Saucer of Milk, Table for One.

"An unusual series of events will teach you to never underestimate the abilities of a master Ninja or pastry chef. "

In typical Annie fashion, I immediately follow a "get over yourself and buck up" post with a bit of a pity party post. Feel free to glaze over this one, but I find that writing helps me work through the jumbled mess that is my brain.

No need to go into great detail, but I'm sitting here, in my office, feeling immensely hollow and lonely. If memory serves me (which it rarely does), the last time I felt this exact feeling - my mom gave me a kiss on the cheek, got in her car, and headed back for Portland. I stood in the doorway of my house with my little Dax snuggled on my shoulder- who was all of 2 weeks old - ....and sobbed. Even with all the frustrations, which are par for the course during family visits, she helped me more than she'd ever know. And now I was alone.

For introverts, such as Yours Truly, loneliness is a very common feeling. Whether you are physically alone - sitting on a park bench wondering why the hell you didn't think to bring a loaf of bread for the ducks, or gazing around you at a sea of acquaintances - contemplating crossing through the crowd to the open bar at the other end of the room. It's not that I'm uncomfortable being alone. It's far from an alien feeling and I tend to amuse myself thoroughly (which has added pleasure realizing there's no one around to heckle you in all your silliness). Rather, there are just those moments when you feel like you're standing at the edge of the ocean - imagining that just beyond the horizon, the earth ends. That's all there is.

"There are pills for that", you say in an uninterested tone. I don't doubt that there are. But why silence raw emotions simply because they aren't of the positive variety? I fully believe everyone needs a good cry now and again. For me, it helps me feel human. It's not going to be the easiest of hikes out of this sudden rut, but all I can do is put one foot in front of the other.

***ALERT: The train of thought derails in 5....4....3....2.....*** I remember taking a similar hike with my family, when I was still wet behind the ears. 11 miles up a steep mountainside in Canada to the chalet where we were to sleep that evening. If you didn't make it up, you were likely to be devoured by a bear in the wee hours of the night (or at least, that's what my dad told us). It was cold and rainy. My mom tried to cheer us up with promises of wine and cheese at the end. Don't judge, I grew up in a Catholic family that was all for sharing the good 'ol blood of christ with the masses. Besides, SOMETHING had to make up for the Catholic guilt that was sure to follow, no? As it turns out, she mistakenly left the wine & cheese in the trunk of the car and damn near sacrificed us to the bears in a blind rage. I did get some M&M's out of the deal, though, so all wasn't lost.

See? I feel better already. No, not really. It tops the (ever-growing) list of phrases Annie f*cking despises: "It is what it is."  *sigh* I think I need some chocolate.
***You'll be astounded to learn this week that, in certain less-than-legitimate circumstances, monkeys do come in barrels, but they are no fun whatsoever.... ***

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Kitty

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Saucer of Milk, Table for One.

"An unusual series of events will teach you to never underestimate the abilities of a master Ninja or pastry chef. "

In typical Annie fashion, I immediately follow a "get over yourself and buck up" post with a bit of a pity party post. Feel free to glaze over this one, but I find that writing helps me work through the jumbled mess that is my brain.

No need to go into great detail, but I'm sitting here, in my office, feeling immensely hollow and lonely. If memory serves me (which it rarely does), the last time I felt this exact feeling - my mom gave me a kiss on the cheek, got in her car, and headed back for Portland. I stood in the doorway of my house with my little Dax snuggled on my shoulder- who was all of 2 weeks old - ....and sobbed. Even with all the frustrations, which are par for the course during family visits, she helped me more than she'd ever know. And now I was alone.

For introverts, such as Yours Truly, loneliness is a very common feeling. Whether you are physically alone - sitting on a park bench wondering why the hell you didn't think to bring a loaf of bread for the ducks, or gazing around you at a sea of acquaintances - contemplating crossing through the crowd to the open bar at the other end of the room. It's not that I'm uncomfortable being alone. It's far from an alien feeling and I tend to amuse myself thoroughly (which has added pleasure realizing there's no one around to heckle you in all your silliness). Rather, there are just those moments when you feel like you're standing at the edge of the ocean - imagining that just beyond the horizon, the earth ends. That's all there is.

"There are pills for that", you say in an uninterested tone. I don't doubt that there are. But why silence raw emotions simply because they aren't of the positive variety? I fully believe everyone needs a good cry now and again. For me, it helps me feel human. It's not going to be the easiest of hikes out of this sudden rut, but all I can do is put one foot in front of the other.

***ALERT: The train of thought derails in 5....4....3....2.....*** I remember taking a similar hike with my family, when I was still wet behind the ears. 11 miles up a steep mountainside in Canada to the chalet where we were to sleep that evening. If you didn't make it up, you were likely to be devoured by a bear in the wee hours of the night (or at least, that's what my dad told us). It was cold and rainy. My mom tried to cheer us up with promises of wine and cheese at the end. Don't judge, I grew up in a Catholic family that was all for sharing the good 'ol blood of christ with the masses. Besides, SOMETHING had to make up for the Catholic guilt that was sure to follow, no? As it turns out, she mistakenly left the wine & cheese in the trunk of the car and damn near sacrificed us to the bears in a blind rage. I did get some M&M's out of the deal, though, so all wasn't lost.

See? I feel better already. No, not really. It tops the (ever-growing) list of phrases Annie f*cking despises: "It is what it is."  *sigh* I think I need some chocolate.
***You'll be astounded to learn this week that, in certain less-than-legitimate circumstances, monkeys do come in barrels, but they are no fun whatsoever.... ***

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