Days like today, when the sky is crying but the lights inside the coffee house make it seem warm and cozy inside, make me wish I was better at saying what I was thinking. I see so much beauty in a day like today. I see so much joy in the contrast between the dreary outdoors and cheery indoors. The idea of pajamas and hot coffee and curling up with a book is so tempting.

But I know I would get bored. So I thrill seek even on days like today.

I think I'll get another piercing.

Time Out from Partying

What is it about our culture that says we don't have the time to be ill? And what is it about our culture that says if we complain about illness we are whining and really should get over ourselves? And what is it about our culture that says we have to have a really bad illness before we have the right to act like we're dying?

Okay... so maybe acting like I'm dying is a little extreme. However, I have not felt well for the past week and it doesn't seem to be going anywhere. Instead of renting space this amazing and disgusting amount of phlegm is taking up permanent residence and throwing a house warming party. It's moved from my sinus cavity to my lungs, and I have taken great joy in complaining about it to everyone I see.

That's right. I'm not sucking it up. I'm reveling in complaining about my illness. In fact, I feel entitled to a certain amount of sympathy from everyone around me. Afterall, I sympathize with all sorts of people when they aren't feeling well. Even when whatever is wrong with them is their own fault.

Example: My brother broke his foot while kicking puzzle mats. Really? Puzzle mats? They're soft and cushy and made for children! Of all the things he's kicked (heads, boards, concrete blocks, etc.) he breaks his foot on puzzle blocks. Did I laugh? Naturally. Did I mock? Of course. Did I sympathize? You better believe it. 'Cause in the end, he was in pain. He needed someone to say, "Dude, that sucks! I'm so sorry. Hope it feels better soon."

I expect sympathy. I really do. And I feel as though the rhinoceros on my chest has earned the respect of everyone around me and should be acknowledged.

Now stop running away when I cough.

The Overshadowed Party

I've faded into the corner.

I don't know when it happened, nor did I ever think it would happen to me. Always surrounded by friends, I was the last one to spend a Friday night alone. Witty words, phrases that caught the ear and remained on the tongues of total strangers, were coined by me on a regular basis. A vault of confidence for everyone else's stories and secrets, I never had one of my own.

I have one now.

And yet my conversations still start with, "I knew a friend who...." I am reluctant to let anyone in. I am willing to be overshadowed. In fact, I have encouraged it.

Attracted to the most boisterous people in the room, I sink into the sidelines, content to listen. When asked my opinion, I merely smile. This doesn't mean I don't have an opinion. I most certainly do. I haven't decided yet if it's my pride that gets in the way or if I truly am just content to hold onto my opinion like it's my only hope for a retirement fund.

The current shadow with whom I have covered myself tries to draw those opinions out of me. He's different than most of them and actually seems interested in what I think, and occasionally, when he's not being typically male, in what I feel. However... I never tell him. I hold that part of myself so carefully inside. First contact as not been made in a very long time.

Sure.... there are parts of me that I show. There are stories that everyone knows. I'm divorced. My three children are the loves of my life. Spiders terrify me. I believe my dreams are sometimes prophetic. Lemon tea makes me sleepy. I don't do drugs. Insomnia plagues me like hives. And speaking of hives, I'm allergic to pineapple.

These things don't define me. Everyone knows those parts. Which makes me ask myself, does that mean no one really knows the definition of me? Do I even know that definition?

I stop thinking at that point. Instead, I sit in my corner, sipping my tea and thinking not so deep thoughts about the weather and the state of the city streets. I am content to be overshadowed.

Other people are more interesting than I am anyway.