Yesterday, after leaving my sangha, I went straight up to Tonyís condo, where he was having his house warming party on Saturday night. I went up early to help prepare. Due to a 3-car pile up on the NJ turnpike, I ended up getting there an hour later than expected. I had just enough time to make a large pasta salad and change clothes. Itís a salad Iíve been making for years, and it is always well received.
Iím such a weirdo, as a guest, and non-family member, I still feel compelled to go up early and make food and play hostess. The second Tony told me to sit, I sat, though. I wasnít going to step on his new-condo-owner host toes.
Tony has two kinds of friends, total geeks, known from his pre-lawyer, engineering days, and artists (Mostly musicians. He tends to make friends with the attractive female musicians. Imagine that.) from his practice.
I opened it to a tall, stick thin, blond woman with a French accent (not really tall, just tall compared to me). Trying not to be too obviously horrified, I greeted her and let her in. I sat down near the geeks again.
There was a pale, frizzy-haired girl, with frumpy jeans, sneakers and an over-sized T-shirt on. They asked her what she did. It turned out, she has the exact same job I do.
Oh God. For some reason, I immediately felt like if I said I did the same thing, no one would believe me. I was going to have to jump through 15 more hoops to prove Iím not a bimbo. I have no idea why in American culture why the physically well-maintained are somehow often deemed to be dumber than the ones who are not.
At least I'm the one who can figure out how to buy a bottle of conditioner, right?
I decided Iíd be happier talking to the pretty, blond girl. I wasnít shrinking from the obstacle of proving that Iím smart. It was more than that. I am generally very comfortable in my own skin, and this other girl seemed to not be so much (just a guess, not that I know her or anything) and she didnít seem to have any desire to engage with me at all. I didnít feel like pushing anyone, yesterday.
I left the sofa and walked across to the dining room and sat down across from L1L1 r0qu3lin.
Turns out, sheís a biologist, specializing in genetics and a musician. Oh yes, donít forget, stick thin, pretty, and according to her myspace pics, not a natural blond.
I didnít go out of my way to explain that I am also a half-right brained, half-left brained person. That might not even be the case for her. She just might be exceedingly intelligent and talented.
I also spent a lot of time talking with the only man and geek in this group of women. Iíve known this guy through Tony, for awhile. He reminds me a lot of my ex-husband. He has nearly the same type of british accent (My ex is Isreali, but with british roots), same type of build, and tells the same kinds of jokes. He dresses similarly, but with better taste, and is better looking than the ex (donít tell him I said that).
His wife is a singer. I was happy that he had no interest in talking about work. I think his wife was happy he had someone to talk to about rugby (not that I know a damn thing about it, but thatís what makes a subject interesting to me).
Lili gave me her card and I listened to some of her music today. I found it beautiful, but it feels a bit not yet fully developed. She did just arrive in NYC last week, so she deserves some slack.
I am taking this opportunity to promote her a little. I felt like she mightíve been a kindred spirit; however, I was not repressing my natural aloofness most of the night.
Today, I finally vacuumed out the beach of sand from my car from all the trips to the shore. It was getting to be really, really ridiculous.
I got a little package from my brother last night. I was about to email him, but I predicted Iíd see him this morning and Iíd thank him then. I did. We only really need to speak for a few minutes every once in awhile. We do very little explaining. We share a few random facts, and we can fill in each others entire story from the last time we spoke to the present. Catching up is unbelievably quick and simple.
A lot of the other stuff we say is our brain fluff. Weíre familiar with, and accepting of each others fluff. His degree is in poetry. As he puts it, heís an expert in using a lot of words to say very little. I am usually even more verbose than he is. I tend to think Iím making some grand statement or saying something wildly fascinatingÖ but um, well, luckily for my friends, I have a diary, too.
Anyway, itís such a gift to be understood by someone without any need for communication at all. Yeah, I have blamed this for messing up my life in the past. Whether or not itís true, who knows?
Even if it is true, what can I do about it?
Itís a beautiful night tonight. Beautiful, beautiful. Iím sleep deprived, and Iím going to go do something about it.
|Monday, Aug. 06, 2007 at 12:27 AM|