Cultivation

I'm experiencing that feeling. That feeling of dread and doom and fear, where each new event of the day seems unbearably full of chances to fail.

It goes right down the middle of me, and then runs around to all the tips of my body like static. Pins and needles.

I'm looking for something to redirect my attention and my feelings, but not in the frantic or lethargic way of most procrastination. I've been into lists lately, so here then is a list of the beautiful things in my day thus far:

*Sunlight and brilliant blue sky
*I think my professor for Hinduism and the Epics is more genuinely and passionately in love with what she studies and teaches than anybody I have ever met, ever.
*She also has a beautiful wrap-thing... like a shawl, but with sleeves, very thin and see through and flowy, in a sort of deep pink.
*While I was sitting outside to eat my lunch, my TF came by just as I had gotten some bleu cheese dressing on my mouth and was realizing I had no napkins, and he was like, "Do you need napkins?" because he had grabbed extras.
*Meeting a really exciting person who LOVES William Finn and is coming to my birthday party.
*A hot shower.
*A moment in writing my response when it really clicked in and took off, all at once.
*Having the thought "fuck everyone; I don't have time," and then thinking about the implications of that statement and laughing to myself.
*Saying no.
*These ridiculous little things serving as zipper pulls on my purse, which are eggs and circus people and have two alternate faces all at the same time! Really!
*The knowledge that people (you, at this time) will come by and read my list.

Twenty-Four Things I Have Experienced in the Past Twenty-Four Hours

I have...

1. talked theology until 3 AM
2. seen a visual representation of Krsna as ultimate transcendent divinity
3. skinned my knee
4. walked in stocking feet on the wet, cold ground chanting "walk walk walk" to keep myself going
5. had a moment of complete understanding and connection with what my professor was saying
6. heard a description of what it was like to be in Iraq with a rocket zooming overhead from a classmate sitting next to me, directed only to me
7. received an adorable stuffed chick dressed in bunny ears that chirps when you press its middle
8. been invited to two parties
9. eaten soup
10. been walked in on in the bathroom
11. thrown my books on the floor both to get them out of my hands and to hear them bang
12. not attended a rehearsal I was (somewhat surprisingly) looking forward to
13. counted out almost my last non-penny, non-foreign change for a bag of m&ms and a bottle of ginger ale
14. worn a new skirt for the first time
15. given a present
16. fallen asleep while reading the Gospel of John
17. made my bed
18. mentally compared the discourse of a divine being to the way I try to introduce bizarre statements to my friends, and then attempted to explain this out loud
19. forgotten (again) to take my sleeping bag up from the dryer
20. touched a very fuzzy sweater
21. seen Rachel for the first time in over a week
22. photocopied almost 100 pages
23. Learned that Thessalonians come from Thessalonica.
24. Been almost too tired to finish my list.

Just Mucking Around

72.4%

www.puritytest.org


I should do Latin now, and get some lunch, and go get my perpetually disastrous phone checked out.

*sigh*

Dreams

First, I dreamed that Maddie and Charlotte and Sarah Bardenett and David Fanelli were all coming to my old home for my birthday dinner. And we were all staying in this front part of the place (which was layed out in some totally different way) and trying to figure out where everyone was going to sleep.

Then, I dreamed that I was telling people about this play... except that it switched into me being a part of the story sometimes, which really looked more like a movie than a play. I think what happened is that I saw part of the story in my head, and then tried to describe it. (Sort of like this, in fact.) But there was a man who was the main character, and I was seeing through his eyes when I was there. And I think he had this weird cut, on his chin or below his throat, but I'm not sure. Anyway, he was in a sort of food court, which was mostly deserted, and I think he got some pizza or some kind of food, and he was talking to the people who worked there. He had just been through some kind of harrowing experience, in which this youngr eporter, who I guess was a collegue of his in some capacity, had been killed. The reporter's name was Jim.

Anyway, this guy went outside. It was a city, and sort of freshly rained on, and he ran into this other man, except the individual was somewhat gender-ambiguous... not really because of behavior, I don't think, though his clothes were a little unusual in some way, but more because he was actually an angel or some other kind of spiritual being. He kind of approached my guy and they had a conversation. I think the spirit guy was saying that he and his kind used to be all over the earth, or something, and then they had to leave, but a lot of them didn't. And he was saying, "Why would we leave? Look at it here. Would you leave?" And this lead my guy to sort of take a mental stock of why his life was good, or something. And this was accompanied by a mental image of a naked woman sitting up in bed, but she was very undefined in her appearance... I think the point of her was that she was aware of the world and happy? I'm not sure. But he said, to himself but I think the spirit guy heard him, "I've got a place to live, and I've got (something else I forget), and I've got a man who loves me." And I think he was trying to avoid the subject of the experience he just went through and the death of Jim with the spirit, but the spirit knew all about it, and was forcing him to talk about it. And he kept trying to talk about the things in his life that were good, like, "I've got friends, and family, and a cat," or something. But the spirit was very insistant that they deal with this experience. I think the problem was that my guy knew that if he directly faced or admitted to what happened, he would have to go back to the bad situation in some way and fight a battle or something, and he was scared.

Then it flashed to me being in a hallway, and I was playing a game with Charlotte which involved us kicking a ball back and forth with the object being to hit the doorways... I think I lost. But then I went to make some meatballs, and I was telling my mom and Charlotte about this play-thing, and I had the same cut as the guy, and it was really quite bloody and we had to keep binding it up, and my mom was telling me calmly that I should take as much medicine as I wanted, and probably at the hospital they would give me ten or twenty tylenol. But I was trying to cook meatballs and tell about the play, and my mom seemed uninterested, and Charlotte told me that this wasn't the way you were supposed to summarize a play, that I was putting in too much detail, and tried to describe how you had to say it all in one sentence... and I was really fed up with everyone not listening to the story, and my bleeding chin/neck was painful and irritating. So then my mom was like, let's go to the hospital, and I realized we were going out the door with the meatballs just sitting on the stove in grease, and I was really pissed and I was like, if we leave them like that they'll go bad while we're gone! And I went back and was trying to get it all in the fridge really quickly and drain the grease and my mom was just sort of cheerfully hurrying me out the door... it was all rather upsetting.

After having written that out, it is about as weird as I thought. Clearly some kind of anxiety dream... and I like the play part... but odd.

Happy Valentine's Day to Me... and to You. :)

I think it started when I was walking home from the gym on Monday. It felt great to exercise, and I felt suddenly healthier and more capable in the world. Then, as I was walking home, I saw the most beautiful silver-white moon against a dark blue sky. And spindly trees stretching up to touch it. It felt wonderful. I was suddenly at peace, and happy to be by myself, experiencing this lovely night.

