7:53 p.m. - 12/04/03
partly it's the boots, but, mostly it's my chi.
I have an instant affinity for this layout; it has a magnetism bordering perfection, honestly. I didn't even realize how much I loved it until I'd gone through the ridiculously easy process of setting it up and could see my own words in this setting. I know I've been stumbling through different layouts for a long time now, but I've said for several months that what I really wanted was a good Tori layout. and this one is so clean and there's such strength and experience in her stance and her expression. I've wanted a layout that would allow me to be who I am (by my account) - someone with a hell of a lot on her shoulders, who isn't so much dark as overwhelmed, and not so much optimistic as determined, sometimes relentlessly - and I just feel this fits. as I told the designer, I think I'd only be happier right now if someone had created a layout with lyrics from (Tori's) "Mary." ...Anyway. I'm not promising that I'm redeemed (fully) in my design-changing addiction, but I do feel won over for the moment. Oh, my wandering affection. What is a layout to do these days?
I'm going to take the opportunity of a relatively dull day (a sick Dr. R cancelled on me; sob) to recall a little bit of the holiday weekend for which I deserve to take credit, some of which I even enjoyed. ...Friday went relatively well; I agree with my mom that, if holidays must be split between two "homes," it's better that the less active holiday take place here, where one can draw up plans fairly spontaneously, as opposed to Brigadoon where one would have the enjoyable prospect of watching the walls around her rot. My oldest brother brought card games - Frank's Zoo and Bohnanza, and I threw in my guilty (as in, I can't believe this game makes me as happy as it does) pleasure: Spongebob Uno. He stayed away from the board games, so we didn't have the usual Carcassones, et cetera - but I'm sure we'll have plenty of chances come Christmas. I find the games more enjoyable than most of my siblings, I think; I like them far better than I do watching movies, which was his former modus operendi. (And yes, I did type that last phrase only because I feel special in a pretentious sort of way in knowing for what "m.o." stands.) The only drawback to the games comes in when he starts to be controlling again - when I don't want to play and feel obligated, when I don't want to continue playing and am made to feel guilty - but honest to love, I think he's getting better in that area. The last time I visited him in KC, he took my mom out for dinner and let me eat peanut butter. (This is the boy who tried to drag me into a restaurant with fucking "ambience" when my eating disorder was at its most advanced, the boy who was offended when said attempt failed, miserably. Rather, the man. He's made a point, he mentioned, of referring to his female peers as "women" instead of girls or young ladies, which I appreciate; that's a word I had to consciously undertake adopting, myself. So I'll return the respect. I did ask him to do me a favor and, when in a relationship, refer to the specific women as his girlfriend and not his "woman friend" or "lady friend." I am not ready to refer to my oldest brother as a potential sister-in-law's "gentleman friend" and therefore insist on this one piece. He actually laughed when I asked, which I think is a good sign.) Weekly gaming has been good for him, though. I don't think he's ready to take geek as a compliment, yet (sad, sad) - but there's definite improvement. I found myself talking hopefully about our relationship (to an anonymous third party we'll call my mommy) with the same sort of awe I feel when I see how much closer Joe and I've become. Tra la. I didn't really think it possible for he and I to improve significantly. But I really do think we've a chance now, and that's rather appreciated by this little chordling. (Why do I always want to use little and -ling in the same phrase? Why must that redundancy so endlessly entice me?)
