"I don't know what to write. But I need to connect. But I need to feel that someone knows who I am. Even if I feed her all the lines." - Sweet Profusion
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A clinical depressive takes a stab at upbeat posts.
I have a big hole in my shoe. Actually, it's not so much a hole anymore - the upper has completely pulled away for the sole in front, just a few strands of cloth hold them kinda' together. My toes poke right out, and when I walk, it doesn't look like the upper is connected at all. My "shabbos" shoes aren't quite as bad, but do have a several holes right on the front, the biggest is about 2" long now. Since they are better, although going bad fast, I want to save them only for shabbos.
I can't get cheap shoes. 4 years ago I had such bad plantar fasciitis that by the end of the day I would need to use a chair as a walker, or literally crawl to bed. These $200.00 shoes were the reletively cheap option, which brought almost instant, and consistent relief. The soles are still good, so I'm sticking with them. I have never had success with shoe repair - they just glue the damn seams together, so forget that.
So people have been commenting on it. "Do you know you have a hole in your shoe?"
Now, I could get angry just at this - "Yes, yes I do know." How could I not know?!?! How could I have missed this hole?!?! But I'm not angry - the appearance of the shoe really is shocking, I imagine that the comment just pops out before it is possible to think farther than that shock. Gratefully, most people just stop there. I am truly grateful when there are no follow up questions*. Some people offer to loan me money to get new shoes. Sorry, that loan is never going to get repaid, and I not ready for that yet.
And that is weird, because I spend way too much of my time thinking about how awful my community is for offering me so little chesed - and then, when somebody does, I back down. And the stupidest sticking point for me is that I think I would take a "gift" and be grateful, but the subterfuge of calling it a "loan" somehow makes is tawdry.
* I can't find the link, but this just reminded me of the Simpsons episode "The Two Mrs. Nahasapeemapetilon". Apu's mother ask Bart and Lisa (whom she has been told are her grandchildren), "Surely you children are aware of your Bramhman heritage?" The children answer "As long as there are absolutely no follow up questions: Yes, yes we are." "Fully."
On a totally different note, there are many traditionally dressed Indian woman in my neighborhood. They always look so lovely and cool and bright in their loose flowing fabric. I want a sari.
Okay, I haven't seen every movie ever made, and I think It's a Wonderful Life and This Is Spinal Tap are still my favorites, but I think Little Miss Sunshine is the most powerful movie experience I ever had. The characters are so flawed and awful and unpleasant together, and they are SO terribly familiar, and they ultimately have such strong love for each other, and I love them all. It all hit me so hard, and I want so much to watch this movie with my oldest son, and I don't want him to think I'm preaching to him, but I want it to hit him hard too. Goodness. Maybe we should just watch Bambi (which I just now realize my kids never did because the wasband adopted the "no non-kosher animals with the kids" stringency).
I should review it in more detail, but basically what I want to say is what I said above. It was a bit too hard with stereotypes, the resolutions came too fast, and the language got really too vulgar occasionally, and a couple of the lines were just painfully unbelievable; but it was funny and sad and beautiful, the acting was fantastic, the characters downfalls were heartbreaking, and the love was equally heartbreaking.
Similar to As Good As It Gets, which I just watched and reviewed, I probably enjoyed this movie so much, in part, because no one get a particularly good ending. Somewhat ironic that this movie shares an actor with As Good As It Gets, but such a different character, I didn't even realize until I watched Little Miss Sunshine for the 4th time. And I did watch this movie 4 times in one week, before I had to return it to the library.
It has been a terrible week - did I mention?
I spent shabbos staring at the reflection in the mirror yell at me to be logical and just ______ myself; well I won't print it, for legal concerns mostly - but I haven't been this depressed in about 2 years.
And I found a name for the autobiographically novel I have no inclination to write: Ceres in Decline. Not sure why I chose the roman name instead of Greek, more elegant to the American ear. Anyway, the little boys are away this week, and it is dark and cold and I am not able to get up from mourning.
...well, maybe you can. I won't say it so definitively, because until a few years ago, I couldn't dance.
Who get's this reference?
Let me qualify that: I couldn't dance in public, unless I had some very structured choreography - then I would have a blast dancing. Simcha dancing - great! as long as I had already practiced it enough, or it was almost as easy as the yeshiva-stomp. I loved it, and would willingly dance for hours. But any kind of free-style dancing left me feeling terribly insecure and ungainly. I loved watching my college roommate dance, she was so fluid and free (which I think would have surprised many people). I wanted to dance just like her, but somehow I couldn't get the moves. Ironically, she liked to mimic my silly dance moves, that I did in the privacy of our dorm-room. But she made them look so much better, in my mind anyway.
The few free style dance sessions I attended were a total flop. The instructions to "just be free" was the least helpful comment possible - then I would feel stupid using unstructured AND structured moves. I was left feeling like I was just unattractively jumping or wriggling.
There was a very insightful blog post floating around a couple years
back, about how uncomfortable people are dancing at weddings now-a-days.
If I recall correctly, a young man was lamenting the disappearance of
any kind of formal or set dance at the average white American wedding,
which left most people floundering around, worrying that they will look
as ridiculous in the wedding video as everyone looks in wedding videos,
especially in years after to the event.
So when my friend asked me to join her in taking belly dance lessons, I readily accepted. What we learned was American Tribal belly dance, which is an improvisational lead-and-follow style with a standard vocabulary of moves. To me, it is almost like a game of follow the leader, but beautiful and intimate (with your fellow dancers) and expressive. The standard vocabulary is what made it great for me - I had "moves" to use as I wished, so I didn't have to be entirely dependant on my own creativity. I "belly danced" at wedding and parties, but mostly with partners who also know American Tribal. But eventually the comfort seemed to ooze into my being. Over years, I have become more willing to just "dance" at weddings, in whatever fashion works with the other ladies with whom I partner.
This past week, a good friend who feels a great desire to dance, told me she had found a group of women who hold a regularly-scheduled, open, free-style dance gathering. We went. I danced. The first couple minutes were a bit uncomfortable, and then... I let go. It was great. Much of the time I used "moves" from belly dance, or simcha dance, or aerobic dance routines. And sometimes I just moved around in ways that felt physically good and stretchy. Sometimes I was a little interpretive, with songs and lyrics I knew and loved. And sometimes I just danced happy in Po's frolicing style - which always reminds me of Michael Palin's ex-leper. I can't say I was completely un-chained, but I certainly enjoyed the time immensely. I still spent a little time just watching the other dancers - I hope that isn't a faux-pas, because I do enjoy that part too. I was really surprised. I can dance.
Just as an after-thought, I do have wonderfully memories of dancing with just one or two close friends around. So so so good, that I fiercely long to dance with those friends again. I hope you recognize yourselves, and I so hope to see it come true.
A friend's post on FB, of her own 20 year anniversary, just reminded me that my own 20th is coming up this month. Bleh.
But at least now I can acknowledge that it is a bad day, instead of the years of having to smile and accept congratulations, while inside my heart was weeping. Oh god, and the worst was people asking "So, what did Wasband do for your anniversary." "Oh, not much" = He presented me with a book I have no desire or use for, that he came across while he was making his daily $$$ + (hours and hours) order from Amazon. Besides this 5min of "affection", he was at the library, searching thru amazon....
