Cassian Andor: I'm not used to people sticking around when things go bad.
Jyn Erso: Welcome home.
-Rogue One: A Star Wars Story
Rogue One was an excellent movie. I loved it. I loved it so
much. I loved that there was no explicit romance in it. I loved that a woman
was the commander of an impossible mission and everyone respected her exactly
for the leader she was. I loved the martial arts. I loved the scenery: like
seriously, A+ rocks. But the above quote was one of the things I loved most
about it. In 13 words it encapsulates something I have been struggling with for
11 years.
Recently I was out to dinner with a friend who asked if I go
home for the holidays. I responded by looking at her with an absolutely blank
expression. I completely forgot that was a thing that someone would choose to
do. Friends of mine are starting to interact with the mortality of their
parents, the loss (usually to due to downsizing) of family homes, the general
dissolution of stability that happens as people age and become more of a burden
than a provider. I am grateful when I can be supportive as they process these
things, yet some of my friends’ fresh wounds reflect such old and healed-over
wounds of mine that it perplexes me. The Rogue One quote condenses an
explanation of the “presence” or “absence” of having a home in the past decade.
I can strive towards being present for my friends and family who need me to be
their home as it happens, that’s all I can do.
Aaaaaaaaanywayyyyyy…
After last week’s insanitypants conference I took SUPER easy
for quite a few days.
An exciting thing that happened was that Dr. Genderqueer met
my Fourth-Cousin-Twice-Removed!! It just so
happens that coffee shops in this part of Oroenpaz city are the exact
intersection of cool and awesome to make this happen. My Fourth-Cousin-Twice-Removed and
I are planning a Punk Rock Shabbat and I am already 1000% on board to record a
fantastic version of “Lecha Dodi” to the
tune of “London Calling” by the Clash. Coming soon to a YouTube channel
near you, hopefully.
Saturday was unremarkable day because we
literally did nothing. It was so glorious. PartnerPenguin correctly intuited
that I needed to get some exercise before the day was out so we went to the
market. Mum calls markets like these “Dunno Stores” because she has had the
experience of asking an employee “what’s this?” they respond “Dunno!” So we
went to a DunnoStore and explored 750 varieties of soy sauce, 60 types of
kimchi, and an isle of noodles. I tried
partially dehydrated and frozen persimmons. Delish.
One thing I did this weekend was melt down my crystalized
honey and put it in a smaller jar. I just needed to share that because it is so
beautiful when the sun shines through it:
It’s been really really cold in the Key Route
City these past couple weeks. I had hoped that being from somewhere that has
Winters I would be ok with the cold every now and then. Nope. Nope. Nopity
nope. Can’t deal. Reason 1: I don’t own anything Winter Worthy. All of my
clothes are (generously) fashionably targeted for a mild chill on the cold end
and a balmy sundress at the other end. Reason 2: My circulation sucks and my
extremities have been known to suck the homeostatis-life-force out of those I
love by wiggling my toes under their bottom. PartnerPenguin hypothesizes that
my heart must be on fire because my nose is so cold. Reason 3: Structures here
are not built for cold. They do not have insulation. They do not have
double-paned windows. There are not end-caps at Home Depot of that special saran wrap for
windows and families do not have a designated hair dryer for shrinking it.
I’m over Pseudowinter and I’m glad that the
Solstice has passed. Winter Solstice is one of my happiest days of the year
because it means that the sun is going to start winning again and we can get
back to business being happy. I had a really good Solstice this year and
appreciated being surrounded by folks who are friendly and care. I made
applesauce, which is labor intensive but simple to make. It helps me eat apples
because I don’t really like apples. 0_o. I guess I don’t like the middle of the
road apples or Red Delicious. Or any apples that are mealy. It’s really hit or
miss. But applesauce. That’s where it’s at.
Probably the biggest thing that happened this
week was I actually found job I’m properly qualified for and I applied the hell
out of that job. The pros: It’s a job! Yay! Pays moneys, good benefits, and
decent (from what I can tell) co-workers. It would be a good path to getting a
PG license; which is a stick I’d be happier to wield at this point than a PhD.
The con: 80% fieldwork with 50% overnight travel. I see the con as an
opportunity to invest in some great new gear (it’s a job so it will pay moneys!)
and get to explore more of the wonderful land of this country. We’ll deal with
how to get through the PTSD about large North American mammals when we get
there.
I also talked for a long time with some
publishing companies at the tail end of the conference last week. At least one
of the dudes thinks my skillset is super transferable and would have been
interested in hiring me if I lived closer or was willing to relocate. That
gives me hope.
I finally went through my LinkedIn account and
made it more accurately reflect myself professionally. There is a category to
include GPA and I poked back to find my GPA from Big American University was
3.60. I started listing the awards I won, the funding I secured. I started
listing my volunteer activities that have been prolific and varied in the
past…since the start of high school. Trying to sell myself more accurately.
Trying to make myself more available, more present and more whole as a person.
This process has been so slow that it has been painful to literally everyone
around me so the more I deal with it, the less agony all around.
Sparkles and I had another session and we built
a beautiful shared analogy. She asked me what I thought of when she said the
word “Closed.” After a bit of exploring, I came to the mental image of a
restaurant. A little mom and pop joint (probably Italian) like the places my
family would sometimes go to on Fridays and I would eat ravioli for comparison.
I imagined this place closed, with the chairs on the tables, the floors mopped,
the tablecloths fresh, kitchen quiet. It felt safe. It felt so nice that there
were no messes. She asked me how I could know whether the place was prospering
or barely scraping by. Would it open the next day?
She asked me then to put the chairs down on the
floor. What else did the tables need? Flowers, I said. The plastic kind. And
compostable, yet disposable tablecloths so messes could be cleaned up. She
asked me could I delegate any of the work for keeping messes under control to
someone, like a busser. I said yes, of course.
We talked about what hours my restaurant would
be open. 5-10pm. Would I have a day off? Saturday. Even though that’s bad
business but this is a metaphor restaurant so I took the day per week I’d like
off. Could I commit to having “Open” hours and know that they would be
constrained? Could I hire people and we come to a mutual agreement about what I expected them to do, yet let them actually
do the thing? I said that I wanted everyone in the restaurant to be allowed to
offer a dish for the “special” of the evening. This way everyone felt included.
Sparkles talked me through opening my
metaphorical restaurant. She asked me how I felt, I said “disbelief.” I didn’t
think anyone would be there but there were already customers. How long would it
be until I believed that this would be ok? Two months. Two months would be long
enough to establish regular regulars and occasional regulars. That, combined
with seasonal, I would probably be ok.
I was so surprised in doing this exercise at how
sad I felt. I just cried for a while, even though things were positive. I cried
because the safety of being closed and clean isn’t how I can move forward any
more. I cried because I know how to delegate tasks but I don’t know how to
delegate parts of my day so that I can be the best me there is. I cried because
there were bits of college where I thought I’d figured it out and really I was
just killing myself bit by bit to graduate with honors: only to never credit myself
for the work. I cried because of how scared I am to change and how little faith
I have that if I change, others will stay with me.
To lighten the mood, I will close out with two
songs that are upbeat in different ways. The first is called “Seagulls” which
is a Bad Lip Reading of Empire Strikes Back. Yoda’s little dancing has been
making my life this week.
The other was introduced to me by Raptor. It’s
an a capella mash up of Carol of the Bells and The Hunchback of Notre Dame. Can’t
say I didn’t spread some holiday cheer!
No comments:
Post a Comment