Time and the Anarchy of Hope

1. What the Water Wants

The 2006 hurricane season was predicted by the National Weather Service to be one of the worst we've seen yet.

Each storm, as it has been named, has worsened, and as it approached land, has lessened and waned. As we work up to prepare ourselves for each intense happening, which we are sure is imminent, the headlines grow less cautionary, more informational. They are minor blips scrolling along the bottom of the screen --and instead of emergencies , we find ourselves only here with anniversaries.

I remember: where I was. And it feels like this: where I am not anymore. I'm reminded of the way, the way things tend to change, first with a feeling--a shift in perception; a slight alteration of shape, and the slow glow until it begins, it begins, it begins to illuminate.


2. On Business, Finished

Dear You,

Regarding the matter with which you feel is unsettled, I can only tell you this.

There is one train. There are many stations.

And why is it, you keep asking me, that we cannot be friends? Aren't we friends?



3. Occultation

I know I’ve told you this story before—the one about the designer one of my ex-boyfriends took me to see. He was giving a lecture; in it he explained how this magazine had hired him to oversee the execution of a change in size format. They were changing the size of the magazine to a smaller format, and how he chose to approach the project was to release an issue printed on the larger paper, only with a strip of white space at the top of every page. That way the readers could get used to everything in the magazine being smaller. I thought it was such a brilliant idea at the time, but I think I am only now realizing why: it is not that often in our lives that we get the opportunity to prepare ourselves to get used to the empty space we are about to be experiencing.

There is an immense sky that planetary bodies inhabit. They are circling; an endless rotation, a cycling—a movement always happening. Occasionally, their paths are crossing—the paths of stars and moons, or moons and planets. Because we only know what we see, and all we see is the light that these planetary bodies are emitting, to the observer it looks as though they are disappearing. This is known as occultation.

I don’t think there is much that can prepare you for empty space, even countless hours of waiting for it. Even when you predicted it—when you mapped out the stars, when you spent late nights studying and measuring planets and possibilities, when you’ve assessed risks and known what you would be losing—there is the emptiness of the empty that still strikes you as unexpected when you expected it, when you thought you knew how to handle it. Sends you scrambling to recalculate formulas, review data sheet after data sheet, and find there is no impossibility in what you feel sure must be, impossibility.

Maybe you are right. Maybe we are like the stars. Maybe we are fumbling along determined paths of rotation, passing each other at either the right or the wrong time, and, at times, only momentarily, getting lost in one another's shadows.

Flags of Any Size

1. Greg Dulli and the Classier Pink Floyd

Candelabras can make anything baroque.

Bums in downtown Detroit have become entirely too uppity now that they've acquired the nerve to haggle with you over the price of the those little toothpick flags.

There's a certain kind of person who makes a habit of prefacing statements with the phrase: 'the only thing that's keeping me from becoming a rock star...', and those are the kind of people I'd like to have more of in my life.

I can't decide which is worse: the sudden feeling that I've just seen someone that I do not want to see, someone from years ago in my past, or the person I'm with observing, at the same moment, 'You look like you've just witnessed the dead walking by.'

You could argue that Pink Floyd was more influenced by Syd Barrett after he actually left the band, that the emotional trauma of his downward spiral helped along the creative process that produced their best albums.

Not to be cheap and cliche, but it has to be said: the one thing I do not wish for anymore.


2. Are You Still Waiting?

I'm just calling to see how you are feeling about things so far, to make sure you are there still, and just to let you know, we will be calling you.


3. The Rule of Six Months

I have found myself in the peculiar situation of being quite happily alone. It happens not often enough in life for most people, and never for some--that is, to find oneself in the middle of a very pleasant spring in a house of one's own (take that, Virginia), spending weekend mornings and afternoons laying on the wicker couch on my screened porch, sipping coffee and having endless options. Time looming in front of you, and not in an oppressive way, not in the way that you are waiting for something, but in the way that everything is waiting for you to have time for it. I was quite pleased to find myself in this situation. So pleased indeed, that I thought nothing could more swiftly or instantly ruin this situation than introducing someone else into it. I made a pact with myself at that very moment that I would take a scheduled break from the romantic life of six months to enjoy some alone time. So I bought myself a bottle of champagne to celebrate with a couple of friends, with enough self-awareness to realize that now that I'd made this command decision it would be a maximum of a week before another person was going to come along and ruin all of it.

It was exactly five days.


4. You will find true love on Flag Day.

I'd like to take this opportunity to remind all of you that Flag Day is this Wednesday, June 14, 2006, so if you have not made the appropriate preparations, I suggest you get cracking. I don't think I need to remind you that there are only two shopping days left.

Having been graciously granted giant keys with which I will unlock my still unknown future, I am in the predicament of living the questions for a bit while I wait to use them. Until then, I am keeping my eye out for flags.

There is some debate as to the origin of flags, whether it was the Romans or the Chinese that first used these pieces of cloth as emblems of representation, as signals to let onlookers know what was ahead, or what was coming at them. Today we waver in between completely ignoring the presence of flags (having lived in the State of Michigan my entire life, I could not remember whether it was a bear or a wolverine on the state flag) or placing far too much meaning in them (the ongoing debate on the legality of burning flags).

For my part, I find myself these days, much like the Romans and the Chinese, keeping a mindful watch out for flags of any kind, that might warn me of an enemy coming towards me, of a danger in my sights. Instead I am finding in my earnestness no red flags of warning, nothing waving and blaring at me, telling me not to proceed, not even the smallest little toothpick flag now is stopping me.

