Wanting What You Can't Have

Do you ever feel like

• you don't want X
  
• you decide maybe X would be okay
• X begins to seem rather desirable
• X seems attainable
• X reveals itself as not attainable
• you feel like a freaking moron
• you try to remember when you didn't want X
• you pretend you still don't want X
• and refuse to talk about it

Yeah.

Downward

Oh, to be a person without wild mood swings.

The upswings are fine. They make being friendly and sociable much easier. The downswings are not fine. I manage to hide them now. I get up and go to work and 99.99% of the time, I don't leave early. I do my grocery shopping. I talk to people. I do not, usually, burst into tears although sometimes I will get teary-eyed.

It's bad enough when it's just biochemical. When it's stupid, stupid stuff that I should know better about that either energizes me or drop-kicks me, I can add "you bloody moron, how old are you?" to the joys of dejection.

I am on a downswing. It will end. But it might end because something stupid will cheer me up. And I will know it's stupid -- and dangerous, because it's ephemeral and will subsequently let me down -- but I will run with it anyway, just for the relief of feeling my spirits soaring and a tingling happiness, just for a little while.

Sigh

I wore colors for you. And you didn't even notice.

*~*~*~*~*~*

And while I'm at it: Messages are sent in order to be answered. If you don't answer them, you are sending a message anyway. Make sure that's what you mean to do.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Damnit.

That is all.

Stop me, damnit

I've been reading blogs and seeing some pictures from Sock Summit, and some folks' cute short haircuts are calling to me.

I know my hair itself looks cute short -- it's curly and does these neat marcel waves across the back of my head. Also, it dries much faster than my current to-the-base-of-my-shoulder-blades mop of auburn wildness.

But I am a big person, and on me, a head with a short cap of curls looks like a cherry on top of a mountain of ice cream. (Food metaphor. How apropos.) Also, I like twisting my hair up into a semi-French twist and feeling all of it anchored, firmly -- unlike when short curls are just bobbing about. And there's the versatility of wearing it up, tumbling down my back or else in a ponytail.

I have to remind myself I don't look like a chic perky pixie with short hair, because the cuteness is getting to me -- as is the "hmm, no heavy hot hair" -- even though I know if I cut if off I'd regret it, especially since I hate going and getting my hair cut. I always look like crap in the mirrors, I have to chat, and I have to pay them! The only part I really like is getting the back of my neck shaved; that feels good.

I don't want to look like an aging hippie with long hair, but since it's thick, curly, and has no grey, and since I always wear makeup, that's probably an unfounded fear. (Aging hippies are fine people. I just don't fancy the look.)

Complete Inertia!

I haz it.

It's beautiful and sunny out. I have

a. Vacuumed
b. Put some dishes away
c. Had toast and tea
d. Called my aunt

It's almost noon and I'm in my jammies still! Off to have tea with C at 2, but I should be doing so many things.

I finally did see a life coach last week. He was pretty tough love about a lot of things (my weight, my shyness, my procrastination), but that's good, mostly. The fact that he was also funny, and thought my intelligence and sense of humor were immediately apparent, was more pleasant! I have a to-do list, some of which I just can't blog about.

I've done much of it. Not all of it.

One thing he said is that whether I ever publish or not, I need to write as part of my creative life. Since I handed him extensive answers to the long questionnaire he requires, he got a pretty good sampling of my writing. I am having a followup meeting with him, and he told me he wanted an outline of the novel that has been in my head for a year or so. He actually made me stand up and pitch it to him... the amazing thing is, I did it. And I came home and by the end of the weekend had the outline done.

I was telling my sister I kind of have to go on autopilot and not think, "This idea is dumb. That idea will never work. I could never do X, Y, or Z because of A, B, and C." If I do that, I will be totally paralyzed, and paralysis is what has gotten me to my age and state in life.

However, the inertia is settling in. It's not the paralysis of terror or pessimism or overthinking, or the retreating to the "my life is miserable but at the moment it's not terrifying so I will just go back to the devil I know" sort of thing. It's just... laziness.

This is when it's not good to live alone. If someone was here to nudge me, that would help. Also, being able to split daily life chores helps with fatigue. OTOH, there are people with kids who work more than 40 hours a week and who get a lot done, so I should STFU, no?

And being married didn't help too much with that, anyway.

