A Perfect Adventure

Saturday was an absolutely perfect day.
These kinds of days are so rare and so blissful, that it's important to me to document, so as to cite it later when they skies are a little grayer.  And so....

I started it off at friend’s place, because of course all great adventures start after a sleepover with your best friend.  From there I got coffee with someone the Universe has placed into my coven — as in I met her by chance and have run into her accidentally a few times since.  Finally we are connecting with out cosmic aid, and it was an hour and a half of pet photos, stories of travels, and comforting each other about frustrations that we thought we were facing alone.

Next up was the Drama Book Shop, where I bought a play for the acting class I’ve been taking — oh right, I’m taking an acting class — and I discovered after years of being a patron of their business, they have a shop dog.  His name is Chester.  So obviously that was ideal.

Then I went somewhere to buy a present for my best friend, which I will not describe as she has yet to receive said present.

Next to a cheap pharmacy for lipstick and lemonade; then etsy to quickly snag yet another mug from the wonderful Allison Fretheim Ceramics (they sell out within minutes of being released), and then I made my way to a doctor.  As always I resent how necessary it is for me to go to one (and by one I mean at least five types on a regular basis with copays of $50 per visit), but I did so, spoke up about some issues I’ve just been enduring, and scheduled two follow ups.  Adulting.

As a reward for said adulting, I headed to a showroom for treats I’ve been eyeing for years.  On the train there, I saw two people signing.  After smiling at them and trying not to seem creepy, I signaled for their attention the way one should towards someone who is deaf, and said “hello I know a little sign and this is making me very happy.”  They brought me into their conversation, and we were happily signing all the way into Brooklyn.  I got off at their stop…needing to head back into Manhattan; but the whimsy, the kismet, and the bliss of communicating with someone in another language made the trip into Brooklyn well worth it.
They also told me about an Sign Language Center that offers classes, which I plan on taking.

In this happy whirlwind, I finally made it to Glossier, the showroom extraordinaire, and bought the gems that had caught my eye.  I then waited way too long in front of what I thought was the bathroom, and actually may have just been a door to a stockroom.

A photographer, a small and sweet young woman, saw me waiting and asked if she could take my photo in a mirror nearby with flowers.  I said sure and so we did an impromptu photoshoot.  It was delightful and flattering.

From there, I went home, got a tad lost, FaceTimed with my best friend as she finally dyed her hair, and then headed to a friend’s place for dinner.

I thrive in this weather; this day of not quite heat, but still a break from the air hurting your face.  I thrive with my friends; the delightful souls who’ve accepted all my weird little quirks and lengthy backstory and let me love them as much as I do.  I thrive on following chance paths that remind me that days like this are possible.

I face a lot physically.  There are days like today where I have to spend $100 on meds to breathe.  Just breathe.  I pay to live.  And so it's incredible when I have a perfect day, a residual of all the work I've put into getting this far, a dividend of the life I've been investing in.  I document it so as to remember, to have something to look back on when the weight of the fight feels too much to bare, so as to remember how lucky I still am.  Every day may not be this kind of adventure, but these days are well worth the wait and the work it takes to get there.

(the beginning of the journey; this one and the next)

Vietnam Night 1:

It took me just over 24 hours to get to the other side of the world, and if you stop imagining for a moment what it must feel like traveling for 24 hours and instead just look at that sentence again -it took me just over 24 hours to get to the other side of the world- that is absolutely awing.  Essentially I sacrificed a lazy day for the ability to adventure.  I already know it was worth it. 

Now I am guilty of writing this at 7:30am after having arrived last night; I have barely seen beyond my jet lag. And yet already so much is different. R. R Rather than exploiting what small non-new-world variances I've experiences, instead I'll just refer to the beauty of a new city at night.  There are little winding alleys that bustle like streets, just out of scope of light and sound as the rambunctious (but still polite compared to the U.S.) outdoor snackery/bar. There are language barriers and an easy inclination to bond with fellow foreigners.  I am fighting that while simultaneously feeling gratitude to be in another culture's world. 

