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2006-05-18 - 2:35 p.m.
Literary Metaphor of the Day: Amorous Mouse
"He is transparently smitten with her; he is comic and tragic in his hopeless love. He makes her think sometimes of a mouse singing amorous ballads under the window of a giantess."
Busy as hell this week; summer season madness has begun and is in full force. I'm training two new student workers this week and going a little crazy trying to juggle my own work and not leave them hanging in between giving them tasks and walking them through systems and procedures. Working nonstop from 7:50am to 6:00pm is getting in the way of my blog reading time. Haha. Ha.
What else is on my mind? Uh, my impending pseudo-incarceration. [If there are any readers who need to ask, you don't wanna know; I'm dreaming I have an audience or something.] Truth is, I'm ok with it. Another hoop to jump through. Some day I may ruminate on all this stuff; it just hasn't seemed particularly worthy of a blow-by-blow.
Heading up to San Jose tomorrow for a Saturday barbecue at Jenn's with our old UCSB crowd. It will be Tom and me, the two gay boys, and the girls who all, except Eva, now have families and are dispersed in a swath from Sacramento to Santa Cruz. [try diagramming that sentence, I dare you...] Huntington may join via the CalTrain, which would be great.
There's still a slight worry about not having much in common with them anymore, but I certainly enjoy their company. I don't feel superior in any way, nor inferior; it's just that the difference between my life and theirs -- their raising of kids and mortgages and suburban concerns (whatever the fuck that means) -- sometimes seems so far removed. Sometimes I still feel like I'm living adrift like a 23 year old recent graduate. Sometimes I envy their relationships and their parenthood (but do I envy Jenn's divorce and single motherhood and humongous McMansion mortgage payment?). Then again, Eva is in the same single thirtysomething boat as Tom & I are... so it's not really about a gay/straight gulf or anything.
I think about what I'm hiding from them, which is and has often been quite a few things. However, I also realize that I won't exactly be an open book to people I only see once every year or two, no matter that they were once played integral parts in my daily life -- a life I can easily get nostalgic for.
Suddenly I'm feeling a little sad, wondering if at any time I was ever on the verge of living some kind of cozy, suburban, coupled life. I know, I know: sometimes it seems boring as all hell. But sometimes I sort of long for the idea of a mouse singing amorous ballads under my window.
Pass the tapenade.
tento a gente combinar:
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