Building A Life or Two

Although I haven’t been posting, I’ve been writing quite a bit. A few days ago, I began a piece about movies adapted from or based on books, inspired by my excitement of watching the final installation of The Hobbit. My son and I went to see it yesterday, and we’re reading the book together as well. I hope every parent experiences the joy of having a literary conversation with an eight year old. It is both simplistic and mind-blowing, pure yet passionate. He and I both cried during “The Battle of Five Armies;” I imagine we’ll both be heartbroken for the same characters before finishing the book.

The piece I wrote was meant to be short, but it grew into several pages and included numerous examples. I’ve decided to turn it into a regular series in this blog. The subject is rich and a joy to explore.

I’ve used the word “joy” twice now just in the first two paragraphs. Some might twist that into saying I’ve finally found a bit of Christmas spirit. My response to that is still “bah humbug!” I am enjoying the holidays, but not because of the holidays themselves.

My son had a magical Christmas morning — the presents appeared at the foot of his bed just like it the Harry Potter series! — and we spent several hours putting together what we named a LEGO Clash of Worlds. At one point, there was a Godzilla-sized MineCraft creeper terrorizing the dwarves of Middle Earth who were up in a burning tree while watching Han Solo team up with Master Chief to try to rescue the baby creeper from Nindroid Kai.

It was pretty intense for a Thursday.

image

This week hasn’t been all fantasy and science fiction (actually it has been for books and movies). Reality has creeped in as well. I’ve been making decisions — one might even say resolutions — about my life and my son’s: past, presents, and potential futures.

First of all, I’ve decided to stop hoarding my issues. They seem to keep piling up and overwhelming me. I have about ten examples off the top of my head, but they’re all personal, so let’s move on…

Presents: the spelling was intentional. In the spirit of The Giver, I’ve decided to get my son a bike (sans training wheels) for his ninth birthday this spring. If I can afford it, I might get myself one at the same time so we can go riding together. I can no longer run, due to a health problem, but pedaling would be all right.

As to the future, there are a lot of uncertainties, which is why it is so important that I stop allowing things to clutter. I’ve already gotten rid of the annoying and mostly useless presence of men (including that one from a few weeks ago), I’m allowing myself more time to enjoy myself and relax (by myself like I prefer), and I’m considering a change, professionally (more on that another time).

These really do sound like resolutions. I’m not a fan of those, but I’ll accept the label. I don’t consider the cross from December to January a new year. My beginnings and endings are not dependent on the calendar — they are fluid, constantly changing, with many smaller beginnings and more significant endings. If I have to assign a defining number to each year, then it cannot be the same one everyone else uses; it must be meaningful to me.

My year will be marked by my son’s birthday — my accomplishments measured by his continual growth.

Advertisements

Building A Life or Two

Although I haven’t been posting, I’ve been writing quite a bit. A few days ago, I began a piece about movies adapted from or based on books, inspired by my excitement of watching the final installation of The Hobbit. My son and I went to see it yesterday, and we’re reading the book together as well. I hope every parent experiences the joy of having a literary conversation with an eight year old. It is both simplistic and mind-blowing, pure yet passionate. He and I both cried during “The Battle of Five Armies;” I imagine we’ll both be heartbroken for the same characters before finishing the book.

The piece I wrote was meant to be short, but it grew into several pages and included numerous examples. I’ve decided to turn it into a regular series in this blog. The subject is rich and a joy to explore.

I’ve used the word “joy” twice now just in the first two paragraphs. Some might twist that into saying I’ve finally found a bit of Christmas spirit. My response to that is still “bah humbug!” I am enjoying the holidays, but not because of the holidays themselves.

My son had a magical Christmas morning — the presents appeared at the foot of his bed just like it the Harry Potter series! — and we spent several hours putting together what we named a LEGO Clash of Worlds. At one point, there was a Godzilla-sized MineCraft creeper terrorizing the dwarves of Middle Earth who were up in a burning tree while watching Han Solo team up with Master Chief to try to rescue the baby creeper from Nindroid Kai.

It was pretty intense for a Thursday.

image

This week hasn’t been all fantasy and science fiction (actually it has been for books and movies). Reality has creeped in as well. I’ve been making decisions — one might even say resolutions — about my life and my son’s: past, presents, and potential futures.

