notes for future novels – december 2002

Tuesday, December 31, 2002
A lovely day, Orla. Other than the fact that GMB left and Wes was sad, it was lovely. I barely left the house. I crocheted my ass off. Wes, who has been sick for a week, finally listened to me and spent the day in bed. Which left me to do as I liked. Which was to stay in bed next to him and finish the hat I was making him. And laugh at the cats. And pet the dog. And drink tea. And eat bagels. And watch stupid television. Lovely.
I think I know that I need help.
// posted by ms.bri

One of the things that bothers me most about Wes’ family is that they have absolutely no respect for sleep. This is the opposite of my family, for whom sleep is sacrosanct. You must not wake a sleeping person in my parents’ home. If someone is sleeping, you must whisper whereever you are in the house, you must not hammer or pound on anything, you must keep the lights low. Let sleeping S****’s lie. Not so for G****’s and W*****’s, apparently. I have complained about it for years, but I sort of thought it was just m-i-l. No, it’s all of them. I have realized this as I have recently been awakened by the sound of my darling husband not 10 feet away from me pounding with a hammer on the floor. My stepson has stood on my side of the bed and shouted to Wes on the other side of it. My mother-in-law has walked into a room where my husband is napping and yelled for me in the next room over. Last night M-i-l was trying to sleep in a room with a television blaring “The Cosby Show,” full lights on and Wes and GMB loudly discussing what to pack and tossing a ball around for the pets. It is shocking, this disrespect for sleep. It is one of my biggest G**** family peeves.
// posted by ms.bri

Saturday, December 28, 2002
OK, Orla. A very bad day. We made it to Grand Central, but it was a bit too much for me. Way too many people, Wes taking too many artsy pictures, Mother-In-Law exclaiming over things too much, GMB acting too cool too much. Arguing about everything. I needed to go by J Crew and did not because I got frustrated with travelling as a pack, when Wes didn’t want to split up. The light show was nice but brief, the train show minimal. I could have skipped them both. It is, therefore, of course, Wes’ fault for making me go. As if he knew.
Then we walked over to the huge new McDonalds and sat down for a soda, which was good. But then Wes convinced me to stop at Crate and Barrel on the way home and that meant crowded Soho and they didn’t even have the wrapping paper he wanted and I felt like it was my fault because apparently all chic New Yorkers run out to get the half priced Christmas paper at Crate and Barrel immediately on December 26th and we waited two days too long. If I were a different person, if I weren’t anxious, if I didn’t want to stay home all the time. We would have so much fun. We would accomplish so much. We would be all over the place. I’d be a chic New Yorker. Instead I stay home and crochet, ecstatic when I make Wes leave me alone, having ridiculous little parties in my head when I manage to stay in the house for more than 24 hours at a stretch.
The worst part about this disease that I can only slightly acknowledge that I have is that it doesn’t want to end. It defends itself, this illness, by convincing me that this is me, my personality, and treating it in any way, especially with the drugs I probably desparately need, would be altering my personality. A huge part of me truthfully believes that. Believes that this is an OK way to live life. But the other part of me can see that others seem to enjoy going out and doing things, and I realize that there is a faint possibility that I may someday enjoy things, too. Or at least not be totally terrified of doing them.
It’s a very bad day, though. Wes and I had a big argument all the way home about it all. He really wants me to try medication. I really know that he’s probably right, but the other side of me is building strong brick walls against any new-ness. This would be lots of new. New doctor. New pills. Trying again and again to get it right, possibly feeling tired or sick because a certain drug doesn’t work. I’ve been through this already. I dread it with all my heart. But then there’s that tiny little light, that realization, looking at Wes, that it can work, that it can make things better, that life doesn’t necessarily have to be this hard all the time. I don’t know what else to do. But oh, how I don’t want to do it.
I feel like Golem in the new Lord of the Rings. So, so much like them. My preciousssss…..
// posted by ms.bri

Friday, December 27, 2002
OK, Orla. My mood has been bad. More anxiety. More ridiculous tantrums over leaving the house. A ridiculous suggestion that we drive into the city resulting in the aborting of our mission to see the silly trains at Grand Central. Instead, dinner at Union Square. We’ll try again tomorrow.
// posted by ms.bri

Thank you very much to Alana, who gave me the necessary html code I needed. I then realized that if I had just made that extra intelligent leap, I could have looked at the code that Blogger uses for its button and then made my own. Sometimes I’m just almost smart.
I recently found my ex-boyfriend’s website.
He was my first boyfriend and he used to hit me a little. It was a joke, a game. He would slap my hand with two or three fingers to see how red the marks would be. He also made me feel like utter shit for one year of my life, constantly teasing and tormenting me with his friends. He also cheated on me with at least two other women and then flaunted them under my nose. The whole experience was dreadful.
They’re currently off on the newest Largest Ship in the World, the sister ship of the one I honeymooned on. She has a press pass. Of course she does. He was a dotcommer here in New York. Of course he was. They recently moved to the “country.” I don’t know if they mean Jersey or Westchester, but either way I think it makes me feel better. I would never move to Jersey.
// posted by ms.bri

