My Cusp Runneth Over

lim·i·nal adjective \ˈli-mə-nəl\ : of, relating to, or being an intermediate state, phase, or condition : in-between, transitional

As the new year rolls up on us, it is a time for renewal. For many, this takes the form of resolutions, kept with varying degrees of success; in this space, it has traditionally been a renewal of values. This time, however, I find myself at the center of a veritable storm of rejuvenation and renaissance, with all kinds of changes and growth happening all around me, so much that it seems this holiday-transition time is never-ending: limitless liminality.

It started on November 16, when I bought a showroom-new car for only the second time in over forty years as a driver. Fairly big deal, and the least of the developments to come.

On December 3, I informed my institution that I was leaving my position as Dean for Student Learning and asserting my right under tenure to return to teaching faculty. The decision was the outcome of a constellation of considerations and not made lightly; I think it will be a fruitful choice in the long run.

Two days later, during Coco's birthday celebrations, I asked her to marry me and she said yes. After eight years, it seemed time. The household happiness index has never been higher, and it keeps rising.

On January 6, in a tattoo parlor in Greenwood, Coco and I had Sanskrit symbols inked on our ring fingers and tied the knot right there.

A few days ago, on January 18, I went under the knife, snicker-snack, for a vasectomy.

And we're leaving for Hawaii in a week and a half, for a slightly delayed Maui-moon.

In between all those significant events were the usual Big Three of holidays - Thanksgiving,  Isaac Newton's Birthday, and New Year's Eve (with bonus ear infection and urgent care visit!) - as well as the birthdays and anniversaries of several friends and family, visits from abroad, and extended cat-sitting duties.

There are two upshots to this:

1. I can't remember what a "normal" week feels like.

2. Although all this change has inspired me to different creative, artistic, and self-improvement endeavors, I feel like I haven't been able to get purchase to move forward on any of them.

Here's the solution: I am delaying my own personal New Year's until Sunday, February 10. If the lunisolar calendar that has served the Celestial Empire for something like 4000 years is good enough for something like a billion and a half people, then it's good enough for me, at least this year.

So, you may be hearing from me in the next few weeks as I try to knit up the ravell'd sleeve of change, but the big change will be delayed a bit. When lichun gets, here, though, there will be red envelopes for everyone and renewed vigor all around. Just have patience...

...this may take a little longer than I planned.

Identity

So, in our house, we only have broadcast television, no cable or satellite, so we wind up watching that like, not at all. We do, however, have the internets connected to the TV screen, and Netflix streaming gets a lot of play. We usually pick one series, usually one that is off the air now, and watch it through. Without commercials, regular shows are about forty-five minutes long, a nice little period that allows for some passive/relaxing/snuggling/decompression time without consuming the whole evening.

The show that we are currently watching is Warehouse 13, a somewhat goofy fantasy series perhaps best summarized as "Mulder and Scully working for the warehouse at the end of Raiders of the Lost Ark." Set in the same universe as the goofy sci-fi series Eureka, it has the same implausible science, outlandish plots, and tongue-in-cheek approach that create a decently diverting series. It has the added bonus of a wealth of literary and historical allusions and references, since the Artifacts (you can hear the capital "A" every time they say it) that the principals are chasing and guarding are all related to famous people or incidents. But most of all, we like it for the characters:

The main agents are Myka and Pete, your usual oil-and-water partners, Secret Service agents recruited into Warehouse service when they stumble into a case involving an Artifact. Myka is a logical, analytical bookworm; Pete is an intuitive, emotional frat-boy. Within the constraints of episodic television, the characters have developed beyond their stereotypes, at least a bit. Claudia is the wunderkind computer hacker, a late-millennial post-ironic poster-girl who literally says "squeal of delight!" when pleased and uses slang not heard since Scooby-Doo. And leading them all is Artie, a former NSA cryptographer who has been with the Warehouse since the seventies, the cranky old man of the group. Pretty conventional fare, made a little more interesting by a slightly steampunk vibe, and I only mention it here because of an observation I made while watching the show:

My Identification character is Artie. Even in escapist entertainment, I can no longer imagine myself the square-jawed protagonist, much less the rookie or the boy wonder - it just doesn't work, especially when I look in the mirror. You've got to face it when the reflection looks more like Vulko than Aquaman. With the more-than-a-few miles I've got on me now, my contributions to the Cause - real or imaginary - tend to be subtler, often less flashy, but (it is hoped) still critical. I can leave for others the Achillean heroics; my role has evolved from that, and is based more and more on experience - creaky and maybe even cranky, but valuable. And there are some perks to being the boss in exchange for not being the lead.

My last post concerned things I am just now really understanding, and I forgot one: some years ago, a colleague said to me regarding my leadership "Maybe it's time to move from brash to wise." Yeah, I can live with that.

After all, I can still wear my Chucks.