the annual

Somehow, I thought that this would pass, that this year would be different. It is not, I am the same. I wonder and truly hope that one year I will not freak out about this, I just hope that I won't look back and think 'Wow, I was so young, what the fuck was my problem?' It's inevitable though, because I am young, and there is no reason to feel this way. Maybe it's not this, maybe it's something else. Hmmmmm.

Every year, for the past three years, I have started to freak out about getting older 5-6 months before my birthday. It is absolutely insane, I know. I have blamed my father for it in the past since he has never been that great with aging and has adamantly stated that he will never grow old. I have called this the Peter Pan syndrome. However, this year my father turned 50 and he has embraced his age with gusto, probably because he has never looked or felt better. He seriously seems like he is getting visibly younger, while maturing--though maintaining his teenage like qualities--with grace and elegance. Last time he was here helping me move we went to a show and I was standing around all my friends in their 40's with my dad next to them all. He looked younger than every single one. Fingers crossed for me. My mom also looks amazing. Please, beauty products, don't fail me now.
These freak outs are all in the name of vanity and pretentiousness, I feel the narcissism. It is slightly embarrassing but I still can't manage to shut up and stop whining about it. Shit.
Ok, it's actually not about looks either. It's ambition, it dreams mixed with realism, it's action, it's traveling, it's love, and it's misery. It's never knowing where life will take you and if the things you are striving for are the things that you should be spending your time doing. But that's life, isn't it? Apparently, I am too much of a control freak to just let it happen. I've been studying planetary alignments and horoscope compatibilities recently to try and get a better handle. I love surprises, but I am also a closet competitive perfectionist, and right now I need to know that I am doing good. Is it over, or has it just begun?

I am envious of a simplicity that I can't see myself ever wanting. A life in the suburbs with two children, a husband that loves me and provides me the luxury of working part time at the local art gallery while I take care of the kids and plant dinner plate dahlias with my gardening club. I could bake whole grain breads, and make paper mache ponies for Sabine and Cole's birthdays. I could be really good at it, though I kind of hate baking and I don't think I've ever paper mache'd anything that didn't fall apart. I also get a little woozy when I'm in the suburbs too long. Shit.

I spent yesterday on my couch and in my bed suffering from an incredible bout of bitchiness and 'nothing's right'. I holed myself up reading my book and wanting so badly to play the piano but knowing I would only get more frustrated. I wanted to clean my room but I couldn't find the energy. I wanted to snuggle up next to someone in my bed under my amazingly soft sheets and stare out the window. None of these things were possible and so I shunned myself from society and wallowed in my own misery, until about 7:30pm when I went to go see The Departed. Good Flick. I love Jack Nicholson.