Wine is Better Than Gunfire
At least, that's what I'm thinking right now.
I guess.
I'm sitting back with a glass of gewurtztraminer (I highly recommend it to anyone who likes a sweeter white) and trying to forget this whole fucking day. I thought I might write about what's on my mind, on the off chance anyone (a) actually reads this shit and (b) actually gives a damn about my opinion.
I'm caught between a rock and a hard place.
The rock is my old life. It's hard, and it's got sharp edges, and no matter how hard you try, you'll never get to the top of it, much less over it. You'll wear jagged holes in your knees and elbows, you'll wear your fingers down to bloodied knubs, but the best you can hope for is to eventually lose your grip entirely and hope the damn thing rolls over you quickly.
The hard place is, of course, my "new" life. The life in which I choose to stop being someone else's bitch. The life in which I decide to stop making choices based on fear and start making them based on--heaven forbid--what might make me happy.
Why is the hard place so hard? It shouldn't be. It should be easy, and welcomed. It is welcomed, but not without a certain amount of trepidation.
I walked the dog (the infamous Martha) tonight after Ben left for work. I walked down smooth, level sidewalks on tree-lined streets, past colonials and cottages with neatly manicured lawns and impeccable flower beds. I made my dog do her business on the curb, and when she finished, I picked it up in a baggie and deposited it 10 feet away in one of the numerous trashcans that line the street and are painted to match the street signs. And I thought, I'm in fucking Mayberry. I don't belong here. I don't deserve this.
Why can't I believe that I do? Why does all the air get sucked out of the room whenever I hear his voice on the phone, all cold steel and warning?
I belong here, in a house on a tree-lined street (okay, alley), spending my days and nights with the man who loves me, the man I always wished would materialize but never really expected to arrive at my front door. I deserve to live that life I never thought I was suited for.
Don't I?
Moving on...
I felt really awful for Ben tonight. He was waxing doom and gloom over his career situation--actually, over what I call "reunionitis." Seems he ran into people who once shared his level, and professionally, he feels they've surpassed him and attained a level of status he'll never reach. I couldn't tell him he's full of horseshit--that he's only 26 and as far as I can tell, he's never really been much of a "gunner," that he has the ability, he just lacks the drive. Or maybe he's like me--he has the ability, but he lacks the balls. I fear failure the way some people fear snakes or the boogeyman or being the victim of violent crime. I'm so afraid of making mistakes, I don't even bother creating a rough draft.
And this has gotten me far, so far.
I couldn't tell him that his venture into self-pity was actually making me feel like a complete waste of space. I'm a 32 year old secretary. I have a liberal arts degree that I will likely be paying for up to and beyond the time of my death because I financed it with federal loan money. I make $42k a year, but the reason I'm paid so well is because I serve an important purpose--to be the whipping post for not one, but 26 people--26 people use and abuse me as much as they need to in order to make themselves feel better about their lives. And I truly can't make a break for it--I have another mouth to feed besides my own. I have responsibility. I have a desperate fear of failure that prevents me from ever breaking out of this mold I've created for myself.
Wow--this is really fucking depressing. Maybe I should shut up now.
It's not all bad. Really. I have so much to be happy about right now. I'm just so afraid it's all going to come crashing down around me as soon as I believe, really believe, that it's all real.
Fuuuuuuck. He's not going to be home until damn near midnight. This fucking SUCKS. But it's probably a good thing because I'm just feeling awful tonight and I don't know how to stop.
Enough of this bullshit. Go watch some "Mama's Family" reruns or something and happy the fuck up.
I guess.
I'm sitting back with a glass of gewurtztraminer (I highly recommend it to anyone who likes a sweeter white) and trying to forget this whole fucking day. I thought I might write about what's on my mind, on the off chance anyone (a) actually reads this shit and (b) actually gives a damn about my opinion.
I'm caught between a rock and a hard place.
The rock is my old life. It's hard, and it's got sharp edges, and no matter how hard you try, you'll never get to the top of it, much less over it. You'll wear jagged holes in your knees and elbows, you'll wear your fingers down to bloodied knubs, but the best you can hope for is to eventually lose your grip entirely and hope the damn thing rolls over you quickly.
The hard place is, of course, my "new" life. The life in which I choose to stop being someone else's bitch. The life in which I decide to stop making choices based on fear and start making them based on--heaven forbid--what might make me happy.
Why is the hard place so hard? It shouldn't be. It should be easy, and welcomed. It is welcomed, but not without a certain amount of trepidation.
I walked the dog (the infamous Martha) tonight after Ben left for work. I walked down smooth, level sidewalks on tree-lined streets, past colonials and cottages with neatly manicured lawns and impeccable flower beds. I made my dog do her business on the curb, and when she finished, I picked it up in a baggie and deposited it 10 feet away in one of the numerous trashcans that line the street and are painted to match the street signs. And I thought, I'm in fucking Mayberry. I don't belong here. I don't deserve this.
Why can't I believe that I do? Why does all the air get sucked out of the room whenever I hear his voice on the phone, all cold steel and warning?
I belong here, in a house on a tree-lined street (okay, alley), spending my days and nights with the man who loves me, the man I always wished would materialize but never really expected to arrive at my front door. I deserve to live that life I never thought I was suited for.
Don't I?
Moving on...
I felt really awful for Ben tonight. He was waxing doom and gloom over his career situation--actually, over what I call "reunionitis." Seems he ran into people who once shared his level, and professionally, he feels they've surpassed him and attained a level of status he'll never reach. I couldn't tell him he's full of horseshit--that he's only 26 and as far as I can tell, he's never really been much of a "gunner," that he has the ability, he just lacks the drive. Or maybe he's like me--he has the ability, but he lacks the balls. I fear failure the way some people fear snakes or the boogeyman or being the victim of violent crime. I'm so afraid of making mistakes, I don't even bother creating a rough draft.
And this has gotten me far, so far.
I couldn't tell him that his venture into self-pity was actually making me feel like a complete waste of space. I'm a 32 year old secretary. I have a liberal arts degree that I will likely be paying for up to and beyond the time of my death because I financed it with federal loan money. I make $42k a year, but the reason I'm paid so well is because I serve an important purpose--to be the whipping post for not one, but 26 people--26 people use and abuse me as much as they need to in order to make themselves feel better about their lives. And I truly can't make a break for it--I have another mouth to feed besides my own. I have responsibility. I have a desperate fear of failure that prevents me from ever breaking out of this mold I've created for myself.
Wow--this is really fucking depressing. Maybe I should shut up now.
It's not all bad. Really. I have so much to be happy about right now. I'm just so afraid it's all going to come crashing down around me as soon as I believe, really believe, that it's all real.
Fuuuuuuck. He's not going to be home until damn near midnight. This fucking SUCKS. But it's probably a good thing because I'm just feeling awful tonight and I don't know how to stop.
Enough of this bullshit. Go watch some "Mama's Family" reruns or something and happy the fuck up.
posted by Mitzi Green at 9:32 PM
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