My English Dreams Come True

On the list of things to do on my upcoming trip to England is hug Cary Grant. (I do not know the woman in that photo but I envy her a bit.) I may even kiss him on the cheek. Both cheeks, even. A life-sized statue of Cary Grant! I may just melt on the spot. I will become the dark stain on the concrete at his feet that people will walk around because they are not quite sure what it is. I shall have them place a little placard next to me, that reads: "Here is what remains of Cary Grant's most ardent admirer. Now, please take your leave as she wants to be alone with him. --Signed, The Queen" (Or Dame Judi Dench or Sir Elton John or whoever is in charge over there these days.) 

I think Cary Grant was my first real love. Well, it was either him or Davy Jones of The Monkees but I think it was the former. He has certainly stayed in my heart longer. (This was well before my Shaun Cassidy/Leif Garrett/Willie Aames pre-teen phase. Thank goodness, that was relatively short-lived.) I would still give Davy Jones a hug if I met him on the street, but I would not plan to visit his statue, which is apparently the sign of true devotion. Oh, good grief, how have I never realized my first loves were both English? That is something, is it not? 

Many other things are planned during my stay, including a night of Shakespeare, performed by actual English people (Be still my heart!), but I think 'meeting' Cary Grant is going to be one of the top two highlights. Seeing my other favorite Englishman will be the other. I may even kiss him on the cheek. Both cheeks, even.

Sorry, Davy Jones. Maybe next trip.

Starting Today

Yesterday

I stared at the Home page of this website for several minutes, thinking about the meaning of the words written there. There are so many things I want to change in my life, so many dreams I want to realize. It just feels like I am not so much starting from this day's place in time to make a new ending as I am right back at Step One. Every day.

There is a woman in my head who is the person I want to be. I can see her. I know how she talks, how she acts, how she thinks, and of what she is capable. Every day I attempt to move closer to becoming her. I have an entire checklist of things that I need to accomplish to become her. Every night I think about her and feel I am no closer to being her than I was that morning. Nothing has been checked off.

The woman in my head is disappointed in the woman I am.

Today

I will stop looking at the woman I want to be as a whole and find one thing to emulate. Then one more. Then one more. I will remember, that in the labor of trying, I am moving closer. 

New endings are possible and I am in charge of how they are written. Today, I acknowledge that the writing of the new ending is the adventure and the dream can only be reached by taking the journey.

The woman in my head is proud. And I, I am one step closer.

Comparing Notes

The LDBF is a phenomenal writer. He is capable of putting together strings of sentences that completely transport you into his story. Your breath catches, your pulse quickens, your eyes widen, as his words grab you, lift you, and move you through the worlds he creates. He has a great gift and I am so fortunate that he shares his writing with me.

It was our passion for writing and an attraction to each other's writing that brought us together. Writing was all we had in the beginning. It is our foundation, both individually and as a couple. Our writing dreams provide us a connection and head us in the same direction. It is one of our greater bonds.

There are days, many days, that I doubt my talent and I fear my dreams are just too far out of reach. I do not know that I have it, whatever it is, that intangible quality, that is the difference between a good writer and a great writer. He has it. He oozes it, is redolent of it. I do not know that I have it. I am reminded of the line a former piano teacher once told me, "Anyone can learn to play the notes but only those with talent can make music." I may just be playing the notes.

I said as much to him this weekend. When I compare my writing to his, mine falls short every time. His response was immediate and supportive. He reminded me that we have very different styles and write in different genres. He is a master of the types of stories he tells; I write in an entirely different way, in my own style. In the literary sense, I am trying to compare great jazz with a classic concerto. They can both be beautiful while being completely different.

I am my own worst critic (his remark, my admission) and I do need to keep at it (his suggestion, my acknowledgment). He provided the caring push I needed. Anything worth doing well takes time. I will continue to learn, continue to try, continue to write. 

He is a phenomenal writer, yes, but I can be, too. I just need to focus on, and play, my own type of music.

Connection

I remember when:

• computers were not common household machines
• turning on the computer and 'going online' were two distinctly different activities
• you could ask someone if they had an email address and receive a blank look in return
• chat rooms were the coolest thing 

No longer do I just turn on my computer and 'go online.' These days my browser has no fewer than seven different tabs open and I have at least two other applications running at the same time, all the time. I am constantly clicking between them because like me, everyone else is online and constantly updating things and the urge to keep up is strong. It is not even unusual for me to have two computers on (work and personal) and while I am not proud of it, three (work, personal Mac and personal PC) were on earlier today.

Why?

