A Monday

The weather here was terrible to day and I was exhausted, so I bailed on the class I was supposed to attend tonight.  I feel okay about it in terms of knowing the material well enough, but I feel kind of bad about it in terms of not having enough commitment to brave the icy sidewalks.  I thought this was something I wanted more than I'm feeling I do right now.

I am also super tired.  I crashed out for three hours when I arrived home and now I've taken two Valium so I can get myself back to sleep again.  I'm really trying to make sure I'm rested.  I feel completely wiped out lately. I realize I have a lot going on and I'm not the best at scheduling my time, and I'm going out and drinking FAR too much and too often.  I know I need to make want to make some changes in my life but my motivation is lacking.

Well, I suppose none of the things I want to change will happen if I don't get enough sleep to do them.

Oh, and did I mention I'm also constipated?  Haven't pooped in two days.  My body just isn't pleased with me.

Run! Hide!

I've made the commitment to some big changes in my life over the past month.  I've also started some long delayed creative projects.  Last night (for some reason Sunday's are my anxiety night - likely due to its close proximity to Monday) I lay in bed, in the dark, worried about failing, wondering if I am really competent and capable enough to accomplish all of this.

Since one of my more recent goals is to attempt to achieve at least six hours of sleep a night, I took a Valium at about midnight and was asleep shortly thereafter.  

I do leave the house...

It is Saturday night and only 11:00 (I think I've just admitted what time zone I live in) and I'm looking across the room at my bed (I've just admitted that my apartment is small or that my bedroom has no door) and I'm thinking to myself how wonderful it would be to snuggle down under the covers, turn out the light and just lay still in the dark.

Really folks, if there are any folks who read this blog, I'm not really a hermit.  I do leave the house.  In fact tonight I spent a couple of hours munching wings, drinking wine and conversing with a friend of mine at a sports bar.  We were there for two hours.

REALLY!

Yes.

Yes,  I set up the laptop on the kitchen counter so I could continue working my way through season two of Desperate Housewives while preparing to cook a quiche.

Yes, I brought in a chair, sat down with my feet propped on the counter and munched on olives and drank a glass of wine while waiting for that quiche to cook.

Yes, I ate a slice of the quiche and watched another episode and had another glass of wine.

Yes, I let the cat hop into my lap and fall asleep.

Yes, I clicked "Next Episode" a second time and poured one more glass of wine.

Yes, I'm a smart, funny, interesting, attractive woman who is choosing to spend this particular, stormy Friday night in this manner without shame.

Yes, this blog is anonymous...

Fear

It seems that no matter how many people we have in our lives who care for us and support us, when we face those moments when we are truly afraid, we do so alone.

I'm in one of those times now.  For years I've been dealing with on going fatigue, loss of feeling in my upper extremities, pain from muscle spasms and lost of strength in my muscles.  After years of repeated physical therapy and work to strengthen my body and continued return of symptoms I'm finally being referred to a neurologist for nerve conduction tests.

I know what this means.  I know it means that there is possible permanent nerve damage and I'm trying not to let my mind go to the worst.  I am afraid because some of the greatest joy in my life comes from what I do with my body.  Dancing, cooking, eating, performing...the thought that any of that could be taken away from me sooner than what would be expected with old age terrifies me.

I am afraid.

Living

I had a late night visiting with a friend and just arrived home but I wanted to post before I put myself to bed for a few hours sleep.

Today I read this article, "Why I'm not Married (and it's not because I'm an angry slut)", on CNN.com and I saw so much of myself in it.  I spent a lot of time hoping that the man I was with would change and not be so angry, or that the next one would see his potential and live up to it, or that this one would finally learn to be honest with me and stop cheating.  Every date that didn't work out started with the possibility that this person might be The One.  The One has yet to arrive...but...

During all of this I went back to school, I rediscovered my creativity, I filled my life with wonderful friends and I now I find myself a part of a vibrant and wonderful community. I keep living, because that is what I do.

Good night and sweet dreams to all.

Oh Henry, I feel your pain...

Of course in my case if they can successfully get past the reading question, "So...are you willing to take a lie detector test?" might likely follow...

Cooking for a phantom

Tonight I cooked.  I made bacon, cheddar buttermilk biscuits, a roasted chicken, mashed potatoes and steamed garlic broccoli rabe.  I even bought a bottle of white wine.  So far, the only thing that has been consumed are two of the biscuits and half the bottle of wine a chicken leg, one wing, two biscuits, a spoonful of mashed potatoes and half the bottle of wine.

I wasn't cooking for anyone; not even myself really.  It's just that I love to cook.  I do on occasion host parties, but those are more hors d'oeuvre affairs and not the take out the good dishes and cloth napkins dinner parties I'd love to host had I more space.  I do enjoy cooking for friends, they are always appreciative, the conversation is always great and they always offer to help with the dishes...but...

It's going to sound old fashioned of me, but cooking is how I show someone I care.  It is part of how I express love, and cooking for that special someone, for me there is nothing that quite compares.  I don't have a special some one right now and I think maybe I'm afraid if  I don't keep myself in practice I'll forget how to do it.  That I'll get so used to eating frozen pizza, and salad out of a bag that I won't remember how to make poached fish, or quiche, or pancakes should someone I actually want to cook for come along.

So, every couple of weeks I feel compelled to make this big meal, with all the fixings.  I buy a bottle of wine, or if it's brunch the makings for bloody Marys, and I set up the laptop on the kitchen counter so that whatever series I'm immersed in on Netflix can keep me company, and I cook.  I chop, saute, marinate, season, and bake until I end up with a spread large enough to feed a table of four.

And then it sits, mostly untouched, until it is cool enough that I can pack it away into individual Jane sized portions and put in the freezer for future lunches or dinner after an evening class.  Some might call this economical or smart, and it is those things, but for me it is also sometimes a bit of a lonely affair.

My name is Jane

I'm single. I live alone.  Both of these things are by my own choice.

I'm far from perfect.  I'm quietly judgmental.    I constantly overbook myself and as such I experience frequent periods of grumpy exhaustion.  I'm prone to vanity.  I probably drink too much.  I'm not happy in my job.  I watch far too much Hulu and Netflix.

What do I have going for me?  Well, I want to be a good person and most of the time I think I'm successful.  I'm creative and outgoing.  I adore and value my friends.  I'm a great cook and love all things domestic, except for laundry.  I'm lucky enough to be able to eat whatever I want and still have low cholesterol.  I look at least five years younger than I am.  I accept that life has ups and downs which is the nature of any adventure.  I've had a lot of experience and learned a lot of lessons and I go on.

So this is my life and my blog. "Hello, blog world...my name is Jane."