Monday, March 26, 2007

can i take your order, please ...

there was a time when i lapped up chaos like it was the last bit of guacamole in a hard plastic tin super potato ole graveyard. (there was also a time when if you googled "super potato oles" my blog was two of the first four results). i welcomed adversity with a freckled game face and gap-toothed nonchalance. a negative balance in my checking account was just a reason to dig deeper. consider rolling up my sleeve and sipping pulpfree orange juice while i watched vial after vial after vial fill with my milky plasma. moaning along to a barry manilow instrumental under flourecent lights and pleading: "is that all you want? take more! take more!" my pupils replaced by neon bar lights in the shape of dollar signs. for instance.

i never felt more alive than the day my car was towed. my adrenaline had its own zip code. i saw it coming. i wasn't surprised. expired tabs and my own special file cabinent filled with parking violations, library fines and just plain old bad fashion sense. the day took me from the DMV to city hall to the police station and back to city hall. eventually i found myself in the sweaty back seat of a cab with a duct taped door handle, being driven by a man who wanted to tell me something special about every building we passed. we wove through the neighborhoods of duluth, like he was writing my name in cursive with his car. i watched the meter as he dotted the "i" and felt like my coin purse had fallen on a broom handle.

once at the impound lot i nearly slipped on a sheet of ice. i was wearing the impractical boots that i had purchased instead of tabs. the irony was not lost on me. but the irony was a pretty kick ass piece of footware and so i laughed all the way home, admiring my feet at stoplights.

i liked waking knowing that i may get drunk that night. or i may run a marathon that morning. i may finish my novel or get my taxes done five minutes before midnight, high-fiving the other tax slackers on my way out of the post office. i could finish an entire book or i could eat hamburger helper for three meals and dessert. i may whomp the crap out of you in a best-of-five series of ping pong.

even i didn't know what i would do.

but lately. ugh. lately i crave predictibility. patterns and pedestrianisms. order and a bit of a structure. knowing that when i wake, my fully tabbed and insured and legally parked car will be waiting for me. that i could use the items in my refrigerator to make a meal with more than one ingredient. that i did not, in a manic fit, finish a 300 page book before finally going to sleep at 9:30 a.m. and that if i have to get up early, i will probably go to bed relatively early.

and i'm doing this with the same manic gleem in my eye that i used to get when i woke you up with a sloppy phone call at 3 a.m., repeating myself, mumbling swear words and cackling you awake.

likes: streaming the current for six consecutive hours, the new yorker, spooning and mozzarella cheese. the newest killers' cd and veronica mars. blizzards and rain and duluth. freshly shaved legs, clean tube socks, a made bed. the fact that i can see the end of my debt, and it is within the year 2007.

dislikes: the hole in the crotch of my favorite jeans, losing at golden tee 2007, losing at totally 80s trivial pursuit, knowing that soon i will lose at scrabble, doing shots, bald tires, my chipped molar and the smell of my own dirty hair.

my life is gaining order, and i credit orthotricyclen lo.

for approximately 20 years i was in the clutch of my body's whimsy. i could go 32, 74, 86 days with no regularity. sometimes i went so long between that i would be surprised when i did. frown and wonder if i was dying before harkening back to that day in sixth grade and remembering: ah. i'm a woman wearing a woman's body. if, twice in two months, things unleashed according to some sort of schedule, i would go three months without a trace. convince myself i had been impregnated by air molecules, a toilet seat or from the sneeze of a stranger. my moods fluctuated and sometimes pms reared for years. binging, weight gain, puffy parts and sobbing. back pain, hilarity, nausea and the spins.

now everything bodywise goes according to plan. a plan so well-plotted that i've considered charting my life into 28 pieces, pieces which are quartered. making notations on moods and cravings and how alcohol or excess salt will affect me during each sector. filing these findings, comparing them month to month until a pattern emerges. then passing out wallet-sized codes to my friends and family. my body as its own personal science fair, where you all win the blue ribbon and trip to the state level.

hmm. day 24. afternoon. she looks like she needs french fries and the movie "beaches." done and done.

2 comments:

Domestically Disabled Girl said...

i have discovered the joys of "seasonale". once every three months is alright with me. really.

whiskeymarie said...

I used to blame everything from yelling at my car to shopping sprees gone bad on my period.
Now I've had an IUD for 1-1/2 years & don't get my period (ever), I don't get moody (in a regular cycle anyways) and can only blame junk food binges on being hungover.
I kind of miss having the excuse, but I like predictability better- and I REALLY don't miss the, you know, blood thing.