I have been such an idiot lately. I don’t know what it is. I’ve actually been worried about driving because I can’t seem to keep my head straight. When I got into the car after a quick trip to the store, my stereo faceplate was in the cupholder and my cellphone was under the seat…and that’s how my week has been going. There are so many examples just like that one that I couldn’t even begin to list them all. I’d say I’m preoccupied, but I haven’t a clue by what.
My Fruitpie is leaving in just a few days and I’ve been frantically trying to get things ready. I’d been wanting to go to Sam’s Club for a few days now and it occurred to me today that she won’t even be here next week, so bulk shopping would be futile. On top of that, we’re trying to conserve money since property taxes just got paid. I should just stay in bed until my mental faculties cease to allude me.
It has been so nice to have my Fruitpie home with me these past four days. She’s going to be leaving a week from today and I haven’t quite figured out what I’m going to do with myself. Whenever she goes, I have these high aspirations for how I’m going to spend my time. Unfortunately, all I ever seem to do is follow my usual routine. Taking care of the furkids consumes me most of the time and the rest compels me to sit on my ass drinking a beer and surfing obscurities on the internet. It’s amazing how much time one can spend on wikipedia. A simple search for wine somehow led me on an hour long journey through the intricacies of noble rot, ( the benevolent form of a grey fungus, Botrytis cinerea, affecting wine grapes).
I put off calling my parents on Thursday until it became so late that I couldn’t call. I kept having these arguments in my head over why it is that I’m the one obligated to pick up the goddamn phone. The only logical answer for me was that they probably can’t call out…until I was reminded that my dad has vonage, so the call is free. I feel like I did my duty. I invited them down and subsequently countered their list of reasons why the couldn’t come with reasonable solutions until Bessie finally hung up. Why do I even bother? Is being their offspring really so great a tie that I must continue to get my face slapped? The whole thing, of course, sent me on this long, introspective tour of my psyche…perusing through boxes of old memories and dusty treasure chests of fermented rage.
Scrubbing the concrete yesterday, I had this old scenario replaying in my head. All four of us would be together…either in the car or living room. My brother would lead the pack antagonizing me until I finally, rife with anger would yell, “Stop making fun of me”. This would be met with my brother’s mocking falsetto, repeating what I had just said. So much frustration would accumulate in my throat that it literally cramped with pain…and had it been a cartoon, I imagine it would be akin to Homer’s rage bumps protruding from his neck with each offense. I got angry all over again, wondering why my parents wouldn’t stand up for me…why they would have to laugh along with him and join in. Why would I always be the one to get in trouble for getting angry at them and trying to stand up for myself as they degraded and belittled me? Why can’t I just be over it? Why does it have to shape who I am as an adult and endlessly add to my inherent self loathing? Fruit might say that I have to get over it…to grow up. But, no matter how hard I try or how many years of therapy I’ve been through, I can’t shake the voices from my head. I can’t stop being afraid that expressing my more volatile emotions will only leave me vulnerable to another crippling emotional attack. Wondershrink equated it to being a hand-shy dog…but I think it’s probably more accurate to say that I’m emotionally retarded.
I can’t believe how cold it has gotten already. I know we’re well into winter, but it feels like the temperature dropped from the heatwave range in a matter of weeks. It really wasn’t so long ago that it was so hot that one could barely breathe outdoors. Now I’m back to driving comfortably with the windows open…and just the other day I had to warm my feet with a hair dryer in the middle of the day because nothing else would do the trick.
It’s the perfect setting to start baking. Even though we don’t have anyone coming over, I’m going to cook as if we do. How can I pass up an excuse to have a bake-a-thon? I started the turkey brining last night in salt, sugar and herbs from the garden. I have one shot at the pumpkin pie, so I hope I don’t fuck it up this time. I really don’t want to go to the store for another can…and truthfully, if I have to go to the store because I ruined the pie, I’m just going to buy one rather than bake all over again. I really hope I don’t burn myself this time.
Everyone at work kept asking what I was doing today. When the medical director received my answer, he asked with marked horror in his voice whether I am a vegetarian. It amused me that he would equate having a quiet TG alone with my wife to being a vegetarian rather than not having anyone else to invite. I’ve never had a large family. The closest I ever came was tagging along to family gatherings with my ex. I don’t think I ever stopped feeling awkward, but as socially inept as I am that’s really not such a surprise. I do feel a little badly that I couldn’t offer some family to my Fruitpie, though. She tried so hard in the beginning to help me cultivate some kind of relationship with them. That was before she understood that my disdain for them is legitimate and they really are insane. People always used to tell me that I would grow out of it or that I would understand someday…and I would get so angry and annoyed that they just did not get it. I’m not an immature child, my parents are irreparably damaged. I don’t even want to call them today. I feel like I did my duty in inviting them…and offering to fix all of the problems they presented as excuses not to come down. We even contemplated ordering them a TG dinner to be delivered to their house, but with my mother’s newfound vegetarianism, I felt that my money would be ill spent. I didn’t expect them to come. I’m glad that they’re not…but, for some reason I’m still angry.
