MY JUNE GOALS FOR LIFE FULFILLMENT
1. Draw something every day
2. Learn about art
3. Read blogs and learn how to promote my own
Last night I dreamed about Angelina Jolie again. I swear, I hardly think about her in my waking life, but somehow she and her big lips and her hordes of babies find their way into my dreams. The Anglina Jolie dream wasn’t a nightmare, but it was sort of disturbing, and I woke covered in sweat and twisted in my sheets. I couldn’t fall back asleep and ended up tossing and turning from 4 until 6 am.
I’ve been having some trouble sleeping lately, and both my mom and my boyfriend, Paul, insist it’s because I’m anxious about the upcoming move to Seattle. It IS a big deal – moving cross-country, moving in with Paul, etc. etc. It makes sense I might be stressed. But, “no,” I tell them, “I’m not anxious about that.”
I don’t know why I can’t sleep…
My birthday is coming up, by the way. (“How old are you?” my friend Kimberly asked me the other day. “I’m thirty,” I said. “No…Wait. I’m thirty-one!” My god, I’ve hardly gotten used to thirty-one, and already I’m turning thirty-two. I now understand how old people can lose track of their own age.)
When I was a kid, I would get so excited about my birthday that I couldn’t sleep. I remember the night before I turned ten. I was in my bed – again covered in sweat and tangled in the sheets, but this time because we didn’t have air-conditioning and because and I was thrashing around with giddy anticipation. “It’s my birthday tomorrow!” I squealed at random intervals when I could no longer contain myself. “Yippeeee!”
“Eva, be quiet and go to sleep,” came my mom’s groggy voice from her room. It was past midnight.
I clapped my hands over my mouth and kicked my legs in the air with uncontrollable excitement. And geez, all that was going to happen the next day was a backyard birthday party and a homemade ice cream cake. Sometimes I think being a kid must be like smoking crack and doing Ecstasy – everything is just so intense.
I don’t get excited like that anymore, unfortunately. Now, when a major event, like a cross-country move, grows near, I plan for it and look forward to it, but the closer it gets to happening, the more blasé I become. People ask, “are you excited about (fill-in-the-blank),” and I either fake it with a big grin, or I tell them the truth: I’m sure I’ll be excited when it’s happening. Until then, I can’t really wrap my mind around how it’s going to be.
Yesterday I was driving home from yoga. I needed to get into the right lane, but I knew there was a car there. I couldn’t see the car because it was in my blind spot, but I’d been watching it approach for quite some time in the rear-view mirror.
I started waxing philosophic about this phenomenon. How poetic that I could see something at a distance, but now that it was so close, it had disappeared from sight. And yet, even though I couldn’t see the car, I knew it was there, and I knew that soon, it would come back into view at my side.
On the phone later, Paul told me that the shades in Dante’s Inferno are sort of like rear-view mirrors. They can see the distant future, but not the near future. I guess, when something is so close, it can become distorted and hard to perceive, like looking at your own hand through a pair of binoculars.
My big move (and my 32nd birthday) is in the near future. I’ve been watching it approach and preparing for it, but now it’s so close it’s slipped into my blind spot. Is that why I can’t admit to having anxiety and Angelina Jolie stress dreams?
What will it be like? Living in Seattle with Paul? I don’t know. I guess I can only prepare so much for the future. Now that it’s so near, I’ll have to wait and see what slips into view at my side.
I’m sure I’ll be excited when it’s happening. Yippeee!
Eva Langston is an aspiring writer. Read more about her here.