In case of 2007

Today, while I was tidying up my room in anticipation of Jans coming tomorrow (!), I found an old spiral-bound notebook. As most of my notebooks like this one tend to become commonplace books – that is, full of everything from writing to doodles to class notes and phone numbers – I was intrigued to discover that this particular book contains a pretty accurate reading of my entire life from the year 2007.

2007 was an eventful year. It started with an incredible secret fling (as I was rebounding from my breakup with Bobby), moved from there into our mad and manic production of Flutter, took an unexpected twist in my romance with Eric, dipped low into a lovely, languid summer in the Pinery with Jes, then wrapped up with my last hectic semester of college at LAFSC in Hollywood.

Plus, add in there my sweet friendship with Jeremy McDaniel, visits from Tyger and Margie, a whole crammed month at Act One, and the perfect marriage I found in Kevin, Katherine, and Rian.

2007 was maybe the best year ever.

And so, for the next few entries, I’ll be posting some long lost essays and scrawlings I found in the 2007 notebook this morning. I know they won’t mean as much to anybody as they mean to me, but I thought you might like to come with me on this trip to the not-so-distant (but distant enough) past.

Enjoy.

In case of THINGS THAT ARE STILL TRUE

July.3.2007
For the beauty of the earth

There is so much grace in the world. It’s so funny to me how we are always given enough grace. Always.

I say that it’s funny because I think life is generally comedic. Even when it’s sad, there’s an element of humor, of joy, of promised restoration. Even when you feel so low. Even when you don’t know if a situation will end well. Even then.

I went to a wedding on Friday. Beth described the evening as “romantic,” which just happened to be the perfect adjective. We all stood on the front lawn, bare legs and shoulders, toes eased out of uncomfortable shoes. It was one of those firefly evenings, in spite of California.  The suspense of gold champagne in glasses, hovering between mouths and fingertips. The elderly and middle aged (their eternal moments still shining, but stuck in some previous era) gravitated toward the house, sat indoors on the antique furniture, discussed, I don't know.  Politics, maybe. Maybe marriage. I’d like to give them credit, knowing they were once us and that someday we’ll be them.

But we were not them on Friday. Almost everyone under the age of thirty draped themselves on the front porch, cotton and silk dresses flowing down from one stair to the next.  It was like -- I don't know -- a declaration to the world that we were standing on the brink, the edge, perched and ready for our chance, but still indulgent, enjoying one another while we could. Laughing.  The wonder was not then and will not be lost on us, not for years.

Even a wedding, which some might think is the end of being reckless, is heroic, epochal! How could anyone be so brave to love so deeply? How could anyone sit on the steps in the waning sun and laugh when we have lost wallets and keys, minutes and hours, built and burned bridges, inflicted and felt wounds? And some of us have lost friends. And some of us have lost faith. And some of us know that the house we’re sitting on will deteriorate, succumb to entropy, and that so many circumstances are, even now, not kind and not warm and not forgiving. How dare we dance, loop arms around waists, lick chocolate frosting off our fingers?

Why was I sent a quiet friend to sit with me, unjudging, when I have been so wrong? Why was I even allowed to hold the hand of someone I hurt so deeply?

Grace. Only grace.
There is so much grace in the world. 

In case of INSOMNIA

This is El Tigre.  He is one of my best friends ever.

I met him in High School, junior year.  I thought he was one of Sean’s Brainless Flunkies.  I didn’t think he had a personality.  I didn’t even hate him all that much.  He was that insignificant to my life. 

Then, when things got better, I started hanging out with him by default.  You know, “Hey, everyone’s coming over.  Invite people.”  And someone would invite Tyger and he would just show up!  Like magic!

I still didn’t know much about him.

Then, one night, for reasons I have yet to understand, we got to talking.  We sat in my living room and talked for hours and hours.  We talked all night and into the morning.  My parents were like, “Who is this guy?”  And I’m like, “Yeah.  I have no idea.”  I don’t even know what we talked so long about.  But when he finally went home I decided to myself, “Tyger’s alright.” 

That was senior year. 

This is the part of the story where you think that Tyger and I are about to become best friends.  That we start to see each other all the time and then we’re inseparable.  That he makes everything about high school a little less sucky and I would start to have an ally out there in the world.  Or, at least, that he and I would start falling in love.

But no.  None of that happened.  The talking night?  Isolated incident.  Not to be repeated for years.

The truth is that I have no idea how Tyger and I became friends.  It wasn’t high school.  And it certainly wasn’t college.  I don’t remember the first day I invited him to a family party.  I don’t remember our first time hitting the town together alone.  I don’t know when it was that I called him, just him, to come out with me.  But I do know that he still just shows up!  And it’s still like magic every single time. 

Tyger walks into my house without knocking.  Tyger goes out to movies with my brother and cousins.  Tyger gave my Grandad a present in the last week of my Grandad’s life.  If we’re out together, Tyger always gets me home safely.  He watches me sleep.  He fills my life up with things to laugh about. 

The helping hand on the sets of my movies?  Tyger.  The person I called when my Grandad died?  Tyger.  My Valentine's Day date?  Tyger.  

And when I moved to California, Tyger said he would drive across the country with me.  Because there isn't 2,000 miles of road anywhere that I want to travel without him.  

Tyger is all-in-all one of the most selfless people I’ve ever met.  He’s incredibly giving, good natured, and easy to get along with.  He’s also freaking hilarious and talented.  If you know him, you’re so much luckier than you can even understand.  The man is unstoppable.  Be amazed. 

So here’s to Tyger, my Tyger.  I’ve never in my life been so happy to be so wrong about someone.

Happy Birthday.  Sorry it's late.

Cheers.