Soapbox Diner
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Release |
10.23.07 |
Isn't it funny, darlings, that when things are swell in the lives of so many bloggers, they disappear. It is only when times get hairy or there is something that needs to be released from their psychic workings, that people return to regular posting.
No real philosophical revelation there, just an absent observation. But I do feel a little guilty when I let out all the frustration and lovely people who have never met me but still find themselves caring drop me a message to empathize. It's almost enough to make one wonder if life is a constant stream of set backs and disappointments. I certainly don't believe that's true, and yet that's what ends up here. Funny, that.
Have you seen that commercial where Mike Meyers quotes his father, "There is nothing so bad that can't be laughed at." I love that, and strangely enough, over the years that I've been posting (coincidentally or consequently?), I have come to that. I try to laugh at everything, and I find that I do not worry nearly as much has I did in my youth(er). that, my dears, is the most splendidly wonderful thing about 34, I've found. Maybe Oprah was right: each year just gets better (much as I loathe Ms. Nice Nice on TeeVee). Harpo, my ass, is what I say. Yeah, and her little dog, too. ($10,000 to the first person who can name that movie quote.)
Anyways, life DOES have a way of working itself out. I get an apartment, and out of a horrible, horrible 3-year ARM with pre-pay penalties. Move closer in to the city and work, the kid gets into a better school district. Hopefully, there will be no people bashing in my mailbox or smoking funny stuff on the corner across the street from the house. Not so bad, really.
And I love this house. But it just doesn't feel like home since T's gone away. It's too big and the walls talk back. Funny, because when we were looking, he begged and pouted about getting a big house. He wanted a condo. I wanted a big yard so the kid could bring his friends over to play, which never happened. He's too old to need a yard now, said one erudite mother. That was a boat I just missed. Cest la vie, I suppose.
The shrink called it dissociation and denial, I just call it common sense - tempered with a little bit of Buddhist favor? I suppose I could be upset and up in arms and disconsolate, but why?
And that's the crux of it, isn't it?
So life moves with the ebbs, but it also flows. Just don't hold anything too tightly. Which humorously enough, is just the message that I've been preparing for T's sentencing.
So really, the only thing that I'm terribly sad about is the loss of my friend and partner, and his loss of freedom. But all I can do is sigh and shake a dejected no with my head at the thought of his life now and in the future. Seven and a months have passed since his crime and arrest. In two years, he will be able to start again. Where will I be then, I wonder?
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