The Girl is recovering. What she thought was pollen, turned out to be bacteria. She had pneumonia. So many days and chemicals later, she is moving and breathing.
This was a good week, bacterial pneumonia aside. The Girl and her mother had a long talk. They said things which needed to be said. Things that were hard to say, but steeped in love and a deep respect of the other's struggle. Things they needed to unburden themselves of, unburden the other of. The Girl feels lighter.
Unable to eat all week, She is lighter. How sad that three people commented on the fact that She had lost some weight. Everyone knew The Girl was sick. The world is sick in the head about size. If it isn't a health issue, why aren't people allowed to come in various shapes and sizes? Maybe that is why tattoos and piercings and other body modifications are so prevalent today. They are humanity's last grasp at saying, "Look at me! I am different. I am unique. I matter." But people continue diet, and dye, and go under the knife in an effort to become perfect...ly boring.
The Girl decided her lungs weren't up for the fresh air of camping. So she has free time. She and The Boy are going to a friend's BBQ, today. They are lucky to have great friends. Funny, warm, intelligent souls. Today will be a good day.
The Girl is happy.
Monday, March 22, 2004
The Girl isn't feeling well. Funny...Spring which brings with it the promise of so many things also brings with it stuffed up heads, runny noses, headaches, and a hacking cough. Pollen, it's for the bees. She is tired of being tired.
The Girl isn't working today. Her job requires all of her and right now, she isn't all here. She will see the doctor later. Now she is sleeping.
The Boy went out of town this weekend. Some sporting event called him away. The Girl stayed home and slept. She has been sleeping on the couch all week, because she is ill. She misses The Boy: misses talking to him; misses him sleeping in the bed beside her; misses having dinner with him.
Next weekend, they are going camping. They have already reserved a site near a river fed by a spring. Hopefully, the weather will be mild. If so, The Girl will go swimming. She enjoys the shock of the cold springs and the warmth of drying out again. They are renting a canoe. It will be fun to be in the sun, in the water. Maybe they will take the camera. The Boy is an excellent photographer. They are definitely not taking a TV and no phone. That means time to read and to think. She is looking forward to the trip.
The Girl isn't working today. Her job requires all of her and right now, she isn't all here. She will see the doctor later. Now she is sleeping.
The Boy went out of town this weekend. Some sporting event called him away. The Girl stayed home and slept. She has been sleeping on the couch all week, because she is ill. She misses The Boy: misses talking to him; misses him sleeping in the bed beside her; misses having dinner with him.
Next weekend, they are going camping. They have already reserved a site near a river fed by a spring. Hopefully, the weather will be mild. If so, The Girl will go swimming. She enjoys the shock of the cold springs and the warmth of drying out again. They are renting a canoe. It will be fun to be in the sun, in the water. Maybe they will take the camera. The Boy is an excellent photographer. They are definitely not taking a TV and no phone. That means time to read and to think. She is looking forward to the trip.
Saturday, March 13, 2004
The Girl is happy, because today, she is doing laundry. It is strange how she finds such simple a task so comforting. She imagines it is the immediate gratification. So many things in her life had to be abandoned, left unfinished. Or else when finished abandoned her, and she doesn't know what came of them. Or turned out to be mistakes. She can see the good of doing laundry. The hamper is full and as she works it empties. She enjoys the heartbeat of the washer, the warmth of the dry clothes, the sense of accomplishment.
Yesterday she visited Samuel, her youngest brother, fresh from his latest round of incarceration. They laid on a picnic table and ate Girl Scout cookies. He is very sly and witty. Her baby brother makes her laugh. She has never seen in him the violence that sent him to jail.
(Well, that isn't true. Once she saw him try to kick someone to death. She doesn't remember the person's name, one of the many random guys their sister Vaeda has screwed. She also forgets his transgression: maybe he hit Vaeda; maybe he slighted Sam; maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Who knows? She does remember that nothing much seemed to be going on. She and Sam and Vaeda were on the front porch, the two of them smoking. She was slouched in a chair, only half listening to her sister prattle on in her endless mania. It was hot. She didn't even look up when her sister paused, as a primer colored junk heap lumbered into the yard. It was The Idiot-Du-Jour. Vaeda's recent bad decision. Perhaps The Idiot said hi. She didn't look up. She was never polite to Vaeda's boyfriends. They weren't usually worth it and never stayed around for very long anyway. She might have been dozing..But Sam's, "FUCK YOU, MOTHER FUCKER!" caused her to open her eyes. How had things gone wrong so quickly? She sat up. Sam and The Idiot were squared off, chests puffed out, sizing one another up. "I'm not afraid of you, Sam" said The Idiot. She remembers thinking that was a mistake. Sam just lunged. None of that pussy shoving and pugilistic foreplay for him. Just BAM. The Idiot had 20 pounds on Sam, but Sam was all sinew and muscle. The Idiot hit the ground and Sam began kicking. The Girl can still hear the sound Sam's foot made when it crunched into The Idiot's face. He rolled over and the rest of the blows landed on his back and ass. She and Vaeda pulled Sam off. No easy task, since Vaeda weighed 103 pounds and The Girl was soft from a desk job. Sam finally exhausted his anger and Vaeda drove The Idiot home. No one discussed it that day or any other day. They had seen a lot of things in their lives and preferred to let things go whenever possible.)
