April 30, 2002
Till Death Do Us Part
So yeah. I put off writing this month's On Display collab. The only topic given was "a body part". As vague as that was, I wasn't really sure what I wanted to write about.
I have a long and troubled relationship with my body. We've been on the verge of divorce several times. We even tried relationship counseling a few times but... enh. The relationship between a woman and her body is a complicated one, too complicated for any therapist to resolve, I think. You either fix the relationship or you don't, no one can really help fix it for you. I'm sure my story isn't different from most women's at this point. As little girls we're taught romanticized, unrealistic visions of what a body relationship should be. We're told that if we can just find the right body, life will be perfect, all sunshine and happiness and diet soda. Happily ever after!
I spent my childhood and most of my adulthood believing in this goal. I believed that one day Perfect Body would come along and sweep me off my, er, feet, and carry me off to aerobicized happiness. As I've grown older, however, I've learned that some of us just aren't born with what it takes to catch Perfect Body. We have to live with "Not-So-Perfect Body", and sometimes even "Slightly Horrifying To One's Self Body".
If we're really lucky, or if we work at it, we can start to accept "Not-So-Perfect Body" as ours. The truest union comes when we no longer think in terms of "perfect or not perfect" body, but when we are simply "Me", with no division between us and our body.
Once I started to realize this, I started to accept that I really am in a "till death do us part" relationship here. My body and I still have days where we don't get along. We both have days where we're uncooperative and lazy and grouchy, but we're working on it. I've learned to accept it for what it is, and I'm trying to take better care of it. In return, I'm hoping it stops making such a fuss about things like carrying in groceries, or most especially, sitting at a desk all day. You know how asses are, always complaining about something.
So I watched Frontier House
So I watched Frontier House on PBS last night. The premise, in case you haven't heard of this before, is that three normal American families agreed to live in Montana under the same conditions that faced homesteaders in 1883. This is the American version of The 1900 House, in which an English family lived in an authentic recreation of 1900 British life.
In both shows, the families are expected to dress and live exactly as their historical counterparts did, from cooking and working to clothing and hygiene, as much as possible. And PBS films it, giving the participants plenty of opportunity to grouse about everyone else on the show in 'video diaries'. It's Reality TV for the PBS set.
Frontier House is proving interesting, far more 'dramatic' and conflict-ridden than The 1900 House, in a uniquely American way. In other words, so far two of the families have made themselves look like asses on TV. Still, it's enjoyable, and I feel like I can still keep my "Ugh, you watch Survivor" mentality, since this is, after all, PBS. ;)
It airs again tonight at 9 EST and concludes tomorrow at 9 EST. Tonight, the nicest of the bunch so far gets married when his fiancee joins the three families. I'm waiting for the other two women to get into a cat fight.
April 26, 2002
This just in: HUMANS INSIST
This just in: HUMANS INSIST THEY ARE NOT DUMBER THAN RICE
April 25, 2002
I didn't know whether to
I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Somebody shoot me if I ever turn into the heroine described in this article.
If he's sultry and charismatic, he's dangerous, not a man you'd want to marry. But if he's soft and harmless and borderline-laughable? Yes! Tag that wildebeest and track him until he's lost his will to run, and his will to live, and is therefore ready to be propped up at assorted couples' brunches and holiday dinners, presented to the world as the slightly deadened but hopelessly devoted provider.
April 24, 2002
I've come to two conclusions over the past couple weeks. First, when I write in public, I apparently give off vibes that make me absolutely fascinating to other people. Second, the reason I'm still single is because my subconscious is a jealous bitch who wants me all to herself.
Allow me to explain.
In case you don't follow the writing blog (it gets updated far more often than this does, honestly), I've been doing very well with managing to write for an hour nearly everyday. Apparently I can only write in the mornings if I'm not at home. If I'm home, I sit on the couch and go back to sleep. Trust me. I've tried it. So, I've been writing out in public a lot. Twice in one week, strange men approached me while I was writing and started to make small talk. In fact, I realized later that both men were flirting with me (more on that below).
Ordinarily this would be a neat thing, and would make me quite happy. However, one of them was one of my neighbors, a very nice black gentleman who is old enough to be my father, if not my grandfather. He saw me sitting on my patio and started offering to cook me dinner. "Anything you want, I can cook it!" He gave me his apartment number with the recommendation that I come on up sometime so we could "have a Blockbuster night". I should mention that both his pants and his shirt were a brilliant goldenrod color, and he mentioned that he had the summer off because he'd just had a heart attack. Now, maybe he was just being nice, but I got decidedly creeped out, particularly when he mentioned that he'd been watching me through my window, which faces the parking lot.
The other guy was closer to my age, and actually pretty interesting once I got over being irritated at him (again, more on that in a moment). We chatted for a bit. Turns out he's a cab driver who's also an aspiring stand up comic. He was fascinated by my writing (always a good thing!). Alas, I missed his hints for any sort of contact information from me, and I'll probably never see him again.
