And How Does That Make Me Feel?

As promised, I have returned to enlighten you as to why I am such a stressball this week. Actually...knowing me, I probably won't tell you all that much. I might allude. I might suggest. But it would be highly out of character for me to put it all out there in plain view. I mean, let's be honest here: that picture over there on the left? Not really me.

Like I said, there are many details. Layers, really. Layers of varying thicknesses of stress. Here's an example of a fairly thin layer: I am suffering from Facebook anxiety. I have heard no fewer than ten times in the past week alone that I HAVE to get on Facebook. Why do I HAVE to get on Facebook, may I ask? I have zero desire to get in touch with that girl from the first grade who grossed me out with her gross yogurt every day. Plus, I hear there is a certain expectation to share things. Like pictures from your actual life. This information only serves to thicken the layer, you know. I much prefer the comfortable distance of an avatar, a pseudonym, a stunt double even. I can't really explain my aversion in any concrete way, but I am going to have to get over it pretty quickly here. Because if I truly am the last person on the face of the earth to not be on Facebook, that's usually about the time for me to jump on board. Much like this past weekend was the first time I have ever created an iPod playlist. Seriously. First time. And it has made my morning run SO much more enjoyable. Who knew? Now that I am no longer suffering through the only FM radio station that comes through on my basement stereo - complete with newscasts and mega commercial breaks - I suppose it's time I signed up for FaceBook, too.

Let's peel back another layer now. This is a pretty substantial one. I am yearning. I yearn. Yearn for what, you ask? I can't tell you. But I will say that it is seriously driving me bananas. I am completely inexperienced when it comes to this particular yearning. And it makes me feel like some kind of lunatic. Try as I might, I can't seem to just BE. And communicating this yearning? I'm sure I sound as pathetic as I feel, which is surely not going to bring my yearning to any kind of satisfactory conclusion, which just compounds the yearning problem. Is there a pill for this?

Okay, a layer in the middle. I hate winter. I almost liked it for a few minutes last weekend when Third Grader and I went snowboarding. That was early on in the day, while I was still in the capable hands of Sarah the Instructor, and not yet repeatedly slamming my body into the ground. In fact, I think I actually said to Sarah the Instructor, "Now I see why people like doing this!" It was unusually chipper of me. Then my lesson ended and the repeated body slamming began. The fact is that I don't like being bad at things, and I am really truly bad at snowboarding. True, I left the mountain full of determination to return another day. And then, tonight, Fifth Grader came home from her first trip with the school program and bragged her head off about taking the chairlift. Whatever. If I try to keep up with her on this endeavor, I will end up in a body cast.

Well, that's all the time we have today. I think we've made a lot of progress. At least, I'm standing a lot closer to the vodka now. That's progress, I think.