Last week I posted that I was doing this thing called 100 Days of Happiness, which basically calls for you to take a picture and post it on facebook or instagram or wherever every day for 100 days of different things that make you happy. Well, in that regard, I have failed miserably. And I have never been happier.
This week has been perfect. I spent most of my nights with Steven, of course, and together we filled his home with good food and love and kindness to one another. I still feel nervous and giddy whenever I first see him after a couple of days of not being able to. I get tongue tied and forget words. I try to play it cool. I think I fail. It's like trying to talk to your High School crush. I get lost in his eyes. I stare at his lips. And then I embrace him, and nothing else matters in the world except for our bodies pressed together in that one blissful moment.
On Wednesday Steven made me meatloaf. Meatloaf is one of my favorite foods ever, and he had never made it before. I think he stole the recipe from Paula Deen. Say what you will about that old racist, but she definitely knew how to cook. He also showed me a trick where you place two pieces of bread under the loaf so that they absorb all the grease instead of having the meat sit in it. Brilliant.
Steven has also given me a key to his house. I made one for him to my apartment yesterday. This is a new realm of commitment for me, and I want to honor it. Tomorrow is our one month anniversary. I need to think of something special to do. It's difficult right now, though, because my money situation is extremely tight after rent week. Well, tight is the wrong word. Nonexistent. That's a better word to use. I'll think of something, though.
Thursday was another awesome day, even though it was full of running errands. I got my second CSA box from Cane Creek Organics, and it is full of yummy veggies. I still haven't had a chance to meet my farmer yet. I really want to, though. These people are growing my food and I want to shake their hands and tell them how grateful I am that they do what they do. Before starting this particular journey I never really thought about where my food came from. Farmers really are our lifeblood, though, and they deserve to be honored and respected as maybe one of the most valuable members of our human tribe. I know that that sounds cliche. Trust me. A year ago I would have read that sentence and thought that, well, yeah, of course farmers give us food. That's their job. They're farmers. But they're treated with apathy most of the time. We hold health care professionals, and fire departments, and police departments in high regard for saving lives in emergencies, but we care little for the people who keep us alive on a daily basis. It's backwards. Why do we only care about emergencies? Why are those people the heroes of our society, while farmers are looked at as... well... just simple farmers? They should be the heroes. Or, at least, be looked at with just as much respect.
Friday... Friday is unexplainable, but I'll try to give anyone reading this a rundown. I don't exactly have the words to convey all of the emotions I have about it. I could describe what I did, but just knowing those things can't capture it all.
Friday I woke up in Steven's arms. He didn't want me to go, but I had made plans earlier in the week. My roommate Sam had gotten in touch with a friend and I bought some acid from him.
Now, before I go any further, because we're just getting to know each other, I am not a big druggie. The most I ever do is drink, usually. Sure, back in High School and afterward I experimented some. But I don't even like the smell or taste of pot. I have absolutely nothing against people who get high, and I understand the reasoning behind it. I don't, however, think it's the best thing for me, personally. Not because I enjoy it too much, and not because I don't enjoy it. I just see getting high as an entertainment. Something akin to going on a hike, or going out to see a movie. It's brainless, it doesn't really need to mean anything, and it doesn't really say anything about your character. To give you a quick rundown, the drugs that I have tried are: pot, shrooms, cocaine (this is NOT my high and I would never do it again), poppers, and various pills.
I had done acid before, and it was fun, but somehow this trip was different. I was changed, somehow, and I don't really understand how and I don't really understand why or what's different. But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I bought two hits of acid. Sam had been given a single hit from his friend. I took mine pretty directly after I got home which was around 1 o'clock. Sam waited an hour to take his, which meant that he took a hit around 2. Then we went to pick up our friend Tyler from his job. When we got there (maybe around 3?) I was already beginning to trip pretty hard. Tyler got off work, and we drove up to Black Balsam on the parkway and took a hike to the top. Tyler had bought two hits and took one and a half when we got there and gave Sam half of one of his. The hike itself was pretty short, but rocky and steep. I can't begin to describe the feelings I was having on the journey up. It was like walking through a fantasy world. Everything seemed magical and green and I felt like I was a part of it and it was a part of me. There was a breeze and the wind seemed to flow through me, not around me. I felt cold and hot at the same time. As we climbed the sky seemed to get closer to us, like I could reach up and touch it. The clouds began to swirl and dance and when we made it to the top, the view was breath taking. I was looking out over a sea of mountains, and they were stalwart and strong.
The mountains seemed so big. And they are so old. The Appalachians are some of the oldest mountains in the world. Tyler told me that they have grown as high as the Himalayas and then shrunk back down three times. These mountains have experienced so much, and here I was, standing on top of one, so young and clumsily making my way through a life that doesn't make much sense at all, and I will disappear just as quickly as I came so the best thing that I can do is find sense where I can. I thought of Steven then. I think that I've found sense with Steven. He was the only thing that made sense in that moment and his face was the only thing that I wanted to see even with all of beauty and nature dancing around me.
