![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Comfort And Joy
Oct. 26th, 2009 07:57 pmOVFF was everything I hoped for, everything I needed, and everything I wanted.
It's funny - when I'm not there, and especially when I wind up missing it for a year, I always wonder why I ever go. I'm not a musician - I can't play a single instrument, and my singing is.... best saved for the extremely patient and tolerant, and that's when I'm having a good day. I'm not one of the Cool Kids; while I have a few friends there, I'm not at the center of anything. It's not my heart-home, it's just somewhere I wound up hanging out while I was in grad school.
But then I go, and suddenly none of that matters anymore. I'm in the arms of my friends, and listening to music that makes me laugh and makes me cry and makes me dance around like a dervish, and the guitars and drums and joking and hugging and stories of everything that's happened in the past year or two or three fill me up and I can't imagine ever thinking that this isn't where I belong.
Even the flights out and back were alarmingly cooperative - other than a brief delay on the first leg, triggered by the president's arrival at Logan Airport (not the airline's fault, and hey, we got to sit on the runway next to Air Force 1), things were pretty darn close to on time. Our 3-hour layover turned into lunch with an out-of-town friend, and then we were back at my otherhome Ohio, and I was surrounded by old friends, and spent most of the rest of the weekend that way.
There were concerts full of amazing music, including one song that I had been seeking out for over 16 years, but didn't know the name of to look for it, and another that made me fall flat on my backside laughing so hard I couldn't breathe (admittedly not the hardest task, but still.....). There was yarn-shopping and yoga, and there were pepperoni rolls from Great Harvest, and lunch with a friend that I never quite get to spend enough time with. I had my picture drawn, taking me yet one step further in my quest for immortality, and balanced a sword on my head, and was even conned/wheedled/charmed into dancing somewhere near the front of Stuff, proving that maybe I've actually learned something in my months at Middle Eastern dance practice. I spent too much money on music, and I don't regret a bit of it.
I'm home now. I went to work this morning on far too little sleep, and now I'm trying to beat recalcitrant butter into something resembling cookie dough and figuring out how to make tiny, removable pastry hats for quail eggs, and I'll probably remain sleep-deprived and questionably nourished for the rest of the week, but it was worth every minute and moment of it. Is it really going to be a year before I can go back?
Oh, and apologies for the obscureness here, but![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
braider, I remembered the other two -
3) "If I can't sleep with you, can I at least tell my friends that I did? I think it'll improve my status...."
and
4) "Hey, it's time to schedule our yearly I-hit-on-you-and-you-turn-me-down backrub session. How's tomorrow afternoon sound?"
It's funny - when I'm not there, and especially when I wind up missing it for a year, I always wonder why I ever go. I'm not a musician - I can't play a single instrument, and my singing is.... best saved for the extremely patient and tolerant, and that's when I'm having a good day. I'm not one of the Cool Kids; while I have a few friends there, I'm not at the center of anything. It's not my heart-home, it's just somewhere I wound up hanging out while I was in grad school.
But then I go, and suddenly none of that matters anymore. I'm in the arms of my friends, and listening to music that makes me laugh and makes me cry and makes me dance around like a dervish, and the guitars and drums and joking and hugging and stories of everything that's happened in the past year or two or three fill me up and I can't imagine ever thinking that this isn't where I belong.
Even the flights out and back were alarmingly cooperative - other than a brief delay on the first leg, triggered by the president's arrival at Logan Airport (not the airline's fault, and hey, we got to sit on the runway next to Air Force 1), things were pretty darn close to on time. Our 3-hour layover turned into lunch with an out-of-town friend, and then we were back at my otherhome Ohio, and I was surrounded by old friends, and spent most of the rest of the weekend that way.
There were concerts full of amazing music, including one song that I had been seeking out for over 16 years, but didn't know the name of to look for it, and another that made me fall flat on my backside laughing so hard I couldn't breathe (admittedly not the hardest task, but still.....). There was yarn-shopping and yoga, and there were pepperoni rolls from Great Harvest, and lunch with a friend that I never quite get to spend enough time with. I had my picture drawn, taking me yet one step further in my quest for immortality, and balanced a sword on my head, and was even conned/wheedled/charmed into dancing somewhere near the front of Stuff, proving that maybe I've actually learned something in my months at Middle Eastern dance practice. I spent too much money on music, and I don't regret a bit of it.
I'm home now. I went to work this morning on far too little sleep, and now I'm trying to beat recalcitrant butter into something resembling cookie dough and figuring out how to make tiny, removable pastry hats for quail eggs, and I'll probably remain sleep-deprived and questionably nourished for the rest of the week, but it was worth every minute and moment of it. Is it really going to be a year before I can go back?
Oh, and apologies for the obscureness here, but
braider, I remembered the other two - 3) "If I can't sleep with you, can I at least tell my friends that I did? I think it'll improve my status...."
and
4) "Hey, it's time to schedule our yearly I-hit-on-you-and-you-turn-me-down backrub session. How's tomorrow afternoon sound?"