I think it’s finally a reasonable time to fire up the ovens. Once the pie is done, football snacks will follow…
The last few weeks have been fraught with the usual ghosts of the past that seem to descend upon me at holiday times. The only thing I like about Thanksgiving anymore is cooking…otherwise it only serves as a reminder that family is far away or non-existent and friends are few and far between. Both are mostly my own fault. My parents are pathetic and my brother is a pompous asshole. My friends have dwindled down to almost negative numbers and I don’t have the energy, desire or maybe even inclination to work at those relationships. I wish people didn’t annoy me so much in general. I suppose it could be that I have countless flaws of my own to see in others that I’m destined to not like anybody for prolonged periods of time. People upset and disappoint…and really, who needs all that drama? I’m perfectly happy with my five furkids and my wonderful wife. So why am I feeling so lonely lately?
Yesterday everyone was cooing over a girl downstairs who just announced she’s two months pregnant. I usually can’t stand it when people make a big deal over anyone…especially me…but, this time I was overcome with jealousy. It’s just cosmically unfair that so many people have unwanted and unplanned pregnancies when there are so many others spending their last dime trying to conceive. This girl is not much older than me, already has three kids and is not shy about not wanting a fourth. I can’t blame her. I just wish it were me with the happy accident…and I wish you didn’t have to fuck a man to have one.
I’ve been trying to listen to an album by a girl I used to go to school with. It always seemed odd to me that I had such close contact with someone who now has a fan base and songs on popular tv shows. We were in liturgical singers together…and really that was the only friendly contact we had. I was there because I liked to sing and get out of class. She was there because she wanted to glorify God. Those facts made it pretty clear that we would never be more than acquaintances, but she was nice enough. What strikes me hardest, though, is that she is the most poignant example of someone who knew exactly what she wanted at such a young age and actually attained it. Back then, I was equally sure of who I was and what I wanted. Now I haven’t a clue…and if I were to meet my young self, I am not sure I would be recognizable. I don’t know who that girl is anymore. The mere idea of having what I had wanted then makes me shudder and not in a good way. But, the more I analyze it, the more I wonder which I really wanted…to be an actress or to be somebody else. I am most certainly leaning toward the latter. The first song on this girl’s album is Not Afraid To Be Me. I was listening as I did the dishes last night and it sent my mind spinning through countless trains of thought. I don’t even know who I am…I couldn’t be afraid or unafraid because I’m at a complete loss. I suspect that this won’t change over the course of my life, either. Once you’re really sure of who you are, what else is there? I suppose I can definitively say the things I’m not, but what I really am is a mystery to me. Maybe this life long journey is really just a search for self…and when you figure it out, you’re done. Maybe you’re allowed a certain amount of time before the cosmos renders you hopeless. Maybe I’m just full of shit. Either way, from one year to the next, I’m totally unrecognizable to me.
I haven’t been able to do a damned thing today. Unless, of course, going to Smart & Final and Barnes & Noble count…and three loads of laundry and a quick vacuum job. Still, I haven’t put any of the laundered good away which is really the hardest and most important part. I’m totally game for gathering and running the machines. I loathe everything after the dryer. I told myself that my sluggishness would be ok since I have extra time with Fruit working late tonight. But, here I am at 8:00 on my fucking laptop drinking a beer. I disgust me.
I took a stab at crab cakes and they’re in the oven as I type. I haven’t a clue when Fruitpie will be home, but I’m hoping they’ll still be hot and crispy when she is. She always tells me that I should just cook when I cook and reheat when she gets here, but I hate doing that. Reheated food is rarely as good…at least when it meat of some kind and not in a liquid state.
The kids have all eaten and I keep thinking of things I should be doing now that that’s taken care of. I could be mopping the floor or cleaning the table. I’m just so unmotivated. I can’t even remember if I took my pill today. Normally I’d just take another one, but they frown upon that when you’re already on the maximum dose. I don’t have a clue where the day has gone. Where do the hours go when you’re alone? Does anybody really know? I’m sure they went into my head like everything else. It reminds me of days many years ago when my ex would ask me what I was thinking. I would say nothing and everything, which I still feel aptly describes it…but this response would send her into an annoyed tizzy so I tried to keep it to a minimum thereafter. It’s true though. There is so much noise inside my head that I can’t pinpoint exactly what’s going on…just that something is going on and I could be totally occupied staring into space for hours on end if I let it get the best of me. The problem is that I can control it much less when I’m as tired as I am right now. I have no reason to be tired but it’s just not changing the fact that I am.
I’ve only been up since 5:30 and it’s already been a shitty day. Shortly after we hit the snooze button for the first time, I was jolted out of bed by a horrendous clatter downstairs. The fucking cat knocked a cutting board off the counter with two of my large pyrex bowls and a drinking glass. Both were from a very late dinner last night and one contained the remnants of corn…filled with water to soak. As if that wasn’t annoying enough to clean up…disgusting liquid and the remains of my favorite prep bowls…the fucking pantry was overtaken by ants. After cleaning, sweeping and mopping the kitchen, I managed to get lunch, breakfast and coffee squared away for my Fruitpie. She left without incident, and I came into the house to get another cup for myself. It was around this time that I found that the goddamn dog peed on the carpet despite the fact that the fucking door was open. At this point, I should just call in doomed. There is no way this day is going to go any better than it started out. Especially with the degree of PMS I have on top of it all.
