THINKING

I've been thinking about the path these days - where my live is going vs. where I thought it would be going. I'm coming up on have spent thirty years wandering this specific plane of existence and have ended up on a path I never had the foresight to see.

I've always imagined my twenties would bleed into my thirties, but would be a more sophisticated sequel to the original. It would just have a better job, better apartment, better clubs and better sex with better men. I always saw myself as the single girl, living alone and bringing home different men at my own whim.

My twenties were a roaring time. I finished University and moved into my first apartment - a cruddy little sound-proof place with a closet kitchen and no air-conditioning (but amazing heat). The place was verging on ghetto but I loved it. The elevator never worked properly, the laundry room was in the dark and dingy basement and sounds from the front steps seemed to amplify up to my apartment every night - the sound of drunks and degenerates yelling and screaming at each other till either they passed out or the cops came to haul them away. I never wanted to believe that Eden was a dump, but it was made abundantly clear to me the morning when two police officer banged on my door to ask me about the apparent fight that happened in the apartment next door. I was too drunk that night to really have paid much attentention and spent the evening drinking water and watching the horrible remake of "The Dukes of Hazard" that, for some reason, I rented.I loved that place, from the cracked walls to the beautiful tiles in the front hall and kitchen. There were parties, visits and many notches made in my bed-posts in that place. Punkboy was brought there with the intention to just add one more and somehow, he became the last notch.

Thinking that I would have continued that lifestyle into my thirties and now being faced the with reality that I won't be isn't upsetting me or confusing me. I'm content and somehow finding solace in this new lifestyle. I envisioned the constant flow of lovers, some staying longer than others, and I pictured my life as solitude. Shit, when I moved into my new apartment over one year ago, I did it with the intention to impress other men. Punk Boy was angry with me that I didn't talk it over with him as he wanted to live with me and wanted to find a place together - complete commitment was not on my mind.

But somehow I find myself completely committed to him - as lovers, as roommates, as parents and as partners. How strange this life has become. What next, will I be a re-born Christian? Will I suddenly start to cut coupons? Shit, I already notice I am listening more to the 'easy listening' station while bored in the car. What next, country music?

The new path is drastic, almost the complete opposite of the way I imagined it...


More on this later - the baby is fussing...