yikey's Journal

10:25am: Moving house
I've moved this blog to: The Gloaming. See you there.

11:42am: Choosing
Late October, Autumn Sunday sun bathes my side of the building. I stand in the kitchen filled with Beethoven and the whistle of a kettle. The cupboard door protests as I open it and take 30 seconds to choose the perfect mug. A mug appropriate for tea on a Sunday and a girl working alone in her home.

6:55pm: Dancing alone
A silent, foliage night he glides into the driveway, between the giant oaks, angle right, and beside the small grey car. His heavy door swings announcing his arrival, he thinks - but she's there; framed in the green gold rectangle near the back door. A yellow plaid dishtowel tucked into her waistband. She moves between the stove, sink, and counter shimmying, swaying, vaulting. He wonders if she knows he's there and dances for him or if the music has deafened her and she dances alone.

8:13am: Miss You Til I Meet You
"I love the world just as is,
and I won't lose my faith in it,
but there are days I think of you
saying 'hey, that's beautiful.
Yeah, I see it too.'"

from Dar Williams complete lyrics

What is so comforting about songs that describe how you're feeling? I'm lonesome today and finding 'someone who understands' seems completely unattainable... I guess there's nothing really to be done, except hope the mood passes and 'just be alone'. It's okay to be alone - I'm usually pretty good at it. The other stuff just sneaks in sometimes when I'm tired or it's fall in New England.

9:41am: I started missing you the day we met.
Satellite by Amy Campbell

If this city were a system then she would be the sun.
You don't fall in love with her, you just enter orbit...
And hold on.

I am just a satellite lost floating in the void.
I need your gravity to touch down now.
To touch down now.
To feel the ground beneath my feet.

There'll be water where we land, leafy trees and rocky sand.
But the blue up in the sky won't hold a candle to your eyes.
I would make this world as lovely as your smile.
I know you like a book but I can't read you.
And it's plain to see you're hungry, but it's not my place to feed you.
So I'll spend the day beside you then I'll walk the long road back alone.
Holding on...

There were wild roses at the roadside. They were bending to be near you.
And although I couldn't see your face I swore that I could hear you,
Thinking "goodbye".
"Babe if there's a better way we haven't found it yet."
But I started missing you the day we met.

Reality is cold here out in space, and you long for warming suns, and you love without a face.
And every time you think the road is done, you turn around now and you're moving on.
I get so tired of moving on.
Now I am just a satellite lost floating in the rings,
But to feel your arms around me, honey, that would mean everything.
Would mean you're holding on.
I see you in the distance but I can't reach you.
You're shining like the sun, how could I hope to heat you?
So give me just today love, and just one little piece of your tomorrow.
I'll be holding on...

There were wild roses at the roadside. They were trembling to be near you.
And although I couldn't see your face I swore that I could hear you,
Thinking "goodbye".
"Babe if there's a better way we haven't found it yet."
But I started missing you the day we met.

Sit with me on the beach and watch the stars,
Outer space won't seem so cold from where you are.
So I'll spend the night beside you, then I'll walk the long road back alone.
The city is a system and you're the sun.
And I am just your satellite.
I am just your satellite, so touch down now, touch down now.
I am just your satellite. Holding on...

download from her website

9:29am: Around you.
I used to feel precious and rare. And now, I'm a guilty obligation.

1:48pm: Today, I'm thinking about loss and strength. I don't know what else to say, actually. Loss and strength. Does strength mean doing whatever it takes to avoid the gnawing, empty feeling of loss? Or is it what it takes to risk having that feeling? I'm suffering the biggest sense of loss today I can rememember. It's that kind of blind hopeless pain that makes you smaller. I can feel my body revving its engines to try and protect me. I can only guess that my psyche is doing the same thing - scabbing and scarring to help me to never feel this way again. I see myself, a white haired lady, bended over a small garden in the summer. Wide brimmed hat, floppy shoes - friends come over, visit - have wine on the deck - make me smile... then go home again. I'm the neighborhood grandmother. The one everyone loves. I'm known to be strong - suffering no loss, no heartache. But, of course, is that anyway to be? And the cycle continues.

