Fahrenhype 911?

So tonight Michael Moore's much-discussed "documentary" comes out. I will be among those in line to see it. I'm more than a little interested to see if it lives up to the hype--both good and bad.

I'm definitely a fan of Moore's', and I tend to agree with him more than I disagree with him. But I'm worried. I've heard a few disturbing things about the way this film is structured--that it leaves out a lot, that it takes things out of context, etc. I'm certainly not upset that it's one-sided. That's the whole damn point! As Moore himself has said, enough people have reported about the evils of Sadaam Hussein, the evils of terrorism, the evils of the Middle East in general. He's trying to show something else, something the media isn't terribly inclined to show--a critical view of a man who too many people take for granted as the Messiah of Judeo-Christian society. What I'm a bit concerned about is Moore's tendency to take too many sides, as long as it's a side against Bush. I'm worried that by making attacks that are based on actions and comments taken out of context or twisted around, we're going to end up undermining ourselves. I don't want to see the liberal-progressive movement damaged by someone whose intentions are good, but whose methods might not have been the best. Christopher Hitchens' article on Slate makes a decent case. I'm planning to go see it with an open mind--not accepting everything Moore says as the gospel truth (after all, if we do that, are we any better than the legions of Bush-worshippers?) but rather watching and listening, and maybe doing a little amateur fact-checking when I get home.

As for the other, non-political areas of my life: friends are good, family is good, guy-i'm-talking-to-but-haven't-really-met-yet is still a mystery, The Boy continues to fade out of my conscious mind but make surprise appearances in my dreams just to remind me that he's NOT really gone yet, and work is still quiet and boring and, in its own way, exhausting.

I have an idea for a new blog, not yet sure if I'm going to go ahead with it. One of my favorite books in the world is "Pride and Prejudice" by Jane Austen. A social comedy that is sort of like the "Sex and the City" for early 19th century England, it begins with the line "It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in posession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife." I started thinking about the "universally acknowledged truths" that rule our lives every day--as women, as SINGLE women, as students, as Americans, as quasi-intellectuals, as people sharing the planet. So many of these UAT's are absolute bullshit. I thought, wouldn't it be fun to sit down and pick a few of them apart? Wouldn't that make a good book? Well, the book idea is a bit epic for me, I can't even finish an essay or come to a logical conclusion on some of these blog entries. But maybe a blog might be fun. If I thought anybody would actually read it, I'd try it out.

This post is getting long, so it's time to go. The weekend promises to be anti-climactic, but I'm sure I will have plenty to say after I've seen the movie. Tootles...
-pg

Waiting Room

It's hard to describe exactly how I'm feeling these days. I guess "stuck in a waiting room" is the best phrase I can think of. I'm in between leaving behind an old job and starting a new one. I'm saying goodbye to a number of things in my life--old relationships, old habits, and getting ready for a future that at this point is extremely blurry. I'm second-guessing the decisions that I've made. It's a very, very weird place to be.

I saw The Boy two days ago. He made a surprise appearance at my doorstep. And I guess now I can see things a little more clearly than I could before. I said before that he dumped me, and that's not altogether true. The truth is he sort of left me behind. But I realize that it had to end the way it did--he doesn't know where on earth he's going, so how can I expect him to take me with him? Seeing him was bittersweet. It gave me closure that I've needed for a long time, gave me a longing for something that I got so close to. I mourn for what we didn't have and what we almost were. But I have faith that there was a reason for all of it. If I didn't believe that, I don't think I could live.

I've met someone new, okay, not really "met" yet, just pseudo-talking to him, one of the miracles of the informational age. The funny thing about all of that is that I'm more worried that he'll like me than I am that he won't. I'm about to move, so what's the point of starting something? Meeting someone new is so damned scary, anyway. Will he live up to the hype? Is he anything like the person he says he is? Am I anything like the person I say I am? Will I be good enough? There were times when marriages were arranged, when you didn't meet the person you were meant to spend the rest of your life with until the morning before you exchanged vows. I'm not saying that was a good system, but in some ways it seems to beat the amount of time wasted blindly searching for someone to complete us. It's all such a damned headache and I just wish it would be over.

