Unavoidable Reflection

It was only a few weeks ago that I realized a new decade is upon us; in the time leading up to new year's eve every media outlet was stringing together footage from the last ten years, trying to spin some sort of compact statement out of it. I'm really not sure what to think about my last decade, life has been a blur.

Ten years ago I was living in Brooklyn in my first apartment, waking up every morning with a feeling awe and wonder, working at my first real job (in the first field I abandoned), and despite being very shy and still somewhat sheltered, was nonetheless enjoying my youthfulness in a great city and having a lot of wonderful, casual sex.








In the coming decade I would go onto move on to a career in publishing, then abandon it and NYC to move to Alaska (?!) for a graduate degree that I wasn't even sure I wanted.

Three years later, I left the north for good (maybe? probably?) for California, married, lost a parent and... well, here I am. I can honestly say I don't have much to show for the last ten years of my life, although I also have few regrets. Most of my regrets involve not taking advantage of this, or not enjoying that while I had it -- time and opportunities squandered. I'd like to think I'm improving on such bad habits, but it will probably take another decade or so to determine this for sure.













Maybe because it's past 4:00 in the morning and I'm recovering from a nasty head cold, and maybe because my brain is a little squishy, I'm feeling neither hopeful or apoplectic about the next ten years. I used to enjoy aging, but hitting thirty has dampened my enthusiasm some. I don't think about my own death very often and certainly do not fear it, but I have been wondering if I'll accomplish anything worthwhile during my stay on this planet. I'm not spiritual, so I don't assume that there's an afterlife or that I'll return to earth in another form -- I'm pretty sure this is my only trip around the block and lately Time has been on my mind. I feel rushed to do something with myself, but can't seem to decided what that something should be, beyond cleaning my kitchen, writing a new poem, brewing some tea.

I used to make new years resolutions, but wisely gave that practice up years ago -- it's too much pressure to put on oneself. I have expectations for myself, but they having nothing to do with the turning of a few calendar pages. I've spent what seems like the last year and half drifting through my life.

Actually, trudging would be a better word for it.

I have my reasons for this listlessness: depression, health problems, a lackluster career, etc. But as a result, I'm coming to understand that this behavior, these woes, have kept me from my life and allowed me to retreat into my own head space. That was okay back when I was biding my time in public school, waiting for college, waiting to escape my miserable hometown and be my own person, but it's not how an adult who has full control over her life should behave. Especially one with a husband.

So, this relatively arbitrary thing we call "the new year" is a pretty good excuse to reassess my path of slow self-destruction and clear my head a bit. I spent the new year holiday in Alaska, visiting friends and feeling nostalgic for a bygone time that wasn't so long ago, but feels many lifetimes away. Part of me desperately wishes I could go back; things seem more simple and casual there. No one in Alaska talks about botox injections, traffic jams or personal hygiene standards; there is less of everything and community really means something because without it you'd probably die, one way or another. Don't get me wrong, it's easy to romanticize Alaska -- everyone does before they get there and quickly finds their illusions shattered; that's not what I'm getting at. What I miss about there is mollified by what I do have and value here. What this place lacks in community it makes up for in ease: endless choices, burritos, indoor plumbing, higher wages, and overall convenience. It's like comparing apples to motor oil.

I flew home last week with a head cold, definitely missing the people up there, wishing for more time with them, but also eager, for the first time in a long time, to get back into my life. I wasn't returning after a week away, but several years away from my own life.

What's next, you may ask? I don't know. But a warm bed, filled with my warm husband is waiting for me and when I wake up a cup of tea will coax me out of bed. There are poems to write, dishes to wash and, with any luck, I'll be there to do them.

