Sea Change

This has been a surreal weekend. It has involved flashes of moments in my memory -- opportunities to pursue, relationships to reflect on, life to examine, and enjoyment to be had.

Friday night I forced myself to go to a poetry slam on campus. I had mixed intentions to perform, as the theme was social justice and my more refined pieces do not relate to that theme. I flipped back through my writing journal to an entry I had made for the purpose of spoken word. Like everything I write, I'm usually ambivalent about it at first. It feels forced, broken, and incoherent. It comes out of me in a rush of ink and quickly I will close the book and turn off the light for bed. I had written this piece months ago. As I read back through it, I felt it was so much stronger. Maybe because it had a venue now, the words were clearer. I think it takes time to process, to step away, and come back to it from a different place. After showing up to the slam, I assessed the crowd of mostly undergrads (two of them were my students) and decided not to perform. It was short, with only six performers, but I enjoyed being in the moment of expression.

Afterward, I called Ted. I have been thinking about him for a long long while, at quiet moments or at times of sexual frustration. Recently we have been communicating more. I invited him to the slam but our schedules mismatched. I asked him to my place for a chat. He broke up with a guy recently. Ted proceeds to detail a story of this guy being too pursuant too quickly and not wanting to grow the friendship first. I listened with mock reflection, finger poised on my chin, nodding dramatically. "Fascinating. Doesn't this all sound awfully familiar to you?" He was living our past relationship from my end of it. Ted was the pushy take things faster guy for me. Had he come around? Grown to a center of more even-keeled relationships? He certainly looked as good as ever. The sexual tension was palpable, hidden beneath sarcasm and wit. Perhaps we have a second chance.

Saturday involved a unisex baby shower and a birthday party, both involving Feyonce and her Non-boyfriend. The shower allowed me to catch up and enjoy the company of many of my work friends. And to see Smartens and Rasmatic as the excited parents-to-be. They will be fun parents. I got to chat more with Feyonce and Non-boyfriend at the birthday party. We kinda ditched early for some Jupiter's pizza. We had a great time talking about travel, people, and our usual blend of salt, sass, juvenile humor, and wit. I love those two!

And today, a dear friend and I went shopping. We haven't had our old one-on-one days together, and it was like those times again. She bought these soft comfy bed sheets made of microloft that are heaven to wrap yourself in. Back at her place, we stripped the old sheets and tucked in the new. Nestled in a warmth, we lay there and talked about life, drifting on the brink of sleep and wakefulness. It felt safe and blissful.

The backdrop of these events was the final season of Six Feet Under. I ran through every emotion as I watched the characters I have grown to know play out their final chapter. Never has a television show affected me like this. The characters are full, even the minor ones. They are flawed. They feel real. A true testament to the producers, writers, and actors. The series finale left me in awe. The last scene particularly. The show was magic to me.

This weekend was magic. And I'm not sure how these words express it, if words ever truly can recreate emotion and context. Perhaps it was a "had to be there" experience. But I can say that it got me thinking about changes. The place where sea and land meet is a constant change - tides flow in, brush against land, and pull back beneath the surface. Does the same water ever return again? And if it does, it will meet new land, as sand is recycled, squished between toes, shoveled with empty shells.

Has Ted come back to a changed me as a different person himself? And why does my writing sound and feel different with the passage of time? Maybe it's a new perspective. Different facets have been unearthed and exposed. We are the sand that is changed, and we are the water that makes the change. Tomorrow is a new me. And a new you. That fact leaves me tickled with anticipation. And afraid of the cold rush of transition.

P.S. Be sure to check out the song "Transatlanticism" by Death Cab for Cutie. My mind is blown.