I had been feeling some trepidiation about Valentine's Day. I'd been in a generally gray mood lately, quick to self-pity and slow to relaxation. And the thing is, I've never, never been one to complain about Valentine's Day. I like it, and I'm always remembered, even if it's never been romantically meant. But this year... I was feeling complainy. Rachel has a girlfriend, and my other friends are occupied on Tuesday nights, or not at all in the area. I was getting antsy about the idea of being alone. Quite frankly, I thought maybe the day might suck, and I was rather displeased with myself for joining the ranks of the alone-on-Valentine's complainers. But, as it approached, I began to notice how much care I was getting from all different sources. Two adorable cards from my mom, a present from Jeff (her boyfriend), a really hilarious card from Bekah, a card from my aunt and uncle (who always remember me on Valentine's Day), the promise of mail from Katie (which has now come! a wonderful, thoughtful card), and really beautiful and tender cards from Rachel, too. I've never really done much for Valentine's Day in terms of gifts or cards for others, and it touched me that all these people would be so thoughtful and kind and loving to me.

So, on the lovely walk home on Monday, I decided I would take myself out for Valentine's Day, and buy myself a present. I was thinking about comfortable and sexy lingerie, as I have none. I thought maybe I would also take myself to dinner, and see if anything else appealed to me, like seeing a movie or some kind of event. I also had this sudden and striking thought, in the way that sometimes words just appear in your head... that I had no idea what my romantic life would hold. I had no idea who I would end up loving in that way... it could be a man, as I have mostly assumed and sought, but it could also be a woman, which seems oddly more possible (in terms of my own internal compass) now that I am not at Bryn Mawr... it could even, though it's hard for me to imagine, be more than one person... anything was possible. But whatever it will be, the fact that it hasn't started yet is not a judgement on me... it just means there's a surprise coming, and knowing now would ruin the surprise. I don't know where this idea came from, but it was very clear and it felt very good.

Then, Valentine's Day itself started out fine. Almost everyone in the office wore red or pink, which was very pleasing. And I got a valentine from Courtney, with whom I don't even interact that much. But the highlight of the work portion of my day came when we were supposed to have a staff meeting, and instead we had a nice lunch/Valentine's party, courtesy of DeVida. It was yummy and exciting.

Throughout the day, I browsed online for activities and events happening in the evening, and I found this thing called Night of a Thousand Plays. Basically, it was many many little tiny plays (though not actually 1,000) all performed one after the other, by different groups of actors. I was kind of intrigued, though I had no idea whether this format would actually work for me. But they had a half price Valentine's Day special, and I decided to print out the coupon and see if I felt like going when it came time. Meanwhile, I was talking online to this man who had messaged me while I was messing around on Okcupid, with whom I had hit it off decently in our brief conversation... and I mentioned the show, and he seemed interested. So I invited him. And he said yes. Boom, Valentine's Day date. :) I was so surprised! We decided to meet for dinner and he gave me his number and his name (Swami, short for something really really long and Indian).

The plan we made was that I would go to the theater after work and try to pick up the tickets. I did, but the box office was not yet open. So I called him and we set a time to meet for dinner. Of course, there wasn't time to go home and change. Happily, I was wearing a new red skirt and nice shirt, but less happily, I was wearing my very very beat up and scuffed snow boots. I haven't bought new ones yet because I can get spendthrifty about shoes and clothes and I figured, hey, they're still workable. Which they are. But last night, I was suddenly very self-conscious and worried about them. So I found a shoe store, and went in. The cheapest shoes I found in there were over $100, and most were $300 or $400. Um, no. I'm even used to more high end shoes, or so I thought, because my foot is sometimes hard to fit. But PLEASE. What could they possible have done to a few pieces of nice leather or whatever to make it worth $300? NOTHING, at least not from where I and my bank account stand. So I got out of there, beginning to despair of my shoe changing plan... when I turned a corner and saw an Aerosoles shoe store! I went in, and found lovely little red suede boots, with tassels, in my size, for $30. So I bought them. And some tan trouser socks. And popped over to the McDonald's bathroom to change them, stuffing my mismatched cotton socks and scuffed up boots into the Aerosoles bag. Feeling new and spiffy, I hurried out to meet Swami by 6:30.

When I arrived at the appointed corner, at first I saw only an old man. But then I caught sight of a young man on the opposite side of the road, surveying everyone who passed. We ascertained our mutual identities and he came over to my side of the street. To my delight, he was handsome! He had dark, full, wavy hair and beautiful dark eyes with long eyelashes. He gave me a hug hello, which was interesting to me, because I had been debating between a hug and a handshake. We headed down the street to a little Italian restaurant right across from the theater, and got seats even though we didn't have a reservation. It was a really pretty, cozy place, and all the waitstaff were very friendly.

We talked throughout the meal about various things. He's really smart. I mean, he's about to get his PhD from Penn in physics (he'll be done in December) and he's only 25. Apparently in India he just had this really driven life and had to go go go all the time... and now that he's here, he's sort of sick of science and he doesn't really want to keep on with it as a career. He's more interested in the artistic arena, apparently, and tried many things before he settled on this improvisational jazz thing that he does. He plays percussion. But it's funny how I could notice his scientific training coming through in his way of perceiving and noticing things. For example, there was a candle on our table, and we were watching the light come through the candleholder and splinter into little points on the tabletop. And suddenly he tells me that he did a project on why light does that in just that way. It was kind of fascinating. He also told me that he loved to play with fire as a child and he has little scars on his hands from it. Which sounds like he's way more edgy than he mostly seemed, and I'd almost forgotten that until I wrote it down here.

We also talked about adjusting to a new culture, and movies... he asked if I thought he should see Brokeback Mountain, and of course I responded enthusiastically in the affirmative, and then that led to an interesting discussion of how he has trouble connecting emotionally to gay stories. He basically said that he can understand and accept it intellectually, but emotionally he hasn't made that connection. So... I tried to indicate how connected I am to such matters without exactly saying "some of my best friends are gay." Though that's basically what I said, because even though it sounds silly, it's absolutely true. And he hastily assured me that he lived in an "artists' house" and that most of the time when they had parties there were gay people making out all over the place... though it didn't seem he was entirely comfortable with this. Yet, he could hardly be entirely uncomfortable or he wouldn't have brought up Brokeback Mountain, I suppose. Anyway, we had a pretty lively talk about the movie, and how I really thought he should see it because I think it's ideal for making exactly that emotional connection. He expressed some skepticism about "Oscar movies" in general, which I found a bit pretentious, but you can't win 'em all, right? This discussion led me to ask about cultural differences in this area of thought between India and the US, and he said that, because men and women were mostly kept apart until marriage, the bonds between male friends there are much more at the level of intimacy that is expected between female friends here. I think this is really interesting, though it makes me wonder if he had much contact with women his own age before coming here.

