A Life Lived in Fear . . .

. . . is a life half lived.

I should be packing, but I'm not. I'm dreaming up character traits and mapping out seasons instead. I have a writing partner who I really don't want to let down. Isn't that neat? I feel like I barely know him and I really want to impress him . . . so I'm staying on it and not stopping, stunned in fear and not poo pooing my effort and letting myself feel dumb. Isn't that neat?

And, I'm leaving in less than a week. Less than a week!

I have to get my packing together soon. I really do. But it still feels like an eternity before I have to go.

I'm having strange feelings of hope and happiness. It's been a damn long time since I've felt like going forward with something and I like it. I'm afraid of the feeling . . . as if I'll allow myself hope only to have it cruelly dashed around the next bend. But I'm going with it for now. I'm going to believe that I can go forward with this and it won't kill me.

I have noticed a new awareness this year. I think it's because I turned 40. I am totally aware of my own eventual death. Completely aware that I'm not long for the world, and I better start making some hay. And I don't think of it as morose. It feels freeing. I can't waste any more days. I can't waste any more chances. I can't take for granted any more connections or friendships. I don't have the luxury of time any more. And it's making me take action and bravely accept invitations.

And it's really interesting to have this new outlook and talk to someone who's 28.

A few weeks ago I went to dinner with an old friend who's 28 years old. He was talking about a friend of his who was going to McMurdo and falling in love and how he and his friends were warning her not to. To just walk away from this guy. It's not worth it! And I thought, oh my. Every last one of them is worth it! Take the opportunity to love completely, every time! Because as you get older the opportunities come less frequently and you get more choosey and all the sudden you are longing for any wrong love just so you have some love. I think after a surviving a string of loves, you know you'll live through however it ends, so why not go for the ride? You know?

And it's really interesting to feel this urgency and to watch the young not. My 28 year old friend really does have the rest of his life in front of him. He has years and years and years of life to trudge through. But I think we all eventually get to the top of our hill where we can see both directions. I have a far better, more clear view of where I've come from and now, for the first time, I can see down the other side. I can see that eventually I will die -- so I best make the rest of the hike really fun and interesting. I want to fill every moment now -- because I know that the scary stuff won't kill me -- but eventually something will. So I need to do the scary stuff so I will have some rocking good stories to tell later, while gardening with the neighbor kid.

Because eventually, I'll have a house with a big garden and I'll have a cool neighbor kid and she'll come over and I'll tell her racy stories about living completely and without fear.

Won't that be neat?

Rage

Oh. My. God.

I hate everyone. I just went out to snag a subway sandwich and everyone is driving like a fucking maniac. This son of a bitch zoomed right up my ass in the parking lot, tailgated me to the stop sign, and when I was waiting for the traffic to go by, he honked at me! I guess I was supposed to dart out and cut off the white sedan? So, when he pulled next to me into the turn lane, I rolled my window down and said, "Sir. I hope you have a very nice day." And he -- having perfected the snide dickhead tone over the many years he obviously spent in the frat house -- said, "I couldn't figure out what you were waiting for." Me? "I didn't want to get killed." Him: "Yeah. Right."

"Son of a bitch."

These people, I swear to God. I am so sick of motherfuckers driving up my ass. Like that's going to make me go faster. It almost always makes me go slower. With vengeance. What is the rush, people? You really really need to get back to work that fast?

Come fucking on.

And it's getting worse.

These fuckwit motherfucking cocksuckers are so fucking miserable. You can tell. It's dripping off their mustaches and sliming their SUV's.

Own your shit and change your life, you fucking son of a bitch.

You only have yourself to blame.

Dream Image

Here's one from last night.

I was with my extended family at a reunion in Littleton and it was time for all of us to pile into the cars and head downtown to the museum that everyone wanted to see. I gathered into my Aunt Joan's car with my father, mother, cousin Andrea and other faceless relatives. Joan was in the driver's seat. The car was old and falling apart, and we had to hold hands and hang on to each other, very tight, to hold the front and back seats together while we drove. As we made our way to the museum we all clutched each other . . . hung together during the journey . . . and made it there in one piece.

Isn't that a neat image?

When we got to the museum, I suddenly was without shoes, but had to walk up a snowy, cold hill to get to the front entrance. Slippery, slushy, hard to navigate snow -- like the sinking dreams. I climbed it just fine, but I was really worried about my exposed feet.

