the nawth end

driving down the mass pike at 9:30 at night could have been driving into los angeles or dallas. peering out from the backseat, watching the wide expanse of highway slope forever outward, there was a moment in my memories where the three cities became indistinguishable.
tonight we went to boston’s north end, where i was bullied by the waitress into buying something at the restaurant, despite having already eaten dinner. the 12 of us then traipsed to Modern Pastry on Hanover for coffee and cannolis. a double scoop of gelato and a Styrofoam container of Italian espresso later, i stood on the street with my friends, laughing and moving out of the way for people to queue up for pastries. looking down during a particularly funny jab, i was acutely aware of my feet on the sidewalk, of where i was and whom i was with, and i found myself really excited to be there and to be bearing down on another year of this. granted, there are outside factors that are making me dread the long periods of absence, but there is a lot i am looking forward to, as well.

watching a silumcast of an inverview of dubbya and laura by garland robinette, and i am consistently amazed at the president's utter inability to put together a sentence. that, and turn an answer about the gulf coast into an overinflation of the terrorism situation in this country. i am forever let down by the ineptitude he exudes. what a douche.

television.

i began to flip through the television channels this evening, motive to find out what was going on with the hurricane and the jonbebet case. having a deep rooted hatred for most things televised that don’t involve soccer, breaking news or family guy, so this was rare for me. and i think it’s very important to laud the news channels, and the hottie that is Anderson cooper, for being both entertaining and provocative. bill maher on larry king. liberty mutual commercial about the importance of passing it on. dressing down mel Gibson for his ridiculous drunken arrogance. pointing out w’s hypocrisy and his parallels to mahmoud ahmadinejad. genius.

this is why:

i write when i travel because it helps me from feeling alone. knowing people read what i write gives me the same catharsis as telling my close friends my goofy stories. it seems too much to keep inside, you know?

monday morning

monday morning in Waltham. black coffee and npr, smell of lotion and soap. one lamp dimly illuminating the desk, ipod, wallet, boarding pass, granols bar wrapper and fedora in shadows. what is happening today? plane crash in my hometown, 49 die and the copilot lives. i’d be interested to know why he was spared. maybe the guilt will be too much for him. maybe he’ll hear this as a deafening message from the universe and work accordingly. regardless, a prayer for him and those died. hurricane Ernesto is hitting cuba, cat. one, and it supposed to hit fla this week. people are having sex with teenagers and killing each other out of revenge. boston mayoral candidates are in a dead heat. i had a dream i was being chased and had to hide in a kitchen. the effing red sox lost tonight again.
8:08 in the morning, and the day is fresh. i feel grounded with a purpose today. as much as i enjoy putzing around the house and wandering between the beach and the library, it’s not so stimulating as getting up to go to work. purposive. that, and i think i’ll write a piece for this i believe on npr.
what feels important to me throughout the day, seems silly when i write it.

walking through charlotte airport in aviator sunglasses and fedora pulled low, i received more stares and more groveling apologies from business men who cut in front of my path too closely, more overkill in the excuse me, i’m so sorry, sorry. i feel more comfortable hiding under sunglasses and a hat, but it seems to be a spectacle of sorts.

i can then only surmise what it was like to watch me reach my gate, plunk down between two air marshals, who, incidentally, were not so hush hush about the nuances of their job, and break out my fake ham sandwich and granola bar with gusto.
when i was younger, i used to behave in airports as though everyone was watching and judging me. i was desperate for it. now, when i get looks, i am slightly amused, and make a mental nod to the ten year old kelsey, who wanted so desperately to be like that girl walking with her head up and sunglasses in place.

back in Waltham, mass. a year ago i began this deal. so it comes full circle, so to speak. and tomorrow i work for the first time since april. what a summer. really.

it’s great to meet up with my colleagues, to discuss our tans and the weight we’ve all lost, where we’ve moved to, who we’re humping, what we’ve been doing for money, where we’re traveling, make inappropriate jokes about one another, tell inappropriate stories, wrangle for center of attention, behave like a family reunion.

new England is cold and rainy, and i am really happy for it. i am not, however, happy about not having appropriate clothes. yea. last year i sweat my ass off, and now with a suitcase full of cropped pants and sandals, the opposite is happening. i haven’t been cold in a while.

i’m looking forward to this upcoming school year. it’ll be good!