Sam and Tyler and I stayed on top of the mountain for a while (my sense of time was warped. It felt like forever. It felt like five minutes. In reality it may have been an hour. I don't really know) and then we hiked down a different trail and ended up in a dark part of the forest filled with huge pine trees. There was a huge stone there covered with moss that had an indentation that made it look similar to a throne. I sat in the stone throne and was named king by Sam and Tyler. Sam wrote a contract on a stick that stated "This is real," and we signed it. We sat there for a while and talked and laughed and threw sticks and pine needles at each other.
I felt connected to them then in a way that I have not felt connected with anyone since I was a child. It was pure brotherly love, and it was beautiful. There was no undercurrent of baggage; no looking at them through a fog of sexual innuendo; no hidden motives; no subconscious thoughts. We were just three guys playing around in the woods, and it was safe and pure and a feeling that I had forgotten about and didn't realize that I missed. I'm so caught up in hidden dramas playing out in my mind--at all times guessing at the motives and the emotions playing out behind the skulls of everyone I encounter so that I... so that I what? Have a leg up in conversation? Why do I see encounters like a chess game? I need to let that go and just be and let things happen naturally. It's better that way.
There were other things that happened Friday, too, but I don't feel as if they're really worth mentioning more than in passing here. We found a beautiful grotto filled with laurels and flowers and we took pictures of each other there like 90's album covers; Sam climbed half way up a cliff face; Tyler showed us what sassafras looked like and we ate it off directly off of the trees in the woods; we came home and smoked some salvia and Sam forgot who everyone and everything was for a few moments--but nothing compared to the time on top of Black Balsam and in the woods after.
Yesterday was Saturday and it was my little brother Christopher's wedding. The day after the trip (and the trip) out in the woods, I didn't really have time to process everything before being thrown into another big event, so I was still riding high on that experience and entering into another happy occasion. I was unable to sleep for more than an hour or so the night before, but I was running on excitement and adrenaline throughout most of the day. In the morning before the wedding my parents and I went out to eat at Five Points Restaurant. Five Points is a diner run by Greeks and they have the most amazing food there. For breakfast there I always order a spinach and feta omelet with potatoes and rye toast and a side of bacon. It's delicious, and if you're reading this and haven't been there, I recommend it highly.
After that my mom and I went shopping, and then we came back to her house and I took a shower and got ready. I bought a new suit a week or so before. I had put it on before to show it off, but never the complete outfit with shoes, belt, and pocket square. When everything was on and I looked at myself in the mirror I felt beautiful--like I had never looked as attractive in my life as I looked that day.
I slept in the car on the way to the vineyard where the wedding was going to be held. We were the first guests to arrive and I helped my dad set up the sound equipment. Christopher looked awesome in his suit, and together I think we pretty much outshone everyone there fashion wise. Except for his bride Nadya, of course. When she came out to walk down the aisle, she was a picture of happiness and radiance. I know that this is cliche, and that's how people always talk about brides, but they have been together for so long now--a lot longer than my longest relationship--and they seem to be made for each other.
The preacher talked about how she should be a submissive wife. How that was her duty to submit to her husband, and respect his decisions even if she didn't agree with them, and how it was simply the husband's duty to love her like he loved his own body. I wanted to punch a man of God. This speech was not okay in my eyes. A couple should love each other equally. Make decisions based on compromise and mutual respect. Listen to one another. No one should lead and no one should follow, but instead march lockstep and carry one another when necessary. A relationship is based on equality, not submissiveness. If this is what bigoted straight couples think marriage is that the gays are trying to encroach upon, let them have it. We'll do our better thing over here and just call it the same thing.
When it was time for the vows to be read to each other, my little brother choked up. They held on to one another's hands like they were about to be blown away by a gale. My brother's eyes were wide with emotion. I have no idea what he was feeling right then. The mess of emotions that must have been swirling all through his body. I don't have a frame of reference for that because I have never been through it. I do know, though, that it must have been powerful, because the entire crowd could feel a piece of it. Nadya then said her vows in the same manner. I was sitting in a place where I couldn't see her face, but I could hear the wideness of her eyes in her voice. It was gut-wrenching and pure. And then it was party time.
The wedding was held at a vineyard, and the free wine flowed like water. I drank, but I think I might have still been tripping a little from the day before, because I didn't feel drunk but I was talking like I had been talking the day before. I held nothing that I wanted to say to anyone back, and all my words were full of love and laughter. I was even nice to Jamie, the brother that I despise. Every slight. Every argument. Every evil thing that he has done was forgotten for a day, and he and Mikey, and Michele, and I were just siblings. Joking and laughing and poking fun at each other. It was nice to not deal with family drama and just share in joy.
The wedding was beautiful. The venue was beautiful. The food there was delicious. The conversations were friendly and fun and hilarious. It was another perfect day to cap off a perfect week.
I don't know where to go from here. I hope that things continue to look up and bright. I feel so blessed by this week. So beautifully blessed and alive. I haven't needed to look for things to make me happy to take snapshots of. All I've needed to do is live.
