Morning Light

Even when the blinds are drawn, I can tell what time it is just by how they glow. Many times, I hate the sight of those yellow blinds. The phosphorescent buzz reminds me it's time to get up, and make my way to work. I begrudgingly, rise, and start the ritual.

As I gradually come to life, I am filled with the day. Perhaps I project - will it be a good one, or will it be filled with uncertainty and stress? As I stand in front of the mirror shaving, I notice my reflection softened by the morning light. I become fascinated by how the rough edges and lines have been smoothed. I lose myself in the vision. I drift away to far-away, fantasy places. I rise above the day and my worries. I've come to delight in the morning light.

Triumph

I was never a show-boater. I despised most show-boaters, those who'd say, "Hey, in your face - I'm Number 1." Perhaps it had to with growing up and hearing people like my Grandfather say, "If you do a good job, people will notice. You don't need to broadcast."

I grew up with a lack of self-esteem. I was rarely confident. On some occasions, just by the lucky fact that I did something that caught people's eyes, and they'd tell me so, I'd think, hey, maybe, I do do some things well. Well, maybe it wasn't that severe, but I do remember living under a certain cloud of doubt that I could rarely shake. Sometimes it held me back, and I didn't know if I'd ever shake it.

I also came to disdain Sloganeers, Hallmark Cards, bumper stickers, and other such things that promoted high self esteem, mostly because I never felt the sentiment. Stuff like "Be good to yourself, " or "You are the creator of your Universe," left me empty, largely because I thought they were bullshit, and people who wrote or printed them just said them to say something they thought others needed or wanted to hear.

Yesterday, for the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of victory. Not major in the annals of Humankind, but my personal-kind. I could go on and give a blow by blow description of the events leading up to this work-related triumph, but I will just say, I came through in the clutch, and it put me on a path I am happy to be on. It's a feeling better than all those bumper stickers put together. It's not like I feel better than so and so or I've sprouted wings and will fly to the Sun. It's a sense of inner peace. The knowledge that I can cope, sustain, and live my life in spite of crap all around me. I really felt it, and there's no going back.

Control

The snow has fallen. It covers the ground outside. I could not have kept it from falling, but I must go to work. It's, perhaps, six inches deep, not the twelve that was predicted. Traffic is light. Every minute or so, a car or truck passes. I will attempt to drive the 22 miles to work. I'd rather stay home, but I'm not totally opposed to work either. We're supposed to have a demo this morning, but who knows? My part works - that's all I can control. The other parts of the day will fall in place, with or without me.

Patience

Up until Monday, it was a lusciously liberating time. The anxiety and stress that existed was gone. There was still the knowledge that all was not over, but it was a welcome break, and I was reveling in it. Monday, it all ended.

I tried to remain open to change. I did my best to maintain hope. I said, give it a week, then make a judgement. Maybe things will change? But it's hard for old habits to die, and I knew she, most of all, is very resistant. It's not her nature to admit to the reality of things. She has a vision, and she will stick to it no matter what. I find that way very depressing, and so, I felt depressed with their return.

For the first few days, she seemed to slow down and back off, then I came back from work on Wednesday. She was systematically setting the table in the way she envisioned it should be. I cringed. It was just the tip of the iceberg. To the unacquainted eye, it's an act of generosity, but for those who really know her, it's a way to control. Everything has to be the way she wants it. If not, she will do what it takes to wrestle that control away. The whole business is exhausting.

I've made a pledge not to get into with her. It only reflects badly on me. I will do my best to help, but I will not submit to the wackiness. I'm present for certain duties, but detached for others. That's how I will get through the next few months, and it's not entirely Hell. Certainly, I remain open to positive outcomes. I will do my best to contribute to those. Patience is a virtue, and I am learning.

Peace of mind

When caught up in life's dilemmas and fevers, it's hard to imagine a sense of tranquility. It's easy to get caught up in the feelings of the moment. Perhaps peace of mind is less of the momentary experience, but the knowledge that it will come, and maintaining a sense of balance even in the most challenging of times.

Oh, Christmas Tree...

This morning I brought down the Christmas tree. I took it apart, actually. It's a fake with an aluminum folding base, a plastic trunk the size of a thick broomstick. It has holes drilled in it so that you can systematically insert coat hanger sized ends of the branches from top to bottom. Once it's put together, it looks as real as a fake tree can look - not too bad.

