Kansas Jo Comes Blowing into Town

I would be lying if I said I was without my concerns about Jo's impending arrival. She too felt the familiar panic as the date of her JFK landing drew near. We know we are like sisters and we are both fiercely independent, but above all, we knew that her arrival would change everything for us.

After settling into my new life of solitude, the proposition of once again sharing my home was a perplexing one. As with all change in life, it is best to accept it at face value, not try to make it resemble your old life and open yourself up to the stunning possibilities. With that idea in mind, I honored my last evening alone by curling up on the couch with pizza and having a good lazy session.

Thursday evening she blew into town and brought with her a latent, nervous energy that fueled a manic two week bender. We started off with dinner and many drinks at Yuca Bar in the East Village, stumbling home to pass clean out. The next day we wandered the city. New York was the first dear friend of mine I had the pleasure of introducing her to. That evening I hosted an insane Koreatown Karaoke party and introduced her to the good, the bad and the ugly in my fair group.

The next week was a boozy, non-stop parade of introductions and late nights. She met my Gay Godfather for brunch, my neurotic Gossip Girl Kaitlin, had an epic dinner with my friend Nelson, several girls nights with Em and a disastrous night out in the Lower East Side. In between these activities, I continued meeting up with my various amigos individually.

I drank, I slept little and I still made it to the gym most days. I was filled with an energy that threatened to consume me if I stopped for even one moment.

By the second week, we were finding our footing. We began sleeping soundly, staying in a night or two and truly enjoying the new life forming around us.

My energy is dipping, (perhaps back to a more human level!) I am craving food over wine, and it has begun to just feel like life. Without changing a thing, simply inviting her into my world, it has enriched it for me. If it is possible, she allowed me to fall even more in love with my city, my friends, my life.

I feel it is honest to say that her presence has always made me sentimental, especially when it comes to D. This held true for the first few days, perhaps part of the reason I was running like my life depended on it was that I was afraid of some piece of me or my old life she might take me back to, but with my attention drawn back to all the people and adventures at my fingertips, the sentiment drifted away and was replaced with all the burning glory of things yet to come. As we slowed our pace and began to talk I found myself face to face with someone as brand new as I am. She is no longer stuck in the desert where we first met, she is free and ready to charge into the horizon with me. We are finally both free to live and dream and feel as we never where able to in our old world. She is no longer a reminder of the past, but a vibrant part of my journey into the future. Yes, my sister is here and I am seeing her for the first time as she was always meant to be.

She is thinking of coming here to stay, and walking along through the East Village, watching her and Emily laughing, I could barely stand to hope it. That much joy is to scary to even hope for. Could I actually have it all? I may not yet be completely settled into my new life with Kansas Jo, but I am having one hell of a ride.

The Sun Will Come Out Tomorrow!

"Bet your bottom dollar on tomoroooooooow!" The sun did in fact peek through the clouds on Thursday. With it's rays came a hint of optimism.

I think I may truly be solar powered, with the sun comes hope, positivity and the possibility that things might actually be okay.

I am surrounded by friends, getting stronger by the moment and have nothing but wide open spaces ahead of me.

You can knock me down, but you certainly can't keep me there.

Sometimes Life Just Hurts

I have experienced quite a bit of pain in my life, both physical and emotional. When undergoing minor surgery in Iraq without anesthetic, I did not ask the question, "why is this happening to me?" I shrugged off any compassion or questions to this effect with the explanation that maybe it was because I could handle it. Better me with my strong pain threshold than someone less capable of enduring it. This line of reasoning, while not entirely logical, was enough to keep me from slipping into a state of dribbling self-pity.

On Friday, I found out I needed to have my IUD removed. I was nearly in tears before I ever entered the exam room, so this information left me shaking. It hurt, it hurt a lot. It hurt more than it should have, probably due to the surgeries I endured years before. On Friday, while fighting back my tears with all the pride left in my bleeding body, I finally whimpered that question: "Why me?" I wondered why I had to experience all this pain. I was overcome by the pain I had felt over all the years in every stabbing reminder of what had just transpired. I scheduled a date to have the IUD replaced, though I shuddered at the though of going through that agony all over again.

Again unprotected from a pregnancy I knew I did not want, I felt vulnerable. I felt beaten. I heard again all the voices of my superiors in the army taunting me, telling me that I would be the next pathetic soldier to end-up knocked-up and useless. Telling me it was only a matter of time. I heard their voices really telling me that I was a fool to think I could control my destiny or even my body. I felt so angry, so assaulted, so sad.