My main take away from a day in limbo is the power of smiles. Being suspended in a metal tube in I the air for 16 hours with a stranger, nothing has proven so immediately disarming as a smile.  It unlocks a new side to them, and seems to well transcend language. I've brought with me a portable charger, a toilettree organizer, a wallet that stores my passport, boarding pass and multiple forms of currency -- and yet the most useful thing I have brought requires no protective case and can only be taken in spirit. 

I am excited to see what my first full day has in store.

Unedited photo from the plane because colors are just that beautiful.  

Through the Looking Glass

I found a good luck charm today. 

Like a classic one, one that would be found in the tin of ancient relics that Amélie finds in her wall. 

I was on the subway, when the magical orb rolled past the impatient legs. Winking at the eyes whose wonder also shines, speeding past those who've lost their curiosity. 

I recognized it's value but didn't feel like the public corral, so I thought "if it comes to me, I'll take it."  And sure enough I watched it zoom past me to the end of the car, wobble at the train's stop onto my side of the seats, and the glide directly to me once the subway car began resumed.

And thus I have my marble. 

And a conundrum. 

The day hasn't felt like good luck though which has got me thinking. 

Now I will say nothing horrible happened, no external force causing me more chaos that usual; it was more that I realized my malcontent.

I know this isn't a unique feeling, especially with the upcoming inauguration, but personally I'm feeling stuck. I give my heart to an organization that doesn't utilize me, and I don't like feeling useless. My art is on the back burner, especially since it currently takes all the energy I have to get through work; and that sacrifice isn't feeling worth it. 

I have been meeting my goal, which is to make something every day, but it's not enough. I need more. More art or -speaking to the frustration I face at work- I need to have a greater impact. 

I still recognize the value of making an individual smile, but if I can also inspire twenty others that day, why not both?

I don't know how yet. I know I want to get a website up for my art, and film a few of my ideas, but maybe I'll make my impact somewhere else. 

I don't know yet but I know I'm in need of a change. I'm not one to settle or to patiently wait on change to notice me....I make a path when my road begins to waiver. And that's what I noticed today. 

So perhaps this marble is lucky after all. Not by magically bringing sunshine and rainbows, but by guiding through the process and letting me know when something else needs to begin. 

 

Having to Let Go

Moving always sucks.  It's always stressful, something always breaks, when you're unpacking you always can't remember where you put at least a dozen things and never find them until they've become irrelevant, and, the hardest part, you have to say goodbye to a lot of things that matter.

I am someone who endows everything I own.
I did an acting exercise where we were to replicate our rooms in class and perform an every day activity in our space.
My teacher ridiculed me for having too many possessions that didn't matter.
I asked him to pick an object.  Any one.  I could tell him who bought it for me or how long it took me to save enough for it, why I so desperately need it, and how if it went missing, that I wouldn't be able to replace it.
Because of that, everything is precious.

And because I've at some point had so little; eating off of my one plate that a friend's roommate gave me, with my one fork that I stole for the dining hall, the pasta that I had to half-cook in the microwave because I couldn't afford a pot....it's so hard not to choose to leave those things behind.

What's more, I don't live by a Good Will or anything, and so I'm having to confront throwing away things that have been little luxuries, a chance to vacation in normal, something that someone somewhere needs and I just can't get it to them.

I tried leaving things outside of my apartment, hoping someone would take them home....and instead the building supervisor tossed them in the trash.
I feel like the biggest consumer.

So here's what I've gotta do: own less.
I love moving.
Not my stuff, but the experience.
I love change, new people, new friends, a new home.
A chance for a place to have everything that yesterday lacked.

And if I'm going to want to do this again, I can't keep these things.
I emotionally can't confront this year after year,
But I also don't need all those little luxuries then.
I'll borrow, and make my own as I make things work,
But if I want to be a nomad, I have to carry less too.

And perhaps as I whole, I'll feel freer and able to connect to what really matters.
Like a tree shedding it's leaves in the fall, and enduring the cold and empty winter because it knows that spring will come, when its leaves will return bringing hope with them.
I am excited for seasons; and inspire to let go.