SSX Prep Victory

HAHAHAHA, SUCK IT BROTHER! I have been playing a bunch of tricky lately to get myself back in the spirit before SSX comes out in February, and tonight I experienced a victory of epic proportions. I should explain that I bought Tricky used my junior year in college and it was a big hit. My roommates and I all become quickly obsessed. Then I came home to NJ for the summer to intern in New York, and my brother, home from his waitering job during the day while I worked, beat all my high scores in a matter of weeks. Some I was able to defeat, but this Tokyo Megaplex High Trick Score had eluded me for years after he set it. Now mind you, I haven't played this game at all in probably the last three years, and it's been about 7 since he set the record. Today, however, today it came crashing down. And here's the proof:

Elise and I destroyed the record he set with Kaori. Not just by a measy few thousand points. By over 150,000 points! So take that, big bro. ;) Love u.

A plea for editing help!

Because I can't fit all of this on one tweet - here's what I need (x-posted from facebook): Hello friends. I'm sure you all have interesting lives and therefore, probably, plans for this evening. However, on the off chance you are casting about for something to do with your free time, I have a suggestion! I am deeply in need of another set of eyes (or, like, twelve more sets of eyes) on my personal statement for my grad school application. It has been a long time since I've had to write something of this nature, and I feel out of practice. Plus, rather than go the boring route and solely write about why/how I've demonstrated commitment to the six guiding principles of their program, I decided to go totally out of the box/off the wall creative/(crazy?) and write it sort of like a personal comic book narration. At least partially. So I would love it if some of my smart friends could possibly help me out with some editing? LMK if you're available and I'll email it to you later on tonight. I'm supposed to be sending it out to my recommenders this weekend, so I'd need your help sort of ASAP. Thanks in advance & much ♥!

Musical Mondays: Awesome Track

Some Shirts That Have Caught My Attention Lately

Most of you who know me know how much I appreciate a clever, funny or cute t-shirt. I have quite a burgeoning collection. So anyway, was poking around the internets yesterday and here are some that caught my attention:

http://www.snorgtees.com/t-shirts/rawr-means-i-love-you

http://www.snorgtees.com/t-shirts/damn-it-feels-good-to-be-a-lannister

http://www.snorgtees.com/t-shirts/that-s-my-jam

http://www.snorgtees.com/t-shirts/mental-note

http://www.snorgtees.com/t-shirts/good-things-come-to-those-who-break-clay-pots

http://shirt.woot.com/friends.aspx?k=22798

http://shirt.woot.com/friends.aspx?k=22097

http://www.threadless.com/product/3460/Nailed_It/style,design

http://www.threadless.com/product/2609/Storytellers/style,design

http://www.redbubble.com/people/athenaleonti/works/7251861-the-alphabet-of-geekdom?p=t-shirt

http://store.penny-arcade.com/products/i-feel-shame-ladies-tee

http://store.penny-arcade.com/products/dark-arts-ladies-tee

http://www.lastexittonowhere.com/shop/product/nexus-6-slim-fit/

https://shop.blindferret.com/Hijinks/product/ladies-t-shirt-british-knights

http://www.runawayclothes.bigcartel.com/product/prime-cuts-women-s

Musical Mondays: A Little Early

Man, shit is going so well right now. I really hope it keeps up. Had a pretty epic date this weekend. Dinner at an awesome Japanese restaurant (I think it was called Yosake - awesome decor and great food), a post-dinner stroll through downtown Wilmington, coffee, watching a few episodes of Archer, teaching my date to play Infinite City, being taught (finally) how to play Dominion, watching him play Skyrim while editing photos, reading Terry Pratchett before going to sleep. All I can say is fucking A. In honor of the incredibly nerdy nature of the weekend, here is an awesome track by a band I hope will be at PAX East this year, Anamanaguchi:

On Sexual Violence - Part 7,456,202

Ok, I need to go on a rant for a minute here.
 
Well, first of all, hi.  Sorry it’s been forever since I’ve updated.  It’s been a few weeks and lots of things have been happening.  If you’ve been following my photoblog over at http://scenesfrommylunchhour.wordpress.com, it’s at least been a little busier over there.
 
