The Last Chapter Is Always the Hardest

I'm writing the last chapter of my book "Three Weeks and a Hurricane" and it isn't easy. I still have some edits to do, and a filler chapter here or there to write, but the book is pretty much over. This last chapter is hard because in the last bit of this book, i'm summarzing my feelings about love.

Its so hard to think you have lost something really special. Its hard to think that someone you really loved probably didn't see you in the same light. Its hard to know that you can easily express certain aspects of yourself to someone, and they can't do the same. I'm not talking about writing prose worthy of Proust, or drawing me naked on an easel using some Rennaisance technique. I'm talking about merely being able to acknowledge me as a person and my feelings. This is bothering me as I write this last chapter. My challenges in love have often led me to think that maybe I'm the type of person that a person won't "fight" for. Naturally this statement sounds a little negative, but in the face of trying all that i'm trying, I can get book rejections, no problem. I can get a million assignments and handle them, no problem. I can be in groups of strangers and interact with them, and be fine. I can handle the inevitable twisted ankle, scraped knee or broken nail. I can deal with the uncertainty held in my next few steps in my life, but sometimes, just sometimes, Its hardest for me to be hit with a huge emotional blow.

This time, I feel like I'm saying goodbye to a person I didn't have to say goodbye to. I had a chance to acquiesce to the person inside me, and I could have weaseled my way back into my ex's life under the pretense that everything was fine, jim-dandy. But I wasn't jim-dandy. Even though love can make a person destroy themselves, and do almost anything for someone I can't be self-destructive. I can't be hurt and then allow myself to look as if I was hurt for naught.

I can't be tossed aside and then come happily running back to someone with my tail wagging and my tongue out like a dog and its master. Try as I might, I have to be proud of myself. If i'm not i'll be open to the same situations time and time again, and I'll lose.

I did lose something recently, and for the last three days it has been eating at me, day in day out. But there isn't anything I can do. If someone truly loves you, they can show it. If they don't really love you, it shows as well. I'm at the stage where I'm feeling that after-effect of learning the truth, quite like Neo after taking the red pill. I'm partially in shock, and for what seems like the second or third time, i'm completely starting over. Book aside, writing is a reflection of life, especially non-fiction based on yourself. So here I am, writing this last chatper, summarzing my feelings about love (at this moment) and trying not to sound like a wounded, overly jaded twenty something year old.

But that's hard, because I'm trying to write truthfully without being hurtful. If people read what i write, I want it to show them that a person can move on, a person can take a few blows and crawl out of the rubble, I want everyone to be Superman. But we aren't aliens. We are human, flesh and bone, finite. We have diseases, issues, wars and stresses everywhere. Life is a FIGHT.
We fight for love, for food, for occupations, education, sex, pleasure, money and a host of other things. Its a batttle between how good you feel and how much you want to have. I think love is one of the lulls in that battle, a little thing that allows you to remember life doesn't have to be as chaotic as it is. You can look into someone's eyes and see your future in there. You can hold their hand and feel like you dissappear into their consciousness, even for a moment. You can dissappear blissfully for a while, and escape the raging madness of our Ipod-filled, overly political, caffeine amped world.

Then you come back to reality and there's the pain and suffering, the joy and the ups and downs.
So maybe losing love is just stepping back into the real arena of life. Maybe its just being what a human really is: almost animalistic, fighting tooth and nail to find what he/she wants in life. Maybe I've lost a skirmish this time around and I have to REALLY fight the next time love shows its face. Then maybe, I should cling on for dear life, invest properly in my emotions and pray that the person's eyes I look into, see's the same thing in me.

Wishful thinking? You bet.

The Wonderland Bug

I'm writing this post just in case I walk four blocks to the lab and its closed today. Wonderland is running through my mind yet again. This summer was pretty crazy and a good bit of it dealt with Wonderland. Its a bar in Columbia heights, only three blocks from the metro. Many college grads live in columbia heights and having a bar nearby is like a godsend. It has two floors and an outdoor area where they serve food until about ten o' clock. I like the place; the atmosphere is warm, the girls there are friendlier than say (Tom Tom in Adam's morgan...Christ) and the drinks aren't too expensive. Its on my mind this time because I went there last night and I got slightly drunk. This is also an aspect of the story that interests me. For me, I lose inhibitions when I go to wonderland. Its like a bubble in the middle of DC where I feel free for some strange reason. That realization led to the idea for a novel, which loosely features the actual Wonderland as a place where a few people meetup for drinks and food occassionally, but then the story delves into more about their personal lives. For them (in the story), Wonderland is a hub, a place they can connect to the social network for a few hours before they are tossed back into the data stream. I guess that's how it feels for me.

I started to write the book but I stopped after ten pages. I didn't have the characters fleshed out correctly. It was supposed to be three young men, coming of age. One was a college grad working at a non-profit who was becoming jaded with the real world, the second was a girl, also a college graduate, leaving the states for the first time to do Grad school in Europe and she goes buck wild during the summer and gets pregnant. The third guy is actually in college and spends most of his time drinking with friends and wasting time, waiting around for graduation. I started my current project "Three Weeks" on July 19th, the day after I came home for a month of vacation. The "Wonderland" concept is still alive and well, and last nigth reminded me exactly why I wanted to write it. There is a lot of material to be written in that story, but as they stay in writing, you can't force it. I couldnt' force the characters, or the storyline (even though i had a wealth of material to use to make the book extremely interesting). I was thinking of using Wonderland as my projectin the National Novel writing month, but then I realized you have to use a fresh project that you've never written anything about. So i'll figure it out. But the Wonderland bug is still swimiming around in my consciousness.... so who knows.

*epic music plays in background*