Trials of Marriage

On Friday, November 4, my parents will celebrate their 32 year anniversary. In a world where marriage, love, and fidelity are taken for granted, they have lasted. I am happy that when I refer to my parents, I mean them together, collectively, as one entity united. I know that in this society, I am considered an oddity, being a child of marrige, not of divorce, or of wedlock. They did not live together before marriage. They both had very hard childhood experiences, and I believe, they were lucky to have found each other.

Marriage, as I have been told (and have observed) is VERY hard work. You don't always agree with each other. Religion, finances, in-laws, and a slew of other complications can wreak havoc on a marriage.

My brother, in search of the same lasting love and companionship that my parents share, recently celebrated his one year anniversary. A month before their anniversary, his wife walked away, and moved back in with her parents. My brother was devastated. He arranged counseling, he did things by her rules--don't call after 9pm, don't come see me because I don't want to see you, come see me but only if my parents are home, make sure to send roses to work for the anniversary, buy me this hugely expensive thing I don't need but which will prove that you love me, etc. A month after the anniversary, they are back together, though she has still to tell him why she left to begin with.

Marriage, above all, is a compromise. It means not having to attend every family function, but attending enough to be polite. It means splitting holidays between two sets of parents, and not isolating siblings. It means not changing who you are entirely, but becoming something more than what you were to begin with because a new dimension has been added.

It is not a secret that I do not harbor any goodwill towards the person that my brother has chosen to spend his life with. I would never tell him of my animosity towards her, or of her rude treatment of myself, or of my mother, because I know that it would drive him away even further than she has taken him.

At one time in my life, my brother and I were best friends. We played Barbie and GI Joe and Hot Wheels together. We had knock-down drag out fights that sometimes resulted in blood, but mostly bumps and bruises. When we were older, we were friends again. We shared pain and suffering when we lost grandparents, pets, and friends. And then he met HER, and life changed. Love is supossed to bring out the best in a person, but she brings out the worst in him.

This posting started out as a positive look at love and marriage, but I think that it's turned to the opposite. Sometimes the fairytale isn't all it's cracked up to be---and sometimes can be. It makes me simultaneously both love and hate being single. And it made me realize how much I miss my brother.

I was tagged, so here goes

OG tagged me. Here goes...

10 FAVORITES
Favorite Color: red
Favorite Food: spaghetti
Favorite Month: November
Favorite Song: Wide Open Spaces (Dixie Chicks)
Favorite Movie: Something About Mary
Favorite Sport: Hockey (to watch)
Favorite Season: Autumn
Favorite Day Of the week: Saturday
Favorite Ice Cream Flavor: chocolate
Favorite Time of Day: Bedtime

9 CURRENTS
Current Mood: Relaxed
Current Taste: Raisins
Current Clothes: fuzzy sweater hoodie and khaki pants
Current Desktop: two headed turtle
Current Toenail Color: Cover Girl Valentine Red 3-in-1
Current Time: 10:36 am EST
Current Surroundings: the office
Current Thoughts: “nothing compares to you” (it’s on the radio)

8 FIRSTS
First Best Friend: my brother, I guess.
First Kiss: some guy I met in college (and I honestly can’t remember his name)
First Screen Name: remmy
First Pet: a beagle named Sprout that my parents found as a puppy, running beside the road in a blizzard. According to my mom, he slept under my crib and growled at everyone who came near me except for them.
First Piercing: my ears at age 11
First Crush: Joey McIntyre from NKOTB
First Album: Lionel Ritchie “Dancing on the Ceiling”

7 LASTS
Last Cigarette: I have never smoked.
Last Drink: water
Last Car Ride: drove to work
Last Kiss: no comment
Last Movie Seen: Charlie and the Chocolate Factory (second time)
Last Phone Call: Mom
Last CD Played: Spanish Immersion disk 1

6 HAVE YOU EVERS
Have You Ever Dated One Of Your Best Guy/Girl Friends: No.
Have You Ever Broken the Law: define “breaking the law”.
Have You Ever Been Arrested: Nope—never got detention in HS, either.
Have You Ever Skinny Dipped: Yes (just don't think about it--not a pretty picture!)
Have You Ever Been on TV: No
Have You Ever Kissed Someone You Didn't Know: No

5 THINGS
Thing You're Wearing: doc martens of death
Thing You've Done Today: showered
Thing You Can Hear Right Now: typing of co-workers
Thing You Can't Live Without: Bonnie Bell Lipsmacker in Dr. Pepper
Thing You Do When You're Bored: @ work—read blogs

4 PLACES YOU'VE BEEN TODAY
1. shower
2. car
3. office
4. ladies room @ work

3 PEOPLE YOU CAN TELL ANYTHING TO
1. Mom (nearly everything--some things aren't appropriate for a moms' ears)
2. JoDee
3. Pam

2 CHOICES
1. Black or White: Black
2. Hot or Cold: Cold

1 THING YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:

Travel extensively around the world and see everything possible.


