Wow. I gratefully accepted this sacrificial gift from my husband on the pretense that I would have more opportunities to waste my time online. However, today - my first full day with Lapzilla taking up a sizeable chunk of the dining room table - I realized a very important thing: Irregardless of where one's computer is located or how many gremlins one has to keep one from using it, one must actually be home to waste one's valuable time surfing the web.
I started off with good intentions. I said to myself 'Self, today you will drop Gutsy off at I-Hate-School, come home with a sleeping Spawnling, clean up your disgusting living space, read more of Heart of Darkness for your prose course, try not to slit your wrists after that depressing read, and then you will view blogs and waste your time on Lapzilla.'
That sounded good. Really good. Except for it being utterly boring and pathetic. I don't do boring and pathetic well. Besides, I had missed an invite out for coffee on Monday because I was - surprise! - not home, so I figured I would see if I could cash in my raincheque. I ended up leaving the house at 8:45 and not coming home until 2:45. So much for cleaning, surfing or anything else. I went out for coffee, a walk, picked up Gutsy at I-Liked-School-Today, took him to speech therapy and stopped off quickly at Mrs. Wailing's abode for another coffee.
Socializing is all about the coffee. In fact, I don't know how people socialize without it. Blood is thicker than water, but caffeine is the stuff friendship is made of.
Coffee was with a friend I hadn't seen in probably two years. I'll keep her nameless so as not to embarrass her, even though that's rather pointless since a few of you will know who she is anyway and she reads my blog (because I'm hot and she likes checking out my pics). Why haven't I seen her? Because we had one of those falling out, bitch olympic thingies. It was probably the worst falling out I've had in my life and one of my biggest failings as a decent human being because I got all spiteful and resentful.
Imagine. ME! The Maven! Not being a perfect person. Shocking, I know. It's the stuff nightmares are made of.
So after I put my tail between my legs and apologized for my bitchtastic part in said falling out, I started to feel a bit better about myself again. And we talked a little here and there. And we met for coffee today. She even brought her kids, which indicates to me that she either trusts we're not going to brawl again or planned to use them as little, human shields if I arched my back and started hissing. Either way, they got hot chocolate so don't feel sorry for them.
I brought Spawnling because people can't hate me if I have a baby with me. Just not possible. He's cute and sweet, he comes from me, ergo I must be cute and sweet, too. Spawnling is a wonderful ice breaker.
I kept waiting to see some incredible change in her personality, her views, new insight into the world. Because, you know, when The Maven is upset with someone, it's obviously all their fault. I had two years to make her into a demoness of epic evils and a great imagination to facilitate that perception.
At first I was disappointed. No major change. I mean, she had obviously matured both with age and life experience. But her personality was the same. Her manner, her tone, her sense of humour, all the same. She was just two years older, that's all. No horns, no tail, no glowing red eyes.
And yet she didn't say anything mean or thoughtless or downright cruel. She didn't subtely put me down or say something highly offensive. In fact, I enjoyed her company.
Damnit, damnit, damnit! That's a bad sign. See, that means that maybe I made some changes. All those healthy things I've been doing for myself like exercise, my return to 12 step meetings, the hobbies I've taken up, the inner reflection crap I've taken on... All those things have bred these new traits in me, like confidence.
For example, the girl is skinny now. She used to a fellow Club Chubette member, but has since left the rest of us high and dry in the reinforced treehouse. At one point I might have been envious, or even inject-your-healthy-apple-with-bacon-fat jealous, but instead I was - ick - genuinely happy for her, if not slightly more motivated to become a club alumnus myself. Before, I would have felt like she might have been smugly judging my choice to have a fatty soy latte or wondered how I managed to (barely) squeeze my postpartum ass into those jeans. I might have left thinking: I can't have coffee with her again! She might think I'm, like, fat or something! And I'd be so totally embarrassed and stuff!
Well, newsflash: I am fat or something and I hardly think she cared in the slightest. And even if she did, I'm not, like, totally embarrassed.
It's not a competition.
Except when I'm obviously winning.
See, I think I'm the one who's grown up a lot. We were both stupid to each other, but I held the grudge for so long that the movie of the same name should have been about my life (although at least they picked my twin, Sarah Michelle Gellar, as the star). And now I'm thirty and so very grown up.
This has been apparent in other aspects of my life, but none so much as in my choice of friends in the last few months. The people I spend my time around now are trying hard to grow up, too. We're not exactly the definition of maturity, but at least we have our priorities straight. No one is a big gossip. Nobody parties like they're eighteen again. Nobody forgets to parent their kids. Nobody is terribly judgemental. I feel like I can open up to all of them and feel nothing but support.
Overlooking the fact that they choose to spend their time with yours truly, these are healthy-in-the-head people.
And I've put myself here. Good job, perfect me! Let me stretch that arm out a bit further so I can pat myself on my fat-laden back. I'm a happier, more relaxed Maven who knows who she is and what she wants out of life. If that doesn't deserve a caloric reward of some kind I don't know what does.
