I took today off work. It’s the first day since the first Friday in December that I’ve taken ANY day off work. We’ve had Christmas/day-after off, and New Year’s Day (Jan 1st) off, but as far as me taking my own day off, this is the first in months. Yet I also will be taking a day off in two weeks–two weeks from today, specifically–to go see Watchmen thursday night and not have to get up 2 hours later for work. And then probably another 2-month clump of time before I take another day for Wolverine. After that, probably take a couple days for a comic convention, and save my final couple days for other random pre-planned mental-health days.
I went to The Dive last night. The term “bittersweet” comes to mind, but would be rather inaccurate. There was nothing particularly “sweet” about it. Nor, then, was there anything all that bitter, either. It just….WAS. I walked in alone; surprised a few people (as I’d really not told anyone I’d be there). Started to sit alone, but then grabbed myself and walked down front to sit with a friend I’d trained on running the powerpoint stuff (and promptly freaked out thinking something had gone wrong and was offering to help before realizing it was an intended effect, and reigning my urge-to-help back in).
Afterwards, went out to the lobby to read for awhle–biding time until I could get my car outta the pay-lot for free (if we can wait til after 11pm, apparently they figure we’ve “paid” for our parking with our time–and/or that what few cars are left won’t bring in enough toll to justify even one person on duty to collect said toll).
I was present for something I’ll not repeat here, but it left me fairly rattled.
Then got to talk to a friend I hadn’t seen in ages, for awhile.
And yet, it’s not “my” Dive anymore.I may visit, but it is no longer my place, it is no longer a place I have any belonging. The only thing I have left there are ties that ought to endure outside Thursday evenings in that room–and whatever nostalgia or greetings from people I do only see on Thursday evenings in that room.
All the same, one doesn’t spend nearly four years with something as a major part of their life and not feel its loss when it IS lost–or even voluntarily given up. I walked away–I chose to–and yet, part of said decision was my time, my age, my season of life.
But what now? I walked away from a place/time/body that will at least for a very long time register as one of the most significant periods of my life for the experiences, education, growth, and relational interactions.
In a couple hours, I will pack a sleeping bag, clothes for the weekend, and this computer. I’ll drive to a friend’s house, he’ll add his stuff to my van, and we’ll proceed to Michigan, for a weekend with another friend.
And then next week, I’ll be back to work and such per usual.
…and I am fine…