2003-04-15 - 10:44 a.m.

Back in the good old days of the Cold War when everyone “knew” that the only way to solve complex geopolitical problems was to send in deniable operatives with exotic weaponry, Bob McNamara, Bad back Jack’s Best and Brightest had a theory about dominoes.

I found out the other day he was right. Not about ‘Nam or Communism or any leftist intellectual wanking, but about weddings.

I received a call the other day from an old friend with the news that she too was no engaged. For those keeping score: that brings the engagement total to 4, 3 of which will become marriages in a few short months.

It must be something in the fucking water.

Back to dominoes. This new engagement makes it a clean sweep; of my three girl-friends (note the “-“, which denotes a world of differences in meaning from girlfriends) whom I’ve kept in touch with since High School, all three of them are now married or in The Process. And it all started when one of them got engaged, thus setting off a chain reaction, not unlike the October Revolution. Or an outbreak of SARS spliced with Ebola.

And the thing is I thought this last one would stay single for a while. I don’t know, I guess that since she was living this Mary Tyler Moore/Sex in the City/Confident Single Woman in the City life that she wouldn’t rush blindly into damnation. But I suppose I always knew that she’s got that Donna Reed Syndrome coded some where in the DNA. ACTGACTGMUSTGETMARRIEDTODEFINESELFASWOMANACTG

And Adventuress if you’re reading this, congratulations and nothing but love.

But I’m changing your name to Donna Reed.

Hmmm….

It’s not obvious in the text but there was an hour and a half pause in writing this, coming at the end of “Donna Reed.” Currently I’m listening to “American Pie” and thinking about life in general. I realized that the personal hell I found myself in the last couple of months (bad enough that I contemplating law school) isn’t so bad. I guess I just lost a bit of focus on my life. Or more specifically, I’m in the process of revamping it. As the little Goth girl anthropomorphic personification of an abstract concept says, you get what everyone else gets: a life time. And I’m scared of screwing it up. I guess that’s why big ass life changes like career moves, marriages, the ennui of being 20something and wondering when it starts to become like the MTV sex comedy music video they showed you on the demo, starts to affect me in odd ways. On that show “Inside the Actor’s Studio,” there’s a question about what you want God to say when, after you die, you meet him. I guess my answer would be “You passed and no one can say that you were a fuck up.” That or “yes you do get to design your oven heaven and porn is allowed.”

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