thanks.

tomorrow will mark one week in la-la land (as my mother calls it). i’d like to say that i have fit into this city like a hand into a glove, but that would be glossing everything over a little too much. actually, when you think about it, i’ve never had a pair of gloves that really fit all that well, so maybe that cliché is relatively close to the truth. because, you see, the reality is that there are many things i love – my apartment is in a great neighborhood, i can walk to trader joe’s, my roommate and her friends have been more than welcoming, and my job promises to be everything i could hope for and more. but there are also a lot of things that take getting used to. some things, like the way of driving and general direction-sense, i will have to adjust to. other things, like the ever-present emphasis on image and external appearances, i feel creeping in to my train of thought and will have to work extra hard to stay comfortably un-l.a.

as we near thanksgiving, i am absolutely floored with gratitude. my job, my apartment, a roommate who is pleasant and helpful, parents who take off two weeks of work to come with me, who have provided so indescribably much for me in not only the past few days and months, but in my whole lifetime as well.

i’m always a little uncomfortable with the idea of thinking of those “less fortunate” in order to bolster your attitude of gratitude. it feels like i'm taking advantage of those who are caught under systems of oppression, recognizing their need but then sitting back and saying something along the lines of “thank thee, o god, that i am not like other men.” if i’m not mistaken that jewish priest wasn’t exactly the hero of that particular parable. i suppose, then, that true thanksgiving should lead us to recognize that what we have is actually a gift – one that wasn’t necessarily meant to stay in our sole possession. if everything we have is god’s, then everything we have – down to our time, energy, and ideas – really belong to everyone around us, god’s children.

of course, this quickly gets more complicated, especially in a city like l.a. where the homeless population is significant and omnipresent. extend that out to those individuals who make conscious choices to do drugs, abstain from psychiatric medications, willfully commit crimes. are they god’s children, too? there’s a fear that if i open my arms too wide, i’ll lose myself in the process. but isn’t that exactly what christ did?

after all, what's box unpacking and picture hanging without a healthy dose of soul-challenging theology. :)

what we do with them

jet lag isn't completely gone. but each day is filled with its little victories - this morning i woke up at 6:30 am. definitely a bit improvement on the 5:15 am-on-the-dot wake up i've been living with for the past few days. i'm still tired earlier than normal, but my days have been steady enough to also play a part in my exhaustion.

i'm moving to california. i imagine this doesn't come as a shock to anybody in particular, and i of all people should know this. but i think perhaps there are many layers of realization and many levels of knowledge. mentally, i've been organizing this whole cross-country shenanigan since i graduated in may. first it was to be a month early and now, finally, four months later, it's really happening. plans, details, little bits and pieces of information flow freely from my mouth with an ease and confidence that don't betray the moments of sheer panic that periodically stab through my heart.

you see, it's not just that i'm moving to california. i moved to boston four years ago to attend bc, and i've moved for summers to various locations around the country and the world. my whole life has been a grand sequence of moves. it's what this particular move means. it means my bed comes with me, and my room for the last six years that was always my haven, my sure sign that i was home from the stresses of school, will change. it means i live somewhere else and come home to visit my parents, not the other way around. it means i have responsibility, a job with expectations of me, an apartment, an income, a budget.

in those moments of breathless terror, it's much easier to hunker down and simply wait for the feeling to pass - much easier than looking up and seeing the harsh and gaunt realities we lump together under the ambiguous name of "life." loneliness, isolation, frustration, embarrassment, steep learning curves, and awkward moments stand before me. the cousins of transition, they try to hide among their brighter and more exciting siblings - exhilaration, discovery, adventure, surprise - yet their negative energy casts a pall over everything creating an atmosphere of dread, worry, and concern.

they say misery loves company, and i'm hoping that will prove to be true. if i square my shoulders, stare these clinging fears in the face and consciously choose against them, do you think they might just leave in order to find someone else who might join their un-merry band? one thing i think i've sorted out about life (from what i've known of it so far) is that they never stray too far. i used to think there was one perfect serendipity, one ultimate destination for each person where these morose fellows were banned once and for all by the infinite positivity born out of total fulfillment. well, when put in those terms, i guess that would be my best working definition of heaven...

but for now, for this life and this earth and this set of broken people, i imagine life sort of like one of the last scenes from a beautiful mind. In answer to a question as to whether or not his psychotic hallucinations persist despite the many years since his diagnosis and multiple forms of treatment, john nash, played by russell crowe, answers that they are always there, he has simply learned to ignore them. meanwhile behind him, you see the man and child - his consistent hallucinations - standing. silent. these feelings of overwhelming despair are with us every day, in the ebb and flow of emotions that float beneath the surface of our seemingly rational minds. they, like nash's illusory friends, will always be there. it's about what we chose to do with them.