Dear hysterical complainant...and I don't mean funny

Be advised that it is neither within my job description nor my skillset to address your feelings about what has been done to you. As egregious as it may seem, as unfair and cruel; as much as it has wounded you and turned your life inside out, the emotional impact you have experienced is not my primary concern. My job is to uncover the facts--both yours and the other side's--and figure out what really happened. This is the service I provide, which is often in opposition to dealing with your feelings. As a person, I empathize with you, but as an investigator I am distracted.

Background noise

Sometimes I feel like my life is the beige backdrop to others' technicolor relief. I think I'm living, but it turns out what I choose hardly matters. It is only background noise. Yes, yes, it must matter to me. I understand now.

Uniqueness

I've been thinking about the concept of uniqueness since I chose the address for this blog. In keeping with my previous (and only other) post, I was baring an insecurity at the time--that nothing in my blog would be unique (read: worth reading). Then someone turned me on to cakewrecks and I realized people are making things that are unique all the time, just by sharing their own take on the everyday. And, in the case of the aforementioned, in a brilliant and hilarious way. What fun it must be to be married to her!

Of course, in my case, I'm not commenting on the goofiness that ensues from mixing too much frosting with artistically inspired ESL students--at least not on a regular basis--so my blog probably speaks to a very small niche by comparison, like: my partner, my friend Kelli and my mom. Scratch the last, she won't want to read a lot of what may eventually wind up on this site.

But I have this idea that the web can be a medium for spirtual guidance if used in the right frame of mind and, for whatever reason, I was moved to start this blog, which led to pondering the concept of uniqueness.

And then I was wandering around downtown the other night, talking to myself and thinking how best to expand my horizons when what I really wanted to do was crawl into a corner and pout, when a man--we'll call him Arkansas--asked to use my cell phone to call a "friend" who was supposed to pick him up at the bus stop. Turned out this man was an itinerant poet, having back spasms at the time and on his way back home to sit in on the trial of the man who raped and murdered his nine year old daughter.

Well, pouting no longer seemed justifiable in the face of this man's troubles, so I stayed with him for a while until he figured out what he wanted to do. And along the way, he made up a poem for me. The title: Portraits of Uniqueness. No shit.

I wish I could remember it. It was about his impressions of me, each impression as a portrait and each portrait unique. When he recited it his voice took on a smooth quality and his words had a singsong lilt. If nothing else meant anything the whole 2 hours I stayed with him, I felt that few moments as a stroke from the universe.

a site dedicated to exposing my worst insecurities

My first post. Welcome. The title is a reference to an old Bob Newhart episode or somesuch. I'm not much of a quoter. Not a great trait for someone who aspires to write (insecurity #1 - I lack some vital component to successful writing). Bob and his buddy (what was his name?) are sitting around trying to remember an old school cheer...much as I'm trying to reconstruct this scene in my mind. The best they can come up with is, "something something rah rah rah." It still makes me chuckle to think of it.

Anyway, I started thinking about finally getting a blog up and trying to think of the perfect theme (insecurity #2 - there is such a thing as perfection and it ain't me) or whatever to convey the wonder of "me" and I realized the futility. Partly because the wonder of me changes from day to day. And partly because the process of putting myself out there begins to move me past the reason I'm blogging. Who knows if I can change the name, but I'm stuck with it now. That's the beauty of it, and the horror. I'm laying it out there, and it is what it will be.