“Time: Do not squander it. This is the stuff life is made out of.”

Four AM. I feel bad for my dogs whose tired eyes heavy and groggy, watch me race around the apartment frantically packing up boxes, putting toothpaste into old nail holes in the walls, and adding extra coats of masking tape to a boxes of stem ware. I feel sorrow for A.S. trying to coil himself in linen; trying to hold onto a nights worth of slow and heavy breathing, eyes sealed and mind closed off from the current mania and insomnia I am experiencing. The culprit of my lack of sleep is anticipation for the move and a laundry list of things to do that has culminated the past few days. Tonight, err, this morning to justify another sleepless night, err morning I felt like “falling asleep” was as it inadvertently implies “falling” into a trap- a trap that consists of a series of spirals of nothingness. I am not sure how much I am accomplishing sitting here writing this, but I am coaxing myself into the thought of venturing into a voyeuristic sleepy land and dreaming of daffodils and sugarplums.

I see this move and this approaching school year as a new beginning- a new battalion of endeavors to add to a check list, daily calendar or journal. All too often, I hear friends, family, deans, advisors and professors who all swear on their mothers that the years go by faster and faster. I wonder if we just get older and our minds become less attentive to time itself, or if we simply, unconsciously force our minds to focus on the next thing and the next and the next... Perhaps for college students and other young adults time remains the epitome of our lives. Personally, I have always been at battle with time and the very way it can control you. Just the way it can creep up on you- “Oh my god I’m late! Oh shit, I’ll lose my spot in line at Starbucks/I’ll have to face traffic/I won’t get my Nobel Peace Prize/I’ll never get married/ I’ll be a fat and miserable cat lady forever!” Very tricky… I tell myself to refrain from panic at this repetitive inquisition and take things one-step-at-a-time. However, I think the notion of “one-step-at-a-time” is a little difficult to comprehend given the fast-paced, high-tech, generational regime in which we currently co-habituate.

There are times (other than sleepless nights and mornings) where I dread anticipation or even excitement for something because of the fear of disappointment. I picture the matter in my brain veering aimlessly between a jilted lover and a happily-ever-after. I used to do this with dates. Fifteen minutes before my “could-be” or “could-not-be” night-in-shining-armor arrived I would get a little anxious. I wouldn’t want to get too excited incase my date turned out to have an ego, a mullet, a girlfriend, two girlfriends, bad breath, a big mole on his forehead, a dome forehead, a lisp, a lazy eye, etc. But…maybe I had seen one to many fairytales, because I’d still insist on wearing my new stilettos and hands down: thong verses panties. J Maybe, some things are worth becoming excited for despite disappointment in the end. I try to think that sometimes the “chances” are so brilliant that accepting the possible disappointment- is still a trophy. A trophy you can gladly take with open arms and walk away with a grin on your face. I mean who cares what happens, you cannot control time, but you can still wear the panties…err, thong, which ever you prefer.

Disco Moon

I woke up this morning with a slight hang over- head spinning, black dots in the corner of my eyes along with a few black mascara clumps, a faint buzzing in my left ear, and a vile smell emerging from my mouth. I was very pleased indeed. You see I haven't had a stitch of alcohol or been out to a party in ages, but last night B.H., A.S. and I went out and essentially got plastered. I got to wear a bold shade of lipstick and some knee high cat-woman-esque boots. I drank and danced (sometimes in the middle of the dace floor by myself chasing the reflections of the disco ball, giving out free hugs and kisses on the cheeks, speaking 10 decibels louder than needed, and saying over and over "Oh my gosh, we should so hang out!" "Oh my gosh, we should so hang out!" Then around two AM we left the party and I let my head hang out in the toilet for awhile occasionally taking it out for air while vowing "Never again!" (Sigh) Yes, yes, it was all very grand... The whole day was great actually, I slept in, worked out, went to the beach with B.H., and then went out to eat at Chino Latino. I clearly remember sitting at a small table outside watching people pass and sipping my lemon water saying out loud: "It's moments like these that make me so thankful to be alive." Then I giggled and made fun of myself for sounding corny and took a bite of a chicken leg.

I signed a lease for a new condo in Saint Paul's historic neighborhood. I am so excited! I have been looking for about six months and right when I saw this place I knew I had to have it. I saw myself on the three-season porch painting. I saw myself burning a pizza in the oven in the kitchen. I pictured myself applying mascara with a hand mirror sitting on the edge of the bathtub. The best part is I get to bring my four boys with to live with me (A.S., Oliver, Otis, and Oscar.) We have been collecting antiques from garage sales and Craigslist and fixing them up. Every week it's like we have a new project because one of us found some free french doors or a wooden table on the side of the road aside a dumpster. Even small bursts of creativity or art electrifies me and makes me a whole new person from whomever I was the moment preceding.

I woke up from a nap and took a walk outside barefoot. I took small, careful and yet firm steps- careful as to also be aware of the small pebbles and dirt on the ground, and firm with platform flat feet as to acknowledge the direction of my steps. The dim light of a sun having stayed up past its bed time and a still evident stream of folk shuffle made me gain a sense of being alive and like I am really here on earth. And now a new moon resides telling me a new day will soon ensue and for the time being to dance in the realm of dreams.