Whose Universe Is It Anyway?

I find it somewhat interesting – if a little creepy – that so many people believe they’re an important and integral part of everyone else’s Universe. Perhaps this is unkind to type out loud, but the truth of the matter is, quite frankly, irrespective of what others may tell you, not everyone is important.

I was on the receiving end of quite a dressing down for having said that once before, but I don’t care. It’s the truth.

[sidebar: as it happens, the reason for that unpleasant exchange was that I unwittingly made the honest comment that this person was of little consequence generally and of no importance in my life. Who knew she was a “special friend”? *shrug*]

Back to topic. Thinking this through, if every single person in your life actually WERE important, then none of us would have time for what IS important: Me. You. Us. Most of us already shortchange ourselves in that area. ARGH!… rephrase: We adults (this description having nothing to do with actual age) shortchange ourselves in that area. We’re busy. We have careers to manage and families to tend. We put ourselves at the end of our long list of other responsibilities.

It’s okay to say this out loud: We do not have time for people who think the Universe is revolving around them – no matter what their story. Don’t get me wrong here. I’m not saying that just because someone has a sad tale to tell doesn’t mean we unilaterally regard this person as unimportant based on the amount of time they're going to suck out of an already dry well. I’m saying we have to pick our sad sacks carefully so as not to be taken in, thus losing precious time better spent with – that’s right – the important people in our lives.

If you were to cozy up with a legal pad and #2 Ticonderoga to list who is and isn’t truly an important part of your real life, I imagine you’d all be surprised at who “makes the cut.” People we’ve known for what seems a minute are sometimes the very people we run to for all things happy and sad. YES column. Best friends who know everything about us and love us anyway: DEFINITELY YES! People we’ve known our entire lives whose call we immediately click “ignore” to when their number appears on our cell because, well, <insert your reason here.> Not so much column.

In an effort to help all y’all sort out who’s who, I’ve devised this one-step, easy to remember criteria: if someone is disloyal, lies, creates drama, acts out, manipulates, or generally behaves as though they’re still in the 6^th grade, they are not important. Those are the noises and actions of someone without any sense of self and desperate for attention.

WARNING: Sometimes the ole softy in you will want to take this person in and “help,” but know this: This is a person who will eventually create a wholly unnecessary uproar in your life or the life of someone who actually matters to you – thus disrupting your newfound balance, not to mention leaving a mess behind for which you have precious little time to sweep up.

I don’t know about y’all, but I have too many real problems to be dealing with someone else’s imaginary ones. Return the pacifier and back slowly out of the room. Where there is one, there are more…

Winter Song

This is one of those entries you're just going to have to dig into to get to the point. My faithful readers know that I post everything I write... even the crap. So just go with me through the beginning. I promise there's a payoff.

I can’t stand silence. I find it particularly disarming when I’m trying to work. Not everyone can be productive surrounded by “noise.” I’m just the opposite. When I’m stressed out and behind, it’s classic 70s. I don’t know why. When I feel like I have a ton to do and it’s really just a matter of racing through it, it’s all 80s New Wave all the time!

As a rule, I’m great with lyrics. I can’t tell you who sings what song, but I can recite verse after verse for no apparent reason other than I think it just finds it’s way into my memory while I work.

Today I was feeling a bit frustrated. There was new information for a project that I couldn’t make complete sense of because I was missing the “historicals;” the things that happened pre-me and none of my usual music was helping me concentrate.

I read and reread the new documentation, put together a synopsis and yet, I felt I was still missing some critical point. How could I possibly not be “getting” this? After all, it's not like I'm saving lives or creating new ways to keep us "Green." It occurred to me that maybe what I was truly lacking was the right musical inspiration.

I browsed about until I found a new streaming station… at least new to me. I don’t know what it was exactly; some light new alternative – none of the songs had I ever heard. Perfect. Just the kind of white noise that would keep me focused.

I went back to work gathering my questions and putting together an email to get the information I was missing. As I read through the missive to ensure I had everything I needed, a snippet of a song crept into my head. I stopped working. What was I hearing??? What was she singing???

“Is love alive”?

“Is love a lie”?

Well! These are two very different questions! I actually said that out loud to an empty room. Interesting questions though, don’t you think?

I often wonder if love – the kind of love of books and movies – really is dead. Or worse, perhaps it never existed at all. I think we all want to believe in it, and maybe that’s why there’s so much theater and so many romance books focused on it. It’s something we really, really want… and sadly it might not even exist outside of our own imagination. So maybe it is a lie.

Maybe love is nothing more than the thing we make our relationships into in order to create a sense of importance; to give our lives meaning and reason in a Universe that is so often unreasonable.

Could it be that societal expectations are such that, in an effort to bring more meaning into our lives, we make choices about all of our relationships to rationalize what we know to be – or not to be – true so as to somehow elevate ourselves to a place where we can excuse or create our perceived behaviors of others?

Is love alive?

Is love a lie?

I’d like to believe in the first. It’s infinitely more painful to look at straight in the eye. But life is painful. It’s also joyful and ridiculous and luckily, its events are generally unexpected.

What I heard was Winter Song by Sara Bareilles. You decide…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=67xr_KKPTHE

Don't Stand So Close to Me

Why does it suddenly seem like every time you turn around people are wrapping their arms around each other in what appear to be deep, meaningful embraces in public places? More and more it’s not just girls… it’s the boys, too. It begs the question: Are boys – as a gender – finally getting in touch with their sensitive side?

I blame all the boy-on-boy hugging we see on the television. I shudder to think that we’re becoming a society of touchy-feelies, quick to ignore or disregard personal space. Sure, I think it’s nice that boys seem to be letting go of their “mo-phobia” about touching and employing something more intimate than a handshake, but someone needs to have a chat with Miss Manners on the topic.

Picture it: one of those boys who runs around with the entirety of his underdrawers hanging out the back of his pants engages in one of these public embraces and, experiencing a “security breach,” is left with his skinny ass exposed in a now very awkward clutch. What’s the protocol here? No one wants to be a part of this sort of exposure.

Sadly, this new Freedom Touching isn’t as confined as some of us would have it. It’s going on everywhere! It’s happening between people who’ve only just met! I'd like to hang a sign behind the bar that clearly states that sitting side-by-side for the length of time it takes to consume a beverage does not mean we know one another! Oh! And being introduced by a mutual friend does not extend or transfer their well earned Touching Rights to you.

I can quickly count four girls in my life who, very un-stereotypically, will freeze in horror and possibly open disgust if hugged by someone outside their very immediate circle. It's a common phenomenon easily recognized by the completely immobile arms and an ass pushing backward in an effort to flee. I totally get this. It’s all about not wanting to be touched by “Randoms.” I’m immeasurably put out if you so much as brush past me in a hallway, or crowd me in an elevator.

Since apparently some sort of criteria needs to be set, here's the Rule of Thumb: If you haven’t slept with me, seen all or "parts" of me naked, gotten me unstuck from a hideous garment in a major department store dressing room, peed with me behind a bush, or are under the age of retirement, just don’t do it.

Not everyone thinks you’re a lovely person because you reached out and touched someone. In fact, my first thought is about germs; my second is how I’ll get the cloying reek of your perfume off of my shirt.

When it comes to same sex touching, respect the space, People! Respect the space!