Posted by: Ingrid | December 14, 2007

I think I might be angry

I don’t know what to talk about or where my words are or why I haven’t taken time to write. There’s so much going on right now and so little time to process.

I could talk about the interview I saw last night with a guy who rides along with criminals and films their crimes. I could tell you how terrifying it is to see someone talk about how he’s just the photographer and how he has no moral reason to help the person, even if they’re going to get hurt. He just holds the camera.

I could mention that this is just a weird Christmas. Sometimes it’s funny, like kicking off our first annual Cheesy Turtleneck Christmas Party tonight and buying a hideous sweater in purple, blue, and bright red. Sometimes it’s exciting, like buying our first tree and smelling pine-y goodness every time I open the door to our little place. Sometimes it’s sad and hard as I find myself making the same cookies my family’s made for years and trying not not to drip tears in the dough. Sometimes it’s lonely and empty and I sit wondering how I can no longer have a mom.

I could talk about how there are NO JEANS that fit anywhere and how that is a problem since I just cleaned out all those pairs of pants and jeans that I’ve been saving for “some day” that I just realized are all to big anyway and don’t need to be in my closet. Seriously, when I get pregnant I’ll go buy new clothes, I don’t need too big pants from 3 years ago hanging around. But now I have hardly any pants, which presents a problem. And I’d really like to know why it is that my pants all of a sudden get too big and look funny but I don’t lose weight. How fair is that? I could also make the suggestion to women everywhere that having your husband hide your scale is one of the best things that he could do, ever.

I could talk about how sometimes I don’t always want a solution. Sometimes I just want to be allowed to say that thinking about spending Christmas Eve Day and Christmas Day by myself massively sucks (not my DH’s fault) without being told about how so-and-so when her husband was working for the Coast Guard was gone for three months at Christmas every year and they had small children and they just made another day Christmas and it all worked out great… Yeah, don’t really want to hear about that, thanks. Just like I don’t want to hear suggestions about who to call and where to invite myself like I’m some sort of stray kitten that needs to be dropped on someone’s doorstep. *arches back and hisses*

I could talk about the fact that even though mind reading has never been in my job description, it’s slowly working its way in, as people turn in orders to the effect of “order that sort of red (maybe it was orange?) calendar book thing-y that you ordered for that professor on the other order that you maybe placed last year (or maybe the year before?)”. I could tell you exactly what I think about orders like that and people who seem to believe that we not only buy things for them but think for them as well. And people, THAT IS NOT OUR JOB. I could also go on about the line between good customer service and enabling people to be idiots by cleaning up all their messes and doing their job for them.

I could explore how angry I get when I think back to conversations around the time of the funeral. Those people who said things like, “So when people call you to see how you’re doing, what’s the best thing to say?” or “Call me any time, day or night, just think of me as your second mother.” when they were really just full of crap.

I could talk about regrets and running and how scary it is that all of us are in the process of dying and how to keep from feeling like I have to make Christmas happen for my family and why being angry feels so much better than feeling vulnerable. I could probably talk and talk and talk… and it still wouldn’t change anything or make it better.


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