Fifty Miles of Elbow Room

I'm going to Wales. End of September. I'll miss fall parties, Shakori, SFA (the worst part), Thanksgiving, and Christmas.... Oops. But I'll come back a novice waller and blacksmith/welder/metal sculptor who has lived in beautiful, rural scenery with dear, generous people for a time.

The real question is, can I finish my thesis in time to go without guilt? A first full draft anyway, that's the goal.

No, okay, the real question is: where is my man? Kelly said it the other night, and not one to be shallow, she's right: I need a boyfriend. I want a man who makes things and takes care of things and is curious about the world and has his own life apart from just me. That's not too complicated, is it? Where is my carpenter who wants a garden out back? Little kids eventually? Intellectual and physical engagement with the world and with me... I'd settle for a deep, unspoken connection and a good sense of humor and work ethic in someone, whoever he is and whatever he does.

Is he in Wales? Is he in Brooklyn? Is he here in Carrboro? Who knows. I'm primed. Not desperate, mind you, but always out and about with my eyes open and--usually--a smile on my face even to strangers. I believe in karma.

Scenic World

So, my Welsh host said today that I need to come for at least three or four months to properly learn to wall, and at least eight to ten weeks for welding/smithing. I couldn't be more thrilled, but what will my parents say? And at twenty-six, should I care?

I think I've earned the right to take off and play for a while after these last two years of working like a dog as a student, a TA, and a Festival employee. This, too, will be work, but of a different sort, and though it's easy to say I'm just goofing off, it's quite intimately tied to my academic interest in reinvented and adaptive tradition, identity, politics, performance, art, and preservation. Plus, I should return with real skills that could potentially help me earn money, especially after that length of time. But best of all, what an opportunity to get to know a country and its people, living and working with them for a good length of time! As Angharad herself said, "The best way to get to know a country is to work with its people."

It's time to bridge disconnect I feel between my intellectual life at my laptop and the joy I feel when I'm engaged in difficult, exhausting physical labor. I am neither simple laborer nor distant academic, and I must find the middle way. (Somewhere in there, by the way, is baking... Look for the MIG Bakery one day with its welded cake sign hanging from the storefront!) How lucky to be able to pursue that path while in the hands of two exceptionally generous master craftspeople, working one-on-one in the beautiful Welsh countryside. Somewhere, sometime, I did something right.

This is better than any Fulbright or Rhodes.

Pocahontas

As I proclaimed in a facebook status update today, "...iced Counter Culture Nyakizu, freshly SCRUBBED kitchen floor, and Gillian Welch covers of Neil Young songs = Sunday happiness. And the quarry awaits!"

This is the most relaxed I've been in ages without the help of alcohol, and there's something to be said for that indeed. Same goes for yesterday's adventure at Weaver Street, the farmers' market, and Maple View, which prompted me to exclaim, "WHAT IS THIS AMAZING PLACE, AND WHY ARE THERE SO MANY DELICIOUS TOMATOES HERE?!"

It's summer, and I can finally stop and enjoy it. Formal Festival work has ended, and I am back in Carrboro where I belong. Seasonal fruits and veggies, old friends, night noises other than traffic and A/C vents, fresh smells of grass and trees and dirt... Feeling uncrowded and free and hopeful... Having time to stop and ponder, and waking up to the sun rather than an alarm or stomping upstairs. Remembering my recent night with bike boy...

I already miss my Festival family pretty severely, especially Katy and Laura, who are outstanding human beings and brought a lot of joy, laughter, affirmation, and understanding to my life these last months. I miss Parker's knowing looks and mysterious smiles, and Jason's silliness and self-assuredness and generosity. I miss the togetherness and the laughs we all shared, but it's time to be where I am and be doing what I'm doing. It's time to be slow and relaxed, even if I am cranking out a thesis. At least it's on my own schedule, and I can stop and sleep and run and cook as I see fit. I'm on no one's timeframe but mine. And I'm a lot less inclined to drink, drink, drink. It's not the atmosphere here, for one thing, but I'm also feeling a lot less stressed out. (I was really starting to worry about myself, to be quite honest, especially after Rock and Roll Hotel... Oy.)

