I dream of parakeet

It has come to my attention lately that it's time to start rethinking the things I thought I knew. I thought I understood love and relationships, or rather, that I had come to believe they don't really exist in healthy ways. But I'm starting to remember how I used to believe that love was out there for me somewhere. I miss that feeling, the poetic nature of yearning for a Someone Else. And other people are showing me that it does exist, the Real Thing. So maybe I have written it off too soon.

The past 10 years have been about transition, from high school to college to work, back to school, and now back to work. I've spent a lot of time floating, building an easily transportable life. But now I'm older, and the next step is not a different job or a new apartment. I'm working in smaller increments now. I am home, where I've wanted to be for years. The Next Big Thing is here. If I'm seeking a home, I can't wait for the next move. Home is here, and I have to make it here. The big career moves are farther in the future. I have to get better at this job before I can move on to the next one.

I spent a lot of time in my formative years going with the flow. Things came easy and I got lazy. I got comfortable with playing the princess, taking in any old suitor who crossed my path and taking up past times that seemed to stick. But now I realize that if I want things to be better than just Good, I have to approach them with intent. I have to be more conscious with my intentions and my attentions. If I want love, I have to believe in it and I have to seek it. If I want to have a better job, I have to do a better job. If I want to lose weight, I have to think about food differently, which means strategically eating better to eat less. If I want to have a home, I have to make it here. My life can no longer be about just picking up what drifts by. Whatever I want, I have to create it, and I have to be mindful of what I'm doing. Doing well without trying worked when everyone else was mediocre. I have to do better now because my playing field has shifted. Now I'm doomed to mediocrity unless I work harder. So that's my new goal - to work harder and do better.

I'm not sure that I believe in love anymore. I used to, back in the day when I remembered what love felt like. Back in the day, that memory drove me to seek more love, to believe that one day I'd find the person I'd love for the rest of my life. But it's been too long since I knew that feeling. I've spent too much time thinking I suffered from unrequited love. I've seen too many relationships fall apart. I've seen too much false love, too much messy love. So now I just don't know anymore whether I believe in it. Or rather, I'm not sure I believe that true love is for me. Other people seem to find it, but I'm skeptical. Is it that I just don't trust other people? Maybe I just don't trust myself. Either way, the longer I go, accepting the possibility of never finding that love, the easier it is to go without it. And that is a dangerous thing. Because even though I don't believe that true love exists, I still want someone to prove me wrong.

It's back. I've been craving the West again. Funny how the place where I've spent the least amount of time is the place I yearn for. Maybe it's because I've been seeking a serious change, a new 'do of sorts, and the West is something yet unknown, full of promise for some new adventure. Maybe it's because that silly California show is on again, and the wide-angle shots of Los Angeles remind me of my airplane fly-overs and Amtrak pass-throughs of late. Maybe it's because everything seems so serious lately, and all I want is a piece of trivial, beautiful, easy-does-it life. But I'm on the opposite end of the country, which may as well be the opposite end of the world. I frown at my closet every morning, slump into my office chair at lunch, and crawl into my bed at night, feeling like the hole has just been misplaced, not filled. But I couldn't win, really. Were I to bask in the beachy sun of San Diego or trek along a red desert trail, I'd wish to be here in the big city, where the political action is palpable. Or down in the pines of the sandy Southeast. I'm not really a Midwesterner, nor an East Coaster. I hold no regional allegiance. I'm just a girl who can't stand sitting in a windowless office all day, seeking the truths through a lighted box full of mixed results. I'm not meant to live this staid and static life, so I'm putting out a call. Come one, come all, bring me a life of reliable income and travels to new lands, and a partner to share the pain, for I've grown weary already of this stable plan.

The hair problem was a freak thing, a combination of wacky hormones and tying my hair band too tight. The cycle worked itself out. Whew.