We also talked quite a bit about the intellect, and what kind of importance it has to us, or has had in the past... he said that for his whole life he has been so focused on the intellect as the paramount thing, but now he realizes that it is not the most important thing, and he really wants to branch out and explore other parts of himself. It's funny, because he's obviously excellent in an academic environment, but I got this strong sense of him being, more than anything, sick of it. I told him about my decision to take time off after Bryn Mawr. I think, in a lot of ways, he's in a similar mental place now as I was then, even though he's light years ahead in terms of the schooling he has finished. Although from how he speaks, his work in physics is never going to be his life commitment, or even his job beyond a few money making years. He said something about wanting to work for a few years and save up money to do something else, like open a restaurant. That surprised me, since he also said he didn't like/know how to cook. So I don't know what's up with that. Really, it seemed like his real love was this percussion/improvisation/free jazz thing. I find this kind of fascinating, because I can see that trait in him (starting with the fact that he was often drumming with his fingers and working out a rhythm in pauses in conversation, especially in the theater and once we were out of the restaurant). According to him, he just decided that science was not his thing (which continues to astonish me, given how far he's going with it), and that he wished to engage artisticially. He then tried writing and painting, among other things, and finally hit on his affinity for music. Maybe this is baffling to me because I had my strongest affinities from a very young age... the first thing I was going to be was an actress who writes her own plays. And, the way Swami tells it, he was all science science science, and then one day decided art was it for him, instead. It's a very different sort of experience.

He asked me lots of questions, but I think I did the same. There were a few awkward pauses, but less than you might expect for two total strangers. Overall, I really enjoyed it. He was an interesting combination of being rather shy-seeming and a little deferent (sp??) on the one hand, and being sort of suddenly extremely committed to his opinion (the Oscar movie thing, for example). And dinner was quite excellent. I had lobster ravioli, and he had some kind of other seafood/pasta dish. Oh, this was kind of odd- at the beginning of the meal, when we were looking at the menus, I asked him if he wanted to get wine. He responded right away by saying he didn't drink. I said ok. Then he said I could get it if I wanted to, of course. Then he said he would have wine if I picked one for him that wasn't too strong. He said he was happy to try things but he didn't like them too strong. So I picked cabernet sauvingnon for myself, and then asked the waitress if she had a suggestion for a sweeter, less dry wine. She seemed very confused about what I was asking, for some reason, and finally pointed one out that said "dry" in the description. So I had no idea what was going on there, and I decided to order him chardonnay, since I find that sweet and in general white is sweeter and more palatable to less enthusiastic wine drinkers than red. I don't know if he liked it. He ate like a bird... only about half his entree (I find many restaurant entrees big, but this was just the right size, to me) and maybe half of his wine. I polished off my whole entree and my whole glass of wine, which, just to give you a picture, came in a glass the size of my head. I mean, it was not full, of course. But his came in this tiny, delicate wine glass. I know it's something I would understand if I knew more about wine, but it was odd. I had the briefest moment of being insecure about my dramatically larger appetite, but it passed quickly. I was hungry, and I decided to be ok with that. :-) I think it was interesting (word of the day, sorry), too, that were had this sort of odd back and forth in who took what kind of role in the evening. I mean, I invited him, made the plans, ordered his wine, and paid for his theater ticket. He, on the other hand, carried my shopping bag, paid for dinner, stood on the bus behind me instead of sitting somewhere else, and initiated all of the (awkwardly executed yet warm and pleasant) cuddling that took place during the play. So I don't know. I probably wouldn't be this obsessed with it if I didn't worry a little that he will suddenly turn into a real partriarchal type. Or, to be honest, that the cultural differences between us mean that he has expectations of women of which I'm fundamentally unaware. Well, who knows, I guess.

By the end of our dinner he'd expressed interest in my theological leanings (I told him about applying to grad school), and we discussed my thesis briefly. He latched onto the idea and said he could tell me about parallel situations in Indian religion and mythology. I'm super excited about that. I tried to explain it carefully and well, without assuming that he had or didn't have a base knowledge about Christianity. I can't wait to see what ideas he has about it...

Anyway, we finished up our dinner, and headed out. The waitress came running after me to give me a rose, which apparently she was supposed to bring to the table! I was thrilled! A pretty red rose, just for me, just because it was Valentine's Day and I was a woman and there. :-) Though I've also been thinking lately how men must sometimes feel less special than women, overall. I mean, I won't say that women don't still get the raw end of the deal, because we do, and I would trade being coddled for being powerful any day... but still. On Lost, there was this part with two men talking about the possible destruction of an Iraqi village in the first Gulf War. And the one said to the other, think of everyone who will be killed. Innocent women, children. And I thought, what about innocent men? What does it say that men are consistently told that women are somehow more "precious" than they are? I'm not saying I don't understand the concept of "women and children first," or whatever, but just as it is destructive to women to assume that we are inherantly sweet and innocent, it is destructive to men to assume that they are inherantly not, or that women have some kind of uncorrupted innocence/worth that men must seek to protect even at the expense of themselves, because men are powerful, and therefore not innocent. My dad said that as a kid he hated hearing that girls were "sugar and spice and everything nice" and boys were "snakes and snails and puppy dog's tails." He didn't understand why he didn't get to be nice things, too. Bah, the whole dualistic hierarchical gender system hurts everybody!

But that was a loooooong soapboxy tangent. I was delighted with my rose. Let's go back to that. ;-) We went to the show, and I insisted on paying for his ticket (it was, after all, still much less than the meal). It was at the Adrienne, in this space called the Playground, which was a really nice little theater. I wanted to sit front and center, and he was startlingly adamant about sitting back (and side, which I thought would be the worst view), and we agreed at last to sit back and center. I wasn't sure why this was such an important thing to him, like, we were looking around and i was like, well, we could sit up front, and he was like, no. Back. It was odd. Aggressive reticence? I don't know.

