It's been awhile...

Time and our passage through it, has always confounded me. I remember as a kid, having to watch the movie Back to the Future at least three times before I was really able to wrap my brain around it. Granted, I was 8 years old, but still. I suppose everyone experiences this to some degree. When you're a kid and the summer seems to fly by in the blink of an eye, while the school year drags on for what seems like ions, much like weekends in relation to work weeks when you're older. My dad always used to say "Punkin, once you graduate high school, you won't believe how quickly the years go by. You will wake up one morning and be 30 years old and not have any idea how it happened." I of course scoffed at this, since he didn't know anything and I was 18 years old and knew it all. However, since things panned out exactly as he said they would, my grown-up self has since commended him on his prophetic wisdom.

At this point in my life, age has become somewhat irrelevant. Three of my closest girlfriends are 23, 29 and 41 years old respectively and yet the views on life and common ground we share is staggering. My ex was 10 years older than I and it was never really an issue, although he used to jokingly ask "Why couldn't I have met you in high school?", to which I would reply "Because I was in kindergarten."

I was looking through photo albums at my mom's house yesterday and long forgotten memories began flooding over me with such intensity, I had to stop. I found pictures I didn't know still existed, of my first serious boyfriend here in Colorado and our trip back East for him to meet my family, which I had forgotten occurred. I look so young in the pictures and we both look so happy. It's bizarre when you can look at a photograph and know exactly what you were feeling or thinking at the time, even though it was a decade ago. As I gazed at us sitting side by side on the sofa, our arms around each other, I thought "I once loved this man. He was my world." Then to re-enter the present and wonder how feelings that were once so poignant and palpable could cease to exist any more? Conceivably, he has some of these same photographs in his possession, wherever he is, and I wonder if he ever looks at them and has similar musings.

I found photos of the wedding of 2 good friends who are no longer married and who are no longer very good friends. The fact that I am old enough to know people who have been married, had a kid or two, gotten divorced and are now remarried, blows my mind. It doesn't seem possible and it makes me question what the hell I've been doing all this time...

A friend posted an old photo on his facebook page the other day, of himself, me and another friend, circa 1997. We were posing in front of my 1st apartment, trying to look bad-ass, I suspect, but really just looking silly. I almost didn't recognize myself with my bad, at-home dye-job, ill-fitting clothes and hint of baby fat still clinging to my naive little face. Yet, upon further contemplation, I realized at that point in time, most of my friends were off at college; I was working full-time and spinning my wheels around town; and I was completely, over-the-top in love with my friend in the picture, who's feelings were not reciprocal, making my life a miserable, endless span of days spent simultaneously longing for him and berating myself for longing for him. A picture may be worth a thousand words, but I'd venture a guess it's worth at least twice that many feelings.

Should I stay or should I go...

As I've mentioned, I work in a restaurant. Restaurants, as a general rule, tend to employ a pretty transient portion of society. Hippies, felons and guys who are "taking a break from touring with their band", fill many a restaurant kitchen. The staff turnover tends to be high due to:

a.) People moving to another state/better restaurant.

b.) People getting arrested on drug charges/breaking parole.

c.) People being flat-out flaky and not showing up for their shift/showing up drunk and subsequently getting fired.

Last week, one of my co-workers (a cook) decided he was tired of living here, so he left a note and some cash for his roommate and hitch-hiked to Montana without any notice. My boss was understandably angry, but he couldn't possibly have been surprised. We're talking about a guy who rarely showered, thought he was a pirate and regularly slept under bridges and in parks when he was too drunk/tired to find a way home. He was a decent worker, but not exactly the model of reliability or trust, so the fact that he went thumbing off to another state, presumably to live in a tree and smoke pot all day, didn't shock me in the least. What it did do, was make me incredibly jealous.

