Doors. Windows.

Things in my life are moving at such a hectic pace.

My friend today told me, "I've never seen anyone more in tune with the energy of The Universe." I guess I kind of see what she means. Of course, I didn't actually want The Universe to make my boyfriend break up with me. But who am I to question divine wisdom?

I got the offer today. And it is truly an offer I can't refuse. OK, I could refuse it, but then I'd be dumber than a bag of hammers.

In so many ways it seems so perfect. A great job in a great location with great people. I mean, seriously, an olde manse on a hill in the middle of a forest? A house that's filled with spiralling staircases, wrought iron detailing, and a ghost? A chance to work with old and new friends (I already know two people that work there!). A reason to move to the North Shore - Salem, Gloucester, Manchester. Better pay (by a lot). Better benefits (by even more). And only one day's difference in vacation time. Not to even mention the chance to throw Napolean under the bus with my resignation letter....

So, what the...?

Well, what's really and truly making me sad in the midst of all this fabulous opportunity is this. I'm making this huge life decision without Mr. Zips by my side.

I know (IknowIknowIknowIknow) I've been feeling the Stage:Anger portion of grief for a bit now. It's a coping mechanism, a tool to help me move on, move past. But the reality is that I am still so damn sad. So damn heartbroken. So crushed.

And so I don't want to make this decision without him. Not that I have a choice. Not that I can call him up and tell him the news much less ask his opinion. But how sad it is that I have to.

Slacky said this to me today: "Well, I guess this is like they say, when a door closes a window opens."

I told him: Sometimes there's a part of you that really (really) wishes that you could leave that door open a tiny, little crack, just so the nightlight will shine through.

Think Arthur, Think!

"The best thing for being sad," replied Merlin, beginning to puff and blow, "is to learn something. That's the only thing that never fails. You may grow old and trembling in your anatomies, you may lie awake at night listening to the disorder of your veins, you may miss your only love, you may see the world about you devastated by evil lunatics, or know your honour trampled in the sewers of baser minds. There is only one thing for it then - to learn. Learn why the world wags and what wags it. That is the only thing which the mind can never exhaust, never alienate, never be tortured by, never fear or distrust, and never dream of regretting. Learning is the only thing for you. "
-- T.H. White, The Once and Future King

I'm Being Born and I Am Dying

Met with my book group tonight for a screening of Orlando (book written by Virginia Woolf, movie starring Tilda Swinton). It was great. Except for the massive technical difficulties at first, the night went off famously. I'd forgotten how great that movie was - how perfectly Tilda embodies the character, the emotion of Orlando. And how friggin tongue-in-cheek perfect the scene w/ Billy Zane was, full of mist, dark horse, dark hair. Oh, yeah, and how completely ridiculous the ending is with that gold lame angel. Where the hell did that come from?

The first time I watched Orlando was at Colby, after we set several pieces in a longer dance work to songs from the soundtrack. The ending was set to "Coming" - a haunting piece that talks about life, death, rebirth. Or, more eloquently, "life is not a whatnot and its none of your goddamn business."

After tonight's movie, we all decided we'd had such a good time we should do this again next Monday. If men can have Monday night football, we can have MadFemmePride movie night. After we're even going to go for some beers. I laughed a lot - even though I barely know most of the people. And I found myself looking forward to next week.

Funny, to think that if this night had been scheduled two weeks ago, I probably wouldn't have gone. Would have needed to get home. Watch How I Met Your Mother. Figure out what to do for dinner. Be a dutiful wife, er, um, girlfriend. And I wonder - to the point of sobbing myself to sleep - why I have no friends in town.

I'm actually looking forward to next week. We're going to watch "Another Kind of Marriage," an account of Vita Sackville West's lover before she met Virginia Woolf. (What can I say, gals in the groups are obsessed with V.W.) And, for previews, we're going to screen an 18-minute stag film that one of the gals bought at an estate sale. I warned everyone: soon we're going to get labelled as "those crazy lesbos that watch porn in the Harvard Science Buildings." You know what? I don't care.

The Hill

I think 24 hours in the Nation's Capital was enough. Not that I didn't have a great time. It was fabulous seeing BBB again - every three years just isn't enough. But the DC life just not a life I could ever envision myself leading. The bars, the networking, the ever buzzing city. It was a very distracting 24 hours.

I marched in my first ever peace march. Okay, not really. We were headed to touristville (the Smithsonions) and stumbled upon the Answer Peace March. I'm not a fan of Answser, but I am a fan of peace. Apparently (according to the locals) this was a small rally, but it looked pretty big to me. (Note: see how small it really was? Itty bitty living space...)



After the "march", we made it up to the field surrounding the Washington Monument and sat down in the sun. I talked some, got quiet some, BBB showed off his brilliance and wit. I got a sunburn. It was really, really nice. On the way back to his place, I stopped at a CVS. The woman behind the counter asked me how I was and, automatically, I replied, "I'm good." It was only later that I realized it was kind of true.

Now, don't get me wrong, I'm still sad girl. Cried the moment I walked into the door at home. Even cried at the friggin laundromat. But, BBB has seen me come out the other side of messier things than this and reminded me, once again, how strong I am.



The night - surprise! - was filled with bourbon and discussion. We managed to find a quiet, out of the way table and talk ourselves into oblivion. As per usual. I haven't made any decisions yet - not that there are any explicitely to make - but I do feel hope. And, more than that, I remembered parts of myself that I'd forgotten were there. Things I'd repressed for so long because I'd gotten so fearful of being alone.

And getting off the plane at Logan, I remembered a similar arrival so many years ago now. Another arrival when I was greeted by a husband and felt myself deciding, then and there, that having someone always to greet me was not necessarily more important than "following my bliss." It seemed easier, back then, to say that my entire life was ahead of me, that I would rather be happy and alone than paired off and mostly content. Of course, I was seven years younger then and knew a lot less about the world.

Still, flying home, getting into my car, making it home to the kitties and the bathroom floors - which were NOT peed on! you go girls! - I felt myself taking back a little bit of a Kalesy who'd gone away for awhile. The one who's proud she went to a good school and, yes, used to be an "obnoxious college kid." The one who believes it's important to go to a peace rally even though she knows it will never change a single thing. The one who likes sitting on the patio at the bar, having cocktails until the sun goes down, talking about things that matter (the Iowa gay marriage case) and things that don't matter (that girl should NOT being wearing those pants).

I'm glad, so glad, I went. And I'm glad, so glad, and so very very grateful I have such amazing friends.

Sometimes People Are Nice

Today, Slacky McSlackyPants sent me this flower. Because, he said, he doesn't like seeing me sad. Even though he doesn't even know why I'm sad.

Good guys do exist.