My life has gotten a little more real, and slightly reminiscent of the unease I felt back in the other big city. Sitting at a desk all day is painful. Staring at a computer all day, wishing I could figure out what more my paper needs, is painful. But the free workout is sufficient, the bus ride home is okay, the noisy greeting from my meowy kit is nice, and the open evenings are lovely. Dinner parties, magazine reading, and long walks abound. Weekends are even better, full of yoga and farmers markets, reading in the sun, bike rides through the park, and drinks in the neighborhood. It's nice to have a community here. It may not be the happy little life of the South, but it's comfortable here. Not as hard as I thought, and I get out of the city, back to nature, often enough that I don't feel trapped. It's also nice to finally be a legitimate adult, less concerned with what people think of me, more secure with what I have and what I want. Of all the things I had been reaching for when I was younger, this is what I wanted most. To finally feel secure with who I am and where I'm headed. Not settled or resigned, just secure. A number of friends are going through the mess that is the Mid-20s, and I now realize where I was and where I came from. It explains so much, and it makes me that much more thankful for having figured things out so well. As Morcheeba (and maybe others) says, the moment you stop running is the moment you arrive. I guess I have sort of arrived. So now that I'm here, what's next?

I live in a newly renovated apartment, with stainless steel, energy efficient appliances and granite counter tops. I just got a fancy new tv, courtesy of the movers who lost my old old one. I'm a few blocks from The Park, the only one with a planetarium, and on a clear day, I can see the White House and the Washington monument. The bus that takes me to work stops right outside my building, and my employer pays my commuting bus fare.

It gets better. I work downtown, among all the hustle and bustle. There's a free gym in my building so I don't have to pay for a membership. I get to work at 8:30 am and leave at 5pm, and I don't have to work more than that if I don't want to. But it's interesting work, so I wouldn't mind if I did.

It gets even better. Last night, I met a new friend who gave me a ride home on his motorcycle. The whole time, I kept picturing that Sex and the City episode where Carrie rides on Berger's motorcycle and he drives so fast that she keeps a death grip on him the whole time.

So this is my life. Back in grad school, I often sat unbelieving, but things somehow felt familiar, like an updated version of the highlights of a life I already lived. But this is unfamiliar territory. I'm thriving here, saying at least some of the right words and doing things that years ago I couldn't even guess about.

But there's a 'but'. There always is. My hair is falling out and it's been 36 days in my cycle. I keep telling myself it's just a freak thing, which I can't prove yet because my health insurance hasn't kicked in. But my biggest fear is that with all of these things that seem to have fallen in line, this freak thing will threaten to disrupt it all. I'm afraid that now that I have much of what I could want, the other shoe will finally drop. In an instant, it could all slip away again. Now that I've learned how to be vulnerable, I'm may face a test that could prove me wrong. I hope it's just a freak thing. Please God, let this be a passing thing. Let my hair grow back thick and full, this shedding just a symptom of changing hormones. Let my new hair grow back the way the rest of my life has grown back, even better than it was before.

We justify things to ourselves all the time. We lie to ourselves about what we really want, so we can accept wholeheartedly what we think we want. We run from the things we think we can't have, and we tell ourselves that they wouldn't want us anyway. These are the things we do to get by, until we get what we want, and we accept that it was all a ruse.

I still want the California life. Reading my last post, I think of sitting in the Santa Ana airport in Orange County, California, wishing my life were so glamorous. The idea of moving there, it didn't sit right in my stomach. I was telling myself that it wouldn't really make me happy, like the fabulous shoes I bought that hurt my feet from the start and will never fully be broken in. But it was the best option at the time, and I fully embraced it. At least I opened myself up to the idea of it, and that was a valuable journey.

But now I may have what I want. Now I can be in a position to change the world. It's what I wanted from the start, and it's what got me here in the first place. And that California ruse feels like a nice vacation, a place I'd like to visit again and again but never commit to.

