Excellent.
Every now and then I'm on the bus, looking at people, and I just get this crazy urge to run a stream of conscousness exercise through a mini cassette recorder that I would be cradling like a small child at all times if I owned such a thing. This morning there were seven or eight other beings on the bus with me, early morning creatures, as this lady-baker is learning to be. The anemic, vampiric teenager; the effeminate man in the black blazer with the collar turned up and a white ring around the top of his J Crew sweater, lending the impression of clergy; several W-Mart greeter types, retired, but not retiring; and myself. I'm sure I look like a haggard addict in the mornings. I usually roll out of bed about fifteen minutes before a ten minute "brisk walk" to my bus stop, rinse my contacts, scarf a muffin, brush my teeth, and do a systems-check of my pockets: keys, debit card, ID, lip balm, bus pass. Some clothes that I appear not to have worn the day before arrange themselves rather miraculously on my body, and I manage to tie my shoes. Sometimes I manage to trot like a bloated caribou toward the bus stop's bench, so as not to trip myself on the laces I have not bothered to tie. As of yet, I have not fallen.
My fellow riders are less interested in me than I am in them. Unfortunately, my racing mind is attempting to race back to unconsciousness and dreams, and I tap my forehead unpleasantly forcefully on the glass of the emergency exit window. No one laughs audibly. I wonder if the vampire teen can sense how much it hurt. The TriMet employee who catches the bus at the same stop as I do and sits as far from the rabble on the bus as is humanly possible, forward and away from us, leaning into the other driver for some public transit inside gossip is smirking at something, and I wonder if it's my window attack. I looked like the cute little ring bearer at my cousin's wedding who face planted into the ring-bearing pillow about three minutes after delivering the goods.
The thing is, my mind is making up stories about these people while they're here in front of me, but I've gotten so good at having a job that requires deft hands and a present head, that I'll entirely forget them until the next commute. I feel almost an hysterical need to immortalize them somehow, even if just for myself. We are nothing special, but each minute within our lives is so precious, so meaningful, and so individual. If you look into it, really, it will speak into the rest of your life. It will mark you. Part of the fun is keeping your eyes open while you're being marked.
I am that kid. I'm the kid that refused to look away while my dad pulled slivers or yanked teeth or removed Band-Aids. I keep my eyes on the gory bits of movies, the awkward moments of others, the hilarious and horrific moments of my life. I've watched every tattoo I've gotten
- closely. I want to be breathing in every piece of my life as it happens.
That said, this year is shaping up to be one of the wildest of my life. Maybe wild isn't what you think when you think of me. You're probably right. Or perhaps you just don't know me as well as you think you do.
I have limited stories about jumping off of things, of kissing strangers, or of international travel. I have endless stories of Jesus walking into the darkness of my life in a whirlwind to put me on top of a new adventure. I get the nip of the lion that says "back in line, kid" and then I get to go be something else to someone else.
This isn't the place to write about those stories.
2009's first hours saw Laura, Brennan, John, Alex, Kristy, Anne, Shelly, Amanda and Amanda and I in Las Vegas. I saw some fancy fountains, drank (too much), spent (too much), gambled (not enough), but generally behaved myself. I petted a stinger-less stingray, watched someone spoon one of the MGM's lions, inhaled a lot of second-hand smoke, ate the best sushi that could be expected in a land-locked state, and wore little black heels about two times too many. I had a blast.
Adsideo, the family I've been pulled into here in South East Portland (....church, guys) is raining down upon me all sorts of blessings in this new year, as young as the year may be.
*A team of guys and girls from their New Year's Eve party moved the stuff out of my old apartment and into my new location in the middle of the night after the ball dropped. Apparently the person in charge of setting up that work crew that was going to move me out by the 1st didn't ever get the message that I had to be out by the 1st.
*The new location is going to be named after authoress and philosopher-ess M. Wynkoop, and is going to mimic a little of what Adsideo has done elsewhere. We minister through the Portland Rescue Mission, taking individuals out of their rehab programs, individuals who show an interest in being part of the Adsideo family and put them in one of our houses, they get jobs, stay connected to the people they live with, grow with us, and generally make us all the stronger. Up to now it's just been two men's houses, but recently a building was donated to our cause, and we're turning it into something that follows the same lines, but for women. I get to be a staff member in that house. It's going to rock my face off, and I'm so excited.
*I'm.....into someone. And someone that I think I ought to be into, for the first time in a few years. No details. Too early. I'm excited about that too, and I hope it rocks my face off.
*Promotion at work! After a long bout of hard experiences, pastry people quitting or being fired, and generally lots of overtime and sweat and flour...I am a shift-lead! It's excellent. Basically the same job I've been doing for months, but now I'm getting paid for it, and I have some actual authority.
*Searching for a really great Paul Simon Ringtone. Any ideas?
That's basically it, guys. I love my life, and I love you. Call me? :)
2 comments:
I miss you. and you're a beautiful writer. and I want to hear more about the someone as soon as there is more to tell.
You are a writer. What fun to see your life!
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