*~*~*

This week I totally faked a felted purse I may give as a Christmas gift, if it felts well. I had no pattern, just cast on enough worsted weight to get around a 24" circ (size 10, which I really only use for felting projects), and then after awhile bound off half the stitches and knit flat for a flap. Winged a buttonhole (bound off six stitches, cast them back on in the next row), am now making a strap. I ixnayed I-cord and the kind of strap I recently used on my own felted tote, since it was too wide. I'm just going with a strip of garter stitch since it will felt anyway. And if the whole thing turns out to be crap, well, I will chuck it... only three skeins of stash yarn and a week. It's not like ruining a sweater!

Next up is a hopefully simple-enough lace scarf for mememememe in what KnitPicks calls hyacinth but I call plain old dark purple.

And meanwhile I'm making dishcloths -- I like the way the mercerized cotton feels against the KP Harmonies, which are my all-time flat-out madly-in-love favoritest favorite needles ever. (Um, I like them.) They're useful, and I can probably get some neutral colors and make washcloths in the same patterns to wrap up with soap for small gifts. It's a good way to just practice stitch patterns, as well.

*~*~*

I don't know why, but I often have an image in my head from my freshman year of college. It was the fall of 1985 and I was going to a very small college nearby. I was in the basement of the library; there were carrels against the far wall, with windows above them that looked out onto the main road into the tiny campus and across to the trees beyond, and then down the hill. I was writing a paper on Sylvia Plath, and I wanted to work on campus for awhile. I remember walking down one of the stacks toward a carrel, with the light filtering in, and putting my books and whatnot down.

I don't know if I felt it then, but ever since, on the frequent occasions when that moment crosses my mind, I have such a feeling of peace and happiness and purpose. I had that feeling in other moments throughout college, but this one sticks with me for some reason; maybe because it was the first. I have never felt this way in post-academic life.

Religion & Emotion

I was re-reading my last post and was thinking about how I have a pretty intellectual approach to faith, which probably seems counterintuitive. I had been talking really mostly about the practice of Catholicism and how people with my political views tend not to practice the sort of devotions that appeal to me. I hadn't really been addressing faith per se, or feelings at all. Things like whether or not one believes in the Real Presence are faith-related, of course, but that wasn't the main thrust of my thoughts.

I do wish I still had the rock-solid faith of my childhood, before I (funnily enough) went off to a Catholic college and lost my faith altogether til I was 29 or so. And I do wish I were more emotional about faith. Only once in recent memory have I had an emotional religious experience, while praying the rosary one night on my couch. In general, though, it's much more in my head than an emotional thing.

It's strange, since I can be very emotional in some situations. I wonder if I am afraid of what really breaking down internal emotional barriers, spiritually, might feel like/mean/result in.

In the meantime, I practice the devotions I am drawn to, meet my Sunday and holy day obligations, and try to settle into my niche as a politically liberal theological moderate-to-conservative. Possibly one day I will have the grace of a melted heart as well, or I may stay more Flannery O'Connor-like. We shall see.

Odd Theological Duck

So, I was reading some blogs by more politically moderate-to-liberal Catholic women, and I'm coming to at least the interim conclusion that I am a completely odd duck theologically speaking, at least in this era.

I am a Democrat, and I part ways with traditional Church teaching when it comes to sex. (I'm not advocating sleeping around, but I do not hew the Church line on sex or contraception.) Otherwise, I am rather traditional: I believe in the Real Presence; I am fine with male-only priests; I honor Mary and the Communion of Saints; I love traditional music and chant; I want a formal and reverent liturgy; I say "for us men" in the Creed and I bow at the appropriate time; I don't call the Holy Spirit "she"; I attend Mass every week; I don't take Communion if I haven't gone to Confession and need to; I enjoy the Latin Mass; I wear a veil when I go and have been considering ways to unobtrusively cover my hair at my home parish; I often pray the rosary and/or the Divine Mercy chaplet; I enjoy going to Adoration. Etc.

So I'm not at home in either the trad or progressive camps. The trads are so anti-Democrat it's blinding. But I'm a union woman descended of union men; I'm someone who was raised working-class and is I suppose middle-class now by virtue of education and collar color but barely; someone who is against the death penalty and most of our wars; I believe in big government because I believe we can accomplish more banded together as a nation than as a collection of small groups or even states, and because we can't rely on the whim of people to give to private charities; I believe in a social safety net; I believe consenting non-related adults should be able to be joined legally if they wish and that this is simply a matter of fairness and civil rights and has nothing to do with whether any church should approve.

