Realization, Not Resolutions

One year and about 6,000 miles ago, I spent a New Year's Day contemplating just how little the passing of the old year meant to me. Admittedly, I was pretty depressed at the time, and feeling profoundly unconnected and lost. A lot has changed in my life since then, and not one iota of it could have been done if I didn't have the most amazing support network, most notably made up of my mom, my boyfriend, and a few very wonderful friends. That said, I have realized that I still don't believe in New Years. Obviously, I don't mean to say that I don't notice the fact that 2010 is over and 2011 has begun.

No, I mean that even though I'm a little financially better off, with better prospects and more experience, and vastly better off when it comes to my personal life, as I have found a true partner in life, of the kind I'd begun to think didn't actually happen in real life, I still don't place any significance on January 1st. I know a lot of people consider it a good day to evaluate and make resolutions, or start fresh, or wash their hands of the old year, but I am just not one of them.

I actually find more comfort in pretty much ignoring all of that. If the New Year is supposed to be a fresh start, then I find way too many things to be well past their expiration, yet still lingering. However, if I look at the things as happening at random, on their own schedules, then I don't have to be upset about a spoiled celebration, or take it as a bad omen that casts a shadow over the year when an unhappy event happens and isn't resolved before midnight on December 31st.

I have a lot of hopes for the coming year, but I won't get to hoping for them in earnest until some things have been dealt with. Processes that were begun last year have yet to finish, and New Year's Eve itself heralded a family sadness that will not be swiftly relegated to auld lang syne.

In the coming year, I expect a lot of big changes, in addition to the ones that took place in the previous year. A lot of them will be related, though, and in my mind, I haven't parceled them up so that they belong to last year - a thing that is over and done.

It Gets Better

What is it about 5th grade? It seems that's when it starts, if it's going to start. That's when it started for me. It wasn't just one bully. It wasn't just kids in my class. It's more like the act of tormenting me was what got everyone else accepted into the club of those who were allowed to be normal teenagers.

This torment took on various forms. Some chose name-calling - barnyard animals were the favorite, spreading rumors, and making verbal threats. Some took it a step further and resorted to tripping me, stealing my things, putting gum in my hair. One went so far as to set my hair on fire in class (the teacher pretended not to notice).

To this day, I'm not exactly sure why it started. It probably had something to do with my exceptional height making me stand out. That's the thing about bullies, though, and a thing that's very important to remember: there is nothing about you that makes you deserve it. If there's nothing overtly different about you, they will just invent something, because you're not the one with the defect; they are. In my case, my guess is that I was just an easy target and the kids who started it were popular.

I remember the kid who started it, and I remember the ones who were the worst. I remember the first boy I ever had a crush on, neighing in my face the first time I worked up the nerve to smile at him. The thing is, I don't remember the last time I saw any of them.

My 10-year high school reunion is happening this month, and I will not be attending. That's in large part because as an adult, I have the power to choose who I do and don't let into my life. That's the most important thing to remember. You may be stuck with a bunch of cretins while you're in school, but eventually, you're just not anymore. You're not George McFly, who will forever be in Biff's power as he graduates from class bully to office tyrant.

I got a Facebook friend request from one of the guys were the worst. In response, I sent him a message, just asking him to satisfy my curiosity and tell me why on earth he'd sent the request. He replied, at very great length, about how horrible he felt about the way he'd behaved toward me and was trying to atone for the sins of his youth. I accepted his apology, but denied his request to be Facebook friends. I'm glad that he's grown as a person, but it doesn't mean I want to invite him into my life. Just the memories that involve him breed negativity, and I do not have to expose myself to it.

Now, I have a good relationship with my mom. I have found the love of my life, and he's a really great guy. I have friends who like me for who I really am and respect me as a human being. I have professional colleagues who support my endeavors. In short: it got better. My life is not perfect. There will always be obstacles to overcome and negative people who need to be dealt with. Still, it is pretty damned good, and I wouldn't trade it.

I don't dwell on those middle and high school years, but when I do think of them, it's usually when I hear of someone bullying another person or group of people, and maybe because I know how it feels, it makes me a better advocate. I'm not saying I'm glad I was bullied, but at least I can channel those experiences into helping others. I'm coming out of the locker now just in case you needed to know you're not alone, just in case you're looking for all the examples you can to prove to yourself that it gets better.

Please do not end your life. If the thought even crosses your mind, call 1-800-SUICIDE.
Please do not deprive the world of your gentle soul.

And hey, if they can't say something nice, you come sit next to me.

Cook, Eat, Love

I've never been all that interested in cooking. Baking, yes, but not more frequently than once a week at most, and generally only sweet things. Other than that, I've always seen cooking as a chore - a thing that needs to be done. That's not to say I always minded doing it, but I also never looked forward to it either. I might have looked forward to the meal that would be the result of it, but the act of actually putting it together just wasn't something I would get excited about. That is, until recently.