There really isn't much to say tonight. The wait goes on, I have a long list of unpleasant tasks to attend to (packing, for one), and the day I start an entirely new life is coming closer and closer. What the hell am I thinking, running off in the world like this, leaving everyone behind? I know, it's not like I'm off to Venezuela or anything, but still, it's the first big move of my life. Some people never venture more than a few hours away from their hometowns. I don't even have a hometown. I'm ready to move and terrified to move at the same time. So much is going on, and at the same time it feels like my world is at a complete and total standstill. What an oxymoron my life is becoming...
-Peacegrrl

Something new to babble about!

So it's time to stop talking about The Boy! I know it, you know it, we all know it. There is so much more to life, and looking back on my entries I can see how one-dimensional I seem to be. So now for something completely different...

Okay, the reality is that my life is rather lame and lonely just at the moment. I live in a dinky little town, so my time is spent between Austin and San Antonio visiting friends. And all and all, I think their lives are a lot more interesting than mine. There's Alicia, who lives in San Antonio and has a fantastic guy in her life. She's kind of the "voice of reason" in my life--where I'm scatterbrained and overemotional, she is mature and logical. I used to work with her, and she was a great mentor--I probably owe any professional growth I've managed to achieve in the past three years to her calming influence. Then there's Jenny, who lives just outside of San Antonio with two male roommates. I love hearing stories of the latest news in the house, what the boys are up to lately, from J.'s older-sister perspective. And there's my boy K-dog, who lives up in Austin. We discuss politics and I listen to him puzzle out his girlfriend issues, while he listens to my insecurities and yells at me.

And there are lots of other buddies spread all over the place, Lisa and Sarah from college, James from high school, Kristina over in San Marcos. I have this terrific support network, and it's ridiculous how rarely I reach out to them. When I have a problem, I totally withdraw into myself and refuse to contact the people who would help if I'd just ask for it. What is it about our twenties that makes us feel so isolated? Is it because we're done with college and we're not running into each other in class every day? Are we just too damned tired after our forty-hour workweeks and the stress of figuring out the next career move? How can we be too tired to have friends? It's completely ridiculous. I'm more than likely going to be leaving the state in a month, and I'm suddenly spending all of this time with the people close to me. Why did it take an impending move for me to reach out?

These are all questions that nobody has the answers to, and this post really has no point. I suppose the bottom line is that I'm blessed and I'm quick to forget it. If I'm isolated, it's because I choose to be. The people are there--I just have to make the effort to support them as much as they support me.
-pg

Blah

I haven't posted in a few weeks, mainly because I was convinced I didn't have anything interesting to say. But nobody's reading this thing anyway, so why should I self-edit?

The truth is that I'm in an "absence makes the heart grow fonder" phase. Instead of steadily getting over The Boy, I'm missing him more every day. It really is pathetic. The number of cigarettes I smoke every day is directly proportional to how lousy I'm feeling about the demise of our quasi-relationship, and I'm sorry to say that the number continues to creep up. I hate being this way, really, I do. I'm sad and grumpy and generally feeling sorry for myself.

People have different theories on how to cope with this sort of ordeal. Some say that rebound sex is the way to go. But there's no one around here for that, and besides, I don't really know if it's my thing. I've sent some not-too-subtle signals to a friend of a friend, and we'll see if anything comes of it, but I'm not optimistic. Besides, I have no doubt that it would be disappointing even if it did happen.

Another theory is that you should throw yourself into work. Work, it is assumed, will make you forget all about the tragedies of your personal life. Unfortunately, I work in college student affairs, and it's summer. There aren't any student affairs in summer. So work is boring, non-challenging, and sadly not anything to throw myself into at the moment.

I've been down this road before, and I guess my coping strategy is to just take it a day at a time. I'm moving soon, and I know that the adjustment of a new home, new responsibilities, and an entirely new social circle will probably distract me enough that I won't be sulking all the time. I can't wait to get the hell out of here. In the meantime, the limbo continues. The Boy will fade away into the recesses of my mind once enough time has gone by. I just wish there was a way to hurry the process up a little.
-Peacegrrl

Solitude

Remember that scene in "Bridget Jones's Diary" where she's thinking about being alone, and imagining that one day she'll be eaten by dogs and nobody will notice? I can relate to that after this weekend. It was one of those quiet times (which are so rare, I work with college students and weekends are normally no different from regular days) and I basically holed up in my apartment and slept. It was nice not to be bothered, but kind of depressing in a way. It's actually possible to go forty-eight hours without speaking to anyone. Living alone can be a blessing--you can walk around naked when you get out of the shower; nobody notices when you don't take the trash out for a day or two; drinking straight out of the orange juice carton is perfectly acceptable. But it sucks in its own way. When you feel like shit, nobody's there to bring you soup. Grocery shopping is a major pain; nothing is made for one, and then when you get home you have to cart everything inside by yourself. Cooking feels pointless.

