On Lonerism

Where is your blog? You know I live for that little bit of Karen everyday. Are you ok? Just making sure you are ok. If you need anything, let me know. I would do anything for you and I hope you know that! Love you.

I can't very well ignore the entreaties of the one person - family aside - who's loved me the longest.

My blog has been on hiatus since last weekend. I have a lot on my mind and I need time to retreat, work through some things that are occupying my brain to the point of waking me up and infiltrating my dreams, and ponder.

No, it never occurred to me that anyone, even you, lived for the little bit - and, let's be honest, usually a lot - of Karen I put out to the world every day.

The chronicling of my thoughts, opinions and activities are meant to be an historical record of 21st century life for some future cultural historian digging deep to see what kinds of things occupied ordinary people or, if it happens to be some sort of women's studies scholar, provide a snapshot that reflects a female of a certain generation, class and education level.

That my posts also provide a link to the people who care about me, though, has become the best reason to keep it up.

Am I okay? Yes and no, just like any other human being. Am I sorting through who I am and why I haven't been more successful in some areas of personal growth and relationships? Yes, definitely. Am I wishing I could just disappear and not ever feel sad again? No, I'm not.

As for your offer of anything, I do need things, but these things I need aren't the kind I can ask for. Coming to terms with what I do need and want and am willing to work for is on my shoulders. I wish I could just say "This will make me happy" and have it handed to me, but life has already shown me that it doesn't work that way.

So instead I think because I'm an over-thinker. Lately, I've given in to brooding and with that, I've taken on the habits of a loner. Atypically for me, that means not going out in the evenings, giving me nothing compelling to put out to the blogosphere.

Gemini, You are likely to feel as if you are in the middle of a difficult situation. The less said, the better. It would be best if you stayed centered, knowing what you want and expect from someone else.

This is me staying centered and saying less, while figuring out what I want and expect from myself. Love you, too.

Moonflowers Blooming on the Balcony

Carpe diem. It never hurts to be reminded of that.

Just last week, one of my beach guests, recovering from chest pains while overlooking the ocean, had received that very reminder from her husband (hysterically responding to him with, "Who are you and what have you done with my husband?").

But it was sage advice.

Today's rainy road trip took me far enough into Mathews County that I was within spitting distance of Gwynn's Island to interview a successful business owner about his past, present and future. Standard stuff, right?

Except, no, anything but.

Imagine a 38-year old man having a heart problem misdiagnosed and now, six years later, his heart is in such bad shape as a result that in two days he will have a battery-powered mechanical pump implanted to stave off end-stage heart failure, followed by his name going on the heart transplant list.

Turns out that last week while I was reveling in my annual week in Kitty Hawk, he was a few miles away in Nags Head relishing his last trip frolicking in the ocean, at least until he gets a new heart because pumps and swimming are incompatible.

It's almost too difficult to get my head around the idea of going in the ocean last week (as I did) without knowing if you'll ever be able to go in again.

I look back now with cosmic gratitude for his sake for the 70-degree water.

The thing is, he's only 44 years old now and his life is already drastically changed and things are about to undergo even more adjustment post-surgery. So while I'll be flying across the pond Thursday, he'll be holed up at MCV, a few blocks from my house, undergoing eight hours of surgery and spending three weeks there recovering from it.

All because someone made a bad call and now he's paying with his health, perhaps even his life.

I know, I know, plenty of people have terrible things happen to them while others blithely move through life with nothing more serious than the usual bumps and scrapes that all humans experience.

When I shared my own great tragedy from a couple decades ago, he teared up in empathy, but we found common ground in a shared philosophy. When bad things happen, good people have two choices: curl up in a ball and give up, or deal and move on, which brings us back to carpe diem.

So I seized the day by making the most of a wet foray to the bay, loving up on two personable beagles - an old one at his house and a young one in the hallway of my apartment building - walking twice, morning and evening, simply because I could and seeing "Genius," a geeky literary movie based on a geeky, literary bio I read over a decade ago.

