the moon is full at 12:55am tonight
connecting us all
everyone should spend some time
take from it what you need
manifest some hopes and dreams.
bring dark things to light
let the light sink into dark
find what answers may lie on the water’s surface
take time to breathe
Maybe I will never be
All the things that I want to be
But now is not the time to cry
Now’s the time to find out why
I think you’re the same as me
We see things they’ll never see
You and I are gonna live forever
beer. balcony. beauty. sunset.
bring it on, brutha. :D
i just said to my playlist, “c’mon, give me something good.” and it gave me the song, good. that got a laugh out of me.
so i’m listening to good by better than ezra since my playlist has decided to choose it for me, and i start laughing as i listen to the lyrics. i don’t think i’ve ever paid attention to them, but suddenly, in this exact moment, they make complete sense in my world.
i’ve always said that i only write what’s true, so i have to live my story to a certain extent before i can write it. this week definitely provided me some kind of abstract answer to the place where i was stuck, though i’m starting to feel like this book won’t be finished until i’m near the end of my life. so where i’d left off, i’d written this scene that i thought about for a major climactic scene. and i remember the character has found the house where she hopes will provide all the answers, this empty house belonging to this man she’s been following, this man she feels inexplicably tied to in life and in her dreams who may or may not exist, a man whose face she’s never even seen. And she doesn’t know if he’s a real person, or a ghost, a hallucination, what, and she has no idea what it means for who or what she is. if she’s even real. if the world is even real. and she’s sitting in the corner if this empty room, watching the light move across the floor as dusk falls, and she wonders who it is who’s going to walk through that door, calling this place, this moment, this girl: home.
lyrics:
Looking around the house.
Hidden behind the window and the door.
Searching for signs of life but there’s nobody home.
Well, maybe I’m just too sure.
Maybe I’m just too frightened
by the sound of it.
Pieces of note fall down, but the letter said,
Wahow, it was good living with you.
Wahow, it was good.
Wahow, it was good living with you.
Wahow, it was good.
Sitting around the house,
watching the sun trace shadows on the floor.
Searching for signs of life, but there’s nobody home.
Well, maybe I’ll call
or write you a letter.
Now, maybe we’ll see on the Fourth of July.
But I’m not too sure, and I’m not too proud.
Well, I’m not too sure and I’m not too proud to say.
Wahow, it was good living with you.
Wahow, it was good.
Wahow, it was good living with you.
Wahow, it was good.
just got back to la. clear blue skies, cool breeze and everything where it should be.
as i was walking through the terminal in san jose, men kept turning and looking, but i didn’t care, listening to music and only focusing on some abstract point straight ahead. i felt like natalie portman at the end of closer. i’ve always wondered what she was thinking in that scene, and now i think i know. she’s not thinking of anything. she’s just going where she’s going.
the re-entry process back into my world has been rough…i think i’ve cried on the plane the last 3 times i’ve flown home, though for different reasons. today i cried for art, poetry, love and passion. for truth and compromise. but this is the process. it doesn’t last long but it has to be experienced in order to cross over to the other side.
yes, how i managed to lose 6 lbs in a week on a cruise. it’s envious! just kidding.
it probably balances out, because i had inexplicably gained 6 lbs over the last month, when i was working out intensely with professional trainers and a basketball coach, and doing hours of cardio on my own while reading (i love the discipline of simultaneously focusing my mental energies and physical energies to carry on independently). no significant changes in diet. good sense would say it was probably muscle gain from all the training, but i remember my trainer telling me that the body goes to the weight it needs to be. he said maybe i gained 6 lbs because my body needed it for what i was trying to do. now in hindsight, the fact that i lost exactly 6 lbs burning off this inevitable fever of mind & soul from the cruise experience seems to say that somewhere, a part of me already had a good idea what was coming up and prepared for it. i’ve always felt strongly about what the greeks said, strong body, strong mind. and the last week, my mind has burned an intense amount of fuel that my body has been strong enough to support.
got home and looked at my concert calendar:
8/26 – Cake at the Fonda
8/30 – Ask Your Mama at the Hollywood Bowl, Sunday Sunset Series (the Hollywood Bowl always provides a spiritual experience at exactly the time I need it, so I chose this concert even though I have no idea who Ask Your Mama is)
9/16 – Phoenix at the Greek
10/14 – Moby at the Wiltern
much music to look forward to. now it’s up to me to fill the spaces in between productively.
am happy to be home. much work ahead of me.
have not written the third part. want to finish in la, in my own space, where my mind is most clear, under the watchful eye of the full moon and the temple which sits outside my window, with a gold prophet and his trumpet at its apex always pointing off into the horizon, sometimes pointing through a blanket of fog at 3am.
i did a search on my blog for the word “soulmates,” having a strong feeling of having delved into the idea in 2004 (that was the year of heavy rains and quiet emotional storms swirling with echoes), the most poetic year of my life.
i haven’t reread it yet but i have a feeling it might answer some questions.
http://3amwanderer.blogspot.com/2004/01/last-thought-for-today-and-im-off-to.html
some people are good at losing things.
some people are good at finding things.
if you are really good at finding,
you don’t have to be afraid of losing.
i’m going to write the final chapter of the cruise story when i get back to la. seems fitting.
in the meantime, here’s a stream for you, on my personal dime. this is me at play.
when you can’t sleep, your mind processes reawakening in a very fragmented way. you suddenly find yourself in a moment of the space between, when you don’t know who you are, where you are, how you got here. and suddenly, there’s an idea, something familiar, that roots you back into reality.
so my question. synchronicity or coincidence:
in my downward sleep cycle when i thought my mind had completely taken over, i was awakened twice in a row by an unexpected kiss.
once on the plane home off of 2 hours of sleep, i was in a fragmented dream world when i suddenly became aware that i was being wetly kissed on the chin, suddenly finding myself back on the plane with my 4 year-old cousin on my lap. it was sweet and unexpected, putting me momentarily between worlds. it made me believe in a sweet, innocent world.
the next, i’d arrived home and michael and my dad were so happy to see us. they had such good energy, they must have had a really bonding father-son weekend together. my dad asked my mom how the cruise was. i popped in my earphones and listened to paranoid android. letting her tell her story.
we were on the bridge by the time i took my earphones out. i’d been watching the water fly by through the window, alternating streaks of grays and blues. everyone sooner or later became aware i was back in the room.
mom: julia was very popular.
dad: yeah?
mom: we were having drinks and the chef sent us drinks, then a bottle of wine at dinner.
dad: really.
julia: he’s a jamaican guy in his 40’s. i think he just really liked the song i chose.
mom: but he’s part chinese.
we got home and i’m like staggering. if people really knew how tired i was, they would be amazed that i’m not in a coma. but this kind of strength is easy for me, when i feel what i’m doing means something.
i wanted to keep writing, get it all down before it faded, but it’s really hard for me to write in the day and trust i won’t take the soul out of writing. but i wanted to try. michael offered to buy me coffee and have his ride bring it back for me. it was amazingly conscious and sweet. i wrote down what i wanted, and sure enough, jan walks in with my coffee. but iced, not hot like i ordered. michael’s personal touch. once i saw it, i realized i actually preferred it iced.
started writing, wondered if i would be more efficient if i tried to get a little bit of sleep. i really prefer nighttime. went to bed, and forced myself to drift off into a meditational state, that dropped off into sleep. woke up not knowing who the hell just kissed me on my cheek. looked around the room for other people, because i just came from a world where a lot of kids were running around. realized, who else would it be but michael.
i’m going to get my new iphone, he said. he was giddy with happiness. pure love.
i’m assuming this is where the idea of kisses from princes waking up princesses became so magical. it pulls them out of a completely disordered or blank world.
went to the gym today. andrew seemed almost afraid to hug me. or too distracted. had no energy at all because i completely had no desire to eat yesterday. i’m telling everyone i forgot but i didn’t. my mind is so magnetized it’s completely running the ship here.
i’m itching to talk about all the synchronicities i experienced this week. there were so many, their occurrences started becoming a bit of a caricature of themselves. and all the while, i feel like because i can see them and they’re tickling me silly, i must be the sanest person in this place because i’m watching the magic as it happens. unless other people saw them, too. then it means there really are others like me.
guess i did make it to 3am. this is problematic. i can’t sleep. echoes are roaring in my head. difficult because i was sleeping pretty well on the ship. hopefully, i get back to a better sleep schedule when i get back to la.
there were two dreams that i remember from the first then second night at sea. i was astounded by how vivid they were.
in the first, i was living in an urban city with high rises, like new york. we were all in this tall building when someone saw a triangular object coming down from the sky, moving in an odd way like nothing i’ve ever seen, like it was descending at an angle too fast, too smoothly to be anything i was familiar with. suddenly, it began methodically shooting blasts at the city, and wherever these blasts were directed, the entire area was engulfed in an explosion. the triangle thing was very methodical, working in a grid. as soon as it was happening, we all started screaming. i was with a guy played by Alex O’Loughlin (the shield), who frankly, is pretty hot. he and i were in a building together when we saw the attack begin, and he grabbed my hand and dragged me downstairs into the streets. the explosions were getting closer and we found this busted old station wagon on the street. he broke the window then unlocked the door, hotwiring the car. we speed out of the city and managed to get on a road that led into the country before our area of the grid got hit, but behind us, the entire city was burning.
we went to this cottage in the country where this woman alex knew lived. she was played by halle berry (i know, it was weird how i was aware that actors were playing the people in my dream, yet the dream felt completely real. like simultaneously knowing something is not real and real, and both are distinctly correct). she was an artist of some sort, and i think they used to be in a relationship but were friends now, but it was something i didn’t worry about. (i also remember thinking that once halle berry meets alex in real life, she’ll leave gabriel aubry for him, even though he’s the father of her baby).
at the cottage, we tried every radio station and there was nothing but static. when i woke up, we were still in the cottage figuring out what to do.
