I've really been struggling with what to write about this week. Not that things didn't pop out at me—they did. Lots of things. It's just... the week went fast. Too fast.
Sure, I could write about the wise, spiritual, Chinese acupuncturist, herb specialist I talked to about some severe shoulder and leg pain I was having who, after spending 45 minutes discussing balance, body and energy, asked if I would read the spec script he had been working on (which, of course, I fully supported and encouraged him to continue writing).
Or, I could tell you about the date I went on with the man I've been seeing where we ended up checking out AdultCon downtown just for the hell of it (after all, we're both writers so we chalk everything up to "research") and all I could focus on was the little old man wandering around in his loafers, pulled up socks, high wasted khaki shorts and polo shirt in search of naughty toys and autographs of porn stars.
I could write about the panic I felt when I woke up and couldn't remember a certain name, a specific number, and which freeway I take to get my girl to camp—convinced I must have had a stroke in the night only to realize I hadn't and that I'm just getting old and this should start to happen more often and I better get used to it.
Should it be the comment someone said telling me my column might no longer appeal to people because I got a job and the only thing people liked was hearing how difficult my daily struggle was and that "Don't you know, Susan, misery truly does love company?"
Or, finally, should I share with you the fact that I have a daughter who not only has discovered sarcasm but has embraced it completely as her form of "funny banter" (which it is NOT—especially in public with grown ups) and my mom, as she always hoped, is indeed getting the last laugh (karma, baby).
You tell me. Readers' choice. Which of these would you most like to hear about? If nothing else, you can surely understand, based on that list, why I go to therapy.
I will tell you that the acupuncture I received for my body pain from the ancient Chinese medicine man/screenwriter not only worked but now I feel indebted to him forever and have promised to pass his script along to anyone I can as soon as he's done writing it.
As for the little old man at AdultCon—well, I'm pleased to report that not only did he leave the convention with a gift bag and a smile, but one of his socks was not quite as pulled up nor as straight as it had been which leads me to believe he did indeed get what he came for and that made me happy.
I did feel an enormous sense of relief when I was able to find my way to my girl's camp the rest of the week and, just to test my memory, I decided to mentally recall my entire history of phone numbers and addresses, going as far back as my childhood home, discovering that I knew every single digit and I'm not as old as I think.
As for misery loving company... I'm not sure I entirely believe that based on the overwhelming love and support I've received since getting employment. However, I do realize that my intense fear every day that this wonderful new job might end tomorrow should offer enough instability and dis-ease to safely sustain those few who are wishing me unemployment and sauce-less spaghetti nights in my near future.
And, finally, the new found form of sarcastic comedy pouring out of my 9 year old... well, let's just say we're still working on that one.
That was my week. Sometimes a week is just a week. Seven days of snapshots going off at rapid speed hoping to grab our attention. Those are some of the pictures that grabbed mine.
But, the one that stood out the most, the photograph that seemed to hold still all week in my mind's eye was the one of my daughter reaching for my hand to hold as she fell asleep next to me.
I can still hear the soft sound of her breathing.