a little after one in the afternoon saturday, tim and i were skimming the surface of the Myakka River in a bright yellow, tandem kayak. i watched the paddles dip rhythmically into the brown, opaque water, thrilled to be under the tropical sun in keene flip flops and a bathing suit top. i had skimmed the bottom of the boat rental form, fixing on the do’s and don’ts of alligator etiquette, and felt relieved enough that if i didn’t throw fish bits over the side or entice them in anyway, the alligators would keep a completely acceptable 1000-foot berth from our boat.
ha.
leaving the inlet and entering the great open expanse of the river, we turned the kayak to the right, hugging the marshy shoreline. just tim and me, in a yellow piece of plastic. with ripples beginning to swirl in the water to my immediate left. oh, ha ha, look did you see that? it was a gator! what the hell. for real? like, an alligator right UNDER us? well, that was a fluke! we’ll be unbothered from here out. not effing so. it seemed every pull of the paddle drew us through countless swirls of water, silent signs of countless carnivorous reptiles, swimming languidly beneath us with their countless teeth. that they remained unseen and silent drew the greatest fear in me. tim pointed out a snout maybe 20, 30 feet to our right, and by virtue of being seen and unmoving, i felt relieved. i have a frame of reference for alligators in that context. the you’reoverthereandi’moverhere context. not the you’rerightunderme i think ormaybeyou’retomyleftormaybeyou’reabouttoeattheboat context.
at one point, our little kayak was literally surrounded with swirls of unseen alligators. for an instant, fear gripped me like a panic, threatening total paralysis and quickened breath. i said as much, and was reassured that we’d be fine, just fine, and we paddled on. the farther we drew from where the people were, the less comfortable i became, so we turned around and, keeping a greater distance from the shore, headed toward the thunderstorm that was roiling in the distance. the wind cooling our backs, feeling a little less apprehensive, noting a fisherman wading waist-deep right where we were surrounded, and tim’s explanation of the lazy, non-confrontational manner of these lizards, the huge alligator swimming perpendicular to our course only made us chuckle at the folly of the wilderness.
once the imminent danger of being eaten by alligators became comfortable, our attentions were turned to the deep grey clouds and bright streaks of lightning on the once-distant horizon. so we skimmed our little vessel over the folgers-colored water and found ourselves back on land, unscathed.
and now i never have to do that again.

one week, six days

I am approaching the two-week anniversary of moving to Sarasota, and the only thing I miss is the proximity to a bunch of people I love. Granted, a phone call isn’t quite what a short car trip would be, but it suffices for now. Sarasota is wonderful. Paradise, really. My life here is the same, a fairy tale. Wake up, send Tim off to work, listen to the birds and watch the backyard flood with daylight over a cup of coffee, morning edition and email, gossip, new york times. Talk to mom some days. Go for a run. Followed by a swim. Tidy up the house, read, go to the library, hit a noon meeting, hang with some friends, call women in recovery i don’t know but need to network with. Tim comes home, have dinner, hang with friends, watch a film, the end. Give or take.
Never having been in a relationship like this, my days are filled with thoughts of what is acceptable behavior, what are my expectations of myself and of him, how do i do this thing. In this instance, it’s comforting to remember our humanity and that the only way I can behave is the only way I know how to behave. I have a decent grasp of integrity and how to behave properly, so to act outside of those lines is easily recognizable as wrong, but there is a lot of play within the boundaries of good action. To me, that translates as a thousand different ways to care for someone, or to scrape by on the bare minimum of necessity.
I remember so clearly the excitement that welled up in me at the thought of moving to Sarasota, how wonderful my life was going to be, the anxiety and thrill which greeted me every morning and swirled in my stomach until I fell asleep at the end of the day. The clear knowledge, unfailing, that this was the decision to be made. And the slight wonder at how I would feel once I no longer had that to look forward to, once the dream was fulfilled. Being here, now, I take this with the same wonder and excitement I had two weeks ago, only in a comfortable, settled fashion. Amazing to feel human, really.

thunder

what innate voice stirs within us when we hear the approach of a thunderstorm? the first rolling peals of thunder prick up my ears, and i cannot settle until i know from which direction the storm is coming, how deep the clouds look, and how much time i have to prepare. once all the facts are known, it’s a matter of waiting for the onslaught.  the gentle rains have already started, dripping lazily through the beams of the front porch, streaming more steadily in the back, but since i took a seat to pen this, the thunder’s rattles have increased in intensity. something in me goes quiet when i hear thunder, a sort of homecoming anticipation. thunderstorms calm me; the chaos outside gives mine a little reprieve. now the pinging of rain on metal begins, the sign of a storm picking up. leaves on the trees bounce this way and that, pummeled from above. the thunder has quieted for a moment, grumbling loudly only so often. the storms of florida are such a tease some days; just when i settle in for a good storm, it blows into the neighbor’s yard and leaves mine untouched.

halfway to my new home, and i don’t really feel like writing. i am, however, on the road, and it’s my thing to write whilst on the road. so here i am. 9:30 monday night, in macon Georgia. the ride today was a lot smoother than i anticipated, given every bit of my worldly possessions are in the back of the vue. but with nary an incident, i have made excellent time, and am looking forward to my sweet destination tomorrow. i feel not the slightest trepidation towards what lies ahead. i’ve been ready for this for some time, it seems. and now, it’s really happening. all of it.

there is no sadness at this point in leaving Indiana. there is sadness in saying goodbye to my people, though. it’s surprising to me how many well-wishers have come forward, and my heart swells with each one. i suppose this past year has groomed me for absence, so i assumed this step would be an easy transition. i never realized how important i am, just knowing i’m around, to so many people. more than anything i can say i own, these relationships are my most valued possessions.