There was a time...

I just read an article in a magazine about a group of moviemakers who are going to be traveling across the country, “doing 100 things they have always wanted to do” and encouraging other people to do the same. Have you always wanted to travel? Get a tattoo? Go skydiving? Here’s your chance to do it! This sounded like an exciting project, until I realized—hang on, I’ve already traveled, and I’ve got the tattoo, and I’ve never had an urge to skydive. Although I did go swimming in Florida when the red flags were out. Perhaps this is part of my problem—that I’ve done so much and I’m still quite young. I know, I know—raise your hand if you’ve pointed this out to me recently—but it was the first time that I realized that what I take for being normal most people haven’t even considered. This includes living abroad, but also radical things such as reading the New York Times. Also thinking.

"There are people out there
Unafraid to feel sorrow,
Unafraid of tomorrow,
Unafraid to be weak...unafraid to be strong!"
-Ragtime

And this is what I teach myself. I don’t normally talk about romantic entanglements on my blog, because I like to respect people’s privacy, but I will say that recently I had an Encounter that ended with “it’s not you, it’s me” and (I inferred) “I am afraid.” Well. If there’s one thing my life has taught me it’s that you have to constantly throw yourself off that cliff, you have to constantly pick yourself up off the jaggedy rocks below, because otherwise there really is no point. Even if your happiness melts away after a week and you find yourself, like Icarus, falling, at least you will know you tried. There is nothing more terrifying, apparently, than seeing me being willing to try it again, even though I’ve been repeatedly bruised, battered and broken in the past. Am I afraid? You bet. But this time I might just learn how to fly.

I bring this up because I recently received the invitation to my brother’s wedding in the mail. Cried a little at the thought of the domestic bliss being perpetuated. Then I had to laugh at the hopeful little question on the envelope – “Ms. Nicole Lemery & Guest” which I almost felt was like “Guest?” Perhaps? Probably not. No, I’ll probably make the third wheel with Mom and Dad again or sit in a corner sighing joyfully and making notes for a future play. So it goes. (unfortunately this time there will be no hot best man to promenade with, teehee) To love, to be loved is the greatest mystery I have ever encountered. I’ve seen it, read about it, written about it, felt it—but never been the objet d’affection. It’s a curious thing, and the great adventure I have yet to experience.

Currently I am planning a return trip to London and designing my new tattoo. I spent most of the weekend curled up in front of the AC. I discovered there is a four part BBC documentary called “I Remember Nelson” which is now at the top of my wish list. And I cannot freaking wait for the next Harry Potter movie. Life is moving forward. Slowly. But there it is.