Ah, January, done already? I started this month in a warehouse in San Francisco, at a New Year's party that went all night, and then I moved on, watching the first dawn come as I entered Breakfast of Champions. And again this year there were probably a thousand people in there by 8am, and it was so raging I can't even begin to tell you. I'm just flabbergasted that this event even happens the way it does every year -- that the Space Cowboys pull it together, and that this many people (including almost everyone I know) actually want to do such a thing, and do it with such gusto. Along with my usual BOC fare, dancing upstairs to the breaks & freakin' out with friends, I also spent the bulk of the afternoon taking care of a stranger who had a meltdown at the event. It was an intense experience to sit & hold space for someone while she totally loses her shit, but it really felt like the right thing to do at the time, and I got a lot of support from friends in the endeavor. So it was hard, but an honor. And then all of a sudden it's getting dark out again, and I see that after twelve hours at BOC, it's time to go to bed. The next morning I'm at work, no worse for wear.
On January 5 my car is stolen out of the Mission some time after midnight, and the next day I'm having a party at our house, so someone has to take me shopping. And it's nine days later when the police call to say the car's been found down near Daly City. It's beat up, and some stuff's been stolen, but it's OK. I had no theft insurance, so I'm just happy it's back. I'm not sure why I needed that lesson, but I got it anyway.
A little construction project started here at home mid-month, and banging commences outside our bedroom window at 7:30 in the morning. There's the disruption, and there are decisions, and there are unforseen costs, and it's an effort to not stress about it. Oh yeah, and it's going to be very cool when it's done.
On January 22 I got sick. I rarely get so much as a cold, so I guess I'd forgotten just how miserable it is to spend time in an ailing body. My week of bodyaches and sniffles and goopy lungs was more than enough to give me a newfound appreciation of the excellent health I almost always enjoy. And while still ill I had to go to a meeting of the Northern California Consortium of Psych Libraries, because at the end of the meeting, The Gavel was passed to me, and I assumed the office of president of the organization. I'm thinking it's more duty than honor, but either way, it should be interesting. And I do get to wield this here gavel.
Finally, before the clock runs out on this month of January, and before it passes unnoticed again, let me note that it was a late January evening 16 years ago -- the exact date having long since evaporated into the mists of time -- when a Jason and a Jiwon, both freshly twenty-one, met at a brewpub in Ithaca. She followed him home, and that night was followed by another, and another...and here we are, nearly 6,000 nights later. Oh my, do I have blessings to count or what? Seriously.