Fraser working on a Guardian recipe

I've been in Scotland a little over a month now, getting used to sharing my everyday life with someone again, after a really long hiatus. One of my favorite parts of this is, to my surprise, the time we spend in the kitchen. Without consciously setting out to, Fraser and I have become these people who like to cook. Neither of us is particularly gifted when it comes to culinary creativity, but we can follow a recipe with the best of 'em, and we know what we like.

We've taken to cutting recipes out of the newspapers, bookmarking ones that people post to Twitter or Facebook, and even flipping through a Jamie Oliver cookbook (Say what you will about him, but the guy comes up with some good stuff.).

We don't eat out much, partly because, well, everybody knows we don't have any money. The silver lining to that lack of funds is still pretty shiny, though. If we had a bunch of money, we might have taken to eating out a lot and missed out on some really good experiences. Just about every day, when we start getting hungry, we wander into the kitchen. As we rummage through the cabinets, preheat the oven, boil water, chop vegetables, or whatever is required, we're not only doing a chore that needs to be done if we want to eat anything remotely healthy and within budget, but getting some quality time to follow whatever the day has brought. This is when anything remarkable about the day will be brought up, when plans will be made, concerns addressed, and silliness ensues. Also, if dinner gets messed up, it's hard to place blame if both of us are equally involved in creating it. That's a rarity though, as we've pretty much gotten the hang of it at this point.

There was some burned rice and improperly-stored and consequently rotten veggies in the beginning, but we're getting steadily better. We don't do pasta a lot, but when we do, we've figured out what to add to it to make it less boring. We've also officially mastered the Scott Pilgrim shepherd's pie. If it was a rough day - the kind where he was hassled at work or I've had a project blow up in my face, this goes a long way toward making it better and restoring balance. If it was a good day, then it continues to be a good day, turning into a good night.

I just can't help but wonder how many people who live together would be happier if they also cooked together. It really is a good way to make a chore enjoyable while spending time together without needing to go out and spend money or be camped in front of the TV. If you also do this, let me know. If you don't already but decide to try it out, let me know how it goes. If not, come have dinner with us sometime. It probably won't be too fancy, but it'll be made with love.

Welcome to Dizz Knee Land

I am officially more excited at this moment than I have ever been in my life. I don't know about you, but when I was a kid, getting to go to Disneyland was just about the most exciting thing ever. Now, I have been actively trying to remember any point in my life when I have been as excited, and I just can't think of a single one. I was excited to move to California, but I wasn't counting the days, and there was so much uncertainty tied up with it. I was excited enough to actually jump up and down and squeal when I got a job at the American Cancer Society last summer, but that was still different.

No, I am not going to Disneyland again. It's just that going to Disneyland as a kid comes as close as I can get to describing this feeling of just running headlong toward what I want, with arms outstretched, in full knowledge that it's going to bring me joy, but this is so much more. If you're like me, you grew up knowing about Disneyland and how awesome it's supposed to be, and if you're under the age of ten, it pretty much lives right up to the expectations.

I'm not saying that I have never been excited since. Of course I have. I get excited about a damn fine cup of coffee. I get excited about a shiny new book. I get excited when Livin' On A Prayer is playing on the overhead speakers when I walk into Target. You know, ordinary excited. I even get really excited. I get really excited when my tax return is way bigger than I expected it to be. I get really excited when a friend gets a story published or books a gig to appear on national television. I get really excited when a little kid asks me to read her a story.

Put all of that together, PLUS Disneyland and you might come close to how excited I am right now, as it is officially SIX DAYS! LESS THAN A WEEK! before I get to pick up The Boy from the airport. I know, I know. You could vomit. Too bad I couldn't care less about your gag reflex right now. This is me - physically incapable of maintaining the façade of aloof calm for another minute. It'll probably only get worse. Consider that your fair warning. I grew up knowing how awesome Disneyland is and then getting to experience it while I was still young enough to see only the awesome. Nothing in my adult life (defined here as "period of time since I started dating") led me to expect anything like this.

As an adult, looking at Disneyland, I can see things like how expensive it is, how long the lines are, how many screaming children there are, and how obnoxious the It's A Small World song really is. Looking at what's ahead of me now, I may be aware that nothing and nobody is perfect, and I even know the specific flaws, but then again, that's kinda part of what makes it great. When you're a kid, things need to be simple - either they are good or they are not. Perfection exists for little kids in a way it can't for an adult, so any pretense of it is a turn-off. It's so much more satisfying and magical to see the imperfections and embrace them, knowing it's worth it.

So, basically, if you don't see me posting to Pop Bunker, or responding as quickly to your calls, tweets, texts, and instant messages, don't worry - I've just gone to Dizz Knee Land.

Carburetors, Man - That's What Life is All About!

