I read somewhere that, if you feel as though you are stuck, you should make a list of what you would like to do, what you would like to learn, what you would like to complete, and what you would like to say. Once the list is complete, you should label each item listed as "N", "L", or "NITL" -- now, later (with date specified), and "not in this lifetime." Then you should proceed to accomplish/complete the items on your list in the priority with which you designated them. The "not in this lifetime" designation is useful because it determines that that desire and/or that task, while acknowledged, need not be completed and thus moved off of the priorities list.
I am still working on initially compiling my list. Surprisingly, it is taking longer than expected. I am thinking, however, that I may have a little "in memoriam" moment for all of the items I end up listing as "NITL."
So far there is only one (query whether I am too ambitious, or too much of a perfectionist, to give up on any of my goals. Apparently the only quality I have that overrides the aforementioned two, is an unabiding fear of confrontation....): As such, my one NITL thus far is telling The Boy exactly how I feel about him coming back to town. But if I were to muster the courage (and, honestly, if I thought there was even a scintilla of a benefit at all -- to me -- I would) to tell him such things directly, this is what I would say:
I am so angry at you. I wish that I weren't because it means that, at some level, I still care. A lot. But the truth is I cared a lot for such a long time that just walking away from those feelings is impossible. They have to go somewhere. And so, with a brief stop at hurt, they caromed from caring to anger. You, on the other hand, feel nothing at all about this situation. Actually that isn't right. I know you feel something: Relief.
Relief that you didn't actually make eye contact when you passed me on the street.
Relief that I didn't stop right there and call your name.
Relief that, having ignored my last email (in response to yours), I have not attempted to contact you again.
Relief that you will never have to see me again.
Actually, I understand all of those things (I have been there myself). Well, except for the last thing. I do not claim to understand that at all, because, frankly, it is just stupid. If we did not live in the same neighborhood and share an (albeit extended) network of friends, perhaps it would not be so preposterous, but given those unavoidable facts it is the equivalent of a three year old sticking their fingers in their ears and yelling, "La, la, La, I can't hear you" when trying to avoid hearing a hard truth. Rational behavior for a toddler? Yes. For a thirty year old? Not so much. Again, stupid.
So now, in addition to having hurt me through your revealing the depth of the profound lack of respect that you have for me, you have also placed the burden of being the bigger person, the one to act like an adult, squarely on my shoulders. When we meet again, as in this small, small town we inevitably will, it will be my burden to smile and make nice. To keep things brief but civil. To wear a mask of conciliation, and to will it not to crack until the moment I am finally able to turn away from you. Maybe you will be alone. Maybe you will be with a significant other ("So nice to meet you. Really.") Worse still, maybe you will be with one of our mutual friends and then there will be no escaping. There will be no tears. There will be no screaming. There won't even be a snide backhanded comment. There will just be prolonged agony of the unspoken and the unsaid. And you will walk away unscathed and unrepentant. And I will be unwound. Tending to the wound -- the gaping hole in my chest that allows me to draw only intermittent rough, raw breath which serves only to punctuate the unceasing rush of pain -- which I had worked so hard to heal with acceptance and patience. Once again, freshly reopened.
I had wanted to try to avoid that silent melodrama with the "How's things" email I sent you, but you chose not to take that road. Again, I understand this too -- avoiding hard truths. It is certainly easier -- for you. Then again, for you every potential approach in this situation is weighted that way -- it is just in in your character. Unavoidable, really. And so I understand, but damnit, I hate you for it. And, in spite of it all, in my quiet moments, I will admit to myself that I miss you. And I hate myself for that. But it will be okay. Some day there will be no reflexive sting to hearing your name. Some day there will be total indifference.
I read the following sentence today, which says it all: "If you have judged someone's character rightly he or she is not likely to disappoint you." I am not hurting now because you misjudged me. I hurt because, clearly, I misjudged you. And that misjudgment leaves me feeling angry, and hurt, and embarrassed. And yes, disappointed.
But you know what? I will get over it, and I will do so precisely because I did misjudge you:
You may be exceptional, but, turns out, you are just not that special.
Showing posts with label revelations. Show all posts
Showing posts with label revelations. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Goodbye to All That
Contrary to its well-worn title, this post is neither a feminist screed nor an eloquent essay nor an impassioned political endorsement. This is simply more of the truth, as I know it. Or as I come to realize it. Maybe it is a distinction without a difference. Knowledge or realization, either requires me to be hit over the head to accept them.
