LA

Sometimes I miss the neurosis of LA. I miss the process through which I became myself that unfolded on its hollowed ground. The space and those streets; the noise of the world dripping down around me at every moment. The friction of every possible step. Somehow hating LA is why I felt that pulse.
Who I became there.

Summer War Year 3

I am convinced that I am a warrior 3 months every year.
I think battling ants is mental test by God.

Life list.

I was asked recently to take stock of my life. I've decided to compile THE LIST.
This is only the beginning...

My bucket list:
travel to the Middle East
pray at the Western Wall
adopt a child
give birth
eat at French Laundry
ride a camel in the desert
travel to Africa
volunteer in Appalachia
live in a foreign country for 1+ year
learn to make sushi
write a $10,000 check to charity
publish a book
own a dog
walk on the Great Wall
live in a city on a lake
heli-ski
stay in the presidential suite (of any 4 star hotel)
run with the bulls
take flying lessons
break 80 on the golf course

Admittal.

I can feel when the end begins. We hold on more tightly. Going above and beyond, working harder for smaller moments spent together.

I had lunch with an old friend recently. I knew at the end of the few hours we spent together that we had come full circle and found the end of it. We had both moved on with our lives and it was the first time in my adult life that had happened. Closure and honesty and then silently walking away, with our backs turned, into the future and into our lives, which in no way involved one another.

Now I feel the end of something else. This time a working relationship. It has meant more to me than I have allowed myself to admit and the idea of being without it saddens me in a capacity, that up until now, I had never known.

The seasons are changing. I am holding my breath.

Never sun without rain.

I'm having a hard time coming to terms with the simple (yeah, right) fact that life comes in seasons. There isn't a jumping off point into the abyss that I believed happiness occupied. No single moment where happiness began for me. Millions of those instead, little glimpses and instances of perfection. I pray now those instances happen closer and closer together.
That's foolish. I realize that.
There has to be rain.
And the milestones we set are not milestones at all when you arrive at them. Covered in the dirt of hard work and determination, I have always found myself at a precipice of ownership when I reach goals I, at one time, believed to be milestones. I didn't jump for joy like a child. I walked steady, like a woman who had earned her way into that promotion, that new car, that vacation, that home- that life.
I struggle that things are not all good or all bad. Most things are both. And you don't just get sunshine, you get that rain. That sometimes unseemingly stoppable rain.
When it's peaceful I miss the mind fuck.
And yet I wish for peace of mind on almost every shooting star.

Where I stood.

I think I’ve found that polar opposite to codependence. I think I’ve been looking for it for 15 years or so and I’ve come to find it and we’re like old lovers lying in each other’s arms.

I can close my metaphoric eyes and find myself in that moment, where you step away from that relationship- that experience which so proudly moved you to change who you are- the way you look at a true partnership. That moment when he stood in front of the building sobbing and my empathy wanted me to stay so badly and cure his pain, while inversely increasing mine. But something greater inside me kicked in, some sixth sense about moving on with your life, with not having the same argument again. We’ve said it all. This is where we walk away and take our losses and eat the money and the humiliation and just let this beast die while we can both get out alive.
Some of you had the disgustingly unfair benefit of having one of those insanely perfect first loves, or first serious relationship, where you just found the right time to step away from each other and it made sense and it was pure, just like the way you fell in love. I’ve had that too. Just not before the shit relationship that dements you. And then forces you into remembering who you are- what you deserve. It gives you the tools to find your footing.

At this point in my young adult life I’m so glad to have already processed and worked through those painful missteps. I won’t do it when I’m 40. I’ve not just learned the lesson, I took it to heart. I walked through- slowly, painfully, sometimes excoriating, will-testing moments of doubt and loneliness and braved the open sky again. I’m not in a position to put children through that, or do it with the weight of 40 years, so for that- I’m grateful. It’s the little victories, no?

Now I find myself many years later, having never made the same mistake again.
Made mistakes.
Many.
Still doing well at that.
But not that mistake.
That’s the kind of shit you only have to do once to know better. I do. I know better. So much better, as a matter of fact, that I seek nothing outside myself, which is not as healthy as we hope self-sufficiency to be. The mistake or misstep is that it’s good to want and need others.
It’s the balance.
I haven’t struck it.
I feel myself still dancing, still dancing.
still.

