The Next Bold Move – Me Vs. The World

During a ‘Women of Al Asad’ meeting in Iraq a female Colonel (at the time Colonel select) whom I admire so much, said something I will never forget.  One of the young Marines was talking about having a boyfriend and being in Iraq and different duty stations.  How do you keep the spark alive when you never see each other, etc.  The Colonel said something I might have said, but given her seniority in life and the Corps, her words carried more weight than my whimsical attitude might have.  “Marine, I have been at least 5 different women in my life.  Each woman wanting and needing something different than the last.  You are young, enjoy being single and when you stop changing you´ll know what you want.  Trust me.”  The Sergeant made a comment about certain needs and the Colonel laughed saying “We all have needs to fill…” and the whole room bust out laughing.

I think of that conversation often.  I think of the different “chapters” of my life I have opened and closed.  Yet, even though I get away from myself, I always seem to come back to me.

I have a theory.  I call it the “Perpetual Age Theory.”  I have discussed this with a variety of people and I think it originated with my lost twin, Regina, in Chicago.  It goes like this – we reach a certain age and never outgrow it.  Sure we grow wrinkles and gray hairs, we move around the world, get married, have babies … but some part of us never outgrows that age.  Me – I am and will always be a 13 year old girl.  Socially awkward, with long limbs that seem unproportional, stubborn and determined, but most importantly believing anything is possible.  My friend Deb is 103 – way wiser and more mature than your average 30 yr old.  So, while I go through these different phases, being a different women with different wants from time to time I go back to the 13 yr old kid that I will always be.
Today, I took my laundry to the place down the street that does laundry.  I walked around a bit, feeling better than I have in almost a week, but not good by any means.  I went and tried on a fancy dress I had been looking at since before I left Peru.  I finally tried it on and broke the zipper.  I eventually got it off, fixed it on the hanger to look normal and give me time to flee the crime scene.  I had a late lunch at a café reading an essay about interrogation tactics by Mark Bowden (they are just cruel).  The last few days I have walked around aimlessly.  The streets and the people keep reminding me of a past world I used to live in – New York City.  It was in between college and before even thinking about joining the Marine Corps.  I went to a graduate program at NYU for publishing and then pretended to get a job after calling Mom the day of my return flight to say “Mom, my flight is today, but I’m not on it.”  I spent months walking around the city.  I walked from Brooklyn to Manhattan, if I gathered enough change I would take the trains out to their last stop in Queens and ride them back.  I wrote in my journal.  If you read them now the entries would be similar.  A young, educated woman of privilege trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life vs. what I should do with my life and starting out with $30k+ of school loans.  Back then I wanted to do nothing but write.  I didn’t have a penny to my name, but I managed.  When I was lonely, I was comforted by the crowds of people in Times Square.  When I was melancholy I enjoyed solitude in Battery City Park.  I loved it.  One of my favorite and hardest times in life.

We all live such busy lives and rarely do we have the time I did then and I do now to really be able to think and write and enjoy simplicity.  The last few days I have watched travelers check in and out of the hostel all anxious to keep moving I have and silently laughed.  I said before – life is movement.  It is, but sometimes we need to move while standing still.  Just like we need to be 5 different people to realize that we always knew what we wanted.  We just didn’t know how to get it.  We have to grow in age to come back to the same spot where we stopped.  I live my life in my own head most of the time.  Quiet and shy, just observing the world.  At 13 I was still playing fairy games in our backyard and woods by myself.  I remember writing bad stories and worse poems because I wanted to be a writer (as well as a ballerina, a Marine Biologist and a mermaid).  Really nothing has changed.  So, I move all around the world knowing someday I will end up where I started – but also knowing the journey is as important as the end.

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