Intro to the "Off Day": The Moon and the Mean Reds

When I was a kid, I always kept my bed in front of the window. I still do, actually. And the reason for this was so that whenever the moon was strong in the sky and would shine in through the blinds, the light would shine on my face while I slept. I would often sleep at the end of my bed, just to accommodate the light. It's 3:42 am. My room in Raleigh has a giant picture window at the head of the bed that fits the entire width, so tonight the moonlight is just pouring in.... and it's almost full. In another day or so it should be magnificent to sleep in. Kinda feels like the universe knew I needed the extra comfort and kept the skies clear. It's going to be another Off Day for sure.

Some days, like yesterday, I have what I call Off Days. I remember while growing up, it was a term I would use with my Dad. Whenever he was having a bad day or wasn't feeling well after a health issue, I would ask how he was feeling, and he would say he was having an "Off Day". It was a better way of describing a shitty day, I guess. Because a shitty day implies there was a reason for it to be shitty. An Off Day doesn't really have a reason at all. They're actually a lot like Holly Golightly's "Mean Reds", in Breakfast at Tiffany's. Not like the blues mind you. "… The blues are because you're getting fat and maybe it's been raining too long. You're just sad, that's all. The mean reds are horrible. Suddenly you're afraid and you don't know what you're afraid of…" So yeah, yesterday was like that. And I could probably explain why. But not very well. So I won't.

And then there's this event I have to take part in this week that I am just dreading. I'm not very good at large social outings. At least not for very long periods of time. In public. With people I can't connect with. It's what an introvert dreads the most. And with this event I have to endure an entire 8 hours of socialization with 12 people younger than me. Half or more of them, are half my age. I don't know why the age thing bothers me so much. I'm just really struggling with it more now than I ever have before. I think the reason why is because when I turned 30, people told me I would love my 30's. "Best years of your life!" they said. And they were absolutely right. Best years of my life so far, hands down. I didn't mind my 20's. Lots of fun, lots of heartache, lots of growing up to do… but I wouldn't do them again. Then I turned 40. People told me the same thing about my 40's. They would be the best. And they were absolutely wrong. Worst year's of my life so far, hands down. I had to, after all, say goodbye to my 30's, and enter into another dimension where gravity is just as jacked as the temperature of my body when I sleep. 

So, here I am at 44, and so far all I can see is that my boobs are longer, I don't know how to dress, and I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up. It really started a couple of years ago, after my first official girl's weekend in LA, to which afterward I had two *very* dramatic melt-downs after seeing pictures of myself posted of Facebook. Holy shiz-balls do I really look like that now? It's really unnerving when you feel 30 in your head, but walk past your reflection in a posh Santa Monica Promenade storefront window and see a Frumpy (with a capital F!) 40-something looking back at you. Holy shiz-balls is right. Needless to say, I've since lost some weight, feel a TON healthier and do look a little better in windows, thank God… But I just can't seem to figure out what to DO with myself. It's Limbo. The gray area. The Mean Reds.

Anyway. The moon has moved a little further across the sky and the light from my laptop is interfering with it's valuable light… so I shall bathe in it's beauty and brace myself for the rest of the day that is to come. 

G'nite folks...