Yes we can. I think, anyway
It’s funny when you live in Washington, D.C., or New York City — home to the biggest events in the country (inauguration and new year’s eve, respectively) — and if you talk to any local, we’ll say, “Pfft. Those are tourist events. I will remain FAR from the activities, thankyouverymuch.”
And it’s sad, really, because it’s Inauguration Weekend and I’m happily nestled in suburbia.
In an ideal world, everyone would stay the hell away from my fair city and all the locals like me would feel welcome and, well, not inconvenienced by everyone else who’s suddenly underfoot.
I’m the type who went to every single city event when I lived in Pittsburgh. But when I got to D.C., my love of crowds has dissipated. Severely. My patience is shorter than ever, and people are just ruder in general down here. Throw in a few hundred thousand out-of-towners who don’t know their ass from a hole in the ground, and I’ll emerge again around the time Punxsutawney Phil is dragged out of his little cave to see his television-light-induced shadow.
I missed the historic concert at the Lincoln Monument today, mostly because I HATE THIS FUCKING COLD WEATHER. I could have dealt with the crowds; just not with blue toes and because frostbite makes it damn near impossible to flip off those who so richly deserve it. 🙂
I opted to hang in Fairfax, Va., today, since all roads from Virginia to D.C. are shut off (or soon will be) and I figured Fairfax wouldn’t be hopping. Boy was I wrong there. I loaded up on groceries at Wegman’s, and I tell you, it’s almost easier to park at fucking Costco. But I’ve got enough groceries to last me till winter ends, so I won’t have to make that trek again anytime soon. Yay for cheap wine — it cost me $40 to buy two bottles of wine at the store near work, but down there the same two bottles cost $25. The hell?
Anyway, it was my reward for not re-starting the smoking habit. I’ve been cigarette-free for four weeks now, although I did find a broken half-smoke in my car the other day and I’m quite tempted to enjoy it. Especially right now while I’m watching the Steelers-Ravens game and those damn Ratbirds are catching up with mah team and that ain’t cool. We just totally dropped the ball and lost out on a touchdown. *heaving into paper bag*
I spent most of the day inside my head, wondering where I’m going to be at this time next year. I’m having a hard time making plans, because not having a plan has worked well for me. No expectations, no disappointments. But I feel like it’s time to have a plan. Ergo, it’s time to make one.
I don’t know if my roomie will ever be able to live on her own. She says she’s trying to get on her feet, but I don’t believe it. She says she’s out there, trying to get jobs. Really? When I’m home, she’s locked in her room, talking on the phone. Hard to pound the pavement from under your comforter.
She says she likes living in D.C. but she is always so fucking hurt that I don’t take her anywhere anymore. It’s partially a money thing, and partially an end-of-my-rope thing. I remember her friend’s dad, when we were all little, would throw us into the pool unexpectedly — forcing us to learn to swim. (OK, so he didn’t do it with me because she wouldn’t let him. How I wish she had — I never did learn.)
Anyway, I thought long and hard about it, and it seems like he threw her in the water, and she sits at the bottom of the pool — waiting to be rescued. Sometimes, I’ll swoop in and bring her to the surface to show her how awesome it is to see the light. (That is, I’ll get her out of the damn house, which is what she wants but refuses to do it herself.) But instead of making her want to fight her way out of the pool, she sinks back to the bottom and waits for the next time someone is nice enough to show her what’s above the surface.
She has all these things she says she wants to do, but lacks the initiative to go after them. I’m kind of the opposite — I don’t know WTF direction to go in, but I can just randomly go in any direction, on a whim. You’d think we’d be a good pair. Maybe if not for all the damn guilt trips. Who knows.
It’s such a time of hope in our city. You can just feel it — even though I’m not participating in the grand inauguration ceremonies, there’s a charge in the air. I mean, I know there’s change in the air. It’s inevitable. But the electricity within the city limits is downright amazing. I mean, if we could bottle/sell it, we could solve the energy crisis.
With all this impending change for our country, I’m looking at my life and feeling that, well, OK, what am I doing to keep up with the times?
Since I’ve been unwillingly and unwittingly thrust into the role of parenting the parent, I feel like I’ve got to make some choices this year. How do I get her out of the house to get a job and, more importantly, get a man to marry her and get her out of my hair? Do I have to go back to Pittsburgh or somewhere else that she’d actually get in the car and drive? Do I find a job in this economy that pays twice as much so I can pay for two apartments so I can get my peace of mind back?
Right now I’m looking at things like season tickets to the Nationals home games, a gym membership, concert tickets, vacations and all the other stuff that accompanies the first of a new year. Things to look forward to. Things that, if you don’t do it the moment you start thinking about it, fall by the wayside as the bills pile up and “you” time becomes a year-long April fool’s joke.
But there’s also a part of me that’s afraid to plan in advance. Because things don’t turn out the way you planned. That’s neither a positive or negative statement at this point.
I mean, case in point, I bought a very scandalous skivvy set today. I do that from time to time. Usually when I’m starting to talk to someone and I’ll have my “in case of emergency” scandalous duds. And I always feel like it’s because I plan ahead that these little flings go absolutely nowhere.
So today, I bought the set for me. I mean, of course it’s for me, but I mean it — this one is solely to make me happy. I even ripped off the tags, which I never do. And those suckers are soaking in Woolite as I type.
It’s time to rip the tags off of this life. I can’t return it — believe me, I’ve thought about it. 🙂 I’ve been sort of handling it with care and not really living in it. I always catch the football and forget to run with it. (Go Steelers! Pittsburgh’s going to the Super Bowl!)
I don’t have any real direction or advice for myself at this point. As I get more comfortable in my own skin, maybe I’ll feel more at-home in my life, wherever it may lead. I just need to get up enough momentum to be able to carry the dead weight or somehow leave it behind me.
I don’t know if I can but I am sure as hell going to try.
January 19th, 2009 at 1:53 AM
The common thing on your blog is about you not being sure what direction to take your life and being unsure of yourself. Yet you talk about buying skivvies that are scandalous. It seems to me that someone who buys sexy underwear is very confident but you seem like you aren’t.
I’m trying to picture what you look like based on what you’ve written and every single picture in my head is of an incredibly sexy and voluptous woman with very porcelain white skin. I bet you look great in those skivvies.
January 20th, 2009 at 6:56 PM
Grats on four weeks without a smoke!! That’s excellent!
As for life, it’s so hard to know when to stay, when to go, and what to do next, at times. Sometimes, no matter how hard you try, or how much you want to, you just can’t take others with you, and that sucks. But don’t let it keep you back.
So rip the tags off this life, Girl! Close your eyes, take a deep breath, catch that football with your heart and not just your head, and run with it, run until you stop. You might stop after a few yards, or you might stop miles and miles from there, and so what if that’s not where you’re ultimately “supposed” to be? At the very least, you’ll be a lot closer to that place. And hopefully you’ll be much happier for it.
The best of luck!! 😉