nostalgia

I took this picture 3 years ago in Green Bay, Wisconsin on a road trip with Angela. I could go into all the gory details, but I won't. In short, it was quite the "break out of the mold and find yourself" summer.

I was 24, single for the first time in a long time, and I was pretty darned fearless actually.

I was also really skinny...but I digress.

I guess I'm just feeling a little nostalgic as of late. I think it's because I'm still adjusting to things in my life. I'm also coming up on 28, which still seems weird to me.

Sometimes I feel much older. Sometimes I feel much younger. But usually, I feel like I don't know what I'm supposed to feel like at 28. Does that even make sense? I guess it's a matter of coming to grips with the way you imagined your life, and the way it's actually turned out.

And actually? I wouldn't change a thing.

being done

Usually on Wednesdays I opt to stay in Chicago with Jeff. Of course, once a month I head back to Indiana to join up with the gaggle of girls (and the occasional guy) for karaoke night at the Tap.

Today I decided to stay in Chicago, and all day at work I contemplated calling up a friend to come over for some wine and girl talk. So, I texted her to see what she was up to.

About an hour later, I got her response.

Now let me preface what I'm about to talk about next. See, this friend has a family member who is one of the strongest people I know. And this person has always been my friend's ally, confidante, and overall inspiration.

This person has also been dealing with medical problems since I've known my friend.

When my phone rang with my text ringer, I was expecting either a "What's up?" or "I've got practice." I mean, it was pretty last minute, and my friend is a busy gal these days, bless her heart.

Instead what she wrote struck me. In summary, the text simply said: "i'm at ....'s all night...[they're] basically done...we're making [.....] as comfy as possible until it's time..."

At first I was saddened, and immediately texted back my love and prayers. I didn't want to call and interrupt such a private moment.

Before I closed my phone, I reread my friend's message..."[they're] basically done..."

That line really stood out to me. Of course, in simple terms it refers to the end of life. But I thought about it on a deeper level. There's something beautiful about that line.

Done.

Done with worry, done with pain, done with the pieces of the world that make us hurt, make us cry, make us wonder what the point is, or make us wonder some people do such horrible things to one another.

I think my friend put it in such a beautiful way. It's not that life is all bad, or that it isn't worth it. I think it's the exact opposite. I think it's about this crazy journey with ups and downs and curves and turns. I think it's about beauty and about ugliness. It's about absorbing everything around us. It's about experience. It's about learning. It's about succeeding...and failing. It's about laughter. It's about philosophizing. It's about everything.

But like all things, there will be a point when we're done. And then it's off to something new and different. (For the record, I don't believe that once this life is over that's it.)

Not done forever. Just done with this. It almost makes it feel like the journey has been won. Like every experience---good and bad---has finally paid off.

This weekend, I looked at my pit of a bedroom and shuddered at the thought of cleaning it all up. For a few hours Sunday evening I toiled, scrubbing, vacuuming, sorting, organizing, doing laundry. Near 11:00pm, I had finished. I looked around at my room, no more a filthy pit of dirty underwear, empty water bottles, and errant shoes. It was peaceful. I couldn't wait to just get into bed and enjoy it. As I hung up the last shirt, I took a deep breath, exhaled and thought to myself, "I'm done."

It was a small accomplishment, a little speck compared to a lifetime lived. But it was freeing.

That line...[they're] basically done...as sad as it is, I think it's very poignant in its simplicity. Because being done with something isn't necessarily a bad thing. Being done with one thing, gives way for something else. And in this case, I'm sure it's a journey without pain and suffering, full of unimaginable beauty.

again with the blast from the past...

I don't know what it is about this week but, damn have I been nostalgic. And it's not like on-purpose nostalgia. It's more like, things pop into my head or something comes up and BAM! I'm back 3, maybe 5, or even 10 - 15 years ago.

It happened again today. See that video up there? Michael Penn's "No Myth." Brilliant song. Well, I was listening to Last.fm again today, and all of a sudden it came on. And in an instant, there I was as the Roller Dome skating rink in north Hammond, holding hands with my very first boyfriend--we'll call him M.

Ah, puppy love. I mean, at the time it felt genuine. I was only 14, so in my adolescent mind M was 'The One." I imagined our lives together: house, white picket fence, a dog, and 2.5 strawberry-blonde-headed children. (I have always wanted to be a redhead, so the fact that M had a reddish tint to his coif pretty much sealed the deal for me back then.)

But when "No Myth" came on, for a moment, the memory of M and the Summer of 1995 (Holy cripes...13 years ago? Really? Wow. Hold on, I need to regroup for a minute.)...

...as I was saying, when "No Myth" came on today, it brought back that memory of me and M at the roller rink way back in 1995. This song was playing during a couple's skate when M skated me to a dark corner, and I had my first kiss under a shower of lights from the disco ball.

Of course, I make it sound so poetic now. In reality I had a mouth full of Bazooka bubble gum and I had no idea how to kiss.

Like, at all.
And the place smelled like hot dogs and nachos.

Anyways, M and I spent that entire summer together, making out on my front porch swing, (This was before the city decided to install landing-strip-intensity street lights on my street, making secret make-out sessions on the front porch virtually impossible.), talking on the phone for hours, and celebrating our month-a-versaries. Yes, I got flowers once a month every month for an entire summer.

But all this nostalgia I'm feeling, I guess it's not so much about missing M. I mean, he was sweet, but it's not about missing M at all. I think it's the innocence that I miss. When it was all foreign to me,and my heart (among other things) was experiencing all of these new feelings, and it didn't have any bad relationship experiences to reference yet. That naiveté is priceless, and when we are going through it, we don't notice it. And really, that's kind of sad.

I wish I could have found a way to bottle that precious innocence up and could have saved some of it, so that I could daub some on like fine perfume every now and again. Just let it wash over me like those orbs of white light from the Roller Dome's mirror ball back in 1995, all sparkly and new.

square peg

I've always felt a little out of place. I mean always. Anywhere. No matter what.

It's not entirely in a bad way, and perhaps I could blame it on mild chronic self-esteem deficiency, but no matter what, I seem to always feel like I just don't fit in.

I guess it's kind of hard to explain. And as I write this now, it doesn't really make a whole lot of sense even though it's been on my mind all day. Literally. All. Day.

I've always had this issue with being "normal." More specifically, it's just that I've never felt entirely normal. Which I suppose is a good thing, I mean, normal can be sort of bland, boring, beige. But I imagine that there's some sort of comfort in normalcy. And I think that's what I feel like I'm missing.

Or, perhaps, maybe it's not really normalcy that I crave. Maybe it's just a sense that who I am isn't really all that out-of-place or awkward. That I could actually find comfort just by being me. But no matter what, I just can't seem to shake the fact that most days I feel like a square peg in a very round hole.

In short, more often than not I feel rather awkward. Always have.

And maybe for me that's just normal.