I went on a lovely date with D Friday night. We had drinks and then dinner at a private little Italian restaurant in the East Village. I had a great time, but then, curled up on the couch with him I felt trapped in between his embrace and my isolation.

I have become deeply independent over the last few months. Part of being independent is being fiercely protective of yourself. When he wrapped his arms around me, my instinct was to become defensive. This reaction was so foreign in the context of our history together that it made me feel sad, angry and vulnerable.

The next day I let down those defenses, those walls I carefully crafted around myself, and had a wonderful day wandering around the city with him. It felt natural again. It was not until Saturday evening that I felt the first stab. Looking at him on the couch next to me, I once again had to fight the tears. He would be leaving the next day. I would go back to my life and he to his. Back to the separate lives we now lead. There are consequences to letting your walls down, they allow both for connection and for pain.

He left today. I went uptown to my EWI event and he jetted off for Las Vegas. The party was a fantastic success, but on my way home I felt the familiar ache I though I had cured myself of. I missed him. Even sitting in the bar, surrounded by my adoring friends who had sustained me all these months, I felt his absence like a knife.

Like my faulty IUD that had to come out, it was time for him to go back to pursuing his dreams and me to mine. Still, I sit in astonishment at the pain; suspecting but not realizing how much it was going to hurt. Wounds heal, defenses can be rebuilt, but these facts to not bring relief to those in the midst of their distress. This time I will not ask the futile question, "Why me?". There is no answer. Sometimes life just hurts.

I guess we have to learn to live with this fact. I am still learning to navigate the world with both a coat of armor and an open heart. I think that to live life avoiding pain at all costs is to lose out on some of the things that make it worth living. The key may be to discern which things those are. Though I may be able to endure the assaults of life on my body and heart, I am also able to accept the joyful moments and pleasures the world offers me.

I will be gentle with my heart and body, protecting them from the unnecessary agonies and nursing them back from all the rest.

Perfect Anticipation

This week I experienced something like bliss. I, for a moment, had everything I wanted. To me it is not the actual having, but the knowledge that it will be had, the attaining that matters. There is joy in the destination, but the journey is much longer and therefore gives the opportunity for even more joy. I have been granted the opportunity to study with the greatest minds in my field, on my way to gaining the career I have always wanted, surrounded by friends, loved, in the city I adore. I may not yet own my own apartment, or make the kind of money I want, or have the job I am after, but it's coming. It is all at my fingertips. Walking through the Village, feeling the warm breeze and perfect 75 degree weather that is neither hot nor cold, I had everything I ever wanted. I had the concrete version of hope: anticipation.

I left work early to go listen to a panel discussion on food in the context of memoirs. Entering the vast Bobst Library at NYU, I was overwhelmed by the grandeur of it all. The atrium is open, pulling your eye up the seemingly endless floors of books. There was a lounge area to my right, all wood paneling and portraits. There was so much history, so much greatness, I was in awe. As the speakers were introduced, my sense of wonder was heightened further. Before me were men and women who knew James Beard and Julia Child, the first panelist was the great-nephew of MFK Fisher! These people are my superstars, my heroes, the people I long to know. I want to collect them like porcelain figures, lining them up in pretty display case in my home. I want to keep them all and surround myself with them and bask in their stories and ideas. This is what I get to do! I have the unimaginable honor of working with these people, learning from them and perhaps one day teaching them something too. I want to be one of them, in the company of these giants.

It is not helpless longing, it is a reality. I have gotten something that I wanted so deeply, transforming a fantasy into a reality. It is no wonder than that walking out of the building, into that perfect spring air, that I felt so completely, peacefully happy.

The present and future are inextricably linked for me. I used to live in the past or the future, in a constant state of sentiment or dream. This can lead you down a very dark path. The past is untouchable and the future, especially if you have a dark vision of it, uncertain and cold. The place I now reside is solidly in the present, with the future as my horizon. It is always moving back as I move toward it, but knowing it is there, seeing it everyday more clearly as I near, that propels me forward.

In Colorado you can always tell West by the towering mountains, seeing them orients people. On a cloudy day, if they were to be masked, one would suddenly feel a bit lost. How could you feel anything but pleasure watching the beautiful, towering peaks in the distance? They are there, they are solid, they are waiting for your arrival. This is how I see my future and my dreams. I do not reside there, but they decorate my landscape, orient me and fill me with a glowing warmth.

My dreams do not make my present look inadequate, they make it breathtakingly beautiful. I can only hope the view from the top can compare.