nothing to see here... move along

.
I don't really have anything to talk about tonight. My eyes are sort of gritty and closing and my cat is whining and annoying. There was a little tequila earlier but not enough since i'm freaking broke and i can't afford proper amounts of tequila.

Bad news is there may be no liquor store for a few weeks as of late July. This would be MOST unfortunate because I don't get paid for any work until August 1st and my birthday is August 12th.

*flash and bang of lightning hitting sass in the head*

Fuck
that explains it

the sour mood, the maudlin attitudes, the mild depression. It's my fucking birthday. And for this woman it's a rather pivotal birthday too.

You see, after 40 the whole making babies thing becomes pretty much fucking impossible unless you hire a surrogate or whatever. That said, I didn't want to think about it for a while so I just made a little plan. No worries until 34, then investigate your fertility and then at 35 just decide once and for all... YES or NO... to breed or not to breed.

If the decision is yes then go find a sperm donor and if the decision is no then just fucking forget about it. This was a GREAT plan when I was 31. Like freaking awesome.

But now, now I'm turning 34. That means this is it, I have to decide this year. To be a mom or not to be a mom. To adopt or to use my own egg. Since I'm ragingly poor at the moment this is rendered somewhat more difficult to think about since I'm pretty sure I can't afford the diapers.

Still, I gave myself time to think and I learned something. Deep down inside me I actually wish to be a parent. I even want it to be mine and not adopted. It's just there's something else. I never really thought that I would be doing it alone. I just assumed that magically the Universe would drop a nice man on my head and that would be that. [okay how funny would it be if a nice man actually really did land on my head??] No matter how much I said it, no matter how much I protested, part of me really thought that I would get to do this with a partner.

Don't get me wrong, there's an offer. A gay friend of mine wants my egg... but he wants to be a coparent and I have to tell you I'm really not sure I want to tie my life to a man that I can't have for the next 20 years or the rest of my life. Like all where to live decisions and so on would have to be made with someone else's input.

It really seems like all of the disadvantages of marriage with none of the advantages.

I confess this would be easier to muse on if I had gotten laid in living memory.
.

I read a description of a woman today in Hedger's blog that I'll paste here. do you think I should tell him I did it?

Anyway:
"We get to talking and she's embarrassed at her age. She's 32. Hey, we've all got to go sometime. Tracey, she calls herself. With an E. She was sad, I could tell. The dame's confidence had been rattled by years of abusive men and had become suspicious of everyone as a result, I was sure. It was all in her eyes. It was the reason why she couldn't let herself have a little fun. She was guarded and outgoing at the same time. She was no longer at ease with the idea of being able to trust a total stranger, if she ever had been."

We've all got to go sometime?!?!??? AT THIRTY TWO?

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm not in the slightest teeniest tiniest bit embarassed about my age, (expect when I'm crushing on someone younger than my sister... but that's more feeling like a cougar than anything) in fact I've come so far in the last 15 or so years that to regret it would be tragic and really self defeating. However, the bit about the dame's confidence and suspicious nature... then he mentions that she's outgoing and guarded at the same time and I sort of feel like he's talking about me. Now he's NOT. For one thing I'm not in Australia and I haven't been to that kind of bar in ages... but still.

I'm not quite there, I can trust strangers and in fact do it regularly. I can have fun. But can I?

I'm the one shushing everyone when we're running down the halls wasted on whatever. I'm the one chastising the litterers and telling people that they clearly don't value their country if they're littering. I'm the wise old auntie to a troupe of young things that I know.

And that feels somehow like a safe choice. Like I'm turning into the crazy spinster on the corner who shouts 'why i oughta' while she waggles her finger at some kid on a skateboard. [and why are there so few places kids are allowed to skate today? Downtown is deserted at night now since they broke all the fun places to skateboard and chased the kids away]

I feel like I'm letting my life pass me by and I can't figure out why I feel that way. I'm busy, I'm working on a cool career, I have friends that I treasure and hobbies that I love and yet.

I haven't learned to surf yet.
I haven't seen Australia and New Zealand and Bali and Thailand and Turkey and Greece and Egypt and South America and all of Asia and all of Africa and the Antarctic [Antartic?]... yet.
I haven't climbed a real mountain yet.
I haven't scuba dived yet.
I haven't learned to wind surf yet.
I haven't jumped out of an airplane yet.
I haven't graduated from college or university.
I haven't done SO MANY things that I was sure I would have done by now.

So am I regretting my choices? Not really no. I mean there was that horrible 3-some and a few other nasty memories but overall?

Nope.

I've made some weird choices and I've done some pretty fun things but i feel like my exploration factor has just not been met. My feet are still itchy and I'm still here.

So what's keeping me here then? Roots? The ease of it? what?