Mumblings, a love story

I’ve been living on the left side of the continent for almost 6 years now – having left Brooklyn for Alaska, then south to California’s bay area. At first I hated this state – the car culture, weird non-weather and lack of pizza was off-putting – but that has changed. I’m not interested in settling here, but do enjoy it. Technically hometown is in RI, but I never miss it; when I do it means I’m deeply depressed or agitated. I was eighteen when I moved to New York. As we crossed the Connecticut/New York state line, I looked around and noticed that every driver within view was black. I experienced a spasm of panic, not because I was afraid of black people – real, tangible cultural diversity was overwhelming. New York didn’t just mean more kinds of people, it meant people who didn’t know me and, even better, didn’t care to. Anonymity was a relief and the world cracked open around me; no one was watching. New York is moody and endlessly changing – just walking around made me feel like a small, pointless part of something enormous and beautiful. Feeling insignificant was liberation. The noise and chatter made the silent still moments more palpable and when it rained the city felt honest. I use the past tense, but these are qualities that still exist. The more critical of my formative growing happened there and I’ll always love it, the way we feel affection for former lovers; it became a part of me. Even the ugly things I did there have turned lustrous with time. I left in 2003 with no realistic plan to return. I was very sick. What you must understand about living in New York is balance. Urban life has its difficulties; when the good things cease to outnumber the difficulties, you must move or else everything closes in on you. Now I often find myself very homesick, but am not entirely willing to return – it’s unclear whether there would be anything to gain and there’s still so much space out here to change and different directions to take. Between visits I put myself there; there is music that puts me there, and sometimes it happens with the rain or the smell of urine. I can stand on busy corners, thinking of concrete and bodies, seeing other buildings and meaningful street signs that exist 3,000 miles away; and I remember to be human.

All the livelong fucking day

Work's been busy lately. The academic year is about to begin (Stanford is on the quarter system, so classes don't start until the end of September. Yes. I find this stupid. I heart the semester system.), so our newest crop of Knight Fellows are upon us at the Fellowship office. This involves helping them in a variety of ways: email and computer concerns, grocery shopping, childcare, prenatal care, insurance, purchasing cars, immigration paperwork, trips to the beach where they shiver in horror: "Isn't California supposed to be warm?"

And we haven't even started orientation yet. But, all this insanity has some great perks - I'm meeting incredible people each day and often get to hang out with their adorable kids. There's free food around, too!

Speaking of Stanford, Sean and I are more than actively looking for a new apartment that's closer to campus, we may have found one. I met a Stanford Art Professor who has a guest house to rent - we're still working out the details, but assuming he likes our dog (and everyone likes our dog, the slut) we'll probably be renting it. Sean and I biked there from work the other day, just to time it. Eight minutes. It takes us 15 minutes just to get to the train station in the morning, never mind parking, riding the rails and biking into campus. Eight fucking minutes. It makes me weep to imagine that I can feasibly roll out of bed at 8:00 am and be in work by 8:30. Oh, the humanity. The guest house is a quirky little property, but has two bedrooms, an ample double living room deal and hard wood floors.The professor, Paul, has a lovely family, so I think this will be a good fit.

We're in the middle of a heat wave right now, it's been close to or at 100F every day this week down in Palo Alto. It's a dry heat, but I'm still ready for the cold air to come back. I miss autumn, when September rolls around I can't help but look forward to crisp air and orange sweaters. Typical of San Francisco and the Bay Area, the seasonal changes are more or less subdued. Summer gets going slowly and lasts through October. December and winter in general mean rain, then everything turns green. I appreciate this more and more as the years go by. Fuck winter.

Guess that's all we have going on. My life feels busy and crammed, yet four paragraphs later I'm running dry on news.

I'll tell you this, I'm getting tired of hearing, reading and seeing anything having to do with Sarah Palin. I'm also tired of answering questions about her. I did not live in Wasilla and knew nothing of her during my time in the interior there because there wasn't much to know, other than her corrupt political decisions, which weren't terrilbly notable becuase, well, most political doings up there are corrupt. Oh, she's pro-drilling? Um... most Alaskans are.

I don't blame people for being shocked. All I knew about Alaska before living there was that it was cold and prone to earthquakes. And something about oil... yeah, oil. Now everyone's finding out that dirty dealings go on up there and that evangelicals can indeed survive, nay thrive, in the sub-arctic.

They can and they do. "God bless" my new blue state.

Justice will be served?

Senator Ted Stevens of Alaska Reportedly Indicted

By REUTERS

Published: July 29, 2008

Filed at 12:54 p.m. ET

WASHINGTON(Reuters) - Sen. Ted Stevens from Alaska, the longest serving U.S. Republican senator ever, was indicted on seven counts related to his holding of public office, a federal law enforcement official said Tuesday.

The U.S. Justice Department has scheduled a news conference for 1:20 p.m. to make an announcement "regarding a significant criminal matter." The official said the news conference would announce the criminal charges against Stevens that have been returned by a federal grand jury in Washington, D.C.