something slightly resembling gumption

(this is going to be one of those entries I try to avoid)

she’d spent all night trying to shove the crooked pieces of this jigsaw together, but until dawn she’d had no luck. Then, as the morning sun shone through the window, she began to see how the pieces fit together…

If I had to pinpoint the moment it began, I would say it was watching the Holiday with my favorite Manhattan lady on Saturday night. It could be argued that it was more of an ending, but it could also be argued that said ending began any time between last Saturday and a phone conversation we had while I was curled up on a countertop in my bathroom three years ago.

Drinking a peculiarly sweet merlot and eating strawberries covered in chocolate, we opted to pass on the activity that would seem to naturally accompany our feast of sorts (the kind of activity that got her raised eyebrows at the supermarket when she was buying the supplies for the evening.) We were watching Cameron Diaz act poorly and noticing that scenes with Jude Law always have accents of blue – plates, clothing, building, etc. – to set off his beautiful eyes. And, I was showing her a side of Jack Black she’d never seen – we were both in love.

I love the Holiday because it’s the quintessential chick-flick but better. The characters are my favorite part, and out of all of them is Kate Winslet. She is one of the few actresses I actually know, and I love her in the variety of films she’s done (everything from Titanic to Eternal Sunshine to Sense and Sensibility). But even more in this movie… because I love her character. A young British woman, not terribly skinny, who earns a living announcing weddings in a London newspaper. She has a pseudo-lover whom she leaves behind in an exciting journey to LA where she befriends an old endearing filmmaker and falls in love with the surprisingly adorable Jack Black.

It ought to be fairly obvious why I appreciate her character, and I can’t help but get warm fuzzy feelings in the last scene of the movie (spoiler alert – I know it’s a big surprise) when she is dancing around in a beautiful dress with Jack Black on New Years Eve. Even the next day, my Manhattanite and I were sharing salads (told you) and recalling the finer points of the movie.

the thing is, a lot has come into focus in the last 24 hours. Material things have been settled: summer job, housing for next year, and classes for the fall. All of these are stresses lifted, freeing me to focus on the stresses of the present like term papers and finals. These have eased some of the burdens of the last few months, and the present certainly feels less bleak when the future is something to be dreamed about.

More immaterial things have come to light as well. My appetite is back in full force, and I can fall asleep in half the time it used to take. And the dreams are much less ominous, although they are equally cryptic. I’ve been able to exorcise some of the fear and anxiety, but it’s taken with it other feelings I didn’t expect to leave. This afternoon, I was sitting on my bed with my computer on my lap – like I do more that I care to admit – I was suddenly struck by a revelation. A thought that I remember being planted long ago, but that has been unearthed and re-buried repeatedly. A revelation not unlike the one Kate Winslet discovered as she traveled across to globe and ate fettuccine and remembered what it was like to feel crazy weather blowing hair into lovestruck eyes.

Just then, a song came on, and I laughed out loud. “Well, loving is as loving does…” Ahhh the old “love is a verb” concept. Love should be a verb, and sometimes verbs are active. The worthwhile ones at least – who in their right mind would want to be a passive one? or be with a passive one? As the words went on I listened carefully, hoping for more poignant tidbits. But I found that I didn’t like the rest of the song – it was sad in a way I identified with entirely too much. And I am tired of not being in the right place. or not being young enough. or old enough. or red enough.

There, alone in my room in the calm Roman sunlight, I declared myself finished. I felt light, free, and utterly alive!   and I believe it was something slightly resembling gumption.

the third-person piece above was an away message I’ve had up all day. She IMed me from Toulouse, saying she liked it, but asking what it was about. I explained, subtly and metaphorically, and I could hear her chuckling across timezones and the invisible network that continually amazes me.

“You sound like you.” she said.

That may be the most comforting thing I’ve ever heard.

“There will come a time when you believe everything is finished. That will be the beginning.’ – Louis L’Amour

yours.Rachel