Big Thought: “Mom said she’s always sort of felt like an outsider, everywhere she went. I kind of have too. Is this specifically because I’m her daughter or just because I’m me? And is there ever going to be a place where I feel I truly no-doubt-about-it feel like I belong?”
Little Thought: “It sure is dark at five o’clock in the evening. I wonder if I have any bread at my house to make a peanut butter sandwich with? Ooh! It’s 15% Off Day at the store tonight! Bread and peanut butter for everyone!”
Big Thought: “You can think you know what’s going to happen in your life, and if you’re a certain type of person you probably have part of your life planned out to like the next two or three or five years or something. But you just never ever know. If you had asked me ten years ago what I’d be doing at twenty-nine and three-quarters? I would certainly not have told you I’d be doing anything remotely like what I’m doing now, on any level, on any way. Although, now that I think about it, I’m not sure what I would have told you I’d be doing in 2004, had you asked me in 1994.”
Little Thought: “Although I certainly hope that part of my answer would have involved losing the hippie hair and stopping with the Chuck high tops all the time. I like to think those impulses were latent in me at the time even if I couldn’t, like, manifest them or anything.”
Big Thought: “Is it totally weird that I have absolutely no desire to have children of my own and apparently was issued to the public without one of those biological clocks all the chick lit books tell me I should be hearing audible ticking right about now? Seriously, is it weird to like children fine but not to want to have any my ownself?”
Little Thought: “I need some more socks.”
Big Thought: “Imagine what it would be like to be married for sixty-three years like Great-Aunt Ida Mae was to Uncle Pete. I wonder how they saw each other over the years. When he looked at her did he see her as a eighty-five year old, with white hair and glasses and wrinkles or did he see her at the age when they first knew each other? When they looked at their wedding pictures did they feel pretty much the same as they did then? How do you decide to live with someone for sixty-three years, anyway? I mean, how? What if they hurt your feelings or are mean to you or leave you? What do you do then?”
Little Thought: “Okay, tonight, put clothes away and find bus pass (in the car maybe? I hope I didn’t leave it on the plane from Chicago) and finish the hat and go to the store (15% Off Day!) and sweep the kitchen. And put away the stuff on the floor. And put the sheets in the laundry. And write a note to Grammy thanking her for a nice weekend. Yarn store, maybe? What time do they close? Call the place about taking the mattress away. Put luggage in the basement. Pick up the no-man’s land underneath my bedside table. Take the recycle out. 15% Off Day at the store! 15% Off Day at the store! Must go to the store!”
Big Thought: “I’m still feeling a little depressed about the election but it’s remarkable how quickly the soul-sucking depression has devolved into apathy. I’m not mourning, even, really…it’s like I just can’t summon up enough energy to care. Or it’s not even that, because I do care. It’s just hard to sustain the energy I had before November 2, when I was on fire to get Bush out of the White House. Condi Rice is going to be Secretary of State and Alberto Gonzales is going to be Attorney General and there’s seriously probably going to be a draft and all this nonsense about clean coal…hello, it’s coal, it’s the definition of “not clean,” thanks…and I think it’s wrong and bad and I’m trying to pay attention and to call my Senators and to give a damn…but it’s really hard. It’s really hard to believe that anyone in Washington cares about anything that’s important to me. It’s hard not to believe that everything’s going to get worse and that it wouldn’t even matter if I moved to Canada and it doesn’t matter if I start volunteering at Northwest Harvest because people are going to get poorer and hungrier and none of it matters. I know that’s not the right way to think but it’s hard not to feel completely powerless right now. Was all my political fervor for nothing or can I get the spark back somehow? No idea.”
Little Thought: “What should I wear in London so amplify the chances of my not being taken for an Ugly American? Also, should I dye my hair purple? Also, I want to speak Italian more. Also, I can’t believe Trader Joe’s discontinued my favorite hot chocolate mix and that they didn’t have the apple rings on Sunday. Also, I really better find my bus pass because that’s the second time I’ve lost it this year and now it’s going to be eighty dollars to replace. Maybe it’s under the passenger seat in the car under about eight inches of water bottles and random bits of paper and barrettes, just like the last one. Also, I want pho really really bad right now, with extra lime and no cilantro.”
Big Thought: “What comes next for me? How’s this part of my story going to end? What am I going to be saying I wished I knew, in November 2005? What’s next?”
Little Thought: “Man, I totally can’t wait for my Netflix this week. The Office special, bringing my beautiful boyfriend Tim back into my house. And into my bed. Which is where I watch movies. And sleep. And absolutely nothing else. And even though Tim is not technically my boyfriend. Because Tim is pretend. But I love him anyway, as much as if he really were my boyfriend. And a real person. I love you, The Office. And Tim. And movies. And bed.”