Ups and Downs

A couple of weeks ago, I was riding high and feeling quite pleased with this chapter of my often uncertain life. Then I came crashing down. And why not, right? For what goes up must eventually come down. Such is the defining and pernicious nature of life. I was a freshman at Amundsen high school when I first started reading Shakespeare. My third period English teacher was a humorless and acerbic middle-aged lady whose wardrobe consisted mostly of garish prints and plastic jewelry. When you stood too close to her, she smelled of vinegar and dark secrets. Since "The Odyssey" failed to inspire the poets within us (I’m referring to the 25 or so fourteen-year-old students who would nod off when she recited line after line of hexameter verse), she decided she’d had enough and launched us into the world of Shakespeare. The gesture did not go unnoticed. Most of the students would sit around with blank expressions on their faces or brows furled in utter confusion wondering what the hell this Shakespeare dude was writing about. “Iambic pentameter? Metaphors? Double entendres and puns? Look teacher, we don't even know how we made it to class on time.” She disregarded our insolence and solecisms. The girls were predictably enthralled by the whole star-crossed lovers tragedy in “Romeo and Juliet,” while the guys where busy trying to determine the best candidate to cheat from on the next quiz. I sat quietly near the front, furiously taking notes, probing every line, reading slowly and painfully until I could understand what I was reading and visualizing. Although the impetuous and passionate love between Romeo and Juliet was compelling in and of itself, especially because of their tragic outcome, I was more intrigued by the references to the wheel of fortune. What was fortune? Surely it was more than “luck” as we understood it. Was it fate? And why did Juliet curse its fickle nature? I needed these questions answered! Thus began my love affair with Shakespeare and my unwavering attempts to understand what this unpredictable wheel of fortune represented in my life and how I could gradually accept there was very little I would ever have full control over. 

When Shakespeare compares life to a wheel of fortune in his plays, he undoubtedly references that unforeseen element fate. When I first came across the allusion, I pictured myself running around in circles, aimlessly seeking some unattainable goal and foolishly believing I could somehow attain it. What were circumstances to me? A mere annoyance. I would alter circumstances and the course of my life to reach an imaginary end goal that would bring me true happiness and fulfillment. Yes, naiveté and inexperience inspired such optimistic thoughts. My life was cruel and tiring as a teenager. I wanted life to be more than suffering and violence. I’ve mentioned several times before on this blog how I saw and experienced things no human being should ever behold, let alone a young girl. I couldn’t make sense of anything in my world, and I was desperately searching for meaning in places where none was or would ever be granted. I read so I wouldn’t go crazy. I read so I could find solace and answers. I read because I didn’t know what else to do. I read because I felt like my humanity was being stripped away from me in strips, and I needed to hold on to it because that was the only thing keeping me going. To me, Shakespeare was the ultimate verbal artist: a master at language and compelling stories. His 37 plays and 154 sonnets have allowed me to think about life, love and humanity in refreshing and pragmatic but contradictory ways.    

But the more I read Shakespeare and the older I got, the less fascinating this wheel of fortune appeared. In fact, I too like Juliet began to curse this circular, capricious and obscure force influencing events in my life. Every time I set out to accomplish a goal, my plans would get foiled in the process. From an early marriage that came crashing forcefully down, to strained relationships with family members despite the best of intentions and of course, struggling to finish school ten years after I started, nothing I ever embarked on ended favorably. Change and the inevitable grief that came with losses and setbacks were swift and sudden. It seemed like for every two steps I took, some invisible force picked me up by the collar and launched me several feet back. And now I’m at the threshold of yet another fork on the road, and I’ve never been more afraid or unsure of anything.  

I recently resigned from my job due to a hostile work environment. I thought things were going relatively well at the small publishing firm that hired me last summer, but the owner begged to differ. In fact, she was quite dissatisfied with my performance and humiliated me in front of my colleagues. It was an incredible blow to my ego and one of the worst moments in my professional career. I immediately realized I could not stay in such a demoralizing environment.

As if the stress of being unemployed wasn’t enough, I am also sick with worry over my mother. Our family received some bad news this past Christmas regarding her health. I am currently unable to get her the care and treatment she needs. Of course, I feel useless and impotent, like I’m failing my mother when she needs me the most. To top it off, my brother is also weathering a serious illness.     

I was staying positive and facing these pressures courageously despite the precariousness and uncertainty of the future. But on Valentine’s Day, the man I had been dating and fallen deeply in love with flew out to Colombia to start a new chapter in his life. When we started dating, he was candid about his plans to move to South America for an indefinite period of time. At the moment, it did not occur to me I would ever care about his upcoming voyage because I wasn’t sure we’d make it past a second date. However, we made it past the second date and fell in love in the process. What is it about love’s sudden and irrevocable absence that shatters your composure like no other event? It’s quite shocking and astonishing to do without love from one day to the next. It’s a swift and disorienting transition—one that I was not anticipating.

But the wheel of fortune has more swift revolutions in store for me and it doesn’t care if I’m mentally or emotionally prepared. It continues to spin out scene after scene of adversity and trying events. I turn to Shakespeare once again because he’s always inspired me to be more engaged, authentic and responsive with everyone around me. Even though I accept it, I don’t understand pain. Not the way I understand Shakespeare’s rhyme schemes and his lyrical albeit, ornate, language. It hurts brutally and immensely to wake up every day without love by my side, especially as I confront yet another overwhelming chapter in my life. Yet I acknowledge his decision to leave had nothing to do with me. It had been forged before our paths converged at a small point in time. I merely entered his life during a lull- an intervening period before the wheel began its revolution.

