Quo Vadimus

Life is not a television program. But then, yeah, mine could be. You've all heard me doll out my theory before, in small, teasing, increments. Well, I'm not sure if I'm going to go into thesis detail here, but I will say this: my show (that is, the fictional show of my life) had a season finale of sorts last weekend. And it was very, very, "quo vadimus". Smokey and Keaton (and hopefully Zubov and Kirby) know exactly of what I speak.

May was... interesting. There's a word for it. I had more words for it, but that one sums things up in that annoyingly ambiguous way that I love so much. Of course I have no clue where to even begin. Because "summing up" seems cheap and unfair to the monumental shifts and events that transpired over the course of thirty-one sometimes normal, sometimes spectacular, and sometimes wrenching days of the fifth month of the seventh year of the twenty first century.

Random sidebar: Just saw a cruise ship float by. Trust me, this will be explained by the end of this post.

Or I could just talk about it now. I know, I know... I'm all about writing this fantastic post about the nature of life and seemingly innocuous series of events which in one night converged and dissipated with beautiful symmetry. One of those days where, even though the ones before it had been downright lousy and or heart wrenching, you could stand there and smile a little and know that really, everything would be okay. "Everything would be okay," is probably the most cliche thing I could type in that instant, but then... that's how it felt.

Very "quo vadimus". Very... I don't know. I haven't posted much about my recent break-up. And in thinking about it, I didn't post often about the relationship. Kept that side of my life fairly offline, fairly private, and very much to myself. And so I've been cryptically posting about the loss of muses and the snarky and not really saying anything. But do I need to? We all know that there was something and then there wasn't. Not so cut and dry I know. Just wasn't up for bringing the world into this moment of my life—those that experienced this as shoulders to cry on can attest that it wasn't exactly wicked fun (and should all be sainted when the Pope has a few moments). So in the past month, my posts have dwindled to weekly because what I truly wanted to say, I felt I couldn't. So I didn't. And even now I find myself side-stepping certain topics. I like to think it's out of respect. The lack of mention of this shift isn't in any way trying to downplay the significance of the whole thing (or the significance of what was lost). Just trying to keep something between two people between two people.

And then last weekend, I'm standing in my driveway at nearly eight in the morning, having just stayed up all night with friends. There was drinking, talking, singing (badly on my part), tiki torches, a greasy-spoon diner (which rocked), and tons of conversation. And no, none of that made me forget anything that had happened in the week prior. Nor was I trying to use the night to do so. But as I stood there and we all, one by one, gave our leave and shuffled off, there was very much a sense that something was concluding. A span of time was wrapping up and things, while still shifting and changing, were set to be all right. For a while at least. You could see the tiny shifts though... and not just for me. I noticed them all around. Maybe it was watching the sun-rise that day, maybe it was connecting with the everywhere spirit, but I felt a little more hopeful than I'd felt in recent weeks.

That was a week ago. And now I'm sitting in Portland, Maine, in the apartment of one of my good friends, staring through the window at the harbor. Listening to the repetitive menu track from my new "Stranger Than Fiction" DVD—thank you, Snowflake. Panda will get that nickname, I think. It works better in the blog posts than J.Vlo. So now, J.Vlo, I dub thee Snowflake. And I will grin to myself each time I hear that word and remember the story you told me as we watched the waves crash against the rocks of Cape Elizabeth.

The weather here isn't what it should be, I've been told. There should be sun. Lots of sun. But it seems more like the other Portland, the one nestled on the western side of the continent, than this mythical sun-city of Maine (though, this is pretty much what I pictured). There's a light fog, maybe it's a haze, lacing the harbor in front of me. Small boats have been zipping by since about five o'clock this morning. Yes, I was up at five o'clock. Up before that. The soft light of morning found its way though the living room window, drawing me from a forgettable dream. Was hoping to watch the sunrise, but the clouds kept that perk from my gaze.

Of course I was hoping to stay up all night again, like last weekend, but here in Portland, chatting and hanging out; but exhaustion won the battle and I was asleep by 11 p.m. (hence the early wake up). It was one of those, "I'll just rest my eyes for twenty minutes" naps that turned into a full-blown slumber (the one with forgettable dreams). But then I cannot complain (and sidebar: I just said 'cannot'... usually a contraction kind of guy); I've been so tired lately. The job, the theater, the drama... not to mention just trying to catch up on "Heroes" (which I finally did, thank you). And this IS a vacation, so if I want to nap... or eat cookies... or slam on the food and not feel guilty until my Monday workout... or... well, anything I want... it's a freedom I'm beginning to relish.

Speaking of... Portland isn't going anywhere, but I am... in about 17 hours. Back home where there aren't so many ports and the seafood isn't as fresh. So I'll post this and bolt. Don't fret... there's more to say and more to post; I'm only stopping because I should be outside, visiting a lighthouse or actually walking along a beach and touching the ocean. Connecting with nature tangibly is one of our greatest gifts... one most of us are too apt to forget in the bustle of our daily routine. As my good friend Sultry Sue once said about some land she's fortunate enough to own, "as long as I can touch the Earth there, I am strong."

I think the ocean has the same effect on me. So I'm going to go recharge while it's within my grasp.

More posting to come later... and some pictures... perhaps tomorrow when I get home. Maybe some from the airport. Maybe just later tonight after some Maine Blueberry Ale. Haven't posted under the influence in some time... might be a good, embarrassing, and downright humorous post that yes, might mortify me in the morning; but it also could be just the sort of unfiltered writing that this soul needs to answer a very important question: quo vadimus.