Bears

I've been feeling melancholy since I've been back - and have been hibernating like a really tired bear. Okay, I'm back. But first I must sleep. Hasta manana, mi amores.

You saw me standing alone, without a dream in my heart, without a love of my own...

Tulum is beautiful, rustic, enchanting and imperfect. More pictures to come; here are a fewski:

The front yard:

The cabana:

The neighborhood -- ours is in the middle.


My reading room:

Drank cocktails here on non-rainy days.

Caribbean Sea:

Gratuitous awkward bathing suit shot 'cause I've been working at it:


El gato con el ojo con un problemo:

Testing the macro lens:

The loveliest of bartenders and outdoor showers. Mutually exclusive.


Papaya Playa with the best outdoor showers in my world.
Cool angles:

Artistic collaboration:
Pre-snorkeling:

Such a lot of world to see

I'm not sure I'm ready to write about Tulum to the extent that this last week deserves. There was so much vastness and newness and strange familiarity - to the specifics of this place and to the sea, which always overwhelms me.

Enough with the thickly veiled procrastination.

The basics: we stayed in a cabana on the beach at a small resort without electricity -- I think I've mentioned this -- on a strip outside of Tulum. Meals, drinks, outdoor showers all along the beach at the various spots -- all rustic and lovely. The weather varied from wet and blustery (relatively speaking) to sunny and beautiful, which it was the majority of the time.

Things I did for the first time this week:

1. Snorkeled above the reefs.
2. Seen, in the sea or otherwise, an animal that resembled a vertical hammerhead eel that hovers sideways.
3. Seen one of these in the wild.
4. Sunbathed topless.
5. Woken from a nap to see a scorpion (this, not this, unfortunately) walking by my bed.
   
6. Picked up a scorpion with a napkin and thrown it outside a bungalow.
7. Woken to hear Neil say, "Mother fucker - I just got stung by a scorpion."
   
8. Watched iguanas mate - or at least watched them mate other iguanas.
9. Seen things that look like really fat iguana-Gila monster hybrids either mate or fight, rolling down a hill in the process.

And many more, of course. Unfortunately I only have photos of two of the items above. I'll post one of them, and many more beautiful shots.

In the meantime, how have you been? Tell me stuff.

Birds singing in the sycamore tree

I don't feel like writing at all right now, which is exactly why I probably should.

I did an ill-advised thing this morning, though compared to many of the other ill-advised things I've done, it's fairly banal. I went to sleep at midnight, which is about as early as I ever do, and woke up promptly at 4AM. After lying awake, restless, for almost an hour, I got up to look for something to help me sleep, and found the Benadryl I'd bought for Louie to combat his allergies (apparently dogs can take it too) -- it was that or a shot of Triple Sec with a Listerine chaser. I was desperate for a couple of hours of sleep, planned to go into the office today and knew I would never make it through on four hours. I took it, got very sleepy, and woke up two hours later feeling like someone had slipped me a roofie. Not that I've ever been slipped a roofie, but from what I've heard it feels something like this.

And so I called in sleepless and spent the day trying to get work done, trying to send out packages, trying to get to the gym, trying to rearrange things in the apartment, and so on. Somewhat of a lost day, but at least I was awake for it; the old me might have stayed under the covers until Wednesday.

I did get a fair amount of reading done; I'm finally slogging my way through the fascinating-but-dense-and-in-small-print Peoples' History of the United States, whose author, Howard Zinn, died last week. As did J.D. Salinger, but you already know that. This is required reading for the liberal-minded, I've been told, and so I'm immersing myself in it. Right now we're on the verge of the Revolutionary War; I'm really looking forward to moving into the 19th Century.

Turns out Columbus didn't discover America, he discovered the Bahamas. Actually, Rodrigo did, but CC took the credit. Too bad; I'd love to have a long weekend because of Rodrigo Day.

Macy's Rodrigo Day Sale!

I had planned to write about the blackout of '03 and the magical night that ensued, but I shall have to do so later.

Hasta luego.

Wilde Thing

This morning*, seemingly out of nowhere, "In the Air Tonight" popped into my head. My big head. I haven't heard or thought about that song in ages -- though, admittedly, it's a guilty pleasure -- but when I started singing it aloud to Louie I realized why it was there.

I've been waiting for this moment for all my life ...

Last night I experienced said moment.

My beautiful (and only) mother was an actress in the '60s -- and a really good one, at that, according to every review I've come across. She worked in theater and one of her favorite roles was Gwendolyn Fairfax in The Importance of Being Earnest. I'm probably getting the chronology all wrong but I think the following year, the theater produced Earnest in Love, which is a dare-I-say delightful musical version of the play. One song in particular stuck with my mum, and she sang it to me (and Jules) when we were tiny girls. We learned it, and we'd all sing it together -- and continue to.

Last night, my mom and I went to see a production of Earnest in Love at the Irish Repertory Theatre. There was much anticipation -- would the song be the same as she'd remembered it for almost 50 years? Would we be able to resist the urge to sing along? Would I cry? Okay -- we knew the answers to the second two would be yes and yes, respectively. Turns out it's the closing song and it was almost exactly as we'd been singing it. It was so sweet and such a full-circle moment -- but my being the most sentimental person in my immediate family (sister notwithstanding but she's at Sundance so we haven't spoken about it), I doubt much further discussion will ensue. So here is the moment, recorded for posterity. And here are the lyrics -- Leonard Cohen it isn't, but in context, to me, it's as meaningful:

The skies are blue
The grass is ever so much greener
Not a cloud in the heavens above
As for you, my dear,
There's sparkle in your whole demeanor**
Just because you are earnest in love.

