First, let me preface this post with the caveat that I've had some wine. I had a telephonic evening in with my friend A., and so I may be a teensy bit drunk.
But on to the title of the post. As I noted above, I think I'm going through some sort of thing - a thing that is not entirely bad, but a thing nonetheless.
I was alerted to the fact that I'm going through a thing as I began preparing dinner tonight. Or actually, before that, as I examined the contents of my bags from the grocery store. See, last week I made meatloaf. I also, in recent weeks, purchased and was terribly happy as I ate some Spaghettios with Meatballs. And today, I made a lasagna. I also bought Faygo Redpop and cheese popcorn. You don't see a theme here? Well, let me break it down for you.
Everything I'm cooking is stuff I cook when I'm in love. Lasagna has been a love-dish since the days of my First Love in high school - indeed, lasagna was the first thing that I ever cooked for a Boy. And meatloaf, while it may not seem supremely romantic, is something that I only cook for love objects, in part because one person just can't (or rather shouldn't) eat a whole meatloaf. The counterpoint to the love-dishes has been foods that I loved when I was 5 years old (i.e., the Spaghettios and the cheesecorn and redpop). So I'm thinking that maybe I'm in love with myself? And that I've regressed to the 5-year old me? (And incidentally, I do think that I was in love with myself when I was five years old).
What to make of this culinary turn? Well, in part I think it has to do with the fact that I'm trying to comfort myself with food. I'm more freaked out than I'd like to admit about the book thing. But I don't think that this is all about anxiety. Because I'm also feeling pretty happy. In part I think this is about not needing to do this stuff FOR somebody else but being able to do it for myself. I think I've written here before about the fact that I tend to like to cook for myself best - that I'm not really one who cooks for others with joy. That said, I do have certain dishes that have conventionally been reserved for others, and there's something really satisfying about allowing myself to make them just for me (although it means that I will be the size of the empire state building if I don't get things under control soon). But the point, if there is one, is that I've entered into some kind of a new phase. I'm not sure what it means.
Another marker of this new phase is that today I bought a new journal. I'm not actually "done" with the last, so this is kind of a weird thing. But I went to Borders today (where I purchased Lily Allen's CD - which I love - along with the new Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants book - awesome - and Lucinda Williams' new CD - which I've not listened to yet, as clearly I'm too happy for Lucinda. And as I was about to head to the checkout, I saw a remainder rack with journals. And, as I do love a journal, I took a look. Most of the lined journals on the rack were black (my current journal is black) and I wasn't going to buy one. There were also some blue ones, and I wasn't inspired. The journals that were lined (the only kind I will buy) were interspersed with sketch books. Also, there were some small soft-covered ones that had one page lined/one page blank that I wasn't into. No, I wanted one of the big ones - like the black and blue ones - that were lined and 8x10. But I didn't want black or blue. I found the ONE red one. I bought it. Even though I'm not done with my current journal. Or, rather, I guess I am done with it, even if it's not full.
So I've got a red journal, a fantastic lasagna (as I really do make fantastic lasagna), and I read the fourth Traveling Pants book. I also finished the preliminary revisions of all chapters that don't need major revisions in the book (though I've yet to type the changes in). And I'm feeling pretty... I don't know. I'm feeling good. I'm feeling like I'm not in some sort of a holding pattern of a life but rather that I've got something to look forward to in my life, though I've no idea what that is. And I'm excited to write in the Red Journal, even though I've no idea what I have to write in there.
I guess what I'm saying is this: I'm in some weird kind of thing - or going though a weird thing - and I don't know what it is, but I think it's good. I think that good things are ahead for me - and that something is just over the horizon that's going to be awesome. I've got absolutely no logical reason to have this feeling. And I have no idea why I feel this way, as nothing really has changed in my life to make me think that there's anything out there that will surprise me and be awesome. Huh. I don't know.
Maybe I am drunk, and tomorrow I won't feel this. Except for I felt it from the moment I bought the Red Journal and from the moment that I tasted the first bite of the lasagna that I made. I wonder what this is all about.
1 year ago