Wednesday, August 13, 2008
everything is going to be all right, thirty-two.
i'm trying to decide just how bad it's right to feel about spending my birthday on the couch with netflix and cocktails. on one hand, i really like those things, and it sounds better than searching out and wrangling a couple of acquaintances on what's going to be a busy day. my three or four school chums are out of town, one permanently--she decided to leave the program after the first year, MA in hand. the others are in various summer locations, visiting significant others, directing summer stock, advancing research in foreign archives. makes staying in L.A. teaching SAT prep feel about as sophisticated as being a birthday clown. and the monkey will most likely have to work. i myself work until six, and so i think, even though it may sound like a pity party for one, the desire to return to the nest will win out. i don't mind not going out, at least not so much; i mind that i can't think of anything else to do, given the paucity of companionship. it's sobering.
i've had to get myself to the emergency room alone a few times, for relatively piddly things, and it's always a shocker how alone it makes me feel. i'm trying to decide if this is like that. part of me feels well-equipped: not only are the monkey and i the wonder twins of spousal support and affirmation, i grew into an adult who likes her own company and does lots of things alone, happily. and i guess it's an accident of fate that the small handful of people i'd ask out for a drink are away. but the effort required to power through and act like a night alone isn't a big deal is bumping up against the shame involved. it is kind of a big deal, after all, and i don't want to minimize the importance of changing the status quo. i've written here about the lonelies before, and i want to recognize that it's an important thing that i would like to be different than it is. i find myself wondering if we should stay here after graduation, so as not to uproot the monkey yet again, so as to finally have a little bit of continuity, so as to save on bubble wrap. three years from now is a long ways away. even if i can convince the monkey we should go home, maybe the home i'm lonely for, already so different, will be unrecognizeable by the time i'm free to go back there. maybe even unhospitable. maybe it's already a ghost.
the bigger question doesn't get solved next week. but it's in there. along with a smaller one, that goes something like, how bad is it okay to feel about this? not just about the day, but about how in order for lots of other things to go right, this one thing had to go wrong. that a brave choice, or even a series of them, had a big cost. i'm not sure how okay with that i am, after the fact, or about what to do with the ambivalence. i think sometimes people in this situation get a dog, unless they are UCLA students forbidden from the joys of pet ownership by their evil landlords.
remember that year i wanted a robot? this year i want a service cat. or maybe a therapy buddy.
i've had to get myself to the emergency room alone a few times, for relatively piddly things, and it's always a shocker how alone it makes me feel. i'm trying to decide if this is like that. part of me feels well-equipped: not only are the monkey and i the wonder twins of spousal support and affirmation, i grew into an adult who likes her own company and does lots of things alone, happily. and i guess it's an accident of fate that the small handful of people i'd ask out for a drink are away. but the effort required to power through and act like a night alone isn't a big deal is bumping up against the shame involved. it is kind of a big deal, after all, and i don't want to minimize the importance of changing the status quo. i've written here about the lonelies before, and i want to recognize that it's an important thing that i would like to be different than it is. i find myself wondering if we should stay here after graduation, so as not to uproot the monkey yet again, so as to finally have a little bit of continuity, so as to save on bubble wrap. three years from now is a long ways away. even if i can convince the monkey we should go home, maybe the home i'm lonely for, already so different, will be unrecognizeable by the time i'm free to go back there. maybe even unhospitable. maybe it's already a ghost.
the bigger question doesn't get solved next week. but it's in there. along with a smaller one, that goes something like, how bad is it okay to feel about this? not just about the day, but about how in order for lots of other things to go right, this one thing had to go wrong. that a brave choice, or even a series of them, had a big cost. i'm not sure how okay with that i am, after the fact, or about what to do with the ambivalence. i think sometimes people in this situation get a dog, unless they are UCLA students forbidden from the joys of pet ownership by their evil landlords.
remember that year i wanted a robot? this year i want a service cat. or maybe a therapy buddy.
