Glass Tears Don't Dry

Long time no write, eh? I have a few posts sitting in the drafts folder waiting to be edited and focused. Until then I'll share this with you. I woke up this morning with a certain feeling. A thud, a jolt, a sense of deja-vu. As the feeling warmed over me I knew that I had blogged about it before. I went to the computer and checked my old livejournal for it. I'm going to repost the blog here, sans comments. Note that it was about a different girl, but the feeling is exactly the same.
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October 11th. 2004

Sometimes dreams are sexy, and that makes me happy. I wake up contented and refreshed. Sometimes dreams are scary, and that makes me nervous. I wake up confused and uncomfortable.

The worst is when you dream about being with your one lost love. The person you never raised the courage to tell, "I think I love you". I don't think there is a feeling worse than that somber melancholy.

And that my friends, is how I woke up this morning.
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Until I blog again, take care.

R

She's Hot, I'm Not.

It's hot. Paris Hilton hot. Crank up the A/C in the car and your shirt still sticks to the back of the seat hot. Still, I feel good today. Maybe its the time passing in that cute little chronological way, looking all temporally fine like it does, but I am just feeling generally amourous. I'm checking out everything in my path, like a bee searching for pollen or a squirrel seeking acorns. My eyes are once again open and seeing that rainbow of life. I wouldn't even be able to explain what I am feeling had I not been fortunate enough to spend a few moments catching up with Mad Spider's recent adventures. Reading about other people and the bumps in the road of life is not only comforting, its inspiring and affirming. And that's not even the reason I'm writing today...

Here we are, it's quitting time and I am out of the office and into the car to crawl home. I am doing the rush hour dance in my Saturn when out of the corner of my eye I spy some highlighted blonde locks. There is a hand running through them, a tanned and toned arm works its way to the side of her head, toying with her tresses in an innocently subtle manner. I jostle my car into another lane to get closer to her. She's driving an SUV. A red X-Terra or something. She is drinking one of those expensive POM juices. I catch a glimpse of her face. I am struck by the composition of her facial features and the utter lack of stress on her face. She picks up the phone. She starts chatting, and then I see it. Or rather I am blinded by it and almost turn into the median. She was sporting a rock that sat on 4 diamonds that other people would kill to have as their entire stone. She wore a wedding band that was so encrusted in diamonds one wondered if there was any gold used at all.

It was then that my mind started making all of these unfair assessments. Trophy wife. Married some guy for money and all she has to do is feed his ego. Traded on her genetic lottery ticket to win the jackpot. All of a sudden she wasn't so attractive to me anymore. The innocence now looked like simplemindedness. The relaxed and demure attitude now constituted callous regard for others. Then I turned that negativity on myself. Why was I becoming critical of someone I found attractive because of the size of her ring? Why can I not choose to believe that she might have come from family money herself? Maybe she was an industrious young woman who made her own fortune? Even if she married money, why must I assume that she didn't love him for other reasons and just accepted the money as a condition and not a qualifier?

All of this gave me pause and thought about lingering questions of my disposition towards people who are naturally and universally considered attractive. I've always tried to look past beauty to reach for the person inside the features. It's a personal pride that I have when I notice my relations with people are based on the content of their character and not the tone of their skin. So why is it what when I don't know people, have these random car interactions, that I am so frankly honest in my assessments? I painstaking try to only see the best in people that I know, even to the point of disillusionment. Yet with strangers I am so inclined to be acerbic. It's not hostile or aggressive and I know its only superficial and personal. I would never say these things out loud. So when I see some really heavy guy with a supersized double big mac meal, why can't I stop myself from thinking "Geez, maybe that guy should mix in a salad once in a while"? I have very close and personal friends that are bigger than the average, and I would never think of asking them to change one bit. I like them just the way they are and would want them only to be happy in life. If a Big Mac with supersize fries is what they want, I'd be happy to walk it over to their door.

It's like they say in the that book, "Do unto others, as you would have them do unto you".

Ps, I found my happy. That was super quick. I don't think it ever went anywhere. Happiness lies somewhere between responsibility and success in the sandwich of life.

