“Little Edie”

My God I never thought I’d be back here in blogging purgatory.
I had finally completed all my obligations for the 10-week challenge, not that I had anything monumentally important to say in the first place anyway.
However at 3:48am this morning all that changed ’cause here I am in the dark pouring my heart out on my trusty iPhone.

So on to the blogging… olé!

Last night I got what was the equivalent of a boot kick in the belly (once again) when my old roommate J. texts me with the happy news that she’s engaged.
Well, there goes another one!

I’m happy for her, I truly truly am, but truth be told I’m bummed for myself.
Most of all I’m sad that I’m still conditioned by my upbringing and societal norms to believe that marriage and landing a man is the ultimate golden ticket. That mysterious journey in which a woman takes the Orient Express train (first class Russian Imperial compartment) into a magical Technicolor sunset, and out of Spinster Town.
As for the rest of us, we are left on the platform of lonely hearts waving goodbye with one hand, and desperately scrolling down a tired list of inappropriate online dates with the other.
The stench of frustration of  “single hell” wafts heavily in the air tonight.

Although I must say, I’m beginning to suspect that I’m creating all this. As a matter of fact, I still hark back to what I consider a foreshadowing dream I had as a teenager, and possibly one of the causes of my subconscious beliefs. It is still vividly insidious to this day.
I sneak into a quarry in the dead of night with a group of friends. There’s these enormous piles of black rocks almost the size of small pyramids, and we decide to climb to the top so we can get stoned and watch the sun rise.
For some unknown reason I sneak off to scale my own hill away from the others. While looking onto the distant horizon I can hear my friends running around at the bottom looking for me and calling my name. I quietly ignore them, and know that this moment defines me, and that deep down I will always be on my own.
It’s as if I purposely seek the veil of solitude.
I know that I love and in turn am very much loved by them, but something tells me that I’m meant to be alone for the rest of my life. Perhaps it’s because I choose to be.

Knowing my piggish resolve, I’ll probably turn out to be one of those women who… who…
Oh who am I kidding??
If I continue down this road, I’ll end up becoming Edith “Little Edie” Bouvier Beale (please see above photo for a visual reference. If you think about it, I’m proper fucked)
Probably still practicing my lame yoga, but in a shiny disco all-black long-sleeved unitard and an Hermes scarf as a turban.
I’ll be “that crazy but harmless old lady” who everyone can’t but stare at.
I’ll have no friends and I’ll hear whispers in reference to “Mrs. Havisham” while walking down the supermarket aisles. I’ll die alone with a space heater on full blast in my room, and a year later they will find my mummified corpse*.

On the other side of the coin…

If this is all true then I’ve decided that life has another purpose for me.
Perhaps it’s time to put my highly underused sense of exploration into play and go create some myths.
If love and marriage are not in the cards, then why not be the pirate I’ve always wanted to be?
There’s a whole FUCKING world out there and I want to plunder its riches and adventures.
Maybe I’ll stop hiding out on top of my solitary hill and run down to join my friends. They’re calling my name, so why not go play? Why not frolic and discover?
I believe that the next profound shift in my life is finally here, and J.’s news was exactly what I needed to hear to get my ass in gear.

Please stay tuned, this should be good.
“…and as the sun rose she knew she could no longer afford the false comforts of  hiding in the dark.”

*Could I have managed to depress myself any more?? Jesus!