We were seated in the movie theare and the credits started to roll.
"Dance with me," he said, smiling.
"Here? Ok..." I responded unsure and unenthusiastically.
We stood up as if to leave, and I paused for a moment to oblige his request. For under a minute, we swayed back and forth in the dark theatre. I'll admit, it was a half-assed display of dancing; It really was. It may have looked more like a long and unstable hug than a dance, actually. But, it showed him I tried while keeping me close enough to my comfort zone. I didn't want to embarrass myself. People don't dance in theatres. It's just odd.
And after we were done dancing and walking out, I realized something surprising - I was glad I had just danced with him. Really glad.
I'm questioning whether this will continue - this, "I am uncomfortable but will meet you half way and then find out it was a good thing" occurance.
If it does, I just hope it's half way I'm going, and not further. But I'm not so sure...
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Saturday, February 20, 2010
The Mile High City...
On a whim, Imraan and I decided to journey out of town for our Friday evening. We found ourselves in a town about an hour north of Phoenix called Jerome: once called the "Wickedest Town of the West," population of 400 and mostly with artsy residents that seem a bit too happy. It's perched on top of Verde Valley and from 5,200 feet, looks down on every city for more than 50 miles. In many ways, it reminds me of Eureka. If Jerome were a person, it'd be the tiny artsy girl in class that's a bit out of touch with reality and often terribly unstylish, but beautiful.
A first timer to a bed and breakfast stay, I will admit my expectations were far, far exceeded. Our hostess, Andrea, was a middle-aged blonde cheerleader-type woman with a petite build, an enormous personality and very weathered skin. When you ask her how she's doing, she'll tell you she's, "pretty darn near perfect." She was like a pixie. She killed me, she really did.
Her magnificent home, nestled into the hillside of one of the highest points in town, sits full of antiques, family photos, books for all interests, town news clippings, a fat cat and booze. Each restaurant recommendation we received from Andrea was prefaced with the place's spread of liquor first. So for me, it was just perfection. Ultimately we chose a place called "Grapes."
Come to think of it, Jerome was pretty close to perfection. I mean, the local hippies were just a smidge too bushy-tailed. I found myself not entirely sure I wasn't getting one pulled over on. I'm still not sure.
In the end, I left Jerome with:
-1 pair black vintage heels
-Newfound affinity towards bed and breakfasts
-4 old postcards for the collection
and a broader horizon of the people just an hour up the road from my sunny metropolis.
Imraan left with:
-The legend of his film in the city streets (rather, the city of Jerome was left with this)
-1 potential friend who owns a house in New Orleans
-1 juvenile delinquent photographer contact
and 1 vintage bow tie.
A first timer to a bed and breakfast stay, I will admit my expectations were far, far exceeded. Our hostess, Andrea, was a middle-aged blonde cheerleader-type woman with a petite build, an enormous personality and very weathered skin. When you ask her how she's doing, she'll tell you she's, "pretty darn near perfect." She was like a pixie. She killed me, she really did.
Her magnificent home, nestled into the hillside of one of the highest points in town, sits full of antiques, family photos, books for all interests, town news clippings, a fat cat and booze. Each restaurant recommendation we received from Andrea was prefaced with the place's spread of liquor first. So for me, it was just perfection. Ultimately we chose a place called "Grapes."
Come to think of it, Jerome was pretty close to perfection. I mean, the local hippies were just a smidge too bushy-tailed. I found myself not entirely sure I wasn't getting one pulled over on. I'm still not sure.
In the end, I left Jerome with:
-1 pair black vintage heels
-Newfound affinity towards bed and breakfasts
-4 old postcards for the collection
and a broader horizon of the people just an hour up the road from my sunny metropolis.
Imraan left with:
-The legend of his film in the city streets (rather, the city of Jerome was left with this)
-1 potential friend who owns a house in New Orleans
-1 juvenile delinquent photographer contact
and 1 vintage bow tie.
Saturday, February 13, 2010
The Tail of the Mangy Cat...
...was what caught my eye this Saturday.
I was leaving my apartment early this morning to meet my friends for a run...and just as the complex gates opened to release me to the streets, I saw it. I did one of those moves where you extend your neck forward and lurch over your steering wheel to get a better look. As I neared, it appeared to be a monkey. And it was limping. For a split second, I thought of calling the zoo to alert them of a missing inmate.
And then, the gates opened more and I inched closer to the black moving monkey-like ball of mange. I was so totally absorbed that at this point, my window was down and my head was cocked out the window. And as this thing slowly gimped by, I scrambled for my iPhone to get a picture. Just as I held the phone out the window to hit "capture," the thing slowly turned over its right shoulder to make eyes with me. I froze.
It was a cat. It wasn't a monkey. Its ears were wet and cemented to its head. Its tail was bereft of fur, and as if it was made of wire, bent in an almost 90 degree angle and moved with the morning breeze. For almost a second as we looked into each other's eyes, I was given access into the soul of this particular mangy cat. And then, it turned around almost ashamed and in a simultaneous been-there-done-that, "I know I'm a freak" move, kept limping its way down the road.
