If a Tree Falls In The Emotional Forest

A philosophical question: if someone cares but doesn't show it, then does this caring have any meaning? Obviously it has meaning to the person with the feeling, but aside from this, does it matter to the person who is cared about but doesn't know it? Isn't "caring" when you do something about your feelings towards this person? Can caring truly exist without an action to signify it? Isn't it just the emotional equivalent of a tree falling in the forest?

Iron Chef

I am totally enamoured with the Chairman of Iron Chef America, Mark Dacascos. He is totally hot and when he does that flip at the beginning of the show I want to lose it. There should be more of him in the show and less of those stupid judges. I want a whole show of him cooking and doing flips. Yummy and delicious!!!

The next day: Blind dates and prayers

Today I have arranged to meet a guy who I found on the Internet dating site. He sounds wonderful when chatting online. He is almost 5 years younger than me, but I am not letting that worry me. Meeting someone in person, that is the hard part. This is someone that no one that I know, knows. So it's a huge gamble. I am just so hoping that I can actually be attracted to someone who is nice and caring and that I am hot for. As I said to my hairstylist friend yesterday, say a prayer for me (I am not even religious just desperate), please make me want to bang this guy. Not right away of course, but please make me think that I might even a little want to bang this guy. The weird thing about it? He chooses to meet at my non relationship relationship guy's hangout. What are the odds? I had no valid excuse to say no to that spot after I went on and on about wanting a schnitzel. See I really badly need to move on. So everyone who reads this, religious or not, please pray for me that I want to bang this guy even just a little.
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So the date turned out okay. We met in a bakery and then went to dinner next door. He bought pumpernickle bread, a cherry strudel, a rye bread and a plum cake. He gets points for all of this. I bought my fav sunflower seed rye, cherry strudel and three giant pretzels. We had a nice dinner and the conversation went really well. Although I don't agree with his belief of Dutch soccer supremacy! As if, they have won how many World Cups? I think he actually enjoyed our differences of opinion; like me he grew up in a family that loves to debate. The high point of the conversation was when he told me how he handled one of his drivers calling him a fucking monkey. Which I thought was pretty funny, of all the things to call someone. As I sat across from him at dinner I vacilated back in forth between thinking this guy is kinda hot to, no he's not hot at all. At first I thought he really needs a haircut, that would do wonders for him. Later, when he played with it and swept it back behind his ears, I thought this hair looks sort of sexy on him. He was wearing a bad shirt. Which is no biggie; many guys just need a little fashion advice. So that's how it went. He sent me a text telling me what a good time he had before I even got home last night.

The strange thing is that last night I dreamt that he was in my house, but it wasn't my house now and that we had had sex. When I got up and went into the kitchen he had totally cleaned it. It was so clean that I worried I wouldn't find anything and that he had thrown out a lot of the old stuff. Although the kitchen part of the dream troubles me, the sex part was pretty good and for a second this morning I thought that maybe I did bang him last night. Which contributes to me thinking that I might want to bang him a little. So the well thoughts and prayers may have helped. Perhaps Oprah is right about the power of prayer.

Pains and Needles

I had a very unusual experience today. I went for an acupuncture treatment to help with the pain from my neck that travels down my arm. I have seen this acupuncturist once before, when I was in severe pain. At that point I was in too much pain to benefit from anything. But I was impressed by how diligent the acupuncturist was in trying to relieve my pain and vowed to return when I was less hysterical.

I explained in a motor mouth manner, about how the drugs for the pain were making me hyper, talk too much, how either my foot or hand or something had to be tapping and my significant difficulty with focusing. I was lying face down on the table. He placed several needles in my arm, neck, hand and leg. He gave me a warm pat on my back saying he would return in a few minutes. At first the needles stung. The sting subsided and soon I began to feel a slow relaxation over take me. I could actually feel tension leave my various muscles, all without my prior knowledge or will. Even my thoughts slowed. I felt myself being swept away with it and went willingly.

When he came back he turned the needles and I asked if he had given me a relaxation needle. He said yes. I said it's working. He left again. Now as I moved into the relaxation, I felt my eyes well and I began to cry. Not sobs but tears. My mind focused in on something that was causing me upset. Then I had this singular clear thought. I have been focusing on healing my physical pain which is good, but I have this other pain to heal. It is still fresh and open, although well concealed. I had been denying how much hurt there was.

When he returned I asked him about the tears. He didn't say much. He doesn't really ever say much, he laughs at me, thinks I am funny. Got a big laugh when I explained that I didn't have anyone at home to stretch my neck. That I had got rid of him because he was a pain in the neck and look at me now. The cat can't stretch my neck I told him. He radiates this warmth and calm. After removing the needles, he asked if I noticed any other changes. I told him that my hand felt warmer as did my arm and I just felt so relaxed, blissed actually. He gave me an upper back and arm massage that included these strange snaps at the end of my fingertips, stretched my neck. He said to come back in a week. I feel compelled to return.

