Missing Context Clues

“I don’t think it needs the liquid… I think it needs the skin smashed across it.”

“Then smash the skin across it… I’ll go get the tray…”

And, yet again, my mother and I are able to crack up at our own conversations… it happened many times today…, especially when we kept returning to the blueberry-dyed eggs that ended up looking, as I called them, like they were covered in dinosaur boogers… which, I suppose, is another story for another day.

For now, I leave you with little context, and instead give you our thoughts about a lack of context. ;P

You see, we regularly laugh at our own conversations, my mother and I, not necessarily because the conversation itself is funny – though it sometimes and sometimes often is – but because we consider how it would sound to a passer-by, someone hearing it out of context or without the visual guidance of what is currently in front of us… imagine a person standing on the other side of a doorway, hearing our conversation passively…, or someone on the other end of a phone, overhearing things, but seeing nothing…, and you can imagine how absurd that person must find what he or she hears from a great deal of our conversations.

Just the other day, we were discussing how ‘he wouldn’t necessarily look fat, because it depends on whose hand it is…’

Our topic of discussion is clear as day to just about everyone, right?

Oh, wait… it’s just clear for me. πŸ˜›

So, that’s what we do oftentimes with our conversations – we realize how crazy they could and likely would sound out of context… and then we laugh a bunch, because it is totally laugh-worthy. πŸ˜›

Post-a-day 2019

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Some days

Some days, you want to go back to sleep, but you get up and go anyway, and you end up meeting just the right people (and rather unexpectedly).

And then, you want to nap, but you don’t, and you meet just the right people and you serve your community wonderfully in a much-needed way that no one else had been able to manage.

And then, you want to go to bed super early, but you don’t, because you’ve met just the right people.

And you discover that this mantra and meditation class is exactly where you needed to be, and things had to go this way today, in order for you to end up here as you did, being where you needed to be.

And you are still totally exhausted as you stumble up to bed, but you feel great through and through, because, all-in-all, it was a great day.

Yeah… some days…

Or maybe that’s just the case for me…

πŸ˜›

Post-a-day 2019

Grazingly uncomfortable

A few years ago, I was talking to a male friend of mine about one of the other guys at dance, and how I couldn’t figure out if he noticed that he would end up swiping the edge of my boob whenever we danced together (partner dancing).

He informed me and the other females present that a guy always knows when he has touched boob – it is like radar… whenever boob touches any part of a guy’s body, it immediately alerts, “BOOB!”

And so then we were all wondering if the occasional faces that the guy we’d been discussing would make – an almost embarrassed, pursed-lip, laughing expression, like a little boy who’s snuck ice cream before dinner, and his favorite aunt calls him out on it, but they both know she won’t tell Mommy (and probably just will steal a bite in exchange for her nonverbal agreed-upon silence in the matter) every so often while dancing with me were because he noticed that he’d touched boob, but hadn’t meant to do so, and so now didn’t know how to respond appropriately, but did his best to ignore the event (with his face totally betraying him).

Because we really couldn’t figure out why he always made those faces when dancing with me…., but this seemed like a reasonable and likely solution to our quandary.

The specific guy was an actual well-known friend, and so we all agreed easily that he was not at all intentionally malicious in any way with the boob grazing – he was just not that great with the body management while staying on beat and all in the dancing.

I don’t remember if I ever verified this theory – aka tested it time and time again, when dancing with the guy – but I have a sense of being rather convinced of that being the case, even now, years later, so I’m thinking I did check that he always made those faces just after what seemed like an unintentional boob graze.

Now, the reason this has come up tonight, is because of something that happened tonight.

When giving me a side hug tonight, a long-armed guy’s arm went a little too far around my back – about half an inch, I guess – and his fingertips, ever so slightly, grazed the outer edge of my breast.

When it happened, I naturally pulled strategically out of the hug, from years of practice in removing myself from any sort of uncomfortable situation, intended or accidental.

I didn’t say anything, though, because I found myself wondering first, Did he notice that?, which was almost immediately cut off by the memory of what my friend had told me years before: “BOOB!”

And then I wondered, Was that intentional?

????????????????

And then I didn’t know where to go with it.

