If I haven’t written in a month or so, forgive me. There are bigger mind-numbing issues at hand like say my pending divorce; the untangling of my life from another. Between school, work, house selling, divorce dissonance, and the splitting of hairs, I’ve not had much sanity to sit with myself and pound feelings out onto a screen–not that sanity has ever been a writing device. Alas, here I am attempting to tap into the irreverent confessional known as this blog. I’ll spare you the shit show.
There’s really a lot to learn from marrying someone and then divorcing them, and even more to learn about the person they loved and married and subsequently grew to despise during divorce. Take for example the status progression of orange juice:
‘No pulp’ for me, please.
Oh, you like ‘lots of pulp’?
No problem, let’s get married and we’ll buy ‘some pulp.’
I WANT A DIVORCE—
Open fridge, stare at ‘lots of pulp’ orange juice.
Shut fridge, go to brunch with friends for fresh squeezed.
There’s also a Costco effect that happens within any single person struck with the realization that they must walk away from someone they no longer love. In Eat Pray Love, she had this moment of epiphany in her bathroom–crying, kneeling, begging God for answers. In Personal Velocity, Greta is at the kitchen table and its her husband’s cheap shoes. For me, it was standing in the wholesale warehouse of Costco looking at a mountainous shelf of toilet paper in bulk. The concrete below my feet felt of ice because it was December, and floor insulation is rendered an unnecessary overhead cost since it doesn’t generated any sort of significant revenue per-square-foot for a place that uses such a discount strategy as Costco. There is a distinct moment of panic–kind of like a hot flash–that occurs when a simple and underwhelming task of buying toilet paper suddenly overwhelms you and becomes not so simple, and thus defines your life. In a snap, you’re back but not the same person that wandered down aisle six in search for the 600-count roll of industrial strength toilet paper. No, you left that person–whoever she was–in the frozen food section sampling the mini pigs-in-a-blanket. This person, standing in front of a ridiculous barrier of paper products just wants a single roll of toilet paper from a Bodega in Manhattan. This person has no reason to buy in bulk, and truth be told, never thought of herself as a buyer of bulk, a drinker of ‘lots of pulp,’ a homeowner in dirty Jersey, or a pigs-in-a-blanket eater.
This person is going to leave her marriage.