Notes on a hundred things

The annual landlord visit came and went, rather painlessly. I always get super worked up about it, though, and then need a few days to decompress.

The pool is still leaking, but we can call for that and have done whatever needs doing. 20170704_211625

I’m on Day…24 of this 28 day eating plan. The purpose of it renders it no longer a necessity, but if I stopped, my family would be all, “ooh, you didn’t do it right.” Whatever. Here’s the thing. I wanted to reset my eating thinking, and I have largely done that. So that purpose has been met. At the same time, I have fouled up my enjoyment of simple pleasures in the kitchen, I have no more energy than before, am still sleepy after lunch, have lost no weight and have seen no skin improvement. The book assured me everyone sees all that happening, and it is true in most cases; a no sugar diet will cause you to gain or lose weight as needed. But it has not been true in my case, though I have eaten many fewer calories and exercised more. At the same time, I was supposed to have withdrawal symptoms, headaches, etc., and I had none of that. I was in a bad mood only in regard to having little to enjoy the first few days, and not from sugar deprivation itself.

Looked at that way, I think 24 days has been enough to move forward to “maintenance.” But I’m not going to just eat cake today or anything like that. I’m still going to eat an apple most days; I like their thinking there, though every single day might be too much apple for me. I’m still going to drink a pitcher of water every day, sometimes with a green tea bag in it. I’m still going to do better at snacking when I can, and I might retain their notion of eating a little dark chocolate every day, though I still don’t love it. I have rediscovered my taste for freshly-ground peanuts, however. The red wine recommendation, meh. I’ll try to remember to have some sometimes, and I’ll also think very carefully about what else I’ve eaten in my day before having dessert, which is something I already do before I decide whether it’s a cocktail evening or not. 20170626_120731

I never craved dessert these past few weeks except sort of once. I really wanted rice pudding the other day, for a reason I just cannot say. When do I ever eat rice pudding? And I can’t say I’ve craved bread, but I’ve missed it a lot. Like to have a little with my olives and ricotta, or to put bread crumbs on top of the baked eggplant. And to eat noodles with eggs for lunch now and then. A natural part of the day, not an overwhelming part. I want that back.

In other areas, I’ve been sewing lots of things. I made a baby quilt top a couple days ago, and yesterday I made this log cabin block with some of the scraps. 20170704_103538

The garden isn’t good at all this year, but is not fully hopeless. There will be a fair number of hot peppers, cherry tomatoes, and lemon cucumbers. A few pickling sized cucumbers, some amount of snap beans, three delicata squash, and a few other tomato varieties, including black prince and…I forget which golden variety. But the Brandywines, which I grew from seed, are sick, and I might have to pull them out later this week. Something ate my meatball eggplant plants, but the baby eggplants on the deck seem okay. I’ll have some carrots soon, and at least a few sweet peppers. I have about twenty garlic bulbs curing in my paint room. 20170704_091241
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I’m so in love with Twin Peaks: The Return, I can’t always think about anything else.

The kitten staying here is doing very well. Blood tests next week when she’s old enough for them. 20170628_174341

Yesterday I took some accidentally-purchased "lightly sweetened" peach cups (who thinks peaches need sweetening? this is our problem, people,) and turned them into popsicles.
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20170704_132539please to ignore background laundry, etc.

And I made frozen yogurt thusly: one large container Greek Gods plain yogurt into the food processor with an entire cup of sugar (this amount will be reconsidered later,) juice lazily squeezed from two lemons, 2 tbs amaretto, and a touch of salt. I whirred it and then put it into a large ziploc bag in the freezer. Later after it started to freeze, I squished it around every hour for a few, then put it into a container to enjoy…in a few days, I guess. Same with a popsicle. It can wait.
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Finally, here is the pictorial saga of my frozen vegetable dumplings and the sauce that would never end. 20170704_144203
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20170704_151011Enough apple already. Wouldn't a piece of flat bread have tasted good with that sauce?


Getting sidetracked by food irony. Plus pictures.

