Dawn of a Decade; Closure of Another (Thoughts on Resolutions)

2010.


Seems unfathomable.  Blame geeking on too much Star Trek episodes as a kid, but the entire time/space continuum is undetectable to me.  All that is, is now.  It is always now.  Like being in a vast expanse, where everything could be and anything is and isn't until it was or wasn't.  Think about the concept of time.  It is a man-formulated means of tracking his own existence.  A year is 365(.25) days on earth.  A year is 88 days on Mercury.  So the whole idea that time is a fabric that interweaves with space is silly.  Time is merely a measurement of consciousness.

This is why New Years always catch me off guard.  Especially new decades.  Time is also a perception, an interpretation of one's experience based during trips around the sun.  This will begin my fourth decade, the third I've seen the start of, and it's going by faster.

There's a reason for that.  Think back to when you were a kid.  Summer vacations, Christmas break, weekends.  Remember how long they felt?  Remember how the end of school felt like it took an absolute eternity to arrive?  Remember how one summer felt like what a year feels like now?  There is a simple explanation to the idea that time goes by faster as we age.  It's simply because we've experienced more of it.  Similar to desensitization.  The more days we see, the faster they seem to pass.  A day is still just 24 hours whether you're 5 or 500 though.

So while I'm still wrapping my head around the fact that the 1990s are now entering the "20 years ago" compartment, I'm also learning to be hyper aware of each and every moment to get that sensation of "linger" once more.

Of course this is a popular time of year to set goals and plans for the year ahead, many seem to view January 1st as a fresh start and a clean slate.  Let me tell you, it isn't.  Shit that troubled you on December 31st will still be there January 1st.  Problems, quirks, habits, addictions, a fat ass, not knowing how to speak some funky language... all there.  It carries over.  What is a clean slate, however, is now.  I guess a new number temporarily motivates some to change someway.  But if you want to lose weight, put down the fork now.  If you want to save money, stop buying useless shit now.  If you want to make a difference, act now.

Hence why resolutions are (to me) useless.  My only goal on any January 1st is to make the upcoming year better than the last.  I started doing this in 2007.  And so far, 08 was better than 07, 09 better than 08, and thus I plan for 10 to be better than 09.

This also kind of goes back to how I never want to have my best day/year/time.  Once you've peaked, that's the absolute highest you can get.  That's it.  Everything else is downhill and not as good as "that".  So what are you doing after you peak?  Waiting for death?  That's how I see it.

All that said, I'm really looking forward to 2010.


...By the way.  The world isn't ending in 2012.  Just sayin.

A Much Needed Hiatus

I'm freezing this morning.  Just let me say that.
This sucks.  In Carolina yesterday it was 70 degrees, by the time I landed back at O'Hare the windchill was near 25.  Not much better this morning either.  I actually had to scrape the ice off both front and back windows of my car.  One more thing to be thankful for, that fleece lined ice scraper mitt from Eddie Bauer I bought on a whim two weeks ago.  That thing is going to be my best friend over the next three months.

By the time Wednesday night rolled around last week I was more or less coming out of my skin from travel-itch.  I hate being confined to one area (although adulthood and my current situation demands more of it than I want to give) and if I'm not road tripping or flying somewhere at least once every 6-8 weeks, I'm flipping my skull.

Anyhow.  My Thanksgiving was fantastic.  I don't know who cooked the bird this year but it was the best I think I've ever had.  My Aunt Suzi didn't disappoint with her homemade bread & sweet tea either. Finally got to meet my little niece Raegan.  She's four months old now.  I looked at my cousin Matt (who is for all intents and purposes my big brother, without explaining years of family events/deaths/turmoils/history, we're just that close and always have been) and said "Look what you did!"  She's gorgeous, too.  Going to be a redhead just like her Daddy, her Grandma, and my Daddy.  I noticed, somehow and somewhere along the line, the chemistry of my family grew up.  It's not the "grandkids" and the "aunts & uncles" anymore.  Now my Dad's generation are the elders, and the grandkids all have kids.  Except for myself.  But, being the youngest by a good 8 years and not being in any hurry... clearly.  This is the biggest juxtaposition of my world in the city and my world "back home".  I've always had the "if it happens, it happens" approach to all forms and fashions of love, children, and romance.  Which is not at all understood in small town Appalachia.  Girls are trained to be wives and mothers.  And though I'm fairly confident I would have no problem stepping into those roles, I don't seek it out as taught.  Whereas in Chicago, that's completely okay.  Matthew asked me when it would be my turn.  When I replied that "although I'd like to have a family, I'm not hell bent on seeking it out... I have other things to do first" the contorted look on his face would have you believe I spoke Esperanto.  Which is ironic, given just two years ago he was the biggest tomcat in the twin counties.  (Doubly ironic coming from me, given just two years ago I was one canceled flight away from eloping.)  He's going to be a great Daddy, though.  Clearly the passing along of genetic material and last name agrees with him.  That little tumble of grinning giggles is his world now.  I couldn't be happier for him.