Secondly, Mom and Dad, if you’re reading, you may want to stop.  This entry is going to be of a highly personal nature. I am releasing these thoughts into the ether both because it will be cathartic and comforting to me, and also because it may help someone else stumbling through the internet looking for solidarity on complicated life stuff.  But that does not mean it’s something I would ever discuss directly with either of you, even though I love you.  But I can’t stop you from reading, so if you want to, you will, and I’m okay with that.
 
Ok.  So I’m ranting a little bit about how much it sucks to be a woman today. 
 
Because I can’t say it as concisely or articulately as hundreds of other people have already said it, I’ll skip the whole part about how women’s sexuality is far too closeted in our society and almost always when it is taken out of the closet (pardon the choice of words, not meant to be a homosexual reference) it’s done in a way that is exploitative and degrading rather than educational or supportive.  And I’ll also skip the part about how the lack of open dialogue about the huge range of important topics in women’s sexuality leads to a far higher than should be acceptable rate of incidents of violence against or control of women.  It is amazing to me that on the rare occasions I’m talking with one or multiple female friends and feel comfortable enough to discuss my previous experience with sexual violence, how often they come back with confessions of similar experiences, or solidarity of having heard similar stories from other friends.  I actually feel like I have more female friends who have experienced sexual violence than who haven’t.
 
But violence is actually not the point of the post.  It’s important setup though.  Because what’s hard for people who have never experienced it to understand is how its effects always stay with you, no matter how much time has passed.  How there are a number of triggers, some of which are identifiable and can be prepared for , but plenty more that are surprising and unique, that hit you like a mac truck you never saw coming. 
 
Say for instance you are a woman in a relationship with someone, and you are performing a fun and consensual act on your partner – like oral sex.  Normally, this would be an act that’s inherently a little more submissive for whomever is on the receiving end, in this case the male, because things like the speed, aggressiveness, technique are all in the woman’s control if she’s making the choice to perform said act.  However, as with most sexual acts, there are ways to play with the element of control, and things a man can do to make him feel like he has more control over what’s happening.  He can provide verbal instruction.  He can place his hands over his partners hand(s), or perhaps along the sides of her face just to feel more participatory.  Or, and here’s the toughie, he can choose to hold her head in his hands and control things like speed and depth by forcefully moving her head.  Under normal circumstances, this might be totally fine, and even fun, for both people, to playfully take and relinquish control in turn.  But I think it’s fair to say that once you have experienced sexual violence, there are no such things as normal circumstances.  And a behavior such as the one I just described can suddenly turn an enjoyable consensual activity into a frightening and confusing flashback to previous incidents of sexual violence.  Even if the act itself was not a part of that experience initially, just the feelings it evokes can be enough to trigger the memories of those experiences and all their associated trauma.  But it’s not like it happens every time that situation occurs, or even any time.  The point is that it is random and unpredictable what will trigger a victim, or when those triggers are turned on or turned off.
 
So the reason for this incredibly detailed and graphic setup is to explain that when a person who has experienced sexual violence chooses to be intimate with someone, it is a REALLY BIG DEAL.  Because we are taking a chance that the partner who we are trusting with our sexuality will for starters treat us kindly and as an equal, but furthermore be understanding in the event that a trigger should occur (which, inevitably it will at some point during the sexual relationship, if the actual relationship continues for a lengthy amount of time). 
 
It is both incredibly easy and incredibly hard to make that decision.  Easy, because as easy as it is for someone who has never experienced violence to jump into bed with someone they’re really excited about, it is 10 times easier for someone who feels they have diminished rights in a sexual partnership.  They jump into bed with someone they’re really excited about because they are conditioned to do so.  They understand attraction as something that inevitably leads to sex.  But it is incredibly hard because it is frightening as all hell to put that amount of trust in someone, the trust required to experience things as equals and to deal with triggers when they arise.  It makes the victim of previous violence feel completely and totally vulnerable.  To try to analogize, it’s like saying, “Oh I want to give you a present because I just met you and I like you and want to use gift-giving as a way to help you understand that I like and appreciate you, but oh by the way, this present is actually the most important thing I have to give to someone and please don’t break it or devalue it or throw it away or it might irrevocably crush my spirit and bring back all sorts of trust issues I’ve been trying to work through for 10 years.” 

