My tipi door doesn't have a key.

The first shift after a serious conversation with my boss about wages and employment, I'm opening the shop with a co-worker. I arrive and realize that I don't have my key. My heart stops. Well, I thought, my co-worker will have her key. Guess who wrote down the schedule wrong and thought she was coming in at 2? You guessed it, because I target a highbrow and overly-educated audience, my co-worker. And being the luckiest person on the planet, my father was at Peet's getting me coffee (I already said it, I'm the luckiest). So I coerced him into taking me back home and then back to work, keys in hand (not without nearly sliding down the stairs and ending it all much sooner than anticipated), all the while lamenting to myself  "My tipi door didn't have a key.What the heck!" And then I recall the dirt and the grit under my fingernails, and the sleepless (sleep-light) nights when there would come a shuffling, quiet and then louder, and then an "Aaaallleeexxx?" and I'd think WHY ME? There are THREE of us in here! and then the moment of recognition that I'm a little bit elated that it's me, and so I'd slip my feet into my shoes and pray for no slugs. And then I remembered that time, on our last day at camp, when one of my tipi-mates (one of the three) crept up to the door of our tipi from the outside and moaned "Aaaallleeexxx?" and a shock of adrenaline and dread zapped through me even though the kids were gone and it was 2:30 PM. And then I realized, and laughed out loud. But the store has keys, so I had to get them. And more luckily still, they were exactly where I'd thought they would be.

++++++

My first temper tantrum since I don't know how long, and it feels so familiar, and so like an ugly but well-used work-shirt unearthed from underneath dust and notes written in on graph paper that say "you're cute". But mostly so stupid. That's the takeaway here. Work life, love life, home life, school life, thug life- all in a snarled mess that, surprisingly enough, wasn't resolved one bit by throwing my shoes at the wall. The body's natural tension-reliever of bursting into angry and self-pitying tears though was a relief, if not a solution. Curling up and snuggling down was a relief too, treating myself (and all those other things that aren't towing the line) with benevolent disapproval and reflecting on the alarming realization that my day inevitably ends much better if I've spent some time sweating. Who knew? (I'll tell you- everyone. Everyone knew.)

++++++

My first visit with Isaac, Sam, Eleanore, and Lisa in a year went by in a haze of Star Wars talk, frozen yogurt with so many toppings, hugs given in passing or not at all because it was all just too much, and stories. What a gift. Cider, the cat even came through to make an appearance, and Sam said,

That's Cider.
I thought so. Did you know the first thing you ever told me was that Cider is a hunter?

No response. Kids have the good sense and the lack of hindsight to have no use for nostalgia of their own lives. Who needs it? There's so much to come. Isaac is all full of light saber talk:

I'm going to build a light saber.
Great! I think if anyone could do it, you could.
The only thing I've got to figure out is the power source. I might just use electricity instead of crystals...
Sure.
...because the way that real light sabers are made is very complex. I might just have to forfeit the laws of science.
Forfeit the laws of science? Well, honestly, people do it every day. So it sounds like you're well on your way.

And I'm glowing.

Good/Bad Things I do(on't do)

I am frequently struck with the intensity of the sense of morality, or good versus bad, in young children. Spending lots of time with a certain three-year-old this past spring, photos of people and animals we passed on the street often were classified as "BAD!" or rather, "MALO!". When I asked why, I typically got another hearty "MALO!" and we went on our way. This typically takes me by surprise I suppose because using words like "good" and "bad" doesn't hold much utility for me any more. It always feels a little like a hand-full of cold water in the face, just a surprise. What could it mean, really? I guess the world doesn't seems to lay out so simply for me anymore.