So there . . . cool dream.

Dawn of a New Day

It is 4:56 a.m. and I'm wide awake. I bored myself to death yesterday and finally just gave up at 8:30 p.m. I'm actually feeling really great. I just got off the treadmill and have read some email and snooped on some blogs and now I'm enjoying my coffee and thinking about change.

Fall is the time of renewal isn't it? My dear friends come to the office to work before we leave. The new winter overs gather for fire school. I pack up the shampoo resupply and spend way too much money on new clothes. And, hopefully, I feel the gentle breeze of enormous possibility.

After a wedding in July, I was driving away from the town we stayed in and I got a very clear vision of a future project. I thought to myself, I need to write the series with that guy. At the time, I had no real idea that I would ever actually hear from that guy again, but I thought it and it felt really really possible and true. I'll write the series with that guy.

Well, last week I mentioned it very casually to his brother and low and behold . . . that guy might just be interested. I need a dialogue man, and he needs some classical structure. He'll be in town for the last of seven weddings next week and I'm hoping to talk with him about it. Both he and the brother. Both are brilliant and could be very useful in developing this thing.

And just the fact that they would be interested. Just the easy sureness of this thing. It brings me great joy and hope. Why not write it? Why not be the one picked? Why not win the awards and go on Charlie Rose and be innovative and genre-changing? Why not? Somebody's got to.

It's time, isn't it?

Remembrance

My God.

It's September 11th.

Isn't it wonderful I didn't spend it wallowing in the end of the world, but instead, shared a meal with wonderful people and celebrated what life we all still have?

In the light of reality, it is so important and rare and wonderful to still find some bliss, some reason to live. I love these friends of mine. I love that even with the world erupting, there are still quiet moments where everything can still be ok.

Here's to the memory of The Time Before.

May we someday find it again.

Good People

Tonight I went to dinner with old friends. Actually, two really old and dear and wonderful friends and one old acquaintance who I feel like I've known forever. The acquaintance is newly returned to the program and is just as pleased as punch to be back, (and he's so fucking sexy I can't even stand it).

And I feel so full . . . full of these people who I love so dearly. I never thought I would ever love friends so much.

No wonder everyone eventually comes back to the program. Where else in the world could you find such people, make such friends, and laugh so damn much.

Ah me.

Bliss.

Ode to My Sister

I am so proud of my sister.

She's doing this hugely hard thing. She's moving home. Holy crap.

She's lived in Australia for sixteen years. She's been through a whole marriage and divorce, multiple career shifts, a whole MBA, years out of work, years doing great work . . . and now she's moving back to America. And not just any America. She's moving to a small town in Wisconsin.

Holy crap, again.

I don't fully understand what's going on, but she's decided it's time to come home. She got the message two years ago, gave herself a year to change her mind, and then she decided. She decided on an airplane traveling over the middle of America after a funeral. She knew it was time to move back exactly . . . ummmm . . . HERE. She got the picture in her head and manifested it. And not only did she get the exact job she wanted, with the exact company she wanted . . . she's moving to . . . ummmmm . . . exactly HERE.

Frankly, it's a tad creepy.

And it happened really quickly and it happened (at least to those of us on the outside watching) effortlessly. Now my sister has been offered a GREAT job with a pretty great company in the middle of America . . . just like she wanted.

And to me that's inspirational.

Darling . . . I don't know how you are going to live through these next few months, packing up your Australian self, traveling all the way from Mars, and starting your new life in America. I don't know how you will step, one step in front of the other, and completely up-heave your already impressive and magnificent life. But I know you will. And I know you will shine through it. And I know you will shine when you get here.

I love you, Darling Sister.

Even though I can't come to help (a fact that I am cursing every day) . . . I'm right there with you, wrapping my arms around you and helping you lug boxes and sell all your stuff and remember every inch of your beautiful neighborhood and cry and leave.

You have come through your hard time so magnificently, so triumphantly, so honorably. Oh my God, Darling Sister. I am inspired by your tenacity, your determination, and your bravery. You know what you want, and you know what you need, and you have manifested it out of nothingness.

You are a great woman, indeed, my Dearest Sister.

Now . . . go kick the door in, take no prisoners, and get everything you want.

Fuck all y'all motherfuckers.

I love you so much.