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Tuesday, Jan. 13, 2004 / 8:27 p.m. ~This One May End Up In the Private Entry Bin Later, So Read It While You Can~ Tonight it was between Publix and the Farmer's Market, and the decision alone was almost too much, but when I got to the Farmer's Market I was overwhelmed completely. Sometimes it's just like that. No handbaskets, looked everywhere, they're outside on top of the carts, but they're wet, and I don't want wet, get a cart, and start to choose some salad in a bag stuff, but there's a woman next to me doing the same thing, and she's got one of those 'car' carts with a kid in it, and sure, the kid deserves to be having fun shopping, riding in what looks like a car and everything, but those fuckers are huge and they take up the aisle, but this was a big aisle... So she's wandering up and down looking at all the varieties, and yeah, there are too many, and I can't stand that she's doing what I'm doing, so I decide to move on and come back. And I'm uber aware of myself as single person shopping, single 42 year old person shopping alone, buying pitiful odd things for her pitiful life, and I try to choose some olive oil because I'm almost totally out, and I always get the extra virgin, because I like it, dammit, but when was it this expensive? Every bottle is over $7, but there's this Spanish brand, and that's fine, Spain grows olives, but it's a plastic bottle, and I just can't do it, sure, it's cheaper, but plastic? Everything is this big decision, and my eyes hurt, and the lights are too bright, and I'm squinting like crazy, I should've worn my glasses, but I have no peripheral vision with them on, and I hate that, so I don't wear them to walk around, just to be on the computer. So, yeah, I was irritated at every little thing. Preserves, just to go with my peanut butter and whole wheat during the week, five billion different brands, flavors, fruits, spreads, marmalades, jams, jellies, and they're all over $3 a jar. Except... there's a row of Smucker's, strawberry, $1.23. TAKE IT! RUN!!! Too many choices, like Dave Matthews sings, too much, just too much. I just want preserves, something simple, not fancy $6 preserves from the basement of some old Abbey in London, just preserves. You know? Does everything have to be so damned difficult? And then I want to create a salad at the salad bar, but it's slow, and the employees are all hovering, and the salad bar lady is wiping everything down, picking at pieces of stray accoutrements, with gloves, yes, but still, and I can't bear the thought of having to walk around her to choose what I want. No one ever gets out of my way, ever, I'm always the invisible one, having to move, saying, "Excuse me", "Pardon me", "I'm sorry", why me? I managed to get some hot dogs, because I've been craving them, and some whole wheat buns, some mango nectar (expensive, everything is SO expensive, why do I shop there again?), more garlic stuffed olives (I ate the last jar in about two days), more potstickers (and why can't they get more pork filled shu mai?), and dumpling sauce (but why do they have five million bottles of the HOT?, why don't they order more of the regular, no one is going to buy the hot - oh, I did), a bag of salad greens, a brand of extra virgin olive oil I'd never tried, in a glass bottle, and the organic milk I like. I did it, but I walked out of there, after the bagger had so much fun challenging herself to stuff every last item into my canvas bag, without actually crushing the bread and buns - and I loved her for it, and I wanted to cry. I felt overwhelmingly sad. So, so depressed, and I kept thinking of recent events, and how horrible it all makes me feel, STILL, and when will I get past it? It's so hard to know someone doesn't want to know me. It hurts so much, especially after what we did together. It just really hurts, I mean it, sometimes I think I can't stand it, it's that bad, but then I go to work, I'm okay, I come home, I'm in a good mood, but something happens, or a thought crosses my mind, or there are too many preserves to choose from and they're all so expensive, and I am suddenly just so damned sad. If this is how it's going to be, I wish it hadn't happened, I wish it hadn't happened, I wish it hadn't happened, and I've got on the ruby red slippers and I'm clicking my heels and I want to go home, I want it to go away, I want to be here whining because I haven't had sex in three years, I want to write about how I'll never have sex again, I don't need a man, men suck, people suck, and fuck you all. I don't want to be here, not feeling like this, STILL, again, STILL. What's wrong with me? Why is this affecting me like this? Why can't I MOVE ON? Oh, I called the guy I 'met' on Salon.com. Left a message. And I wrote to the one who left me a note on Friendster. I'm trying to move on, you see, I'm trying. And I watched "A Man and a Woman" last night and it was too beautiful, it made me sad too. I'd never seen all of it before, but I remember my mother loving it. And the man and the woman always riding in the car in the rain, the windshield wipers flapping. Maybe I was too young to read the subtitles. I love it, it's my new favorite movie. And tomorrow I go to see "Girl With a Pearl Earring", free screening, assuming it's not filled up and I can't get in. I'm functioning, you see, but I am ruined inside. I did it again, I had sex with someone who never wants to see me again, only this time it was twice, not just one occasion, it was a two night stand. There. It's out. It's on the table. Time to move on. Cost of the War in Iraq
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