Can you imagine actually saying that to someone?  Or how about the real life version of that?  Every time I have had to make the words come out of my mouth, it has been a physical challenge.  Moving my lips, forming sounds.  Saying, “I do want to make love to you, I really do.  But I need to warn you about something.  Nine years ago I lost my virginity through date rape and was the repeated victim of a controlling person who took advantage of me sexually, and because of that, I still struggle even now to form normal sexual relationships with people.  I may react to things we do in ways that are unexpected, or abnormal, or upsetting to you or me.  I’m a lot better than I was, and as time goes by I continue to get better, but its something you must know about me in order to engage in this type of relationship with me.”  It’s nearly impossible to say.  Every time.  But it is essential.  Open communication is the key to a successful relationship, both in the bedroom and outside of it.  And if you can’t be open about something so foundational to your behavior in a sexual relationship, how can you possibly expect it to succeed?
 
There are arguments to be made that it might be worth waiting a while, until you are more comfortable with the person or have established a solid ground in that department.  But to me there are two risks there.  First, that a trigger happens before you’ve had the conversation, causing your partner to be (A) uncomfortable because they don’t understand what’s happening, and (B) upset that you didn’t trust them enough to share that information initially.  The second risk is that a partner may not believe that your explanation or history is legitimate, or have a harder time understanding it, because they’ve seen you act “normally” in a sexual situation several times already, and can’t reconcile that normalcy with the idea that you may now blow up at any time.   It will be harder to compute and therefore seen as an insurmountable impediment, rather than a vague possible threat that you already know how to deal with, if addressed up front.  So for these reasons, I see it as essential that potential partners understand what they are facing when they get involved sexually with a former victim.
 
As we have already discussed, however, this leaves the victim feeling incredibly vulnerable.  Not only from the risk-taking inherent to disclosing the history and engaging in the sexual experience, but also the sheer visceral effort required to make the disclosure in the first place.  The way your potential partner reacts to this information then becomes critically important, as it will determine if your vulnerability is (partially or fully) soothed or worsened.  Furthermore, the way they treat you after your first sexual encounter carries a lot of tension because if that worry has not been completely pacified, the victim will need more positive reinforcement than usual when faced with said vulnerability. 
 
Unfortunately, most people are not in the habit of providing that reinforcement.  Nor do they necessarily understand that it’s required.  And it can be tough at the start of a relationship, when people are still trying to get to know one another, to say, “Hey I promise I won’t always be like this, but I’m feeling extremely needy right now so can you please let me know that you like me, you’re comfortable with my issues, and you promise you won’t hurt me?”  Because the other person doesn’t necessarily know the answers to those questions.  That’s what starting a relationship is all about.  Getting to know the other person and figuring out if they’re someone you like, you want to become close to, and someone whose issues you can put up with. 
 
So all I’m saying is, as much fun as the start of a new relationship can be, it can really suck too.  And as much fun as sex is, it can really suck too.  But these challenges are exponentially harder for victims, most of whom unfortunately tend to be women. Add to that the other pressures faced by women in sex and relationships - concerns about body image, sexual performance anxiety, and so on, and you can see how it is just really hard to be a girl sometimes. Relationships are tough. They are high-risk high-reward business.  They are putting yourself out there and maybe getting crushed, or maybe getting lifted up higher than you’re ever been.  And they are scary as hell.
 
Rant over.

A Day Late, A Buck Short

I spent yesterday not dealing. I didn't want to see it, hear it. Didn't want to care what it meant to other people. Didn't even want to reflect on what it meant to me. Was angry at its ubiquitousness. Told my brother as much, without even thinking. He said he didn't want to watch football with friends because of all the associated 9/11 hooplah, because he wanted to deal with that privately. I answered quickly, "I don't want to deal with that at all." So I didn't. And yet it became impossible to avoid, somehow.

