Crash Into Me

I just got hit by a car... for the second time in my life. WTF?

Follow up for Mindee: Not my vehicle. ME. I just got hit by a car!

There Were Never Such Devoted...

I love her to death.

She’s a pain in my side if I tell her this. Actually, she’s a pain in my side when I disclose most anything of a personal nature to her.

She’ll act like she doesn’t care. And half the time she doesn’t. However, the other half of the time I know she’s hanging onto my every word, waiting to condemn me for the drama but secretly happy I’ve given her something to gnaw on.

She’s the first person I want to phone when I find out a girl at church will be on the next season of the Bachelor. She’s the first person I call when someone makes a gigantic fool of themselves because I know she’ll laugh as hard at the story as I did in real life.

She's the girl I’ll late night email back and forth with crazy pictures. She’s the girl I’ll email the Mamma Mia soundtrack at two songs an email until the 18 track disc has completely been shared. She’s the girl I forward THE email to from my phone the moment I get it. And we'll laugh as we dissect it over and over again.

I teach her the things she needs to know because that’s what I’m supposed to do. When the ridiculous Garmin has taken us into New Jersey, I tell her to stay in the car at the gas station. They pump it for you.

I'm the lifeline she uses when she needs pop culture trivia and I believe to date I've only failed her once. (I can't possibly know the names of people in commercials.) But sometimes I wonder if I’m not doing my job because she teaches me more.

I've seen her change into mini skirts in the passenger seat of a plymouth voyager and I have admired her for it. Because she dares to do what she wants. If a girl were to hypothetically get picked up for shoplifting, she's the person I'd want right beside me, openly mocking the officer.

If there were a play where there was a prince and a princess, she might be the only person I could relinquish the princess part to with no hard feelings. I would be her queen. I would be her supporting role anytime.

I love to french braid her hair. I love to climb into bed with her on my lunch break and take a nap. I love to watch TV with her namely reality television because really how funny is two people hooking up in the dark if it were any other person telling you about it? I love to rejoice in her skinny arms.

I love her family. Her husband. Her children. I love to watch her parent. She's not perfect. But she's pretty amazing in action. I love her.

I love her to death.

Happy Birthday!

No Bluffing

This has no throw back to love.

Have you ever had someone look you so deeply in the eyes, the gaze became uncomfortable enough you felt the need to break it immediately?

A stare sharp though not possessing malice rather intensity penetrating into depths you, yourself, have slightly probed?

To which I question, have you ever looked at your face in the mirror? Not to gaze upon blemishes or assess your features rather to examine yourself as others look upon you? To look yourself in the eyes and to discover what’s behind them?

I once had a conversation with a friend about a theory I have regarding people internally reflecting and evaluating themselves. My metaphor seems simple enough to me.

I picture most people in a square room 15 x 15 feet. It is white and empty, except for one thing. A full body sized mirror in one of the corners mounted on the wall.

I don’t care how people get into the room nor am I particular about age and appearance as I believe the metaphor has everything to do with an emotional and mental maturity.

We spend whatever amount of time in this room sitting in a corner, doing nothing, seeing nothing, being nothing, and most certainly noticing nothing… until we do. We notice it. The mirror.

And once we notice it, we can’t seem to figure out how we never noticed it before. Am I allowed to get up and walk over to it? Am I supposed to look in it? Will I be able to confront what I might find in it?

In this moment, the masses become easily divided by groups who dare not look and groups who dare to look.

Upon catching our reflection, many of us turn immediately from the mirror, not wanting to see anything more, uncertain of what we have already seen, mostly possessed by some sort of fear of what we might see.

And so we turn back to any other corner to hide out once more. That is, until curiosity gets the best of us.

Sure there are a rare few who will never return again to the mirror. They have their reasons and though I don’t understand, it is not a right or wrong situation.

Still many of us will want to investigate another time. What hopefully follows is an increased frequency and intensity with which we return to the mirror to gaze.

The allegory is simple. It’s quite literally self-reflection while more metaphorically finding self acceptance. Changing what you dislike and admiring what you do like. But that’s the easy part.

The hard part is jumping back up from the corner to visit the mirror regularly. To not be afraid of what you see. To not be discouraged by the task at hand. Most importantly, to not be dishonest in the undertaking.

If you abide by those rules, you’ll come out a better person every time.

On a personal level, I’ve noticed recently I’ve taken to a habit I’ve long since performed. I have caught myself on many occasions studying the faces, even the eyes, of those whom I associate. I’ve been similar to a baby fixated upon the face of its guardian in my exchanges with others.

I’ve examined the smile wrinkles, a furrowed brow, the strokes of eye liner, the dilation of pupils, and the teeth involved in a grin.

It makes any conversation, any relationship much more intimate. And I treasure it.

Why have I lacked the inclination to do so previously? Then I realize to stare into another’s eyes is to know they can stare into yours. And the vulnerability is acute. A vulnerability not for the weak hearted.

When I arise and walk myself over to the mirror, when I find the confidence to shift my scrutinizing from my outward and move inward, I’m easily scared off. I suppose to have any sense of self awareness means you’ll find yourself in the position to avoid the deep searching peek.

How can I allow another access into a sphere I rarely travel myself? Easy, I can’t.

Nevertheless, I think I’ve uncovered an excellent measuring stick for where you personally stand with yourself. How well can you look into the eyes of others?

For the first time in a long time, I’m taking the chance. I won’t look away.