Q. Hamburger
I started this 31 day sugar detox two weeks ago. Right away I decided I’d do best if I made it four weeks, instead, but otherwise, I followed the plan in the book I got, strictly. I did the three day super detox, then began on week one. After a few days, though, I noticed I was growing paranoid about food, what I was eating, when I was eating it, and I spent a great deal more time thinking about food than felt healthy. Eyeball
I read the book carefully, a few pages each day, going back over pertinent sections and thinking about them. I have spent most of my life studying nutrition in food in a casual but dedicated sense, and know enough to say it is a good plan, healthful and carefully constructed. But it took me awhile to realize the writers’ goal was more about weight loss and improved skin appearance than anything else. And while I wanted to lose ten pounds, my main personal concern was that I’d been trading healthful calories for unhealthful ones, by putting off eating until I was too hungry, then eating too much of foods I know will ultimately drag me down, just to not feel hungry. Threshhold
I started the plan hoping to reset that problem, by constructing daily eating habits that included too much of the right food to bother with the wrong food. Well, avoiding the wrong food has been pretty easy. But eating enough of the right foods has been as difficult as ever, more so because I could have no starch or grain at first. Scream
And at first that seemed appropriate. A lot of what’s in those foods converts to sugar in our bodies. But now after two weeks, I have no more energy or drive to eat better than I did before; that is, I have the drive to continue to battle the problem simply because I know I must, and am a grownup about that, but I have gained nearly no ground. I’d still rather not eat than worry about food groups all day. I’m also a little annoyed that people tend to (I know this from extensive reading since 1978) drop a lot of weight right at first when eliminating sugar, and I have not done so. The three pounds I’ve lost has been more from calorie deprivation than sugar elimination. That's no good at all. Frustrated
But those other people tend to be breaking daily sweetened coffee and diet soda habits. I rarely sweeten my one daily mug of coffee and almost never drink soda of any kind. Mostly all I did in that problem area was have too many cookies in the afternoon or evening. I thought that was huge, and for me it was, but apparently it’s nothing compared to what a lot of other people get up to.
Mcmahon
I don’t sweeten my salad dressings, I rarely eat french fries or bagels or mac and cheese, etc. I already knew the delightful sweetness of cooked onion. And I miss oatmeal, which I can enjoy readily without adding sugar or syrup, though that’s nice, too. If you think about it, oatmeal can be your buttered toast, to enjoy with an egg or a little fruit. That is, the porridgey kind that is freshly milled or steel cut. Those flakes need a lot of outside help. Pleasesir
Anyway, this is a long-winded monologue to say that I was following the letter of that plan, but losing the intent of having started it. Mostly, I just need to consistently eat breakfast, choose healthier snacks, and eat a lot more servings of fruits and vegetables. The fruit part will be the bigger challenge. For some reason, I love having fruit around, but don’t really enjoy eating it. Except cherries. Maybe because they are like olives, but fruit. Same with late summer plums. I don't know. Screen Shot 2015-11-20 at 9.24.56 AM
So I am continuing two more weeks of sugar detox, but I am going to skip ahead to the fourth week guidelines and do that for two weeks (minus a really irritating amount of red wine,) while working on my own daily eating plan that suits my tastes and needs better going forward. Screen Shot 2016-03-16 at 11.39.46 AM
More than anything else, I’ve got to mother myself through each day so I get all I need with much less of what I don’t need. I’m super terrible at forming habits; it’s an aversion borne of growing up with a delightful but alcoholic father. I used to even feel anything you do as a ritual might not be good for you, because you’re maybe relying on it. But in my mellower mid-years, I have come to understand and embrace personal ritual a little bit, and I can embrace breakfast in the same way.
Cooper

A. 60


Dance


curating myself

Yesterday was the 14th anniversary of my blog(s.) There are 1460 posts here, but about 300 are archived, no longer live, and there are a couple hundred or so more at the other page, linked at the top here. I’ve been going through them and creating an Archive of Me, and while you will Not find all of it interesting, you Will find some of it interesting. The rest is just for me to easily access.

Over on the right, unless you’re on a mobile device in which case I think at the bottom? I’ll have a look later and be more precise, are the latest in that series of posts from over the years, minus a 6 month period which got corrupted a few years ago. And a couple of the links go to an entire month of posts, because I did that when I was adding 2005 here.

I’ve changed a lot over the past 14 years. I had a 4 year-old when I started this blog. And other fairly young offspring, of course. Now they’re all grown up. We moved 4 times since then, and there are 4 in the house instead of 8. I will be a grandmother soon. So I look back over all this and laugh or wonder at myself, but on the whole, I do see myself in all of it. Life is an ongoing process of growth and decay. :-)

Anyway. The complete-ish 161 post reminiscence set is here, starting in March, 2003. Only I guess you'd have to read it all in reverse to see it chronologically. Well, whatever.  Some of it is embarrassing, I don’t care; we all keep maturing, hopefully. I just wanted a condensed view I could look back at now and then, and maybe add to in the future. The only problem with having combined them all into this one blog is that the likes and plusses are gone from the old ones, and it was helpful to know which were actually popular, though it wasn’t a staggering number.


