Hello lovelies. Wait, do people read this? :)
Happy Sunday to all. I've had a very full weekend in terms of having done a little of everything that I think constitutes as weekend activities - on Friday, after having a meltdown to Jamaal about the fact that I continue to have no friends, I decided to force myself to go out to a party for which I had to find the details on facebook. I only tell you this because I'm secure enough in my coolness that I can divulge the secrets of my (what I consider to be novel) loserdom. So yea, facebook is still awesome in many ways. Before I went, I shared a bottle of wine with this kid who lives down the hall - a side about that: I met him in the elevator or something a while ago and I think he's like 22 or 23 and he texts me every now and then on Saturday nights asking if I'm out or where I am and stuff like that; I never answer and I'm not even sure what his name is, but I decided that part of my being social would include this brief drink together. Then I cabbed it over to this karaoke bar with the kid who lives across the street, Andrew, who is in my class and pretty cool. I'd say I call him a friend, but still I feel like a creepy loner. I should clarify that while I don't think this is the biggest deal, it's still just WEIRD having the sense that no one really has a compelling urge to say "Chaya, a lot of people are going to insert-cheesy-bar-here tonight, do you want to come?" And instead I have to stalk the party information two hours before I would need to be there. BAAAAAAH. I'll admit that this may partly be due to my putting off an independent, I-don't-need-to-sit-at-the-cool-people-lunch-table vibe (cuz, hi, I don't, I've been there since 3rd grade and that phase is dunzo), but effing still!
Sooo, I proceeded to get drunk, duh, and the people I was with (yes, I was with people) decided to go back to this girl CJ's apartment after the bar closes. Here, the bars close at 2, so it wasn't THAT late yet. Oh, and CJ is a girl I invited out because I am nice and tell people about social events I hear about instead of hoarding the coveted information. That's normal, right?? So we get there, and I think I fell asleep in a chair, but the other four people talked until about 4:30. I probably woke up at like 4, starving and really out of it. To contribute to my current awkwardness, I think I made things even weirder between me and these classmates because rather than taking a welcome opportunity to bond, I vaguely recall that I just sort of watched them talk until I found a moment to say it was time for me to go home. But seriously, I was wasted and it was the MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT!! I guess I just have to hope they don't think that I am a boring, socially-inept idiot. The circumstances, in my opinion, obviated the rules of normalcy. Anyway, at home I devoured three grilled cheese sandwiches before going to bed. And of course in the morning I was dying of my hangover. What else is new, right? Oh, and then I threw up on the street on the way to my haircut. Oops.
Sheba, the woman who cut my hair, is awesome. I wrote about her salon, Sparrow, in my story about Logan Square. She is, like, the it hair person in Chicago :) We talked about fashion (Tavi, in particular!), restaurants, America's ignorance about how cosmopolitan - or not - we are, long-distance relationships, and a little more Tavi. It was interesting to me that I felt more myself and at home talking to her as she chopped into my massive mane than I do in so many other aspects of my existence. I felt that all-familiar excitement that often bubbles inside me now... the sense that I am entering a world where I belong, one that I have longed for and been aware of but never touched. It's like now, everywhere I go, I meet people who are writers or designers or artists and architects. They don't think of their lives as weird or worse than the lives of those who keep somewhat more "conventional" professions. It's almost like there are parallel universes. As long as I continued straight in one, I'd never be able to truly find the other. I made a turn in the past months, though. I did.
After that, I had a nice long conversation with Meg, my best NY buddy with whom I sorely miss getting Saturday manicures in the West Village, sharing cheese and multiples bottles of wine at cute Italian places on the LES, and guzzling numerous dirty martinis at bars I couldn't afford. We pretty much hit on the main points of our usual theme - how tumultuous and confusing this odd stage of life is. When will it end? How did no one ever tell us that your twenties are full of never-ending bullshit? What will we do to figure out who we are and what defines us in this new and unique phase? How can we trust our gut when we don't even know ourselves? For both of us, we discussed how we feel it's a time for big decisions and for change... but what direction will we choose and what must we do to secure happiness in those choices? It felt good to talk. Meg is one of those friends who you can guarantee will offer up good, analytical conversation. I never have to worry that I'll say things and she'll be dumbfounded. It's always a healthy exchange and we totally get each other. After Kiran passed away, she was the only person who wrote me a handwritten card and put it in the mail. In a time when texts and emails count as sufficient communication, her tiny, heartfelt effort meant so much. And then, months later, she sent another card, just saying, "I am still thinking of you." To me, sometimes, these are the things in friendship that just stand out and which I remember. Living in a city where I feel alone and much of my interaction with people is me sticking a recorder in someone's face and asking them questions, after which I make sure to get their age and the correct spelling of their name, connecting with friends on the phone - and being able to discuss the real issues that pertain to us, now, everyday and in the larger context of life - is essential for my sanity. Especially when I had grown accustomed, for 16+ years of my life, to talking to Kiran five times daily.
Sumanth and Angie, Kiran's friend, came over for a low-key night of more wine (I sound like an alcoholic) and greasy Mexican food (and I sound like a fatass). This too was good for me. Not only did my hangover persist through late evening, but it's always so comforting to be with people who loved Kiran the way I did. I can cry and it's not weird. I can rehash the events of April 7th and ask what they were thinking or doing at different times that day and it's not uncomfortable. I can confess that I thought she was going to come back, I was so sure of it, and it's not crazy. And I can say genuinely that she was a different kind of person, a different kind of friend, and they agree.
I guess my point is that things are interesting right now. I am lucky and thankful for how far I've come. I still mean it when I say that I feel like a new person after leaving advertising-hell and doing what I think I was always meant to do - write! I even am not sick the way I used to be. I think we all remember my constant illnesses, the colds, the many cases of bronchitis, the omnipresent stomach issues... it's amazing what stress (for me, emotional stress) can do to your body. And it's amazing how quickly your body responds when you put that stress behind you. I've made huge strides, and I feel them. Many days, I just smile and I know I am radiating my hopefulness and a new serenity. But then, there are days where my sorrow envelops me. It's inexplicable. It's just a feeling of complete emptiness and I think I'm spiraling downward in world that seems foreign because Kiran is not here. I was telling Jamaal the other day that if she thought I was having a hard time being far away, she would book a ticket and come see me. We planned our lives around each others successes and impending mini-disasters. And still, after many months, I have to say out loud what happened on that spring night to try to grasp it. Can you believe it?? Because I can't.
I try to hold high my value of balance in life, to appreciate that all things come in opposites. It is how God (or whatever you believe in) created the world. There is no day without night. There is no warmth without cold. There is no bliss without despair. One of the things I spoke about at Kiran's funeral was how, together, we focused on the importance and necessity of balance. Even in adolescence, we taught each other to navigate the vicissitudes of growing up by remembering that all things have their counterpart, as the world teeters upon a fragile fulcrum. But she embodied this notion of balance. She was exuberant but exuded an equanimity; she was childlike but possessed great wisdom; she was innocent but never naive; she was delicate but, for me, like a rock.
Right now, I believe that timing is everything. I made the big change this year, and it is this that tethers me to some semblance of stability and keeps me from being pulled under by the current in my waves of grief. I can only be grateful for the place I'm in, no matter how difficult everything continues to be. And also for those people who show me support, and more than that, unwavering constancy...
I haven't accomplished anything yet, but I can say for certain that it will mean nothing when I do if I don't have people to share it with.
But I will. For her.
