I had it all planned out. I had my going away soiree at Smitty’s. I figured out that when a hangover dulls my senses (yeah, I know), it also dulls my anxiety. I can never dull my anxiety, neither with self medication nor Dr. prescribed medication. In fact, all attempts to banish said beast results in a bigger, badder anxiety army, the likes of which even Sun Tzu would raise the white flag.
So, snockered the night before our first attempt (thanks Blair) I was in perfect condition for the flight. With my anxiety shelved and tired from staying up late, I figured I’d add a shot of Nyquil and actually be able to sleep on the flight. My dad showed up to drive us to the airport, took one look at Jeff and I, laughed and did a McDonalds run because Jeff and I were in such bad shape. It took me 8 hours to finish my sausage McMuffin. All of which were subsequently spent sitting at the gate, waiting for a plane to arrive in the middle of hurricane winds. Perfect hangover wasted.
The second cancellation was due to a faulty strut in the landing gear. I was quite alright with this cancellation as I would rather not have a problem landing. I know what happens when a car strut goes out. I really don’t want to be there when it goes out on a 747.
Sparky made a comment that if we were cancelled yet again we’d have to take it as a sign and just stay in the bay area. We’d have had the cats shipped over and leave the loft to rot.
We weren’t cancelled and flew back Business class. Why is it when I fly Business class, we get home early and without problems? And when flying peasant class, I’m stuck for hours? Because Virgina, there isn’t a Santa Claus and you were very, very naughty in a past life.
Those who know me probably figured out that I had a fantastic time thus the reason you have heard neither hide nor hair of me. I was having way too much fun, indulging in hedonistic delights that would make my mother proud and my aunts gasp. There might be a phrase I used to use that is no longer valid. I would love to write out all my stories and share the sordid details, but as people I now work with read this thing, I have to censor myself. I’m thinking of starting another blog, but frankly, I don’t have the heart for it anymore.
I’m in a new and different place. I’ve shed a skin that was loose before I left. Somewhere over the polar ice cap is the woman I was before and can never be again. It might be responsible for the 20 pounds I lost in SF. How I can eat anything I want in the bay area and still lose a dress size I do not know, but I am NOT complaining. It might have been the stairs in my brother’s house. A three bedroom condo in which there is one room per floor resulting in four floors with the kitchen and the living room separated by a flight. The architect must have been an ass man because my gluts are rock solid and I worked out exactly twice.
Other than spending a fortune on eye surgery, shoes with a minimum 3 inch heel, fantastic ass enhancing denim, breast enhancing bras, and tons of MAC eye shadows, this trip gave me back my mojo. All the confidence I fake on a daily basis came home to roost for various reasons. I’m planning on keeping it.
I see my life clearer now. I see the future unclouded by doubt, second guesses, empty promises and unfulfilled potential. And while the Lasik surgery brought my sight to 20/15, it had nothing to do with this new vision. This was brought on by endless days walking around my city, everlasting lattes and bottomless glasses of vodka that never delivered the numbness I sought, but rather tidal waves of emotion and Technicolor possibilities. This vision was sharpened by the achingly bright blue skies and cutting Pacific wind; Fortified by old friends and encouraged by new ones.
On my 30th birthday, I sat in my apartment in Oakland and decided I needed a different life. One that took me off the path I was on and I gave myself a year to figure it out. On my 31st birthday, I was ensconced in Frankfurt, having given up that life for a new one.
I’m there once more, ready for something different. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve already done that, but I’m not about to throw one life away for another again. This time I’ll take the best of this life with me. This time I won’t box myself in with time limits. This time I will take my time. This time I’m a bit wiser. But let it be known that this time is now.