writing exercise 2

there is a memory from my childhood that even today continues to haunt me. i was young, maybe 7 or 9 years old, and had begrudgingly agreed to go for a bike ride with my dad. it's not that i didn't enjoy bike rides and it's not that i didn't love spending time with my dorky dad, but i was uncontrollably self-aware... and therefore embarrassed just about all the time. in this instance, i was overly aware of the large plastic helmet sitting loosely upon my head causing my hair to matt to my skull and my coolness-factor to plummet. i was also aware that hanging out with one's dad in public was just about the worst thing a young girl could imagine, especially if he forced said girl to wear her helmet while he insisted on riding the embarrassing old 10-speed he'd received too many years prior to this event.

so there we were, biking around town for all the world to see. father in the lead on that rickety and squeaky schwinn free spirit, daughter in tow with head down and eyes averted, trying not to be recognized by anyone. we were on our way home, biking up a rather large hill just near our house when a red convertible full of girls roared its engine and approached us from behind. to me, these girls were the epitome of cool. they were free from parental restraints, driving (and driving a convertible at that), blond long hair blowing in the wind. in the years of saved by the bell and beverly hills 90210, this was the life i longed for.

panting and sweating, my dad and i continued to make our way up the hill while the car full of girls slowed to a crawl so they were right even with us. i heard them laugh. i heard them squeal and scream, enjoying our humiliation. and then i heard one girl yell at my dad out of delight. she commented on how he had nice legs for an old guy.

my face immediately went beat red. the convertible sped off in a roar of triumph. i glanced up at my dad in shock over what had just happened. still panting and sweating and, he made no acknowledgment of hearing what the girls had said. still, he road the rest of the way home in silence and went quietly into the house when we finally arrived.

looking back on this memory, i don't know for a fact that he heard the comment as i heard it. i also don't know who those girls were or what they were doing that day. i didn't know how to react to such a humiliating experience, and to this day don't know if my dad even remembers our bike ride, or how i felt about it.

i do know how i felt as i watched my then, slightly overweight dad huffing and puffing up a hill on his rattling bicycle get cat called in front of his own daughter. i felt hurt for him, ashamed that i at one point thought those girls in the convertible were cool and to be envied, embarrassed that i had witnessed such an event. i felt suddenly very young and yet very old at the same time, young because i was powerless to do anything but watch and old because i had seen it happen.

i can't say why this memory in particular haunts me so. i think about it now, as and adult, when i ride my own bike down the street. i think about it when i see pre-teen girls out in public with their own dorky dads. i think about it whenever i go back to my childhood home, driving past the place where i witnessed my dads humiliation. maybe it's because it was one of the first times i saw him as more than just my parent, the person in authority over me, the guy who embarrassed me in front of my friends, who never seemed to care what others thought of him. maybe i remember this scene so often because it was the first time i saw my dad as others saw him, a middle-aged man out for a leisurely bike ride with his daughter. i caught a glimpse of his humanity beyond how it relates to me.

a quarter come and gone

they say the majority of western society experiences something akin to a mid-life crisis, usually ranging between the ages of 30- 60 years of age and typically brought on by a feeling of uselessness or even boredom. we joke about this phenomenon in our culture, imagining old men buying sports cars and old women getting boob jobs; we think it's funny that someone has lived their life year after year after year only now to realize they don't know what they want or how to get it.

but what about us youngsters? what about those of us who spent 75% of their life being told what to think and where to go and what to do and even when to pee...? we are let out into the world with endless possibilities for life, expecting doors to be opened for us as they have been before, anticipating greatness and excitement and adventure. i've been out of college now for 3 years and am still floundering under the weight of such expectation. not only do i have the constant pressure of deciding what i want to do day by day, but i have the overwhelming thoughts of future life looming overhead... what do i want to do with this life i've been given? where in the entire world do i want to live? who do i want to spend my time with? does that person or people want to spend their time with me? am i too young to settle down and plant some roots or should i continue to float from place to place avoiding any lasting commitments? how do i pursue the life i want while factoring in money and loans and future finances? it's a wonder we don't see more grey-haired 25 year olds walking around!

i've recently been given a fresh start; i can do anything with my life- live anywhere, surround myself with whomever and whatever i please... and the idea of choosing continues to daunt me.

i have a mellow and rather old soul- those who know me can attest to this- so naturally when i think of what i like to do and how i picture life i imagine it calm and peaceful. gardens, sewing, baking, lazy afternoons at the park, long walks, chickens, hula hooping, spending time with friends and family, spending time writing, front porches, and good books. and there's nothing wrong with these things- they make me happy and fill my time adequately.