I've let go of control in other ways though. I stopped managing my hormones, opening the door for some potential craziness. Some days are a little much, but somehow I know now how to rein it in. But some days are fantastic, because I can be poetic and lovely and emotional again. Some days, I learn something new about myself. For instance, I knew this farmy thing was the best thing to ever happen to me, the experience that has meant so much in my life, and I knew it must be for a deeper reason. Then one night, after thinking about my farmy partner's suggestion to start a community garden in our new city, I thought about how nice it has been to create something with someone. And then it made sense. And then it made me cry. So I hope he comes too, because now that we started something, I don't want to move on without it, even if I don't really know what it is.

So, I can have meaning in my life again. I can pursue the path I meant to follow all along. I can create new things with farmy friends and others, in a real city with a real life. I can wrap myself in all the emotions I haven't felt in so long and open myself up to journeys I never dreamed of. It's funny, this life, like I erased the parts in the middle that didn't make any sense, sewed some new seams and kept on trekking. It's as if I never left.

Last night, I watched a one-hour special about a 25-year-old guy who quits his comfortable New York City job to travel the world for 11 months. He makes it look effortless, but by the end of his trip, he's a little tired of working so hard. He did something I can only dream of doing, not just because I don't have $20,000 to blow on a world trip, but also because I can't imagine a life of not knowing how you'll get to tomorrow.

But alas, I'm about to embark on my own journey, and I'm scared shitless. I have an easy life, and yet it always feels so hard, because everyday, I try so hard to do what's right. Every day, I try to save the world. I can't imagine a life of not saving the world. And yet, the adventure I'm choosing has options, one of which is to not save the world. I could settle into my comfy apartment and my comfy job. I could lie by the pool at night, surf and hike and bike on the weekends, eat fancy food and wear trendy clothes. Right now, that's all I want to do. But I wouldn't be doing good for the world. I wouldn't be pushing progressive policy or designing sustainable neighborhoods. I would be just making sure developers don't harm the environment.

So I have to keep reminding myself that the above life is just one option. It's all about perspective. That job? It's really important, because nothing makes a more compelling argument than scientific proof. And I can still live by the beach and enjoy the outdoors - it'll help keep me grounded. I'll be eating my food closer to the source, because the best food is grown in California. I can buy environmentally friendly trendy clothes and support restaurants that use local ingredients. I can volunteer for good causes and even donate money. And I can still take that world trip, one piece at a time. And the best part is that I wouldn't be swimming against the tide.

I promised myself when I left my last life that I would no longer do what I felt I should do. Staying here, because I think they need people like me, would be doing what I should do. The new adventure out west could be full of many new, just-as-important things, that I can't even imagine right now. What that world traveler did, which I didn't think I could do, is relinquish some control of his life. I have to stop trying so hard. I have to stop pushing against the tide, which I have invited to push back. I have to do what I can with the tools I wield best, and I have to accept that as enough. The truth is that I don't think like a politician or a government official. I think like a writer, like a journalist. I see the story, and I may not be able to change it, but I can write about it so others can change it. Most importantly, I have to start living my life. I never felt old before, but suddenly I'm 28 years old and my life feels like it's only just starting. So I'm relinquishing some control. I'm going to accept my capabilities and do well what I do best. I'm going to invite the best things in life so that I can do some good things with them. It is possible to save the world and save yourself at the same time.

Maybe it's the weather, maybe it's the time of year, or maybe I'm just over it. I'm tired of living in a red state. The southern accents are no longer endearing. It's hard to be an environmentalist here, where green and red have nothing to do with each other except on the Christmas tree, which I'll never have. I'm tired of pushing against the tide. Tired of being excited about small steps. I long to be where others are better than I, where I'm not the only hippie by far, where recycling is a given and the farmers market is more than just a corner on a not-busy street.

I'm ready to change the world. Ready to stop accepting mediocrity. Ready to do what I came here to learn. Enough of impressing the little guys, it's the big ones who matter now. But I'm stuck in the cold, here where it rarely snows, and I can't bathe for the drought. Enough of the drought. Maybe I depend too much on rivers, which flow and flow, except down here where they're puddles. Unacceptable to be so motionless.

