eh….

I’m thinking. I swear. It’s just that my life is especially boring  at the moment. A fair amount of income is going to many different types of therapy for many different types of problems for more than just one of us now. You’d think that would make for great blog, fodder…truth be told: if I gain anymore self knowledge, I think I’m in danger of disowning myself.  The therapy novelty has worn off and the backlash has hit. We’ll see how all this pans out during my next session which happens to fall on my birthday….OCT 14…in case you want to send gifts.

Death By Suburbia

…Oh, quit you’re whining, you say. We suburbanites are tired of you putting our way of life down. And by way of life, we mean living with as little “life” as p0ssible.

If you’ve seen the trailer for Revolutionary Road, you know what I’m talking about. My better half and I actually made it out to our first movie experience in a year to see Slumdog Millioniare and were horrified by the preview for Rev Road….a young (achingly beautiful) couple trade in all their dreams and restlessness for “settling down”.

Because that’s what you do, right? Wrong.

Rick and I, just recently returned to the land of the living dead and are feeling just about exactly the same way as Leo and Kate…dragging the garbage out to the curb on a beautiful day, staring down the street at all the plastic conveyor belt houses, and wondering, how the hell did I end up like this? Where the hell is everyone? Why am I making a pot roast?

When the trailer was over, we could tell most of the theater was most likely not as moved as we were. We felt their collective “big deal’ vibes as the two of us stared at each other and communicated all we needed to say to one another without a single word: It’s time to get out. Act with much haste…

We loved Slumdog Millionaire, by the way. But on the drive home, we talked about Revolutionary Road. It remained with us throughout the evening. We admitted we feel like we have done the kids a huge disservice by bringing them back to a place where there is no culture within walking distance. No stimulation except for the oddly placed playground which you have to trek to by SUV. (which we do not own)

Yesterday we were in the store (our big excursion for the day) and Cate asked if we could walk home. She wants to know where the trains and trams and buses are. She misses the daily interaction she had with complete strangers. She misses feeling the electricity of life all around her…the knowledge that she is not alone, and all she would have to do was step one foot outside the door to know it. Now she steps outside and asks us where everyone is. Lately she has taken to donning a pink princess dress all day and walking around the house in circles asking if she’s “going to make some friends today”.

Rick and I usually put a time frame to everything. I asked him yesterday how long we have to get ourselves together for a move….when would he like to realistically see us somewhere else other than here. The man who makes an excel sheet for every decision during his waking hours, looked over at me and said: “ASAP. No time frame. No plan. We’re just going.”

I began looking at New York real estate immediately.

Suburbia slowly puts pressure on the pulse of your life until you’re barely breathing…so that when you are breathing, you’re in time with every0ne else.  I could easily teach my kids to breathe to their own rhythm. But here, that would set them up for a life of being the outcast…when life is difficult enough. Or, I could take them to a place where being the individual is the norm…a place that I wished I could have escaped to when I was young…the place I still want to run away to.

Rick and I decided yesterday we don’t want to live in a land of car seats and strip malls and keeping up with the Jones’. All we have to do now is make our escape…Steve McQueen style…hopefully with motorcycles involved.