I've been thinking...

For the past few months Michael and I have been doing a lot of talking about the future and what it holds for us. Where do we want to live? Should we keep trying to have a baby? What do I want to do when I finish school? What does his career future look like? So many questions... so much uncertainty... so much, 'What now?'
All this unrest, all this questioning, well, quite frankly, it's stressing me out just a bit.
I don't know where I want to live. I know where I don't want to live, and that's here, but who's to say that another town or another city would be any better? There are bad people everywhere. Does a Southern accent really make them better? Would a car and a mortgage solve all of our problems? We fought with our neighbors in Tennessee. Police were called, fences were built, jobs were quit and houses were sold. They were unmistakenly Southern... maybe it's us...
And this whole baby nonsense. I joke with Michael that my ovaries can hear everytime he calls a kid on the train a 'disease spreader,' but really, can they? Is it our situation that is keeping us from reproducing? Can my ovaries look out and see that we have no room (both literally and figuratively) for a baby right now in our life? I'm almost thirty. Women are having kids at forty, fifty, even sixty... is there really a rush? Do I even want a baby right now? I've finally managed to lose a little weight, I know it sounds selfish, but I REALLY want to look hot in my little brother's upcoming wedding photos. I was a chunky monkey in mine, nows a chance for a little retribution.
And then there's my career. Do I have what it takes? Can I really be a landscape designer? What if I fail at this? I never learned Dutch, and that really disappointed Michael. What if I disappoint him again? I couldn't stand it. He's only up here because of me and we only stay here because of my school... it would all be for nothing. All the stress, all the bad, all the misery... and it would be all my fault. More questions that I just don't have the answers for.
And then there's Michael. My dreamer. I've never met a person who wants to be so much. A weatherman, a storm chaser, a lawyer, a professional kayaker, a sailboat captain, head of the firm, a police officer, a bartender... I could go on. And the thing about it is that he could be any of those things, he could be ALL of those things... I just don't know if my heart could take it. All the uncertainty, all the moving around, all of the unstability. There's something to be said for being born in a place, growing up in a place, building a life in a place, and dying in a place. Familiarity. Safety. Security.
Deep breath. Serenity now. In with the good, out with the bad... all of my mantras are currently out of order. I only hope that I can find just one answer to the myriad of questions that won't seem to quit pestering my mind.

Can you really ever go home?

I was talking to my mother over the weekend, which is always a bit stressful for me, but this last conversation was more stressful than usual.
See, my mom has never really been a just sit down and chat kind of girl. She grew up an only child and I never really remember her having a lot of girlfriends so I don't think that she knows how to be a "girlfriend," especially to her daughter. She wants me to call, ask about the weather, chat about her neighbors, and listen as she regales me with stories of death and mayhem from our family in NE Georgia. She thrives on the misery of others and frankly, if I'm not telling her my own stories of woe she really doesn't have the time to listen. Her favorite topic of discussion is of course my father, her ex husband of 30 years, and his various health woes and aggrevations that he is always suffering from.
"How is your father?" She'll ask ever so innocently.
"He's fine."
"Oh, I thought you said he wasn't feeling well..."
"He's fine, mother. He's just tired because he works so much."
"Oh, (insert sigh) Well, I guess he's really loving his new job what with all the money he's making."
"I suppose. I don't really talk to him about work. I just know he works a lot."
"Oh... Well, is Michael still under the weather then?"
Death. Mayhem. Sadness.
And let's not forget the guilt?
"So, when are you and Michael going to be here for Easter?"
"Mother, I have class that weekend. And Michael can't take off work until Spencer's wedding... we won't be in Knoxville for Easter."
"Oh... I thought you would come home for Easter. How will I get your basket to you if you don't come home?"
"I'm 46 days from being 30 years old. I don't need an Easter Basket."
"Oh... (insert sigh) you'll always be my little baby... I guess I'll just have to mail it to you."
And this is the point where I do turn into a baby. My mother still has the ability to turn me into a kicking, screaming, tantrum throwing three-year-old, which is why, as I asked earlier, Can you really ever go home again?
I don't know. I miss my mom, I miss Knoxville, I miss the normalcy, but do I really miss all the ties (nooses...) that come with it? Is the distance really a hidden gift? Because I do appreciate her more now, and now I have the wonderful ability to hang up the phone and suffer my guilt in peace and know that no matter how much I want to drive over and kill her that I can't, that's not an option. I have to muggle through it and hope that the next conversation will yield happier results.

I'm just a big ol teary mess

I am beginning to think I am a freak. I mean honestly, who cries at a SuperBowl commercial? Well, apparently I do.
The little machine who got fired because he dropped the part in the car factory had me in tears. I seriously cried during the SuperBowl. And no. I had not been drinking. So I had no excuse whatsoever except that I must just be a complete and total emotional wreck and should be placed in a padded room immediately and not allowed to venture forth into this cruel world until I can control my whacked out emotions.
Then, I found myself sniffing my husband. Is that normal? I felt that I just needed a big ol whiff of Mikey and then everything would be OK. And it was, kind of. I guess his oocytes or something have a calming effect on me but still, sniffing him? That's just weird.
Maybe it's the cold weather affecting my brain power. Afterall, humans aren't meant to function in single digit temperatures, especially when snow isn't even added into the mix.
I swear, my entire world is just fucked up and I'm getting a little tired of it.