She just returned from a long visit to her friends in Oregon and sat down with Dandelion and I to inform us that being there changed so much about her perspective on life, love, and the pursuit of happiness and she's moving there. She's going to live with a friend's family, work at a preschool, and enjoy life out of the fast lane.
This really is a bittersweet decision - for me, I mean.
First, I'm ecstatic that she is getting out of the desert. Not that there is anything wrong with it, but when you find the friends and groups we have up here, you kind of get really settled in and don't want to leave. This is fine if you are where you're going to be for the rest of your life (figuratively) but is not so good if there's more out of life you need to get to. She made the decision all alone as well. This is something we have all had a tough time accomplishing in our little group, and we'll ask everybody else what they think we should do instead of deciding for ourselves. But not this time. She did this without the help of anyone else, and I'm so proud of her for it.
I'm just sad about her going so far, that's all. Pertaining to distance, it's not that far. I just know that I can't even spare time to visit my friends and family who live mere hours away, so how will I ever have time to see her?
A lot of this shone some much needed light and perspective on a deeper issue, though. I really am alone in Los Angeles. Not like I don't have anyone to turn to for help, or friends. I have an amazing support system filled with lots and lots of love. I just mean that my actual family is so far away, and friends are great, but they have no obligation to me and need to do what's right for their own lives, not think about mine.
So this is what growing up feels like, huh? Well, I'm not gonna say it's not a brick in the face, but it's real at least. And I pledged to start paying attention and to start feeling what's real, no matter how inconvenient it is for me.
Ouch.
2 comments:
I am your soulmate, and have an obligation to always answer my cell phone when you call. I love that obligation.
I know how hard it is to have parts of your heart slip through your fingers like sand, and that is totally one of the crappy parts of growing up. Even though you are going to have to find a way to deal with this and it's easy to feel alone, I'm here for you.
:)
Perhaps one would do best to remember, first, that the desert is a state of mind, and second, that any dandelion-shaped organ is not worth pursuing in any serious manner. For instance, should one fast for any significant passage of time, one would find that the lane and direction in which they assumed their life had been moving had taken a serious and malicious turn for the worst, like a buttery scone straddling the precipice between ecstasy and corruption. The result is not unlike a gin and tonic: the unlikely combination of a sickeningly sweet liquor, and a bitter liquid on the verge of stomach-churning. But this author's opinion on various mixed drinks is neither here nor there.
I think you'll find that the settling of a leaf in the central, sand-covered (if not underhandedly droll) portion of your life, may be grouped up in all sorts of bizarre twists of thought, and in feats of human ingenuity, until the original has blended, faded, and passed away into a quick blur devoid of dignity and of recognition, which becomes the very decision-making entity that (figuratively) directs the course of your life, partitioning everything into little groups, not particularly autonomous this time maybe, but with a future potential that cannot be denied.
Be proud of yourself, but know that this distance you've traveled is not particularly far nor particularly noble, and that whatever spare thought you may lend to the notion of hope, dreaming, etc. will only penetrate into deeper issues, shining the time-told alabaster light of justice deep into that angelic core of being that you call "ego." This isn't about actuality, or about obligation. This is about growing up, about setting up your own course in life, laying out your future brick by brick.
It may be as inconvenient as a dash of pledge in a fresh tomato basil soup, but such is the painful price you pay for taking that cautious step away from childhood and towards reality.
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