finding love

someday i'll look back on all of this and laugh. i will laugh, yes?

i need someone to explain it to me.

that thing that happens.

when you like someone. from afar.

and suddenly you have never flirted before. never in your life.

never begun a conversation.

never dared to smile.

these things have never happened, not once. or...well, you can't imagine how they might have...ever, because they are certainly not possible now.

you are inept. in every possible way.

a mute.

inexperienced.

bereft of all courage and knowledge.

one might call me a lively conversationalist. and one might be right. i am. (occassionally). given enough time and enough courage, i most definitely am. and i can smile and toss my hair as well as the girl next to me. but in the presence of the smallest inkling of desire i am...

helpless.

and why is this? someone explain this. please, please explain this.

hands and fingers (knees and toes).

i'v been having this fantasy of late.

about having my hand held.

but it's not so simple as that.

its about the two hands cupping each other, fitting the one into the other.

but even that's not the whole of it.

it's that moment, when two strangers or two friends walk side by side and one hand makes the decision to reach for the other. when the fingers tentatively connect to skin, the slow crawl to palm, and the eventual grasp. all while the two people, now something more than strangers, something more than friends, walk together, heads up, forward-looking. it's the eventual glance down. the tightening of the grip. the passed mutual touch.

it's the transformation that such a small act demands.

yup, i've been dreaming of having my hand held. and of meeting a man courageous enough to reach. (or worth reaching for.)

variants and tentacles.

i like this one

people keep asking the same two questions.

or, variants of the same two questions:

there's the first regarding acting and whether or not i'm auditioning and will i ever give it a go?

the second involves men, always, men.

am i dating? why not? do i want to date? would i like to go out with this person's brother's ex-girlfriend's cousin, twice-removed.

let me address the latter: of course i'm open to dating. but the thing is...i like (love) being single. never have i liked (loved) it more.

so i'm not worried. about acting or men. those two questions remain happily unanswered. because the long and short of it is, i don't know.

what i do know is this:

i love the feel of the heavy camera around my neck. and the scent of the sunscreen i put on my face each morning. i love watching late-spring-storms roll in across the hudson from my window.

i love that life is not easy or predictable and that each day brings new and unexpected strangeness.

this is not to say life is easy or i'm always all-together in love with it.

life has been tricky lately. there is not enough time. not enough courage in my well. i fail with words when words i most need.

but there is a sense that now--this now--is somehow sacred. that everything is on the cusp. i find i'm growing tentacles. moving outwardly with both thought and word and so living my way into innumerable answers.

i suppose what i'm saying is...i'm not worried about those two--those two questions that everyone else wants to answer.

because if i live life fully--if i live it outwardly. if i answer all the other questions, they will come along, no? sort themselves out. reveal their answers in their own time. on their own terms.

and i'll wake one morning and the response will fill me, prompting new questions--demanding new life.

last night's attempt at satire. (though in the cold light of a rainy morning it's not reading so funny; just keep in mind it's meant to be tongue in cheek).


there is a very real possibility that in a few weeks time i may just came face to face with an ex-boyfriend.

well, not quite boyfriend... i don't think he'd like me to use that term. 

in our short time together he went from wondering-if-i-was-the-one to making-it-very-clear-i-was-not. so the "girlfriend" stage was never reached. 

hindsight has revealed this all to be nothing short of miraculous--a very great blessing.

but this knowledge does not in any way mitigate the urge to look good (really, really good) when i see him.

i confessed this all to my mother on the phone just a few nights back. she suggested my motives were not as pure as i might suspect. perhaps, i did want more?

yes, mother, in truth i do want more. i want him cry himself to sleep with nothing but the full realization of all he missed out on. not-even-girfriend-material, ha!

my friend alex has suggested all these feelings can be lumped together under the monacher, spite. 

i am inclined to think he is right.

you see, spite has manifested itself on my face in the form of a soul-consuming cystic boil (read: zit). and to add insult to injuries, it's on the left side of my face. i mention this because my left side is far superior to the right and thus absolutely vital in the plan to make this ex-whatcha-ma-callit rue the day

the good news is this: my mother will be visiting just a few days after the pre-arragnged-maybe-run-in. and if there are two things that get me wanting to look my best it's a visit from my mother and the chance of seeing a guy who's broken my heart.

you see how these events coincide nicely? it means only one haircut. only one really great manicure. only one round of the torturous crest white strips. okay, okay, i kid... the strips aren't that bad. 

a condensed window of needing to look pulled-together and glamorous. a condensed window before i can return to my unkempt hair, wrinkly button-ups, and natural face of slight-dismay.

win-win, i say. win-win.



(and not to worry, i'll let you all know how it all goes down. when it does. {if it does}).