Rude Awakening

So I'm at the gym today on my elliptical pumping away, feeling energized, strong and (I'm not too ashamed to admit) a little smug. I'm 40, pushing hard and feeling good. Anyway, as I'm up there doing my thang, I look in the mirror at the front of the room and notice the faces of the women around me and it dawns on me they're all old. At least, I think they're all old because they look old to me because they're all haggard and worn out looking. So at first I'm thinking, "What the hell, am I in the old lady section? Am I on the whimpy machines?" Because I was feeling pretty good about myself. I didn't want to think I had to use the geriatric ellipticals to get a work-out. But then I look at the faces again and I realize they're all my contemporaries. They're all women who are probably in their 40's, just like me and it's kind of a sobering experience because, you know, I originally thought they were all old. So all of a sudden I'm feeling a little like the air's been let out of me because it's sort of the first time I've really felt like some kind of middle-aged person. I am Cougar. I am powerful. I don't want to be some worn out looking middle-aged wife and mother who gets excited when she finds a new recipe for meatloaf. Then I notice we're all watching the television that has Kathy Lee Gifford on it and we're all kind of into it, and off in the distance I hear the faint pounding of nails being driven into a coffin. Sad. Seriously, what the hell happened to my life?

My year according to Facebook

I made this on Facebook and it made me laugh, so now I'm making you read it. Deal.

I. Can't. Quit. You.

I can't decide if my addiction to Twitter is starting to get out of hand or not. I spend a lot of time thinking about tweeting. I added texting to my cell service specifically because I wanted to be able to tweet from anywhere. Because, brah, you NEVER know when something hysterical is going to happen, and God forbid you can't tweet about it when it does. I'd lived without texting for, well, forever until I started tweeting. I'll admit I actually do just text people now, too, but I was happy without it before. But the other funny thing about Twitter is that I'm starting to feel pressure to try and be funny with everything I say. What started out as something fun has now become a small source of stress in my life. That's crazy, right? Now when I'm on Twitter, I almost feel like I'm onstage. Most of the time, I really do just tweet what enters my mind at that particular moment. But I definitely find myself looking at situations in life for their tweeting potential. Is this something good enough to tweet? Or, how can I tweak this so it's good enough to tweet about? It's CRAZINESS, I tell you. But even as I type all this, I have absolutely no plans to quit Twitter anytime soon. I need it, man. I really, really do.

Thank God that's over.

Just finished my Christmas letter. Thank you sweet baby Jesus. You know, this is one of those funny little things about Christmas that I mentioned in an earlier post, one of those things that I'm supposed to do that makes everything during this time of year way more complicated than it needs to be. Granted, it's self-imposed, but it gets harder each year to pump that baby out. Admittedly, I do write pretty awesome Christmas letters, and I'm not just saying that because it's the sort of thing I'd normally say about myself. Seriously, people camp outside their mail boxes every year awaiting the arrival of my Christmas letter. It's that good. But the thing about being great is that you can only sustain it for so long, people. My light can't shine bright in the sky forever. One day, as sad as it is to contemplate, my big ole hot ball of gas is going to burn out. It's the way of things. But that time ain't now, so I'm still a SUPERSTAR. And, yes, I did just finish drinking a couple glasses of wine. Why do you ask?

Eh, I tried.

On Tuesday, I go in for my annual "woman's" exam. Oh, joy. It's something I really look forward to all year because there's nothing quite like the feel of cold, hard stainless steel prying you open like an over-zealous rescue worker with the jaws o' life. At any rate, that's Tuesday, and I've decided I'm going to ask my doctor about going back on some kind of anti-depressant. As you might remember, I went off them over the summer because of blood pressure problems I was having. I thought I might like to give "clean" living a try, and I've pretty much decided it sucks. It's funny experiencing the sort of irrational moodiness and anger I've been feeling again since going off in July. You know, I really forgot what it was like before. I really forgot how I'd know my reactions and responses weren't logical while not being able to do otherwise. But I find my main reason for wanting to go back on is the same as it was the first time around: my daughter. I don't want her to ever think she's responsible for my sadness or anger. And even though I'm not having rash outbursts or anything, I definitely feel like I carry a certain pall around nowadays, and I've no desire to live in darkness. Besides, I got so good at pill-popping the last seven years, it seems a shame to waste all that skill.

On the waiting

I'm solidly a year into my mid-life crisis and I'm not really seeing an end to it any time soon. Good or bad? I don't know. What I do know is I'm not the only woman of a certain age afflicted by this particular lament. In talking to other female friends, I've determined we're all pretty much bogged down with thoughts of our lives passing by us too quickly to grab. Our days are packed with jobs, kids, family obligations, housework, carpools, you name it, and we're all freaked out that we're losing ourselves. I've got it easier than most because I have only one child and she's old enough to start being responsible for some of herself now, which frees up some of my time to pursue things that interest me--namely theatre. But despite that, I still have this nagging sense that I'm really only in a waiting pattern, and I've got all these other things outside myself that I've got to see through before I can jump into my life. I don't want to come across as complaining because I wouldn't have done many of the things that have brought me to where I am today much differently, but waiting isn't a strong suit of mine. I suppose I just wish it was possible to put as much energy as I'd like into everything I'm interested in doing without having to sacrifice anything. And in a similar vein, it should would be swell to win the lottery. Ka-ching.

The most wonderful time of the year

I'm sitting here typing this because I'm bored right now and I couldn't think of anything else to do. I was watching Pirate Radio until I turned off my browser to switch to a different one without thinking I'd shut off the movie. I didn't feel compelled to get back to it, so that should tell you how engaged I was with that particular film. At any rate, we're talking about Christmas, aren't we? It's funny to me how quickly Christmas comes up now that I'm an adult. I just remember thinking it used to seem like FOREVER getting to Christmas. There just never seems to be enough time to do all the stuff I'd like to do. Eh, scratch that, to do the all the stuff I'm supposed to do. I've honestly lost any desire to decorate for the holidays or bake my ass off or run around shopping every second of the day. Most of it seems fairly meaningless to me. Even now, I'm only waiting to see if my daughter mentions putting up the Christmas tree before I actually do it. We'll be going to my parents' house this year, so I feel like there's not much point in doing it. Am I turning into a Scrooge? I hope not. I do consider Christmas my favorite holiday, but I'm more interested in spending time with my family than busting a nut trying to do it Martha Stewart style.