Inshallah

"She said, 'I'm so afraid.' And I said, 'Why?,' and she said, 'Because I am so profoundly happy, Dr. Rasul. Happiness like this is frightening.' I asked her why and she said, 'They only let you be this happy if they're preparing to take something from you".

---

Gosh darnit, I wasnt going to blog tonight. I spent the evening counting my blessings, realizing that I am so little to complain about, and then complaining about it anyway. I had curled myself into bed, pulled the covers to my chin and commited myself to knocking out another noticable chunk of 'The Kite Runner'. I was going to read for a few minutes and then close my eyes and fall asleep.

Then, Amir crossed paths with an old professor who knew his mother. The last thing the old professor remembered Amir's mother saying to him was the above passage. "Happiness like this is frightening... They only let you be this happy if they're preparing to take something away from you".

I feel like I'm on the other end of that fear. Perhaps spending an evening laughing myself into a stomachache listening to my dad tell his stories was the start of my melancholy being taken away from me. I left dinner tonight with a huge sadness that I only had a few hours tonight with my parents and I only have a few days more with them. Over the course of the night I was entirely submersed in them and their love. But, as soon as I got back in my car to drive south my doubt grabbed hold and counted the remaining hours for me.

If Amir's mother was at the top of happiness, I am far from the bottom of sadness. There are still layers of bad news I'd have to find myself in before I admitted hitting 'rock bottom': anti-depressants, reactivating my WoW account, etc. But, why does my masochistic hopefulness find something to cling to in the above passage?

Spoiler alert: As the reader, I know something bad happens to Amir's mom. First off, it's been mentioned several times that she died in Amir's bearing. Second off, she is mentioned being pregnant just before the above passage is read. Third off, irony demands that something bad happens when admitting that everything is going oh-so-right. Think of any soldier in any war movie who carries a picture of his wife into every battle: You know that black and white photo is the last image he'll see of her.

Because if something bad happens to her when she is feeling so good, something good has to happen to me when I am feeling so bad. Right? That's the way the world works, isn't it? All of this self-doubt and druggery is going to climax into a wonder I can't describe just as all the blessings and happiness spiraled into the horror Sofia couldn't predict. That has to be it! That's why my parent's are here visiting, to help me begin this new chapter of untold joys!

There are two possible outcomes here: either the world is in order and my psyche is about to grab my hand and pull me from the hole I've been digging or another self-defense mechanism is about to be shattered while my psyche dumps a fresh layer of cynism on me.

Damn. I wish I wasn't a betting man.

Swept into the Sea

This blog thing is wildly inaccurate. The day/time that you're blog is "posted" under is actually the day/time that you begin writing the blog: not when you push 'Publish'. I started this blog, then went to go use the restroom, read a chapter of 'The Kite Runner' and now I am back well past midnight. Yet, this blogger thing is going to read 'Saturday, April 3rd'. You watch.

Anyone else offended? Up in arms? Want to take the streets with pitchforks and torches?

Yeah, me neither.

I cried tonight during Mass. I've teared up at certain sections each of the last two nights, but tonight it was tears coming down my cheeks. Not quite sobbing in the pews, but my myriad of themes, problems, issues, joys, doubts, frustrations, hopes were all pushed aside as I realized:

I've been with Melissa through this entire 6+ year process.

Here I am, wondering every day and every night as to whether anything I am doing now is making a lick of difference in the foreseeable future. And, sitting right next to me, is the culmination of a friendship that's lasted over a half-decade. All of our smiles and laughter and hugs and awkward moments and jealousies and small fights and coffee dates and sitting in cars listening to music and differences and indifferences and all of our love has manifested into this infinitesimal second of huge significance.

But, of course, now that the music has faded and a much-more-awkward-than-anticipated reception has passed my pride and joy is melting into one question:

What else am I working on?

