Today, I am tired, bloated, and a bit hung over. My hangover isn’t the “I had a 3am tequila” type, it’s more of a “my friend got into Stanford and made me have a drink with her” kind. The funny thing about this friend is that I have come to realize how much she means to me by how late I end up staying with her when we go out. I used to arrive thinking it would be a quick drop-in for a hug and a chat. Three hours later, I would find myself out way past my bedtime deep in conversation and deeper into my glass. It is a friendship that I never tried to figure out; something I just let be. So naturally, yesterday I arrived prepared for a late night.
What I didn’t expect to find floating around in that West Village bar was today’s post. This friend, who got into Stanford, asked me about my writing. After a bit of conversation, she encouraged me to try something different. She thought I might try to leave something open-ended and unresolved- a lesson that is yet to be understood. I had already spoken to my tutor about this a few weeks ago, but I felt in my gut that I didn’t know how to do this. It’s in my nature to try to figure out why something happens to me. My head will spin and spin trying to figure things out. The reason helps me accept, but what if there is no reason? (Excuse me while I pick up the pieces of my mind. It’s been blown.)
Speaking of unresolved issues, we began to discuss love. As we sat there, drinks in hand, I couldn’t help but notice that everyone in the circle had something to say about losing love to bad timing. Some had managed to find their way back; others had lost it forever. They all seemed calm, though, as if it was something that they had accepted as one of life’s mishaps, like a stain. Did I feel the same way? I wasn’t sure, but I thought about it. I thought about it as I paid the bill, as I looked for the cab, as I got into it… How did I feel about this? As I began to press myself to decide, it hit me… I don’t know. I simply do not know how I feel about this. What did it mean to lose a love to bad timing? Isn’t love supposed to be enough? I thought love was enough, in friendships and in relationships, but maybe it’s not. Is it timing that rules, not love? That makes love seem a little cheaper, doesn’t it? It makes it seem a little more like a pawn than a king. So what is it? Who owns us? Time or love? Even The Beatles seemed confused. They said “Let It Be” and then “All You Need is Love.” WTF?
I’d like to tell you that I figured it all out. I’d love to tell you that the cabbie said something that knocked me out of my seat and into an epiphany, but no such thing happened. I got home, brushed my teeth, and I went to bed. I still don’t know the answer. The timing is bad for it, I guess. I’ll leave it under the bed with my winter coats. It’ll have to figure itself out.