If you feel like doing your own thing with this, just drop me a line and let me know so I can stop by and read it! :)

My life as an Office Drone

Aisha asked what it was like to work the 9-5 office life. I tried writing about the structure, the days, co-workers, cubicles...and nothing seemed to fit. So I wrote this instead.

Everyday I sit and stare at
the computer
the calendar
the clock

And I count
the minutes
the hours
the days

Until
a weekend
a holiday
a natural disaster

Arrives to remove
the boredom
the drudgery
the monotony

Of days spent staring.

A Bugs Life

Code name: Bugkiller
Job Description: See code name.

0600 hours:

While on tactical maneuvers in my bathroom (i.e.-putting in my contact lenses), I became aware of a slight movement to my right. Only half-ready for battle, with one eye still lacking its UV coated protection, I turn, and squinting slightly, can make out the movement of tiny legs rolling silently across the floor.

I stop movement, and watch the suspect as it approaches the wall. Veering neither left nor right, it instead heads directly to the baseboard, and in a stunning maneuver, climbs straight up. Realizing that I have no suitable weapon at hand, I watch as the creature determines that up is not where he wants to be, and makes a wayward turn back to the floor. Still holding my breath, my remaining contact lens perched precariously on the tip of my finger, I watch silently as the centipede encounters numerous obstacles, finally becoming lost under the microwave cart. Suddenly, it dawns on me that this is Big C, my surefire protection from the forthcoming spider invasion.

Although I breathe easier at his hidden presence, I know that this is not something I can let go. After all, this bug, nay, this centipede with its 100 legs should move faster than this which I have witnessed. And why has it come into the light, these creatures that shun the harsh luminescence? Was it merely lost and startled after spending the night hunting for the other creatures that inhabit my apartment? In days past, I have seen Big C move as fast as the blink of an eye, a barely discerning flicker of movement which quickly becomes forgotten as life progresses.

However, was it not just yesterday that I discovered the hiding place of my arch nemesis, Monsieur Spider? Did I not pull open the curtain next to my bed, and find a complex series of bunkers, created for the specific purpose of surveillance on none other than me? During the battle that ensued between the Monsieur and I, did he not retreat to the same baseboard hiding places that my ally, Big C, had just used for his own wary journey? Perhaps Big C has outlived his usefulness to me and my mission. He has grown old and slow, and there are many battles yet to fight.

Contemplating my next moves in the encroaching days, as I assume that confrontation with Big C will be imminent, I quickly finish contact insertion. As I turn to close the bathroom door, who do I encounter? None other than the Big C himself, meandering through my home, now going in the opposite direction from whence he had secreted himself. Silent and stealthy, I track his progress across the gray carpete that serves him well as camouflage.

Still having no weapon at hand, I creep behind him, hoping to reach the safety and protection of my shoes before he discovers me and runs towards my bare feet,--his only option for escape. Suddenly, he stops and attempts to become one with the carpeting. He is aware of my presence, and is now sure of the encroaching danger I represent. Anticipating how this battle will play out, I make a frantic grab for the closest weapon at hand—the Doc Marten of Death—and bring it down over his body, snuffing out his last little buggy breath of life.

Later, I will think of my actions that brought around the demise of Big C. As the weather turns chill, I know that I will miss his sentry duties, securing the perimeter, and perhaps fighting silent battles with the creatures who attempt to enter. He served his purpose well, and in doing so, has been afforded a heroes death, and a paupers’ funeral.

something to be...

with nothing to write.

Unfortunately, I have not been struck with any inspiration as of late. I've had no crisis that has required advice. Life has been lulled into a sense of sameness.

Maybe when something exciting happens, I'll have more to say.

If you have a topic that you'd like to read about, leave me a comment, and I'll work on a post specifically for you. Imagine, a customized blogging experience for the masses.

Be the first to get in on this novel idea! I'm willing to write for you!