monday morning revelation.

you think you're immune to such things as the dreamy doctor in blue scrubs.

you're not susceptible to such cliches. you're...(dare you say it), better than that.

and one morning you wake up and life is as it's always been.

and you climb the hill to subway. the hill that you've climbed so many times before.

and then there in the distance, on the corner, is the cut of a man. a man in that unmistakable blue. and you get it. you finally get that thing that has for so long eluded you. and as edith piaf would say, heaven have mercy.

and everything is different and life has humbled you. because yes. yes. you too love the cliche.

found in an old journal.

why is it that i cannot write about loving him?

i can write about green tennis shoes. or a baseball hat worn aslant. i can write about exposed brick walls and the movie rushmore. sitting on opposite ends of the couch with too much to say sitting just between us. or street fighter and nick drake. i can write about dark theaters and hanging pony-tails. long-narrow corridors with well-worn floors.

i can write about all these things--all these parts. but i cannot write about him.

and because i cannot write about him, i cannot write about love.

studying stars.

sometimes i can't imagine how two people ever fall in love.

it seems to me the world is a complex constellation of misdirected gazes.

her looking at him looking at that woman looking at that man looking at that girl looking at that boy looking at. the wrong her.

a zigzagging, never-ending game of connect the dots.

but i suppose, out of every million misplaced glances, there is one brief, silent, glittering connection:

two pairs of eyes meeting. and the world set ablaze.

umbrella.

last night i dreamt that a man i once loved lent me an umbrella.

i awoke feeling slightly unsettled.

does this mean the metaphorical rains are headed my way?

perhaps.

but maybe it also means that the umbrella will be there just at the exact moment the sky opens up and the landscape of my life begins to shift.

A girl can't kiss and tell

But for all you kind and curious ones who inquired about "the blind date" I can say this...he was totally lovely. We enjoyed Italian food right up the street with a few of his friends from the city (he was visiting from out of town). And then journeyed to K-town to get our karaoke on. As kind as he was, I felt the true success of the night was the simple fact that I went (my mom had doubts right up until he picked me up). I went to dinner, chose to continue on to karaoke, and even sang two songs. Yael Naim. And Celine. Yes, that Celine. Celine Dion. And I was kinda good. Okay, okay...I was fine. The point is I had fun and got out there and did something I've never done before, but am more than willing to try again. The worst thing you can come away with is a free meal and a blog-worth story.

Thought I must say one of the highlights of the evening came when his friend told me I was the spitting image of Jennifer Connelly. I think it was the new part down the middle he was responding to.

One day Jennifer, one day.