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A late night update before bed

Just got home from Quiet Storm. It was a big night there. Three bands, plus a dance party afterward, and everyone performing was a regular, or someone who works there, or someone who just otherwise looks really fucking familiar. The place was packed, and the beer was flowing. Not that I partook; I've never been a big beer person.

There were signs everywhere relating to the Solstice party last month. There's someone from that night that I need to call, and the last sign came tonight, by way of the person she was at the party with showing up and chatting with me.

There's more to this story than what I'm telling, I fear. I can't get into specifics for any number of reasons, but here's the gist: I keep score. I keep score, and it's not working for me. Who knows where I learned it from, or when, but I'm constantly comparing my relationships to others', and taking my sense of self worth from the comparison. This is fucked for a myriad of reasons, not the least of which is that I generally come out with the fuzzy end of the lollipop in the comparison. I got crazy this past fall over someone's comment about a love interest of mine that it didn't seem legit because we didn't see each other often enough. This should have set off alarm bells, but, unfortunately, it did not.

So there I sat, tonight, feeling like half a person because this random stranger knew like two things about a third party that I did not, and it struck me that this was bullshit, that just hours before I'd been happy, thinking about the third party, because of an interesting emailed conversation we'd been having. Yet here I was, keeping score again, and once again, I was the team that was losing.

The other story:

Yesterday was the anniversary of the day my parents got me. I sent my mother an email to wish her a happy anniversary. She sent me an email in reply that said it was the happiest day of her life, which really touched me. We talked on the phone and, since she can't tell me the story of the day I was born, she instead told me the story of the day we met ... that I arrived by taxicab, swaddled in blue, carried by the Russian social worker ... that I was all pink like a little rosebud, and that I slept through the night.

My Mother says I was the only good thing that ever happened in January.


( 10 comments — Leave a comment )
Jan. 14th, 2004 11:04 pm (UTC)
How many ways can I tell you not to keep score? We're always behind someone.

That's why I don't have a scale. Who wants to live life by the numbers on them?

And have I reminded you lately not to judge your insides by other people's outsides? A sure ticket to fuzzy lollipopage.

It's hard. I know. I keep trying. So can you.

Your mom is a doll.
Jan. 15th, 2004 10:00 am (UTC)
My mom is a doll.

I always think "the fuzzy end of the lollipop" comes from Gentlemen Prefer Blondes when, in reality, it is all about Some Like It Hot...
Jan. 14th, 2004 11:22 pm (UTC)
cool Mom. ... I'm imagining the cartoon, the sexy Russian taxi driver (Natasha) opens the taxi door for Baby Hope, who wears a diaper and blue cape. Baby Hope hops out of the cab and runs up the stairs and leaps into the arms of the first female adult she sees, "Moma!"
Jan. 15th, 2004 07:01 am (UTC)
I've got news for you; I knew that social worker and she was no sexpot. Her name was Hanna Sidranksy, and she had to be at least 70 years old at the time ... she was easily in her 90s when she died in the late 80s/early 90s.
Jan. 15th, 2004 02:58 pm (UTC)
RE: How old were you then?
How old were you then, Hope, when you were adopted? I remember my mum going to the doctor's office when she was pregnant with my brother and I was 2 at the time. The happiest day of my life, was without a doubt, (as if you need ask) when my son was born!
Jan. 15th, 2004 03:19 pm (UTC)
Re: How old were you then?
About 8 weeks/2 months. I was born in November of 1970; placed in January of 1971.
Jan. 15th, 2004 05:26 pm (UTC)
cartoons, reality, hmmmmmm
Jan. 17th, 2004 03:43 pm (UTC)
I have always, always wanted to be in a cartoon. Maybe I read too much Love and Rockets - who knows?
Jan. 17th, 2004 03:58 pm (UTC)
Nah, a worthy profession or hobby. And much more fun than other activim in my art. funner to laugh
Jan. 17th, 2004 04:00 pm (UTC)
why don't you try your hand? Hell, I can't draw a straight line but I can use a rular.
( 10 comments — Leave a comment )

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