Old School (July 20, 2009)

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I have been down, and rather avoiding life, since I came back from my Pilates class on Friday and curled up into a fetal position on the couch. The sudden chill in the summer air reflected the emptiness I felt in my own heart, and the two environments definitely fed off each other.

I am willing myself back to life today. I have a very busy workweek ahead, and this afternoon, I am welcoming a dear friend to my home. That would be Theresa, my former college co-hort. What a pair we made at old U. of I. from 1996 to 2000.

T lived in the same dorm as I in the Fall of 1996, FAR, also known as the Florida Avenue Residence Hall. The housing project-like building meant we didn’t have much chance to get acquainted at home, seeing as we lived on different floors. No, we formed our bond instead working at the Wendy’s in Campustown. Sadly, this landmark is no longer present, but I remember it fondly. Not only do I love Wendy’s food, it was also my first real job (not counting babysitting and volunteer work). It felt sort of neat to earn my own way. I was, at the time, paid $4.75 an hour for my work, minimum wage in ’96.

As all freshman years tend to be, mine was a volatile and painful experience. I fell hard for the first time with another guy who worked at Wendy’s, James, a 24 year-old brooding, recovering drug addict. When he broke my heart, as all but me rightly expected, it was Theresa, with her Wiccan practices and black lipstick, who took me under her wing. I am forever grateful.

As the years passed, Theresa and I got an apartment together, got drunk and threw a Chambana legend of a Halloween party. I was there when she fell for her now husband Jake, the birth of her two sons (fine, I wasn’t literally there for that – Boop doesn’t do blood), and she was there when I announced that I’d be flying to India to marry my own soulmate. 13 years of friendship.

I have no idea where the day/evening will take us, but consider yourself on notice Chicago. It is not often that Theresa can step away from her hectic life minus hubby and kids. With Eddie gone as well, we might have a mild version of 30-something Girls Gone Wild, before we wake up with hangovers and remember why people over 20 do not drink Natty Ice.

Is There A More Delusional Douche on the Planet than Jon Gosselin? (July 18, 2009)

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I was on the “Hate Kate” bandwagon for a long time. I still in fact think both parents are shameless to an extent, mercenary people who fooled around with fertility drugs, then cashed in when they were in over their heads. That the Gosselin kids are so adorable only gives the whole situation that much more pathos.

Even so, the male “better half” of this relationship is really a piece of work. Yes, Kate is a bitch. Fine. But come on. Mistress #1 on the bottom, a 23 year-old schoolteacher named Deanna Hummel. Not content with someone old enough to have a graduate degree, Mr. Gosselin moves on to lucky lady #2, Hailey Glassman.

This one is a real winner, a proper stepmom in waiting. I don’t really care that she has a “racy past” or that she’s an obvious idiot. What else to expect from, a 22 year-old? The only truly telling thing about her character is that she’s a famewhore, and like almost everybody else in this situation, not worried about the children.

The true slimeball here is Papa Jon. Whatever is going on with he and his soon-to-be-ex-wife is between them. But one day he will have to account for this trashy, opportunistic, whorey behavior to his brood of 8. What will he say to them? Mumbling into the camera with his head down like a beaten animal won’t do. Does he think anyone will ever give a damn about him again? What career does he imagine for himself?

Southern Hospitality (July 15, 2009)

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At first I found it rather unsettling. I dropped Eddie off at his office in Blythewood, SC on Monday morning, and my first stop was the Waffle House near my hotel. I was happier to see a number of these famed outlets than I care to admit. Let me let you in on a little secret: the completely citified Boop has a terrible soft spot for Southern cooking and soul food: greens, biscuits, grits, hamhocks – yum, yum! So it was I went to the famed Waffle joint, where you can still eat your fill for under $5. I indulged in smothered, covered, and capped hash browns (that is cheese, onions and mushrooms for you laymen), a bowl of cheese grits, and a glass of sweet tea. Healthy? I think not. Delicious? Si!

The high calorie count of my early lunch is not what set me at ill ease. It was the impertinent friendliness, the unwavering eye contact of everyone I encountered. I was very tired from my early morning flight, and still cantankerous after my horribly emotional weekend. I curtly returned these pleasantries and made for the door as fast as I could.

But no, it seemed the relaxed, friendly manner of the Waffle House staff was contagious. I was warmly welcomed and inquired after by the Residence Inn employees as if I were a long lost relative. “Well, I am paying them,” thought I. It’s just good customer service. Later in the day, I jumped on the gym’s treadmill only to be engaged in a lengthy chat by an elderly lady enjoying a stroll on the machine next to mine. Later that evening, Eddie and I stopped at Food Lion, a grocery store, to buy a pie. We were welcomed and requested to have a good day by people with genuine smiles, as if they actually gave a crap about their minimum wage jobs, like there’s nothing else they’d rather be doing.

It has gone on. I have been called “baby” and “child,” by chamber maids, front desk clerks, and any assortment of cheerful women. The older you get, the more you learn to love this. It was at some point yesterday that I finally grew ashamed of my own urban scowl, the way I walk speedily with my head down, not willing to be delayed in my travels from Point A to Point B. How rude and unconcerned must I have appeared to the locals during my first 36 hours here?

I am learning now to slow down, give folks a wave, actually, gasp! look them in the eye as if they were people rather than obstacles. I am still not sure I could live here year round, but I have felt a bit of human love and connection when I needed it the most. Thank you South Carolina!

