the grass is always greener

i have to stop visiting my friends homes. really.

i'm not trying to be antisocial. i just have this problem when i visit the homes of my more artistically inclined, design-oriented friends, i find that i become discontent with the contents/decor of my own home. i find they have such fabulous furniture and such stylish paint colors and such trendy knick-knacks and such up-to-date electronics that it's just impossible for me to be satisfied.

and i am so not the keep-up-with-the-joneses type. plenty of people have complimented my decor choices, and for the most part i'm comfortable with my home (except for a few pieces of furniture that i could benefit from owning but don't yet have.)

but now, i look around and everything seems so college-esque. those old photos in those ratty frames. that old music poster (but at least it's in a poster frame). that ill-fitting slip cover on that dog-chewed couch. that chair and ottoman which i acquired for free.

the problem is, i can't afford to make my home look like pottery barn central. i make decent money, but after the mortgage, car payment, grocery bill, gas bill, pet treats, new clothes and other incidentals are all paid for, well, there's just not much left. and what's left either goes toward my six-months' salary reserve or vacation. plus i really, really, really need to get those scratches and dents on my car fixed. sigh.

the thing is, these people with the uber-trendy homes really can't afford them either. their jobs pay worse than mine (which at times is hard to believe). i don't know if it's mom and dad paying or the credit side of credit cards, but for me, neither is an option.

i need to win the lottery. i need to play the lottery.

standing in the shadows of love

this post will be necessarily vague to protect all those involved, including myself. read it if you like, though i'm more using this as an outlet for my emotions, as a way to think things through in the medium through which i do my best thinking: writing.

i'm reading a book right now about a writer whose parents never told him any of the important things he should have known about them ... like the fact that his mother was a nun before she married and birthed him. rather, they passively let him discover these things on his own, as previewed by the inside flap of the book cover: "that, too, is the nature of families: parents keep secrets from their children, and children are happy to acquiesce, not wanting to disturb their universe."

my universe has been greatly disturbed several times in my life by bits of knowledge about family, friends and lovers that i've obtained unwittingly. today is one of those times.

granted, the things i learned today did not come as a complete surprise to me. they were things that deep inside i knew but also found easy to disbelieve. i'd done such a good job of building a bubble of happiness around me that i'd managed to forget about that which i knew to be true and that which re-revealed itself to me today.

and granted, what i found dates back to an earlier time, an earlier stage of a relationship that has since, i think, changed dramatically. but now, how can i be sure that it has? are you who i thought you were? am i who you think i am?

now i don't know where to go from here. i have questions. lots of questions that must be asked. but how will i know if you're being honest? will i be able to trust?

skool is kool

so whenever this time of the year rolls around, i get nostalgic for the start of school, and when i get notstalgic for school, i start to wonder if i should go back to school.

but this year has been a little different in that i've been nostalgic for the actual beginning of college, as in going for the first time as a freshman. oh, i loved going to college then. everything was so new, so fresh. and even though i was going to school six hours away from home, i never really felt homesick. i loved meeting new people, and my classes were really frickin' easy (though never again).

i've been torturing myself by looking at all the freshmen's facebook photos of their cutely decorated dorm rooms, which is somehow making nostalgic for the dorm life. before you judge me for how much of a sad little person i've become, who can argue with having a meal plan and cleaning lady?

thinking about all of this makes me even sadder because i know i can never recapture that excitement. it was exciting because it WAS so different than anything i'd ever experienced. with four year of school under my belt, nothing about college would ever be new again.

i'd feel stupid going back to undergrad again with all those perky annoying 18-year-olds. plus the "non-traditional" older undergrads always weirded me out a little bit. that leaves grad school, and there's nothing exciting about grad school.

i guess i don't really know what i'd study anyway (which makes me the perfect candidate to be an undergrad again). i might as well keep working and, i don't know, pay my mortgage rather than school bills.

swat

fly swatter:

something you often need, but never think about buying

old

on the eve of my birthday eve, i'd like to share with you two scenes from my favorite episode of sex in the city -- "the agony and the 'ex'stacy" -- an episode that features carrie's birthday.

carrie on phone, speaking to big's answering machine:
"hey, uh, i think you're still in england, but, uh, it's midnight here in new york and it's my birthday. i am officially old. so, uh, i felt the need to call someone ... older."

random girl at restaurant on carrie's birthday:
"twenty-five?? fuck, i'm old! ha ha!"

yup. that 'bout sums this birthday up.

