Nostalgia

When I was in Boston on Sunday, I saw a lot of fresh-faced college freshmen driving around U-Hauls and carrying big boxes into their new dorms. And it made me feel sad. I'm out of chances to start all over. I wished that I could go back to college and figure out my life again. I would go to a different school, be more confident, look better, care less what other people think of me, and take classes just because they sound interesting. I could move to new cities, travel to exotic places, and try new jobs. But really, what I was nostalgic for is the opportunity to define myself.

I thought that going to college meant I could reinvent myself. When I was in high school, I narrowed my choices to four colleges: a tiny, liberal arts college in Maine; a large university in Boston; a small-ish school in Tennessee; and a medium-sized school in Texas. I think that I saw four new visions of me: a sporty, outdoorsy liberal; an outgoing city woman; a preppy Southerner; or ... I'm not sure what I imagined at the last one. But that's the school that offered me a full scholarship, and that's where I went.

I realize now that college didn't define me; I defined myself. Maybe if I'd gone to school in Maine I would have a different accent or have a different job, but I would be the same essential -R- that I am today. And I really don't want to go back to being 18 and having the old issues about confidence and fears about What Am I Supposed To Be Doing With My Life. (Not that I don't still occasionally have those fears, as this whole entry is pretty much just a reflection of last week's minor 1/3 Life Crisis.)

So I'm feeling better now about being old and having already made a lot of the major choices in my life. And I realize that if I did want to move across the country, I really could. H and I aren't being forced to stay here. We live in Minnesota because we like it. And if I want to have a new career, I can. I could go back to school or apply for new things, if I wanted to, but I don't. (Although my current job is taking up a ton of time lately, which is why I have not been blogging much.)

There's another part of me that always thinks my life would be better if it were more like [insert name of other person here]'s life. I am always comparing my situation to others' and deciding that the other person has it better. So I got to hang out with my friend in Maine, and then I thought that I should move to Maine because he and his family love Maine, and he has a great job, and he probably has more friends than I do. And I see people hanging out at the beach, and I think they seem so much happier than I am, so I should move to New Hampshire, and then I could be as happy as them. Why do I do this? I don't know what people's lives are really like. And moving would not necessarily make me happier. Plus I'm not even unhappy now! But I can't stop comparing, and it is kind of a sickness. Ugh.

I think I am over my nostalgia now and am remembering how happy that I am day to day. I really wouldn't trade my life for anyone else's right now. Well, maybe Melinda Gates. But only if H could be Bill Gates. And I could still be 28. And H could still be 29.

This Post Brought To You By Coffee Plus Not Enough Sleep

When I am upset about something (which I am not right now, I was just thinking about this on my drive home from the bus stop), I deal with my sadness or anger or other feelings by talking about the upsetting thing. So when I got super smoldering angry with H about something a while ago, I let myself steam about it for a while, and when I didn't start feeling better about the situation, I called Double G (my best friend from high school) and said, "Aaa! I am so pissed off about this! Blah blah blah!" And then I felt a lot better. But sometimes, talking about a situation once does not make me feel better. I have to talk about it 50 times. Frequently, once I feel better, I forget all about it. And then a friend will say, "Hey, remember when that really bad thing happened and you were so pissed and talked about it for a week?" And I will have no idea what they are talking about. That happens to me more frequently than you would think. Well, more frequently than I would think it would happen. Or maybe I am just losing my damn mind [which certainly seems like the case after re-reading this post].

So Double G is probably my best friend (besides H), even though I don't talk to her that often. But I am not sure that I am her best friend. She has a few really close friends from college who are all awesome women, and I think they are better at staying in touch with Double G than I am. (I kind of suck at regular communication right now. I am not even a good e-mailer, which used to be my strong point. I was an awesome e-mailer.) I have one really close friend from college who would be the other candidate for my best friend, but I think I am probably more open with Double G. Anyway, the point of this is that it doesn't bother me if we are not mutual best friends. My best friend in law school (besides H) was this guy from the bad date story. I know without a doubt that I was not his best friend in law school, but it never bothered me. And now he lives near me, and I think that (besides his girlfriend) I am probably his best friend in Minnesota, and yet, he is not mine. And it's ok! I am probably the only adult who even thinks about things like this, but that didn't bother me until just now when I typed this all out, and now I look like some weirdo who keeps best friend tallies or something. I don't. This is just a random observation. That I feel the need to write out and publish on the internet.

