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2000-01-16 - 20:12:39
Wow, mungleford's page looks great now. You go boy! He sounds like kindred soul, except for the divorce part.
Quite a few of my male friends have gotten divorced. It really seems to hit most of 'em pretty hard. Their wives usually seem relieved, move on, try new things, become independent. And hook up with a new guy within three months. In fact, Only one woman I know, took her divorce hard, but she's pulling through okay. It seems. I don't know how she feels inside though. I don't know if she cries herself to sleep at night.
My parents divorced when I was 5 or 6. I don't care to pin it down too exactly. That would mean thinking back and trying to reconstruct my life at the time. I'd rather not.
Jenny tells me about all these people on Diaryland, and about their various dramas. That's cool. I read some of 'em, a little. I figure a lot of you all out there are twenty-somethings, though I know for sure some aren't. I figure my meanderings are rather boring to the young'uns, just a bunch of nostalgia, and a bunch of (Abe Simpson impersonation) "when I was a young, kids respected the older kids, they didn't pop caps at 'em with a mac.", which doesn't bother me much. I use this thing to help me get it out a little. Sorta cathartic. I'm not particulary interested in the "scene" as Jenny calls it.
I feel old sometimes.
I live with a vital young woman, who's beautiful, smart, talented, conscientious (that matters to me!), and pretty darn witty. There's nothing like laying in bed talking before I go to sleep and having Jenny say something really hilarious and crack up, and kiss, and snuggle, and drift off to sleep. I love her so.
But she's young. Compared to me. 15 years younger. It's not that much of a rift, since she's very worldly, and very well steeped in the pop culture of my day...sorta. That would be media pop culture, which would be more of an amalgam of pop culture, but not regionally specific. (But I diverge, or something)
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tangential
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I went to Roald Amundsen High School in Chicago. Class of '79. (Er, I didn't graduate from there though) It's on the North side.
When I was a teenager, where I was a teenager, we had gang problems too. My high school hosted several gangs: The Latin Kings, The Gaylords, The Insane (Almighty) Popes, The Simon City Royals, to name the ones that actually were part of the student body.
Here's a peculiar bit of arcana, the gangs all wore these funky sweater things. They were sorta like those athletic sweaters they wore in the 40s or something. They were usually black with the colors of the gang, sorta longish, with buttons on the front and a belt. The gang name was embroidered on the back. And each one had the name of the member embroidered on the front. All gang bangers wore these kinda baggy pants, "baggies" and like a t-shirt,etc. Usually these sweater sweaters were worn under like a leather jacket, or some such. I've only seen a couple of the things out in the open (hey, I avoided these guys like the plague!).
Of course, these sweaters were trophies. These guys actually carried business cards too. I had one from the Gaylords once. I forget who's card it was. I didn't want to carry it around with me in case I got stopped by the cops, or god forbid, a rival gang should jump me.
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end tangential
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Anyway, Jenny's the best. I've never met a woman that I meshed with so well. I mean, sense of humor, values, affectionate levels. So probably the age difference doesn't matter all that much. Well, not to me.
But I worry about her. Her future. Hell, her present.
*insert quaint Buddhist proverb here*
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So, how do you like them apples?