Susceptibility...

... the state of having little resistance.

I can’t believe I’m doing this.

This entry is conceived in much shame. Nonetheless, most of my posts come only after I’ve tested the ideas against time. Meaning, if I think about blogging something and three days later I still want to blog about it, then I usually commence the process towards fruition.

Some of my friends and I have been on a stage kick of late. I’ve seen two plays in the last two weeks alone. And this pastime makes going to the movies look like an activity for the poor.

(I'm still going to the movies AND attending concerts. In fact, I've done all three this week.) Two nights ago, my friends and I decided to go see Aida which is playing locally at present.

I have really come to appreciate the direction which goes into these productions. Every stage is different and every new director has a unique vision for placing the specific story mood and essential details to generate an atmosphere on the small stage.

I was completely amused by the plot though predictable. However, I enjoyed what I believe the origin of the play to be. Elton John and Tim Rice having had so much fun writing for the Lion King that the moment it ended commenced the creation of Aida.

This musical is similar in plot location and musical theme only. Fortunately, it’s about people and not a pride of lions.

I am NOT before you writing a review. There was a simple detail the director took in this production which exploits one of my weaknesses for and affinity towards in my “Pandora’s box of male characteristics.”

(Sigh discreditably.) The fauxhawk. Or my truer kryptonite, the mohawk, when executed responsibly.

Now, there could not have been a better friend or companion at my side than was in this moment. For when I gasped so audibly upon sight of the Captain and his servicemen , the only person who could laugh and understand completely my immediate physical (emotional and let’s face it, 99% hormonal) response was the girl which sat beside me.

All the same. My former roommate. My very dear friend. A hair stylist. And my own color specialist.

I love mohawks but am extremely particular to shortness of the sides, wideness of the band, and overall height. So I love the fauxhawk. Additionally, a more traditional hair do is essential (as I prefer my men with respectable jobs) which lends itself to the conservative fauxhawk better.

Men in any play have never looked so appealing and so… well, delicious that appetite seems an entirely appropriate word for sexuality. I was in love. And those who do not presume lust to be a form of love, who sadly limit their definition of love to “happily ever after”, are truly missing out.

Should you believe this to be a random act of direction for the men of the play to be required to sport the look, the play has quite a sub-plot emphasis on fashion. It makes sense for the director to have employed fashion details such as this. I applaud the person who took my dull mundane week and turned it into daydream central ever since.

I cannot ever truly love a man who does not have a fauxhawk.

With Great Effort

To say I haven’t had any good times during 2008 would be a lie. To say 2008 has sucked for me would be an understatement.

It seems as though it’s been one thing after another. What’s worse is, I just can’t seem to weather the storm as I feel I should, even with all of this adversity experience under my belt.

I’m exhausted. I’m discouraged and dispirited. I’m frustrated and I’m downright angry. Is there no reprieve from the constant barrage of life’s assaults?

Now bear in mind, I’m not yet defeated. This is by no means intended to be a “woe is me” composition. I especially feel grateful a thousand times over for the loved ones in my life.

I spent the past weekend in the celebratory throws of a friend’s birthday which included a getaway to our very own nearby Park City. We crashed at a resort none of us could afford. We indulged in spa treatments. We ate out every meal at places ending in “grill” and containing words like “snake” and “creek” in them.

After the festivities and while we were homeward bound, as we drove down the Wasatch Back, I watched a rural lesser known Utah pass before me rather than the urban state I’ve come to be most familiar with.

The mountains’ foliage was already turning red and orange. The expanse was divided by an unspoiled azure stream. I became fixated on watching it wind its way through the yellowing meadows.

I witnessed a fisherman bundled in a long sleeved plaid flannel shirt under a pair of army green waders enjoying the tranquility of no one being around in this unpopulated nowhere.

While in the middle of happily beholding this breathtaking scene straight out of a movie, my mind caught hold upon the words, “for it must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things.”

As soon as I thought it, I queried back aggressively, “but what good is the astonishing when I’m drowning in the abysmal?” I pushed the thought out of my mind until I had a minute to reason through it later that night.

I retired to bed and the air of course had a nip in it. I gathered my covers tightly around my face and took a deep breath to ponder my earlier revelation.

