Caterwauling

Knick knack paddle whack indeed.

JOKES — WITHOUT THE HUMOR
I was lying in bed this morning, trying to think of something humorous to post — anything to lighten up the mood around here. And while PLENTY of things came to mind, I don’t think you need to hear my take on how size DOES matter and how a spring roll won’t satisfy your appetite when you need a burrito or a king-size candy bar. 😉

Or, the conversation Dave and I had yesterday (before we ate burritos, incidentally) about the consistency of the tapioca in our bubble tea and …

Bah, can’t finish that thought either. 😉

Ahem. Moving on. …

WAS THE UNIVERSE READING OVER MY SHOULDER?
Anywho, I went to my favorite park last night. I’d wanted to go meet some friends at a bar (in Adams Morgan — ugh — PARKING NIGHTMARE), but I’m broke because my two weeks of “Happy Birthday, Dawn” (i.e., with a dearth of presents to open on my so-called special day, I bought my own. A LOT of them. Yay bargain-hunting for the plethora-o-shit I now own!).

So, I hit the park around 8 p.m., soft fleecy gray blanket and long-forgotten pink-and-black diary in-hand. Somewhere around 9:30 p.m., I came up for air because a kind stranger had stopped to talk.

And I didn’t mind it one bit. For once. (I usually get weird people asking me out at this park — I’ve been gone from it for two months for that very reason. But this one was sweet. Articulate. Pleasant.)

And I can have a date out of it, if I’m brave enough to call.

We’ll see.

But I’m thinking about it.*

*(More on this later.)

‘YOU HAVE THE HANDWRITIN’ OF A SERIAL KILLER’
I noticed how my handwriting changed after that. I usually write in upright cursive — I like to pack my journals full, so I keep the messy writing compact. But it didn’t occur to me that it was all in cursive. Why is that, do you think? And when I did return to finish my thought, I kept the same writing style. But then I went off on another subject, and I printed. Neat, upright printing. (I like to print on a slant, usually — in tribute to the calligraphy my grandmother had taught me so many years ago.) I think I do the slanted writing because it’s easier on the page — when I was doing my block printing, I was practically ripping through the page, I was so passionate about the thoughts I was capturing.

I print when I’m passionate. Looking back over the journal, I wrote about not wanting others to feel as bad as I have on some occasions. I also touched upon how I have — or can — let others know that they mean something to this world … to me. I talked about how so few people go above-and-beyond what is asked of them — how they simply show up for dinner at the table of life and go snooze in front of the TV until something else is asked of them.

And I am terrified of ever having anyone make that kind of observation about me although, lately, it’s been true.

IN THE PRESENCE OF GREATNESS
I think a lot of us give 100 percent. We just don’t always give 150%. And, sure, let’s hear the argument that you simply can’t give more than your all. Fine. But let’s assume everyone is giving their full effort to everything (instead of astutely observing that so many people do everything half-assed that we’re already beating them by doing all we think we can).

How do we stand out when we’re in the presence of greatness already? I don’t have the answer. I just know that I always figure out a way.

I think too many of us are initially intimidated by brilliance, but what we need to know is that we were chosen to sit at the same table — that we have just as much right as anyone to learn from the best and to walk beside them and, eventually, take the torch from them and go even further with it.

And so, I had a conversation with the stars last night (no, I wasn’t smoking any herb, thank you!). I know that I can’t replace who and what came before me, and that’s OK. But I can take what they’ve given me and ensure that the lessons aren’t lost forever — I have the ability and the drive to keep moving forward … to keep bettering myself and others and, maybe, the next generation, if that should be in the cards.

Maybe that’s the ever-elusive meaning of life that we’ve all been seeking for millenia — to perpetuate greatness. 42, friends. 42.

FOLLOW-UP, AS PROMISED
from the asterisked (*) section above

No, I haven’t called. But it hasn’t left my mind that I might want to. But it reminds me of something I wrote last night, how I have this picture in my mind of what my future will be and who/what will be in it. And I am apt to turn people down for dumb reasons like, “Well, I don’t think he’s ‘The One.'”

So what?

Seriously, so-the-fuck-what?!?!

I don’t need “The One.” I need some pre-show entertainment, for cripes’ sake. I don’t have to stay for the whole movie — I have never been a long-haul type of girl anyway.

There are so many things I know/hope will happen in due time. I think we all have those gut feelings, but in the meantime we all squander opportunities, assuming we’ll get more. What am I doing during this supposed “interim”? Sitting around waiting for what might or might not ever be? What am I doing to better myself, to expand my mindset, to prepare myself for what is coming whether I am ready for it or not?

I’ll tell you why Tracy’s death hit me so hard. She lived, she loved, she illuminated the world of the people she touched and even the lives of those of us on the periphery whom she will never know. She left behind a legacy. Could the same be said of me, were I to leave this world at this point in time? I don’t believe so.

So, it’s time to change that. It’s time to outline exactly what I’ve been procrastinating about and to conquer it. I want to start taking care of my health. I want to start undoing the pile of damage I’ve done to my finances. I want to know what it feels like to love and be loved so that when “The One” reveals himself, I will know what to expect so that I don’t settle for an ounce less than I deserve. And I want to know that I am 150 percent present and ready to be all he ever wanted, too.

There’s never an official moment when adulthood is conferred, as Tiff says, but if you’re listening closely, sometimes you can hear your heart slam the door on all the bad stuff of the past to let you focus your energies forward. That time has come again for me — and this time, I’m not going to squander any more opportunities. I know what I want, but I’m not going to just survive until it comes — I want to earn it … and, ultimately, enjoy it and feel worthy of it.

SIT UP, WORLD
It’s time you felt my presence. Even if I have to kick you in the head to take notice of me and pay attention, you’re going to feel it. And if you’re not going to help, then pull out the pom-poms and shake your ass and cheer me on. …

On iTunes: Vanessa Daou, “Make You Love”

This entry was posted on Sunday, June 12th, 2005 at 9:26 AM and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.