Things I'm noticing as I'm getting older — Part I

1. Soap: I seem to drop soap more often in the shower

2. Fingernails: :My fingernails used to stay clean for long periods of time. Now, they get dirty easily.

3. Driving: It feels kind of scary to drive at night or in the rain. When I was younger, I never "nearly" spun out of control in bad weather. Now it seems to happen all the time.

4. Hardcore Punk Music:I don't think it sounds good anymore. In fact, I find it annoying.

5. Debates: >Debates seem to be more serious, and a friendship could end because of one. This has forced me to be more "gray".

6. Books: I never understood reading more than one book at a time. I always thought it was "so intellectual" these people with a stack of books on their nightstands. Now, I am always reading more than one book and I understand it. It's not about being intellectual. It's about different projects and different interests all at the same time.

7. Cliches: The term "It's me, not you" when you're under 25 is a bold faced lie for the most part. Only now, do I really understand that term. It's possible to be in a relationship with someone you're in love with, and to hurt them (or break up with them) because you are so depressed or so miserable. And the term "It's me, not you" would make sense. That phrase does not apply to the 17 year old boy who's just not interested in the girl any more. yes, technically, it is he and not she that is the problem. But the connotation is that there's more. I finally believe this can be true.

8. Taxes: I understand tax loop holes and think of them myself. They're not as complicated or "high business" as I used to think they were.

9. Sleeping: I finally understsand why people want to "sleep in their own bed" and not crash on our air matress.

10. Bruising: Bumping into things hurts more now and I bruise more easily.

11. Gray Hair: I understand why women with grey hair don't dye it (like in my case). It takes upkeep and time.

12. Drinking: The morning after getting wasted is no longer worth the night before. And throughout the drunken experience, I think I should make myself have as much fun as possible, because I know I'll pay for it regardless.

13. Moving My Neck: I can't (physically) move my head as fast as I could when I was younger. If I move my neck too fast, I feel like I could do some permanent damage.

14. Medical Science: Medical science can't fix everything. I get this, because there are some things that it can't fix on me.

15. Therapy: I always thought therapy was a magic cure to problems, and I finally realize that the results are tiny. It's like an overweight person working out 3 times a week. Their body will become firmer, but there won't be a dramatic change. Unless they alter their diet.

16. Skin: The skin on my forehead is rough and thick.

17. Wrinkled Clothing: I can't get away with wearing wrinkled clothes anymore. It makes me look sloppy.

18. Waking Up: When I was younger, I could sleep with my hair in a bun and I'd wake up and it would be in exactly the same position -- good enough to wear the next day without having to "redo" it.

19. Face: My pores are getting bigger.My eyes are getting smaller.

20. Smells: My sense of smell is getting stronger.

21. Lyrics: The lyrics in music are more important than the words.

22. Fear: I've stopped going on roller coasters. I can't do the biggest ride in the theme park anymore.

23. Style: I want my furniture to match.

24. Mornings: I can't sleep past 10AM. Most days I wake up at 8.

25. Crying: Emotionally, I cry in these quick little spurts. I could be watching something on TV and burst into tears for about 5 seconds and then stop.

26. Grudges: I hold grudges longer.

It's a beautiful DAY!

She's deep,

is one of the reasons Mike gave the priest for loving me. I believe (and have always believed) that although I'm forever entertained in my thinking, there's a pain that comes with feeling so much of what I feel. And there's a perpetual desire to be alone in my thoughts and to go away from the burden I feel in how wrong everything is.

You'd look at me and think you knew it all. I talk incessently and I talk deeply, but the thrill of my existence comes in thoughts that aren't boxed in by anything, that aren't "solving" anything, and thoughts that I don't really have to explain or justify. It's like the boy playhouse in Pinnocchio — everything I want is in my mind and I can do whatever I want with it. My dreamer quality is a playground for my thinking. It allows me to escape the horrific reality of how mean this life is, and go to places that I like.

And here's what it's like.

Everything is techni-colored, overly saturated and over-blown, like when they were first figuring it out. All the images are beautiful. People look beautiful, and there's a soundtrack to everything. There are snippets of conversations that fade in above music, powerful single sentences that represent things I wish I had, accompanied by visions of grandeuer. But mostly, it's just scenes. Images of me running into the ocean naked with 15 other people that get it. Thoughts of freaking out and kicking something hard, denting my boots, and expressing the joy in a detatched depression. (always this one), standing up in a car packed with people that don't talk deeply, people that just do things together, and screaming fuck you at the top of my lungs at people driving by. Then, a version of me doing some project, and glimpses of building the project, and then suceeding. When I go into my dreamy state, I can only describe it as a feeling of running on top of the sky. Like nothing can hold me down. I can do and feel anything I want here.

