11 January, 2007.
I have just finished reading the Thomasson's Christmas message and I continue to be amazed by how much they are in love with their children, how satisfying they find it simply to be with them, how happy Stephanie seems to be being a stay-at-home 'mom'. I wish I could be as content. Whereas Dan and Steph would like to freeze time so their 'cutie-pies' stay at this age forever, I just wish mine would hurry up and grow up and go away. The truth is out. I think I have finally, through long exposure, caught Jonathan's disease: Iwantmyoldlifebackitis. Not my American life, although I miss the women there I might have told this to in person, thereby shunting it once more to the bottom of my subconscious for a time, where it would lurk and probably give me cancer one day, while I went back to pretending that I was content to be 'only' a housewife and mother, albeit one who knows what a Lagrange point is, and obviating the desire to spew it all out on this page.
I'm tired of food. I'm tired of cooking it, I'm tired of eating it, I'm tired of thinking of new ways to present it. I'd like to be a bachelorette who can choose to eat a banana and a low fat yoghurt for dinner if that's all she feels like. Or better yet, a glass of champagne and a cigarette. That's another thing; after 10 years I'm missing smoking again. In Rupert Everett's marvellous autobiography Red Carpets, which I got for Christmas, he mentions seeing Catherine Deneuve standing in the shadows smoking a More (a long slender brown cigarette - tres chic!). I used to smoke those when I was 18. Ever since I read that, I've been craving one. Yeah, I know it will most likely give me cancer. So what? Maybe I'll get hit by a bus tomorrow. Anything's got to be better than dying slowly of boredom.
I have had a recurring dream since I left work in 1998 that I am still working for Greg, my old boss. I loved my job and I loved working with him. I think those 11 years were the happiest time of my life, despite several failed relationships in that period. In recent years the dreams have got more vivid and I remember them very clearly in the morning. I'd like to go back to work. I'd like to have better qualifications so I could get a better paid job. However I don't know if I can stand waiting another 3 years to get the hell out of this existence (subsistence?) while I go back to school. Meanwhile the school holidays drag on, and on, and on.
Jonathan dreams of being single, living and working in New York. I daydream of running away and backpacking around the world, working with aid groups in Africa, living in a little apartment in Paris. Not being tied to things, or people - no responsibility in other words. I want to do a Shirley Valentine. I totally understand where Shirley was coming from, although her husband was more of an arsehole than mine, and her kids had left home, so she had less to feel guilty about wanting to leave. I envy Rupert's peripatetic lifestyle, full of parties, clubs, drugs and lovers. Actually you can keep the lovers. My libido ran away already - without me.
Last night I hit Jonathan when we were supposed to be making love. I thought he bit me, but that's no excuse. I don't know what came over me. I think I'm losing the plot. I recognise this desperate, cornered feeling, the need to just get away, anywhere, it doesn't matter. You get so crazy you begin to think it would be better to kill yourself quickly than to die trapped in a cage. Before it was from a relationship, but this time it's not just Jonathan, it's the whole damn thing. I want to run away from my life. Jonathan annoys me (well let's face it, he annoys everyone at one time or another, but I used to take it with good humour). The kids annoy me - big time. The horse annoys me. The chickens annoy me. Cooking, housework, shopping, you name it, it annoys me. I can't even be bothered replying to people's emails, I can't think of anything interesting or upbeat to tell them. So all you friends who are making the effort to keep in touch, thank you, I appreciate it, and I'm sorry I don't reply, but at least now you know why.
I miss you all and I hope you're well, and happier than I am.