On drinking a glass of water with lemon in Reston Town Center

I am at dinner, alone.
I don't really need to eat. I had a large lunch and I broke one of my Lenten fasts by trying a samosa that I helped my sister-in-law make... But I needed to be out, on my own. I needed to see the town and be seen in it. In still not sure if Leesburg's historic district would have been a better choice- colonial homes converted into small town Asian restaurants and obscure shoppes pedaling antiquities and old, new wisdom.
It doesn't matter. I'm here now. The bitter wind reminded me that I did not opt to change the stockings for leggings this afternoon and that my gloves were in fact in the purple winter coat in my brother's coat closet.
I'm proud of myself for this. I didn't beg anyone to come with me. I was only clear about where-ish I was going. I even refused a table near the bathroom for one by a street window with full view of the door, the bar and the passers-by.

There are a couple of men talking...loudly. So loudly that I assumed they must be their own party and seated in my earlobe, but they're a dining room away from me and they're with lovers or partners who are focusing on their own plates only glancing at each other in companionable commiseration.
There are kids out past bedtime and the volume of their shouts reflects the 'so tired I feel drunk' jubilant belligerence of a little kid who is having far too much fun to even consider how tired she/he is. I love it. The giggles, the teasing siblings, the nestling and wrestling in familial arms. It speaks of comfort, love and great memories.

My water glass is not the beveled norm of the bar. It has a thick base with half circles keeping it on it's toes, denying it from sitting flush on the table. The ice with it's flat bottom and buttressed top is the perfect consistency for crunching and after a few sips, that's exactly what I do. Condensation marks the latitude, 15 degrees south of the mouth of the glass. The lemon is in an in-between state- ripened enough to soften the bite, but not fragrant mush yet and it bumps into the ice collegially.
The Guy at bar talking to himself reminds me of the cook from the restaurant I worked at in my waitress days. He'd sit at the bar at the end of his shift- three or four beers in (the owner would send them down the dumb waiter or ask one of us to bring them to him) and just like that cook, he vanished. Without ceremony. Without notice.

The water seems to have expanded, but there's no more condensation. The hostess has been in and out in a puffy coat that doesn't seem to suit her slight frame or flowy teal silk shirt with cut out sleeves. So many things in this world are paradoxical, but I digress. My first course has arrived and it's time to have a taste.

Phucking fabulous

is exactly how I feel right now, though I am a little scattered. I'm taking a few minutes to do this before I need to try and jump into this evening's work.
I put up some necessary boundaries and focused in on two concepts for my proposal and I'm looking forward to seeing how these two concepts reshape my concept of my proposal. To me, focus and perspective are interconnected. If you're looking at a piece of art with something on your mind or keying in on a specific object or area of the work, what you see/ your experience with the art is completely different than someone else's. What we bring with us, what we allow ourselves to feel or get ourselves stuck in shape our experiences with the world.

That is the good/ exciting... the hot.
The hard is that I just got back from dealing with an issue. The specifics are no one's business- not of what was going on or what I did. What is everyone's business is that I feel better. It's a process and I know that sometimes I'll feel like kartwheels, sometimes backflips, sometimes conga lines and sometimes crawling.
I went to visit someone this afternoon- a visit out of respect and to touch base. This is someone who has struggled as of late. I dropped our acquaintance several months ago, but have since renewed it with the hope that she would see my happiness, my peace and my genuine calm and be curious as to how she could get it for herself. This is someone I have had enormous boundaries issues with- the "big sister"/ "I've been there, don't make my mistakes"and not acknowledging that we are nothing alike morphs into this insidious micromanaging and me with feelings ranging from judged to marionetted (yes, English you can thank me for this new word later). Her humor leaves me abraded as anything relating to me is the target of her vitriol far too often. She wasn't privy to the fact I was traveling before I left and I gave her very little when we were face to face. I felt obliged to give some sort of rationale, trying to strategically place myself for an attack. The onslaught was more intense than I expected. She called my trip a vacation and went on to attack my behavior, my profession and how it affects her... my response was curt- I told her I wasn't asking for her approval or sympathy. To unseat this whole story- misery can love company, but it will keep yearning for mine. I'll sit with your pain as long as it's your pain and you aren't attempting to feed me to it. I will not sit with your stuck, sniveling whining ass. :) Someone may ask why I'm not more compassionate- and I will readily admit that I've been in her shoes before. I've been miserable and stuck and I've tried to break down everyone and everything else to feed my anger and to make my stories true. To those people I injured or inconvenienced or poisoned with my nastiness, accept me as I am now. Enjoy the change with me and know that I value you. That right there, that's the difference between her and me: I stopped. Behavior based on a new and profound belief- as simple and liberating as that. I'm not there anymore and if someone is planning on drowning, that's too bad, I throw her a line from my boat, but I'm not going into the water after her.
That felt phenomenal.

The other thing that has felt phenomenal is feeling like I've found my voice again. One of my new found friends, Tracy, whom you can have the pleasure of reading at her blog Unabashedly Tracy has this phrase that has opened a world for me: "stop shoulding on yourself". I can't tell you how this phrase has allowed me to focus and how her beautiful style, especially her elegant way with words have allowed me to give myself permission to open.
I wrote the following on my return this week:

I believe that we can love a belly
That a belly can roll with laughter
In subtle slow dances on damp earth
Where soft is powerful and profound
And there is a cute, nerdy, silent, still sexiness.
I believe that I is we
And we are infinite eyes, vessels and agents
Dancing over beloved faces
Feeling the light of innumerable
Deities connecting our souls
Dancing over the flames on the waves
Our arms lapping at the air
and our love charging the world with the delicious magic of creation
Open
Open
And bask in your own splendor.
Open
Open
And let me worship you

I have a whole set of unpacking for this... and maybe another stanza in me, but for now, it's time to get back into the research.

Have a fabulous day!
Kisses!