1:08pm: who i am.
I'm the kind of girl who asks. Doesn't play games. Shows interest. Is smart. Is honest. Wears my heart on my sleeve. I will not apologize.

9:09am: Putting up Walls

From Postsecret.

12:18pm: 69 email
Welcome to the new 2006 edition of getting to know your friends. What you are supposed to do is copy (not forward) this entire e-mail and paste it onto a new e-mail that you'll send. Change all the answers so they apply to you, and then send this to a whole bunch of people including the person who sent it to you. The theory is that you will learn a lot of little things about your friends.

[Yikey's note: I like talking about myself so much, that I'm posting it even though few of my friends read this - in fact BECAUSE few of my friends read this and those that do probably won't reciprocate. No need for mutual masturbation, I can take care of it on my own, thanks.]

1. What time did you get up this morning?
6:36am on the alarm clock, which is 9 minutes fast, so it was really 6:27am. But then I hit the snooze.

2. Diamonds or pearls?
I have pearls... I'm hoping for diamonds in the next year. Probably from my dad. Is it horrible of me that it makes me sad that, at almost 30, the only person who even MIGHT buy me jewelry is my father or my gay friend? I should be happy anyone is willing to. Anyway, moving right along.

3. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
Ummm, Proof. And it was really just an excuse to eat a tub of popcorn.

4. What is your favorite TV show?
One and only favorite? Right now it's Gilmore Girls because I love banter. But I might just be using the Girls to tide me over until the final season of Six Feet Under comes out.

5. What did you have for breakfast?
Half a slice of olive toast, black coffee, and an apple.

6. What is your middle name?
Kelly

7. What is your favorite food?
I love food. Period. It doesn't much matter. My greatest weakness, however, is probably potato chips... although not plain ones. I can't pass by a flavored potato chip.

8. What foods do you dislike?
Um. Nothing comes to mind. Lima beans, actually, I can't stand them.... and *thinks*, yup, that's it.

9. Your favorite Potato chip?
Woah, cosmic. See #7. But as for a favorite? Salt and Vinegar. In London we used to get Sea Salt and Balsamic Vinegar kettle chips, man, those were killer.

10. What is your favorite CD at the moment?
Mmmm, I'm still digging Nizlopi - Half These Songs Are About You. Also, the new Decemberists is pretty great.

11. What kind of car do you drive?
Honda Civic. I just got new snow tires - it's a beast. Oh yeah, and in the summer, of course, my bike. I miss my bike.

14 Favorite drink?
I like hards. Whiskey is generally what I go for. Sometimes I'll take a T&T, though. I've recently decided that I dislike red wine.

15. If you could go anywhere in the world on vacation, where would it be?
Vietnam or Cape Town

16.What color is your bathroom?
YELLOW

17. Favorite brand of clothing?
Probably JJill. I'd like Banana Republic if they fit girls that actually ate and had thighs.. oh yeah, and if I made a whole lot more money.

18.Where would you retire?
Near water... fresh water. A lake in Maine, probably, in a beautiful house with lots of windows and sunlight streaming in.

19 Favorite time of day?
When I'm leaving the gym.

21. Favorite sport to watch?
On tv, I watch the Red Sox. I like tennis when it's live.

22. Who do you least expect to send this back?
Mmmm, no one.

23. Person you expect to send it back first?
Yeah, still no one.

24. What laundry detergent do you use?
Arm & Hammer Natural Scent biodegradable who-ha.

25. Coke or Pepsi?
Coke.

26. Are you a morning person or night owl?
Both... depends.

27. What size shoe do you wear?
8.5

28. Do you have pets?
Zuzu... poor Zus is not feeling well lately. I'm scared for her.

29. Any new and exciting news you'd like to share with your friends?
I'm finally ready to pursue a real relationship with a man who's actually suited to me.

