To B or Not to B

When do you call a relationship a relationship? I was sent a little cartoon this morning. It made me both giggle and a little sad. Mostly because it is incredibly accurate.

This last year has been a weird, wild, and wonderful journey, interspersed with bouts of hair pulling and tears. I can't tell you how many times I came thisclose to giving up, amazing the perseverance and patience a person has when they are motivated.

So when is it a relationship? Is it when you kiss on a regular basis? Maybe. Perhaps it is when you want to spend your time with each other, miss the other person when they aren't with you. Perhaps. Maybe it is when you have your toothbrush and jammies stowed away at your partner's house. Could be. Is it when you plan your vacations together, stock up groceries, have keys and clean the kitchen? A little more likely.

Perhaps we are all in relationship of some sort or another, it is just a matter of your own definition. Maybe I am full of shit and blissful in my ignorance. Though I do tend to think that you can call a dog an elephant to yourself and everyone around you but it doesn't change the fact that it is still a dog. Same with relationships, you can call them whatever you like, or not call them anything at all, you can deny them, shout them from the rooftops, or tell yourself they don't exist, at the end of the day it is who is on your mind when you go to sleep and who you reach over to cuddle in the morning that is important.

The return of the Prodigal Daughter

It has been simply forever since I have put thoughts on paper, er, screen as it were, here in this little corner of the cyberspace world.

Reading back on where I was at that point in life it is safe to say I have come a long way baby. Still full of questions, still saddened by far more than I care to be, still wondering about about my purpose, but at the same time, far happier than I have been in far too long.

I had the greatest of intentions to sit down and write about the things that are going on in life right now. To rejoice, lament, bitch, and gloat. Sometimes things don't go just as you envision them.

The past is past.

I thought that I should make mention of where life has gone in the time I have been gone. When it came time to get it all out, it just didn't feel like what I wanted to say. Sure, there has been some weird journeys, but the journeys, I feel, are necessary to be exactly where and who I am. And I like who I am right now. As frustrated, tearful, and sometimes bordering insane I feel some days, I wouldn't be anywhere else. Maybe it is that I am growing up, maybe it is that I have made the consious choice to focus on the good, maybe it is simply being in love. Whatever the case may be, I was far younger the last time I liked me this much, and who am I to question that?

I suppose, if I looked hard enough, I could find enough reason to be depressed. I can't stand my apartment, the rent is being increased, the new dull job still doesn't make quite enough to really cover absolutely everything, the kids are nearing leaving the nest, my family, we won't even get into that... but my kids are happy and healthy, I am happy and getting healthier all the time, with a little help (and the loss of 20 lbs), I am starting a new play, I am travelling down the most fantastic relational journey, I wake up in the morning looking forward to my day, and I have been a year massive anxiety free. Now that can't be all coincidence.

Sure, there are bad days here and there, and sure, there are days where tears are inevitable. I am positive there always will be. I am also positive they will pass.

So it would seem my first post after such a long hiatus has given about as much information as to what is happening in life as a bucket of mud. Though I have a feeling this could be the start of something far more revealing and interesting. Here's to the journey!

Questions

Why do I insist on analyzing everything? What is it about my makeup that means I have to pull everything apart and figure out the inner workings? Why am I so full of questions that may never have an answer? Why is it that I can not seem to just accept things and be glad? Why do I insist on more? Why is it that I can be so helpful with others and so out of touch when it comes to my own agenda? How can it be that I am seen as such a solid person when really, inside, I am a wreck? How is it that I can see all the good points in me, but at the same time, fear that no-one else does? What is it about myself that negates positive outlook? Why is it that I haven't gone out to play in weeks? What is it about being in a relationship that turns off the fun button? Am I really thrilled about where I am? What if I am caught up in feeling and not thinking logically? What if I am thinking logically and not listening to feeling? Can a person attain true bliss? Is keeping busy a sign of avoidance or is it good social structure? Am I reliving the patterns of my past? Is my future determined by the sins of yesterday? Is it possible to rise above all that has gone on? If so, who is to say what is the true path of enlightenment? Does a degree mean that you have the answers to the meaning of life? Did Alder feel good about himself? Is contentment a learned behavior or is it a state of being? Does it really matter what other people think? Do I base decisions on the views of others? Do I base my decisions on a narcissistic sense of self? Do I want status? Do I need to be seen as superior? If so, where did that come from? Am I in need of being in control? Do I have any control? Is my weight just a defense mechanism against intimacy as thrown upon me in the past? Do I need to be isolated to a degree? Will there ever be an end to all the damned questions? Will wonders never cease?

