Audience Advisory

Most of the time my posts are happy and upbeat. Because most of the time I am happy and upbeat. Because I am human, sometimes I’m blue. Today is one of those days, ergo this is one of ‘those’ posts. If blueness bums you out, or if you can’t stand the thought of my being bummed then feel free to visit the Laughing Cat. This is my diary, after all. If I can’t be honest here, then my alternative is to start up a private blog elsewhere, and I don’t really want to keep up with two. And I swear, if I get ONE email that says, “your blog is depressing,” I’ll hit the roof.

Consider yourself warned. (Consider myself appalled that I have to ‘prep the audience’ when I want to write something honest – really…what’s WITH that?)

Yesterday, during lunch, I went to the Cherry Hill Mall. I did this solely to pick up my Rising Star ring, which I had sized up to fit my middle finger. I had a meatball sub at Quiznos, then I went to buy a birthday card for my Dad, whose birthday is tomorrow. (The time, it flies….)

I picked his card, and then my eyes rested on a Grandfather birthday card. It stung. I’ll never buy one of those again. I turned away and two steps down the aisle…Grandmother cards. Twelve years since the passing of one, two past the other. My children will never have great grandparents. Have I waited too long?

Picture frames: “Grandparents make a family complete.” Toys: a little plush Maltese dog.

The emotions just swelled. From the 80’s music playing overhead to the giveaway 2005 calendars, that Hallmark was filled with raw, broken shards from my past. I managed to escape (after paying, natch) with my diginity intact and my mascara unsmeared. But, my God, I’m still screwed up.

I went to bed early last night and had restless dreams of being young and helpless, and riding rollercoasters without harnesses, and shadowy figures.

What happened to turn the young girl who wanted to move to New York (then LA, natch) and be a TV star into an Excel spreadsheet-slinger with an easily re-fillable job in a sunset industry? Am I really a Rising Star or a well-behaved cog? My face is a mess, and I refuse to keep going back to the doctor and taking the SAME antibiotic pills over and over — that can’t be good. My weight is troublesome…yet eating is one of the few activities I enjoy and look forward to.

Yes, I have a wonderful husband and a great family and a pretty house in a desirable neighborhood and a job. And I’m thankful, EVER SO thankful, for all of those blessings.

If my life were a BASIC program, it’d look like this:

] 10 print “I wake. I go to work. I go home. I eat. I surf the web and/or play my game. I go to bed.”
] 20 goto 10

There are so many things I used to enjoy. Reading, for one. Bowling was another. Window shopping. Getting my nails done. Crossword puzzles. I used to go to the gym…even though I never enjoyed it. Why have I stopped these things?

I have GOT to get my $#!! together, to put it bluntly.

Thanks for reading the whole way.

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