A Good Book, A Long Wait, and A New Old Friend

A Good Book. I've always been a fairly avid reader. I have stacks of books in (nearly) every room, stacks near my bed, stacks on my bed, in some eternal, internal plea that I could glean something by just having them near me. I try, surely, to absorb them in my sleep. I'm always searching for the book that will capture my imagination, that will give me the answer, that will fix my life. Clearly, there's a lot of disappointment. But recently, a very close friend, a brilliant writer, and definitely a bibliophile in the contextual sense, gave me a tip on a book she'd read. It's called "Odd Women" by George Gissing. Written in the later part of the 19th century, set in England, it is a valuable reflection of the life and choices women faced just as the women's movement was trying to find its footing. "George" isn't an pseudonym in this case, it was really written by a man. That's part of what makes it incredible, because it seems to me that he had the amazing ability to empathize with both genders' situations, and even to create credible relationships.

It's about five "odd" women. "Odd" in this case means both "unmarried" and "singular" in their thinking; that is, the two main women find themselves in situations with men that are not of their choosing, and they realize the difficulties of a society that only values a woman if she's married. As a happily confirmed single person, I found it quite amazing. A little bit difficult to read because of the heightened language, but the mores of the times are jaw-dropping. How far we've come, how far we have to go, that sort of thing. Anyway, I've just finished, and I miss the characters. A sure sign of a good book.

A Long Wait. We're waiting now, waiting to see the full cast. We're bored, perhaps, with the two stars, Obama and McCain, and we are on the edge of our seats waiting for their announcements of running mates. And the conjecture is thundering. There have been (and will be, until it's over) hundreds of hours pondering the choices, the signs, the possibilities, the reasons, the yada-yada-yada as we wait, a little like young children in the back seat: Are we there yet? How about now? Now? Then when? It's another perfect example of the tail wagging the dog. Stay tuned....

A New Old Friend. Recently, I got talked into creating a Facebook page. Well, fooled into it is a little more accurate. Anyway, I felt pretty silly. I can see why it's so much fun as a teenager, or even a college student, I guess, but I thought to myself, why do I need a page? It felt like filling out a page for my yearbook. A bit juvenile. After all, I, as a so-called grown-up, can connect with anyone I wanted to by picking up the phone. And don't I have everyone in my life that I need? Who needs tons of friends to keep up with? And if people pop up from my past, isn't that, kind of, asking for trouble?

Well, I was wrong. Very wrong. Silly me. (That'll teach me, right? Of course, right!) At first, I reconnected with a couple of college buddies, that's good, people I chose to hang with, so I'm still confident in our connection points. A couple of high school buddies, good, didn't have as much choice in h.s., but as I remember, I found some pretty choice friends there, too.

But then, out of that proverbial clear blue s., along came a friend from elementary school, can you imagine? Now, I had not just remembered her, but we were so tight then that I have often thought of her in the years since. I was an only child at that point, and she was as close to a sister as I could have. She had siblings, but they were much older, so she probably thought of me the same way. I grew up in a very small town where nothing much ever changed. Her family came, and left, rather quickly (to me her departure was wrenching). Maybe that was it. Anyway, up she pops, "are you the same one I grew up with?" and poof. A new, old friend. Not even a friend I grew up with, and yet we have so much in common, I think if we met today, we'd be fast friends in a blink of an eye. Now that's just weird. How does your best friend from like the 3rd grade (in a VERY small town, where the choices are FEW) end up being someone you'd've picked as a grown-up?
I'm still in awe. And, it the very weirdest twist, as we try to catch up with each other's life, I'm realizing something I would NEVER have thought of, when I signed up with Facebook: It works both ways. Yes, you may discover that there was a reason you and the high school buddy grew apart, and that's ever so obvious now, but that you ALSO might connect with someone who liked you before all the angst and pain and depression and heartache that has become so much a part of you, and if there's still a connection, maybe you had some of the good qualities then, before it all got screwed up. Maybe I wasn't quite the blank slate I thought of myself as. Does that makes sense? If we still connect, nearly 40 years later, maybe there really was a connection then, and maybe it was us in our purest selves, and maybe it's without all the gunk that's happened since.

Well, whatever it is, it has made me really quite happy, and more importantly, hopeful, in a way I haven't felt in a long time. Weird, huh?

What I See from Here

Ain't this a kick in the head! My little corner of the world, now complete with its own little mega-microphone. Today's topics: John Edwards, Clinton-fanatics, and Why Can't I Ever Eat on Time.
Mr. Edwards' story seems to be getting hotter, not cooler, as troublemakers like Fox News look around for more people in "the know" to proffer their opinion. As I condemn Edwards' behavior and am deeply saddened and angry that yet another (possibly) decent leader with good ideas is torpedoed by his own ego (and other body parts), I wonder why this continues to happen to our leaders. I wish we could find a way to deal with this that doesn't include plucking the party-girl's posse out of obscurity to probe the part of the story we should not care about: her side. What we should care about is the other woman: you remember, the wife? What was she thinking, supporting this liar? And how on goddess' green earth was she able to stand there, next to him, and lend her abilities and (maybe very little) time to advance a man she knew was lying? And it's always the lying, isn't it? The affair is bad enough, the payoff might make it worse, but it's the LYING. It's always the lying. Do we (they: men) ever learn anything?

Clintonistas: The fantasy, the underdogs, the next Big Move. I am only beginning to hear of this movement, and if you haven't I encourage you to poke around a bit for information about "The Denver Group". It seems they fancy themselves the next purveyors of the Boston Tea Party. The metaphor is a little off, unless they're also asking for a tax break. They're trying to portray themselves as the outcasts, the rebels for their cause, a rebellion of the establishment. But this seems backwards to me. To me, it seems that they WERE the establishment: for 15 years, the Clintons ruled the Democratic Party. What's bucking the trend is the way Obama and his campaign have always taken the high road, never letting the barbs hit the target, always gracious in the face of such ridiculous actions. I don't think The Obama et al, have ever asked for any special treatment, and in fact they have gone out of their way to behave in an inclusive manner. So here are the questions: What, really is the point of these fanatic Clinton supporters? Why are they so poisoned against Obama? If the media didn't treat Hillary fairly (and I, as an AVID news watcher and a feminist, never felt that to be true), why does that make them mad at Obama? What did he do to strike this anger into their hearts? Why aren't they angry at McCain? What is to be gained? What will be lost, if we do not unite in Denver? How is winning this battle going to be judged if we lose the war?

And finally: why can't I eat on time? I should be eating meals with some regularity, for managing blood sugar levels. But I often find I've overdone it. I've tried to do "just one more thing" before eating, and the next thing I know I'm getting a little dizzy or sluggish and that's too late. Argh. Maybe the question should be: why is it so hard to take care of me? I've been around me all my life, and for most of that time, Mom wasn't poking my face with a spoon. I have to do it every day, in some fashion. But I don't plan ahead, I don't keep track, and I don't even manage to keep those little snack-y foods around for this very problem. It's odd to me. If I really have some kind of deep-seated desire to survive, why do I also sabotage myself?

Happy trails -