Sunday, July 18, 2010

Highs in the mid-thirties

Well my laptop bit it, or has at least slipped into a coma. With it have gone my photo collection, my music collection, a whole lot of writing (I wish I hadn't unlearned that particular lesson from the last two times), my TCS cover letter, and my document of baby information for Steven. Awesome.

On the plus side, this gave me a chance to go get a new notebook last night at 1 am. Three guesses as to where that notebook came from.

DC yesterday (for Susannah and Mike's apartment-warming, with a side trip to visit Chris(tina) and Matt in Bethesda)  was fun, but long. Long, long, long. It should have taken a little under 2.5 hours to get to Chris's house--it took 4. Jr and I spent 75 minutes traveling 14 miles up 495. The car thermometer climbed to 135 degrees and then sat there. We became rather damp. Every time I take the metro for a while I forget how terrible driving in and around DC can be and generally is. Note to self: take the stupid metro. It is worth the $5.

Last night I took the opportunity, evidently, to start thinking about (read: pining over) David some more. The day before it had been relatively easy to remember those things that didn't work, that didn't line up, didn't click, and to tell myself with some small confidence that we are wrong for each other. Yesterday though all I could think about were sweet kisses and hands clasped together, smiles and snuggles and laughter, and such comfort. Such a feeling of being at ease and at home together. I really miss that. I did a lot of silent grieving yesterday for the loss of him, and for the loss of us.

Last night, the last paragraph I wrote in my new recycled-paper-yet-made-in-China notebook was this:

"Life seems so thick right now--like molasses. Difficult to move through. Difficult to breathe. Difficult to swallow. Thick and slow. I know that those feelings change minute to minute, hour to hour. I'm just saying. Often today I've felt adult and capable, strong and attractive. I guess, I think, that I was feeling like I was worth something--like I was a perfectly acceptable, functioning human, objectively speaking. That felt really good."

It did feel really good.


  1. This morning I was packing things up to move to my new place, and I picked up a picture which had been drawn for me by a girlfriend now years past (I haven't seen her in more than two years). For some reason I found myself flipping it over and and discovered, written in her hand, a very brief note (no more than a sentence) which must have dated from when we broke up and she gave me the picture, remembering that she had drawn it for me, and thinking I might still like it. I was suddenly flooded with feelings I though I had long sense worked past and, for a moment, I was on the verge of tears due to the sheer overwhelming nature of being confronted with all that I had lost. So I turned the picture back over, forced the moment to end, and then packed it away to move; sometimes that's all we can do.
    Just remember that you don't simply feel adult and capable, strong and attractive - you ARE each of those things, through the good and the bad - even when it doesn't feel like that is so.

  2. I hadn't realized you were moving already.

    I'm all choked up again. Must you write so well?

    Thanks Chris.