Thursday, May 10, 2012

My Brother, My Brother

My Brother, My Brother

My Brother,
My Brother.
You come home
to us now.
I ask
not how you died
in a land
so far away.
But how did
you live,
in so short
a stay?

Would we have laughed
at the same silly things?
Would we have
shared a beer
on a hot summer day?
Would we have talked
the talk of dreamers,
and philosophers,
and solved our woes
along the way?

I will never
have the pleasure
to share the things
you may have thought.
You were Lost
to a political agenda
that Human Beings
cannot understand.

Now a plane of people
gaze out the windows
and glad.
Isn’t it sad?
No one they knew.
No one they knew.

But you are
My Brother,
My Brother.
Faceless and nameless
you may be to me.
But i cry for you

Tuesday, May 8, 2012


What we do when we are embarrassed says a great deal about who we really are and how much we accept who we are. The other day i was to meet a man with whom i wanted to give a good impression. As i was getting ready, i dug through my closet trying to put together an outfit i thought appropriate. He’s a film producer who has worked in Hollywood and i figured has seen just about everything imaginable. I went through this mental list in my head, ticking off the kinds of things i thought an artistic but professional and successful producer would look on favorably. Should i be completely artsy? Completely professional? Something in between? Ugh. I kept putting outfits together then discarding them. I couldn’t make up my mind. Not my usual mode of getting dressed. I tend to be practical and neatly casual. In the end, i settled on what i was comfortable with – a long skirt and tank top with an artsy jacket.

Now – what shoes to wear? This is always a problem for me. I like bare feet the best. Next, sandals. Followed closely by a favorite pair of Vans – which is to say ALL my Vans as they are without a doubt my favorite full shoe. But none of these were appropriate. And the heels i had did NOT go with what i was wearing. Men never have this sort of problem. Curses. After a bit i drug out a pair of shoes i hadn’t worn in a couple of years. They used to be one of my favs but somehow had managed to be buried under purses and various whatnots deep in that dark hole we call a closet. Who designs these damn things anyway? Oh yeah, men. Who never have a problem with shoes. Right. So i happily donned my cute shoes, twirled in front of the mirror a couple of times and headed off to my meeting with Stardom.

I met with the producer at a local Starbucks. He turned out to be a very pleasant, easy going, and funny man and i ended up having a wonderfully informative, hour long chat. But there’s always a point in any conversation where you need to wrap things up before it gets awkward. (Some people have no clue about this). So when the conversation started to lag, i knew it was time to sum things up, say my thanks, and head out the door. But just as these thoughts were flitting through my head, i had this strange sensation on my left foot. Like cold air. Where it shouldn’t be. I tried to look down, without looking like i was looking down. My shoe, from the toe all the way down one side to the heel, had fallen apart. Yikes! I wriggled my left foot – no way it would stay on – it was ready to fall off at any moment. I wriggled my right foot. Oh for Heaven’s sake! My right shoe was doing the same thing though not quite as bad as the left. No way in hell i was going to be able to walk away without my shoes literally falling off my feet. My smile froze on my face. Crap! Crap!! Crap!!!

Embarrassments like this are Life’s way of laughing at our insecure egos. The whole game of “dressing to impress” – just a mask we wear in our desire to be accepted. I find it amusing – and sad – that we work so hard to be someone we’re not to impress someone who is doing the same damn thing. Who ARE we? For me, it’s such a terrible state because i am aware of what i’m doing and why i’m doing it but am afraid to stop. The fear of not being accepted is too great.

I tried to keep a straight face as all this was avalanching through my brain but the urge to laugh was creeping its way out my mouth so i quickly smiled and mumbled some inane and appropriate verbal camouflage to bring the conversation to an end with the excuse that i was going to stay for a bit and take notes on our conversation. Thankfully – he stood, shook my extended hand, and left. I sat there for a good ten minutes. I got up and ever-so-slowly shuffled my way out the front doors of a very crowded Starbucks. I could only imagine i looked like Tim Conway doing the old man shuffle. I felt every eye upon me as i casually took off my shoes – and threw them in a garbage bin outside the door. By this time, my humor – the best of what is real – had bubbled over. I threw back my head and laughed and cared not one wit who heard me or if anyone thought i was crazy. I laughed all the way home. And it felt great.

I vowed that day to not be afraid of not impressing people. To work even harder at “being me” – whoever that might turn out to be. Because if “being me” felt as good as that moment when i laughed at my own embarrassment, then that’s one damn fine thing to be.