He’s a tall guy, so misalignments can happen rather easily, as they happen with extreme height differences…, but he’s a tall guy, and he has been a tall guy for some time, and ought to know how to manage such things by this point in his life… but he’s also really not a ladies’ man, and so might not be too accustomed to hugging girls in the first place…

After the fact, I feel almost embarrassed that I was too embarrassed for him to bring it up, to tell him in some way that I disapprove of the behavior, whether it was intentional or not – I didn’t have to be mean to him at all, but I think it would have been valuable to inform him either way to be cautious in the future.

Yet, it was not so natural a thing to me that I even considered saying anything at the time… I just moved away from the incident altogether, for fear of discomfort.

I didn’t want to embarrass him over something he had neither intentionally done nor known about.

I was embarrassed for myself at the prospect of pointing out that he had touched me inappropriately, period.

This is something for me to work on for myself – I want to be comfortable to speak up and conscious enough to do so, whenever anything like this might happen.

And I want all people to be encouraged to do so themselves, too – I want us to be happy and comfortable in our own skins, and to be able to express, in a useful and beneficial way, what doesn’t work from other people’s behavior toward us.

Yeah.

Post-a-day 2019

My future, felt

I’m starting to have a rather solid feeling about this idea of doing interviews… in some form or other, I want to interview people.

Perhaps it is journalistic or nerdy, or even fan-style of up-and-coming individuals in various realms of society interviews… perhaps it is Malcolm Gladwell blow-your-mind-every-single-time-while-leaving-you-feeling-like-a-now-genius book interviews style… perhaps something else entirely…

But it is interviews… I can finally feel that clearly enough to tell.

And I’m excited

Post-a-day 2018

Call me Ishmael

If another adult – recalling that I am, in fact, an adult myself – insists that I call him/her “Dr.”, because he/she ‘worked so hard for that degree,’ or because he/she is ‘so proud of having earned it,’ is that not quite comparable to my saying that people must converse with me in French, because I worked so hard to learn it and I’m so proud of being able to speak it?

(I’m not saying that it’s the same, but just comparable oddities with the same reasoning.)

It’s just a thought that came to mind today, and it has me a bit flummoxed.

I grew up in a world where we are all people, not classes or ranks, so I’ve never really been able to understand people’s required uses of name ranks (beyond someone’s voluntarily being respectful in addressing another, I mean [though even that gets me sometimes]).

Post-a-day 2018

Think before you speak

Today, I was the forced object and false source of a race-related disturbance.

And I don’t want to talk about it.

But I do want to share that it happened.

The woman did not hear my giddy excitement as I told my mom what I had just seen while returning from the bathroom, nor that my mom asked me where I had seen them.

The woman did not hear my genuine words of excuse (or my mother’s), immediately following the moment where my pointed arm passed between her eyes and her far-outstretched camera.

The woman did not see that she was almost standing on top of my bag (to which I had just returned after using the bathroom).

The woman did not hear or see any of this – she only saw a pale, blue-eyed, blonde girl ‘get rudely in her way’.

Based on all of the angrily expelled words that were slung like swings of a bat from her mouth, she made some serious assumptions about who and how the ‘never taught any manners’ white girl was.

At first, I made an effort to calm her and to show her how unintentional the act of pointing in front of her was, and that I’d never meant to do any harm or rudeness…, but her irrational declarations and chastisements suddenly became rational, when I discovered that, for her, it was about race, and had nothing to do with what actually had happened.

At that point, I made it clear to my mom, too, that there was no use in discussing anything with the woman – she couldn’t hear us or our words… only our skin.

It saddened me that someone would believe such intense beliefs about me, and especially where we were (a multicultural event), when I am the person I am.

I have more than just friendships to show that I am not what the woman assumed of me, but it seems absurd that I even would have to defend myself on the matter… I just don’t understand why people continue to insist that things like this must be “fought”.

What good was accomplished by this woman’s verbal attack today?

I don’t believe that fighting has ever truly been the answer in history.

It was just a way to get rid of those who saw things differently, but permanently so – it didn’t actually solve problems.

… Anyway… just some thoughts of mine tonight…

Post-a-day 2018

Special people

You know those people whom you find fascinating, and with whom you wish you could spend loads more time, so you could really get to know them?

Now, imagine one of those people, after having spent a short while hanging out with you and chatting with you about this and thats, saying to you that you are fascinating and that that person appreciates having gotten to spend some time with and learn a little more about you.

Feels good, doesn’t it? πŸ™‚

That was my tonight.

Post-a-day 2018