It’s been a while since I’ve updated this site. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say, though. I do. I have a lot to say. I just haven’t spent any time actually saying it.
So I’ll write a quick update for today. Here are a few things I’ve been thinking about lately:
-Books and the value of reading them
-What I wanted to be when I was little (a horse trainer)
-What I want to be now (tbd)
-What it really means to be alive (which could be construed as me
thinking about death some more)
-Art (and the art of living)
-Puerto Rico and the delicate balance of resources that can shift the
whole game… and the fact that the game is always over too soon (more death)
So. On the subject of death. My own death is inevitable. “How imminent?” No idea. But someday, I will cease to breathe, and my skin will turn cold and I will stop punishing people with my crankiness and my enigmatic humor. So before that happens, what should I make sure I don’t miss out on? I’d like to live in Germany someday. Weird thing to think about, when you start thinking about death… how much you want to live in Germany. But there it is…
On the subject of work. Work is ongoing. My mind is sunk down in the middle like a mattress that’s been slept on by a person that overtaxed the never-very-good springs inside. It’s struggling under the load of too many different tasks, priorities, things that need to be done, and I can’t seem to actually sink deeply enough into any one of them to accomplish anything useful. I’m really struggling right now. Which is weird. Because I’m quite sure that I have never been more valuable (as an employee) than I am now, and yet at the same time, I have never felt so useless. Getting under the surface of things is hard — and that’s what I do best. It takes time. You can’t just spend an hour and get really down to the bottom of a problem, come back up, and have a solution that you *know* will be better. Those things take time. And I don’t have enough of it.
On the subject of love. People who say that love is all you need are wrong, technically (you need air and water and tacos and the occasional piece of dental floss), but they’re absolutely right in every way that matters. As lonely and surreal as the last few weeks have been, my heart feels full of love. It’s kinda weird. I love strangers and family and new friends and old friends. I love them all. That’s partly why I keep thinking about death, I think, actually. Because every new person I meet, every friendship I make, every relationship I have, everyone I know and everything I do or create, will die. Even a party, a gathering of friends, dies. A thousand little deaths each day. The death of my cup of yogurt in the morning. The death of the sunset as the last colors turn into blackness. Memories die. Sometimes, if the memory is important enough, it changes you. It becomes part of you and it lives on that way. But otherwise it vanishes, as your brain makes room for new things– less important things, usually, the minutiae of everyday living sorts of things. There are people that were important to me once, whose names I cannot now remember. I am humbled and terrified by this.
On the subject of music. The Kooks. A new band that makes me absolutely happy. “Oh-oh, I love her because she moves in her own way…” Also on the playlist lately: Passion Pit, The Shins, John Mayer, and (drumroll please) Michael Buble. Ugh. Okay, so I’ve always had this thing. I make fun of people who listen to Michael Buble. I snigger, audibly, when someone tells me that they like Michael Buble. It’s this thing I do. Making fun of Michael Buble isn’t just a hobby– it’s part of WHO I AM. It’s *sappy*, sappy stuff. So what is with this recent fascination? Lately, I’ve found myself feeling all kinda warm and fuzzy and tingly inside when I hear him sing. So now I have a problem. Because I’m making fun of myself. And yet, when I hear: “You’re every line, every word, everything”, I just melt.
Another little bit about music: I’m in a band now. I am part of a band. We’ve had one practice, and they are the most lovely people. Full of life and warmth. We were going to have another practice last week, but one member of the band hurt his hand, and another one was sick. So we didn’t meet again. I hope we do keep meeting, and keep being a band. These things are so fragile at the beginning. And six schedules, six working peoples’ lives, weaving in and out of the fabric of space and time, are hard to bring together at regular intervals. The threads don’t want to hold. In my mind, I picture actual thread-lines, moving in unpredictable patterns, sometimes moving towards each other, sometimes far away, curving, twisting, abruptly kinking and moving the other way, and then… this magic point, where all six lines converge and there is a single, little knot. The knot is labeled “band practice”. Then the lines move out, once again, spread out into the loosely woven chaos. Maybe they will come together again, at regular, semi-predictable intervals. Or maybe it will be too hard. The distance might be too great. There’s no way to know.
I think that’s all for now. I’ll write again later (good Lord willing and the creeks don’t rise).