Time Out

The holidays are a tough time,

Even if you love the holidays, they’re a tough time.

People get a little wired at the holidays. Wired full of all different things – all at once.

In my little piece of the world alone, we have all of these things going on at once:

Feeling on top of the world.
Feeling like the world is on top of us.
Not really being sure where we stand in relation to the world.

Starting something new.
Ending something old.
Reigniting something old instead of finding something new.

Feeling like an expert. Feeling like a novice. Feeling competent. Feeling inept.

Starting a diet. Ending a diet. Breaking a diet. Obsessing about a diet.

Writing. Not writing. Writing about not being able to write.

Loving a job. Hating a job. Accepting that a job is just a job. Looking for a new job.

Being in love. Not being in love. Looking for love. Questioning Love.

Ready to be quiet. Ready to make noise. Ready to listen to the quiet. Or hear noise.

And THAT’S just a snippet of my tiny little irrelevant piece of the world!

I’m telling you, the people I know are all over the place. Never in the same place at the same time. Never on the same page. Some have expectations that are too high. Some have no expectations or low expectations. Some just have conflicting expectations. Or conflicting ideas about what their expectations should be.

And that makes the holidays tough for me.

Not tough in a bad way, mind you. Just tough in a tiring, mildly draining way. Over the course of just a few days, I feel like I’ve watched the equivalent of thirty movies (my estimated guess).

I’ve experienced the build up, the tension, the wondering, the stress of not knowing, the denouement, the resolution, the laughter, the crying, the character development and the words, words, words.

And I’ve experienced a lot of it. From lots of different people. In a short period of time.

Holidays are easy for me these days, but even I get wired. I get confused but i know that it’s probably not confusion.

It’s probably just me being slightly overwhelmed with so much going on.

Yesterday I sat down at a table in a restaurant waiting for the others to arrive. The very sweet, very young waitress named Jasmine asked me how my holiday was. I said I was glad it was over.

And then I felt bad. Because I don’t mean it in a bad way. Just a ‘ready for it to be over’ way.

I felt like telling Jasmine to ignore me and to love her holidays, to embrace her youth, to seize the moment.

Then I remembered that Jasmine is a waitress. Jasmine experiences the holidays every single time she works. Jasmine knows what the deal is.

Personally, I want life to go back to normal. I want to deal with only one or two or three people and not the tens of billions it feels like I just encountered over the span of a few days. I want to catch up with one or two people a week, not one or two people per hour.

Mostly, I want to forget that everyone I know is right smack in the middle of a detailed and complicated journey.  I love their journeys and I want their journeys to be good. But I want to forget what I know about their journeys and just write and draw and get the cardio going. I want to just drink coffee and enjoy the weather and eat something not-too-unhealthy. I want to be a better person for knowing so much but forget the nitty gritty of everything I know.

I just want to be.

I just want to be so that when I run into someone I love, I have the bandwidth to give them my all, at least for a minute or two.

I gave Jasmine an extra tip on top of the extra tip.

Then, later, I thought maybe I should have given her more.

xoxo, d

RAL RGB Blur

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s