Blame v. Shame '08

I’ve been watching the debates and it’s got me thinking about how I just don’t understand conflict. I know the stakes are very, very high for this election. I don’t fault them for being passionate. It’s the stupid underhanded crap that bugs me. The thing that bothers me the most is how they continuously call each other liars. McCain will get up and accuse Obama of something. Then Obama will get up and say that no, McCain isn’t right, that he really did vote for that bill or whatever. Then he’ll say its McCain who did the Very Bad Thing. Then McCain will mutter horseshit under his breath and the moderator will interrupt and the whole cycle will start all over again. I like Obama because I agree with his approach and his positions but ultimately they’re both politicians and they both bug me. In my perfect election, the two candidates would lay out their platforms on the internet and then people would choose based on whatever plan they agreed with. None of this partisan bickering and nonsense.

But I don’t even like listening to people argue on the radio. One thing that’s bugged me since I moved to the east coast is the predominance of call-in shows on the local NPR station. In California, it seemed like there were more informational programs. I figure, I listen to the radio to hear a summary of what the most intelligent people are saying about a certain issue. If I wanted to hear what some idiot with a phone who couldn’t formulate an idea to safe his life thought, I’d go to the local hardware store. I can’t stand listening to people go back and forth, back and forth without there being a clear winner. Surely someone must be able to make a complex and well-stated argument these days? It seems like nobody puts any thought into how they put their point across.

But I know that I’m a rare case – someone’s who’s almost allergic to conflict. I hate making even the smallest mistakes because I assume someone’s going to take issue with me. If only it was within my ability to just do everything perfectly, then nobody would ever have a reason to fault me. But perfection isn’t attainable and someone’s always going to judge you.

- - -

I’ve been worrying a lot this week that our neighbors are judging us. We had to cut down a very large, very pretty, very old tree that sits smack dab in the middle of our front lawn. It wouldn’t be so bad except that we live on one of the major streets in town – right on the scenic route that winds along the shoreline. Dozens of runner, bicyclists, and classic cars roll by every day. I was sitting in my living room this morning, watching the people go by and thinking about how we need to get the curtains hung. Because, now that we’ve chopped down the tree, I can’t stand the audience. Before, when people went by, I liked thinking about how they saw our house. It’s very cute and scenic and I liked to think they were admiring it and maybe even a tiny bit jealous. Now, I wonder if they’re thinking, “Those young whippersnappers – they cut down that historic tree. Obviously, they have no respect for anything and they’re going to just destroy that property.” I drove through the center of town this morning and saw a bunch of people talking in front of the hardware store. I wondered if they were talking about those weird new people who cut down that gorgeous old tree – didja see it? I’m almost expecting an angry note in my mailbox. I feel like I want to post a sign on the front lawn that reads: “I swear, the tree was dying and was a hazard and we hated to cut it down and we promise that we’re going to plant another one soon!” And then next to it, there would be another little sign that read, “No, we are not selling firewood.”

Where's the fire?

Ok, we’ve officially been back on the east coast for one full year. Hooray. As it always is with these things, sometimes it feels like it’s been only a couple of months, sometimes it feels like much, much longer.

I had a lot of goals for this year – things I wanted to accomplish, changes I wanted to make. And I accomplished a LOT of them:

• We bought (and moved into) a house in a cool little town
• I made some new friends
• I found two good therapists
• I moved my piano here and started practicing again
• I found a new job that I like and that pays well
• We switched to all eco-friendly cleaning products
• We got to know (and spend time with) our 2 year-old nephew

And when I look at that list – it looks like a LOT! Big stuff too. So, why is it that I only focus on the goals I haven’t accomplished?

• I wanted to get down to Manhattan and see old friends
• I wanted to travel (visiting my parents doesn’t count)
• I wanted to volunteer and become active in the mental health consumer community
• I wanted to hike and bike and paddle and get outside
• I wanted to finish my book
• And join a choir
• And eat local and healthier
• And, of course… I wanted to exercise more

I see other people doing these things I want to do and I get jealous. And then, instantly, I switch and judge myself. I call myself lazy. And then I try to do more.

