Wow.
There's so much to say, so much I haven't written down, so many life transformation things I didn't record in the last few weeks that the chick lit novel I eventually write off of this little endeavour as a means of making moolah will be lacking important details. Ah, that's probably for the best, since fiction will inevitably be more interesting. But a small recap of life up until today's rant is probably in order, so, here we go:
Country Wife ended. It was a great play, involved a lot of great people, and I had such an awesome time being involved that by the time the final curtain call ended, I was left feeling a little out of sorts. But that's the bittersweet ending of anything you enjoy: you get your life back in some ways, and lose a chunk of it in others. I did, however, make a sweet teapot and saucer cake. Picture to follow, eventually.
I moved. I am now the resident of my very own one-bedroom apartment, complete with extremely minor ant infestation, knocking noises in the wall from pipes and from neighbours, and a lack of cable tv altogether. I knocked the shit out of the ants and have since won that battle; I'm adjusting to the latter two, albeit a little slowly. But I do love having my own place; I come and go as I please and I decorate how I want and watch and sing and listen and dance how and when I want and it's marvellous. That's all on that, for the time being.
And so here we are. I'm about to start my second job, I am loving the first one, and can hardly believe that we're about to head face-first into the holiday season (which, given that I work retail, actually started like a month ago).
However, there feels like a little something missing. And I feel like I've figured out what it is.
A partner.
Ugh, and it pains me to say it, because I'm afraid that it makes me sound whiny and needy, and because I'm so fiercely independent in some ways that the idea of even needing something or someone makes me cringe a bit on the inside. But I think that's what it is.
What made me realize this small lack in my life, you ask? Well, tell you I will.
I drove around Vic Park tonight after they lit all of the holiday lights, and it struck me. It was fun to do on my own, the lights were amazing and made me feel very holiday, but part of me just wants someone to go walk through the park with and see them with and enjoy hocho while we stare at how pretty the snow and the sky are and how the lights twinkle just enough to make you want Christmas. I want someone to come over to my place, crash on my couch and watch an entire season of Friends with me because, if you recall, I don't have cable, and eat a bowl of popcorn and snuggle and stay warm because the outside world is too cold for either of us to bother. I want someone to share the holiday season with. And it's not as though I don't have friends or family to do that with, it's just...different. And it's strange for me because this doesn't happen to me very often, and because I'm not the kind of girl who wants or needs a boy to snuggle with most of the time, so it strikes me as awkward and weird that I do want that now.
And this rant has gone basically nowhere.
Bah.
There's no good way for me to get it out there without sounding like a whiny little single girl. And I am so tired of hearing my beautiful, happy, in-relationship friends tell me that I'm going to meet him, because I just want to meet him already and be as cute and coupley as they are. Because I deserve that for a bit, don't I? I don't want someone to live with me or eat up all my time, or take away from my independence...I just want someone to share the little moments with. For a change.
I guess all these things come in time.
So I will wait, and stop looking (because according to cliche that's when it happens for you) and will instead hunt down a girlfriend or six and together we'll enjoy the snow, the hocho and the lights. Because the holiday season's for sharing with people you love, in whatever capacity that may be.
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