Hemmingway Immitation circa 1995

The waves crashing against the water were crisp and dark. On one side they lapped against the beach and the rocks and the blanket that was laid out in a clearing through the trees. Resting on the blanket was the bright glistening sun and a box, filled with old trinkets, sat in the center of the blanket, stabilizing it from the wind. The two boys lay out on the beach, away from the blanket. It was mildly warm and the Tahoe Queen would be passing by from Tahoe City shortly. It passed by West Shore daily and then continued on to Emerald Bay.
“Where should we go?” the younger boy asked. He had taken off his shoes and set his feet in the sand.
“It’s a nice day,” the other boy said.
“Lets go to Eagle Rock.”
“Eagle Rock.” the older boy said as he thought about it. “The mountain down the road?”
“Yes, the one down the road.”
The sun faded behind the clouds and the two boys noticed. It had gone away from their view which annoyed the two. The younger boy looked down toward the water. They were on a rocky beach and the waves were cool and crooked.
“They look like broken stars,” the younger boy said.
“I’ve never seen one,” the older boy stared at the sky.
“Yes, I know that.”
“How do you,” the older boy said. “Only because you think you know that doesn’t mean a thing.”
The young boy looked at a large rock next to him. “Someone wrote something on it,” he said. “What did they write?”
“‘Peter was here.’ It’s a joke.”
“Can we write something?”
The older boy pulled a marker from his pocket. It was old and dirty.
“Write whatever you want.”
“What should I write?”
“What do you want to write?”
“I don’t know,” the younger boy said. “Should I write the same thing?”
“If you want to,”
“I’m not good at spelling,” the younger boy said and set down the marker.
“Everybody’s like that.”
“I know,” said the younger boy. “Everybody is a bad speller. Especially the ones who haven’t been able to go to school.”
“Oh shut up!”
“No, you,” the younger boy said. “I was just teasing. I was only kidding.”
“Well, let’s try and be funny then.”
“Okay. I was trying. I mentioned that the waves look like broken stars. Wasn’t that catchy?”
“That was catchy.”
“I want to write something funny. That’s all we do, isn’t it- write down things and then go places?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
The younger boy looked out at the waves.
“They’re cool waves,” he said. “They don’t exactly look like broken stars. I was just talkin’ ‘bout they’re reflection off the sun.”
“Are you going to write something?”
“Yeah.”
The sun came through and behind the clouds again.
“The marker works good,” the older boy said.
“Yeah it does,” the younger one said.
“It really won’t be too hard to move again, Scott,” the older boy said. “It’s not really a move at all.”
The young boy looked down at the rocks his feet were on.
“I know you don’t care, Scott,” the older one said. “It’s just to get a fresh start.”
The younger brother did not answer.
“We’ll just get a fresh start and try again with a clean slate.”
“Then what will we do?”
“We’ll be fine. We get ourselves together like we always do.”
“How do you know for sure?”
“That’s the only hard part. It’s the only part that we don’t like. . . the beginning.”
The younger boy stretched his legs and dug his toes into the rocky beach.
“So you think after we go we’ll be better?”
“I’m sure of it. We won’t be sad anymore. Lots of people move.”
“I know that,” said the younger brother. “And after a little while they are happy.”
“Well,” the older brother said, “if you really want to stay we could. But I know it won’t be that hard.”
“Do you really want to go?”
“I see it as the only safe option. But I don’t want to leave if you’re really going to hate it.”
“And if I do it will make us happier and our lives will be better and you won’t hate me?”
“I don’t hate you.”
“I know,” said the younger brother. “But if I agree then it won’t be so sad again if I mention things are like broken stars, and you’ll understand?”
“I will understand. I understand now but I do not want to think of it.”
“If I agree you won’t get frustrated?”
“I won’t get frustrated because it will be good.”
“Then okay. Because I really don’t care.”
“What?”
“I don’t care.”
“Well I do.”
“Oh, yes. But I don’t. I’ll agree and then it will be over.”
“You shouldn’t agree like that.”
The young boy got up and ran to the pier. Down, at the opposite end, were the boats and buoys weighed down to the Tahoe lake bottom. Far off, past the lake, were the Rockies. The sun rose above the clouds and illuminated the east shore caves and he could see the pine trees scattered around.
“I guess we should go then,” the younger boy said. “If we are . . . then we should go. You know?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Well, I’ll get the box,” the older boy said. “We’ve got to have the box. It’s the one thing that is always constant.”