30. What (who) did you want to be when you were little?
Alex from Flashdance.

31. Favorite Candy Bar?
Take 5

33. What are the different jobs you have had in your life?
Retail; jewelry designer; waitress (not for very long, I was foul); librarian.

34. Favorite season?
Spring

35. Nicknames you've had?
bitchen' litchen; yikey; boogaloo

36. Piercings:
Ears.

37. Eye color:
Blue

38. Ever been to Africa?
No

39. Ever been toilet papering?
No

40. Love someone so much it made you cry?
I'm still crying.

41. Been in a car accident?
Yes, but I wasn't driving.

42. What's the best question you've been asked today?
Do you realize how full of BS you are? (bonus: my therapist asked it)

43. Favorite day of the week?
Umm, what?

44. Favorite restaurant?
The Rowan Tree in Grasmere, UK where Wordsworth lived.

45. Favorite flower?
Peonies

46. Favorite ice cream?
Anything with lots of things in it, no nuts.

47. Disney or Warner Brothers?
Are you kidding? Neither. Never. Ever. My children will watch MacNeil Lehrer, thank you very much.

48. Favorite fast food restaurant?
Baha Fresh - no NOT New England of me. As far as the standards, Burger King probably, but I don't go there often.

49. What color is your bedroom carpet?
Pine floors with a very thick pastel oriental carpet - a generous gift from my aunt.

50. How many times did you fail your driver's test?
0 for my car, once for the bike.

51. Before this one, from whom did you get your last e-mail?
My Aunt Laura

52. Which store would you choose to Max out your Credit Card?
H&M, the only store that makes pants that fit me.

53. What do you do most often when you are bored?
Eat.

54. Bedtime:
Usually between 10:30p and 11:30p.

56. Last person you went to dinner with?
Brian, a delightful evening at Dos Anigos playing trivial pursuit.

57. Ford or Chevy?
My selections are limited to asian cars. Sorry. I'll buy American when they're as good.

58. What are you listening to right now?
Ryan Montbleau Band - Shuffling Paper

59. What is your favorite color?
Red.

60. Lake, Ocean or River?
Lake

61. How many tattoos do you have?
None

62. Which came first, the chicken or the egg?
Boredom.

63. How many people are you sending this email to?
Dunno, most are strangers and that's how I like it.

64. Favorite Cocktail?
Depends - although tonight I think I'll go whiskey sour. I hate order 'cocktails' they're so girly.

65. Red or White wine?
White.

66. Where would you go for a girls or boys weekend get-a-way?
Skiing

67. What do you want to be?
Respected and loving.

68. Republican or Democrat?
Democrat

69. Favorite Family Vacation?
With my family? Probabably Florida when I was 13 with my parents, my grandmother, and my foster brother. We went on a private tour/fishing trip of the everglades on a big, flat boat. Fishing w/ dad, painting w/ mom, teasing my little brother, laying on the deck watching the water and bottom flow... sunshine. It was great.

4:23pm: Lush... confirmed!

Bacardi 151 Congratulations! You're 132 proof, with specific scores in beer (100) , wine (100), and liquor (78).

All right. No more messing around. Your knowledge of alcohol is so high that you have drinking and getting plastered down to a science. Sure, you could get wasted drinking beer, but who needs all those trips to the bathroom? You head straight for the bar and pick up that which is most efficient.

My test tracked 4 variables How you compared to other people your age and gender: You scored higher than 58% on proof You scored higher than 80% on beer index You scored higher than 84% on wine index You scored higher than 67% on liquor index

Link: The Alcohol Knowledge Test written by hoppersplit on Ok Cupid, home of the 32-Type Dating Test

2:22pm: What do you know?

You Are the Individualist

4 You are sensitive and intuitive, with others and yourself. You are creative and dreamy... plus dramatic and unpredictable. You're emotionally honest, real, and easily hurt. Totally expressive, others always know exactly how you feel.

