Wednesday, September 05, 2007

Back to School, Back to Business--Back to Me

I hate summer. Always have. It's hot, and I get sticky, and body parts that were never meant to be revealed must be, for sanity's sake, on show. When I was in college, my parents had a pool. An in-ground, azure blue beauty. This was in Pennsylvania. No one there had a pool, but my parents were kind of reverse snobs, I suppose. They didn't want to join a country club, they did want to swim, so they put in a pool. I spent most of the summers inside, with a book.

I tell you this because it suddenly--d'oh--occurred to me on Monday night that Labor Day was over. The summer was over. And though I didn't have a school to return to, I could stop mooning around acting as if the world owed me a living. So I poste haste made a To Do list and Tuesday morning, I Did. As I am, again, doing today.

Here's what I'm doing:

1. Writing. Something I call, for now, The Night My Brain Burst & Other Stories. I don't know where it will go or what it will be. I do know that the fear of starting something that doesn't have a form petrifies me. Which seems good enough reason to do it.

2. Focusing on myself, rather than other people who shall be nameless. Everytime I think a thought about the Nameless One, I substitute my own name and cogitate on that. As in, The Nameless One is playing games with this not calling business becomes I am playing games with this not calling business. True. I am. I don't want to be out there dangling at the end of an unanswered I Want. Better to pretend that I don't want. Yesterday I returned my cousin's call. We had a funny, loving conversation that went on for exactly the right amount of time. She was delighted that I called her back. Small steps...small steps....

3. Isn't 1 and 2 enough? You want 3, already. Okay, here's 3. That little girl with Molly in the photo? She's my granddaughter. I'm choking as I say it.

4. Do I really think that all of you thought I wasn't old enough to have a granddaughter? You should know that my fear--you don't have to tell me it's nuts--is that you'll say, Oh, my, can't be your friend anymore. Didn't realize you were that old. That much out of our league.

5. Trying to unpack and deal with the shit I have about age. Be prepared: you'll be hearing a lot more about it, because--just because I'm working at not hiding any more. A long time ago, someone said to me, "You talk a lot, but you don't say anything." Weeeelll, not exactly true, but close enough. I am a BS artist, I know. I can sling a phrase and wield a pen well enough to provide my self with cover. I'm trying to stop that.

7 comments:

  1. I hate summer too. I too would rather be on the I don't want end of a conversation than the I want. I also have a granddaughter and I too am NOT old enough to have one!

    but being old enough is a really good thing.

    And you're sounding much better!

    Just sayin'.

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  2. I, too, am old enough to be a grandmother. Except that I don't have any kids, which makes the grandkids thing less likely I suppose. But this blog isn't about me, it's about you. I can't wait to read your forthcoming, yet-to-be-formed memoir.

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  3. I LOVE summer and I love the pool, which is why you have lovely skin and I have weird spots.

    I come from a white trash family where my SIL became a grandma at 36. So being a grandma ain't no thing.

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  4. It's so good that you are writing! Love the title.

    #2 is also good.

    I'm sorry I missed Tim Gunn on Oprah! Maybe I can find a rerun later...

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  5. You sound right on track, Jane,
    from one too young grandmother to another.

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  6. I've gone the opposite direction in recent months - kind of folding in on myself and negating people. It's a little more lonely, but feels a lot safer here, now.

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  7. sturdy girl: I hear ya.
    queen: I'm glad I'm alive too!
    margaret: part of my blog is the comments of my readers - so, write away!
    sueb0b: ummmm, I'll show you my weird spots if you show me yours.
    ratphooey: did you see his show?
    denise: yes, it was knowing that that helped me 'come out.'
    les: This is a new outward direction for me too. I've done the folding in and found the loneliness to be too much.

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So--whaddaya think?