Monday, September 23, 2013

something tastes different/maybe it's my tongue...

...something tastes different/suddenly I'm not so young.

I've been awash in so many goings on, both in and out of my own mind, that I've been too inundated to do much more than keep my head above water, show up at obligations, drink the more-often-than-occasional whiskey, have important conversations, and occasionally zone out at Z'otz. Which is where I currently am, sipping an iced lavender mocha, because sometimes a girl needs a fancy drink to type out her pithy thoughts.

Getting engaged has really messed with my psyche, y'all. On so many levels. One of them is coping with the idea of getting engaged. When Ravi and I broke up, it was partly because he was steadfastly opposed to the idea of ever getting married. I never thought I was ready to get married when we were together, but I thought for certain it was in my future. And somewhere along the way, I stopped believing that. I don't mean that in a morose way. I mean, I lost the insistent belief that I would one day get married. Even when Richie and I decided we wanted to get married, even when we got the rings from my parents and had them repaired, even when I gave them to him, knowing their purpose...I never fully embraced the idea that I was now someone who wanted to get married. The morning Richie proposed, I told Erin, Christie, and A.L. how BIZARRE it felt. How I had honestly asked Richie to repeat the proposal, because I felt like I'd flubbed it (my response was a slack-jawed "umm...okay. yes. okay. I'm sorry, I totally screwed that up.")

Every day, I ask myself if this is something I want to do. I know that sounds awful, but I think that's a question worth asking. An affirmation, if you will. Because the answer is always yes. I just need to...familiarize myself with the situation. But on the other hand, there is the pressure of bliss. As in, I feel like a fraud for not being constantly blissed out about my engaged state. I'm not. I'm happy, I'm excited, I think about other things, I am occasionally sad, I'm indulging in nostalgia on unprecedented levels, I'm opening what are apparently some delicately healed wounds with regards to my family, I'm on flirting with some dangerous thoughts in regards to eating habits (but working very hard to keep them in check). I am a bundle of emotions. I suppose it makes sense that I've spent a lot of time reflecting on my early college years, because that's the last time I really felt that exhilarating mix of joy and depression. 

Because, there is something sad about going into another chapter. I try and tell myself that I'm still me, that I don't change in relation to my married state, and that's fine, but it's still A Big Change. I want to honor that and I feel like honoring that comes with a certain amount of pathos. 

Along with all that are a slew of other weddings, travel, wedding planning, the truly nightmarish task of shopping for a wedding dress (which has pushed me to accept A.L.'s offer to make my wedding dress), my hair is falling out (no, for real. like, bald spot falling out!), being really busy (but really happy) at work, trying to carve out time to be a well-rounded person (i.e. I read books late into the night and don't get enough sleep), yelling at myself for falling prey to the rat race of corporate life, still being happy, dancing to the point of dehydration at wedding receptions, filming silent movies, feeling guilty about missing out on dance parties and dinners, feeling guilty about not writing here, having so much on my mind that writing here seemed know. All that. 

I don't know who still reads this (or who is still reading this truly mangled entry), but if you are, thanks. Maybe now that I've barfed all over the page, I'll feel a little less like there's too much for me to even get into here. I hope it's like getting back in the habit of writing in get all the bullshit out of the way, so you can get to the good stuff. (This is why you should never turn in your first draft of a paper! Unless you're me and you procrastinate, then stay up rewriting the same paragraph five times. But don't do that. It gives you ulcers.) 

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