As an unrelated coda to this post, and in case anyone has forgotten that Boop does more than blog about her own melodrama, I have taken out my recent bad mood (deservedly) on a hideous play I saw last Saturday:

http://www.edgeunitedstates.com/index.php?ch=entertainment&sc=theatre&sc2=news&sc3=performance&id=92577

Boop doesn’t like it when people trifle with Bill Shakespeare.

Have Bitterness, Will Travel (July 14, 2009)

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I am a woman of many faults, as imperfect as they come. But one thing I have always prided myself on, and I think my loved ones do as well, is my honesty. I do not do bottled up or secretive well, and never have. This cuts both ways in a lot of cases, but I think it’s a trait that has served me well as a writer and a blogger.

All seriousness: no witticisms, pop culture cross references or sarcasm. Mine and Eddie’s marriage is in trouble – in a big way. Some problems are old (his constant business travel and our maturity disparity), some are new (I will still protect my privacy as well as my husband’s here), but they have spiraled out of control, been neglected and ignored for too long, and now we find ourselves at a crisis point a mere 18 months into our union.

Eddie is my soulmate. Despite the pain I am currently in, I still believe that. I also believe that the last week has been a major wake up call. Nonetheless, my emotional state right now is highly volatile. One minute I am hating myself, the next Eddie, ready to go, desperate to stay. One thing was very clear however: after 4 straight weeks of being locked up with my in-laws, and after the most trying and awful weekend I can remember having in a long time, it was definitely time for a change of scenery.

So here I am in Blythewood, SC for 3 1/2 days of working out, sunbathing and swimming. Eddie works until 7 PM most nights, and we are ensconced in a two-bedroom suite at a Residence Inn. That second bedroom, scoffed at only two weeks ago, now couldn’t be available at a better time. I have setup a laptop and am working as fluidly as if I were still at my desk in Chicago. I am tan and fit, have made some new friends (a group of army officers in training), but am lonely and confused.

Last weekend, Eddie gave me an early birthday present, which I have already alluded to in a previous post. I am off to London, solo, from 8/22 – 8/27. It’s a dream come true, yet in some ways, so not how I imagined it would be. Eddie cannot get any time away from work through the end of the year, and anyway, right now, I am not sure I would want him there. I studied all things British for 7 years during undergrad and again as a grad student at Northeastern. I can’t wait to get lost in a world I know intimately in my own imagination, yet haven’t seen in 3-D. Boop is, after all, a humongous nerd, and her visit to the Isles will be her own conception of Nirvana.

I just wish I could feel the full force of the excitement. 2009 is a cruel mistress indeed.

Mummy Dearest (July 8,2009)

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The month long visit is over. I am depositing Mummy at O’Hare for her Air France flight back to Mumbai at 3PM this afternoon. I am worn out, mentally and physically exhausted, and yet, I have more mixed feelings than I expected. In many ways, I feel Mummy, Papa and I have made great strides in our relationship over the course of the last 30 days. The one thing I am most proud of, that I will take way, is that I made these people love me for me.

When I married Eddie in Raipur, India in December of 2007, I am not ashamed to admit, I didn’t know myself very well. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I was very comfortable in my role as an insecure social chameleon. Because of the rejection and loneliness I endured in my own childhood, I was so eager to become part of a loving family, to finally “belong” somewhere, that I was willing to erase any parts of myself that my new family might not like, in order to make myself more suitable. The end result was that Boop felt like someone’s Barbie doll, a miserable person, unsure who she was anymore, and feeling very much like a fraud.

I have been seeing a great therapist for the last 9 months (who, incidentally, feels I have made so much progress that she’s about to cut me loose) to work out these issues. How would I learn to hold onto the important parts of myself, the very essence of me, and not deal these traits away like a bad hand of cards, depending upon whom I was trying to please? I strategized internally that it would be different when they came to my home in Chicago. I am going to be part of this family for many years, and I just have to be myself. It’s in everyone’s interest in the long term. And for the most part, I have done exactly that.

My in-laws are now not quite sure what to make of me: a girl who wears her mangulsutra every day without fail, but no other jewelry (Jen could also tell you what a big deal ornamentation is in Eastern cultures), a women who feels absolutely fine bumming around the whole day in sweatpants and a ponytail, a lady who doesn’t cook, doesn’t pray daily, and who has these wildly feminist ideas about not being ready to rent her womb out to the next generation. At the same time, I have been kind, flexible, dutiful, attentive. I have cleaned, done laundry, drove them around, run errands, given up my bed. Mummy and Papa have wanted for nothing and have not relaxed so much in many years.

In short, even my in-laws have developed a more complex picture over the last month over what it really means to be a good daughter. It is not only about rituals and traditions. They know very well their son is far from a traditional guy himself. For this, I am proud. I am additionally pleased that I held onto my Boopness. It’s not something I am willing to relinquish anymore.

This visit has made me feel more at ease, about future stays, either them here, or Eddie and I over in Mumbai. That is not to say I don’t need a long break before the next one. But it’s no longer this scary idea, this vaguely threatening prospect that keeps me up for nights in a row (such as I experienced in the lead up to this trip). Mummy and Papa are goodhearted people. I had them up on a pedestal, these perfect and wise people who had the ultimate power to decide my value. I have come to realize that they are learning as much from me, as I from them. Pretty cool actually.