When did all my friends learn html? How did I miss that little seminar at SLC? And then when I need help, where are they? Martha is out of the damn office. Damn closed college. Alana is in California, I just realized, and won’t be responding to my plaintive email within seconds as usual. Well, I’ll show them. I just figured out how to add the comments field to my blog. Ha! I used html all on my own. So ha.
But, um, when you get a chance… could someone tell me how to credit the company I used. This is the picture I need to make into a link for them: ***
Um. Thanks.
// posted by ms.bri

We did not go to Grand Central yesterday. It was some combination of my freak out and GMB just preferring not to. Wes said he knew I wanted to go see the trains so we would wait until I felt like I could. And we saw Lord of the Rings last night. It was all fine. But I still had a freak out. Damn Orla for making me write about my moods. I like to pretend that I don’t get anxious as often as it seems that I actually do now that I’m keeping track. Boy, was that a convoluted sentence.
Also last night: On the subway back home with GMB and M-I-L there was a big verbal fight between this man and woman. He was screaming at her to “Suck my dick” and she was screaming back “What dick? You don’t have no dick!” It got much worse than that. Apparently he had insulted her man. I know that GMB has heard the words “dick,” “fuck”, and “pussy” before. He is 12. But I doubt very much that he has heard them in this context or in this tone before. Wes and I just kept staring at one another. Wes’ mom just looked down. When it was over, Wes said to GMB “You didn’t hear any of that.” And GMB said, “OK.” And I said “I told you we should have driven.”
// posted by ms.bri

Thursday, December 26, 2002
I skipped writing yesterday. It was Christmas and I was consistently busy getting food ready for our big gathering. It went very well, there was a ton of food and everyone had a good time, I think. The poor T*****’s had to arrive in a terrible amount of rain, but it had turned to snow by the time they left. We walked them home in the snowstorm and GMB and M-I-L threw snowballs. I wish I could be the kind of person who threw snowballs without worrying about hitting some passer-by or offending a friend who didn’t want to play. I even wish I could just be the kind of person who didn’t feel constricted in the chest by the fact of GMB and M-I-L throwing snowballs, worrying that they would hit someone who didn’t want to be hit. I wish I didn’t spend all the time that people are over worrying from the kitchen about any long pauses in conversation, about whether I’m spending too much time in the kitchen but not actually wanting to be out in the living room anyway.
I wish that the idea of going to Grand Central for the train show and the lights and the shops just sounded fun. It does sound fun, but it also makes me ridiculously nervous. I’m trying to talk my way through this one. I think I’ll have a good time. I know what Grand Central looks like, where it is, what this will be like. But I do not feel calm. I feel like taking full advantage of my lingering congested sinuses and staying in bed. Maybe meeting them to see Lord of the Rings after they do the trains. Movies are good and safe. Nobody talks to me and they don’t talk loudly or stray somewhere or bump into anyone.
I succeeded in keeping M-I-L out of the kitchen while I cooked. But Wes broke a dish while washing up afterward. They just move too quickly. They’re clutz-y, this family. They can’t be trusted with fine dishes, yet Wes wants nothing but the most delicate and aesthetically pleasing items. I don’t know what to do with them.
I don’t know what to do today. I feel like I’m holding my breath until they go. I hate that I feel that way.
// posted by ms.bri

Tuesday, December 24, 2002
OK. So my therapist, Orla, wanted me to post on my mood for the next two weeks. Right now I am so pissed it’s hard to breathe, because Wes’ Christmas present won’t be arriving today or at all (since I furiously cancelled the order because I was so mad). Now I either have to go find a new big present in the next couple hours or else try to go buy that same one in the store version of the same company who screwed me. Goddammit, B*rnes & N*ble. Get your shit together for God’s sake! I was all happy last night and even feeling festive and I made two flavors of meringues until 2 in the morning. And now I’m cranky and tired and hungry but nothing sounds good and I have to go fucking SHOP.
// posted by ms.bri

Friday, December 06, 2002
I get so obsessive about things like evite or blogging. I check for RSVP’s or comments every hour, I check my email fiendishly all day long. I think in some ways it’s me trying to hold onto my “real” life, my non-work life while I am at work all day. It clears my head between groups of small children and makes me take a deep breath and remember that I have so much happening of happiness in my life. I do love the Internet.
// posted by ms.bri

I so want to be famous.
// posted by ms.bri