Questions. Why are there always so many of them? Perhaps it is my studies, maybe I am just kinda nutty that way. In any case, there are always questions.

Sometimes...

It is funny how sometimes the thing you need is right in front of you but is clouded by the things you think you want. Reality is far more interesting than fantasy most of the time. Why is it that it seems so much better than the real thing? No fear I imagine. There is no fear in maintaining a fantasy, a "what if", there is no failure when you control all aspects of the scenario, though there is no realism either, no experience. That is the best part though. The experience, the process. Though there are no hard fast rules that you can't still dream a little dream now and then.

when is an apple an orange?

One week away from my birthday. I am getting old. 34. I can remember being a teenager and thinking: "Oh my god, so-and-so is 35, that is sooo old". Now that is almost me. Funny thing, I don't feel anywhere near old. I am still waiting for the day when I wake up and become an adult. I see glimmers, but I think deep down I am still 17 at heart. Part of me wants to celebrate like mad, the other part of me just wants to curl up and nurture myself.

On a lighter note: I got a part in the play I auditioned for. Not just a part, but the part I wanted! How cool is that? And the person I play opposite? Let's just say it is amazing how life imitates art sometimes. I have always maintained that my life is a soap opera. It can be true for this segment, and yet somehow, interesting and fun to look forward to.

News always travels late when you want to hear what it is. Feelings are never a good solitary reason for saying or doing things. Peoples hearts are delicate. The search is always for the joy. If so, why is there not more smiles than there are?

Pensive pre-birthday musings.

Things will be, and are, exactly as they are supposed to be.

Another rampage

Maybe it is the season, maybe it is the amount of different thing I am trying to work through at the same time, maybe it is hormonal - who knows. But I am in a mood of contemplation lately, of exploration, of weeding out the crap that is of no good and getting to the meat of the matters. I think I will blame it on New Years Resolution Syndrome, or perhaps just a passing moment of fancy.

I would like to think of myself as someone who is creative, intelligent, and even, god forbid, interesting. So why is it that I seem to fall into situations that are basic and mundane? I can only surmise it is because I let it happen that way. To shed a little light, I have been working part time (after, of course, telling myself that I was going to take the year off to dig into school and really have time to study - which in afterthought I should be doing, since I have the schoolwork to get done) at a crap little job, doing things that, really, I can not stand, getting paid no-where near enough money to justify doing the crap that I am supposed to in the first place. I think it has been neatly sucking out my soul. I have come to the conclusion that I really can't be bothered with such an activity - the job that is - not the soul sucking - which is not a good habit to get into either, but in any case, it is the job that I am talking about now. So what keeps me from going in telling them to, in effect, take their job and shove it? The little voice in my head that says that I would be a quitter, the perfectionist in me that says that I could fix it, the mother in me that says that a little extra cash is not a bad thing. Though, when all is said and done, I am really tired of doing homework at 2 in the morning, so I am going to have to go back to my original plan. Which would be, of course, why I had that one in the first place - because it is the better plan. Let someone else be Superwoman.