The cold hard facts? He moved back here. He didn't tell me. He passed me on the street. He didn't say anything (granted, neither did I, but in my defense, I thought it a mirage of wishful thinking as it couldn't possibly have been him. After all, he doesn't live here. So why would he be ambling around the neighborhood -- walking a dog no less?) He lives in my neighborhood -- within a matter of blocks. He hasn't told me any of this. I found out by accident. He may or may not be working with many of my friends. They may or may not be avoiding telling me he is back. He may or may not be attending a party I am supposed to attend this weekend. He may or may not be living with someone (the dog, in my view, seems to be a pretty good support of that idea).
I may or may not be a total fool.
So what to make of these facts? It all just feels strangely familiar.
I have been down this road so many times, and, frankly, I am just tired. Contrary to a longheld belief of mine, I do not actually fall in love fifteen times a day. I am too picky for that. I am too afraid for that. I don't know how to accept love. Rejection and withholding, however, I am familiar with.
"I don't want to start something with you because then it would have to end, and I respect our friendship too much."
"It is like the difference between pizza and chicken breast.... you, of course, are the pizza."
"Someday, I want us to be like best friends, but for now, you are the least self aware person I know."
And those were the ones who sought to explain themselves. Others spoke more loudly without a sound -- my how I love those men of action: canceled meetings, forgotten birthdays, disavowed anniversaries, showing up at non-date functions with dates, ignoring correspondence, e-mailing about their impending nuptuals, finding out about impending nuptuals or other more person things from a third party, and, of course, stealthily moving back into town.
The parade of horribles is not insignificant.
But the saddest part is, that they aren't unexpected. As a wise person noted to me, my choices, for all of their extroverted, ebullient, extraordinary qualities, also beget a certain emotional tin ear. I, like others, bask in the glow of their presence. I derive energy and light from such a presence. I feel energized and ennobled in a way that is so foreign to me -- so rare, and so intoxicating. But I never feel loved. And I made the choice long ago, that the price of residing in the solar system of the extraordinary, might require a more independent-minded affection than that which I had dreamt up in my overwrought head. I would not be clingy and demanding and ridiculous. I would be self contained and ask for nothing, because, nagging as my desires are, they are ridiculous. Indicative of my inherent and unshakable core weakness. Oh the weakness. Oh the shame. Oh the truth: I am needy. I need someone who will look after me and my emotional well being. I need someone who cares what I did with my day, from the mundane to the ludicrous. I need someone who sweats the details. But above all else, I just need someone to hold my hand.
He is never going to hold my hand. None of them ever were.
It is a difficult and onerous job, where the risk/rewards calculus is not evidently a positive one, and I am not sure there are many (or any) out there who really could do the job. So, apparently, I have taken to choosing to bestow my affections on those that won't even try. This way I do not have to be disappointed when they fail -- I can just be disappointed all the time.
Today, I feel a sliding spectrum of emotions -- both heavy and lingering all at once: I feel stupid. I feel foolish. I feel like a dope. I feel angry. I feel rejected. I feel ill. I feel betrayed.
But at least there is this: his actions do not make me feel less than. I have known, but not cared to admit, for a long time that he doesn't care about me as I care for him.
What I did not know (or refused to believe even in my heart of hearts) till now is that he does not care about me at all.
The cold hard facts? He moved back here. He didn't tell me. He passed me on the street. He didn't say anything (granted, neither did I, but in my defense, I thought it a mirage of wishful thinking as it couldn't possibly have been him. After all, he doesn't live here. So why would he be ambling around the neighborhood -- walking a dog no less?) He lives in my neighborhood -- within a matter of blocks. He hasn't told me any of this. I found out by accident. He may or may not be working with many of my friends. They may or may not be avoiding telling me he is back. He may or may not be attending a party I am supposed to attend this weekend. He may or may not be living with someone (the dog, in my view, seems to be a pretty good support of that idea).
I may or may not be a total fool.
So what to make of these facts? It all just feels strangely familiar.
I have been down this road so many times, and, frankly, I am just tired. Contrary to a longheld belief of mine, I do not actually fall in love fifteen times a day. I am too picky for that. I am too afraid for that. I don't know how to accept love. Rejection and withholding, however, I am familiar with.
"I don't want to start something with you because then it would have to end, and I respect our friendship too much."
