To the pinch-faced JHU alumnus....

To the pinched-faced JHU alumnus with the overflowing backseat of stuffed animals: judging from the way you hitched yourself to my bumper on this morning's commute, you were not a physics major.

No love,
me

A landlord named "Lettuce"?

Among the questions I have to ask myself lately, I did not expect to wonder: "Do I want to rent a room from someone named 'Lettuce'?"
(Click to enlarge. Anyone know how to force blogger to display the full image size without it getting all blurry??)

short reflections... and... thank you.

I'm eking through the days.

I found a place to live and am now working out details on a moving date (July), getting rid of books and clothes and mapping out the next steps.

It's a lot. I am overwhelmed.

But despite the darkness, I am constantly humbled by kindness. Friends, coworkers, blog buddies, family, neighbors... sweetly offering support, understanding, empathy, an ear, a shoulder, friendship, camraderie, silence... whatever.

No one has judged.

I feel utterly floored. I don't know how to thank you all. Your stories and comments and emails and thoughts and even the kind looks in your eyes, I am tearing up just thinking of it. You don't even know it but you are saving me now, lifting me from fires and darkness and self-criticism and shame. How do I possibly express how much it means? I just don't have the words.

Thank you.

PS. You don't have to comment again (doing so in Google Reader is a pain anyway). I can tell that you're stopping by and I just wanted to tell you how much your thoughtful gestures have meant since I didn't get a chance to respond individually.

What jobs did you hate?

I was driving to an appointment recently when I heard severe thunderstorms were on the way. I glanced up at the sky to see the clouds roiling and snapped both these pix (taken within seconds of eachother -- see how different the clouds look?).

When the sky darkens, my spleen wants nothing more then to curl up with a good book and a cuppa tea and revel in nature's symphony.

However, shortly after the tornado watch was announced, I raced home wondering what was I supposed to do if I encountered an actual twister while driving: leave the car and dive into a ditch, or stay in the car? Which is it? (I'm pretty sure the standing advice is, you're screwed, with a hearty BWAHAHAHA from the universe.)
Anyone *like* the idea of being a storm chaser? (I mean, the idea is fascinating but how do you tamp down that survival lobe, the most significant part of the brain that's been tweaked and honed since the dawn of man? The one that says "HOLY &*%$#, that is a swirling tower of death and dismembered kittens and OHGHD it's heading THIS. WAY." Because I'm pretty sure I'd want out of the job at that point.)

Still, storm chaser sounds exotic enough. But what would be your most dreaded job? What task would you avoid no matter HOW much money? Or, what would be so boring that you'd rather be unemployed?

Something I haven't wanted to discuss

If you're in a relationship, sometimes you probably feel like you're fighting a caged death-match with an invisible spider monkey. And the monkey is rabid. And you don't have any legs. And then a buffalo jumps in there and starts head-butting everything and your face catches on fire and there is a general atmosphere of chaos. -Hyperbole and a Half's relationship advice

This isn't something I know how to talk about. Indeed, I hesitated posting this because it's so highly personal, and while I like to dredge up embarrassingly funny TMI stories, I still play by unspoken rules: DNDO. Do Not Discuss Others. (Well, unless they're a proselytizing stranger.)

I try to honor the privacy of my friends and family. This is *my* online journal and thus topics are limited to *my* neuroses.

And so I am woefully unprepared for how to talk about this.

My husband and I separated recently.

You don't spend 17 years with someone and then walk away from eachother easily. It is agonizing. Wrenching. Extremely painful. I drive home from work having imaginary conversations -- with my boss, his family, my niece and nephews. Everyone wondering what happened? Even in these imaginary conversations, I cry. And I cannot explain it. Sometimes death seems like an easier loss to discuss. But the death of a marriage? The death of dreams and ideals? How do you talk about those?

I spent some time thinking about the stigma of divorce. How I will have this label, be judged. Then I thought well, there probably isn't a person on this planet who has not felt the pain of an ended relationship. Most people have even experienced both sides: being the one left, and leaving. It's absolutely and utterly wretched either way.

It once took me 4 years to get over an old beau (before husband). The stages of healing happened almost imperceptibly. I drove a lot then, just to have a private place to sing aching songs of loss. One day I noticed 5 minutes had gone by where I didn't think of him. Then 10 minutes. Then 20. It was a very slow process. I learned the hard way then that it cannot be rushed. It's like a physical wound -- if someone stabbed you in the heart, however long it would take to mend is what it takes. You just cannot speed up the process no matter how hard you try.

But oh my god, living in that in-between stage is awful.

Relationships are complicated. Anyone in one knows it constantly takes huge leaps to bend and shape two lives together.

To love is exhilarating. To lose that love one of the most painful experiences one can endure. While suffering, it's hard to imagine anything could be worth that much pain.

And yet... I still believe in that old cliche: it's better to have loved and lost then never to have loved at all.

If you see me in the hall, the supermarket, a BBQ, I will not know how to talk about it.

I probably will steer the conversation away as I won't want to cry in front of you.

I won't know how to tell you what went wrong even if I think I understand in my heart. And even then, I will doubt myself as I rewrite the story of a relationship gone south, constantly shifting the "why" in an earnest attempt to understand.

I asked someone dear to me recently, eyes welling up with tears, "What do I say?" She looked at me kindly and, with a hug, said, "Those who love you won't ask why."

She didn't ask why.

Despite the pain, I'm trying to look at our relationship with a sense of gratitude. But how do you thank someone for loving you?

A grateful murmur of thanks to those who understand that "why" doesn't come in neat 140-character tweets, or even lengthy blog posts. I am too choked up to write much more.

"There were some things I wanted to tell him. But I knew they would hurt him. So I buried them and let them hurt me." ~Jonathan Safran Foer

"Relationships are like glass. Sometimes it's better to leave them broken than try to hurt yourself putting it back together." ~Author Unknown

wordless Wednesday: what REALLY goes on at night.