I grew up in a family where my parents were not only fascinating, but madly, passionately in love. To an extent that occasionally embarrassed me-I mean-who wants to see their parents being all romantic all the time? I was a BIT young to fully appreciate the nature of their relationship-this was a couple who met on a blind date as basically teenagers, and were joined at the hip until my mom died at 50. For ten of those years, my mom was so sick-but? My dad never made it an issue. I would watch....and I'm not even ever sure how much my mom knew I saw of what was happening-but my dad loved her with a depth I can't even fathom. I'm not joking. I have seen all my friends play musical partners, and I've done the same. It's not a judgement, it's just the way we are. But? At the same time? My friends and I yearn for that true love, soulmate experience. It's so funny-I read a lot on "how to date" in magazines, and listen to bad dating stories, and-it seems to me that we just can't figure out just being ourselves and honest is the way to be.In my mind, that's the only way to find your lid, so to speak. My girlfriends obsess over dating sites, and the surprising thing is that the guys are just as longing. Sometimes I just wish I could grab two people's hands and say, here-you guys are perfect for each other. I find it endearing, and a little shocking that my guy friends are just as sensitive to the idea of true love. I have to say-my dating life has been a series of bad online dates, mixed with some more serious "are we or aren't we gonna try this?" relationships. I have to say- I am definately not one of those girls that dates just for company-I wish it were a little easier that way for me. I usually am hoping to fall, and to have the guy fall back. And? It's hard feeling like all your friends have surpassed you, and to wonder why you're still waiting. I have offers-and in a way-that's WORSE. Because I am starting to feel like I am the problem, despite evidence to the contrary. I mean- this week alone, I went out with a very moody Finance guy who waited til we were seated to start complaining about American women. I smiled and nodded, and drank my martini. Didn't say much, which is quickly becoming my litmus test. I have realized if I don't feel like talking, I probably don't like the guy a lot. I do have to say, at least I'm not starting every conversation with "I was hit by a car" or "You know-I hit my head really hard." Trust me-that is a true conversation killer. Yeah-note to self-learn to know what my personal business is. I mean-being an open book only goes so far.....
Thursday, February 2, 2012
Today sucked.It was one of those days where my life could not feel any more wrong. It was really- a bad day. it was a day where my money issues collided with my family issues, which collided with my work issues.Yeah-I have issues. I remember when I had a life I created, and where I was happy, and today? Just highlighted it. It was one of those days where-I just wanted to go back to where I was-just slide right on back. I'm tired of fighting with my lawyer,aka Daddy over every little crumb of treatment I can get. I'm tired of going through the motions of being a professional patient. I am tired of my own positivity. Seriously. I can only be like that sometimes. Our regularly scheduled Jessa will be back tomorrow, Hopefully. I am so frustrated.
Wednesday, February 1, 2012
I was just reading an article on home decorating. And in it the author describes an Indian Restaurant located next to Bergdorf's and above the Paris movie theatre. As I read the description, I recognized it. The restaurant was named Nirvana, and we used to go there whenever we saw a show or just wanted a beautiful place to eat. It was a restaurant that was decorated like a tent, with colors like red, and green, and blue, and the hangings were spangled with little round mirrors. It was a penthouse and you could see all the views of Central Park all around the dining area.Elephants were everywhere, and the waiters wore Nehru jackets. I always ordered the Tandoori chicken and poori bread. Meg would get chicken Vindaloo, and mom saag paneer. And we'd share. Oh-and the walls had murals. In retrospect, I laugh, because the elevator doors were scenes from the Kama Sutra. That sort've went over my head. Probably my mom's,too. I suspect my dad just didn't direct attention to them. I spent my 21st birthday there, with Meg, and my mom. This was definately a good birthday-because after Nirvana, we went to see Arcadia, which was by far one of my favorite plays ever to see. And trust me, I have plenty. It was very funny at dinner, just Meg, Mom, and I. My mom wanted me to order a drink, and for some reason, I felt too self conscious. Meg and Mom took full advantage, though, and in the pictures, you can see me with a ginger ale, while Meg has,like, a vodka tonic. That was probably my favorite birthday celebration. After that evening, mom never ever went to a show without getting me a ticket.