Which leads me into point number two. The second case there is particularly interesting. I sat and talked with this guy off and on for over an hour. Granted, I was distracted with my writing, but until after I got to work that morning, it never occurred to me that he might have been flirting with me. At all. So picture this. Here's me, sitting and working on my novel in Starbucks. The guy next to me starts trying to chat with me, and the only thing I can think of at first is, "Wow, I wish this guy would leave me alone so I can write!" But he doesn't, and I start talking to him. Then I get so thrilled that this interesting person is interested in my writing, that I completely miss the hints for my phone number or email address.
My subconscious doesn't want to share me, you see. That whole experience really made me start to wonder how many times someone has shown a real interest in me and I've been completely oblivious. I always thought I was the master of imagining interest when it wasn't there. I never, ever thought I was someone who'd miss obvious interest that was right there.
Over and over again it keeps coming back to me that I'm just meant to be single right now. And aside from a few minor bumps (in the form of occasional baby blues and, er, occasional less wholesome emotions), I'm quite content with that. It just makes me wonder... what if Prince Charming was standing in front of me waving his arms and I completely missed it?
Look! A journal entry! I've
Look! A journal entry! I've just been incredibly busy lately, you know, what with working and coming home and plopping in front of the TV every single night. ;)
In other news though, the American version of "Whose Line is it Anyway?" is incredibly amusing.
April 22, 2002
Hey, you keep your guilty
Hey, you keep your guilty pleasures, I'll keep mine.
In "The Shelters of Stone," Auel follows Ayla as she adjusts to living in a human community after years with the adoptive Neanderthals and on her own. Ayla and her human mate, Jondalar, return to his home in what is now southwestern France, where Ayla struggles to fit in.
Will I get it soon after it comes out? Duh. Will I bitch if it's as dull and pointless as "Plains of Passage"? Double-duh.
April 17, 2002
For the first time in
For the first time in our adult lives, Dawn and Jason live close enough for me to run over there and visit on a weeknight. So I did. You have no idea how happy this makes me. I got to see the boy, and hear him make attempts at saying "Crazy Aunt Lisa". He's doing pretty well with "Daddy" and "Mama" though. :)
April 16, 2002
"I'm not saying it's safe
Oh, if that's all. As long as we know where we stand.
April 12, 2002
I have a new favorite
I have a new favorite website: Big Fat Blog
April 11, 2002
As I said in the blog, I really didn't need to see this. Thanks trillions, Time Magazine. I didn't need reminding that I have a biological clock. I love my life. I know I've said that many times lately, and it's definitely true.
Never have a child? Ever? I'm starting to realize that I have to prepare myself for that eventuality. I was pretty down about it last night. I adore children. I adore being a parent vicariously through Dawn and Jason. I want to hear about the first tooth and the first step and the first dirty word in front of grandma. I want to hear stories about unusual poo colors and late night screaming fits. Being there to help Dawn give birth to Justin was a revelation to me. I want that. I want to be a mother.
I decided several months back that if I was still single at age 35 I would consider going the single mom route. I figured that by then I would have finished my undergrad work at least, and might be a good financial position to have a child alone. Now I hear that even then it might not be a possibility.
Ironically, while I was sitting at my computer sighing over this news, my period started. (Of course, this could explain some of the moodiness.) I have, shall we say, issues in this area. Large ugly undiagnosed ones that have been dismissed as fat issues. Several of my immediate relatives have had problems too, with the exception of my grandma who was extremely fertile and had at least eight children. My mom had problems conceiving and carrying a baby to term. My aunts. My cousins. Me? I've never tried to get pregnant, but in all honesty I was not very careful about birth control for the entire 3 and a half years of my marriage. I found out after the fact that as sporadically as I took the Pill, I may as well not have taken it at all.
I'm afraid that once I am able to start trying, whether alone or with a partner, it'll be too late. I almost want to find out now, if there's a way to, whether or not I'm infertile. I just wish I knew. If I knew now that I'm destined to be everybody's aunt, then I could accept it and move on. On the one hand, I feel like a huge chunk of my existence will be missing if I'm never a mother. But on the other hand, when I stop to think about it, I can't picture myself as a mother. I don't see it in my future. That makes me feel very sad.
I won't mind
Sitting by your cradle,
Singing to you softly
Far into the night.
I won't mind
Playing peek-a-boo for hours
To see that look of wonder,
Wonder and delight.
Soon they'll be asking, "Where is Baby's nose?
Where is Baby's shoe? Where is Baby's hat?"
"Clever little boy," they'll say.
"Lizzie taught him that."
I won't mind
Reading you a story,
Quacking like a duck,
Chirping like a bird.
I won't mind
When you ask me to repeat it
'Til you can say it with me,
Knowing every word.
You needn't worry if there's chocolate on your hands,
Jelly on your face, porridge on my skirt.