The thinking about best friends leads me to thinking about mean girls. I have read other female bloggers write posts referring to mean girls who picked on them. I don't think I've ever dealt with that. Not that I was never made fun of in my whole life. Of course I was. But the only example I can think of is that one time in first grade, my pants were riding really low when I was sitting in the cafeteria, and a group of other first graders saw my butt and pointed at me and laughed. But I just pulled up my pants and pretended I wasn't embarrassed. And one time in eighth grade, I heard these three girls I didn't like talking about me behind my back, and they were saying that I thought I was smarter than everyone. It hurt my feelings, but it was probably true. I probably did think I was smarter than everyone. I was certainly smarter than them. Ah, it is funny how I still feel bitchy about those girls 15 years later. But I never had a group of mean girls pick on me, and I never have had any fears of being friends with girls, about which there was an interesting discussion on Jonniker's blog.

In case the rest of this post was not long and random enough, can I tell you that I am kind of freaking out because I got a postcard in the mail offering me a free DVD about breastfeeding? Why does anyone think I would need such a DVD? Shouldn't I have a baby or something first? Or even be pregnant? Did the breastfeeding people just send this postcard to all women between the ages of 18 and 55? Is this some kind of breastfeeding DVD scam to which I am not hip?

You Must Admit: I Am One Good-Looking Astronaut

I can't stop looking up news about the bridge collapsing. I work relatively close to where the bridge was, and I kept hearing sirens outside my office building throughout the day. I wonder whether that always happened, and I just blocked it out before. I am so lucky in that my friends and family and coworkers are all safe, but I read about the people who weren't so lucky, and I tear up. At the same time that I am seeking new information about the bridge, I am so tired of the story. I want to be sad but move on. But I just feel unsettled.

I don't know. Maybe I'm just being dramatic. Or maybe I am just so tired that I can't really figure things out.

Of course, normal stuff is still happening. H finally got his BOO-URNS shirt. It is adorable. And I took a certain bus the other day that is supposed to make one stop, but the bus driver forgot to stop, so we had to turn around and go back, which was wildly exciting. And he (the bus driver) narrated the whole thing
on the bus PA system, which made me want to punch him. (Hi, crazy mood swings of sleep deprivation! Glad to see you're still around!)

I have no ending for this post, so please do enjoy the following silly photos.

If You Wanna Be My Lover

When I only get a few hours of sleep (say 3 to 5), I am kind of loopy the next day. As in: Wheeeeeeeee! I am so pumped up! I am going to work so hard today, and it is going to be great, and who cares that I didn't sleep! I will just keep going, and it will be fantastic, and OH MY GOODNESS I HATE EVERYONE. And I am very tired. I can't do anything. I just want to close my eyes. Noooooo! I will stay awake! And it will be awesome! Go, me! Except if that person even looks at me one more time, I am going to punch him in the face. Grrrr.

So today was kind of a see-saw day. Good times.

Work has been, how do you say, hectic, but I kind of like it (for short periods of time) in a sad, pathetic way because it makes me feel like I am a tiny bit important and actually contributing something to my job. Plus, it gives me something about which I can complain. And blog.

Well, I am off to go dance to the Spice Girls.

P.S. SUCK IT.

There's No Crying in... Well, You Know

I read this post about crying in public today. For those of you who do not feel like clicking on the previous link, I will summarize. It is an article discussing the possible and appropriate responses when you see someone crying in public. The majority of commenters seem to think that offering a tissue or a sympathetic look is the appropriate response. I am fine with that. It makes sense that a person would want to be sympathetic but not intrusive.

But.

If you see me crying in public, do not acknowledge it! It will only make me cry more! Even if I have stopped crying, acknowledging the fact that I cried will (with 98% certainty) make me start crying again! Please treat me like I am not crying. Ignore the tears and sniffles. You can offer me a tissue if you absolutely need to and I don't have any of my own, but then you should pretend I am not crying, perhaps by asking me what my favorite baseball teams are (the Twins, the Royals, and the Braves) or if I have seen Walk the Line (why yes, I have, and I enjoyed it very much).