Still, she loves Sam. Admires his gentle humor. And yesterday they ate a whole box of Girl Scout cookies. He told her about his dreams of finding work that pays well. He wants to buy a place that he and his little boy can live. It is a good and reasonable dream. The Girl is happy.
Yesterday she visited Samuel, her youngest brother, fresh from his latest round of incarceration. They laid on a picnic table and ate Girl Scout cookies. He is very sly and witty. Her baby brother makes her laugh. She has never seen in him the violence that sent him to jail.
(Well, that isn't true. Once she saw him try to kick someone to death. She doesn't remember the person's name, one of the many random guys their sister Vaeda has screwed. She also forgets his transgression: maybe he hit Vaeda; maybe he slighted Sam; maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Who knows? She does remember that nothing much seemed to be going on. She and Sam and Vaeda were on the front porch, the two of them smoking. She was slouched in a chair, only half listening to her sister prattle on in her endless mania. It was hot. She didn't even look up when her sister paused, as a primer colored junk heap lumbered into the yard. It was The Idiot-Du-Jour. Vaeda's recent bad decision. Perhaps The Idiot said hi. She didn't look up. She was never polite to Vaeda's boyfriends. They weren't usually worth it and never stayed around for very long anyway. She might have been dozing..But Sam's, "FUCK YOU, MOTHER FUCKER!" caused her to open her eyes. How had things gone wrong so quickly? She sat up. Sam and The Idiot were squared off, chests puffed out, sizing one another up. "I'm not afraid of you, Sam" said The Idiot. She remembers thinking that was a mistake. Sam just lunged. None of that pussy shoving and pugilistic foreplay for him. Just BAM. The Idiot had 20 pounds on Sam, but Sam was all sinew and muscle. The Idiot hit the ground and Sam began kicking. The Girl can still hear the sound Sam's foot made when it crunched into The Idiot's face. He rolled over and the rest of the blows landed on his back and ass. She and Vaeda pulled Sam off. No easy task, since Vaeda weighed 103 pounds and The Girl was soft from a desk job. Sam finally exhausted his anger and Vaeda drove The Idiot home. No one discussed it that day or any other day. They had seen a lot of things in their lives and preferred to let things go whenever possible.)
Still, she loves Sam. Admires his gentle humor. And yesterday they ate a whole box of Girl Scout cookies. He told her about his dreams of finding work that pays well. He wants to buy a place that he and his little boy can live. It is a good and reasonable dream. The Girl is happy.
Sunday, March 07, 2004
The Girl is happy because The Boy is happy. She tries very hard to please him, because she really does love him, to distraction at times. Sometimes when he makes her laugh or notices something about her that no one else sees, she actually hurts from the joy of being his. Every day, he does something to deserve that: washes her car, goes to the store in the dead middle of the night to buy her a soda, calls her while she is standing 2 feet away to say, "Hi", clips stories or funnies from the paper he knows she will enjoy, grabs her hand in crowds because he knows crowds frighten her....These seem like small things, but this whole big world is made up of atoms. All of our lives are made up of moments. She knows she is lucky to be given moments like these.
She makes a mental note to remind herself of that when she is angry with him.
The Girl is happy, because The Boy is happy. His birthday celebration went well. The two of them had dinner in a fancy restaurant. The Girl chose well. She loves eating in nice places, because it pushes her way from the poverty of her youth. No more beanie-wienies for her. This time it is all Chilean Sea Bass served ala Oscar. (The asparagus makes her pee smell funny. She is intrigued by her body.)
(She loves dinner, too, because she is a hedonist. She loves the atmosphere of a room filled with beautiful china, real silver, fresh flowers, crisp linens, lit only by candles. She likes listening to snippets of others' conversations, glimpsing into their lives. She loves the smell of the fish, the clink of the silver hitting the china, the quiet, controlled scurrying of the wait staff, the acidic after taste of the chardonnay, the smooth warmth of the chocolate on her tongue, the bitter jolt of the coffee. She is grateful to live in a body.)
