Ocelots and Octopi

This post was republished from the archive of my previous blog as a means of record-keeping. To read SaraEileen.com from the beginning of the site’s history, start here.

On Friday morning I got in a car with a friend of mine and drove five hours for a house party.

It was not something I had particularly planned for; I knew I was going, but was deliberately not thinking about what it would be like when I got there. We put on Great Big Sea and wound our way upstate, as the temperature climbed outside.

My second summer is coming. I could not be happier.

I did many things and met many, many new people, all of whom were extremely nice to me. In fact, much nicer than it seemed to make any sense for them to be. Our hosts were lovely, and overfed us, and I walked around most of the time in a sort of fuzzy haze, half exhausted and on the verge of silly giggles. This weekend, giggles were definitely a chronic concern.

And I learned a few things about myself, and noticed ways in which I have changed since the last time I walked into a room of strangers.

On Sunday night I scooped a diet Dr. Pepper from the cooler in the kitchen, put my sweater on and went outside. I sat on a wooden swing while the night grew dark and the party sounds spilled out the open windows, and cried so hard I choked on the bubbles in the soda.

I walked into a group of people glommed together so tight their friendships are almost visible, and I should have been taking better care of myself. I should not have avoided emotional planning; I should have been paying attention.

I think sometimes about a night at a play party at Rob’s, three years ago, when I played at wrestling the Boston Boy and then my body crashed. I sat in the kitchen feeling sick to my stomach and Meitar came around the corner unprompted, as if from out of nowhere. “I came to check on you,” he said.

Oh yes, Sara, did you not remember? Life is different without a primary partner. It’s not actually a surprise.

There are some things I think I used to be, and there are some things I know I used to be. For example, I think I used to be more confident, and I think I used to be more self-assured. But that could be a trick of the light; a game my mind is playing for nostalgia’s sake.

But then, I know I used to be okay after sex without needing aftercare. I know I used to be able to focus on one person and one conversation for more than a few minutes without feeling restless. I know I used to take better care of my body.

Now I pour caffeine into myself and can’t hold my attention in one place, am constantly scattered and speaking in narratives that jump too much. I used to be able to go from intimacy to self-sufficient comfort as easily as breathing, and now I end up feeling fragile and wasted when people walk away. And that is not smart. That is not helpful. That gains me nothing.

But this is sounding a bit too morose, and in reality my weekend was not morose at all. It was, in fact, 80+ hours of high energy and silliness and laughter with about 2 hours of deadly crash tucked in.

In the other 80 hours: My friend and I made nefarious plans to take over the world. What else is new? She and I discovered that we are so keyed to each other now that if she is speaking in one room, I cannot help but listen in another. If I am standing behind her, she still knows I’m there. It is like the mental equivalent of poking one another with our fingertips. Also, she says she is picking up my speech patterns. I didn’t know they were that easy to pick up.

I met someone big enough to make me feel small, which is rare and hilarious. I kissed a very pretty girl, who gave me an impromptu, joking invitation to move to Boston on the spot. I went to the Museum of Play, and acted very much the part of a five year old, right down to getting impatient with the grown-ups for stopping in the middle of the tour to play chess. You know the game where you hold someone’s hand and run ahead of them, pulling them forward with one free arm windmilling in the air? Yes. That.

Also, I met a real live muppet, with energy and habits so like Meitar that at times I had to shake my head to get the two of them unmixed. But at the same time, not like Meitar even a little bit; structured emotionally, I suspect, in a completely different way. How remarkable. Then, we drew on people. Fun!

I slept almost nothing, applied to jobs before anyone else woke up, worked on portraits, and ate frosting and bagels, but not at the same time. I played hard, laughed hard, catnapped at odd angles and wrote the beginnings of new poems.

Also: In the car just now, 15 minutes from home, my friend and I saw two police cars parked on the side of the road.

“Hello, ocifers,” she said.

“Did you say ocifers?” I asked.

Understand, we were (are) both so tired our bones were (are) melting.

“I might have said ossify,” she answered. “To become bone.”

“Like ocelots? Or octopi?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“How about ocelots who ossify into octopi?”

“But octopi don’t have bones,” she pointed out. “They could be octopi who ossify into ocelots.”

We laughed ourselves stupid. “Someday,” I said, still giggling, “I will come up to you when we are completely serious, and I will break you with that.”

“Yes,” she answered, “yes, I’m sure you will.”

Glad to be home. New and old, friends are good.