Last night while watching illegal fireworks punctuate the skyline (imagine this view but darker and with sparkles and booms every half inch and half second), I confessed that I had no recollection of what we were doing this time last year. Was that the year we rode our bikes to the Berkeley marina and watched the show (both pyrotechnic and humanoid) from the wide seats of our cruisers? Or was that two years ago? It seems like forever since that happened--partly because we haven't been on our bikes in forever (lost tire pump now found), but also because things seem so different now than they were back then, whenever "back then" actually was.
Simon didn't have any clear memory of July 4, 2006, either. "You can just check your blog," he said.
So this morning I scrolled into the archives, to post #1061 (you're now reading #1524!), and found out what we were doing. Apparently, we were moving, or at least thinking about it:
"Yesterday we celebrated our nation's independence by inhaling dustmites until our snot turned black and chunky like it does after a night around the campfire..." Pretty much what we did yesterday too.
The entry (you should read the whole thing right now; I will wait for you here) is full of existential angst about merging our belongings in the process of cohabiting (something that didn't actually happen until five months later), and ultimately looking at my move into his apartment as a stepping stone toward the day when "we'll be sleeping not in his bed at his place or my bed at my place OR in his bed at our place, but in OUR bed in OUR place where we have built something that is undeniably our life." And, gosh, here we are. (Although it's still technically "his" bed. Details, details.)
So it turns out that last year was indeed the year of the cruisers at the marina and that the year before that (2005, post #654) was the year I watched a Miyazaki movie with Teddy and met up with my BFF from high school, who tends to materialize at the most opportune times. (I'll give you one guess who emailed to say he was in town last weekend--the same weekend I was alone while Simon was on a retreat with his old BFFs!) And it was the year before that (2004; post #283 when I attended the rooftop fireworks party of the friend who, in effect, introduced me and Simon. If you want to know the truth, Simon was at that same party with another girl.
July 4, 2007: Moving in with Simon and hanging out with Old BFF and working extra hours and confusing Thundercats and Voltron on my blog.
July 4, 2006: Moving in with Simon and riding our bikes.
July 4, 2005: Working extra hours and hanging out with Old BFF and Teddy and watching Miyazaki.
July 4, 2004: Working extra hours and watching Miyazaki and confusing Thundercats and Voltron on my blog.
July 4, 2003 and 2002: Lost to oblivion because this blog is only four years old.
July 4, 2001: Moving into an apartment with the help of my dad and brother.
If my calculations are correct, July 4, 2008, should find us riding our bikes and hanging out with Teddy (he comes back to the Bay Area next month!) and still confusing Thundercats and Voltron on my then-five-year-old blog.
I wrote once (post #1415) that progress in life is not so much like a ladder as it is a web. Now I'd like to revise that again and say that it's more like a spiral--we move and change and experience different things on different levels, but in the grand scheme there is a cycle to it all, a circle of familiar things we come back to again and again, whether for better or for worse. One, two, three years ago I was working extra hours at the same job, making the same erroneous pop culture references, watching the same movies. Six years ago this week, my Utah family came to California to help me move into my very first apartment; and now tomorrow my Utah family comes to California to help me move into my very first house. Am I in a rut? you ask. No, man. I'm in a groove. And I'll bet you a hundred gold stars I've used that line here before too.
(Take your time reading all those old entries. I'll likely be busy all day tomorrow hauling boxes and drinking sangria on the deck with the folks.)Previous Next