I almost didn't put the tree up. Christmas seemed like an overbearing, over-perfumed aunt. Even seeing her once a year, is too much. There seemed very little to celebrate. My step-father, who's in the last stages of Alzheimer's, was out of the house, ferried between care facilities and hospitals in a never ending battle to find a cure for a series of infections. My nephew, who last year, provided the child's p.o.v, is now living in Japan. Why put up the tree, I thought, but my mother kept insisting. I kept brushing her off, but one Sunday night about two weeks before Christmas, my girlfriend said, "Hey, why don't we put it up?" Again, I balked. Then I thought, why not - it's something to do to fill the time. I turned on some Jazz on the radio, made hot chocolate, and from the basement, we brought up the ornaments and the tree, and started assembling it.

Little by little, I got lost in the moment. I even spontaneously smiled. What at first looked like something a Woodpecker poked holes into, turned out to be a not-too-shabby fully-decorated and lit expression of the season. I didn't want to get into that train of thought. I figured leave well enough alone. There's enough over-blown sentiment associated with Christmas for the entire Universe. Yet, it did feel good to smile. It was okay to feel like that - not too shabby, and that's how I left it.

Christmas and New Year's Eve came and went. Both times were low-keyed and satisfying.  As much as there was to be sad about, there was much to celebrate. This morning, I drove my daughter to the airport so she could take her flight back to Seattle. I was sad seeing her go. Yes, life is a series of hellos and good-byes, never easy, but inevitable.

When I arrived back home, I looked at the Christmas tree, and thought, it's time. Decoration by decoration, piece by piece, I put it all into boxes, brought them down to the basement again. When I went back to the living room, I stared at the empty spot where the Christmas tree had been. That night my girlfriend and I put it up, it truly caught me off guard. I wanted to hate the thing, but I came to embrace it and the season it symbolizes. Rather than be sad for things passed, I look forward to more good times and good spirits. We all need something to believe in and hope for.

This morning,

after viewing Facebook posts by Brian, Maria, Linda, Pia, Thomas, Thomas, Chris, Greg, Virgi (and, yes, I visited yours - sorry, only so much time to mention it- next time), I discovered a video of a proposal gone wrong. The still before I clicked 'play' had all the makings of  one of history's greatest cliches.

A young guy, early twenties, in a mall, pre-Christmas, crowd gathered around, falls to a knee before his girlfriend. He puts a microphone to his mouth, and begins uttering words that makes a Hallmark Card seem like Dostoevsky.

On cue, a trio, two acoustic guitarists and a singer, fall in place behind her. Suddenly, from out of the right frame, a triple Smart Car sized train replete with Engineer and passengers zooms through the frame. The guys is thrown off, stumbles, then recovers, and begins, once again, delivering his Barry Manilow-drenched-I-can't-live-without-you ditty.

The musicians begin to play. The girlfriend, wide-eyed and stuttering, bends down, and attempts to pull the mic from his hands. She pleads with him to stop, but the guy hangs on to the mic, and continues his speech. She lets go of the mic, rights herself up.

There is a long pause through which he continues speaking. She seems to resolve herself to the fact that he will not stop. For a moment, it seems that she will be a good sport, and hear him out, but in a quick instant, she pulls back an open hand, then slaps him across the face.

He falls down. She turns, rushes out of the frame. The crowd gasps. The musicians stop playing. The young man, ass on ground, touches his face, looks up shocked. The world seems to come to a momentary pause.

At first, I thought, good for her, he needed that. Then I thought, what a brat she was. Didn't she realize the length he went to to put everything together? Then I thought, how well did he know this girl - why set himself up for heart break - was he that stupid? Why in a mall? Why at Christmas-time? Why not in a dive after five pitchers of beer and Pasty Cline singing "I Fall to Pieces" on the juke-box? That's how I would have done it. Yes, that's how I did it. Then again, I was twice married and twice divorced. What is love? Why do people act the way they do? It's so confusing. Let me take Pepito for a walk in the woods, and contemplate that. Or... maybe, let's just enjoy the woods, and let people do as they do.