February 17, 2005

[Eliza Hodgkins 1812]

Dear Diary,

Hello, old friend - old, dusty, long forgotten about friend, and keeper of my buzzing honey bee thoughts.

Yesterday was a tough day following a terrible evening. I forgot to pay the power bill (I know!) and so was living la vida dark while my roommate was at her boyfriend’s. Roommate provided the cash to bring our account current and to keep our apartment well lit. My status as an adult has once again come into question.

“But you’re still young!” some might say.

I’m sorry, but 28 is not actually young anymore. It’s simply not old.

When people refer to me as a woman, I cringe. Woman? Hardly. Girl person, more like. Or woman shaped creature.

Perhaps I am the Perpetual Pubescent. A Twittering Tremulous Teen? Or just plain irresponsible, just plain immature.

Maybe I could be tossed into a maturation chamber, get a fat hen to sit on me for a few more years until I’m ready to be a card carrying member of my 30’s.

Stellar roommate is a cure for all ills, though. Not getting upset. Coming to the rescue. And being the amazing conversationalist she is, just a few hours in her company and all reverts better than back to normal, normal being the state in which I’m always a bit ready to burst out of my seams. Still, my anormal normal beats yesterday’s feeling of complete deflation.

Now, once the cure has been administered, what is there left to do, dearest diary, but watch some LOST and drool all over Sawyer’s backside.

Lickety lick, lick LICK that boy up. Dear diary, if you had a tongue, we’d be bathing him together with our love saliva. And he'd like it.

Slick, stickety, slick, slather, sip.

What else, dear diary, should I now confess?

I saw the Jesus Man on the bus again, yesterday. Jesus Man is taller than me. He wears soft shirts. He has eyes so bright bluish and see through I can hardly stand to look at them. They're shadowed. He has the most kissable mouth but his nose is almost too small for his face, the shape of which is masculine and tender. He has a high forehead and dark, soft, short hair. Jesus Man sometimes reads a very heavy bible. At first I could hope he was simply a student of theology. I could think he was reading the bible for literary purposes and literary purposes alone! But there was a calm about him that seemed to suggest otherwise. Plus, I want him. I have a perverse fascination with religious zealots. The monk boys who would hand out flyers in New York? All those beards? Oh my! Yes, I want him, so he’s most likely a born again. DAMMIT.

Have I failed to mention, diary, that Jesus Boy has the loveliest beard, cause he does. He has a delicious beard.

But the other day I saw him hand out pamphlets. He didn’t give me one. I don’t think he likes me. I suspect he knows I’m a heathen / recovered slut, and wants nothing to do with me, which doesn't seem fair, really. I mean, shouldn't he be trying to *save* me? Isnt' that his job as a zealot?

I also suspect that he knows I stare at him. I suspect this because he’s caught me staring several times, and still I stare! He catches me and then pretends to sleep so he won’t have to catch me again. When he closes those frightening preceptors of his, I find I can look straight into them without blushing.

Please forgive me Jesus boy lust object, for I have a sinner’s heart and I cannot help myself. Your pamphlet, I saw it, says “Jesus loves you so much….IT HURTS.”

And I think:

HURT ME JESUS! HURT ME! PLEASE, YES, JESUS IN HEAVEN AND WITH ALL YOUR MERCY, HURT ME.

Oh, Jesus boy, where is this bus taking us both?

Later that evening, I went to throw away my coffee in a garbage can last night and stopped myself – just in time – from coming into direct contact with a rat’s tail. A living rat’s tail. A rat, more scared of me than I of it – and so he must have been terrified – that scampered away as I screeched loud enough to hear myself even though I was listening to my walkman.

Rodents are cute. Rodents are interesting. Rodents in Los Angeles aren’t as large and intimidating as rodents in NYC. But these wild bringers of the plage, smaller than my foot, terrify me. And my hand nearly touched one.

Live and let live, I say. It's his street as much as it is my own. Moreso, even. I wouldn’t want the rat to come to harm. Unless it was in my apartment, and then I would gleefully egg my cats on towards the rat’s violent, bloody, horrible end. THE UGLY BEAST, my ugly heart would cry, MURDER IT DEAD!

Sawyer nearly made me forget that rat. Nearly.

What else?

I’m crampy and tired today.

But I’m wearing a cute outfit! An eyelet skirt, just below the knee. Of course, I’m unshaved. Wooly legs, winter bush, a femalian hairsuit to conserve my body heat until spring. Besides, I’ve got blonde leg hair. You can’t even see it unless the sun glints just so, and then each individual hair sticks out at attention, turning my legs into dandelion wishes.