2:26pm: poetic prose
I've always loved poetic prose; that delicate point when prose takes on the power and emotional imagery of poetry. I used to think I would be the writer who would bring it some recognition... as a teenager I wrote in that style almost exclusively. Not even approximating poetry, but not plot driven enough for prose. Too long for a poem, but too short for even a short story. I often find little bits of poetic prose embedded in novels and other prose-proper pieces. Here's one I discovered in the spring when reading a galley I picked up for free at ALA. It's from Anne Giardini's novel, The Truth About Happiness, I remember nothing of the plot, but I held on to my copy for one paragraph:

"The downward ratcheted shift in the social worker's tone provided a window, or something smaller and more constricted, a key-hole or pinprick into his life. I heard his vocal hesitancy a man easily intimate with the sorrow of others, at the ready with advice and solutions, but unable to define or resolve or even recognize and acknowledge his own predicament: how to obtain and sustain a passionate life as a man of middle years, median height, unremarkable appearance, no more than standard skill, perhaps substandard wit. He was certain, however, that I was not this person, and so made an excuse and put down the phone, regretful that I might have hurt him, certain that neither his hurt not my regret would last too long."

I love it, it's so simple and so generous. And so much like life - we pass by a zillion characters a day all with their own stories, their own excuses, their own bruises... and she gets him, explains him in one paragraph - then the novel steps back in, moves on, and leaves this man alone - just like we would do in real life. Aren't we all trying to 'obtain and sustain a passionate life.' Sometimes fighting only against our own nature? And isn't the fundamental of our fears that no one will see us through our mediocrity? We hold these things behind us as if we're alone, but we share. The eternal isolation of humankind...

1:56am: me and my ryan
Someone seriously hurt and disappointed me today... I should probably be angry, well, I am angry. But mostly at myself. He's hurt me before and I should not have given him another chance. The thing is though, I'm not that badly hurt - I've been expecting this from the very beginning - so it's kind of a load off. Although I feel extraordinarily rejected... mostly because he was the only person I've ever really allowed close enough to hurt me in that way. Of course, maybe I only let him close BECAUSE I knew he'd bolt so it wasn't that big a risk - the really scary thing would be if he made an effort to be with me. Clearly I don't have my thoughts straight about this and probably won't ever. But there's a silver lining: read on.

I am a lucky girl because my favorite band is relatively local - about an hour... and I get to see them live a lot. Plus, they're not big- it's not like Dave Matthews or the Shins or something where I'd see them in a big venue... the play little places, but, my god do they rock. Interested? Here: Ryan Montbleau Band. Even better is that I'm friends with the guys, well all the guys except Ryan will say hello. I even got a high-five from Jay on keys tonight; that made me happy. Anyway, I went to hear them tonight at the The Stone Church in Newmarket. I went alone, which I like doing, I get to call all the shots and please myself only. AND I get to dance like a maniac and not have to be embarrassed the next day. As I'm dancing tonight, I'm thinking about this boy, and about myself and just loving life. I could feel the wounds start to scab over... Ryan's music is just so generous and resonates so much with me.

Oof, I want to be articulate, really... but I'm just too tired.

12:14pm: reinforcement rejection
I'm mad at you for being the only person who really sees me me, knows me and what I'm worth... and doesn't want me anyway.

8:37am: falling hard
I've had a tough week. Generally feeling blue, lonesome, and really missing Mops. I was fully awake this morning, trying to ignore Zuzu's constant meowing and poking - laying there, imagining my day for a full five minutes before I realized what day it is. I'm 29. I dragged myself out of bed with extra reluctance, put on my robe, started down the hardwood stairs, and stumbled once - no real risk, but enough to race my heart. Now, in addition to it being my birthday and not at all happy about it, for a number of reasons NOT including my age, btw; I'm also having lovely singleton thoughts, 'if I fell and broke a leg or hit my head, I wonder how long it would take for someone to find me?' Most days it would be 48 hours, at least... today, I would probably lay there until dark tonight, because I made tentative plans with Justine who would probably come looking for me... eventually. 7am is a little early for such thoughts.