Best Friends

Tonight I finished reading The Myth of You and Me by Leah Stewart. It is the story of two best friends who end up not speaking for eight years. The book was really good, and it reminded me of my best friend from college. I know that I have mentioned her before, but I don't think I have really written about her.

She was the person I was closest to for four years. We went through everything together. She knew almost everything that happened to me during those four years, down to the most boring detail. I knew about all her classes and professors, her crushes, her random acquaintances. We weren't inseparable, but we were together a lot. We had so many inside jokes and stories that no one else shares or really understands.

I saw the way she treated her best friend from high school. I could tell that my friend still really loved her high school best friend, but she was not good about returning phone calls or e-mail. There were a lot of things that she kept hidden from her high school best friend because she told me she felt like the high school best friend had a certain image of her that she had to keep intact.

When I was moving out of our apartment on the last day of July after our senior year of college, my friend reminded me that she wasn't good at keeping in touch with people. "You're going to have to be the one who always calls and keeps in touch," she said. I was ok with that.

I went to law school, and she did a one-year volunteer gig on the East Coast. I called every once in a while, and she wrote me a couple of letters, and it was fine. During my second year of law school, she got harder and harder to reach. During the fall semester, I called her every week for ten weeks and left a message, and she didn't return my call until New Years Day. She called on a cell phone, and we talked for maybe five minutes before she had to go. I didn't try very hard to keep in touch after that. I called her about a week after I got engaged and left a message with the news, mostly because I felt like I should call her, not because I wanted to call her. She called to congratulate me, but I didn't answer the phone. A few months before the wedding, I tried to give her a call, but the phone number I had for her had been disconnected. I sent her a wedding invitation anyway (mostly because I had already sent her a save the date card announcing our engagement and the wedding date). She didn't send in her RSVP, although she did send me an e-mail a week or two before the wedding. The e-mail said that she wanted to come to the wedding, but she was going to the beach with some guy instead. I sent her a very bland thank you note for the gift she sent, as though I were writing to an aunt of H that I had never met instead of someone who had once meant so much to me. I am guessing that thank you note will be my last contact with her.

I think one of the reasons my friend and I fell out of touch was that my friend felt like she needed to "keep up her image" with me. The thing is that if she thinks I would judge her for changing or for making choices that aren't necessarily the same ones I would have made, then I am sorry that she thinks so little of me and my ability to be a good friend.

At this point, I don't want to get in touch with my friend again. If you change your phone number without telling me and don't come to my wedding because you feel like going to the beach, are we really even friends? But every once in a while, something will happen that will remind me of one of our stupid inside jokes, and it makes me sad that no one else understands what is funny about some guy nodding at me when we pass on the sidewalk.

Why Am I Admitting This?

The other day, when I was driving to the bus stop, I was thinking about my friends. I was thinking about who I can really count on, and who I wouldn't trust with the really important things. (Not that I am the greatest friend ever. I have owed my friend something like $45 since July. I finally sent her the money last Monday. I do feel really bad about it, if that makes my forgetfulness and laziness any better, which it doesn't. And I did send her some extra money to make up for my freaking 6 months of laziness.) Anyway, I was thinking about my friends. And I thought, "If H died, who would I call and ask to come stay with me, and who would actually come and sleep on H's side of the bed and listen to me cry?" Obviously, I would call my family, but next I would call my two best friends, and I know that they would fly to Minnesota as soon as they could. And then I almost started weeping in my car because I was thinking about what would happen if H died. And I thought, "I cannot keep thinking about this because this is really weird and morbid. Also, I actually wore mascara today, and I do not want to be the scary person on the bus with raccoon eyes."

So I turned on NPR and listened to the news for a few minutes, and the weeping was avoided. As soon as I got to work, I called H to make sure he had gotten to work safely because I was a little freaked out that either (1) my thinking about his death had caused him to die or (2) the reason I was thinking about his death was that I sensed he had died. I am not normally superstitious, but I managed to freak myself out a little bit. And of course, H was not there when I called. I reminded myself that I was being stupid, and I talked to H later that morning, and he was fine.

