jukeboxdiver

When I reflect back on my life, I tend to sum up distinct periods of time into a single sentence, song, or word. I think it’s my mind’s lame attempt at trying to simplify the ultimately chaotic, striving to derive some sort of meaning from the randomness. Do you do this? For example, the word for fall term sophomore year would be panicking, or maybe hating. The song for junior year is most definitely “Gotta Be” by Des’ree. The words for Fall term senior year saw a progression, from crying –> laughing, with the words loving and working constantly perfuming both. Spring term senior year: laughing and lazing.

This summer has been great. It’s been fantastic. It’s also almost over. And because I am a thinker, Winnie the Pooh- style (think… think… think…) I am, again, attempting to make sense of June, July, and August. What have I learned? What have I lost? What have I gained? What can I do (or not do) to make the months of September, October, and November qualitatively better than the last three?

For the first time in my life, the weather is changing and  I’m not gearing up for school. I’m not moving back to Greenville. I’m sitting on a couch eating yogurt, listening to some fabulous music on WYEP — Bhalu harmonizing on his squeaky toy beside me.

So after thinking a little… it seems that “waiting ” has been  the word for this summer. I’m waiting to hear back from AmeriCorps. I’m waiting for my dog to stop being so mischievous. I’m waiting to see Towers again. I’m waiting to move out of this house. Waiting ’til the next recipe, waiting ’til tomorrow, the next book, graduate school, the future, waiting waiting waiting.

After looking at all of this objectively, I realize that I’m being sort of lame. Writing the paragraph above, I was looking at “waiting” as a bad thing. But waiting isn’t bad at all! Remember, Ram Dass, BE HERE NOW. In allowing myself to see “waiting” as a negative activity to be participating in, I allow myself  to miss the beauty of the moment. I am swept up in WHAT IFS, and forget to “talk in present tenses”.

Waiting for AmeriCorps is a beautiful thing. My future is in their hands! I’m dangling in midair, but soon I will find out and I’ll be able to navigate accordingly. I’ll be so happy if I get it, but if I don’t, I have a whole world of possibility waiting at my beck and call. Waiting for Bhalu to stop ignoring me screaming his name while he runs across the street into the house of the Orthodox Jewish family is a beautiful thing. In no time he’ll be old and gray and have stiff knees and a bad heart and I’ll be lusting after the days when he enjoyed tearing into my favorite plants for no reason. Waiting to see Towers is a beautiful thing. Absence makes the heart grow fonder– it also (thank you Carrie Rodriguez) tells the hardest truth. Luckily, the truth is that this is going, it’s going and going, up and up and up, so I can be content waiting. Waiting to move out of the house is a beautiful thing. I really should stop—- and truly savor how lucky I am each and every time I plough into a Bonnie-bought box of Cheez-its at 1 am.

So, I say HUZZAH to waiting. What hurt is there in letting anticipation build?

Today I need to type up some recipes and send them to Sarah, who is going to write them down cutely and publish them (maybe) in a zine that’s starting up in San Francisco. Sweetness? I think so. I’m also going to exercise  my dog (not exorcise, which is surprisingly another word that applies to this summer), and thrift, HARD.  I have a few recipes to put up here, like the pesto-potato-garlic pizza I made for the fam, the homemade carrot and plum cakes I made last week.

I’m not doing anything CRAZILY productive, but I refuse to fall into a pattern of self-loathing. I’m living life and I’m being a nice person, and that’s all that I need at this very moment to feel happy with myself. I know that nothing is ever completely in focus, as we’re always striving for something more, but I think I’ve done great work this year as far as living in the moment goes.

So peace out, Worry and Fear, you guys suck. I see you slinking past my house in your stupid cars, and by not responding to your texts, I’m not playing hard-to-get, I just plain don’t like you. Take a hint. I’m hanging out with Now these days, and let me tell you, he sure knows how to make a girl happy.

Cheers,

M