"It is like the difference between pizza and chicken breast.... you, of course, are the pizza."
"Someday, I want us to be like best friends, but for now, you are the least self aware person I know."
And those were the ones who sought to explain themselves. Others spoke more loudly without a sound -- my how I love those men of action: canceled meetings, forgotten birthdays, disavowed anniversaries, showing up at non-date functions with dates, ignoring correspondence, e-mailing about their impending nuptuals, finding out about impending nuptuals or other more person things from a third party, and, of course, stealthily moving back into town.
The parade of horribles is not insignificant.
But the saddest part is, that they aren't unexpected. As a wise person noted to me, my choices, for all of their extroverted, ebullient, extraordinary qualities, also beget a certain emotional tin ear. I, like others, bask in the glow of their presence. I derive energy and light from such a presence. I feel energized and ennobled in a way that is so foreign to me -- so rare, and so intoxicating. But I never feel loved. And I made the choice long ago, that the price of residing in the solar system of the extraordinary, might require a more independent-minded affection than that which I had dreamt up in my overwrought head. I would not be clingy and demanding and ridiculous. I would be self contained and ask for nothing, because, nagging as my desires are, they are ridiculous. Indicative of my inherent and unshakable core weakness. Oh the weakness. Oh the shame. Oh the truth: I am needy. I need someone who will look after me and my emotional well being. I need someone who cares what I did with my day, from the mundane to the ludicrous. I need someone who sweats the details. But above all else, I just need someone to hold my hand.
He is never going to hold my hand. None of them ever were.
It is a difficult and onerous job, where the risk/rewards calculus is not evidently a positive one, and I am not sure there are many (or any) out there who really could do the job. So, apparently, I have taken to choosing to bestow my affections on those that won't even try. This way I do not have to be disappointed when they fail -- I can just be disappointed all the time.
Today, I feel a sliding spectrum of emotions -- both heavy and lingering all at once: I feel stupid. I feel foolish. I feel like a dope. I feel angry. I feel rejected. I feel ill. I feel betrayed.
But at least there is this: his actions do not make me feel less than. I have known, but not cared to admit, for a long time that he doesn't care about me as I care for him.
What I did not know (or refused to believe even in my heart of hearts) till now is that he does not care about me at all.
Sunday, December 24, 2006
Well Anyway, It Is A Song About Old Friends
The year-end Festivusapallooza always lends itself to making retrospective itemized and categorical lists to put The Year That Was into a neat and security-screening travel safe format so that we can make it a convenient carry-on along with us in our travels towards the Year That Will Be. Likewise, it is also a time for accumulating resolutions, gum and magazines to use during the Year That Will Be, for setting out the rough outlines of the sweeping life-altering revolution that inspires a great deal of fervor as champagne continues to pour, but which somehow loses much support amongst the commoners when the hangover has set in and surviving the winter becomes a greater immediate priority.
Sardonic references to year-end lists and new year's resolutions aside, the concept they encompass is a temptation towards which I truthfully offer very little resistance. I seek itemized meaning as much as the next person. I even admit that I have taken to surreptitiously haunting the self help sections of my local bookstores (apparently this is the late twenties/early thirties female precursor to forties phenomenon of botoxing and sperm bank withdrawals and the fifties/sixties lifestyle choice that is buying twelve cats and a shotgun). As such, I think I can be helped by these retrospective and prospective looking lists. However, this year, in my heart of hearts and my steady march towards 30, I do not want them to be simply aspirational. I want them to be reasonable and effective guideposts for actually moving forward.
Revolution is not necessary. Recalibration is acceptable. Forward movement, imperative.
So I decided to attack the lists from a slightly different angle. If there is one thing in my life I have generally been good at it is learning. I have been a school geek for as long as I can remember, and I think the peanut gallery would agree that, but for my occasional bouts with lawyering-onset dementia, I am still generally happiest when I am geeking out about something I learned or am learning from someone else. So, without further ado, my lists - what I learned in 2006, and what I strive to learn in 2007:
What I learned in 2006
Note to reader(s?): I know the audacious title of this section of my post simply begs the question, or perhaps the rhetorical sigh of exasperation "She learned something in 2006?" Maybe it is revisionist wishful thinking, but even amongst my moaning and groaning, I think I managed to stop, look and listen long enough to pick up a couple of things.