in the dream the next night, i was dating this guy i dated a long time ago when i was young, this guy who did something really fucked up that wounded my ability to trust men for a little while. he looked different though, more athletic, happier, so i didn’t seem to remember that this was not someone i wanted in my life. like somehow, i knew who he was, but i didn’t recognize him as that bad guy, so i was happy being with him. i was at one of the studio lots when i ran into my friend tina, who by now was doing really well with acting, having gotten a major role in a tv show. she looked great and i was really happy for her. i introduced her to my boyfriend and we were catching up, and then at some point i realized that i had talked to her about this guy when we had been dating back then, that she’d heard of him, so i said, oh tina, this is so and so. (like you know, that guy). i remember her eyes getting really wide and she pulled me aside and asked what i was doing with him. she reminded me that this guy’s kind of a bad guy. then all the memories flooded back, and i didn’t understand how i could have forgotten. i got really angry that he’d tricked his way into my life again. i started going off on him about how much he’d affected my life for so long, how hard it was to let anyone in after that, how he affected every single relationship i’d had since. i was really upset and letting all these pent up feelings out. he left, and tina told me, don’t worry about it; you’re walking your path, and he’s walking his own. don’t worry about his, just your own.
i took it as a really positive dream. i never got to say all the things i needed to say to him in real life, have thankfully never run into him, but in a way, i think that was my mind letting something go. i woke up feeling lighter. and tina looked great, radiant. i hope it means that she’s got a big break coming up.
part II of cruise report under part I so it can be read linearly. will have to finish tomorrow. have to go pass out. not going to make it to 3am tonight. hope everyone had a good 22 day.
waving goodbye to our ship.
now on 16 hours of sleep over the last 5 days. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1.5.
emotionally in tatters, but my brain must be lighting the northern sky right now. just realized it’s another 22 day and these are the days when i seem to have the best creative output, when the most interesting or magnetic things tend to happen. most recent 22 day was 7/31, last friday. what a day that was. i really want to get part II of the cruise report done tonight, so my mind can finally relax. otherwise, given my sleep pattern, if tonight’s rest drops under 1 hour, i’m afraid my body might induce a coma. i can’t remember my mind ever being so overwhelmed with energy that it messed up my sleep this badly before. gotta get the words out. unfortunately, i think part II is probably best told by night-time me, so i’m waiting for the sun to go down.
The Bitter and the Sweet (Cruise Report – Vancouver/Alaska)
Part I
Well.
I’m sitting in an internet cafe in Vancouver as the male demographic of 18-25 sit around me playing World of Warcraft. Seems fittingly surreal for someone who’s running on 16 hours of sleep total over the last four nights.
The past week has been…unusual to say the least. Which is also saying a lot, because the status quo of my life can easily be described as generally unusual and off the beaten path. I’m afraid if I don’t document all this right now, it’ll start seeping through the cracks of my mind, until the lines between illusion and reality blur and I can no longer trust in anything I believe anymore. So I have to stream this right now.
Fremont – The Calm Before the Storm
I flew into Fremont last week, wanting to spend a few days before the cruise in my hometown to spend time with my dad and Michael who wouldn’t be joining us on the cruise. They didn’t want to go because cruising is too–their word–“stressful.” Sitting on a boat, eating good food, doing nothing…stressful.
???
But surely not as stressful as, say, disarming land mines in Iraq, right? Slightly less?
I saw that my parents were getting along and Michael is content doing his thing. This family has come such a long way. Rie drove over on Thursday and brought Seigo, her 5-month old son. I love that kid. He was born looking like he’s trying to figure out world peace. Or pass a big fart. It was awesome because this was the first time my parents were meeting him and he’s like a little person now with such a fun laugh. He and I had a great time airplaning while we all watched The International with Clive Owen, which was incredibly boring. It was so good to see them.
This was also the first time playing basketball in the nice gym in Fremont since training with a pro coach, so I wanted to see if there was a noticeable difference in my performance. It was actually ridiculous. I played 3 on 3 with some guys who were pretty good, yet scored 7 straight baskets in the first game, our team winning 11 to 3. I’ve never dominated so confidently before. There was one play where I got the ball on the wing, crossed over and drove it right into my defender and went up. He was a big guy and crashed into me in mid-air, but I managed to stay upright and make the basket. She makes them even with contact, I heard him mutter, and to be honest, I was really surprised myself. This level of play is a bit suspicious, like I’m getting an assist from a higher power. But I’m not complaining, just enjoying the glory before the shoulder surgery sets me back. The universe is being very kind right now.
Vancouver (or, Remember That Time We Were Held Hostage by a Cult?)
The cruise crew (me, mom, grandmother, Aunt Jodie, Uncle Edward, cousins Edison and Jonathan and a family friend) flew into Vancouver on Friday where we stayed at my other uncle’s condo in a high-rise overlooking the marina. We got in late afternoon and had plans to eat dinner with some friend of the uncle who owns the condo. We met the friend at a Chinese vegetarian restaurant, and it turned out that we would be dining with a massive group of 17 because it was the guy’s birthday. They were friendly, the food was interesting, and afterwards, they mentioned that because it was his birthday, they were planting a tree at their place and invited us to see their house which they had recently customly built from the ground up.
On the drive over, the guy’s wife had mentioned that they were Buddhists of an order that believes that all religions serve the same purpose by leading a person towards their higher self, so it’s like college–it doesn’t matter where you go to school as long as you get a degree. She said some other things about their beliefs, but my Chinese isn’t so good to understand all of it. To be honest, it all sounded pretty fundamental and obvious but as long as it benefited their lives, then more power to them.
The house was in a very nice area of Vancouver, on a hill with an amazing view of the mountains surrounding the city lights below. Their house was a stunning 2-story number with a large fountain out front and a well-planned meditational garden in the back. This is a nice house, I said to my mom. Then they invited us inside.
The first clue that something was wrong should have been the fact that they were the only gated house on the street with security cameras everywhere. My mom actually asked them about it, if it was for security, and the husband mumbled something about design but didn’t actually answer the question.
The next clue should have been the fact that the majority of the first floor of the house had been converted into a shrine. Wow, I thought. These people are really dedicated to their religion. Then I noticed there was a computer check-in station. I wondered if they ran a home-worship temple, the way some people have home offices. Hey, I don’t judge so I didn’t think much of it. The interior of the house was gorgeous.
They invited us to sit upstairs and try out their couches (very comfortable). As we were hanging out, this tiny Chinese woman wearing gray showed up and she was introduced as a “family friend.” She started to talk about their beliefs, and we all listened politely, but then a couple minutes turned into half an hour, then an hour and it was getting a little weird. I noticed my grandmother had fallen asleep and I thought, Good plan! and pretended to be asleep. She was talking about the concept of how we are a part of everything, earth and sky, and when we die, we lose everything except our connection to our higher selves. But for us to become a part of the earth and sky and for the earth and sky to acknowledge us, we need to make a connection through rituals. I was getting a bad feeling. This no longer felt conversational, but like a sales pitch. I really wanted to leave, but it wasn’t up to me. The next thing I know, they ask my aunt to write down all of our names on this piece of parchment paper. I’m still pretending to be asleep, but my anxiety is growing because, while I know cameras don’t steal my soul and leaving hairs on a brush doesn’t necessarily leave me open to voodoo attacks, I didn’t feel comfortable having my name written on a mysterious piece of paper. The woman asked my aunt how much she would contribute and my aunt agreed to contribute $50 a person. Now I was definitely uncomfortable. And what happened to planting a tree? That’s what they said we were coming over to see! Who the hell were these people and what were they going to do with our names? So they ask us to join them downstairs and I jump up and go to my mom who doesn’t seem particular alarmed.
What’s going on?, I ask her. Never before have I wished my Chinese was better so I could understand what the woman had been talking about and what was about to happen.
Oh, they’re just going to pray for our souls, she said. We’re just being polite.
Polite? I know it’s custom to come over to someone’s house and sit for a while over tea if they buy you dinner, but $400 and the promise of some religious ritual seemed…not your usual Friday night.
So everyone’s getting up and I peek over the railing to where the shrine is and I see that more people have arrived and they’re all wearing long gray gowns including the couple who had bought us dinner and their son. An alarm went off in my head so I grabbed my uncle and nearly threw him at the rail.
I have 3 letters for you, I said, pointing over the rail. “W.T.F.”
He looks and just says, “Oh.”
Okay.
My uncle’s a really chill guy. Our city could be in the midst of being bombed by UFO’s and he would just say, “This is not good.”But I was hoping for a little more than just, “Oh,” especial
ly considering he had the keys to the car and would be a key figure in any attempt to get out of this house.
So we go downstairs and the little worker bees in gray are setting up the shrine by putting mats down and preparing a tray with tea. I noticed the box of candy we’d brought the wife was also now set up as an offering for the giant gold Buddha in the middle of the shrine. I’m freaking out inside. I don’t want any of these people anywhere near my soul. And I want my name back.
So I grab my mom and tell her I’m not participating. She says it’s no big deal and to just be polite and I kind of want to shake the shit out of her because she doesn’t seem to be taking this seriously and I don’t know why. But my mom is someone who never wants to offend people so she probably just figured it would be better to get it over with than to disrespect her older brother’s friend. She does tell me that if I’m really this uncomfortable, I can go wait in the car. My uncle says he’ll go with me, but the little gray people are milling around the front door, so we try to sneak out the back. It’s locked. We don’t know if it’s wired to an alarm, so we sit down on some chairs in the kitchen and the two little boys come sit with us.
This is not okay, I say.
No this isn’t, he says.
This is really concerning, I say.
This is completely disrespectful, he says.
I’m so happy he’s having the same experience of this as me. I know because I was born in the US, there are a lot of traditional customs that I don’t understand, but if my uncle Edward who’s from China feels like there’s something wrong, then this definitely isn’t normal.
As we sit in the kitchen, we hear chanting and smell incense. Next, I hear the woman reading off our names. When I hear my name, chills run down my spine. I sneak up to the entrance and I see the woman who owns the house standing on the platform in front of the Buddha calling out directions with the paper in her hand as all the others kneel in a formation in the middle of the room, chanting. The rest of my family stands huddled in the back of the room, poker-faced. The woman sees me and waves me in. I shake my head and leave, though I think I shot her an inadvertent dirty look.