Don't mind me, I'm just over here gathering my rosebuds while I may. With, by the way, enormous gratitude for the ability to do so.

You Go, Girl

Life isn't fair.

Oh, I know everyone's parents tell them that and it's one of those lessons we all learn as we move through life - the bottom of my world fell out when I was 29- but it's a cliche for a reason. Life's not fair.

Walking home today, I passed by a neighbor's house, a younger woman I first met when I moved to this apartment five years ago. At the time, my beagle and I took a lot of walks and often ran into her and her aged dog, so we would talk as we walked.

Once I lost my dog, I didn't see her nearly as much despite her living half a block away, so our chats were less frequent. So when I saw her doing a small repair on her porch as I walked by, I stopped to chat, asking her how she was.

"Okay for someone fixing my house so my sister can sell it after I die from this brain tumor," she answered casually. It never for a moment sounded like a joke.

At a time like that, words, my stock in trade, become irrelevant. There are no appropriate words when someone tells you that nine weeks ago a large tumor was found on her brain after she began having trouble deciphering words on the printed page.

Pulling back her hair, she showed me the large scar where 80-90% of it was removed in surgery. She's been going through radiation every weekday since.

Once she finishes that, they can better assess her prospects, which they're now guessing range from a few months to two years.

We talked about the irony of it, how well she's always taken care of herself, how fit she looks and feels. At one point, she stood up and spread her arms above her head, posing. "Crazy, right?"

Crazy, cruel, horrible, completely unjust.

I was curious if she planned to keep working and she already is, having gone back to the office a few weeks after surgery because she was antsy working at home.

Surely she planned to travel or indulge herself somehow? " I had an affair with a sheik when I was 21 and in Europe, so I think I'm good with Europe," she said by way of explanation.

Maybe a month at the beach just kicking back? The radiation treatments mean she has to avoid the sun, she said.

But surely you're going to do something to celebrate yourself, I insisted.

She told me about a guy at her office who'd recently shown an interest in her, even cutting out some bad habits at her urging.

Now they've made plans to go away next weekend and she seems really happy about that or as happy as a person can be knowing how short term her future may be.

Her grace and equanimity given the circumstances is downright inspirational and a slap on the back of the head to me to never take anything for granted.

You just never know what life will deal you.

Truth in Tostados

"T o live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all." ~ Oscar Wilde

I am many things to many people, but not a one of them can stand it when I get low.

My natural tendency is toward optimism; the glass is always half full if you ask me.

I wake up raring to go and I rarely turn down a chance to do something that sounds interesting.

Even so, my state of mind had been wavering in a much lower place than usual for a few months now.

To be frank, I felt dangerously close to just existing.

Friends noticed and didn't like it, but had no idea what to do about it.

My mother expressed concern about the absence of my sunny side and strongly suggested online dating, as if that would do the trick.

And while I have several close friends who found love online, I knew that wasn't likely to be the solution to what ailed me.

Instead I went back to doing what I do best: living my life in the way that makes me happiest. Doing the things that matter to me.

But I also started reaching out beyond my usual circle and including some of the people I've known in the past but hadn't spent much time with lately.

Sometimes it backfired and I was sorry I hadn't gone out alone as usual, but sometimes the company was exactly the Rx I needed to return to fully enjoying myself.

Turns out I was lonely and just needed more company more often.

As practiced as I am at living life, I am a highly social creature and had been spending way too much time in my own company.

So there you have it.

Instead of sharing details of my dinner (Pescado's China Street), my companion (a friend for only the past couple of years), what we talked about (moving, admission of feelings, travel) and what happened around us, I offer a rumination on my life.

Merely existing might be easier, but I can't imagine it would be nearly as satisfying.

How's that for oblique?

There, There, Tell Me All About It

Feeling somewhat better now, thank you.

Despite the wind that was blowing so hard that I actually felt sharp things hitting my face as I walked, I hoofed it over to Garnett's to meet a girlfriend for a catch-up/feel-better session and lunch. The food was negotiable, the talking was not.