* I am Captain Jack Sparrow. I am quirky, I am odd, and, at times, I may uncannily be appearing to channel Keith Richards while wearing too much eye liner. But I am also, when given the opportunity, actually able to act as captain to a crew, and to steer the ship in a sensible direction. That is not to say that there are not challenges along the way - mutiny is always a possibility when you tend to be a soft-touch who is, when all is said and done, also concerned with people liking you - but generally, I found, much to my surprise, that when given the authority I can be decision maker and I can generally be an effective leader of people - simply by listening and treating them with respect. This seems intuitive, but I also learned (the hard way) that this is not the way many people lead (read: scream, demand, rant). Which leads me to the corollary lesson here - you become whom you are surrounded by. I started my job working under people who were flawed, to be sure, but who genuinely cared about both the quality of my work and my welfare as a person. I carry this lesson by example with me as I go, and it is gift. Others do not have such positive images to emulate, and though they are good people, they lead with flashes of tyranny which has become situationally acquired habit.
* I am not a very open person. I have always considered myself to be forthright with details of myself nearly to the point of near transparency, and likely well beyond the realm of TMI. However, this concept must be added, along with "I am a great mentor" and "I am very sensitive to other people's needs", to my list of things that cannot be true if you have to say them about yourself. True, I do offer forth voluntarily and without trepidation many of the facts of my life, as I know them be. On the other hand, what I never recognized, at least not consciously, until now, is that there is a hard-stop to my revelations. Facts and events and occurrences and even, for the most part, opinions, are offered forth without second thought. But anything that implicates my feelings or my inability to control them is feverishly squirreled away, to be hidden from sight of anyone who might see, judge, be disgusted. That is not to say that these feeling-related thoughts/actions are not ever seen by others. Inevitably, they make their appearances known. The crying jag. The hyperventilating phone call. The ADD-like pacing. The absolute worst poker-face in the world that I always accessorize every outfit with. They all continually leak my secret life of imperfection. And so I live under the very odd (and irreconcilable) impression that everyone knows everything about me and that I can (and must) prove to them I am perfect (though I am not).
Weird.
But it isn't being open, when you aren't voluntarily sharing it, in the same way that paying your taxes (part of which eventually pay for social programs etc.) is not the same as being philanthropic, let alone truly altruistic. What emotions do leak out from me, are enough to let others (especially romantic partner others) know that there is more beneath the surface, but that is it. A sense of contempt radiates from the opacity that are my secreted-away feelings. The contempt is clearly (to me) aimed at myself. But to someone on the other side, it is easy to confuse the contempt as being aimed at them, because if you are involved - truly involved - you will share, or try to share, all of yourself.
I guess I have never thought it appropriate to offer parts of me that I thought were lesser and lacking to someone I wanted to impress, whom I wanted to love me. But it is hard to have a lasting relationship without naked feelings being involved. It is, in fact, impossible. I guess that that is what all the people (including several fairly self righteous and sanctimonious ex'es - though I guess begrudgingly I must accept they were right... about this) have been telling me all these years - that in order to find love, I must learn to love myself first. Well, maybe love isn't necessary, as much as simple acceptance of those parts I see as "lesser" and "lacking."
Having feelings does not make me horrible. Seemingly intuitive, but a concept which took me nearly 30 years to recognize. Wow, I am quick on the uptake.
* I love them. I am addicted to them. I will never give them up. But in the end, they are just Words, Words, Words. As this year draws to a close, I realize that the great bulk of my emotional energy is no longer spent on grand concepts, but rather on people, and though the feelings are oftentimes difficult and otherwise uncomfortable, I am pleased because it seems like a much more worthwhile expenditure of resources. Or, to be less wordy, I am no longer lonely, I just miss specific people. Some because they are now far away, some because I am always too far away, others because I happened, if only mistakenly, to have pushed them away. I do not just want to be involved and/or married for the sake of being involved and/or marries, I want to be involved with someone who is right for me, so being single does not gall me the way it once did. No one I have chosen up to this point in my life has ever been close to right for me. Two have been close - at least I think so - but one is now married and the other may or may not be speaking to me.
