A few days ago I got home from a wonderful, restful vacation with my family…a group of people with whom I am totally comfortable, and most of the time, completely myself. On the morning of our day of departure, I awoke in my hotel bed and had such a sense of melancholy. This feeling persisted all morning and for the full duration of the plane flight home. As the plane was coming in to land, I felt a surge of emotion swell up into my throat and I struggled to keep myself from weeping as I watched the Los Angeles sprawl grow bigger and bigger below me. As the plane touched down, all my fears, insecurities and lonliness came rushing back into my body. My shoulders grew tense. I slowly made my way through the customs line, with my brother and his family next to me. I went up to the customs officer, passport in hand, and he asked me where I’d been. “Mexico”, I replied. “Did you have a good time?” he asked (he was rather chatty) I quickly said yes, we’d had fun! He then asked me where I lived and I felt the lump of emotion swell up into my throat again briefly before mumbling out, “Santa Monica”. “Oh,” he said, “and what is it you do there in Santa Monica?” I stared at him for longer than a moment before saying, “Um, I take care of my cat.” “What’s your cat’s name?” “Marceau, he’s French” and I gave an awkward, forced laugh. And with that I was let back into the country. “Welcome home” he said.

We made our way out to the curb where I was to catch a taxi back to Santa Monica and the rest of my family was to head toward Southwest Airlines for their journey further North. I stood there, blocking the arrival area with my goodbye hugs to my parents, grandmothers, sister-in-law and nephew. I then made my way outside where my brother had retreated to have a cigarette. I went to him, gave him a big goodbye hug, missing him already~~~we had never been on a real vacation together, in all our 28 years of being relatives. (At least as far as I can remember). And just like that my family vacation was over. And I was in a cab back to Santa Monica to ‘care for my French cat, Marceau’.

So, I’ve been thinking…what is it I do in Santa Monica?? I moved here from ‘the eastside’ for a few reasons. One~~to be close to the beach. (and yet I’ve taken advantage of my nearness to the ocean exactly 3-4 times in 9 months) Two~~to be able to walk to the grocery store, post office, coffee shop, book store. (and yet I still get in my car and drive there instead) Three~~so Marceau could have a safe little yard to run and play in. (Phew, at least one of those things is happening; he loves his yard) I am not what you would call self-disciplined. I make decisions everyday about things in my life I’d like to change. One day I quit drinking soda regularly. The next day I resolve to go to yoga 4 times a week (how about 1 time a week??). Another day I decide I’ll walk to the beach each morning. And yet another day I resolve to stop eating out so much, especially to stop pulling in for grose fast food so often, and to eat more vegetables. But none of these things have happened yet. What will it take before I make the changes I want to see in my life??

Last night I spent the evening with someone I’m just starting to get to know. A person whom I really like and think is very cool. We spent about 7 hours in each others company, chatting and hanging out and I still don’t feel that I really know much about this person or that this person really knows much about me. This morning when I woke up I had this weird embarrassed feeling, almost like when you wake up after a night of drinking a little too much, and although I spent the evening completely sober I felt so vulnerable. It’s not that I said anything stupid, or shared my deepest secrets, I simply realized (and I’m speaking for myself here) that letting someone new into your life is hard. It takes so much time and trust and vulnerability. I love people, but I’m not good at casual aquaintances~~I want to know people. What makes them excited, what makes them scared, what makes them cry, what makes them swoon. And however vain it may sound, I want them to know that about me, too. But what I’ve realized is that however much I want to have these kinds of relationships, I’m also a little scared to death of it. Perhaps because I often decide, or assume, in my mind that a person couldn’t possibly care enough to want to get to know me which causes me to put on the air that I don’t really care enough. If I don’t put myself out there, why would someone else?? It’s self-sabotage, really. Perhaps this comes from feeling burned in the past, for throwing parties that no one can attend, or feeling abandoned by friends I thought I was close with, but forget that~~that’s in the past. And today is now…new people and new places take time to become like family and home. But sometimes I get impatient…

And my final note…

dance as though no one is watching,

love as though you have never been hurt before,

sing as though no one can hear,

live as though heaven is on earth. ~~souza