Today I have a wishborn heart, waiting to be pulled apart. Who will pull me apart, dear diary? Or will it be a few? Attach me to horses and then have me drawn and quartered. Perhaps I can split into four parts, like a single celled organism, and become four Audras. A good, noble Audra. A moral relativist Audra. A Libertine Audra. An eeeeeeeeevil Audra with eeeeeeeeevil clever plans; I could have a British accent!

I have no time for romance, dear diary. Only time for crushes on actor’s backs, Jesus boys, and too great a love for my own EGGO. Leggo my Eggo and maybe then I can find love.

Until then, nothing comes between me and my ENORMOUS pile of books sitting on my desk. Tonight I think I’ll make a list of which books to read first.

And perhaps buy some odor eaters for my shoes. I don’t often wear socks and the foot duds I’m wearing right now? I can actually smell them. I bet my co-workers can smell them. Poor co-workers. Poor Audra. Poor dear, dear diary.

I love you, diary. Secret keeper. Keeper of my honey bee thoughts.

Kisses,
Audra

[UvaGirl]

I’m sorry, but 28 is not actually young anymore. It’s simply not old.

When people refer to me as a woman, I cringe. Woman? Hardly. Girl person, more like. Or woman shaped creature.

Perhaps I am the Perpetual Pubescent. A Twittering Tremulous Teen? Or just plain irresponsible, just plain immature.



So strange. I was thinking similar thoughts (about me, not you) jsut this morning. Unfortunately, it brings up terrible memories of that Britney Spears song ~ Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman:p

But seriously, I think I'm perpetually 17. And when I'm not 17, I'm about 23. But not my real age. Not 28. <sigh>

[Gn2Dlnd]

I drown in your literary riptide. My mere typings are but a teaspoon, found on the beach.

[Eliza Hodgkins 1812]

So strange. i was thinking similar thoughts (about me, not you) jsut this morning. Unfortunately, it brings up terrible memories of that Britney Spears song ~ Not a Girl, Not Yet a Woman:p

But seriously, I think I'm perpetually 17. And when I'm not 17, I'm about 23. But not my real age. Not 28. <sigh>

A fellow 28-er! We should start a club because those are MY ages, as well. I either feel 17 or 23. Exactly! How strange this is. And I, too, have thought about the Britney Spears song...and cringed. LOL.

[Not Afraid]

I'm 29. Do I count?

[Eliza Hodgkins 1812]

I'm 29. Do I count?

Yes. You always count.

[UvaGirl]

Hehehheh...Britney. So cringeworthy...

Back to the subject at hand. 28 is a strange age. People expect you to be a grown up, with grown up ideals & goals & accomplishments and yet, in most cases, I feel less grown up than I did in my early twenties. Maybe it's fear. Maybe it's an unwillingness to grow up. But to be honest, I'm kind of fine with it. If I feel like this when I'm 40, however, I might be worried...:D

[dsnylndmom]

Audra, you are so wonderful! I love to read anything you write, whether it's literary genius like above or a "please put the seat down" note taped to the toliet. :)

[Ponine]

It's odd, but when I think of myself when not giving much detail to the thoughts, I tend to forget that I am indeed a mere month away from 36.
I still see myself as the youngest one in the office, though I am, and since my coworkers feel compelled to refer to me as a youngster or little girl, it keeps me thinking that I am still about 25.

Never mind the fact that a great many people dont believe that I am my age. And in fact believe the myth , and perpetuate it, that I am in fact and under 30 person.
And now that I am on the weight loss kick, if I do in fact lose weight, althought that would be wonderful, it would only increase the misconceptions.

I dont feel like an adult. However I do tend to act like an adult. To steady and calm for the young set, too set in my ways.
But I dont refer to myself as an adult.....
How odd that stikes me now. And how odd that I dont seem to be alone in this thought.

(But as a side note, I love electronic billing)

[Cadaverous Pallor]

I'm 29. Do I count?Apparently, you count badly. :evil:

I'll be 28 in 3 months. Will I enter a similar malaise? I dig my age, wherever I'm at, pretty much. I think 27 is all grown up...isn't it?

Aud, you should totally hit on that Jesus man. Can't you see that the reason he didn't give you a pamphlet is because you make him think sinful thoughts, and they make him extremely nervous in your presence? He doesn't want you to repent. You should teach him a lesson in sin. ;)

Was it a rat or a mouse? We caught some beautiful mice in our apt and set them free. They were the cuteset things ever. I could hardly bear to part with them.