I guess I'm just still moody from The Boy's departure. He used to fill a void. Now there's an empty hole. Granted, he was a lousy boyfriend. But crappy companionship sometimes seems favorable to no companionship at all. My girlfriends are terrific, but they can't take the place of intimacy. I'm good at relationships. At least I think so. My tragic flaw is my inability to pick the right guys to have them with. Nothing unusual about that. Nothing unusual about feeling sorry for yourself, either. I know nobody reads these rambles, but it makes me feel a little better to send them out into the universe. I'm sure thousands can relate. We single people need to form a vast network. To remind each other that we're really not alone, and to share our common miserable thoughts. In a world that moves in twos, singlehood is almost a disability. Maybe we need an amendmant to the constitution that protects us. From things like stares when you arrive at the movies dateless, or from meddling friends who set you up with lousy guys because they can't stand to see you alone. Anybody else think that's a good idea?
Peace out...
Peacegrrl

Being Dumped

This is my first post, so I'll share a little about what's going on in my life right now. I've been dumped. The quasi-relationship that I've been entrapped in for months is now, officially and irrevocably, over. I suppose I should be happy. When I knew that the inevitable was coming, that The Boy was going to cut and run pretty soon, I started making lists. You know, kind of like a pro- and con- type thing.

Cons: He drinks too much. Sometimes he doesn't wash his hair. He breaks promises. I don't like his driving. He's always broke. He's scatterbrained. He's a procrastinator. The list went on and on, and I started thinking, what the hell was I doing with this guy in the first place? So I moved on to the pros: He's sexy, in his own sort of rugged way. He's smart. He makes me laugh. And that was all I could come up with.

I started wondering about love. My friend A. is so practical--the guy she's with is financially stable, smart, and he cooks. She says there's no amazing passion, but that's okay. She wants to be safe and happy. She went through a number of guys just like The Boy, guys with little or no ambition, who were great to roll around with but really didn't have much of a future. And she simply cast them aside and continued on her quest for something better. I can't seem to do that. I always get this urge to rehabilitate, thinking that maybe I see something in these guys that nobody else sees. That if I stick it out, the great person they're destined to be will come out. That my dedication and loyalty will pay off and I'll be truly loved. Plus I get caught up in the good sex, too.

And where has it left me? "I can't commit. I just want to go out there and find out who I am." "I'm just not sure how I feel about you." "Yes, I said that you were all I'd ever need, and I really meant it at the time." The lame-ass excuses, the crafted bullshit that really comes down to one thing: I'm not the one.

I'm still in the "anger" phase of my grieving process over this relationship. I mean, I know The Boy was bad news, but I spent so damn much time with him that he became part of my daily life--and now he's gone. It's awful how, when I'm left behind, I try to cut that person out of my life in every way I can think of--deleting his cell phone number, throwing out pictures of him, avoiding the smell of his cologne--and yet reminders of him are absolutely everywhere, in every song on the radio, in places we used to go, restaurants where we ate (where I picked up the tab, of course). I can't get away from the guy! I'm moving away in two months, to a new city, a new state, and maybe, FINALLY, I'll get some peace.

My question is this, and it's not a new one: Why do men have to be such assholes? If you don't have feelings for us, why aren't you just honest up front? Why do you string us along? Don't you understand that we're always holding out hope? I wonder, is it because you don't have the guts to tell us how you really feel, or is it because the sex is THAT good? I just don't get it. A quarter of a century on this planet, a zillion relationships, and I am no closer to understanding the opposite sex than I was on the day I was born. I feel like time has been wasted.

Worst of all: I've forgotten how to navigate the dating minefield. I don't remember the rules, my "i'm being hit on" radar is shot to hell, and I don't even know how to flirt anymore! Shit. Are the men in Ohio as clueless as the men in Texas? I hope not. I'll cheer myself, momentarily, with the thought that I'm moving on to greener pastures.
-Peacegrrl