Hopeful Pairing

I have to admit that I am a sucker for baby animals. Maybe even more than human babies. Today I saw this story about a baby monkey macaque that had been abandoned by it's mother in Goandong province in China. It was saved by an animal sanctuary. Although it was now physically healthy it seemed spiritless and sad. That was until it formed a friendship, with a pigeon. That's right the much maligned pigeon has taken this adorable baby monkey, literally under it's wing. I can't stop thinking about it. The unlikelihood of the pairing, the complete contrast of the two in so many ways. The macaque so cute, furry and cuddly. The pigeon, pink eyed, creepy and dinosaurish. I can sort of understand the monkey, it was desperate for a connection after the rejection of the mother. But the pigeon, that's the real shocker. What does the pigeon get out of this? I am not sure if this pigeon is a mother, I suppose that might explain it. It is almost something you would see in a cartoon movie. The picture is so adorable you can't feel angry if you look at it. I just love it when one species connects with another, it flies in the face of animal law and it's so hopeful.

Good Songs Gone Bad in Commercials

Is it just me or is there something fucked up about Blondie's One Way or Another on a Swifer commercial? When that song came out and I thought how fabulous it was, since it so brilliantly captured, obsessive love, to the point of stalking, which frankly every teenage girl (and some adult women who shall remain nameless) can relate to, with such unapologetic confidence. If you would have told me that in twenty years it would be used to portray mopping up dirty floors, I would have said, no fucking way, that would be just wrong. When I was a kid advertisers came up with their own songs and jingles. Some of them were excellent, in fact classics. Just the other day a friend and I spontaneously sang The Big Jim Sports Camper song. Who can forget Rice A Roni the San Francisco Treat? Today it would probably Rice A Roni with some stupid Maroon Five song. The song Venus has been used for lady shavers and body wash. What's next? Nina Hagen for Tampax? Brass In Pocket for credit cards. Any Ideas?

To Sir With Love

The other night after I had fallen asleep on the couch in front of the T.V. I woke up and To Sir With Love was on. Sure it's dated and a little over the top, but Sidney Poitier is wonderful. I was in love with him and wanted to go to highschool in east London, by the end of the movie. I wouldn't say that he is drop dead gorgeous, but he is the personification of what I think a gentleman is, something that seems non existent in young male leads in today's films. There is a depth he brings to his characters. He can be vulnerable, silly, commanding or angry. Underscoring all of this is wisdom, intelligence and a feeling of safety, knowing that he will be able to handle any situation with grace. Plus that rich smooth voice and style, just complete the package. I want a man like him.

Paris a Parent?!?!

I read recently that Paris Hilton wants to have a baby within the next year. She thinks that having a child will make her grow up and be an adult. There are too many reasons for me to say why she bothers me, but this latest brain wave really grates. Paris, you idiot, it's the other way around. First you grow up, be an adult and then you have the baby. What sort of hell would that child be going into? It's a baby, not a chihuahua!

Whoa Nelly

I am really sick of hearing Nelly Nurtado. Every time I get in the car and turn on the radio, there she is with one song or another. I liked a few songs off that album, but it seems like now they are playing every song on the album repeatedly on the radio. Is there no one else out there with decent music that could be played on the radio? Enough already!

Neighbours

So the posts of late have been a little miserable. I will return to my hospital saga later. For now I want to talk about neighbours. For many years I endured what can only be described as horrible neighbours. First there was Gerry. He was a rage filled, dry alcoholic who verbally abused me (I mean disgusting name calling; always including cunt in it somewhere) each time he saw me outside of the house. He constructed a concentration camp like fence between our houses. He was married to Barb, who was a snivelling, passive, enabler who acted like she didn't know what he was saying to me when she was right there. You can't imagine my glee when one day I am outside weeding the garden when Barb comes out and tells me that if I see Gerry on the street I am to call police as there is a restraining order against him to keep away. He is a crackhead and has cleaned out her bank account. I tell her with pleasure will I call the police on him. I have to admit I felt a great deal of schadenfreude over that one. Eventually, they divorced and he forced her to sell.
In moved Tom and Allen, a gay couple who on the surface seemed nice enough, but proved to be racist and partiers. They drank beer steadily from Friday evening to Sunday night. Most of the time in the backyard with a huge fire going in the middle of the lawn, regardless of the temperature outside. Could be 30 c and they would have the fire blazing, beers flowing, Allen, witch like cackling at everything Tom said. At four in the morning it wore thin. If I made the mistake of leaving my bedroom window open, my clothes smelt like I had been smoking sausage in my closet. They ended up selling because Tom didn't like the racial direction the neighbourhood was moving in. He actually said this to me, but in not so polite terms. I found this hugely hypocritical as I endured many conversations from him about how they had been discriminated against for having a pride flag in their window. They wanted acceptance but weren't willing to afford it to anyone else.
Finally came Mike and Lynne and their baby. A lovely, sweet couple originally from the East Coast. Mike cleans up the garbage at the park at the bottom of the street. Lynne is friendly and a very attentive, loving mother. Today, they left me a little potted, flowering plant with a get well soon card on my veranda. I love these neighbours. It is so nice to know that there are still decent, sweet neighbours in the world. Hoorah!