That isn't all. Oh if that were my only concern. We don't even want to get started about the concept of romance. The wonderful world of being crazy about one who doesn't know you exist, is in love with someone else, while fending off the one who adores you whom you love - as a friend, while somebody else loves them while, while, while, while, while ... and it goes on and on. Sometimes I get the feeling that they are on to some kind of idea when they arrange your marriages at birth. Then the idea of being pawned off to some bucktoothed boring man with the intelligence of carrots because his father has a good load of cattle and fertile land rather throws me off, so perhaps that is not the best way to go about things either. Sometimes I think if I looked like Barbie, though I am told that if she were real her back would snap under the pressure and her legs would be impossibly long, besides being made out of plastic would get to be a pain after a while I am sure, not to mention having to walk on my damn toes all the time. Perhaps not. Thankfully I have left the phase of life where I feel like I have to be in relationship to be a happy human. I have found great security and joy in being my own person, in just being thrilled in my own skin. Though there are times when it would be nice to have someone to kiss at the end of the day and ask about how it went. Again, I am blaming New Years, or perhaps other circumstance, nah, I will keep it at New Years.

My daughter is making me crazy. I love her, she is wonderful. Oh to be 14 again. But there are days - like this one - where I just want to string her up by her toes and smack some sense into her. **just let me say this is a figure of speech and I would in no way string her up to slap her. The girl is bigger than me, and I don't think I have that much twine, and besides, she would wiggle far too much, and that would be abusive. For all you out there who may think that this is literal. It isn't. And besides, wet noodles are far more fun and don't sting as much** I won't get into how I came to this craziness with her at this point, just suffice to say it is all part of the teenage angst and fervor and leave it at that.

Have been listening to a lot of soulful music as of late, things made by friends - having been a musician for a while I am thankful to have some of their stuff kicking around. In addition I have been glazing over to a bit of Janis Joplin - always good for a heart wrenching primal scream or two, Loreena McKennitt - just because she always comes into what I am listening to at the moment, Jon Mayer - of the acoustic recordings, not the mainstream crap he has put out, I am a bit of a sucker for raw music which hasn't gone through the polishing stage yet I think. I adore the process of creating, the guts of the idea, the way it is before glitz and glamour turn it into something it was never meant to be. Honest. I am just in that frame of mind, where I am tired of all the fabricated bullshit that makes people do things, myself included, that are not of the truth, the from-the-guts-honest-reaction that should be prevalent, but from the sifted through, made to order, must look good and make everyone happy bull that emanates so freely from reality. I prefer the bones.

Or maybe I am just in need of a cold beer and a New Years hat. Yay 2006!

Christmas

Well here it is. The day of Santa, presents, chocolate, toys, wine, rum, wrapping paper, hopped up little ones on a sugar buzz that will last till the next year, and oh yes - Jesus' birthday. A little cynical? Perhaps. Christmas is a time of joy and togetherness. A time of family and traditions... For some. For others, it is a time of bad memories, lack of family fuzziness and just a reason to dip into the egg nog while checking the stuffing for anything that may be a little bit better left to being rolled up and smoked. Why is it that as a society we are encouraged to believe the Hollywood ideal? Is the big family gathering the norm? Or are we collectively in denial to be able to live up to the expectation of the extreme?

I, for one, adore the turkey, the presents, the picking things out that have little meanings and inside jokes for people you think of on a regular basis and not just when protocol deems it needed. I love the feel of the church on the Eve of Christ's birth. I do I really do. In the same breath I have to say I hate the fabricated bullshit that surrounds people in the holiday season. The niceties that come out this time of year that wouldn't be thought of at all in say February or June. I mean the gushing smiles and the "How the heck are you?"'s when they don't want to stick around for a real answer.

Maybe I am just jaded. Maybe I have spent too many Christmas' past living a different reality than the painted on smiles of the Cleaver family. Perhaps somewhere under this I am still waiting for the Grinch's heart to grow three sizes and to gather round the tree and sing with the Whos.

Whatever your case may be, I still wish you wholeheartedly "Merry Christmas!"

Perhaps I am not so jaded after all.