settler giver, aka the most rambly post in a good long while, and another that probably should just have gone straight into my journal, but it took on a life of its own and now I'm too pooped to copy/paste

So without the gory details, I had cause to use the term "indian giver" yesterday (just to myself) about someone I used to know, but didn't of course b/c it's not PC, plus it's completely erroneous - if anything we should say Settler Giver or something because it was the incoming settlers, pioneers, US government, etc., who REALLY kept giving things and then wanting them back.

All that aside, personally it's just further proof that if you don't feel right about a relationship/person/whatever, you should listen to your instincts and end it.

We always come back to the same thing: Shakespeare (by way of Polonius) had it right - "...To thine own self be true... thou canst not then be false to any man..." I truly hope that's the last relationship I look back on and regret not listening to my heart. There could well be others which entail other regrets, many which can't be helped and therefore for which one shouldn't blame oneself, but that is the worst one. If you don't pay attention to yourself, to what you know in your Soul is right, then who the hell ARE you going to listen to, Susan?!

On the bright side I probably won't ever be involved with anyone ever again so I've got that going for me... At least as long as I stay in the dry socket of love known as the Upstate.

Not that I'm ready at this point, so I guess the reverse side of that coin is perhaps I will finally have got fed up with being here and will end up somewhere else where I am not the only fun single person my age (because you KNOW there's no way we're picking anyone very much younger ever again). Of course then it will be a question of finding someone who doesn't own anything so we can just use all of my (incredibly fun) housewares, etc. Altho I'd let him bring his furniture if it was fun (read: antique/retro) and assuming we were going to share a house that was big enough so that I could keep my favorite pieces - and of course his furniture WOULD be completely fun because if I saw anything not fun the first time I was at his house I'd have to end it right there.


Mostly... anything animal print or naugahyde (or real leather if not an antique), 
with cupholders, or that entails attaching more than one reclining apparatus together, 
and I'm out the door, seriously. (And honestly anything too Laura Ashley or Shabby Chic,
i.e. left by an ex, and I'll react pretty much the same way... 
Altho someone like that either has no taste or just hasn't had time to replace things, 
so probably that would bode well for my keeping all of mine :)

I am not sure when I became so materialistic. Not that I am overall, but still. Probably partly stemming from giving all my stuff up when Scott and I got married (good decisions all 'round! har.) and then giving a bunch more up when I moved from AZ, plus giving up all the family antiques I was supposed to get because I didn't have money/space to store them anywhere when Dad was downsizing (this batch is probably particularly key since a lot of the stuff I have now I specifically got b/c it reminded me of family pieces and has since become surrogate heirloom material)... all of that plus the very lack of a relationship I think. That is I think I'm much more attached to My Things now, the more time I spend on my own. Maybe that's completely normal. Maybe it's even as it should be...

Sometimes I'm nostalgic for the cycling trips - that glorious feeling each morning leaving a hostel or campsite and going thru the checklist of stuff I/we Really Needed:
  • money
  • passport
  • journal
  • some fruit to last til the first market
  • a handful of layerable garments*

*no Susanhyperbole there, promise - 
I still remember when Dean came to meet me
in Boulogne and I showed up with my little duffle
(about as big as two basketballs tied together)
and my handlebar bag
(about the volume of a smallish shoebox)
and he couldn't believe that was all my stuff.

That feeling resurfaces during backpacking or each summer in France with my downsized stuff... I always think "when I get home I'm going to get rid of a bunch of stuff. Look - I'm fine with two pairs of pants!..."


Grading now...

2 commentaires:

Applecart T. a dit…

Ah, bien.
We here reading did not catch that you had been, until recently, "involved." My provision is that all relationships, not just the "special" ones, are quite involved. And many involve odd compromises unseen or un-shocked-to-be-complicit-in for long periods of time. And it's not like we're not smart and also emotionally smart.
Le sigh.
Cheers to you. I am reading journal from decade+ ago and finding I never liked anyone I ever "dated" or married. We don't hate each other, but, wow, I was a fierce competitor and impossible to understand.

Susan a dit…

too funny - now I see that it kind of sounds that way but no, no involvement here - this stuff is in reaction to recent interaction with someone from a while back. le huge sigh - and for the record I don't think you're impossible to understand (as for the other I can't speak to that - guess we'll have to do something competitive one day :) <3