The play was good. I know if you've made it this far you probably are getting a little overwhelmed by the sheer volume of information in this post, but it was, and I feel I should say something about it, too, not just my date. For the first couple of little three minute (or so) bits, I wasn't sure if it would be good. Then either I wrapped my head around the format or they hit their stride or both. There was one that was basically ruined because for some reason one of the young women was on book, which was utterly distracting for us, for her, and for the other actors. And there were a bunch that fell flat. But there were also wonderfully hilarious ones, especially as the evening wore on. There was one that reminded me a lot of Dilexi, in a way! It started with this coffee barista trying to sell coffee to a rushed man. The man kept asking for something plain, and she would offer him a ridiculously complicated list of choices. It seemed a funny, if ordinary set-up. But then, the man remained calm, and the barista got all crazy, saying that he couldn't win, and the way the sketch had to go was that she kept offering him all these pointless choices until he became overwhelmed and collapsed to the ground. And then another woman came in and she and the man started flirting, and exchanged names, and the barista was freaking out because they weren't supposed to be able to do any of this... well, it was funny and exciting. The best one, hands down, was this one about a really reserved, precise man who got into a totally unexpected sexual situation... i was so funny and so well acted. There were also a couple of songs done by this guy who apparently was the musical director of Hedwig and the Angry Inch. I don't know where, but they seemed pretty proud of this, so maybe it was the original production. Anyway, he was very good.

And, true to his proclivities, I guess, it was during the musical numbers that Swami started snuggling up to me. As I said before, most of this was done rather oddly and awkwardly, but... I find him attractive, so it was nonetheless quite pleasant and I didn't mind. Though there was one moment where for some reason he started stroking my throat quite a bit, and that got weird, so I guided his hand away. But generally, aside from the awkward and abrupt way in which he intiated most of our contact, it was very gentle and nice and exploring, without being too much or going to the wrong places. And he smelled really good. ;-)

After the show we waited for the bus together, having discovered we live about three blocks apart! This got a bit long, and was the part of the evening where I was most aware of not being sure of what to talk about. But we finally got on the bus, and he stood behind me as aforementioned, and pet my head from time to time, and told me a bit about his family and also his taste in ice cream. Oh, yes, this is also when I though he was telling me something more about his grandmother's education, and I said "Wow" with a big smile, and then realized he was telling me that his grandmother had died. Whoops. That was my most awkward moment of the night. But we got over that, and when he left he bent and kissed my forehead before getting off, and we made plans to get together again sometime next week.

I was a happy camper coming home, and I put my rose in water and went online to tell people about my night... where I was promptly engaged in conversation by this other boy from Okcupid, and I found an email from a man who wanted a date for Margaret Garner (an opera I am so eager to see) saying that though he'd already gotten someone to go, I was really cute. And I still have to deal with Mark, who continues to call and email me though I haven't responded in a bit... (I know, it's not a good way to handle it. But I'm not used to this). I think that's the bottom line. This is all really great... but I'm not used to it! Apparently all of a sudden all I have to do for male attention is stretch out my hand... it's soooooooooo so so different from my previous experiences. Not that I'm complaining, but it's... weird. And I definitely want to see Swami again, but it all makes me a bit nervous as well. Like, I've gotten so used to being single I can hardly imagine what it would be like to be otherwise. Bah, I sound like I'm at least middle aged, and I'm not trying to be pretentious... but you know? It's true.

Ah, but all that aside, it was fun. It was fun fun fun and cozy and pleasant and I felt attractive and smart, even though he was definitely also attractive and probably smarter, or at least more educated. (God, at one point he was saying that he should learn a foreign language and I asked if he had studied any, and he was like, no, I just speak six Indian languages, completely serious, and I was l

Anyway, the whole thing left me grateful and happy: Grateful for my first "romantic" Valentine's Day, grateful for my truly wonderful friends and family, who are so central to my life, and grateful for the fact that I really, actually do enjoy my own company... and that I was willing to have a go at being lonely to figure that out.

:-) I wish you all the same sorts of experiences, in whatever way they work for you. And those of you who I know read this... I love you! Thank you for being in my life. It means the world.

Eighth Book: The Manticore

And the second book in the Robertson Davies trilogy beginning with Fifth Business. Given my ravings about that volume, you may will guess I enjoyed this one as well, and I certainly did. However, it took some getting used to, as I'd become so used to Dunstan Ramsay as the narrator that it took me some time to get 'round the voice of David Staunton. And it took a long time to like him, too, but not as long as I thought it did.

By which I mean that while I still thought I was quite uncertain about him, I think I was actually already really absorbed in his point of view. As I'm really eager to get on with the third book, I don't think I'll say a lot about it, but I think it's interesting and ironic that now I'm having... not a tough time with the new/old narrator, exactly, but I keep wondering what the heck happened to David. Seeing that it left off a bit precipitously.

As usual, the characters were strong and the writing was unwaveringly excellent. And here is the very very best quote of this (or perhaps any) book for you:

"Toad showed a tendency to shine up to me afterward, when we were having ice-cream and cake at the Ladies' Aid expense, but I was cold. When I have squeezed my orange, I throw it away; that was my attitude at the time."

Robertson Davies, I love you!

Five Questions From Rachel

All right, here are my answers:

1. If you had to choose one food that you like a lot now but would suddenly dislike, what would it be? Why?

I would pick... um... that's hard, I like foods I like! Maybe I would pick peanut butter so I wouldn't have to sneak it around Julia anymore. ;) Or... onions, because a lot of people don't like onions and therefore don't want onions in their food and it would make things easier when cooking in a group? Actually, maybe I would pick meat. Then I wouldn't have to worry about participating in cruelty to animals, and I'd probably eat healthier. But I would have to worry about getting enough protein. Ok, that's about 25 answers, so let's move on.

2. If you had to pick only one author whom you admire to meet in person, who would it be and why? If you had to pick one author whom you admire that you would be forever unable to meet, who would it be and why?

Only one to meet... Maybe Madeleine L'Engle, because, out of living authors, she's probably influenced my thinking the most, and from the earliest age, and I do truly admire her. Only one to forever be unable to meet... I think Armistead Maupin, not because I don't want to meet him, but because if I really did travel on the bus with him from NYC to Philly without seeing him, I sort of think it would be interesting and ironic if I continued to have near-miss encounters all the time. Also it sounds like something he might write about.

3. What is your strongest sense memory other than sight? If you get really into it, pick a different memory for each sense.

Touch: I remember holding your hand, Rachel, that night at the health center, and the way your bones felt against mine.

Smell: I remember fall smells, the leaves, the crispness of the air, the smell of snow coming. (I know, these are current smells, but I do remember them.)

