Monday, April 8, 2013

it's been real

Someday I'm going to sing that line and mean it. For now though, for these weeks and months, it's all as it should be. It's a movie, a sitcom; it couldn't be better if it were scripted. Nearly every day it leaves me questioning, "Is this real? Is this really my life?" 

The hater in me ("Hello, haters! Damn y'all mad!") is waiting for the other shoe to drop. The realist is reminding me that everything cycles. The optimist, the happy-go-lucky ball of sunshine that appreciates every little thing, is thankful that life is on the up-swing. It's the roller coaster, again and again and again, and this time -- like the third time on the yeti ride at Disney World with Amy -- finally, I've put my hands up in the air. 

This year has given me friendships that fill my heart more than I ever imagined possible; music that I can't get out of my head; opportunities, challenges, and assignments that push.

It's a frenzy.

The company and the way the sunlight hits my office window at 14:30 every afternoon. Reports, investment paperwork, twelve-hour days. Suits, ties, the box of high heels under my desk. The drive here, the drive home, and the mildly frightening mental auto-pilot.

Plans with old friends, new friends, to-be friends. Laughter, hugs. High-fives and beers clinking for every reason. Hockey, the way the cigarette smell lingers on my clothing. Peeps-kisses and ass-slaps that send me falling into a wall with laughter. Elevators, singing in the car, a few more barstools squeezed up to the table. Beers and bubbly, "Make me anything." Metro rides, bus rides, walks. Warm sunshine, motorcycle engines, Archer quotes, and inside jokes. Parties, brunch, and plans for holiday beach trips.

Balance occasionally rears its head in the form of a long drive or thirteen hours of sleep with a pillow blocking all the light from my eyes, turning into daydreams or true dreams of conversations, tattoos, flyboys, and moments to remember for the rest of our lives.

The thing is -- the waking life isn't much different.

(Except that I haven't gotten a sleeve or started dating Hot Dog... yet.)

I could be swept into the frenzy, lose direction, float. How long would that freefall hold? Who says this isn't the freefall itself? I am here, I am steady. But I keep coming back to a crash, to it ending, stopping.

This is my energy. How long can I hold it, regenerate it, push all that light, appreciation, love, excitement back out into the world?

I don't have the answers to any of these things yet. All I know is this -- this place in which my life is magic -- this is real.


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