Sitting Room


I worry.  I strain.  I struggle.  And it all comes out in the wash.

There isn’t a little bubble to give me a way into today.  No Dear Sugar, no further pages into Mindy Kaling’s book –  which I like for several reasons including its publication makes me feel as though the possibility for something I write to be enshrined in paper and glue is not nil – no immediate profundity popping off the top of my cerebellum.

I went out to dinner with my sister and her boyfriend.  We had pizza at Pizzeria Locale which I am starting to like as much as its own sister company, Chipotle.  Which is to say just verging on an inappropriate amount of liking.

There was a real woman carrying around a real newborn baby while I maneuvered my oversized red coat that probably needs a wash.  Not unlike the rest of me.  She seemed to have the Platonic ideal of the new mother’s glow and had the baby over her shoulder.  The baby for his or her part, blinked sleepily and nuzzled up against its mother’s neck, just happily observing the lights and thinking its little baby thoughts.  It was a little like, but mostly unlike, my dream.  A high school crush and his high school girlfriend are married and just had a baby.  I don’t…

I felt rather awkward and small and stupid.  I felt, as I rushed to eat my pizza because you don’t want to be a third wheel for any longer than the span of one meal, like a hot mess.  I felt a flush of deep shame.  No makeup.  Oil-matted hair.  Clothes ill-fitting, not in the mood for a great chat, though I tried to be attentive.  I felt like I didn’t deserve to be there.  I knew and know that this is not unrelated to my hormones or the fact that I ate some doughnut holes for lunch, but wow, I wanted to jump out of my skin.

It’s loneliness, it’s the fact that I had to wait in my car by myself in our lot where yesterday there was a carjacking that lead to an attempted murder, it’s him supporting her after she did something great like passing a test for a certification.  It’s Driving.  It’s ten or twenty things that need to be done by the end of the year and there being no time to go back and unwind all the whacky time-saving bullshit that was done too long ago to recall.  It’s wanting a day off to think.

So that was the day.  But at the end of it, I got home.  I got my head back on straight and now, it is time for a bath to fix one of these worries right up.  I have to be my own character now if I was my own character yesterday and want to be my own character tomorrow.

I wanted eloquence, but I just got the rubber to meet the road.  I just got going.

Hear the wind?

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