October, talk getting nowhereTo repeat a whole number of people around the interwebs right now, but to do it very quickly, in a nutshell / magnificent run-on sentence:
November… December… remember
We just start it again
Last year there was a thing called #reverb10 which got a whole bunch of people to blog every day of the month of December and this year a lot of people looked into it again but it wasn't officially being done so some people have made their own list of prompts and are writing every day in the month of December and I figured why not join in?
For eleven months I've thought of all of the wonderful things I'd make of 2011.
Now here are roughly thirty days left to jam in everything I haven't yet done.
I kind of envision it as a last minute sprint towards the finish line.
A couple of nights ago I sprinted for a bus. Two blocks, at a full flat-out run, I literally ran a red light, dodging pedestrians and pushing myself, in the final few yards, to force my legs to pump just a few more times rather than let me break down and collapse in the exhaust of the departing bus.
I climbed the stairs and swiped my MetroCard with a little bit of relief, a little bit of pride, and a whole lot of gasping.
My girlfriend lives in Staten Island and it takes about an hour to two hours to get there, depending on my starting location. It was worth running for the bus because the next one could be along in anywhere from 10 to 65 minutes... whichever the MTA felt like that day.
I rarely if ever run for a bus or to catch a train.
When I was little my dad told me that if there was something worth running to catch, then it was worth having been there early so you wouldn't have to run in the first place. Also that there's no reason not to simply enjoy where you are in that moment and have patience. As someone who often puts her needs and desires second to others, it's been a good thing to remember as it also keeps me a little bit more focused on myself in that moment and lets me put the other thing second even if just until the next bus arrives.
When I started a relationship with my girlfriend I was determined to avoid mistakes I'd made in the past. The emotional bludgeoning I'd lived through since 2004 was not going to be repeated, and no one other than me would be my priority. I would go where I wanted to go, when I wanted to go there. I would not live out of backpacks and use my apartment as a grossly overpriced closet.
I would not run after buses.
But two nights ago I collapsed into a bus seat, gasping for air, hearing my lungs screaming obscenities at my brain. I ran for a bus, ostensibly for a girl.
In 2004 or 2009 the truth is I would have run for a girl, and I would have never even thought about it beyond the panic of having to catch that particular bus in order to make it there by a particular time. (I'd be in trouble if I wasn't, you see).
In 2011 I realized that I ran after the bus for me.
For the first time in my life I may have been repeating actions from October, November, December, starting again (nod to U2) but it couldn't have been more completely different if I'd tried. I was putting myself first, and was doing what was important to me.
This year, this 2011, was just like any other year except for the fact that it was so different, I don't think the old me would recognize me any more.
