Midway Airport, 12/22/06

Everyone is going home for Christmas.

Part of me wishes I was getting on a plane, instead of the bus. Where would I fly? Maybe Spain. It would be comforting, I think, to be in a completely foreign place, instead of being in the same old place, feeling like a foreigner. If I'm going to feel alone anyway, it might as well be true.

There aren't usually so many children here. Sure, sometimes you see teenagers heading off for their "two weeks in the summer with your low-life father," but it's mostly suits, presumably travelling for business. But it's three days to Christmas, and everywhere I go, I see families. And I am envious.

I wish I was starting my own family. I wish I didn't feel so lonely. Maybe it's the holidays, maybe it's traveling, but I am sad.

There's a single black bag going around and around on one of the baggage carousels, and I wonder about the person who left it there - when will they realize what they've left behind? Will they turn around before they get to the parking garage? Will they call the airline, frantic, when they finish bringing the other bags into the house?

I empathize with that black bag - forgotten, abandoned, and forced to make a slow, sad circle, waiting to be claimed. But I gave up on you remembering me, coming back for me, a long time ago. The bag still has a chance, some small hope, of being taken home.

The Moment I'd Hoped For

Ludo is a band out of St. Louis. In 2005, they released an album called Broken Bride. It is a story album, about a man who misses his dead wife so much that he invents a way to travel back in time. In the first song, "Broken Bride," he laments that he has accidentally travelled to the wrong time:

I crashed before the birth of Christ, with pterodactyls swarming,
You died in 1989, have to get back to that morning in May...

The narrator experiences all forms of Armaggeddon and Hell on Earth, before finally making it back to his beloved, for the final song, which is called "Morning in May," and is today's radio selection.

The first time I heard this song was shortly after (or shortly enough after) my boyfriend left me, and I remember being moved to tears. I know, my boyfriend didn't die, he just left me. But still, I identified with the narrator's sense of loss, and desire to recapture the past. This song hurts me every time I listen to it. It is 5 minutes and 43 seconds of pure suffering. Listen to it, and think about lost love, and try not to cry. I dare you.

On a Scale from 1 to Bitter: Walking Dead
1-800-Bitterness.com Radio: Ludo - Morning In May
1-800-Bitterness.com Reading List: I Never Promised You a Rose Garden by Joanne Greenberg

Deadlines

Josh says that contact improv could save the world. I think he's right. But I think you'd have to start early. You'd have to teach it to children. Contact improv could save the future. You could teach it to the next generation, and you could set them free.

It's just too bad that it's too late for me.

On a Scale from 1 to Bitter: Set in my ways.
1-800-Bitterness.com Radio: Bitch and Animal - Push the System
1-800-Bitterness.com Reading List: Bright Lights, Big City by Jay McInerney