The great attorney Vincent LaGuardia Gambini once said, "You know, when you rebuild a carburetor, the first thing you do is you take the carburetor off the manifold? Supposing you skip the first step, and while you're replacing one of the jets, you accidentally drop the jet, it goes down the carburetor, rolls along the manifold, and goes into the head. You're fucked. You just learned the hard way that you gotta remove the carburetor first, right? So that's all that happened to me today. I learned the hard way. Actually, it was a good learning experience for me."



That pretty much sums up the past several months. I didn't really know what I was doing when I opened up the hood and started messing around with things, but I saw possibilities and just went for it. I'm not saying I regret it - not all of it anyway - but there are consequences to that learning style. I've got some parts I have to repair or replace in order to get back up and running reliably again, but I'll get there. Now I know where I'm going, and having this really great destination in mind is the best motivation to just keep at it, even when the wrench slips and leaves me with one more thing I have to deal with before I can sit back and call it a job well-done.

I guess this is my roundabout way of announcing that I'm not going to be staying in California much longer. I'm not saying I regret coming here, but it just turns out that it's not right for me after all. There are people I love here - friends who have stepped up and stuck by me and shared good times and hard times alike, but this isn't geographically where I need to be. I didn't end up finding a job, and the pace of life just doesn't agree with me in the long-term. I'm going back home. I miss my family and lifelong friends, I need to recover financially, and there are a few other things that'll agree quite nicely with a return to the east coast.

I can't tell you at this moment exactly when I'll be moving, but if I'm given my druthers, it'll be in about a month. There's a contract job I can do if I can get there, and a friend of mine is getting married, so both of those are motivating factors. There's more, but I'll wait until things are a little more certain before I elaborate. Suffice it to say that while I will miss the people I leave behind, I'm going to find it extremely hard to contain my excitement in the coming weeks, and I'm hoping to have some extraordinary things to share to balance out the recent negativity.

Reformatting February

For the past several years, February has just been an inordinately difficult month for me. That's when I've tended to get dumped, laid off my jobs, have fallings-out with friends, and so on. Despite its containing the birthdays of lots of my favorite people, I've just identified all too well with Dar Williams' song, named for the month, in which she declares that she has "lost to February."


Then, I realized something the other day: This year, this February, however, I did not have the urge to listen to that song a single time. In the past month, some other tunes that have been stuck in my head have changed as well.

It was:

I had resigned myself to probably never actually finishing this novel I've been working on (in an on-again/off-again sort of way) for a while. I was stuck on a major plot point that kept me from knowing where the rest of the story was going to go. Furthermore, the 30,000 words I had written were in notebooks that seemed to have gotten lost when I moved.

Aside from the fiction-writing, the site that was paying me to write started presenting just problem after problem. It went from being mediocre to hateful in a very short span of time, so that by the time I'd finished with that for the day, the last thing I felt like doing any more of was writing. Pop Bunker was the exception, as a relatively pressure-free environment where I could just write a few hundred words of what I felt like and know that a couple of nerds would laugh either at or with me over it.

Add to the professional and creative failures this feeling of social detachment because I couldn't afford to go out and do anything, seeing my friends and family depressed at their own crummy work/social/financial/creative situations, homesickness, and middle-of-the-night loneliness, and yeah, I was on team LifeSucks.

but now it's more like:

But then, just standing in the shower one night, this simple, painfully obvious solution to my plot problem just hit me over the head with staggering force. I dried off, made some notes, and decided I'd just start over if I had to, because after that moment of inspiration, I just saw the entire book unfold before me. But wait! There's more! As I rummaged through drawers in search of a pencil sharpener the other night, I found the missing notebooks! After the new revelation, a lot of those 30k or so words are going to end up on the cutting room floor, but there's a lot in there that I want to keep! I started writing the new beginning, and I think it'll shape up nicely.

As for the paying work, I've got a couple of new avenues I'm pursuing. One mostly involves ghostwriting and general online copywriting. The other is a job I'll report to, which has nothing to do with writing, but depending on how it goes, could be an excellent source of income, allow for a pretty flexible schedule, and let me travel a bit - and maybe rack up some frequent flier points, which brings me to the next change.

Socially, well, things are definitely looking up there as well. It seems like lots of friends are finally catching a break here and there, and there's a general upswing in the mood of those around me. I've been able to visit with a friend who's in town for work, spend some time getting to know some newer friends, and catch up at length with some long-standing friends who had fallen out of touch or been stuck in phone-tag limbo. Also, here's where the frequent flier points come in handy - I've met a boy! A really awesome one! It's new and involves a long distance, but I have a really good feeling about it. When I find myself continually looking over my shoulder to see who he's talking to, then realizing with delight that it's actually me... yeah, that's worth putting up with some inconvenient miles and wait-and-seeing.

It had been brought to my attention that I've been lax in my updates of late, but there you have it - so far, the Metal Tiger has been here for two things: to kick ass and chew bubblegum, and he's all out of bubblegum.

