2008 revisited

When I wrote my 2008 Year-In-Review, I thought, what more could happen in the next 19 days? The year is almost over, I’ll be on vacation for a week, and then work for 10 days straight. I’ll be so immersed in enjoying DC and then working nonstop that I won’t have time for stress or worries or any end-of-the-year nonsense. Lies. I’ve just been kicked and tossed to the curb. It’s a fairly simple act, not much drama involved, and yet, ouch.

It’s not something any guy or girl enjoys admitting, but there it is. Bare and naked and out there like that Madonna photograph where she’s standing in the middle of the street, naked, trying to hail a taxi. That kind of naked. Naked and dumped. Right before the holidays. Right before all the mushy gushy Merry Christmas gift exchanges and Happy New Year First Kisses. Granted, it was partially my fault. I listened to those sweet nothings and thought maybe they were true. I let myself believe in them; let myself hope for truth behind those worn-out words. 

I am writing the first draft of today’s ramblings on the balcony of the apartment of the friend I’m visiting. It’s cold and windy and I have nothing on but my pajamas, a jacket and socks. I can see the white dots in the shape of a triangle through the slats of the blinds across from me. It’s the last day of my Northern Virginia Adventure, and I’ve loved every minute of it.

I had planned a December getaway months ago so I could visit my cousin in Spain. When the price of a plane ticket cost me as much as a semester at ODU, I ditched those plans. San Francisco was next, but there’s another dicked-over phase in my life I really shouldn’t revisit.  So when that didn’t work out, I decided Northern Virginia was my soluton. I had not seen Aimee or Raymond in months, and I didn’t want to miss out on anymore of Eleena’s growth, so I made up my mind. At first, it was to relax and get away from work. Then it evolved. Now I’ve been faced with thee task of nursing a bruised ego. Trying to repair what semblances of pride I once had.

All throughout the trip, I would distract myself from thinking about the situation back in Virginia Beach — what I had to eventually come home to and face. Amidst the scenic Potomac River view of the obelisk and dome from the subway train, the beautiful butterflies fluttering inches from my face, the 30-foot wide Master Control monitors from the Newseum, the 9-11 documentary that had me fighting back tears, the amazing paintings and statues that had my heart hurting and craving for creativity at the Art Museum, the faces that stared out at me at the Portrait Gallery, the art&trinket-filled sidewalks of DC, and the beauty and allure of Shirlington and Busboys & Poets — the thought of what I had to get over always lingered in the back of my head. 

There is something to be said about the power of sleep. You knock out, with every worry of the world and your life on your shoulders. When you wake up — nothing. Just the comfort and fresh-linen scent of fluffy pillows and, in today’s case, Rolfie’s saliva on my sweater. Normally, I make it my conscious decision to start worrying again when I should just let it go. Release. Today I sit here, wide awake at six in the morning, watching the sun slowly peek through the abysmal gray clouds, and I think to myself, It’s done. I’m over it. What’s the use of dwelling on this insignificant chapter of my life? The ego hurts, sure, but the heart is still intact. It was on my sleeve, but slightly covered and protected. I didn’t let this one snag a piece of it just yet, thank goodness. I saw him recently, and he approached to say hi, but I wouldn’t have it. I was rude, I’ll admit that, but I was done being humiliated; I wouldn’t have let it happen again. Another lesson learned, another name crossed off my list of potentials. 

While on the Metro yesterday, after a long and freeing walk around the National Mall, I saw a man do push-ups in the middle of the subway carriage. As soon as the doors closed and people cleared the aisle, he got down on his knees, placed his push-up bars on the ground, and began to exercise. As awkward and entertaining as it was for me watching it, I’m sure the people sitting by his bobbing head were even more perturbed. As soon as the train slowed down, he got up, shrugged and stretched his shoulders, and followed the flow of commuters out of the train and onto the platform. During those odd five minutes, I had my phone in my hand — capturing the strange turn of events unfolding in front of my eyes. And that’s when I realized — I didn’t have anyone to share it with. Raymond and I were sitting together watching this, but I wanted to be able to text someone and say, Hey, guess what I saw! Moments like this have to be captured and spread… but there was no one on my receiving end. And that’s all I want, really. Someone who would enjoy casual ridiculousness that occur in my life.

I go back to work on Monday, and I work straight for the next 10 days. I’m pulling a double on Christmas eve, and I get off work around 10:30 on New Year’s eve. I will be distracted enough to forget what’s been done to me, distracted enough to let the wounded ego heal itself. January 1st will be my official first day off, and I plan on enjoying it. Once again, I’d like to be there for the first sunrise of the New Year (maybe we’ll actually wake up to drive to the Oceanfront). I’ve got everything I need in life right here, right now. Everything else is just superfluous wanting. There are ten days left in 2008… Let’s hope this really is the end of my year in review.