Tuesday, May 29, 2007
the platza.
i think i have been waiting for someone to do this to me all my life: to roast me in a sauna, beat me with an oak-leaf broom, throw buckets of cold water on me, repeat, dunk me in a cold plunge and wrap me in a terry cloth bundle in a reclining chair. when it was over, i felt like i was about nine years old. thanks, the best one.
and it was sorely needed. the wedding stuff agitates between happy-excited and sort of glum and grumpy. what seems like it should be joyful opportunity for Satisfying Projects in Self-Fulfillment often ends up swimming around in my blood stream as Pressure To Create Meaningful Moments. i don't know why i feel a certain dread that the wedding will be ordinary, or fail to impress, or that i'll get there and think, eh.
it still feels good when something good is getting accomplished. there's so much right now with the move and arranging the sublet and the constant figuring. i need some worry beads, some fidget thingies. or maybe i need not to be in charge of all three of these major endeavors--the disposition of our manhattan apartment, the exodus from new york, the joining of our eternal souls in what people are insisting on calling matrimony, even though i think that sounds like a bacterial infection.
how did that happen? how am i the point person on all this stuff? i wish i could tell you someone was shirking, and maybe someone is, but my kishkes tell me this is a result of my being grabby with responsibility, of thinking no one else is going to do it right. which would be easier to let go of if other people got it right more often. no, i'm kidding. kind of.
i'll see what i can do to lighten the load. maybe the platza will put in another appearance. in the meantime, probably time to try to get over the terrible, terrible imposition foisted on me by the Happiest Day of My Life. lord.
and it was sorely needed. the wedding stuff agitates between happy-excited and sort of glum and grumpy. what seems like it should be joyful opportunity for Satisfying Projects in Self-Fulfillment often ends up swimming around in my blood stream as Pressure To Create Meaningful Moments. i don't know why i feel a certain dread that the wedding will be ordinary, or fail to impress, or that i'll get there and think, eh.
it still feels good when something good is getting accomplished. there's so much right now with the move and arranging the sublet and the constant figuring. i need some worry beads, some fidget thingies. or maybe i need not to be in charge of all three of these major endeavors--the disposition of our manhattan apartment, the exodus from new york, the joining of our eternal souls in what people are insisting on calling matrimony, even though i think that sounds like a bacterial infection.
how did that happen? how am i the point person on all this stuff? i wish i could tell you someone was shirking, and maybe someone is, but my kishkes tell me this is a result of my being grabby with responsibility, of thinking no one else is going to do it right. which would be easier to let go of if other people got it right more often. no, i'm kidding. kind of.
i'll see what i can do to lighten the load. maybe the platza will put in another appearance. in the meantime, probably time to try to get over the terrible, terrible imposition foisted on me by the Happiest Day of My Life. lord.
