No Fries With That Baggage

Yesterday I got what some would call a one-two punch of emotion, and poor Liz got the brunt of my reaction to it...Well her and Mr. Sam Adams. It's amazing how much emotional and physical can coincide--how emotional illness can manifest itself in the literal pains. My head was spinning--the wind got knocked out of my heart and head--amazing.
I was in the midst of feeling sorry for myself when I called my dear friend Elena today and found her life to be much, much more entangled than mine (it's ok though, because as Hatcher says, "She has great hair.") and suddenly my problems took a backseat. Elena is one of those friends that I would do almost anything for--like I have no problem traveling great distances or doing impossible tasks just to be with her, to make her life easier. It's automatic, and I say that much more as a tribute to my instincts as to my heart. What makes this better is both my father and my stepmom agree, so the whole household would do pretty much anything to keep her warm and safe. She has the biggest fan base of any of my friends. I'm the president of her fan club; dues are $10/year if you want to join.
So without much thought I bought two bottles of red and met Elena, Chad and Chuck at my house for some reprieve and company. (And comfort cheese!) There is no greater privilege I can think of than to be there for my friends, and I say that as sincerely as possible. Again, I had an unexpected kick to the gut yesterday that I don't particularly want to discuss, a kick I wish never existed.

I feel the culmination of an uncertainity is brewing; one I have little power over. I so know what answer I want, and I have had to literally ask my girlfriends be pessimists for me in this regard, in deference to the onslaught of girly emotion that occurs when the word "future" is closely implied with the idea of "commitment". I think I now have indigestion.
These past few days have brought too many thoughts and too much work, I'll get to you when I can. I haven't forgotten I'm just wicked busy.

Community and Compton

(Anna and Elena run the sweep boat at the bottom of Compton rapid on the mighty Shenandoah. The cliffs behind them are over 100ft high)

I shall start this post about happiness with a disclaimer that I am very sunburned and sore and currently have bruises in places that I did not know previously could even bruise, so if I pause my elation to whine, suck it up.
Around 7:30 on Friday night I pulled into my driveway in VA; by 7:30am I was pulling out. My car was only half-unpacked, but I had to be up at camp for a two day canoe program with the 9th grade of a private school from Norfolk on the Shenandoah River north of Luray (pronounced "Loo-Ray" for you Northern folks). I have worked the program in previous years and have loved it. This year Elena, who is one of my best friends and the director of the camp, decided that she and I should be assigned to the lower section of the river for the duration of the program--essentially its the most fun part of the whole trip, and we'd get to run it three times. It's good to have friends in the right places, no?
The whole weekend floored me, because I forgot what it felt like to love what I do. I couldn't stop smiling--it was drizzly and cold on Saturday afternoon and there I was in the stern of this canoe bruised, drenched and grinning.
My co-workers at camp have consistently had a way of leaving me speechless in my descriptions of them and their attitudes. It is refreshing to be surrounded by people who do more than just talk--who are dedicated and who actually live the life they want to live. Working at camp was the best educational experience because each person there had something to teach and was free with their knowledge, and everyone else was receptive to being taught. This weekend I watched while Roc taught Chad capoeira moves, Kate taught yoga to Amy, Elena prepared the most delicious vegetarian meals, Phil played soccer with the kids. When I think of community, I think of these people, because it's never about money or competition or recognition or rank--it's about something far more vast yet much more personal. I don't know exactly what it is, but it inspires me.
I am happy. I am and can recognize it and savor it and bathe myself in it, soaking in the joy that comes when being and doing collide into a refreshing burst of spray.

Desk Job

So I haven't owned a desk since I got up here, thus a cardboard box has had to serve this purpose. I just emptied it out. Holy mother. An abbreviated inventory:
1 Huge bottle white elmers glue (unused)
1 Bottle rubber cement (actually used)
3 Boxes of markers (one box is sparkly!)
8 Sarah Spooner pencils (last given as a gift from Aunt Molly in 1998)
1 30-60-90 Triangle
1 45-45-90 Triangle
6 Wine corks
1 Tin of shoe polish
1 TI-82 calculator (last used: 1999)
2 Spare Lisa's Liquor Barn club cards
9 Sharpies (different colors I swear)
1 "Big Ralph Wears Buttons" button
1 GE mini recorder, circa 1987
28 Floppy disks (contents only partially known)
2 Zip Disks (are these still in use?)
5 Highlighters
4 Books of matches from Mosbys (closed in early 2004, shut up, Scott)
1 Screwdriver, made in 8th grade shop class (and the tool used to sear and scar Will Lukens's leg)
1 Compass (the kind that draws the circles)
1 Compass (the kind that draws you north)
1 Lightstick, unused
4 Movie ticket stubs (Last seen: "Melinda and Melinda")
11 AA Batteries of questionable capacity
1 Roll of masking tape of such age that it doesn't come off the roll anymore
2 USB cables, unsused
1 Phone charger, ability to charge in question
2 Photo cropping pencils ('grease pencils')
1 Decorated crab hammer (thank you Mike Koch)
3 Bic lighters
1 Glowing Harry Potter pen

