dianaschnuth

Watching Dan prepare for his Doctoral audition last night and this morning made me realize: I have no reason to be “professional” these days. I mean, sure, my workplace is quasi-professional, but our dress code is business casual (which, for me, basically means no jeans, sweats, t-shirts, or sneakers: almost anything else goes). We’re not the kind of professional workplace where it’s required to put on airs and/or a suit.

I no longer perform in concerts, like choir or band or wind ensemble or whatnot, so I have no reason or opportunity to put on my best black dress and some makeup—stage makeup, even, sans lipstick for wind instruments—and stride out to swells of applause, holding my head high and aloof. I don’t even go to church anymore, so I don’t put on my pantyhose and one of my nicest outfits (with a skirt or dress, of course) and do my hair and makeup and wear perfume, and shake everyone’s hand and smile and act reverent when appropriate.

I suppose I could dress up just because, but it doesn’t have the allure that a special (or not-so-special) occasion does. When Aaron and I go out to eat anymore, even someplace “nice” like Red Lobster or Dolly & Joe’s (mom-and-pop place, great prime rib), the odds are 50/50 whether we’ll just go in jeans, anyway.

I don’t even *own* that many seriously “nice” clothes anymore. In the years between my old, pre-obese weight and my current non-obese weight, I sloughed off several sizes’ worth of “nice” clothes that I couldn’t fit into anymore, or that I just got tired of. All my poet’s blouses, all my starchy white oxford-esque blouses, most of my “good” skirts, blah blah blah. As for Aaron, I know he’s got blazers, but doubt if he even owns a decent tie, and I’m not sure if he has any “dress” shoes. Not like either of us really have any reason to own said formal attire.

I used to be very elitist about certain things. I felt totally at home in formal wear—at least, concert-going or church-going formal wear, anyway. I’ve changed so much since then; sometimes I feel like I’m not even that same person who played first-chair clarinet or sang in the chamber choir or felt naked leaving the house without lipstick. Was that me? Not really… not the “me” I know now. Now I’m perfectly content going makeup-less, and business casual is as dressy as I get. And I’m OK with that.

?I?m gonna phone everyone that I?ve known / Through the downs and the ups / And who I suspect have written me off / As an insensitive fuck / And say good luck / And goodbye…?

For the past couple of New Year?s Days, I?ve sent out e-mails to everyone I rarely touch base with. Old friends from high school, college, work, even elementary school.

This year, though, I didn?t.

Recent events (including my wedding) made me realize that, were I to e-mail all these friends and acquaintances to let them know how I?m doing, I would never really know whether it was appreciated. Half would never e-mail me back, some would respond with one ?thanks for the e-mail?things are the same as always with me? note, and only a very few would enter into a meaningful e-mail volley or start keeping in touch for real.

So, I decided to screw it this year. If they don?t care enough to e-mail *me* once in a while, I?ll be damned if I?m going to spend the time and effort to give them an update. Let them contact me for a change, if they give a rat?s @$$ about how I?m doing.

But, for once, a stupid forward actually made me stop and think:
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I’ve tried to start this damn entry about half a dozen times now, and everything sounds too depressed or too pretentious. So, I’ll cut to the chase.

Remember when we were in school? In High School, we were all working toward graduation. Maybe our short-term goals involved a certain GPA, or a scholarship, or getting accepted to a certain college. Most people I knew were working toward college, although some people were working toward getting “real” jobs and moving out of their parents’ houses.

Then, when we were in college, we were still working toward graduation, and toward a career. Again, some folks were striving to keep a certain GPA, while others of us were just content to strive not to get kicked out.

Then we graduated (some of us), and worked on living on our own, and getting “real” jobs that could sustain us, and all that adult crap.

So… now what?
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In response to my musings about my lack of Christmas spirit, Sheryl had this to say:

…it could be the fact that you wont see your mom this xmas? even if you didnt normally go visit, the distance makes it seem more..empty. :/

That’s a good point, and one that I had actually pondered while Aaron and I were driving home from Cleveland on Saturday.

I’d agreed with Aaron beforehand that it would be so wonderful not to have to share Christmas with two families this year. No sleeping on the floor at Mom and Gary’s place, no coming home smelling like Vantage cigarettes, no juggling of times and places and meals and ending up waiting on Uncle Pete anyway.

Even so, as I sat in the passenger’s seat of the Kia on the way home Christmas night, in amongst my various sleepy ponderings was the realization that I wanted a hug from my Mom.

It’s finally hitting me that it could be *years* until I see my mother again.

Maybe that *is* it.

Sure, Gary’s a tool, and my Mom isn’t quite as cool as she once was… but still, nothing quite compares to a Mom Hug™.