rounding the corner

When I lived in Germany, every so often that statement would hit me out of nowhere. I live in Germany.

I’d be coming out of the German theater that played movies in English and on a hill in the distance there would be a castle all lit up. I’d be out with friends and realize how accustomed I’d grown to the slower pace of dinner service in German restaurants. Or I’d be at my bank, carrying on a mundane conversation with Herr Schiller and realize that I was no longer translating in my head, I was just speaking.

But primarily it would strike me when I would drive between villages. From home to the base or to a friend’s house. Nothing spectacular, just an ordinary moment. I’d come around a curve in the road and something would just resonate somehow. Occasionally I’d have to stop for a flock of sheep to cross the road and I’d have time to ruminate.

I had one of those moments today. I was driving from work to the train station to catch a train into the city. I’d taken surface streets to avoid rush hour traffic. I’d taken a shortcut to avoid other people avoiding rush hour traffic. I was not in the best of neighborhoods.

I turned right and onto a main street and in the distance there was a line of four palm trees. Standing significantly taller than anything else on the horizon. The sun was at just the right angle to turn them into black shadows against an amber sky.

And it hit me. I live in California.

Not because I have family here. Not because I followed someone here. Because I got a job and picked up my life and I went. And I’ve built a life for myself that more or less makes me happy.

And even though I know that it’s real, for a moment it felt like I was watching myself in a movie. Because it just didn’t seem like my life. If I was able to get through all that stuff, and be that girl, the girl who could just pick up and move and start all over successfully, why is it that all of a sudden I’m second guessing everything I’m doing?

Who knows. The moment was gone by the end of the block.

Protected: things must change

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through the haze of exhaustion

I should be doing other things right now. I should be dusting off my resume and writing out my CV. I should be finishing up notes for the interviews I’m conducting tomorrow. I’m overdue on book and toy reviews at my other site. My laundry still needs to be put away and there’s one full load of dishes still waiting on me. PF gave me pretty strict orders to go to bed early tonight because I’ve been burning at both ends for the last three weeks.

And yet here I am. Because I’ve missed this place. Because I’ve got so much to say. I’ve had a million thoughts floating around in my head I’ve just been too exhausted of late to write about any of it. The last three weeks have been insane. I fired someone. I broke up with Aaron (or mostly, he won’t engage in the actual conversation, but I’ve moved on). I’ve cut off all the casual, random hook-up centric relationships in my life. Chuck spent several days in the shop getting a major repair. I started the vetting process of joining a board of directors. And I’ve been laying some serious groundwork at my actual job. Positioning myself for a next step even as I hunker down for the long haul at that same place. I’ve been playing the game and putting in the face time and simplifying where I can. And this is me just swinging into my busy season. See why I’m tired?

Not to say that all of a sudden today I’m perky and so I decided it was time to start getting caught up. On the contrary. I’m still exhausted. Yesterday I slept for all but 8 hours of the day and still had to drag myself kicking and screaming out of bed at 8:45 this morning. I had one of those days where I did a lot but didn’t get a lot done. My truck was loaded and then unloaded only to rinse and repeat. More mileage was added to my expense report. A report that is already up over $100 in two weeks time. That’s a lot for me.

So why am I here tonight? I’m not exactly sure. Except that something feels different. My energy is different. Maybe it’s because I’ve started to see the fruits of my labor. Maybe it’s just because I’m finally on the back end of life-transition-funk. Or maybe it’s that I spent time this weekend with strong women who embrace me for who I am and inspire me to keep reaching for what I want. Women who reminded me why I shouldn’t settle and affirmed that I deserve only the best.

And maybe it’s because I’m basking in having a partner. Romantic and otherwise. Not just a boyfriend, but someone who wants to be a real part of my life and my future. Who nudges me firmly when I’m caught selling myself short. Who makes me feel beautiful and smart. Who makes me feel scared and vulnerable and safe all at the same time.  Someone who makes me feel wanted. It’s been so long since that happened I can’t even remember that it ever did.

There’s more to come about all of this. But for the moment, this was enough. I have interview questions to finish and a date with my pillow.

birthday plans

Birthdays are a big deal for me.

Last year there was a series of celebrations. Super fancy dinner with Aaron, small quiet lunch with two friends, and a large party at a piano bar where we drank and drank and drank and then found chicken and waffles in the middle of the night.

The year before that I flew SB out to the bay. We took in a screening at the LGBT film festival (my birthday falls in pride month so there’s always something wonderfully gay to do), there was a big sushi dinner with my friends, and then there was bar hopping.