Today I started thinking about a photograph. I tore through some memory boxes looking for it. My college had a newspaper called "The Justice." I think 2, maybe 3 days after September 11th, 2001 it put out a special issue. There was a picture of me on the cover of that issue. Nobody who isn't me would know it was me because it doesn't show my face. But I know it's me because it's me. I'm sitting on a stone bench by the pond between the three chapels. I am wearing a long khaki cargo skirt, a blue baby tee, and though the photographer is fairly far away, you can just see the edge of my purple flowered underpants poking up out of the back of the skirt. If you're looking closely. I am leaning forward with my elbows on my knees and my head in my hands, and I am crying. The photographer is probably 30 yards behind me. I didn't know she was there until I saw my picture in the paper days later. I saved this issue for years. It is somewhere in my house, but in the boxes and boxes of memorabilia I have whose filing and labeling system has broken down in the 20 years or so of collecting, it is hard to locate at a moment's notice. I've decided that it's enough to know I have it.

To "The Justice" the picture represents just one more anonymous person grieving. To me, it represented the beginning of finding my voice. A truer, more thoughtful inner voice.

It cost me my first college friend. About a week after it happened, I hung up a copy of this poem by Ani DiFranco in my dorm room. Was it insensitive, considering that my roommate Mary's brother had been killed when the first plane hit the North Tower? Hell yes. Do I feel a bit of regret for that now? Definitely. But I couldn't even think about whether it was sensitive or not back then. All I could think was that I needed to express something huge, but couldn't. And here was somebody else expressing a lot of what I felt. That because I couldn't say it adequately in my own words yet, I had to have my voice represented by proxy.

Mary didn't speak to me for weeks after I posted it because I refused to take it down. And even after the ice thawed a little bit, we were never really close again. A story for another time, a differing proclivity for drugs drove the final wedge between us.

A purpose of liberal education not yet fully understood was doing it's job. Influenced by the events of the world and my own convictions, I was learning how to think. How to express what I thought. All the while growing. Formative.

March 20, 2003 - reacting to a global tragedy

December 2003 - reacting to a personal tragedy (I'm only noticing now, years later, that the only thing I could think to draw on that random night of artistic collaboration in mod 32 was woman born from tears)

April 2004 - Traveling 600 miles in a bus full of strangers to further exercise my voice

I would do more to connect the dots for you but these days my voice is better expressed in images than words. And primarily, images are what have dominated my consciousness for the last twelve hours or so. Particularly the significance of images, both generally and to me personally. Some day, when I'm long gone and my progeny (or if I don't manage to have any of my own, perhaps my nieces or nephews) are talking about the life I've had, photos will be their anchor. They probably won't talk about the six years I spent making project plans or writing marketing materials or running accounts payable for a small office. I hope. I hope they'll talk about how the day King George II declared war on Iraq I was one of the first people on a bus to Boston to shout my displeasure from the rooftops. And they'll see the photograph to prove it. My daughter will pass on my hard-learned lessons about the value of sex and relationships to her own daughter, and maybe (for at least one more person) stop the cycle of violence and abuse that is far more common than is ever discussed. She'll show her the drawing from the mod, or the portrait series of date rape victims that in the future I hope to shoot, or the picture of my sculptures from 2003. Images will connect to history, to lessons, to connection and shared wisdom. Insight into a consciousness that hopefully will not be a waste after it's gone if it can somehow provide a way to show what it has learned. Another reason to keep pouring as much energy as I can muster into my time behind the lens. To never give up that passion, whatever the day job might be.

So many of us are already proving we are unable to learn from the past. Let that not be my legacy.

Birthdays...

...should be more like Thanksgiving. A time for reflection. We should give thanks for all the good that has transpired in our lives up to this point. We should recommit to the universal mission of helping others, promoting understanding, and trying to make positive change in our world (both large and small). And we should give thanks again that we have yet more time to work on that, and on ourselves. Those are my birthday missions this year.

Three Preview Shots

I'll have a much more detailed breakdown on Scenes From My Lunch Hour later this week, but I'm just too excited about how this weekend's photo shoot went not to post a pic or two as a preview. Here are three of my favorite shots from Vanessa & Mike's engagement shoot at Yates Mill. As always, click to make bigger. Also, it should be noted that these photos are copyright bwpwphoto.com. :)

Musical Mondays: Inspired by BTVS

"It's Over, It's Under" by Dollshead

A Fact I Should Have Learned Long Ago

Sometimes, it feels fucking amazing just to say "No."

Validation

I am so depressed today.