Sometimes, I think it’s great that there’s so much I want to accomplish in this life. I’m glad that I’m passionate and engaged and have so many interests. And sometimes, I think I just need to RELAX. What is the big, fat rush? I’m only 33. I’ll get around to everything. Maybe it’s a vestige of being suicidal for most of my life.

Just like everyone else

My husband and I bought a house. (Hence the hiatus in blogging.)

In general, it's been a nerve wracking experience. We’ve been renting apartments since college so we haven’t had to fix a faucet, mow a lawn or paint a wall in a very, VERY long time. It’s been a scary process - there’s so much to learn. We’ve had to learn about mortgages, taxes, septic systems, and home-owners insurance. They all seemed like stressful, grown-up things. What if you get them wrong? What if you make the wrong decisions? It was a lot to think about. It’s almost so much that some days, I didn't want to bother. I just wanted to curl up and stay in an apartment forever.

But, everyday, for some unknown reason, I didn't give up. I keep searching online for the best house. I kept driving around neighborhoods and talking to friends and going over our budget. At night, when I should've been sleeping, I thought about gardens and curtains and all things I needed to learn about. But something, some deep-seeded drive, kept pushing me to become a homeowner. I think that there’s a part of me that saw buying my first home as a rite of passage. It’s seemed like a necessary step to becoming a full-fledged adult - and I was curious to see what THAT was like.

And so we found a house - and fell in love. It's a beautiful house in a beautiful place. It's way better than we ever thought we'd have. It's like someone decided to make the perfect house, then put it on the market, and waited almost a year until we came to find it.

So we're learning - what it's like to be a homeowner, a member of a town. I keep wondering - will we develop a kinship with the people who have lived in this house over the last 150 years, with the people down the street? We’ll get to go to town hall meetings and decide if our tax dollars will pay for that addition to the library. We’ll get to rake leaves and plow our driveway and buy appliances and do all those things that everyone else does. Everyone else.

Today we bought mulch. It was wonderful.

Completely unrelated

I was reading postsecret this morning and one of the secrets reminded me of something unusually hilarious that happened this fall.

I was deep in the throws of "account management" during the months of August and September this year. We had just moved and it seemed like all I did was try to remember all our important accounts - bank, insurance, magazines, ect. - and spend hours calling them up so they'd have our new contact info.

But when I tried to login to our new dental insurance plan, I couldn't remember what our login name was. I tried all the old standards, our email addresses, everything. But nothing was correct. So finally, I called their tech support line.

"Can you give me a clue?" I asked the lady on the other end. "Like a category or something?"

"Ummmm..." She said hesitantly. "Well, do you have a pet?"

"Yes!" I gave her our cat's name. "Is that it?"

"No..." She said. Then after a long pause, "It's ok. I'll spell it for you. A-S-S-M-O-N-K-E-Y."

"Oh. Um. Thanks." I said horrified. "Um, I'm sorry. When my husband gets frustrated he tends to swear at the computer. Let's change that to something else, ok?"

Now what...?

So. I'm back.

And all the tests are back. (the incisions... they're still healing)

We can't have children. At least, not biological ones.

Apparently, we're going to be the weird people in the neighborhood who don't have kids and nobody knows why but frankly they'd just as soon avoid our house on Halloween because, well, grown-ups without kids are just depressing and creepy.

I just keep telling myself that we'll have lots of disposable income. That we'll be able to travel a lot. That we'll keep eating spicy foods with lots of vegetables and won't have to buy jumbo packs of frozen Costco chicken nuggets. My car will stay snot and goldfish cracker free. There won't be any knocked-up, meth-addicted, baggy-pantsed, fourteen-year-olds with 1.8 GPAs sneaking out to have oral sex at OUR house.

On the other hand... no strollers. No onesies. No first grade school music recitals with construction-paper pilgrim hats. No first Mets game. No grandkids. Nobody to take care of us when we're old. Nobody to give my childhood blocks or music box or matchbox cars to.

Sure. Maybe we'll try to adopt. Maybe we won't get our hopes up only to have them smushed down by the malevolent ogre we call fate. Maybe we won't get our hearts broken all over again. But honestly, if you know us, that possibility seems pretty absurd. For us, life = one bad thing after another.