So, er... where to start....
Last week I spent a lot of time going through my old emails and deleting a bunch of them - in case they're actually taking up physical space somewhere, 'cause I don't have any idea how the internet works. And rereading them was very interesting - even though I more-or-less remember those times (threeish years ago), I still was surprised. Surprised at how funny I was sometimes, and how clueless at others, and at the things I said and did that I'm not proud of. Surprised how little it hurt to reread my friendship with Leigh - how foreshadowingly off-putting he could be once in a while, and how much more often he was completely sweet and said the nicest things - and how I can now value the time we had together with no regret that it's over. Surprised at how denialishly half-aware I was of my feelings for Grey. Surprised how little I trusted or confided in Regi.
This Saturday my mom and I built a sort of flagstone patio-thingy in our backyard, which had until then been sort of a mudhole. Her dominant hand was incapacitated, and my brother was out of town, so Mom planted plants while all the physical labor fell to me - and it felt good. I hauled seventeen hundred pounds of sand that day - fifteen seventy-pound bags from the car to the backyard, and ten fifty-pound bags from the yard to the car - and who-even-knows-how-much more of dirt and mulch and stone. It felt good to be the one who can carry a bag of sand, or dig a trench, or lift rocks. And labor is so much more satisfying than exercise for the sake of exercise.
Plus now the yard looks nice.
That evening, after I showered off all the dirt of the day's yardwork, I dug some makeup out of a drawer and painted my face. Just because. It made me look like a drag queen. It was great. Hard not to laugh at myself, but if I laughed I looked like me looking weird, so I did my best to only laugh internally, and make drag-queen faces. Whatever those are. I washed it off.
Sunday... More yardwork. And housework. And visiting Oma - she was out of bed for the first time I'd seen in ages. She's skeletal. Her brain's half gone too, but she's still got enough of the important parts to be okay - no specific memory, but she knows where she is and who people are. And she's happier than I've ever seen her.
Sunday evening Regi and her friend and I went to the play Leah's been in - the Vagina Monologues. And it was fantastic - really, I only went because my roommate was in it, but it was amazing. Just a bunch of... well, monologues about vaginas, as the name says, but I was very impressed. I've never really been into the whole 'feminism' thing - them crazy feminists, and all - and never liked the word 'empowering,' but this really was. Empowering, and inspiring, and not about 'equality' or any of that nonsense, just... vaginas. Removing the stigma around them, making them beautiful. A couple of days have passed now, and I'm back to thinking vaginas are a little bit gross, but.... yeah. Anyway.
Aaaand.... Yesterday Marie and I went on a little hike, and talked about stuff, and... I don't know. I don't know if I really want to keep seeing her. I like her, sure, and it seems like she likes me, but it also seems like continuing our whatever-this-is (friendship?) might be more trouble than it's worth. She has so many other people in her life, I can't be important. And she's not very important to me anymore either. I don't know.
I'm going to have to start taking more pictures of people. Looking through Oma's old photo albums made it obvious that, forty years later, pictures of places and things just don't matter anymore.
Somehow writing this made it all sound so much less positive than it was in my mind....