I think I have taken leave of my senses. The question is: Is this a permanent vacation or a quick side trip? Answer: Only time will tell. (Yes, I know I'm being cryptic. But explaining just isn't in the cards today, my friends, and tomorrow's lookin' iffy, too ...)
Sometimes I wonder which is harder on me: The holding on or the letting go? Every time I think I know the answer, something happens to make me question it all over again. Maybe the answer is: Both (since I seem to hold on to and let go of the wrong things in equal measure).
How is it that my husband tells me he's had me on the brain for almost twenty years but can't manage to even start thinking about a gift for me for my birthday, our anniversary, Christmas or Valentine's Day more than two or three days in advance of the event? And yet this same man will spend weeks, months, and now years, completely obsessed about which hat or computer game to buy?
Is it me or is there a disconnect somewhere?
Xanax or Valium?
Coffee or tea?
Paper or plastic?
Ginger or Maryann?
Boxers or briefs?
To blog or not to blog? (Granted, it's not Shakespeare, but it will have to do.)
Why don't do-overs exist beyond the pages of fiction and edges of playgrounds?
What is the point? Answers welcome ...
Sometimes I wonder which is harder on me: The holding on or the letting go? Every time I think I know the answer, something happens to make me question it all over again. Maybe the answer is: Both (since I seem to hold on to and let go of the wrong things in equal measure).
How is it that my husband tells me he's had me on the brain for almost twenty years but can't manage to even start thinking about a gift for me for my birthday, our anniversary, Christmas or Valentine's Day more than two or three days in advance of the event? And yet this same man will spend weeks, months, and now years, completely obsessed about which hat or computer game to buy?
Is it me or is there a disconnect somewhere?
Xanax or Valium?
Coffee or tea?
Paper or plastic?
Ginger or Maryann?
Boxers or briefs?
To blog or not to blog? (Granted, it's not Shakespeare, but it will have to do.)
Why don't do-overs exist beyond the pages of fiction and edges of playgrounds?
What is the point? Answers welcome ...
6 comments:
wow you're in some place right now. Wish I could help you.
Are you having fun? Are you loving and feeling loved? Are you laughing and i mean a real big belly laugh daily? If not figure out how to do just that. It helped me big time.
Can't help you with your husbands disconnect I just know that would fry my arse. have you told him that?
We all need to have blog therapy? What do ya say, my house bring some wine!! (or liquor if you prefer)
I love my best friend. I just went to her baby shower this weekend. No present. I have only just thought of what I want to get her. Not because I don't care about her deeply, because, heaven knows, braving 2 cars, 2 planes, two metros, a train, and a bus just to get there on Saturday afternoon to make the baby shower and then do the same on Sunday afternoon to get back to work should indicate exactly how I feel about her. But when we used to live in the same city, I could barely bring myself to make a trip over to her place which was a 10 minute walk. It's always easy to take people for granted. Especially when they're readily available for me all the time. Then, I really only buy gifts on a deadline because I'm terrified of the close-range consequences and guilt trips if I don't. For most of my friends, though, they understand my gift-giving is sporadic and more of a "I saw this and thought of you and had the cash to buy it." And when pressed to buy something, I hate the pressure and avoid it for days/months/years feeling like I'm not gonna be able to find just the right thing and if it's not just the right thing, it might as well be just any old piece of crap that doesn't involve much thought, anyway. On the other hand, I often rely on trying to be there for my friends and loved ones on a day-to-day basis with the little stuff to let them know how important they are to me. It's usually little stuff - like waking up at 4 AM to keep my dog occupied so that my mom (a light sleeper) can get an extra couple of hours. But it's always the little stuff that often goes unnoticed because it is small and not often the kind of stuff I do for recognition. But it's grease that keeps the gears a-turnin' smoothly never really gets as much credit as the machine. That's how I am though. And even if I don't pop by with a gift because it was your birthday. You can bet I'd pop by randomly one day with something that I just knew was perfect for you because it was Tuesday.
Dunno if your husband is like that. But maybe it's worth a shot to say "Hey, here's the deal, you have my birthday, our anniversary, and Valentine's day every year to celebrate with the inclusion of a gift from you to me. Now, let's mix it up a bit and shoot for 3 gifts a year - just whenever - to cover those three occasions." Now, come Dec. 31, if he hasn't come 'round with anything, kicking ass and taking names might not be a bad idea.
P.S.
There's always a disconnect somewhere.
Xanax on days that begin with a T and Valium on all the others (with a Scotch chaser).
Tea, but mainly bc there's this type of tea that tastes like Scotch malt.
Plastic. It's more enviro-friendly.
Ginger. I'm a sucker for brunettes and besides, all the Maryanns I know are a pain in the butt.
Boxers. You can wear them to bed as AWESOMELY comfortable pajama bottoms.
Always to blog. Everyone needs an outlet. And for a writer, what better outlet than writing?
Overdoers exist everywhere. It just depends on what the subject of the overdoing is, I suppose. If you're talking about your husband here, well you said it yourself. he overdoes it with hats. People are weird. Men are weird about stupid things. Women are weird about things that matter. ;)
Blog existentialism is a new age oxymoron. I don't think there really is a point. Still I can't stop and I think I'd have written three novels by now save the fact that blogging is a lot easier and still makes me feel like I'm doing something.
To coin a phrase, the point is to keep breathing. As for the rest, I think Whitman had the idea. We contain multitudes, and they are very rarely in agreement.
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