Rule #1: No thinking about the archives. No looking at the archives.
Can it really be that I have no chocolate hidden anywhere in this house? No? Oh, good.
The first three friend couples are in various stages of secret to full blown pregnancy. I am thrilled for them but also this hurts me in a deep, unexamined part of myself. It means I lose a part of myself, a deep-running piece of my identity which has been the self-held belief- and okay let's face it most people who know me have believed it also- that I would be the first. I'm disappointed in myself that I'm not ready like I thought I would be; I never finished college and now here's another way I have managed to fail. When am I going to start acting my age already?
On the other hand, don't get me near them because as I keep saying pregnancy is contagious and the reality is I don't want to be pregnant, not quite yet. For one thing, I think if I hold off I'll be the first of my Grandma's grandchildren to not already be knocked up at the time of walking down the aisle. Lu was a very religious woman and she only died a couple of months ago. I still can't believe she won't be there to see us married, but I believe she would have appreciated that a little bit. Also, I'm so outrageously happy right now. I'm too happy to care about being or not being parents yet. We are so in love and we slept in until 11:00 both days last weekend; we have few obligations and so goddamn much fun together- what's the rush? Third: I used to be religious as all hell and what can I say? I'm a little old fashioned still.
Things to make or do by the end of this weekend:
Re-cover the second of two Road Find chairs (do)
Hang new photo prints in living room (do)
Gyno appointment (make)
Vacuum everything (do)
Paint/hang new used shelf/towel bar in kitchen (finish). I've been multitasking by painting this shelf all the while of writing this post, drinking wine, and chatting with a girlfriend. I'm using the most incredible shade of green.
It's an astoundingly gorgeous Autumn afternoon and a friend comes out with Stan and me to take a bunch of pictures of us to use for engagement/wedding stuff/whatever. The experience of having our picture taken together is an unusual one for us- normally I am the photographer. There is a lot of laughing, a bit of crying (me), and much goofing around. We're nervous in front of the camera, so we try to gain confidence by losing ourselves in humor. We try to make nice faces, but each nice face necessitates a ridiculous one to counter it and the camera keeps capturing those in-betweens. We pose next to a pond, in a field, tête-à-tête lying in a pile of leaves. We sit together under a tree, the two of us in a pool of golden sunlight surrounded by shadow. We put our hands to the earth, touch the leaves and seeds and pine cones blanketing the lawn around us. We wonder, what if we had eyes at the tips of our pinky fingers? How would our brains process the additional perspective? A breeze stirs, the afternoon light ripples and shimmers under our tree. A leaf falls near my left knee, then another. What if we looked around through our pinky eyeballs and our eyeball eyeballs at the same time? How would the resulting image composite appear to us? We're no longer self-conscious, there is no camera. We are the only ones here. We hold our pinkies out at one another looking, laughing. We are the only people, just the two of us.
What would we see if we held our hands up to our faces, looked ourselves directly in the eyes?
1. Needless to say, I ignored the girl who wrote me on Facebook that, "I am trying to friend as many Emma's as possible we are the coolest! Ad me :)."
2. I'm depressed that I even know about this, but who in the hell is Miracle Whup trying to reach with its "will not tone it down" ad campaign? Does Kraft really think it's money well spent to try to sell me on "hardcore Miracle Whup attitude and revelry?" Also why does all the media coverage describe the campaign as "for hipsters?" It so doesn't even begin to be ironic enough for the Bacon Generation. Asserting that "snarfing sandwiches" will be "very cool and totally hip" is not hip. The terms "in your face" and "massively dope" are not hip. Miracle Whup is not hip, it's oil and corn syrup. Fuck you.
3. Well, at least there's this:
(From Craigslist musicians community listings - SLC)
I just went through some hard time and found that I am indeed a man. I have learned to vocalize my feelings and thoughts with a genuine voice. Through the scream therapy I've been undergoing, I've realized I have a real voice for the screamo crowd. I think I could really pull it off if I had some good musicians behind me. It almost feels like Satan is talking through me the way my voice bottoms out in its gravelly baritone when I hit the bottom notes. However, I want to sing serious stuff, like messages of a political nature but through stories of animated characters (anime too). I would like to venture into the realm of Skinny Puppy too, if that makes sense. The important thing is to really enjoy what we're doing at have fun, but say something. I don't have any equiptment or mics, but I do own a mic stand. I think I have a cable that might work if I don't shake it too much. I no a drummer who is recovering from a crack addiction, but he seems really bent on the recovery--so there is that. I am looking for a guitarist and bassist who can really experiment with all this and let me in turn experiment with my new found voice. I am gettin a raise soon from 10.00 an hour to 10.50, so I hope to be able to save up for a mic. I have weekly recovery meetings and a few doctors appointments a month, but I should be able to make 2 practices a week (hopefully). I can split a rental room, but my mom says she'll let me use her garage if I need to--so there is that. I have a girlfriend (on and off), who is semi-supportive, so I might be able to get rides to practice fairly regularly. I was going to answer the Toxic Rockers ad, but my brother won't let me borrow his friend's drums. I am really interested in this and can even do some artwork if we get to needing some grapfics. I once fell from a train into a marching band unloading from a road trip---I think that means something and I want to honor that experience. I hope this is reachin the right peeps, cause when my dad was alive he invented the seripentirial and he wanted me to kind-of find a nitch like that, but I think contruction and screaming might be it for me...but I feel good about it. So, since I only have access to my friends wifes computer (when she's not here), just reply and I'll get back to you asap.
I am doing what no one should ever attempt which is eating a pomegranate at my desk. In order to not splatter one's entire cubicle with very sticky, very squirty, very stainey pomegranate juice this requires performing total dissection in the kitchenette beforehand. I did that with the first half of the fruit, but now I am feeling lazy and also: I can't get up to take care of this elsewhere. I need to pull this fruit apart, right here and now. Then I am my mother, watching and warning, "You should stop now. That's not going to work out for you." And I am a seven year-old, too engrossed/determined to quit, plus experimenting with defiance. I know this is perilous and I don't want the mom to see me still going for it, so to shorten the duration of risk, I hurry. But one bit is difficult to get apart and in struggling with it- oh no! A smattering. Then I am the mother saying, "See there," and cleaning up after. But, the thing is, my mom never did this kind of thing. She's never been an I-told-you-so-er; whose mother am I channeling? Is that the kind of mother I'm going to be? I'm seven years old and obstinate, and I'm my own future-parenting-style-I-hope-I -don't-really-wind-up-going-in-for mother to myself. I am the world's least fun unsolveable logic problem.