Moose in the Kitchen

Layer One

I dance perilously close to the edge of Bank Balance: Zero Dollars on a regular basis. I don’t have to do this. I could earn more. I could scale back. But tottering on the edge of zero is, oddly, my comfort zone. Despite the fact that it sounds NOT AT ALL COMFORTABLE, NOT ONE BIT. Since the psychology runs deep here and there are many things more entertaining than listening to a neurotic sort through her deeply ingrained money issues, like maybe inspecting your toilet paper for wrinkles, I will proceed to Layer Two.

Layer Two

I like being single. I like it a lot. Do you know how much time and space gets freed up in your brain when you’re not interested in anyone? A LOT. A LOT OF SPACE. ECHOING CAVERNS OF SPACE. ENOUGH SPACE TO BUILD YOURSELF A NICE TWELVE-BEDROOM STARTER HOME WITH TENNIS COURTS AND MAYBE THE PACIFIC OCEAN. I’LL STOP YELLING NOW.

Not being interested in anyone means I’m not constantly checking my email to see if he wrote, I’m not engaged in cyclical justification for whatever shiny crimson flag he’s waving, the one lovingly embroidered with “I’M NOT REALLY ALL THAT INTERESTED IN YOU,” I’m not actively ignoring my own gut instincts because I like him and if I like him and ignore my gut instincts then I get to stop dating.

After trying to explain this and failing miserably on every point but the hand-flapping, a friend summed it up nicely: “You’re not interested in bullshit dating.” Yes. That’s precisely it. I’m not interested in bullshit dating, but since that’s all I understand at the moment, I’m giving myself some space to grow out of that phase. NEXT PHASE, PLEASE.

Layer Three

Fears. I have a lot of them, as do we all. Fears like to congregate, cuddling up together until they harden into a tunnel of pitch and brambles and bat guano. A tunnel you have to walk through, something you’ve been trying to avoid by waiting for a bus, a bus that will carry you easily through the tunnel, where you can sit with a magazine and other people, knowing all you have to do to get there is wait for your stop. But it’s not coming. Because that bus doesn’t exist. Nor does the little red wagon pulled by some obliging soul. So it’s time to start walking.

My fears include: Fear of failure. Fear of success. Fear that I’ll spend all this time and effort on something and then it will the wrong something. Fear that I’ll hurt someone. Fear that I’ll die. Fear that I’ll end up broke and alone because I did the wrong thing. Fear that I’ll get what I want and it won’t feel like I expected.

Intellectually, I know they’re ridiculous. Or, if not ridiculous, then something I can make peace with. But knowing something intellectually isn’t the same as knowing it emotionally. In order to fully understand how ridiculous those fears are in the emotional center of my little reptilian brain, I have to confront them. Which means WALKING THROUGH THE GODDAMN BLACK TUNNEL. Don’t ask me how I’m going to do this because I only just now admitted that the tunnel even exists. Let’s not rush things here.

All those fears relate to work/career/money stuff. I suspect there’s an entirely different tunnel waiting for me with the word “Relationship” inscribed at the entrance, prominently featuring my inability to let myself find someone who qualifies as Not Bullshit Dating. But I can’t think about that right now because if I do I’ll just sit down and watch more Glee and I’m not allowed to watch Glee until I’m finished writing. And I have to be flossing my teeth while I watch. No watching Glee as an alternative to despair. I only get to watch Glee as an alternative to flossing my teeth without musical entertainment.

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1. Layer Eight Wants Chicken Pot Pie
2. The Space Between
3. Caligula Urp
4. Yeah, I Might Still Be Watching Glee
5. Brain Wants Mac and Cheese