Get on with the rain already.

I never used to be a chewing gum kind of gal, but I've been chewing enough lately that I bought a multi-pack of multi-flavors to keep me busy. I used to dislike vodka for its headachy qualities, but these days, an orange vodka tonic sounds quite refreshing. I also crave red wine, and some weekends, I have more than one drink, or two drinks, and I stay out late with the crew. Coffee used to be my best friend, but since my stomach now cringes at the thought, black tea or chai now wash down my morning meal. And now, I eat meat. Not a lot, and only when I know for sure that it came from a local farm. Vegetarian options still sound best, but I like having the flexibility. I use sandalwood soap made in India, I do yoga and pilates instead of weight-training, I'm letting my hair grow out for now, and I'm comfortable in front of a crowd. My leadership qualities are emerging, finally. All I needed was a little help from my friend.

The biggest switch though is something that grew from the breakup. One day, I realized that maybe I just don't want to get married and have kids. Maybe I'm a world-changer. Maybe settling down would be too settling. Which isn't to say I'm afraid of commitment. It's just that I crave change, I like a dynamic life, and any potential partner would have to feel the same. What are the chances that there's someone just like me out there somewhere? What are the odds that I'd actually run onto my intended life partner? And more so, what are the chances that he would actually feel the same? If it happens, it does, but I'm not searching anymore, just looking for fun, and that is the most freeing feeling. I guess I'm just not the marrying kind.

I thought it was going to be easy. I thought this was what I wanted, no questions asked. I thought I would go on with my day jubilant and light. I thought we would be fine. But it's harder than I thought. I get sad thinking of you and how you probably hurt, and that's the last thing I ever wanted for you. I get lonely when I see an article or tv show or something else I know you'll find interesting or funny, and I can't call to share it with you. I made toast the other morning and thought of you. I went to the bar and longed for the security of knowing I had someone and didn't have to search or fight the crowds. It's weird being single again, pushing down the longing for someone you fear you'll never find. I thought I wanted to be single again, until I was, and now I'm not so sure.

But besides that, my life hasn't changed so much, because you weren't a part of a lot of it anyway. I went biking, which you never did with me, although you would have been interested in what I saw. I went to the farmers market, which you didn't care for anyway, but you would have eaten too much of what I cooked. I went dancing with friends, and I didn't have to worry about whether you were having fun. I bought more concert tickets without consulting your schedule, because you're not into that music anyway.

So it's hard and I'm sad, but it's also easier and I'm relieved. And I don't know what to do - I don't know how to play this game, because it's not about disliking who you are, it's about dealing with the change that shocked us somewhere along the way. We were together because it was easy. Now it's not easy, and it's not enough. It sneaked up without a hint, and now it's still unreal.

I got frustrated and declared a minor weight loss goal. I blame it on the media and on my sloth. I have no intentions of ever being a supermodel, but feeling stylish and perky just doesn't happen often enough. I'm tired of being broke and want to wear trendy expensive clothes. I started plucking my eyebrows as usual and ended up with smaller, thinner, less-crunchy expression lines. Actually, it all happened when I got tired of smelling like a dirty hippie and bought conventional deodorant. That led to feeling powder fresh, which led to feeling cute, which led to wanting my clothes to not feel constricting. Hence the weight loss goal. And working out always makes me feel better. And I have more girl friends now, which feels more fulfilling than it used to. So now I'm bored with my plain poor life and I don't want to be a slobby student for another year, and I'm tired of my low-maintenance boyfriend who sometimes doesn't get it.

So here I am, waiting for another sign, which I thought I was done doing. What I really want is for my internal life to be less work and my external life to be more work. I'm tired of trying so hard all the time. I want to think less and buy more clothes. I want to be glamorous.