Sound: I remember the thrill of playing the Phantom of the Opera really, really loudly in middle/early high school. How it echoed in my mind and my pubescing body.

Taste: I remember my Uncle Alan suddenly sticking a pickle in my mouth at this restaurant we went to after seeing Antz. I remember the sour suddenness of the pickle and the feel of his big, brown finger against my lips.



4. If you were placed under a spell that caused you to be turned into a marine animal every full moon, what animal would you pick and why?

I think I would be a walrus, because then I would be big and tough and I could survive out of the water and in the cold and stuff. I don't know if that's really a good choice. It just came to me.

5. If you had to have one sexual partner for the rest of your life, and said partner had one fetish, what fetish would you most want them to have? What fetish would you never put up with? Just answer the latter if the former is too personal for a blog.

Ok, let's assume that this fetish is not exclusive; that is, while they really like it, they do not require it to get off. Said assumption made... the safe answer for number one is a foot fetish, because I love to have my feet rubbed and touched and generally paid attention to. What's the dangerous answer? I wouldn't necessarily be against some power play, as long as it wasn't exclusive, out of control, or used out of the bedroom. Ooh, wait, I have another one. Cross dressing. I would totally be into cross-dressing, by either one of us, for fun or profit. Well, maybe not profit, but you know. Number two... well, there are lots, but let's elimiate illegal/immoral (pedophilia, bestiality) and unsanitary (anything scatological). All right, that being said, I WOULD NOT TOLERATE: all that amputation crap, absolutely not, nor that feeding bullshit. There is my very intolerant attitude about that.

I Know These Are MUCH More Interesting To Me Than To Anyone Else, but You Can Take it Too.

Found this in Nathaniel's Blog.

Two Names You Go By
1. Becky
2. James

Two Parts of Your Heritage
1. Irish Catholic
2. German Lutheran (I feel like my mom would be sad if I didn't also say Italian even though it didn't fit in with the contrast-making!)

Two Things That Scare You
1.Being attacked by people I pass outside at night, mostly men.
2. That I'm going to suddenly go irrevocably and cosmically wrong with my life path, and therefore sacrifice all happiness and acheivement forever.


Two of Your Everyday Essentials

1. A satisfying lunch
2. A little time to read

Two Things You Are Wearing Right Now
1. Cool brown and blue suede boots with manageable heels. (Arguably the most attractive and stylish footwear that I own, being that I own very little.)
2. Brown skirt that is tighter than it used to be, which fact I am not fond of.

Two of Your Favorite Bands or Musical Artists
1. Gogol Bordello! Gypsy punk!
2. William Finn (not really a band or a musical artists, but related to music and a favorite)

Two Things You Want in a Relationship
1. A place for my spirit to be free and my imagination to be fed.
2. Sex-- at the right time and in the right way and when I'm sure it's a good idea... but also with a sort of wanton and consuming passion. Hmm.

Two Truths
1. The world can be incredibly frightening, dangerous, and savage. Which sometimes I believe, and sometimes I don't.
2. To (perhaps quote, perhaps paraphrase) Julian of Norwich: All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well. Which sometimes I believe, and sometimes I don't.

Two of Your Favorite Hobbies
1. Theater of any stripe except certain mainstagey weird stripes that pretend to be stripes but are actually polka dots.
2. Singing-- I miss it.

Two Things You Want Really Badly
1. To be a published writer.
2. To understand my direction in life and be at peace about it.

Two Places You Want to go on Vacation
1. India
2. Canada

Two Things You Want to Do Before You Die
1. Visit every continent at least once (including Antarctica!)
2. Walk in beauty every day. And go into space. Both are difficult, but worthwhile.

Two Ways that you are stereotypically a Chick/Guy
1. Wonderful and circuitous language skills.
2. Confusion about all things mechanical, or which have to be manually assembled.

Two Things You Normally Wouldn't Admit
1. What people think of me matters to me way too much (taken from Nathaniel because he's right)
2. I think about sex, my own sexuality, and tie myself in knots over real or imagined attractions more than I would EVER say. And I get very jealous about such matters.

Two Things You Are Thinking About Now
1. How to promote a Christmas Carol at Thanksgiving.
2. If anyone other than the people I know about actually reads this journal... and whether I want them to.

Two Stores You Shop At
1. A Garland of Letters
2. The Last Word (I'm picking the cool sounding favorites, not the grocery store and stuff)

Two people I would like to see take this quiz
1. Rachel
2. Katie (Because they will read it)

Two people I haven't talked to in a while
1. Cristina (and I really should because I'm head over heels about her being in Philly)
2. Kirstin (and I really should because I'm head over heels about her being in Pennsylvania)

Past Perfect Tense

Lately the past has been oddly present to me, but in strange, fretful, half-forgotten ways. For a mild example, when I started writing this entry some time ago, I was wearing a shirt with "Anything Goes" on it. And, as I walked across the Bellevue floor to go to the bathroom before lunch, I became overwhelmed by memories of performing Anything Goes... specifically how important it was at the time, and how my field of experience was so different from what it is now.

I am afraid of the past in many ways, yet I am also afraid of the fluidity with which it slips away. Rachel and I had sort of a collective-yet-separate revisiting of old documents and things from several years ago, in the heat of dire(-seeming), emotionally boiling situations. I certainly (perhaps we all did) went through a time when I was eager to rip myself open, in hopes of getting to the cancer inside, so to speak, and getting it out of me.

But what exactly convinced me that I have something cancerous to get rid of? I suppose that's a whole separate topic, but it seems related. I guess the problem is that I am uncertain of my relationship to myself in the past. Does that make sense? There are feelings I know I had, that I can no longer understand. Or... I feel ashamed of feeling them. Ashamed is the best word I can think of, but what it really feels like is a hot feeling all over my body, sparking and sudden, that makes me want to turn away from what I was.

I can feel the past closer to me now than it used to be, both in terms of mundane events and big sweeping ones. I am also more aware of things I thought I had left behind, that are still there. How is it that something can be dismissed in your mind, but linger in some part of yourself, as hot and strong as ever, ready to rise up again? Maybe not as strong as ever... that's not quite right. But there. There and full of influence. I am disturbed by looking back at how events have unfolded in and around me, because I can see how I might have calculatingly planned it all out, to work to my advantage. I wasn't aware of such a thing... but it's possible.

I realize this is all maddeningly vague, and I still have a lot to say, but it's time to eat dinner now, and clean the kitchen.

Speaking of punches packed from the past.

Well, fuck that, anyway. I have a kitchen in which I can eat dinner. Score one for the great escapee.