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The Pompitus of Youth

Pre-Script: When you are down on the ground (or as author Cynthia Gould puts it, laying in the gutter looking at the stars), there is nowhere to go but up. If you are reading this and you feel down or blue, you have to know that it gets better. You are the sole(soul) proprietor of your life based business. Listen to the music.
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The Bat-Mitzvah of 12 young women in an orthodox synagogue is a marvel in itself. Twelve bright, articulate, and sensible women, giving speeches on the role of Judaism in their lives. One talked of charity, one of trust, one of good deeds, and so on until the last of the mock ice cream cake was served. It's just me complaining here people, but with the invention of the refrigerator, the Jews should have kicked back and said, "milkshakes with your burger is still traif, but if you want a little shot of milk in your coffee after dinner knock yourselves out." That aside, the whole process was just a marvel to watch. A hall filled with loving family and friends. Children running amok in the corridors. Fresh faced youth watching their friends on the daius with reverie. The energy was palpable and I was riveted the whole time I was there.

I may be one of the least observant Jews ever, (sometimes I trip over my Judaism and apologize to it) but tonight was just a marvelous ceremony. My cousin was brilliant and I am very proud of her public speaking skills. Her composure and diligence was exceptional for a girl who was always a little shorter and a little quieter than the rest of the crowd. She has grown up into a young woman with poise and a Hepburn (or Jennifer Love-Hewitt for those of you under 50) like charm.

Myself, I'm glad they served wine at the table. Like Julian of the Trailer Park Boys, I always feel more at ease with a drink in my hand. Preferably a gin and tonic, but a scotch and water will do. I like to drink. It's natural for me to want a Mimosa before brunch. It's natural for me to have a beer with a poker game. Having spent three years in the business of selling alcohol, I know all about careful consumption. I don't like the state of being drunk. I don't like drinking too much because it turns my stomach to shit. If I have to endure certain social interactions, taking a little alcohol to grease the lens is my preference.

I'm glad I had a drink in me, because other wise I may have been compelled to turn Super Nanny on a few parents. At one point during the speeches a kid at my table had become inconsolable. This was quite early on in the evening too. The kid was humming, banging plates and drinking coke like it was keeping him in oxygen. The mother seemed unable to control her some and flitted looks of "oy, what a bundle of energy" around the table. Later on the husband arrived at the table to try and placate the now petulant 7 year old. The mother proceeded to use this opportunity to make small talk with the other ladies at the table. The only problem I had with this was the fact that the women were making their speeches at the time. Now, its a big hall, so its possible to have a conversation undetected, but that doesn't make it right. As the speeches ended for dinner I cracked to the person next to me, "I don't know why she expects her kids to pay attention or be respectful of others when she can't do it herself." The lady told me that was quite a good observation, as she had also been straining to hear the speech through the quiet din of inanity pulsing through the room. The women later said of her two handfuls, "It's gotten to the point where unless they are shrieking in pain, I just ignore them." Sound advice for all you potential mummies out there.

After her speech, I got the opportunity to speak to my cousin. She was all smiles as she made her way through the crowd of friends and family. I told her how proud I was of her, that she spoke beautifully, and that she looks just like Lindsay Lohan. She told me, "Aww, but I *hate* Lindsay Lohan, she's such a tramp". I told her that it is never a bad thing to look like a really famous actress and to enjoy the attention. Then I told her that her I think I have been to a few parties with her Principal. Her mouth just dropped and I am sure she was going to tell all the girls that "her cousin partied with the Principal".

Ahh, kids. I love it when they think adults have no life. Now, I am an exception here because I have spikey hair. Which somehow gains me street credibility with tweener cousins.

As for the fate of this blog: This blog rests upon finding the energy to compose my experiences into salient thoughts. I am a person who finds outlets only when I am in a positive mindframe. Other people write to expel nasty notions or to gain clarity through catharsis. That is not me. I am only truly creative when I am happy and adjusted. So, if I am not around for a few weeks, the reason is I have left again to find my inner happy. So I ask for your patience and your regular Goofs and Gadflies will return ASAP.