Anyway, no harm done. I continued into the kitchen to make coffee, as usual. But the trash was full, so I stepped out onto the back steps to drop it into the big can and before I knew it I was careening down them. It was a hard fall. Smashed my elbow and knee - sat on the ground in my pjs for a few moments trying (and failing) not to feel defeated. I picked the garbage off the ground and in I went, wishing I could call in sick... but then what would I do? Watch TV all day and get depressed, probably.

So, what's the point of all the gloom? I do not want to be a person who hates birthdays. But here's the thing - I wish someone were there, or nearby, to hear me fall, give me a few minutes to regain my composure, and then pick me up. See my hands shake, make the coffee for me, and pat my bum as I leave for work. Not hover, not fuss, just pick me up.

9:43pm: canned soup canned
Nasty beef and vegetable soup tasting like can and little else, warmed with a whole can of green beans, frozen peas and corn, and a generous helping of chili garlic sauce = passable dinner of a raw, windy, stormy night. PLUS it's spitting SNOW - YAY New England!

That is all.

6:11pm: touch my wounds with a gentle & peaceful hand
A friend sent me these two beautiful quotes:

"My life seems to be an increasing revelation of the intimate face of universal struggle. You begin with your family and the kids on the block, and next you open your eyes to what you call your people, and that
leads you into land reform into Black English into Angola leads you back to your own bed where you lie by yourself, wondering if you deserve to be peaceful, or trusted or desired or left to the freedom of your own unfaltering heart. And the scale shrinks to the size of a skull: your own interior cage.

And then if you're lucky, and I have been lucky, everything comes back to you. And then you know why one of the freedom fighters in the sixties, a young Black woman interviewed shortly after she was beaten up for
riding near the front of the interstate bus--you know why she said, 'We are all so very happy'? It's because it's on. All of us and me by myself: we're on."
-- june jordan, poet

"When we honestly ask ourselves which person in our lives means the most us, we often find that it is those who, instead of giving much advice, solutions, or cures, have chosen rather to share our pain and touch our
wounds with a gentle and tender hand. The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing, not curing, not healing and face with us the reality of our powerlessness, that is a friend who
care."
-- Henri Nouwen

I've often said that what we (I) yearn for and only get from those closest to us is proof positive, absolutely no doubt that they see all our faults - scabs, scars, soft spots, bruises - and they love us anyway. They accept them and love them because they are part of us and make us real.

When I had a singles profile online there was a guy living nearby whose headline read: "just looking for something real..." Aren't we all, huh? Seems like a tall order for a personals add, though.

3:46pm: the impossible kindness of strangers
When Mopper died my colleagues circulated a sympathy card for everyone to sign. As I cycle through my feelings about Mops, I realize that losing a grandparent is a tough one. It's not a gimmee relationship - if a parent dies, people know, big deal... even if you weren't close. But when a grandparent dies, people don't tend toward the same level of support. Which is fine, I'm not saying I need more, I'm doing fine. But, I just moved offices and took the card off the wall to discover a note on the back I hadn't seen before. It's from a man whose work is far removed from mine and I've never had much occasion to speak to him. He wrote: "We forget that life is really a gift, that we have to give back, at some time. We think we should own it forever, and that nothing should ever change. But then nothing that's good in life would be possible."

1:02pm: I can *so* relate to this...
"
“Excuse me would you mind watching my things for a bit?”
“Sure, no problem.” Thank God because I have to make.
The stranger beside me at “fourbucks” could very well make off with my laptop and wool pea coat while I’m in the bathroom, but they don’t. I trust strangers readily with my things.