First of all, I’ve decided to stop hoarding my issues. They seem to keep piling up and overwhelming me. I have about ten examples off the top of my head, but they’re all personal, so let’s move on…

Presents: the spelling was intentional. In the spirit of The Giver, I’ve decided to get my son a bike (sans training wheels) for his ninth birthday this spring. If I can afford it, I might get myself one at the same time so we can go riding together. I can no longer run, due to a health problem, but pedaling would be all right.

As to the future, there are a lot of uncertainties, which is why it is so important that I stop allowing things to clutter. I’ve already gotten rid of the annoying and mostly useless presence of men (including that one from a few weeks ago), I’m allowing myself more time to enjoy myself and relax (by myself like I prefer), and I’m considering a change, professionally (more on that another time).

These really do sound like resolutions. I’m not a fan of those, but I’ll accept the label. I don’t consider the cross from December to January a new year. My beginnings and endings are not dependent on the calendar — they are fluid, constantly changing, with many smaller beginnings and more significant endings. If I have to assign a defining number to each year, then it cannot be the same one everyone else uses; it must be meaningful to me.

My year will be marked by my son’s birthday — my accomplishments measured by his continual growth.

Unrequited

Men are everywhere lately. Have you noticed it too? Their current infestation rate is higher than that of fictional zombies, and I’m starting to feel threatened. It would probably be okay if it weren’t for the women where I work. In my department there is a 50:2 ratio of women to men; several of the women and at least one of the men keep pointing out the more attractive zombies or, worse, try getting me interested in dating again.

I like men. I notice them without help. My fantasy life is quite rich and I often pull subjects from real life to make it more gratifying. There are numerous attractive men in my world, but I have no interest in doing more than thinking about how it might be. To further the point: there’s nothing they can do that I can’t already do myself without all the emotional nonsense and potential police involvement.

I’m not saying that the man in a hypothetical relationship would be the cause of this; I am hyperemotional and have a terrible dating record, so it would most likely be my fault. For some psychological reason, I say yes to the guys who are the exact opposite of my type, especially those that have that added creep factor…I think it’s just a girl thing really, but that may be an excuse. The best thing for everyone not involved is to stay that way. Let me play out my kinky internal dialogues while the creeps keep creeping and the few decent men remain pretty and unspoiled by my drama.

But seriously, have you noticed that men are everywhere lately!

The sweet librarian (mmm…books) walks over from his desk and asks how I’m doing and if he can help me find anything. He mostly ignores everyone else unless someone checks out a book, but I’m on a first name basis with most the librarians, so I’ll let that one slide.

I cut through the housewares section of Walmart and hear “mm-mmm-mm,” and I have to fight the urge to ask the guy if he’s thinking about all that mac & cheese he could make in that new skillet. I’ve been thinking about getting one myself; I love mac & cheese! The cart pusher says “hey there” and smiles: that’s courteous. The guy who was looking for an oil filter in automotive waves to me from his truck as I’m climbing into my own, and all I can think is: I have to stop going to Walmart!

Work used to be a haven – all women in my department. I cannot stress that enough! – but men from other parts of the building keep using my haven as a highway. The air conditioner guy is incredibly hot and seems to be around all the time now. I went to get coffee, and he was there with a perfect white smile and a matching hello, and then my best guy friend (who is also gorgeous) walked in and started talking to me, and there was all that hothothotness in one room……I had to go away. This was the same day – the same hour – that my supervisor decided to start pointing out the guy she thinks would be perfect for me: one of those nice-to-look-at individuals now using my personal space to get from point A to point B.

I need to amend my earlier statement: have you noticed that ridiculously attractive men are everywhere! When did this happen? Where I come from, men look like pumpkins and marry their sisters. This probably doesn’t say much about my looks or the branches of my family tree (I haven’t posted a picture yet, so have fun with that mental image). Perhaps that’s why I spend so much time at Walmart; it feels like home no matter how far you move away.

This influx of beauty is not helping my conviction to remain solo. I did, in fact, lapse in my resolve about six months ago, but that is a story not even worth telling another time. It has been more than a year and a half since I’ve been in a relationship, and I’m in no rush to break my record. I love men, especially those with dark eyes, deep voices, and enough height to still tower over me when I wear heels. I love the way they walk and how they look in jeans. And I LOVE No-shave November; whoever thought of that slice of awesome should get a prize. But more than anything, I love who they are before I touch them; that is why I have no interest in dating; as soon as I get involved everything becomes tainted, and I have destroyed enough beauty in this world already.