We were both surprised at how busy Garnett's was; a table barely emptied before a new party was sitting down at it. When I walked in the counter was full up and five minutes later completely empty. I scored a couple of stools before that changed again.

I won't repeat what I said when my friend came up and asked me how I was, but let's just say we dove right into it. I ordered a Cobb salad, told her what was up in my world (like she didn't already know) and she gave me her take on things.

A server I know came in and sat next to me and we laughed about a mutual friend who has a new girlfriend. He was recently boasting about having finished his Christmas shopping for her.

Turns out he bought the exact same thing for her that he bought for his last two girlfriends: a cardigan, a record and a piece of jewelry. The women can change, but the present list remains carved in stone apparently. Definitely laugh-worthy.

Jenny, my talented baker friend, and her husband came in in between baking jobs and we chatted about the hustle-bustle that's everywhere right now. I could have kissed her when she touched my shoulder and said, "You look so pretty today." Kind words, just what I needed to hear.

Another friend and her wine rep husband were next, taking a respite from having just been over on Midlothian Turnpike, which they described as a zoo. They'd tried Black Sheep (long waiting list), Harrison Street Cafe (already closed for the holidays) and then decided on Garnett's.

Until recently, they lived a few blocks from Garnett's, so it was like coming home for them. I usually only run into them at wine events, so it was an unexpected pleasure to see them and talk today.

I met one of the guys from One Ring Zero, who was down from NYC visiting his sister. I'd heard lots of good thing about him from my girlfriend and he turned out to be a most interesting guy. He had the mistaken notion that I was an acocuntant (!) so I clarified my skill set for him.

My Cobb salad had set a sort of salad trend, with the couple at the end of the bar getting the same and the girl next to me having the spinach salad. She commented that no sandwiches were allowed at the lunch counter today, which I think points to the fact that the salads at Garnett's are as good as the sandwiches. And for that triumph, credit goes to Mac the Magnificent.

And speaking of, I felt a hand running down the back of my jumper and turned to see the great Mac himself, coming by to save the day. As of next week, he'll be back at Garnett's full time, which means we'll have way more time to talk again. I love Mac's laid-back take on life (not to mention his culinary skills) and he's always giving me advice on men. Mostly to avoid them, but still.

Before leaving, my girlfriend did a wrap-up of our discussion (no Power Point, but close), making sure I took into consideration what I was dealing with. Yes, oh wise one, I get it.

Walking home, the sunny sidewalks had been replaced with shady ones, but I actually felt a little better about things. Not to be corny, but it kind of felt like I'd been embraced by caring friends, which I had, both literally and figuratively.

Onward and upward.

A Day in the Life

Tuesday nights I usually eat at Six Burner because wine is half price by the glass (with lovely choices) and the food is always great. I had come from the Paul Mellon lecture sponsored by VMFA, "Sisley: The English Impressionist," which was an interesting enough topic. He's thought of as English because of his first name, Alfred, and because he always had British citizenship. It's just that he spent almost his entire life in France, including being born there. Not so English. The woman who sat next to me told her husband when he arrived that she sat next to me because I looked like a good talker. I'm okay with that.

When I got to Six Burner and sat at the end of the bar, a man shouted to me from a corner booth asking if I was the girl in the framed picture sitting on the bar (it was the upcoming jazz singer) . I wasn't, so he apologized profusely. While his dining partner was taking care of business, he came over to me and gave me a $20 bill as part of his apology. This stuff really happens?

Not 20 minutes later, a customer comes in and sits at the bar. The bartender says we're both regulars and introduces us. We're close in age and start chatting. A four hour conversation ensued with a stranger and I was told I was an excellent conversationalist. Such a compliment! I can't think of anything I'd rather be stereotyped as.

Today I actually heard back from a potential employer to whom I had sent my resume.She was telling me that I might be over-qualified for the position and she didn't want to waste my time or for me to get in there and be bored with what I’ve done in the past. But someone considered hiring me...if only briefly. And she's undoubtedly right.

And that's just the last 24 hours.