I've been having mall dreams lately, often during my three-hour marathon naps. The malls are usually huge, multi-level monstrosities, sometimes modern and cold, and sometimes aging with ugly green velvet carpeting and glaring gold lights. I wander around for hours, sometimes going into stores and checking out the merchandise, and sometimes just trying to find specific stores (which are never down the wing I expected). I never buy anything. That's sort of how I shop in real life, and I guess it says something about me. All these choices, all these options, and all I can do is wander around, never committing to any of them. It's not fear of commitment, not completely, but rather a feeling that what I really want can't be found in a common marketplace like the mall.

I do a lot of wandering in dreams. Usually, I'm wandering through airports or train stations, but I never make it to the plane or train, much less to my destination. Sometimes, especially right before a new semester, an exam, or new jobs, I wander around trying to make it to a meeting or class, but I never do. I always start out headed in the right direction, but my intended path never goes where I thought it did. Only once did I make it to the meeting, though I was late. That's also pretty telling about my life path, although I make it to meetings and classes in real life.

Maybe one of these days I'll make a purchase or find my way to my destination. When that happens, will I still need my marathon naps?

It's been a summer of fertile uproar indeed, that chaotic time when you feel like something is changing, but you don't know what it will become or whether it will be sweet. During the crazy times, when school and work distract me and I'm bundled in wool and scarves, I lose sight of myself. I forget what's underneath all those layers. Summer always reminds me of what I'm here for, and this summer has been the most reminiscent one in years.

My summers used to be scandalous, letting loose of all the things that tightened my brow and my back. These days I have let go of the scandal, opting for a more relaxed version of release than the push I used to crave. All this fresh air, hiking and biking, fresh food from the market cooked in new ways, and most importantly, working with people who share a passion for nature and community, has brought me new peace. But like always, my mind is working on overload, processing all the things I don't have time to think about in October or March, making plans, getting excited about all the things I can make possible in the span between now and next summer, when a new wave of fertility washes over my life.

Again, summer. Three-plus months of openness and scandal and all the things you can't say under the glowing flourescent lights. Sun and sin and all things golden. Work foregone and day turned to sludge in the hot heat of lifted pressure. Things are growing again in the gardens of possibility--freshness of life, a new start, beaded sweat on the side of a tea pitcher. It's these days we live for as time flies on and the memories of hide-and-seek and slip-and-slide hang embedded in our summer filing cabinet. We bare our shoulders and knees, no longer scraped and sun-burned. We dip our feet in the fountains and ponds. We stroke the green grass with our toes and think of metaphors for all the days long forgotten. Babies smile, birds chirp, and the continuum of life rolls on.

I'm getting used to things being very different from what I ever would have expected. This life, it's odd, because it's not hard. The calculus is challenging, the money situation is being avoided for now, and walking up the big hill sometimes gets old. But it's not difficult, an overall trudge I had gotten used to. I just bought a car, an older version of the one I had been coveting in my neighborhood. After two weeks, it still feels like a rental, not yet like my own. I briefly wondered whether I had made the right choice, which seemed too easy at the time. I doubted the decision because the car "didn't feel like me." But nothing about my life really feels like "me", or at least the old me. My Chicago life feels like a dream, like a large puddle I jumped over on my way from college, or high school even, to where I am now. None of it has sunk in yet, a year after starting over.

The important part, however, is that I'm succeeding, more so than I had ever expected. I have an internship that I hope I'll be able to figure out how to do, since it's like no other job I've ever had. I have an advisor for a major project I hope I'll be able to wade through, since it's like no other project I've ever undertaken. A year from now, I hope I'll have a real job, which will probably be completely new as well, and I'll be hoping I'm actually as qualified as I seem on paper. The biggest lesson I'm learning these days is how to see myself in a completely different way, because even though I'm working up to a place I had always dreamed of being, I never actually believed I'd make it here.

One thing is for sure: the key to living life is believing that you have the capacity to figure out the next step when you get there. Because no one actually knows what they're doing--we're all just making it up as we go along. The only way any of us make it through is by choosing to take a step forward instead of curling up in a ball. Inexperience is a crutch; the best way to avoid relying on it is to get as much experience as you can.

