Romeo And Juli-Nyet

So today is the last day I can say that I'm in my twenties. I'm 29! There, I said it one last time. Tomorrow I will be thirty! When my mother turned thirty, my dad threw a party for her. About halfway through the shindig, there was a house full of people (because she had a house when she was 30, but never mind, eyes on my own paper), but my mom was nowhere to be found. Finally, my dad went upstairs, and there was my mother, in her bedroom, frantically reading from a huge book. He was all, "?" and with tears in her voice, my mother earnestly said, "Do you realize that I am 30 years old and have never read Romeo and Juliet?"

And what do you say to that, really? Now, I'd like to think that I'd never let anything tear me away from a good party, but then again, I've read Romeo and Juliet. I've actually never read Hamlet, but that keeps me in good company with Beverly Cleary, another lone English major who's never read the tale of the doomed Danish prince. Wait, Hamlet's the Danish prince, yes? I know Macbeth's the Scottish king, 'cause that's what you call him in theaters unless you're feeling particularly tired of self-important drama folk and want to piss them off.

So I guess despite my Hamlet-less life, I'm good with the Shakespeare. I played Bianca in Taming of the Shrew, I've taken multiple Shakespeare classes, and even read a ton of his stuff for my own edification! All of his sonnets. Random plays like Two Gentlemen of Verona, and that really boring one. What was it? Oh, Coriolanus. Thanks, Google.

Anyway, what was my point? Oh that's right, I'm not sure I have one. Except to say that although I have read Romeo and Juliet, I feel like I should have a list of burning desires to fulfill. But if I were to make a list of things Id like to do before I die, what would I put? I've bungee jumped. I've been to Germany, Greece, Turkey, Italy, the Caribbean, and most of the 50 states. I've been on a motorcycle. What other things do people put on their lists? Have a child, I guess. I would like to have one in the future, but not now, and it's bad enough Im relating to "Sex and the City," I'm certainly not about to go all "Ally McBeal" with my life.

So I doubt I'll come up with an awesome 30th birthday crisis to rival my mother's Shakespearean meltdown. I suppose I'll have to just take tomorrow as it comes, and be happy that I get to spend the night singing karaoke and hanging with my friends. I'll be celebrating my birthday in the company of people I love, who love me back. And I guess thats really worth more than a bunch of random activities I could put on a list.

But maybe I'll read Romeo and Juliet again on Thursday, just to play it safe.

©2005

You are Kate from Taming of the Shrew! You do
things in your own way and in your own time.
Not easily pushed around, you rock on
girlfriend.


a (real) shakespearean quiz
brought to you by Quizilla

Single Living Is The Pits

I have an avocado pit in my freezer. I mean, who doesn't, really? But my avocado pit is my special friend.

Maybe I should back it up. Okay, so I've learned over the past several months that maybe I'm not as good with being alone as I'd originally given myself credit for. I was finally able to get another apartment, and while I craved my space when I was living at home with my parents and siblings, once I was in my own place again, I felt very lonely. Sure, it's nice to be able to decorate, and walk around naked, and have the TV all to myself. It's wonderful to not have to deal with others when I don't want to.

But I've never been in my own place when I was single. I've lived with my family, Shannon, and with my ex-husband, Matt. For a year before getting married, I did have my own place, but Matt was over all the time. And at night when I went home, there was often no one there, but I always knew that there was someone not so far away that loved me more than anyone else in the world.

That is the hardest thing, I think. Putting the key in the door, and knowing that there isn't anyone inside who cares, or even knows that you're home. It sort of feels at odds with the concept of home to begin with. There won't be someone on the other side of the door to kiss you hello, or welcome you to bed, or to tell you he loves you. There won't even be anyone out there that night thinking that he loves you. It's sort of humbling. And very lonely.

But you know, that's how it is right now. And I always thought I was someone who could be single, no problem! But it is harder than I realized.

So anyway, after about a week of feeling very sad every night in my new place, I decided to stop at the supermarket on the way home. If there is one upside to single living, it's the control over the refrigerator that can basically make you lose weight without thinking about it. I decided I was not going to keep any junk in the house, but rather, make conscious food choices each night, bring them home, eat them, and then be done with it. No late night snacking! Because ironically, I am far too lazy to actually leave my house to buy junk food.

Part of my dinner purchase was an avocado. I truly love avocados, but had never actually bought my very own. Yet there I was, peeling my avocado (owww!) and preparing a healthy dinner in my own kitchen. And then going to eat it while watching "Felicity" in my own...well, bedroom, because that was the only place I had cable at the time. Don't judge me! So as I'm trying to figure out what to do with this avocado, I see the pit! And I have this obsession with seeds, and I'm not even sure if the avocado pit is a seed? Because I really suck at science. Or, you know. Basic knowledge of life facts. But so yeah, there is the avocado pit -- this cute, round, little ball! I am not exactly sure why this avocado pit gave me this surge of renewed hope, but it did. All of a sudden, for the first time since I'd moved into my apartment, I was happy to be spending the evening there. It was like this tangible reminder that there is beauty to be found where I least expect it, and if I pay attention and just chill out a little bit, I can find myself standing in random places, crying (because I had PMS), and laughing (because I might get trite and corny, but I am not actually insane, and I realize that crying about fruit (vegetables?) is bizarre), over things like an avocado pit.

And then I can take the avocado pit and put it in my freezer as a remembrance of my epiphany, and a symbolic reminder for the future, to not take things too seriously.

And then I can name the avocado pit Appy, based on Bobbi's suggestion, and scare people who come to visit me by showing them said pit, and telling them the story...

I think it's time for me to get some cats.

©2005