For my sibby, to make her laugh.
Yes, I found Sifl and Olly heeelarious. And I have no idea why other than I hail from a really, really odd family.
The other night, well past the hour respectable adults should be whispering about things like favorite childhood candies or first kisses, he asked me if I dance.
I thought it was a weird jump but I played along as I try to make an effort to answer any question ever asked of me. I simply said, "it's not really something I ever think about doing." And that was truth. Other than the mock concerts I perform for Mecca as I'm cleaning the house or the moves I work to light up my sister's face with laughter...I don't do it. I am not diabolically opposed to dance. It's just....well, there's hundreds of other things I probably like to do more (and a helluva lot better).
He seemed puzzled by my response. As I am now beginning to understand, lawyers are not usually inclined to accept your initial answer without supporting evidence. This was going to be one of our more regular inquisitions.
"Why?"
It was my turn to be a bit puzzled. I told him it wasn't something I thought to do. He then asked if I would dance if we went to an event. I wondered if there was an event he was preparing to spring on me. I told him, honestly that I probably wouldn't want to. And he again seemed puzzled.
"Even if I was going to be with you, the entire time, you wouldn't want to?"
And so the discourse of dance. He likened it to public speaking, which he knows I have no problems with. I failed to see the similarity. Am I uneasy about dancing? Yes. Is it something I yearn to do with great vigor? No. Am I inclined to dance foolishly? Only with my sister. I suppose he could feel the initial waves of my anxiety begin and he did what he seems to do masterfully during those moments. He steered us gently to something that made me immediately more comfortable.
I wondered in that moment if he took offense to my hesitation to dance, even at the suggestion that he would be there with me. As if his steely glare would keep the hideous dance monsters at bay. He obviously linked my hesitation to dance with a feeling of vulnerability or security. And he might have been right. But he also can't mend that, though I am quite sure he would try.
Today, while chatting with my Dad, he brought up...dancing. And I figured since God apparently wanted me to continue reviewing this topic, I blurted randomly during our conversation that I didn't understand all the hubbub about it. I jokingly said I never danced, so I didn't understand why me not doing it was so puzzling. My father grew unusually quiet, and he began recalling a time when I did dance. And...I recalled it too. A different time. A me I must have misplaced somewhere along the way.
He equated dancing to...an expression of joy. People do it because it makes them happy, it makes them feel alive and free. He wondered if my aversion to dance had something to do with the tone of the house, during my childhood. Together, we wandered all the possibilities like roads. Finally, he said...
"As a child and even now...you are just too happy a person, not to dance. I hope you get to a point where you feel safe...and free enough to do it and not care if anyone is watching or thinking anything about it." Sometimes, my Dad has unexpected moments of tenderness when he expresses his wants and wishes for his children that take my breath away. This was one of those moments. It made me wish that one day, perhaps there would be a celebration where I would feel free enough, to grab his hand, and dance. I let that moment linger silently between the two of us before we eventually wandered into something else.
Perhaps one day I will dance as he recalls one summer night in West Oak Lane. I will either return to that state of complete joy with no thought of the space surrounding me, or find myself in a new space. One that pulses with a rhythm I just can't help but move to.
Time will tell.
There are moments when I feel crazy or at the very least, the most ungrateful girl in the world. Both bring a fair measure of shame. In an attempt to feel everything as deeply and as fully as I can, I wonder if I will ever feel full. I feel like I knew it once, but perhaps it was more fantasy than truth. And so, I am wary to believe anything truly is what it seems to be anymore.
I expected, as many others do, that wrapping up everything you could ever ask for in the perfect package would be enough to chase the darkest days away. I thought it you wished for sincere things, and not the candy coating at the surface, magically...there would be healing. And while healing occurs, I'm learning there is nothing immediate about it. Just as it may fall from the sky, you must be willing to let it wash over you. You must open your arms to knowing.
I was told once to let life's events be a coin in your open palm. Let them simply, be there...and accept that you don't control them any more than they control you. I've learned to do that, at least keeping my hand open...but there are moments like these, when I still don't believe I am not controlled by those events. There are days when I still feel tortured by feelings or thoughts or memories.
There are still days when I silently wish for that feeling of fullness. Fantasy...or otherwise. And there are moments when I think perhaps all I was supposed to know of that feeling has come and gone. So I find myself waffling between being at peace with the wholeness and warmth of something a little like it and believing that the fullness I've known was not my imagination...but one of the very reasons we exist.
Maybe I need to be comfortable with both.
What would Frank think, if I craved my indulgence? Do I even know what the hell that is supposed to mean?
Okay, I'm over the spammy emails. Good weekend done, another helly week summons. Mercury retro begins tomorrow.
1. Recovering from a hellacious work week that was draining and invigorating all at once. Slightly amused by my complete lack of interest in interacting with anyone.
2. Watching Mecca sleep on her ridiculously expensive but very comforting orthopedic mattress. Big enough for a Great Dane, I am a bit tempted to curl up beside her and cuddle her to sheer annoyance.
3. Regretting that I probably ate one too many slices o' pizza.
4. Wondering if this Mercury Retrograde that arrives on January 28th is the reason for my slightly heightened paranoia and overall sense of...mild foreboding.
5. Backing up my laptop and all my music files in preparation for said retro.
6. Waiting for the The Lawyer to come home from his league basketball game and report his stats with amusing pride while he ices his knees.
7. Wondering when scrabulous is going to rejoin the land of the living.
8. Thinking that I liked The Fountain's soundtrack much more than I liked the movie. And I really wanted to like the movie.
9. Beefing up my feeds in google reader.
10. Contemplating going to the pottery studio tomorrow. By the way, did I tell you I've switched clay bodies and I'm now working with porcelain?
What about you? What are you doin?
I just love spam. I love, love, love receiving at least 30 different email a day across my varied inboxes from people greatly concerned about the size of my penis, my ability to provide "her" hours of pleasure...and...the multitudes of people who are just waiting to dump buckets and buckets of money I never knew I had directly into my lap, for next to nothing. How did they know I needed that cash? How did they know I desperately want to acquire a penis and ensure it is fully medicated to become superlover to a woman named, "her?"
So today, I cheer my new best friend Frank. My new best friend Frank wants to give me $800,000.00. And apparently he's a really good friend, because I completely forgot I was to come down there...("there" is most likely where I will find "her") and claim my money. So he's gonna ship it to me.
First thing I'm gonna do when I get my 800,000.00 is get Frank enrolled in school so he can learn proper english and spelling. Then I'm going to introduce him to "her" and then I'm gonna give him some of those meds that make my penis even larger and more pleasurable. Then I'm going to have them both arrested.
Happy Tuesday.
Love, RPM
What do you think is your best physical attribute?
Submitted by Nacwolin.
