Sunday, April 13, 2008
no! not!
i wish i were joking.
right now is the time that makes people take too many painkillers. everything is fine, really, nothing is too scary, there's just so much downtime, so much alone. i can't tell if what's making it worse than normal is the monkey being gone with the car, leaving me stranded-feeling (like i was going to motor to west hollywood and check out a singles bar, oh yes) or that he's just gone, and not here in the evenings. except that's kind of creepy. who, at least of the childless, hangs out with their spouse every night?
um, losers. i keep thinking about how we're going, universe willing, to procreate, and how we will never again dress up and leave the house, and i get kind of panicky about how i should be doing this, leaving the house, talking to adults, having beers, laughing uproariously. and also, i miss it.
oh, sigh. it's just harder this time. i even went on meetup.org trying to think of some group of strangers i might want to share frozen margaritas with. yuck. you'll know exactly who i am when i say that the prospect of hanging out with a bunch of other people who had to resort to meetup.org to make friends makes me want to cut my tongue out.
it's approaching terminal velocity. just how many evenings can i spend alone? how many movies? how many emails, how many novels until i turn into david foster wallace's the depressed person? oh, lord.
we got a wedding invitation today, and the prospect of two nights of fun in june sent me over the moon. i think perhaps i don't have this much time to waste; i think this is the time that was supposed to be for something else. i think this was the harvest time, in which we took advantage of our many, varied and valuable relationships, when we enjoyed grownupness; not the time we sent too many emails and lost ten pounds because there was nothing else to do.
i know enough not to have any patience with the bored, and i'm embarrassed. but, oh. god help me. yarg.
right now is the time that makes people take too many painkillers. everything is fine, really, nothing is too scary, there's just so much downtime, so much alone. i can't tell if what's making it worse than normal is the monkey being gone with the car, leaving me stranded-feeling (like i was going to motor to west hollywood and check out a singles bar, oh yes) or that he's just gone, and not here in the evenings. except that's kind of creepy. who, at least of the childless, hangs out with their spouse every night?
um, losers. i keep thinking about how we're going, universe willing, to procreate, and how we will never again dress up and leave the house, and i get kind of panicky about how i should be doing this, leaving the house, talking to adults, having beers, laughing uproariously. and also, i miss it.
oh, sigh. it's just harder this time. i even went on meetup.org trying to think of some group of strangers i might want to share frozen margaritas with. yuck. you'll know exactly who i am when i say that the prospect of hanging out with a bunch of other people who had to resort to meetup.org to make friends makes me want to cut my tongue out.
it's approaching terminal velocity. just how many evenings can i spend alone? how many movies? how many emails, how many novels until i turn into david foster wallace's the depressed person? oh, lord.
we got a wedding invitation today, and the prospect of two nights of fun in june sent me over the moon. i think perhaps i don't have this much time to waste; i think this is the time that was supposed to be for something else. i think this was the harvest time, in which we took advantage of our many, varied and valuable relationships, when we enjoyed grownupness; not the time we sent too many emails and lost ten pounds because there was nothing else to do.
i know enough not to have any patience with the bored, and i'm embarrassed. but, oh. god help me. yarg.
