It makes me sad to say, but the Toms can no longer be my primary shoes. The holes in the toes are starting to worry me and the logical part of my mind is chiming in: You have a perfectly good pair of shoes in your closet. Let the Toms go. But on the other hand, the Toms are comfortable and if you can handle the wear-and-tear, they remain as cozy as a well-worn pair of slippers. But I've got to draw the line somewhere. The good karma that Toms radiate can only last so long, anyway.
Big decisions settle hard. Moving out of our parents house. Taking leaps across oceans. Going back to school. Sometimes made on a whim, sometimes with years of passion behind them, these decisions will shape the entirety of our lives as successes or failures, defining moments that shaped us into who we will become a decade from now, into who we will become tomorrow. I know going to Sac State is right; it's felt right from the beginning. And by the end of summer, it's going to be all I'm thinking about. I haven't been in a college classroom in over two years. I don't remember what homework feels like. I don't know what to expect in the slightest. Yet, as mysterious as Fall Semester seems, it's a result of my own decisions, my own turn of the steering wheel toward the destination of my choosing. The Peace Corps, teaching, all that... I've got a five-year-plan, and that's terrifying. Big decisions make me feel like a real grown-up, but there will always be a part of me that says: Don't grow up too fast, you'll miss it sooner.
So until school starts, I've got this once-in-a-lifetime summer of innocence with Jenny that I'm giving my absolute attention.
Allergies tried their damndest to ruin my life yesterday when we took the train out to Davis for the Whole Earth Festival. Mix two parts itchy eyes with one part congestion and there's nothing on my mind save for how miserable I feel. This is an allergic reaction, generally lasting twenty minutes with short intervals between, caused by who-knows-what, wherever, whenever and despite medication. It is hell. If you have never experienced allergies, then consider yourself lucky. I can put up with being sick--being sick makes sense to me--but allergies feel like I'm being bullied by nature, deliberately and unprovoked, and all I want to say is, "Back the hell off, asshole, I'm trying to enjoy the Festival."
We rode bikes to the train station, biked to the Co-Op, swallowed bee pollen with dark ale, mosied to the Festival, found Arielle near the main stage, found a patch of grass to dwell with Ryan, walked among the vendors, toured about the campus, listened to the music, appreciated the colors, took a walk in the arboretum, smoked pot under the trees, photographed a squirrel, tried weird ice cream, listened to a drum circle, met up with Daniel, ate at Noodle City, stopped by the Beer Shop, found Arielle cooking dinner at her house, smoked pot with her and Ryan, made plans to meet at Delta, got lost in a maze of staircases, relaxed on the grass in the future under the stars, watched bodies move to the music of a DJ, witnessed fire dance, made our way back to the train station, made our way home.
Allergies off and on, mostly on. I confessed at some point during the night that I was worried Jenny would start loving me less because of my allergies, which have been such a distracting nuisance lately. She laughed. I've been sniffling and itching my eyes for the past two weeks non-stop, it seems, so I'm glad she loves me enough to work through this with me. I make it sound like I'm paralyzed, but honestly that's what it feels like most of the time. That said, I made sure to enjoy and soak up the sights and sounds of the Festival as much as I could, and I still had a great time. Knowing how short this summer will feel in retrospect, I'm making sure not to pass up any experience I can share with Jenny, no matter how bloodshot my eyes are that day.
Thursday night Jenny and I ended up heading to Davis with Daniel to get drinks with Arielle and her friend, Victor, at Sophia's, followed by pizza at Woodstock. Sophia's was dim and crowded and the live music was a nice touch and I downed two greyhounds with the others on the patio. Woodstock was as rambunctious as all the good pizza parlors are. The night started with beers and Trivial Pursuit outside of Delta with some of Jenny's friends. Good people, very welcoming. I remember Rob and our discussion about tunneling through the earth, Michelle with the ukulele and Sicily travel guide, and Cal, the lovable old hippie. This being my fourth official visit to Davis, things started to look familiar and I felt more comfortable in this college town, though my mind was, admittedly, partially distracted by other thoughts.
With Korea still digesting in my gut, I remember angst making appearances between drinks and destinations. It's downright nuts to know that Jenny is leaving in September, although I very well know that Jenny's six months in Korea is not the end of anything, and it is, in fact, the beginning of everything, though that is equally enormous and difficult to comprehend. I mean this is real. This is powerful. I'm basically trying to get all the sad emotions done with ahead of time because this event on the horizon isn't going to be an easy one to get through. Better to realize that now. I've almost wrapped my head around it.
Plus, any visit to Davis feels odd because Jenny was in love with Davis and though I know Jenny enjoys showing me around her old life, I can't help but think Davis is constantly trying to woo her back with sights and smells, like some ex-boyfriend who brings up all their old inside jokes.
In other news, my Grandma Fryer and Aunt Joane came to visit at Old Soul on Friday morning. Grandma slipped me fifty bucks that not even my usual modesty held any opposition to. I need it and she knows it and that's that. Then it was an hour of encouragement and praise from a grandmother I rarely visit and an aunt I hardly remember. I forget sometimes how much my family loves me. How proud they are of me. Sometimes this is quite baffling. After the visit, I went out to tutoring and played more softball with the kids, then came back home to wait for Jenny.
Her purse disappeared, and that's the best explanation she could come up with. One minute it was by her desk at work, then a half hour later she comes back from lunch and it's gone. Simple as that, like a bonafide glitch in the matrix. Her ID and keys and wallet are gone. Startling news for someone who needs all of that stuff if she plans on moving to Korea this September. No one's using her debit card. Weird. She can't come up with any logical explanation for what happened to her purse. So Friday evening she comes over, frustrated, flustered, upset, and she holds herself together long enough to get dinner, relax, take the edge off, and fall asleep hopeful. The next day she starts making phone calls. Everything's going to be alright.
No word from Mary about that tutoring gig. I'm supposed to be getting an acceptance letter from Sac State so that I can send a copy to my Peace Corps representative. My boss, Jason, has a crush on Diana. Today was Mother's Day so I called my mom. Celena stopped by yesterday with an update on her life: survived a car accident with Chris, who's in Colorado until August, and she's heading to SFU this fall. It was good to see her. Good to know we're still friends. Work was busy, messy, but wrapped up alright. Life is fine and today I'm taking it easy and writing and resting. So happy mother's day to all the seven billion mothers out there.
And now, the Festival:
- Left to Fry
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