(none of you older people are allowed to tell me i'm not old. it's all about how old you feel, and i feel 140)

scrooging

for some reason, i'm having the most difficult time getting into the christmas spirit this year. i'm never as quick as everyone else to the punch, but the christmas spirit usually consumes me by the second week of the month, but not yet this month.

i've certainly done my share to get into christmas. i've finished up my shopping, most of it having been done rather early for a change. my tree's been up for more than a week, the 'barenaked for the holidays' album out longer than that. i've watched a few christmas specials on tv, i've been to four parties and have even done a turn in the angel tree warehouse sorting gifts for those who need a little cheer.

but alas, all to no avail.

maybe it's the fact that the weather makes it seem more like christmas in april.
maybe it's because, for the second year running, i'll be working in the office on christmas eve until 1130 p.m.--much too late to make it home to memphis.
maybe it's because i'm way behind on sending out christmas cards.

none of those seem like the answer, but i'm open to suggestions.

reunited

i let someone borrow my computer all day today. it's amazing how much i missed it, and that is sad.

p.s. it's freakishly cold outside.

running

i think if i didn't have to work today i would instead be running away.

(sigh)

tires

it's amazing what i can get excited about these days. today it was the two new tires i bought for my car. tires? yes, my friends, tires. or i was at least excited about no longer riding on a spare.

i remember one christmas when i was little and i was looking at all the toys i got and all the grown-up things my parents got, and i thought 'how sad will it be when i'm too big for toys and i get all that boring stuff.'

that time is here, i fear. and i believe the 'sad' part of my foresight was accurate, though it's really not as bad as i expected.

knitting

i'm officially an old maid: my best friend got engaged over the weekend, and i've taken up knitting.

i'm very excited about the engagement, don't get me wrong. but she was my unmarried touchstone. we would gossip about all the married people out there. and it was like she and i were practically married through school, so i guess we're going to have to get that one annulled.

because it was my day off and i was finding that i was getting very bored with myself, i decided to join up with a group of ladies from my church and knit. before tonight, i didn't know how to knit, but apparently i was a fast learner. the ladies -- all at least 20 years older than me -- did make fun of me when i called the knitting needles 'sticks.' i mean, that's what they look like.

if you see me post something about getting some cats, please, please come rescue me from my old maid-dom.

remembering

everyone loves to tell their 'where were you on 9/11' stories, and i've heard some pretty amazing ones. i'd share mine, but it's largely uninteresting and can be summed up in one word: college. i didn't know anyone killed. i didn't know anyone up in NYC. i'd never even been to NYC. what i find interesting about my own experience is that i remember the day in brief but sharp and vivid vignettes. in short:

_ the night before my roommate and a friend of ours stayed up late in my dorm room watching monday night football. the dolphins were playing, though i don't remember who else was or which team one. after the game we watched 'wayne's world' and laughed so hard. it was the first night of the semester i didn't get all my homework done.

_ because of the late night, i slept a little later than usual. our friend who had been over the night before called, and my roommate who was already up said something about a plane hitting the WTC. i said 'huh, that couldn't have been an accident,' and went back to sleep.

_ when i woke up about 30mins later, it occured to me i should turn the tv on -- something i usually didn't do in the morning. i watched, stunned, as the second plane hit.

