Saturday, April 11, 2009

I made it. I got up all five days and did my biking.

That said (with all due celebratory boob-shaking and whatnot), yesterday was a...strange, upsetting day.

While driving into work, I started thinking about things (stop looking surprised), and I got a little down. Not hugely down, just kind of...pensive. While I was at work (the whole three hours I was there), I was in a good mood. Laughing, joking, etc. Happy frog.

Then...I went to the Devil's Playground. A.K.A. - Wal-mart.

I have had a theory about this particular Wal-Mart for awhile. It goes something like this:

This particular Wal-Mart is possessed by something ancient and evil that simply fills everyone with either stupidity or rage the moment those automatic doors whoosh behind them.

Normally I can let these things slide. But yesterday...yesterday, while pushing my grocery cart of noms and clutching my pink paper of grocey-listness, I fell thoroughly into the rage-filled category. I was raging at this stupid mom with three stupid kids who looked at me waiting for her to get out of my way and didn't move. Three different times. I was seething at the two old women who had to fill up the paper bags for frozen items IN THE MIDDLE OF THE AISLE, and then have the guts to look up at me and laugh.

But it was more than that.

I was raging at everything...god, by the time I got home, I could have easily done something criminal and gleefully giggled about it. I don't ever remember being so pissed off...I was angry about work, about Wal-Mart, about the asshole driving so slow in front of me, about my situation with Moose...it just caught me off-guard, the intensity of it.

I came home and basically told Moose that he should stay the hell away from me until I woke up from a nap, because I was liable to say things I shouldn't. Or maybe I should. I don't know.

We've been talking about his reluctance to marry. We've gotten to the point that he has realized that breaking a promise that he made to himself when he was five is more important than the life he has now.

Moose is...very self-focused. Things are important only if they affect him. When a choice must be made, logic fails against which item is -his-. Take, for instance, the garage situation. There's a two car garage. He has 4 vehicles. One has taken up permanent residency in the yard with a recliner rotting in the back. (Don't even TELL me how hick this is. I know.) One is parked outside and is used on an infrequent basis, but still used. One is his baby, a 79 Trans Am that is taking up one of the spots in the garage with much understanding. The other is a car a few years old that he bought about a year ago go that he wouldn't have to spend a fortune on gas and is used daily. This car is parked in the garage as well.

I have a 2007 Honda Fit. I bought it new. I have parked it in the garage twice. It bothers me that he thinks his cars are more important than my newer and more expensive car. It bothers me that he wants me to feel like a part of his life, but he can't give up a freaking space in his garage after seven years of being together. It bothers me that this winter, when I asked him to please move my car into the garage when he left for work, he did it once. One time.

Yeah, it might sound petty. But things like this happen all the time. I do the picking-up on a daily basis around the house. When I don't, he gets all frustrated and decides that the house must be cleaned RIGHTNOWOMG, getting into one of his whirlwinds where he wears himself out and gets even more frustrated in the process.

I do things because if I don't, they won't get done.

And more and more, I'm wondering why in the hell I'm doing it.

He has an idea of himself. He wants to be this coolguyrockstar, the one who his friends wish they could be. What he doesn't realize is that he already has given that up. Or maybe he does realize it, and regrets it. The thing is, this coolguyrockstar made a promise that he'd never get married. And he is clinging to that like a dying man...thinking that will "save" him, from whatever. From life, maybe.

It's not just about getting married anymore. It's about my future with him.

So, he needs to make a decision. He needs to choose between coolguyrockstar...and reality. One will have me around....the other won't.

2 comments:

Chloe said...

(Er, forgive if this comment posts twice, it's being mean to me and won't post it...)

This feels like and odd and intrusive way to make my first comment, given the content of the post... BUT... Hi!

Since I haven't been reading long (and am, in general, unhelpful, I think), I will not try to offer wise words, comfort, or advice about the Big Life Issues gamboling around inside you brain and will instead tell you how awesome Wal*Mart rage is.

Now, I've never actually gotten Wal*Mart rage, but Antonio swears up and down I have a violent streak, and am possessed of what he calls a "casual cruelty" that causes me to hold onto things he would just let go, to feel irritations he would not feel, and to lash out at people he would simply ignore.

When people piss me off, I get worked up and then I just want to jam rusty forks into the eyes of everyone who so much as dares to look at me wrong. I dunno what my deal is.

I also dunno why I was attempting to call this rage awesome. Huh...

I think I'm actually doing a bit better with it. I don't engage with people who irritate me, and it's all because I know how Antonio would want me to act and, more importantly, how he wouldn't want me to act... I'm certainly not perfect, and there are many many many things I don't see clearly still... But I'm getting BETTER! It's nice, more peaceful... But rest assured, I'd have still wanted to backhand the woman with the kids who refused to move. :)

(Oh, hai, I'm Chloe and I ramble...)

~Chloe

frog said...

Chloe, you're awesome. The next time I go to Wal-Mart, I will totally channel your rusty fork-ness.