first times for everything
The last year, as I think I mentioned in that 65-question meme thing, was full of firsts. The last few years have been, really - thinking back to my first panic attack, at the end of 2010, which thankfully has been the first and only; change and tension manifested a different way in 2012.
Late last year, I got a vicious backache that wouldn't go away, and there was no reason for it. I went to acupuncture, because there is a lovely funky community place down the street, and the owner is a regular in the bookstore. I was nervous and uncertain, and not a huge fan of the sensation of being poked with needles, but like everyone said, it doesn't really hurt. A few were slightly uncomfortable, but not awful, and then I drifted off into some weird state that was somewhere between being asleep and being high as a kite. I couldn't not narrate it for myself: Can I move my fingers? I don't know. Maybe I should try. I feel like when I had a fever and all my limbs are floating and swollen at the same time. Can I feel my back?
It felt lovely and floaty while I was there, and then I left and every step was jarring, still. Q. recommended a book, the basic premise of which is that a lot of back pain is the manifestation of stress. I read it, and everything stopped hurting. Like magic, but not.
I got engaged - a first and a last and everything in between. I lived with S. for the whole wonderful year. I went to BEA and hated it; I went to NYCC for the second time, but it was the first time I went to work at a booth and I kind of loved it, that way, though it's still exhausting. I went to a fancy author lunch as a bookseller. I created a Tumblr that had a brief but gratifying moment in the sun.
I got a tattoo - tiny, but real, and mine, and now I see why people start getting them and then get more. I have visions of a foil on my right arm, because fencing is the only thing I've ever been good at practicing. Not doing, not expecting to do well, but practicing, and not to win, but just to do it. I miss fencing, and I need that reminder.
I got up and read something I'd written in front of people, terrified but OK. They clapped and they laughed, sometimes in the right places, and the people whose opinions counted said nice things afterwards.
Last week, I went to pilates for the first time, which might not rate as much for most people, but I loathe exercise that isn't fencing, and group exercise is doubly weird and scary. But this was fun, if strange - you're sprawled on the floor in weird positions that seem like just sitting there but somehow everything is necessary to hold you there and your limbs are shaking weirdly - and the instructor was great, and my friend and I told everyone her funny stories and decided to go back every week.
And next week I'm getting those funny plastic trays that will make my teeth straighter.
There are things I didn't do; I didn't buy an online business, though I thought about it (and spent a lot of money considering it). And there are things I'm still thinking about doing but might not ever. I think this year I will finish one of my stories. I was saying to myself I will finish a book but I don't really know if these stories are books and it's always felt very presumptuous to me to think that. I'll write a book! Who am I kidding? I don't know how to do that. I might not ever. But I'll finish the story.
The point of all this, I think, is that sometimes I resist change, especially when it's change just for change's sake, when it's not considered and valued and meaningful. But I still crave it and seek it out, too. It was harder to do that, in Oregon. Oregon wanted everyone to chill, to be mellow, to let the leaves change for them. It's easier here, if you don't want to stay the same.
Late last year, I got a vicious backache that wouldn't go away, and there was no reason for it. I went to acupuncture, because there is a lovely funky community place down the street, and the owner is a regular in the bookstore. I was nervous and uncertain, and not a huge fan of the sensation of being poked with needles, but like everyone said, it doesn't really hurt. A few were slightly uncomfortable, but not awful, and then I drifted off into some weird state that was somewhere between being asleep and being high as a kite. I couldn't not narrate it for myself: Can I move my fingers? I don't know. Maybe I should try. I feel like when I had a fever and all my limbs are floating and swollen at the same time. Can I feel my back?
It felt lovely and floaty while I was there, and then I left and every step was jarring, still. Q. recommended a book, the basic premise of which is that a lot of back pain is the manifestation of stress. I read it, and everything stopped hurting. Like magic, but not.
I got engaged - a first and a last and everything in between. I lived with S. for the whole wonderful year. I went to BEA and hated it; I went to NYCC for the second time, but it was the first time I went to work at a booth and I kind of loved it, that way, though it's still exhausting. I went to a fancy author lunch as a bookseller. I created a Tumblr that had a brief but gratifying moment in the sun.
I got a tattoo - tiny, but real, and mine, and now I see why people start getting them and then get more. I have visions of a foil on my right arm, because fencing is the only thing I've ever been good at practicing. Not doing, not expecting to do well, but practicing, and not to win, but just to do it. I miss fencing, and I need that reminder.
I got up and read something I'd written in front of people, terrified but OK. They clapped and they laughed, sometimes in the right places, and the people whose opinions counted said nice things afterwards.
Last week, I went to pilates for the first time, which might not rate as much for most people, but I loathe exercise that isn't fencing, and group exercise is doubly weird and scary. But this was fun, if strange - you're sprawled on the floor in weird positions that seem like just sitting there but somehow everything is necessary to hold you there and your limbs are shaking weirdly - and the instructor was great, and my friend and I told everyone her funny stories and decided to go back every week.
And next week I'm getting those funny plastic trays that will make my teeth straighter.
There are things I didn't do; I didn't buy an online business, though I thought about it (and spent a lot of money considering it). And there are things I'm still thinking about doing but might not ever. I think this year I will finish one of my stories. I was saying to myself I will finish a book but I don't really know if these stories are books and it's always felt very presumptuous to me to think that. I'll write a book! Who am I kidding? I don't know how to do that. I might not ever. But I'll finish the story.
The point of all this, I think, is that sometimes I resist change, especially when it's change just for change's sake, when it's not considered and valued and meaningful. But I still crave it and seek it out, too. It was harder to do that, in Oregon. Oregon wanted everyone to chill, to be mellow, to let the leaves change for them. It's easier here, if you don't want to stay the same.