Here's the problem. And I'm sure this is going to be a bit incoherent because it's well past my usual bedtime. I'll use a micro example to illustrate a macro problem.

I have self-image issues. As discussed at length previously. I'm trying to work through them. One of the primary problems I've always had with my image is that I have almost no internally-derived sense of beauty. I mostly only feel beautiful when other people make me feel beautiful or tell me I'm beautiful. So when there's a lack of people in my life filling that function (particularly in a romantic context) I have a much, much harder time believing that I'm attractive. A friend recently said something so simple it should have been obvious to me long ago, but seemed revelatory to me at the time he said it. I think it went something like this: "I find you attractive. No matter where you go in the world or what you're doing, I'm attracted to you. And you can carry that with you. And know that it's true." No one had ever said it just like that before. Compliments had always seemed contextual rather than lasting or permanent. It helped a little to think that the good things people have said about my appearance don't go away just because those people are no longer right in front of me. Of course, it's also harder with appearance because one's appearance is often changing. Or at least mine seems to be.

Anyway, small example right? Well, not small, but well defined.

Now let's apply that micro problem to the rest of my life on a macro level.

I'm depressed right now because things have been going really shitty lately. Ticking off some of this shittyness: (1) I lost something sort of important to me that had been brightening my life. (2) An opportunity that I thought was going to help me make some significant changes to my direction and my lifestyle failed to pan out. (3) I have been struggling with eating again, and surrendered an important weight-loss milestone I had hit a few weeks ago with some irresponsibly earned gains. (4) I have had a few other disappointments and hard times best not discussed here. Point being, it's been a challenging few weeks.

Instead of bucking up and pressing forward looking for a different source of light, another opportunity, exercise and discipline to restore losses, and things that might make me happy, I've been wallowing. And letting all these things make me feel totally invalidated as a person. They're just setbacks, yet I've never been great at dealing with setbacks. I let them completely derail me. My weight watchers leaders have talked in the past about the difference between a "lapse" and a "collapse." In a lapse, you make some bad choices but you quickly right the ship and return to good habits, or better yet, compensate with extra discipline to balance bad choices. In a collapse, each bad decision leads to more bad decisions because of guilt, shame, negativity, etc. Spiral. One has to not let a lapse turn into a collapse. Stop the spiral. Difficult.

I'm having a collapse right now. I just see all the challenges strung together and think, "How am I ever going to right this ship?" or "Maybe I'm not meant to or capable of righting this ship." I start to question core things I should know about myself. Positive things. I stop believing in myself. But see, like the attractiveness, the good things I know about myself don't stop being true just because day to day existence has been a bit more challenging. But dear god, it is hard for me to remember that. Is it hard for other people too? Sometimes I wonder if it's just me. But I'm sure that it's not, even if I wonder. Humanity, man. We're all so much more alike than we sometimes like to believe. We gotta keep learning from each other. So I'm gonna try to apply the lessons of attractiveness to life writ large. Try not to let it take me down. Lose my sense of self. Lose my validation. Gonna reach deep down inside and try to find the will to keep on keepin on.

Fuckin a.

Hilarity, Courtesy of My Sister-in-Law

As Hurricane Irene descends on the East Coast, federal disaster officials have warned that Internet outages could force people to interact with other people for the first time in years. Residents are bracing themselves for the horror of awkward silences and unwanted eye contact. FEMA has advised: “Be prepared. Write down possible topics to talk about in advance. Sports...the weather. Remember, a conversation is basically a series of Facebook updates strung together."


Hurricane Irene is a'coming Jersey. Be ready to converse like never before. Lol.

Another Great Track from "Far"

Other Thursday Thoughts, In Rough Order

I'm sure this isn't all of them, but it's as many as I could recall at this late hour.

