The Men in My Life

Some videos of the favorite men in my life.






(Of course, Clooney is in color.)

Find more here.

Afterthoughts

I am officially in routine mode. These last three weeks will soon be but a blip on my radar, some distant memory only to be revived when I go through photo albums. Most of my time was spent in cars, both moving and stationary: driving through the 5, maneuvering through mountains, loitering in parking lots, swapping secrets, fogging up windows, catching up on months of lost time, and a whole lot of listening.



After Christmas, my family drove up North to visit my aunt and snowboard. After a well-meaning, but poorly executed dinner by my aunt—including watery mashed potatoes with a lingering hair, chalky egg rolls, and the strangest combination of appetizers—I had my first experience on the slopes. After a painfully embarrassing face-first fall off the lift, I had the hardest time making my way down the mountain. Despite the hour and a half it took me to get down, the several children that sashayed past me, and the fact that I spent most of that time with tangled limbs, I absolutely loved it. However, what I really wanted to do was find a soft spot away from the snowboarders and skiers, and roll around in the snow. Waterproof pants are a gift from the gods, by the way.



One of my favorite parts of the trip was the drive back to our hotel from Lake Tahoe. Christina’s trusty GPS navigator, dutifully named Garmin and complete with English accent, lead us down a side road because it sensed that there was freeway traffic. About two or three miles into the alternate path, all of the homes disappeared, and the road was pitch black except for the headlights. We started making up stories about serial killers and zombies and little ghost girls that might suddenly appear in the darkness ahead. My cousin turned off the car lights for a split-second, and we saw absolutely nothing. We all screamed, even long after the lights were turned back on. I think we were half hoping, half dreading the idea that someone really would appear in the middle of the road. Before we knew it, Garmin lead us back onto the freeway, and it was like a brief episode of the Twilight Zone just ended.



When I got back to town, I spent as much time as possible with my friends that were in town for the holidays. I sometimes forget that everyone’s lives go on without me, or that a world exists outside of me. I thought it would be difficult to try to squeeze a year’s worth of passing into a couple of hours of conversation. I realized that the point isn’t to include as much as possible. The details don’t matter. When we finally find the chance to catch up again six months from now, neither of us will remember what we were complaining about. I will, however, remember that these conversations were thoughtful and honest. I will remember the belly laughs and the quiet confessions. I will remember looking at the clock, reluctantly calling it a night, and driving home with a satisfied smile. As I head to work in a couple of hours, these past three weeks will be nothing more than a set memories, but damn will they be good ones.