Happy New Year!

I've heard that there's some kind of other significance to Feb. 14th, but as far as I'm concerned, it's the beginning of the year of the Metal Tiger. I'm not Chinese, but for some reason, I feel a certain kinship with this day and the creature associated with it.

If you remember what I had to say about January 1st, you know that I really wasn't feeling like there was any cause for celebration at the turning of the calendar year. I still pretty much stand by what I said - that life doesn't happen on a schedule dictated by numbered blocks on a page, but it just happens that as of this writing, I do feel like things are changing, and for the better. I think it's for that reason that I feel it's apropos to embrace a symbol of a new start.

On a few different fronts, I feel not only hope, but a certain confidence in things working out. That is a thing I haven't felt in a really long time, and it is such a sweet feeling. The things I'm looking forward to seeing through are new, so maybe there's still some fear that I'll jinx it by saying too much. I will say that instead of everything falling apart, it's like things are being rebuilt, and as one thing gets stronger, the rest seem to be reinforced too. As I see small victories adding up in one area, I'm more motivated to have successes in the others.

I'm not the kind of person who believes that everything happens for a reason. Like the man said, I don't believe in an interventionist god. I do, however, believe that sometimes, you just don't question it when life throws you something awesome, and then paves the way for you to make the most of it.

It feels good to look the world in the eye again.

To those of you who know who you are, it's really good to see you rockin' out and having fun, and thanks for letting me be a part of it. I can't wait to see what happens next.

Bring it on, Metal Tiger.

It's Good to Be Me

I've had this thought several times over the past few days, a thought which surprised me a little when I caught myself thinking it. Still, it is true. Why is it so good to be me? Am I free of stress and worry, and is life all sunshine and roses? Not remotely. Still, sometimes, I just have to marvel at how lucky I am.

Things that are good about being me:

• I get to be one of the Pop Bunker crew. You knew that already, and I hope you also already know what Pop Bunker is. I woke up to a notification about this post, and that pretty much illustrates how much fun it is to be a part of this thing. I never expected that I'd get to throw my weird opinions on everything from cult films to the Smurfs out there for an audience to actually read, or to find in my fellow contributors the kind of friends who laugh with you and perpetuate such incredible silliness that it's insanely difficult to be depressed for any length of time. The really cool thing about the Internet and living in this day and age is that it doesn't matter how far-flung we are. We are just a Skype call, instant message, tweet, email, Googy Wave, or Facebook comment away from an inside joke (see: "Googy Wave" and listen to us on last week's episode of The Paul and Spike Show if you want in on the joke) or some wacky new project. I'm telling you, I have been giggling for pretty much a solid hour this morning.

• Speaking of great people and technological advances, do you get email that comes with a soundtrack? If not, then you are missing out. It's good to be me because I do. Thanks to one I got yesterday, I have discovered the hitherto-unknown to me Frightened Rabbit, Reindeer Section, and Florence and the Machine. There was more, but those are the ones that are new to me. This also falls under the category of the strange and wondrous ways that people can enter and exist in our lives now.

• Do you come from a big, insane family? I come from a big, insane family. I have, at various times in my life, shared a home with my mom (who is responsible for her own laundry list of reasons it's good to be me), my brother, 4 of my uncles, a few of my 30ish cousins, and a number of friends who are family in every way but blood. This is probably why I don't tend to stand on ceremony with guests and have a very low expectation of privacy. I am so thrilled beyond words that more of them are getting on Facebook and we can talk and feel closer, though we're hundreds or thousands of miles apart. As my cousin Maggi (who I can't believe is in high school already...) said in a recent status update, "you don't know how good of family we gott until you eat dinner with us!!! Ribs, Jokes, "observations" , alott of laughs." She's absolutely right. There's this thing that the Fergusons (my mom's side of the family) do, that you just... have to experience to understand. It goes something like this:

You might say, "Hey, why don't we order pizza?"
And Dave will say, "No, I know - we'll have pizza."
And Paul will say, "Hey, no no no. We should have pizza."
And Mike will say, "Look, I dunno about you guys, but I could really go for pizza."
And Lisa wills say, "Why doesn't someone call and order a pizza?"
And Dave will say, "Now, look - we're gonna have pizza, and you're gonna like it!"
And this will go on until you just leave and show back up with a stack of boxes from Hi-Way Pizza (Not Sarina's - they changed the sauce and it's just not the same anymore). It is impossible to convey the true nature of these exchanges, because they're also peppered with quotes from whatever movie was on TV (last time, it was My Cousin Vinny, and everything came back to "These two yutes."), lines from Ray Stevens songs, and opinions on everything from online poker to foreign policy.

I could go on some more about my awesome friends who support me, laugh with me, and make me feel like the person I am is okay, but to give them justice would take an encyclopedia, not a blog post. I guarantee that if you get to spend time with them, it'll be good to be you.