When it comes to trusting those I love, I plunge my arms through the holes of my coat, taking care to button it closed, then fold my arms in defense. I want to run. It’s called guarded; it’s something so deep-rooted within me. It rarely has anything to do with the person’s behavior and everything to do with me and my very real and very painful fears.

I’ll trust the weirdo in the wool hat and oversized sunglasses, sitting indoors, noodling with his iPod, to keep an eye on my writing, but I won’t let the naked man beside me in bed love me. I’m more scared of love than theft. Theft is an inconvenience; you feel violated, but eventually, you can sleep through the night again and don’t flinch at the smallest sounds. Betrayal lasts, many years after the mess is behind you. It keeps you awake and restless in the night, afraid it will happen again, now that you’re in love. I’m scared of being lied to, of discovering even the smallest withholding of truth, lies by omission. I’m scared of what I’m so scared of.
" From Stephanie Klein.

I think about this non-stop. How much I trust almost anyone to do good by me - my friends, my family, and complete strangers. Lovers = not so much. And generally this expectation for pain, disappointment, betrayal manifests itself by passive aggressive nastiness in me. Another heartily unpleasant side effect is that I'm only comfortable with someone who already treats me badly... is unavailble for whatever reason, runs hot and cold, doesn't fulfill my needs, has a girlfriend (!)... the list goes on. I feel like with the person who treats badly already, there'll be no surprises... he's not asking for my trust, on the contrary, he's demonstrating that he's not worthy of it. And I hope right on board. Nothing like a little victim complex to leave you safe. Gaaahhh, another reason I'm much better off single. Me single = a lot more happy and well-adjusted men out there for everyone else.

1:39pm: tasteless, unoriginal joking
Donald Rumsfeld is briefing president Bush: "Yesterday, 3 Brazilian soldiers were killed."
"Oh no!" exclaims the president, "that's terrible!"
His staff is stunned at this unprecedented display of emotion, watching as Bush sits, head in hands.
Finally, he looks up and asks, "How many is a brazillion?"

4:22pm: Artemis woman at what price
My family gathered, a precious event, for my grandmother's funeral. I'm the only female of all the grandkids, the third oldest. Mom and I were commenting on the wives of my two older cousins and their commitment to their husbands. I said something about never seeing myself in that type of relationship.... I'm too fierce about my independence. My mom said something meant to be kind, comforting, and a compliment: "You're like me, and your aunt Margy, and Katie... you're an artemis woman. Strong. It's a good thing." And she's right; it is. I love feeling capable and strong, which I do most of the time. But here's the thing, three of the four 'artemis women' named are single. Two of them are desperately lonesome. Their solitude is tangible. They wear it like a cloak.

Don't get me wrong; I love these women. I am proud to be compared to them and I hope to live up, gracefully and worthy of such comparison. I don't know where to put their isolation. Is it a weakness... their archilles heel? Is it another strength? Are they foolish for choosing this over becoming tamed - answering to a man? Is it all or nothing? Do artemis women have to choose between being a partner or being a warrior? If they do, what should I choose. I can't imagine laying down my weapons - they're too much part of me. But the spector of life-long solitude is one of the most frightening I can conjure - and one I can't battle in the way I'm used to battling.

One, final question... where are the men who love artemis women? They have to be out there. I know, I can hear it now from every man I know, "I want a 'thinking woman', someone strong and independent... All the girls I've dated morph into me; they quickly become a simple extension of myself." Here's the thing guys... you say this to me, then so many of you start dating some whining, jelly fish, boring girl. Don't bother denying it, I've seen it. I'm not saying everyone, just the majority.

Another friend recently said something to me along the lines of, "You're just not the kind of girl men want to marry, L, you're too unpredictable... you're the kind of woman they cheat on their wives with." What's that? Artemis? Achilles? Madonna?