_ my british lit teacher, choked up, cancelled our morning class. my journalism teacher did not cancel our afternoon class, and we didn't even talk about what had happened. not even about how a journalist should handle such stories. i thought that was a huge missed opportunity.

_ groups of students gathered everywhere -- students' center, hallways, courtyards -- for impromptu crying and prayer sessions.

_ i called my parents later in the day. my dad told me about how he and my mom walked and sat outside and thought about how important life is and how different everything would be.

_ the weather outside was the most beautiful day of the year. sunny, mild and fresh. the irony of that bugged me for most of the day.

_ my homework routine never recovered for the semester as i put it off for several days, instead opting to watch more and more tv coverage of the attacks.

it's hard to believe that day was five years ago. the fact that i can still remember things so vividly, as i'm sure everyone can, is proof of how profound an impact it had on us.

birthday

it's funny how yesterday my profile said i was 23 and today it says i'm 24 -- a very unceremonious changing of the age. i don't know what i expected it to do, it's not like my blog would start shooting fireworks onto my computer screen. i'm sure our ages are calculated by the mammoth servers which power blogger.com (although i thought i powered blogger) in some intricate algorithm. i guess maybe blogger might wish me a happy birthday when i logged in.

on that note, i'll again quote Encyclopedia of an Ordinary Life, which echoes my feelings on birthdays:

i'm very glad i was born and definitely appreciate the ongoing alive status that each birthday brings, but i do not typically get into the animated birthday hoopla spirit. i do recognize, however, that for me it is a fine line between not wanting to make a big deal about my birthday but also wanting family and
certain friends to dote enough to satisfy some nebulous quality/quantity acknowledged-my-birthday-barometer.

i've already received a number of well wishes from family and friends, some whom i would not have expected to even remember my birthday. and my yahoo page posted a little happy birthday icon this morning. that was nice. it's been a lovely day so far.

showering

why is it that a shower in the morning serves to wake me up a bit, but a shower at night only makes me sleepy?

giving up

when i'm working the crossword, there's always a point where i have to just give up. there's always a word or a whole section that looks painfully incomplete. but i've stared at it too long without determining anything -- it's time to go accomplish something else.

two observations

after midnight:

1. the radio stations play fewer commercials. there's generally no dj on the clock, so really there's very little talk at night. it's nice. once upon an adolescent time, i had bad bouts with insomnia and would listen to the radio as i lay awake in the middle of the night. my favorite station had a dj then, and he played the best music. i wrote him an e-mail to tell him that, and he sent me back a thank you.

2. the air conditioning at kroger -- not one particular kroger, every kroger i've ever been in at night -- works a little too well.

only child

my boyfriend and i had a discussion last night about only children. i am one, and i'm proud of it. i love the distinguishment of being an only child. he, on the other hand, sees it as a disadvantage or a curse. he related a story of his parents asking him how many children he wanted to have. 'well, i wouldn't have just one,' he said. 'that's the worst thing you could do to a child,' his father responded. both laughed. 'he was just kidding, you know,' my boyfriend said to me. 'but i still want more than one child.'

he said he couldn't imagine an only child marrying an only child. funny enough, i've read an article by an only who married an only. she said she had seriously dated many men, all of whom had siblings, and none of whom really ever understood her. then she met and married her only child husband. he got her. he understood that she needed personal space and personal time from time to time, and in needing those things, she wasn't mad at him, she just needed some space. so did he.

i now feel the urge to validate my existance as an only child. i never realized being an only child was a stigma until i was older and people would say to me 'you don't seem to have the only child syndrome.' syndrome? what about being an only child was supposed to make me ill?

over time i've learned that -- according to the world of people with siblings -- only children are supposed to be selfish, spoiled, ill-socialized, greedy, etc. it horrified me to think i was grouped with such characteristics. in fact, my parents, my extended family and my friends have helped me to become anything but, at least in my humble opinion.

