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"i said '...and tired'; i don't remember anything after that"
October 30, 2003, 1:40 pm

The Sputnik Cafe threw a Halloween Beer Bash last night, and I had made reservations WEEKS ago for two, thinking by the time the event rolled around, I'd have someone to go with me.

Apparently, dressing up in a costume, eating delicious food, and getting drunk on good beer was on NONE of my friends' agendas. Seriously, why do I hang out with these people? I thought I knew them so well!

Fiestada was first on my list for date-worthiness, as she's a sparkling conversationalist and we'd just get silly; she's got her own stuff to deal with right now, so that left her unable to attend. Amy and her fiancee are in town, but they couldn't cover costs, as Dave couldn't. S-M-R is a vegetarian, so that wouldn't work. And so on.

Scrolling through my phone contact book it dawned on me that a) there are 90 phone numbers in my cell phone and b) none of the people on the other end would like/be able/want to have dinner with me, one-on-one.

When I started going to the Sputnik, I was always worried about looking stupid because I was alone; after getting used to it, I kind of like it. It's something I do ONLY for me...eat a delicious, expensive dinner and suck down a few glasses of wine and then go home to grade papers or whatever. It's an adult setting where I've been dealing with damn kids all day.

Last night though, the thought of going to the event alone made my stomach ache and my breath get short. A-L-O-N-E. I would be that girl in the corner, waiting and looking around as everyone ate and drank and reveled in their "belongedness" while I made my head swim with alcohol. I thought I didn't care about being single; I thought having lots and lots and lots of friends would make up for the fact that I've never really had a BEST, BEST friend--someone who I always thought of first when having to go anywhere or who I should call first when I have a problem--instead, I have lots of friends who are good for lots of different things.

This is a pattern with me, see. I've always been good at lots of things, but never GREAT at something. I've always had lots and lots of friends, but I've never really BELONGED singly to a group or anywhere because there's just too many. I am spread too thin.

I am feeling sorry for myself.

Thank me, Captain Obvious.

I don't know if this is about having a boyfriend or being single; as much as I like to fool myself that I'm happy with hooking up with random guys and then realizing a week later that I don't remember their last names, I know I'm not really. As much as I kid myself that I'm carrying a social responsibility by looking the way I do, I don't. And as much as I want to make-believe I'm happy in my job right now, I know I'm not, and that scares me.

My sister ended up coming out to dinner with me. She drove down from Towson and donned a toga to go. She basically said what I needed to hear: that I'm scaring the family by being so stressed all the time, that I'm stagnating staying in a state and a job that's comfortable to me when there's other stuff I should be/could be doing, that I'm not doing myself any favors by not thinking of myself, my health, and my sanity first.

I can't explain to people that it's MY fault that I'm stressed because I put off what I need to do ahead of time and it builds up around me like the mold on my shower tiles. I feel trapped in my job like an indentured servant because I AM making positive changes here and I AM making a difference and I DO good things, but how do I quit after setting this stuff in motion? Do I take off above the clouds with my talking-parrot umbrella just when I reach them? Am I martyring myself too much? Can that be a verb?

But maybe you don't have any of the answers, either.

I know that I'm tired of feeling like all I do is whine and I'm tired of having to whine to avoid almost certain head implosion. I'm tired of my feet stinking up my expensive work shoes and my lips always being chapped due to the raggedy, dry air. I'm tired of making excuses and apologies and making things up.

Just like this.

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