2-Uh-2-0h

"Gabriel, something's going on with this thing... 

I think The Matrix glitched or something... come take a look!"

 --God, sometime mid-March.

Dearest and most beloved of readers,

I am so grateful that you are not only alive still but that you are taking time from your busy day to read this junk still! If I have learned anything this year, it is that I am not nearly as good as I thought I was at any of the things I thought I was good at... writing included. So I know that you must be here out of the sheer devotion and affection (and possible sexual attraction--fingers crossed) you feel toward me.

As you can tell already, this will be one of those rare combo truth-bomb/reflection/complete nonsense posts! Because--let's be real: you do not need another 2020 reflection or a lecture on gratitude or a list of things that went great with me this year while everyone else was literally perishing. SO... I will do my best to keep the sermon to myself and to try to keep this light-hearted and brief (the latter being harder than the former). 

What a mess of a year we find ourselves finishing up, huh? I have watched so many people I care deeply about struggle with illness, death, and grief... unlike ever before. It has been sobering and humbling and heartbreaking... and I've found myself realizing that there is literally so little I can do to make a difference for people, especially when they are hurting so bad. Man, that sucks. I hate to even bring to light something that is difficult for me because it's not nearly as difficult as whatever everyone else seems to be going through, but I suppose it's important to discuss it, just in case anyone else is feeling this way. So if you feel like 2020 has finally proven to the world and to yourself that you are, in fact, a failure and a horrible spouse/worker/sibling/child/friend/human, you are not alone in that boat. Feeling so powerless when you are used to getting reassurance about who you are by how much you help others is kind of mind-boggling. Just keep reminding yourself that it's okay to feel this, that you are not alone in this feeling, and that there will come a time again in life when you'll feel useful again.

And we will eventually feel whole again. And peaceful. And joyful. And productive. And sexy as hell.

Now, I said I wasn't gonna be preachy, but I literally can't even keep my promise. This is how bad at being helpful I've become, ya'll. Anyway, I won't tell you to be grateful, though. You know what you need to do, to pull yourself out of the funk. To see color again. Hopefully, it isn't drugs (I mean, illegal drugs... prescription drugs are cool... as long as you follow the recipe, ya know? You get it). What I WILL say is, rediscover the things that make you joyful (and again, hopefully, these do not involve something horribly devious or weird like collecting people's nail clippings). 

These are some of the things I am planning on including in my life more during 2021: 

More Korean Dramas

More walking like a T-rex
More tacos, crepes, and sushi

More time outdoors

More dancing in public spaces

More dancing in kitchens and bathrooms

More writing on this blog space

More ukulele songs

More piano songs poorly played and sung

More hugs

More making my girlfriends uncomfortable with my undying adoration

More singing in the car

More studying (that one is out of necessity, not out of love, ugh... but it's for my own good)

More traveling, especially to go see my Elena graduate from novitiate school (not actually a graduation and not actually called novitiate school) and to party with my Dr. Pip, who is also graduating (and might murder me for calling her Pip).

More Holy Hours in front of the Blessed Sacrament

At the risk of rubbing it in and despite what I said earlier, this year gave me some really strangely and beautifully simple things that I will treasure forever: the joy of feeding people in my apartment, the contentment of quarantining from March until July with just God's presence in my home and feeling absolutely at ease in His company, the peace of mind of having a new car (ya, that happened!), the exhilaration of embarking in this nursing journey, and the utterly delightful surprise of learning just how much FRIENDS care about you and want you to succeed. What a beauty.

Before I sign off, I do want to take the time to give the proper shoutouts to people (I told you I wasn't gonna preach to you about gratitude... but that doesn't mean I don't want to be grateful myself).

First and foremost: to Lauren Nicole, who loves me to the best of her ability and strives to help me despite whatever crippling obstacles she has to face on a day to day basis.

Secondly, and in that same vein, to my dearest adoptive-mom, Joanne, who constantly thinks of me and wants to see me succeed. 

Third, to my beloved Wees, who have shown me what it means to trust the Lord in times of adversity. Particularly grateful for my Henry. Elisabeth--you inspire me more than I can ever express. You are a wonder and a force of nature and such a beautiful Saint in the making. 

Next, I'd like to thank all the RELIGIOUS SISTERS I met this year and who have had a profound impact in my life, particularly Sr. Melinda, Sr. Maria Kim, Sr. Aloysius, and Sr. Catherine. Along with that, also super grateful for the women I've met who are discerning the religious life, particularly my Elena (Sr. Lucy), Lindsey, Rachel Clare, Sr. Cooey and Sr. Dominic. 

