Six Days

Jon and I were walking on the beach yesterday at about 5:45 PM, when we realized that exactly a week from that moment, we’d be in the process of getting married.  As in, we may be reciting our vows at that very time.  We were on the Boardwalk Beach, with about a grillion other people, with an additional grillion up on the Boardwalk itself, eating deep fried Twinkies and riding one of the oldest roller coasters in the country.  Little kids were running into the surf and then screaming and running back out.  And a brown pelican flew by – my favorite bird – as if to remind me to drink in every second of this glorious week.

It’s odd, because I was actually hit with a pang of loneliness as we were walking toward the beach.  Actually, loneliness isn’t the right word.  I was hit with a pang of isolation, because we could smell a dozen barbeques going and heard at least three or four parties as we walked over to the trellis bridge to the boardwalk, and I was missing our friends and family.  I mentioned this to Jon, how I was missing everyone and feeling isolated.  And then I immediately admitted how ridiculous that is, because the reason we have isolated ourselves is we have ten billion things to do to try to make a fantastic 3-day weekend for 90 of our closest friends and family.  It’s just that I can’t wait.  I can’t wait for everyone to be here, can’t wait for my mom to get here on Tuesday, can’t wait for Thursday night when most of the people who are dearest to me in the world will all be in the same place.

The silliest part?  I’m already a little bit sad that the weekend has to end.  That’s no way to approach this. But there is a melancholy about this whole wedding thing that I have yet to fully understand.  We are literally being showered with love, help, kindness, graciousness, and honestly, it’s difficult enough to feel worthy of Jon; this outpouring of support leaves me so humbled I almost can’t process it.

Back to the to-do list.

nine days and counting

I’ve been lonely most of my life.  I don’t mean that in an overly dramatic, woe-is-me kind of way – it’s just the naked truth.  I was pretty content as a child, with plenty of brothers and playmates and such until about the fifth grade, when I started feeling both awkward and somewhat arrogant at the same time, and it was not a good combination.  I remember thinking, quite clearly, that I was different from everyone else and a little bit special because I was a musician.  I also was really good in school, and I took some pride in that.  I don’t know what other attributes I had that made me a little bit insufferable, but somehow, from that point on, and for many years, I seemed to be around people who felt some combination of apathy, outright dislike, and, weirdly, envy, and it did not lead to good relationships.

As an adult, I’ve been blessed to have a small handful of very close friends, some of whom have been in my life since, almost, day one, and some who have come in and out of my life throughout the years.  But I’ve never felt I had a “crowd”, and in some of my work or social situations, I’ve felt actively left out by the crowd.  True, I chose some cruel situations (like a Hollywood bar where my ruthless wanna-be-actor coworkers made great sport out of mocking me, or a Kansas City “professional” theater where I got singled out for asking actors not to do shots backstage during performances), and really, I wasn’t cut out for such stuff.  At the end of the day, my skin is pretty thin, my emotions float right at the surface at all times, and although I can climb three mountains on no food and no sleep and with horrid stomach cramps, if someone is mean to me for no good reason (and is there ever a good reason to be actually mean?), I’m devastated.

I don’t like big parties, particularly where I don’t know everyone; I often feel more lonely in a crowd than by myself; and I’ve made really poor dating choices.  And I’ve gone through most of my life without feeling really, truly “seen” by most of the people around me.  This has changed a great deal over the last half decade or so, however.  Finding my professional calling and becoming more confident in what I bring to the world and my community has helped me immeasurably (as well as getting out of some really wretched social situations).  But – again – this helped my confidence, not my loneliness.

What I can do, however, is be really, really REALLY aware that this blessed human being, this gorgeous soul, this prince of a man chose me, and that nine days from now, he’ll bind his life to mine.  It’s scary that it took him to defeat something I’ve battled with my whole life.  But at the moment, I don’t care.  I’m just grateful beyond words, and I’m counting the minutes until I’m finally his wife.

why I love work travel

1) walking around buck naked in the hotel room

2) not paying for said hotel room

3) spreading out on two beds

4) the surliness of the Holiday Inn restaurant waitress (“Can I have a glass of water with no ice?”  “You HAVE a glass of water.  Right there.”  “May I have one with no ice?”  *stares*, walks away.)

Five Months

My coach Leslie always says “you can do anything for six months”.  Her point is that it can be a job, a living situation, anything, really, and that you can tolerate it – and learn a great deal – in six months.  I’m just about one month away from my six month anniversary here at my new job, in my new home, and not only have I been able to tolerate it, I’ve been able to embrace it like no other place and job in my life.

I went to the store today to get a salad for dinner.  Jon’s working up in Napa all week this week, which is a wretched bummer, so rather than cook an elaborate dinner (which is now only appealing when I’m cooking for two), I went to get some greens, to be supplemented by the bag of strawberries patiently waiting to be devoured at home.  Walking into the store, I saw what looked to be a familiar woman near the grocery carts, and I hesitated.  I hesitated because for years, I lived in a place where there were people I was so determined to avoid that I sometimes didn’t leave my house on weekends.  Anyway, I did not know this woman, but I realized that I don’t have to live with that anxiety or fear here.  I even smiled at her, this stranger, as I walked into the store.

I made my own bed in Napa, created that uncomfortable living situation by being too raw with my emotions, to quick to trust false friends, too willing to define myself by my work.  I know that I’m the same person – just the place has changed – but I feel empowered now to not make those mistakes again.  I’m sure, at some point, I’ll grow weary of having to talk shop every Friday night when Jon & I are out and run into friends/colleagues/board members, but for now, I couldn’t be more delighted.  Here, I feel embraced, welcomed, celebrated, treasured for who I am.  My last couple years in Napa I felt like a hollowed-out shell where my job scraped my insides every day, attempting to get every last scrap of flesh from my exhausted mind and body.

So, this time, I get to try to do all of it with just a little more balance and a lot more confidence.  I’ve gone back and read some of my past blogs, ones from six or seven years ago, and with the pain of those years as my context, I try to tell myself that I deserve this, I deserve to have landed in a place that challenges and inspires me, and that I deserve the love of the most decent, thoughtful, smart, and adorable man on the planet.  I know that my job will be hard, that marriage is not easy, that many more trials await.  But I have a foundation I’ve never had before, some sense of peace in my life, and a whole crop of new friends who bring me incredible joy.

If that wasn’t enough, I am marrying the love of my life in less than two months.  So, if at any point, you hear me complaining about anything to do with my life, please kick me in the teeth.

gaudium

I don’t know how many days of my life that I will feel unfettered, extreme, delirious joy. Yesterday was one of them. I was walking down a one-way street, a half-block from Pleasure Point Beach in Santa Cruz. I was holding Jon’s hand, and we had just looked at a wee beach house that we are considering renting when we move to Santa Cruz in early October. I said to him that I was about as happy as I’d ever been in my entire life.

more soon…

Oh, and this:

I’m a little frightened by Amazon

I realize I’ve been buying from Amazon.com for almost a decade, but how exactly do they know me so well?  On my home page, under “Recommendations for You”, are the following:

I feel I can say with absolute certainty that every kiss does not, actually, begin with Kay.

a brief list

of thanks. 

on vegetables

There are things that turn me on, and sometimes, those things involve vegetables.