My Only Story with Conan

The end of 2006 to the first part of 2007 was a strange time in my life. I lived in Virginia, but was spending lots of time in North Carolina. I was married, but newly separated. I was a college graduate, but working at a tiny diner in the industrial part of town, waiting tables and doing dishes for the same bunch of roughnecks every day.

On weekdays, I showed up at the diner a little before 6:00 AM, started the coffee, grunted a greeting at Tim, the owner/cook, turned on the radio, and spent a few minutes crying in the bathroom before the first customer arrived. At opening time, it was also time for the Daily Gospel According to Forrest, an obstreperous geezer who thought there was nothing wrong with the world that couldn't be fixed with a well-placed nuclear explosion. Between the Gospel and 10:30, there wasn't much going on. I'd write little stories in the margins of the discarded newspaper and throw things at Tim whenever he said something insensitive - roughly every ten minutes.

Next, lunch: Billy and Huey at the end of the counter - Billy's place with a Diet Coke, Huey with a Sprite. The brothers Harris (no relation to me) at the table in the corner, Ronnie from Maypaw Tire one over, and the guys from the AAA garage would take up the other end of the counter. What a great bunch of guys. It was like Cheers, but without alcohol (and if Carla wasn't pregnant all the time, was double her height, and had purple hair).

The problem with going home after spending all day there was that it was sooooo quiet. So, most Fridays, after the lights were off and the sign was flipped to CLOSED and Tim had been told to go to hell, I drove to my weekend home - Emily's couch in North Carolina. I've known her since 2nd grade, and she was gracious enough to take me in when I needed a break from uncomfortable silence. Aside from the camaraderie and space from my problems, I enjoyed a constant dull roar. Emily has two cats who would rummage and run around, and at least at the time, she had a habit of leaving the TV on all night, tuned to NBC, I guess so she could hear it faintly as white noise in the next room.

Since I was a guest and not bothered by it, I just left the TV on. Those Friday nights, I slept better than I did any other night of the week, drifting off to the antics of Conan O'Brien, in a place where I was at least temporarily safe from the crap that was getting me down. So thanks, Conan, for having stuff like a guy dressed up like a wookiee on your show, and for helping me fall asleep with a smile during a time when those were at a premium.

Every Woman Needs...

I wish I could find this list my friend's stepmom "Mary" had of things she'd decided over the course of her life that every woman ought to have. I should enter the caveat that this was created from her worldview - that of a straight, white, late-middle-aged, Southern, Christian woman with a fantastic sense of humor and a heart rivaled in size only by her picnic baskets full of the best pies you've ever tasted. That said, as I try to remember her list, change the wording as you see fit according to your worldview. Since I can't remember them all, I'll take this opportunity to add some of my own based on what I've collected or found myself wishing for.

Mary's list included some of the following:

• A pair of diamond earrings
• Appropriate footwear for all occasions
  
• A man who wasn't good enough for you, but you dated anyway
• A man you dated only for his looks
• A man you loved, who did not love you back
• A man who loved you, but you did not love back
• A piece of real jewelry you bought for yourself
• A place you can retreat to, whether a friend's kitchen table or your own garden, where you are always welcome and can be your true self

There was quite a bit more, but that's all I remember. By that checklist, I'm doing okay. I have all of those crossed off but one, and I reckon someday I'll be able to afford real jewelry.

Some things I'd like to add from my experiences, that I think every woman (if not every person) would benefit from:

• A friend in whom you can confide anything - someone you can really trust to never betray even your deepest, darkest secrets
• Self-defense training
  
• A man you can think of when you're about to say, "I hate men," who makes you remember that there are good ones out there
• Someone who can be trusted to give you a good haircut
• A love letter*
• A reliable road atlas
• A friend who will tell you the truth, even if it isn't what you want to hear

*maybe you don't care about that kind of thing, but there's just something about the thought of seeing words in real ink on real paper you can hold in your hand, words that can't be backspaced or retracted, saying that at least for one moment in time, someone loved you enough to give that moment a little permanence. This is the one thing from that list I have yet to collect.

I didn't mention anything about the kind of guys or gals you should love or have relationships with because frankly, everyone's needs are different. It'd be a whole other post to go into the massive education I've had on my own in the past few years.

What would you add to Mary's list?

Time Enough At Last

I've caught myself saying, "if only I'd said something sooner..." a lot recently. For some reason, this makes me think of the Twilight Zone episode Time Enough At Last. You know, the one where Burgess Meredith never stands up for himself to make his life what he really wants, and then when it's handed to him, well... it doesn't end up quite how he dreamed. If you haven't seen it, I won't spoil it. Watch the episode embedded below.

Anyway, the moral of the story seems to me to be that waiting it out and just hoping for the best really isn't the way to go about life. In actuality, that course of action turns out to lead to regret. If only... if only...