Cookie, anyone? Let me grab some from the treehouse and I'll be right back.
I started off with good intentions. I said to myself 'Self, today you will drop Gutsy off at I-Hate-School, come home with a sleeping Spawnling, clean up your disgusting living space, read more of Heart of Darkness for your prose course, try not to slit your wrists after that depressing read, and then you will view blogs and waste your time on Lapzilla.'
That sounded good. Really good. Except for it being utterly boring and pathetic. I don't do boring and pathetic well. Besides, I had missed an invite out for coffee on Monday because I was - surprise! - not home, so I figured I would see if I could cash in my raincheque. I ended up leaving the house at 8:45 and not coming home until 2:45. So much for cleaning, surfing or anything else. I went out for coffee, a walk, picked up Gutsy at I-Liked-School-Today, took him to speech therapy and stopped off quickly at Mrs. Wailing's abode for another coffee.
Socializing is all about the coffee. In fact, I don't know how people socialize without it. Blood is thicker than water, but caffeine is the stuff friendship is made of.
Coffee was with a friend I hadn't seen in probably two years. I'll keep her nameless so as not to embarrass her, even though that's rather pointless since a few of you will know who she is anyway and she reads my blog (because I'm hot and she likes checking out my pics). Why haven't I seen her? Because we had one of those falling out, bitch olympic thingies. It was probably the worst falling out I've had in my life and one of my biggest failings as a decent human being because I got all spiteful and resentful.
Imagine. ME! The Maven! Not being a perfect person. Shocking, I know. It's the stuff nightmares are made of.
So after I put my tail between my legs and apologized for my bitchtastic part in said falling out, I started to feel a bit better about myself again. And we talked a little here and there. And we met for coffee today. She even brought her kids, which indicates to me that she either trusts we're not going to brawl again or planned to use them as little, human shields if I arched my back and started hissing. Either way, they got hot chocolate so don't feel sorry for them.
I brought Spawnling because people can't hate me if I have a baby with me. Just not possible. He's cute and sweet, he comes from me, ergo I must be cute and sweet, too. Spawnling is a wonderful ice breaker.
I kept waiting to see some incredible change in her personality, her views, new insight into the world. Because, you know, when The Maven is upset with someone, it's obviously all their fault. I had two years to make her into a demoness of epic evils and a great imagination to facilitate that perception.
At first I was disappointed. No major change. I mean, she had obviously matured both with age and life experience. But her personality was the same. Her manner, her tone, her sense of humour, all the same. She was just two years older, that's all. No horns, no tail, no glowing red eyes.
And yet she didn't say anything mean or thoughtless or downright cruel. She didn't subtely put me down or say something highly offensive. In fact, I enjoyed her company.
Damnit, damnit, damnit! That's a bad sign. See, that means that maybe I made some changes. All those healthy things I've been doing for myself like exercise, my return to 12 step meetings, the hobbies I've taken up, the inner reflection crap I've taken on... All those things have bred these new traits in me, like confidence.
For example, the girl is skinny now. She used to a fellow Club Chubette member, but has since left the rest of us high and dry in the reinforced treehouse. At one point I might have been envious, or even inject-your-healthy-apple-with-bacon-fat jealous, but instead I was - ick - genuinely happy for her, if not slightly more motivated to become a club alumnus myself. Before, I would have felt like she might have been smugly judging my choice to have a fatty soy latte or wondered how I managed to (barely) squeeze my postpartum ass into those jeans. I might have left thinking: I can't have coffee with her again! She might think I'm, like, fat or something! And I'd be so totally embarrassed and stuff!
Well, newsflash: I am fat or something and I hardly think she cared in the slightest. And even if she did, I'm not, like, totally embarrassed.
It's not a competition.
Except when I'm obviously winning.
See, I think I'm the one who's grown up a lot. We were both stupid to each other, but I held the grudge for so long that the movie of the same name should have been about my life (although at least they picked my twin, Sarah Michelle Gellar, as the star). And now I'm thirty and so very grown up.
This has been apparent in other aspects of my life, but none so much as in my choice of friends in the last few months. The people I spend my time around now are trying hard to grow up, too. We're not exactly the definition of maturity, but at least we have our priorities straight. No one is a big gossip. Nobody parties like they're eighteen again. Nobody forgets to parent their kids. Nobody is terribly judgemental. I feel like I can open up to all of them and feel nothing but support.
Overlooking the fact that they choose to spend their time with yours truly, these are healthy-in-the-head people.
And I've put myself here. Good job, perfect me! Let me stretch that arm out a bit further so I can pat myself on my fat-laden back. I'm a happier, more relaxed Maven who knows who she is and what she wants out of life. If that doesn't deserve a caloric reward of some kind I don't know what does.
Cookie, anyone? Let me grab some from the treehouse and I'll be right back.