when things come together
16/05/2010 § Leave a comment
“If I had a gun, I would want it to be shaped like brass knuckles” – TS
Such was the beginning of the end to all amazing things that have happened in the past few days. Being a busy-b means that I tend to stretch myself thin, to make plans to do nothing in particular, to run on sleepless nights and sunshine as sufficient supplies of getting around the city on Blue Velvet.
Now, I sit and await sleep to overcome me, wanting to share everything that has happened, mostly because L asked if I had recently posted anything, and knowing I will do a chop-job at trying to re-literate it. I’m still going to try.
It’s funny how things come together, how, if you truly just let things fall into place instead of force the cube through the circle-slot, you can find a tranquility in it all. It was weird that Thursday night wasn’t weird, perhaps it was the Tankhouse, or maybe it was the throwbacks to my years of high school musicals, but my feet couldn’t stop prancing, nor my arms chopping: I felt utter freedom. Even L stated that she had never seen this side of me. How sad, I thought, I can always tell when I am happiest because I am always dancing. Black&white.
I had felt pretty good, I got to see all those wonderful people, good people, that I had not seen in months, some even years. It felt good to hug people again, to have that human contact that had been foreign for far too long. I will have, am, and will always be a huggy-buggy baby. Cute.
We ended the night in fits of laughter, on the floor with mouths choking on chocolate cupcakes, tears streaming down our cheeks. After laughter comes tears of joy.
Since I stayed at L’s place, we woke up to a beautiful morning, simultaneously sunny and hazy, grabbed a coffee and chatted as usual, strikingly comfortable and awake despite our over-consumption and sleep-deprivation. It was a peaceful perfection I had not felt in a long time. It felt normal, it felt real, like life was moving forward.
Maybe experiencing that night was the missing piece to a complicated puzzle, to formulate and figure-out the reality of a surreal experience. I must confess, it was weird. Weird, perhaps, because I would have never foreseen myself to be put in such a vulnerable position, where I stood exposed and fragile, and still be ok. I guess that’s what happens when life goes on, I guess that’s what it feels like: weird.
Despite my general sense of normalcy, there was still the urge to purge, or binge, the weekend away — mostly with places to go or people to see or events to partake in, using beer not as the ends but as a means for socializing. Needless to say, the weekend ended as a busy one, one with too many plans, but each one-too-many stretching a broad smile across my face.
Today, sitting in the park, on the rim of the dog-bowl, surrounded by even more good people and more hugs and re-familiar faces, sun burning the bridge of my nose, I felt like I was starting to settle into my slot in the big city. I looked around — dogs bounding over our bikes and leaping over our legs, stories being passed around, jokes being told — and felt an overwhelming warmth that had nothing to do with my minor sun-stroke. I felt really good and really wholesome and really ready to do whatever I have to do.
I guess there comes a time when you decide to stop pulling at your boots stuck in the mud — stop jamming wooden blocks into plastic boxes or give up mashing the wrong piece into a puzzle-picture that just doesn’t belong — and you walk away. At first, your feet might be cold, socks and boots still stuck in the same place, but it’s worth it to keep on walking, to keep moving forward.
I have signed up for a course at U of T for July and August, Creative Journalism, that looks at authors such as Norman Mailer, Hunter S. Thompson and, of course, Joan Didion. This is my first step.