It's so strange to me that someone told me not long ago that I always know the right things to say. That was a really nice thing to say, and I'd like to try to live up to it more. Actually, I think the material goal is to not only know the right thing to say, but to actually say it.

So there you have it, 2 weeks ahead of deadline, my New Year's resolution: in 2010 and the year of the Metal Tiger (ooh, I like that. Metal Tiger. Tiger of Metal. Rock and roll and Frosted Flakes and GRRRRREAT!), I will put my heart back on my sleeve, because it's done me no good tucked away in a bag in a box in a trunk in a safe in a locked room in a boarded up house underground on another planet... and learn how to say the right things instead of just knowing what they are.

When Peter Pan Came to My House

I've almost forgotten what my hair looks like in its natural state. Looking in the mirror recently, I noticed that more blonde is showing at the roots than has in a long time. I also noticed that with the blonde, there's also a substantial increase in gray and it got me to thinking. I'm not exactly old, but as I said in conversation with Danielle yesterday, it feels like I've lived a few lifetimes at least these past few years, with this year being one of the most eventful of them all, and it's not over quite yet. The Earth Ox has been stumbling of late - growing arthritic in its decline, maybe? I'm hoping it'll rally its strength for one more sprint, or at least let me use the last bit of pixie dust to take it by the horns to drag it across the finish line in victory. During its reign, I've lived in 3 states, had a few different jobs, lost some friends, made new ones, loved and lost, learned a lot.

It's easy, among all the Christmas cartoons and shiny ornaments to be homesick for simpler bygone times, but the truth is, life has never been simple. I think that's what I want for next year: just some simplicity. I've learned to fly. I've learned to fight. I've had my adventures on the pirate ship. I think I'm ready to just be home.

"Sometimes, when we lose ourselves in fear and despair..."

I am truly blessed with some really important things. I am surrounded by these amazing people, some family, some lifelong friends, and some newfound kindred spirits. Every day, they save my life.

I gave in to a really foul mood earlier. You know the kind - it starts with one too many nights of not enough sleep, then continues with one too many blocks walked in the rain, and then one too many people take their bad mood out on you... Yeah, that kind. I let the last harsh word said by someone who didn't mean it get to me anyway.

Right now, though, I'm thinking of a few little things that save a minute here or there, so that they add up to a better day.

I am just a little happier than I would be without:

• The radiator under my bathroom towel rack, allowing me to dry my hands on a warm towel
• Santa Claus the Movie on TV with limited commercial interruptions
• The bathroom scale that says I've lost almost 20 pounds since I started keeping track
• A cup of coffee to keep my hands warm
• Someone having told me they like the sound of my voice
• A cookie made from my best friend's secret recipe
• Fuzzy socks which, though they do not match, are a nice barrier between my feet and the concrete floor
• Batman

E Tira Forte Vento...

Caruso is probably one of the most overdone songs in, well, ever. Still, I stumbled across this rendition done by Lara Fabian and as I sit here listening to it, it blows through me, grabs debris I've been holding on to and flings it out into the world. It feels like this singer was inspired to do this song just so she could give voice to things I lack the talent, courage, and eloquence to say for myself. I don't even speak much Italian, so there's still a cloak of linguistic protection in which to wrap myself - I never said that. She said it, and she was just singing this old song.

The Sphinxes' Eyes

If you don't recognize the above, then you're probably one of the ones who make me feel old. In case you are, or if it's just been a really long time since you've seen The Neverending Story, all you really need to know is that the sphinxes you see there are the first gate the hero Atreyu must pass en route to the Southern Oracle, where he hopes to find the means to keep his world from being ripped to shreds. In order to make it through this first gate alive, one must be confident in the pureness of his heart. Anyone with ulterior motives or uncertainty about this being the right course of action will be flash-fried by laser beams shot from the sphinxes' eyes.

It's a simple enough set-up. Be confident, and you live to get your answers. Waver, and everything falls apart while you sizzle. The Southern Oracle is 10,000 miles from the Swamps of Sadness. That's a long walk when you don't have a luck dragon to take you most of the way.

I got some advice this week, and as I walk, I'm trying to follow it, even though the execution is so alien to me, I don't feel like myself. Hopefully, by the time I get to the sphinxes, I'll have been able to decide if it's worth it. Hopefully, my heart will tell me either to make the leap of faith and not look down for the safety net, or to stop and figure something else out before I approach the gate. Hopefully, when I do get there, the sphinxes' eyes will stay closed. Maybe then, I'll get to ask the Oracle where to go from there.

No, YOU grow up!

My friend Chip and I have a long-standing tradition of odd middle-of-the-night conversations. If you're not new to my blather here, you know that this is mostly because we both just happen to be nocturnal by nature and have a Star Wars quote for every occasion, not to mention that we have the kind of friendship that withstands dead relatives who interrupt and the fact that The Great Hemingway vs. Austen Debate will likely never be settled. The 2:00 a.m. phone calls have increased of late, as he's working the graveyard shift, gets lonely, and knows I'm still up.