I go back and sit with Edward. We listen to the chanting and the boys start fighting and laughing, but we shush them. This is serious.
The woman in gray and the woman who owns the house come into the kitchen and each grab me by the arm. Come, they say. We’re going to indoctrinate you so you can be accepted.
I politely remove their hands.
My Chinese isn’t so good, I tell them politely with a smile (even though it is…I just don’t have an extensive vocabulary that extends into religious terms), but I feel like if I’m going to participate in a ceremony, I would want to know what it’s about before I agree to it.
Don’t worry, the woman who owns the house says, I’ll have my son explain everything to you in English when we’re done.
She grabs my arm again. I gently but firmly remove her hand again.
Why is it so important for me to participate?, I ask her. I have my own spiritual beliefs and they’re very important to me. Why is it so imperative for me to participate in this ceremony if like you said, all religions are equally important as long as they get the soul to the same place of understanding, so if I decide I want to go into the desert and communicate with god on my own and that’s enough for me, then isn’t that just as acceptable?
(I’m actually surprised and impressed at my level of articulation in Chinese at this point. Thank God the words are not failing me.)
The woman in gray becomes emphatic, saying that they’ve already called my name and started the ritual, that they can’t stop now. She says if I go through it, I will be officially recognized and that it’s okay to have your own spiritual beliefs, but doing this is like a back-up to make sure my soul will definitely be saved.
But what if I truly don’t feel like a back-up?, I ask. Even Jesus said the conversation between a person and God is a private conversation. What if I want to have a private conversation with God that has nothing to do with you? I think you should respect my personal right and boundaries.
They’re looking at me like I’m some dirty heathen trying to justify my depraved path, some ignorant soul drifting out to sea, and I’m getting angry because I’m someone who has pretty defined spiritual beliefs and a strong sense of my inner self that I’ve worked very hard to achieve. And even more so, my spiritual beliefs dictate that religion is a means to reach spirituality but not a necessity, that everyone’s spiritual self-discovery is different and as long as they get there to feel positively about themselves and their place in the world, it doesn’t matter. I believe that you can never force anyone to take your views because it defeats the purpose…you can guide and discuss, but it’s hypocritical and defeats the purpose to force any ideology onto a person. These people were so ignorant and hypocritical of everything they had just preached earlier that it was making me very angry. They were like that stringy-haired girl in my dream a few days before, pushing at me, when I wanted to be left alone to stand my own ground. I even remember telling myself not to fold my arms over my chest because it would be a defensive position, signifying weakness and fear. I stood strong, chest open, looking them in the eye, refusing to budge, just repeating – I’m not participating and you need to respect my decision.
They finally gave up. I looked at my uncle. Let’s go to the car, I said.
We make a break for the front door, and my grandmother has decided she’s had enough as well, saying she wants to go home. I go to get my bag and the kids’ shoes when there’s a sudden commotion outside. I run outside and my grandmother, who has a wicked short temper, is trying to get into the car but being stopped by the woman in gray. My grandmother’s yelling that we’ve been here for 2 hours and it’s late and wants to go home.
I ask what’s going on, also noting that while the gate around the driveway is open, there’s a white sedan blocking the opening so there’s actually no way out for the car. This is concerning. The woman in gray says that because I delayed the ceremony by not joining and making my grandmother wait so long, now my grandmother was tired. But she promised to get everything done quickly. She keeps trying to get a hold of my grandmother who’s flinging her hand off and yelling that she wants to go home right now and the woman in gray is yelling at me that I made my grandmother wait too long. It’s almost like this woman was determined to get punched.
I get between them and tell my grandmother to get in the car and tell the woman that my grandmother doesn’t want to do the ritual not because she’s tired but because spirituality is a personal matter and right now they are forcing something on her that she doesn’t agree with. My grandmother says, she’s right! That’s exactly it! And finally calms down.
The woman doesn’t seem to hear and repeats again that it’s my fault because I made my grandmother wait, and I was really achieving a new level of restraint in the fact that I’ve still been polite this whole time and I have suppressed the rage I am feeling towards this incredibly ignorant, stupid woman. The rest of the cult comes out, following the rest of my family and my mom’s apologizing to the guy’s wife that my grandmother’s back hurts and is just tired because it’s been a long day, which of course starts my grandmother screaming again from inside the car, Get me out of here! Someone start this car and get me out of here! I’m trying to calm her down by saying I know why she’s upset and I feel exactly the same, and yelling at the people to please move the car that’s blocking the driveway, when my mom pushes me aside and tells me to stop making things w
orse. Now I don’t know who I’m pissed at more–my mom or these idiots. The guy who owns the house is apologizing profusely and saying that this whole thing is just a misunderstanding, while my grandmother’s screaming, move your car! I want to go home NOW!
We manage to get everyone in the car as someone backs the white car out so we can back out. As we pull away, the cult people are apologizing through the window for the way things turn out and we’re like, it’s fine, it’s great, thanks for dinner, and I even add happy birthday to the guy who owns the house as I’m texting brian because this is just too unbelievable for me not to.
The whole car is silent until we get to the end of the street…make a stop at the stop sign…turn right.
Then I just can’t hold it in anymore.
WHAT THE FUCK??? WHAT THE FUCK??? NO SERIOUSLY, WHAT THE FUCK????
The kids start laughing uncontrollably and then everyone’s laughing.
My mom and aunt say that they had no idea the situation would turn into a whole ritual and I ask how the hell they know these people. He’s someone your uncle plays golf with, my mom says.
Brian calls and asks what the hell is going on and I recap it for him. His only comment:
“Was everybody kung fu fighting?”
Saturday
I talked with my friend Yuki, whom I’d worked with at Boom!Chicago in Amsterdam and is living out here. Even though we weren’t able to hook up, he recommended a Caribbean music festival on Saturday. My mom and I took a nice ferry ride to north Vancouver, ate some jerk chicken and listened to music while people-watching. A guy selling hats told us we were pretty. I told him, “It’s because we’re lesbians.”
My mom’s a very good sport.
The weather was incredible – blue skies and sunny, though it started to drizzle a bit despite the sun so we headed back.
We took a walk along the waterfront. Watched the cruise ships take off.
They left exactly at 5, my mom said.
They’re very efficient, I said.
Kids…remember this exchange. It’s important to the story later.
The night featured the most incredible thunderstorm that seemed to surround the horizon with lightning and electrified the sky in the most breathtaking combinations of colors and emotions. I’d never felt so magnetic and alive. As we headed back, I wanted to see what Vancouver’s nightlife was like but no one wanted to come with me, so I went by myself. Most places seemed to be clubs and I really just wanted some place low key to people watch, so I picked this Irish pub. There was a $14 cover which is a bit ridiculous, so I asked the woman to be honest about what kind of crowd it was. She told me that it was a mix…18 year olds to 40 year olds. Then I remembered the drinking age in Canada is 18. She let me check it out first and the funny thing was, it wasn’t a range of 18 to 40. It was really young kids, and the 40 year old men standing around in the corners watching them. Very little in-between. Bizarre. So I left. I decided to just walk home and see Vancouver on foot, my favorite way to explore a city anyway. I thought I knew where I was going (I thought it was a 1 mile straight shot down the main street to the street our place was on), but somehow I got really lost. I did find some interesting architecture, and followed this group of 3 kids, 2 of them holding up this girl who looked like Christina Ricci wasted out of her mind. She kept mumbling about how she didn’t know how she got this drunk (I don’t know. From…drinking…maybe?). It was funny, but her friend was so sweet, kept telling her she was okay and that they would get her home while basically carrying her. I wanted to tell the girl she was a really good friend, but sometimes I’m shy about initiating conversations, so I didn’t, but when the street we were walking on ended in a freeway on ramp, I sucked it up and asked them for directions. Turns out I’d walked in the exact opposite direction and was really far from where I was trying to go. The nice girl gave me directions to the train station while holding her drunk friend by the back of the dress as she stumbled around like a dog on a leash.
By the way, I’ve been meaning to tell you you’re a really great friend, I said to her. She’s very lucky to have you in her life.
Her smile momentarily lit the night.
We parted at the stop light and I headed down the street where I’d been directed, until at the next corner, I found myself standing by a tank. Yes, not “bank.” Tank. Just sitting on the sidewalk. Seriously. It’s 2am, I’m lost as fuck, the streets are nearly completely devoid of traffic or people, and I’m standing by a giant tank under the pale yellow streetlight, the lingering smells of a dramatic thunderstorm still in the air. Damn right I wanted to have a photo session. But the only person I could see was a homeless guy staggering up the street, and I definitely wasn’t brave enough ask him to take my picture while I scrambled up a tank, so I called my uncle who was waiting up to let me into the condo to tell him I was lost.
He offered to pick me up but didn’t know the cross streets, or where in the city to find a tank sitting on a sidewalk (to be honest, it didn’t sound like he really believed me).
Luckily at that moment, a taxi drove by and I flagged it down. Didn’t get any photos with the tank. In fact, couldn’t find it again when we were driving around in the car the next day. Hmmm…
Sunday.
My uncle wanted to drive to Richmond to go try this restaurant. He claimed Richmond was only 20 minutes away and we needed to board the boat between 3 and 5 so we could make it back in time. I remember having a really bad feeling about going to Richmond, but I held my tongue because when it comes to family, I don’t have seniority to question decisions.
So we go out there and my mom wants to get a massage instead of eating because her back hurts so we drop her off and go to a dim sum place. I noticed that it’s 2pm and I say that we should hurry, because we still have to go back to the condo and load the bags into the car, drop the car off at the car rental place and take the shuttle to the port.