but those who know me may also notice that i surround myself with adventuresome people; people who encourage me to live life to it's fullest and take some risks. these people help keep me from boring myself, they challenge me to live the kind of life i dream about whether by adding more travel, unique outings, varied socializing, or even new hobbies into my humdrum daily life. without these people, i would fail to reach my full potential; i would become stagnant and dull.

so as day passes day, while i continue to stress and plan and worry over my future and what to do, i now wonder if there is a way to introduce some more vibrancy into my life. i could easily find a place to settle down for the next year or two or ten. i could plant a garden, buy some chickens, fill my time with hobbies and activities i love, all while working toward some future goal of a life and career and whatever... but is it enough? what about the small yearning for adventure that lays hidden deep within? do i continue to rely on others to fulfill that need in spurts? do i risk increased loneliness by striking out on my own? do i settle for what's safe and familiar while attempting regular trips to exotic places or vice versa? i used to dream of traveling the country in my el camino (which is yet to become a reality), with all my possessions packed in back and a companion at my side (probably a canine)... but is that still ideal?

i've been bogged down with so many realities of life, financial, relational, practical- that i can't tell if i'm being realistic or pessimistic. undoubtably, i would be lonely traveling alone. although one can argue that i'd be lonely living by myself too. financially speaking, working regular hours with a regular paycheck is necessary, but work shouldn't control my whole young life. not yet anyway. so where does that leave me?

for today, all i can do is address my frustration and admit my utter confusion. undoubtably, time will continue to flit by, bringing my decisions nearer and nearer. it's possible, my inability to choose will make the decision for me, but we shall see when we reach september. for today, all i can do is wonder.

pardon my self-admitted lameness....

(pardon my lameness, but i feel i have very little to offer at the moment and this will have to do).

there's a line in "under the tuscan sun" where diane lane says the biggest surprise after a divorce is that it doesn't actually kill you; the world continues on just as the day before and the day before that, and yet, you feel shell-shocked... hallow inside, like your jaw has just dropped to the floor and you want to scream and cry and curl up in bed for the rest of your life. how is one supposed to carry on?

i haven't just gone through a terrible divorce, no. my experience doesn't even come close to the depth of that kind of pain. but in my young life of 25, breaking up with a long-term, live-in boyfriend is the closest i have, and because of it i've glimpsed what diane lane was referencing.

i awoke the other morning (the morning after... ugh) and was shocked to hear the rain throbbing against my roof. what's more is that traffic continued to stream outside in the street, birds chirped from their sheltered nests, the mail was delivered, and i was expected to dress and make my way to work. i lay there in my now lonely bed thinking to myself, "how is it possible for the world to just continue on like this?' ... especially when my world had just come crashing down around me.

but the world has continued to turn. it's only been 2 days and already life seems to have carried on much like before. i have been to work; i have managed to forget or deny my own reality enough to casually interact with co-workers and customers; i have refocused my plans for myself and my future- reminding myself again and again the things that I want, the things i've been too timid to pursue in the past; and i've socialized outside of work, spending time with co-workers and friends that i normally would have ditched out on for the comforts of home.

but only 2 days in and i'm already tired.

i can remember a time when independence was like a badge of honor for me. i was proud of my singleness, of my ability to live on my own and depend on only myself. i was overwhelmed with excitement at the vastness that was my future- desiring to take off and live in a different city every week, experiencing life at its fullest. even the thought of a long-term boyfriend seemed binding, constricting, boring.

but having carl turned out to be like wearing a pair of comfortable sweat-pants. i was able to breathe for the first time in a long time. i was safe and cozy knowing i didn't have to try so hard all the time, even just to impress myself. it was okay to want to come home after work because i knew there was something great waiting for me with dinner and a tv show. and that makes it even harder now to imagine squeezing back into those metaphorical skinny jeans that promise independence and self-sufficiency. i've learned that i not only appreciate but that i am built for the comfort found in partnership. i yearn for the familiar and desire some sort of stability. does that make me boring? old? conservative?

it's only been 2 days and already i'm tired of loneliness: of checking to make sure all the doors and windows are locked before bed, of not having that someone to check in with at all hours of the day or night, of returning to a quiet home with no lights on and no one waiting up for me. i'm tired of sleeping in this damn bed alone and desperately long for that snoring lump of a man beside me.

tv and movies seem the best distraction from my frenzied mind during this time... and so i turn to diane lane and her spontaneous trip to tuscany that gave her an exciting rebirth. she managed to find the strength not only to forge her way onward again, but was able to find happiness in her situation and to rest in the companionship of friends and family.

lord, that i may have such strength yet again.