* The Weight of Water. Blood is an amazingly strong bond, and it allows one to surmount so many seemingly insurmountable offenses, from insanity, eccentricity to outright cruelty - but the closest family is that which you choose for yourself - not simply because you like them and so you choose them as part of the population of the landscape of your life - but because you must keep on choosing them. Neither genetics nor legal concepts bind you to the family you choose, rather it is the strength of love and affection alone which hold you fast during the trials and tribulations and travesties and train wrecks that life may present. It is tested in different ways, changes in population and geography and circumstance and temperament, but because it is true, it endures. My urban family is bigger and more bountiful, and more spread out now. But while the boundaries of our little circle have expanded to accommodate circumstance and the passage of time, the inner sanctum remains a warm refuge from the storms of life, a place characterized by its infinite supply of love - for everyone - from those members of the circle who are infants to those who act like they are. A metaphysical place of safety and total acceptance. Though miles and circumstance may separate us, our hearts remain conspicuously connected.
* I know more and I see less than I think I do. If I trusted my heart to lead me, I would have seen that I have been in love with him for years. And I would have put the plates, the drinks, and all of the third party preconceived notions down, and picked the phone up, stayed that morning, flown that summer, or just crossed that room and gone for broke. But I really didn't see. I really didn't see.
What I strive to learn in 2007
* How to knit
* How to share a bed with someone.
* How to use my digital camera
* How to hang pictures
* How to effectively keep a calendar
* How to start and conversation without complaining and how to end it without saying that I am sorry.
* How to do yoga
* How to count to 60 without automatically dividing by 6.
* How to tie a tie
* How to throw a dinner party
* How to follow through on good advice
* How to listen
* How to Write
* How to speak seventeen-year old
* How to breathe
* How to stack plates
Sardonic references to year-end lists and new year's resolutions aside, the concept they encompass is a temptation towards which I truthfully offer very little resistance. I seek itemized meaning as much as the next person. I even admit that I have taken to surreptitiously haunting the self help sections of my local bookstores (apparently this is the late twenties/early thirties female precursor to forties phenomenon of botoxing and sperm bank withdrawals and the fifties/sixties lifestyle choice that is buying twelve cats and a shotgun). As such, I think I can be helped by these retrospective and prospective looking lists. However, this year, in my heart of hearts and my steady march towards 30, I do not want them to be simply aspirational. I want them to be reasonable and effective guideposts for actually moving forward.
Revolution is not necessary. Recalibration is acceptable. Forward movement, imperative.
So I decided to attack the lists from a slightly different angle. If there is one thing in my life I have generally been good at it is learning. I have been a school geek for as long as I can remember, and I think the peanut gallery would agree that, but for my occasional bouts with lawyering-onset dementia, I am still generally happiest when I am geeking out about something I learned or am learning from someone else. So, without further ado, my lists - what I learned in 2006, and what I strive to learn in 2007:
What I learned in 2006
Note to reader(s?): I know the audacious title of this section of my post simply begs the question, or perhaps the rhetorical sigh of exasperation "She learned something in 2006?" Maybe it is revisionist wishful thinking, but even amongst my moaning and groaning, I think I managed to stop, look and listen long enough to pick up a couple of things.
* I am Captain Jack Sparrow. I am quirky, I am odd, and, at times, I may uncannily be appearing to channel Keith Richards while wearing too much eye liner. But I am also, when given the opportunity, actually able to act as captain to a crew, and to steer the ship in a sensible direction. That is not to say that there are not challenges along the way - mutiny is always a possibility when you tend to be a soft-touch who is, when all is said and done, also concerned with people liking you - but generally, I found, much to my surprise, that when given the authority I can be decision maker and I can generally be an effective leader of people - simply by listening and treating them with respect. This seems intuitive, but I also learned (the hard way) that this is not the way many people lead (read: scream, demand, rant). Which leads me to the corollary lesson here - you become whom you are surrounded by. I started my job working under people who were flawed, to be sure, but who genuinely cared about both the quality of my work and my welfare as a person. I carry this lesson by example with me as I go, and it is gift. Others do not have such positive images to emulate, and though they are good people, they lead with flashes of tyranny which has become situationally acquired habit.
