it seems i am really a hundred different pieces. er, or, that’s how it feels sometimes. it’s just as if every molecule is pulling off into a million different directions, and i just can’t figure out which hunch to follow. i feel tied down, stuck. it’s almost like that one movie with the Wind, where the lady must move from place to place when she feels it calling. i could be the lady. i could pick up and move when the wind called me. i could never stay in one place for long, could begin fresh periodically. i’m not brave, really, but somehow… somehow re-doing everything would not be so scary.
i wonder if i will ever be certain that i am in the right place. i mean, i’m not unhappy, don’t get me wrong. i am genuinely cheerful and optimistic, and realistic at my lows. but even still. i wonder if someday i will be able to sit indian-style beneath a tree, hidden by shade and leaves, and think that i am who i wanted to be.
i think that would be success enough for me. the sneaky success of knowing that i am who i am, who i wanted to be. there would be no one within a million miles, at least in my mind. only me, and i would be happy.
so i am home again! but what-oh-what happened in between p-town and pretty beaches and now? well well!
we met my father’s old college football coach. i didn’t really know what to expect because when i think of old football coaches i get weak in the knees because an image of coach gay (frank gay… that wasn’t some sort of bizarre attempt at a joke) flashes before my eyes. tasting my ice cream.
sid (short for sidwell?) was better than i’d expected. he was nice and jolly and slurped down beers like nobody’s business. and, least expected of all, was his wife. a printmaker! at first i was slightly nervous because sometimes when i meet older artists i forget all the reasons why i love art and clam up and just want to run away and hide. but she was nice… she had a calm air about her. we talked about goals and settling and making the decision to either spend time doing the art thing and shmoozing or spending time actually making art. she has a little gallery thing out of her basement, and people stop by and ring the doorbell and she greets them like old friends. i don’t think i’d mind being an artist like that, selling art out of my house and inviting potential buyers in for coffee and shortcake.
it inspired me. i’m still not making anything earth-shattering, but i’m doodling and french knotting, and for now i think that is enough. i am thinking. i need the time to sit still and think, and sometimes i forget about that necessity. but i’ve remembered again.
i will be a better person, at some point anyways. i can almost see what it will be like, being a good person. i think i will like it.
at any rate, we spent a dinner with them, and the next night my father spent an evening getting drunk in leu of golf (due to torrential rain), and me and my mom had to navigate our way into boston at 12am by ourselves. after turning around somehow and starting anew, with my slurring grumbling father pointing out directions and aubrey translating it into non-drunk. i don’t know how i found it, but i did.
saturday was aubrey’s harvard day, and he liked it. i am crossing my fingers for him. i think it would be wonderful. i would visit him in the wilderness that is cambridge. more and more i am thinking post-college will take me either to boston or to seattle. or, at least i hope it could be one of the two… or philadelphia, but hopefully closer to the ocean than that. i suppose i could try california… but i want the cold. northern c.a., it would have to be.
i went to the aquarium with jess; we met at alewife (after neither she nor her mom were able to see my hotel even just across a parking lot) and navigated our way via T to see the fishes. it was simple, and in no time we were goggling over harbor seals and fish that smiled magestically. we made our way to IMAX whale watching and ooohed and aaahhhhed. then our time was waning because jess had work, but we went back to see the critters we’d missed. good thing, because me + jess + jellies = super awesome picz.
things seemed to be going smoothely as we made our way underground back to alewife. but then… the train stopped not far from MIT. and didn’t start moving again.
so we were forced to walk, and walk we did… to Mass Ave, where we met her mother. in words the whole things sounds simple, but it was not. her mom gets flustered and navigating boston without a map, attempting to pick two girls up at the 100 block and going around weird turn-arounds that totally put you on different roads makes things slightly difficult. but avast ye! success was ours. and jess was only twenty minutes late to work.
that evening i bar hopped with my parents while aubrey worked his patooty off. we went from waterfront restaurante to waterfront restaurant, and ended with chinese. it was good, despite initial bickering.