The Survey That Ate Philadelphia

Or at least my life! Try it! Inquiring minds want to know.

Have you ever...

snuck out of the house – No… as a child I never tried to run away, which interests me in retrospect.
gotten lost in your city – Yes, sometimes on purpose.
seen a shooting star – Yes, many times… the person I got this from (random stranger whose blog I was reading) said no. That seems very sad to me! Shooting stars are not that uncommon, are they? I usually see them every summer at least once.
been to any other countries besides Canada – Yes, should I list them? Maybe I will. Onondaga Nation (does that count?), Holland, Belgium, China, Spain, Portugal, Moracco, Italy, Austria, Germany, Czech Republic, France, Ireland, England…Yay for being well-traveled. I’m in the mood for another trip soon, I think.
had a serious surgery – I don’t think so… I didn’t really have any surgery as a baby, so I guess no.
gone out in public in your pajamas –Yes, if Bryn Mawr or the laundry room of my apartment counts as in public.
kissed a stranger – Assuming we mean a passionate sort of kiss, no. Well, I guess assuming we mean any kind of kiss, unless we’re counting children or something. I think I’ve kissed strange children if they attach themselves to me.
hugged a stranger – I think so. I mean, not a total stranger without any introduction first. I’ve been told that as a child I had to be told not to hug everyone on first introduction.
been in a fist fight – No. Never been in any sort of serious physical conflict, and even came to playfighting rather late in life.
been arrested – No, only had one sort of interesting and at the time intensely humiliating encounter with the police, when some woman caught me dancing on her dock because it was a beautiful day and I was happy (and not aware that it was a private dock), and she thought I was insane and suicidal and called the police. That was quite horrible, in fact.
laughed and had milk/coke come out of your nose – Yes. Milk, I think, at lunch in high school, at one of those hexagonal (or whatevergonal they were) tables, probably about some random sexual joke that didn’t actually make lots of sense, but was still one of the funniest things I’ve ever heard.
pushed all the buttons on an elevator – No… do people really do that?
swore at your parents – No. I’ve sworn in front of my parents before, but not often. I don’t really swear at people much. I mean, I have in my life. But I take it pretty seriously.
been in love – I think so. I get confused about this, because I’ve not been in love with someone who has been in love with me. That I know of. But… putting aside wishful thinking and the idea that if it didn’t work out, it wasn’t really love, then I’ve been in love at least once, probably more like three times… and I hope I can also count the first time, when I was about 12 and so was he, and it was this kind of mutual sunshiney thing where we just smiled at each other a lot and I watched him play soccer, because that was by far the nicest and least painful. Hopefully that doesn’t sound bitter. I’m confused about love.
been close to love – What does this mean? Close to being in love? Clearly, yes, see above. Close to people who were in love? Yes, certainly, that’s pretty easy to do. Close to people who were having sex? Sometimes unpleasantly so, though never in an obscene ridiculous way.
been to a casino – Yes! Several in Atlantic City, mostly to use the bathroom or to prowl around for no especial reason. I think my favorite is still the Wild West one, though Caesar’s is kinda cool too. Casinos are super-weird, I think. Like… the imitation of riches in the presence of actual riches, but mostly not with actual rich people.
been skydiving - No
been skinny dipping – Yes, and with great enthusiasm. Once in the ocean in Spain (fabulous!!) and many times at Bryn Mawr, of course.
skipped school – Not as in, skipped a whole day of elementary or high school. Yes, if we’re talking about college. YES YES YES if we’re talking specifically about statistics, which I think I skipped more often than I attended.
seen a therapist – Yes, just after my parents split up. I liked him, but I’m not sure the experience did me much good, since it was not at all self-initiated and I was in a strange hidden state at that time. But probably he saw it differently and understood more about me than I would have liked, or even still like. Who knows?
done the splits – What does this mean? Is it sexual? Talking simply about doing a split? Alcohol related? I don’t think I’ve done it, whatever it is.
played spin the bottle – Sort of. This is a good story, I think. I was 14, and at a friend’s birthday party, and we were playing spin the bottle. Well, I was nervous, I didn’t want to play but I sort of did, so I was just sitting around on the outside of the circle with other non-players. And then this kid John—very strange, very talented, very attractive and very very very disturbed, as it turned out in the end—spun the bottle and it pointed at me. He was poised there in the circle for a moment, and I swear he looked like some sort of wildcat about to strike, and then he pounced at me and pressed his lips to mine, and it felt very nice and very sweet, like a tiny spark of life. And I was glad, because I had been concerned that I would end up being “sweet sixteen and never kissed,” and as it turned out, without him I would have been. And then I had to spin, and it landed on Nathaniel and we kissed, too. Later I found out that Morgan got her first kiss that night too, and neither of us knew the other had.. Strange, huh?
gotten stitches – Yes. One stitch. It was the night before we were moving out of Country View apartments (where we lived my fifth grade year) to High Acres, where we live now. I was playing outside with my friend Erica… she was younger than me, but really a brick, lots of fun and up to all kinds of fantastic games. We were playing in this fabulous rock filled ditch thing, where we pretended to have a wild hide-out and eat cattail hotdogs and raise falcolns, that sort of thing. Also, one of my rock people lived there. His name was Peter and he was very big, a sort of large folk-heroesque man who was a miner in the rocks. I don’t think I told Erica about him, or about Wiz and Wizina, the wizard couple who lived in the bushes nearby with their baby girl, whose name I forget, or about the old sailor whose memories appeared over the crest of the hillside that the apartment building was on, and we could watch them like movies. Anyway, Erica and I were playing, and this strange little boy who lived across the way from me came out and was smashing rocks against the tarvia, and all of a sudden I looked up and saw this rock heading straight for me. So I ducked, but it hit my head anyway, and I looked up and just felt this strong, sudden pain, which gave me energy, so I started yelling at the kid, something inane like, “You don’t do that! You don’t throw rocks at people!” but it must have impressed him in some way, because he ran away. I didn’t realize it was more serious than that until Erica was like, “You’re bleeding,” and I looked down and saw a big drop of blood land on my shoe, and then another. I can still see that very clearly, the shape of the blood-drop on my shoe. I started to cry then, and Erica ran to get help. And then the mom of the rock-thrower lead me around the house and my mom and dad and grandma came over to see what had happened. I spent the rest of the evening in the emergency room watching sitcoms with a handsome high school boy who had broken some bone in a sporting accident, and ended up with my one stitch. Somewhere under my hair there is probably a scar. Our move was a bit forestalled. And moving anywhere with my parents was always a calamitous journey, to say the least.
