It's been a long time since I've blogged.
But I'm back at an office job now, so it seems appropriate to pick the hobby back up. I guess being paid to sit all day in a cubicle is good-enough inspiration, and besides, I do miss the diary-like format that blogging provides. I love going back and reading past blogs. It's a nice meandering through memory lane.
I'm living in Tahoe now, and I'm married. It's been quite a year.
And quite a week. A week of goodbyes, and reflecting, and mourning.
It's my second week of work. I am no longer solely in business for myself. I ache over that, but it was time to go back in-house for a while, and we need the health insurance and benefits, since Cullen won't be working when he gets out here -- at least not "working" for a company in the traditional sense. I have no doubt he will find ways to make money.
I still have a large chunk of myself in Woodside, smashed between those redwoods and soft soil. I plastered my new cubicle here with pictures of my favorite forest-spots there, and they help. They do. It's not the same as gazing out my window to the woods, or stepping out for a mid-day break for a trail run between ferns, douglas firs, and sequoias, but it's a reminder.
Leaving Woodside has been one of the most difficult experiences of my life, and re-adjusting to a new home, trying to meet people, and starting a new job is emotionally exhausting. I never wanted to go through this again -- to be "new" -- it lost its novelty somewhere in my late-20s.
But marriage causes us to make changes and open ourselves up to different environments and experiences. Tahoe may be new to me, but I'm living back in the Sierras, where I grew up. So it's not that unfamiliar. Cullen is moving across the country, to a coast he's never resided in, and he's leaving behind every creature comfort he's built-up over the past 20 or so years, so my change isn't all that significant, I suppose.
This week has also been a week of deaths. I lost a good friend from San Luis Obispo. He was a running partner, a business associate, and a friend. His life was cut short in a motorcycle accident. He's the second SLO friend I've lost this summer, and I'm reeling a bit from the sting of such young lives ending. Now that I'm a wife, I have a different level of sympathy for their wives. There is a collective ache that seems to be pulsing among all of us who knew both men, and I know we will carry their deaths in our memory for a long time.
Robin Williams committed suicide, and though I of course never knew him, to know that such a bright life couldn't handle his own emotional pain any longer is a hard thing to process. Especially right after Dusty, my SLO friend's accidental death, Robin's death is a slap in the face. Dusty, I'm sure, would have chosen many more days to drink up all that life has to offer, and Robin Williams gave his up. It makes me a bit angry that one could be so careless when life is offered. He rejected it. Dusty wanted it, and couldn't keep it.
Tahoe is beautiful, and I feel fortunate to live here, but it's lonely. I'm at that time of in-between. Cullen won't move out for a few more months, so it's up to me to meet people, and put a smile on my face, without someone there to make me laugh. It's up to me to keep myself warm at night, without my husband there next to me.
There, I did it. I wrote a blog, after being absent for two years. It's a start. More will follow -- stay tuned. I have a whole new journey to start documenting.