Sunday, May 30, 2010

Until I find my memory card reader.

So, remember when I flew to San Antonio? I took one or two hundred pictures. Of the pool, the lifeguards, my jelly beans. I was a little tipsy, so, sure, most of them were lame, but pictures were taken. And I was totally going to share them with you, but as soon as I went to upload them to my computer, I realized my memory card reader had sprouted legs and wandered off into the great unknown. And, naturally, my camera's USB cord is packed away in a tiny little storage unit that fits a surprising number of boxes, none of which I felt the need to label so I have no idea what's in any of them. I'm likely to open eighteen boxes of books before I find what I'm looking for. So, until I find one or the other, you'll just have to be patient.

Monday, May 24, 2010

Par for the course.

Is it silly for me to continue to get my hopes up that the acting will somehow improve with each movie? Well, at least my disappointment doesn't detract from my enjoyment.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

San Antonio or bust.

Several years ago, back when The Husband was still The Boyfriend, a friend asked me to be a bridesmaid. This was back when I was still generally clueless about such things and didn't realize the pure torture that came with saying "Of course! I'd love to! I'm honored!"

I know better now.

The wedding was to take place in Las Vegas. The Husband couldn't attend and I couldn't be away from work too long, so I booked a flight that would get me there the day before the wedding and home right after the wedding.

Unfortunately, it was right before we were to leave for the airport, just as The Husband began yelling from the bottom of the stairs that we had to leave Right! This! Second! that I glanced at my flight info and realized I had booked a return flight for that very same night. Oops.

I'm still recovering from what followed. I made a mad attempt to reschedule. When that failed, I had no other choice but to cancel and drive. Normally, driving myself the eight hours to and from Las Vegas wouldn't be a problem, but I still had to leave right after the wedding.

Which meant driving sixteen hours for a trip that would last the same amount of time.

Which meant driving through the night to make it home in time for a Godforsaken five-thirty a.m. shift.

It was an hour or two into the drive home, nearly the middle of the night, and a migraine struck. I called The Husband. "There's no way I can drive through this," I said. "I have to stop. Please, find me a hotel room."

He did and I wound up sleeping off said migraine in a La Quinta somewhere off highway 58 and calling in "sick" to work.

Even since then, I've been incredibly nervous when it comes to booking flights. I'm always afraid I'm going to make the same mistake.

With that being said, I've checked my flight schedule no less than forty-five times since I clicked "purchase ticket" a mere four days ago. Also, every time I wake up, I fear I've overslept by days and have completely missed my trip.

Peeps, I'm flying to San Antonio tomorrow. Other than El Paso, I've never seen Texas. And, let's face it, El Paso so totally doesn't count.

I'm terribly excited. I've never flown by myself and there comes a real sense of independence with doing so. And I like it. I'm nervous, sure. Not about flying, but about missing my connections or having a complete nervous breakdown 'cause I have no idea what the hell I'm doing.

Technically, I'm going to visit The Husband. He's in San Antonio working for a couple of weeks and when he suggested I come out for a weekend and I just happened to have the time off, I jumped at the opportunity. And, since he's working, I'll be doing a little sight-seeing and a lot of lounging by the pool all on my own.

And I am A-okay with that.

Three weeks ago, The Husbands and my relationship began to shift. We exchanged a couple of interesting and thoughtful e-mails, I suggested we talk in person and we went on to have an amazing conversation. It felt like we were really communicating for the first time ever.

I wouldn't go so far as to say we knew right then that we wanted to work things out. Far from it, actually. That was the night I said I wanted us to decide, one way or the other, by June first.

It was I who suggested a couple days later that we spend an evening together. A sort of "date," if you will. I suggested we do something totally normal and low key. Like a movie. Something we would have done while we were married. I didn't want to talk about our marriage or our problems. I didn't want either of us to feel as if we had to impress the other. "Let's just go as friends," I said. "Let's just spend some time together and see how it fits."

It was fun. We talked, we laughed. It felt good.

And, here's the thing. I'm making an effort to let go of the fear that I'll make a wrong decision. Instead, I'm going to focus on what makes me happy. Because, the fact is, The Husband and I could get back together, have a wonderful marriage for ten or twenty years and still end up divorced. There are no guarantees. I'll never be able to know for sure, without a doubt, that staying together or getting divorced is the right or wrong thing to do until I actually do it.

No, I'm not going to ignore the warning signs. I'm not going to ignore what could be or is a problem. It's why I said I wouldn't even consider trying to make this marriage work if he wasn't willing to go to counseling.

