When people fall in love and then break up, where does the love go?

Having said that, I will never give up cheese. Ever. Hear that you bastards?! Never!

(And I will never stop eating certain ice creams. Especially if its Lake Street Creamery. Its like a taco truck. But in heaven. And with ice cream.)

(re-edited June 20, 2010)

Oftentimes, I forget that I’ll be officially turning 30 next week. I grew up with the thought that your time in a tummy was already 1 year when you’re born (they do this in some parts of Asia and my mum was in the habit of telling me I was a year older than everyone else thought). So, technically, I’m 30. But to most people, I’m still 29.

(Snip: I’ve now been “officially” 30 for almost a month – this post was obviously started a bit ago.)

I find it funny that the only way I seem to remember my birthday is from reminders of others – particularly the nearer it gets. In June, I was very much aware my birthday would be in a month’s time. Two days prior to the actual date? Nada. The day of? I was reminded by a phone call at midnight from several friends as they placed the call on speaker sang to me. There I was, with one of my friends helping him practice taking flash photographs in darkness and, after the call, all I could really think about was this: What exactly was different about me NOW? Did I feel older? Look older? Had I learned anything that I didn’t already know one minute prior to the midnight chime?

Not really. I still had the same thoughts, same opinions, same friends, same family, same desires. Except one.

I really enjoy getting older. I always look forward to the extra year and sometimes think about what my life will be like in 2 years time. In 5. In 10. It isn’t often that I take “The Future” into account. I have always looked at my life as it was in the current frame of space and time since I was a teenager (perhaps this is why I think I can deal with harsher things with a bit more immediacy than some? Who knows.).

But sometimes, I do look ahead. I’ve been told by some that this can be a good exercise in evaluating where one would like their life to go. I try to find the appeal in this. I like not knowing. I like not writing an ending before a beginning. I don’t pretend to know how to shape the future even though I’m well aware what I do today will affect tomorrow. THAT I most certainly can think about to no end. But that’s about as far as I think my mind feels comfortable going.

That being said, my attempt at thinking of “The Future” comes in the form of a list (I like these). Given all the things I’ve experienced, there’s obviously much more I’d like to do. I worry sometimes that I’ll get to be a certain age and realize I’ve not done everything I’ve wanted to do or that I’ve really gone through life having done not much at all.

30 Things During My 30th Year:

1. Sky dive
2. Complete the first 5 chapters of a photoessay book
3. Graduate (and never, EVER return to an academic setting as a student)
4. Make two of my favourite short stories I’ve written into a short film. In progress!
5. Purge every single one of my belongings that I can live without.
6. Pay off the only credit card I have in my name (I’m so close!).
7. Inspire and educate others. Of every age.
8. Be an even better do-er. (How does one type that word correctly?)
9. Be better about communicating to my family.
10. Reach out to my siblings I’ve never met.
11. Finish my family tree. It would give me more insight into the most secretive people I’ve ever encountered.
12. Be more in touch with how and who I was 25 years ago (children truly hold the secret that adults yearn to know).
13. Understand people less in the beginning and allow them to show me who they are (this one sounds awkward, I know).
14. Finish the songs I’ve been working on for the past decade. And record them. Officially.
15. Edit all my (creative) writing pieces and self-publish them. Finally.
16. Get reacquainted with past mentors. Acquire new ones if need be.
17. Write more handwritten letters. And send them.
18. Send a message in a bottle.
19. Make a time capsule that represents my 30th year of life and open it on my 60th.
20. Most of the emotional sides of me (including my minds. Yes, plural) are like a house with a locked door. And I swallowed the key. Its gotten better over the past few years. I’d like that to progress to the top of the peak this year.
21. Drive to a secluded field. Lie down on a blanket. Look up at the stars all night. And just be.
22. New places to travel (for just this year): South Africa, the middle of America, Tierra del Fuego (for some reason, to me, it seems like the edge of the earth), Haiti. A visit back to “La Isla” and a visit back to my New Orleans.
23. Send one letter to each person in my life that means the most to me. And tell them why.
24. I’m blunt with a lot of things. Though I don’t like hurting people’s feelings because of it. I’m working…understanding that as an outcome.
25. Develop the most kick ass digital workflow for all my work both offline and online.
26. Paint more and archive every single one of my doodles. Feel less ashamed of how childish they look.
27. I’ve lost a lot of people in my life in a physical sense (death). I feel guilty because I feel they may not have known how important they were to me. I’m trying to be mindful of everything I say, how I say it, and why. But I must show love more often, especially to those who really deserve it.
28. Work on knowing my limits by understanding my weaknesses and embracing my strengths.
29. Learn how to accept a compliment. And not feel awkward nor guilty about responding with a thank you.
30. Re-examine the importance of quitting something that isn’t worth it.

“Shoot how you write”

So, I’m trying to understand.

Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write. Shoot how you write.

I’m not sure if this has anything to do with me being in my 30s. There’s been a few times where the thought has occured to me that I’m afraid I’ll come to the end of my life (whenever that may be) and find that I haven’t done everything I’ve wanted to do that I could have done. How many of these things are just mere wishes versus an actual emotional need?

There are several people I’ve known throughout my life that know I am prone to disappearing. That I’m prone to want to disappear and leave no trace that I was ever here nor there – sometimes I have a strong desire to disappear and leave no clue as to where I’ve gone. I go back and forth – a debate inside my head – about whether I would ever feel at peace anywhere I went. It tends to tell me that being at peace and feeling “at home” is a mental space versus a physical need to belong somewhere; to be able to plant one’s own two feet solidly in one place; to be constantly surrounded by familiarity.

That seems “normal” to me. But it also seems like something I’m uncomfortable with.

Does it have to do with maybe not fully knowing what I want from my own life or where I want my own life to be?

Maybe. Though I think it has more to do with my mind not being idle. There’s so much I want from my own life; so much I want to experience; so much I want to be. The very idea of answering the question “what do you want to be when you grow up?” makes me feel dizzy because I know I would never, and have never, had just one answer.

Lately, I’ve been thinking about taking 2 months off from school in order to travel and roadtrip throughout the deep south. To work on picture stories. To document. To live. To have my body and my mind live at a speed to which I’m accustomed to.

After being told it would take an hour to inspect my car, I sat outside about to start on some work and the woman sits next to me asking if someone could smoke here. I pointed to the large cement receptacle and figured it an oversized ashtray. I nodded.

After a few minutes, she asked what was wrong with my car. From there, the conversation veered towards her 30 year stay in Ojai, her 15 year stay in New York City at the height of the civil rights movement of the 60s, her musician son, and her love affair with a New Yorker from India.

This woman was fascinating. She talked about how much she missed New York and called it “the cultural center of the world.” She smoked 3 cigarettes while talking about “happenings” and “be-ins” at Central Park.

After an hour, we exchanged phone numbers, and I got two more things I didn’t expect: a possible client lead and a new, fascinating friend. Sara (“Sawra”) is a fascinating woman.

It doesn’t surprise me that I got along well with her. I tend to get along better with older people – I find that they’re less concerned with silly bullshit (and who wouldn’t get along better with them!) and more concerned with living their lives – I find they’re better equipped to handle things.

Its not uncommon for me to be good friends with folks whom are much older than I. I have more in common with them. Similar experiences and similar outlook on life..

I hate waiting, especially at places like this.

But I’m definitely happy I waited today.