Last night, my brother was mugged. He was punched, his phone was stolen. He played the situation well. But it's scary. What if they had a gun, or a knife? What if they insisted on taking his car and his wallet?

My brother, he's a force to be reckoned with, an imposing figure, and yet some dumb thieves decided to anyway. I have been fearing that experience for a few years now. What if that had been me? During the last year I lived alone, I often awoke in the night fearing that someone was in my apartment. Rules of avoiding such a thing swirl in my head while walking down the street after dark. Don't talk on the phone or listen to music. Carry your key in your hand like a dagger. Walk purposefully, your belongings tucked close to your body. All the while, I'm still upset by the fact that an aquaintance's apartment was robbed while he was away, and that some other friends were robbed the week they moved into a new home (one of them was shot in the leg by the thief who returned for more stuff when he was home).

I wasn't that close with them. But how dare someone mess with my brother like that! He's a good kid. He's doing really well in his new career. He's getting married next year. Finally things are going so well for him. I feel violated as if I had been mugged. I feel upset by just the prospect of something worse happening, the mugging gone wrong. My brother used to leave all the lights on when he was younger because he was afraid of the dark. Now I want to prowl the streets, looking for the guys who took that feeling of safety away from him. Every time he passes that spot between home and work, he'll be reminded of the fear he felt in that moment. Thank goodness he's okay. Thank goodness he's moving out of that neighborhood soon. I hope this was the worst of his troubles.

The animal, it came a-skritching again last night, thumping around in the dark like a drunk coming home late from the bars. And I complained.

"Just because you're nocturnal and I'm diurnal, that doesn't mean you can go about waking me up in the middle of the night."

Vermin of the Month Club, indeed. It's quite funny, really. These animals, they make me giggle. They do their thing, no matter how we try to get in their way, and we complain.

Sometimes you have to admit defeat. You sum up your wins, account for your losses, and trudge forth in a new direction. At this point, I know I shall succeed in what I have already set forth to accomplish, and the rest will have to fall by the wayside. Debts are piling up, numbers are bearing down on me, and the clock, it is a-ticking. It's relief in a way, knowing that the end is nearer than before. But will I be ready?

-My iPod seems to know that it's springy music time and adjusts accordingly
-Having the whole afternoon to lounge around, pretending to read some boring papers about China's environmental movement and planning interviews for survey pretests while dozing with the kitties
-The sun shining directly into my bedroom window at 4 pm
-Wearing shoes that are as close as possible to being barefoot--soft bendy soles with soft uppers that leave plenty of room for my boxy toes
-Daydreaming about the vacation I am taking in less than two weeks
-Knowing I have an internship if I want it (even though I only kind of do)
-Watching food network and plotting the entire week's worth of fresh dinners I will have time to make
-I totally would have peered into the attic to see what animal has been scritching around, if only I were taller

Today it really feels like spring. Not like a flukey winter-warming spring, but real spring. The air is warm and the breeze is refreshing. The hot hot sun is singeing my pale pasty skin through my shirt sleeve. Everything looks greener against the bluer sky, and real tufts of grass are poking up through the sandy soil.

The signs of spring are harder to tell around here. Flowers bloom almost year-round in some places and many of the trees never go completely bare. But I can tell it's happening. For the past week, even when the air was cold, I could smell scents floating around, like cigarette smoke and food flavors from nearby restaurants. I could hear things too, like birds chirping, in an excited preparatory way. Somehow, the air is different when it's warm, like the sights and sounds and smells get suppressed by the cold and are let out to play as soon as the deep chill lifts.

In college, on a day like this, the first actually warm day, we would drive to Sonic, get huge fruity drinks like cherry limeade and vanilla coke (all with real maraschino cherries) and drive around for the afternoon with the windows down and the music blaring. It's hard to work on a day like this, when I really want to sit in the hot sun and melt my winter skin away. I'll have to make do with some clothes dried on the line and some summery music instead.