so. the very first one. should I be sober for this? maybe. maybe not. Am at a crossroads. a wondrous crossroads if you will. that place where all reality collides so spectacularly with episodes of Sex and the City. First episode, season four. Carries 35th birthday party. soulmates. Discussions abound. Comedy vs. Tragedy. Really? and being so virginal regarding anything blog-esque, i’m sure I”m sending many upon many red flags by merely mentioning said episode but. . . fuck off.
it’s my first one.
sitting on my couch. really contemplating. life out there. I’m quoting a reba song. and she’s from my home state, you would think, I could spell her freakin last name. We fry twinkies in grease at our state fair, for craps sake, and I can’t spell her last name?
it’s my first time. I have a few “do overs”
wondering if there really is a do over. a “going back” and getting it right. Is it necessary to become that “twosome” or to really be a portion of the “perfect”duo? Reality and any kind of education says not so much. I know this. but see, the thing is. I’m sad. I’m just sad. I’ve done the wild and crazy go off and run to a different state and join a theatre and meet like crazies and live life. I’ve done the get married and have Shelby and all 9 bridesmaids plus Marjie St. Maurice and Blush and Bashfull and more flowers than any said funeral home could hold. I’ve done that. I’ve slaved over a stove and fixed a flat on a fucking riding lawnmower and taken out the trash and written so many papers on A Room Of Their Own that even Gloria Steinem would vomit at reading.
and now I’m sad.
I’m 35. and have been in tumultuous relationships with men. . . young and old. older. and I have always ALWAYS been the ‘stomp your feet light a match for this pussy’ kind of gal,but for the love of petey fisk. . .
i feel lonely. and very alone. and I’m totally bonding with Carrie Bradshaw and her girls on the first ep of season four. “why can’t we just be each others soul mates and guys can be these really great things that we share. . . bla bla bla”
I think he was there. is there. was there. and timing is a bitch. and I don’t know what to do. but i close my eyes and I see my comfort zone and my stupid fucking pillows on the couch that is falling apart and I see reality. but i also see a vision of “perfect” which I know is a false sense of make believe.
But then I talk to the other him and he says “you should have a baby”
is it any wonder that I’m totally mixed up? i’m seeking half smoked cig butts in the ashtray outside and blessing them like they’re virginal.
for the love of petey fisk.
thank GOD this is only the first one. I have only hopes of getting better. more rational.