Saturday, December 20, 2003
Ya know...
...when you take a stroll during the early evening, whether or not the day's been gloomy just doesn't matter. Why? Because it's dark out. It's certainly darker than it was during the day. And there's something about the crisp coolness of the early Los Angeles winter evening, before it gets too cold to bear, that is exhilarating. Especially when you're walking purposefully down the street, adrenaline starting to wind its way through your body, music dancing into your ears and filling your head, even if the music is a bit on the sad side, the tell-tale tingle of unshed tears present behind your eyes, in your sinuses and throat.
You wonder how you can feel both emotions at the same time, the exhilaration and the sadness. But even that doesn't matter too much. How can it? The exercise feels good, the smell of the winter air fills your lungs and clings to your hair, the aroma of fires burning in fireplaces, the perfume of still-green foliage you walk by, maybe the tiniest bit of exhaust from the passing cars. These fragrances twine and meld and become one, become the signature scent of a Southern California winter, with only pine and hot chocolate missing from the bouquet to make it complete.
Then when you get home, your bag of kitty-odor-busting groceries in hand, you find messages on your answering machine, two messages you'd been expecting for the better part of the day, and you feel a little better. There's still more people that you'd like to hear from, but you start to get a handle on your emotions again, realizing that, despite what you jokingly tell others and what you almost kind of, sort of believe yourself (no matter what your reasoning centers in your too-active mind try to tell you), you, in fact, are not the center of the universe and people are not going to drop everything to make you feel better about yourself. They've already let you know how great they think you are and they've shown their unwavering support.
You realize maybe all you really need is the good cry you've been managing to push aside for the past few days, the cry that will let out all the fear and the anger and the dread that's been building up inside of you since you found out that you no longer have the job that you hated anyway. The cry that nearly came out when you read all the wonderful supportive e-mails and listened to the supportive voices from the people that you care about and that care about you. The cry that started to happen when your baby sister told you not to worry about buying her son a Christmas gift this year, she'd put aside one of the gifts that she bought for him and have it come from his auntie.
Of course you wish someone were there with you to hold you while you cry, to stroke your hair and tell you everything will be okay. There are a couple of someones that you think would fit the bill perfectly. But that's not in the cards right now. And that's okay too. Because it has to be. And you'll deal with it. You always try to.
Maybe afterwards you'll take that stupid Cosmo that you only buy once a year because of the wildly inaccurate Bedside Astrologer and use it to fuel a small bonfire, reveling in such scintillating articles as "Mandy Moore:Like You've Never Seen Her" and "What's Sexy This Second" (apparently it's amazing to Cosmo that women with "chocolate locks" are considered hot) going up in ash and smoke.
Then, then you'll make yourself a nice cup of Earl Grey tea, opting for the world's best Earl Grey tea, or perhaps the world's best green tea as opposed to your former favorite tea, which is still an excellent one and perfect for when you want a tea that's just a bit less smooth.
And finally you'll rest your head on your trusty buckwheat pillow, tired from the emotions, drained from the crying, soothed by the lingering fragrance of the burnt "chick mag" and ready for an early bright, beautiful Sunday.
After all, tomorrow is another day, is it not?
You wonder how you can feel both emotions at the same time, the exhilaration and the sadness. But even that doesn't matter too much. How can it? The exercise feels good, the smell of the winter air fills your lungs and clings to your hair, the aroma of fires burning in fireplaces, the perfume of still-green foliage you walk by, maybe the tiniest bit of exhaust from the passing cars. These fragrances twine and meld and become one, become the signature scent of a Southern California winter, with only pine and hot chocolate missing from the bouquet to make it complete.
Then when you get home, your bag of kitty-odor-busting groceries in hand, you find messages on your answering machine, two messages you'd been expecting for the better part of the day, and you feel a little better. There's still more people that you'd like to hear from, but you start to get a handle on your emotions again, realizing that, despite what you jokingly tell others and what you almost kind of, sort of believe yourself (no matter what your reasoning centers in your too-active mind try to tell you), you, in fact, are not the center of the universe and people are not going to drop everything to make you feel better about yourself. They've already let you know how great they think you are and they've shown their unwavering support.
You realize maybe all you really need is the good cry you've been managing to push aside for the past few days, the cry that will let out all the fear and the anger and the dread that's been building up inside of you since you found out that you no longer have the job that you hated anyway. The cry that nearly came out when you read all the wonderful supportive e-mails and listened to the supportive voices from the people that you care about and that care about you. The cry that started to happen when your baby sister told you not to worry about buying her son a Christmas gift this year, she'd put aside one of the gifts that she bought for him and have it come from his auntie.
Of course you wish someone were there with you to hold you while you cry, to stroke your hair and tell you everything will be okay. There are a couple of someones that you think would fit the bill perfectly. But that's not in the cards right now. And that's okay too. Because it has to be. And you'll deal with it. You always try to.
Maybe afterwards you'll take that stupid Cosmo that you only buy once a year because of the wildly inaccurate Bedside Astrologer and use it to fuel a small bonfire, reveling in such scintillating articles as "Mandy Moore:Like You've Never Seen Her" and "What's Sexy This Second" (apparently it's amazing to Cosmo that women with "chocolate locks" are considered hot) going up in ash and smoke.
Then, then you'll make yourself a nice cup of Earl Grey tea, opting for the world's best Earl Grey tea, or perhaps the world's best green tea as opposed to your former favorite tea, which is still an excellent one and perfect for when you want a tea that's just a bit less smooth.
And finally you'll rest your head on your trusty buckwheat pillow, tired from the emotions, drained from the crying, soothed by the lingering fragrance of the burnt "chick mag" and ready for an early bright, beautiful Sunday.
After all, tomorrow is another day, is it not?
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