On ne voit bien qu’avec le couer. L’essentiel est invisible pour les yeux. - Antoine de Saint-Exupery

Friday, June 19, 2015

The Attack in Charleston is NOT Unthinkable.

I've been unable to find to express my deep sadness at the horrific attack on Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church and the disgraceful responses from our leaders and countrymen. 

Unthinkable, unbelievable, unspeakable... is what I've heard and read to describe the (latest) mass slaying.


Those are NOT adjectives anyone should apply toward describing this terrorist attack. 

This is one more attack of terrorism in our country (I love America and consider myself a patriot) and against our country. 

We the People. 

It IS thinkable, believable, and speakable, because violent atrocities have been committed against black men, women, babies, children, communities, and churches for hundreds of years. 

Don't ask how are we back at this place, for we, as a country and a people, never made America a place where black lives matter as much as white lives. If you don't believe me, then go travel, around the country and outside this country, and see how our racial divide is observed and judged by other nationalities. 

WE THE PEOPLE need stop our own busy-ness and our personally-centric scope of our lives and our "worlds" to speak up and demand a change in how our elected and appointed leadership protect all our people, provide to all our people, support all our people, and for every one of We, The People, speak out and hold each other accountable to demanding and working, ourselves, to break the pervasive paradigm of belief that speakable, thinkable, believable violence against Black Americans happens for the reason of, no matter how much we delude ourselves, we never brought America to be the place where skin color doesn't determine the worth of life. 

Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Yesterday's Smarts

***This has been sitting, in draft form, since January 2014; it's an open secret (such a secret that most people don't know or have forgotten, altogether, I even have a blog.***

If I had to choose between smarty or party, the day was mostly smarty with a little bit of party. Work is so busy, I'm dizzy by the time the day comes to an end - I'd rather be busy than not enough work; I like to tell myself that's good for job security (and with so many people I care for having gone through layoffs in recent months and years, that is a reality I'd rather not have be my own).

Physical therapy for my ankle, although is making hella strides in my progress and ability, largely sucks. Thank heaven these guys are not only good but are funny and lively; it makes the pain not such a pain. And they let me think I'm sneakily sneaking treats to the resident labs, Cali and Sailor. Like Pavlov, these pups expect those treats, now, when I arrive. But, this fantastic team of physical therapists are not only are helping me heal my ankle, I laugh and chat through the intense massages and mobility gains. 

I've wanted to see La Boheme ever since I fell in love with Rent 16 or 17 years ago.... Arizona Opera Company has produced a few times over the years, but I never had quite the right date to go with me. Something about the shit-show that has been the last few relationships (and even more depressing than my actual love life is the options available for to try new relationships) and epically bad dates, I made a choice last year to stop. Dating. Pretty much entirely (I'm not counting last Saturday's dinner with the 25-year old cub a serious contender of a date). And I'm in that personal space where that's what I need. As I explained to someone who was trying to understand my rationale, I continuously make bad relationship investments, and am on the verge of romantic bankruptcy. 

So, I'm staring at my AZ Opera mailer with The Flying Dutchman, La Boheme, Traviatta all of them teasing me! What could I do? Between double ballet tickets, double symphony season tickets (not that I have "dates" for any of these), I couldn't budget a season of two opera tickets. Face it; it's not the most fun feeling to get dressed up, drive yourself downtown, skip dinner, and go to Symphony Hall by yourself to swim in a sea of couples in their finer wear. But Mimi and Rodolpho, and their love affair in the snow filled night of Paris's Latin Quarter beckoned me. The image of Mimi's candle. Burned out, relit, and blown out again..... Sigh. So I did it. I bought my own damn ticket (again) and was going to be damned if I let myself miss another experience because I don't have someone who is going to sit in the seat next to me. 

Monday, September 8, 2014

Poolside - Harvest Moon

I'm not sure which moon this is, but tonight is a super moon, and I believe the last of the year. I keep thinking back to the waxing moon last night as I jumped into a backyard pool for a midnight swim with a handsome Hungarian from Slovakia while we watched the monsoon clouds build up above us. I especially like how his accent lilts my name. "JennEEfer." It reminds me of living in Germany as a young girl, when my life experience was still sweet and there was no sadness or loss, yet, for how he pronounces my name is what I heard when addressed throughout the villages and towns we traveled. My life is still sweet, but there have been some extra sour patches. I agree with Jason Lee's character, Brian, in Vanilla Sky: the sweet is never as sweet without the sour, and I know the sour.

Do I ever know the sour. And I know a lion's share of sweet, too.

Mr. Slovakian Hungarian and I are, in fact, a bit of a mismatch. And, although I consciously phased myself out of the May December infatuation of older men once I hit my early 30's, this one sneaked up on me. And in over three years, I have not felt a pull to a man as him, and although I wasn't anywhere near ready for a skinny dip, under that rising full moon, I jumped right in. And, as I explained to my friend, without anticipation or explanation, and for however brief or whatever length of time there is, I will be present, in the moment, and enjoy the company and enjoyment of this man for the sake of him, as a person, and not anguish and fret about whether or not there is "a future."

Happy vibes.

Cheers to remaining bikini days (and nights). And Monsoon Mondays with Super Moons. 

Sunday, June 15, 2014


 From my first, too-big-for-my-face, coke bottle thick, PINK glasses I got at the age of 8 to the eye therapy to retrain a "lazy" eye, a brief (failed) venture into the world of contact lenses, I am a chick who wears glasses, and do so with pride!