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The week is almost over again. This weekend, I HAVE to move the rest of my things, and repaint my old bedroom. I am not looking forward to it, but once I am done, I won’t have to go back to my old place EVER again! Hooray! Then I can be completely in my new place.
I was thinking about Africa again today. I think that I have to go there at some point, or will dream about it for the rest of my life. But, that brings up an interesting thought, well to me anyway. Do we always need some dream to hold onto? I think this is how I have lived my life for the most part; I have only experienced a few moments actually in the moment. Most have been through hindsight or looking forward. Is this unique to me?
I remember being maybe seven or eight and realizing (I can see exactly where this happened too; on 10th Avenue in Caldwell, Idaho, in the backseat of my parents’ gold Impala) that it was so much better to look forward to going to the fair, and remembering the fair than it was to actually experience the fair. This theme repeated itself with dances, vacations, and the other moments of youth.
One exception to this that I can remember is the Republican National Convention in 1996. I can honestly say I lived every moment of this. I can remember exactly how it felt to get sunstroke in the harbor while waiting for Bob Dole’s boat to arrive. I can remember the temperature outside, and the way it felt to have Jeff’s arm around me when we were evacuated from the dorms at 2am. I can remember seeing a picture of Jeff and I asleep in a hammock in the sunshine, in the LA Times the morning after it was taken, realizing that we were a part of this huge event.
So what was different about that one event? I can’t put my finger on it–exactly. Though I do know there were differences. I was extremely excited. This was one of the first times I was ever away from home. This was the first time I had ever had slept in a bed with a guy (not that we had sex mind you). I took everything in. I hardly talked to my parents. I didn’t know anyone. And I had an amazing time. And it was crazy–something that most of the other people in the country were not experiencing for whatever reason.
Volunteering for Katrina was like this at first; eventually it got to be very routine, but in the beginning, it shared the same energy. The similarities between the two are pretty obvious. I was untethered–I entered both experience without knowing another soul. It was a BIG deal–one was a political convention that only comes along every four years, and the other, well, the greatest natural disaster our country has seen. During both experiences, I was a part of something so much bigger than myself, yet I still felt like I was a part of history; sound strange? That’s how it felt.
I also got quite a bit of attention from boys at both; something that generally doesn’t happen in my everyday life. What was it about me during those times that guys seemed to like so much? I liked me more during those times; maybe it is as simple as that?
I want to think about this and dissect it a bit more later. Something good to sleep on.
Today during the incredibly monotonous drive after work, I once again fell into a freeway coma. I was listening to Only by NIN (which is, I think, one of their best. Comes close to Head Like a Hole, Down In It, etc.) and my mind began to wander as it generally does during freeway coma time. I was thinking about seeing them at Voodoo Fest right after Hurricane Katrina. The event organizers gave all of the relief workers (and I don’t know who else) free tickets. It was awesome! They were incredible. Queens of the Stone Age rocked too. I thought about this band, and that band. The video for The Perfect Drug with its masterful rendition of Victorian/Gothic England, or at least my version there of; I swear that Rochester is about to top one of the moors in the video. (I could spend hours analyzing the video; absinthe, Orientalism, and so sexy.) Johnny Cash singing Hurt and making me bawl; and the video; ridiculously good, better even than the original (sorry guys). And how sexy Trent Lott had looked in person, now that he had been hitting the gym…
Trent who? Yeah. In my head I was calling him Trent Lott, Republican senator from Mississippi. I’ve had politics on the brain, but I didn’t think it had done any damage…