The year before that, I was in Rochester. The theater bought me a cake and through careful portioning I was able to bring most of it home. My most favorite roommate and I got stoned, sat crosslegged on the kitchen table, and dug in with a couple of forks. As more of our housemates trickled in, beers were opened, more forks were brandished and an impromptu party developed. It was the only time our entire house socialized together.

You get the point. I like to make an event out of my birthday. Even if it’s a low key event.

This year, I am wholly uninspired. My friends are like me. We all have a zillion things on our calendars. Trying to find a weekend when we’re all free is impossible. My birthday falls on a Tuesday so it puts a little damper on any evening activities on the actual day.

We talked about going to a firing range. Something we’ve been wanting to do anyway. I figured, why the hell not make it a birthday thing. But it didn’t feel right. I racked my brain for restaurants and clubs that felt right. But nothing was clicking.

Really the only birthday plan I’m excited about is a trip to TX. PF has asked to spend time with me and we picked dates that fall just after my birthday so he’s promised birthday dinner. I’m excited about that. But even though we’ve got dates and we’re talking about plans, part of me won’t believe it’s really happening until I have a plane ticket in my hot little hands. Or you know, in this age, a confirmation number in my email. So I’m trying not to think about that too much, not wanting to jinx things or let myself get disappointed.

Which brings me back to the local plans. And how nothing was clicking. I almost abandoned birthday planning entirely. But a little voice in my head told me I’d regret that later. And the little voice is right. So this weekend I finally created an event on Facebook and invited the in-crowd. The loose plan is to truck out to the east on the day after my bday, have BBQ at the best BBQ place I’ve found out here (but it’s CA so you know, lacking) and then head to this crazy little bar with the cheesiest lounge singer you can imagine. Who is also fucking amazing.

I have no idea who all will show up. Doesn’t matter. Glory of the BBQ place is you order at a counter and find your own table. Folks can come and go. Bars? Always ripe for coming and going. My two closest friends will be there. There are a lot of folks who will miss it because of one production or another. But that’s OK.

One of my friends is having a solstice party a few days after the bday. He asked if it would be OK for him to make a cake and give it to me at the party. I’ll know people there, but I won’t know everyone. But it’s sweet of him to think of it and of course I said yes.

Then last night a friend emailed and asked about scheduling birthday lunch. Our plans are fairly loose as well. She might end up in Tahoe that week, but right now we have something tentatively scheduled for my actual birthday. Because it would be a shame not to do ANYTHING on the actual day.

So there you go. There are some plans. I just don’t have my heart in it this year.

a conversation with the boy

We’d started a conversation via text late in the afternoon. Just a little checking in. “Hi honey. How was your day?” That sort of thing. He’d told me about an audition on Wednesday for a commercial. I’d asked if it was for anything interesting. A few hours went by before he responded.

It’s for a national commercial. Long shot, but if he got it, it would film in NY during the week I’m supposed to be visiting him in MN. Figures. I asked if it would be bad for me to hope he doesn’t get it. He said, “sure. It’s gonna be hard enough getting out of two shows for two days.”

I’ve known he’ll be working, but I hadn’t really put much thought into the reality of a two show work load. Although it is part of why I booked a long trip. I sighed heavily before responding, “yeah, well, I’m bringing lots of books. At least we’ll be sleeping in the same bed every night.”

Then he told me what he didn’t have to tell me. How big of a deal it is to audition for a national commercial. How lucrative it could be. Feeling a little like a pouty child, I told him I was happy he’d landed the audition. That of course I hoped he got it. That I’m just greedy for time with him.

And then he started talking about how much fun it would be for the two of us to take a side trip to New York. He’s been, I never have. I know it would be fun. To be there. With him.

We talked about movies for a minute. Because I’d just watched one he’d recommended. Then he asked what books I was bringing. “Cook books?” he asked hopefully.

So we started talking about cooking. I asked if there was anything in particular he was wanting to try. He’s having his first go at biscuits in the next couple of days. We talked about stews. It’s still cold in his part of the country. And we both love something that will create leftovers for days. Then he said, “might be fun to really welcome spring. Asparagus, lamb, new peas and such. Pick up the seasonal food porn*. Pretend we’re in Provence.”

And with that he made my heart sing.

*In our private lexicon “food porn” refers to glossy magazines full of pictures and recipes. Bon Appetit, Gourmet, etc.