not quite sure what this is about
Tuesday, January 22, 2002
So. Life is getting back to normal. Which is good. Except. It kind of scares me because it's so easy to fall back into bad habits. Much like diet and exercise. This money-diet thing can be so hard. And I see it happening, the old habits: a cappuccino here, a lipstick there. Dinner out. The premium chocolate at the grocery.
Spending. Money.
And it feels so good. You know. Knowing the money is in the bank. Knowing you can afford to have a bottle of wine with dinner. Knowing you can have another tube of Clinique's Black Honey Almost Lipstick.
But if we want to save. If we want to go on vacation to Paris. If we want to be prepared when and if either of us is ever laid-off again from our jobs. If we want a home...
Well. You know the drill.
Moderation. Think before you spend. I'm trying. I will do better.
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So, there's that. The money thing. The fact that we have it once again. And life is, like I said, falling back into place. The gym is nice although I'm yet to get on a regular workout schedule. James and I are once again doing the weekly food menus and grocery shopping according to "The List" which is fastened securely on our fridge right this moment telling us that Chili Rellenos Casserole was for dinner last night, Eggplant w/Tomato-Mushroom Sauce this evening, Hominy Chili on Wednesday and then a Wheatberry stew for the weekend.
Like clockwork. With order. Our life.
And these little scraps of paper that tell me what I'm cooking and eating this week make me happy. Just like the freshly dusted living room complete with vacuumed couch and new, smelly candles. Our office is in the best shape it's been in months -- which really isn't saying much but I do know where the telephone and magazine subscription bills are and when they are due. And, of course, the bedroom. Cozy and clean. Organized. I even spent Sunday afternoon taking all those extraneous photographs that were littering our shelves and filled a beautiful album with them compliments of Target, the houseware capitol of the world.
I like this order. This routine. The simple pleasure I get from a full album of photography. Knowing when I sit on my couch to read for an hour, most that needs be is in place.
Contentment.
And James, you know, is loving his job. More so even than the position that he had at that evil Carmichael, Lynch, Spong devil-agency that moved us up here and then laid him off 8 months later. So, that's good. It makes being bitter a little more difficult. Because, you know, like they say, everything DOES happen for a reason. And if he's happier... well... that's great. (Although, I still hate the devil agency -- assholes!)
Which means that all this happiness, sweet-sweet stuff is making it really difficult to write an entry about my life because when things are shitty there seems to be so much more to discuss. And like you really want to know that I dusted each of our CDs individually yesterday with Windex and left-over Christmas-Charlie Brown paper towels. And, as if, you're really interested in the fact that I've suddenly become obsessed with making cappuccinos at home and reveled in the discovery that Soy Milk does, in fact, make great foam. Or that my dog puked in the backseat of my new(ish) car which, in of itself, didn't even annoy me all that much. Does this interest anybody? You?
Heh. Maybe you are interested. It's not like I haven't covered similar events in grand detail. Maybe I've just been in such a rut that right now all I know how to write about is how much my life sucks and now that it isn't sucking, I'm like, "hmmm? what now?"
Which is really funny. Because I always bitch about my writing. And James gets really annoyed. It'll go something like this:
Me: "So-in-So is SUCH a good writer. She's gay, you know. And she was married before. And this other person, she's so good, too. She writes about all these sex issues and she's publishing a book. I wish I could write like that. But I don't have anything to write about."
Him: "You're life doesn't have to be tragic or shocking for you to have something to say."
Me: "Yes. But what they write is so interesting. And well-written."
Him: "You under-estimate yourself. You're a good writer. And what you have to say is interesting, too. In it's own way."
Me: (shugs) "Well.. hrmph. Yeah..."
We've had this conversation numerous times. And I know he's write, err, hehe, RIGHT. And you guys must agree because you're here reading. And what makes this all very funny is that we just recently saw a preview for that movie, Orange County, and the kid wants to be a writer and he tells this to a dean, professor, dad (someone!) who says, "But what will you write about? You're not a gay or addicted to drugs."
And this really made me laugh. Confirmation. I looked at James, "SEE!"
He just shrugged. Rolled his eyes. Whatever.
And he's right. You are all right. I just have to dig a little deeper. Give myself a little more credit. And not resent myself for being so damn boring or plain or (gasp!) happy. So, I'm not having a baby (and congrats, though, to all who are). So, I'm not getting a divorce or having an affair. So, I'm not changing my sexual preference or looking for a job.
I still have something to say. I just have to figure out what it is. And if it just happens to deal with Charlie Brown paper towels (which I only bought because they were on special, honest!), then so be it.
+ + + +
Oh. Wait. No. Although I did manage to tie everything up in the nice tiddy paragraph-bow above, I do still have more to say. Because I know you all are dying to know how my weekend went and somehow I forgot to mention it in the previous rant above.
So... My weekend.
Let me just say this: Janeane Garofalo rocks. Awesome. Very entertaining. And I want to be her friend even though she said in her show, "No. You don't want to be be my friend even though you think you do."
Heh.
The funniest comment all night? Probably during her rant on magazine covers. She was explaining how understandable it is for men's magazines to feature slutty images of women on their covers. But she questioned the way WOMEN's magazines do it. She said when she's in line at a supermarket to check out and glimpses a cover of In Style or Glamour, she's like, "Um... Heather Graham? Do you want to fuck me?"
Heh. I laughed so loud.
Before the show, we went out for dinner, too. Cafe Brenda which specializes in some vegetarian entrees. Yum. Yum.
Friday night, we saw the movie Bring it On. Very funny even though James was doubtful in the beginning. "Cheerleaders?"
We also cooked. Spent way too much time at the various grocery stores in town (why can't we EVER remember everything in one trip?). Made homemade hot chocolate. Walked our dog.
Yeah. As far as weekends rate, this one was up there.
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