[Eliza Hodgkins 1812]

(But as a side note, I love electronic billing)

Trust me, I'm looking into it!

I do get what your saying, and I know age is entirely subjective. With the added years to our life span (thanks, medicine! **** you, medicine?!), we can mature slower, I guess. But I've long struggled with the concept of adulthood. Is it thrust upon us at 18? Or is it a gradual building up of something? It seems like we're treated like kids for FAR too long. Like we're excused from maturing into rational, adult people. I think I prefer the idea that children be treated as if they are people. That's not to say that they can't have fun, of course, but I think Americans tend to infantalize young adults. It leaves them (ME) a bit unprepared for the world at large.

Then again, I know plenty of people my age who seem to balance being resposible while maintaint their youthful vigor and sense of fun, soooooo....

I have no idea what I'm talking about, really.

[Not Afraid]

Apparently, you count badly. :evil:



Not at all. I've been counting this way for years!

[Eliza Hodgkins 1812]

Aud, you should totally hit on that Jesus man. Can't you see that the reason he didn't give you a pamphlet is because you make him think sinful thoughts, and they make him extremely nervous in your presence? He doesn't want you to repent. You should teach him a lesson in sin. ;)

Was it a rat or a mouse? We caught some beautiful mice in our apt and set them free. They were the cuteset things ever. I could hardly bear to part with them.

It's not that I don't like being 28. It's just that I wish I was more self-sufficient at 28. At least I think that's what I mean. Feel my age! I want to feel my age. Heh.

Ah, to teach him a lesson in sin. Maybe, maybe, maybe. I'll have to keep stalking him.

Adorable mouse story. But this fellow was certainly a rat. Rat tail. Rat eyes. Rat body. And, like I said, cute. Just WAY too close to my hand for comfort.

[Ponine]

I do get what your saying, and I know age is entirely subjective. With the added years to our life span (thanks, medicine! **** you, medicine?!), we can mature slower, I guess. But I've long struggled with the concept of adulthood. Is it thrust upon us at 18? Or is it a gradual building up of something?

Is it subjective? I wonder.. I just forget. I have to stop and do math to remember half the time.
When the people all around me have birthdays that start with 4, I forget that I'm not all that far away from that myself.
I think we're adults at 24. Yeah, I know you're legal at 21.. but come on. Most , or at least more than a few, are still at home after 18.

[€uroMeinke]

I’m looking swanky today. Black chords, lavender turtle neck, and my charcoal cashmere jacket. The jacket of course makes the outfit and defines my swankyness. It subdues the lavender which otherwise would be a bit too loud for the conservativeness of the workplace. Of course, I’m wearing it because I’ve been cold all week and I haven’t done laundry and was faced with a lavender turtleneck.

Of course, it’s raining now. I recall that was supposed to happen yesterday, and since it didn’t I never imagined that it might do that today. My cars a long way off. Now to find that umbrella with my department’s logo on it, so I can amble humiliated, yet dry and swanky back to my car where I can go home to enjoy the early starting weekend.

You’ll notice, I haven’t mentioned anything about work. It’s because I haven’t done any. We’ll I took a few phone calls, caught up with my colleague in Chicago, read my email, read LoT, various Live Journals, and traded a few IMs. I just want to go home right now. Because tomorrow, I took a vacation day and I want my vacation to start as soon as possible.

Age – These dang 28 year olds, those are playful years when the body still accommodates. Try 43, and age of no real meaning, other than, “He’s in his 40’s.” I’ve entered the realm where all that really matter of my age is what decade. Years, they pass all too quickly. Still, I resist being in my 40’s – I still want to play, to discover, to indulge – and somehow have managed to do so (as has, most thankfully, my wife)

More important still, today is my mother’s birthday. Seventy-seven years ago today she was born in a small town in Germany. Born scandalously soon after her parents marriage, she witnessed first hand the horrors of WWII as friends were murdered before her and whole neighborhoods were burned in liberation.

She was 17 when the war ended, and took a job assisting a lesbian couple’s photography business, where she learned to touch up boudoir pics, drink cognac, and smoke cigarettes. These are the times she thinks of with fondness and no regrets.