drank a whole gallon of milk in one hour – No… is that something people do very often?
bitten someone – Not anyone else, that I know of.
been to Niagara Falls – Yes… with my parents and Lauren in… third grade, I think? We sang “America” from West Side Story the whole way there and back, and didn’t know the words, so it was mostly, “DA DA DA DA DA AMER-I-CA, DA DA DA DA DA AMER-I-CA!” We also went over the falls in a bathtub, which I have a picture of, a wonderful picture of Lauren and I with big round eyes and mouths. And we went on the Maid of the Mist, and into the Caves of the Mist, which was wonderful. It was a very good trip, I think, even though I did get sick at one of the restaurants we went to. But I had fun.
gotten the chicken pox – Yes. Once I learned they were not a food, I became susceptible.
kissed a member of the opposite sex – Yes, but not at all as often as I would have liked.
crashed into a friend's car – No.
been to Japan – No.
ridden in a taxi – Yes, for the first time in NYC after the Beginnings Acting Workshop when I was 14… many times thereafter in many places, most notably and constantly in Seville, where the taxis are cheap and the drivers are friendly. Mostly in a good way… occasionally in the way where they tell you you are the kind of girl boys want to have babies with.
been dumped – Not really, I guess… but sometimes I’ve felt dumped, if not always in a romantic context.
shoplifted – No, not unless you count the time I took about a hundred business cards from some guy my dad knew with the intention of using them as pretend airplane tickets and got in lots of trouble.
been fired – No.
had a crush on someone of the same sex – Yes, often in the “gosh she’s cool and smart and lovely and I want to be her friend” way, less often in the “gosh she’s cool and smart and lovely and I want to kiss her and take her clothes off” way… but it’s happened both ways.
had feelings for someone who didn't have them back – Yes… is there anyone over the age of 12 who would not answer yes? How did they get that hand dealt to them? Maybe they don’t have feelings for people very often?
gone on a blind date – No, though it might be interesting.
lied to a friend – Yes… certainly in the casual, “I can’t do the thing you want to do for a better reason than my actual reason” way, or feigning a bit more disappointment than I actually felt about the collapse of plans… Probably in more serious ways too, but they don’t come to mind at the moment. Unless you count keeping secrets. It seems to be in my nature to keep secrets.
had a crush on a teacher – Never in a serious way… more in flashes of “Ooh, smart and powerful figure just said something marvelous and we sort of think the same way and they’re not bad looking at all…”
celebrated Mardi-Gras in new Orleans – Nope, I’ve done my farewelling to the flesh right in my hometown. Well, and in Bryn Mawr and Philly.
been to Europe – Yes, see initial country question.
slept with a co-worker – No. God, no. And unless I get a new job with very different people, I really don’t intend to.
been married – No… we don’t count the faux four-way all-female marriage Roz, Liz, Abby and I cooked up for a potential high school reunion, do we?
gotten divorced – No.
had children – No.
seen someone die – No… not actually seen.
had a close friend die – Do we count my Uncle Alan? I loved him, and we had started to be something like grown-up friends, as well as uncle and neice.
been to Africa – Yes, to Moracco for one whirlwind weekend full of touristy strangeness and animal encounters (camel and snake).
driven over 400 miles in one day – No.
been to US – In fact, I was born there.
been to Mexico – No, oddly enough, seeing that it is the closest Spanish-speaking country and I speak Spanish.
been to India – No… but I’d really like to go!
been on a plane – Yes… the first time when I was 7 or 8 to go to Florida for grandparent-visiting and Disney World. The most recent time on the way back here from Seville this January.
seen the Rocky Horror Picture Show – Yes, though it took me awhile to see it all the way through in the right order, and now I own a copy by default, though I’ve never watched my own copy… a sad fate of many movies I buy.
thrown up in a bar – No, nor ever due to alcohol, long may that record hold.
purposely set a part of myself on fire – No, unless you count the passing your fingers through flame trick, which I loved loved loved as a kid and still think is pretty darn cool.
eaten sushi – Yes, but I’m still squeamish about the raw fish aspect.
been skiing/snowboarding – No, actually, at least not downhill skiing, despite my Upstate NY creditials. But I liked cross-country a lot when we did it in school. Except for some reason I was exempt from going down the big hill, and I don’t know why. Was I incapable of doing it? Was I scared? I can’t remember.
met someone in person from the internet – Yes, by accident! I just happened to be at a coffeehouse with some friends, and they happened to know this random guy there, and we were all hanging out and playing games, and lo and behold, it’s a guy I’d been talking to online for a couple of months. It was sort of fun and coincidental.
lost a child – No, thank God.
gone to college/university – Yes, I’m a Bryn Mawr grad!
graduated college/university – Oh, I jumped the gun there.
fired a gun – Speaking of guns… no. I have fantasies where people are attacking me and I get the gun and I have to pretend I know how to use it, when I don’t at all.
purposely hurt yourself – Yes, but not in a terribly dramatic way… I don’t think. For example, if I have a really bad headache, sometimes I’ll dig my fingernails hard into my head to distract myself… and I’ve been known to bite my forearms and fingers out of extreme frustration, or seemingly outletless frustration. I’m still rather self-conscious about this habit, but it’s never gotten terribly common or intense.
taken painkillers – Yes. Surprise?
been intimate with someone of the same gender – Are we talking about sex? If we are, then no. If we’re talking about love and sharing and trust and things… yes, certainly.

