Liberation Slurpee

The day I moved out I bought a newspaper from the gas station. I never buy a newspaper. As I left I looked across the street at the 7/11 and thought about trying a Slurpee. I've never had one and at the time it sounded like just the thing to summarize my independence. Not sure why...maybe the idea of trying something new - breaking out of old habits - showing myself that it's all a matter of perspective - I don't know, but I didn't get one.
Every day for three months on my way to and from work I passed the 7/11 and thought about that Slurpee. It gave me great comfort to know that validation of my autonomy was so readily available, yet the timing never seemed quite right.
~
This morning after packing up the last of my things and putting my friends' house back the way I found it (as best I could) I locked the front door and stood in the driveway for a moment. Three months seemed like such a long time last November and all I had then was a solid sense that, whatever happened, it would be ok. My only thought, as I looked around, was that half a year had gone by since our decision to separate and so many different paths could have been taken, so many decisions made differently, but I was going home - to a better home with more acceptance and possibility.
My liberation wasn't really getting away from a worsening situation at home, but learning to live better - to be better.
~
I stopped at the 7/11 on my way home and bought two Cherry Slurpees for $3.16. I took them into the house and handed one to Greg who was a little more excited than I thought he would be. We stirred them up a bit, braced ourselves for a cold delicious thrill and took the first big slurp of Cherry Slurpee. It was disgusting. We dumped them out and went back to town for doughnuts and coffee which were very good.
Sometimes liberation isn't all it's cracked up to be.
Forgive me for making a lesson out of a Slurpee but I think it shows that sometimes anticipation of the unknown is better than the real thing. Perhaps doughnuts and coffee really are what's best and it just takes a Slurpee now and then to appreciate them.

I'm not a grown up

Our little experiment is ending. Thankfully I'm going home. However, I think the hardest parts are yet to come. There is much work to be done, much taking things for granted to be gotten over, much life to live.
I've gone through a great growth spurt and now it's time to settle for awhile and see what happens. Whatever it is, mostly I think what I want to know for sure is that I'm doing the best I can with what I have...that when this particular life is over I can feel like I really used it.

Mountain Dew for breakfast

It's Saturday morning and I don't feel like moving much, however there is much to do. Most of it involves thinking, planning and making decisions that will affect the rest of my life. Yet somehow I don't feel anxious.
I no longer have the overwhelming deep 'knowing' that everything will be all right like I had last fall, but I seem to be left with a calmer version of it. Even then I knew it wouldn't stay forever but it was a lovely feeling. Life is cyclical and this last rush of new ideas and energy leaves me with a great deal to reconcile.
The last 6 months changed me. I'm becoming part of a 'We' instead of an 'I', which to those who've known me must seem like something of a miracle. I am beginning to understand a bit of why we're here and what I'm supposed to be doing. I'm waking up - from a long restless sleep that was full of questions which never seemed to have answers.
Yet with all these changes there's so much of me that feels like it always has. I still hate to wear shoes, I still say 'ya know' too much, I still have Mountain Dew for breakfast.
But now I see that I'm part of a progression, part of a world that's leading to something incredible and that my own little existence matters to the whole.

Lyrics

My life goes on in endless song
above Earth's lamentation
I hear the real, though far off hymn
that hails a new creation
Through all the tumult and the strife
I here it's music ringing
It sounds an echo in my soul
How can I keep from singing?

Random things

1. I love my job.
2. I live in a house built by my grandfather and my great-grandfather.
3. I don't trust mirrors.
4. I use space heaters 12 months of the year.
5. I have to wait until the last second counts down when microwaving something, but I can stop reading a book half way through.
6. The best thing I ever did was take a road trip to Texas all by myself.
7. My mother has been dead 8 years and I will miss her as much as I do today for the rest of my life.
8. I have happiness.
9. I am learning peace.
10. I've seen the world's largest ball of twine, largest frying pan, largest bull, buffalo, cow, tire, truck stop and red wagon.
11. I despise the sound of people chewing.
12. I do not know what 'twitter' is.
13. I have to make myself drink water.
14. I think paying attention to coincidences can point you in the right direction.
15. Most of my very good friends are old enough to receive social security.
16. I suck at playing pool.
17. I've been swimming in two oceans, one gulf, three great lakes, the Great Salt Lake, the Caribbean, the Mediterranean and countless little lakes around home.
18. I like hockey and football and 16 year old me thinks that's an atrocity.
19. Amy's horse thought I was stupid.
20. I mourn for Rain more than anything or anyone I've lost except my mother.
21. I'm not good at complimenting people but I think nice things about them all the time.
22. I will watch the original Scooby Doo cartoons every chance I get.
23. I spent 2 hours in the same room with His Holiness the Dalai Lama
24. I have been present for four deaths.
25. Without pictures I would never remember half of the things I do or the places I go.
26. I spend my days at work making sure the elderly are cared for but my grandma doesn't like me.
27. I like cake best without frosting.
28. My dad used to call me Gilligan.
29. I'm not afraid to die.

Just like I said

I like to be right. I really, really, really like it - so much that it could almost be considered a character flaw.

Recently a wonderfully beloved friend of mine had a dream in which she and I were going to some classy event. We were in a room full of people prior to this event and we did not yet have our tickets. In her dream she was getting very upset and worried and I kept telling her it would be fine. Eventually I disappeared and came back with the tickets and handed them to her saying 'Didn't I tell you it would be fine?'

Apparently I say 'I told you so' enough that people I love are now dreaming about it. This is not ok with me.

My love of being right amused me right up until the moment she told me about her dream...then the sound of shattering glass...then the sad realization that when I'm right it's only fun for me, because if I'm right, inevitably someone else is wrong...and wrong sucks.

It's going to be a major battle, and I'm not making any promises because as I set out on this quest to allay my smugness there's a little voice in the back of my head saying 'but if you're right you're right and that's not going to change.'

Well, little voice, that's true but I can try not to be such an asshole about it.

Seven days without Rain

It takes such getting used to and the larger parts of me don't want to do it...like 'getting used to' being without her is an abomination. It's like this with all deaths. The mind seems to equate finding a way to move on with a negation of the love felt for the one who is gone. Something like ... 'If I can learn to live without her then isn't it possible I never really loved her?'
Minds are silly.
I loved her like crazy and I always will. She was an amazing friend who spent her whole life with me. I could never begin to say all the ways I'll miss her or how she saved me, but continuing is what we do...acceptance of this allows appreciation for the time together not to be overshadowed by a grasping desperation to have it all back. I learned this when my mother died. It took years. I can't understand why the mind needs to stay miserable in order not to feel guilty.
The places Rain has always been will be empty but I'll still look for her there for a long time. When the day comes that I open the front door to let the dogs out without checking for her first I hope I'm not too hard on myself. I hope I remember there's a difference between forgetting her and letting her go.