I will not apologize for some of it. Almost half of the tabs and applications are ways to stay in touch with the LDBF on the other side of the ocean. Given the fact that we do not get to see each other every day, we stay connected using the tools available. Even if we go hours without communicating, just seeing that he is online, and therefore 'here,' is comforting. For the rest, I have no excuse other than habit. I have been sending and receiving information over so many different platforms for so long, it has become second nature. 

Two summers ago I went into my local mobile phone center and came out with the latest and greatest smartphone. It allowed me to play music, take and send photos, receive email from all my different accounts, and browse the Internet. As I walked out the door, happy with my new toy, the sales clerk remarked, "You are now connected in every way possible." I replied, "I know! This is so great!"

Last week, I read this post by Adam P. Knave and one line stuck out: "...it’s too easy to keep up with people and that means that, realistically, it is harder than ever." No kidding. Remember when you only saw the people with whom you graduated high school at the local summer festival? Or when you caught up with far-flung family members at reunions or Christmas? Now with Facebook, email, IM, and a whole host of other technological advances, you may be in touch with these people all the time. The thing is, at summer festivals and reunions and Christmas you make time for seeing friends and catching up. Where did we get all the extra time to keep up with all that every day?

Do not misunderstand. I appreciate and am ever grateful for the technology in my life. I have made great friends via the Internet and they are just as close, if not closer, than those I have within driving distance. I may have never met the LDBF, certainly would not have gotten to know him in the way that I have, and if we lived in another time, and had to live this far apart? Well, we probably would not have found it prudent to stay together. Technology has provided me options I would not have had even a generation ago.

This weekend I went into my local mobile phone center and came out with the latest and greatest smartphone. It allows me to play music, take and send photos, receive email from all my different accounts, browse the Internet, update my blog and Facebook and Twitter and Flickr and MySpace (if I had a MySpace) accounts and keep up with all of yours, make conference calls, make and play videos, and with the addition of a SIM card, make calls from anywhere in the world. As I walked out the door, a little apprehensive about my new toy, the sales clerk remarked, "You are now connected in every way possible."  I replied, "Yeah, until the next thing comes along."

I read this post by Paul and Sara over the weekend that brilliantly sums up the obstacles to communication unique to a couple who spend months without seeing each other. It brought me to tears. There are times when I could really use a hug from the LDBF, or see his smile, or rest my head on his shoulder. There is no technology that can substitute that. But technology is all we have the majority of the time. So our communication is frequent, thanks to technology, but it is not all it could be. That is the most difficult part. Quantity over quality is never the ideal. 

So what is my point? Technology has a place. In it's most positive light, it can be used to keep you close to the ones you love when you are not able to be in the same room. It can keep you connected over miles and months of distance; it is a godsend in that regard. However, due to technology's accessibility and convenience, we can take it to the extreme and try to keep up with more people than really matter. If that is done to the detriment of the relationships that should be central and focused in our lives, it truly is a negative. The quality of important relationships should be higher priority than having a larger quantity of relationships overall.

While writing this, someone I do not know requested to be my friend on Facebook. Judging by her maiden name, I assume she is somehow related to me. I do not recognize her from her photo and I am pretty sure we have never met. She is probably trying to connect because she thinks we should.

I am declining the offer for the exact same reason. 

Learning Apart

I know how to do alone.

I have spent the better part of the last decade alone. There have been men and dates and a quasi-serious relationship thrown in there, but overall, I have been alone. That was okay with me. I had not found anyone who really deserved a lot of effort on my part so when the relationships slipped away, I was never too upset about it. I had my work and my friends and my writing and I was happy to let people drift into my life when I wanted someone and drift back out again when I did not.

When I was alone all those years, I was very rarely lonely. I knew what was out there in the dating pool and knew I was not missing anything. I was perfectly content going out with my friends or relaxing with my books and letting everyone else dive in, trying to find someone worth bringing home. Then, last summer, that changed. I met an amazing man in a completely unexpected way. He is clever and intelligent and supportive and kind. He makes me laugh and makes me think, makes me a better writer and makes me a better person. He loves me. There are times when my eyes well up with tears when I think of how close we came to never meeting, and they well up again when I realize how lucky I am to have a person like this in my life. I love him.

Four years ago I wrote something about the life I wanted: "I am not living in the place I want to spend the rest of my life. I want to live on a mountain, in a cottage, next to a lake. With my dog and my cat. And a man who makes me crazy and sane, better and bad--in a good way."  I was describing this man without even knowing he could exist.

The ironic and painful thing is I am lonely now. He and I are in a long distance relationship for now, so I still spend a lot of my time alone. Where I used to be content with that, enjoyed it even, now it just seems... well, very lonely. The time spent without him is achingly empty.

I know how to do alone.

Now I need to learn how to do apart.