With that said, it's back to reality this morning.  And I'm damn sure the only bells I hear are Christmas ones... (Thankfully I had the good taste to never mention that I'm not sold on the Americanized legality that these kids romanticize into the idea of "marriage".  Sort of how one shouldn't need a fear of god/gods/Zuul to be a good person... I don't think true love requires a notarized certificate.  But, that, kiddos... that is another post for another time.)

(End transmission.)

I. Don't. Know.

The universe is weird again.  Tense, shy, turbulent.  Like she's holding her breath.

For days now I've been brewing a storm of every emotion conjurable and snippets of unfinished thought that meander restlessly in and out of my recollection.  This doesn't happen to me often.  But it usually means one of two things, there's a lot I'm feeling inside that I can't admit to yet, or it's something so special that the mere thought of bringing into cognition will strip some of that purity away.

I don't know.

I wish I did.  My gut is telling me not to talk about it.  Some periods in life are so rare and amazing that sharing it while you're still in the moment, if even at all detracts from the overall point and there you fail the lesson.

I don't know.

...So, until further notice.  Pardon me if I seem a bit weird.  I'm in a strange place keeping to myself.

The Handbag of Hypocrisy: From Burberry

I'm not big on "things" and "stuff".  I got over label envy and being cool years ago.  My idea of cool is not having a bunch of stuff aroung tying me down, and having as much saved up as I can manage to work towards the future and whatever she may hold.  But every now and then I like to reward myself with a little treat.  An "atta girl", if you will.

I've worked hard.  More than that, the past year.  I just do and do and do and never look up until I realize there's snow on the ground or the summer sun is boiling down.  Ask me what day it is.  I can't even tell you.  I saw this handbag at the mall Saturday night.  Tonight I bought it.  With the matching wallet.

I won't say how much the total was, but it was a lot.  The most I've ever "splurged" on myself.

But it made me happy.  It was nice and shiny and smells like class!  Then out of nowhere I couldn't stop thinking about starving children, kids who don't have coats with winter stalking us.  Yes, I may deserve something nice.  But does that mean I should have it?  "Who am I to be blind pretending not to see their needs?"  This bag makes me a hypocrite. 

So I'm returning it to Nordstrom tomorrow after work.  I decided to take the money and instead use it to buy loads of warm clothes for the three angel tree kids I've adopted this year.  And maybe a latte.  

I feel like an ass.

Life changes have surprises.  You think, "Oh this will be easy.  I got this."  And somewhere along the way you sneak up on yourself and like a suckerpunch in the dark, you do one thing, like buying a purse and it shakes your world around.  I said to my roommate verbatim, "Am I going to be serious about myself or am I just going to flap around with ideology and inaction?" 

I have a handbag.  It's old, but you know what... it holds my wallet, keys, sunglasses, and paraphernelia of similar sorts.  And that's all I need.  I've been blessed and I want to share that.  No... I AM sharing that.  Hah.

Sayonara, satchel.

The Journal Entry That Changed Life

I am obligated to post this.  (This is what I was searching for when I ran across the previous entry.)  On my birthday in late August of 2007 a lot of unfortunate things took place which ended up with me driving to Cades Cove, TN at 3am and setting up camp in the back of my Jeep for the weekend.  I spent the days down in Gatlinburg (read: heaven on Earth) lurking around the Village for unique crafts, antiques, and delicious nom.  In the evenings, specifically Saturday the 25th, I sequestered myself to the forest with enough food to survive (and not enough to attract bears) enough wood to keep a fire going until the wee hours, and my journal.

I was in a moment of introspection when I penned what I think could possibly be my moment of inner-awakening.  Or at least me arriving at the moment of realization where I knew no matter what happened, come what may, I could handle it.  Because I was a hell of a lot stronger than I'd ever imagined myself to be.  I still call upon this trip to remind myself how far I've come in my life.  And I don't care how it sounds, I'm damn proud of me.

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August 25, 2007
Once more I've gone almost 18 months without writing in here.  To save myself from recanting old fears and to appease the skeletons in my closet, I will not fill this in with what has been missed.  I opt instead to begin with right now.  I've decided to tell my story the way I see it.  Pages can never be erased.  Memories can never be erased.  Although most will fade along with time.


Here I am.


Alone in the wilderness with not so much as a familiar face around.  I have a book intently flirting with my eye, this journal, a pen, and a pack of cigarettes.  A few feet away sits a bottle of whiskey so casually, as if to mock me by its mere presence.  Instead of giving in to any of it, I built a fire.  Which, reading that as I write it makes so much more sense.  I have to do that, we all have to do that, everyday.  Literally, its what I've done.  But, I see that its application reaches far beyond primal action.


I'm another year older now and even though I really am wiser, my actions would prove otherwise.  Sure, I learn from each situation, but the execution of these lessons needs refinement.


