I started this blog when I was still in my thirties. I will be in my thirties for another hour. I know better at this age than to judge myself or anyone else on the basis of age, but well, call me shallow, say I'm missing the point, and I don't mean that you should ever really do that, but I am freaking out a little about turning forty. The mortality of it all.
I didn't so much freak when I was hitting thirty. Thirty-five smarted, but at thirty, I still thought I had a decent shot at turning into Madonna, or at least into Madonna Junior, back in the day. What a child I still was, but in an endearing way. Which reminds me of one of my recent self-improvement goals, to overcome my tendency to flagellate myself into a bruised pulp. So far my efforts bear fruit. I'm easing my internal dialogue into a kind of maternal tough love. I call it my inner bitch-warrior.
Bryan whisked me away to Cape May. We went for a walk before dinner and got accosted by a guy driving a white SUV labeled with jumbo signs announcing, "JESUS LOVES YOU!" He pulled up beside us real slow like he was going to put a cap in our asses, and said, "Hey, what country are you guys from?" I thought for a split-second, are we in Canada? Why would anyone ask us what country we're from when we're in New Jersey? Simultaneously I bristled from the abundance of Lord-loving declarations. Because if there's anything that brings out my inner bitch-warrior's wicked step-sister, it's proselytizing.
"The United States of America," I said with a mixture of pride and disdain. I thank Obama for the pride. But I also noticed that I felt exotic, praised, possibly Parisian. "Why did you think we were from another country?" I asked, fishing for an exact location. Did he think we were from the land of Gruyere or goulash? Pomodoro or pierogies? It was important to know.
He said something about watching us walk. It was vague and creepy, and didn't provide any further covert compliments. Then he said, "Do you want a love letter from Jesus?"
We said, "No thank you!" rolled our eyes and hastened our strides. He drove ahead of us a few yards and shouted, "Now I know you're from the U.S.! People from other countries are NICE!"
He drove off, and I bellowed after him, "I GUESS JESUS DOESN'T LOVE US ANYMORE!!!" Shaking my indignant thirty-nine year old fist. I spent the next half-hour shouting about the blatant, blaspheming hypocrisy of it all, and noticing that I'm going to need to do a lot more inner work if I want to transcend my graphic homicidal fantasies. I guess I know what I'l be doing for the next forty years.
"The United States of America," I said with a mixture of pride and disdain. I thank Obama for the pride. But I also noticed that I felt exotic, praised, possibly Parisian. "Why did you think we were from another country?" I asked, fishing for an exact location. Did he think we were from the land of Gruyere or goulash? Pomodoro or pierogies? It was important to know.
He said something about watching us walk. It was vague and creepy, and didn't provide any further covert compliments. Then he said, "Do you want a love letter from Jesus?"
We said, "No thank you!" rolled our eyes and hastened our strides. He drove ahead of us a few yards and shouted, "Now I know you're from the U.S.! People from other countries are NICE!"
He drove off, and I bellowed after him, "I GUESS JESUS DOESN'T LOVE US ANYMORE!!!" Shaking my indignant thirty-nine year old fist. I spent the next half-hour shouting about the blatant, blaspheming hypocrisy of it all, and noticing that I'm going to need to do a lot more inner work if I want to transcend my graphic homicidal fantasies. I guess I know what I'l be doing for the next forty years.
1 comment:
happy birthday! how does it feel today? any different? :) i am with you on going over the 35 hump...and heading quickly toward 40, though i have a few years left before that happens. i found myself slightly panicked when i threw a 40th bday party for my husband last year. i was outwardly telling him "it's fine, you are still hot, you look way younger than you are" (which i think btw), but then i started freaking out internally, knowing that there seems to be a big difference between MEN over 40 and WOMEN over 40. i hate that crap.
ok, so that's not very encouraging...but what i was going to say was see, the age brings wisdom, and balance to that internal dialogue/tug of war in our heads, and self-confidence we didn't have 10 years ago, and the ability to think outside of ourselves more than we could before--reach out, not be so self-focused.
not implying that YOU were ever like that, just sayin' I was like that and still struggle with all of that!
oh, and good grief, why do some Christians have to be such douches? they give the sane, sensitive, "cool" ones (ha) a bad name. ;) for the record, i think it's always a bad sign if a person has anything Christian on his car...bad drivers, rude, etc. so weird, but then maybe it's the personalities of the people who put those things on their cars--you know, in-your-face kind of people. ugh.
i'll try not to steal *everything* in your house--maybe just a few antiques?
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