sigh

This whole week has just been a big ball of suck on the personal front for me. I've had banking problems, bad news at work, snipy colleagues talking smack about people who happen to disagree with them politically. I've had stuff break, stuff go wrong, people take stuff that was said the wrong way.

I'm just kind of tired and sad. I get like this once in a while. And I get to feeling kind of sorry for myself. If I had been smart enough - or outgoing enough - or WHATEVER enough - and had managed to marry, I would not be facing all of this alone. I could come home and talk it over with someone else, get someone else's opinion. And I'd have someone else to come with me to the bank and back me up - or someone to sit by the phone at home and wait on a call while I am out taking care of necessary things. (And I'd have the chance at other times to feel useful by doing the same for him).

Sometimes being single in a community that is mostly couples and families feels a lot like fighting your way through a South American jungle with a dull machete while everyone else has chainsaws and Bobcats.

And you know, I know people love me and all. But sometimes I need to hear it. And yet, I can't quite bring myself to call a relative up - or a friend - and say to them, "Tell me that you love me." To me, that feels manipulative and needy. And the truth is, yes, dammit, I'm emotionally needy right now but I don't want those closest to me to know. It's kind of a very personal hell to be in - to feel like you need something but also have your feelings of not wanting to LOOK like you need it be greater than that need.

I'm just very worried and very scared about what will happen with my career. If teaching gets to be untenable, what do I do? I don't have a hella lot of skills. I don't have sufficient love or tolerance of my fellow man to do stuff like wait on tables - I'd be dumping hot soup in people's laps and stuff like that. I don't think I quite have enough saved up to go back to school and learn to do something else...and then what would I do with all my stuff? I'd have to sell my house and move away. I'd probably have to sell all my books. Or put them in storage, where they'd be damaged or stolen. (Been there, done that, years ago.)

Maybe this is the end of college teaching as a career for people, the future is University of Phoenix where people with "real jobs" moonlight (literally; I know someone who worked for them and they were expected to be available quite late into the night) by being "content providers." I don't want to be a content provider. I want to be a professor. But maybe that career is going away. And maybe some would say it's time for it to go away, maybe we really are all a waste of tax dollars. I don't know. Maybe only the really damn good hot-shot researchers will have university careers. And the rest of us - those of us who are at best "floppers," will have to go out and try to find something else to do with our lives. (I don't do research that would be interesting or seen as valuable by most people. I'm not curing diseases or looking for new energy sources. Actually, some days I ask myself if I even deserve this job.)

I realize on some level that I'm whipping myself up into a flurry of "what ifs," but it's my nature to want to be prepared - emotionally or otherwise - for bad crap that's going to happen. That sometimes mean I agonize a lot over stuff that never happens.

I don't know. I almost snapped at my dad last night, he asked, "Are you getting enough to eat?" I mean, of all the nonsensical questions (from my perspective, at least). I almost said, "Dad! I weigh [number redacted] pounds, I could afford to miss a few meals. But I'm not! And of all the ways I could fail to take care of myself, that's the one I'm least worried about!" And I've been on the verge of tears a few times this week.

It is too early in the semester for me to feel this way. I need some kind of good news, or, actually better, some kind of reassurance.

(I need reassurance - both that I am doing all right, that I am not totally screwing everything up, that I am not horrible at what I am doing - and in a more cosmic sense, that things will be all right (and I don't just mean all right "on the other side," I don't want to have to wait for that). I don't feel up to asking the people right around me for it though. It's hard for me to ask for emotional support when I need it because I have cultivated this illusion of being the tough strong career woman who doesn't need anybody...)

I had something at church I was supposed to go to tonight but I'm just going to skip it. I'm tired and I have a sore throat. I don't absolutely have to be there (it's not like a meeting that I need to be at). I know I will have people sad-faced on Sunday because I didn't show up, but you know? I just don't feel well. (And I know: "If you feel sad, go out and be around people; it will make you feel better." It doesn't always work that way for me. In fact, often I feel more stressed...because the parents get onto the parenting discussion and I have nothing to say, or because I feel like I have to be "up" and entertaining, or just because the whole thing breaks up later than I would like it to and I worry about being tired the next day).

I suppose all of this COULD be because I'm coming down with a cold (hence the sore throat). That would be the best possible explanation.

V-Day hatred

This is my REAL post for today, what I would have written had I not been distracted by New Blogger and its machinations.

Next week is Valentine's Day. I had almost ignored that fact but it seems that advertising is ramping up.



I hate Valentine's day. I have three reasons: first, the reasonable-adult reasons, and second, the whiny-'tweener reason.

Reasonable adult reason one: If you treat the person you love well, if you are kind to them on an every day basis, there is really no need to buy them stuff on a trumped-up holiday. Valentine's day is not a religious holiday like Christmas, it's not like the person's birthday - in fact, I suspect the "tradition" of buying a present for your lover is a 20th century notion, by and large. Oh, maybe some of the very wealthy bought presents for their lovers in years past - but the truth is, until about 100 years ago, most people in the Western world didn't have that kind of disposable income.

(And some still don't. I kind of gasp at those shows where they show how much people are in debt. I saw a bit of one last week where the couple was bringing in like $3200 a month [more than I have as take-home after taxes, incidentally] and they were spending about $6000. And they didn't even realize that.)

So - I think it's preferable to be a loving person every day (as much as is possible) rather than go-for-broke on the little robin's egg blue box or something. (I exempt people buying engagement rings; that's somewhat different.)

