feeling fishy (aka thank goodness for music)
in journal
it’s a long sunday night. i doubt anyone in the world reads this, ok maybe two people, and hello! thank you!, but i don’t like the idea of this site sitting all alone, all sad. i’ve read too much science fiction to not imagine fairly clearly a sentient web site that feels neglected and abandoned and hurt. 
people all say and act as if the 20s are the hardest years, full of doubt and discovery, at best at least, but i found them to be easier in a way, since that’s an out right there – you’re supposed to be confused in your 20s. you’re supposed to listen to a lot of sonic youth and rock and get drunk and make stupid decisions and dye your hair silly colors and make impossible declarations. but your 30s? no, do not pass go, do not take things lightly. this is the decade to Get Things Done. to Be Serious. and if you’re not? or if you’re just ever so slightly still confused? still not sure? still unsteady? well then, you’re royally screwed. or at the very least (feel) pretty ridiculous.
i’ve made some big bold moves the last handful of years, and i don’t regret them beyond the tiny 1% one always regrets every decision, even the most successful ones. nonetheless, now is not an easy time. made all the more difficult because i’m a mom and no matter how much i cry and moan or cheer and laugh, looking down i see a little face, watching me, observing every minutiae. oh lordy. i am officially a Role Model. a major one at that. oh little girl, watch but please, please, don’t emulate. be your own person, your own feelings, for i’ve seen them and they are gorgeous. real. true. sweet as the sweetest flower ever born anywhere. oh please, be yourself, not your mama.
and in the meantime, while i pray, i dance to the music of my youth. abba, oh how you grip me. maybe that’s a ridiculous idea but when i hear “crakin’ up”, i think of a basement, carpeted in a sturdy brown that shows no stains, with five babies dancing around, clamoring to step on their poppy’s feet as they move, looking to their mami sitting in the corner, looking for approval. i see a little girl flipping upside down, loving the feeling of family and togetherness and solidity and blood rushing to her head. i see a family, full of love and doubt and worries and stress and togetherness and, most of all, stubbornness. no one else outside of us seven (now six. oh poppy!) will ever know that, and maybe not even us seven, but i remember it. it’s in my blood, it’s in my bones. it’s the lifeline in me, the stubbornness borne fruit in me. in the unshakeable andrea that exists long after the sadness, the sorry, the tears. i will make that for my daughter, for my family, that feeling of origin, root, strength.
ok, silly me, sentimental me, on a sunday night. i love my life. i don’t always love me, but i love my life. i love my loves.
happy sunday ~ ~
p.s give it a chance: 2-12 The Visitors (Crackin’ Up).m4a
