Breaking Up Is Hard To Do
Church bells and sirens are my two favorite sounds which kind of sums up my entire life. One foot firmly planted in crisis and tragedy, one in the promise of Heaven. I think the bells were the real reason I converted to Catholicism, that sweet mystical sound that suggests a homecoming, a calling back. As a person who is deeply fragmented, I love the idea of peace, of being home. When I was young, I often wanted to be someone else, the girls that always seemed beautiful and content, the ones that didn't seem frazzled and unkempt, like me. I swore I would become that kind of person. I didn't. I went the other way. I became more like myself over the years. For a long time, I saw this as a tragedy.
But as the great Miles Davis says, it takes a long time to sound like yourself. I've found this to be true in my writing life and true in life itself. So many awful costumes to shed, so many goals that will never be obtained. But ultimately this is such a good thing, a miracle really. Everything that is not essential falls away. One spring I looked out the window and saw white flakes drifting out of the sky. I didn't know if it was snow or petals. It turned out to be both, one of those strange seasonal anomalies. I thought if only life could be like this and then realized it was, at least for that moment. I love the world, the sirens, the snow, the flowers, but ultimately like everyone else, I cannot stay.
Working on some spring concoctions -- next up, a hibiscus jalapeno margarita. When I perfect this gem, I'm doing a video to show you guys how to do it.