I can't set all that aside. And I believe that all of it, except my support for gay marriage, IS consistent with Catholic social teaching. None of it, anyway, is banned by Catholic social teaching. Given all that, I can never vote Republican; I can't side with the wealthy, the powerful, the institutionally selfish, the "family values" people who make me cringe (I haven't got a family -- have I no values? And that's code for "No gay people!" anyway); the "I got mine; pick yourself up by your bootstraps and no, I don't give a damn if you haven't got any," etc. (I realize not every Republican is like that... but whenever I hear a GOP politician speak I am appalled.) But it's a rare mantilla-wearing, TLM-attending person who doesn't vote that way. There must be one or two. But not many. And add to that my more relaxed views on sexuality in general...

On the other side, people who share my political views often have very... um... Protestant views of religion, even if they're Catholic. They do tend to do things like call the Holy Spirit "she," to wish for women priests, to blur the lines of the Real Presence, to not practice traditional devotions like the rosary or Adoration, to perhaps find me a bit much since I have statues, icons, and crucifixes at home, go to Confession, always go to Mass, wear crucifixes and medals, and the like. I think they would find both my internal and external manifestations of faith overblown.

And they'd probably think I was a political conservative.

I want to add strenuously that I believe most of them are far better people, and Christians, than I am. Far. We just don't share the same form of piety, even if we are both Catholic.

In most situations in my life -- family, school, work -- I've frequently been the black sheep, the odd one. And I guess so it is here, as well.

Early to Bed

It's not even ten and I'm hitting the sack. I'm sure the feline occupants of this place will be pleased. I've cleaned up a bit, and knitted a bit, and read a bit... I am feeling a little less stressed than when I got home. It's possible there will be something awful waiting for me at work tomorrow... one can never discount that possibility at all. But I'm being more philosophical about it.

Quiet night tomorrow; aunt ferrying on Saturday before Mass and then another quiet night. I need them. Next week is only three days long, followed by my birthday! It will probably be quiet too, but I am fine with it. I'm very much in Hermit Bookworm mode at the moment.

I have discovered a couple of blogs written by practicing Catholic women who are more progressive than some of the other folks I've been reading lately. While I am very much drawn to/a practitioner of traditional devotions (and I don't call the Holy Spirit "she"), I am interested to read what they have to say, because I've definitely been struggling between my pretty darn liberal political views and my religion. More on them and that later.

Tense

I am so sick of being tense and stressed out and, frankly, paranoid at my office.

This is not the life I envisioned for myself when I was a kid. Granted, I had unrealisitic expectations of being a writer when I was a kid. But at no point between consciousness and college graduation did I envision this sort of life.

It all comes down to money. I don't have any -- mostly because of my own stupidity -- and therefore I have no freedom. Or, I should say, I have just enough that I have no freedom. Those without any money at all have a terrible sort of freedom.

Somehow It's Sunday Again

Sigh.

I made a batch of oatmeal cookies today, to take to work. And a pan of shortbread, which I took to my aunt. Who needs me to take her grocery shopping next weekend despite the fact that we have two unemployed people in our immediate family. I'm not sure of the logic there, but I have given up trying to figure it out.

The baked goods do seem to have all turned out well, though, which is gratifying. I hate it when I screw stuff like that up.

So last night I went out with my friend from out of town and one other friend... or, more precisely, I met them at a bar. It sucked a bit, since I knew only them and one other person, and ended up mostly watching sports TV I couldn't hear. I only stayed a couple of hours and came on home. Eh. I'd wanted to stay home and I should have.

I'm just not a social butterfly. I can only relax in certain milieux -- I need to know and like a very large proportion of the people. I don't like it when it's crowded (I got woozily claustrophobic at my family's Easter gathering this year) and I hate it when I feel old, huge, and/or wildly out of place.

These parameters make socializing difficult. Yet, in my Walter Mitty dreams, I am always having wonderful, cozy, intellectual evenings with a great group of smart, educated, interesting, funny, kind, like-minded comrades, with whom I am completely comfortable.

These people don't exist.