I know as much today about the wheel of fortune as I knew sixteen years ago when I couldn’t drown out all the clattering voices around me. But I’m also more familiar with it. I’ve witnessed the wheel of fortune spinning of its own accord, at times smoothly and methodically, other times unevenly and recklessly. It has always and will forever remain indifferent to the supplications of its passengers. Fate is such a demanding and ruthless force. It demands that you accept the twists, turns and uncertainties of your journey without much resistance. Well, you can resist, but you’ll only take longer to get “there.” Your best bet is to go with the flow of your revolution, even if you’re in pain and tears.    

Would Shakespeare assert that my tragic flaw was thinking I could disconnect from the distasteful aspects of reality and somehow escape from love’s grip unscathed? Where did I err? Was it my hubris? I don’t have the answers. I’m just on the wheel of fortune.

To Online Date or not? That was the question

Chopin dangles his long smooth fingers over my inner left wrist. Live, as a reminder in case I should forget. He reminds me and softly traces each curled letter with his thumb before kissing my tingling flesh. Long thick lashes flutter once against the sharp lines of his cheeks as I reach out to rest my hand against his flushed neck. It’s a perfectly symmetrical smooth face with nary a flaw and arresting elements. I feel the steady beating of his heart pick up speed underneath my quivering palm. Chopin turns his entrancing profile to meet my gaze and his golden eyes pierce through my bag of feeble reserves. It is completely useless in this room, on this couch, with his hands doing exactly what I knew they would and hoped. He shifts his lean frame slightly; the room spins unmercifully out of control. How the hell did I get here? Two words: online dating. 

Back in late October, I decided to stop waiting around for a healthy relationship to materialize from thin air. While I find single life exhilarating and liberating, my bed tends to get a bit cold too often, especially when the season shifts late in the year and the mild weather tumbles into frigid territory. I have always been fascinated by the idea of a secure and comforting long-term, monogamous relationship, but I have been unable to obtain a secure and comforting relationship, perhaps because I spend far too much time thinking about why I desire a secure and comforting relationship in the first place. There’s also that pesky detail about a failed marriage. I don’t consider myself a failure. On the contrary, given my background and upbringing, I am a success story! Yet the repercussions of a failed marriage have messed with my mind and ego to the point where I have often called myself a failure. I have deliberately avoided becoming romantically involved with paramours, and I harbored myopic and suspicious thoughts about all romantic entanglements. I assumed nothing good would come out of long-term dating. Once I’d blurt out that I had previously been married, my lover (if he even got that far) would eventually high-tail it out of there. You see, there’s a stigma attached to divorcees (or in my case, soon-to-be divorcees). It’s almost as if all potential suitors view divorcees as damaged goods, or defective merchandise: “You couldn’t make a marriage work? Why is that? What’s wrong with you? What did YOU do?” In other words, we can’t hold a relationship together when the going gets tough. We fail at it. I felt constantly judged, without allowing myself to be judged. Yes, I know what you’re thinking: “What a neurotic. So typical of divorcees.” See? I would say the same thing, and I do when I catch myself overthinking my past. But this is what eventually dawned on me: I married young and the union didn’t last long. So what? It’s not like I killed someone! I can talk about the experience calmly now without foaming at the mouth. Enough time has passed from the dissolution of my marriage, and I’ve grown tremendously in the aftermath. I managed to shed most of the insecurities I clung to as a form of punishment for having “failed.” I am not a failure. I no longer define myself by what I haven’t been good at; it’s what I’m good at that matters most at this point in my life. I am raising a healthy young boy, and I have accomplished several goals, like finally graduating from college. I am writing professionally for a small publishing firm, and I hope to pursue a Master’s degree in Creative Writing within the next two years. So I figured it was time to get serious about seeking out a worthy suitor. Or at least make some sad attempt at it.

 Since I graduated from Northeastern Illinois University this past spring, my dating pool has shrunk considerably. Thank god for online dating sites. The dating game has gone through some weird evolution since the last time I was actively pursuing men. I wasn’t sure how to proceed with my amorous endeavors. Should I speed date and risk scaring off about 95 percent of would be suitors with my incessant blathering? What about blind dates set up by well-meaning but ultimately clueless friends? And who actually finds love in a bar with sticky floors and men who slur their speech? I almost gave up before I started. But then I came across an article on how to write a “successful” online dating profile. It was like an epiphany, even though it mostly pissed me off. So in a fit, I joined an online dating site, OkCupid, and proceeded to craft a witty and sarcastic profile. Take that unknown writer and your “pointers” on how to succeed at online dating! Little did I know it would be such a hit (well my photos didn’t hurt either) with the opposite sex. I met Dan (Federico, Chopin) within a week of joining. I had received some messages from cads calling me out on the “crap” I had created in 10 minutes and dared to post on my profile. Delete! Others couldn’t wait to help me arrange my panty drawer and get me in bed. I saw that one coming. Still, delete! Dan, on the other hand, responded with a witty and sarcastic outline on how he met the qualifications I was seeking in a suitor. I was immediately fascinated, but I had initial reservations about meeting him because he is several years younger than I am. Honestly, I didn’t think we’d go on more than a few dates. Yet I was eager to meet Dan and engage in a battle of words. It has been two months since we met, and I can’t get enough of him. I have never once felt judged by him. On the contrary, he makes me feel good about myself and the choices I have made. But I guess the real reason why I feel this way is because I am finally at peace with myself about a marriage that didn’t work. I didn’t fail—it just didn’t work out. Dan will leave in less than two months. He is going off to Latin America, somewhere in South America to teach English and learn all about a new culture. I’m not thinking of the loss I know I will feel when he’s gone—I’m only focusing on everything I have learned from him these past two months. So with that in mind, I urge you all to give online dating a try. You never know what you’ll find in your inbox.