Funny the way life runs you around in circles, until you’re so dizzy you could puke, and you’re so happy to have stopped the spinning that you don’t even realize that you are exactly where you started….only a little dizzier, and a little better. Funny that.

Life is good.

Life is different than I ever thought it would be, and exactly how I knew it would somehow be, if that makes any sense. I know it. I feel it. I trust it.

and yet, to those who should really truly know me, I keep defending it.

Frustrating.

I spent the last week in the big City with favorite friends, crazy memories and a soulmate. one word. soulmate. and it was fantastic to get fueled up again, to feel known again. Yet there was more than one moment, that I had to repeat, yes. I love it. Yes. I’m happy. YES ITS FUCKING AWESOME.

for those of you that know me, don’t you think I’d have hit the road by now if it was anything I didn’t feel like fighting for???

And we can do the devil’s advocate thing, I know they care and are fully justified in wanting to be completly one hundred percent sure that I am ass deep in bliss. . . but when did my word cease to hold merit?

and when did it become ok to just ignore it? Don’t talk about it, don’t ask questions or discuss it at all, that way we won’t have to let you hear our voices that say…..bless your heart you just settled.

and that is what I heard from them.

and I feel sad for them. . .

because I didn’t. I’m happy. A few knew it. Know it. Supports me a thousand miles away every day.

that is enough.

for the others. . . I wonder. Is it me they are sad for, or is it for themselves. . . for the dreams of Theirs that I didn’t make come true? I found other dreams…and that is OK.

so. the very first one. should I be sober for this? maybe. maybe not. Am at a crossroads. a wondrous crossroads if you will. that place where all reality collides so spectacularly with episodes of Sex and the City. First episode, season four. Carries 35th birthday party. soulmates. Discussions abound. Comedy vs. Tragedy. Really? and being so virginal regarding anything blog-esque, i’m sure I”m sending many upon many red flags by merely mentioning said episode but. . . fuck off.

it’s my first one.

sitting on my couch. really contemplating. life out there. I’m quoting a reba song. and she’s from my home state, you would think, I could spell her freakin last name. We fry twinkies in grease at our state fair, for craps sake, and I can’t spell her last name?

it’s my first time. I have a few “do overs”

wondering if there really is a do over. a “going back” and getting it right. Is it necessary to become that “twosome” or to really be a portion of the “perfect”duo? Reality and any kind of education says not so much. I know this. but see, the thing is. I’m sad. I’m just sad. I’ve done the wild and crazy go off and run to a different state and join a theatre and meet like crazies and live life. I’ve done the get married and have Shelby and all 9 bridesmaids plus Marjie St. Maurice and Blush and Bashfull and more flowers than any said funeral home could hold. I’ve done that. I’ve slaved over a stove and fixed a flat on a fucking riding lawnmower and taken out the trash and written so many papers on A Room Of Their Own that even Gloria Steinem would vomit at reading.

and now I’m sad.

I’m 35. and have been in tumultuous relationships with men. . . young and old. older. and I have always ALWAYS been the ‘stomp your feet light a match for this pussy’ kind of gal,but for the love of petey fisk. . .
i’m sad.

i feel lonely. and very alone. and I’m totally bonding with Carrie Bradshaw and her girls on the first ep of season four. “why can’t we just be each others soul mates and guys can be these really great things that we share. . . bla bla bla”

timing.

I think he was there. is there. was there. and timing is a bitch. and I don’t know what to do. but i close my eyes and I see my comfort zone and my stupid fucking pillows on the couch that is falling apart and I see reality. but i also see a vision of “perfect” which I know is a false sense of make believe.

But then I talk to the other him and he says “you should have a baby”

really.

is it any wonder that I’m totally mixed up? i’m seeking half smoked cig butts in the ashtray outside and blessing them like they’re virginal.

for the love of petey fisk.

thank GOD this is only the first one. I have only hopes of getting better. more rational.

clear.

hope.