Of all my problems…my multitude of problems…the hardest thing, the thing I cannot figure out how to do successfully is let go. I get over my anger quickly, but I can't figure out how to stop feeling angry when confronted by the same issues (example: my boss, Spesh, general bad behavior). I forgive and forget but I don't learn. Not that I've never learned anything but the hurts are so new and fresh each time you'd think that I'd know better by now. But I don't and either that makes me stupid or charming.
What I'm not letting go of these days is Kent. It's ridiculous that this is still a problem, that I even ever think of him in more than a fondly remembering way. But, there it is, I am shockingly not over him. Possibly closer, maybe further. And it's so absurd. When I think about what it is I have to do with my life, the things I want and need, they don't mesh with his life and the things he wants and needs. And even if the timing were different, even if he were more willing or loved me "enough," it still wouldn't make sense. It's almost impossible to conceive of a scenario where we have a long term future. It's not there. I know it. I know that he cared (still cares) about me and I know he's a good guy. That should be enough. I should smile wistfully and feel encouraged. If I could have a relationship that made me so very happy with a guy who I liked that much, it's a good sign. It's not all done and over and hopeless.
Yet, done, over and hopeless is exactly how I feel about relationships. I don't even know where to start these days. I have no taste for any of it. And when confronted with even the mildest flirtation, I find myself completely disengaged, quickly followed by sad. Why is this happening? I felt like I was done with Kent. I was happy to be his friend and happy to think that he felt the same. I was looking forward, moving on. Maybe this is just a temporary set back. I'm sure I'll be moving on again soon. I better be. Feeling this free-floating ex-boyfriend sadness is a colossal waste of time and emotional energy. I should really be saving my resources for something more worthwhile.
In sweater news—I signed up for a finishing workshop and took in my sweater pieces. It turned out the problem I was having—too much fabric where the sleeves met the shoulders—was an actual problem. Sure, they could be eased into the sweater, but then I would have a "puffy" sleeve. A puffy sleeve is not a good match for the sweater design. I had to re-knit the "sleeve-cap," which is maybe 1/5 of the total sleeve, so not a huge job. What was hard was figuring out the right shaping that would make the sleeve fit correctly. After two tries, I think I did it. I took all morning and a marathon of "24" season one to do it. I started to get achy and light headed after drinking only a little coffee and eating some disastrous brownies (more on that later) and a piece of toast all day. I left the house and I'm sitting at a bar, typing my heart out. I had a hard cider and snack. That plus the walk, a chat with the friendly bartender, made me feel a little better. I know I'm too isolated yet I don't want to go anywhere or talk to anyone. Hrm.
Anyway, when I get home, I'll try fitting the one corrected sleeve before I amend the other one. If I did it right, I'll be able to seam the whole thing up and have a REAL SWEATER. All indications are that it will actually fit. Now, I'll still have to put the snaps on (snaps not buttons for this sweater), so it's still not 100% finished, but getting it seamed has been such a hurdle that the tediousness of hand sewing the ribbon and snaps will be a bit anti-climactic as opposed to frustrating and befuddling. I mean, I'm not highly skilled at sewing, but it's conceptually familiar and won't be too hard to figure out.
I will post pics of that finished sweater, never fear.
Yes, I made disastrous brownies. New recipe. Baked them in the morning before the finishing workshop. Made them to bring to a cookout in the afternoon. Came home and realized after cutting into them that they were seriously undercooked. Baked them for an additional 30 minutes. They were cooked and not hard but I didn't have time to let them cool before I had to leave. When I tried to get the brownies out of the pan they turned into a crumbled ugly mess. Disaster. Brownies of pain. Not suitable for cookout gifting. Thus, I will be eating them for the next few days.
The cookout was a whole different story. I have a cousin (my mom's first cousin) who lives in this area. I hadn't heard from him in years, but he invited me over and I accepted. Not a single other plan was on the offing for this weekend. It was the smallest cook out ever, just me, my cousin, his daughter and wife and four other guests. Eight people total. Yet, two of them were single guys, which is a better ratio than any of the cookouts I went to a couple of weeks ago, though they were both about ten years younger than me.
And another example of how I demonstrate not being over Kent. Apropos of something I mentioned that I dated a guy from New Zealand and told a quick funny story about how when we first met, we understood each other well (accent-wise), but after a while, when we got more comfortable with each other, we slipped back to our regular colloquialisms and accents and would have a harder time understanding each other. My cousin then asked, "So, what happened to him?" I said that he had a plan to join the British Army and that he'd been successful in that plan. And that I had…another plan, so I was here.
Maybe I should get a better plan.
Grateful for: friendly bartenders.