9:21am: Blind eye
I'm trying hard to ignore it but my head's been aching and there's a distinct scratchiness in my throat. Blech. I spent a nice afternoon yesterday - treated myself to a fancy lunch on fishermen's Wharf and then walked down to the Aquarium and home on Cannery Row. Then down Alvardo St through the weekly street fair, which was wonderful. There was a section of food stands (making me regret, slightly, the big fancy lunch), crafts, and fresh produce. I bought some dried fruit for the plane ride today and then came back here to clear my head for the conference tomorrow... I set up a Del.icio.us account (Here, if you want to check it out to start playing with that. Did some school work and went to bed early. Checking out this morning *sad*... but off to a new adventure in LA...

3:19pm: How many monkeys?
What, exactly, is the sign of a really nice hotel? Free internet access? Paper outside the door every morning? Beds that are more than five feet apart? An endlessly kind white-haired concierge? Bath and Body Works soaps? Fancy sheets? Porn channels (something on the order of two dozen, I'll have it known... and with tasty little descriptions, who needs to spring for the $12?)? I would like to propose that it's housekeeping service that actually scapels hair from the tub everyday - the whole tub, not just the drain. These are pearls, people, nay... they're diamonds...

In other news Peter Mulvey was FANTASTIC... He just gets better and better. Not too bad on the eyes either. And very smart... and goofy. I just want to squeeze him and cuddle him... ahem. Monterey Live was a great venue too... I was the big dorky first person there and the staff took care of me. The kind doorman, Keith the film major, started up a conversation which was, well, kind. The waitress was okay - I only drank water and one whiskey... the water glass could have been filled a bit more often. It was also a bit chilly in there... Californians are losing their battle of the coasts with me on this one too.... Yes, it's cold in NE, but at least we have heat... When it's cold outside here, it's cold EVERYWHERE. Anyway, I have to say, specifically, that the sound guy- whose name, I gather, is Scott- was REALLY good. There was an excellent opener too, Greg Trooper who was excellent. So excellent that I was surprised he was opening - he was definately headliner good. At the end, they ripped an unrehearsed Randy Newman cover - it was amazing. I wanted to say hello to him, my countryman, but felt like a dork- although I'm sure he would've been happy to hear it. I went home on a cloud of music-y goodness.

I'm noticing a trend... I am starting to prefer to go places, especially to hear music... is this something I should worry about?

7:54pm: Don't make me choose.
It's my third day in Monterey and as I was just leaving my hotel, I looked up and noticed, for the first time, a beautiful mountain. To my left is the harbor, complete with beloved seals.

People in California are almost as passionate about their home state as we New Englanders are. Whenever I tell them about my devotion to NE, most of their first response is to convert me. They list all the ways in which California is far superior to NE. Usually this arguement involves the weather. I answer that I like the seasons and would get board with the same weather all the time. They say something like, "but you can drive from LA (or whatever) for thirty minutes and go skiing... isn't that better? You can choose your own weather."

Here's the thing, that idea makes my disciplined yankee ass twitch. That fact is that I don't want to choose. To me, there's nothing quite as wonderful as an unexpected storm. A day off snuggled in my bed feeling like a child. I look forward to shoveling. I love all those extremes of weather in NE. Part of what I love about them is the fact that I don't have to go to them, they come to me. Yes, it disrupts my life sometimes... yes, it makes driving horrible... but sometimes it takes something like that to make you look around, doesn't it. It's a cliche, but New Englanders know what it means to be scared driving on icy road - and they know the clarity it gives them.

I have, had actually, a close friend when I was in college in NH. We were real pals. As friends do, we made seeing eachother a priority sometimes. Well, I haven't seen him in five years. He moved to central/northern CA shortly after I saw him last, so getting together was tough. Fair enough. But I'm currently fewer than 150 miles from where he lives - after traveling 3000 miles. We had planned to see eachother Saturday. I did not hear from him - I got a message this morning explaining his car troubles and reasons he won't make it to see me. It didn't make me feel good... or important... and yes, I know that things come up and blah blah blah... but still... maybe CA needs a good blizzard.

Or maybe I need to go home.