Dale and I did have one slight run-in over the holiday, regarding which I still feel a bit scraped. We were throwing jokes around about marriage; I mentioned that "married people should be committed" and of the three of them (Joe must have been asleep; his schedule is so fucked up from working nights) only John laughed, but John seemed to really find it amusing which comforted me. Anyway, my mom came to her own defense not long after and mentioned how someone had said to her, "I want you to know that, despite what's going on in your life right now, I know you, personally, feel a deep committment to marriage" - which John and I responded to mainly by nodding (although I actually thought it a really kind - and fairly accurate - observation; it obviously healed my mom's heart a bit). However, a beat after she repeated this remark, Dale said, "except for the one you're in" which honestly shocked me straight into expletives. It didn't even occur to me until after I'd said, "fuck you; that's mean!" that it wasn't a joke that had crossed the line but a statement of how he really feels. Dale is the only one of our parents' children (I'm fairly certain) who really believes what they insisted during our childhood: that divorce - short of in escape from abuse - is not an option. Mom said he had the right to feel that way about it, and things got seriously awkward; I'm pretty sure they talked about it later, though. I gave them some time to finish a private conversation they'd started, and I figure that was probably what they discussed. I made sure he wasn't mad at me - more proof that our relationship's growing better. Generally, his being annoyed at me balances my own annoyance with him, and I don't feel terribly uncomfortable about it. I don't think I did any real damage, though, which is cool. Between card games and good movies (oh, we ended up watching The Shawshank Redemption, which I'd never seen, and damn if I didn't already know "the Academy" was a joke, I wouldn't be able to believe that Forrest fucking Gump took the Oscar away from that movie) we came out on the other side, not too much worse for wear. It outdid our semi-annual viewing of Planes, Trains, and Automobiles on Thursday, which is only impressive (over the past few years, pretty much everyone has hit their PTaA threshhold and lost the will to watch it) considering the added entertainment value of watching said Steve Martin/ John Candy flick with one's grandma and great-aunt. I was particularly amused by my grandma's investment in each fiasco the characters endured and my great-aunt's ability to catch the punchline of a joke before it was delivered (raising a notion that, despite being 85, she's significantly more mentally adept and present than my dad. I still hope he'll come out on the other side of that fog, but it's a hope I keep relatively quiet these days. There are many things to want and only so much energy is available to grieve their respective absences.)
Ok. End Thanksgiving. End the holiday, end the retelling, end the entire shibang. I want to move on. It's as important to me that I survived Saturday - my first day of guestage - as that I survived the holiday preceding. Not only did I survive Saturday night, I enjoyed Saturday night, and Saturday-day didn't go too poorly either. As I mentioned, earlier in the morning I was kept comfortable by the remaining (familial) company, and though I did have a couple of hours to myself, which did start to push me into Tuesday-like anxiety, I didn't spring from the diving board, and by the evening I managed to calm down considerably (after a relatively intense outburst at my mom. re: once again, my news-producing brother will not be able to make Christmas, a fact I overheard my mom tell another sibling via telephone.) Tuesday had me well prepared for the way Saturday turned out; they arrived around the same time they'd have made it if I hadn't cancelled on Tuesday. I'd made plans with the doc about how to have an exit-option at all times, so that my phobias wouldn't run the show, but honestly, it was almost a non-issue. A little before seven Shandi called informing me that they'd reached the last of my directions and were ready to be pulled through the home stretch. After a few minutes talking, she handed the phone to her boyfriend, whose name I still did not know, and who she swore was better with this sort of thing. To my great relief (and surprise, of course) he was really amiable and understood precisely the directions I was reciting for him. (They'd gone in the wrong direction and despite the fact that I had no idea what I was actually saying - I was just repeating what my mom said - he managed to figure it out.) I went downstairs to greet them, didn't have the proper clothes or key to go outside, and so had the pleasure of watching two indistinct bodies, long-legged and hand-holding fly down the sidewalk past my door. A moment later, the same pair came flying back, but they split when Shandi saw me, and we did a swaying little hug-thing. I learned the boy's name was Jason, and that he looked rather familiar, and felt a little more at ease. I led the way to the third floor, and within a moment of opening the door to our living room, Shandi was on the floor, Jason was on the piano bench, and I'd collapsed comfortably onto the couch. Once I realized that Jason was, of course, just like the type of people I make friends with, I felt significantly less intimidated and started to make sure I looked at him as well as Shans when I spoke; I even tried to draw him into the conversation, and he came willingly. Whee!