Is this trip to San Antonio a mistake? Could be. But am I excited to go? Yes. Absolutely. I'm excited to travel. I'm excited to travel ON MY OWN. I'm excited to see The Husband. I'm excited to get out of town and relax.

I realize that we're not exactly living reality here. When The Husband and I see each other now, we're on our best behavior. I shave my legs and wear the uncomfortable pretty stuff from Victoria's Secret. It's fun and exciting... like a brand new relationship.

It's easy to forget about all the things that drove us apart while we were living together.

Well, maybe not as easy to forget as it is to just stop thinking about it while we're having fun.

I will make myself think about it. That's important. I need to decide if I can live with and move forward after everything that has happened between us. I need to think about the risks involved.

But I'm not going to sit around, unable to make a decision 'cause I'm too afraid it'll be the wrong one.

And, mistake or otherwise, I'm flying to San Antonio tomorrow. And, damn it, I'm going to have fun. And I can't wait.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Trying to make sense.

I began writing a new post, like, twelve days ago. No joke. But it got to be so long, was taking up so much of my time, and had so many incomplete sentences that I finally just scrapped the damn thing and decided to start over.

Also, since it's been, like, a year since I last posted anything (for which I am so not apologizing 'cause I hate it when people do that) (it's YOUR blog, post however often you want!) I am, naturally, heaping loads of pressure on myself to make whatever it is I do post next really damn good.

(Which means this will totally suck.) (You're welcome.)

And, since I haven't been able to form the words I want to say into an even remotely coherent blog post, I'm reverting back to the ole stand-by. List format. 'Cause I like lists. And it's been a while.

It certainly won't be as fun as this list, but I have to get this muddled crap off my mind and out into the great WWW or I'm afraid I'll never get back to posting regularly.

So, yeah... just bear with me if you will...

1. If I had thought there was even the tiniest speck of possibility that The Husband and I would call "do-over" and resolve our issues, I never would have written this post.

2. No, The Husband and I have not called a "do-over," by the way, but there is talk. There is serious talk.

3. Let me be clear here. When I cried "divorce," there was zero (zero!) doubt in my mind that a divorce is exactly what would happen.

4. It's why I filled out the papers the very same day. And shared them with The Husband the day after that.

5. It's why we immediately began sleeping in separate rooms.

6. It's why we immediately began to split all of our financial obligations.

7. When The Husband asked me to meet him for coffee two weeks later, I was 110% percent sure that it was not to question our decision and wonder if we were making a mistake.

8. I was wrong.

9. And remember this? You might recall it as the day I completely fell apart. I wrote it after returning home. Turns out I was more successful at holding myself together when I thought we had a less-than-zero chance... but crumbled to pieces when the "possibilities" door opened.

10. He asked if I'd consider a separation and give us a chance to figure things out. I told him that as much as I loved him, as much as I considered a divorce a horrible solution, it was the third year in a row that I'd heard him say he wasn't happy. I couldn't risk the hurt and heartbreak of hearing him say it again.

11. It's that thought that keeps me unsure of a "do-over."

12. I understand being unhappy. I do. Shit happens. Marriages aren't easy. Being married to the same person for years and years and years and having to endure all the stupid shit that made you crazy starting the moment you moved in together can drive anyone off an effing cliff.

13. Wait. Where was I?

14. Oh yeah. My frustration stems from the fact that he never said anything about it until his bags were packed. Figuratively speaking, that is.

15. Technically, I've always been the one to pack.

16. I fear that I acted impulsively when I said "let's just end this" and that The Depression played a lead role. I have not come to any concrete conclusions yet, but I'll let you know when and if I do.

17. I've been avoiding my blog. There, I admit it. At first I was afraid everyone would think me an idiot for even contemplating the idea of working things out. Now I realize it's because I think myself an idiot.

18. I need to stop beating myself up. I've made mistakes. He's made mistakes. It's time to figure out what I want right now.

19. You can probably guess at the direction in which I'm leaning. Because I'm a total sucker.

20. If it makes anyone feel better, if (big, huge IF) we decide to try again, I won't move back in right away. We need counseling and I've already told The Husband that if he's unwilling to commit to at least six months of torturous "I vs. YOU statements" then there's no point in even trying. That's one of my deal breakers.

21. I've asked that we both make our decision, one way or the other, by June 1st.

22. It's going to be a very long two weeks.

23. On the flip side, a very long two weeks in a completely empty apartment. Empty. Apartment. A moment of silence, please. The Husband has left town on business and I'm taking care of the cats. When he suggested I sleep here, I thought that might be weird. Turns out? I don't give a shit who lives here.


25. The end.