Yep, I totally stink at balancing work, home and blog!! My world is just starting to get some rhythm back to it, so I hope to do a better job of posting here. Three posts a week is my new goal. Let's see who can keep me honest (thanks to Bookgirl whose friendly "where the heck are you?" message prompted this entry). But I have to warn you...baseball playoffs are only a week away, and they do take up a lot of my free time in the evening (my Yanks need me, you know). Plus, hello, new TV shows! I've got sitcom romances to catch up on. It is difficult to keep track of all my imaginary flat screen friends on How I Met Your Mother, The Office, Scrubs, 30 Rock, etc. But I promise to try to give equal attention to my real flat screen blog friends!!
Speaking of favorite TV shows, do you know they are turning Sex and the City into a movie? Now, of course, I kept up with all the talks preceding the start of filming - Sarah Jessica was in and then holding out, Kim Cattrell wanted this sex scene and not that, Kristen Davis just wanted to have a job doing something else besides bad Loreal commercials - you get the picture. The thought of a continum to the finale (which I still have saved on my Tivo, almost 3 years later!) made my heart twitter. The possibility of catching up with the girls at the coffee shop practically brought tears to my eyes.
And now they are actually filming it in NYC. Go to Bookgirl's blog for visual proof (they are shooting scenes in her building!!).
And now, I don't know. I am having second thoughts. Shouldn't a TV show end on the TV screen?
I fear they are going to screw it up. I worry they are going to twist the plot too much. Do I want to peak into the "married with children" lives of Miranda and Charlotte? Not really...I live that each day. Do I want to watch Carrie marry Mr. Big? Absolutely not (and if they do I promise there will be an entire entry devoted as to why this is a terrible choice). They picked the right ending the first time. Great books leave you wondering...great tv shows should too.
So don't kill the magic, Darren Star! If it turns out the last season was all Carrie's dream or the characters go to jail for their questionable morals, I promise you will hear from me. Please don't ruin my imaginary flat screen TV friends lives by stretching their little worlds onto a huge movie screen. Bottom line - don't f*ck it up.
Yet, if Ross and Rachel should happen to make a cameo at the coffee shop (they must have moved uptown by now), at least then I'd know how they are doing too.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
Saturday, September 8, 2007
Itchy, Itchy
Recently I have been involved in several conversations about relationships - what makes them work, what causes them to go wrong, etc. Most of my friends fall into two categories - single yet desiring marriage and married but wistfully recalling singledom. Most in the married category have been betrothed for 6 or more years. They have started to glance back into their early twenties, wondering what could have been if they have turned a different corner. What if they had moved to California instead of stayed in New York? What if they had gone to College A instead of College B? Yesterday one of my closest friends eloquently speculated, "What if I hadn't been such an insecure prick who felt the need to have a girlfriend since I was 13?" What if?
These questions can make your head spin, and I know my friends in the single category wrestle with them as well. However, when you are one half of a married couple these inquiries are taboo, as if by asking them you are proclaiming the imminent downfall of your marriage. Not true (well about half the time it's not true since our divorce rate is over 50%). Instead, I believe it is a very natural rhythm for a relationship; some have even called it a seven year itch. Around the six or seven year mark in a relationship you start to really realize (maybe even accept) that what drives you crazy about your spouse is just not going to change. You understand that despite the hours and hours of conversations (some heated) the person to whom you have given your life is going to possess this negative trait - forever.
For example, I am an anxious person. I try to manage it, suppress it, and contain it. Yet there are times when I just cannot do so. Before we travel, for example, I slowly unravel my cool exterior to reveal my twitching self who must pack every blanket, medicine, and tidbit for Princess or else I am uneasy. During these times I have been unreasonable, moody and unapproachable. My husband and I have had endless talks about my anxiety. He, Mr. Laid Back, hates when I am so tense. Sometimes, he finds these harried episodes of mine funny, which just ticks me off even more. So now as we move into our seventh year of marriage he confronts the very real possibility that yes, this is who I am. This anxious, control freak person is the one he said "I do" to, and now he needs to know if he can really live with it. Perhaps he peers backwards into a time in his life when he could just be carefree, when no one lingered over him asking if he packed the baby's monitor or "if we should bring the nasal aspirator?" What if he had pursued his original dream of being a personal trainer? What if he had moved with his parents to Florida? What if he had never taken that catering job and worked with me? What if?
Over the past summer I have struggled to truly accept something about my husband. He is a workaholic. He claims he isn't, that it is just the nature of his business. And it is, but it is a business in which he chose to make his livelihood, thus feeding this addiction. Our conversations about his job are like the movie Groundhog Day. The same discussion recurs over and over: I say, "You work too much." He says, "It will get better soon." I say, "You said that last year and now you are working more." He says, "You knew this when you married me." I say, "You said you were going to find a new job." He says, "Well, I didn't. I love what I do. Why can't you support me?" And then the "talk" usually comes off the hinges and moves into the unpleasant, unfamiliar realm of a "fight."