Sitting here has been perfect.  I feel something in my soul has been triggered... some latent mystical ability to flow myself with the unkept predictability of nature.  I have no means of readily contacting the outside world, and although I could easily check the time, I refuse.  Out here, all that matters is how much daylight is left.  Dusk is adamantly forcing his will in my world as I longingly cling to what sun remains.  Over to my left the coals of my poorly managed fire burn in a smoky ember while two squirrels pass in front of me as if ghosts.  High on a maple branch there is an owl.  I've made friends with his watchful eyes, I believe they guard me from what I can't see in the coolness of twilight.


I left my story momentarily to stoke the coals with what remaining wood I have.  Fire, with all its incomprehensible fury is remarkably tender.  The survivalist in me is happy.  If I can rule over this flame with such calm determination, then surely I can do anything.  At least, that is what I feel.  With another stick placed, my attention is drawn to the azure flames as they whisp around my arm.  Thinking perhaps in all of this I should be burned, but refusing the injury to avoid the scars.


Now darkness has blanketed the area and the world of the day has swiftly changed guards to the busy night.  The forest is coming alive.  As much as I'd wish to pretend the busy life I knew was far removed, a plane rumbling like thunder in the night air reminds me of the things left behind.  A simple thing such as that rings a familiar truth in my heart.  The thing about avoidance is that it will be guaranteed to catch up with you.  Even what you had forgotten about. 


I was 18 when I began this journal, and a few hundred pages later I see the first thing I ever wrote.  As if beckoning to myself, somehow here in this moment so many years later:


      "Every story is intrinsically the same.  It starts with a beginning.  Eventually, it will have an end.  In the mean time you'll find love, hate, joy, sorrow, gain and loss, failure and success.  But along the way... if one is lucky enough... you'll find truth."


What is my truth?  What isn't my truth?  Until I'm long gone from the earth and all that remains of my life is a chewed up memory, I will never cease learning new truths... I will not cease to grow.  Life is an unpredictable battle full of twists and turns, but its one story that I plan on writing myself, everyday, with every moment.  That is truth.

Two ID's, a blank passport, and nothing but time.

My biggest wish right now, if I could have anything... and I mean anything as in for myself.  Because otherwise we'd be here all day arguing semantics over why I wouldn't use such a power for philanthropy instead.  I love everyone on this planet (except douchebags and liars) and hate to know that there is any suffering going on among children and small animals.  If I had the "get anything I want done" power, trust me... there'd be no starving babies and no neglected kittens.

But for the purpose of taking a moment to tie together my thought coherently, if someone said, "Rhiannon... I'll give you anything in the world you want.  Right now.  So what'll you have?"

I'd say, "Genie," or Jeebus... whichever,  "...genie I will take a car that won't break down... doesn't have to be flashy or luxurious, I want something that is reliable and fast.  I must have a manual transmission.  And I need an unending supply of fuel, and one maybe two months of complete unattached freedom to roam."

Genie will look at me funny and say, "Ok, sure.  What are you doing?"

And I'll think to myself ...What business is it of yours?  But in the end, he's kind of footing the bill so I'd explain:
"I'm going to take off.  I'm leaving tonight.  I don't know where I'm going and I really don't care.  I don't need anywhere to lay my head other than this car.  I'm going to drive and follow wherever my want-to takes me.  I'm going to go until I can't go anymore, stop, rest, and go some more.  There's a lot out there and I want to be a part of it.  Bangor Maine, Los Angeles, Fairbanks Alaska, Key West... South Padre, Calgary, Nags Head and all points in between."

That's what I'd do.

Never forget I am a roaming soul, and a nomad by heart.  I'm at home wherever I am, so I can be wherever I want.

Sigh... but for now.  I'll soldier on with responsibility.  It has it's rewards.  Being financially safe-ish feels nice.  And the stability is refreshing.  Though it gets stale sometimes.  (Maybe that's a lesson to adapt?)

...That is all.

Opening Statements.

It's 1:55am.  I bet every single cotton-based garment I've left in the dryer for the past hour while designing this new blog will resemble Montgomery Burn's dermal tissue by the time I arse myself away from the mac long enough to finish the laundry.  For whatever reason my biorhythm finds in mocking me, I can only imagine it must be a good one and this is why I slept until three o'clock this afternoon.  Are you kidding me, serotonin levels?  It's not like I've been extraordinarily vampiric recently.  I guess you were just trying to tell me to chill.  Which is cool, but now I'm not going to be able to sleep at all tonight and I'm going to have to self-medicate with a venti burst of espresso on my way to work.

Gee, thanks.

Why modern technology rocks, reason 214: individual-sized cartons of orange juice.

I have no purpose for this blog, and I won't try to pretend to keep one.  I just need an outlet.  But, knowing me, I'll mistakenly jam the prongs in backwards a time or two, and that... that should at least be enjoyable to watch.

And now it's 2:08.  And I want a smoke.  ...And more orange juice.