Saturday, December 31, 2011

Nine O'clock Narcolepsy

"And now, I'm just trying to change the world, one sequin at a time." Lady Gaga



Another year over and a new one just begun! In confession I usually miss the actual chimes of transition from one year to the next. For me its another 'New York' New Year's Eve (NYNYE) in the making. Its a west coast phenomenon that rebalances the three hour time lag we endure for the other 364 days.


It is super handy, that here in California, we can have a couple of glasses of champers, count the new year in, blow a few poppers and be home, tucked up in bed by 9.30pm. Its not that I can't stay up until midnight, its just when it goes dark my body clock starts winding down. I'm trapped in that mid generational nine o'clock narcolepsy. The grandparents are all going out to some prestigious, ticketed event, with the thought that they had better go big as they only have a finite number of NYE left. The kids are too young to have some teenage/mid twenties date at a binge drinking, french kissing festival. So that leaves me middle aged, mid winter nap, grumpily squinting one eye at the clock and rolling over at the sound of fireworks and revelry. But nine o'clock narcolepsy is not just applicable once a year, it seems to pervade every time I have a nocturnal outing.


Once again I am compelled to defend my pathetic position in the social rankings by blaming my exhaustion (and the need to hide under the bed covers) on the thought of what lies ahead - 9 months of travel, surf, adventure, homeschool and the inevitable weight of too much luggage. "Simplicity is making the journey of this life with just baggage enough." Charles Dudley Warner


If only I could pack up my emotional baggage and hand it over at the airport. Instead I am left to elucidate my vulnerabilities via electronic media, feeling more like a blagger than a blogger. Contemplating the swan dive from 2011 into 2012, I will be stripped naked of friends and familiar territory.


"Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind ?" Robert Burns. As I sing a premature version of Auld Lang Syne this evening, my tears will acknowledge that my trepidation lies not in the act of leaving but in the fear of not coming back.




Monday, December 19, 2011

TRAVELING WITHOUT MOVING

"For this purpose I determined to keep an account of the voyage, and to write down punctually every thing we performed or saw from day to day, as will hereafter appear." Christopher Columbus.


I think it was a second summer in Mexico that finally did us in, that warm, sultry hiatus in paradise, just me, Greg and the kids. The thought that the holiday wasn't going to last forever was depressing. The idea we had to go back to a routined reality loomed over us. Lounging on the beach, surfing in the humid weather, watching tropical storms and driving around in a golf cart gave us the space of mind to think. Why not have this kind of relaxed existence for ever? Dare we wish our lives to be so delicious?


“Change is never easy. You fight to hold on. You fight to let go.” Wonder Years


So there it bubbled, up from the depths of the ocean - an idea to travel and eventually live aboard a boat, home school and eat lobster. It would mean dismantling the life we had so carefully crafted, deconstructing the home we had created together. We tried out the idea on some of the people we met during the summer. It didn't seem too far fetched to them. By the time we came back to the paradise of our reality in Santa Barbara the idea had taken shape and the seeds of our next adventure were sown and already germinating.


"The times they are a-changin" Bob Dylan.


There was a time when I used to live close to Beachy Head on the south coast of England. Its the place with the white chalk cliffs that drop vertically from the verdant, green, waving, grassland of the downs to the pebble beach several stories below. Sometimes people get blown off or accidently fall while taking a picture, the drop is so sheer. It scared me to walk there, even though it was so beautifully imposing. I would always want to drop to my knees and creep along the ground when I got close to the edge.


Leaving life in Montecito is like stepping off that cliff into the elevator shaft of life. Its one small physical movement which changes everything. I have started to use the analogy daily and I have to remember that some people will think it sounds like suicide. But we just feel like fledglings with a hankering to soar in tropical climes.


"Selling up"- its such an understatement. Really its an emotional vortex, all consuming. I lurch from the excited feeding frenzy of my wanderlust to questioning my sanity and ability to parent. I feel about a nano second from tears most of the time. They are not all sad tears, sometimes they drop during joyous moments of friendship and are shed with love and the poignant understanding of the loss to come. Other tears fall in laughter, some just leak out on a cold morning in the low sunshine. I'm an emotional wreck and the last person my family should be thinking about taking along! But dont tell them that! I dont want to get left behind! Anyway, maybe its nothing to do with the life changing decisions, maybe this is what my forties will be all about, a sentimental roller coaster ride on my way to menopause.


Talking of which turning 40 this year has turned into a much bigger responsibility than I first imagined. How can I make myself a better person/mother/wife? How can I grow more spiritually, be more responsible? Get less hammered at parties? You know the usual self grappling bull you have to wade through every turn of a decade.


However in my own defence and on a more self promoting, positive note, I have achieved a few things this year in preparation for our departure in 14 days. I learnt; how to jibe (not jive, although I have been listening to a lot of Michael Jackson music lately), I learnt 'un solo poco' spanish and my medical knowledge has definately increased. Although if I'm cruising in Latino waters and have an emergency, I don't think my spanish, sailing or first aid would really change the outcome of any disaster. But the whole point of gaining all that knowledge was so I would believe I could turn things in my favor. Or will I just be asking for the band aids, por favor as the water seeps up around my ankles? Very titanicish and this is me on a positive note?


Enough self deprecation, I deserve the wonderful people that I am surrounded by, chant it, live it, be it. Unfortunately I still have that insecure, lame ass, wimp cowering inside my psyche somewhere, she still manages to sneak out to wobble her bottom lip now and again. Not to worry though, that weakling is being hunted down by the new traveling, amazonian, 40 year old I will become (I'm imagining a taut, bronzed, butt in a leather thong ranging through the tropical rainforest, blow dart in hand, wheelie suitcase in the other). Quite obviously that powerful huntress hasn't encountered my large knickers for heavy flow days.


In conclusion everything has changed but nothing is different.