I sat for nearly 60 seconds with my arm extended, phone still in hand out the window in position for evidence of what was going to be the prodigious, "I saw an escaped monkey" story. And my heart truly began to ache. (I understand how an outsider (anyone but me) might think this is the most bizarre tale of empathy. But there was something about this particular mangy cat...) I can't help but think that this was once a masterpiece created by the same God I was created from. As is each masterpiece, the creator is proud and hopeful of his work. For that split second, I understood and felt all the pain this creature was going through. I was literally stopped in my tracks, unable to move or look away.
I suppose the same goes for humans; we often make poor choices, and sometimes, end up in a place where we are quite literally gimping along and looking for the smallest scrap to live off of. But what I can't wrap my brain around, is that that can be anyone's destiny.
I thought about this encounter for the better part of my Saturday and realized that this mangy cat might have gotten to me in a way no human conversation has reached me in a long, long time. Now, does that mean I want to take this cat in and milk him back to life? Hell no. I won't touch that cat. But I will say, that stupid cat may have touched me in a way I didn't even realize was needed and certainly provided ample food for thought, pun un-intended.
Thank you, mangy cat.
I was leaving my apartment early this morning to meet my friends for a run...and just as the complex gates opened to release me to the streets, I saw it. I did one of those moves where you extend your neck forward and lurch over your steering wheel to get a better look. As I neared, it appeared to be a monkey. And it was limping. For a split second, I thought of calling the zoo to alert them of a missing inmate.
And then, the gates opened more and I inched closer to the black moving monkey-like ball of mange. I was so totally absorbed that at this point, my window was down and my head was cocked out the window. And as this thing slowly gimped by, I scrambled for my iPhone to get a picture. Just as I held the phone out the window to hit "capture," the thing slowly turned over its right shoulder to make eyes with me. I froze.
It was a cat. It wasn't a monkey. Its ears were wet and cemented to its head. Its tail was bereft of fur, and as if it was made of wire, bent in an almost 90 degree angle and moved with the morning breeze. For almost a second as we looked into each other's eyes, I was given access into the soul of this particular mangy cat. And then, it turned around almost ashamed and in a simultaneous been-there-done-that, "I know I'm a freak" move, kept limping its way down the road.
I sat for nearly 60 seconds with my arm extended, phone still in hand out the window in position for evidence of what was going to be the prodigious, "I saw an escaped monkey" story. And my heart truly began to ache. (I understand how an outsider (anyone but me) might think this is the most bizarre tale of empathy. But there was something about this particular mangy cat...) I can't help but think that this was once a masterpiece created by the same God I was created from. As is each masterpiece, the creator is proud and hopeful of his work. For that split second, I understood and felt all the pain this creature was going through. I was literally stopped in my tracks, unable to move or look away.
I suppose the same goes for humans; we often make poor choices, and sometimes, end up in a place where we are quite literally gimping along and looking for the smallest scrap to live off of. But what I can't wrap my brain around, is that that can be anyone's destiny.
I thought about this encounter for the better part of my Saturday and realized that this mangy cat might have gotten to me in a way no human conversation has reached me in a long, long time. Now, does that mean I want to take this cat in and milk him back to life? Hell no. I won't touch that cat. But I will say, that stupid cat may have touched me in a way I didn't even realize was needed and certainly provided ample food for thought, pun un-intended.
Thank you, mangy cat.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Weekly Google Autofill
Ways to...
...get kicked out of Walmart
...make money
...say i love you
...save money
...make money fast
...get pregnant
...induce labor
...tie a scarf
...make extra money
...wear a scarf
The most notable of this autofill to me, is the first item. Ways to get kicked out of Walmart? Why would that be the most frequently searched term? And the scarf obsession...trust me, I get it. I have the obsession. But really, people...either you have it or you don't. Get with the program.
Never cease to be amazed.
Interestingly enough, if you change the search just slightly to "Ways in which" you get...
...hiv is transmitted
...people learn
...the body excretes waste
...waves travel
...we can increase water supplies
...american society is stratified
...cells use energy
...slaves resisted slavery
...synaptic transmission ceases
...viruses are transmitted
I mean, wow. The minor deviation in search terms to cater to a slightly more intelligent way of thinking and... the result is nearly transposed.
Curious, this Google autofill. My fixation is hardly satisfied.
...get kicked out of Walmart
...make money
...say i love you
...save money
...make money fast
...get pregnant
...induce labor
...tie a scarf
...make extra money
...wear a scarf
The most notable of this autofill to me, is the first item. Ways to get kicked out of Walmart? Why would that be the most frequently searched term? And the scarf obsession...trust me, I get it. I have the obsession. But really, people...either you have it or you don't. Get with the program.
Never cease to be amazed.
Interestingly enough, if you change the search just slightly to "Ways in which" you get...
...hiv is transmitted
...people learn
...the body excretes waste
...waves travel
...we can increase water supplies
...american society is stratified
...cells use energy
...slaves resisted slavery
...synaptic transmission ceases
...viruses are transmitted
I mean, wow. The minor deviation in search terms to cater to a slightly more intelligent way of thinking and... the result is nearly transposed.
Curious, this Google autofill. My fixation is hardly satisfied.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Words With Friends...
...is taking over my life.
I want only to play it all day long on my beautiful white iPhone with my beautiful white friends. Well, maybe not just my white friends. They just seem to be the only ones playing with me now.
I want only to play it all day long on my beautiful white iPhone with my beautiful white friends. Well, maybe not just my white friends. They just seem to be the only ones playing with me now.
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