Deep Links

Sad for the present

Sometimes I am overcome with sadness of my present. 

I had a realization earlier this week, that there is no one in my life that I talk to on a regular basis. No one who calls me to talk to me every day, or texts. No one whom I email daily with. No one I see everyday. I could kill myself and no one would notice for at least three days.

I've been trying to remember what it's like to live with someone. I think back to my years living together with S. What was that like? It's hard for me to remember. I remember a lot of the times he was gone and I was alone. He was at work, I worked from home. He was gone for the weekend for his second job, I would stay at home. Or he was traveling for his first or second job, and I was home alone with Mr Dog. The nights I was out without him. The nights he was out without me (although he would say these were rare). I spent a lot of time watching Netflix, working on my Master's degree, cleaning, reading, gardening.

What was this living together thing I fantasize about? I try to remember it. It's hard. How is it hard to remember what it was like to live with someone for 7 years? Even when we moved apart we agreed we had lived together well. How can I not remember it now? Was it so unmemorable?

The clearest vision of good living together is when Gloria and I bought the Future. The Future was a house in Mt Washington and for one year, we lived together as roommates. It was the first time either of us had lived with someone who was not our significant other for decades. It was awesome. I dream of replicating it.

My favorite memories of that co-habitation were sharing breakfasts together - coffee and pastries - talking about our dreams and projects. Then going off to our offices to work, or going about our daily non-routines. Sometimes we'd share lunch. For a while I was obsessed with afternoon espressos. Sometimes we'd share dinner together. Sometimes we went our separate ways. It was awesome. She would sometimes travel and so I'd get to take care of her dog. Often we would go on dog walks together, talking about our projects and dreams. I'm sure I'm romanticizing.

For almost two years now I've lived alone. [It's not the first time I've done this - I used to love living alone.] I feel like it's been much longer. I miss co-habitating. I miss someone caring about me daily. Yeah yeah, I can care about myself like this, and yeah yeah, I have Mr Dog co-habitating with me, but it's not the same as another human. And yeah yeah, I don't mean I need an extrovert lavishing attention on me. In retrospect I mostly co-habitate/partner with other introverts.

Sometimes, like today driving on Highland, I get really sad. I think about this person who is my future partner. I wonder what he is doing. Does he yearn for me as much as I yearn for him? He's obviously fucked up and/or not available, because otherwise he'd be in my life, of this I am certain. I hope he gets his shit together soon, because we're going to be so great together. Sometimes, it makes me so sad to not have him around now, because I could really use his help and support and belief and love. I miss having someone to do fun things with like that. Yeah, yeah, I have awesome friends and I do awesome fun things with my friends, and I love them and they love me but it's not the same. Still, I'm getting stronger than ever... I know he likes a strong woman.

Of course the flipside of having no one to check up on me or to live with is that I can literally do whatever I want. I am my own boss, I am fully responsible for my life (and Mr. Dog's). That's a lot of people's dream life's. Living like this is freeing. And it really is freeing - sometimes terrifyingly freeing.

Still, I won't have to give up the freedom I have right now, when Mr Awesome comes into my life. I expect he'll want to live the same kind of life. He'll have his grand dreams. We'll have some dreams together. I'm sure some times will be challenging. I'll hold him close and stroke his hair when he feels paralyzed by his fear. He'll hug me close, wipe the tears from my eyes when I feel all is lost. We'll laugh at some stupid internet videos or my newest pair of ridiculous rainbow unicorn socks. 

That day will come. Sometimes though, I get so sad knowing it is the future.

Fox and Wine

It's the evening dog walk. The moon is a fat gibbous. I can almost pluck it from the sky and bite into it - moon juices dripping from the corners of my mouth. It shines a diffused light through the sky and onto the pavement of West Hollywood streets - lined with tall regal Palms. I look up into that brightly lit starry sky, dark palms silhouetted. 

