In Twilight Regalia

WHICHEVER COMES FIRST

Last night was horrible dream night.

Maybe it was that we didn’t get to go and watch Narnia that day as I had planned, because the crowd was too insane and we gave up. Frustration building.

Maybe it is because Koreans just do not understand Christmas in any way shape or form.

Maybe it was that I hadn’t eaten the whole day before and then ate Taco Hell out of sheer exhaustion and blood glucose was zigzagging wildly.

Maybe it was just an incredible lot of emotional pent up steam. Lord knows I’d been seething for a day at least. My friends were unsympathetic to the plight of someone receiving a foot spa instead of a gift for an intelligent person who was still young, aka moi.

Maybe it was that we gave up and rented “I Heart Huckabees” that dealt with all the fucked up shit in life and what ever the hell it can mean, and people trying to find answers by bashing each other with balls and destroying their jetskis and ruining their saleable images with bonnets. And asking Lilly Tomlin for help.

Again, maybe it was the Taco Bell, but I think I would have dreamed badly anyway since I practically threw the Christmas tree at my husband yesterday afternoon. I couldn’t believe Christmas was so lame AGAIN, after I had told him Christmas was a big deal and he had sworn last year that next Christmas would be better. He had also said that about other things, like Thanksgiving. But when it rolled around…. Again no change.

I was so infuriated that he seemed not to care that I was having no reciprocity from him on holidays, not even in little silly gifts that didn’t cost anything, all while he spent night after night on e-bay shopping for clothes for himself. Economically, but still — self-absorbedly.

I asked for a camera. I asked point blank for Pimsleur Korean language tapes. I figured asking for such things point-blank would make it easier for him to shop. Just fill in the blank. When I asked him after Christmas what the heck was he thinking buying me a foot spa when I had asked directly for two things, either of which would have been good, he got really upset and said it was the money. Whereupon I asked how much he had spent on his clothes. $200 he said. There was most of what would have been my present. Had he considered saving any money to shop for me? No.

I got him something like 6 gifts, totaling over 300 and thought out and terrific and tailored to his wishes enough to make him say “WOW, this is really cool!” and be generally enthusiastic. (Mario Andretti racing school champ ride at 180mph qual race.)

I began to try to rationalize this all when I opened the foot spa and instantly sank inside, and felt 90 years old and completely ignored.

But, even if he had decided my tapes or the camera was too expensive, where were other things or suggestions in its place? Why THIS??? It looked like something you’d find in a sickroom. It creeps me out. I don’t want it even as a large taker-up of space. It’s a burden. It didn’t function worth shit when tried out either.

Maybe when we first discussed the camera, he thought I was demanding he spend all his money on it. I hadn’t meant to imply that at all — I consider our money ours. He could have used some of mine to buy it for me, I wouldn’t have cared; I wanted the THOUGHT that he had paid attention to me asking for something I truly wanted/liked. I explained this to him after all the tinsel was cleaned up, and the lights tearfully untangled …. and he’s still treating me like I’m the inexplicable ungrateful demanding bitch.

When the glitter was vacuumed, and I had asked him if he really did want to communicate with me, that I in no way meant to ask for something too expensive to demand it of him; I don’t think he’d thought of that. I wasn’t thinking about cost as something he was supposed to provide. I didn’t care about whose money it was. I don’t think he’d considered that and he softened a bit.

But you know, he knew I give him stocking presents and this still makes me want to huck the plastic star at him like Michele Yeoh in a B-feature. There was nothing in my stocking on Christmas morning either. His was full of his favorite snacks and nuts and Korean treats.

I tried kidding him where are my stocking presents days before Christmas. Nothing happened. He just blew it off.

He told me he blew off the Pimsleur language MP3 set I requested because it was (1) expensive (yes, it was) but also 2) because he truly believed it was a waste on me.

He then said that if I hadn’t learned Korean by going to Korean Cultural center and with the other books I had, why would this MP3 set be any different.

This was a really bad jab to me. Other women wouldn’t even TRY to fucking learn Korean. I found it really insulting. And an indication that he thinks I’m some sort of whimsical spoiled child. (While he goes shopping on e-Bay.)

I said why didn’t you try something cheaper? Why didn’t you instead buy me the flowers I always ask for?
Because it’s a waste of money, he said.
But it’s what I want, so it’s not a waste, I said; I’ve told you this is important to me.
It’s not important, he said. It’s a waste.

(How do you argue with a person who is fucking CHEAP to his spouse?)

You know, he’s also lazy and sleeps all the time lately (maybe he’s depressed and unhappy? Who knows?.) So on the last day of vacation when we were supposed to try a second time to see Narnia in the theater, he slept all day, through to 3pm. I was so angry and upset by 5 it was not surprising I nearly threw the tree at him and ripped it apart crying the whole time.

Later he seemed to slowly realize that I felt hurt and unloved and angry, and started getting nice to me, but no committment for any future holidays when I asked about it. Just “Why bring that up again????!” And that makes me sure the cycle will just continue. He just puts out what he thinks is some irrational fire for now and expects it to just be some kind of emotional blow up that goes away, when I want true reform.

I want change.

I want him to actually think of my wants and my needs.

I want him to recall that I am an equal and not an adjunct.

It’s evident he thinks it’s just some whim that will blow over like PMS.

DREAM

So last night I’m dreaming I’m in a huge college math class, but it’s some kind of extra course, not a standard 101 kind of thing, and the teacher was answering questions. He then started talking in third person and making some kind of word problem out of someone’s circumstance.

I then after the fact realized he was indicating I should answer — and that it was about ME — but I hadn’t understood the whole thing, because he hadn’t been speaking directly to me. He made me look stupid and embarrassed in front of the class and everyone laughed at my expense. I was miffed by this but let it go, and he went on making other word constructions with others, who answered somehow better, now understanding the process. I tried to ask more questions, but he kept answering other people.

As I stayed after and all the other students were filing out, they all noticed I had stayed to talk to the teacher. A trendy looking young blonde girl I knew pointed me out and said Hey, bye Lala! (I can only assume this came from the Teletubbies, who also bob around my head once in a while), (But I like Po best — Hmmm?. ) and the others around heard the “Lala” part and snickered.

“She can call me Lala!” I said — “SHE can.”
(Since she knew me and we were somehow acquaintances). I was keeping Lala. Dammit.

Weird thing was, after this horrible dreading feeling and finally waking up and the lingering depressing feeling that the Math teacher was really my husband, and my life was nothing but a big public joke in which I am the classic dunce, I go to work and to metaphorically clinch my mental atmosphere, my purse splits a seam and everything starts falling out. No flowers arrive and the day assures me that nothing has changed.

Until I go to lunch, stop at the $5 shop, and buy a purse to replace my broken one. I hand the guy 20 bucks for a made-in-Taiwan purse that will hold me over for a bit.

He hands me back change, and there, on top of the bills, is a 5 dollar bill with the word LALA written in three places, like this:

FRONT:
5 5
LINCOLNFACE LALA

BACK:
5 LALA LINCOLNMEMORIAL LALA 5

Hmmmmmmmm.

Dr. Phil, apart from the obvious other questions, what should I do with this five dollar bill?

This entry was posted on Tuesday, December 27th, 2005 at 10:09 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.