20 years, fickle April, birthday countdown thoughts, and Earth Day

This isn't going to be the post I had in mind when I began thinking it over yesterday. My heart is a bit overfull just now.

Two things to think over which spawn many other channels of thought. First, I will turn 51 in six weeks. I like being a prime number. But it is a scary age for me to be. Second, this is my twentieth year having some sort of garden, though it's 23 if you count the zinnias under the tree in Olathe. I'm counting from the glorious garden I built in Saginaw in 1997, though. 
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I had little energy last year to give the garden a proper start, and so I have been happily and eagerly making up for it this year, only as we had no April to speak of, some of the vegetables which like April best are probably not going to produce really well before it turns hot. There is this thin window of time in which the ground is workable but not too cold, and the air is warming but is not yet hot. And this year, the window is even thinner than usual, because we reverted back to February at the end of March, then shot straight into May a few days ago. But such is gardening life along the 39th degree. 


My first garden, in Michigan, was kind of a thing of wonder. It became self-sustaining in two years' time, and was actually left alone to grow for at least a couple years more after I moved away. I didn't have all the internet advice I have now, and didn't even get much from the library. But I had towering tomato plants mixed in with all kinds of flowers and herbs, and just whatever I felt like growing. At first, gardening in New Jersey was something of a trial in comparison; the earth is very sandy there, especially where we lived, just three miles from the sea, and then five... Tintonfalls...and then more. Oh, I miss the sea. So I focused on the herbs, slowing adding in whatever I could when conditions allowed, and then for my last two years there, on the west side of the state, I had a 20x20 plot in a community garden. _DSC7794 - 2011-07-10 at 08-57-16 - Version 2 - 2011-07-10 at 08-57-16

That's where I really learned to garden, and where I learned to love gardeners. I will always treasure my brief time there, though I had a more difficult time finding some of the truly interesting plants there which were so easily available in Michigan. In NJ, anything which wasn't commonplace came at quite a premium. Well, everything just costs 30% more there. It makes people creative, though.
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I forgot I could be creative for awhile after moving here to Ohio into a neighborhood where a putting green lawn is valued far above the offerings of nature or my own "oldcountry" aesthetic desires. That is, I didn't forget, but I've been torn between worrying over lawn edgings and dandelions and needing to "express myself through the medium of growing interesting stuff in interesting configurations.” Doing it to satisfy both the neighbors and me would really just require throwing a lot of money around. You get more for your money here, but I can't justify it. 


So my back gardens in my rented space are semi-conservative little oases, and I treasure them as much as I can, while the front areas are more for public view, and no one knew what to think last year when I got the notion of growing middle eastern cucumbers on a trellis in front of the porch…if I told them that on the east coast, many people do not waste their front lawns on the cultivation of grass, they’d think it’s all just as awful as they believe they’re told by the news.

I never planned to have a garden, you know. This is because my mother had an enormous one for a couple of years, completely organic back when that was rather tougher to do in the post-mid-century living better through chemistry era, and I hated having to weed it. Well, I hardly weed my gardens at all. I just grow stuff between the stuff so I don’t have to. The carrots always need it, though.

I have repeated many aspects of my mother’s life, after being so certain I never would. I love gardening, I love old stuff. I have experienced some of the same pains and losses. And now I’m turning 51, the age my mother found a lump in her breast.

It is not 1987. I did not smoke as a teenager. I have not consumed huge quantities of Coke and Pepsi throughout my lifetime. I have eaten less processed food, though probably not much less. I cook with olive oil, I drink milk, I eat more fish, I breastfed my kids, and I’ve done a somewhat better job of keeping middle age weight at a reasonable place.

Still, and all. One can’t help but think about it and wonder. I have assigned all my belongings to various offspring, and I keep thinking they should not have too many drawers or boxes to sort through someday, because there’s only so much charm to be found in browsing through what other people won’t throw out.

I’m actually more likely to be felled by a heart condition because of my horrible teeth, but the fact is, from this point forward, the markers are not just, “Now I am older than Pushkin, Darin, Judy Holliday...*” but “I have been a mother longer than I had one,” “this is the age she got sick,” and two years, ten months older than I am now, “now I am older than my mother lived to be.”