At 28, My mother had immigrated to Canada, where for a time she lived like a pioneer as my father worked the Alaskan Highway, her only company, a record player and a group of silent Indian women who would come sit next to her on her porch. But by 28, she was in cosmopolitan Vancouver, hanging with artists, writers, and self-proclaimed entrepreneurs who would never become successful.

At 43, she had immigrated again, now to America – and more importantly, California. Her husband, finally successful ( A Disney subcontractor mind you), making good money, completely unaware of the tumor, slowly growing, that would change their lives forever.

And I am her ungrateful son. Today she’ll not be fussed over, for she hates that so. But she’ll get a phone call, a chat, an ambiguously promised visit. No doubt, she’ll spend the day on her play station, driving that taxi, or watching a favorite film, like Quills. For she too still like to play, though her body now is much less forgiving than mine.

[FEJ]

Beautiful Entry..
always leaving me breathless..

[dsnylndmom]

That was such a wonderful post €uroMeinke :snap: :snap: and Happy Birthday to your mom.

[Eliza Hodgkins 1812]

Of course, I’m wearing it because I’ve been cold all week and I haven’t done laundry and was faced with a lavender turtleneck.

That made me laugh.

Love, LOVELY stuff about your mother. At 17, she was already the girl I hope to be at 40. Tres interesting life she's lived. And what good taste she has (Quills!).

Thank you for the read.

[€uroMeinke]

And what good taste she has (Quills!).



Heh heh, she always had a thing for the naughty Marquise ;)

[Gn2Dlnd]

€, I am now reduced to 1/2 tsp.

[Not Afraid]

BTWA, the laundry is almost done.

[Motorboat Cruiser]

Great post, €uroMeinke, and warmest wishes to your mom.

[Cadaverous Pallor]

€'s best medium: Journaling. :snap:

Why do the stories of our parents always seem so amazing and exotic? By the time my Dad was my age he'd traveled all through Europe on a motorcycle, staying in various countries for brief periods. I mean, he lived in Greece for a while, working at a restaurant, drinking with Greeks and smashing dishes while dancing.

Just what the hell am I going to tell my kids??

[Mousey Girl]

At 36 I find myself pondering, am I really 36? I don't act like other 36 yr olds I know...but then just how am I supposed to act. I don't feel like a mom either. I know that I am, but yet, I don't feel like it. Even when I have a houseful of other people's kids I don't feel at all momish. They flock to my house, to play, to talk, to be kids and be noticed. I enjoy doing all of those things. They are good kids. Do their parents not do that for them? Am I filling a void for these seekers of guidance? Am I up for that task? Why do I feel guilty for turning 2 of these creatures away in the rain?

My mom is now 67. I do not see her as old. She has lived a long, and not always good life. Her stories of her youth make me realize she never had a childhood. I have her to thank for most of my views on life. As she has gotten older I have watched her outlooks change and become more narrow. It is scarry. Will I become bitter in my old age?

[mhrc4]

i feel like a baby now.... im only 24....

[BarTopDancer]

Apparently, you count badly. :evil:

I'll be 28 in 3 months.

Hush!

Auda, beautiful writings as usual! Can I lick Sawyer with you? :evil: We can have a Sawyer lick fest. Perhaps they should create a Sawyer pop. How many licks does it.....

[Not Afraid]

Which one is Sawyer? (I've seen 45 minutes of one show last week and I saw no more).

[UvaGirl]

He kind of looks like Viggo Mortenson....

[Not Afraid]

Is he the blond drug addict with the short nose?

[UvaGirl]

No that's the Hobbit (Dominic Monaghan). Sawyer's the kind of rebellious, tough guy one.

[Not Afraid]

OOOOOOH! He's a Hobbit! I thought he looked familiar.

Sawyer is the one that hangs with the girl with dark curleyish hair? (Sorry, 45 minutes is not really enough time to deserve to be asking these questions.)

[BarTopDancer]

http://www.wchstv.com/abc/lost/joshholloway.jpg

[Not Afraid]

That's the guy I was thinking of, BYD!

And, how did I miss know that was a Hobbit???? Merry or Pippin, right?

[UvaGirl]

That is a seriously nice photo:)

Yeah, Dominic Monaghan was Merry in LOTR, et al - he's kinda cute in a
hobbit-y way

[Claire]

Beautiful posts, Audra and Chris. :coffee:

Hot guy, BTD. :snap:

I felt older at 29 than I do now at 31 and I felt a hell of a lot older at 24 than I do at 31. Weird.