Mr Dog stops to sniff every 5 feet. After four blocks, this gets tiresome, but I indulge him. I look up at the sky. I look into my neighbor's windows. A shadow of a man picking up something in the back of his driveway, a moment later, the cat silhouetted in the window of the same house tucks its head, stops and I imagine stares out at me and then bobs her head again, I imagine licking her paw. 

A few houses down, Mr Dog stops to sniff for the 28th time and I notice images on a screen above a fireplace in the house in front of me. I stop to watch. It's animation. I recogonize it. The Fox and the Hound. I look at the room. The screen is situated above an ornate mantle. I enjoy that - I have one in my home too. I try to see who is watching this children's movie at 10:30pm. I notice a wine bottle. I smile. I like the idea of an adult, drinking wine watching this movie on a Monday night in West Hollywood under a fat waning moon. I'd join them.

Coming up on 40

In a few weeks, I say goodbye to the decade of my favorite number: 3. 

This has weighed heavily on my mind. And while, I am blessed with creating/living my dream life, I also feel a sense of terror unlike I've felt before. It's not about mortality. I've had a very full life - if I died this instant I would not be bummed out. I've done everything I've ever thought to do. It's not that I'm not living out my potential - trying new things - new businesses - creating new projects. It's not that my body is decaying - I am in excellent health, I'm taking the best care of myself as I ever have. I don't look my age. I'm equally practiced in forecasting the future and living by the seat of my pants. And I have accomplished my life "goal."

In my teen's I navigated an evil stepmother, thick forests, gravel roads and the humble isolation of growing up in the midwest. I speeded through college, got engaged to a jazz musician 10 years my senior, spent my 20th birthday in a hotel in San Juan with him (I would regularly fly down to meet him on the weekends. Kinda audacious in retrospect.) 

In my 20's, I moved to San Francisco and married my high school sweetheart - the marriage of envy among our friends. After a successful startup aquisition, we had an awesome house in North Berkeley and joked that we were DITC /dit-zy/ - Double Income Two Cats. I still miss my russian blue siamese mix: mik mak t-mac. He wrote, I killed myself working/commuting long hours in the tech industry. My only goal in life was "enlightenment" and I studied at the foot of philosophers, priests and sorcerers. I "attained" it, not that it mattered anymore. Things unraveled, our paths diverged. I left San Francisco a few months after my 30th birthday to jump deep into the SoCal unknown.

My 30's have been one love affair with Los Angeles after another. I met amazing collaborators and friends. I embarked on unbelievable projects - like buying a house with someone I met just 6 months prior (we remain good friends). My creativity exploded, I started a company, organized events that helped build LA's tech community, performed on stage and in the streets. Explored the desert with guns, burning unicorns and explosions. It wasn't all roses, I experienced my biggest failures and betrayals. Reinvented myself multiple times. Wrote a guide to creating your most awesome life. Became an expert at planning and organizing and evolved my career. A futurist I am today. Hollywood story as my life. I couldn't ask for more!

My 39th year has been a reformatting. A collecting of the best tools of the past. Rebuilding myself physically, spiritually, emotionally. Endings and healings. Closure of a dream. A new dream quietly sprouting in the ashes. There is more room in my heart and life than ever and it keeps expanding.

What will my 40s bring? With trepidation I enjoy the last weeks, days of my 39th year. I am not afraid to turn 40. I did not have a successful youth. I'm getting better with age, while not looking my age. ;) (Thank you youth obsessed mom!)

The thing that scares me about turning 40 is the closing of possibilities. The openness of anything is possible I felt when I moved to LA when I was 30 is gone. I know magic will find me. I know anything is still possible. But it seems like there is less of it for me now. (Feel free to prove me wrong Universe.) In this youth focused city - media culture, I feel less valued. I have more scars. I am more hesitant and equally ridiculously spontaneous, willing to take wild risks or stay home nursing my introverted emo self with Mr Dog and Science Fiction. I yearn for unforgettable experiences and irreplaceable partners more than ever. Sometimes these are easy to find on the disco ball dogwalk - and sometimes I feel I seek the impossible (I do). "Impossible is only temporary." But I am also impatient. I know life doesn't wait.

