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First, my father is home from surgery and doing alright. He got home around 4:30 on Friday afternoon, resembling a bionic man with his complex sling and pain pump attached by a catheter into his neck. He's on heavy pain meds and bummed about the whole ordeal.

He keeps acting surprised when I do nice things for him, which makes me wonder what kind of heinous bitch I must be most of the time. I'm trying not to dwell on that.


On Thursday, I was watching the snow beginning to fall while it was still dark out at the train station.

A guy saw me trying to get a shot of it, and he said, "That's the kind of thing you'll always remember, the first snowflakes in the street lamps." Through the train window, I watched snow falling as the sun came up all the way to Manhattan, shimmering all the pale colors of early winter light. The silver water was mesmerizing.

That afternoon, I didn't hear about the plane crash until I got home, as it happened like a minute after I got on the train. I'm amazed at the pilot's skill and what I could only understand as benevolence of the universe in the course of events. It's weird because when my brother and cousin showed me the report on CNN, I looked at them stunned, like, "No, today wasn't that kind of day."

That evening, we were all sitting around the dining room table eating Chinese take-out, and I kept thinking that there were people who survived a plane crash that day, who were treated for hypothermia, who didn't have significant injuries.


I talked about them in great detail on my knitting blog, but I made a pretty bitchin' pair of legwarmers.

Words cannot describe how much I love these things. I am on a bit of a mission to bring legwarmers back to the prominence they deserve. I have a really bright pink utilitarian pair that I wear under my running pants, but these are my fashion-y ones.

Kind of Anthropologie-ish, I think.


I had lunch with my mother and grandfather today. We ate at a place overlooking the Shrewsbury River, and we were watching ice flows slushing by, occasionally swirling according to the tides.

My mind wandered during conversation, and I found myself looking out at the ice, or more specifically the water between the ice, feeling transparent and adrift.

I don't know why, but it's often my habit to feel bad about myself when I'm around family, and today was no exception. I had to stop my little tide of negative thoughts and remind myself that I actually do have accomplishments, and I try to be a good person pursuing worthwhile things.


A lot of people have brought up the subject of dating with me lately. I don't know what kind of time line you're supposed to follow when you end a four-year living-together relationship, but it seems most of my friends and family think I should be working on finding someone else.

I'm okay with it, and I'm going on dates when people ask me, but I have a bit of a defeatist attitude still. I'm trying to change that.

I keep wishing that I'd start talking to this handsome neighbor guy I always see when I go running, or that I could bump into someone already at a place I want to go, but you'd be surprised at how few attractive single guys buy cheap seats at the opera. Also, I'm hopelessly shy, and when strangers start talking to me, I get this really uncomfortable smile that probably looks more like a grimace.

I tried to remember how I met my previous boyfriends, and they don't seem like good strategies necessarily. I mean the idea of a common interest is practical, but I'm not likely to join another cross-country team or co-ed frat/sorority at this stage in my life. I really like meeting guys through friends, but well, too many of my exes know each other right now. I like the idea of starting with a clean slate.

I'm trying to work on what a terrible first impression I make with people too. Consistently, my friends and boyfriends tell me that they either couldn't stand me at first, thought I was a huge bitch (because they didn't understand my sense of humor), or assumed I would be this boring stick-in-the-mud because I dress like someone's mom and try to treat people well (when I'm not being a bitch). The people who end up sticking around usually say I'm nothing like they thought I would be, which tells me I must do some really strange things or act incredibly thoughtlessly when I first meet people. These same people then wonder why I am agoraphobic.

With regards to dating, I think that if someone is going to fall in love with me, they're going to have to get used to a lot of erratic behavior, intense awkwardness, emotional immaturity, and impulsive decision-making. At least at first, until I decide they're not scary and I mellow out. So maybe my first-date self isn't the worst first impression to give. It will be a good screening mechanism for the skitterish and faint of heart.


The solution, I think, to all of the above, is to swim and run more and concentrate on school and work and family. I think I need to be blindsided by love and life, and stop caring about all the details.


If I were reading my own blog, I'd get annoyed by these little lines of asterisks that are supposed to indicate a segue among topics in what is essentially stream of consciousness rambling. I'd be like "Get it together dumbass, organize some cohesive thoughts, or write separate posts for each topic!"

To that extent, if you are as demanding a blog reader as I am, I do apologize. I can honestly say I'm being lazy and complacent, but I'll try not to abuse it or make it a habit.

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About this Entry

This page contains a single entry by Vicki published on January 18, 2009 7:22 AM.

Holmes was the previous entry in this blog.

Proud to be an American (I know!) is the next entry in this blog.

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