It's Not Even Halloween-This is Ten Kinds of Lame

So, some bumming news. I'm not going away for the holidays this year--none of them, not Thanksgiving or Christmas or New Year's. Turns out my vacation leave does not kick in until I've been at Sunnydale Library for six months (probation period, you know). And so I am here, in Southern California, while my sisters and mother and grandparents and god only knows how many friends are feasting on turkey and stuffing in Florida.

It's not the worst thing in the world. I've already had an invitation to a colleague's home for Thanksgiving dinner. I am debating cooking dinner here at Chez Ghetto and having some people over. There are my cousins in San Pedro, who will no doubt throw a shitfit if they find out I am family-less at Thanksgiving. (Hi Lynne!) There's Alexis in Riverside. Lots of options, and I am one lucky bitch.

And then there's Christmas. I've already been invited to spend Christmas with Alexis's family, which is probably what I will end up doing. And anyway, I should probably pass this holiday quietly, contemplating and mourning and yes, giving thanks. Perhaps "austerity" is the word I am looking for. Maybe I am supposed to mark the passing of this year in a quiet, understated manner, in stark contrast to last holiday season. Last holidays, I thought I was surrounded by family. I thought my future was laid out before me, a set and clear path. Lots of celebrating, and all that jazz. This year, it's different. And different is not bad.

But "I'll be home for Christmas" is going to be the song I avoid this year.

A Midnight Ramble...

For four years, I worked at a toy store in Florida. As you can probably imagine, these years were marked by the Holiday Seasons, in which rabid parents duked it out for Elmo or Furbies or Nintendos, and we worked till three and four o'clock in the morning, and barely had the time to think of our own Christmas plans. We spent the majority of the year psyching ourselves up for November and December, and it was an adrenaline rush, and kinda cool. In September and October, I'd start dreaming about the toy store at Christmas, and I would always, always wake up wondering, "How the hell is it almost the holiday season again? How could a year have passed?" But I didn't really mind, because, hey, I like Christmas.

Yeah, that's right. I like Christmas. I don't really give a hoot about the religious end of it--my NeoPagan ass couldn't care less, in all honesty. But I love the decorations, the yummy food, the lucious wrapping paper wrapping carefully-selected gifts for my loved ones, the (hopefully) cold weather, the parties, the traditions, and yes, I even love the sappy Christmas carols. Even the religious ones. But Christmas is a double-edged sword...I love it, but since I am a sentimental sap, I always find myself thinking about the past year, the people I have lost over the years. Especially coming up to the New Year, I begin to think about all the wrong turns and mistakes and all.

And the other day, as I was lurking around a department store, I happened across a Christmas display. Decked-out trees, tacky Christmas villages mechanically playing Christmas tubes, twinkling lights. It's not even Halloween, and already, it's Christmas! Perhaps, some other year, I'd just squee and get excited, but not this year. Not after all that has transpired since last Christmas, not after the battles won and the dreams lost. I'm not ready for it to be the holidays, plain and simple. It just can't be that time of year, already!

I'm in a good place, in all senses of the word. I guess it's just that this is so not where I planned to be when I was dreaming of my future, last Christmas. I mean, I expected to be engaged by the end of this year. I thought I'd be living in a townhouse in Broad Ripple, and all that jazz. And the reality could not be more different...I am living in Southern California and am decidedly unengaged. I'm far, far away from that happy little Indiana life I had concocted for myself. And that's okay. I like where I am at--I love my friends, and my cats, and my job. It's just a little disturbing to think that already, almost a year has passed since that time when I thought life could not be better.

I guess life really can't get better when you are dreaming and imagining that things couldn't get better, and thus divert yourself from the reality.

So, soon it will be Christmas. And I'll be sad, and happy, and somehow I'll find a way to reconcile these emotions, and I'll find a way to confront the fact that yeah, life changed this last year, but that's just what life does. What it boils down to is that time passes regardless of whether or not I roll with it, so I may as well roll with it and be happy.

The lesson of the day: It's possible to rejoice in where you are in your life, but mourn the way you got here. No regrets, of course, but some honest sadness. And then we move on.

And eat Christmas cookies.

Moving Along

Mmmm. I'm home again. it's been a busy week--I had to do the "break-up vigil" for the past few days, and it was an experience which took me far from home, physically, anyway. Emotionally, it was actually pretty close to home--a spare moment's reflection made me realize that I was a good person to keep the vigil: my elephant memory retained the memories of how kind everyone (well, most) were to me last winter, and the ways in which they took care of me, and so I was able to pass that onto my friend. But also, I was able to intellectually and emotionally recall how I felt, last winter--all the shock, the discombobulated thoughts, the pleading, bargaining, self-reproach, and numb disbelief, periodic euphoria.

I've come a long way, in every sense possible.