Well, they do, sort of. I have a very small handful of friends I feel comfortable with, and they are all indeed smart, educated, funny, and kind. The problems are these: They're almost all partnered, so it's not like we can just gather all together whenever. We're not exactly like-minded -- my religious friends are more politically conservative than I am (not hard to do) and the friends with whom I agree politically range from the apathetically agnostic to the atheist, with some vague "everyone is going to heaven and your religion doesn't matter" sort of things thrown in occasionally. This also means that mixing them up together might not be a good idea, except on the "let's blow up the chemistry lab" principle. And although I feel as comfortable with them as I am likely to feel with anyone, since I've been divorced there's no one I feel completely comfortable with.

And look what happened when I did feel completely comfortable with someone!

Of course in my Walter Mitty dreams we also don't seem to be in the US, but in a beautiful high-ceilinged ancient apartment somewhere in Europe. We're certainly not crammed into my ugly 1970 apartment. I guess that's why they call them fantasies.

It's a full moon, which means work tomorrow will undoubtedly dish up a rich assortment of craziness. Must sleep now.

One of Them

Yesterday, at Trader Joe's, I was one of the people who drive me nuts there. The location closest to home is set up totally differently from the one I normally go to, which is closer to work. I was searching for the garlic pesto. It was not where it "should" have been.

One guy had to ask me to move. One other just stood there with his cart and glowered until I did.

I found the pesto. And realized I'd been doing the "gawping tourist in Trader Joe's" thing... or at least seemed to. Oops.

I did, however, get all my grocery shopping done, then went to confession during an hour of Adoration at a nearby (not my) church. I still get so nervous before I go. I wonder if it would be different if a) I could come up with some new sins this time and/or b) I'd been raised Catholic and had been doing this since I was a kid.

They prayed the Divine Mercy chaplet at 3. I have never prayed this with a group before and I liked it.

I spent the evening drinking beer (!)* and having pizza with some friends from grade/high school in the backyard of one of their parents' house. This is a neighborhood in which I could never dream of living, either as a child or now (especially). So it was nice but it was also kind of wistful. I'd give my right arm for that kitchen!

There we go. I have a new sin for confession next time -- kitchen envy.

*I don't normally drink beer. I can't remember the last full bottle I've drunk before last night.

Age

I know I wrote about this at the time of the election; I can't remember what I was reading but it was something online through the USCCB or something, and I realized it was aimed at "young people."

I am not a young person.

But.

Having said that -- I can't quite conceive of myself as middle-aged, either. In some ways I was always "old before my time," wanting people to send me postcards from their vacations when they just wanted to party; reading "big books" other people rolled their eyes at; struggling with depression and anxiety since middle school; dressing older than my age since I had a very large chest very young; thinking of a night of reading as preferable to a night of socializing most of the time; things like that. In my habits and preferences I haven't changed much since I was about 16. So no wonder I feel I'm still about 16! (OK, except I do the old lady thing of thinking much modern youth fashion -- except the eccentric intellectual kids' clothes -- is crap, and I don't like a lot of modern music -- except the eccentric intellectual kind. ;-)

The genesis of this line of thought is that I've been reading about Bl. Pier Giorgio Frassati. What a cool guy! No, seriously. Even if you aren't the least bit religious, read a little about him. Anyone who likes laughter, the outdoors, animals, and/or general conviviality would no doubt like him. Just the fact that I'd say "what a cool guy" about a person on the road to (hopeful) canonization should tell you something.

Yet, he's seen as a patron of youth (and the reason why is obvious). All of the Frassati Societies they link to, save one, are made up of kids. The "save one" made me happy. Unfortunately, none of them are even on the West Coast.

Still, though, this is one more instance where I am identifying as younger than I am. I guess in some ways that's good.

Speaking of Being a Religious Nut

I actually sat down and read Humanae Vitae the other day. It's in the second big thick volume of VII and post-conciliar documents I have.

OK. So now at least I have read it. I am going to read it a few more times, with some time in between.

I am sure many dissenters have read it, but I bet many more have not. I decided I'd better actually read the real document.

I still am not convinced. Obviously I am not a catechist, and if I were, I would simply say, "This is what the Church teaches and why; and by the way, here's a printout of the actual encyclical."

Of course, as a single woman with no potential husband, it's a totally moot point for me (as are a lot of the RCC sticking points). Which is rather a relief really.

So see -- not even a "good Catholic" let alone a religious nut!

One Note

Lately I've only been reading religion books, except for Beowulf at work. When people ask me what I'm reading, it's sometimes embarrassing to say, "Oh, the catechism, and a book about the Blessed Mother, and The Imitation of Christ, and another one about fulfilling your life's purpose through the wisdom of the saints, and then at night sometimes I crack open the huuuuuuuge Navarre New Testament with the massive commentary and read about one chapter."

