|Sixteen. That be a Smiths button on me jacket.|
~ Albert Camus
If we sit back and look around, there are things in our lives that remind us the life is always in rhythm, whether we feel it all the time or not. Circular. Cyclical. You find yourself reminded of where you’ve been by the place you are now. Some things are familiar, some are deja vu, others are examples of your own evolution.
* I am now working in the building where I was born.
* I am now working in the industry where I started my career twenty years ago.
* I love being in the kitchen. When I was very young my mom let me experiment in the kitchen. I made a quiche when I was 10! (Something happened in between and for a number of years I subsisted on Diet Coke, Hot Pockets and Kraft Mac & Cheese.)
* Last year, out of necessity, I got a job in the same industry my parents were in, not thrilled with it from the get-go, unimpressed with the bureaucracy, and knowing it was not going to be a fun ride. I made the most of it, then left, and am better now that I am away from it. Nearly identical to the relationships that I had with my parents.
* Five years ago this Thanksgiving, I returned to my hometown. I am living in the same neighborhood my father grew up in, riding by his house every morning on the way to my new job. I even have a friend who lives just a few houses down from it.
* When I was sixteen I wore London Underground boots with pointy toes and buckles and mostly black. At thirty-six, I wear boots from DSW and Zappo’s and…mostly black.
* When I was sixteen I made macaroni out of a box with yellow powder flavoring. At thirty-six, I make it with seven cheeses, a pint of cream, and a stick of butter. Hella improvement.
* When I was sixteen I flew to Colorado and listened to the Disintegration cassette on my walkman. At thirty-six, I am flying to London with 2,200 songs to choose from on my iPod.
* When I was ten years old, I started my first real journal. I wrote many over the years, burning them all because I knew my mother had violated my sister’s privacy and read her diaries. The only ones I still have are from two of my international travels – Paris and Zihuatanejo. But I began to blog on the recommendation of a friend, with my first entry on November 2, 2008, which started with the following thoughts from Albert Camus as I awaited my father’s death…
All great deeds and all great thoughts have a ridiculous beginning. Great works are often born on a street corner or in a restaurant’s revolving door.
Blessed are the hearts that can bend; they shall never be broken.
Men must live and create. Live to the point of tears.
I know of only one duty, and that is to love.