Falling in love with reality means that some days are just gonna break your heart. A day as gray and rainy as today almost begs for melancholy, a sad little companion I can’t out pedal no matter where I ride. It’s ok.
I love riding my bike at night, if it’s not too cold or too windy or too rainy. It’s easy to get off the busy streets and ride on the quiet ones. Look at the sky, which always seems hopeful when the clouds lift a little. Ride through the wet leaves and pass the porch lights. Turn the corner by the pizza place down the street still packed in its last hour, then ride by the cool kids outside Beulah Land. The green light delivers me almost home. The familiar is feeling sublime.
A few thoughts on some of this year’s serious films.
I know. I know. I’m quoting Madonna, but it’s snowing here on Christmas day and I had to do something to catch myself before I slipped into some kind of unwanted cloying thing; especially because I’m not really feeling particularly sentimental . I’m not feeling particularly dispassionate either. For the first time in my life I woke up alone on Christmas morning, with slim prospects for anything special happening except the ever present invitation to fall in love with reality, something I don’t know how to talk about without lapsing into trite explanations. Suffice it to say everything is okay, profoundly okay. I imagine it might even be luxuriously okay.
Another list. This one is aimed at folks building web sites and is comprised of some of my favorite software, services and code, plus some URLs for learning and inspiration.
A short list of some songs I’ve been regularly listening to this year that remind me why I love rock and roll.
Some things I’m grateful for:
I’m never sure how personal I want to be on my blog, in part because I keep my feelings pretty close to the vest. In fact I would say I struggle to access them at times, which is some what of a different issue. But anyway, the other part is this is a public forum, and it’s easy to be misread, misunderstood, misinterpreted, or someone just misses the fucking boat, ya know.
Having said that, I’m going to test the waters a bit with something a little more personal. I’ve been thinking lately that I’ve kinda grown up to be the guy I thought I’d be. And yes, I said guy, and yes. I said that on purpose. When I was a kid I never conceived I would grow up to be a woman. Thinking that’s dissonant? Yeah, me too. I wanted to say that here because I’ve been living with this disparity all my life and been afraid to tell a damn soul. Ok, maybe I’ve told at least a few damn souls., plus I don’t need to over dramatize this.
I know many folks mistake me for a lesbian, and I understand why, but it doesn’t work for me. Lord, I don’t know how to explain, although I think the lesbians get it. But , think of the real lesbians ya know and then think of me, really. Think of who I’ve been with and who my good friends are. Something not adding up?! And it’s not like I want to transition either. Transition meaning become a guy, which is the trend out here. Fuck, for one thing if I was a guy everybody would just say I was a pussy. I’m not macho. I’m a geek who can only pull off looking tough, if I take a wide stance and keep my mouth shut. But the other thing is even as much as I envy male privilege, I don’t want to occupy that space or deal with those expectations. Soooo, here I am, the guy I kinda thought I’d be – dated alot of beautiful women, put out one rock record, am working with a bunch of other guys making things. Whew… got sidetracked in my mind with the revelation that except for women I’ve always aimed low, cause I wasn’t sure what I could expect from a world where I didn’t see a place for myself.
I know there are some people who don’t see a place for themselves and that fuels them to carve one out. Thus far I’ve not been one of those people, but I’m also a late bloomer. So don’t count me out.
I gotta eat some dinner.
Something else I’ve learned is that nature will kick your ass. Every year since I’ve been here people have gone out into the wilderness and not come back. I cannot count the number of missing hikers, skiers, snow mobilers, backpackers and mountain climbers that get lost, with only a lucky few getting found.
Last summer Bec came out here for a short backpack trip up Mt. Jefferson, and in a sad coincidence, at the same time, a young lady who worked at a resort near Jefferson’s base was lost on the mountain. She’d gone out alone for a hike, started back too late, and then got caught in the dark. One of the lucky few – she found her way out about 3 days later, which was after we’d come down. On our way up, we ran into rangers on foot and on horseback searching for her, and it was eerie being up there in our tent in the cold and rain, thinking about her.
I feel I’ve acquired some knowledge about life, or maybe I’d just acquired the ability or willingness to articulate things I’ve been knowing for a while. Either way, I thought I’d write down some of those things.