Kelly Corrigan: An Excerpt

Today was a slow day at work, and as I perused the internet for interesting items to entertain myself with, I came across this passage in an essay written by Kelly Corrigan and published in O, The Oprah Winfrey Magazine (May 2008). It gave me goosebumps.

If there is a God, he knows how much I want there to be more to human existence than a series of discrete physical experiences that start with birth and end with death. I want all of us—and all of our lives—to be meaningful. But small. I’d be elated to learn that this go-round is only part one of something that has a thousand parts. I’d love to laugh at this life from a distance. As it is, I relish the fact that I am one of six billion people the way my mother revels in Pavarotti’s recording of the Ave Maria. Being one in six billion means my life can’t possibly matter to anyone but me and my little flock and that means almost everything on my mind, all my mistakes and failures and anxieties, is utterly inconsequential. When I forget my place, things begin to matter too much and I find it hard to get a good, deep breath. When that happens, I close my eyes and imagine flying over houses, lifting off the roofs and seeing all the people whose lives are happening concurrently with mine—arguing, dying, cooking, begging, hugging, losing, building, stealing, suffering and laughing, people learning that their adult son shows signs of schizophrenia or their mother is bankrupt, brothers playing air hockey in the basement after a fight, couples listening to music on the sofa, holding each others feet. Each of us a little bitty fish in an inconceivably large pond, swimming in circles, nothing to do but enjoy the water.

But maybe that’s a foolishly incomplete picture. Maybe there’s something between and around and inside of all six billion of us and maybe that something knows every hair on each of our heads. Maybe we are not anonymous. Wouldn’t that be outrageous? And beautiful?

The entire essay is brilliant. You can find it here: http://blog.kellycorrigan.com/2008/05/doubt-inside-my-doubt.html

2010

I pretty much hated 2009. It was messy and disappointing and painful and ugly and I have no fond feelings towards it. In fact, at midnight on New Year's Eve, when everyone was toasting and kissing, I was thinking to myself "good riddance, you bastard of a year!". I am not sad to see 2009 go.

In the past I've scoffed at the idea of New Year's resolutions. I'm a skeptic, a cynic, a Negative Nancy, a Debbie Downer - so I tend to roll my eyes at anything which reeks of idealistic commitment. But this year, I'm swallowing all of that. Because I need 2010 to be different, and I'm pretty sure the only way to ensure that is to make different decisions, have a different attitude, and live my life differently. So I too have made idealistic commitments to change my lifestyle.

1. As cliché as it is, I'm going to start eating better. Months of unemployment got me into the habit of eating whatever was cheap and available and I lost all sense of intentionality in this area. And since being at my parents', I've had access to an ever-abundant supply of all things unhealthy.
2. Also cliché is my commitment to exercise. I'm usually sporadic in this area, and my work-outs tend to be a spontaneous expression of emotion as opposed to something I've consistently built into my life. I got a hold of a 5k training plan - a slow and gradual plan, but it's very doable, and it'll give me a definitive goal to strive for. I've had a reoccurring dream since I was a kid where I'm running. Not running from something - it's not a nightmare - but just running for very long periods of time and in the dream I always feel incredible. Like I'm flying. Now it's pretty much guaranteed that my running will not feel anything like that. But for the sake of the dream, I have to try.
3. I refuse to say I'm quitting smoking, but I am going to cut back. Way back. I'd like to make it a special treat I allow myself as opposed to a daily habit. Hopefully the race training will motivate me in this direction... I'm pretty sure my lungs will hate me once I start trying to run.
4. It's ridiculous that I have to do this, but I'm determining to spend more intentional time doing the things I love: music and writing. Even though doing these things is life-giving to me, I can slip into lazy mode and just let my creativity wither. But I'm infinitely happier when I'm singing and playing and writing, so I'm making it a renewed priority to pour myself into these things.

So that's my list. It's idealistic; it's painfully cliché; I'll probably look back on this entry at the end of February and let out a long, cynical sounding laugh. But there it is. I'm going to give it my damndest because I am not willing to repeat 2009. It's gone, it can kiss my ass.

Escape

He bounced out of the drugstore on West 74th Street, the sounds of Journey blaring through his earphones. What an awesome day in the city! Sunny with a breeze, and enough optimism surging down the street to win over even the most cynical of souls. But Derek wasn't cynical; he was all sunny-side-up and glass-half-full these days. Because he'd already survived the worst of life and couldn't help but be hopeful about his collective tomorrow.

He paused on the corner opposite a blinking orange hand... on another day he might have rushed through the intersection, pissing off cab drivers as he reached the curb amidst the sounds of their horns blasting angrily. But today he had all the time in the world, and there wasn't any storm inside of him to try and escape. Fishing his cell phone from his hip pocket, he scrolled through his contacts list, looking for someone to share with him in his upbeat mood.

"Derek?" The voice was unmistakable.

