Ideogram of human X chromosome.
Pretty fancy, huh?
We could never decide on where to go. So, we didn't go. Anywhere. Well, we did. We had family out of town. We spent our vacation days attending them. I never thought this was ideal, but it's the thing to do when you have family out of town. People always said, "I don't know how you can do that all the time" but really, it's just something you have to do.
It was a crutch for not having to decide on something together. He wanted Disney. She said hell no. They put a band-aid on the situation, and went camping. Still, she kept saying NO until finally she became so desperate to go somewhere that she said, Fine, Disney. If it will make you happy. And it became apparent that she wasn't going to have to go.
Now, some ground has to be caught up. Thinking: If my job is optional, turning me into something inhuman, throwing herself into bed the second she gets home just to stay moderately functional ... then maybe my job should take me places. Two birds with one stone. Maybe.
Today, I planned to go to New York with Ingrid.
I really don't like Wheel of Fortune, but I think it's awesome that Vanna is still rocking out the letter-turning at the age of 51. I thought they'd have kicked her off for some little tartlet by now. Or maybe for technology, which wouldn't need nearly the budget for evening wear.
Anyway, rock on, Vanna White.
Paraphrasing something a friend said earlier this week:
I'd like to be the type of woman who goes to the beach, lays out a blanket, opens up a bottle of wine and reads LITERATURE and everyone who walks by thinks, "She's so smart and sophisticated."
I wondered what type of woman I'd like to be.
I'd like to be the type of woman you see effortlessly riding around Queen West or the Market on her cute cruiser bike. She wears a flouncy skirt and funky glasses, doesn't even break a sweat. She has a really cool messenger bag and there's probably something super interesting in her wicker bicycle basket. A thick book or some fancy ingredients for dinner perhaps, or maybe some eco-friendly cleaning products.
Well, why not? I have a cute cruiser bike. My friend has sophistication to spare. I think we're probably already our types, in beta version.
This is Danforth GO Station earlier today. This was my commute home base for two years while we lived in the little house on Morton. The little house on Morton was a place that was pretty happy.
I have some friends who live further east on this line. I have to pass through to get to them. I catch the train downtown; Danforth is the first stop. Approaching Danforth, I always torture myself by observing Stephenson Park, which is visible from the train. I used to run Chloe there. Approaching Danforth, I always start some snivelling or at least something horrible knots up in my throat.
On Wednesday, I filed the rest of my divorce paperwork with the Court. I will wait patiently for four to six weeks to be granted a Divorce Order. 31 days later, I will be divorced.
Today I approached Danforth. I felt a cold apprehension creep into my chest as the train hurtled past the park. It was full of sunshine, dogs and kids. The train came to its slow halt inside the station. I felt okay.
I could do a lot better much of the time, but I try act thoughtfully so I don't have to have a lot of regrets in life. Sometimes trying doesn't count for much and I fuck up really badly.
I cannot remember when exactly I committed the crime I am about to relay. I can't remember much of what happened last spring. It's no excuse, but I had a list as long as Santa's of tasks I had to strike off before I could land safely. Setting up separate bank accounts, running around getting the documentation the landlord needed for my rental application, changing my identity, putting my new house up for sale, packing, "therapy" while commuting back and forth to Hamilton ever day - all that I remember. Fine details, no. It was a lot of shit to get through in two months.
Somewhere around this time, maybe even shortly after I moved, I went to lunch with a favourite friend and burst into tears when she told me she was pregnant. These were not, "Oh my God, I'm so happy for you," tears. They were inappropriate, "I feel so fucking sorry for myself," tears. It was no secret that I had been trying pretty hard to have a baby before all this shit with Kevin went down. One of the hardest parts about the whole thing has been accepting that it might not happen for me now. So, I didn't mean to cry, but it happened anyway.
She gets it, I know. And she knows I was, in fact, very happy for her. I was. It wasn't about her or her news but that doesn't change the fact that it happened when she was delivering some of her best news ever. You shouldn't have to comfort someone else when you're giving your best news. I can't ever take that reaction back and I feel pretty horrible about it.
I don't know there's much I can do to fix it, except try to be the best "Auntie" to Quinn that I can be.
I wait to be called in for my second and last therapy appointment following the Big Announcement. I pretend to read but in actual fact I just sit there, scratching a hangnail until it bleeds, eavesdropping on the two receptionists. In a few minutes I'll get kicked out of therapy and I'll leave in much worse shape than I entered. But I don't know that yet.
"There," says Receptionist A, after pushing some paper around, "Easy as pie."
Receptionist B narrows her eyes at Receptionist A. "That's the stupidest expression I've ever heard. Everyone knows pie isn't that easy to make."
One time Suresh told me his theory of mountain climbing as it relates to work. That is, you are either climbing the mountain or you're camping on it. Climbing is preferrable. If you're camping, that's fine, but you better have a good reason for it. The point was, he didn't think my reasons for camping were very solid. It was around the time I almost moved to that other job, but didn't.
I actually think my reasons for continuing to camp on the mountain made a lot of sense. I'm going to stand by that decision not to take that job. I didn't have a crystal ball to tell me that all the reasons I didn't take it weren't going to exist in a few years.
Reality: Those reasons do not exist now. There's no kid, or mortgage that I need to look out for. So wtf is the point of camping? Camping is security, but climbing is challenge and learning, getting excited about something.
My job is not doing much for me, and to be honest, I am not doing much for it. We'd probably both be happier if I climbed another mountain. If I've learned anything over the last twelve months, it's that everything is optional. My job is optional. My job is the last tenuous thread of my old life. It will be the scariest, hardest thing to change but really it's just an option, like everything else.
I had a summer job working in a car factory when I was in university. Not a very dainty girl, I had a lot of really crappy, hard (heavy) jobs to do so sometimes it really sucked but I had a crush on this blonde guy who bolted tires onto the cars as they came down the line and a crush can make things alot easier. He had majored in English, I was majoring in English. It was a perfect match! Oh, except we never got together. Alas. But he did turn me on to two things: Pablo Neruda and Hemingway's, A Moveable Feast.
- We Have Lost Even -
We have lost even this twilight.
No one saw us this evening hand in hand
while the blue night dropped on the world.
I have seen from my window
the fiesta of sunset in the distant mountain tops.
Sometimes a piece of sun
burned like a coin between my hands.
I remembered you with my soul clenched
in that sadness of mine that you know.
Where were you then?
Who else was there?
Why will the whole of love come on me suddenly
when I am sad and feel you are far away?
The book fell that is always turned to at twilight
and my cape rolled like a hurt dog at my feet.
Always, always you recede through the evenings
towards where the twilight goes erasing statues.
- Pablo Neruda, Twenty Love Poems and a Song of Despair