Teddy Bear Picnics OR An Extended Metaphor for Getting to the Bottom of an Existential Crisis

Coming back to life after a long hibernation takes a lot of committment. Most creatures think that once springtime rolls around, the bears and bees and birds are suddenly skipping through green fields full of wildflowers after a long and peaceful nap.

And honestly I'm not sure if this is the case or if it isn't, but for the purpose of this post, we'll assume that waking from hibernation is a long, arduous and potentially painful process during which the bears think to themselves, "remind me again why I can't just stay asleep? I was warm and comfortable and I was having this great dream where I was standing underneath this waterfall thing - only instead of water, honey was flowing over the edge of the cliff above - a honey-fall, HA! and I was standing under it, and like the whole sky was full of golden honey and the whole world smelled and tasted oh-so-sweet!!! So anyway, what I really want to do is close my eyes and go back to sleep so I can smell and taste some more of that sweet, golden sky. It's hard out there anyway. The spring isn't all it's cracked up to be with people always cutting down my favorite trees and bees always hanging around and getting in my fur and forest fires, you know, the list goes on. This year I think I'm just gonna stay right here in my cave. Going out is over *yawn* rated."

So there he stays.

But try as he might, he can't quite recreate that honey-fall dream he was having. He keeps hearing shouts and laughter from all those teddy bears having picnics outside. The birds keep chirping and the bees keep buzzing, and pretty soon he starts to realize his dream is of venturing back out to see the blue sky and smell the flowers. And how exciting would it be if he could terrorize some of those bastards who are always starting fires in his forest and cutting down his favorite trees?

Yeah, that would be great.

But the cave is still pretty comfy, and it's so bright out there. He's not sure if he remembers how to do all that terrorizing and he's not really sure he remembers how to act at the teddy bear picnics. It's been so long since he's been invited, maybe some things have changed. "What if I'm just not good at it anymore?" he asks himself.

Nevertheless, he thinks maybe he should just sniff out the situation. They're cookin' up something good at that picnic.

If you were a bee in that wildflower meadow on that day, you would see the slightest touch of black emerging from a cave ever-so-slowly and think to yourself, "what the....??"

Blinking in the sunlight, the bear finally pokes his head out of the cave and is amazed at all the hulabaloo around him. It seems like people are having fun (you know, bears, that is) and all the birds are singing and bees are landing on flowers, etc. So much commotion, though, after such a long winter is hardly what he had in mind. He really had wanted to find a soft and quiet spot underneath a tree to enjoy something refreshing and juicy. Maybe he could just tiptoe through the picnic, pick up a snack and then sit over in the corner without being noticed too much. Inching over toward the food table, he heads for the bear equivalent of potato salad when his old friend shows up and starts grilling him (metaphorically) for answers. "Dude, it's been a long time. Where you been? I was starting to think maybe you got locked up or something. Haven't seen you since last fall. You missed some killer parties. You should see the new cubs hanging out around here. You would not believe their....." Our bear has kind of stopped listening and is looking for his exit. He makes a quick excuse about being late for something or other or forgetting to turn off the space heater and quickly heads back toward the cave.

Whoa. That was a LITTLE overwhelming for the first time out of the cave. He really didn't expect to have to answer so many questions and feel so cornered on all sides. Maybe he really isn't ready for this. Maybe he should just try to keep his head down and be a quiet observer for awhile.

*sigh*

Well, we all know how that turns out. After a few weeks, he really starts to think about how much fun he is missing. His friend was just concerned is all, and really, he wouldn't mind seeing what it is that's so special about all the young cubs. Hmmm. Maybe he should just try once more.

The perfect opportunity arises later that week when his buddy comes over to the cave and tells him they're going to have a midnight picnic this time, and "dude, if you miss this party, you will regret it for the rest of your life. There is this one cub, Susie, and she is just the type of girl you've been waiting to meet. So make sure you take a bath or something."

Yeah, he thinks. This could be kinda fun. I know how to do this. It's just like riding a bike. All I have to do is go outside the cave. And talk. Just like thinking - only out loud. Okay. I'm gonna do this. I'm gonna go meet Susie.

But there are butterflies in his tummy. No, it's just the clover he ate for lunch. It always gives him indigestion. But still he hasn't done this in awhile. What if he embarrasses himself? Shut up! He's going. How bad could it be? Yeah....how bad could it be? After all, he can't hibernate forever.

Right?

The Inheritance of Loss

I've been trying not to do this too much since it was extremely indicative of my previous blog, but I'm going to bite the bullet since I think it's kind of indicative of my style in general and not to include the following (and I'm sure many posts to come) would mean a decision to omit a large part of what inspires me from my blog, which seems, you know, couterproductive and wrong.

So I'm reading this book called The Inheritance of Loss by Kiran Desai, a strikingly beautiful Indian-American woman. Her language is very poetic throughout the novel, and there are very many passages that have struck me profoundly, but there was one that I read today that I felt I had to share. The following passage is an observation by the author made after some of the characters discuss the relative virtues of different religions in their ideas of what ultimately means justice i.e. the afterlife or karma, etc.:

The fact was that one was left empty-handed. There was no system to soothe the unfairness of things; justice was without scope; it might snag the stealer of chickens, but great evasive crimes would have to be dismissed because, if identified and netted, they would bring down the entire structure of so-called civilization. For crimes that took place in the monstrous dealings between nations, for crimes that took place in those intimate spaces between two people without a witness, for these crimes the guilty would never pay. There was no religion and no government that would relieve the hell.

