Hello kittens, and welcome to 2013! Did you all celebrate
the New Year safely but also fashionably? I hope you all had mouths to kiss at
midnight. I finished the year on a sweaty dance floor with approximately one
million lesbians. You guys, I’ve never seen so many asymmetrical haircuts in
such a small space.
 |
| "Holy shit, is that a mullet? I think that's a legit mullet..." |
I’m uncomfortably recovering from massive quantities of champagne
with chocolate and all of the water. I spent 90% of today horizontal. My heart
keeps doing weird flutter kicks and my brain feels like bruised fruit. Some
not-so-small part of me can’t believe I survived 2012. One year ago today I woke
up on Leif’s couch with my small, broken body. I tasted like a stranger and
cheap beer. Lo and I dragged E out of her house for breakfast Somewhere Familiar
and we laughed or maybe just pretended. I remember my hands felt like a foreign
country. My tongue was always too thick back then, and sometimes it still is
but I’m learning to accommodate it.
“It’s so hard to forget pain,
but it’s even harder to remember sweetness. We have no scar to show for
happiness. We learn so little from peace.”
Today the sun danced kaleidoscopes across my bedroom’s
yellow walls. Lew painted me verbal pictures. We shared surviving stories. Time
drifted in and out of the spider web in my window. I felt peaceful and sleepy
and just comfortable. I misplaced my heavy heart for a few hours. Happiness doesn’t
leave a scar, but it certainly left an impression.
You guys. It’s been a strange/wonderful/fucked-up/exquisite
year. Let’s recap…
I moved to Portland
Remember that time I packed all of my worldly possessions
into the Biscuit and transported them 582 miles West? I remember like it was
just last year! I’ve lived in Portland 10 months and 13 days. It feels like a
lot longer, but in a good way. Like part of me has always been here waiting for
the rest to catch up. Leaving home has not been anything like I expected. I’m
not any braver or kinder or more intelligent than I was in Missoula. But I am
more me. I had to define who Me even is without the trellis support of rugby, longtime
friends and my family.
I don’t have it all figured out. I probably never will. But
I think that’s alright because I am the human being story I’m telling myself,
and that’s fucking beautiful.
I got a semi-adult job
I say “semi-adult” because most days I feel like a child,
wearing pajamas and humoring people with my well-rehearsed anecdotes. But also
I have health insurance and paid vacation, thus the Adult part. The Boulevard
isn’t a perfect fit. I’ve never used the words “certainly”, “absolutely” or “fantastic”
so many times in my entire life. There are days I want to throw the printer
through a window, flip ‘em the bird and storm out like a hardass. Or, you know,
just turn in my two weeks’ notice like a sane human being.
But! I value the Boulevard because 1) it pays the
bills/keeps me fed and 2) it has forced me to socially engage with some of the
strangest, most lovable human beings I could ever hope to know. Also it
supplies me endless material for a collection of humorous short stories I
intend to write someday.
I attended A-Camp
This summer I spent a week on a mountain with 300+ lesbians.
I listened and wrote and watched and learned and grew. I left with a sense that
I am capable of anything. Anything. That feeling of still, quiet determination
is absolutely priceless. A-Camp help my hand while it forced me out of my comfort
zone. Then it made me an ice cream sundae and asked me to process my feelings.
I hope to someday be surrounded by that many awe-inspiring women again. A-Town
for life!
I had my first poetry reading
On September 26th my hands and voice trembled in
front of a microphone. I cracked open my geode heart and spilled purple across
the stage. I moved a stranger to tears, and an old man with patchy whiskers
told me Write and keep writing and never
stop. This month I get to do it again with new words I’ve polished
riverrock smooth in front of mirrors, on the city bus and in dark alleyways. My
heartfelt thanks go out to Stone Soup for the opportunity to share my words/thoughts/feelings with the world. I’m hooked.
I learned to say goodbye
There’s a scene in Homeward Bound that resonated with Little
Me. (Note: if you haven’t watched
Homeward Bound recently/ever, do yourself a favor and watch it immediately.
Please and thank you.) Shadow falls into this boggy mud pit and when he
realizes he can’t get out he looks at Chance with his big, sad golden retriever
eyes and tells him “I’ve taught you everything you need to know. Now all you
have to learn is how to say goodbye.”
And I don’t think I ever really understood that because my Goodbyes
have always been See You Later or Talk to You Soon. Goodbye doesn’t mean much when
I am still clinging with white knuckles to the front of your shirt. Thank you
for teaching me the lesson of letting go.
All the living are
dead and the dead are all living. The war is over, and we are beginning…
I love you all more than you can imagine. I’m glad we
survived. Thank you for sharing this year with me, for tolerating my jumbled
ramblings. I hope this year brings you all the love your hearts
can feasibly hold. Here’s looking forward to new experiences/scars/stories/dreams/lovers/friends.
Happy New Year.
-b
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