Last night, Chip and I somehow got to talking about things we'd change about The Way Things Are if we were given our druthers. I said I felt like it would be a good idea if, instead of automatically considering every 18 year-old an adult (and conversely, everyone under that age not an adult), one would be legally regarded an adult once he or she had completed a checklist of accomplishments. That way, exceptional young people who truly understand what it is to be a good citizen could vote, and 30 year-olds who still don't know their asses from holes in the ground could not.
Chip suggested we each come up with a list of 20 things that'd be on our checklists and trade to see how many things overlap, and how many things we've completed from each other's lists. This was to be done quickly, just off the top of the head, so the lists are by no means comprehensive or immune to argument. Here are the results:

My list with his responses*

1. Job: answer phones ...many
2. Job: front desk/direct customer service Almost all my jobs
3. Job: handle money (cashier, payroll, bank teller...) Done
4. Teach - can be in a classroom, a group of boyscouts, whomever. Looking good so far
5. Work in food service Got it
6. Work with the elderly ...not my strong suit
7. Work with children I worked with [a man-child we both know], does that count?
8. Gain understanding of basic rudiments of some art form - a musical instrument, painting, sculpting, acting, whatever Guitar
9. Read at least one entire novel and one entire non-fiction book Uh, yeah! Do we get extra credit for writing one?
10. Known how to change oil, flat tire, & check fluids in your car I heard that in a class somewhere once
11. Sleep outdoors overnight When I drove cross country
12. Plan and execute a meal (and have no one die of food poisoning) good call on the food poisoning.
13. Learn enough of a foreign language to introduce yourself, obtain basic necessities, and understand basic directions to a destination Spanish, though if you mean understand directions, they would have to point...
14. Participate in a team sport (incl. understanding all relevant rules of play and participating long enough to have won and lost at least one bout each) Good one. Football.
15. Attend a religious service of a faith different from your own [yes]
16. Job: retail grocery store. Or my folks' bike shop
17. Be responsible for the health and well-being for an animal (or at least a high-maint. plant) Puppies!
18. Travel outside your familiar community (spend at least a day among those who are not "your people") [yes]
19. Work in public service (at least in an administrative capacity for police, fire, rescue, etc.) Almost done!
20. Speak in public ...I have, in fact, spoken aloud in a communal area.

*edited somewhat for space & relevance, though he'll probably chide me for omitting some of his snark at my expense.

His list with my responses

1. work at a job where you are paid in tips (3 months) Hole in the wall diner.
   
2. work at a job doing manual labor (3 months) Ice rink - if you count having to clean the place, sharpen skates, and do basic maint. as part of the duties of the job as manual labor.
   
3. work in retail (3 months) 2 bookstores
   
4. work a job where you have to wear a uniform (3 months) Umpire...
   
5. wash, dry, and iron your own clothes (1 year) Yep.
   
6. plunge a toilet Yep.
7. have a non-family member as a roommate (6 months) Luke, Joe, Betsy, Emily, Erin, Paul, Delia, Carrsha
   
8. mow you own lawn Tricky - mowed lawns, but I've never owned a lawn
   
9. cook a meal for 4+ people (dishes included) Many, many times.
   
10. drive somewhere more then 8 hours away I think the 63K miles on my [2 year old] car are testament
    
11. support yourself independently (one year) Barely sometimes...
    
12. learn to sew a button Yep.
13. learn to change a tire and your oil I wasn't allowed to drive until I could.
    
14. learn to swim The hard way. Fell in the lake.
    
15. learn CPR Yep.
16. spend a week in a city where you know no one Does that count traveling companion? If not, then yes. I definitely didn't know anyone who hadn't come with me in London, Quebec, or Paris. It's unlikely I'd ever move to a place where I didn't know anyone, and nearly equally as unlikely that I'd travel for a week-long trip to such a place alone. If I were going for a day or so, I might, but I'd almost certainly take a friend for a week-long trip.
    
17. ride some form of public transportation On two continents
    
18. spend a night in the hospital (ER counts) No, not unless infancy counts. I have spent an entire day to very late at night, then come back subsequent days when a friend was on suicide watch.
    
19. Get hit (play a contact sport, get in a fight, car accident, something like that) Hockey
20. keep a pet or plant alive for 2 years (no cheating) Yes, plants and shared responsibility for pets.

Outcome: He needs to brush up on his Spanish & work with the elderly. I need to suffer some grievous health issue and be more independent. We did both include notes that allowed for things like physical limitations and living situation. Also, it seems like both of our lists are focused on self-sufficiency and the ability to understand those from different walks of life, so that one might be a more compassionate citizen who makes choices motivated by more than pure self-interest. This is hardly surprising to me since he and I have managed to become and remain very good friends who have widely differing origins, experiences, and career paths ourselves.

What do you think? What would be on your list?