It makes me sound a) like a complete religious nut and b) like I have one interest in life and that's it.

I'm so not a religious nut. I know some people think I am by virtue of the very fact that I go to Mass every week, but that is only a very basic obligation. I do all sorts of things that would not be in keeping with religious nuttiness -- or even with being a "good Catholic." Or sometimes even with being a "good person."

I do have other interests... I've been knitting (at the moment, a hat and a shawl; finished a cowl for a friend and am waiting on the proper size needle to come in the mail so I can improvise wristers in the same pattern); I've been cooking a bit again; jamming season is just about upon us. If I had the wherewithal, I'd travel a lot.

But in reading, it's generally religious in nature.

Sometimes it makes me laugh ruefully, as when I came across this in Kempis: "Sometimes God will leave you to your own devices, and sometimes your neighbor will irritate you; and what is worse, you will often be a trouble to your own self." (Italics mine.) So. Very. True. My "neighbors" irritate me every day of my life, except sometimes on weekends when I can choose whom to be around.

I am finding a lot in Imitation of Christ that seems harsh, that basically says, "Have no friends and enjoy nothing in this life." Of course he wasn't writing for your average layperson. In this instance St. Francis de Sales' Introduction to the Devout Life is much gentler and more practical. On the other hand, there are gems throughout Imitation like the one above. It's not Scripture, so I can take what is useful to my state in life and take with a grain of salt the things that do not apply.

Still, though, I am having a little bit of an internal struggle. I figure, I'm not in school and outside of work and financial obligations I can pretty much do as I please. (Work/money is a big exception, I realize, but does not extend to my reading material.) So if I want to be on a religion-book bender, who's to criticize? On the other hand, I find people who have only one interest to be unsettling, and I don't want to be that person.

Sort of like how consistently my biggest gripe is "I'm not a housewife." And my biggest wish is "to be a housewife." And how of all the people I might be jealous of, the ones I'd envy most would be housewives. Ad nauseum....

Let Us Hope

that this coming week will not be as emotionally draining and trying as the last one.

Workwise, it's all unbloggable except to say that something has to give and I hope it is not my sanity.

And again I say to the houswives of the world, excepting those in dire poverty/abusive relationships/other really bad situations: Thank God on bended knee every day you are "the boss" of your life. It's unlikely your husband will write you up for missing a spot on the dishes; it's more likely you can arrange your schedule to suit your temperament, especially if you don't have non-school-age kids. And that's just the nutshell version of why I'd give my right arm to be a housewife.

Anyway.

In other arenas, so much work needs to be done, and I feel emotionally and energtically unequipped to deal with it.

Three Wishes

When I was married, my husband and I used to spontaneously ask each other if we had three wishes.

Today these are mine.

1.) I wish I were an extrovert. I wish that the fact that there is a family hanging out at the apartment pool right now on this hot day wouldn't automatically mean I'm not going out there. Or the fact that our building manager routinely makes friends with people in the neighborhood and invites them to use the pool didn't irk me so much. I wish it hadn't taken me 13 years to not utterly dread the passing of the peace in church (I still don't like it and it's one of the plusses of the Latin Mass that they don't do it). I wish my heart didn't sink with dread whenever the phone rings at work -- or that if someone comes into the office to talk to me, that dread didn't become sweaty-palmed anxiety. I wish I could stand two days in a row of social obligations without feeling depressed.

2.) I wish I had a deep, unshakeable faith like some folks I know, and like I did when I was little. I'm definitely in the "Lord, I believe, help Thou my unbelief" category.

3.) I wish I were a natural optimist, not so easily depressed, overwhelmed, flattened by things. I would love to be able to make plans for the future, have confidence, follow through; it would be wonderful if setbacks didn't trigger my natural pessimism and despair.

On an Introversion Scale of 1-10

I'm around about a 15. Just sayin'.

No Pressure!

I've been going to the Saturday 5 PM Mass, but that was replaced with the Easter Vigil last night, and last year's Vigil was so filled with people who talked throughout that I avoided it this year. I went to the 11 AM Mass I used to always go to.

And ended up being a reader and an EMHC. Nothing like showing up on Easter Sunday before the twice-a-year packed house and having to read on the fly!