But now I am home with my internets and my kitties, who are as happy to see me as I am to see them. It's not going to be home for much longer--in less than two weeks, I am picking up sticks and moving. Again. This time, I will be moving closer to where I work--I will actually be in Sunnydale, and sharing an apartment with one of my colleagues. The colleague is nice, and the apartment is a little shabby on the outside (okay, ghetto), but big enough on the inside with a decent-sized kitchen, and a funky little hall cupboard, and the nester in me is rejoicing. This is the best thing I can do for myself financially--I will be saving a considerable sum of money each month.
So, as of 1 October, I am going to have a new home. Which means I will have moved nine times within the last 4.5 years. I'm really not a commitment-phobe! Even though my new lease will be month-to-month. Bliss!

All I Ever Learned Of Love Was How to Shoot At Someone Who Outdrew You...

Lately, I have been listening to a favorite song of mine, Rufus Wainwright's "Hallelujah", without really knowing why. And then, tonight, I was discussing it with one of my Indiana People...how it's an incredibly intense, melancholy song, but how there is a note of...something, other than sadness to it. Because, as my conversational partner pointed out, while the song is a sad one, its title is nevertheless "Hallelujah", which is essentially an expression of joy and rejoicing. This segued into the nature of love, and how it is essentially something incredibly sad and yet worthy of rejoicing, all at once. A strange victory, if you will.

But lord, do I have a lot left to learn about it.

The Ones that Can Know You So Well Are the Ones Who Can Swallow You Whole...

It's official--I belong to California now. This morning, I took my written driver's test, and got my license. Next time I go to the DMV, I'll register to vote.
But even as I cement my new life here in SoCal, there are pleasant reminders of the lives I left behind. I got two lovely, lovely surprises in the mail today: a belated birthday package from a friend in Indiana, and a fat letter from a friend in Florida. Both brought me an enormous measure of comfort--the package because, hey! gifts in the mail are great! And also, friends who send them are great! And the letter because I love to get letters from people, and my friend in Florida puts his heart and soul in them, as I do with the letters I send him. We've been corresponding for over two years, and he knows me through my words in a way that few people will ever have the privilege or courage to know. And his letter today brought enormous comfort--I've made some huge changes in my life in the past few months, and it's nice to know that someone who knows me from 'way back when is still there, still knows me, still approves of me, still supports me. Familiarity can be suffocating, but it can also be wonderful and sweet.

Oh, and the package of goodies was awesome--stationery (wooo! I can write my letters on pretty paper!), a bottle of honey mead from the Oliver Winery back in Indiana (nope, still not homesick), and a silver necklace. I have to say, I find it funny that I get more gifts of jewelry from my female friends than I do my lovers.

Other than this little hilight, life has been pretty busy. Here's a run-down with some major events bulleted, and then one memory in narration form.

-Pop culture references continue: In the past week, I have watched Baseketball, Napoleon Dynamite, Syriana, and Ali G.

-Somehow I have managed to lose 4 pounds. I have no idea how, or where they have gotten to.

-Last Saturday, I went driving with Recent Acquaintance down a country road with Ramstein blaring on the car speakers. Oddly enough, it was as relaxed as I had been all day.

-This coming Sunday I am going to Huntington Beach for kayaking, boogey-boarding, and a bonfire.

-My colleague Mr. E and I have decided that dating is like an episode of LOST --one never knows what's going to happen next. Does that mean that love is like an invisible beast that runs out of the forest at random times for the sole purpose of eviscerating us? Must ponder.

* * * * *

In the predawn hours, while most in the tiny little town were still sleeping, still unaware of the night life beyond their windows, a wind arose. Soft and gentle at first, it tinkled through windchimes and rustled through the few trees. And then, without warning, the wind strengthened. It became noisy, snapping tree branches, causing eaves and roofs to creak and settle, rattling window blinds.

Sleeping as lightly as I was, it was not long before the noise awakened me. I stirred and sat up, disconcerted at first by the unfamiliar surroundings. Then, my bearings sorted out, I began to listen to the wind and the havoc it was creating. Quietly, so as to not disturb my slumbering companion, I assumed the position that had become so common to me lately: knees drawn up and together, tucked under my chin, my arms wrapped tightly around my legs. A defensive, protective posture. The wind had spooked me--too many years of violent, unexpected storms and superstitious Alice Hoffman novels had left their mark on me. Logically, I knew that sudden strong winds were normal in the Pass, but this was the first time I had encountered them, and it felt strange.

It took a while for me to drift back to sleep. But the wind continued blowing. And in a way, they are blowing still.

