Category: Words

Invisible woman

There comes a time when you swim or sink
So I jumped in the drink
‘Cause I couldn’t make myself clear

Maybe I wrote in invisible ink
Oh, I’ve tried to think
How I could have made it appear
–Aimee Mann/Invisible Ink

I wanted to be seen.

That was absolutely true. All performers–all humans–want to be seen; it’s a basic need.
Even the shy ones who don’t want to be looked at.
–Amanda Palmer/The Art of Asking

Last weekend I was at a football game. I have season tickets, so I sit in the same seat every week. A lot of the same people sit around me. I usually smile and say hello when I sit down. I yell a lot during the games. I occupy space like everyone. More than some people. I’m large, I jump up and down. I feel like I am pretty conspicuous.

On Saturday, I happened to come in with a pocket full of Jell-O shots and gave some to the people behind me. The ones who have been there all season. The man sitting next to them, who has also been there all season said “where have you been all year?”

I was right where I always am during a game. In my seat.

I was a little non-plussed. I mean, I am not the kind of person who launches into conversations with people. I’m on the shy side. On the other hand, I ‘m not a withdrawn ogre who snarls. I look people in the eye. I smile. I high five after great plays.

I am not invisible to the human eye.

Right? I’m not.

Hello, hello, hello?
Is there anybody in there?

To be fair, it’s not like I have given anyone around me my life story. They haven’t given me theirs, either.

And it’s not like I can’t make an effort to be more outgoing, except. Except.

I hate it. I really hate it.
It isn’t because I am afraid of rejection in this case–talking to the people around me at a football game is very low risk. They aren’t going to tell me I am too fat to talk about our defense with. I am not too old or ugly to exchange a high five with.

There is a point between smiling and saying hello and anything else where I feel like I am pretending to be someone I am not. Where it isn’t genuine. Where maybe I’m just masquerading as someone outgoing. It seems deceitful.

Later, when I mentioned the guy’s remark to a friend, he kind of rolled his eyes at me and said:
“The guy was probably just referring to the Jell-O shots and not talking about you at all.”

Ohhhhhhh. Uh. Yeah. Right.
He kind of was.

Never mind.

An imaginary conversation about faith, hope and trust

I saw this meme on Facebook the other day that has me a little worried.

Only you would worry about a meme.

It isn’t the meme so much as the message.

I’m sure it was very profound.

Are you going to just fling sarcasm at me, or maybe try listening?

Oh! You mean you actually are worried?

Do you have any idea how much I would like to punch you in the face right now?

I’m sorry. I will listen as much as my worry about potential violence permits.

Thanks.

What did the meme say?

It was a list of things that are relationship killers, and I think both of us may be afflicted with all of them.

It’s a good thing you aren’t in a relationship.

Did you wake up on the “I’m a douchebag” side of the bed this morning?

Sorry. Apparently I did. You aren’t the only one who has noticed.

Don’t take it out on me. I am not in the mood.

I will try.

Thanks. Anyway, you aren’t in a relationship either. Or so you have not said.

So…the relationship killers are what?

Insecurity, jealousy, assumptions, trust issues and lack of communication. Recognize anyone?

You?

Well, I was thinking of you, but whatever.

You think I am insecure?

Also jealous, lacking in trust and not so talented at communicating.

Glad you think I have so many good points.

I do think you have a lot of good points. If you weren’t so insecure you would remember that I mentioned several of them to you the other day.

Ouch.
I am not insecure though. Not at all.

Calling bullshit on that. You are terrifically insecure, but you mask it with almost unbearable cockiness. At least I have the guts to be openly insecure.

Competitive insecurity. Nice.
I do admit to being jealous sometimes.

But not to trust issues or poor communication?

OK. Yes. Both.
Are you really worried about this shit?

You don’t think it is a problem if we have a hard time trusting each other?

I trust you. It isn’t mutual?

We have talked about it before. You typically are less than open most of the time. You let me find things out accidentally that it would be better to find out directly from you. The lack of communication leads me to make assumptions and stop trusting you. One thing fuels another.

That is probably true.

And?

And I do the best I can.
Don’t look at me like that–I do!

I know. I am not sure it’s enough.

Up to you.

I know. I can only change my own side and hope for it to get better.

Faith. You need to have faith.

Which is a challenge when things keep happening that undermine it.

Faith.

Talk to me.

Stop banging your head on the counter. Whimpering won’t solve anything.
You know my intentions are not bad.

Do I? By osmosis?
Is it enough for your intentions to not be bad? I think I might need them to be more actively good.

Faith.

Trying.
It is wearing thin. Do they make a patch for it?
What happens when it’s gone?

It won’t be.

Singing

You know what?

I sing all the time. I always have. One of my first memories is of my Grandmother complaining to my mother that although I had a very nice singing voice, it was not appropriate for a 4 year old to since songs from the musical Hair. I don’t remember a time when I didn’t sing and read.

If I went to church, it was mostly because of the choir.

In elementary school, we had an amazing music teacher. Our choir made records. I was in a group that performed all over town. We did musical plays.

It was important to me, but I never really thought of myself as a musician because I don’t play an instrument well.

As an adult, I didn’t have an outlet for it. I sing in the car. At home. On walks. Any time no one else is in the house, I am singing, but not in an organized way. Aside from one bad experience, never with a band. I didn’t realize that I even missed it. A few weeks ago I sang with another friend but it was a little intimidating.

I had one very negative experience singing with a band as an adult, so I really shied away from singing in public.

Tonight a friend came over and we sang. He played his ukulele. I just sang. He figured out chords. I songbirded. For some reason I wasn’t a bit self conscious about it. We ate pizza and drank beer and sang some more.

I had the best time.

So…

I sing every day. Every day. Why did it feel so good to sing with Paddy?

There is just something about being able to sing and know that someone is hearing your voice. And it’s good. The feeling, I mean. My voice is fine, but the feeling I get from sharing my voice is something I didn’t even realize I had missed.

Thanks, Paddy.