 Then, I want to give a shoutout to my dear friends who are always checking up on me: Moni, Claire, Ada, and Lou. Ya'll are so good and gracious to me.

Lastly but not leastly (that's a nursing school inside joke, sorry):

Jessica, thank you for loving me from the get-go.

Kimberly, thank you for your sweet and calming presence in my life.

Marisela, thank you for being my big sister.

Cara, thank you for being my love. 

Of course, no thanks are greater than the ones given to my Beloved, the Lord of Time, Space, and the Universe, my Savior and my All, for being so real and present and tangible all these months. And while I'm at it... also thanking my role models, the Saints, for pointing me to Him, particularly my Mama Mary and my Papa Joe. May my heart always belong to the Sacred Heart of my Beloved,  the Immaculate Heart of my Mama, and the Chaste Heart of my Papa. And may everything I do be for THE GREATER GLORY OF GOD.

Jezu ufam tobie.

Totus Tuus, Maria.

St. Joseph, Terror of Demons, pray for me!

HAPPY NEW YEAR, LADS!

Five-Three-Two

 

Oh, my dear 532... 

It is surreal to accept that this is the last night we spend together. I type this as I sit on your bare carpet, with its resurgent dark spots and worn-out, high-traffic areas. There isn't much left to move out, yet it feels like a colossally difficult task I'll have to face in the morning.  I type this as I sit here and question every decision that has led to me losing you.

I remember the first time I laid eyes on you: December 24th, 2016. I walked in knowing you were the bare bones of what would become a robust, delightful, lively home. My home. The place that would become haven and refuge to my often troubled spirit. The place where I would be able to laugh hysterically, sob audibly, sing loudly, curse unreservedly, cook adventurously, dance wildly, dream vividly, and hope defiantly. You, 532, were everything I had ever wanted in my first home: style and functionality, character and efficiency, cuteness galore. And with every year, as I added more pictures, more decor, and more plants, I knew you were slowly transforming into a direct reflection of my heart, a heart that cherishes beauty, joy, independence, and the warm afterglow of being loved. 

532, you are a fountain of comfort, a fortress of joy, a shrine to my self-reliance, and a sanctuary of my faith. So it is with profound sadness that I write this, knowing we don't have much time left together.

It hurts. I am thoroughly heartbroken, and I realize that it must seem so vain, so utterly shallow to be thus attached to a physical place, to ache for it as if it were a person. I realize how difficult--truly difficult--this year has been for some people, and how my problems are nothing in comparison with the obvious monumental crises the world faces today. Yet I can't help to feel this grief taking over me, washing up the shores of my very soul. I do know I am rather dramatic, but it is what I feel... as if I've just lost one of the most important pieces of the puzzle that makes me who I am. It is in this place that I learned to look at the mirror honestly and face the brutal truths about myself that I had been avoiding. It is here that I slowly began to recognize the core of what makes me who I am. It is within these walls that I finally dared to embrace the mess that I am and waltz around with myself. Here, life forced me to befriend myself and fall in love with myself despite all the reasons I found to not. All of that happened in here, 532. 

And when the world was wrong, broken, cruel, or indifferent, there was always the allure of 532. This apartment always felt like a warm hug waiting for me at the end of a long day, like a favorite grandmother who waits for you to come home with a tray of your favorite cookies and a cup of tea. Who wouldn't want to come home to such a place?! The magic was not hidden from visitors, either. There was always something inviting and cozy about you, 532. It was like living in a pillow fort all the time. 

I don't want to leave. I begged for a miracle for so long. Alas, it was not meant to be. God has determined that I must leave and that this beautiful space is for someone else. So I just want to say: thank you. For being a physical space that allowed me to breathe in so deeply that I feel I took root. Thank you for giving me room to be my own person, however loud or quiet, happy or sad, rageful or peaceful. Thank you for being shelter for my body and a balm for my soul. Thank you for being so beautiful that it made my heart swell with pride to call you home. Thank you for being Cafe Cristina. Thank you for being the best nightclub-for-one. Thank you for being with me through the countless tears that no one else saw. Thank you for being the best audience for my constant stand-up comedy special. Thank you for being the most Catholic apartment in the world. Thank you for becoming the home I had been needing my entire life. 

I love you, 532. I will never forget what you meant and how you made my life so much better. I hope your next tenant will show you some loving. And I hope that I'll be able to feel the same way about a place again.