Anxiety, Compassion, Mardi Gras Beads

Here are some people I saw today:

Coming into work, I passed this shirtless man. His chest was handsomely contoured, but sort of a pale, ashen color, which seemed different from the rest of his skin. He seemed to have some nicks or cuts on his body, but I couldn't tell if he had been hurt externally or if this was some kind of disease. He lurched when he walked. He seemed tired. I was struck by him. I thought he was in trouble. I sort of stopped, uncertain of what to do. Everyone kept moving, including me and him. We were going in opposite directions. I thought about going back, and asking if he needed help. I kept looking back as he got farther away. Almost as soon as he was too far to go back to, I became convinced that this is what I should have done. I prayed that he would find help if he needed it, and that I would get another chance...

Then, I had to go to Rite Aid on my lunch, and I passed this old, scrawny guy sitting on one of the planters near there. He had pink feathers and Mardi Gras beads around his neck, and some ratty, dirty shirt and shorts on his body. I think he was sort of talking to himself. I was struck by him, too.

On the way back to work, I passed this tall black guy selling flowers. He had roses this time, lovely red roses. He says he's homeless and trying to earn money honestly. I've bought flowers from him a couple of times before. I said I had to go to work. He said he could walk right with me, I didn't have to slow down. He follows you with this hangdog hopeful look that will instantly turn to disappointment and disillusionment if you say no. I didn't want to buy them and take them into work. I wanted to get away this time, and I did.

Michael let me out of work early. We were watching the Sopranos all day. Violence and heart, and I don't know which there is more of. Anyway, I was gonna come down here to this cafe to use the internet where it's cool. And on my way I pass this guy sitting there with his cardboard sign, and his head is down over his hand, and his face is crumpled like he's in despair. He looks sorta young, like maybe when he lifts his head he will be handsome. And I think fuck, I just can't, I just can't go by while somebody looks like that. I think maybe he'll be handsome when he looks up. I read his sign. It doesn't make much sense. Something about a train he needs some money for, his dead father, some aunts in Connecticut, he's so depressed, he had to spend his money on two days of sugar medication, please, please. So I go off, thinking I'll get him some food and bring it back. I walk halfway down the street, and I don't see anything but McDonalds. I'm thinking, what if he hates McDonald's. What if he's a vegetarian. What kind of thing is it to get somebody food without knowing what they want. Besides it's sort of near Bally's and I don't want to risk running into Rashool.

Back to the man with the cardboard sign. I see myself in the window. You don't look as hot as you think you do, in that skirt. I see myself, bending down to him, before I get there. I am very aware of my skirt. It's pretty. I am becoming, maybe, a girl who wears clothes that other people admire. I have, maybe, earned admittance into the female club. Or maybe it's the money club, or the make-up and plucked eyebrows club, in which case I am out.

"Hey," I say. "Hey." He looks up at me. He is not handsome. His face is full of troubling angles. His eyes are red, bloodshot. He is not ok. I don't think I ask. "Hey, are you hungry? Are you thirsty?" His mouth spills words. Words about getting out of here, about how excited he is, just needs the 8 dollars. I lie and tell him I don't carry cash money. I ask, where is your train. I offer to go with him to 30th St. and get his ticket. He says somebody will give him the money, whatever. He voice is confused. It wanders around, trailing his meaning behind it, in tatters. His voice is not hopeful. It is not excited, when he says he is excited. "Listen, I bet you're hungry. Thirsty. Why don't I get you something to drink?" Ok maybe Pepsi. "Ok, you stay here. I'll go get it, I'll be right back."

Back on over to Rite Aid. I find about a million kinds of Pepsi. It is dazzling. Lime and lemon and diet and vanilla and one calorie and caffeine free. I pick caffeine free. I decide to get some food. There's a sale on cereal. I pick a heart healthy bran thing. I think that means love, and caring. When you give somebody nourishing food, and not candy or something. When you know it's probably the only food they have right now. Maybe he will think it's stupid. At the counter, it turns out that you have to buy the two cereals to get the discount. It is only 70 cents less to get the one than it would be to get two. I feel I am in the hands of destiny, a bit trapped by logic. I go back and get cornflakes with bananas already in them. I didn't know that was an option. My bill is $6 something.

The man is still bent over himself when I arrive again. I think about how I would feel in the heat, how crazy I felt when there was no air conditioning yesterday. I bend down and say I got him Pepsi and cereal, too. He doesn't want the cereal. He says he would only want the cereal with milk, anyway he's going to be on the train for like 4 days. So take it, I say, to eat on the train. No, honey, you keep it, it's better you keep it. Only enough medicine for two days anyway and then when I run out I can't eat. Keep it, I say. For those two days. Ok? Maybe you will get hungry. I take out the heart healthy one. You take this one. You keep this one. Ok? Good luck. Thank you, he mumbles. I do not know what our eyes said together, his and mine. He bent back over his body.

I straightened up. I wondered what the man across the way is thinking of us. Does he think I am a good person? Does he think I am a foolish person? A little white girl who thinks she's some kind of angel?

I am afraid of these things... I am afraid I am a fool. I am afraid I do not understand the world, or that I understand too much. I never know what to do, and I do not approve of other people nor of myself.

But I am trying to see him. Because he said he would be there. And I am afraid, I am afraid of leaving him on the street, alone, because he was wearing pink feathers and had sores or a crazy drugged brain. I am afraid that I am already like them, already crazy. I do not consider that I too have that face within my face.

I see you hungry all the time. I see you mad and frightening, with your signs all full of words. I am full of words too. I am frightened of you, and of myself.

O Lord come back, and this time...

Redemption? I kept the cornflakes with bananas. I too am a child of God.

Does anybody else think about this stuff?

Not Irrelevant and Boring

Apparently the sight of a clock ticking away my lunch time does not make me a prolific blogger. It's rather more difficult to try to come up with coherent, thematically organized ideas when I'm sitting here at the keyboard than it is when I am just wandering around in my own brain. Perhaps it would be better if I simply posed a question, since after all I have to be back at the strenous task of phone operation in a mere five minutes. All right, let's see... this relates to something that's obsessing me lately, and I'll tell you more about that later. (Wow... it's weird how as soon as I write "you" I feel more comfortable, more as though my thoughts have grounding... but that was last post's topic, wasn't it?) My question, then: Why do we feel compelled to judge feelings and states of mind as more or less real after we have had them? I think you know what I mean... you're in love, perhaps, and then a year or so later you decide that could not have been actual love. Or you get mad, furiously, blind-with-rage kind of mad, and in a day or so you dismiss that feeling; something must have been wrong with you, hormonally out of balance or whatever. But other feelings of the past we cherish as involiable fact. I adored my babysitter; I was devasted by the death of a loved one. I wonder if this judgement is simply based on what is acceptable to your current self-image. It's a bit disturbing, and the kind of thing I tend to get bogged down in whenver I'm feeling uncomfortable with anything I'm feeling. Do you think this is something that matters, or is it just a way to avoid reacting as immediately to things as I might, were I not so concerned with the reality/validity of what I was feeling? I know that when I do react impulsively it always feels good at the time, but may be followed by intense guilt if the results are not so good.

Perhaps I should call this blog, Tell Me I'm Not Crazy After All Please, and That You're Like Me but Not So Like That I Am Irrelevant or Boring.

Perhaps everybody should.

(But not really really everybody... that would be too generic.)

;)

Dear Heaven, that was complicated

But I can't tell you about it now, because I've spent so much time attempting to set this up that I am about to be late getting back from lunch. So I hope you will await my continuation with baited breath.