There has always been a part of me, regardless of what my circumstances are at any given moment, that randomly fantasizes about taking off in the middle of the night without telling a soul where I am going. I have struggled with this for years; I am basically a walking paradox. There is one part of me (the responsible, common-sense loving Cancerian) that craves a home and all it's stability and creature comforts where I can establish roots and spend my time gardening and throwing dinner parties. Then there is the other part (the free-wheeling, devil-may-care adventurer) whose insatiable curiosity and wanderlust is so strong, it's practically crippling. I read a poem once called "The Double Life" that captured my plight perfectly. It spoke of "How very simple life would be, if only there were two of me...A restless me to drift and roam, a quiet me to stay at home...".

Whenever I visit my brother and his wife and see the great life they have cultivated for themselves, I find myself longing for something similar. He is 3 years younger than I, yet he has his shit waaaay more together than I do. He and his wife have "careers" and 401K plans; 2 beautiful little boys, and a dog. There is no white picket fence around their house, but I think that's only because their taste is slightly more modern. I like what they have together and witnessing it just drives home the realization that I am nowhere near where they are. I have a "job", 2 feline children and my 401K plan is to make it onto Jeopardy before I'm 40. What I do have, though, is the knowledge that because my life is simple and I'm not beholden to a husband or children, I have the freedom to go live in Spain for a year and work in a vineyard, or quit my job and back-pack across the country if I so choose. Having these options is liberating and I know no matter which part of me comes out on top, I will find a way to be happy with my choices just like I always have.

I always feel like, somebody's watching me...

When you are single and dating somewhat regularly, it's inevitable that you are going to run into an ex or a one-night stand at some point. In my experience, the one-nighters are usually spotted and subsequently avoided, at the same bar/club where I drunkenly picked them up in the first place. They are easy to dodge because often their memory of my face is as hazy as mine is of theirs. It helps that I am a bit of a chameleon--I tend to change my hair color and length fairly often and switch back and forth between glasses and contacts. This secret camouflaging superpower has come in handy more than once. However, no matter how many disguises and diversion tactics you employ, sooner or later you will be caught off guard.

Last year when I was waiting tables at a particular restaurant, I approached a table of 2 people in the usual manner, telling them my name and asking what they'd like to drink to start off. It was then I got a good look at them and realized they were on a date. It was also then, I realized I was pretty sure I had dated this guy, briefly, the previous summer. Awkward. I wasn't 100% certain though and although he wasn't really making eye contact with me (a dead giveaway, I assumed) he wasn't being impolite either. It was a complete mystery to me until finally, I brought them their bill and thankfully he paid with a credit card. The name on the card was not a name I knew.

A few weeks ago, my girl and I went out dancing for the first time in months. I like to compare us to a couple of beautiful tulips--we are dormant during the cold, winter months, yet once springs arrives with it's warmer temperatures, we emerge refreshed, with renewed vigor, ready to throw on our sassy dresses and heels and hit the club once more. Unfortunately, we had to vacate not 1, but 2 different bars due to not 1, but 2 different Creepers whom I had unwittingly spoken to/danced with many months ago and who were now lurking nearby giving me the eye. I ask you, is this any way to live? I am considering trying the "Twin Operative"...The next time one of them attempts to talk to me, I will say:

"Whoa, stop right there. You think I am Jess, don't you? I get this a lot, I'm actually her twin sister Becca. Guys are always coming up to me thinking I'm my sister--she sort of 'gets around' if you know what I mean, ha ha. Oh, no, don't be embarrassed, it's an honest mistake! You take care now!"

This could be the perfect plan, except I probably told half these goofballs that my name was Becca (or Monica, or Phoebe, or Miranda or Pam... I derive my cache of pseudonyms from whatever re-runs I happen to be watching on Hulu at the moment.) In any case, I shouldn't have to avoid anyone! I am always completely honest with people in every situation (except about my name, of course). If I go out with a guy and there's no spark, I tell him "Look, you're nice but I'm not feeling it. Good luck out there, and would you like me to pay for my half of dinner?" When guys ask for my number at the club, I tell them "No. I don't want you to call me and I am certainly not going to call you. Please go find someone else to dry-hump on the dance floor."

I guess I will have to deal with the ramifications of my past questionable decision making for awhile. Thankfully, I'm sure after a certain amount of time, most will simply become faces in the crowd and vague memories.