It’s been forever.
My last post was half a year ago.
A lot of that can be owed to the fact that my laptop has been only vaguely functional for…years now, and then there was this fun phenomenon in which my S, W, X, 2, and 9 weren’t working (I legit did my taxes by copy-and-pasting the necessary numbers…) and then I just realized I could buy a USB keyboard for $12…
Well, anyway, it’s been a while. I’ve had ideas every once in a while for blog posts that never quite made it to fruition, or the prospect of typing it up on my phone just seemed like a terrible plan.
But also, I often find it easier to write when I’m in Supreme Emotional Turmoil and…I’ve been more or less…Happy™ lately?
Don’t get me wrong, this world is a shitshow garbage fire full of farts and half of my life is spent in avoidance of the news because it’s the only way I can keep myself from an anxiety-ridden meltdown, but personally, things are pretty okay.
I’m settling into my early thirties, becoming an Instant Pot obsessed domestic…dare I say…goddess? I’ve become that pretentious asshole who tries to cook mostly vegan while at home but is still completely cool with gettin’ down with some Popeye’s Chicken. And my boyfriend built me a custom ingredients shelf for Christmas because those lentils and spelt flour aren’t gonna hold themselves.
In Which I Contemplate How Dating After Divorce and Incorporating Into Each Other’s Families Is Buckwild
I’ve been dating my guy for nearly a year and a half now, which is utterly mind-boggling. (Granted, the first few months were when I was trying my hand at “ethical non-monogamy” and accidentally dated three Dans at the same time, which ended up not working because he was so damn swell that I just didn’t want anyone else. My plans were foiled but it’s worked out well for us!)
He finally met my family and friends over the holidays. I think that my grandma, who more or less disapproves of everyone, may be in love with him. I’ve never seen her laugh and joke and stay downstairs and socialize as much as she did when he was around.
“Even if he does have strange hair, he is a really nice young man,” she told my mom.
“Well, Amanda doesn’t have any hair and that doesn’t have any bearing on whether she’s a nice person or not, now, does it?” My mom quipped.
I’ve started to hang out with his friends more, and they’re all awesome…my kind of people, which makes sense cuz he’s my kind of people. It makes me sad that all of my closest friends are scattered across the world, but I’m happy that he has his all more or less still in one place.
I’ve become a regular at his family functions…I was one of eight guests at his brother’s wedding and I’ll be going on a trip with them to Cape Hatteras this fall. I helped him host Thanksgiving at his house this year. I’m being thoroughly incorporated, which is cool but also weird, because I’m The New Girl except I’m not that new anymore. Those feelings have waned a lot over the past year.
I was so self conscious at first, like everyone was comparing me to her, or even wondering if it was me who broke them up (which was definitely not the case but if people didn’t know, I was terrified they’d assume.) It’s just weird filling someone else’s shoes, though I know it’s not really like that. His ex and I are quite similar in a handful of ways, which can be a little creepy. And we both have three syllable A names which has been an issue once or twice, but I don’t fault anyone for that! I mean, my parents called me by the dog’s name when I grew up a couple times, so I’ll answer to anything if the intent is there.
There are occasional (fairly frequent???) comments about grandchildren at his family events, which is A Lot but still flattering in that they think I’d be an okay specimen to contribute to the family line. His sister in law joked about wanting me as a sister-wife. And that one time they joked about the second wife being the trophy wife and then everyone looked at me. Well then. (I guess it means they like me…I’ll take it, even if it does make for some awkward, blush-filled dinners!)
But there’s no rush for anything. Both of us are terrified about making the wrong choice again so we’re proceeding with caution, wherever that may lead. It’s refreshing to be so methodical about these things for the first time ever. It’s definitely in his nature so it makes sense, though for me, I’ve always jumped in and only way later do I realize “What the fuck have I done?!” So really, this is just what I needed.
I barely feel like a divorcee anymore. That chapter of my life seems like it was a lifetime ago, and sometimes I even forget it was real life. It’s strange how memory works, and how one’s brain deals with trauma.
In Which I Still Can’t Get Over How I Have A Work-Life Balance
Work is just fine. I’ve gotten so spoiled at my current job, and I’ve gotten used to not having the insane life that almost every theatre professional I know has. I have nights and weekends free in which I could do anything I wanted but, let’s face it, I normally just watch a bunch of Netflix or cook some weird-ass lentil stew in my Instant Pot and try to avoid the yelling of self-righteous vegans in Facebook groups. (I’ve really brought it upon myself, and I fully acknowledge this.)
In Which My Dystopian Dreams About Copper Penny IUDs May Help Me Write Things
Before I got my external keyboard, I thought I’d try my hand at writing fiction again (my last attempt was a few years ago in December 2015, about a dream that I had before I got married to my ex which is eerily prescient to my current life and it still freaks me out when I re-read it) so I tried jotting down some ideas on my phone and then got flooded with inspiration but so frustrated that I temporarily gave up.
But it’s coming. Basically, I just have really weird dystopian dreams that seem to be a nugget for some sort of prose piece, and that’s where this latest idea came from. It’s gonna be some Black Mirror-esque shit, and we’re not talking San Junipero.
I also have an idea for a short story about a society in which birth control is illegal and so people are finding black market pennies and fashion copper IUDs out of them…I don’t know what that’s all about or how it can be a story but TM TM TM.
In Which I Talk About Finally Learning How To Do Makeup When Old
I’ve also decided that at the ripe old age of 31 I’m going to try figuring out this whole makeup thing, which has been quite a ride. Apparently The Kids do things to their eyebrows now which is definitely a departure from when I was in high school and pencil thin and/or Sperm Brows were all the rage. I’m just glad I had way too many eyebrows to go that thin so I have some left. I was just born a decade too early.
But like…how are fifteen year olds that good at makeup nowadays? And how the hell can they afford their $50 eyeshadow palettes and shit? Youtube, man. I’ve officially begun to feel like I’m “getting old” (whatever that means.)
Anyway, I got myself some Wet n’ Wild (it’s cruelty free, vegan, and apparently pretty great nowadays, say the beauty vloggers…) to experiment and it’s been quite enlightening. I discovered the joy of eyeliner markers to give myself a killer wing. I’ve mourned the fact that my lips have this weird wet spot in the middle of them that will never hold lipstick and so I can never be that black-lipped goth goddess without looking slightly strange. It’s a whole new world.
I guess there’s probably a full blog post in there too.
In Which I Try To Start Thinking About Fashion Which Basically Just Means More Black Stuff With Body Part Jewelry
Also, I bought my first thing on Wish, which I’m super morally conflicted about but seriously, just look at this ribcage necklace that I got for less than $2 shipped and tell me that it’s not the most me thing ever created. I DARE YOU.
And apparently the fashion aesthetic I like is kind of a Strega/Dark Mori style which I never knew was a thing but it’s kind of dark and loose and asymmetrical and witchy, except I’m not actually into wearing hoods or the occult.
Also except I’m poor and lazy so what I really get is my Groupon drapey cardigan that’s 6 years old and my Amazon asymmetrical tunic top with a gross mirror and toothpaste on it.
Sooooooo…..this is a broad overview and I guess I’ll zoom in and focus at some point because Lord knows this post has been a shitshow.
What a manic ride.
And hey to anyone who actually made it down this far. You’re my favorite.
Also, get a life.