Highlights

This week was, um, yeah. The highlight of my afternoon today was eating my cheese quesadilla, since I recently learned that hard cheeses are lactose-free (since lactose is my new nemesis). I have LITERALLY spent a month saying to myself, dear god, how long until I can have some melted cheese??? That's just not a question you ever want to be asking yourself. And then I got to have some! It WAS as marvelous as I remembered.

The highlight of my day was, up until a minute ago, my lunch with one of my new local buds. I honestly am not sure that since high school have I met as many excellent friend-matches as quickly as I have here. Love this town. Love it! Also, I MUST have lunch with a friend once a week. That's on the list of lessons learned about working from home. For sho. Although... I think that was just as true when I worked at an office.

But the new highlight of my day? Surprise guests. At my birthday. EEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!  So, part of the short sad story of this week was that my brother had offered to host a family party for me and then somehow (I'm afraid to ask) forgot? and scheduled an out of town trip for the same day. So... I felt a little, um, forgotten? But we will push forward nonetheless and it looks like I will be seeing lots of my favorite people the week of my bday. Which is, well, FABULOUS. Fabulous. I can die happy. All thanks to the hubs who realized I wanted someone else to plan my birthday and DID IT. Even though I am looking over his shoulder occasionally to stir the pot, mostly I am out of it. And surprises brew. I love it.

Oh, did you not know? I'm turning 30 in 2.5 weeks. How could you not know? You must be new.

Also, mah friend K turned 31 today. Shout out! It used to be that we pretended we had the same birthday but just switched years... so either we would both be turning ... wait... now it doesn't make any sense to me. Hm. Teenage brain math must differ from adult math. Anyways, she's the bees knees and I hope she knows it!

My Own Geography

David Brooks just made me cry. Not surprising that he did, but how he did, and the type of crying. He often says things that frustrate or depress me. This time it is maybe the opposite.


The key point: Don't try to be everyman. Be yourself. In particular, know where you are from, even. A simple thought. A good thought. Based on Springsteen, somewhat surprisingly (or not, depending on how much you know about Springsteen).

And this is hard for me, because part of who I am is inherently pluralistic, sampling styles. It's a huge part of how I learn what I like and don't like - I take pieces from the people I meet. I merge into their world to see how it feels. I guess what reading David's essay made me realize is this: that can be my way - the eternal explorer, but at the end of the day I still need to know who I am. Where I come from. With my own concrete story.

I currently live in the 13th home of my life. Ooh, that's not a good number. Moving on... Consequently, I have sometimes struggled with the results of the many moves during my life. But actually, I tend to think of my wandering past as a good part of who I am - why I appreciate the friends I have and keep in touch well (ok, better than most at least)... why I enjoy going to new places and don't fear the unknown... why I have a good sense for different parts of the country... and so on. This history is a part of who I am that I value. So the question is, how does that fit into what he's talking about?

Specifically: what is my paracosm? A place where all are welcome, with intuition guiding me, full of heart, proactive, thoughtful... and I needn't change that. The question most plaguing me is, how do I fully HONOR that? Integrate it.

I've been having competing ideas about my writing recently. Specifically, my poetry. Should I try to publish/sell my poems, or just let them be? Should I compile them all into one place so they don't get lost? (Yes.) The tricky part about publishing is that I don't write poetry the way some people say you are supposed to write. My poems aren't about plants and natural phenomena. Or images, necessarily. But neither were Bukowski's! I recently considered submitting to a local poetry publication, until I learned they only accepted poems if they didn't have "I" statements. So I didn't submit. I think all my poems either have an I statement or are about me.

But last winter I discovered Christian Wiman's poetry, who it turns out is also the editor of Poetry itself.... and his poems were reminiscient of mine - spiritual, emotional, personal. So I had the crazy thought that maybe I should submit something to Poetry magazine. As a gift to myself, honoring the importance of my voice, honoring the gift of my writing.

This past weekend I had the great luck of hearing an exceptional poem read (by the author himself) at a wedding. It stunned me with its personality, its poise, its insights. Afterwards, I told the author so and said that it made me reluctant to say I write poetry, since I am not sure I can achieve such awesomeness. And he emphatically said no, no, don't say that. So I won't. I have to respect the man's advice.