Anyway, I'm in a good place, and planning for Wales and metalworking and baking and loving and writing. Loving is behind all of it, of course.

Viva La Vida

It's amazing how post-Festival perspectives and emotions make you forget the hell you went through to get here. I cried and cried (mostly privately) and threw pens and kicked trailers and drank, but what do I remember now? My steel tree, my almost completely conversationless bourbon with the otherwise absent Parker, welding with Angharad, breaking and laying stone with Stuart, wiring the overdue barber polls with Charity, nights dancing with Stuart, Stephanie, and Josué, whimsically riding Danny's handlebars down from RFD, getting pigpen filthy with surprise superstar Krystyn in the boneyard, and laughing my ass off in the trailer, hotel, car, etc with Jason and Katy. And Tina. Ohhhhh, Tina.

This Festival is an abusive lover, and I do love it indeed. Who knows what next year will be like or whether I'll even be here, but one thing's for sure: I'll never forget this year. I am a changed woman, for better or worse.

Actually, another thing is for sure: it's a beautiful, touching thing when you realize just how much your coworkers respect you and pitch in to help simply because you've been good to them. I've got WAY higher-ups coming down to do irritating, gross manual labor because they know I need the hands, and they like me. So despite any faults I may have had as coordinator of my department, I won over many amazing and wonderful friends, and that means everything to me. This Festival is about people, beginning to end. Participants, coworkers, bosses, interns, Joe the Plumber. This job is intense, and your coworkers seem to have an almost magical ability to read your needs and meet them when you least expect it. Festival angels exist, and Festival magic happens. Thank you, Howard. Thank you, everyone. Parker's last run was, for me, filled with highs and lows, but we did a damn good job. It was hard to let the participants go, it's hard to let the Welsh walls go, and it's going to be hard to let myself go come Friday. It's time, though. Everything in its time. My love to you all.

Fade Jeans Blue

Lots to report: a beautiful Kim and Dan wedding, a lot of home- and Carrboro-sickness, DC frustrations, and entirely too much drinking. I think it is beginning to affect my mental function... I'm not binging by any means, but upped regular consumption is obviously having a deleterious effect on me. I also think it's the reason I'm still hanging on to pudge. How did I go from rock star grad student to pathetic 26 y.o. bureaucrat in less than a month? I am not okay. I need to get out of here, but I can't, and thesis, play, and work stress is all just ratcheting up. I feel fucked... At least for the next three months or so. How did I let this happen?

But WOW was the wedding fabulous!!

I've Got Dreams to Remember

P.S. I always say I'm commitment-phobic, but I'm always the one to be abandoned by those to whom I've committed my time and attention... Which not to say that all those to whom I have devoted myself have fled, but enough.  After a while, one notices that she feels left hanging.

I can't wait for Doug's visit.

Let Me Come On Home

I think I've mostly settled into my DC groove.  Why I ever thought I could work like hell all day and get my thesis done at night is beyond me.  It's a lot easier to have no life when you live alone and aren't constantly reminded that other people make money AND have lives...

I miss M.  I wish M could come for my birthday and complete the circle of amazingness down at 8th & G.  I miss a shit-ton of other people too.  Bureaucrats are fun, but really, Carrboro is where it's at.

I hope this weather lasts forever.

I want a lover.

I love my job.

This weekend is going to be awesome, no matter who is or isn't there.  I'm racing, I'm writing, I'm eating.

Tears Dry on Their Own

I'm returning to feeling amazing 90% of the time.  The sun is back.  I have a sweet birthday party at Rayna's to look forward to next weekend.  I'm running a 10K soon.  Marcie still loves me and is back in touch--missed her a lot.  Good food, good wine, good roomies.  Now, all I'm missing is Roper.  Soon.