Dancing Fools

What is it about the rhythms and melodies of a good house track or flamenco piece that enlightens and moves? I'm alive when I'm dancing. It's as fullfilling as reaching the peak of a mountain in Colorado or Austria or Nepal. Ok maybe not, but certainly there's a sense of liberation. Exhiliration. Butterflies. Take my parents for instance. They are pretty devoted to each other. Since they began ballroom dancing, however, something changed. It happens every time there hands touch. I can see it... they soar. Though their dance is to a different rhythm with a very different melody, I'm sure they feel much like I do when I just can't stop. It's love, baby, love.

Me and...

I don't want to wait to do this
living. I just walk around. I
want to be swept off my feet,
you know? I want my children
to have magical powers. I am
prepared for amazing things
to happen. I can handle it.

- Richard, "Me and You and Everyone We Know" 2005 film

Friends Like These

Suprisingly, Valentine's Day was quite lovely. My dad text messaged me while I was at work for the first time ever! He wished me a happy one and told me he loved me. Being the sap that I am, I teared up some. Then Ritz, who serves double duty as sister & best friend, sent me an e-card with a most beautiful note. After hearing all the "aaahhhs" and "ooohhhs" from the braggers at work receiving flowers, I felt content with my gifts. When I left work I was unsure of how the evening would play out. The color of the sky was almost flourescent over a sea of cars on the highway. On the verge of darkness. Then the phone rang. My darling uncle invited himself over to help me shovel snow. He brought flowers and took me out to a new Hibachi restaurant. I think it was an an attempt to change my sullen mood. Why so sad? Well, the day before I had canceled on a few romantic interludes with a gentleman. I guess you can say we were or are or were dating. The problem is I have known for some time that he isn't "the one" (sorry...for lack of a better term). It's weird how these realizations about people happen at lightening speed in your 30's. I'm fine with my decision... just beaten up by this whole dating thing or maybe it's the snow... my back hurts from shoveling 3 days in a row. Gotta love those city plows. Anyway, my uncle and I ate like kings and laughed like queens. It was the best. During that time I received calls from my mom, my cool cousin "John," & another best friend, "Elizabeth." Ok, I have a lot of best friends, so sue me.

Tonight, I am sipping a really sweet 2000 merlot from Strong Island in preparation for my little jazz project. It's delicious and as that warm sensation caresses me, I wonder if I can make it through another irrelevant holiday. Of course I can with friends like these.

A Woman Scorned

Women often find themselves in a precarious position when they fall in love. They are lead by their hearts, which have been entrusted to someone else, so they spend a whole lot of time making sure it's well preserved, still beating, alive. This can lead to some pretty whacky behavior. When that someone else begins to slip away, there's a sense of urgency. A code black. The heart stops and then how does one breathe? I know a woman very dear to me, "Maria," who is scorned. My advice to her was to forget the ex-love and move on. She has, but they continue to be "friends." Then I discovered that he sends text messages asking for forgiveness. "Maria" won't budge. How could she? He runs errands or does special favors in hopes of winning back affection. She won't budge. How could she? He calls her when he's had too much to drink to profess his undying devotion. Still, she won't. The problem is Maria reads the messages, accepts the favors, & takes the calls. I believe the love has ended. After so many years of waiting & working, "Maria" simply gave up and became hardened by the experience. He's under a more optimistic impression. So in truth, the moving on part is a work in progress. It is not easy to walk away. To let go when the someone else carried your heart, your prized possession, and gave it back to you all broken. My judgment was harsh, I think, and I am a little more understanding of her struggle. I suppose I had forgotten what that was like... mending what is broken. Lately, I date men without giving mine up. How could I?

An Old Wound

I never thought about blogging before nor did I understand its purpose. Then, of course, the unexpected happened. An old wound opened up a new door. And like some cruel ghost that only rattles chains when you sleep, this man that I might have loved, "the old wound," sent me his link. So here I am with virtually nothing to say except that I've read his words.

Lately, I check to see if there are any new entries. There are. I won't read anymore. I move quickly into someone else's and do it vehemently because I know he doesn't really exist. Only when I sleep.