I could not have asked for a more perfect afternoon for my 40 or so kms cycling yesterday. Although it could actually be more than 50, as the map-challenged me lost the straight path on the way back – as usual (the only reason so far that I could want something like a Nokia phone, so that I can use other people's Sportstracker records). The practical task was to optimize the path, and I succeeded. A major hill is out of the way, and in fact, it is on a much safer side, and thus more pleasing. The best out of it is knowing that I can cycle there in the heat of 30 C and still be comfortable to meet and talk to people, without being soaked in sweat, or messing up a light make-up (heh, this was tested for, too). So I hope it does not rain during my volunteering week, and I get to do it every day for a week.
I had been to this place with the “big brother”, The Mistake, and with O. (that's O-ooo-O, not a zero, as he was the greatest date, and ladies, due to some obscure reason single to this day!). I think it says a lot about the richness of human experience, and my unbased fears that readiness to give somewhat depends on how much you have kept from tossing away (like food recipes, places to visit, gifts, words, the way you kiss, the way you used to comfort them, life skills in general) to people who were not worthy. Same place is just a tiny factor. And it’s not even the season, the day’s weather, it’s what you and your companion bring to it, an “what” is walking between you. It is never the same, so you do not have to regret having done it (but in reality, a completely different thing) before.
This place had memories of being determined for aesthetical experience, being frustrated about how the person does not acknowledge that you are actually on a date here, or feeling the tension of whether it was alright to thank for the fragile flowers brought to you on a super cold winter day with so much enthusiasm, and whether you should lean forward and help him with something beautiful lingering in his head, covered with such curly attractiveness.
And yet yesterday I did something completely new. When setting out for it, I was a bit worried that where I was going, there wouldn’t be a cute place to sit calmly and cozily. And there, the comfy white chairs in front of a museum stood. I sat down, eating my Petits Ecoliers (an old tradition from the times I was going for day breaks to Paris), and finishing through the first volume of “The Swann’s Way”. No one of my friends have recommended the book for me before (as probably no one read it), I remember having a tome of “Le temps retrouvé” for years at home (bought at the library sales on some thoughtful whim, and untouched), we all have heard of Marcel Proust, but I only now got to reading it. And oh girl this book is so much about the way (and words, images, fantasy) that I experience my own life.
There was so much peace in sitting there, watching people and boats pass (Cinderella came in as soon as I sat down, it was kind of cute – I am home, “me” is home – my insides screamed), hearing the fountains. Indeed, there was nothing I could have asked for more, I thought. I have everything. I will be alright. The only task remaining on the to do list before I die is to see if someone brave will ever truly love me. And that, there is no hindrance for.
So I felt as if it was the happiest day I had since a long time. I wouldn’t vouch for it, bearing the anecdotal evidence. I really felt that it was a genuinely happy time spent in L.A. back in 2008, until everyone considered their duty to say to me that my face in the photos was unbearable to watch.
Attachments and loyalties are funny things. Your heart, if your brain is normal, hoards and keeps all those people safe in, with so much appreciation, day in and day out. And with such mourning for that they did not appreciate you. The only way to come alive out of love is, I am convinced, to monitor the state of it diligently and with no excuses, and always love less than the other person does. And in my case, probably that is even a recipe to make it last. But do I want it that way?.. Not.
I wanted to experience this city, which I truly love (the way it functions, not its people, which is indeed a pity) in its beauty of towers stemming into the sky, in its light summer night. Totally not pre-meditated, I left just minutes before midnight. A Cinderella moment of sorts.
It feels good today after yesterday’s exercise. My arms are still nowhere to being flabby (well, nothing really is, just that arms are what's visisible), so I would make a better bride than many I have seen so far. I just need to see about that last task of my life. And maybe hide that evil frying pan out of my sight.
