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Why Does it Bother Me So Much?

August 13, 2010

I got divorced.  It was 2001, very soon after 9/11, that my Ex and I split up.

Guess what I did not do?

I did not go to Italy.

Guess what else I did not do?

I did not go to India.

And what else didn’t I do?

I didn’t go to Indonesia.

Instead, I looked at public housing in the East Bay of the San Francisco area in California, because I didn’t understand how I would possibly afford the rent for me and my two daughters.  I applied for subsidized child care, and I went looking for a job.  Once, I threw my cordless phone So Hard across the room into a cement wall, after the bank told me it had decided to put a hold on my PAYCHECK, and so I couldn’t buy food.  You know, for me and my daughters.  They were 4 and 6.  Maybe 5 and 7.

I didn’t wallow and wax on and on about how “loneliness” kept crawling into bed with me.  I didn’t spend a YEAR focusing on myself, and my every inner thought.  And whining about it.

I mean, come on.  “Post Divorce Globe Trotting?”

I really don’t give a shit.

I’m going to see the Expendables, instead.

(And yes, the book also pissed me off.  I’m sure moreso.  Unless this movie has a voice-over, it can’t be as painful as the book was.)

(Oh, and also?  I’m resentful that the above-expressed hatred for Eat Pray Love means that I have to miss out on Javier Bardem.  I think he is awesome.)

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