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3 sheets to the wind (or a little night music): Part one

It's funny how life changes.  Last night I was laying in bed, headphones blaring my favorite Enya CD, and composing this letter in my head.  Life is pretty much one gigantic letter in my brain, so this was nothing unusual.  I actually seriously contemplated just getting up at midnight and walking down to the PCbang (where I am now) to get it out of my system since it was more or less preventing me from actually sleeping anyway, but I managed to talk myself out of it.  I thought, no, I will get my rest now, then first thing tomorrow will be as fine a time as any to write.  Afterall, I have been battling some sort of Korean stomach bug for almost a week now (Rob and Barb, I think it was the deep fried lady - in a stunning show of bad judgement last night Becca and I stopped again on our way home and guess what I have been doing for the last many hours?...) and am running pretty low on reserve energy.  A little TLC should have been a good thing, right?
Sometimes there are more important things in life than sleep.  Like just going to the computer and saying what you want to say.  Otherwise life is bound to interupt and then you will just end up eating your words.  Again.  
Thursday night, sometime near midnight.  My stomach is turning cartwheels and I feel like I am about ready to pass out.  The trip in to the church has gone unbelievably slowly, and it is a hot, hot night to be carrying around a backpack.  The church compound is its usual boisterous self, and I am simultaneously delighted to see everyone so energetic and distressed not to be able to keep up.  So I go out to sit alone on the steps for a while, and breathe in the evening air.  From the church building itself I can hear music, so after a while I wander up there and pull up a pew to listen to my friend in serious practice mode on the piano.  He is completely intent and amazing (I'm not sure when I fell asleep there, but I know it was nearly 2 when his cell phone ringing woke me up).  I think, I could sit and listen to him for the rest of my life.  He frowns concernedly in my general direction, makes sleeping motions, and uncerimoniously ushers me out the doors.  The rest of my life can wait, I guess.  All in good time.
Tuesday morning, first thing.  I sit down to write the rest of the story of 3 sheets to the wind (and a little night music), and instead see that a very good friend of mine is having the bad grace to marry someone who is not me.  Even though he asked me first.  More than once.  Even though I said yes.  More than once.  We were both kidding.  Sort of.  Right?  I mean, who can contemplate marriage when one or both of you is constantly flitting off to far away corners of the planet?  So I am incredibly happy for him.  And also sad.  Very sad, actually.  I mean (yes, I am aware of the double standard here people!), sure I am over here captivated with life in general (not to mention someone in particular), and doing my own thing.  But in the back of my head I always kind of thought that if the timing ever got straightened out maybe engaged-to-someone-else-boy and I could make it happen. 
It's silly and unfair (people don't get to go through life collecting back-ups afterall), but true.  Somehow the thought of him with someone else was always so much easier when I was expecting that someone else to make a departure at some point in the not too distant future.  They always did before.  I guess that's the funny thing about people - everyone has their own little internal script and it's not very often that they match up.  One should always be careful in scripting in someone else's future without their express consent.
And now I need to go find a shower (or perhaps more immediately, a friendly toilet, as if you really wanted to know!) and get myself off to work for another day.  This isn't the end of the world afterall.  Life goes on (and all that).  This message turns out to be not at all what I intended on saying, but whatever.  I'm not going to change it now (Shane, aren't you proud of me?).  I hope this finds all of you well and happy and eager to WRITE BACK.
Much love - Roberta
PS.  Not that my reaction may have been any different under other circumstances, but my disclaimer for this message is that seeing the world through ceramic tinted, bowl shaped glasses is never good for ones perceptions...        

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