Eye of the Tiger

I was feeling particularly masochistic this morning and was Googling “early pregnancy symptoms” and would you believe that a relatively professional-looking site actually lists “positive pregnancy test” as an early PREGNANCY SYMPTOM? In related news, another pregnancy symptom is a baby falling out of your vagina, and my friend Erica pointed out that they should have listed “growing belly, possibly with kicking sensation.” The Internet is brilliant.

Today was a bit of an off day which was entirely hormonally induced — the place where you KNOW you’re being ridiculous, yet some small part of you is going, “But it’s all true! You WILL die alone!” That sounds absurd, but somehow a series of small events always culminates with someone dying, probably in a cardboard box. It starts with a random event that is totally manageable on a normal day, but mysteriously, a few moments later, we’re ALL DEAD, ALONE AND FRIENDLESS. For me that moment was a call with an old friend of mine who is fabulously wealthy and stupidly successful and I won’t even mention that he offered me to JOIN HIM AS A PARTNER in his quest for fabulous wealth and stupid success, before he achieved it, and I SAID NO for a variety of personal reasons that were actually quite valid at the time.

I mean, do I look fabulously wealthy and stupidly successful to you? Of course not, as I am still unshowered and wearing Threadless Ts. But really, my reasons were pretty good and involved wanting a whole life, rather than just a professional one (he’s divorced, doesn’t want kids, and lives for his job. Me? BTDT, no thank you.) Oh, and I didn’t really like the profession I was in, either. As in, that particular job situation made me cry. Every day. I told you, they were pretty valid.

But man, when he went off about last week’s trip to a luxurious location mingling with VCs while I stood in the kitchen making coffee, my unshowered ass in saggy pajama pants, talking about the glamorous world of work-at home freelancing in high-powered Vermont (we’re FULL of movers and shakers here! HA) it was hard to remind myself that really, I made the right decision, because I hate business travel and besides, every time I schmooze with VCs, some creepy guy’s hand ends up on my thigh and I wish I were home drinking cheap wine and making funny faces at the dog. But MAN, did I feel like a Failure.

This is all sounding very morose, but really, it’s not, as the point is this: my friend Erica saved me, because as I was talking to her — before I really went into any of it, she simply announced, “Oh my God, you’re in that place, I can tell. I know where you are. I’m surprised you didn’t see me there.”

And I just LAUGHED, because oh, it’s such a familiar place. Lawyerish and I talked about it, too. And it’s amazing how you can be dug out of that place by knowing only that someone else has been there too, even if not by the precise turn of events that got YOU there. Having friends helps a lot, and I can say that if I were fabulously wealthy and stupidly successful in that particular capacity, I wouldn’t have many quality ones, but I would have a lot of hands on my thighs. Oh, and did I mention that I wouldn’t have even MET Erica? She’s worth giving up the FWSS train, I tell you.

This is all very ironic, because just yesterday I told Jennie about one of my favorite quotes from (oh my God) Rocky Balboa (SHUT UP. IT IS FULL OF WISDOM), which is “It doesn’t matter how this looks to other people, it matters how it looks to you.” Now, I’m not about to launch into an exhibition fight with a man named Mason Dixon, but I’ll tell you, I did notice that the only time I feel like I’m failing in ANY capacity is when I consider not how my life looks to ME, but how my life looks to others. And I don’t think a life of schmoozing in an industry that I hate would have been particularly appealing to me, but pulling wrinkly radishes from the garden IS, you know?

There’s a really wise metaphor in here somewhere or life lesson or something, but I don’t know if I’m going to remember it. But mostly, I think the lesson is this: You should watch Rocky Balboa, if only because Milo Ventimiglia is in it, before he started robbing the cradle.

Moving on. Speaking (a little) of the garden, do you know that not ONLY did I overplant lettuce like you read about, but I realized yesterday that I have THIRTEEN tomato plants, all of which are flowering like gangbusters? Yes, ha ha, SHIT. I am in for a lot of tomatoes. Which is fine, because my bell, jalapeno and ancho peppers are looking positively ANEMIC, and my cucumbers aren’t looking particularly uh, PERKY, either. Gardening assvice welcome, although I’ll tell you that my basil, cilantro and radishes are quite happy indeed.

Well. Have a, um, happy Friday? What joyous introspection I’ve left you with this weekend! For us, by the way, ALLLLL Adam wants to do is go to the lake. And I’m not really going to complain, provided I don’t get pooped on.

Happy weekend!

*Survivor. We’re sticking with the Rocky theme for today. Next up: working out in the woods, pulling giant PLOWS behind me or something.

27 comments June 19th, 2008