a girl's right to pie and pain
My sister loves "Twin Peaks." I myself never watched any of it (a problem we are remedying tonight), but ever since she moved here, she's been a bit eager to try the pie at Twedes, the cafe Kyle MacLachlan's character frequents for the "a damn fine cup of coffee" and cherry pie.
We jaunted up to North Bend today (a mere 25 minutes from us, the old haunt of Mr. and Mrs. Clark), and ordered us a tuna melt for lunch and cherry pie for dessert. Oh my, was it tasty. Homemade perfection.
Things have lightened substantially here. There are many concerns still looming, but with two phone calls back on a resume, our moods are lifting a bit. It's amazing how the slightest shift in circumstances can change your entire outlook...and it is for this very subtle reason that I refuse to believe that happiness is all about perspective...having a positive view of even the worst of situations does not change the reality that things can be just downright shitty. Being positive, hell..being happy...has never really been my goal. I suppose I want to experience life authentically, for all its shadows and light, highs and lows. However, I think I prefer my loved ones only to feel the warmest light and the highest heights, and this lesson in release is the biggest bitch of all lately...the kind that slaps your face, talks about you behind your back, and then decides to pants you on the play yard. There you stand, vulnerable and humiliated...with nothing but your tears to cloak your skin. This is the kind of bitch I mean.
I suppose it could be seen as self-deprecating that I am comfortable with undergoing pain when I would chose to extract all hurt from others' lives; or perhaps it shows a truly narcissistic hubris in my own coping mechanisms and reveals a complete lack of confidence in them. But I think the reality is that I am confident in dealing with pain and can know I will be okay...there is no such guarantee for those you love.
They may never be okay again.
They might die before you expect.
They might fall into an unrecoverable depression.
They might hurt themselves over and over again.
They may never call you back.
They may never love you as you need.
And that, my friends, THAT is the SERIOUS bitch about love.
But also the exquisite bliss.
Because when it turns out that they are okay, that they are healthy, that they are well, that they are happy, that they are thriving, that they call you, and that they love you in return...then the bitch falls off her high horse and heaven on earth ushers you in. The risk...oh the intoxicating gamble of love.
I am so addicted.