Tuesday, November 11, 2008

The Father's house

I'm sitting at my father's desk, hoping I'm up early enough that he won't come downstairs to see me at his computer. It seemed like later, but it was in fact 4 am when we(the dog and I) woke this morning and I, badly in need of an updated prescription saw the time as 7am. I've been trying all morning to keep the dog quiet and move stealthily through the house and while that's simply the right thing to do if you find yourself awake at 4am in shared quarters, skulking around this morning brought back some of the familiar anxieties and guilts of home. I'm sure part of it is the normal chafing at returning to a context where you are a child first. Part of it is knowing that my father is making a huge accomodation in hosting both me and the dog and the eggshells I feel I am walking on in having any inconvenience he experiences in hosting me being related to the dog. If I were to whip out my armchair pyschology degree, I would say that how I feel right now is precisely the same discomfort I have at being hosted by anyone. If I know I'm putting family out to spend the night, how much more am I inconveniencing someone who isn't even obligated to love me? I'm sure I'm just scratching around what could prove to be a very profitable topic for the mental healthcare industry but I'll let it rest for now.

I was at my old place yesterday, making repairs before my renter moved in and learned something new about the innards of washing machines when I had to replace the clutch, or more specifically, the agits that provide resistance in the clutch and allow the agitator to work properly. No one reading this needed to know that much about it but I was so proud to have made that repair myself. Talking with a neighbor later that evening she essentially told me that being too self sufficient and squared away is probably contributing significantly to my marital/social status, that men are probably intimidated, etc, etc... I don't buy that for a minute. Plenty of squared away women have their pick of men and if anything, they find the selection lacking, not the other way around. I'm just weird and have cosmically bad timing and taste in men. But it is interesting to consider what makes a person counsel someone in that way; that I need to pretend to be something else just to hook the guy in. There is enough facade involved in dating and both parties end up with surprises about the other after some time without going the extra mile to confuse a man about my fundamental nature. I'm not helpless but that doesn't mean I don't want help.

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