On the way back, we hit traffic. It’s about 3:45 and we’re running a bit short on time. I’m very worried and I suggest a plan that would optimize our efficiency:
Since the car was in Edward’s name, he should drop us off at the condo and go straight to the car rental place, taking the 3 most inefficient people — my grandmother and the two little boys. Meanwhile, the remaining 4 of us would ask the deskman to call a taxi as soon as we walked into the building, giving us 5-10 minutes to get all the luggage downstairs. Then at least one of the two groups could get to the port asap and let the people know in case the other group was running late. I was pretty happy with the plan, especially considering I’m someone who is obsessive about multi-tasking and maximizing time efficiency, because I have a pathological anxiety over boredom or wasting time. Even my mom’s friend said that it was a really great plan. But then my mom (why does she always do this to me), says that we can’t split the kids up from their mom, which made no sense because they would be with their dad. I say that’s fine. She can go with Edward to the car rental, and the remaining 3 of us would take care of the luggage. But then my aunt says she needs to be there to pack up the luggage and make sure they get everything. I’m kind of irritated now and say, do you guys realize you’re taking my efficient plan and making it less efficient?
My mom quips, why do you always think you’re right?
And then I turned green, ripped through my shirt.
Seriously, I did get really mad because she never listens before she disagrees. So often, she disagrees without knowing what she’s even disagreeing with.
So they decide to have every
one go upstairs and take care of their own luggage, but the compromise was that we would still call a taxi as soon as we got there, and one group would go to the car rental and another would take a taxi.
The time was about 4pm.
The first group by taxi got there about 4:18. There was a woman who greeted us by saying, You must not want to get on the ship.
She was pretty much a bitch. We told her we thought we had until 5 and she said that’s when the boat leaves and the check-in closed at 4. She was just a thoroughly unhappy person, so as we got all the bags out of the car, she kept saying, you’re not getting on the boat while the other guys kept saying, don’t worry you’ll make it. I really wanted to turn around and ask her, are you really this miserable of a person? But I showed restraint because seriously, what assholes we are, out of over a thousand people, to be the very last ones on the boat.
Another woman with the port comes out and replaces the bitch lady, and she’s amazing. God bless her. We tell her there’s another group coming but they’re returning the car. I tell my mom to call Edward and tell him to turn around and just come straight to the port. It’s better to swallow an extra week of car rental fees than to miss the boat. The woman gets on her walkie talkie, and the end of the story is, we all got on. Though we’re still assholes.
The good news though, was that we missed the evacuation drill, which I remember thoroughly hating the last time I went on a cruise. Everyone was filing back in their life jackets as we were boarding. I asked why we thought boarding was between 3-5 and they said it was in the information packet the agency had given them and I asked to see it. It was in small print but it did say to board no later than 60 minutes prior to departure which was 5pm. Then I remembered just the day before, my mom had commented about how the cruise ships leave at exactly 5pm, and wondered why neither of us put 2 and 2 together. Maybe because it just makes a better story.
But we made it, set sail, and that’s all that matters.
Culmination – Cruise Report Part IV
Day 7, 8/1 – Inside Passage
Emerging from the murky shapes of a confused dream passage, I awaken to find I am a strong, proud knight standing in a forest alone, my armor gleaming, the world solid beneath my feet. I look up at the trees towering above me, yellow light streaming through the branches like the soft fingertips of God brushing the earth, and I feel so strong, so powerful, so invincible. It is a moment of absolute completion and joy. Suddenly, my legs tremble and begin to melt, and I feel my strength draining from my body. I look down to find a spear protruding out of my chest, having pierced me clean through from behind. I fall to my knees, filled with surprise and sorrow, the darkness swirling around me, inside me, collapsing all that I have ever known. In the fading light of my eyes, as the world drifts away, I hear a familiar whisper so close to my ear as to be inside me.
even the greatest warriors must fall…
*****
I wake up with a start, like having a bucket of ice water doused on me, my head crackling with electricity. I feel so loud, I can’t believe people in the room can’t hear me. I’m easily the first one up and out of bed. I head up to the mess hall and grab breakfast (all I eat for breakfast anymore are pineapple slices and muesli, despite claiming I’m going to try an omelet every day). I happen to see Tom’s parents so I sit down with them to chat, a conversation that soon deepens and widens as his mother opens up her world and her sorrow over her father’s death and her mother’s deterioration (his dad wasn’t particularly comfortable and kept changing the topic, but she would keep returning it to this place). I listened and felt within the spaces between her words, tasting her sorrow, more full and rich than metallic, and at the end, she gave me a really heartfelt hug and told me she liked me a lot and was very happy to have met me. She said she hoped to see me in the future, and wondered if I just didn’t like younger men. I laughed. Told her that Tom is an amazing person and will one day be a powerhouse who can do whatever he chooses with his life, but he’s at the beginning of his journey while I’m at a very specific place in mine. She gave me a big hug and we parted.
I’m walking around listening to my iPod set on random, when the song, Colors by Amos Lee comes on.
I find this song to be beautifully romantic with such delicate emotions. I’m thinking how I would love to see Justin Wade perform this song, and as the song is still playing in my ears and I’m thinking about him, he walks by. Synchronicity! I approach him and ask him if he knows this song, and he does but he doesn’t know how to play it. I say I figured he’d do an amazing cover, because his voice reminds me of Amos Lee.
Really?, he asks, skeptically. You think our styles are similar?
Hmm, I say. Not your styles, but something else. The way your voices have soul.
He smiles, asks me what my name is, and I introduce myself.
He says that with such a mixed crowd, he usually does songs that people know, but every once in a while, he’ll do more alternative music, like Decemberists or Death Cab for Cutie.
Which Death Cab song, I ask him.
I did I Will Follow You Into the Dark the other night, and two girls cried, he said.
I ask him if he’s ever been to the Hollywood Bowl in Los Angeles, and I tell him how I saw Death Cab there a few weeks ago, and it was unbelievable. The Hollywood Bowl itself on a Sunday night is a spiritual, transcendental experience, but that night, as the band played Transatlanticism, they set off fireworks to the most powerful part of the song.
It was one of the most uplifting, soul-shaking musical experiences of my life.
I asked him if he knew any Damien Rice, and he said he knows Delicate. I ask him if he’ll play it tonight, but he says that he hasn’t practiced it in a while. So I tell him, then you’d better get to your room and start practicing! I mention that the album O is kind of like a drug to me, that I actually had to cut myself off from listening to it because when I get into it, I end up staring out of windows, listening to the album for hours on end.
When I walk away, I realize I’m craving it now so on comes Damien Rice and O, and off goes my mind staring out at the sea.
I go to the Cova, which I completely associate with creativity and discovery now, to write. For the first time in months, I feel I’m ready to delve back into my book, to review where I’d gotten to, and see where I will be going. But first, my morning pages.
8/1 Free-Write Excerpts:
I don’t know about perfect love, but I know about great love. And it’s okay, because sometime, somewhere, we’ve had it so that’s why we are thankful for it now. I am feeling everything bittersweetly. I remember something my college mentor, m, wrote that has always stayed with me:
writing a poem about the girl should never be better than the girl, than being with the girl. don’t write the poem about the girl unless you’d really rather be with the girl.
If you’re not really here, then I don’t want to be either. If vision is the only validation, then most of my life isn’t real (* Black & Gold, Sam Sparro)
I am looking for a man with a good sense of timing. I’ve learned how to fight for things. Now I’m learning how to fight for the right things at the right time. Learn to crawl before you walk. Learn to love before you commit.
Your daddy, he’s the iron man. Battleship wrecked on dry land. Your mama she’s a bitter bride, she’ll never be satisfied…you know, and that’s not right. But don’t cry, you know the tears will do no good so dry your eyes. They told you life is hard, misery from the start, it’s dull, it’s slow, it’s painful. But I tell you life is sweet, in spite of the misery, there’s so much more…be grateful. Well who do you believe? Who will you listen to, who will it be? Because it’s high time that you decide…in your own mind… (*Life is Sweet, Natalie Merchant)
The weight of the world is something that feeds you, an animated force that believes in you. That your own darkness becomes a source of strength. Inspired poetry in my heart and now I have a fever to burn off. I only move in one direction, forward. If it makes it hard, keep breaking it down until you have something you can manage, but you have to keep moving forward. In the struggle of bittersweetness, in the space between comes truth. You never completely know anyone. Platonic love might be the purest form of love–no demands, each accepts the other for what they are. But it is not just platonic love that lays sole (soul?) claim to this.
Jesus did not turn water into wine. He turned pain into bittersweetness and that’s the best we can do and still be truthful.
There’s still a little bit of your taste, in my mouth. There’s still a little bit of you laced, with my doubt. It’s still a little hard to say, what’s going on… (*Cannonball, Damien Rice)
Only the truly strong know how to be truly gentle. Perfect love is inspiration. Great love is tragic. But true love is unconditional acceptance. In a bittersweet world, learn to love every taste and texture because it’s what makes life rich. Accept that who you are today is the sum of your decisions. Believe in a beautiful tomorrow but know where you are today. And beyond all, trust that you’ll find beauty as deeply inside yourself as in the horizon of an outstretched universe. Then…then is a place that doesn’t exist yet. We is a figurative that today can be just as wide as tomorrow. I don’t forget. But I do let go. What was lost was once found. What’s found was once lost. Take solace. Nothing of value is ever lost forever.
*****
I suddenly realize it’s the first day of August. I realize it’s time to celebrate because I’ve made it, and as I hoped I would be at this junction, I am not only back to my true self, I am stronger than ever.
Here’s some back story.
I’ve been striving for August. Earlier this year, as I was burning the pain of the end of my heaviest but most heartbreaking relationship through my system, when every day was a crawl on the path of returning to myself, I was hit by a sudden inspiration, an intuition, a knowledge, that everything would be upright again by August. That if I could put myself back together and be my whole self again by August, I would already know a man there who would make all this pain worthwhile. I knew this with a conviction I could not explain. Who or what he was, I wasn’t sure, but he was someone I’ve been very, very excited about since March, someone I needed to work my ass off in order to be in the right place for. In fact, when I finally opened up to my ex’s brother about the pain from the relationship in June, I mentioned it:
Dear Ian,
Thank you for your sentiment. It actually meant a lot to me, hearing your perspective. I’ve been pretty private about things, but I have to admit that relationship with your brother was one of the most difficult and painful experiences of my life, particularly because of how high our hopes were for it, because I did truly care about him and wanted the best for him, and because I had always been someone who believes that with enough love and desire to make things work, you can ultimately make things work.
