Saturday, July 30, 2011

Gloom Lifting

My gloom at being aloooooooone is lifting.  I don't know what came over me the other day- could have been hormones, could have been stress.  I feel better.

Halloween is 3 months away.  I am planning to change out everything in my living room to reflect the holiday, come mid September.  The pink decor will be hidden away, and replaced with greys, purples, blacks, and greens.  I'm even changing out the art.  The pink chairs will be slipcovered.  The gloom will settle on the room like mist.

My only problem?  The lamps.  The lamps are all shades of pink.  I am not changing out the lamps.

I wonder if it's possible to cover the lamps with the legs of black tights?  Keep the shape, change the color. I doubt that most people have ever considered putting tights on a lamp before.  Well, outside of "A Christmas Story."

I am also at a point where I realize that I should be doing some sort of exercise and muscle building.  I do not want to do this thing, but I am painfully, perilously weak.  I have no upper body strength, and that is not good.  I am not good at delayed gratification, and exercise and weightlifting are very much a delayed gratification sort of thing.  I don't get runner's highs.  I just get sweaty and sore.  Last time I did a workout video, I couldn't cough for a week straight.  It was a ten minute ab routine.  Ten minutes.  Oy vey.

Rode my bike to go get frozen yogurt.  I like riding the bike.  Burns almost no calories, but hey, this ain't the Tour de France.

Sunday, July 17, 2011


I am surrounded by people, but I am always alone.  I have a roommate, who is rarely here.  My family is near, but they have lives.  My closest friends are very far-flung.  I like my coworkers well enough, but that's work. I interact with children on a daily basis, but I wouldn't choose to be in the company of children if my paycheck didn't depend on it.  I have a dog and a cat who are comforting, but don't really speak English that well.

I am lonely most of the time.

My life is not set up to interact.  I do not have social hobbies.  I don't go out.  My animals only get me 8 out of every 24 hours, so I often feel guilty about going out and leaving them at home.  I don't make friends easily.  Dating has been an unmitigated disaster.

I check Facebook obsessively in the hopes that the little red notification button will be lit up, telling me that some sort of social interaction (however artificial and contrived it may be) has occurred.  Someone in the vast world has noticed me, and thought fit to acknowledge my existence.  The slow decline of FB is causing me panic, as it is my only source of friendly contact with others.  My Google+ page is empty.  I have no idea if it's a good platform or not, because I have precisely zero connections.

Perhaps it is the lot of adults to be alone.  Perhaps this is why people have children.  I'm not doing that, so I am more aware of the vast space between myself and other people.  I have no play dates, no screeching toddlers, no mommy's groups to blur the void.

Abalones reproduce by flinging huge quantities of eggs and sperm into the ocean.  These cells collide with one another, and another generation of abalones is born.

Abalones are essentially extinct in Southern California.  There are individuals out there, to be sure, but they cannot reproduce.  No matter how many eggs or sperm the individual abalone spills into the current, they will never be fertilized, because it will never encounter the eggs or sperm of another abalone.  They are simply spaced too far apart from each other.  They are alone.

I wonder if they are aware of their plight.

The irony in this little essay?  It, too, is thrown up into the current of the Internet.  It will probably never encounter another individual.

And yet I write.  I hope it will make me feel better.

Friday, July 15, 2011


I have an unhealthy relationship with glitter.  I own basically every color that Martha Stewart Crafts has put out.  I like it on almost anything- furniture, ornaments, my toenails, you name it.  This week, I discovered that it was possible to glitter an entire concrete floor.

I have never wanted to rip up the carpet so badly IN MY LIFE.

The problems?

This is not really my house.  I rent it from my mother, it was my grandmother's house.  While my mother understands my love of the garish, I can't see her agreeing to a whole-house sparkling.  It's a bit over-the-top.

I am poor.  Redoing floors is not cheap, even if it does involve epoxy and polyurethane.  I'm pretty sure the floor is cracked and uneven and a whole host of things that would require expensive fixes.

The silver (glittery) lining:

When I showed my mother the pictures of the glittered floor, she responded with "What, are you going to do the garage floor?"

That sounds like a green light.