“Now, out of boredom (yes I’m bored and no I’m not afraid to say it), frustration and good ole fashioned narcissism, I’ve decided to write about it. Even if just to amuse myself.” – Me
BlogHer coincides with the anniversary of the start of this blog. So, I return more pensive than usual (the first post lives here, if you are so inclined). The first year – at least – is speckled with my shaking my fists at the Universe as it forced me into adulthood and the frustration of leaving the safety and security of childhood for…well…this. You can’t see but I just made a sweeping gesture to my surroundings. I tapped my finger on a stack of bills and post-it notes reminding me of phone calls to make and where to be and when. This is what it is now. Getting here wasn’t particularly graceful but I have managed to fall into it without breaking any bones. Though No Pasa Nada is only six years old, it is considered ancient in Internet years but what I see from the past is a very young, 21 year old woman unsure of herself and her everything. Now I see a woman who is 27 going on 28. Still unsure of being called ‘adult’ but rolling with it. Tectonic plates have shifted and now I am here at this desk with this office and the home and with it all. Not where I expected but I take it each day. 21 would have shunned so much of this because of its imperfections, however small. 27 likes the scratches and dents and will to run with it anyway.
Six years ago I never expected to essentially come of age in front of a live studio audience. I held my finger over the publish button, took a deep breath and that was it.
I never expected you. I regret many things but this will never be one of them and for that I am eternally thankful.
A Sunday Afternoon
“Laughter is the sensation of feeling good all over and showing it principally in one place.” ~Josh Billings
This day wasn’t supposed to be this way. I was to be half way across the country when this photo was taken. Sitting in a window seat, possibly passed out, stomach full of shitty airport food that would give me the…wait for it…shits. Instead I was in Ocean Beach. Doing this. With them. Instead, feeling those end of BlogHer pangs and a full on hangover, I decided to stay that extra night. Perhaps if I stayed it wouldn’t be over? Those four days go so quickly don’t they? On Wednesday night you find yourself texting to see who wants a quick nightcap and on Friday you can’t move three feet without hugging, stopping, chatting. “How are the kids?” “How was the move?” we catch up and say “see you later” in hopes that there will be a later. The later is comes well after 11 with cheeseburgers and way too many drinks. I always want to say goodbye properly but I never do. It’s a rush and at once everyone who is there is now gone. So one more night, I told myself. On the way back to my room I spotted a party, saw Laurie at the bar and busted out with my bravado, and “Don’t you know who I am?” Of course it was the Clever Girls so I was welcomed with open arms and open bar. At the end I thought I might be intruding on Sarah and Laurie’s final day in San Diego. I casually asked of their plans and they mentioned something about Ocean Beach. I briefly hesitated because…I don’t know…even though I had just pulled the “I’m Heather fucking Barmore” card, I felt like they were inviting me out of pity. I went along anyway for it couldn’t be that bad to put away beers for the afternoon, eat fish tacos and walk out to what seemed to be the end of the world.
In the first 30 minutes I laughed so hard that I ended up with a painful headache. I was afraid to laugh again because of the pounding and the way my cheeks felt as if they were pulled taut across my face. I clenched my stomach and I wouldn’t allow Laurie to speak unless I had finished a full sip. We returned back to the Marriott, which was now largely empty but there were familiar faces. I told Deb how the afternoon had went. How I laughed more than I had in ages and how I thought my death would be eminent or at least the vomiting up of aforementioned fish tacos because I could not stop. And she replied with this: “That’s good. It should hurt to be that happy.” It did and I was. Thanks for the adventure ladies.
Photo via Laurie White (http://www.flickr.com/photos/rubyshoes/)