Current state of the cookie

Two blogginations in one day. How delighted you must be, my faithful constituents of, dare I approximate, ten in number.

Which really is not the point. I offer my whimsical observations and lighter hearted photos/videos/interests over at http://sarahmoeding.tumblr.com, over here is journal-town. It's good to keep the numbers small.

Yesterday, I was to have a date. As is the custom on the day of a date these days, I spent the pre-date time panicking, feeling as if I could vomit at any time, crying just a bit on two or three occasions. But it's never like this when I meet a person, it's only when it comes time for an actual, set down date that I start to lose it. Why? Well, obviously, I shouldn't be dating. I'm in love with Andy, have known I want to spend my life with him since about the time we met; I had a year with him to affirm that notion, which was affirmed and reaffirmed at every turn, and now, six months after breaking up, each dating scenario just, again, reaffirms what I've known now for a year and a half. Until something shifts, I can only imagine repetitions of this situation, ad nauseum.

Which is a damn shame. In theory, a new person should be exciting; even if I know I want Andy, I could delight in the entertainment of a new person, right? Perhaps not.

Anyway. The date fell through. This fellow, "New Dan" as he's been dubbed ("Old Dan" is not super enthused about his title, he prefers "Original Dan" but that's just too damned long) phoned at the time he was supposed to be arriving in Minneapolis (he lives an hour away) to tell me he'd decided to not come as he's leaving for Alaska (!) in three weeks and feels it's unwise to try and start anything which might leave both of us upset in a short period of time.

Okay, sure, I get that. I just wish he'd informed me of this Alaska thing, which he's done now for four years, apparently. I'd have been completely content hanging out with him a couple of times before he left. We met about three weeks ago, and really, really hit it off. He's so much fun. A positive, funny, energetic person. Something I could really use right now. Our meeting was drunken and hilarious, involving the ratting of his hair, followed by him asking me to help him with his too many beverages problem. "You can have the the Crispin or the Summit. Or you can kiss me." I chose the latter, and the kiss was electric and tender and he put his drinks down and dragged me out onto the now empty dancefloor (we were at a big party that was closing down), and proceeded to cut one hell of a rug, spinning me around and making me laugh...

So, really, despite yesterday's crying and nausea, I guess I wish the date had gone down anyway. Or that something had been different. And frankly, now that I know he's leaving anyway, that takes so much pressure off of the idea of him; he doesn't have to be anything more than Fun Dan, not Future Husband Dan. He said, on the phone, that he felt like he was breaking up with me before we'd even gone on a date, that he wasn't saying he'd been planning our kids names or anything, but I seemed like a lot of fun and a good person to know, but ultimately, the timing seemed impossible. And he's right, of course, but that kind of pragmatism goes against my beliefs regarding love; always try. Try, if you want it, see how it sticks, and if it fails, it fails.

But, maybe I am, for the first time, genuinely not in a position to try. I don't know. I do know that New Dan has perfect circumference of thigh (I've got a thing for man-thighs), that he's got joy in his eyes, and freckles and a furry chest and a great beard. I know he makes me laugh and that he's already good at handling my more strident, high strung personality quirks--in a joking, cutely mocking tone; "Oh, look at you, with your moral high ground! Knock it off, be a happy bunny."

I know he took to calling me Happy Bunny right away after getting that from my outgoing voice mail message "This is Sarah, and I'd be one happy bunny if you left me a message". I liked that about him.

Bah.

In other news, the job that previously seemed a foregone conclusion to become full-time and permanent, fell through. I'm back to unemployment and inconsistent temp work. I've realised I'm terrified to try and find a job. I have no interest in going back to serving, but it's all I know, and I have no idea how to find a job otherwise. I put off going to the WorkForce center, despite knowing they hold all of these answers. I know I'm screwing myself, and I could be employed and going to school right now if I'd just get there. Jesus, I type that out and feel like I should probably slap myself across the face a few times.

I'm just in a great transition. I don't operate the way I used to in regard to love/relationships, career, lifestyle, anything. I may be 32, but I definitely feel as if I'm going through the growing pains of a person about five years younger.

I guess I'm a late bloomer.

Housewife, Sans House or Husband

As my brownies-from-a-mix were baking (sub olive oil for vegetable oil, add peppermint bark chips) just an hour ago, a thought occured to me:

Perhaps I am not meant to have a career per se. Perhaps all this beating my head against the wall, all this existential ennui is just silliness, like women in the middle of the last century getting Home Ec degrees at Brown to pass time until they got a husband. Maybe I'm just biding my time until marriage.

Of course, this is complete rubbish. Well, except for the minutiae which are not. Facts:

I am an incredible cook.
I keep a clean home.
I am organised, and detail oriented.
I am terrific with children.

In short, I could quite excel at being a housewife.

That is, were it not for a persistent gnawing at my gut for change, for personal control, and the fact that I know ennui, existential or no, would not fully abate, then I could quite excel at being a housewife.

What I could be, though, is a woman who works from home in the sort of job that would not need to be relied upon wholly for stability, or to do something in which I was relatively autonomous. Carpentry, I think, could fulfill this need, both as personal fulfillment, as well as providing finances to the home.

I think a lot about marriage. I just got out of a serious relationship, or at least a relationship which seemed more serious than any I'd been in previously, and most definitely one I'd wanted to turn toward marriage, and thus am currently in no position to be handing over that level of commitment to anyone. And yet, when I am out and about, I'm looking at people no longer as potential playmates, but as partners. Given my lifestyle, there is a dearth of options.

A friend joked last week, "You're going to have to spend a lot more time at Target Field."

Someday, I'll be a real girl

I am struggling a ton with the future.

IT IS FUCKING TERRIFYING.

I want to make music. Very specific music. But I do not know musicians who could assist me, and I feel, more and more, that perhaps this is something I will have to do very much on my own. In a house. In the country. In Tennessee. The urge to flee comes on strong about every three weeks, and each time it's a little stronger, more desperate, than the first.

But, perhaps more desperate, is the complete lack of actual creative drive. I feel that there is shit working in there, and that one day I'll paint, or write or put together a tune, but fuck all if it ain't just dust right now.

Things I want in my future (projection of this "future" about three years from now):

At least half if not all debt eradicated (current: approx. $18,000)
Not being a waitress
A complicated, loving relationship that constantly keeps me on my toes; i.e. Andy
At least something resembling a firm plot to have a child
At least something resembling a firm plot to own a house
One solid showing of my art not in a coffee shop or middling gallery
A second book of poetry published (I think next year's the year for that; the first, Chaos to Grace, was published in 2001)
The completion or at least major progress on my novel(la), Sumtime Silver Snippety
At the very least, preliminary work on music project, A Deceit of Lapwings, which will include learning how to record music, accumulating instruments, taking voice lessons to regain my high range and hone tone
A stint in Tennessee of about 6 months to 1 year to refine/do most of the above

Careers I could take on/would enjoy doing to make a living which I'll likely never get in creative pursuits:

carpentry and framing
landscaping
anthropological work in the fields of Christianity and/or pop culture


Now that I've put all that down on "paper", how the fuck do I get there? It's that question which brought me to tears today. So I decided to figure out what I want, put a reasonable timeframe on it, and get crackin'. The debt goes first, and at the close of this year, I expect to have a solid dent in it.

Someday, I'll be a real girl.