This particular passage means something to me today because I have recently been carrying around a mountain of hurt on my shoulders as a result of the breakdown of what I considered an important relationship in my life. I saw it coming from a mile away, but I was desperately hoping that I would be proven wrong in this instance. The sheer scope of instances in which I was to blame for this situation is seemingly endless, but ultimately there was nothing I could have done to change the outcome.

And that is the most bitter pill to take.

In this particular situation, the crime perpetrated by two individuals against each other will never be judged by an impartial witness. There is no way to measure and balance out the damage that was done by each party over the long course of time.

The only truth I've been able to find is in silence. The more I talk and think and write about it, the more confusing it becomes for me, and it does not bring me peace.

The only thing I can do to relieve myself of this hell is to make the decision for it to end. But that brings with it another inherent burden. It will have been my choice. And once it is made, I don't think I can unmake it.

I know it's the love I can't bear to part with more than its object.

It's the Heart That Matters More

I've been making a vain attempt over the last few days at posting some blogs that I've failed to post in the past as a result of them not being ready for publication because I was either too unsure or too lazy to post them at the time. They've gotten gummy with time and sort of unflexible in a way, and I'm thinking of trashing them entirely and moving on.

There is a part of me that wonders if when blogs get too old if it's best to let them just expire in a natural way rather than trying to relive them; forcing them back into being by trying to breathe life into them. Perhaps a life they're all to happy to let pass.

Or maybe it's that I've never given them a fair shake at life. Perhaps I need to reexamine what I was feeling and thinking at the time I began them. Maybe I was wrong about those blogs to begin with and all they need is a little time to ferment before they can reach their peak of flavor and richness.

Speaking of wine, I've had a bit this evening, so perhaps it's clouding my judgment. However, I do not think it is quite time to dispose of my dear friends just yet. They may yet have something to say. Something I'm not quite ready to discount. You never know. Sometimes the things closest to you have the capacity to surprise you even after you've known them for years.

Like that one time in My So-Called Life when Graham tells Patty that RuPaul strikes him as being pretty secure.

Okay, if you've never seen My So-Called Life, you probably aren't cool enough to be reading my blog.

Return from Hiatus OR The Best Vacation EVER

Hello my dear friend(s). I am back from vacation, which incidentally was a vacation from blogging as well.

I was fortunate enough to have been able to take a trip to New Hampshire to visit my cousins and aunt and uncle and then travel on to Prince Edward Island, Canada.

To some people this might seem like a fairly boring vacation, but to me, that was the allure of it. For someone who has consistently been working at a job she hates for the last three months while trying to supplement her meager income by working part time for her father in the suburbs, generally resulting in a seven day work week, the lack of excitement was definitely the draw.

On the 31st of July, I left for New Hampshire and as soon as I got there, everything seemed instantly more enjoyable. I sat around and drank coffee all day, I read books, I listened to music, I debated the relative benefits of songs from Avenue Q (multiple times). I ate delicious New Hampshire food and walked around Manchester. I was able to view my cousin, Laura's films that she had completed throughout her junior year at Keene's film school (they were awesome - especially the claymation one). I got to hear all about my cousin, Alison's year of teaching English in China, which included many adventures, I agreed and disagreed with my cousin, Jade, on many issues, and I was able to see my cousin, Julia, play violin in a concert at her band camp (and also got a private concert in the living room while she practiced piano).

I got to have ice cream at Goldenrod. For those of you who have never had this distinct pleasure, I am sorry for you.

On Sunday the 2nd, we all piled in a van (pretty typical of my family) and made the long drive up to Prince Edward Island. We scared the customs officer.

When we finally arrived there, we were so happy to be out of the car after twelve hours of driving that we all decided to get back in the van and drive an hour to Charlottetown so that we could get Subway. Then we went back to the cabin to watch Anne of Green Gables on Wonderworks.

The next few days went by far too quickly, but I have decided that PEI just might be the most beautiful, natural, and peaceful place I've ever been. The potatoes there are the best I've ever tasted, everyone is friendly, and the scenery is absolutely breathtaking. I don't think I could let another fourteen years of my life pass without going back there.

One morning my sister and I got up early and went for a walk down the red sand streets and over the hills. We wandered around for about an hour and ended up behind someone's farm house. Standing there at the top of the hill looking at the old house and acres upon acres of nothing but plants and trees, I felt like I had traveled back in time. I never wanted to leave.

We came back down to New Hampshire and spent the next few days watching TV and going to the mall and checking out a Fisher Cats game (New Hampshire's minor league baseball team). It just reminded me of how much I miss the Northeast. Something about being there took me back to my childhood and to what I'm really like.

But coming home has reminded me that I can be happy here as well. And even during the commute downtown today on the crowded El train with all the crazy Chicagoans, I smiled to myself and thought what a beautiful day it was going to be.

A Fine, Fine Line

I just got done hurting someone I used to really care about. Part of me still cares.

But there was no choice other than to say "I don't want to talk to you." Because that is the truth. I didn't choose silence. I didn't make up an excuse. I simply said, "I don't want to talk to you."

It sucked.

I surrendered all control over what that person thinks of me now. I could go the rest of my life without ever knowing that this person who was once so important to me became something amazing.

And I chose to shut the door in a very permanent way.

So the joke's on me.