10amish: In case I forget to mention it later, I think it's adorable that you still call me every time there's a bad storm or a natural disaster. That you remember how much these things scare me, that you subsequently think to call and check in, and then actually follow through and do it. It's amazing. It makes ME feel really good and also speaks to what an awesome person YOU are. Way to go, you. :)

3pmish: I've had a lot of family around lately. This has led to a lot of rehashing and discussing the past. Learning each other's perspectives on events we for so long have only seen through our own eyes. Managed to verbalize something I've known about myself for a really long time, but never summarized quite so succinctly until describing to my sister during her visit. My parents fought kind of a lot when I was in middle school and early high school. Or at least, it felt like a lot to me. A lot of times this fighting was about the younger of my two older brothers. He was going through a tough time and they were right there with him. And had their own issues compounding any problem that came along. I remembering hearing the fights they had with my brother, the fights they had with each other, remember the fights my brother and I had. I remember thinking, "I don't ever want them to fight like this about me. If I can be a perfect kid, maybe they'll stop fighting all together." And I think this hypothesis dominated a LOT of the decision making I made in the latter half of high school. Hell, even much of the decision making I've done since then. Be the perfect kid and your parents won't fight. Be the perfect kid and things will fall into place. Live for everyone's expectations and you'll find satisfaction therein. And it did provide a kind of satisfaction (and definitely did lead to some really positive decisions, but plenty of negative ones too), but I don't think it provided overall happiness. I've started to come out of it some. Being in Durham has helped. Being isolated means making more decisions for myself, rather than for anybody else. Awareness.

6pmish: I am going to rock it at bowling tonight. I have been kicking ass lately, so I'm gonna keep kicking ass.

7ish: (After X / X / 9 - / X / X / 9 -) YEAH! I am kicking ass. I hope I can keep this up, it's looking like a record breaking game for me...

745ish: Well, balls. A 118. I choked. Hardcore. That sucks.

945ish: I really want to call. Really badly. I am about to be in the car for 35 minutes so it's a perfect time to call. It's sad not to talk to you, so I want to talk to you. AND YET. Talking to you will make me aware of how much I miss you. Too, it will be sad to talk to you and have it not be the same. I don't know if I'm ready for that sad. The first sad is easier. But boy do I want to call. Give it time, I tell myself.

10pmish: I'm going to start working on a mix. It'll be called "A decade of friendship" or something similar. I already know what songs will open it and close it, plus three in the middle. It will be cathartic. I'll have to narrow down the long list of good songs about regret, in reference to that night. How it could have been so different, how I still think of it sometimes. But maybe it's better that it wasn't. Oh shit, it's being cathartic right now. It's catharsising the fuck out of me just thinking about it. Oh crap. Here come those tears that have been waiting to pour for two weeks. I was wondering when I'd finally cry and boy can I cry. But it's good. The crying is a good sign. A sign of healing in progress I think. I hope. Mix tape. Yes, it will have to happen.

That's How Long I Want to Be Your Friend

A circle is round, it has no end... (you know the rest)

My day has come full circle. There have been at least 10 things I have wanted to write about today. There's no way I'll remember them all now, but I am writing at a feverish pace trying to get as many out as possible.

I started out the day thinking about how time makes us see the past with rose colored glasses. I was thinking of a recent visit with an old friend.

Before I start, because I don't want this whole post to reek of negativity, let me say this. I love this friend dearly and he is super important to me. And though it might sound from what follows as though there's bitterness now, it's quite the opposite. We have a really great relationship. I so enjoy our hangouts and I am super happy of the place we have reached that allows us to remain close friends in our adult lives. And our recent visit was GREAT, despite the small excerpt to the contrary below.

Ok, back to the main story. I often think of this friend, when he's not around, with nostalgia and fondness. Sometimes I'd even go so far as to say longing. And yes, this was a friend of the romantic variety. But I spent the last six months of my relationship with this friend thinking to myself at least once a week, sometimes daily in the worst times, that it was not meant to be. That I was incredibly unhappy, and that I should just say so, even if it meant the end of things. But it is so hard to remember what that feeling was about when I look back on it. What I remember instead are all the things we had in common, the fun times and laughter we shared, the intellectual arguments and banter, the hikes we went on, the great sex we had (sorry Dad, if you're reading this). It's hard to remember the bad times. Our brain naturally wants to push those things to the rear of the filing cabinet, make them take the F train to its end in Brooklyn (if your brain is a subway system, like mine). But when hanging out with this friend recently, he got more and more cranky and whiny as the night wore on. Cranky and unwilling to make decisions, and then annoyed when I stepped in and made the wrong one. I had forgotten about how cranky he could get. Then, the next day I wanted to hang out again. And my friend didn't. But his excuse was that he didn't feel like it, didn't feel like doing anything in fact. But then we proceeded to talk on the phone for an hour and half. This used to drive me CRAZY during our relationship. He'd be all, "nah I don't want to hang out," and then want to talk on the phone for two hours when we lived TWO MINUTES AWAY FROM EACH OTHER. I was like, if we're going to spend all this time talking, WHY NOT DO IT IN PERSON? Wtf, mate? At least now that we're no longer in a relationship, this doesn't bother me, because expectations are a lot different. But it reminded me of how much it USED to annoy me.