So besides having my vitamins and checkups and thinking about doing a better job of making sugar calories matter, I’m working to be pleasant and giving and at peace with life, the universe and every little thing. Growing beautiful things and sewing gifts and making purple cocktails, helping tense cashiers calm down a bit, loving the dog and my kids and trying not to poison either the earth or other peoples’ hearts and minds keeps me pretty busy at that.

Here’s to Earth, to Mom, to Purple Rain, to all the Aprils you and I will live to see. Gardentools

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I have no ready explanation for this.

I started this yesterday evening. When I have the page filled sufficiently, I’m posting it.

1. This post brought to you through the auspices of Weyerbacher Brewery in Easton PA, my erratic luteal phase, and a fresh loaf of Italian bread, and is dedicated to Rumson, New Jersey, my friend Anna*, and everyone who portrayed Mr Knightley in a movie.

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I went to Kroger for some Italian sausage (thus, also some bread,) and because I needed a few minutes around some people; collective energy and so forth, and listened to my iPod there and back, noticing it has a remarkable understanding of just the sort of mood I’m in. So that’s what this is. Well, plus a few more songs that played while I was cooking sausage.
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Check it out: 20160405_161926That sign has been up at Tuesday Morning for at least a couple months, definitely before the news of Hancock’s new bankruptcy was announced, and waaaay before they announced they were closing ALL stores. Things that make you wonder…

I have On The Beach on while typing this. Wasn’t Tony Perkins just beautiful?

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And in 1959, as skinny as my beautiful sons. People seem to find this wrong now, or maybe they always did, I dunno. I remember being made fun of for it when very young, then later as a teen and young woman, the ugly sneers… But if it’s okay for people to weigh a whole lot, it’s also okay for them to weigh not very much at all. Life, you know. Diverse and all.

Hello. I’d like to talk with you about Gregory Peck’s jawline.

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2. Because of reasons to do with that unfortunate Lois Lane scene, no, not in the completely awesome exciting and thoughtful unless there is something seriously wrong with you new film, but the old outdated Superman movie, I have this Gordon Lightfoot song in my head.


I do like this song, but I always thought of it as some of the “grownup” music when I was a kid.

Speaking of which, Merle Haggard has died, and while I was not a fan, I mean, of course I remember him and he was a part of our youth and etc., and it occurs to me that all our childhood grownups are dying, and pretty soon we’ll be the only grownups who remember them, or something like that. I couldn’t quite hang onto the thread I was following. Our childhood is all ghosts, is maybe what I mean. I have a list of half a dozen people who, when they are gone, will have been the end of it all. Let us not speak their names just now. Not because of superstitions we need not have, but because we will rather continue to think of them as healthy and strong.

I was in a better mood earlier, and also yesterday when I began this exercise. It’s gloomy and raining now, which does a thing to my brain, I guess, though I never mean for it to. And so I am not going to finish this until I am in a better mood again. That’s what it’s meant to be about.

3. I’ve had a look at my “notes for later” document that I keep in my dock, and found some items to share:
    
    a. "Exquisite Timing: Perimenopause and the Bee Gees:" this is an essay I’m working on which I’ll probably post to Medium some time or other. But Medium has already changed a lot since it started. I’m not quite as keen on it as I was in the beginning. I’m that way, just always was, I guess. Nobody steal my title.

    b. My son said this a few weeks ago: Jesus was walking around the desert with chest damage, trying to build an arc reactor, Judas turned his back on him and betrayed him, trying to steal the technology.

    c. I copied this from somewhere, don’t remember who said it. You can Google it if you like. “What is tolerance? It is the consequence of humanity. We are all formed of frailty and error; let us pardon reciprocally each other's folly - that is the first law of nature.”

4. You know how people used to complain that their old out of touch parents would send them painful inspiring emails, or chain letter emails, or ridiculous urban legends? Here are examples of the things I text to my kids.
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5. I saved this photo to share as well, but do not recall why. Something to do with his speech pattern.
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6. A little while back I made my hair lighter, and it's also shorter than it's been in awhile, but then I saw this brief stuttering video from a few years ago and got to missing it dark, never mind long, a person should be only so fickle.

So what do you think? A little darker than image a like it is now, or a little lighter than image b like it's sort of now meant to be?
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* For Anna, I was going to post a link to a Tumblr site devoted to red-haired men. But they turned out to all be gay porn. So, anyway...here's a song.

  


Plus ça change...

AKA serendipity unfulfilled.

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It's still play for pay this year. But worth looking for. This picture links to the article it's taken from:

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Amusingly serendipitous, or not, tonight I could trade my desire for this film for a fresh episode of Grantchester, which is a TV show based on the Sydney Chambers books such as the one I was reading a year ago today.


