Fear

I'm tired. I'm think I'm tired because I'm always afraid and being afraid while appearing indifferent takes even more energy than just riding the wave of afraid. I'm very good at it but it still takes energy. BS has got me thinking which I appreciate, trying to identify the common themes between emotions of my formative years and my present malcontent. I feel I am skirting the edges of yet another epiphany. Not sure the newest epiphany, when it comes, will be worth anything, i.e. bring about a dramatic change in the way I move about life but I do think BS might be on to something. I've understood that my upbringing has made me who I am, it has made everyone who they are to some extent. But for all my introspection, moody self-absorbed posting, and confidence in my sometimes painful self-awareness, I think I'm finally getting a new way to consider old problems. I won't be cured of being me but I may make better decisions if I better understood the push-pull anxiety and emptiness of the jobs I've chosen and their relationship to the dynamic between my father and I growing up. I don't think it will drive me to seek a new career, rather, my hope is to approach the work with a lighter hand, heart, and mind. I love to daydream of a career in writing but a good statistician would tell you I'm more likely to work to a pensioner's age and if I'm lucky, live off my savings until life takes its natural course. I will remain famous in very small circles for things I did when I was 2, for the fender bender I had when I was 18, for 101 stupid things I've said or done in the presence of witnesses, and for several less than 101 nice things I did for friends or strangers. I'm happy I will leave this earth one day with a prominent 2 inch scar on my bicep; courtesy of the dog, a strange bump on my right thumb, suggestive of a past mangling; courtesy of a dog, a series of small burn scars on my right arm; one from a ridiculous straightening comb incident, the other from a spent M-16 shell casing, and all other manner of evidence of good stories in the roughs and tumbles of living.

Duck and Cover

So CCO wrote me back. Sent me a link to his blog which is really just an extension of his other marketing endeavors. It's nothing like this angst filled whiny one. He's a graphic designer. How neat-o. I wish my brother, who had what I think was a fledgling interest in designing some t-shirts was around so I could get the two of them together. Something tells me they would get along. Not in a 'I'm-making-plans-for-this-guy-to-be-a-part-of-my-family-way,' just because I like seeing creative people appreciate one another's work. I love CCO's designs. It is so cool to look at all these random logos and know that it came from his head. I dig creative people.

The post title was chosen because I'm tummy rumbling and gassy with fear at inviting him to give me a call if he wants to get together for a drink/coffee sometime. If I hit send, I will go from looking for him everywhere to hoping I never see him again. But one of my essentially abandoned determinations for this year was to ask a guy out. I don't think I could scream loud enough for how freaked out I am right now. It's not just because I'm afraid that he'll have a girlfriend or not be interested. It is because once I hit send my interest in him becomes real and if he's not interested, the daydream ends. Right now, I can be excited that I might see him and I can take every gesture out of context to possibly indicate mutual interest. If I actually do something about it, he doesn't get to be CCO anymore. That I'm asking a guy out over e-mail is lame enough. I could wait until the next random time I see him and see if it all comes together but I'm pretty sure I'll find a reason for it not to come together. I'll go for a walk and if I see him, I'll either give him my phone number and suggest we get coffee/drinks/hang out sometime or I will throw up on the sidewalk at our feet and my dog will once again abandon me.

I'll keep you posted. I look a hot mess today. I'll probably see him.

Grow the F@&k up

I'm cool now. I sent the e-mail. Took a walk, collected some poop, got a grip. We'll see what does or doesn't happen. I'm not even sure I like him anymore.

Oh, I totally admitted to him that I had to wikipedia Beer Pong. So there's that.

Yea, single girl staying single.

Heads up: God is doing a new thing

That's what one of my oldest friends just wrote me via the chat function on Facebook before abruptly signing off with promises to catch up soon. Apparently God's new thing is going down imminently. That phrase irritates me. I'm not sure why. Anyone else find that annoying?

PS on BS

I actually had an interesting session with BS yesterday. I spied the blue sweater in the corner, possibly shed in light of the mild weather. I might have to take a picture of the blue sweater before our time together is over. Maybe it is his Linus sweater. Anyway, what made the session interesting is that I unintentionally stumped him. I'm still delighted about it. He's puzzled because things that he thinks should be upsetting just aren't. I personally think he's stumped because he's used to dealing with white people (no offense). The caricature of black parenting has some truth in it. Sincerely believing that certain transgressions could be reasonably punishable by death, that spanking (which was straightforwardly referred to as beating) was not abuse, and that lip or attitude could certainly get you smacked or choked, was just the way things were. It wasn't done in secret with multiple trips to the emergency room, blackened eyes, broken bones, strange bruises; it was done upstairs while company was over, in the bathroom or hallway at church, in the car-a threat to take you out to the car made good. Observation of an out of control child is almost always observed with the comment, 'that child needs a good beating.' A conversation about dealing with a child like that inevitably provokes a mention of wishing that one could 'snatch' the child up. When I used to teach, I relished the challenge of a kid that didn't know discipline or beatings. They were difficult but they were also easy to shock. I loved wearing them down into accepting boundaries for acceptable behavior. I couldn't (and wouldn't) strike them but I sure could provide some immediate and non-negotiable consequences for non-compliance. I digress.