The doctor asked me Monday what I'd expected, and I said - somewhat sheepishly, realizing how much my anxiety had cut reality out of the picture in my mind - that I'd thought he'd be more someone I'd have to impress than someone with whom I could just connect. I thought he'd be "the opposite of goofy" - cool, stoic, hard to win over. In reality, he's a theater major/ percussionist, very much into They Might Be Giants (who I'd renewed my obsession with over Thanksgiving), bonding with me over the joy of growing up a showtune dork, and telling me I was cool because I struggle to breathe. He actually high-fived me when I told him I have borderline asthma. He high-fived me and told me I was cool, and I laughed my head off because, although I've occasionally received that description, it's never been for the particular reason. So let this record show: I had fun! In the two or so hours they spent in my apartment, I didn't wish them gone once, and though I'm not sure if I had another hour or another ten minutes of stamina in me, they left me as they're supposed to: wanting more. I offered to give Shandi a couple of nights' shelter should she attempt to avoid home over her next (rather longer) holiday break, but mostly I just hope they'll visit. I heard stories about people I haven't seen since sophomore year (a really random classmate of mine actually called during the visit; Shandi told him where she was, and I added- to Jason- "no, she didn't fall off the planet! She's actually here, in an apartment, in the city!") but mostly we focused on the present. I told the doctor Monday that I didn't feel like we fell right back to where we'd been; we've both grown up a lot in the past few years, but it wasn't difficult to pick up our friendship. She's a joy. I compete with a standard of perfection that sometimes steals her face, but when we're actually together, there's never that discomfort. Squee.
I paid for it a little afterward; Aunt Sue came out in her best form, and for the first time, I could see the doctor's point when he suggested she likes to strike after successes. She has this theory of "so you did it, so what, it's not like it was hard" and "if you did it, then you should be able to do any social thing at any time without a problem." "You survived this one day; therefore, you should not be agoraphobic at all ever again." Steals a little bit of the fanfare, certainly. I came into his office seriously shamed and still sinking. I noted that the word "defective" seems to have replaced "poisoned." Apparently, I now recognize that I am organically good but see flaws in my construction, in my operative ability. We brainstormed about working with the agoraphobia (which sucked, of course) and how it wouldn't be him asking me how I'd deal with situations and me fighting to find the right answers. As far away from school as we could get, we agreed. A collaboration of entirely different material. He talked of the life I could build in this new home, and I didn't correct him, even though I instantly thought, "home's a sore subject right now, too." He corrected himself, the only reason I remember it. He replaced home with the name of the apartment complex, retracting the association with where I live and where my home is... and then he said, "I can see you have Rogers around your neck." It's true, I have the home necklace that I bought for my second birthday (the chain of which broke not long afterward, keeping me from wearing it for far too long) on pretty much at all times now. I remembered how I told him it was Rogers when he said it was home, and I felt ashamed for specifiying. This time I felt affirmed when he did, and at the same time, I felt like it has to be bigger now. Home has to be bigger than Rogers because Rogers has expanded. Rogers people have moved out of the Rogers world, and so home for me, has to become bigger. At the same time, I'm in no hurry to say so. I made sure today that my additional decoration of the walls no longer overwhelmed the Rogers memorial, let it stay obvious and separate, as I need. (Note of amusement: after giving up the obsessive need to decorate pre-Shandi-Jason-visit, I was suddenly invigorated with actual *desire* to fix up my walls, so they have progressed. However, in yet another act of irony, Shans and Jason never once stepped in the doorway of my bedroom. They saw nothing, after all my cleaning. And per a request from Shannon, it was left as I actually live in it, less frightening than I made it Tuesday. And I was wearing the first thing I saw that day, with no attempt to predict or dictate their thoughts. I'm still glad something actually motivated me to clean my silly room, though. And I'm still laughing at myself and the way it turned out.)
On one more Rogers note... I realized today that, despite how I sometimes feel when caught up in the pain of having friends with serious sickness, I'm very fond of Rogers with people who aren't connected to it. Meaning, I like telling people that I learned to crochet while I was in Wisconsin. I like talking about who I met and how I lived there. I like that I have this different thing that so few people do, this special gift that has the right to put pain in my life, considering it saved that life and gave me the means to feel that pain. Saved that life and gave me the means to feel that love as well.
I love, I love.
chord
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