Song

you are all so beautiful.

thanks.

In the Nick of time...

I’ve been asking to be saved lately. From myself. Which I believe in and my uncanny ability to always come through. I can’t help it though. I find myself slipping.

And then you realize it’s a terrible beach/pool day and you’ve been up too damn early fighting with FIU, or the university which can accurately stand for “Fuck It Up,” and so you decide that you’ll never be a nice person again unless you get a latte. And hell, do some work while you are at it so the rest of Spring Break can be fun. It’s these last minute seemingly benign decisions that save you.

Nick. He’s saved me more than once.

I wasn’t drunk enough this weekend to party with the college babies in Coconut Grove and hadn’t enough contact with straight males to endure the ineligible throngs of y-chromosomes in South Beach. I didn’t have enough Zoloft to make up for the multiple times I’ve been told how much I am to be missed when I move to TexASS nor to deal with the incredible fear associated with leaving. And that’s not even including my hair issues (which I’m somewhat over but hell what I wouldn’t give for a few more inches). Nope, never enough.

Nick finished his program and passed his boards. I think it was some form of medicine, presumably nursing. He wondered how my program was going and wished me the best of luck in everything. And then he told me I was beautiful as well. He mentioned that he was sitting with a friend one day who was looking over at me and that they both thought I was incredibly beautiful: spiritually, personality, and physically. He just thought I should know that.

Sometimes I think that he’s an angel that arrives just when I need it. Sent to save me from myself. An angel in tweed blazers, glasses, and of course with a faint Spanish accent. But an angel nonetheless.

Here’s what I’m asking of myself for the next four months. To not let a day in Miami pass without living it fully. To keep finding whatever the hell it is I’m looking for. To never let it occur to me that I shouldn’t start something with anyone in anything because I’m leaving. If it’s meant to be, I will make it work. To not hold back. Anything. To never accept anything less than my best and to accept everyone else, even if it isn’t their best but so long as it’s inherently good. To visit my family in Naples, to see the Keys, to watch a sunset on the beach, to experience South Beach. Topless. And to not let it end there. To not let it end.

“You were always good at putting words together/And wearing them so loud.”

Meaning

And if our always is all that we gave
And we someday take that away
I'll be alright if it was just 'til
St. Patrick's Day

Time

"Every summer, towards the end, they'd give us little baskets of raspberries and blackberries which I loved. And it's that which makes me want to run off to Italy and have a little house with a huge garden and a vineyard, meet a beautiful Italian man, make lots of babies, and cook all the time."

It was suggested this weekend that I look back at my writings to see how I've survived along the way.

It's funny how this struck me.

Randomized and Counterbalanced

I’ve often wondered what life would be like if we didn’t make the choices we make. If the ebb and flow of life was random, if it was patterned, if it was a random pattern. You realize that we never end up where we think we’ll end up, that we don’t have the perfect life by the age of 25, that we’ve figured out the world when you graduate from college, and that you can actually get your cat to do exactly what you want including refraining from jumping on the counter. That would be too easy. I should know by now that we don’t have it easy: life doesn’t factor load the way you expect it to, you can’t ever escape a 4 way interaction, and somehow there’s always noise in the experiment.

I just had a moment. Actually it resembled more like a mini-break down, which is always a good thing to have on the last night of the conference in a hotel room. Classic place for a breakdown. Although I can’t think of any good prototypical breakdowns happening in hotel rooms. I’ve been in a tornado cloud the past few days: spinning around people, thoughts, research, people, future, past, present. It’s actually been quite the struggle: I’ve been rotated into a glimpse of my future while trying to exist in my present so that I can hold onto what I think I’ll be missing come August. That’s right, missing. I’ve had comforting conversations with someone I barely know, my source of “it’s gonna be okay” coming from a sarcastic, witty, hardened-but somehow not so, adopted Iowan. He’s informed me of everything I never bargained for in this move: my newfound celebrity status, my role as a crutch/confidante/friend/everything to a number of people, my display of unmitigated trust, and the benefits of it all. This, in the midst of those who are uncomfortable with my choice, those who question my choice, those in awe of me and my choice, and those who support me and my choice. It’s such a strange place to be in. I wonder what this is going to be like come August. I think I’ve entered a new fucking chapter. I’m writing this book faster than I thought.

I have to say that I am afraid. It will be hard to leave my friends. I’m slowly getting closer to getting laid than I have been in a while (although we could also discuss the probability of that). But I’m starting to realize that it’s all about perception. I’ve perceived that my life in Miami is probably better than my life will be in El Paso. Just like I perceived my life to be absolute hell in Miami compared to Virginia. Sometimes perception is reality and sometimes it’s just perception. I know I’m making the right decision to make this move. And we all know it’s the nature of the academic beast. But does it necessarily have to be a beast? Could it be more of a lamb? Or a kitten? I’m moving half way across the country. To follow a brilliant academic. And I’m going alone. Again. What do I perceive that I have in Miami? A comfort level. Some girlfriends. Free coffee giver. And the ever possible lovah. Maybe a maybe lovah moving down there. But what do I know that I have in Miami? An apartment. A car. The beach. I live in the world of probabilities and little certainties. Few things we know for sure in the world of psychology. We can never say anything with absolute certainty. So why should I start now?

My new friend the Iowan told me this. Don’t go to El Paso expecting things. Because you’ll be disappointed. You have to go with an open mind and just be open to all of the things you’ll be experiencing. That way you can only be surprised. Don’t try to impress or prove yourself to anyone. You don’t have to with this group. Just be yourself and do good work.

Maybe it’s because he reminds me of some curmudgeonly Virginian that I like him. He’s got the whole “cool man” thing going. Minus the scary part. But he’s got some good shit.