Little Souvenirs of a Colorful Year

There's this episode of the Golden Girls (what, you got jokes?) where Dorothy is attempting to explain to Blanche how she's been feeling lately, and having a hard time describing it.
"Magenta," says Blanche. You're a little sad, but you wouldn't say you were blue, and a little jealous, but not quite green with envy, and somewhat scared, but not so much that you're yellow... and she hates that feeling, and she hates the color magenta, so that's why she calls it that.

I'm with Blanche. Most of the time, I try to think positive, have faith that everything is going to work out, look at the glass as half-full. I get magenta sometimes, though, but like the Girls, I'm also lucky enough to have friends to get me through it and put up with me during it.

This year has so far brought lots of endings - professional, personal, and otherwise. Since most of them weren't of my choosing, it's really easy to get depressed about it if I think of it that way. I'm hoping that nature will take its course though, and have some new beginnings to follow the endings.

I wasn't happy in my old job, and I've applied for some I think could be rewarding in ways other than just paying enough Green to squeak by on the bills. It could happen that I have to settle short-term, but I've sort of rededicated myself to my professional goals. I've done some networking, and made some good contacts and feel good about how I'm putting my skills and education to work, even if I'm not seeing that green yet.

I've loved and lost, but I've also learned. In past loves, either I couldn't really be myself, or I lost myself and lost sight of what else there was to life, so that my entire world seemed meaningless when it was over. Now I know better. Now I know it's worth it to hold out for the guy who (may not actually exist, but) will neither just put up with me nor completely eclipse me. If I can't be with a guy who is a true equal - in support and understanding as well as affection and music libraries - then, I'll just wait. I'll be Brown. Sally Brown, hanging out in the pumpkin patch, waiting for someone Great.

I've been quasi-nomadic, feeling like neither of the places I could refer to as home really are. Don't get me wrong, my mom's house will always be home, where I'll always know I have a place and be accepted. The thing is, I want home to also mean a place that's really mine, where I can grow and make a life for myself. Some people think I'm crazy when I talk about how badly I want to move to California. My friend Joel, who lives there already, warned me that when I came to visit, I'd never want to leave. I argued, but in the end, he was so right. If I'd had the means to just stay and send for my things, I'd have done so. Now? I'm back on the opposite side of the country, but when I build my list of steps I have to take next, with the summit being the move to the Golden State, it just feels right.

So, here's to new beginnings... may they begin soon!

The Show Must Go On: Soundtrack 2008

Yesterday, it just happened that when I got dressed, the shirt at the top of the drawer was one I'd gotten when I saw Curtains in New York earlier this year. The shirt reads simply, "The show must go on!" How true, I thought. Thus, the opening credits theme for the soundtrack to this year is born.



The only New Year's resolution I've ever really kept goes something like this:
I'm not the kind of person who believes that everything happens for a reason. I do, however, believe that in every situation, good or bad, there is something that can be learned. My resolution was to try to find that lesson whenever I can, even if I'd rather be cursing the Universe for The Unfairness Of It All. Why? Because, like the man said, the show must go on. You get up, put on the makeup, and fake it if you have to; just don't give up. Neither a broken heart nor a broken foot was likely to kill me, so while I sat around a lot, feeling sorry for myself, I did occasionally remember my resolution, and as a result have learned a lot. I've figured out quite a bit in terms of what's really important and what I really want out of life.



Jeff was just one of many people to dedicate Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now to me this year.



By the end of the summer, I was wishing I'd picked a more useful course of study in college--computer science, or business maybe.



Bring on NaNoWriMo, friends old and new, networking, PoetryAssignment, writing again, boxing again, a stable job, and following dreams again!




For Christmas this year, I received a completely unexpected gift from my mom: a portable GPS. I was a little puzzled at first, but when she told me why she'd gotten it, something fell into place in my world. In the face of everything that's happened this year, Mom gave me a tool to help realize a dream. Ever since I got my license and the first vehicle that was all mine - a red Sonoma pickup - I've been going on road trips. The truck had nearly 300,000 miles on it when a hit and run left it unfit for more gallavanting. I've driven to lots of places since then, the entire length of the East Coast, and as far west as Memphis. I haven't had the means to do it sooner, but I've always dreamed of driving across the country (I-40 goes all the way from NC to CA!), stopping at the funny landmarks, meeting people, seeing what stories there are, just waiting to reveal themselves to me. Well, now I have a good reliable car that gets good gas mileage (a 2008 model that's already taken me 55,000 miles), a 60 gigabyte iPod full of music and audiobooks, AAA Plus, paid vacation, a digital camera, a pile of notebooks, and now, a GPS.

There's just something about the freedom of the open road. I can't wait to make this dream a reality. I have a feeling: 2009 is going to be THE year!



To everyone reading this, whether I've known you 2 decades or 2 minutes, or even if we've never spoken, Happy New Year.