I guess what I'm getting at is that black parenting for me means that your parents nurture you in the sense that animals nurture their young. The objective is to get you safely into adulthood where you can take care of yourself. It is not to make sure you get to 'express' yourself or develop and nurture your passions. Activities are designed to keep you busy and out of trouble and work best if they are inexpensive (or free), aren't logistically complicated (i.e. picking up and dropping off) and require next to no parental commitment. The first time you complain about going to ballet is the last time you go (true story). No one is dragging you to anything even though it is generally understood that kids don't usually have the foresight to appreciate the long-term benefits of anything and will complain at least once about everything, especially when they are 5.

So against that matter-of-fact style of parenting that I think imbues me with a certain mental toughness* it was a challenge for BS because he just couldn't understand that I don't have any sadness or angst related to growing up with that kind of discipline. I don't see the links between that and my opinion of myself as not worth anything outside of what I can do for others. It's not the same set of emotions. I wasn't the kind of kid who needed much disciplining so I don't have a ton of reference material to draw from there anyway. So, I left satisfied that I had intrigued and challenged him. Yay for being interesting. We'll see what he comes up with.



*My father actually sent me off to military field training with an assurance that I would do fine because no one there could say anything worse to me than he ever had. He was absolutely right. In one of his more famous family quotes, he sent me off on a road trip with friends with the reminder that there "was nothing but death out there."

Seriously?

Sometimes I use the "next blog" button on the blogger page to see what random bloggers are up to. I came across a blog this morning that had a link to a blog catalogue with a subsection on blogs for women (whatever that means). For this site, it meant blogs about menopause, being lesbian and brown, being a middle aged married woman who discovers she is a lesbian, shopping, sex, and one random blog written by a guy who promises to dole out advice that will make the man your bitch. Naturally, I had to know more.

It was a poorly written blog with grammatical errors that annoy me. He didn't share anything particularly insightful or even entertaining but he's already written one book about nutrition and is working on a book based on his 'master dater' (his words) blog. If that swill is being bound and printed for consumption, I should probably at least self-publish something just because. Perhaps I'll be the Betamax to his VHS but people (who probably still didn't buy my book), would argue into antiquity that they knew I was the better of the two.

In other news, I took my dog to the groomer this morning and, I'm still incredulous about this, found out they make dog shampoo to bring out the color of dog's coats. They have one for black dogs, blond dogs, brunettes...just like the shampoo they make for people. My dog is already a shiny black coated dog but this is the only shampoo they use at this groomer so we'll see when she dries if she has salon-quality shine. I guess I could see a shampoo like that if you plan on entering a dog show but for my dog, who just turned around to bite her hindquarters and is now alternating between licking her blanket and her still damp paws, such vanity seems ridiculous. Seriously.

Seriously body, WTF?

So I'm sick again. Temp an even 100 degrees, throat feels like someone punched it from inside but all other systems ok. No cough, no runny nose, just achy, feverish throat punch. The scene at the back of my throat has progressed from red and angry to somewhat whitish but I'm not sure yet if that isn't because of the large bowl of vanilla frozen yogurt I ate in a futile attempt to soothe the throat punch. All the websites suggest strep so I will try to get an appointment tomorrow, miss yet another day of work, and try to figure out what the hell my body needs me to do to stay healthy for one whole month. I have been so sick since I moved here. I've been a regular Calamity Jane, twisting ankles, throwing up at friend's houses... One bright spot that would restore my faith in pretty much everything if it was repeated at our wedding was that I had another encounter with cute guy with dog, hereafter referred to as CCO (perhaps there will be reason to explain that later). Because I felt like crap, because I walked the dog late, and because as soon as I walked the dog, I headed straight back out to buy ice cream, I ran into CCO on my way home. I was dressed in two coats with two hoods and I'm sure resembled the unibomber. I didn't even see CCO but he said hi and I got to see him for the very first time without a hat or beard. He's pretty stinkin' cute in the dark. I'm not sure if he noticed I was ridiculously overdressed for the fairly mild conditions. He was on his way to play drums in his band and I said I was interested in hearing them play. He was clearly in a hurry so we had an awkward moment where people would normally exchange phone numbers and I said aloud 'I don't know how we do this.' He gave me his card, explaining it was his side business and told me to e-mail him to say hi and he would get back in touch. So yay on all that had to line up for that to happen, including my nth infection.

But wait for it, you know I court strange like no other, his side business is designing Beer Pong tables. I'm so lame, I actually had to wikipedia Beer Pong. I will never tell him that. I was afraid looking at his card that it had something to do with bongs so I was relieved that it was just a drinking game. So from the website, it looks to be a big deal and has been going on for years so that is kind of neat but certainly unconventional. I'm curious what his main business is if this is his side business. We shall see. Light a candle for me somewhere. Light two. One for health. Once for CCO.