But I look back and can’t help seeing how naive I was, and that things can only work out if both people are honest with each other and are genuinely working towards the same goal. Your brother is not a bad person but he’s a man of many secrets, many hidden rooms and rooms hidden inside hidden rooms, so many that I think he doesn’t even know all of them or at least, can not keep track of them. So at the end, no matter how deeply I tried to see, feel and understand him, to this day I still have absolutely no idea who he is, or if the person he wanted me to believe he was even existed.
This…this is a very, very sad knowledge to have to hold in your hands about someone you loved.
I believe at the end of the day, he is his own man defined by his own needs, desires and agenda, and the only decision available to me was how much I was willing to give up. In the end, I just wasn’t willing to give up on myself. It would have been disaster. But time heals all wounds no matter how deep, and the benefit is that I’m more able to appreciate people who are open and honest and just overall, kind-hearted, gentle people. Not saying these particular people and I are necessarily romantically fated, but I can tell that I’m definitely clearer on what is good for me, someone I can form a true cooperative partnership with who makes me feel safe and loved and whom I can trust. Someone I can give these exact positive, warm feelings back to and he’ll appreciate them. I think I probably needed to go through what I did in order to grow up more and be more clear on what’s good for me. Isn’t it strange how we don’t always want what’s good for us? I really think this understanding is a major part of growing up.
Meanwhile, life is relaxed, family is doing GREAT, I’m meeting so many new people so randomly, men and women, old and young…lots of connections and interesting conversations. One thing I’ve been excited about is I have had a strong feeling that I will be meeting someone extraordinary around August, but have no idea who, so that has been a source of intrigue. I’m patient though–won’t ever settle again for anyone who isn’t kind, open-hearted and genuinely wants to be with me, so whoever it is who touches my heart I trust will be a cool dude.
There had also been a spike in men circling around me in June and July, some pretty aggressively. Many seemed really nice and very interesting, potentially suitable partners, but I’d suddenly become very clear in my concept of “Not My Dude.” They were like last chance impulse buys, things to test
me when I’d already come so far. Could I be tempted to give up in the final lap? I felt sure that whatever happened would be revealed around August, but a relationship that was established in June or July would not be it. It wasn’t August yet…wait for August. I would know by August. Do not commit before August. So I have been patient in waiting, patient to not settle or give anything away until I had reached and passed through August. I figure I would have a better idea by then. And now, here I was.
*****
So sitting in the Cova Cafe, I’m going through my notebooks and I noticed I would look up sometimes and catch a lot of people staring at me. Maybe it was my level of intensity when I’m working. Maybe it was my giant pile of papers and notebooks strewn over the table. Maybe it was because my t-shirt said, wtf?
I didn’t let it distract me though. I had to get through this while the door was open and while I had the desire. I found myself staring out the window a lot at the rolling gray waves, and wondering how one could come to know the ocean best. By understanding every tiny drop, or by drinking in the entire expanse of its meaning.
One of my favorite ideas that I try to live my life by is,
Do not lose the forest for the trees.
But do not lose the trees for the forest.
I feel it probably goes the same for the ocean. And the sky. And everything else under the umbrella of life. All that exists, and all the spaces in between. It’s the parts as well as the whole as well as their relationships with each other that make up true meaning.
Suddenly I look up and Christian is standing at my table. He says hello. I love how polite and courteous he is. I like men who are gentlemen. We chat, and he says he’ll be free for tea at 3:30, and I tell him I’ll probably still be here.
My family comes by a few times, invites me to do things, but I’m busy. Mostly staring out the window at the water and listening to Damien Rice, but busy.
Christian comes by later and we have tea. Another one of our deep, easy conversations. One of the most glaring things I notice is how easy it is to communicate with him. I’d recently written about how I feel so often I’m translating my thoughts and feelings to people, building off analogies instead of just communicating. How I didn’t want to translate anymore because it was so tedious. I want to find someone I can just talk with, someone whose mind and soul is on my level, and we would naturally understand each other.
I completely felt this with him, and it astounded me in my realization of how lacking this clarity and ease of connection has been in my life thus far. The connection was so natural in breadth and depth–his mind is quick, responsive, expansive, intelligent, generous. He had mentioned before that his girlfriend felt he didn’t talk enough. I was astounded by the wealth of his mind. I knew that I was seeing just a very small sample of the man, but he had so many ideas and perspectives and wisdom, they were like fireflies burning so bright they could be seen illuminating the daylight. I felt thankful that he was being so expressive, so open and communicative, and I felt lucky in how it seemed he was also able to understand my thoughts, feelings and perspective.
My God, I thought to myself. I may have finally found my equal.
I remember a point when he was telling me he felt that he had been very lucky about his career progression and how he’d found the various jobs on his path, and something sparked in my head; I was suddenly dying to ask him if he considered himself a man with a good sense of timing. But I held my tongue. My head was buzzing. Suddenly, I had a thought.
An inkling.
Too bizarre to be true but still…
When’s your birthday, I ask him.
September, he says, a bit hesitantly.
September what?, I ask, feeling the top of my ears go numb.
8th, he says.
Now I am dizzy with numbness in my head, but I maintain a poker face, make a comment about fall birthdays, how since my birthday was always during summer break, I was always jealous of people who had birthdays during the school year.
But really, my mind was flying back to that night in that bar, that conversation I had with the hipster.
That night, I had actually been disappointed because I thought it had been a false lead, so bitter about why the universe would lead me to something bright but empty. The problem wasn’t the emptiness of the encounter with the Missed Connections guy. He was a distraction. A red herring.
The problem was I didn’t recognize the most important clues that were dropped that night, details I had originally been too lazy to write down when I’d originally posted about the experience, but which now I truly believe I was just withholding from myself somewhere in my subconscious to prevent me from being overly influenced. What I’m about to reveal, I swear, I am not making up.
So flashback, early July, the world ramping up for the full moon that would also feature a lunar eclipse. It was supposed to be magical, mystical…something intangible but powerful in the air. I’ve never been so drawn to a full moon as this one. That week I had been particularly restless as electricity was sparking in my brain to the point of making me uncomfortable, and I felt hot on the trail of something. My mouth would water inexplicably with the passing scent of whatever was on the edge of my psychic periphery, but which I could never quite grasp or pull into focus.
So I walk into The Other Room, which has been very good to me in bringing me connections with strangers that have been illuminating. I’ve been coming here a lot because it’s safe, comfortable, a great place to watch the sunset, and I have been working on being patient–that if I sit in one place long enough, the universe will bring the connections I need.
I had recently been hanging out with my trainer, this young guy with a very green outlook on life. Definitely not my dude, but a friend to pass the time with. He had asked me one day if I was Batman, because he noticed I never seem to sleep, I’m always off helping people and making strange and powerful connections at night, I’m good at appearing and disappearing, I always talk about how I use my powers of darkness for good, and I guess, because I live in what friends call the Tower of London (top floor of a secured building) and drive a black car. So I laughed at this idea that I have a secret superhero identity, but it is true that I have a strong urge to help people and work against true darkness (evil, negativity). I do most of my connecting at night. And I am a bit mysterious and magical. So it got me thinking about Batman, and how he had Alfred, a mentor and right-hand man who took care of Batman so he could go out and fully be Batman. Plus, I liked the idea of someone who could iron my clothes, prepare my meals and keep me on schedule. More than anything, I wanted someone who could be there for me when I come home, torn up and bloody with fighting life’s battles, and this person would be there to bring me back to myself, the private me that the world doesn’t get to touch, and help me return to strength.
So I’m sitting at the bar, thinking about how I could find a real life Alfred, a person who allows me to do what I do best (didn’t have to be a roman
tic connection), when this guy next to me starts talking to me. His name is Louc, aka the hipster, a French-Canadian graphic artist. I kind of don’t welcome him talking to me because I think he’s hitting on me, but the ice finally breaks when I mention that I find that I have important experiences because I’m alone, and he tells me he understands. Because, if we were both here with other people, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But this conversation could only happen because we are both here, by ourselves, looking for some kind of experience that could help us find the next step in our paths.
Cool, I think. Maybe we can talk, so thus begins a 3 hour conversation.
I’ve already written a bit about what the night meant for him, but the thing I left out was that after I helped him feel understood and gave him hope of finding someone amazing he could spend the rest of his life with, he turned around and said he wanted to help me as well. He asked the bartender for something to write on and got a server’s notepad. He asked me what I was looking for and I told him about this idea I’d been thinking about…having an Alfred to take care of me. We went through it, and he told me that I probably could find a guy who would take care of me, my organization, my basic emotional needs, etc., but this man would suffer, because he would always want to be my partner, and he would probably secretly be deeply in love me, but I would never see him as a partner. He said what I want is a partner I consider an equal. That Alfred would never work for me because I would never allow someone to serve me but suffer.
It’s true. I would never want someone to stand by me, give me things of great value but suffer for what I can not give him in return. But Louc had kind of presented it as an either/or, and I wondered if it was possible to find someone dynamic I could consider as a partner and an equal, but who could also help me take care of the smaller but necessary details of life. The basic needs. The simple pleasures. What kind of person would this be? What kind of person……….
Then I got a spark. A symbol. Alfred, the eternal mentor/servant/caretaker/healer, was like the exact archetype embodied by the symbol, Virgo. Maybe I was looking for a very dynamic Virgo.
And then I remembered something else…prophecy.
Years ago, I was told by a very spiritual woman that she felt my eventual life partner would be an Earth sign. I was 21 years old and at the time, I found Earth signs to be very boring, or difficult to get along with because we had nothing in common. My Gemini world is one of constant change, ideas, adventure, connections. I couldn’t stand the idea of being tied down. I never saw myself settling down and getting married, let alone willingly getting trapped by the mundane. Earth signs, to me, were terrestrial people who sat on the ground like lumps, obsessing over meaningless details. I couldn’t possibly see what they and I could have in common.
