Wednesday, July 04, 2007

Independence Day

I have loved the 4th of July for years, mainly owing to the skin deep reason that I live right across the street from the big show. We had a few quality parties here in the early days, but since I have been on my own, they have been much more eventful. Broken limbs, broken glassware, the Red Bull man (don't ask - but don't ever serve a mean drunk Red Bull with vodka, no matter how entertaining he is at first) and the first real date of Kathy and John (NB: I can't type K&J anymore.)

(As an aside, my personal favorite story was the Goldilocks episode, although this one is equal parts unsettling. The night before the 4th, I had some friends over and we were up pretty late. After they left, I padded around the place, cleaning up and eventually readying myself for bed. I neglected to lock the front door, which normally isn't an issue, as you need a key to get in my building and a separate key to get on my floor. Nevertheless....

I woke up the next morning to a strange voice in my bedroom, coming from across the room. It was sort of plaintive - not threatening, and he asked "I'm sorry for waking you up, but I don't know where I am or how I got here." I was half asleep, but being a separated woman who wasn't hooking up with anyone, let's just say the sound of a strange male voice in my bedroom was more than a little disconcerting. Add to that fact that I am blind as a bat without my contacts (and didn't then use glasses) and was in a skimpy little black tank top and boy shorts and I was a little panicked.

I said "hold on, I'll meet you in the living room," and when I saw the shadowy figure leave the bedroom, I dashed to the bathroom. After popping in my contacts and throwing on a t-shirt, I went out to the living room to meet the person who had found his way into my house. I was remarkably calm and all business, trying to figure out who the fuck he was and where he really belonged. He was about my oldest brother's age, a good looking guy, but clearly gobsmacked at the situation. He told me that he had woken up on my couch and couldn't figure out where the fuck he was or how he got there. He did let me know that he was kind enough to remove his pants prior to lying down on my couch. Fantastic.

He was up here from California to visit an old college buddy who he was pretty sure lived in my building. They had partied quite hard the night before and it was all a blackout to him. Eventually, we located his buddy (two floors up), who was quite surprised to learn, at 7:00am, that his house guest was not only not in his room, but that his neighbor, whom he had never really met or spoken to, was buzzing him from the lobby, anxious to return his houseguest. Turns out, in his stupor, Goldilocks took a wrong turn out of the condo, got locked out, and stumbled his way down the stairs to my floor. My door being mercifully unlocked, he took refuge on the world's most comfortable couch.

Yes, I know it could have ended badly. It didn't, so I still laugh about it).

Returning to the subject of the 4th, it would probably be pure cheese to say that I am trying to embrace the spirit of independence of the holiday, as I sure as hell can't muster any patriotism these days (Unrelated: Fucking Bush and commuting Libby's sentence).

I am an utter cliche. Not even an original one, although it was a first for me, so there's that. Not even a thought-provoking, fall Hollywood film cliche (starring, perhaps, Diane Lane or Annette Benning). No, I am of the bad Lifetime movie variety of cliche, and one that not even Tori Spelling (IRONY!) or Kristy "Buffy" Swanson (HA! MORE IRONY!) would deign to portray. It is that pathetic.

That is the bad news. The good news is that I don't have to remain a cliche. I can become something else, something better, something happier. I can become a woman that I know, love and trust if I put my mind to it. Fucking A, that sounded even worse than it did in my head, but the underlying point is there. I can lick my wounds, learn from my mistakes, and make changes in my life that will shed the cliche cloak and reveal something better underneath. It sounds melodramatic, both aloud and in written form, to say that, but I think there really is some wisdom in realizing that you are absolutely the architect of what you want and who you want to be. I think the biggest challenge is balance where you want to go with the acceptance of where you are now, as I don't want to live in a permanent state of anticipation.

Watch this space for personal growth.

This song became my personal anthem after finally realizing I was going to divorce Billy. I love it even a little more now, and not just because I know the world's most attractive and interesting Oasis fan.

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