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2005-10-15 @ 11:11 p.m. |
Does anyone know if girls can have mid-life crisis? I know its usually associated with middle aged business men having affairs with their Swedish secretaries while they're taking dicktation. I'm sitting here in my nightgown and purple socks drinking diet coke and eating pickles and listening to Simon and Garfunkle wondering why my life sucks so much. Tonight when I ate dinner, every single TV channel I turned to had some infernal sporting event involving balls, so I ended up sitting alone eating Betty Crocker mashed potato and steak watching "Lawrence Welk" on PBS. They mentioned at the beginning that this particular episode had been filmed in 1975 and I'm like, shit, I was in high school in 1975...did dudes really dress in powder blue suits and white shiny shoes? And actually, sadly, I left the show on because they did "Rhapsody in Blue" and I couldn't NOT watch that. I guess I do remember my favorite music teacher Mr. Edwards wearing these really ugly mustard and burgundy colored plaid pants to music class once a week, but powder blue and ruffled? Come on! It has to be the rain or the fact that I ate too much sugar today or something. Because I've been having conversations with myself again and that's always a dangerous sign. I'll be getting undressed to get in the shower and suddenly I'll be rehashing some minor wrongdoing from like 3 months ago. Like saying, "You know "D", I stood up for you in our support group, because you said you were going to phase out and then I left thinking you were going to leave, and then you never left and now I don't have a support group. And I really need one. Do you think this is fair. Do you?" Of course there is no answer forthcoming, because I'm just getting into the shower or driving to work or putting the dishes in the dishwasher and I don't even know where this stuff is coming from. I guess its all the angsty amoebas that live in my subconscious trying to resurface to get resolved. And I have a lot of them. And evidently I feel the need to have long passionate conversations with them. I remember last October when I had just ended things with Married Guy, one night I walked around my house for an entire hour yelling and crying about everything thing that I wanted, but couldn't say to him. It was difficult, but in a way cleansing. I knew I could never do that in person, so I did the next best thing....I yelled at him in front of the cat. That'll show him! And I had done that previously with the Zenshrink situation and even the Nanny Guy. I actually do it with all the people I'm pissed off at, which is to say, I talk to myself a lot, and when I feel stressed, its even more often. Now I don't know if this is just part of living alone, or whether its an element of my mental illness. I've told a handful of people about it. One person thought it was very healthy to get everything out verbally. The other person looked at me like I was from the Planet Zardoz. I had something happen at the yuppie grocery store yesterday which would probably be minor to 99.99% of the population, but for some reason, it really pushed my buttons. I went into the store and headed for the restroom. When I got in there, there was a woman with two little boys about 4 and 5. She was loud and yelling at them and they were totally out of control running around in the bathroom and being generally obnoxious. I went into the stall next to them. I thought she had both of them in the stall with her because I could hear her telling them to go pee pee and to pull up their pants and stuff. Now I'm a very nervous bathroom person. My ideal bathroom scenario is -- no one is within 1000 yards of any bathroom I choose to sit in since I have the world's most nervous kidneys. But it was a busy Friday afternoon and all the stalls were taken. So I was going to the bathroom and suddenly I looked up and I could see one of the little boys pressed up against my stall door with his hands cupped around his eyes looking in at me peeing. I immediately totally freaked out. I have some major bathroom issues (I was raped in a bathroom as a kid) and getting spyed on, even if its some little 4 or 5 year old, was just not acceptable. So I immediately yelled, "Get away from the door you little brat!" I was shocked at how loud and immediate my response was. I'm usually a total wimp when it comes to confronting anyone, even a kid. But the kid didn't move. He was still getting his eye-full of the illustrious witty taking a leak, when I screamed at him again, "GET AWAY! GET AWAY FROM THE DOOR!!!!!!!" And he still wouldn't move and his mother didn't appear to be doing anything about it either. She finally came out of the stall next to me and I guess brought him over to the sink. She didn't even say anything to him. When I finally came out of MY stall, I walked over to the sink and said, "I didn't appreciate your kid looking into my stall." And instead of apologizing or saying something to the kid, she looked at me and said, "How else are they going to learn about women?"
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Lyrics by Lennon/McCartney. All angst copyright by awittykitty |
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