November 22, 2008

Nothing to do with Puppets

Alright, I feel kind of silly bringing this up. It is, after all, entirely my fault.

But... I've been a bit lonely lately. C is working a lot and ever since I stopped teaching I haven’t been spending that much time with anyone. As much as I was burnt out on the teaching side of yoga, Camila and Patricia had really become my social window in my first years here. In my efforts to extract myself from the drama politics and competitive nature of the school, I unfortunately ended up on Not Such Good Terms with Patricia. Which has meant that I’ve chosen to keep my distance a bit with some of the other people I had met there (or run the risk of having to talk about it - and that would just keep creating more drama, more karma...). So what it comes down to is - I have to make new friends. Something I’ve never been good at doing. Ever since I was a kid.

My mom used to come home from work and find me alone, parked in front of the tv or making a mess like the time I burned a hole in the carpet when I tried to melt crayons with a lighter (didn’t know that’s how that black greasy stain got there, did you mom?) She would always say, “Don’t be such a hothouse flower. Call some friends. Get out of the house. Blow the stink off you.” I resented that. I didn’t think I stank. But I didn’t call my friends, not usually. I was reticent to pick up that phone then, and still am. Whether it was because I was shy or just liked entertaining myself, I still don’t know. I had a lot of imaginary friends, and I made up great stories that I acted out. Now, I talk to my dog. Here’s a recent conversation.

Me: “So what do you want for dinner Dharma? Chicken or bacon.”

D: “B-b-b-acon?! Did you say Bacon?! Chicken! No wait, bacon! Chicken! Bacon! Oh My God! Oh My God!”

Me: “Psyce! You’re getting the dry crunchy stuff. Had you going didn’t I?”

D: “You’re such an a-hole.”

Me: “Dharma, do you resent me because I had the vet cut out your girly bits and you can’t have babies?”

D: “Don’t try to change the subject. I can see you have chicken in your hand.”

Me: "Well you can't have it. You're fat."

D: "And you smell."

Me: “I'll pretend you didn't say that. How about some mango.”

D: “ Not unless you want me to vomit on the bathmat in the middle of the night. Wait, on second thought, yeah, I’ll have some.”

Me: “Oh don't be so dramatic. Here you go.”

True story. And it ended in vomit. At 2am. On my foot.

I need to get out more.

And I will. I feel like I’m in a bit of a holding pattern. Digesting. Waiting for the turn of the year. My folks are coming for the holidays. It will be the vacation of “trying to avoid 3rd world disasters” all over again. And then in January I promise, I will jump back into my life. Sign up for some classes, follow up on that invitation I got from a former student to go to her house and learn to make soap, finally get around to calling that girl who stopped me on the street and said she “always wanted an American friend.”

But for now, my friends are imaginary. Or rather virtual. I have fallen into reading a couple of new blogs by cool girls. They are of course much cooler than I. Most of them are very good at knitting and sewing and cooking. And they take very good photos of themselves and the things they make (giving me total DLSR envy -- to the point where I’m willing to hawk my I-pod and old 35mm SLR on the Brazilian Ebay upgrade from my point and shoot…) And of course many of them seem to live in Portland, or look like they should live in Portland (OR) and are the kind of girls I always wanted to be friends but was never crafty enough to be friends with. So I make them my imaginary/virtual friends.

Maybe I’ll finally do that blog-o-sphere thing where you trick your blog out with a sidebar list of things you read and places you visit and all the blogs that you read so that you can see what I'm talking about.

So this post had nothing to do with the purported theme of the blog - Brazil. It’s just all about me… being whiny. But it doesn’t feel like it’s a fair post without a pic, I’ll go searching for something I haven’t put up yet. Even though it was taken with just a lowly ol’ cybershot.

Just give me a sec…

Ummm... Wait... hold on... looking...

Oh, okay,

Here you go.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I was afraid this would happen to you. btw, I don't remember the crayon incident -- playing with matches! Geesh, just another of the many things mothers shouldn't know.