He hesitated before raising his eyes to meet hers. "Julie, hi." Of all the people to run into!

"I, uh, saw you and just thought I'd --"

"Oh no, I'm glad you did," he hastily recovered, without thinking.

"Okay. So... how've you been?" She looked regretful already, probably wishing she'd pretended not to see him.

"Great, great, I've been great." Idiot.

"Good, that's really good," she tilted her head to the right, and the familiar mannerism caused the old feelings to rush over him.

"How --" he began, but something on her face stopped him.

"Listen, Derek, this is awkward, I know, it's just that..." she trailed off, and averted her eyes for the first time since she'd said his name. He felt claustrophobic from the sheer rawness of the moment; so he did what he'd become an expert at doing since their marriage ended in an attorney's office on West 93rd last March. He escaped.

"I ran into Peter the other day."

"Oh?" Did she sound relieved?

"Yeah, he asked about you and, you know... he and Emma are doing real well." They hadn't talked about Emma, actually, only about the Yankees and work. Always about work.

"Good, that's good to hear." He knew he was almost out of the woods now.

"Well it was great running into you, but I should get going..."

"Yeah, me too - have somewhere to be."

"Right, sure."

She made eye contact with him once more, and he didn't have time to deflect the thought that their children might have had her piercing blue eyes.

"So... take care, Julie. I mean, you know, really... take care of yourself."

"You too, Derek." And she turned to walk uptown on Amsterdam.

"See ya!" He called after her, a little too heartily.

He turned back, facing south again, and rushed through the intersection with the orange hand blinking rapidly above his head.

Number One?

Despite my inherent hesitation towards Dallas and most things Texas, a September issue of Forbes declares it to be the best place to be right now:

Top 10 Cities to Earn a Living
1. Dallas
2. Houston
3. Minneapolis
4. Austin
5. Washington, D.C.
6. St. Louis
7. Seattle
8. Atlanta
9. Kansas City, MO
10. Denver

Source: Forbes, Francesca Levy (09/03/2009)

http://www.forbes.com/2009/09/03/careers-job-growth-lifestyle-real-estate-earn-a-living.html

I'm relieved to see Denver made the list... barely... but there's no humidity OR bugs there, so I think that should bump it up at least past Atlanta.

Family

We launch our words into the space between us like sparks onto a pile of dry leaves and twigs - something dangerous is bound to happen. In stubbornness we clench our jaws and scrunch our brows - we will not give in. This is a fight for the books, and we abandon all reservations as we throw ourselves into the heat of it. Steamy tears race across my face and his sarcasm slices through the room like razor blades. There will be casualties. Bruised feelings and bloodied pride are inevitable.

I make my exit flushed and clumsy, channeling my inner teenager as I slam the door behind me. Once in the car I drive aimlessly, for I have nowhere to go. The goal is to be anywhere but there, where his stripped state of being is glaringly ugly and hateful… and mine is even worse.

In a random parking lot I blow smoke in straight streams into the night; the wind thrashes through the trees and turns my hair into whips that sting my cheeks. The sounds of suburban traffic drone on in the background as I begin the process of taking myself in hand. Eventually I cease to shake, the pink escapes my cheeks, and the cool wind dries my tears.

Ten minutes later I stand outside his door, hesitating ever so slightly, because humility always hurts. I knock and hand him a pack of gum as a peace offering. He takes it and responds with a love kick in the shin. We’re off to a good start. Low tones and earnest words later, we meet in the middle.

He brings me ice cream at 1:00am, and we say goodnight by moon. Not the kind that hangs in the sky, but the kind that’s hairy with two cheeks.

This is family.

Today

I left NYC two weeks ago. The city that was once my playground, replete with adventure and opportunity, somehow became a cage. Months of unemployment coupled with mistakes and doubts cast dark shadows where sunshine had previously reigned, and I lost my perspective and direction somewhere in the recesses where the light grew too dim to see. So I did my best to own it, because I believe you have to, and I decided to come home.

It feels like failure and like courage; it is grief and also relief. All I know is that when I booked my one-way ticket to DFW, I felt like I could breathe for the first time in months. And when I got in the cab to go to LaGuardia, I felt like I was walking away from the only thing that ever made sense for me. I bought a magazine in the terminal, before boarding my plane. The woman who sold it to me asked if I was headed home. I didn’t know what to tell her, was I going to or leaving home? I still don’t know.

It’s in the midst of that paradox that I live today, two weeks later. I left ready to move on, and arrived feeling drawn back. It was agonizingly hard to come, but being here is frighteningly easy. So I remain in between, feeling certain of today and doubtful of tomorrow.

Ginger told me before I left that the more mature we are, the more willing we are to be misunderstood. I also think we become more willing to not understand. I don’t know what I’m doing here any more than I knew what I was doing in NYC a few weeks ago. I just know that this is my next step, my right move, my choice for today.