Ok, so here I am. And it's bed time. And I've had a good day, relatively speaking. I mean, I stuck to my list and did Pilates and read interesting stuff and took a bath and read some more and felt really relaxed. And now it's bed time (or something like it, but I'm still on West Coast time, which would be fine if only I were on the West Coast), and I find myself in spontaneous tears, and I don't know why. And I don't even have the hormone / baby excuse. But, you know, maybe that's the thing. Maybe it's just that I'm lonely. Maybe it's that all day my phone hasn't rung once. I know that I'm being petty. But I'm alone, and I'm afraid. And I don't understand why I can't just be OK ,and I don't understand why no one wants me, and I don't understand what's wrong with me that I'm successful in all the ways that don't really count. But in all the ways that count most, I'm a failure. I don't want to apologize for myself or my past or my feelings anymore, you know? I just want to be OK. And I don't know who started the whole bus metaphor, but I feel like I've been the only one on the bus for a long, long time. And right now, I am not sure that I want to stay on the bus any more.
So there's everyone else with the cute little house and the 2.5 kids, or whatever it is now, and what do I have to show for myself? A stupid piece of paper that says I'm supposedly an expert in something that no one really cares about anyway. And what does the piece of paper entitle me to? It entitles me to coddle / nurture / teach / mentor a bunch of 20-year-olds. And they appreciate me (I think, most of the time), but I give and give and give to all of them all day long until there's nothing left. But I guess it's OK because there's no one to burden with my nothing anyway.
So whatever. I'm just venting because it's better than crying alone for no apparent reason. Maybe I'm over tired. And my one wish for this moment is that there were someone to make biscotti with.
a president, a King
13 years ago
4 comments:
Ok, so after posting and reading over what I've written, I feel better. Blogging is cathartic. Hey, earlier I was talking to my brother about Oedipus. So maybe catharsis is my theme for the week. Eek! I sorta hope not because in catharsis someone always gets hurt.
so i got home and put o. to bed and wanted to call you but it was like midnight vermont time and i see here that you were up, posting this blog. which makes me sad and wished i had called but then makes me happy too--because just when we think no one's on the bus, that you're out on the back highway with no stops, the driver pulls over and there are people waiting at the bus stop to get on...
by the way, i'm glad you're back on the blog despite the fact that i'd rather have tea with you here.
oh, and i think jane started the whole bus metaphor after deciding that myspace was no longer on it. and it just went from there... incidentally, she came up with the 3-7 vs. 1-11 people.
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