and the next day was filled with driving and the beating sun. and then i was home again.
simple as that… and now it is almost the middle of july. that is scary.
i love the smell of the beach… the strange blend of saltwater and suntan lotion that totally overwhelms the sense of smell. there is no feeling better than standing still with eyes closed while inhaling the sweet smell and letting the sea breeze wash over you. some people love the beach for the sun, for merely the experience of digging heels in the sand and stretching out in tiny bathing suits to soak up the warmth. i mean, that is good too… nobody can resist lawn chairs and beach towels and squinting at a good novel and realizing you are beginning to drift off. but there is also just the pure multi-sensory appeal. the cold of water mixed with the soft, gritty feel of the hot sand between toes; the smells; the sound of the waves. if i could live anywhere, it would have to be near the water. i will live on the beach someday. i will sit on my porch and stair out at the ocean and go to sleep with my windows open to the sound of waves crashing and the cool wind rustling the curtains. that will be my life! it will!
what i mean to say, is that the beach is wonderful. i feel terrible for those who have never seen the ocean, for those who only get the chance to see it now and then. i don’t think i could go an entire year without the ocean, let alone a lifetime.
i have been here… only one day? yes. but it feels like longer, mostly because the day has been longer than usual. filled, beautiful! i love traveling. if i could be a traveller for a living i think that i would.
we ended up leaving after my evening class. me and my mom thought my dad would stop when he got sleepy and we’d end up getting a hotel somewhere in connecticut, but aparently he is hardier than we’d originally assumed. he drove the whole way through, and we reached marconi beach at 4am. seeing as the car was uncomfortable and we were getting antsy and it was beautiful outside and we could smell the ocean and there really wasn’t anywhere we could, me dad and mom got out and took a walk to the ocean. the sun was beginning to rise (we are further east that we’re used to), and we stood in the freezing sand until the mosquitos began to bite. then we went back to the car.
after that we drove around, trying to figure out what to do before the world woke up with us. we reached provincetown at around 4:45, and we parked and began to wander, admiring the little town chock-full with interesting shops before the hordes of people came. i think it was a nicer way to p-town, as the locals call it. finally at 5:30 we found somewhere open enough to give us coffee, and we continued to wander until we found somewhere else to give us pastries. the sun was really rising by now, and it felt like it was 9 or 10 instead of early-early.
provincetown was funny. there was a part of me that wished we could stay… we saw posters advertising “comedy and nudity!!” and “karaoke in drag… every night at 8!” and it was tempting. i’m pretty sure p-town was gayer than south beach… although a friend of the family was telling us about a vacation they’d taken to south beach where they had run into a “dress up your dog!” contest on south beach, where every man and woman in the neighborhood had slaved over matching onesies for them and their furry companion. flamboyancy is magical, me thinks… or at least hypnotising!
by the time we got to our motel it was 8… and we hung around for a bit, checking things out, although we knew we couldn’t get our room until much later. then it was beach time again, although this time in the sun!
the beach was… the beach. nicer at 9 than at 12, but the sun made us sleepy and we catnapped in the sand. i think we saw seals… but we couldn’t be certain. the beach had washed up a variety of smooth, multi-colored rocks that were delightful. it was funny seeing the difference between northern beaches’ rock treasures and southern beaches’ seashells.
when we reached our motel again our room was still not ready, so we took a swim in leau of bathing, and set off for a restaurante/bookstore we had passed earlier that had advertised annual 4th of july reggae on the bay. like any family with heart, we like reggae. and… it turned out to be as delightful as advertised. a crowd had gathered and the weather was wonderful, sunny but windy. we stood outside while we waited for a table inside the restaurante, and when we finally did get seated we were pleased to find we were beside an open window. good food + good company + good music, of course, equals good time.
finally this time, our motel room was ready, and we piled in bed for napping. my father, who hadn’t slept in over 24 hours started snoring immediately, and me and my brother watched bear together instead of sleep.
when we finally woke up, we considered the options of dinner or fireworks, but opted for ice cream instead.
so… I will now try to keep a blog.