A Few Things:

I'm haunted a little this evening by feelings that have no vocabulary and events that should be explained in dimensions of lint rather than words.

~Richard Brautigan

Some days everything comes on in thick layers, and by time I have waded through it all to the keyboard, I cannot recall the well-worded entries I had planned on. This past few days has been of just such a nature. And it's since evaporated, all of it, and I'm left with a sticky need to wash it off but no concise way to do so. I am not going to do so, I am going to list, post, and go to bed easily... because some nights, this is what a blog is good for.

-Men touch me without my permission. Not you or you or you specifically, but men in general. Sometimes there is a special look, an indication that you are fond of someone and would like them to touch you, of course there are these things. And for some women I am sure that is helpful. For me, however, the overarching policy is almost always hands on knees, caresses on backs, pulling me closer in a hug when I am stepping back and flailing desperately for air-- all for no other reason than because I am within an arms reach. In the past week I have been touched casually and familiarly in over 9 instances that I in no way whatsoever offered even the slightest consideration of any physical contact at all-- and this is not irregular, any more so than me actually having to exert some real physical effort in dislodging myself from this touch. It seems that this would be enough to desensitize me to real wanted desired physical touch (I'm speaking outside of a sexual nature-- this isn't that kind of blog), but to the contrary it sometimes leaves me starving for something sincere and mutual. A hand hold that brushes fingers first and recognizes my receptiveness or dismissal. A light tap on the nose at a time that I am not jerking my head back to avoid it. A hug that I have stepped towards in any fashion at all before it is launched forth. I want to participate in physical contact, not find myself engulfed in it because I have failed to watch for it more carefully. If I am not staring you down and leaning towards you, sitting needlessly close, I do not want you rubbing my back, touching my hair, placing your hand on my knee or over mine, directing me by my shoulder or steering me through a crowd we are in by the small of my back. Keep your hands off of me. OFF. You're ruining me for touches when I want to take part in them completely.

-My daughter has decided she loves She-Ra. When I was very small, before I even remember my mother being sick at all, I remember visiting her in her apartment one time. There was honeysuckle growing in the alley (in adult visits to Oklahoma I have never seen it growing anywhere, this must have been a very specific short season for them that I have never stumbled upon again) and I was sick-- she took me in the house, made me tea and toast with no butter and turned on She-Ra. It's one of those little half slips of memory that almost seem impossible because you realize how young you must have been, but when my daughter asked me early this afternoon if we could watch She-Ra together I went into productive mode trying to get more of the memory by re-creating it. I made us tea, I drew the shades so it was very dark for daytime, and I gave her toast with no butter on it. This wasn't some big emotional act mind you, just a curious experiment: It turns out my daughter doesn't like toast with no butter on it, and asked to open the blinds. I did, and then we split a Twinkie. Nothing at all was lost by no new memory gained, and about 5 minutes in I found that as a 30 year old woman, I'm not very fond of She-Ra myself.

So, now I know.

-Thank you, Secret Santa. Or maybe secret admirer, I will never know. If in fact you are a devoted secret admirer who sees us as somehow connected however, I should probably add a couple of disclaimers to the thanks from the bottom of my heart.

a) the person who was sitting in what was supposed to be your seat at the Chicago Theater is not someone I have any romantic inclination to at all, so please do not do him any harm, boil his bunny (he does not have one) or key his car. He's a lovely man and with all due respects, you didn't tell me there was any other sort of plan. Or anything else for that matter. You left tickets to my dream-show in my mailbox and I took them out... that is all. and

b) I generally don't get too into romantic gestures. Or involvements. This isn't to say that I'm not occasionally smitten, or even that I'm not maybe currently very much so... just that it is absolutely not with you, whoever you may be. If your goal was to be certain that I see an amazing show that may well be one of the 3 best I have ever experienced and feel much joy, then thank you a million times as that is exactly what was achieved. If it was anything more, please don't hurt ME or boil my bunny or key my car (I have neither), but it is not mutual if I know you at all (and if I do not, I own bear mace and big knives, and my big strong male friends are plentiful and protective of me: All of which you must already know if you have stalked me with any proficiency whatsoever).

-Speaking of that show: There were realizations. When listening to "Either Side Of The Same Town" with some added lyrics, I scribbled on a slip of paper in my purse that "I am not afraid of commitment as I so frequently hear that I am". To the contrary, I have a difficult time not being committed to something once I have done so, which can sometimes tether me for a bit to a sense of obligation to something that is no more. I am not afraid of commitment: I am the most committed person I know when I commit at all. So, HA.

- Riding back into South Bend from Chicago, I always think the same thing: I don't care what anyone says, I think the Midwest is beautiful. Americana at it's finest (and I do not mean that sarcastically).

And now... Dr. Who will not watch himself and one of my favorite TV geek friends is growing impatient for me to get caught up so we can discuss with more freedom than the current "STOP, not a word, I haven't seen that yet". And so, that is all.

Boy do I feel better.