* I am not a very open person. I have always considered myself to be forthright with details of myself nearly to the point of near transparency, and likely well beyond the realm of TMI. However, this concept must be added, along with "I am a great mentor" and "I am very sensitive to other people's needs", to my list of things that cannot be true if you have to say them about yourself. True, I do offer forth voluntarily and without trepidation many of the facts of my life, as I know them be. On the other hand, what I never recognized, at least not consciously, until now, is that there is a hard-stop to my revelations. Facts and events and occurrences and even, for the most part, opinions, are offered forth without second thought. But anything that implicates my feelings or my inability to control them is feverishly squirreled away, to be hidden from sight of anyone who might see, judge, be disgusted. That is not to say that these feeling-related thoughts/actions are not ever seen by others. Inevitably, they make their appearances known. The crying jag. The hyperventilating phone call. The ADD-like pacing. The absolute worst poker-face in the world that I always accessorize every outfit with. They all continually leak my secret life of imperfection. And so I live under the very odd (and irreconcilable) impression that everyone knows everything about me and that I can (and must) prove to them I am perfect (though I am not).
Weird.
But it isn't being open, when you aren't voluntarily sharing it, in the same way that paying your taxes (part of which eventually pay for social programs etc.) is not the same as being philanthropic, let alone truly altruistic. What emotions do leak out from me, are enough to let others (especially romantic partner others) know that there is more beneath the surface, but that is it. A sense of contempt radiates from the opacity that are my secreted-away feelings. The contempt is clearly (to me) aimed at myself. But to someone on the other side, it is easy to confuse the contempt as being aimed at them, because if you are involved - truly involved - you will share, or try to share, all of yourself.
I guess I have never thought it appropriate to offer parts of me that I thought were lesser and lacking to someone I wanted to impress, whom I wanted to love me. But it is hard to have a lasting relationship without naked feelings being involved. It is, in fact, impossible. I guess that that is what all the people (including several fairly self righteous and sanctimonious ex'es - though I guess begrudgingly I must accept they were right... about this) have been telling me all these years - that in order to find love, I must learn to love myself first. Well, maybe love isn't necessary, as much as simple acceptance of those parts I see as "lesser" and "lacking."
Having feelings does not make me horrible. Seemingly intuitive, but a concept which took me nearly 30 years to recognize. Wow, I am quick on the uptake.
* I love them. I am addicted to them. I will never give them up. But in the end, they are just Words, Words, Words. As this year draws to a close, I realize that the great bulk of my emotional energy is no longer spent on grand concepts, but rather on people, and though the feelings are oftentimes difficult and otherwise uncomfortable, I am pleased because it seems like a much more worthwhile expenditure of resources. Or, to be less wordy, I am no longer lonely, I just miss specific people. Some because they are now far away, some because I am always too far away, others because I happened, if only mistakenly, to have pushed them away. I do not just want to be involved and/or married for the sake of being involved and/or marries, I want to be involved with someone who is right for me, so being single does not gall me the way it once did. No one I have chosen up to this point in my life has ever been close to right for me. Two have been close - at least I think so - but one is now married and the other may or may not be speaking to me.
* The Weight of Water. Blood is an amazingly strong bond, and it allows one to surmount so many seemingly insurmountable offenses, from insanity, eccentricity to outright cruelty - but the closest family is that which you choose for yourself - not simply because you like them and so you choose them as part of the population of the landscape of your life - but because you must keep on choosing them. Neither genetics nor legal concepts bind you to the family you choose, rather it is the strength of love and affection alone which hold you fast during the trials and tribulations and travesties and train wrecks that life may present. It is tested in different ways, changes in population and geography and circumstance and temperament, but because it is true, it endures. My urban family is bigger and more bountiful, and more spread out now. But while the boundaries of our little circle have expanded to accommodate circumstance and the passage of time, the inner sanctum remains a warm refuge from the storms of life, a place characterized by its infinite supply of love - for everyone - from those members of the circle who are infants to those who act like they are. A metaphysical place of safety and total acceptance. Though miles and circumstance may separate us, our hearts remain conspicuously connected.
* I know more and I see less than I think I do. If I trusted my heart to lead me, I would have seen that I have been in love with him for years. And I would have put the plates, the drinks, and all of the third party preconceived notions down, and picked the phone up, stayed that morning, flown that summer, or just crossed that room and gone for broke. But I really didn't see. I really didn't see.
What I strive to learn in 2007
* How to knit
* How to share a bed with someone.
* How to use my digital camera
* How to hang pictures
* How to effectively keep a calendar
* How to start and conversation without complaining and how to end it without saying that I am sorry.
* How to do yoga
* How to count to 60 without automatically dividing by 6.
* How to tie a tie
* How to throw a dinner party
* How to follow through on good advice
* How to listen
* How to Write
* How to speak seventeen-year old
* How to breathe
* How to stack plates
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