And there is a whole lot more, including about two dozen spare buttons, an architects scale, an industrial strength hole punch and at least 10 pads of post-its, but I've got to go finish packing.

A Re(a)d Letter Day

As I am in the process of packing, this morning I was going through a box full of papers I had in the hopes of at least making it look sort of organized. Most of it was notes and letters and as I was flipping through them I ran that wide gammut of emotion that is attached to so many memories. I mean I have notes from my best friend and roommate from sophomore year of college (read: 2000-2001), a Valentines Day card from an ex, letters from my little sister to me while I was in college, a note from my very first customers when I was a rafting guide. It was a strange trip down memory lane; a literary guided tour. I can't throw out letters, ever. I just can't do it. I have folders and folders of old notes and letters and I have no desire to ever rid myself of them. They mean something to me. Like I have this homemade Valentine's Day card from an old friend that has written on the inside, "Question #1 and #2" and on the facing page, in large letters "THANKS FOR BUYING ME TAMPONS!" and that's it. That card has never ceased to make me laugh, and I hope to have it long after I forget what Question #1 and #2 were (I haven't forgotten, and I'm not telling you, b/c it's dirty). This morning I guess I let it sink in that I am loved. There are people who know me and love me, and show that to me. How very rarely do I ever consider myself loved; it was nice to be reminded of that today.

Who Are the People in Your Neighborhood?

Normally I don't tell play by play stories in this venue, but I feel this needs to be parlayed into some semblance of a documented account.
I had to work late and was driving home around 9:30 when my normally reserved and homebody roommate Suz called to see if I wanted to go out dancing with her, along with dear friends Ellen and Liz. I was exhausted but it is my last weekend in Roch and felt I needed to seize the moment, a-la carpe diem. I said yes, even though the last thing I wanted was to do was anything that would increase the amount of time between that moment and my bed.
We went out around 11:30, somewhat indecisive about where to go, but ended up at Coyote Joe's on East Ave. After that initial awkwardness that comes when standing around a bar we made our way to the dance floor. I hate dancing about 99% of the time, and this was no exception. But I was in good company and was actually enjoying myself. Around 1am Suz says, "Hey, there are our neighbors," and I turned around to meet Nate and Jeff, the two guys who've lived in the apartment across from us since February but whom I had yet to actually meet. We chatted as much as you can on a crowded dance floor while Lil' Kim's "How Many Licks" is blaring, and Jeff announced his cousin works as a bartender nearby and if we went now it'd be free drinks for the night. Tired of the heat of sweaty bodies and the meatmarket it was becoming, we left. We all had great conversations with each other on the walk over and while there, and marveled that we had lived within 5 feet of each other and hadn't hung out earlier. After the stopover for free drinks the boys got a cab and we had our DD Suz drive us back to what was announced to be my going away party at the boy's apt. (En route to Suz's car, we met a rather sweet drunk boy who was refusing to get into his friend's car, and did our good Samatarian deed for the night) On the way upstairs we got Dan, the downstairs neighbor, to join us. With three of the four apartments in the same room, the inevitable bitching about Fanny and Joel (the boys tells us his name is actually Joe, but come on, Fanny and Joel sounds way better for that scary, spying duo) began, and then the cops showed up to tell us to be quiet. Mind you, at this point there are a total of 8 people in the apartment, with a light background music, and they called the cops. The officers were very nice, and thoroughly surprised to find out that 75% of the apartment building was currently in that one flat. So the music went off and we continued to hang out, laugh and have a great time. At some point we were in all three apartments, comparing carpets and wall colors and other grown-up sounding things. Liz and I ended up on the futon in my apt, having the customary heart-to-heart that seems to occur after every one of our evenings out and watching through the blinds as the sun rose.
It was one of those nights that's never expected but thoroughly enjoyed, and I realized I'm going to miss this place a whole lot more than I ever could have imagined.