But over the years, as I’ve gotten to know myself better, I realized that at heart, I am a serious and practical person. I do have my Mars in Virgo which means I feel most comfortable when things have been practically considered and plans are carried out with foresight and efficiency. I like making lists. I like things to be in order. I like being spontaneous, but not without direction. But still, I couldn’t imagine being compatible with an Earth Sign–I found the Capricorns I knew to be too cautious and out of touch with deeper emotions, Tauruses a lot of fun but close-minded, and Virgos…well…I didn’t think I’d met many Virgos. I was always intimidated by the idea of them because they’re known to be very detail-oriented to the point of being critical, and I hate being taken apart and criticized (my grandmother is a Virgo and can be a bit of a critical terrorist). I don’t want people to forget about my forest because they’re too busy criticizing my trees!
So I’ve walked through life, but that prophecy has always been in the background, firmly ignored of course. Yet even when I learned how to use the symbols within tarot cards to help me organize and understand the abstract impressions I get in my mindspace when I’m alone at night, I would always find that there was an Earth Man in the distance. Sometimes I would gauge whether I’m on or off my path by if this symbol was moving further or closer.
But to be honest, I take these things with a grain of salt. As much as my mind is open and able to grasp the abstract and mystical, and as much as I’ve experienced some highly unusual and unexplainable things in my life, I’m still very practical and prefer hard, tangible evidence before I fully trust something enough to believe in it. Or at least, I like having corroboration from another person who can swear they experienced the same thing.
So as we sat at the bar and we discussed this Alfred business, I wondered…maybe ultimately, I really am looking for a Virgo. Maybe that’s why I haven’t really crossed paths with any… perhaps because I’ve never been open to it. But now I’m in more of a place to appreciate their qualities.
We moved on to other topics when he asked me what I was looking for. He said he had a feeling that my being in an equal partnership with someone who is on my mental and spiritual level is very important. That when I find this person that I’m looking for as a partner, children would suddenly become very important to me as well. I told him that I wasn’t highly motivated by the idea of having children, because I only wanted to have them in the right situation with the right person. But if I never did, I could accept that because sometimes I feel that I’m out helping and guiding so many people, that if I never have children of my own, there will still be plenty of people in this world that I can give that nurturing energy to. But he said it would be different, because when I have my own children, I will be able to take all of my wisdom and shape them into extraordinary people, and because my partner will also be someone of extraordinary wisdom (because this is the only kind of person I would accept as an equal), our children would probably have the chance to be very special and influential to the world.
It made sense to me. It almost seemed too good to be anything but a wish or dream, but I liked the idea of it.
Somehow we got on number theory and I told him about how I see numbers (energetically dimensionally), and how they sometimes guide me in my decisions. How I’m a 9 (all the numbers of my birthday added together then collapsed: 6141978=36, 3+6=9), and how 9 is a number that I feel is the culmination of human experience and wisdom, that the outlook of someone who is a 9 will be always humanitarian…to get people to rise towards their most humane potential and strive for a higher level of awareness. Plus, if I’m anywhere around a craps table, 9 comes up a lot.
I told him how 9 is the only number where if you multiply any number with it, it turns back into 9 (ie 9×2=18, 1+8=9. 9 x52 = 468=4+6+8, 18=9). I also say that when you add any number to 9, it turns it back into that number (9+5= 14, 1+4=5). So I had a theory that 9 is both a mirror and a collective embodiment of the entire numerical spectrum of energy. That as soon as I realized the mathematical properties of this number, I realized how it correlated to my life and my abilities, how I have an ability to mirror people so they project their inner selves onto me to be able to understand themselves; I believe that’s why so many people feel that I’m “kindred.” They are seeing their own reflection in me.
It also correlates with how I seem to be able to take in other people’s energy and embody their traits, like by taking in their true selves, perspectives, feelings, ideas and experiences, I am able to more fully realize the spectrum of human perspective a
nd human experience, becoming more a collective being holding a greater understanding of the world. That the more people I meet, the more people who I have dynamic interactions with, it adds to me, so I find greater and deeper ways within myself to relate to others. because I’ve collected not just the sum of who I am, but I’ve also incorporated the knowledge that comes from the sum of others. I relate this with how 9 multiplied with anything turns back into 9. I travel the reaches of the universe through others, going so far just to return to myself, but now possessing a deeper knowledge than before I left this exact point.
He wants to know what he is. He gives me his birthday and I find that he’s an 11 (11 and 22 are the only two numbers that don’t collapse because they’re ideals). I say, wow, 11 is a good number; it’s the next number up from 9. 11 is a leader of men, someone who brings new ideas into this world. I tell him how I’ve been wondering lately, if I’m looking for an 11 to help lead me to my next step (just another one of those ideas that sprouted in my head sometime over the last few months for no discernible reason, and just seemed to linger persistently).
What do you think I’m doing right now, filling up this notepad for you?!?, he asked with a smirk. I laughed. True, I said. You’ve been beyond helpful to me with your insight tonight, and I appreciate it.
We continued our discussion, and I imagine that anyone listening in would have thought it quite unusual, but it seemed to make absolute sense to us in that moment. He thought September, 2009 would be an interesting month for me because of how important 9’s are to me, and told me to really think about how to manifest my money goals that month to lay down the groundwork for the next stage of my path. He said to look out for 9/9/2009 in particular, which would be a 29 day, always a magical day for me.
By the end of the night, we’d exhausted the notepad.
It was a beautiful connection, a beautiful night. A few minutes later, in walked Missed Connections guy and this entire conversation took a backseat in my mind, but before Louc bade me farewell that night, one of the last things he said to me was, “Keep a look out for 11’s!”
*****
And now, back on the cruise ship, here I was talking to a dynamic Virgo. And here we are on a boat called the Mercury, which is the ruling planet of only two signs–Gemini and Virgo. And what first caught my attention about him, but of course…the number 11 he was wearing on his back.
hahaha.
My t-shirt said it all.
WTF?
My brain has to file it away. My mind feels just a push away from being blown, and I do NOT want to start suddenly babbling like a lunatic about numbers and astrology and French-Canadians and fate. Not to a guy with a girlfriend whom I technically just met. So I bite my tongue and continue having a pleasant, civilized conversation like the sane, totally normal person I know I’m capable of being.
Christian mentions that there will be a magician performing tonight, and that the act will feature a segment about time. He thinks I might really enjoy it because of the way we talk about time, and wants to know what I think. We actually spend a bit of time talking about the show, and I’m definitely enthusiastic about it. When we part, he mentions again that I should really catch the part about time that the magician does, and to tell him what I think about it.
I go up to the Sky Deck, taking pictures. We’re going through the Inner Passage, and the water and the surrounding mountains are beautiful. Catch a couple of Orcas leaping out of the water. Stunning.
*****
The show. The first act is this acrobatic couple performing a piece that’s like Cirque du S’oleil. While the performance is pretty amazing, I’m more amazed by the song they’d chosen:
Ludovico Einaudi’s Primavera.
I can’t believe it. This day is killing me.
Now, maybe it takes another writer to understand this, but I will try to explain anyway.
My creative inspiration requires energy. Mood. Anima. A lot of times when I’m writing, if I find music that is inspirational, I will loop it in the background and it becomes ingrained in the soul of the work, inspiring it, feeding it. I remember the day Brian introduced me to Einaudi’s album Divenire and suddenly, it was all I could listen to, and suddenly, I was writing again.
I remember hours upon hours upon hours of writing with this album coming through my earphones, so much a part of my inner mindspace and thoughts, that it almost seemed to reside inside me.
Now, to hear this piece of music I’d associated with being inside me played in the world outside, this music that had inspired me as I wrote a book about strangers and chance encounters and magic being shared with a room full of people, just…blew me away.
It was like being turned inside out, and I felt the entire room magnetize as the line between what was inside me and outside of me suddenly become fuzzy.
The magician was next. He was a young guy with great energy. Had an entertaining and funny act, nothing mindblowing but definitely enjoyable. At the end of his set, he gets serious and says he wants to talk about time.
My heart speeds up. I need to pay attention. He takes out a piece of paper in the form of a circle, like a clock face, with 4 lines drawn at the 3, 6, 9, 12 marks.
He talks about the nature of time. How if we enjoyed the show, then the time went by quickly. But if we didn’t enjoy the show, time went by slowly. How we can waste time, give away time, have spare time, etc.
Meanwhile, as he says these things, he’s ripping off pieces of the clock face.
He tells the story of his aunt who always supported his doing magic, but she died of breast cancer before she could see his first performance.
He says that on any gravestone, you’ll find two numbers–the date you came into this world, the date you leave. But what’s even more important than the numbers, is this.
He rips off a piece of the clock and holds it up. It’s one of the black lines, held horizontally.
This dash that separates the numbers, he says, this is your life. This dash represents how you lived your life. He remembers something his mother said, about how it’s not the money we make that’s important in life, but how we invest our time. That life is short, and we don’t have much time, so we have to make the most of it.
Then he takes out a fan from his pocket and fans under his hand. The folded piece of paper that had previously been held there whirlwinds into a snowstorm of confetti, glimmering off the stage lights. It was powerful and poignant. It was the truth.
At the end of the show, the house lights came on and people started exiting. I saw Christian at the top of the stairs, and I figured I could have gone up and told him what I thought about the “time” piece, but for some reason, I felt an urgency to go pack my bag to prepare for disembarking the next morning, so I ran out the other entrance and went back to the room to pack.
*****
Last dinner. We were late because my mom and I were out on the deck taking pictures with the sunset. O’Neil, my favorite drinks server, comes by and
offers to take a picture for us. I also get a picture with him.
Dinner’s good, and there’s a little parting ceremony as they introduce the restaurant staff, and the servers come out with Baked Alaska’s. We’re nearing the end of the trip, and in a few days, I will return to LA and the rest of my family will remain in the bay area. This is the closing of the short but amazing time I’ve gotten to spend with my cousins, so I bring it down to a serious moment for Edison and Jonathan, telling them, “I want you to know that I’m always gonna be there for you. So whenever you get depressed or mad, you just remember your cousin Julia, and how when we get together again we’re going to–” (and taking from Notorious B.I.G.’s “Party and Bullshit”) I tell them we’re gonna “Party…and eat cake. And party. And eat cake.” They start laughing so hard and the rest of the night features them rapping about partying and eating cake. I wanted to leave them with a happy memory of me.