30 in 31: day 30: me, myself and I

Today I moved a lot of poetry and short stories to the adjacent space to this one, which I haven't used in ages. And I made a new banner, chose new colors, etc. I'm going to update the look of this page, as well, and the domestic arts one. A new start for 2016.

In honor of crowding all that stuff together, here are five very short fictional pieces which are not, in fact, wholly fiction, or much fiction at all. Click on the previews to read them. It'll be the 2015 send-off, or send toward, as the case very well might be.

Oh, New York

Oh, Bill

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Oh, teenagers
This is the middle section of a very silly story I started as a joke. And this section is pretty much from a memory. The rest of it isn't. And you don't actually need to read the prologue unless you plan to also read chapter two.
Oh, you know
Only about 425 words...

 


30 in 31: day 29: best intentions

First, here are the remaining items on the list I composed at the beginning of the month to use for this project. But actually, I was fairly busy most days, and most of these things would require more effort than I felt I could give them at this time.

    1.    compilations
    2.    fake movie titles
√ 3.    movies I enjoyed this year TV/theater
    4.    important things I learned this year
    5.    best garnishes
    6.    beauty products
    7.    best garden photos
    8.    best G+ posts this year
    9.    favorite YouTube videos currently
    10.  nicest news stories I saw this year
    11.   actors the internet has at various times paired me with
 √12.   favorite screenshots this year
    13.   agent coulson
    14.   things I plan to learn next year
    15.   movies I plan to watch next year
    16.    books I plan to read next year
 √17.    nice places I visited this year 

Next, I think it was a good move to restart this blog in an adjacent space to the old one. But I'm dissatisfied with the style and layout. I ended up with it because the ones I prefer didn't allow me to show plusses and likes as I think they should be. I might look again, though, for a better view. I plan to do more writing because I plan to have more about which to write. It's still always going to be seasonal or cyclical; sometimes more focused on gardening, sometimes more on music or cooking or dead guys in suits. This list thing was an experiment that only partially succeeded. I can establish a regimen. But if it's too rigid, it won't be dynamic or interesting all of the time.

Fonzy

These posts are always honest, always really me, but as ever, not always as open as they could be, not as much me as they might be. This is partially because of the mild need to play to an audience. And partially because, while it's still in style to champion "weird" on the internet, actual eccentricity tends to make people pull down the shades.

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Finally (for the moment,) I have noticed that when I share a link to a post here, it will have some number of page views from a pleasant to pleasing number, but few people come back to it later, or look around, or click on more than one thing. This is mostly, I am aware, related to how people use the web these days. A miscellaneous personal blog is very passé. It's the reason there are rarely comments anymore, although no sign-in is required. There's an "other" nature to it, when at a social media site which is continually interactive, everyone is part of everything. A blog like this is no one's daily destination unless it is a consistent daily source of inspiration or amusement, and even then, only if it isn't a bother to get to. (Cue the "I miss Vox" music.)

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It is still a journal, though; an archive of me through my share of the 21st century, and as such, will have some kind of value, even if ultimately ephemeral, for whomever wants to come along later and rediscover Mother or Grandmother, or The Woman Whose Eyebrows Never Quite Matched. I'd say "girl in school whose," however, nearly twenty years of being almost anonymous on the web has put paid to my being rediscovered as someone who turned out to be interesting or at least not so very off-putting after all.

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Now to go back and insert images to keep the eye moving down the page.


resonating encounter

I’ve been mulling over the nature of attraction, and therefore also the nature of repulsion. Mostly attraction, but why are we sometimes drawn to a stranger or a picture and other times repelled by one? However, I'm not going to talk about repulsion, as that is unpleasant, and instead focus on the desire for the train to slow down a little before it reaches your stop. Setting aside generally objective standards of beauty, as well as what we find personally physically appealing, what causes us to seek out an encounter or delay ending one with someone we might not otherwise notice in a crowd, or a waiting room, or mowing a lawn, perhaps? DSC_4051

It’s not scent; it occurs online sometimes, as well, though this can create a false narrative. Over the years I’ve met a couple dozen people I spoke with online, male and female, mostly female, and the ones with whom I settled in and really connected to weren’t always the ones I’d have predicted.

