Columbus Day: Important in 1492 and 2010

Though today was a federal holiday, I had to work. (Herein is where you pity me for being plagued by something that I admit is trite.) The fact that I had to work today saddened me last week, but that sadness turned to anger over the weekend, and finally culminated on the metro ride in today when -- though I looked half asleep, my lids heavy and my mouth agape during the early morning ride -- it transformed into full-fledged fury.

Everyone I knew had the goddamn day off. Why couldn't I? It was about time I had a three-day weekend and this would have been perfect. Especially since I could have stayed home with my husband reading books all day and eating bags of candy corn in my pajamas. 

Not that I feel entitled to having the day off, but it should be noted that I did ask my boss for it off early last week. Boss Man's answer? No. Why? Because BOSS MAN was taking it off. And this is after Boss Man had had one day off each week for the past month. I know, I get it, he's the boss man so he can do whatever the hell he wants, but the way he said no, without any flexibility, was abrasive. It's not like I was asking to be blessed by the Pope, I just wanted a simple day off. But stupid me. I failed to see that Boss Man always comes first here because he makes the schedule and that's just the way it is. Guess I'm supposed to get used to it?

My question is how does one ever get used to this? To me it's ridiculous that some person who holds some arbitrary title (and this applies to anyone out there, in any position) has the authority to tell you what you can and can't do with NINE HOURS of your day, five days a week. It's ludicrous and laugh-worthy when you break the issue down to its fundamental parts. There's something highly unsettling in the realization that someone, literally, owns your life. 

I know that everyone has a price, a sum of money where all dignity could be easily swept aside, but my salary -- though high -- is not even close to the level that would make me happily complacent with this circus. But this is what we (yes, I'm plural now) have to deal with while husband continues looking for work. 

So when Boss Man told me I couldn't have Monday off because HE was taking Monday off, I countered right away with wanting the following day (tomorrow) off. Which he had no answer for since who in their right mind would ask for a Tuesday of all days off to make up for a Monday? Me, that's who. Then he granted my wish to have tomorrow off, possibly because of the maniacal look in my eyes. 

Ask...and you shall receive?

Soundtrack to my life: "Beginnings" - Chicago

As cliche as it sounds, music has always played a profound part in my growth as a person. I'm not married to any genre or style, but throughout my life there have been pivotal songs that defined special moments in time for me. These are the songs that transport me back to that certain day, week, month, or year. I hope to compile these moments over time with their respective songs, as a love letter to the music that made it all possible.

"Beginnings" - Chicago

 It was late May, 2010.

Graduation was just around the corner for my husband, who was days away from wrapping up his third and final year of law school. We had been living in a rat hole of an apartment high-rise called "The Enclave" which had the humor to dub itself a "luxury dwelling," though the puddles of dog urine in our elevators and the period stain anonymously left one night on a chair in the lobby would have suggested otherwise.

Our time in Washington DC was rapidly coming to a close after months of enduring frigid temps in the winter, and humid, sticky South Pacific summers. I yearned to be back on the West Coast, to feel the cold Pacific Ocean on my feet, to return to myself. We - me especially - were tired of living in the DC metro area, moving like middle class vagrants from suburb to suburb once each of our short-term apartment leases were up. I wanted California. For three years I had complained about the people, the attitudes, the weather, the hunger for power and the unwarranted aggression from the general public, until finally, one day that last May there, I realized that it was all going to be over soon.

I was happy, sure, but a small part of me knew that no matter how much I professed to hating it, my husband was right. Someday I was going to look back and remember good times through law school and DC. Except I didn't need a "someday" to realize it. The  epiphany hit me one particular late night, as I sat in our tiny kitchen, my face peering out of the darkness into the blue light of my laptop as I worked on finishing my second novel.

I was both overjoyed for the future, of the move and the possibilities that came with it, but I was sad as well, as though our time there, as long and tedious as it had seemed to me, was actually quite short. That all it had signified was another chapter in my life that was swiftly coming to a close, that I would never get those years back again. I wasn't sure whether to mourn this fact or embrace it.

And so I stayed up all night, sitting in our little kitchen nook near our window, tapping out my novel as Chicago's "Beginnings" softly played on repeat for hours. My husband's labored breathing from our bed told me he'd fallen asleep hours ago, probably when the city lights on the horizon began shutting off until the color of the landscape matched the velvet canvas of night sky.

It was one of those nights when you watch the world through your 15th floor window and wonder who else out there must be going through a similar kind of change. I stayed up writing and watching out my window until the sun rose along with life on the landscape below. I had listened to "Beginnings" all night, grieving moments passed and anxiously anticipating the bright spots and memories that had yet to be made.

When morning came I had come to grips with it, that change was a part of life and that though the passing of time was sobering, no matter how helpless it made me feel every time I pack up to move on, it could be embraced as a positive. Change means I'm living a full life.