Midnight Nonsense

I haven't been posting a lot lately--and funnily enough, it's not because I have nothing to talk about. On the contrary, there are plenty of events, interactions, conversations, emotions upon which I could reflect. I could talk about how I went kayaking for the first time the other day, and surprised myself with how well I took to it. I could talk about how I swam in the Pacific Ocean for the first time in my life, and dove into the waves and let the icy waves buffet me about as I thrilled in the sensuality of it. I could talk about how I saw the Milky Way for the first time, and felt as though I were more aware of myself and my place in this swirling chaos than I had been aware of in a very long time. I could talk about how, last Sunday, I was so tired and lonely and homesick (homesick for where, exactly?) and yet somehow managed to find the courage to show my vulnerability to one of my Riverside mates, who opened up her home and washing machine to me, and drew me a bath and passed me one of her beautiful bathrobes and treated me better than I have remembered to treat myself in a while. I could talk at length about any of these events, but it's late, and my eyelids are drooping and my mind is racing. The longer I spend in Southern California, the more I edge away from the shallow end of the pool and venture out into the darkened depths of the unknown--my career, my emotional terrain, my personal relationships, all of them lie further out, further than I have ever swum before. My heart is full, and growing larger all the time, and my mind is swirling with all of the thoughts and emotions that plague someone as analytical and self-aware as I. I'm staring all of this down, trying to process it, trying not to shut down emotionally. Trying to gather the courage to plunge into whatever life I am brave enough to forge for myself, and all the while wanting nothing more than to head for the hills and not look back.

Problem is, with a heart as big as mine, there's no running. There's only courage, often times faltering, and sometimes silence, as I try to process something new. The only way out is through. But for now, sleep. Tomorrow's another day--another day of courage, another day of forging ahead, making my life as happy and right as I can.

The Ones that Can Know You So Well Are the Ones Who Can Swallow You Whole...

It's official--I belong to California now. This morning, I took my written driver's test, and got my license. Next time I go to the DMV, I'll register to vote.
But even as I cement my new life here in SoCal, there are pleasant reminders of the lives I left behind. I got two lovely, lovely surprises in the mail today: a belated birthday package from a friend in Indiana, and a fat letter from a friend in Florida. Both brought me an enormous measure of comfort--the package because, hey! gifts in the mail are great! And also, friends who send them are great! And the letter because I love to get letters from people, and my friend in Florida puts his heart and soul in them, as I do with the letters I send him. We've been corresponding for over two years, and he knows me through my words in a way that few people will ever have the privilege or courage to know. And his letter today brought enormous comfort--I've made some huge changes in my life in the past few months, and it's nice to know that someone who knows me from 'way back when is still there, still knows me, still approves of me, still supports me. Familiarity can be suffocating, but it can also be wonderful and sweet.

Oh, and the package of goodies was awesome--stationery (wooo! I can write my letters on pretty paper!), a bottle of honey mead from the Oliver Winery back in Indiana (nope, still not homesick), and a silver necklace. I have to say, I find it funny that I get more gifts of jewelry from my female friends than I do my lovers.

Other than this little hilight, life has been pretty busy. Here's a run-down with some major events bulleted, and then one memory in narration form.

-Pop culture references continue: In the past week, I have watched Baseketball, Napoleon Dynamite, Syriana, and Ali G.

-Somehow I have managed to lose 4 pounds. I have no idea how, or where they have gotten to.

-Last Saturday, I went driving with Recent Acquaintance down a country road with Ramstein blaring on the car speakers. Oddly enough, it was as relaxed as I had been all day.

-This coming Sunday I am going to Huntington Beach for kayaking, boogey-boarding, and a bonfire.

-My colleague Mr. E and I have decided that dating is like an episode of LOST --one never knows what's going to happen next. Does that mean that love is like an invisible beast that runs out of the forest at random times for the sole purpose of eviscerating us? Must ponder.

* * * * *

In the predawn hours, while most in the tiny little town were still sleeping, still unaware of the night life beyond their windows, a wind arose. Soft and gentle at first, it tinkled through windchimes and rustled through the few trees. And then, without warning, the wind strengthened. It became noisy, snapping tree branches, causing eaves and roofs to creak and settle, rattling window blinds.

Sleeping as lightly as I was, it was not long before the noise awakened me. I stirred and sat up, disconcerted at first by the unfamiliar surroundings. Then, my bearings sorted out, I began to listen to the wind and the havoc it was creating. Quietly, so as to not disturb my slumbering companion, I assumed the position that had become so common to me lately: knees drawn up and together, tucked under my chin, my arms wrapped tightly around my legs. A defensive, protective posture. The wind had spooked me--too many years of violent, unexpected storms and superstitious Alice Hoffman novels had left their mark on me. Logically, I knew that sudden strong winds were normal in the Pass, but this was the first time I had encountered them, and it felt strange.

It took a while for me to drift back to sleep. But the wind continued blowing. And in a way, they are blowing still.