Run to me and I'll be there
To hold you when you hurt.
They'll say, "Auntie Lizzie can't say no."
They'll say, "Auntie Lizzie's spoiling you."
They'll say, "Auntie Lizzie's wrapped around your finger."
I'll say, "Yes, it's true."
I won't mind
Knowing that your mother
Showers you with kisses
Bakes your favorite bread.
I won't mind
When I see your father lift you
And swing you to his shoulders
High above my head.
They may be busy--I can take you skating,
I can take you sledding, flying down the hill.
If they won't build a snowman,
Auntie Lizzie will.
They'll say, "Auntie Lizzie holds too tight."
They'll say, "Auntie Lizzie can't let go."
They'll say, "Auntie Lizzie's really not your aunt, anyway."
You'll say, "No, that isn't so."
In my heart
I will keep a secret,
Foolish little secret
Hidden from the rest.
In my dream
You're my own, my very own,
And I blanket with you love
As I hold to you my breast.
Lizzie, he's not yours,
Lizzie in his life, your part is very small.
But if one day a toy should break
Or maybe playing patty-cake
You call me Mama by mistake
I won't mind at all.
--"I Won't Mind", Annie Kessler & Libby Saines
Okay, this is wrong wrong
Okay, this is wrong wrong wrong:
No way "Attack of the Clones" will be worth that. However, if I should happen to vanish around November 18th...
April 10, 2002
"27 is the age at
*sigh* I didn't need to hear that. *Ticktickticktickticktick...*
April 09, 2002
A Day in the Life, Revisited
Once upon a time, I wrote a journal entry detailing a typical day for me.
Things have changed since then. Quite a lot. That was two and a half years ago, after all. So without further adieu, a typical Lisa day, April 2002 edition. At least until my schedule changes next week.
7:00 am -- Alarm goes off. As soon as the first beep sounds, Pooka leaps up to the head of the bed and starts meowing to be petted. Hit snooze. Scritch cat while still asleep.
7:07 am to 7:28 am -- I get up, depending on how many times I hit snooze. Pet the cat some more.
7:30 am -- Take shower, get dressed, the usual stuff.
8:00 am to 8:30 am -- Sometime in there, gather up things and head out the door.
9:00 am -- At the latest, sitting down at Starbucks with my laptop and breakfast. My favorites right now are the chai and honey bran muffins. I've been trying to write for at least an hour everyday, and so far this has been the best time and the best place to do so.
10:00 am -- Pack everything up and head to work.
10:30 am -- Turn on phone. I'm still working for the same company I worked for back in September '99, but now instead of a receptionist, I'm a product support rep. I support an accounting program, and I have learned far more about accounting than I ever wanted to. In between calls (and *shhh* during the long pointless ones), I read email and a few journals.
2:00 pm -- Lunch, and I really do eat lunch at lunch now. I've been eating out too much lately though.
3:00 pm -- Back to work. Sometimes the calls are entertaining, sometimes the calls are irritating, sometimes they're fascinating in that "I really dig problem solving" way. And sometimes they just suck and I pray for death so the call will end.
7:30 pm -- Quitting time! The last hour and a half or so of my shift is normally very very VERY quiet, so I spend a lot of time goofing around, or if I get ambitious, I do a few critiques or poke at something I'm writing. I don't get ambitious often.
8:00 pm -- Home sweet home! I love my evenings. Unless it's a Thursday, I'm usually home, hanging out with Pooka and goofing around with whoever's online. Sometimes I play EverQuest, which has become my guiltiest of guilty pleasures of late -- well, second to E! True Hollywood Story and endless reruns of "Law and Order".
11:00 pm -- Bed. No really. Don't laugh. Sometimes I stretch it to midnight, but not usually.
My life has been so stable of late. I know I shouldn't jinx it by saying that, but it's true, and I love it. I don't think I would trade any of my wild and woolly days (which, admittedly, were pretty tame by most people's standards) for any of my days now.
April 05, 2002
I've said it before, but
I've said it before, but it bears repeating: SatireWire kicks ass.
A thousand happy birthdays to
A thousand happy birthdays to my boy! Justin is one year old today!
April 03, 2002
I had a strange dream
I had a strange dream last night. I dreamt that I was back in college, like, back at Lipscomb, only all my coworkers were there. There was a huge uproar in the guys' dorm because one of the guys was discovered to be a Satanist. The other guys wanted to throw him out, but his reply was, "I'm only a Satanist! It's not like I listen to boy bands or anything!" Upon reflection, they let him stay.
I never had a dream with a punchline before.
April 01, 2002
So. Did you go see
So. Did you go see Fellowship of the Ring back when it first came out? Were you all psyched about it and did you just adore it? Yeah? Go see it again. Before the final credits roll, there's an extended preview for Two Towers. I'm about ready to count days to December 18th now. (And DVD preorders start April 12th. Oh yeah.)
We now return you to your regularly scheduled geekiness.