The hard part is loving your own gifts enough to put them into the world without also adding your own judgment. There's a difference between working hard and preparing well, and hiding.

I have some hard questions to face about whether or not I've been hiding my gifts by being a mirror of the gifts I see in others. Recently my gifts have been becoming apparent to me inadvertently, one by one, showing up and saying hi. And for now, I am just trying to take note of them so I don't forget who I am. Where I came from. A home that goes back before the moves ever began, and was with me throughout every step.

What's really crazy is that now I'm all out of free NYT articles for the month. Good thing that's just a few more days.

Wedding Wisting

Things are freakishly good right now with the hubs... a very good friend of mine is about to get married, and there's some super sweet chit chat going on at APW about wedding memories. So since I have no idea if I already wrote these things down or not, here's just a few things I will (hopefully) always remember... or at least, I remember after more than 2.5 years:

- my sister saying I looked like Alice in Wonderland peering around the trees, when i was looking for my prince waiting at the other end of the garden for our private moment
- crying the minute I saw him
- not crying from then on for the rest of the wedding day
- sinking my bare toes down into the sand and feeling the stress and excitement melt away into peace and joy
- discovering that my dad had put extreme amounts of thought into both our walk down the aisle and our first dance
- the impromptu addition of my sisters and dad to the laying on of hands my bridesmaids and mom did before i saw chris
- the nausea that permeated the morning prior to that moment
- getting the phone call from my brother in law who couldn't come on the way to get ready
- laughing laughing laughing at the ceremony
- chris's groomsmen beaming at me
- dom picking up my shoes and bringing them to me
- the flowers wilting and dunking them in the fountain to see if they'd revive
- listening to the party going on without us and kind of enjoying it
- the hug i got from my uncle
- the kiss on the cheek i got from ben
- the hugs i got from my cousin's daughter, and her saying i was the prettiest bride she'd ever seen
- stealing as many hors doeuvres as i could before we had to go sit for dinner
- trying to go talk to people while they ate dinner and not making it to more than 2 tables
- running out of sangria and ordering more
- dancing in the circle around the courtyard fountain with all my friends
- dancing dancing dancing in that white dress
- chris's dad dancing with me
- the perfect sunset
- the bubble bath explosion
- clearly choosing to give up the magical sheen surrounding us from getting married and go have brunch with my mom the next morning out of nowhere, as a gift to her.

and it occurs to me, for the first time since then, .... did we start the ceremony late? which is funny because i clearly clearly decided that time did not matter very early on that day... but now i'm curious.

Mesilla Moon

ghosts move under a full moon in mesilla
almost shouting their warnings to a stranger as she enters.
five years passed with fanfare and tribulations
i grew wiser perhaps, more distant from the past for certain;
these streets are so familiar and with predictable changes
chain stores on the corners, the good haunts remain
i am also familiar to myself and with predictable changes
i wear your ring now on my finger
it greets me throughout my day with its specialness
as do you, my frenzied fabler.

i remember four girls linking arms here, linking lives fully, thoughtlessly.
i was naive to think that all deep friendship
would stand the test of time and miles
i feel wiser perhaps, sad to have lost you for certain;

those young girls outlived themselves
into more adult lives of busyness and toil
into more adult separations by difference and wounds
outlived the beauties of perfect conversation and commitment
when the world called out to us, glowing and free.

but also 
i was naive to think that the struggles of embarking on a life
would last for long
the alley wanderings, the languid phone calls
i am wiser perhaps, more present to myself for certain;
i am a stranger here and yet not totally gone
i know these streets and these faces
i held this moon before in all of these places
today i walked through time
to find out how five years can pass so swiftly in the night,
leaving you with yourself and the shadowy moon.

i hope that the flimsiness of 23 wears off,
that the things i carry now are with me five years hence
i wish for my life to remain so blessed through circumstance
and while i wish for some of those memories
to return to life
i hope to be wiser still, and willing to return to say hello for certain
to the person i was and have become
to say goodbye to the ghosts another time
to let the watchful moon see me where i crossed before,
sending thoughts to friends who have moved on.