In conversation with my friend Dahlia a while back, she was really into characterizing people as "weird" or "crazy". As in, "You're weird!" or "My mom's crazy!" and at one point asking me, "Are your friends weird?". The question itself took me by surprise and I responded, "Well...yes, I guess they are all weird, but I think that's why I like them." And I couldn't substantiate this in any kind of legitimate way, but I bet you'd be hard pressed to think of even one person who isn't weird, or stupid, or crazy in some way. What are we without our quirks? And whether we classify them as good and positive, or bad and negative, don't they make us so fabulously interesting? A good friend of mine recently said to me, "It's so weird that you're so into Harry Potter. I just wouldn't expect that of you." Neat, right? Maybe he thought I was cool, and Harry Potter is lame (or possibly the opposite...) and his brain was working overtime trying to fit the two together. Either way, I think that I and Harry Potter are pretty great, and doesn't that make for interesting conversation?

I understand that it's a part of the developmental process, wanting to understand and label things as good or bad, learning about boundaries and rules and eventually how to make them for yourself and evaluate the ones set for you by others. It's just interesting. And when I think about it, even though I don't frequently make use of the words themselves, the idea of good and bad run pretty deep in the ways I look at and move in the world.

good:
make art
hum all the time
laugh
love people
hang with animals
hang with kids
be myself
dance in spontaneous situations
think a lot
feel things really strongly
see beauty
trust myself
love Harry Potter
travel
use words to communicate
use art to communicate
do really cool stuff


bad:
run away from things that make me happy
hum all the time
fear physical activity
judge myself
judge other people
hide in bed
think a lot
characterize things as "good" or "bad"
judge other people for the above
spell correctly (guess how many times it took me to get the word "legitimate" right? I'll never tell.)
look at other people and wonder why I'm not like them
carry on habits of a 13 year old
feel guilty
worry
don't trust myself
feel things really strongly
stop myself

Don't worry though. While I figure it out, I'm keeping busy.

Blowing smoke-rings of belly-steam

Things get confusing when I'm scampering all over the country, specially when the aforementioned scampering follows a more global-type of scampering. It gets even more complicated (or perhaps, less) when my post-summer vocabulary has been, as it always is, whittled down to about 1/3 it's original size and the vast majority of my feelings, observations, questions, hypotheses come out as "Rad!", "Shut up!", "Classic!" and the like.

I left camp, after 3 months of living on a little island where dirt under the nails was the norm and the introductory packet, which I haven't read for 3 years, tells you don't bother to bring a hair dryer. I headed south, through a city in which I spent a year and left feeling drained and confused. Though in this visit, I left with an understanding that I'd found a family during that year when I felt sick and tired for the majority of the time, a re-writing and a re-wiring of the stories I'd told myself about that time up north. As I traveled south this time, I felt encircled by a group of really special people who think that I'm really special, and it felt really good.

I drove to Corvallis with a great new friend and had some good family time with she and hers, ate fresh-caught tuna, played with kittens, bakes scones, and went on my way reluctantly.

I drove to Arcata, and had the best time. I stayed longer than I'd intended (thank goodness), mostly because my understanding of days, dates, and times is shaky at best since 3 months of staring at deer and exclaiming "Wait, what day is it?!". Great food, great days of extended sleeping, great family time, sister bonding that usually goes in fits and bursts and in the company of a whole host of other people, events and exhaltations.
"This is my sister!"
"Oh, wow! It's great to meet you."
"You too!" Me beaming. Hug Sarah. Things couldn't be any better, I swear.
And for a few days I forgot that I really miss my island with the deer and the dirt, and loved the fog and the layering in clothes that weren't entirely fleece-based. And I loved the heat when we caught up to it (outside of Arcata, of course), and the river and drinking beer (one is plenty after the summer I've had) and reading (endless pleasure after the summer I've had), and making new friends even as I'm relishing in those ones I've forgotten how to be without.

I left (implied: later than planned, even if still on the day), and felt like this for a million reasons when asked how I felt about going home:

Ummmmm...

And there are different parts of this "um"- the home part, and the returning part. They're different questions- am I returning home? How is it returning?

Back in the Bay, I've got not much to say except that I'm here, and my brain's come loose.
Why then, Alex, would you choose to share this with your vast and exhaustively literate audience?
Great question reader. You tell me. No? Well. Moving on.

I'll leave you with that. That's to say, with nothing more than a mind gurgling with things that are hard to articulate and give off a scent that's alternately intoxicating and revolting. Life, right? Classic.