Wednesday, December 28, 2011

A Fact About Me

Sometimes when I can't sleep
I turn on a fan
And uncover my legs
Close my eyes
And imagine I'm on a sun porch at dusk
Somewhere tropical
Windows open, wind coming up off the water, salt in the air and on my tongue
And I can hear calypso music
From a far off beach party
And I am not me
And I am not here

Tuesday, December 20, 2011

I Wish I Had a River I Could Skate Away On

The holidays are upon us. It's snowing! And this is when snow is still fun because it's "Christmasy." After Christmas, snow will be the thing that makes me want to punch babies. But for now, it's festive. It's neat! And it's not just snow--all the Dove Chocolates are shaped like snowmen and bells and the Hershey's Kisses have little bits of peppermint in them. You can even buy packing tape that's green and has reindeer on it. What is it about decorative packing tape that makes me want it so much?! And of course, there is my love affair with claymation Rudolph. The quickest way to make me write you off as a human being is to utter the words, "I don't like claymation Rudolph." How could anyone not worship him? He's the goddamn cutest little guy ever.

I do like the atmosphere of the holidays--the music, the snacks, the shroud of secrecy surrounding gift-giving, the adultery (Mistletoe? Come on...), the hustle and bustle...but there is something that always ruins it for me--the realization that I am completely and utterly alone in this life. I mean, is there anything more depressing than going to the mall alone during the holiday season? Maybe it's only depressing if you know that when you go home, you're also going to be alone. Ok, ok, I know I'm not completely alone. I have my mom and dad, my sister, her husband, and some friends. But I feel alone. My alone-ness surrounds me like one of those hug machines, except it's not comforting.

Today I walked across the glossy wood floors of the mall and listened to the Christmas music, smelled the tacos, ran my hand across racks of brand new leather coats--all the while feeling like an observer, like a foreigner visiting a strange new land, a land where people speak a language I've never heard of--the language of love and togetherness. Am I being too dramatic? It's just, sometimes I do feel like an outsider. I see older women in their stretch pants and their sweatshirts with sparkly snowflakes, with their butch haircuts and their brightly colored shopping bags, and I wonder--why not me? Because I know that even though those women are tragic in a way that is completely different from the way that I am tragic, at least they have each other. They're probably going to drive home together in a mini-van strewn with Tim Hortons coffee cups and water-logged paperbacks--evidence that life has been lived inside that van--and they're going to roll the windows down and light the cigarettes their husbands don't know they smoke while gossiping about their clueless sister-in-law who is annoyingly perky all the time, has a flawless glossy black bob and perfectly manicured nails, and who never rolls through stop signs or takes a long nap in the afternoon and forgets to pick up the kids.

Like I said, I have friends--great friends. And my family loves me. But sometimes I feel a little bit like I'm in the way, like I'm an inconvenience. Maybe it's that my mom and dad force me to live in a dank basement room and they keep me chained to my bed at night. Nah...I think it's more that I just need to figure my life out, or to get a life in the first place. For now, I remain a sad, lonely loner who carries an emptiness inside her the likes of which only the truly lonely know.

Merry Christmas!