the sky is the limit

Last weekend I went to a physician-organized charity event with a friend of mine. It was pretty uneventful. There was a cover band and there were lots of good looking people. We were standing at the bar when a guy squeezes in next to us, holding out his money. He looks at us and then down at our drinks. Before I know it, his wedding-band adorned left hand is passing us drinks. We talked to him for a couple of minutes. He was cute in an Andrew McCarthy sort of way. Later he brought friends over and they unsuccessfully tried to sway us into doing some tequila shots.

Now for the strange sequel. The young, married, drink-buying physician was on my plane yesterday. What a small, small world.

Also on the plane three rows behind me was dermatologist. I only know this because he was developing power point slides while sitting next to me at the gate. Being a bit of a voyeur, of course I read them over his shoulder. We had matching computers. He asked me if I knew where he could plug in his computer. I felt safe talking to him because he reminded me of my father in age and appearance, but part way through my innocent comments about how our computer's match and my asking him how he likes his, I began to doubt his smile and his heavy gaze were just polite. It all came into focus quickly and I worried that he was taking me the wrong way. I turned my attention back to my own screen. A few minutes later he asked me where I was sitting on the plane and to my relief we were not together. On some level I felt like I had done something wrong. Why should it bother me? If he was attracted to me, why is that my problem? Why do I feel it is my responsibility? I don't have to be attracted to him and it should be ok to be friendly without fearing misinterpretation.

Why can't I be oblivious for ONE minute?

anything can be everything

In what seems like only moments later I am in a sweeter, kinder place - literally. I flew 'home' to see my family. To the coast, where the air is saline, the pace soft, and the people real. I love living in a big city, but when I come back here I feel like I discover a new level of comfortable. As I get closer I yearn for the ocean, for family-full kitchen cupboards, for meals cooked with love, for traffic that stops to let me cross. I melt back into this life for an instant, but then the stresses re-affirm themselves, dwarfing all of the rosey memories I managed to collect, lubricated by distance. My anxiety level will build as my visit comes to a close. I will cry and feel desperately lonely as I say goodbye. I will worry about the inevitable bad thing happening. The plane will lift off and as it levels, so will I.

On approach to my current home, I will begin to look forward to the hustle of 16 lanes of traffic, to the garish billboards that line the way into the city, to the most breath-taking of skylines, to the 2-minute walk to everything, to my routine, my cupboards that house only carefully selected healthy foods, to the possibility of pioneering a life.

writing on the box

On the window of almost every newpaper box in my city, in the same hand, one word is written: "lies". Efficiently, the act and the word reflect angst, dissatisfaction, defiance. I can almost hear the deep, raspy accusation. At once I am proud and amused. It is so clever I wish I had thought of it first.

***

I haven't left the house all day. This cold is moving into my chest. I am incabable today. I wash the dishes and then I have to lay down. I take care of a little business and then I nap. I want my Mama.

tender skin

I have some kind of viral thing. At first it felt like strep throat, but then yesterday it turned into fever, aches, congestion. I haven't slept much, but since I am not going to work today I am not too stressed about it. I can sleep through the day if I want. Reminds me of being home sick when I was little. There is very little on TV at 5 AM (or at 1...or 3...). My mother is not a sleeper. She watches tv off and on every night, and sometimes all night. It is bizarre that she can still function. I get so stressed if I have trouble falling asleep.

Lately I have been falling asleep without incident, but I wake up an hour or two later. That is new for me, and it is very much like how my mother "sleeps". I hope that it is just an anomoly.

Yesterday I had to do a million things at work on no sleep and not feeling well. So many changes. Change leaves me vulnerable. Nothing dramatic, but enough to stir things up. I need this to happen to bring in some fresh air, but it stings. My skin is tender lately and change leaves me wincing. I am comforted by the notion of routine, settling deeper and deeper into a track, but that is not living.

ativan

I took an ativan to help me sleep. It is a pleasant dizzy. I welcome the subtle wave of lightness. Subtle.

If it wasn't nestled into a backdrop of coursing electricity I might even miss it. Nestled, warm, calm, like a hot bath.

as I lay sleeping

It was better than a Monday should be. I was busy enough so that I felt semi-productive, but not so busy that I couldn't have coffees, ponder life, and take a walk in the warm September sun. How I love the warmth. This summer has been a gift.

I met up with Shoshanna for a run after work. Thick grey clouds began to fade in over late afternoon and thunder storms were looming, but they held off for the whole run and then some. We strolled around the hood, stopping in various fruit markets, picking out the best produce. She got strawberries and rasberries. I bought blue prunes, which I had never had (they were delicious), and picked up some heirloom grape tomatoes of the most unbelievable deep orange and burgundy. They were like candy.

By the time I made dinner it was almost nine - just in time to watch Prison Break and eat frozen yogurt to the sound of thunder. I took a hot bath and I am about to read and go to sleep.

I so rarely have trouble reading - it's my thing, but not this book. I am trying to get into "As I Lay Dying", by Faulkner. I feel like I am reading chinese. The only good thing is that for an occasional insomniac, two pages in and I feel like I am reading an organic chemistry text - out like a light.

Bon Soir.

Vedder and butter

I saw U2 this weekend - had the worst seats in the house, and that is no exaggeration. In fact, to say I had the worst seats in the house is an exaggeration. I didn't have a seat. I was in the back row, standing room only.

I have never been a big fan, but someone bought me a ticket and I knew it would be a good show. It was. One of the big highlights was when Eddie Vedder appeared on-stage and sang a song with the band. I love the surprise appearance. The only problem was the sound quality. I could hear the music well enough but could never hear what Bono was saying.

***

Sunday night....always a crappy feeling for me. However, I did play a great game of tennis today. My serve was like butter.

how

How do you reconcile ruthless living at your most human moments: a
deathbed, a crisis, at a birth.

commonplace

The city is dense with tourists and stars. On my way to work this morning I saw people that were clearly new to the city, looking around, taking everything in. It is a summer September day and I am a part of the city.

When I go away, I too drink in everything I see. Since I can remember, wherever I go, I am captivated by and in envy of the people who belong, doing their normal everyday things. I wonder what it would feel like to be them, going to work, running errands, impatient under the weight of a world so unfamiliar to me. Somehow the mundane becomes exotic. The people I watch are not aware of the significance of their lives, just as I seldom see my life as unusual. But this morning I did.

Seeing people seeing me living this life, in this place and moment, was exhilarating.

litmus

The date went well I think. I found him handsome, cute, and bonus points for being tall. He was a gentlemen and good to talk to. He had interesting things to say, but he didn't put it all out on the table at once. I could be tempted to spend some time with him. I think that the best sign was how I behaved. In the presence of some people I am almost unrecognizeable. It is always good when I am as close to myself as possible. And I was.

a perfect match

This afternoon: me, the waterfront, and a blind date. We will see if this character is worth further development, but in the meantime, I am too nervous to have lunch before I go, but I don't want to get shaky/hungry when I get there, so I just had such a perfect snack. Almonds and blueberries. Now that, is perfection. If only I could find that kind of perfect in my date.