sawcebox

I’ve come to a revelation that I’m not really sure how to feel about: life really isn’t going to get better than it is right now.

I complain a lot. But I mean, if I think about it, how is it ever going to get better? I start grad school in a few months, and I’m sure I’ll have a real career shortly thereafter meaning I won’t have nearly as much free time and a whole lot of responsbility. I’m shit-faced in love, and this can’t-keep-our-paws-off-each-other-let’s-gaze-into-each-other’s-eyes-and-tell-each-other-how-cute-we-are-for-hours-on-end period will not last forever, and this is always the best* part of every relationship. I’m relatively healthy. I’m only slightly stressed out. I have the nicest friends in the world. And tomorrow I get to move to Brooklyn, officially.

Should I be happy that life can’t get any better or sad that, well, life can’t get any better? I’m gonna default to the former, but occasionally I get a little panicky about the latter. 

Also, it is 4am and I have to move in six hours, and I’m hungry and packed all my food.

*I suppose that, with the right person, the other parts could be better. More accurately, this is the most exciting part of every relationship, or at least the part in which you get laid the most. True story.

I can honestly say that I am sincerely grieving over the ending of what I consider to be the best television series to ever air. And I thought the ending was absolutely perfect.

And I wasn’t really liking where they were heading this season. I hated the young Jacob and Man-in-Black/Alice Janney guest starred episode. I thought this light bullshit was trite. That’s part of the reason why I’m so glad they didn’t bother explaining it. No answer wouldn’t have been trite. No answer would have satisfied me after the hundreds of hours I’ve invested into this television show (nay, thousands if you count post-episode discussion and obsessive over-analyzing). 

The construction of this show as a mystery is what really led up to this ending. This constant seeking out for answers… these naysayers who are disappointed because they aren’t getting the answers they want? This show wasn’t for them. They missed the point entirely. 

Throughout the entire finale, I was reminded of the finale of the second season, “Live Together, Die Alone.” Specifically, I am reminded of what Jack, the hero of the show (don’t forget that he actually was the protagonist, not your stupid answers), said. “If we can’t live together, we’re going to die alone.” All of these characters were alone before they came to this island. Utterly alone, as Jacob pointed out to us. Most of them were seeking answers that really didn’t end up mattering much in the long run. Sawyer needed to find the man who killed his family. Jack needed his father’s approval. So on and so forth. But these answers didn’t solve anything when and if they found them. What mattered was the connections they found with each other. What mattered is when they, ahem, FOUND each other. 

Life has a lot of mysteries. We’ll never know why Walt was special. Just like I’ll never know if my creepy landlord stole my stockings or not. It doesn’t matter in the end, because we all die. What happens when we’re dead isn’t the answers, but the relationships we’ve built, because that is how we are remembered. And the entire final season has led up to the fact that we do not die alone. Jin and Sun died together. And even Jack died with Vincent by his side. 

But seriously though, if you want answers, this show was never for you. You are a glutton for punishment. You were never going to be satisfied. I’ve always trusted that this show was going to pull through in the end, and they did not let me down. And as Damon Lindelof tweeted earlier today, let’s take a cue from the show. It’s time to move on. 

…and/or buy the complete series and start from season one again, amirite?!

I couldn’t have picked a shittier week to go without therapy. In an effort to save money, I thought I could take the week off, but this week was, all in all, awful. But optimists out there, don’t turn away yet. This post will not turn into a negative Nancy fest. No, this awful week could be the best thing that has happened to me in a long time. 

My boyfriend and I had our first thing that kind of sort of resembled a fight. It wasn’t much of a fight at all, but rather a “talk.” I went into this talk feeling rather self-righteous. I had a list of quips I was ready to dish out and a checklist of points I wanted to get across. I didn’t get to any of them because my boyfriend did what no other boyfriend has ever dared to do. He called me on my bullshit.

I didn’t even realize how much I was bullshitting. I had no idea what a passive-aggressive bitch I had been all this time. In my defense, it was coming from a place of love, and I think he knows that, but it doesn’t excuse it. After the conversation, I sort of fell apart. I felt like the most awful, fraudulent human being who has ever existed. I took a shower and cried and cried, and felt really fucking sorry for myself for awhile. 

To some degree, this isn’t entirely my fault, so I really should let up. How can I be expected to be so great at this normal healthy relationship thing when apparently I’ve never been in one (until now!), and I’ve certainly never seen a model of one? Passive-aggression was how my ex and I communicated. I would often start these kinds of arguments just to get a rise out of him because I wasn’t getting anything from him otherwise. I think this sort of behavior made sense in the context of that relationship. But with current boyfriend it doesn’t. Current boyfriend is attentive, sweet, affectionate and showers me with compliments to point where sometimes I am kind of uncomfortable (they take getting used to!). I guess old habits really do die hard. 

It was hard admitting I was wrong, because I consciously didn’t realize what a bitch I was being. And I don’t think I even fully admitted to him I was wrong, or even really gave him the kind of apology he deserves, so, yeah, note to self, get on that, because he’s very good to me, and he deserves better than that. Although you know, regardless of what happens between him and I, this really is about me (isn’t it always?), and my quest to find the bigger, better Michelle who is more compassionate and positive and independent and a little less like her mother every day. 

Getting closer. 

p.s. I hope he doesn’t still read this thing and then like freak out that I am talking about him so frankly on the internet. But I guess if I’m worried about that now I probably shouldn’t post that thing I wrote about what a skilled cunnilinguist he is, right? Right.

I’m approaching my one-year NYC anniversary. My goals upon moving here were pretty lofty (Aren’t goals supposed to be lofty though? Isn’t the concept of having goals inherently lofty?).

I was going to become the me I always wanted to be. I was going to eat organic food that I bought at a farmer’s market. I was going to start projects and finish them. I was going to meet people, and people would like me, and I’d have a lot of friends. People would really like me, a lot. I was going to meet a boy, or maybe even several of them, and have a lot of sex.

I’ve only accomplished one of these. All of my projects are incomplete. I do occasionally hang out at Whole Foods, but while trying to woo a certain cashier, I sort of ruined Trader Joe’s, so affordable healthy food is tough to come by, and I am too lazy for farmer’s markets. But I have a lot of sex with a boy (yes, singular) I met, and that is okay by me. 

I’ve decided to take this blog, and kind of use it as, well, I dunno, a real blog. Maybe I’ll actually follow through on this. PROBABLY NOT.