Lonely in a crowd/Missing Pieces

I typically spend a lot of time alone. I live alone, don’t socialize that much outside of work. I’m comfortable with that most of the time, and feel less anxiety.

But sometimes I get lonely, and usually that happens when I’m around a lot of people. A concert, a ball game, a party where I don’t know a lot of people. I feel lonely, or more certainly “alone”. And I feel like I will never have someone who loves me. Or why don’t I have more friends? Why don’t these people care to talk to me? Why did I leave the sanctuary of my home to come out and feel this way?

I used to daydream about being in love. I wanted to be someone’s muse, someone’s everything. I guess you can tell I grew up on fairy tales and rom coms. Now I’m 38 and I don’t know if you can even say I’ve been in a serious relationship. I’ve definitely been in love, of that I have no question. But my last relationship was 11 years of long-distance “dating”. I feel like I’ve missed so much of the little things I wanted in this life. I’ll never get to walk through the halls in high school, hand in hand with my boyfriend. I’ll never get to wear someone’s letterman jacket. I’ll never get kissed on the front porch with my parents waiting inside.

Those things are behind someone my age, and now I’m even seeing the future things fading away. I’m not going to have children, something I was never quite sure I wanted but once the choice is taken away I’m left to grieve. I’ll never get to be a young bride, if at all. All I ever wanted was to be in love and be loved, and I feel like I need to grieve for that life. I can barely remember what I wore yesterday, but I can remember moments from the past so vividly that I get a lump in my throat.

Sometimes I feel like I must have had an amazing love story in a previous life. One so powerful that they couldn’t possibly let me have another great love this time. Maybe I’m still grieving for that previous life, and that’s the real reason I need it so badly now.

Lonely in a crowd/Missing Pieces

Home Sweet ‘Hood

I moved into a duplex five years ago, from a one-bedroom apartment. I was so excited to have a garage, washer and dryer, an extra bedroom for my office and crafting. And the yard, if only because it offered some privacy.

At the time of the move I noticed some unsavory apartments across the street but didn’t think too much of it. Then I moved in and found out it is basically a miniature “hood”. Lots of drug busts, several gun shot reports, cop cars blocking my driveway, domestic arguments in the middle of the street.

I’ve had a couple different neighbors, but the current ones are quite strange. They park their cars on their front yard. There was a broken down car parked there for a couple months, with flat tires, windows open, trunk open, and dresser drawers on the roof of the car. I was starting to think they were opening a junkyard or a Pick-n-Pull. They also have an oriental rug in their driveway, and most recently they brought out a floor lamp to use next to the BBQ. This is all in the front, as I can’t even see what goes on in their backyard. At least there’s always something to look at while I’m watering the rose bushes.

And I’ve found some interesting objects inside my fenced yard over the years. In the front I’ve found an almost empty bottle of vodka, a steak knife, a bike helmet, and a pumpkin with a hangover, although that was staged by a friend so I guess that doesn’t count. I recently cleaned out trash from the backyard as well and found beer cans, a pair of stiff boxer shorts, a stiff towel, a moldy pillow, dog toys, and other miscellaneous trash. Somebody must have had a wild party in my backyard and forgot to invite me.

I’ve had kids asking to retrieve balls from my yard. I’ve had dogs with diarrhea stop in my driveway. I found dead birds and unidentified bones. I’m pretty sure they weren’t human bones, but I didn’t get close enough to check. My friend and her husband picked me up one day to go to a movie and pointed out that next door “grandpa’s asleep outside in a recliner”. And he was still there when I got home.

Just to make it even more interesting, this past year the neighborhood cats decided that my front yard was their personal litter box. Sure, the dirt is soft and I try to keep the weeds at bay. But I didn’t realize that was a big flashing sign for cats that says “Come poop on me. And barely cover it up.” I tried some strong-smelling Cat-Be-Gone but these cats must be smell-impaired because it hasn’t deterred them at all. I’m starting to think these cats are in a nose-less street gang and maybe I’ve been incorrectly blaming the neighbors for feline antics.

Home Sweet ‘Hood

Cheese and Cracker Brain

The first thing I’ve learned about starting a blog, is not to do it at 11pm on a Sunday night, when I have to get up for work in the morning. This caused a condition I call “cheese and cracker brain”, which is what happens when you have something on your mind that you need to take care of before anything else can occur, be it sleep or accomplishing anything at work.

This condition is so named because the first time I realized it was happening was before my niece’s second birthday, when I was asked to bring cheese and crackers to the party. Days before the party, I was awake late at night thinking about what type of cheese and what kind of crackers to bring. Cheddar, Monterey Jack, possibly pepper jack for my spicier sister. Whole grain crackers, maybe different shapes. It may not sound like a lot, but it was enough to keep me awake most of the night and then enough to keep my brain from focusing on work the next day because I was anticipating going to buy the cheese and crackers. If I had just gone to the store and got the darned cheese and crackers, I could have gone on with my life.

So the same thing happened with starting a blog. What was I going to write about? Who would ever read this? What funny stories do I have to tell? These thoughts ran through my head over and over last night.

I have a friend who insists my life would make a great comic strip or TV show. That makes me think that she either has an even more boring life than I do, or the shenanigans I get into are actually funny and/or interesting. But since I can’t draw and I can’t act, blog it is!

Cheese and Cracker Brain