enfinblue's Bluey (credit to Fifi for the nickname!) Diaryland Diary

"I am seeking, I am striving, I am in it with all my heart." -Vinc3nt V@n Gogh

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I ordered Flor3nce 1900 in hardcover! And I think I WILL go to Paris!

Ohh....I am quite hung over. What kind of a lightweight cannot handle two glasses of red wine?

So I am utterly gobsmacked by how cheerful and upbeat and...normal I feel. What a weird week. Down, up. Fuck.

But not too up. I mean, I just feel normal. But hung over. The concert really was terrific.

When I got up this morning I deleted the new profile that I put up last night. It really wasn't me. And our judgment might be slightly impaired when we're lightweights, no?

At any rate, I really don't care. I wish I did care about dating (although why, I don't know), but I don't. I feel as though it is time to throw down the gauntlet on interests. I know I haven't done anything yet and the landscape of my life doesn't look as though change is happening, plates are shifting and I'm heading towards a new life...but they have and I am. I don't know how long it will take but I know that gradually I'm moving in a completely different direction. I don't know. Maybe it's that the valves are open.

I know I repeat myself often in this diary - you would, too, if you were a crazy ruminator who writes to herself every day at least twice a day :) - but I'm harkening back to meeting Francis in Florence last New Year's Eve.

I know I detailed that meeting, but it had a huge impact on me. I'll recap. He is a French Canadian lawyer who was at the time studying in Edinburgh. I'm pretty sure he told me that he was also a musician. He had a true bohemian look and manner - sexy, long-ish blonde hair, intelligence seeping out of his pores, obvious intuitive grasp of what people are feeling. He had quit his job and moved to Edinburgh as he simply wanted to see what it would be like, how he could challenge himself differently than he had done.

So I was sitting there on New Year's Eve, at about 1 a.m., and he came in. I had seen him at the hostel during the day, caught him looking at me, but had thought nothing of it. And there we were, at 1 a.m. We started a conversation that extended to 4 a.m. and that ended with a walk along the river, through the shattered glass in the various piazzi, and that was punctuated with conversations under important statues outside the Uff!zi. I remember in particular standing there looking up at a statue of Gall!l3o and talking about what it was that made someone like Gall!l3o, um, Gall!l3o.

I only raise this story now as the most important thing that Francis said to me still rings true: "Don't worry about whether your path is different from other people's paths. You don't have to be the same; you're not the same. You're searching for something. Keep at it."

Yeah, I repeat myself. I've told this story to myself over and over again. I think what I'm not delivering in this, given that I am not much of a writer, and that I'd failed to realize the point of the story, is the feeling that I had that night. I'd gone from disappointment in not speaking with Marco at midnight, to a feeling of complete self-trust and faith and of sparkling hope and enthusiasm. It was only a few hours in the grand sweep of my life, but it's a feeling I shall never forget.

(Aside: Don't get the wrong impression. It's not about the guy. I never got his last name or his phone number. They were irrelevant. We were just two people sharing a walk and a conversation. He was at the time struggling with the fact that he was in love with a woman at school. This woman was from India, engaged to be married in an arranged marriage, etc. etc. She, furthermore, had another boyfriend that she had recently returned to. He was trying to work that out.)

So I missed yoga this morning, folks. Sad but true. I felt hung over and when I got home last night, I must confess it, I stayed up until 3 a.m. watching What not to W3ar reruns. Seriously. Especially when the 2 a.m. episode came on I was thinking, "MY GOD I need to go to bed." But then the woman on it was someone who worked as an advocate for victims and yet who had lost all of her confidence in her attractiveness, femininity, etc. I had to watch. I'm really a softie.

I think I'll take a nap.

Of the gifts lately I think the greatest that I have received is the gift of appreciating power and privilege of having so much choice. XO

11:07 a.m. - 2010-01-16

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