My own parents' stories are amazingly boring. :p Astonishingly so. Oh well. They're my mammy and pappy and step-pappy and step-mammy or whatever and they're the only four parents I have.....except for my ex-step-mammy, Michelle, for whom my mom was lamaze coach back when my pappy and Michelle's ex-husband were still best friends and my own mammy and pappy were still married, although it was around that time that my mammy was dating/doing my friend Daryl's pappy Nelson and Daryl's mammy Nora Mae had just married his friend Chad's pappy Carl. But like I said, quite boring.

[Scrooge McSam]

Is anyone in your family referred to as "Uncle Dad"?

[€uroMeinke]

Hush!

Auda, beautiful writings as usual! Can I lick Sawyer with you? :evil: We can have a Sawyer lick fest. Perhaps they should create a Sawyer pop. How many licks does it.....

Are there any lickable women on this show - or is it male oriented?

[Morrigoon]

My favorite phrase, "I'm too young to be this old!"

I too am suffering the "have I only come this far" problem of being 28. I look around and see 1. Still no property ownership 2. Dog still living at my mother's (really makes me feel like I'm still living like a teen) 3. Not married, which means there's no way in hell I'll get to start having kids before 30, 4. Still barely scratching out an almost living. I thought I'd be making decent money by this age. At least enough to pay my bills. Nope.

Watching my childhood friends with their houses and their husbands and discussing or already carrying their second child, well, it definitely leads to a feeling of inadequacy on my part. I was the smart one (also the ugly/fat one). I was supposed to break out ahead of everyone and succeed like no other. Why am I still living like a teen, barely making bills, when they've managed to get so settled?

You are not alone, EH.

[Not Afraid]

Well, depressing or not, I'm 29+13 and still have not had children. I have had a career and we own a house, but I'm still where I am at. And, that's OK with me. Life is sure interesting.

[Ghoulish Delight]

My own parents' stories are amazingly boring. :p My mom's is as boring as toast. My dad's...is mysterious. I only know snippets, and more situations than complete pictures. Inattentive (possibly alcoholic?) mom, mostly raised by his aunt, military boarding school as a child, failed out of college, joined the peace corps, worked in Colombia in the peace corps, eventually earned his masters, and is now the most upstanding, prude person you'll meet (save for my mom, of course). It's clear to me that there are HUGE chunks of that story that are far more interesting that I'll eventually fill in somehow.

[BarTopDancer]

Are there any lickable women on this show - or is it male oriented?

There is at least one totally lickable woman on this show. Maybe more.

[Eliza Hodgkins 1812]

Are there any lickable women on this show - or is it male oriented?

Pretty much only ugly people died in the plane crash. Heh.

[Eliza Hodgkins 1812]

You are not alone, EH.

We're also in very different positions, I must admit, as marriage and kids are not really on my list of desirables, and home ownership is but a distant flicker of a maybe dream.

I just want to have a savings account with actual money in it, and all my bills paid on time. That's my goal. I want to to comfortably afford this little rented life of mine.

I shudder to think how much I'd be freaking out if I was super interested in marrying and having a kid. My friend was determined to at least have a baby before 30, so she just had one. Told the guy he could be with her or not, but she was getting pregnant. And he was cool with it. Turned out even even loved her and wanted to marry her.

[Claire]

Is anyone in your family referred to as "Uncle Dad"?

Um, does my husband count? ;)

[innerSpaceman]

Home ownership. Baby birthing. Spouse attaining. Career achieving.

None of it's necessary. There is nothing in life that you have to DO. Nothing that you need to HAVE.


Concentrate instead on who you want to BE. Decide in every moment who you want to be next, and then BE that person. Don't worry about what to do or what to have. All the perfect things to do and to have will flow quite naturally from who you are going to BE.

[tracilicious]

Chin up old people! If we were living 200 years ago, at 28 you would have a bunch of kids (a few of them considered grown) and possibly grandkids if you married off your daughters at thirteen or fourteen. Then you'd be hunched over your needlepoint at the end of a day in which you had worked like a slave grinding your own flour, or some such nonsense, pondering what you are going to do in a few years when your nest is empty. Those of you in your forties would be really old and probably dead within ten years or so. Infantile youth is a relatively new luxury.

I'm feeling really old lately. Am I really having my second child? Am I really 24? (Having kids makes that number seem a lot higher, by the way.) I see myself getting older and it feels so surreal. Like I'm watching someone else's life. That being said, I'm so grateful not to be 17 or 21 anymore. I hope I'm getting smarter.