After the wistfulness of college days and innumerable options fade away, we, the itchy married ones, realize that turning different corners would have only lead to different problems. Instead, we must begin to face new "What if" questions, ones that focus on the future rather than our pasts. What if I just accept this about my husband? What if we don't eat dinner together most nights like I want us to? What if I just accept this about my wife? What if she loses it every time she forgets to pack extra diapers? What if?
I guess we just don't know. Can a anxiety ridden woman and a workaholic man have a happy, fruitful marriage? And who wants to deal with it if the answer is no? Ugh...not me. That would be too painful to face. But what if?
So Mr. Laid Back, can you hand me that back scratcher over there? I think we've got an itch.
These questions can make your head spin, and I know my friends in the single category wrestle with them as well. However, when you are one half of a married couple these inquiries are taboo, as if by asking them you are proclaiming the imminent downfall of your marriage. Not true (well about half the time it's not true since our divorce rate is over 50%). Instead, I believe it is a very natural rhythm for a relationship; some have even called it a seven year itch. Around the six or seven year mark in a relationship you start to really realize (maybe even accept) that what drives you crazy about your spouse is just not going to change. You understand that despite the hours and hours of conversations (some heated) the person to whom you have given your life is going to possess this negative trait - forever.
For example, I am an anxious person. I try to manage it, suppress it, and contain it. Yet there are times when I just cannot do so. Before we travel, for example, I slowly unravel my cool exterior to reveal my twitching self who must pack every blanket, medicine, and tidbit for Princess or else I am uneasy. During these times I have been unreasonable, moody and unapproachable. My husband and I have had endless talks about my anxiety. He, Mr. Laid Back, hates when I am so tense. Sometimes, he finds these harried episodes of mine funny, which just ticks me off even more. So now as we move into our seventh year of marriage he confronts the very real possibility that yes, this is who I am. This anxious, control freak person is the one he said "I do" to, and now he needs to know if he can really live with it. Perhaps he peers backwards into a time in his life when he could just be carefree, when no one lingered over him asking if he packed the baby's monitor or "if we should bring the nasal aspirator?" What if he had pursued his original dream of being a personal trainer? What if he had moved with his parents to Florida? What if he had never taken that catering job and worked with me? What if?
Over the past summer I have struggled to truly accept something about my husband. He is a workaholic. He claims he isn't, that it is just the nature of his business. And it is, but it is a business in which he chose to make his livelihood, thus feeding this addiction. Our conversations about his job are like the movie Groundhog Day. The same discussion recurs over and over: I say, "You work too much." He says, "It will get better soon." I say, "You said that last year and now you are working more." He says, "You knew this when you married me." I say, "You said you were going to find a new job." He says, "Well, I didn't. I love what I do. Why can't you support me?" And then the "talk" usually comes off the hinges and moves into the unpleasant, unfamiliar realm of a "fight."
After the wistfulness of college days and innumerable options fade away, we, the itchy married ones, realize that turning different corners would have only lead to different problems. Instead, we must begin to face new "What if" questions, ones that focus on the future rather than our pasts. What if I just accept this about my husband? What if we don't eat dinner together most nights like I want us to? What if I just accept this about my wife? What if she loses it every time she forgets to pack extra diapers? What if?
I guess we just don't know. Can a anxiety ridden woman and a workaholic man have a happy, fruitful marriage? And who wants to deal with it if the answer is no? Ugh...not me. That would be too painful to face. But what if?
So Mr. Laid Back, can you hand me that back scratcher over there? I think we've got an itch.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Can Someone Hand Me a Towel?
If you didn't read my previous post, this one won't make sense until you do. I'll give you a minute....
Whew. It was a long one, but as you can probably tell I was having a bad week. I did turn down the new job. Surprisingly, they came back with a counteroffer, a guarantee in writing, and a few other tidbits. While it was not the total package I desired, it was a strong gesture of good faith. So I'll do the job for a year, and then I can decide if I want to continue in that position or return to my old one.
So, someone hand me towel. The Big Boss wants me to wash the egg off my face.
Whew. It was a long one, but as you can probably tell I was having a bad week. I did turn down the new job. Surprisingly, they came back with a counteroffer, a guarantee in writing, and a few other tidbits. While it was not the total package I desired, it was a strong gesture of good faith. So I'll do the job for a year, and then I can decide if I want to continue in that position or return to my old one.
So, someone hand me towel. The Big Boss wants me to wash the egg off my face.
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