age and stuff
Today is a weird day. I am, all in all, in a pretty damn good mood. I feel I got enough sleep, I'm bright-eyed and bushy-tailed (as the saying goes), I have new purpley plaid socks, I have a grip on my schedule for the next week - all should be well, yes?
But as I was sitting alone in the company owner's office installing the new print server on his computer (yay, we have a new printer that was made in the last decade!) I suddenly was hit with the I'm old and fat and ugly and no one loves me and no one wants to join me for the amazing traveling roadshow wedding and have fat smart blue-eyed babies with me and grow old and grey by my side and WAHHHH blues. Harumph.
This ties into some other introspection I was doing lately: I was washing dishes with the radio on, which is about the only time I listen to broadcast radio anymore, and a new pop song came on that sampled "Sweet Home Alabama" pretty heavily in a way that was integral to the song itself. (lyrics) The song is about one's heady, heavy high school andor youth loves and looking back on them, and when listening to this song while doing dishes, it descended upon me in a way that nothing has in a while that that time is past. I am out of the running for love like that. I'm too old, too jaded, too world-weary and heartbroken. Sure, I'll fall in love again, but it won't be like that.
Then of course I reminisce about the ones that were like that. Going out to the Ridge with Lewie and dancing outside his car to whatever that damn Romeo & Juliet song was I've never been able to find since. Lying to my parents about having early band section rehearsal so that I could sneak over to Nick's house between 6:30 and 7:00am before school to fool around. Gary doing one of the most romantic things a boyfriend has ever done for me - after a day we went to the mall and fooled around and I tried on a dress that looked absolutely gorgeous but I had no business buying and nowhere to wear it, being presented with it on Valentine's Day along with tickets to the opera so I'd have someplace to wear it. (Fucking fuckass dry cleaners that later ruined the dress.) Sitting in Boston Common with Jason on a bench, foreheads pressed together in young love strong enough that a passer-by with a camera stopped and asked us if he could take our picture for a photobook of Boston he was creating.
And I think that was it. Something about every relationship after Jason is... less idealistic. Older, more grounded, more aware that True Love doesn't solve every problem, and that relationships involve pain and work and sacrifice. And really, all I can say to this is a line stolen from Into the Woods: "Isn't it nice to know a lot? And a little bit... not."
But as I was sitting alone in the company owner's office installing the new print server on his computer (yay, we have a new printer that was made in the last decade!) I suddenly was hit with the I'm old and fat and ugly and no one loves me and no one wants to join me for the amazing traveling roadshow wedding and have fat smart blue-eyed babies with me and grow old and grey by my side and WAHHHH blues. Harumph.
This ties into some other introspection I was doing lately: I was washing dishes with the radio on, which is about the only time I listen to broadcast radio anymore, and a new pop song came on that sampled "Sweet Home Alabama" pretty heavily in a way that was integral to the song itself. (lyrics) The song is about one's heady, heavy high school andor youth loves and looking back on them, and when listening to this song while doing dishes, it descended upon me in a way that nothing has in a while that that time is past. I am out of the running for love like that. I'm too old, too jaded, too world-weary and heartbroken. Sure, I'll fall in love again, but it won't be like that.
Then of course I reminisce about the ones that were like that. Going out to the Ridge with Lewie and dancing outside his car to whatever that damn Romeo & Juliet song was I've never been able to find since. Lying to my parents about having early band section rehearsal so that I could sneak over to Nick's house between 6:30 and 7:00am before school to fool around. Gary doing one of the most romantic things a boyfriend has ever done for me - after a day we went to the mall and fooled around and I tried on a dress that looked absolutely gorgeous but I had no business buying and nowhere to wear it, being presented with it on Valentine's Day along with tickets to the opera so I'd have someplace to wear it. (Fucking fuckass dry cleaners that later ruined the dress.) Sitting in Boston Common with Jason on a bench, foreheads pressed together in young love strong enough that a passer-by with a camera stopped and asked us if he could take our picture for a photobook of Boston he was creating.
And I think that was it. Something about every relationship after Jason is... less idealistic. Older, more grounded, more aware that True Love doesn't solve every problem, and that relationships involve pain and work and sacrifice. And really, all I can say to this is a line stolen from Into the Woods: "Isn't it nice to know a lot? And a little bit... not."