"the holidays"

Last Wednesday, when everyone was saying their goodbyes and hugging each other and happily packing their cars to go see family, I realized that I was alone for Thanksgiving.

Sometime around 830 pm, as I still sat at my desk at work, the half-day drive that I would not take hit me at full force. New York was suddenly the most appealing place in the world to me. I realized I was sitting at my desk to avoid going home to an empty house.

There is a large concentration of people whom I love in New York, and I wanted to be in their midst. I wanted to be aggravated with my parents when they yelled up the stairs to wake me up. I wanted to make coffee while dad made french toast and mom made sausage. I wanted to sit in the family room and watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade with my dad. I wanted to be hot and carsick by the time we got to my Aunt Jan's. I wanted my cousin to pick the right wine. I wanted to marvel at how much my dad and his 2 brothers and 2 sisters look alike, knowing that there was one more brother in Connecticut who would complete the picture. I wanted, I wanted, I wanted... everything about the day.

I wanted to clean the house and put up the Christmas tree with my family. I wanted to not be able to wait to get back to Nashville, where it did not snow.

I rolled out of bed at about 1030 on Thanksgiving, wandered downstairs, and switched on the parade. I called home, and my dad answered. He told me what was for breakfast, and I choked out, "I'm having a nutrigrain bar." He said, "I know you want to be here kiddo, I can hear it in your voice." After five minutes and thirty-three seconds, we said goodbye. I couldn't even talk, for fear it would all come rushing out.

Instead of crying on the phone to my dad, I cried when the Rockettes performed. I cried when the little marching band from Ohio performed and their drumline started rocking out like no other. I cried when I saw Grover on the Sesame Street float. I cried when I saw the Charlie Brown float. And, sitting about 10 inches from the television, I cried when Santa came.

I know I'm painting a pretty miserable little picture here, and that's exactly how I felt.

What I am thankful for though, are my friends. Friends who made me feel a little less lonely, and picked me up and took me places, and spent time with me, cooked for me, ate with me, watched movies with me, drove aound with me, talked about important things with me, and gave me enough love to make it through.

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boiling over.

I received the email.

It was disappointing. I hoped to know more. I hoped for an abbreviated version of the past 5 years.

I hoped to know what books he's reading, what his favorite meal is, if he still listens to This American Life, what he meant when he said I've been on his mind lately, if he still smokes Pall Malls, what his friends are like, where he passes his free time... the things you miss when you stop being part of a person's day-to-day life.

In a way, I got the last five years, but it was too abbreviated. It was five years boiled down to jobs and houses and dating, with a promise of more to come and a batch of hugs to tide me over.

I know that the five year gap was my fault. I know that not everyone is quick to forgive or as easy with the intricacies as I tend to be.

I also know that this man was a rare friend indeed, and I cannot wait to know him again.

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watching the pot.

i'm terrible at waiting.

i get giddy. then i get disappointed, then depressed, then discouraged.

I'm waiting for an email from a friend at the moment. I've been waiting for approximately 5 days.

I'm not so impatient that I can't wait five days for an e-mail. It's just that, in this particular case, it's a friend that I've been waiting to find for five years.

And I've been waiting for five years and five days now.

Every day I check my inbox about 17 times.

It could be today. It could be today. It could be today.

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i'm glad you asked.

i've been busy.
in the last month and a half, i've:
-found a new place to live
-been reading more than your mom
-learned how to crochet
-started drinking coffee again (although i'm not hooked. i swear.)
-perfected the art of getting free coffee (again. not hooked. swear.)
-gone to concerts (amos lee was out. logen, c. dub, and db #34 were in.)
-become addicted to MySpace (yep. even I fell.)
-gone to parties
-watched the godfather I & II (it's not personal. it's business.)
-watched Harry Potter I & II (III tonight.)
-lost 8 pounds (!!)
-detailed my car
-not carved pumpkins
-served up approximately 267 danishes at the global cafe

and i'll be busy.
just over a month until i go to new york for just under a month. i still have to:
-pack (yippee.)
-move (can you say, walking distance to coffee?)
-get an oil change
-go to concerts (g.love is out. trent dabbs is in. props to jeremy for tuning me in to his existence.)
-go to parties (i have to defend my uno champ title.)
-unpack
-paint (maybe.)
-finish crocheting my scarf (i just don't know what to do on the last row)
-perfect the art of getting free money (any tips? anyone?)

peace
amy

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Friday #6

Go to the Library.

I'm embarrassed to say that I have lived in Nashville for one year and eight months and I have not, in all that time, gone to the Nashville Public Library. I have not signed up for a library card. I have not browsed the stacks. I have not checked out any titles. Until 2 Mondays ago.

Like any other Monday night, sometime between 5 and 6 pm, I started the drive home in packed traffic. I realized that the tail lights were starting to get me down. I sensed myself settling into suburban depression. I had never actually seen the library, but I knew that it was on my way home, a quick left off of my beaten path. That night, I jerked my car into the turning lane, breathing, "something has to change."

I have been feeling under-stimulated lately. I have forgotten the names in my favorite Shakespeare plays. I stopped teaching myself German. I never even finished reading a book that Allie and I started reading together. I've started re-reading some of the books I own - Augustine, CS Lewis, Huxley - but none of them soothed the feeling that I was slipping slowly into the complacent mire of day-to-day life.

So I went to the library that Monday night. And I ran my hands over the spines of books, just like I used to when I was little. I walked through the stacks with my head tilted to the side for so long that I started to feel dizzy. I remembered that I used to dream of being a librarian. I signed up for a library card.

I left that night with a Shakespeare play on CD, a Jane Austen compilation, and a book of Aesop's fables. And a VHS copy of "Home for the Holidays." And copies of the free city and arts papers from the entryway.

As I walked to my car, I almost started to cry. I kept repeating over and over again, "I went to the library. I really went to the library!" I drove home listening to Much Ado About Nothing, wondering what took me so long. Wondering how I had thought it was okay to neglect a part of myself for so long.

Not only has my brain started to thaw, but that night, I looked through the papers looking for apartments. My lease is up at the end of November, and I want a new place. I found an amazing place, looked at it the following Saturday, and will be moving in on the 15th. It's a great place at a great price in a great location. And I never would have found it if I hadn't gone to the library.

So, I mean it. Go to the library. It can change your life.

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