In the solitude of the moment, with no one to lie to and no good reason to lie to myself, I became overcome with the power of the truthfulness of the declaration which immediately moved me to tears.

I lie in bed thinking of the countless good things I longed for. Things which I have frequently taken for granted in my life. Things like family in decent proximity, a car which doesn’t break down every six months, and other stuff as simple as good health to someone with a cold.

Then last night at almost midnight, I found myself at Sundance under a full moon enjoying myself. On the fartherest back slope surrounded by nothing except a friend with an affinity towards loudly crooning Disney songs, I felt it again.

After the credit card had been cancelled and my sister in law assures me my driver’s license is on its way. “For it must needs be, that there is an opposition in all things.”

Friends Are Like...

I’m back.

Or I’m slowly getting back. Where did I hiatus to, you may be asking. A little place I like to call “twice a year sulking.”

I’ve just moved yet again. The second time in four months. I’m home sick. I’m Pennsylvania sick. But mostly I’m family sick.

I’m working hard at getting settled in with some things in my life and trying hard to prevent myself from settling in to other things.

It just seemed fitting that after a family blog, I would take time to lavish accolades upon some of my friends, namely my second family. As there is no chronological order to place them in, I will resort to using names.

Amy & Tyler: You have been family for 10 years but no doubt feeling the resurgence of my presence in spades since Feb. this year. Thank you for opening your home and hearts to me. Thanks for sharing your kids, your clothes, your Costco card, your mother/mother-in-law, and your DVR. Thank you for the birthday cake. And genuinely one of the happiest days of my year so far has been when you finally conceded to just giving me a key. A key to American Idol/ So You Think You Can Dance, air conditioning, auto glue, skateboards, and anything else I have ever pulled out of your garage. A key to HOME.

Coco: My blog is titled for moments with you. If I had a penny for every talk we've shared, for every burden we've shouldered, for every act of service we've performed... if I had a penny for boyfriend drama, and birthday giggles... if I had a penny for bowling with pumpkins, and almost crashing the car while looking at Christmas lights... if I had a penny for the haircuts, shopping, and spending of money... if I had a penny for all the chicken alfredo pizzas from OG... truely if I had a penny for all of the magical moments I've had with you, I'd be a wealthy little girl.

Sarah: I’ve never experienced anything like you before. How many times have we made the joke? You ARE my sister as much as any of them are. I love you. I love every hot tub confessional and every late night swim. I love every sauna sweat right down to the jock itch on the face. Who knew kissing the wood would have resulted in that medical trauma? I love the hours you have put in with me in the sun like few can. For cooking, baking, and mostly eating in the kitchen. It wouldn’t be us if there wasn’t peanut butter or soy milk involved. I absolutely love you, Sarah-Bell.

Daphne: Mi hermana latina. Moving into that house was the greatest blessing b/c I received the gift of you. Few know the demands of being my movie companion. But you have embraced the requirements unabashedly. Pop-culture is an expensive hobby but you have put every minute and every penny into the cause right down to TSLOTAT. There is no one else I would have rather “killed angels” with and you alone were the only one who knew of my obsession with KS (note the initials). I’ll never forget the day I caught you watching me watching him. Beauty pageants, Boyz II Men concerts, and home videos mean little to me without you there.

Ammon: Everyday I come to work and leave all of my friends behind. For 8 hours I try to contribute to the gross national product until I can play afterwards. Thanks for giving me a reason to laugh during those 8 hours. Whether it be at my desk, at Great Harvest, or at the stream/pond into which you flipped your car. Thanks for loaning your dimples to me, the cafeteria talks, and the birthday rendezvous. Thanks for opening my mind again to those different to me. But most importantly, never have you had a girl so convinced she wanted to work graveyard just so she could spend more time with you.

Last but certainly not least, Ren: You have been more of a life preserver than you know. To know me is to know passion. But it is a cross I bear, to feel so much. Being friends with you has given me my life back. There are times when I’m wearied to feel so intensely but with you around, I’m always buoyed. You are kindred in the one way which matters most. I‘ve laughed with you, cried with you, and gone catatonic in your living room in front of you. I have showed few others as much passion, zeal, and enthusiasm as I have allowed myself to give you. I’ve told you secrets I have never told others in this state. You are my twin glass rock. So solid to me in spite of how breakable we are.