So while we still share things in common, still have fun together, it is good to take off the pink shades every once in a while and see things as they really were. See him as I truly know him - the good AND the bad.

In between then (7am) and now (11pm) I've had approximately a million other thoughts. And yet, I came back to rose colored glasses not five minutes ago. And not on purpose.

See I went to the pharmacy today in between work and bowling league (more on that later) to kill half an hour and pick up some toiletries I'd been needing to replace. One item on the list was toothpaste. When I got home tonight, I went to put the new toothpaste in the medicine cabinet. And I noticed that even though I switched brands over a year ago (before I even moved to NC) to a 'sensitive' toothpaste, I still had my old regular aquafresh sitting in the cabinet. Right next to the nearly empty tube of sensitive stuff. "That's really old," I thought. "I should totally get rid of it." I reached up and grabbed it, and it jerked me into a memory as quickly and jarringly as I imagine sticking your face in a pensieve must feel.

I am in bed, in my Westwood apartment. I'm trying to sleep but the sound of video games wafting in from my living room is keeping me awake. I have to work tomorrow, and I'm annoyed. Finally the TV turns off. The bathroom light and accompanying fan turn on. Running water. Toilet flushes. Fan goes off. Bedroom door creaks open. Clothes swoosh gently off skin and land with a soft "whoomp" on the floor. A thin frame slips under covers and set of arms wrap tightly around me. It should melt my heart but I remain unmoved.

"I couldn't sleep; TV was too loud," I say in my most pitiable voice.

"I'm sorry."

It's said with sincerity. He kisses me softly on the neck.

"Your breath reeks of cigarettes," I complain, even more annoyed now that he's being conciliatory.

"I brushed my teeth," he offers, a little defensively.

"Well it smells like shit," I snap.

"Well that's because your stupid toothpaste tastes like shit!"

"If you don't like it, why don't you bring your own damn toothpaste over, and stop using my stuff!"

"I don't know what your problem is."

The arms recede away, rolling with the body now facing the opposite wall. I shiver. And immediately regret my attitude.

Flashback to the present. I am holding the toothpaste, transfixed. A dumb blank stare on my face that hasn't yet awoken from memory, though my mind is already returned. Rose colored glasses would have hidden that moment from me. Toothpaste revealed it. Isn't it funny, the things you remember? And how funny that I'm back to rose colored glasses at the end of this long, full day. It's like my brain knew it would be a nice cap to the day to return to what we started the day thinking about.

Anyhoo, I think I shall write another post for some of the other stuff, as this one has taken on a life of its own with all the embedded reflection.

Musical Mondays: Fading Stars

RIP, Todd Wharton

I've been processing my thoughts on his death for a few weeks now, and I still have a lot of emotion about it, even though we'd been out of touch for many years. I'd like to come back and say some more, as well as display some of the pictures that speak to favorite memories of Todd.

In the meantime, I'd like to share this poem written by Todd. One of my old PHS classmates found it and shared it on Facebook. It's pretty amazing, and haunting. I'm not surprised he turned out to be a talented writer; he showed a lot of promise in that area when we were in school.

http://blog.timesunion.com/college/the-haven/1657/

I Shouldn't Say...

...that I'm trying hard to believe, because it's not hard to believe. I know in my heart that of course it is better. No regret.

Distracted by Vacation Crazy Time

I should have mentioned yesterday that the vacation was insanely good. It was full of adventure, thought provoking discussions with friends, dancing (as all good weddings should be), and much more. For now, I'll leave you with my favorite picture of the trip. Taken of my friend Peter in the early evening hours on the Delaware River, just as the fog/mist started to roll in and give everything that soft edge and beautiful light. As always, click the photo to embiggen.