Immature, no doubt, but it’s such a happy boost to be told that someone envies your life. “I’m not saying your life is always easy,” she assured me, lest I snip; and, of c, there was the rather large caveat of her upcoming marriage to a guy with good qualities turned Up To Eleven, but yes, she said “I sort of envy your life.”
That was my friend Cran, with whom I shared brekkers this morning at Panera (the usual: asiago cheese bagel, toasted, with small decaf coffee, skim milk, three sugars, and vanishing hopes of losing those five pounds). We always have a good time catching up with each other and talking about books and school and people. Assuring each other that our life decisions are good, our lives unwasted and victorious. Something like that, anyway.
Realized somewhere in the middle—stemming from something she said—that I have become sort of defensively happy. Do you know what I mean? Insistent that I AM happy, despite not having a career sort of job or a fiancé and, I don’t know, care bears sliding down a rainbow to my doorstep (I so LOVED that book when I was little, by the w).
Anyway, it sort of annoyed me, my defensiveness, I mean.
One doubts the sincerity of such large font statements. Well, maybe not the sincerity, but certainly it betrays a certain insecurity, and I dislike that. I think what scares me is not the being alone part, but the fear of being viewed as alone. Being treated as though I’m alone because nobody wanted me, and all that tripe about the Right One Coming Along Someday.
Stupid advice anyway. It’s like saying, well, I want to go to Florida, so I guess I’ll LIE IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD UNTIL SOMEONE STOPS AND PICKS ME UP.
But yeah, my bringing it up is pure insecurity. Guess I should get over that.
Had a spiff day of revision—got the first two chapters tidied away. The pacing is a bit slow, but I’m pleased with the writing itself. Not exactly Fielding (thank GOD) Austen, but sturdy and filled-out. The style could be more playful, but we’ll see.
Just finished supper and am holed up again for another long stretch of revision tonight. Another 20 pages would be good (am just revising for character consistency and obvious flaws this time through). Got a postcard from Jon, totally blissed out on a two week trip to Greece and Turkey. I especially liked this bit:
… WHEN you join me in Oxford, our summers shall be in either Greece or Rome (Athens? Athens is delicious, but ultimately wouldn’t have the same long-term attraction as Rome, nor the natural beauty of one of the smaller cities in Greece).
Must, must, MUST scour the airlines for a cheap flight to Europe early this fall. Miq and Grace will be there too come autumn and can you imagine the good times, bashing about, touring around and poking into museums and looking at architecture and talking about ideas and life and family?? First a fab summer, then perhaps Europe.
Spring is in my bones now. It’s a kind of short term manic phase. Can’t help.