My camera battery inexplicably goes from 2/3rds full to flashing red, so I decide to run up to the room to charge it for a few minutes. Before I go, Edison, who had been playing a game on his dad’s iPhone, suddenly says, “Julia, you can have this.”
I look up and he’s thrusting a piece of paper across the table at me. I’m not thinking much, so I take it and open it up.
What’s this, I ask.
And then I see.
It’s the DASH from the magician’s clock.
My hands and mind go numb.
Where did you get this, I ask him.
The man gave it to us, he said.
Where did you get this, I ask again.
The man gave it to us, he said again.
I asked him again with the same answer, like I thought maybe I wasn’t hearing him correctly, that I wasn’t holding what I thought I was holding in my hand. That suddenly, I was amidst an elaborate hallucination.
Why are you giving it to me, I ask.
He shrugs. I don’t want it anymore, he said.
I’m thinking about the trail of coincidence that led to this piece of paper being in my hand. It started with Christian mentioning that I had to catch the show, noting in particular that the piece about “time” would be most interesting to me. We had spent some time in conversation about it, and it was the last thing he said to me when we parted, to make sure to catch the “time” piece and to let him know what I thought. I remember thinking that the most interesting thing about the piece was of course, the dash, how poetic and poignant of a symbol it was to denote the expanse of life between the point a person enters the world, and the point a person leaves. I remember that’s what I would have told him, if I hadn’t been hit with a sudden urge to avoid him and run out of the theater to go pack my bag.
Then I think about how, in a room of hundreds, how Edison had ended up with this piece of paper. I remember I had seen them come into the show late, and I had saved them seats but I waved and couldn’t get their attention. If they had seen me, they wouldn’t have been in the position to pick this up.
Then I think about how it had ended up in my hands. You give any trivial object to a child, it can go anywhere–in their pockets, left someplace random, in the garbage, to one of their parents who puts it away carelessly or throws it away. Yet he had held on to it, all through dinner, and rather than putting it down or giving it to someone closer (his mom, my mom, his brother), he reaches across the table and gives it to me. In fact, I would later ask his father about this piece of paper, and he would tell me it was given to him as “spare time” by the magician, that they had made several efforts after the show to get him to throw it away but he wouldn’t, clinging to it like it was a part of him he wasn’t ready to let go of yet.
I’m blown away. Either I am suffering from a brain tumor, or this day is building up real evidence of magic.
I know that Christian and I have been talking a lot about the direction of his life, his next step, etc., and I figure, since he was the one who pushed me to pay attention to this piece on time, this must be a gift from the universe to him to let him know that the universe was watching and had him in its hands.
So I put it in my pocket, and I’m going up to the room to charge my camera, when as I’m running out the door, I see…Christian. Whom I’ve never seen in the restaurant, but he was pretty much the exact person I wanted to talk to. But he was talking with someone, so I just breezed by and said that I had something for him, and ran out.
He was still there when I came back. I asked him if he was going up to the dance club later for the farewell party, and he said he would stop by.
I skipped dessert and headed out to watch Justin Wade who was playing in the Cova, because I hoped he would play Delicate.
I listened for a while, and he was good, but I had promised to meet up with my family at the dance club before 11 and dance with my cousins (they kick out anyone under 18 after 11pm). I went up but they weren’t there. In fact, there was no one on the dance floor. I went back downstairs, and found that Tom and the girls had shown up and were at one of the tables. I stopped to talk to them. I wondered how Tom was doing with Sarah, but I couldn’t tell.
Just before 11 I headed back up to the dance club again, and this time, my mom and aunt were there. I tried to dance with them a bit but the music was really bad, so I told them I was going to go downstairs. I preferred the acoustic music anyway, to be honest.
As I’m heading downstairs, I’m wondering if I should call Christian to tell him that I would be in the Cova instead. I thought about it, and I knew that we hadn’t exactly made plans to meet up, and plus, I felt weird calling because he’s technically at work. So I get off the elevator and I’m debating, and I figure, wouldn’t it be easier if I just ran into him. And around the corner…there he is, walking towards me. Unbelievable.
I was just coming to look for you, he said.
I’m laughing and tell him I was just thinking about running into him when it happened. It seems the perfect circumstance, the perfect timing, the perfect culmination of a storm of evidence to ask him…
“Christian, what do you think about fate?”
What do I think about fate, he replies. Well, I think there are many things in life that are coincidences that don’t mean anything, but then I think there are some things that happen, that are just too unusual to just be coincidence. That there has to be something else. Like you and I being here at this moment and connecting the way we did. So to answer your question…I do believe in fate.
Man, I’m so happy. That was exactly what I was hoping he would say. That was exactly how I felt, that in this moment, in this place, there was no one else I should be sharing this magic with but him.
Big grin on my face, so excited I can barely talk, I ask him what he thought about the piece in the show about time.
He said that he thought it was very true and poetic. That life is short, so you have to take risks, you have to go for the things you want. And that his favorite part about it was how he used that dash to represent our lives.
The dash, huh? It’s funny that you say that because…
I pull out the piece of paper with that one, simple slash of black.
His face lights up and he laughs that otherworldly laugh of his that fills my well with happiness and stirs poetry in my heart. And looking into his eyes, through our laughter, I am suddenly so conscious, so aware, so connected to him in the right here and now, that for maybe the first time in my life, I am completely conscious of having found a treasure that must be absolutely real because there is someone else who believes
in it as well.
I have finally found someone who can see the rainbow.
Where did you get this!, he asks.
My cousin gave it to me!
Then I tell him the story.
We end up sitting down in the Cova, but not before I tried haggling with Justin to play Delicate. He still says he hasn’t played it in a while and is convinced he’s gonna butcher it, but I felt like considering what was happening today, between my insides and the outside world, that if he would just attempt it, good things would happen. I could feel it. My happiness was spilling out into the world, and magic was happening.
We sat down and talked; I was still so happy and giddy that I blamed it on the wine. But really, it was life. This moment. This proof of something…more…woven within the fabric of reality. The fact that Christian was here. The fact that I have never, ever met anyone like him, anyone I truly felt was my equal. The fact that upon meeting him, the rainbow appeared, and he could see it.
He mentioned that he’d been busy taking pictures with guests and noticed I’d never taken a picture with him. I told him that the day we’d first really talked, he’d mentioned so many people were taking pictures of him and he didn’t know where these pictures go, that maybe he didn’t feel comfortable having his picture taken, so I wanted to respect that. He laughed and said he wasn’t an Aborigine. He told me that in a few days I was going to wake up and wonder if meeting him had been a dream, and I wouldn’t know because I didn’t have any pictures.
I laugh, because this is the same thing I’m always saying to people I randomly connect with. You’ll probably wake up tomorrow and wonder if meeting me was just a dream…
He had mentioned he had his own ways of remembering me. It made me wonder how we would remember each other. How much of it we would believe.
We talked long into the night again, but somewhere along the way, there were moments where we seemed to lose the path. All that truth that had previously come so easily, now became a struggle, tentative, as the corners of the room began filling with doubt.
Who is this man? What is this? Is any of this real, or has this all been some kind of joke, a trick of my mind where I’m reading reality from a completely insane, fantastical, skewed point of view? What if I’m hallucinating and not even here?
I’m suddenly terrified that I’ve made this entire connection up in my head. Above me, I hear cracks in the dome encompassing my world, fissures upon fissures running rivers and branches along the surface of all that I know and believe, threatening to crumble over me, taking with it, everything I thought to be true. Oh, this better not be another joke on me.
But if I actually am sane and still rooted to reality, if this moment, and all the things that have led up to it are indeed real, if this connection is real, then what the hell were we supposed to do with it? We’ve each built very real lives in our own worlds. Real responsibilities. Do we even really know each other, outside of this special, magical connection, this connection that the universe seemed to be having so much fun with?
How can such a beautiful thing survive in an imagination-less world that would never allow it? Because all of it is true, isn’t it? The simultaneous existence of magic, and the equally stunning reality of life.
We could feel it. We were good for each other, we brought out happiness and serenity within each other, such a level of mutual positive regard and acceptance. Such understanding, strength, comfort and beauty. Such a simple, easy connection that unlocked big, powerful things, things we’ve dreamed of but were uncertain in an uncompromising existence…and yet…what is potential but something that may or may not exist but in a place far away from the world in which you presently live? Somewhere, we each had built our own worlds. Here, we have co-created a dream. A beautiful dream witnessed simultaneously by two extraordinary people with their eyes wide open, but still, a dream. Because the world is still rooted by reality. And what fools try to bring the fantastical treasures of one world into the cold, stark reality of another?
It felt impossible.
As I listened into the spaces in between, I asked not, what is this, but, what now.
And in the middle of everything, one word emerged, a voice deep inside whispering, faintly at first, then louder. One word.
Undeniable in its presence.
Singular in its resonance.
Surfacing against the stark white napkin laying on the table next to those long, beautiful fingers of the man, just one word in thick, black, oily script:
Drop.
Merde.
I’m being ordered to let go.
He asked for my blog address, and I gave it to him, after writing a little farewell message. Until our paths cross again when we least expect it…
The room was heavy with the hearts of giants.
He said, you would be a nice person to sit on a sofa and watch a movie with.
She thought, you would be a nice person to slow dance by candlelight with.
Oh, the things we want but can not say.
The unspoken is tragedy. We have such potential for happiness together, but we live in a world that would never allow it.
Is it fate that crosses two people from completely different worlds on a path? Is it fate that also leads us away? Or does fate bring us together, and life tear us apart? Where does free will play into the equation, the drive of the human heart, the boundless soul, when it recognizes something of great value, something it once lost long ago in a distance memory, and reaches with all its might to hang on?
Fate, you tricky little fucker. I want to throttle you.
I ponder that if we lived in the same city, we would probably be the kind of people who meet and become instant best friends. He says that he would have to be gay to be friends with me.
Do you think men and women can’t be friends?, I ask.
They can, he says carefully…but if we lived in the same city and met, I would probably fall for you, and that would be very complicated given my situation, he says.
