Can you spare some Change? [Single White Nerd]
A moment ago, just as I sat down to write this here bloggie, my friend cleared her throat and held up a paper towel absolutely sodden with several years worth of grime. “I just want to make a point,” she said before tossing it aside and plunging back into the task of imposing order on my chaotic, grime beladen existence. Which, of course, begs the question: what’s the point?
The point could be that I live in squalor and am lucky enough to have friends who help me de-squalify myself from time to time. Or it could be that I need to dust more often. Or that I need to accumulate less stuff.
Or, more metaphorically, it could be that times are a’changing.
Last night, I went to a bachelor party for one of the first friends I made in Los Angeles seven years ago. “Bachelor Party” might actually be creating false impression, one of dudely debauchery, strip clubs, and blackouts. This was not that. This was eight guys going to a fancy gastropub and then hitting two bars before getting sleepy and needing to go home.
My friend will get married in two weeks. When I met him, he had been single for over three years with no prospects on the horizon. I, on the other hand, had just moved to sunny Los An-gel-es with my lady-love.
Now he’s about to get married, buy a condo, and be a grown-up. The girl I moved to Los Angeles with is getting married in October (I’ll be there as a member of the wedding party). And I’ve been for-the-most-part-single for the better part of six years. Who woulda thunk it?
Yep, the times are a’changing.
Two days ago, I left a job I’ve held for four years at an amazing organization with some super-cool people. In doing so, I’m leaving fundraising behind, a field I’ve worked in and not been fond of for almost ten years. So, yep, that’s a change, too.
Now that I think on it, changes are piling on top of changes. Last week, I had to buy pants one size larger than I’ve worn since high school because, you know, I’m about to hit 35 and that can happen. Oh, also: I’m about to turn 35.
Thirty-five. Seems like a pivotal year. Sondheim wrote a whole musical, Company, about a single guy whose 35th birthday prompts him to examine his whole approach to women, relationships, and life. Ends up, according to Sondheim, that the guy is gay. I mean, they don’t come out and say that, but the subtext is pretty strong. I’m not gay (though, apparently, I can pass), but I am turning 35 next month.
Thirty five. Yep. That might be why I have bribed my friend with beer and beef jerky to help me clean my apartment. Because if I’m going to be all transitional and stuff, I figure I should start out minus 3+ years of grime. I should, literally and less-so, get my house in order, take stock, keep what works and discard what doesn’t. So far, I’ve discarded about three quarters of a dumpster worth of crap that doesn’t work. Old VHS tapes, clothes, empty conditioner bottles (from when I had hair), a sense of defeatism and despair, a couple pairs of torn up shoes.
So to get back to the initial question: the point may be that things change, friends are constant, and, really, I need to either dust more or hire a cleaning person. Because there is some nasty stuff going on in this apartment.