one step closer to Cat Lady

Since I never properly introduce Coco, here she is:

Clearly, I’m going to be one of those people who takes copius pictures of their cat…I’m that cool.

like that Katherine McPhee song

That last post down there? Yeah, I’m over it. I’m sure at some point it will be back, but I have passed through this whiny stage relatively unscathed. And for that, I’m grateful.

It could be that I have a new (sick) kitty cat to look after, it could be that the rain has let up for the past couple days. Maybe I’ve been eating more veggies and I’m becoming more balanced. I think it has something to do with being a man (woman, girl, whatever) with a plan, and a GRE book. It’s all about options lately, and I’m trying to embrace them instead of fear them.

ugh

I don’t even know what to write, because lately everything I think seems completely trivial. I’m in this horrible 20something place where nothing is going wrong but nothing is going right, either. And I hate the whininess I’ve acquired of late.

I hate that I can’t get myself out of bed in the morning to go to the gym, and I hate even more the guilt I feel all day for not going. I hate the relief I feel in microwaving a Lean Cuisine because it’s too hot to use the oven. I hate feeling like everyone has their life figured out but me, even if it’s not true. I hate the phrase ‘Do what you love’ almost as much as ‘Write what you know.’

I hate that the only thing I have to look forward to today is a new episode of The Hills.

I need a plan, a set of steps. I need someone to tell me that everyone goes through this and here’s how to get out. I’ll even take the long way around, if I know there’s an end in sight.

They’ve all come to look for America.

There was a hammock. And a barn. There were wildflowers to be cut and put in a basket, and cats basking in the sun to be played with. Bread and all manner of baked goods to be baked and genuine amber waves of grain (and corn) literally as far as the eye could see. The air was clean and the trucks were red. It was hard to come back to the city.

I couldn’t sleep my first night back. I was alone and it was too noisy. After almost week of being lulled to bed by crickets, the sirens didn’t seem like a fair trade. The past week I’ve still been operating on midwest time, where life moves slower. My phone keeps ringing and emails keep popping up, people with problems wanting to talk and be advised and all I want to do is find the sunny spot in the yard and read with B. Alas, no more yard, and B is now trying on wedded bliss.

So now I am catching up to east coast time, trying to decide how long I can stand the city before I break out for unknown country.

weddings are for toasts

Let me paint a picture for you of two freshman year roommates…
B: conservative midwest cheerleader, me: liberal east coast theatre geek
B: Nirvana’s ‘Man who Stole the world’, me: David Bowie’s version (the original)
B: political junkie, loves research papers, me: didn’t know what Condoleeza Rice did (and still don’t)

So you can see how I thought things would be difficult. “She’s nice,” I’d say, “but I don’t think we’ll be friends.” But then I got to know her, and as I’m sure many of you have experienced, to know B is to love her.

To love her is to understand that when she gets that look in her eye and says, “I’m going to Rome” or “I’m going to Ireland” or “I’m going to marry him” you’d better believe it.

To love her is to have faith in her judgement, and know instinctively that J must be an amazing guy. Because she’d never be with anyone who wasn’t.

So when she gets that look and says she’ll have her happily ever after, I think we all know that she will. To B and J, may you grow old and happy together.

I shouldn’t be allowed to watch disaster movies.

Remember Volcano? How about The Core? No? You were probably too busy having a life, meeting people, making friends, while I was at home watching disaster movies. Over, and over, and over again. I’ve seen each of those movies no less than 5 times each (The Core was playing on a plane once, bad idea, huh?).

I’m terrified, but I can’t tear myself away. I’d managed, until recently, to avoid The Day After Tomorrow. But then this weekend it was on twice in two days. So I watched it twice. Got freaked out, then convinced myself that were we in some sort of natural disaster situation, I would be the smart one and stay home with my canned goods, waiting out the storm until Dennis Quaid came to get me. I was well comforted in this idea, knowing that I would take the cowardly route and save myself. I reveled in my cowardice, even.

But then I woke up this morning and went to work. And all the natural disaster signs were there. Branches in the street, leaves covering the sidewalk. Thirty people waiting for a bus that is normally deserted. The mass exodus down 5th, weaving between suits on cell phones looking bewildered, wondering what to do. And I continued to work, not knowing what was going on, only that New York seemed to be slowly shutting down all transportation.

When I started this post I thought it was about being scared into taking care of the planet. Recycling, turning off lights, conserving water. It wasn’t. It was about fear of my own mortality, and the realization that I’d be the one waiting for Dennis Quaid, not Dennis Quaid himself.