No matter where you go
You'll find a rainbow right before you
In the air is the song of a dove
Because your love is there
To worship, honor and adore you
Just because you are earnest in love.

*I wrote this on Thursday morning

**somewhere along the line my warped mind had transformed this to, "There's sparkle in your misdemeanor."

Jane, his wife ...

A quick digression ... I just went to make a doctor's appointment online and wound up looking at my GP's wedding registry. They got a lot of Mikasa items and some wine glasses. Her younger sister was Matron of Honor.

Back in the olden days, kids, we had these things called boundaries...

Ramble on ...

I've just returned from a late afternoon/early evening at the home of friends who have a new baby boy. These are friends I haven't seen in a while ... there's an intense, tragic and ultimately comforting story behind all of this, and I may get to it in a little while.

I slept almost not at all last night; Neil left for Florida at 6 this morning and I was still awake. This trip to visit friends is a long time coming and my relationship with them is very important to me. Di and I got comically lost en route to their house, more than doubling what should have been an hour or so of driving. I was worried -- imagine that? -- that my state of mind would be misconstrued, that tired would read as apathetic, observing as judging. I don't think this was the case; I think it was a successful visit and an appropriate one for the situation at hand, weird as it may have been.

I've never had a sense of how I come across to others -- probably because I'm so all-over-the-place inside. My love for the people (and dogs) I love is unwavering -- and it's difficult for me to connect without loving to some degree. In turn, I've developed this notion that I come across as completely inconsistent to others. Yes, I've heard mixed messages all my life -- who hasn't? As such, the way I've thought I've seemed to others at various times and the response I've actually gotten from them has often taken me by surprise. I hope that's grammatically correct. I'm tired and off the clock right now.

When I was just out of college I went through the first of my two deepest black holes -- of depression, that is; I've been through countless black holes of troubled, insecure, self-medicating, misguided, raging dysfunction. And while I was in this first phase of bleakness it was my sister -- Jules, I'm not trying to make you sad, this is the truth and I appreciate it -- who told me that I was strong. Exact words, "Laurs, you're such a strong person and I know you'll get through this, and someday you'll be able to say, 'Yeah, I went through a really tough time in my early 20s, and I learned so much.'" I had no recollection of being perceived this way prior to this conversation, and it has, in many ways, sustained me to a degree of which Julia has no idea.

She was right that I'm able to say this, though it's now almost two decades later and I've had cause to remind myself of this time and again. In my early-to-mid 30s I went through the second of my that-kind-of-black holes, and I was working in a job that required a certain insensitivity toward the plight of others. I thought I was failing miserably, in part because I was miserable. When you're depressed, that kind of depressed, you think "crazy" "unbalanced" "creepy" and "glum" are written all over you. You picture yourself as you must look to others, your face scrawled in Sharpie, a fruitcake hat perched askew, a broken-gray shroud covering your face and entirely inappropriate clothing for the weather at hand. You feel like everything you think, say and do is unappealing: if I ask for tomatoes in my salad will the waiter think I'm gross? Do the people on this train think I'm nuts for carrying an umbrella when it's not actually raining? If I try to smile at my neighbor will he think I think I'm pretty?

So I worked at this job while feeling this way and I felt lost and fat and pale and gross and like I was slowing the whole thing down.

The day I announced my impending departure (and weeks later this all lifted, for which I'd like to thank certain pharmaceutical companies and a very insightful doctor), my boss said, "I'm disappointed; I thought you were doing such a great job." Words, I said to myself, lifting a corner of the shroud to adjust the fruitcake. About a week ago, six years after I left that place, my name came up between Friend and Former Boss. And Former Boss said, "Oh -- she's fabulous -- tell her I say hi." Fabulous? The one who wore the ill-fitting top, who actually ate the roll that came with the soup, who went to Jamaica and came home more pale?

On the flip side is the former good friend who announced one day that I'm far too self-centered (this doesn't count; it's my blahg) and didn't care about anyone. Self-centered ... yes, the person whose thoughts I most examine, whose emotions I most assess, and whose well-being I feel I can most control is, in fact, me. Neil running a close second, but still. Not caring? If I could relieve myself the burden of caring I wouldn't be me. I wouldn't cry nearly every day, I wouldn't be disappointed in others, I wouldn't worry so much. I can keep myself alive; I can't keep everyone else with me. I came, I cared, I collapsed ... to relieve myself my love and caring would be freeing, wonderful, and completely subtract me from the equation I am.

I've listened, as we all do, to all the things people have said about me. I know I'm a good person -- we all owe ourselves that honor -- and I know I've been horrible in the past and have deeply hurt others in ways that devastate me to think about now. But I think we should listen to the things said in calmness and internalize them more than we tend to those said in anger.

Up next ... top ten reasons to limit the Sauvignon Blanc before my next post.