It would be wrong to say that I was 'working' on Melissa. The beautiful thing about the moment of her confirmation was me realizing how little I had been involved. All I did was answer a few of her questions and be a stubborn ass when other people told me I was wrong. It has been her path this entire time and I have been fortunate to be walking so near to her. But, I will say a lot of untrue things before I take any kind of credit for her confirmation.

But, what else am I working on? What else is slowly morphing itself into something beautiful that will come to fruition years from now? I can't imagine it's my drumming. I don't see my time in admissions setting me up for my 'big break' into the corporate world.

I was told today (for the second time in three nights) that I have a decent voice. I've really enjoyed singing a lot of the Easter songs: they are significantly underrated compared to Christmas tunes... But, seriously! Where is that going? I'm going to join the choir soon?

I'm afraid I'm not working on anything. I can't see more than about fifteen minutes into the future nowadays and even that superpower isn't very reliable. The one thing I know for a fact that is changing is my demeanor. Beth called me out on it the other night. My cheerfulness has an edge to it. It is cheer without happiness. It is cheer slathering itself in cynicism.

My favorite song tonight was a diddy with a more traditional Jewish sound and tempo to it:

"Sing a song of freedom, God has won the victory.
Horse and chariot are cast into the sea.

Sing a song of freedom, God has won the victory.
Horse and chariot are cast into the sea.

Horse and chariot,
Fear and lonliness,
Death and emptiness,
Horse and Chariot are cast into the sea.

Horse and chariot,
Hate and prejudice,
Chains and slavery,
Horse and chariot are cast into the sea."

The cheerful part of me clapped my hands and swayed to and for.

The rest of me sits here and wonders: 'What else is left?'

A Mischief of Mice

Did you know that was the proper term for a family of mouses?

Oh, families! Is there a better word in the English language? What a broad and generic term when we are grouping things that belong together and then what a intense and specific word when we begin conjuring images of the families we belong to.

From what I understand from the media and some personal ties, I am in the very fortunate minority of people who still get along great with their folks. My insides are doing backflips thinking about how my parents will be visiting Portland for a few days with the primary intention of spending time with their eldest son and seeing where and how he lives. Suddenly, I feel like I am planning time with a girl that I like: my mind has gone blank! I can't think of what I do on a regular basis!

We have to go to Powell's, that's a given. I'm kind of hoping they'll buy me a few somethings there... Then, I want to take them to Bunk. That's kind of a self-serving trip as well, because I really want another Bunk sandwich. But... then what? I really like these people, what can I do?!

Families beyond my immediate family have been a source of comfort this week as well. I forgot how much I truly love the triduum of Catholic services leading up to Easter. I've spent most of my adult life trying to be as ecumenical as I can. But, the fact of the matter is that you Protestant Christians haven't experienced Easter until you've consecutively attended Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Vigil services.

Of course, I don't mean that as condescending as that might sound. I'm sure most of you have had very fulfilling Easters. I hope this is one of them. But, seriously, next year. Think about it. It could be because my dear friend is joining the Church, and I'm sure the fact that I've had a rough couples of weeks/months has magnified my need for the stability and love that I find going to Mass, but I can't think of a time of my life that I felt more connected to the Spirit. This week is good. And right. And alive.

My house family is riding a roller coaster right now. I think the stresses of moving and the realization of limited time with one of our housies is wearing on us. The constant reminder I have is that we all are in this because we are good for one another and really care about each other. We had an amazing dinner and some great time of hanging out that really solidified that continuing our houe-family-ship was the right thing to do. I think some more honest conversation and a couple of exciting days of moving will put us in an awesome place. Both literally and figuratively.

And, of course, there's the family that I met breifly earlier tonight. They were gracious enough to let me gab about myself for about an hour while we got to know each other. Oh, and there was some wicked tasty (gluten-free) chips and dip. I like them; they're good people.

I've got a lot more thinking before I make any bold declarations, but I'm formulating a thought that says something along the lines of:

You're going to be okay as long as someone claims you as family.