Stagnant
To paraphrase (okay, plagiarize) my blogging friend and unbeknownst-to-her soul sister, Tiny E, as you may have noticed, when the going gets tough, the tough stop blogging. I'm done, people. I'm fresh out of blogging inspiration for you.
It has been exactly a year since my LA Times essay ran, and I have had exactly nothing published since then. I told myself I had a year to coast off the glory, but if nothing else had been published, I was no longer entitled to call myself a writer. Stripped.
When the Redbook article ran last month - which was something I pitched back in November - I thought for sure, by now, I'd have a brand to promote, a reason to want people to visit this blog. As it is, I've blogged less than ever and some of the least inspiring stuff since I first started. I was thankful for no noticeable spike in traffic, no feeling that anyone was going to be disappointed by what they found. No opportunities, lost.
It has been four years since I've been at my job, lived in my apartment, and lived in LA. And other than some new gray hairs and smile lines to accompany some small newfound knowledge, everything about me and my life is exactly. the. same. as it was four years ago.
A few weeks ago, I was on a date when the guy started talking about how he couldn't go to his 20 year reunion because he was going to be the only one not married with kids. "Don't be ridiculous" I laughed. "Your 20-year reunion is four years away!"
And later, after I stopped laughing, I suddenly second-guessed the entire relationship, wondering if he really didn't see himself married in four years. That was like, forever from now! Not only would I be married, but hopefully I would have kids. How could he not picture himself in family mode in what seemed like ages down the line? And then, once I got off my imaginary high horse, I remembered that, four years ago, I in no way thought I would be single at 32, and certainly not as single, if not more, than I was at 28. At least at 28 I had a favorable decade on my side. Now I am gray hair, laugh lines, biological clock, and why-on-earth-are-you-still-single-stigma attached to a less fun and less confident girl than I was four years ago. I may be smarter and more sane now, but dammit, part of me feels like I had more to offer back then.
Let's talk about my apartment for a second. About a month before my lease ran out, I started negotiations with my landlord. We all know it's a renter's/buyer's market, so I actually managed to get them to build me an entire new kitchen with more modern fixtures and - the cherry on top - a washer/dryer. If nothing else, that one contraption will change my life significantly once it is installed sometime within the next few weeks. And I am excited - BELIEVE ME. So excited that I don't think I will ever be able to move until I can afford another place with the same equipment, which will be like, never. Because, also, as part of my negotiations, they did not raise my rent. (!!!) Which leaves me feeling like I will be in this apartment forever, or at least as long as I am single, which will be forever because if I don't get some change in my routine soon, it will be five years, six years, ten years of the same story, and part of me is just wishing I'd picked up and moved to Santa Monica even if it meant a smaller apartment and going to a more ghetto laundromat down there. I just need some change. And that was maybe one thing I could have controlled.
I went on a date with a midget on Monday. Technically, he wasn't a midget, but he was a small 5'6 who was a lot balder than his pictures and it did nothing but make me feel worse about myself. I used to think I was a pretty girl. LA has humbled me, that is for sure.
And there are a ton of other reasons I am feeling bad about myself and that I am not a worthy, contributing member of society right now, but I will spare you. It has just been a tough couple of months and really, a tough year, and I think I am just intensely feeling the pressures of having yet another birthday a month from tomorrow.
Also, to clarify from the first paragraph, I'm not stopping blogging. I don't think I'll ever stop blogging. I just so often feel like there is nothing left to say.
Also, to clarify from the first paragraph, I'm not stopping blogging. I don't think I'll ever stop blogging. I just so often feel like there is nothing left to say.
Labels: boys, Los Angeles
posted by Lori @ 8:25 PM
8 Comments:
I could have written this word for word (just switch LA with NY and 32 with 37) so I have no pearls of wisdom since I would then be forced to listen to them myself and I would rather just complain.
And don't kid yourself, you are, without a doubt, a writer.
Your totally beknownst to me soul sister, TinyE.
I feel your pain. I was supposed to be married by the time I graduated college...not wonder if I'll ever meet someone who can stand my fat, lazy, stubborn, ugly ass of an existence. Its good you are writing and you are also developing perspective. Pessimism is not becoming, however, and for as long as you've been writing, other than the time you were living in New York, have you ever stated about being unhappy. Everyone has a bad date...some people have a bad marriage...that won't happen to you. Lori you are "picky about your shoes and they only go on your feet!" and as for a relationship partner, it is important not to compromise what you believe because settling is not an option. From my experience its like bargaining with terrorists.
First of all, you're beautiful. Second, your blog is not even remotely boring. I can definitely relate to what you're talking about. In fact, I think I was pretty much in the exact same spot when I was your age. Just keep going out, keep meeting new people, keep having fun with your friends and your soul mate will find you before you know it. Keep the faith!! It'll happen for you, I just know it.
You are beautiful. Both inside and out. And who are you kidding? You have so much to offer, and even more with each passing day. You've learned so much about yourself and made changes you wanted to make even in the last year. Hell, even your fitness routine is much more balanced that it was a year ago.
Think of yourself as a fine wine...you only get better with age my dear.
And as for the rut, yes moving would be the obvious way to shake it up. But there are other ways. Make new friends, or maybe go to new social outings or events you wouldn't normally go to. Strike up a new friendship - even if it is just a "social friend" not a close friend. It will change things up.
You're doing more than fine for 32.
Buck up! Obviously you need more midgets, or more talented ones. Look what it's done for Chelsea Handler! Cheers & God Luck, 'VJ'
Ha - Love Chelsea Handler, and her two books are how I write on a good day. (Or, at least how I aspire to write.)
Thanks everyone else. I appreciate the words. And as much as I sometimes think that negativity begets negativity, I just had to put some of this out there to get it off my chest. My chest is big enough without the extra weight. :)
Oh, the washer/dryer. I have that. It's what keeps me in this place, I swear. The thought of going back to the laundry room terrifies me now.
For what it's worth, me and pretty much everyone I know is going through much the same thing. I know for me a big part of it is that my life in my thirties is so vastly different from my Parents. My earliest solid memories of my parents are from when they were in their thirties: married with a kid, a house, two cars in the garage. My life isn't like that, and I think there's some part of me that still feels like that's wrong. It's not, but it's hard to shake the feeling.
Something weird in LA, though: I'm exactly average height for an American male: 5'9.5". Yet in LA, I'm constantly made to feel too short (helped, no doubt, by the fact that every dating profile demands 6'+). What is UP with that?
Anyway, you're doing okay. A little low point now and then is natural. You have friends, family and admirers of your writing (of which I am one).
My advice? Go for a hike. Trees don't care about any of it, as long as you don't carve your initials in them. :)
Are all your photos touched up? You look very pretty from up in SF (and I say that as a cut-throat NYer, not a hippie dippie SFer).
If it helps, not only don't I think I'll be married with kids in 16 years for my 20th high school reunion, but nobody even INVITED ME to my 10th high school reunion.
Post a Comment
<< Home