A gift is NOT a "get out of jail, free" card. I know too many people who do that: they act really ratty to someone and then think they can buy them off with a pendant or a bunch of CDs or something. And while maybe some people go for that - I'd rather just have a sincere statement of "I'm sorry I was ratty to you the other day, please forgive me." (Of course, that's HARDER in a lot of cases than going out and buying something).

The other "adult" reason is related: Aren't most seriously involved couples pooling their money? So if you go and spend $5K on a bracelet, both of you are taking the financial hit? Wouldn't it be better to do something cheaper and put most of that $5K towards retirement, or a house, or college for the kids? I realize I'm not exactly a wildly PRACTICAL person but even I cringe at the thought of spending that much on a bauble when there are other things out there.

And on to the childish reason.

No one loves me.

Or rather, no one loves me in the sense of "love" that Valentine's day is designed to celebrate. I have friends. I have family. But I don't have a "lover." So all of the Valentine's day ads, they are largely meaningless and, if I let them, embittering.

(I know a wee bit how a Jewish person feels at Christmas, I guess).

I hate the whole concept that romantic love is the be-all and the end-all and that if you don't have it, you might as well hang a rock around your neck and head for the nearest bridge. Because that's not true.

And romantic love is damned hard. At least for my generation, it seems. We're the generation of "He's Just Not that Into You." (Which is the most pessimistic thing I've ever read excerpts out of.). We're the generation of Neil Clark Warren and his annoying smug face reassuring us that really, no one is too weird for Internet dating. (But I still kinda believe that I AM. I suspect I'd be one of the people who gets her money refunded, along with a firmly worded note asking me not to use their service again). We're the generation of Dr. Phil, for God's sake.

And a lot of this, I think, is because we're the children of the generation of free love, the sexual revolution, and "living together." People don't court people any more. People who are, for whatever reason repulsed by the concept of "hooking up" or "friends with benefits" are often seen as the bigger perverts than, well, perverts.

And that frustrates me. I WANT to be courted. I WANT someone to tell me that he loves me enough to wait until I'm ready. I WANT to know what's inside a guy's head before I know what's inside his skivvies.

And so, I've often turned my back on the dating scene. So much so, that now some of the things that I hear are taken for granted (like: women go and have painful things done so that they are bald as an egg "down there" at all times, just in case. 'Cos that's what men like, or so I'm told) just horrify the hell out of me.

And so, I go on. Alone. Figuring on always being alone. It sucks sometimes, but I remind myself that is sucks worse to be three-times-divorced with kids by each husband. Or that it sucks worse to be the victim of a stalker.

But you know? It would still be kind of nice to be someone's valentine.

And another thing, to vent my spleen on:

One of the magazines I read (and I'm clearly not in the demographic) was talking to married (or otherwise 'coupled') women, talking about how their "single" friends would feel "so very left out" on Valentine's day. And so, ladies, here's a kicky fun idea: The Sympathy Lunch! (only they didn't call it that.)

The idea was: you invite your poor, neglected, forsaken, single friend out to lunch on V-Day. Still leaves you open at dinner time for a romantic dinner with your lover AND you get the smug satifaction of having showered a little charity on that "Ugly Betty" in your life.

And you know? That kind of pisses me off. The whole attitude of it: first, that those of us not part of a couple would WANT to go out for lunch on the one day of the year we're likely to encounter truly gross PDAs in a restaurant. And second, that the coupled person can discharge a whole buttload of obligations by taking poor Single Sally out for a salad at the local fern bar.

This is particularly offensive as an idea if the coupled friends have (a) called upon the single friend to babysit on an emergency basis more than twice in the past year (especially if the "emergency" is "we're going nucking futz with these kids, and we just want to go see a movie as a couple") (b) if the coupled female friend has ever cancelled plans with the single - plans she already had - because of a "new honey" coming on the scene or (c) if either member of the couple EVER played the "YOU don't have a family to take care of; you do this onerous task that we really want out of" card.

Again: don't be ratty to people and then think buying them something erases that.

As v-d approaches (and you know, it's interesting that this day has the initials V.D.), I'm sure I'll rant more. I have particular ire for Pajama gram and Vermont Teddy Bear company, both of which have used the theme of "spend some money on your honey if you wanna get somethin' somethin' back."

Maybe I'm jaded because I'm a biologist and I know a little about animal behavior, but there are species in the animal kingdom where the male will, for example, kill a small bird and drop it at the female's feet. The message is: "I'm a good provider. Bear my offspring." I always thought if a fellow biologist ever gave me chocolates (and I wanted to turn a very cold hose right on him right away*), I could see saying, "Oh, a courtship food gift. I suppose you expect me to copulate with you now."

(*And I would never do that, in reality, because I'm not big enough of a bitch to. Even if the guy was a serious creep.)

Because, you know? That's almost what Pajamagram is saying with their Valentine's Day ads. And it's so crass and so wink-wink nudge-nudge that it makes me angry.

(And don't EVEN MENTION the other made-up holiday that some talk about celebrating on March 15. The one that's about a big hunk of cow and the woman doing something that most women would not choose to do if given the choice...)

Perhaps I'm actually not such a cynic at heart, although I claim to be one. Because really, I WOULD like to get a valentine's day card. I WOULD like for someone to ask me to be their valentine, in the cute silly no-real-expectations-of-quid-pro-quo like we used to do back in 4th grade. (Back before 4th graders were sexually active).

Because it is sort of a hard cold world, and the idea of someone being your Valentine in that sweet, silly, old-fashioned way makes it a little warmer.

But no. I will soldier on, Valentineless. I have a big tub of cinnamon gummy hearts I bought earlier last month and when I get to feeling too down about what "love" has come to mean in 21st century America, I will pull two or three out of the tub and chew them up. Slowly.