January 1st-7th, 2011
So. A great many epics have started with that same word, but this probably won't become an epic. It's just a recap of the first week of this new Gregorian year, 2011. And, to be quite honest, it will probably not even meet its full potential as a blog entry, whereas I'm feeling a bit tired.
I'm still in that awkward-feeling state of sitting still; the lovely Eleanor Goodrich, one of my cohorts on Semester at Sea, chose the word "marinating." I think that is quite right: I am a piece of meat, in the refrigerator, floating in foreign juices. The flavor of what I've experienced over the past year and a half is finally soaking in, and I'm just, now, beginning to hit the fire.
I had been taking a winter session course online, but I dropped it yesterday. Why? It was just pissing me off. It was a waste of my time, so I couldn't bring myself to put the time toward it. It's a course I can take a CLEP exam for, anyhow. I feel a major weight lifted--it was like a hot shower with really great soap.
What have I been up to other than not doing my coursework? Plenty enough, I figure.
I finally got started on three paintings this evening. I think that's why painting has always been difficult for me--the amount of time it takes to get the things out of my head into a picture is so much greater than the time it takes for me to just write things down or talk to other people about them. That's why I've used ideas and writing as my two major media, even though I have little things lurking in my skull that would be better expressed with colors and lines. I hate just "starting on" things. Then again, I've got spatterings of word documents with bits and pieces of thought and emotion that need to be combined, reworked and otherwise adjusted. I wrote one poem all the way through, so far, this year; I know that it's a rough draft and is going to need frequent check-ups to come into full health. But that's my art update.
On Sunday, I went out to see a play with Sarah Springer. It was Spamalot, at the Schubert, and it was wonderful. Even Lady Gaga came for a moment or two. For those who are unfamiliar, Spamalot is the Broadway adaptation of Monty Python. It was a fine choice for helping me get back into what has so loathingly been called "real life" for the past four months. We, then, proceeded to a restaurant in the neighborhood for some sort of Mediterranean food. And then we went and got ice cream. All in all, the most important parts of the day were in the car, driving around with Sarah, being at the tail end of horrible traffic resulting from a section of I-95 being closed. I missed hearing about the mundane things; they seem so intense after four months of build-up. I learned about Sarah's last change of relationship status, and how she is now dating a certain Dr. Who, and how she drove all the way to Chicago to meet him, how she has rediscovered her friendships and her own life. I love how she observes herself and thinks out-loud that, perhaps, some of what she is doing is a psychological concoction she designed for herself to not feel lonely without being in a romantic relationship. I do the same sort of thing. I think it might have to do something with theater, but I don't know which begets which. Have we learned soliloquy, or is it something we taught the stage? Nevertheless.
I spent a wonderful, though short, amount of time with the wonderful Gina Corella last night. It took a while to find her cozy apartment, sequestered in the section of New Haven that does not seem to have any numbers on the buildings. She's healthy and such; her boyfriend, Javier, is still his usual self, which is such a relief. As much as I know I've changed, I don't want my friends to treat me any differently. Their puppy, Socks, has grown to be a big girl. She's a good member of the family, though. We had pizza and green juice and watched a soap opera out of the corners of our eyes, between bubbles of conversation. It was great to talk to Gina. We could have used a bit longer for one of our traditional coeur-à-coeurs, but this was a good start. She says she hasn't gotten to see much of our crowd of regulars, since she left the old haunt for Southern. I hope we all do better to stay in-touch with one another. We shared something amazing: we shared life.
And that was the significance of this week. I'm still unpacking, I'm still cleaning; I'm still trying to get settled-in to where I once was. But everything has to change shape a bit. I'm not exactly as I once was. I'm "same, same, but different."