Like he hasn’t already fallen, I think. I’m pretty sure we both hit our heads on the way down.
It got late again, and it was getting close to having to say goodbye. I remember the espresso machine kept making intermittent loud noises, like that sound Jim Carrey makes in Dumb and Dumber when he asks people if they want to hear the most annoying sound in the world. That rude fucking bastard. He just wouldn’t let us talk.
Finally, it was time. My heart was breaking, but my mind must not know. It must soldier on, maintain the surface, present a ship that’s not sinking slowly back into the murk. Be strong for him. Be strong for me. It must make the leap into something more abstract and noble, because on a cosmic level, on a spiritual level…holy hell! On a fucking moral level, this was the right thing to do. We were playing with something powerful here, and the universe wanted to know what we would do with it, when there was really only one thing we could do, being the kind of people we are.
I was suddenly hit with an epiphany. It’s all in the contradictions. That the greatest, most powerful things in life, in the universe, in existence, are the mos
t simple, the most pure, the most honest, straightforward truths. The beauty of naked connections. That love is so big, so massive, that it transcends all of time and space, the entire giant realm of possibility and infinity, just to be here, in the right now, in this very moment and place, this tiny seed connecting two flawed and fallible human beings trying to make their way through a complicated life like all the other billions… but regardless of whether it makes sense, it is here. And this is all that matters.
As with the knight in my dream, the realization fell me to my knees.
I would give it all up, I realized. All this lofty seeking, the search for God and meaning, the need to find the ends of the universe. I would give it all up, give up all of this, just for the simple pleasure of being with someone kind and decent with whom I could live a simple, happy life.
And that was the truth.
I asked him if I would see him the next day, and he said he didn’t know, because we would be disembarking early in the morning. We hug, and it is a deep, soulful hug, and in that moment, in the space between all that is here and all that has brought us to this exact place in each other’s arms, I caught a glimpse of it:
Ouroboros.
The snake eating its own tail.
hello goodbye
in one breath
to the one person I have ever met in my life who made me feel complete.
through time and space
past present future
my equal.
He had asked me where he stood in my life, of the many characters I have met in my adventures, and I told him, he was in my Top 5.
This has been the only time I have ever lied to him.
He had been so serious and intent on building a wall of boundaries that I didn’t want to scare him, didn’t want to tell him what I knew in the deepest parts of me to be true.
He was the most important character of my story up to this point.
But I walked away from the hug, walked away from the man, because there’s a place and a time to find what’s yours, but for whatever reason, this wasn’t it. The timing wasn’t right. And we are people of good timing.
It was painful, letting go, taking so much strength and restraint to break that hug, respect the walls when I wanted to fall into it, feel the beating heart of this incredible stranger who had given me proof of life, proof of magic, proof that there can be someone out there who is my equal and can see the incredible beauty and synchronicities of the universe beyond the mundane. Who can make me feel so understood, so comfortable, so me, giving me the same kind of understanding and peace that I have found I can give others.
Somewhere, a sword was easily pulled from the stone, and what I was left with was an utter belief in the simple truth of happiness.
Bittersweet.
As the greatest love affairs are.
*****
The next morning was brutal. I woke up early again on 2 hours of sleep, nothing feeling real anymore, not even the feel of my body or my own reflection in the mirror. We had to go to the theater to wait for our group to be called to disembark, so I got there early. My iPod wouldn’t turn on. I don’t know why, it was fully charged. I was sitting there with my head in my hands when I hear a loud, happy voice.
“Judia!!!”
I look up and it’s my cousin Jonathan, that little ray of devilish sunshine bounding down the walkway, the pinwheel I got him for his birthday in hand. He’s wearing an over-sized blue t-shirt sporting a ferociously growling wolf that contradicts the soft pureness of the boy’s heart–so unconditional and wide open. I smile and open my arms, and he immediately crawls into my lap as though it had always belonged to him. I kiss the top of his head, inhaling the scent of youth and innocence.
“We’re going home today!,” he says.
“Yes we are,” I say.
“Judia,” he says, happily, as he rests his head against my chest.
“Do you love me, Jonathan?” I whisper. I realize as I ask this, I’ve never asked him this before. He raises his head, ponders his answer, then breaks out in that trademark smile that will some day break hearts with the sheer truth of its radiance.
“I love you very much,” he says as he gives me a big wet kiss on the cheek, filling my eyes with tears. This love. This is a love I can count on.
*****
They call our group and we all line up to disembark. Jonathan wants to ride on my back so I hunch down and he climbs on. As we near the opening to the gangway, I’m surprised to see Christian near the front of the line. My chest simultaneously fills with joy and heaviness.
As we approach, I ask him if he’s here to say goodbye and he says he is. I reach out my hand and we shake, but he gives me a hug as well. He walks us down the gangway, all the way to customs, and this long goodbye is perhaps the most profound show of mutual restraint that no one will ever know. We hug again and part, saying goodbye. I turn and watch him walk away, through clenched teeth. My heart unravels from its cradle in my chest. Slides to the ground. Shatters.
My family has watched the whole farewell, though they pretend they haven’t. All week, they have been aware of something going on, but I’ve offered very little about it, and they haven’t had the guts to pry. I’ve been quite surprised and proud of their respect for my privacy. We’re riding back to my uncle’s condo in Vancouver, the place where this journey began so long ago, so far away in time that it seems a part of another life. I’m looking out the window, mind blank, staring in silence.
Suddenly, my uncle chuckles.
“You’ll see each other again,” he says. I look up. He looks like a laughing Buddha sometimes, with his round, smooth face and his whimsical smiles.
“How do you know?” I ask him.
“Seriously?” he asks.
“How could you not?”
I don’t say anything, but I’m laughing inside.
Life. What can you do?
My iPod has decided it wants to be functional again. I put on the song that most fits the moment, fold my arms over my chest and watch the scenes of the city fly by at the speed of a new morning’s light as I slowly disappear.
doc just called and said i need shoulder surgery. i knew it was coming. just sad because i’m in the best shape of my life and my basketball game has gone to a new level the last couple of weeks. now, i just have to focus on the positive (i’ll be able to throw! god, i’ve missed that feeling), and that this is just another opportunity to prove my resilience and toughness, and to get myself back in even better shape than i ever have before.
i hope the scars are small. i rather like my arms and shoulders as is.
11 hours of sleep last night. peaceful, comforting dreams of being with my family on vacation. us bonding together. us against the others. this is a good sign.
in my dream last night we were at some kind of carnival food court and in some areas, there were vampires but i wasn’t afraid of them. i walk amongst them, i speak their language. my soul is as old as they, but my needs are different. so in this place, i felt safe.
i walked up to a crowded booth, and waited. behind me, this skinny, impatient girl with stringy brown hair kept pushing at my back, pushing her crotch onto me and i hate it when girls do that. why do straight girls sexually harass me? this happens all the time in real life. so she kept pushing me, and i wanted to turn around and shove her to the ground because i knew that i was stronger than her, and more pointedly, i’m more ferocious. you ever see me rip off my mask and show what i am behind? if the world only knew the level of restraint i exercise, because force is not the way, especially when you know you’re stronger, deeper, more energetic than others. so finally, i pushed back, not hard enough to push her down, but enough to hold my ground and not let her move me. and she wasn’t strong enough to overcome me and i could feel her pushing and becoming frustrated. while this was going on, i didn’t have an expression and remained calm, zen, even though i was fuming inside. i think somehow the woman behind the counter noticed, and she leaned in and whispered, “There are a lot of idiots in this world,” and told that girl to get out of line, that she wouldn’t be served.
that was a good feeling. the situation was handled well. i earned the woman’s respect.
in the end, i think that woman behind the counter was another of the old breed. the ones who are both human and something older, wiser, tying the past, present and future together in one space. she recognized me and i recognized her and it was a peaceful feeling.
when i woke up, i felt better than i have in a while. i felt the dream wanted to tell me that i’m not alone. that our time will come.
i decided to search my blog for the word “space” to find what clues Past Julia left for me.
i found this: http://3amwanderer.blogspot.com/2004/07/paradox-potential-i-was-sitting-and.html
first of all, why do i feel like i was smarter in the past? 2004 was a smart year.
secondly, how the hell did i forget that i had already learned not to ask for a soulmate? then perhaps most of 2008’s debacle could have been avoided. but then i reread my post about that fateful day last year. i quote myself:
“but i also remember the one word that resoundedly landed in my head.
Crap.”
so how was it, i knew that very day this guy was “not my dude,” that this wasn’t where i was supposed to be, but then i forgot? i didn’t trust my first instincts. the same as the fact i dated a guy for 2 1/2 years that i didn’t want to date in the first place. but when i look back in hindsight, i did “need” those experiences. i did grow, and learn, and become a better version of myself than i had been before those experiences, as painful as they were and as hard as they make my eyes roll these days. so what does that mean? trust first instincts and avoid these fated but devastating interactions? or bite the bullet and go through them?
lately i’ve been really good about listening to that voice in my head that says, “not your dude,” or “crap.” people try to convince me. i had one guy alternate between writing me long love letters about how we were meant to be and make each other strong, but i’m just scared, and being angry at me for being so unwilling to “try.” but i know he’s not my dude because i recognize the initial feelings as one that says “this isn’t it.” so i kinda want to wait for the feeling that tells me, “hmmm…maybe” instead of “Crap.” but if i’m disciplined enough not to bite at bait, will i get what i’m ultimately searching for? or do i have to go through the crap and learn before i get it?
my gut tells me i’ve been through the crap. my gut tells me to wait.
but then why do i feel so bad when i can’t let guys who are not my dude get close? maybe that’s it. maybe i have to be okay with not giving to everyone who asks, to prove that the one i finally give to is the one i really want to give to because it’s right, not because on some level, i just felt obligated.
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About Me:
experimental stream of consciousness writer who may or may not be a liar. sanest person you've ever met but i'll look you in the eyes like a computer eating magnets. what i don't know about you, i'll make up. and you'll still love me because you don't know where i went that moment you swore i disappeared. my moods chase the seasons and i hear it makes an interesting read. i like smelling good.