Even after the bridge is burned, you can still swim across.

One of my high school classmates committed suicide last week.  I can't say this represents a personal loss for me - she was never part of my life - but I am terribly sad for her family and I am so sorry that she found herself in a place where dying was the only way out.  Wilbur, though, and another of our friends, Lu, as one-time close friends of this woman, felt they had to go to the funeral and as I was in town, I went to support them.  I'm glad I went because the place was all but empty.  I realize we leave the world the way we lived in it, but I'm glad that I went just to fill a seat so that her family wasn't alone.

A surprise positive that came of this sadness, though, is that I saw an old friend at the service.  This is a person I was quite close to in high school but 14 years ago we had a horrible, screaming, crying falling out.  The reasons for this breakdown were many and valid, but on Saturday (the day of the service) we saw each other for the first time in more than 10 years and we talked.  The first thing she said was, "I'm so sorry."  And she was (is).  We can't rebuild the bridge, but there are other ways of crossing.



Where's the commercial with the tagline, "So easy an idiot can do it," because that's the true test. Babies, chimps, cavemen: all exponentially more capable than your everyday idiot.

This post brought to you by the retail sales clerks of Bath and Body Works, Victoria's Secret, JCrew, and Sephora.


I said them, but I lied them.*

Over Thanksgiving, I see people I really only get to see once a year or so - if that. So part of what always happens is catch-up. I ask them about things. They ask me about things, etc.

When asked, my standard answer is, "Everything is great." This is the lie. Everything is not great. I'm extremely happy in my marriage, yes, and that's huge. However, I still cannot decide what kind of career I want. This fact has only become more starkly apparent since Matt has decided to go back to school.

I think it's a really great choice for him. I'm sure he's going to do well and I'm glad he's found his way. But I'm a little jealous. I am. Not in an all- consuming destructive way, but jealous nonethless.

Overall, things are great. I'm happier than I've ever been in all my life, in all aspects of my life -except this fucking career thing.

So, I know: quit my whining. People live through and deal with much worse all day, every day. True. Mine is not a terrible problem. I know this. Still, I need to kvetch a little - here- so I can get over myself and be as supportive to Matt as I can possibly be - nothing holding me back.

So here I whine. It's high-pitched and annoying even to me. Apologies.

It's just... Why can't I figure it out!? It seems simple enough. I see people do it all the time.

Sure, I can make an arbitrary decision and hope for the best. Actually, I've already done that. So far, it's not working out too well .

Fuuuuuuuuuck. I hate this feeling. This feeling like I want to throw myself to the floor and kick and flail and scream. It's enough to make me crazy(er).

I'm willing to take suggestions on a career path, so long as it doesn't involve advanced math or customer service. Not that I'll heed any suggestion anyone gives me, but it's like the "what-do-you-want-to-eat" game where you say "I don't know," and the other person starts naming things until a) one of them sounds good, or b) the suggestions lead you to an option you'd forgotten about (Tibetan yak's milk cheese on toasted quinoa with braised kale).

Okay. Whining now over. I'm serious about suggestions, though. I know I've painted myself into a corner in a lot of ways so new ideas are welcome.

*Theodore Geisel, "What was I Afraid Of" (aka The Pale Green Pants) from The Sneeches and Other Stories. "I said, and said, and said those words. I said them, but I lied them."