As I close out this decade, I try to put aside the assumptions I have about my life. Many times I dreamed what my life would be like in my 20s, 30s. I never once looked in this upcoming decade. Does that mean I have no expectations? I'm sure I expect more of the same sweet awesome reinvention evolution perfection of my previous decades. I'm a little afraid to say goodbye to my 30s. We have been so good together. So many great projects. I really came into my own and manifested absolutely everything I dreamed. It scares me to leave that locked away in this decade. Will I have the strength, courage to keep living my life this way? I hope so.

So 40 year old Heather... I look forward to meeting you in a few weeks. Take my trembling hand, let's walk down the aisle of the decade together and embark on a new adventure. I hope we have that in us. 

The Sunset Drive

The open road. I drive the highway twisties from Morongo, the high desert to the windfarms of San Gregorio Pass. A fat orange sun burns to the west of San Jacinto. I merge into the zone of the freeway. I'm remembering a drive almost a year ago. The sun burned that day too - setting in a gorgeous orange sky. The initial conversation that lead to my current project. 

So much has happened in a year. I reflect on what I've done. I think about what I have in front of me. I know my dreams. I'm clear with my goals. On top of it, I am a trained futurist.

My first stop, in my city of dreams, is a fountain on the edge of Griffith Park. The fountain reminds me of La Dolce Vida. I've wanted to revisit this fountain for some time. I love the way it looks at night, the colors changing in the shifting waters. Mr Dog and I meander around this small space, and then something catches my eye. Galloping legs across the grass. It's no dog on a leash, it's a Coyote.

I chuckle to myself. I have just arrived from the desert, I heard the packs of Coyotes coming down from Joshua Tree Park last night. Here is one in my beloved city. Rather than running away, Mr Coyote stops. Mr Dog and I are curious. Across the dark grass we watch each other. We keep our distance, yet we keep pace. Coyote is just as curious. 

For moments we continue our non-verbal communication. Wild animal, tamed animal, a human in between. A momentary encounter, mere feet from busy Los Feliz Boulevard and a disco colored fountain. I stand in presence. Mr Dog lays in his pre-attack crouch. Coyote stands facing us to the side, his ears perched high, listening.

The moment passes. I break the magic and return to the civilization of this city. I have been reminded that beside the human development, the wildness remains.

 

Snow and strings

I'm in the cocoon of my mom's car. The roadway is snowy. I've just crossed through Coeur d'Alene. I'm in uncharted territory. I should have changed the tires in Portland, but I was anxious to leave. I was ready to close that door, get in the car and drive. Somewhere. Anywhere. Destination Montana. Survivalist Mountaintop Compound. Goodbye 2012.

I had 6 CDs with me for my 1,800 mile drive. Four of them were the Electric Light Orchestra. Through Eastern Washington, Idaho Mountain Passes, in Montana and Wyoming blizzards, Utah mountain scapes, Nevada deserts to my beloved Mojave and my glittering city on the coast. It was Jeff Lynne's string arrangements mixed with rock, electronica and piano that kept me company. That soothed me. A perfect musical companion, gifted to me the day before I left Portland. 

This morning I listen to my favorite album. Eldorado. I drink my coffee. I think of that drive. I think of the wizard of Oz. The Emerald City. My mom liked to think of herself as Dorothy sometimes. She lived in Kansas. I think of my mom.

I've thought a lot about her these past weeks. Friends mention presents from their mom. Travels with their mom. I've wanted to call her so many times. Just have a normal conversation. Get her advice. I miss her. She is gone.

So I put on the ELO. I go on a journey in my mind. I lose myself for 45 minutes in the weaving compositions. In the strings. In the electronics. In the piano. In the words. It is such sweet bliss unlike I've experienced. How can music be this beautiful? Who is this genius I know so intimately through this music? It makes me dream. So I dream.