And the truth is, I'm in this world about 50% of the time. And I know, if I ever go crazy, this is where I'll be.

I'm crying.

i'm sitting in my bed. it's 2am and i'm listening to the same song over and over. And somehow, beautiful exhillerating music makes me lament the things I never did. it doesn't make me love my husband or my life. instead i'm sitting here, tears streaming down my face, because i never mourned my dreams of living in new york city. and i know, it's something i'll never get to do.

i'm in touch with the dreamer that is such a gigantic part of me - and a part i've been trying to put to sleep for 5 years.only it feels more like euthansia.

i miss the days before i became a christian, when i could do whatever i wanted, and when pain felt sharp and euphoria felt wild.

at some point in time, god didn't want me to move to new york. i believe that firmly, but there's a passion and a love for that city that i feel, have always felt, and will always feel.

i tried to take off the comments, because i realize there's nothing to say. don't feel pressured to write anything. it's so hard to be this way. why is this my favorite part of myself?

and the song is "i look in the mirror" by nada surf.

I keep dropping

my bar soap in the shower. I've started a list of weird things I notice that are changing as I get older, and this is one of them. The list is in "progress", but this is one I can't help singling out. I'm looking for ANY possible reason why this is.

I must drop the soap 10 times (sometimes more) every single day. I don't know how this plays into aging. Is there something with skin or grip? It is completely bizzare. I've even intentionally spent time trying not to drop it, and I am unable. I haven't changed my soap. I am looking for any thoughts on this matter. Here are a few things to consider:

1. I use Lever 2000
2. I don't use a washcloth. I use one of those scrubby things.
3. The slipping soap doesn't happen at any particular time. It happens througout the entire shower.
4. I have a clawfoot shower and a detachable spray showerhead, if this has any bearing at all.

If anyone can figure out how I can stop dropping the soap (which makes a very loud bang every time), I will give you a free bar of soap.

My living room is filled with

piles and piles of dirty laundry. Mike put them all into baskets after I sorted them. Our dryer isn't working, so suddenly we're looking at a massive trip to the laundrymat again. Which, in some ways, I miss. It's this designated time to do laundry rather than this endless pile that accumulates and is never finished.

Over the past few months, I've been going through some strange, unfamiliar feelings. The first is feeling slightly vulernable. I used to feel very confident that everyone would like me, and it's probably because I work hard to make that happen. But lately, my identity as a mother (with other moms) is feeling very off. I've never experienced the kind of alienation that I feel when I'm around them. I'm not accepted into the Mother's world, and it seems like no matter how hard I try, there's something weird going on. I've wondered if it's because they can smell smoke on me and feel like I'm a bad mother. It might be this. It's a reoccurring thing.

I had a playdate on Friday, and this was the worst, most torturous playdate yet. The child would not play with Emmett. He had no interest in us. The mother was nice, but not trying to encourage interaction. So Emmett was running around (oblivious to this) and playing by himself. I was trying to talk to the mom, but far too aware of the differences between our children and that this kid was not interested in my son.

I should say, that for all the times I've said "Emmett is a genius", this child made me realize it's not true. Emmett's smart, but that's not his main/only quality. This kid was pronouncing facts to me. The streak of childlike, whirling fun that Emmett has, was not present. This boy was only three, and was critiquing his mother's turkey drawings, demanding she do a better job on the hat, and reciting the first and last names of the children he goes to daycare with. His thing was reciting facts and understanding how things work. This boy IS a genius. Emmett is a kid.

Last night was complicated. I'm emotionally exhausted. This job hasn't begun and has a tight deadline. The playdate made me feel (once again) like an outcast. I'm feeling unsure of my friendships. I'm feeling insecure about how Mike and I approach marriage and parenting. In all my years as a "fringe" person, this is the first time in my life I've truly felt like an outcast. It's very hard to feel secure about the way you are when other people are doing things so differently.

And I can't help but to see the analogy of all these piles of dirty clothes, just now sorted, and feeling like it's reflective of my emotional state.