Afterward dinner they went to the Happiest Place on Earth or HP. She loves going to HP, because through sheer charm, she and The Boy have found a family there. Last night the manager was late and the bartender was downstairs getting something. The phone rang, she answered it, no one batted an eye. Everyone is always happy to see them and they are always happy to see everyone. They feel at home there.
She makes a mental note to remind herself of that when she is angry with him.
The Girl is happy, because The Boy is happy. His birthday celebration went well. The two of them had dinner in a fancy restaurant. The Girl chose well. She loves eating in nice places, because it pushes her way from the poverty of her youth. No more beanie-wienies for her. This time it is all Chilean Sea Bass served ala Oscar. (The asparagus makes her pee smell funny. She is intrigued by her body.)
(She loves dinner, too, because she is a hedonist. She loves the atmosphere of a room filled with beautiful china, real silver, fresh flowers, crisp linens, lit only by candles. She likes listening to snippets of others' conversations, glimpsing into their lives. She loves the smell of the fish, the clink of the silver hitting the china, the quiet, controlled scurrying of the wait staff, the acidic after taste of the chardonnay, the smooth warmth of the chocolate on her tongue, the bitter jolt of the coffee. She is grateful to live in a body.)
Afterward dinner they went to the Happiest Place on Earth or HP. She loves going to HP, because through sheer charm, she and The Boy have found a family there. Last night the manager was late and the bartender was downstairs getting something. The phone rang, she answered it, no one batted an eye. Everyone is always happy to see them and they are always happy to see everyone. They feel at home there.
Saturday, March 06, 2004
Tomorrow is The Boy's birthday. He will be 39. The Girl has been stressing out about what gift to give him. Last year she worked really hard on a plan. She purchased $$$ kitchen gadgets, because he likes to cook. She was going to take him on a culinary tour of their home town: Stonewood for appetizers, Porter's for dinner, and Mildred's Big City Food for dessert. She passed up having dinner with the Esquire for this.
The big night came and the Boy was in high asshole mode. When she handed him his gift, he said "That's nice," and sat it in the floor. Those were the last words he spoke all night long. He ruined the evening and crushed The Girl.
Needless to say, The Girl has been in a shitty mood all week. Her stomach tied in knots, spending money she doesn't have in an effort to please him. Last night she finally told him, "You really hurt my feelings last year by being an asshole. Esquire is in town again. If you are going to be an asshole again this year, please tell me. I would rather have dinner with Esquire than watch you sulk." The Boy replied, "Last year you said something to piss me off, don't do that again and everything will be okay." The Girl asked, "What did I say?" He didn't remember.
The Girl (calmly) said, "Don't you think it would have been better to say at the time, 'That really pissed me off,' rather than ruin the evening." He said, "No. I like it this way." He thought that was cute and, with every ounce of her strength, The Girl let it go.
She does wonder how someone lives for 39 years without growing at all. The Boy is so afraid of being truly seen by anyone that he is highly practiced at the art of camouflage. He is so good at disappearing that he is invisible to nearly everyone, even himself. The terrible thing is, The Girl sees him. So she spends much of her time describing The Boy to The Boy himself. It gets old and she can draw him with her eyes closed.
The big night came and the Boy was in high asshole mode. When she handed him his gift, he said "That's nice," and sat it in the floor. Those were the last words he spoke all night long. He ruined the evening and crushed The Girl.
Needless to say, The Girl has been in a shitty mood all week. Her stomach tied in knots, spending money she doesn't have in an effort to please him. Last night she finally told him, "You really hurt my feelings last year by being an asshole. Esquire is in town again. If you are going to be an asshole again this year, please tell me. I would rather have dinner with Esquire than watch you sulk." The Boy replied, "Last year you said something to piss me off, don't do that again and everything will be okay." The Girl asked, "What did I say?" He didn't remember.
The Girl (calmly) said, "Don't you think it would have been better to say at the time, 'That really pissed me off,' rather than ruin the evening." He said, "No. I like it this way." He thought that was cute and, with every ounce of her strength, The Girl let it go.
She does wonder how someone lives for 39 years without growing at all. The Boy is so afraid of being truly seen by anyone that he is highly practiced at the art of camouflage. He is so good at disappearing that he is invisible to nearly everyone, even himself. The terrible thing is, The Girl sees him. So she spends much of her time describing The Boy to The Boy himself. It gets old and she can draw him with her eyes closed.
It has been a long time since The Girl has thought about thinking. She has been busy trying to fit in. Busy trying to be a good girl, a good daughter, a good wife. She has forgotten what it felt like to be alone with her "internal dialog." She has taped shut the mouth of her little voice inside. She misses herself. She forgets her own name.
