Sunday, June 28, 2015

Random and a casaccio
So I almost posted to fb the photo of Obama holding the bald eagle that says knock, knock, who's there? gay marriage and health care and this bald eagle mother fucker, but then I didn't. Well, I did, but then like a real wuss, I deleted it. Here's why: for me, it is a compliment to Obama. I think Obama would be offended by the language choice. I can't imagine him at dinner with Michelle and the girls looking at fb and being like, isn't this awesome? So then I had to realize that I am:

a. overthinking shit
b. overconsiderate
c. too concerned with what other people think
d. the only one who cares about what other people think
e. delusional

Right, e, I know. Because I think I have to make sure that when Obama checks out my fb page, he is pleased with it.

Also I had some of my students from Materis paint company come over for an aperitivo. When I originally invited them, they seemed pleased. When I invited them for real, they seemed really worried about it and unsure that they would come. Well, they came and brought flowers and were incredibly incredibly sweet. Word repetition level sweet. I was overly anxious and I didn't know why. I spoke non-stop and in Italian, even though they obviously speak English. I taught. It. To them. But I didn't leave the space for awkward silences and thus missed out on getting to know them any better. I wonder if Seinfeld has those moments . . .

Today I realized why. I have every symptom of being in perimenopause. It sounds like a nicer shade of blue than it is.  Including, the stubborn acne and not excluding the fact that I now have constant pms and the shortest cycles imaginable. I am glad I am not dying, because that was my first thought. But then yesterday, I had to weigh out my options, and I wasn't sure.

As though I am dying, I have decided to live every day to the fullest, which unfortuately means that, as a dare to myself, we accepted a dinner invitation with our most stylish and unemotional friends Alessandro and Barbara this evening. They are some cool Tuscan cucumbers. They live in a loft and have elevated nonchalance into a spectator sport. For me. We made some recommendations on their vacation to New York so they want to let us know how it turned out. If we don't accept, the striking while the something is hot heat will die down. They will be less likely to invite us again. I like being invited places. I just hate actually having to go anywhere.  Especially when I have giant lesions all over my jaw and can cry on cue.

Don't you wish you were here to see the pre-dinner preparations. It will be as delightful as it sounds. To lull myself away from the edge, I am binge watching Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee and wondering how the hell I ended up living in Tuscany. Washed up comedians who have nothing better to do than cause traffic accidents and drink caffeine are the people who I identify with the most. They are my people. They don't live here l and when they visit, nobody recognizes them.

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