i've watched my friends who do have siblings grow up. i never felt any different than them. half of them -- including my boyfriend -- don't even get along with their sibling(s). i've watched them fight and disagree and love and cherish. and i've managed to love and cherish even without a brother or a sister and without having to fight and disagree. i have found family in my cousins, aunts, uncles and friends. i'd argue i've found an amazing sisterhood in my best friends, one that i would not trade simply to share blood with someone.

and regardless, my mother and father have always been my best friends. i can talk to them about mostly anything. we have a relationship that goes beyond nurturing, it's a companionship as well.

two of my very closest friends are onlies. i've love observing how they fit into the 'only child' mold. and of course, they don't. sure they're different, just like i know i am. they're free spirited, opinionated and stubborn. but among our larger group of friends they are also the most nurturing, the first to listen and the first everyone goes to for advice or support.

when i woke up this morning, i googled 'only child' and read up on what the world of the internet thinks it knows or wants to know about onlies. i was amazed at the number of articles and message boards offering help in raising your only child. why do people raising an only child need specific help? shouldn't it just be help in raising your child? again, there's the stigma that an only child will turn out a certain way, and gosh darn it, you better do this, this and this to ensure that they don't!

i would love to have only one child. i would love to have the same kind of relationship with my own child that my mother has with me. parents who are not onlies stress over the idea of an only child. i stress over the idea of having more than one. but, if i do have more than one, i will not treat my children any differently than if i only had one.

i did find this wonderful article that appears to have been published in the NY Times magazine in 1998. the article is written by Bill McKibben, author of Maybe One: A Personal and Environmental Argument for Single-Child Families. i encourage you to read it, but if you choose not to, i've broken out some of the more interesting bits.

in the late 1800s, the only child syndrom stigma was very much in full swing:

In fact, according to G. Stanley Hall, who oversaw the studies and was the acknowledged child expert of his day, being an only child was a ''disease in itself.''

For the next generation this view ruled unchallenged. In the first three decades of this century, while the foundations of modern psychology were being laid, no one else studied the question. Dozens of magazine articles repeated Hall's gospel. ''It would be best for the individual and the race if there were no only children,'' one journalist insisted. Finally, in 1928, a man named Norman Fenton conducted the first study to suggest that only children were, in fact, quite normal. But he published his work in the obscure Journal of Genetic Psychology. In any event, it was probably too late. The stereotype had taken hold.

The author spends time with only child Toni Falbo, a professor of educational psychology at the university of texas and one of the foremost authorities on only children. Falbo and associates have done study after study after study and found:

that ''only children scored significantly better than other groups in achievement motivation and personal adjustment,'' and were in all other respects indistinguishable from children with siblings. ... Other analyses show that only children score somewhat higher on achievement tests than children with siblings. Probably, say researchers, this is because parents' resources -- especially their time -- are diluted as additional children arrive. Only children have slightly higher I.Q.'s and complete slightly more years of school; they are read to more often; their vocabulary scores are markedly higher, probably because conversation in the household does not become as childlike.

and this:

Only children have as many friends, they're picked as quickly for teams,they score lower on indexes of anomie and resentment. They may even be better at sharing than other children, partly because they're used to the idea that their turn will come. When they grow up, they make as much money and they are slightly less likely to find themselves at the shrink.

the author, a father of an only, ends with this thought as he reflects on his own child:

As I lay in bed this morning, I could hear my 5-year-old daughter out in the living room, singing happily to herself as she worked a puzzle. A few hours later, we both suffered through a noisy timeout. Tonight we snuggled on the couch and read Roald Dahl.

She's not an only child, damn it. She's a child.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzz...

i slept way too late.

first things first

i had six honest serving men.
they taught me all i knew.
their names were: where, what, when,
why, how and who.

~rudyard kipling

i don't know why i'm creating another blog, but i suppose this will be an experiment in randomness and anonymity. i've noticed that some people post as little as a word for some of their blog entries. my other blog has mostly been for storytelling with the occasional random outburst. this one will be a little bit different.