Ah, opportunity.

My Future is Shaped Like a Giant Key

1. How Many Days You Owe Me

Fact: Millimeters can be converted to inches by dividing the number of millimeters by 25.4. This simple conversion can be performed on any number of fine websites that offer to do this for you at no charge.

I have not taken a math class since I was 15. Well, I took one in college, but all of the tests were essay. This is true. I just lost interest in math , largely due to the fact that the answers to all of the questions were in the back of the textbook. I thought that if someone else already had the answer, there really wasn't much point in me trying to figure it out, now was there?

I can't say it's a decision I've ever looked back on with any particular sort of regret, although recently, despite the vast resources available to me, I can't help but wonder if I hadn't chosen to shut off that mathematical part of my mind, if maybe now I could reconcile the days you owe me. I've Googled it. There are no conversion charts for this. No magical formulas that exist behind websites. No blank boxes for me to type in good days divided by number of sleepless nights times mornings waking up next to you over the square root of hours spent waiting. Waiting. Waiting. Days you owe me.


2. The Ultimate Mix

I've undertaken the task of making the ultimate mixed cd. One of all of my favorite songs. Not just my favorite songs, but the ones that mean the most to me, the songs that are so much a part of me, that I wasn't the same person before I heard them. After three attempts, I think I've made it there. Twenty five years of emotions and time past and signals received and received, siphoned down to eighty minutes and etched onto a thin piece of plastic.

If you ever decide to do this yourself, I recommend you begin by medicating yourself heavily.


3. Business, Unfinished

Dear Unfinished Business:

I've realized recently, that while I may never be finished with you, one day you will be finished with me.


4. Signals Lost v. Signals Received

Here's the thing: I've gotten good at waiting. I'm quite practised at it. The thing about waiting is that sooner or later the things that are coming for you come. And they come all at once, and so quickly, that it's hard to tell from all that's clamoring towards you what it is that you are meant to be receiving.

And just in case I miss anything, there are phone calls, e-mails, chance meetings, just to say- we just wanted to make sure that you were still there, to tell you that we aren't letting you go now-

18 May 06- this.

There it is in the corner. And everywhere I've gone since then they've been following me, these oversized keys, jangling next to me, and not waiting- ready- to unlock something.

Everything is Revisable

1. Beginning.

-----Original Message-----

From: Me [mailto:]

Sent: Thursday, May 04, 2006 10:09 AM

To: My Father [mailto:]

Subject: latin lesson of the day

i learned last night, from someone who knows latin (apparently these people exist - and manage to find me), that the word 'amanda' is actually a linguistic/grammatical oddity called a gerundive. it's a kind of word that only exists in latin and one other language. it's a combination verb and adjective and translated means 'needs to be' or 'must be'. amanda, specifically, means not just loved, but 'must be loved' or 'needs to be loved'.

so i guess i'm not sure whether to blame you or thank you.

Regards,

Your Daughter

2. That's Grammar, For You.

In grammar, an infinitive is a form of a verb unencumbered by relational words; although often indicated by companionship to the word 'to'; i.e. 'to have'; 'to be'. It is not limited by number, person, or tense.

Some verbs don't have infinitive forms and are considered defective verbs.


3. A Letter Attempted Twice and Never Sent.

Dear Unfinished Business:

I have been advised against leaving things open ended.

I am told I am unable to recognize when things are over.

I am reminded that there is no way to stop time. There are ways to measure it. There are ways to synchronize it, if you are Einstein. There are theorems, hypotheses, three dimensional diagrams, philosophical studies. There are thought experiments.

Dear Unfinished Business:

Here it is, what I'm trying to tell you.

There's me. I'm standing not next to you, but nearby. There's you. You are directly in between A and B. A and B are two light-emitting entities.

Did you see it?

There was a flash in the corner of your eye. Maybe that was me. Did it come from B, or was it A? Or does it matter? Anyway, the point is this--there are too many variables, there are signals that you and me, that we are receiving constantly, without knowing ever with any certainty where they came from, when they left, and how long it took them to be received. Let alone what any of it means.

The truth is I'm bad at endings. If endings are beginnings and beginnings are endings, then I am bad at beginnings, too. You and me, me and you, here in between A and B, never ending and never beginning, I think, are just the way we should be. Receiving.


4. A Lesson in Revision.

The truth is I'm bad at beginnings. But I have to start somewhere. Which means, in many ways, I'm ending.

Luckily for me, everything is revisable. I've had some debate with myself lately about places and our relationship to them, and our position in time. What I've come to realize is that a place can be revised by time--skylines can be raised and reversed, populations increase and decline--and that people can be revised by where they are at. They can define themselves by where they have been. They can assess themselves by where they are at. They can redefine themselves by where they are going.

I thought I was leaving, and I think what I've discovered is that there are many senses of the word. Everything is revisable, and each revision is a departure, is a ticket counter, is an airplane gate, is a uniformed attendant waiting to scan your ticket, waiting to making sure you belong on this flight. Each revision is an end, is a beginning, is a jetway leading to a seat that may or may not take you to where you want to be. There's only one way to find out.

Take a step. Maybe you are where you were, where you have already been. Another second. Maybe it is a different place. Perhaps it is the same: step forward; pause; step back; maybe, it is you. Rest to find out. Stay.