I am not sure what the point of this story is except that it clearly shows that I can be a neurotic freak from time to time. And also that I love H despite the fact that he told me today I was dressed really sloppily, and when I said, "I know," he said, "I am so glad you didn't overreact to that like you normally do." I kind of love that he says these stupid things, and they make me laugh instead of annoying me.

Also, I love and trust my friends and am so lucky to have them in my life. Living so far from both of them is hard, and I have not made calling them and e-mailing them one of my top priorities. I need to change that and make sure that I do a better job keeping in touch with them, and not just when I need to vent. I think my (belated) resolution for this year is to be a better friend.

Clothes and Stuff

I actually think I looked cute today. I wore the new brown shoes, which made me ridiculously happy.

I realize that I do not actually look happy in the above picture, but I felt like a dork smiling at myself in the picture. Plus, it took a lot of concentration to keep the camera steady.

Yesterday, I tried out the red shoes. They were fantastic. And I realized that I bought every single item worn in this picture on sale over the last year or two. I am such a bargain hunter!


Even these cute knee-highs were purchased on sale! (The fact that I wrote "knee-highs" makes me sound 80, doesn't it?)


So yeah, there's really a lot going on right now, as you can tell.

***

Some days the urge to write about forbidden topics is so strong that I can barely resist. But I must. I am a new, strong person who works out several times a week, watches what she eats, and limits her blog commenting to a reasonable amount. Let's see how long this lasts. Except the diet and exercise had better last for a little while because at this point I have exactly two pairs of pants that still fit me. And the problem with the rest of my pants is not that they are too baggy. Quite the opposite. Yikes.

I was at a work event recently, and I realized that I was one of the chubbiest people in the room. And although I am chubby based on what I normally weigh (and what size I normally wear), I am not an especially chubby person. I think the law, and large or large-ish law firms, attract people who are intense about everything they do. They work for 12 or more hours, and then they go work out. They are perfectionists who have to do their best, look their best, be their best.

That's not to say all lawyers at large-ish law firms are perfectionists. But I think a good percentage of lawyers are. The law is a Type A profession. I am Type A compared to the average person, but compared to some lawyers, I am a lazy, lazy slacker. And I'm ok with that.

I am still trying to figure out if I fit in and if I want to fit in. It is frustrating some days, but overall I am doing ok. I don't want to speak for H, but I think he is kind of going through the same thing. Is this a pre-30s crisis? Or is it that we have finally been out of law school for a few years, and kind of know what we are doing, so now we have the breathing room to ask if this is what we actually want to be doing?

So yeah, that was really random. I will try to write more about Guitar Hero in the future.

***

I realize that I have screwed up the template of this blog somehow, but I will work on it tomorrow.

A Study of Human Nature, in Bullet Points

* I saw the ex-friend today! I smiled at her, and she ignored me. Oh well. If I see her again, I will continue to be friendly to her, and she can choose whether or not she wants to be civil to me. Not a big deal. I don't dislike her; I just don't want to spend time with her.

* I am caught in a ridiculous situation that I do not foresee changing in the near future. In the last few months, I have cycled through stages of (1) trying to make it better, (2) getting annoyed, and (3) anger. Today I reached a new stage: (4) laughing at how ridiculous it is and being entertained. I was feeling pretty good about myself for kind of transcending the situation and not letting it get to me, but then when I was working out tonight, I felt myself getting angry about the situation again. I am trapped! Again, my response = oh well. I can't control other people's behavior, and I will continue to try to see the humor it.

* Yes, you read that right. I worked out tonight. That is two times this week! It's a Christmas miracle! I actually enjoyed the workout and part of me did not want to stop, but I had to so that I could get some more work done before I go to bed. Anyway, I do not want to admit that I enjoyed the workout because I do not want H to gloat about it and use this admission as justification for nagging me in the future. Who am I kidding? Of course H will nag me to work out for the rest of my life whether I admit that I found it enjoyable tonight or not. So there you go.

* H was talking to his mom on the phone tonight (not a common occurrence, in case you were wondering), and she asked him what she should get me for Christmas. I told H that I would like some nice stationery and note cards. Instead of repeating this to his mom, H said, "She says she wants an expensive gift card." Later, when I told H again that I really did want some stationery, he yelled at me, "Don't waste your Christmases!"