he’s off the market.   And yet, I’m totally dumb for him, and I can’t stop my brain from wandering in his particular direction.   Unwelcome and unbidden thoughts popping into my little brain while I’m trying to go about my life, attempting to be a human being.   It’s really hard to look at HTML when your brain is flashing kissing scenes in your head.    Can I just reiterate that part where this person is oblivious to me?    Maybe if I keep reminding myself, it’ll all go away.  I don’t want to be this stupid.

The thing is, though, that all this stuff, for me, well it’s been awhile.   Let’s think about this.   I’ve been single for almost two years.  Actually, next Saturday will be exactly two years.    So, while I’ve stuck my pinky toe in the dating pool a few times in the last two years, mostly it’s just been a big fat awkward mess.   A mess that isn’t helping my confidence level at all.   I mean, how do I Do This?   How does a Crazy Single Girl let it be known when she wouldn’t mind too terribly at all if you brushed the hair out of her eyes, ran you fingers down her cheeks, lifted her chin…Oh crap.  I’m doing it again.

Anyway, so before a year and 51 weeks ago, I had been with the same guy for over two years.    We started dating a day or two after my previous boyfriend dumped me.  (I don’t recommend this, by the way)   So, in effect, it’s been almost five years, since I’ve played this game, and I am having trouble getting back into it.

I guess what I’m trying to say is, how do you let someone know that you have been thinking about him.  Thinking about him more than just a little, but rather a lot actually.   And I’d like to spend more time with him.  Listen to him talk about anything.   To sit him and stare into his blue eyes. (of course they’re blue)    How do you even begin to tell someone all that, you know, without sounding like a complete nutter?

The answer is, you don’t.   There’s no way to dive into all that without coming across as a stalker.   So, the question is, how do you start?  Where do you start?   What do you say that will eventually lead the conversation in that direction?   I wouldn’t even know where to begin.   And I don’t want to be an ass, assuming that I’m right and he is off the market.

And so, you see, I have a silly crush, and I don’t know what to do about it, and even if I did know, I shouldn’t do anything about it.

Just sayin’.

CSGL – Still Stalked After All These Years

(I wrote this about a month ago, after I received a disturbing email.  At the time, I thought that acknowledging bad behavior would only encourage it.   Now, my thoughts have changed.  Enjoy.)

If we haven’t talked in almost two years, and you’re still using my name to get backstage at shows, well, that makes you a psychotic bastard, in my book.   You wanted out of my life.   Stay out.   Leave me alone.  Leave my friends alone.    Don’t lie to people and say that you know me just so that they’ll hang out with you.     That’s pathetic.   And considering that you already told the whole world that you never loved me via the internet, that you lead me on for years while I made my life around you, basically admitting you’re a worthless sack of shit and a miserable excuse for a human being, I wonder that you even bother trying to keep up appearances.

You’re a douchebag.

Just sayin’.