No, this isn't me twisting or exaggerating the truth around for the emotional impact of this particular blog entry. It really was 12:01 on my dashboard clock. Kate Bush's "This Woman's Work" was playing on my stereo and then it happened...
***
I want to take you somewhere very personal in this entry. I want to take you to a different time and a very specific place. It's the night of November 18, 2006. Last year. The place is, well, inside my shower (try and block out the imagery, people). I'm standing silently, hands splayed against the cream-colored tile wall, while a cascade of water pelts me from the side. It is there that a single thought will change everything for me: I want to start my life.
See, up until that point, as I've mentioned in past blogs, I was smoking pot and, well, just doing a lot of other stupid stuff. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed it all. It's part of my life and what's done is done. No regrets. But let's think about it for a second: It's pretty pathetic when the highlight of your entire week is waking up and getting blitzed out of your skull on Saturdays while watching movies alone in your dark apartment until bedtime.
Up until November 18, that was pretty much my life. I was a broke pothead living paycheck to paycheck with an impulse control problem, buying DVD after DVD (think something around 4-5 a week) with reckless abandon.
And then, one night, I took a long, hot shower. I entered as one person and exited as another, new and free. I gathered up all of my pot paraphernalia (i.e. pipes, one-hitters, bongs...everything) and threw it all into a white plastic trash bag. I put my shoes on, grabbed a jacket and headed toward the dumpster. Once I reached it, I looked at the garbage bag filled with things that had, up to this point, been so important to me. It was a bag that represented so many great times, so many memories. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and heaved that motherfucker into an abyss of rotten food, old magazines and fecal matter.
Somehow, I managed to walk away smiling.
Next, I took my glass container of some of the finest sticky bud you can get your hands on and shook its contents out and into the toilet. I had a mission and I was not about to deviate from it. I flushed the toilet. No, I won't lie to you. That was hard!! And yes, I waved goodbye as I watched the last bits of herb flush out of my life. I haven't smoke marijuana since that night.
The day after Thanksgiving, I was helped out financially by my parents--it was an early Hanukkah present, my mom said--and by about two weeks later, I was back in the saddle again.
But I still had unfinished business.
To use a line from Good Will Hunting, I had to go see about a girl. You see, earlier in the year (around July), I had met this gal on J-Date (a Jewish dating site) whom I found to be kind of intriguing but also kind of weird since she had this odd thing against using a phone. We chatted a few times and we seemed to click pretty well. Unfortunately, I ran out of money and had to cancel my premium (read: paying) membership. Stupid me. I forgot to get her e-mail address. What's worse was the fact that I could see that she was e-mailing me all along through J-date, but I was powerless because I couldn't contact her due to the fact that I was, well, broke as a joke and I couldn't afford to pay the $34.99.
Long story short and without going into detail, once I finally got the scratch from my parents (they will never, ever know how grateful I am and always will be for their help and support), I contacted this girl again, we hit it off and became involved for a while and several wonderful memories were made. But alas, it didn't work out. It happens. It sucks, but it happens. For the last month, I've been a raw nerve, emotionally. We've tried to do the Friend Thing, but that might not work out either. Everything is up in the air, at this point. For once in my life, I might have to learn to let go. I will say this, though: I discovered something inside myself during the time that we were together. I became a different person, a happier person--the best person. If it can happen once, it will happen again.
But really, it's just been one helluva year, with so many different experiences.
I lost one of my best friends for five months only to have her return as unexpectedly as she left. I will admit, during the time that she was gone, I was miserable, wondering what it was that pushed her away. I'm thankful that I can say it's water under the bridge. I'd like to think we're better friends than we were before. I honestly don't know what I'd do without her. I'm lucky to have her and my nephew in my life.
And then there's Norman. I met him a little over ten and a half years ago. He was the kindest, gentlest, most wonderful man you could ever meet. He was 85 when he died, about two months ago. He was the grandfather I always wanted. He may never have known this, but I loved him dearly, with every fiber of my being. I'll never forget him. Even when he wasn't making me laugh out loud, the man always managed to put a smile on my face. Norman, I wish I could say I learned a lot from you, but you gave me books to read and all I did was look at the pictures.
On a more shallow note, I got a new car (alright, alright, alright...it's a lease!), a new cell, a new laptop, and an iPod!!! Plus, I've gone wireless in my apartment!! I'm proud to announce that I have entered the modern age, people!! That's certainly worthy of a hip-hip hooray in my book!!
I've started writing again, thanks to this blog. I feel more confident, more inspired with each new entry. Soon enough, I will start to re-apply myself, career-wise, and with any luck, I'll be where I want to be. After that, things can only go up. If I let them, that is. I'm starting to realize that I have a lot more control over my life than I initially thought. That has to be a good thing, right?
Look, good or bad, this has been a year of losses, gains, growing up, wising up, romance, redemption, light, darkness, happiness, depression, strength, weakness, empowerment, friends, family, life and death...
***
...So, there I was, sitting in my car, on March 24, Kate Bush singing her heart out, and then, suddenly, I was overcome with this huge wave of emotion. It's like someone injected me with a syringe full of all my memories as a 25-year-old: The happiness, the laughs, the pain. And I just started crying. I cried harder than I've cried in a long, long time. This lasted for a good 30 seconds. It couldn't have been more than that, really. Unlike most other times when I cry, though, these weren't tears of sorrow, but tears of joy. It was then that, after 26 years, I finally realized...I love my life.
When I finally got out of my car at 12:02, another thought crossed my mind, not unlike the one that hammered itself home in my brain when I was taking a shower on that seemingly ordinary night in November:
I still have so much to do.
