The Good, The Bad, and Disco

I used to avoid Disco like the plague (it was right up there with Country). But I have to admit... it grows on you. Now there is something in my soul that stirs when I hear that downbeat of the BeeGees or see a flitter of glitter and sequins. Maybe it alludes to the ancient quest to turn lead into gold... or symbolizes the fountain of youth flowing through smooth, feathered hair and frosted lipstick... but whatever it is, I turned my nose up at it until now.

Now, in the midst of some sort of major tectonic plate shift in my world of ID, my soul strikes a chord with Disco. It isn't trying to be real. It's a dream of soft lighting, sparkle, and curves. A true harmony of suspended belief. It is about love and the seduction of a moment, frozen in time.

My life is the frozen coast of Lake Superior, patiently breathing with the tides and waiting out a Spring thaw. I am Disco, on the brink of a new direction. I am not the birth of Rock and Roll, I am not Synthetic 80's pop or stinky, raw Grunge. I am sexy hotpants on their last night out before they are retired to the closet. I have nothing to lose.

Enough with saucy metaphors.

I got the job with the non-profit to advocate for tobacco-free legislation and enforcement. I'm going to be a full-time employee with full benefits and paid vacation. I also found an apartment for a pretty good rate in town that has a dated, early 70's feel. I will finally be independent and free from roommates. I will be on my own for what feels like the first time (I know it's not true... I've been on my own for a while, but somehow this feels different).

I just went through a major issue regarding my current job and a derby tournament that I trained and fundraised for for months-I had received an approval to go to the tournament months ago, but I asked the wrong person. It ended up being not an issue of whether or not there was work for me to do, but a matter of being there in case something went wrong. I didn't go to the derby tournament in favor of keeping my job. It was the first time I have ever felt that my job was more important than derby.
I also managed to salvage my relationship with my boyfriend by the skin of my teeth through this (there are some overlaps that are kind of complex), perhaps more due to patience and some hard work on both of our parts to see the other's perspective. It was hairy. I actually packed two suitcases, thinking I was going to be kicked out. I don't know exactly how the whole thing patched up, but I think it might have something to do with both of us coming to the realization that we love and need each other. It's both upsetting and wonderful. I'm internally at peace with knowing that I depend on him for companionship and horrified that I am admitting that. I guess we all learn about ourselves as we go?

Much like Disco is dependent on John Travolta and it's eventual death, I am dependent on the love and respect of this man that is moody, difficult, and brilliant. He is the smartest person I know and I can't imagine my life without him in it. I guess that's how I know he's the one for me-honestly, who else could I talk to about Alchemy, Resurrection Deities, and the archetypal pattern of all human behavior, then find bliss holding his hand as we take a walk at dusk? I just don't think anyone else like him exists, and I can't risk losing him to find out just to go to a roller derby tournament. My perspective must have changed.

The best part of a really bad argument is the peace that comes with resolve. I am happy to at least grow from each painful transition and look forward to May when my metamorphosis really takes place. God damn, I think I've grown up! Scary.