Sometimes I’m at a Target on the other side of town where the cashier available at that time of day is a fairly stereotypical gay man about my age. He wears a divine scent and we always have a bit of good conversation. I’m drawn to his scent, and I like our brief talks, but I don’t feel drawn to him in any way other than by a notion we probably have some commonalities based on age. He might would probably bore me at dinner. But recently at the symphony, I made a polite remark to a woman sitting near me, and this caused her to strike up a conversation during intermission. She was clearly one of those people with a thousand stories, able to hold court wherever she is, surrounded by listeners. I’m often drawn to that archetype, at least, the female version, and will politely listen, nod, and smile in turn. A man who holds court in that fashion is rarely interesting to me, and I wonder what the difference is, but I suppose that’s another topic.

That’s all another kind of attraction, anyway, not the “I might like to touch your arm as we speak” variety.

I might be mulling this over because as I age, the bits of attractiveness I relied on to ease myself through the extroverted world are mostly all faded, and I feel sometimes like quite a different person than the one I see in the mirror, especially since I began wearing glasses all the time. I never felt like my insides and outsides quite matched anyway, but they do even less so now. It vainly occurred to me that other people have probably been confronting this all along. And as I never regarded their beauty or the lack of it as a paramount characteristic, why should I assume other people ever regarded me only as something to view or avoid viewing? I’m not really so awful as to think I am the only person in the room with a measure of depth…
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We should definitely all smell nice and make our hair and clothes neat when we go out. Is it old-fashioned of me to think so? I don’t care.

A few days ago, I was watching a TV show, and saw a young actor who struck me with his beauty. (Yes, like a smack on the back of the head.) I looked him up to see what else he appeared in and learned he is about 30 years old. Yikes. I was drawn to him on screen, nonetheless, but would I have been in real life? It’s doubtful, as I’m generally drawn to people, in this way or the other way, who are about my same age or just a little older. There’s a data equation for it with incrementally shifting variables, I think. But as I grow older, one thing never changes, and it’s that thing I seemed to start out talking about at the beginning of this wandering typefest.

For me, that “I want to touch your arm as we speak” sensation occurs only with men, but it’s reasonable to assume both males and females might experience it with either gender. It’s physical attraction, but that doesn’t necessarily translate into “I want to touch you beneath your clothing.” People are sometimes confused on that point, and would breathe a lot easier if they’d stop to consider the matter for what it is and isn't. Did you ever have a “work spouse,” which I understand to be a thing, and actually try to take that next step with him or her, only to have it end in awkwardness and the sense that you can never go back to your previous groovy “we might, but we don’t” status? Sometimes, anticipation is the reward. You pin that person to your internal “I probably would” board, but don’t actually follow through.
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When I was younger, I was really no good at that. If I wanted someone, he’d absolutely learn about it. But I was a little mixed up and would get in over my head. My switch was stuck halfway on, which isn’t nice for other people. I wanted it badly sometimes, yet not quite enough to follow through (that is inaccurate; it was the protective mechanism of fear, not lack of desire, that took over.) Well, I loved that “we could if only we could” sensation, and would happily sustain it for a long time, but then switch off if the response was too close to reality. I wasn’t this way on purpose; I just didn’t know how to take anyone as seriously as they take themselves, which can be terribly hurtful. To be honest, I’m still no good at that, but eventually I learned to avoid any appearance of interest, which is a kinder path to take, though it became too stringent. I used to laugh and say if I were a man I’d have been…much more physically impulsive. Certain gender-defining properties being what they are, it’s possible. But I can’t think about that more than very abstractly. I cannot for the life of me imagine what sort of woman I’d find attractive were I a man. Perhaps if I were a man, I’d still just prefer other men.

So, where was I? On a train ride, perhaps, stuck on that one bridge between Penn Station and Seacaucus for no reason anyone ever could see. Or in a waiting room or a bookstore. Very little is said, there’s just some palpable nature to the air that brings a smile when thought of later on.
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Is it always reciprocal? Is that particular (from chemical or electrical particles? neat thought) sensation only possible when it goes both ways? It’s awfully nice to think so, even though it usually doesn’t and generally shouldn’t lead anywhere further. I think we should, with our better natures, remain open to these little moments in time, appreciate our connectivity, allow it to energize our thoughts and moods and improve our view of humanity. I allowed that to happen pretty often when I was younger, not only in the more focused manner I referred to above, but just out and about in the world. I’ve probably been overlooking that opportunity for years now, knowing there’ll never be another boy with a bouzouki looking back at a girl seemingly made entirely of contrasts. That girl wasted some measurable energy mourning the loss of something that could never, ever be real, though. This woman knows there is no loss in appreciating energy without seeking to manipulate it.

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